A Deep Sense of Wrong: The Treason, Trials and Transportation to New South Wales of Lower Canadian Rebels After the 1838 Rebellion

A Deep Sense of Wrong The Treason, Trials, and Transportation to New South Wales of Lower Canadian Rebels after the 1838 Rebellion

BEVERLEY BOISSERY

DUNDURN PRESS Toronto • Oxford

Copyright © The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History, 1995 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except brief passages for purposes of review), without the prior permission of Dundurn Press Limited. Permission to photocopy should be requested from the Canadian Reprography Collective.

Printed and bound in Canada

The publisher wishes to acknowledge the generous assistance and ongoing support of the Canada Council, the Book Publishing Industry Development Program of the Department of Canadian Heritage, the Ontario Arts Council, the Ontario Publishing Centre of the Ministry of Citizenship, Culture and Recreation, and the Ontario Heritage Foundation. Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in the text (including the illustrations). The author and publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any reference or credit in subsequent editions. / Kirk Howard, Publisher

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data Boissery, Beverley, 1939A deep sense of wrong: the treason, trials, and transportation to New South Wales of Lower Canadian rebels after the 1838 rebellion Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-55002-242-3 1. Canada - History - Rebellion, 1837-1839 - Prisoners and prisons. 2. Prisoners, Transportation of— Canada — History — 19th century. 3. Prisoners, Transportation of- New South Wales - History - 19th century. 4. Penal colonies - New South Wales - History - 19th century. 5. Canada - Exiles - History - 19th century. 6. New South Wales - Exiles - History - 19th century. 7. Canadians - New South Wales - History - 19th century. 8. Trials (Treason) - Canada History - 19th century. I. Title. FC457.P7B6 1995 F1032.B65 1995

Dundurn Press Limited 2181 Queen Street East Suite 301 Toronto, Canada M4E 1E5

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Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS

following 158

LIST OF TABLES

W

LIST OF FIGURES

W

FOREWORD

vii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

IX

PREFACE

Xt

Part One: Background to Rebellion

1 The First Blow, Autumn 1837: They 'Wanted Reform, and Not Revolution7 2 To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government'

3 24

Part Two: Treasons and Trials

3 4 5 6

Fiasco in Chateauguay Napierville - To Conquer or Die' From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government': Mayhem in Laprairie - Caution in Terrebonne 7 Abuses, Numbers, and Processes

47 70 94 117 137

Part Three: Transportation and Life in New South Wales

8 Taking a Trip on a Government Ship' 9 Sydney - 'Until Yesterday a Byword of Reproach' 10 Longbottom Stockade: 'In French Long Fond ... a Pretty Enough Place' 11 'Land of a Thousand Sorrows'

161 188 205 232

Part Four: The Conclusions

12 Aftermath 13 There Must Always Be Victims'

257 276

iv

Contents

APPENDICES

A Biographical Notes on the Men Transported to New South Wales B Montreal Star Interview with Francois-Maurice Lepailleur

293 298

ABBREVIATIONS

303

NOTES

304

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

353

INDEX

363 TABLES

5.1 Estimated Property Damage and Destruction 7.1 Statistical Breakdown of the Executed Canadiens 7.2 Estimated Property Damage in 1839 Dollars from Fire, Destruction and Pillage, in Certain Rebellious Counties

111 152

157

FIGURES

1.1 Montreal and the Lower Richelieu Valley 1.2 Seigneuries in the Lower Richelieu Valley Known to Have Charged Rents of Eight Sols per Arpent or More 1.3 Seigneuries in the Lower Richelieu Valley in Which an Above Average Number of Writs of Execution Were Issued, 1837-42 1.4 Seigneuries in the Lower Richelieu Valley with the Highest Levels of Subdivision 2.1 Nelson's Plan of Attack, 1838 4.1 The Battle of Lacolle, 1838 8.1 Prieur's Plan of the Buffalo 10.1 Convict Camp at Longbottom, c. 1841 11.1 Main Areas of the Canadiens' Activity While on Ticket-of-Leave

8

10

12 13 37 79 177 211 241

PUBLICATIONS OF THE OSGOODE SOCIETY FOR CANADIAN LEGAL HISTORY

1981 1982 1983 1984

1985 1986

1987

1988 1989

1990

1991 1992

David H. Flaherty, ed., Essays in the History of Canadian Law, vol. I Marion MacRae and Anthony Adamson, Cornerstones of Order: Courthouses and Town Halls of Ontario, 1784-1914 David H. Flaherty, ed., Essays in the History of Canadian Law, vol. ii Patrick Erode, Sir John Beverley Robinson: Bone and Sinew of the Compact David Williams, Duff: A Life in the Law James Snell and Frederick Vaughan, The Supreme Court of Canada: History of the Institution Paul Romney, Mr Attorney: The Attorney General for Ontario in Court, Cabinet, and Legislature, 1791-1899 Martin Friedland, The Case of Valentine Shortis: A True Story of Crime and Politics in Canada C. Ian Kyer and Jerome E. Bickenbach, The Fiercest Debate: Cecil A. Wright, the Benchers, and Legal Education in Ontario, 1923-1957 Robert Sharpe, The Last Day, the Last Hour: The Currie Libel Trial John D. Arnup, Middleton: The Beloved Judge Desmond Brown, The Genesis of the Canadian Criminal Code of 1892 Patrick Brode, The Odyssey of John Anderson Jim Phillips and Philip Girard, eds., Essays in the History of Canadian Law, vol. m, Nova Scotia Carol Wilton, ed., Essays in the History of Canadian Law, vol. iv, Beyond the Law: Lawyers and Business in Canada, 1830-1930 Constance Backhouse, Petticoats and Prejudice: Women and Law in Nineteenth Century Canada Brendan O'Brien, Speedy Justice: The Tragic Last Voyage of His Majesty's Vessel Speedy Robert Fraser, ed., Provincial Justice: Upper Canadian Legal Portraits from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography

vi Patrons of The Osgoode Society

1993

1994

1995

Greg Marquis, Policing Canada's Century: A History of the Canadian Association of Chiefs of Police Murray Greenwood, Legacies of Fear: Law and Politics in Quebec in the Era of the French Revolution Patrick Boyer, A Passion for Justice: The Legacy of James Chalmers McRuer Charles Pullen, The Life and Times of Arthur Maloney: The Last of the Tribunes Jim Phillips, Tina Loo, and Susan Lewthwaite, eds., Essays in the History of Canadian Law, vol. v, Crime and Criminal Justice Brian Young, The Politics of Codification: The Lower Canadian Civil Code of 1866 David Williams, Just Lawyers - Seven Portraits Hamar Foster and John McLaren, eds., Essays in the History of Canadian Law, vol. vi, British Columbia and the Yukon W.H. Morrow, Northern Justice, the Memoirs of Justice William G. Morrow Beverley Boissery, A Deep Sense of Wrong: The Treason, Trials, and Transportation to New South Wales of Lower Canadian Rebels after the 1838 Rebellion

PATRONS OF THE OSGOODE SOCIETY

Aird & Berlis Blake, Cassels & Graydon Da vies, Ward & Beck Holden Day Wilson McCarthy Tetrault Osier, Hoskin & Harcourt Reynolds, Mirth, Richards & Farmer The Harweg Foundation Tory Tory DesLauriers & Binnington Weir & Foulds The Society also thanks The Law Foundation of Ontario and the Law Society of Upper Canada for their continuing support.

Foreword THE OSGOODE SOCIETY FOR CANADIAN LEGAL HISTORY

The purpose of The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History is to encourage research and writing in the history of Canadian law. The Society, which was incorporated in 1979 and is registered as a charity, was founded at the initiative of the Honourable R. Roy McMurtry, former attorney-general for Ontario, and officials of the Law Society of Upper Canada. Its efforts to stimulate the study of legal history in Canada include a research support program, a graduate student research assistance program, and work in the fields of oral history and legal archives. The Society publishes (at the rate of about one a year) volumes of interest to the Society's members that contribute to legal-historical scholarship in Canada, including studies of the courts, the judiciary, and the legal profession, biographies, collections of documents, studies in criminology and penology, accounts of significant trials, and work in the social and economic history of the law. Current directors of The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History are Jane Banfield, Tom Bastedo, John Brown, Brian Bucknall, Archie Campbell, E. Susan Elliott, J. Douglas Ewart, Martin Friedland, Charles Harnick, John Honsberger, Kenneth Jarvis, Allen Linden, Virginia MacLean, Wendy Matheson, Colin McKinnon, Roy McMurtry, Brendan O'Brien, Peter Oliver, Paul Reinhardt, James Spence, and Richard Tinsley. The annual report and information about membership may be obtained by writing The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History, Osgoode Hall, 130 Queen Street West, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M5H 2N6. Members receive the annual volume published by the Society. Beverley Boissery has written a moving book about one of the most dramatic and tragic episodes of Canadian history. In it she combines social and legal history to tell a fascinating story. Using a wide range of

viii Foreword

Canadian and Australian sources, she employs not only her own training in historical method but the skills of the popular writer to provide readers with a compelling account which is legal history in its most human dimension. We are confident that A Deep Sense of Wrong will be read with great interest and will cast new light on one of the darker events of Canadian history. In particular it will offer considerable enlightenment about the trials and tribulations of men banished thousands of miles from their homeland who took with them to exile a sense of honour, dignity, and pride and whose return years later brought comfort and joy to all who understood and appreciated the qualities of fortitude and humanity demonstrated during their period of exile. R. Roy McMurtry President Peter Oliver Editor-in-Chief

Acknowledgments

Although this book was written almost entirely in 1994, my debts of gratitude go back more than twenty years, to the time I entered the History Honours program at the University of British Columbia, one of that university's greatest treasures. Jean Elder, Allen Sinel, and Chris Stocker began the process of turning a volleyball coach into a scholar. Their teaching was refined by Jim Huzel, who became a good friend, and not only supervised my honours thesis but introduced me to Lawrence Stone and the idea of prosopography. At the same time I was extremely fortunate to work under George McWhirter of the Creative Writing Department. Millicent Chalmers, Diane Cunningham, Margaret Sharpe, and Anne Thorsen all put me up and put up with me in December 1994. In the 1970s, I was lucky enough to study under Manning Clark at the Australian National University; both my husband and I owe him and his wife Dymphna debts of hospitality we can never pay. Since then, we have cherished the academic camaraderie and personal friendship of Noel McLaughlan and Miriam Dixson, both of whom read and critiqued the Australian portion of this book. Moya and Rob Adams of Sydney have been lifelong friends. My cousin, Bruce Thorsen, as long as he's been alive, has supported my hopes, given his love, and never let me settle for less than my dreams. I have taught for the Surrey School District in British Columbia since 1964, when I was hired to teach grade 4 by the then superintendent Earl Marriott. He encouraged me to think about getting a degree. In the 1970s, his successor, Jack Evans, gave me the necessary leaves that enabled me to get my BA and doctorate. Lyn Hagglund, a super boss in the 1980s, encouraged my intellectual pursuits. As can be imagined, I've made many friends during my thirty-plus years in Surrey, too many, unfortunately to mention by name. For the past several years, I have taught at 1'Ecole secondaire Earl Marriott Secondary school under a marvellously understanding principal, Margaux Molson. One of my colleagues, Nicolas Rebselj, translated the patriote songs for me. Another, John Mylod, photographed many of the pictures in this book. I would

x Acknowledgments

also like to thank my classes, particularly the Humanities 9 and 10, for not taking too much advantage of my preoccupation during 1994-95. For those of you in Humanities 10 who have had classes with me every day since the beginning of the book, a special thanks. Many people helped me make the jump from theses to novels and back again to academic writing. I miss the critique groups of the Ottawa Romance Writers Association (ORWA) in Ottawa and the helpful advice of Michele McManus in White Rock, B.C. Gerry Hallowell made several suggestions on improving the readability of my thesis. In particular I thank those who have read parts of this manuscript and tried to advise me on the thorny question of the fictional transitions that introduce each chapter (I evolved the idea of these prologues as a way to include material that might otherwise not have fitted easily into the book): Susan Tuttle, Catherine Whiteley, and Evelyn Kolish. George Tuttle read the entire manuscript and made several helpful suggestions. Jo Beverley advised me on improving the fictional parts. Detailed critiques for the academic sections came from Chris Raible, Peter Moogk, Miriam Dixson, and Katie Guth. In 1973 I met and became friends with Patricia Kennedy of the National Archives of Canada. She not only taught me how to use the archives but kept me abreast of acquisitions made since then. More than that, she has generously shared her unpublished research on convicts, particularly those North Americans sent to the Bermuda hulks and the Australian penal colonies. I have also appreciated the friendship and cheerful efficiency of Marilyn MacFarlane of The Osgoode Society. She and Peter Oliver have been marvellous. Peter has encouraged me from the moment he heard of my thesis, reading each chapter as it was written. I also thank The Osgoode Society not only for giving me the chance to publish but for a research grant as well. Judith Turnbull, my editor at Dundurn, did a marvellous job with sensitivity, making the text flow more smoothly. More than to anyone else, I owe a great debt to Murray Greenwood. Since 1972 he has been the solidity in my life, the constant who allowed me to experiment with different interests. Our conversations have been inspiring, our quiet companionship sustaining. Through typing and word processing his articles and books over the years, I learned enough to become a legal historian in my own right. He translated the often difficult French of the patriotes for me, and unless otherwise indicated, all other translations are his as well. Murray read and critiqued who knows how many drafts and never complained when my preoccupation made me do something stupid. His tolerance has seemed limitless, and without his love this book would never have been written. Thank you all.

Preface

I first met New South Wales convict 40-578,1 Francois-Maurice Lepailleur, and his comrades in the summer of 1972. At that time I was finishing a summer school course in creative writing at the University of British Columbia, preparing for my final undergraduate year as a History Honours student and the thesis I would have to write. My tentative topic: Henry vi's administration of England. Rummaging through the UBC stacks that August in 1972,1 ran across a reference to 'Papineau's followers' who had been transported to Sydney. This was news to me. Just days before, I had met my future husband, Murray Greenwood, then a professor of Canadian history. Thinking he might help, I rushed across to his office and in one of the classic lines of our romance asked, 'Have you ever heard of a guy called Papineau?' His reaction said it all. Henry VI was summarily dropped. What could I, as an undergraduate in Vancouver, hope to add to English history? But Papineau's so-called followers? That was indeed another story. And such was the genesis of this book, which tells the story of fiftyeight men who were sent to Australia in 1839 after having been convicted of high treason. It is based largely on surviving legal and law enforcement records, and of these, two were crucial: the Archives nationales du Quebec's huge collection of voluntary examinations, depositions, and magistrates' reports2 and the Report of the State Trials, Before a General Court Martial Held at Montreal in 1838-1839? Of the ninety-nine men convicted in a military court for high treason in 1838-39, proceedings exist for sixty-six. In the majority of these cases, no significant distortion of the law occurred, as the evidence was conclusive enough to warrant conviction. In all likelihood, the results for this majority would have been the same if they had been tried before juries in the criminal courts. But would all the verdicts have been the same in a traditional court? Given the unpredictability of juries in treason and sedition cases, one can only conjecture. Even carefully chosen jury panels that excluded known sympathizers might have ignored instructions from judges and acquitted those who had played minor roles or who

xii

Preface

managed to produce some evidence of coercion. As a result, more defence witnesses might have come forward, without fear of military or local intimidation. When evaluating the fairness of the trials, we have only the records of the court martial, depositions/voluntary examinations, a few notes by the lawyers and their clients, and some scribbled comments, presumably by one of the officer-judges for one case. From these and from the testimony and exhibits presented in court, we can deduce that at least eighteen of the sixty-six accused were victims of a miscarriage of justice. I include among these those cases where there was clearly insufficient evidence for conviction presented at trial, even though extra-judicial records might suggest the accused were guilty as charged. After all, in the British system, the crown must prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt. In most cases though, the extra-judicial evidence is ambiguous. Was Benjamin Mott a drunken spectator at the battle of Lacolle as he claimed or a leading participant as none-too-credible crown witnesses asserted. Or did his citizenship (American) make him a convenient scapegoat as David McLane had been years earlier?4 A damning deposition against Francois Camyre may be found in the Archives nationales du Quebec, but the deponent was not called to testify at Camyre's trial.5 Why? Perhaps the deputy judge advocates (the prosecution at the court martial) found the informer unreliable. When asking questions such as these, the legal historian is at the same disadvantage as an appeal judge. She (or he) has not seen or heard the witnesses: their demeanour, gestures, tone of voice, hesitations, and so on. Lack of credibility, however, is often clear from the written proceedings (see chapter 3 for an example of an untruthful magistrate). Sometimes the prosecution admitted as much. Moreover, it was a regular occurrence for the accused and the deputy judge advocates to comment unfavourably on the manner in which witnesses gave testimony. These trial records, though limited, offer a valuable perspective on the Rebellion of 1838. It is through these sources and the extant legal and law enforcement records that we discover the middle leadership, whose members, lacking political or family clout, were punished through death or transportation. The men are unique - both in Canadian and Australian history. For Canadian readers, their value lies in the richness of the documentation left behind. Although most were illiterate farmers, we know a surprising amount about them. For example, 26 percent were tattooed and they had an average of 2.67 moles per person!6 We know which teeth the men were missing, their average height (a little less than five feet, four inch-

xiii

Preface

es), the number of children they had at the time of their arrival in Sydney, and the extent of their property (on average 115 arpents [an arpent roughly equals five-sixths of an acre]).7 Far more importantly, we know why they rebelled and in what way they had been involved in politics. We know the costs, both monetary and emotional, they and their families paid for participating in the 1838 insurrection. Clearly, we do not have to speculate about the personal history and motive of many of them. With regard to their exile in Australia, we do not have to hypothesize about their viewpoints, particularly their desire to be reunited with the loved ones they had left behind. Of all the many thousands of men and women sent to Australia as prisoners, only the Canadiens left records of daily life.8 From their journals we learn how relatively easy it was for them to earn money, to escape the confines of their stockade, and to save for eventual reunion with their families - either in Sydney or Lower Canada. Because the details of their lives as prisoners in Australia cut against many historical assumptions, their story deserves telling. As will be shown in the concluding chapter, this story refutes much of the latest theorizing by a group of economic historians about convicts and their lives. Ironically, I first began work on the 1838 transported Canadiens partly as a reaction against the quantification of Canadian history and the loss of the individual to statistics. To a large extent my doctoral dissertation was a prosopographical study, meaning that it focused on individuals.9 Had Stephen Nicholas and his group of historians read the words of the men they speculated about, they might have avoided some embarrassing statements (see chapter 13).10 A Deep Sense of Wrong is 'micro-history/ As such, it concentrates on a small group (fifty-eight men) rather than on the thousands of rebels in 1838 or the thousands of Australian convicts, and thus allows the researcher to make connections that might otherwise not have been discernible. But more than that, this approach allowed me to ask questions not normally attempted. The rebels of 1837-38 have been 'statisticised,' glamorized, and glorified. They have been chosen as university mascots, revered as icons, and dismissed as lightweights, sometimes cowardly ones. Yet few have asked the crucial questions - What were they like as human beings? - as members of a communal society? Did they cherish their families? Did they love their wives? In much the same way as another micro-history, Babette Smith's A Cargo of Women (see chapter 13),11 this book attempts to answer such non-quantifiable questions. Sophisticated readers of history and legal history may miss this book's limited references to other writers' work and to specific historical points of contention within the text itself. As my goal was to tell a story,

Preface xiv

these sorts of references, which generally impede the flow of the narrative, are largely confined to the endnotes or the concluding chapter. This has meant, unfortunately, that I discussed neither the many fascinating theories found in Allan Greer's recent study The Patriots and the People nor his pioneering work on the establishment of rural police. Readers wishing a more detailed treatment of the Rebellions of 1837-38 in Lower Canada than this book provides are referred to the bibliography and advised that The Osgoode Society plans to publish at least one volume on the subject in the Canadian State Trials series.12 I believe the Rebellion of 1838 must be viewed as distinct from that in 1837. To begin with, in 1838 a Republic of Lower Canada was proclaimed and a proto-constitution enunciated that answered many of the grievances felt so deeply in the colony. In 1838 the patriotes had a relatively detailed plan to take control of the area around Montreal. To put the rebellions in perspective for readers who may have forgotten their high school history and for Australians who never heard of them, chapters 1 and 2 sketch the events and tensions that culminated in revolt. The book's unusual format to some extent comes from the fun I've had writing novels. As a means of including details that do not strictly belong in the flow of the text, I began each chapter with what I call a transition, a short excerpt from my version of an interview that a reporter actually did conduct with Lepailleur in 1888. The subsequent story was published in the Montreal Star, 15 December 1888 (see Appendix B). My interview is largely speculative, although many details are based by provable fact, and my reporter, Frank Warwick, is entirely fictional, as are some of his stories. Judging from the reactions of those who read parts of this manuscript, there was no middle ground - readers either loved or hated them. The transitions are not meant to offend or antagonize academics. Instead I hope they will encourage those who might not otherwise venture into the depths of legal history to keep reading.

A Deep Sense of Wrong

For those who have taught me to write George McWhirter, Manning Clark, Bobby Hutchinson, Jo Beverley, and Murray Greenwood

PART ONE Background to Rebellion

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1 The First Blow, Autumn 1837: They 'Wanted Reform, and Not Revolution71

170 SANGUINET STREET, MONTREAL, NOVEMBER 1888 - as it might have been Frank Warwick found it difficult to believe that fifty years earlier Maurice Lepailleur had been considered one of his country's biggest enemies. Yet, as a reporter for the Montreal Star, he dealt in facts and the fact was that in 1838 Lepailleur had been condemned to death for high treason, missing the gallows by the slimmest of margins. He looked at the silver-haired gentleman sitting so serenely across from him. Time had dealt gently with Francois-Maurice Lepailleur. Although he may have shrunk an inch or so from his original five feet four inches, Lepailleur did not appear fragile. The passage of years had only gentled his face, and laughter lurked behind the eyes so busily assessing the reporter. 'Where would you like me to begin?' A cough and the soft question broke into Warwick's thoughts. The answer seemed obvious. What had brought a man like Lepailleur to the heinous crime of treason? What had happened in 1838 to drive such a respectable man to open rebellion? Equally softly, he answered, 'Tell me about 1838, Mr Lepailleur. It's so difficult to even imagine what this country was like then/ 7 know. My grandchildren, even my own sons, have the same problem because so much has changed/ Lepailleur leaned forward and picked up an envelope from the table between them. 'See this?' he asked, pointing to the stamp on the top corner. 'It's something we take for granted, but in 1838 we had never thought of stamps/ He put the envelope back, then picked up a newspaper. 'And here, a gentleman in Germany has invented a motorized bicycle. Who can

4 Background to Rebellion

imagine why, but nevertheless he's done so. But in 1838, Mr. Warwick, we depended on horses for almost all our travel. We had a few steamboats, a few miles of railroad tracks. None of us ever dreamed a man might ride on something like a motorized cycle.' Warwick nodded gravely in agreement even though a motorized cycle sounded just fine to him. 'My grandparents think the same. They live in Richmond and I used to feel I was visiting a museum when I was a boy. It was an adventure but I thought their house very old-fashioned and wondered how people could live like that.' 'And like it!' Lepailleur retorted, darting a sly glance at the fashionably dressed reporter. 'That was part of the problem in 1838. We liked the old ways. They had served us well. Where I lived in Chateauguay, families farmed the same land for generations. We had enough for a good life. Perhaps without running water or electricity or gaslight, mind you, but enough to live without hunger, to give our sons and daughters a good start and to enjoy ourselves. It was a hard life maybe, but not one people wanted to give up.' 'And they had to?' Lepailleur nodded. 'It's taken me years to realize it, but we had far fewer choices than we thought. The thirties were, I think, both the end of what had been and the beginning of so much we take for granted nowadays.' 'Like Janus?' Lepailleur had not been fortunate enough to have had a classical education in a college. Experience, though, had been a good teacher. 'The two-faced god?' He thought for a while, then continued. 'Exactly. With one face looking back to the traditional ways and systems, seeing all the breakdowns and threats to them. To the language, our customs, even our farms. Then, there's the other face. Looking forward to now.' 'And 1888 is not so bad, is it?' 'Ah, you say that because you know it. Fifty years ago, of course,' Lepailleur shrugged, 'we had no certainties. Only problems. In every area of our lives.' Warwick stopped taking notes. 'But the farmers could still sell their crops, couldn't they? It could not have been that bad for them. They could still put food on the table.' 'The fortunate ones, yes.' Lepailleur perhaps sensed the younger man's impatience, his desire to get on with the main story. 'You asked why cautious men rebelled? The 1830s were years of depression. Our crops failed, immigrants flooded into the colony. Just at the time that we had less produce, we had more people to feed.' 'Then, surely, the farmers should have become rich.' Warwick lit a cigarette and puffed on it a few times. He played the stock market a little and understood the law of supply and demand. To him it seemed a classic situation - not one where farmers would rebel.

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 5

'You don't understand. It didn't work that way. Most farmers struggled to feed themselves.' Lepailleur thought for a while, trying to get the right words. 'Mr Warwick, all my life until then, I had eaten pure wheat bread. Suddenly, it seemed, the farms could no longer produce enough wheat. Farmers began sowing other grains, like oats and rye. It was as if God himself was punishing us, sending us black or brown bread. We were, we are, a very religious people. With all the other changes and problems, this darker-coloured bread made us think that maybe the saints and our father in heaven had deserted us.' Warwick attended church each Sunday, but he prided himself on being modern. 'Surely men did not rebel over the colour of bread. Over the notion that God might be punishing them,' he scoffed. 'No, of course not. Not just that,' Lepailleur answered. 'But it was a symbol. Some felt that if we could get rid of the newcomers and their newfangled ways, everything would go back to normal.' 'Did you think that?' 'No. I could see, even then, that many new things were here to stay. But we had so many grievances. We had tried so many different ways to make the governor listen. Nothing worked. Then, like the Americans had years earlier, we began to feel we should control our own money, that lords and ministers in England should not direct how it was spent.' 'And people fought for that?' 'A few did,' Lepailleur shrugged. He knew as well as anyone that people did things for the strangest reasons. 'In 1837 some simply wanted to protect our leaders when the government ordered their arrest. But I know that others thought that if we made a stand, the governor would have to listen to us.'

THE WANING DAYS OF FEBRUARY 1839 were unusually warm for Montreal.2 Snow melted and the ice thawed, enticing the city's inhabitants from their homes. On the twenty-second of the month, many found their way to the courthouse on Notre Dame Street - some, to watch the arrival of three of the country's most notorious prisoners for trial by court martial; others, to crowd the courtroom where military officers, some of whom had recently fought against the rebels, presided. To these army men, with their impassive faces, straight backs, and disciplined souls, accused traitor Louis Bourdon explained why it had been necessary to take arms against Her Britannic Majesty's might: a 'deep sense of wrong.' This succinct plea did not impress them. Bourdon's frustration and anger, provoked by deeply felt injustices, could not mitigate the fact that he had rebelled against a duly constituted authority. On the last day of the month, they sentenced Bourdon to hang by the neck until death came.

6 Background to Rebellion

Up until fourteen months earlier, the ambitious, literate Bourdon had been a model for young Canadiens3 to emulate. He had married into the powerful Papineau family,4 and his future had seemed bright. Why would he have risked rebelling? What deeply felt wrongs prompted him and thousands of other men to fight with scythes, pitchforks, and ancient muskets against crack regiments of the British army? Unlike Louis Bourdon, most rebels were illiterate farmers, or habitants. Conservative men with a deep attachment to the soil, they had a traditional way of life reaching back, almost unchanged, to that of their ancestors in the seventeenth century. Instead of clustering in villages and sharing common land like their counterparts in England or Europe, they spread out, one beside the other, along river banks, farming long, narrow strips. Decades of struggling for survival in a harsh climate and a small domestic market had dictated the goal of self-sufficiency. Rather than developing a strong sense of community as other pioneering settlers might, they came to consider the family all-important.5 The head of each family tried to ensure that his sons had land and the wherewithal to establish themselves.6 This inheritance pattern was distinctly Canadien. The family farm did not normally pass to the eldest son, as in England, nor was it subdivided among all the heirs as was common in France. Instead, the parents chose as the successor one of the middle or younger sons, with whom they contracted for support in their old age. In return for the farm, the heir undertook the maintenance of his parents and the provision of certain stipulated comforts. He also often assumed the responsibility for his younger brothers or sisters. This unique system impressed outsiders. Hugh Murray, a British visitor to Lower Canada in 1839, noted that this 'custom of parents and children living together, often to the third generation, in the same house ... [marked] a mild and friendly temper/7 More likely, it illustrated the care with which the parents had chosen their heir.8 The farms were held under a land-owning system known as seigneurial tenure - a legacy from France. Rather than possessing vested rights, the seigneurs of New France were, in theory, obliged to grant vacant land to all who undertook to farm it at the rent and on the conditions customary on the seigneury.9 The French legislation known as the Edicts of Marly, 1711, established the seigneurial obligations of tenant and lord, enforced by the intendant, the civil administrator of New France. A farmer, if refused a concession by the seigneur, might apply to the intendant, who could, together with the governor, not only concede the land but receive the customary rent for the crown, in perpetuity. With penalties such as these, few seigneurs refused prospective tenants and fewer farmers, or censitaires, foresaw a time when the system would break down. This is not to say things were halcyon in New France, but clearly the law and the surplus of land favoured the censitaire.

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 7

Once Britain conquered New France in 1760, the system's demise became inevitable. Neither the new judiciary, trained, of course, in common law, nor the new administration wished or even felt obliged to assume the duties of the intendant. Furthermore, after the withdrawal of French administrators, military officers, and many nobles, British landlords bought many of the better and more valuable seigneuries. Several French seigneurs did remain, and they, together with ecclesiastical landlords such as the Jesuits, the Quebec Seminary, and the Seminary of StSulpice (Montreal), provided an element of continuity. For a while the seigneurial system continued to work, but gradually and surely, its erosion began. Not surprisingly the new British seigneurs saw their lands as speculative investments, and by the 1830s the seigneurs or their agents were demanding higher rents than those set in the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries by the intendants. In many cases, the seigneur refused to grant land at all. These seigneurs, governed by the law of supply and demand rather than by paternalistic attitude, found themselves in a classic seller's market. The population had increased dramatically - from roughly 70,000 at the time of the Conquest, to about 160,000 in 1791, to more than half a million by 1831. As Quebec and Montreal became more densely peopled and the amount of arable land decreased, demand for new acreage rose, as did rents and new, extraordinary obligations on the tenants - for example, a tithe on maple sugar or on hay from meadows. Some farmers, unable or unwilling to pay the higher rents now demanded for uncultivated lands, subdivided their holdings to provide for their sons, 'whereby the population, instead of diffusing itself in the extension' of settlement, now crowded 'within a smaller space, contrary to the wise policy of the ancient [i.e., French] government.'10 As abuses became routine in some seigneuries, twenty-one petitions came before the Lower Canadian House of Assembly between 1831 and 1837 requesting relief from such situations. Three originated from the seigneury of Beauharnois, southwest of Montreal Island. Eight protested the exactions of William Plenderleath Christie and his heir to the seigneuries of La Colle, Foucault, Noyan, Sabrevois, de Bleury, and De Lery, also situated south of Montreal but closer to the Richelieu River.11 Besides citing specific abuses, the petitions had one common factor: a detailed knowledge of the edicts and customs of the French regime and of various judgments on the system and the dates they had been registered in New France. Obviously, the petitioners had received professional help.12 The seigneurs' refusal to concede new land and the inflated rents were together a veritable 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' situation for the tenant-farmers.13 If they fell into arrears with their rents and seigneurial obligations and then sold part of their land to raise money,

8 Background to Rebellion

Figure 1.1 Montreal and the Lower Richelieu Valley

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 9

they reduced their produce and consequent chances of future solvency. On the other hand, if they could not pay the new rents, they could be evicted for the arrears. The seigneurs won in every case. If land were sold, even to a censitaire wishing to buy it for his sons, seigneurs received one-twelfth of the purchase price (the lods et ventes) and the new farmer paid higher rents (see Figure 1.2 for seigneuries with the highest rents). The seigneurs also used such instances to force new deeds of concession on their hapless tenants, sometimes inserting new demands into the new deeds.14 Most censitaires, illiterate and unable to afford legal advice, signed with their crosses on the documents, ignorant of any changes or additions to the original deeds, then found themselves completely at the mercy of unscrupulous seigneurs and their agents. They had no assurance that the courts would uphold the old French edicts prohibiting rent raising and the imposition of new stipulations. Indeed, the Court of King's Bench held in one case that the concession deed was the same as any voluntary contract, that the parties were absolutely free to bind themselves in any way they saw fit.15 In any case, few farmers dared risk a suit because, as one witness told a seigneurial abuse enquiry, they 'always feared the hatred of the Seignior too much to go to law with him ... especially those, who wishing to establish themselves have hardly sufficient means to do so/16 Petitioners and witnesses before the assembly cited example after example of poverty denying justice to the seigneurial tenants, as in the case of a certain Terrien from L'Acadie who had the courage to sue his seigneuress, Mme de Longueuil, in the Court of King's Bench, Montreal.17 After winning his case, Terrien found himself under attack when the seigneuress announced she would appeal the decision to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in England. Lacking the immense financial resources needed to continue the fight, the tenant meekly worked out a compromise. The farmers from De Lery seigneury bitterly concluded that 'no one since has ventured to go to law ... Thus Seigniors have always had their own way, and done as they pleased/18 The seigneurial privilege of lods et ventes, so commonly exacted in the 1830s, also outraged the farmers. It was a tremendous burden on the purchaser and was considered unfair. When wild land had been tamed, cleared, and cultivated by the sweat of the tenant's brow, the purchase price naturally recognized such improvements. So did the lods et ventes. That the seigneur should receive such recompense for his tenant's work was 'a most crying injustice,' claimed the De Lery censitaires.19 Other factors compounded the farmers' woes. Until the late 1820s, wheat had been the principal crop in the area south of Montreal. In 1827 leaf mould appeared in the Chateauguay basin, and thereafter successive plagues ravaged the crops. Coupled with this, decades of traditional

10 Background to Rebellion

Figure 1.2 Seigneuries in the Lower Richelieu Valley Known to Have Charged Rents of Eight Sols per Arpent or More

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 11

two-field farming began taking their toll, causing soil exhaustion. Conditioned by custom, the censitaires ignored warnings and the innovative methods used by English settlers, continuing to sow wheat. The results were devastating. By the 1840s oats and dairy products - preferred by the English farmer - had replaced wheat as the principal produce in most of the Montreal district.20 Those who had relied on wheat were impoverished. Various travellers noticed the effect of wheat's decline on Canadien life. Patrick Shirreff, a Scottish farmer from the Lowlands, travelled extensively in the parishes south of Montreal, remarking on the presence of wheat-fly and reporting that habitants in St-Philippe parish would walk in religious processions in an attempt to rid themselves of it. Even when possessing good soil, Canadien farmers sowed their wheat among 'truly luxuriant indigenous tares, thistles, and white clover/ clinging to their farms 'until starved from them - that is, till the soil did not yield them food to subsist on/21 Visitors were not the only observers of this profligacy. Shopkeepers and moneylenders moved quickly into the parishes to profit from the misery. Enticed by exotic wares ranging from tea to metal harrows,22 unable to cope with the rapid changes in their lives, many farmers mortgaged their futures. To maintain their farms, some sold their oxen, renting them back to work the ground. Others borrowed money at a few pence in interest a month, not realizing the annual rate was an exorbitant 50 to 100 percent, until forced to give up their farms and move to the city.23 Further documentation of the widespread economic distress was lodged in the sheriff's office in Montreal by various seigneuries. Between 1839 and 1842, 664 writs of execution (seigneurial eviction) were issued,24 with the average number by any seigneur being 23 (see Figure 1.3 for the seigneuries in which this average was exceeded). Not surprisingly, given the state of their seigneurial relationships, Beauharnois and De Lery accounted for 41.4 percent of the total, with 96 and 179 respectively. As the Canadien farmers looked around their seigneuries in the area south of Montreal, they saw English, Scots, Americans, and Irish flooding into the vacated lands - despite their hostility to 'feudalism.' A new saying came into use, battering their pride and contributing to their hatred of all things English: 'An Anglais would get rich on a farm where a French-Canadian would starve.'25 By 1831 most families in the seigneuries of La Salle, De Lery, and Beauharnois had found subdivision inescapable if they were to avoid financial ruin and be able to provide for their children.26 However, when subdivisions were further subdivided, farmers were forced to give only tiny allotments to their sons (Figure 1.4 shows the seigneuries with the

12 Background to Rebellion

Figure 1.3 Seigneuries in the Lower Richelieu Valley in Which an Above Average Number of Writs of Execution Were Issued, 1837-42

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 13

Figure 1.4 Seigneuries in the Lower Richelieu Valley with the Highest Levels of Subdivision

14 Background to Rebellion

highest levels of subdivision). Although these allowed the young men to keep a few cattle and grow vegetables, the lots effectively reduced the men's status to labourers. The moral obligation to establish the following generation on land, felt so deeply until this point, became a memory in many parishes. Parents sadly watched their children leave for Upper Canada and the United States. Many of those emigrating, according to Surveyor General Joseph Bouchette, had been 'desirous and able to erect new settlements, provided they could obtain lands near their relatives ... or not far distant from them/27 But it was not to be. The English-speaking settlers who took advantage of these troubles aroused deep resentment. Many Canadiens believed, like a caleche driver in 1838, that the English 'wanted to take ... their laws, drive them from their lands, and make them "work those lands for their own profit." '28 An unbridgeable chasm separated the two groups. The English, imbued with the spirit of laissez-faire and comfortable with the concept of economic growth, looked at Lower Canada's potential with fresh eyes and a determination to succeed. The rural Canadiens, descended from families that had farmed in the new world for more than a 150 years, yearned for the survival of their traditional ways. Like a tree that had weathered many storms and seen many summers, and whose roots, although gnarled and weakened by age, clung tenaciously to the soil, their goal became endurance. There could be little understanding - only contempt and resentment. The English despised what they perceived as Canadien lack of ambition. In return, the Canadiens hated their economic subjection to a minority 'who cared nothing for them or the Country/ and who only wanted to 'make money out of it to carry away to spend elsewhere/ Moreover, they believed the English would 'trample under foot the laws and customs of the residents' to obtain that objective.29 In the Canadiens' memories, the Roman Catholic Church had always been their salvation, offering protection from the unknown and the threatening.30 But in the disastrous 1830s, a time when spiritual comfort or economic relief was needed, it failed its people. After the Conquest the church had guaranteed its internal autonomy by allying itself with the governor, and it hence became dependent on his good will. With the spectre of Elizabeth I's Act of Supremacy (which provided for full state control of the church) hanging over their heads, parish priests willingly read official proclamations to their parishioners, preached loyalty, and took censuses. The economic disparity between the church and its parishioners was pointed out in 1835 by Dr CyrilleHector-Octave Cote, De Lery's representative in the House of Assembly.31 Before a standing committee, he testified that the parish church in Napierville paid rent of one sol per arpent for its lands, while

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 15

its neighbours' rents ranged between 240 and 504 sols per arpent.32 Despite the economic distress of its parishioners, the church inflexibly exacted tithes, another source of widespread unhappiness.33 Bewildered by the many changes, bereft of their traditional mainstay, many Canadiens in the 1830s looked elsewhere for solace. Dr Cote embodied the new Canadien saviour: the educated middleclass elite. Often these men, whose intelligence had entitled them to an education in the colleges, were sons of farmers, artisans, or labourers. Hippolite Lanctot, for example, was the son of a labourer in the parish of St-Constant, seigneury of La Salle.34 Others, like Charles Bouc of Terrebonne, were scions of radical families.35 Although they were educated, few avenues of advancement were open to these young men. They might specialize in medicine, law, or shopkeeping, but the English controlled bureaucratic and economic success. Even those entering the church found the roads to ascendancy hampered by the potholes of appeasement. It was as if education led them to water but English officials determined who would drink. Disillusioned, they might return to their villages. But there they discovered that some farmers and artisans were better-off financially than themselves36 and that they had little in common with their relatives except discontent and worry over increasing foreign domination. Consequently, politics became the main route to fame and influence. Experiencing the same prejudices as their kin, the elite, like Dr Cote, could articulate common grievances. As their power grew, many British observers reported their 'extraordinary influence' on the rural Canadien, who respected and followed them politically. The elite espoused republicanism, separation of church and state, and liberal, democratic notions of government, expressing their political messages in oratory and song. The latter, sung in the fields, around fireplaces at night, and in the inns, disseminated their gospels quickly and easily: It's Thursday in St-Eustache Where the voting has begun Advance patriotes Everyone's for Mr Scott Ah! Ah! Ah! but nevertheless The sell-outs aren't happy.37

Many, while indifferent to the ideological position of their spokesmen, increasingly entrusted themselves to their representatives in the assembly as well as to their god. Those farmers from De Lery had a true champion in Dr Cote. In

16 Background to Rebellion

1836, while giving evidence to the assembly about conditions in his constituency, he warned of desperate measures being considered: these included a legal test case to be appealed to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, the final court of appeal in the British Empire; and, far more ominously, a proposal to resist evictions and attempts to collect rents, tithes, or lods et ventes with physical force.38 His testimony fell on deaf ears.39 As already noted though, not all disaffection derived from odious seigneurs and perceived seigneurial injustices. For example, after the 1838 rebellion two men were hanged and twelve transported from Chateauguay, a seigneury owned by the Roman Catholic order of the Grey Sisters in Montreal. Much of Chateauguay's land was conceded by the time of the Conquest and the rents were low, approximately 1.5 sols per arpent.40 Other factors, besides seigneurial unrest, inspired the Canadiens' rebellion. Louis-Joseph Papineau, Speaker in the House of Assembly and leader of the Parti patriote, was a man determined to give his people a major role in shaping their destiny. To do this he would have to wrest control of the province from an English oligarchy that had dominated the Canadiens since the conquest of New France. Although they were a huge numerical majority in the province, the Canadiens had not been able to exert any real power. Enfranchised by the Constitutional Act, 1791, they had immediately sent a French-speaking majority to the House of Assembly. By 1796 and thereafter, the bourgeoisie, or middleclass elite, dominated it.41 To counter this strength, successive governors made patronage appointments of French- and English-speaking conservatives to the Executive and Legislative councils, and the latter, with its legislative veto power, consistently opposed the will of the assembly after 1808. As bill after bill died, the assembly became increasingly frustrated. In the mid-1830s Papineau demanded an elected legislative council and total control of the colony's finances. The constitutional crisis thus provoked was truly monumental and would pit Papineau's intransigence against Whig imperialism. In September 1837, by a vote of 54 to 9, the assembly resolved never to sit again until the British government made 'the second branch of the Legislature [i.e., the Legislative Council] conformable to the wishes and wants of the people/ and commenced 'the great work of justice and reform.'42 The British House of Commons considered the proposal and rejected it. The British answer, known as the Russell Resolutions,43 resolved the financial deadlock caused by the assembly's refusal to sit by giving fiscal autonomy to Governor Archibald Acheson, second Earl of Gosford, and his councils. The news, reaching Lower Canada in April 1837, had disastrous consequences.

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 17

Lord Gosford, a moderate governor, became isolated. Two Englishlanguage newspapers represented the polarized extremes: the Tory Montreal Herald and the patriote sympathizing Vindicator and Canadian Advertiser. The Herald taunted Gosford for his conciliatory policy towards the patriote leaders (he had taken pains to entertain them and their wives at the Chateau, for example), and reminded him that the glorious victories of Cressy, Poitiers, Agincourt, and Minden 'were ... by "miserable" minorities of Englishmen over vast majorities of Frenchmen/44 The Vindicator and Canadian Advertiser, edited by an Irishborn, French-educated radical, Edmund Bailey O'Callaghan, trumpeted that a 'howl of agitation' must be raised against the Russell Resolutions 'from one end of the province to the other'; he advocated that 'HENCEFORTH, THERE MUST BE NO PEACE IN THE PROVINCE ... Agitate! Agitate! Agitate!! Destroy the revenue, denounce the oppressors. Everything is lawful when the fundamental liberties are in danger. "The guards die they never surrender."/45 Mass protest was ignited at a meeting in St-Ours. Recognizing the meeting's drift, Gosford issued a proclamation deploring its sentiments and the 'evil disposed and designing men' who chaired it. He exhorted all 'subjects of His Majesty' to unite in the cause of peace and good order, pointing out that the motions passed at St-Ours had a 'seditious tendency/ Gosford commanded 'magistrates in and throughout the Province, all Officers of the Militia, Peace Officers and others' to 'oppose and frustrate the insidious design ... and ... preserve by their loyal cooperation, the vigour and inviolability of the Laws, on which their religion and future happiness depend/46 But his orders only made the subsequent meetings grander and the rhetoric more extreme. An example of this disrespect was the July 1837 anti-coercion (resistance to the Russell Resolutions) meeting held in the village of Napierville in the seigneury of De Lery, to which the speaker of the assembly, Louis-Joseph Papineau, had been invited. When Papineau crossed the St Lawrence to Laprairie on his way to Napierville, the Tory owners of the ferry, knowing his destination, lowered its flag in protest. But that was the only opposition he met in the next few days. Crowds welcomed him along the route to Napierville. More jammed the streets of Laprairie as Canadiens strained for a glimpse of their leader.47 Just outside L'Acadie, an 'immense concourse of carriages' and a hundred horsemen escorted him into the village, past boys in their school uniforms who had waited to sing his praises. Papineau addressed the people of L'Acadie from an upper window in his host's home before meeting with various leaders from the area to map out strategy and receive support. The degree of support was evident the next morning, 4 July, when

18 Background to Rebellion

Papineau's cavalcade streamed to Napierville, led by horsemen carrying banners and flags emblazoned with patriote slogans. These ranged from the humorous - 'Exports! may Gosford be the first' - to the more philosophic - The elective principle, the one thing needful/48 A mile-long train of carriages followed the entourage. Habitants stood outside every house of the route cheering, 'Long live Papineau! Long live liberty/ As the Vindicator reported, 'Wreaths, starred with roses, suspended from windows along the road, showed that the gentler sex at home were not idly indifferent to the day's excitement/49 Napierville itself was a hothouse of excitement. Four thousand partisans thronged the streets, shouting 'No more despotism!' Women leaning from upper windows in surrounding houses showered rose petals into the street. More mottoes, such as 'Equal rights/ decorated the hustings; another echoed the Vindicator's rhetoric, 'The House of Assembly: the Guards die but never surrender/50 Papineau addressed the people from a platform in the village centre, speaking for a short time in English, which surprisingly pleased his audience, before continuing in French for more than two hours. Then several prominent men read resolutions (patterned after those of StOurs) to the crowd. Jacques-David Hebert,51 a prosperous farmer in the De Lery seigneury, for example, seconded a motion scolding Gosford for blaming men 'as seditious and perverse ... who have had the noble courage to raise their voices against the oppressions and tyranny of the British Ministry against this Country/52 Cote's motion echoed the theme of local needs being misunderstood by foreign officials - who 'had brought with them prejudices common to Europeans against the people of America' and used 'a repetition of the deceptive methods formerly used in the old Colonies, now the United States/ After members of the adjourned assembly received votes of confidence for their demands, 'particularly that of an Elective Council, which we will never abandon at any risk/ Joseph Pare, a dairy farmer, proposed a motion to defy Gosford and establish 'Committees of Vigilance/ Resolution 17 concerned membership on these committees, and among those chosen were Jacques-David Hebert and Theodore Bechard, the latter another censitaire who in 1839 would stand trial with both Hebert and Pare for treason. The authorities reacted swiftly. Magistrates, militia officers, and justices of the peace who had attended Papineau's meeting were asked to explain themselves. Although Gosford readily admitted 'the constitutional rights of all British subjects to discuss and express their opinions,' the governor would not 'allow those who held a commission from the Crown' to further 'objects subversive of existing law and order/ As a result, Dr Cote lost his commission as a justice of the peace, and Frangois Papineau was stripped of his militia rank. The governor's disapproval reached as far as Hebert.53

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 19

In the midst of the turmoil, the meetings and vitriolic propaganda from both the patriote and Tory newspapers, Gosford still hoped for a reconciliation. Although the Russell Resolutions had passed the imperial parliament, their implementation had been delayed by the death of William iv. Hoping that the young Victoria's accession might garner good will in the colony, Gosford made a last-ditch effort, summoning the assembly for a session beginning 18 August 1837. As Allan Greer pointed out in The Patriots and the People, rebellion was far from the minds of the patriote leaders at this stage. In June 1837 Papineau recommended following the American rebels' pattern: Ten years before they took up arms, they ... abstained from taxed articles/54 Accordingly, patriotes adopted a policy of squeezing government finances by refusing to use or buy goods on which customs duties had been paid (for example, imported cloth or clothing). Hence, and to the great amusement of the English members, the patriote representatives entered the assembly dressed in homespun habitant clothing. EdouardEtienne Rodier's clothes attracted the most attention, and stories of his appearance regaled dinner tables for months. His dress was 'unique' - a 'frock coat of granite colored' homespun, 'inexpressibles and vest of the same material, striped blue and white; straw hat and beef [sic - probably cowhide] shoes, with a pair of home-made socks.' Some noticed Rodier's lack of a shirt and taunted that he had 'doubtless been unable to smuggle or manufacture one.'55 That Rodier's clothes symbolized the patriotes' financial policy soon became obvious. After swearing reluctant allegiance to the new queen, the patriote members adamantly declined to expedite her colony's business, refusing once again to release any funds until Britain made constitutional reforms. Hysteria escalated. Bombast and propaganda became more extreme as Lower Canada remained without the 'powers of domestic Legislation ... a source of public suffering.'56 In this atmosphere the churches throughout the colony included Te Deums for the new ruler and her family in their services. The patriote reaction was immediate. In St-Cesaire, Louis Bourdon's father-in-law, Francois Papineau, outraged some but encouraged more by walking out of church immediately after the priest's announcement of the Te Deum.57 As habitants elsewhere exited their churches each Sunday after listening to one sermon, the patriotes preached another, a political one, on the steps. Inflammatory articles in the patriote newspapers La Minerve and the Vindicator, as well as the anti-coercion meetings, highlighted parallels between the American Revolution and the Canadiens' struggles. Young Canadiens formed an association modelled on the rebel Sons of Liberty of the 1770s. The Montreal branch grandly proclaimed that government

20 Background to Rebellion

could 'only exist justly by the consent of, the governed ... that a government of choice is an inherent right of the people/58 But the sight of groups drilling in paramilitary fashion or erecting liberty poles and carrying firearms frightened the ultra loyal (mainly English) citizens, known as the loyalists, far more than crowds merely listening to democratic speeches. When the governor refused permission for a rival drill corps, the loyalists established euphemistically named 'fraternal orders' for their own volunteers.59 After dissolving the unyielding assembly, Gosford realized there could be no mediation and that suspending the constitution was England's only course. As he wrote to the colonial secretary, Lord Glenelg, the patriotes would be satisfied with nothing less than 'the separation ... from England and the establishment of a republican government/ Moreover, he added pessimistically, 'the violent and unjustifiable attacks which have been made by the ultra-Tories against the French Canadians have created an animosity and there is need of much precaution and vigilance to prevent and check the disorders which might take place/60 Then, using the financial power given him by the Russell Resolutions, Gosford paid what was owing to many of the government's servants, officials, and pensioners. Some had had no pay for years, and the amounts ranged from a few pounds for lowly cleaners to Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell's munificent £8,949 12s. 9d.61 As coins clinked from government coffers, many patriotes, though, willed themselves to remain poor. Papineau had not collected the Speaker's stipend since 1832. Now, as he set the example, he remained convinced that his policy of constitutional resistance would win the desired reforms.62 Others saw the situation differently. The administration continued to dismiss justices of the peace, militia officers, and others who held royal commissions when they gave support to the patriotes. Rallies and meetings challenged this policy. One held at L'Acadie (with Theodore Bechard as vice-president), for example, attracted 1,200 protesters. Some areas established plans to force the resignations of all Canadiens who held crown appointments. Charles Huot of Napierville, for example,63 who had been the secretary at meetings throughout the summer of 1837, by November 1837 had not resigned his office in the local court that handled petty civil matters. An outraged Cote organized a charivari,64 a particular form of noisy and public harassment. A crowd of some sixty men yelled threats, beat kettles and drums discordantly, and threw small objects at Huot's house, to make him understand their displeasure.65 In St-Joachim, the Committee of Vigilance for the County of Chambly announced elections for justices of the peace and militia officers, to replace those the authorities had dismissed.66 These were ominous signs for the moderate and conservative

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 21

groups in the province. A meeting in St-Charles, attended by thirteen members of the assembly and more than 5,000 people, only added to their fears. Known as the Assembly of Six Counties,67 this meeting set the stage for the 1837 rebellion. Addressed by Papineau, it decided that henceforth the people would elect magistrates and militia officers.68 After enumerating the rights of man, delegates decided to train a militia to combat the 'introduction of armed troops in time of peace, in the colony/ They approved of the Sons of Liberty organization and called for the establishment of similar bodies in various parishes. To show their support, several young men erected a liberty pole dedicated to Papineau, then laid hands on it, swearing 'they would be faithful to their country, and conquer or die for her/69 Papineau's cousin, Roman Catholic Bishop of Montreal Jean-Jacques Lartigue, now added his share to the confrontation. In a pastoral letter dated 24 October 1837, this shepherd mandated his flock's moral position. Citing the religious reasoning of Pope Gregory xvi, he directed his people to submit to 'princes/ condemning those who directed 'all their efforts against the rights of authority/ Comparing the patriotes to past heretics such as the 'Wickliffites' and Luther, Lartigue appealed to the faithfuls' 'noble and generous' hearts: Did you ever seriously reflect on the horrors of a civil war? Did you ever represent to yourselves, your towns and your hamlets deluged with blood, the innocent and the guilty carried off by the same tide of calamity and woe? Did you ever reflect... that almost without exception, every popular revolution is a work of blood?

To add further persuasion, Lartigue called upon Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 'the Philosopher of Geneva/ the author of the 'social contract' who had stated that 'a revolution which cost only one drop of blood would be too dearly brought/70 The Vindicator, which summarized the letter, pointed out that 'the British Parliament, British Statesmen and the British people' as well as the 'Catholic Bishops of Belgium, South America, and Ireland' had censured such 'principles of absolutism [and] passive obedience/71 The reaction of Lartigue's parishioners was more direct. Once his words were read, dozens shouted, 'Down with the letter,' 72 sang the 'Marseillaise/ and walked out of church. Gosford, although weakened by attacks of gout and conscious that his famed conciliatory skills had failed him, still attempted appeasement by appointing more Canadiens than English to his Legislative Council. The moderate Quebec Gazette, reporting this, compared the atmosphere in the province with that in Upper Canada, which only needed one company of British regulars to keep the peace. In Lower Canada, the paper

22 Background to Rebellion

complained, 'common order cannot be maintained with five regiments, and because of this the whole machine of government is paralyzed. The anarchists are permitted to marshal and exercise for revolution, under the eyes of the soldiery/73 The extremists, taking advantage of government paralysis, grew even more abrasive and irrational. The Vindicator reported an attempt to bribe someone to carry an Irish flag in a Tory parade. Having no success, the parade organizers 'displayed that respect for their few Irish Tory friends' by 'placing the Irish flag into the hands of a colored man/ The Herald, attempting to discount the high attendance at the various patriote meetings, explained that children were included in the total. It tried to reassure its readers by announcing that a hundred troops slept fully clothed every night in case of a patriote attack. The Vindicator could hardly contain its glee, jumping to the attack by retorting that most Tories 'prudently sleep with their trowsers [sic] off, as fear sometimes has a more prompt effect on the bowels than even Morrison's pills/74 Along with this verbal level of thrust and counter-thrust, weak government, cultural/linguistic animosities, and widespread fear and hatred came rebellion.75 In many respects the November 1837 rebellion was 'rebellion a justice' - an armed defensive struggle by the people to protect their leaders. The fighting was centred mainly in St-Eustache and St-Benoit, north of Montreal, and in St-Denis and St-Charles on the upper Richelieu. At StDenis, Dr Wolfred Nelson, grandson of a United Empire Loyalist, led determined patriotes to a temporary victory. Subsequent fighting was bitter. The patriotes lacked arms but not courage. But with the success of the commander of the combined British forces, General Sir John Colborne, the viciousness with which trapped men were killed one by one in the St-Eustache church, and the subsequent pillage and destruction by the troops at nearby St-Benoit and at StCharles, the seeds were planted for another rebellion. The church's unswerving support for the government watered these seeds. In a letter to Gosford describing the atmosphere in Bourdon's parish, the local justice of the peace, W.A. Chaffers, reported that their priest was 'loyal to the back bone but he is but one amongst so many ... Mr. Lamarre has reed. Notice that if he preaches Next Sunday, he will be torn from the pulpit/76 The Roman Catholic Church carried its support for the English crown to extremes, at one stage asking its priests to explain to the people that the fiery destruction in the rebellion's aftermath was necessary 'for the protection of the ... loyal subjects.'77 Contributing to the desolation, Lartigue denied the sacraments to patriotes and banned the burial of rebel dead in consecrated ground, a denial that seemed vengeful and inexcusable to their grieving families.

The First Blow, Autumn 1837 23

While the habitants might cluster around their priests on Sundays to sign petitions of loyalty, they could not forget the sight of smoke rising from burning Canadien farms and villages and their hearts recorded another wrong on an already long list. And help, although perforce covert, was still given to the patriotes. For example, Jean-Baptiste Bousquet, lieutenant in Her Majesty's militia and the miller for the seigneur Debartzch, signed the loyal address from the parish of StCesaire, 18 December 1837, but later admitted aiding and abetting such notable rebels as Dr Wolfred Nelson and Bonaventure Viger in their attempted escape to the United States.78 Other patriote leaders, safely within the United States, began planning an armed return. This time, they would be better prepared. A second rebellion would not be a defensive struggle. In 1838 the patriotes would take the military initiative.

2

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government71

His arthritis was bad. Maurice Lepailleur grimaced a little as he shuffled to the window before taking his watch from his waistcoat pocket and flicking the case open. Five minutes to eleven. Pulling the lacy curtain back a little, he peered down Sanguinet. To his surprise he saw Frank Warwick already outside, one foot on the stoop. As he let the curtain settle and walked back to his chair by the fire, Lepailleur felt a little envious. What he'd give to have the eagerness of youth again. At eleven o'clock precisely, the door knocker sounded. It took Lepailleur several minutes of fussing to get the young reporter settled comfortably. After the two men had exchanged pleasantries, Warwick looked at Lepailleur. Satisfied that he had the older man's attention, he reached across his face to tug his right earlobe with his left thumb and middle finger. 'Chasseur/ he asked solemnly, 'is it Tuesday?' It was only with great difficulty that Lepailleur managed a straight face. But in reply he pinched his nose twice with his right thumb and middle finger. 'No, chasseur, this is Wednesday/ Then, he permitted himself a small smile. 'You've been reading about the Freres Chasseurs, Mr Warwick, I believe/ Frank grinned. 'Yes, and I wish I'd been alive then. It must have been so exciting, going to the lodges, having your own password with secret signs/ 'Sometimes. But also dangerous/ Lepailleur replied dryly. Unabashed, the eager reporter continued. 'You were a chasseur, weren't you, Mr Lepailleur? You joined, didn't you?' 'Actually, I was a castor. I had five raquets, or corporals as you'd say, under me. I commanded fifty men/ 'Fifty men!' Warwick leaned forward, his eyes alight. 'I wish I had lived then. You had so much adventure. You were in the thick of things. Oh, the sheer romance of it all/ 'Romance?' Lepailleur huffed. 'That isn't a word I'd use. The chasseurs were like everything else. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Sometimes even boring.'

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 25

'But the initiation ceremony? Surely you wouldn't call that boring?' 'No/ Lepailleur agreed. 'Certainly not. I can remember my own as clearly as yesterday/ 'Would you tell me about it?' 7 don't see why not.' He glanced sharply across at Warwick. 'You know I swore a solemn oath on the saints to keep things secret, don't you?' Warwick nodded. 'But it's part of history now. Surely your vows don't apply any more/ 'If they ever did. Dr Brien thought nothing of breaking them/ Lepailleur answered cryptically. 'But I'll tell you of that later. I joined in the summer of 1838. Now me, I'm a cautious man. Except for that one year, it seems. So, I was one of those who waited a while before joining. Of course, my brother-in-law, my dear Cardinal, was the chief in our area and he tried and tried to get me to join. Finally, his persistence paid off and I agreed/ Lepailleur paused for a moment as his daughter-in-law wheeled in the coffee service. After she had poured for both men and left the room, he stared with dislike at the delicate cup and its pattern of pink roses. 'I keep telling her I'm too told for this china, that I wouldn't worry about breaking a mug so much/ he grumbled. 'But she never listens. And, of course, with you a guest, I've no chance/ Nevertheless he sipped the coffee and carefully put the cup back on the trolley. 'Now, where was I?' Warwick followed his lead, handling the Doulton porcelain as if it were eggshells. 'You were going to tell me about joining the chasseurs/ 'Well, as I said, I finally succumbed to my brother-in-law's persuasion. By then, it seemed half of our parish had already become members and to tell the truth, I was a little scared at the thought of the initiation ceremony. When the day came, as part of the ritual I and some others had to ride to the meeting place in the back of a hay cart. As we wound our way along the dusty roads, I remember hearing Mr Roy, the driver, call out to Mr Dufresne as we passed his farm. Months before Mr Dufresne's mangy old bull had managed to escape and had found his way into a neighbour's field/ He chuckled a little. 'It became a joke because that neighbour, Mr Macintosh, had just imported several purebred cows from Scotland. But before he could build a proper pen, old Dufresne's bull impregnated them. Macintosh was fit to be tied. He was so angry. I was told he wouldn't speak to anyone/ Warwick laughed. 'Well, at least he must have found out they'd be good breeders/ 'That was so. But, Macintosh didn't want such low-bred calves on his farm. Everyone expected they'd become veal steaks until Dufresne offered to take them off Macintosh's hands. Well, that did it. From that point Macintosh was committed to keeping them, much to everyone's amusement/ Lepailleur chuckled again, then looked across to Warwick. 'It's funny, isn't it, the things that stick

26 Background to Rebellion

in your mind as you get older. Td forgotten that story, yet once I started thinking about the Freres Chasseurs, it suddenly came back to me, clear as a bell.' Warwick smiled politely before asking, somewhat impatiently, 'About the initiation, Mr Lepailleur? What was it like?' 'Terrifying,' Lepailleur answered simply. Then, seeing the younger man's face, he sighed and continued. 'You see, somewhere past Dufresne's, the cart stopped and we were hauled off it and blindfolded. Someone turned us around and around, so that we lost all track of direction. Then we were put back on the cart and half an hour later it stopped again. The driver helped us down and led us into a room. It was deathly quiet for the longest time, then Cardinal -1 recognized his voice even though he tried to disguise it - suddenly asked if we were ready to swear the chasseur oath. 'You realize at that point we had very little choice, don't you. To refuse would have been foolhardy in the extreme. In fact, I don't know that anyone ever did, once they'd entered the lodge. I don't know how to explain it exactly. As we couldn't see, our ears and noses seemed to do double duty. I heard whispers in the background and smelled Guy Demers's foul tobacco. Anyway, after we answered yes, Cardinal began reading the oath and we repeated it after him. Word for word. I can't remember any of it now. Except for those parts at the end when I promised to keep all the chasseur secrets, not to talk outside of the lodge about political happenings. And I can vividly remember consenting to have my property destroyed and my throat cut to the bone if I did. After that they took the blindfold off, and to my shock, there was the longest dagger I'd ever seen a quarter of an inch from my throat. What was worse, the man who held it was the blacksmith who had shod my mare only the previous day.' 'Then you knew he was a friend, at least,' Warwick commented. 'No, not that day! I believed then that if I went against the men in that room, my throat would have been cut to the bone. A group of members sat in a circle around us, pointing rifles and knives at us. Believe me, it was a very frightening experience.' 'But surely you knew your friends and Mr Cardinal would not have hurt you?' 'All I know is that I never once thought of betrayal. Even when I was appointed a leader, a captain, I remained convinced that my life was worth nothing if I informed anybody about the chasseurs.' 'How many joined in Chateauguay? A hundred?' . 'Hardly. Why, we swore in two hundred and fifty new members in just one day.' Leaning forward, he bent his head in thought. 7 don't believe I ever knew exactly how many men we had. It had to be more than a thousand though.' That surprised Warwick and it showed on his face. 'All Canadiens?' 'No/ Lepailleur smiled, 'we were democratic. We accepted anyone if they believed as we did.' He hesitated, then added, 'As long as they weren't Scottish, that is. If we'd let the Scots in we'd have never rebelled. All the fighting would have been in our own lodge.'

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 27

'It seems strange hearing you say that about the Scots. I would have thought they'd be your friends. They'd fought the British themselves for years. Why, my teacher told us some were even with Montcalm when he fought Wolfe in 1759 / Lepailleur shrugged testily. "Well, they weren't the same ones around in 1838. I'll tell you, the Scots thought themselves so much better than us. They were the ones who ran the fur trade, remember. The McTavishes, the McGills, the Richardsons. We, the Canadiens, were only humble voyageurs. And although I was in jail myself at the time, I remember hearing tales of the Glengarries' brutality against us. No. The Scots were not our friends in 1838, Mr. Warwick/ 'Thank goodness I'm English then,' Warwick replied. 'Mr Lepailleur, you said your brother-in-law persuaded you to join. What about other people? What were their reasons? Responsible government? Independence? A republic like the United States?' 'Nothing so clear-cut, I'm afraid! Lepailleur's eyes seemed to look into the past. 'We had so many reasons. Anger. In my own case, a hunger for a better system. And, of course, many joined because it was expected of them. Once a lodge was established in a parish, it became the thing to do. Men then were like men now, you must realize. The lodge was a place to escape the ordinary life, the mundane. To be away from family responsibilities for a while. Having passwords and the signs made it seem exotic. Certainly it gave us a step up on the Scots in Chateauguay, at any rate.' He leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing his aching knee. 'It also made us feel secure. We could criticize the government and know that no one would betray us.' Warwick sat silently for a few seconds, before hurriedly scribbling in his notebook. Lepailleur watched him, then shrugged his shoulders fatalistically. 'But who knows exactly why anyone ever does anything? When I was in prison, I heard about a Mr Longpre who recruited patriotes by telling people it was like a wedding with drinking, good food, violin playing, and dancing. Apparently he even told men if they wanted leather for their children's shoes, they could have it: 'His lodge must have been huge. That alone would have brought in thousands!' Lepailleur laughed. 7 never found out.' Then weariness settled over his face and sorrow haunted his eyes. Warwick put away his notes, preparing to leave. But the older man added quietly, 'As a captain, I never hid the truth from my men. They knew that while they might have fun at the lodge in the summer, come October, or November, they had to be ready to march.'

28 Background to Rebellion

WITH THE REEK OF SMOKE from the burning villages still on their clothes and the cold that had hampered their escape to the United States fresh in their memories, the exiled patriote leadership met in Middlebury, Vermont, 2 January 1838. Papineau, who had been negotiating loans from American banks to help further the cause, called the meeting to order. Not surprisingly he remained clear of the heated discussions once it became obvious that Dr Cote, E-E Rodier, and Julien Gagnon of UAcadie - men who had seen and heard much of the habitants' grievances - considered that the success of another revolt lay in exploiting seigneurial abuses. Papineau, a seigneur himself, saw little wrong with the system. Unable to sway the meeting, he decided, along with other leaders, such as Thomas Storrow Brown, to quit the movement. They 'took no [further] part in frontier disturbances and to be far enough away' left the area entirely.2 Brown went to Florida; Papineau to Albany, New York, and thence to Paris. They were prudent to do so, for Lower Canada was now in the hands of Sir John Colborne.3 A brilliant tactician, Sir John had tasted military glory during the Peninsula Wars. At Waterloo, in Belgium, as commander of the 52nd Regiment of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry and the left wing of the famed Light Brigade, he had forced the collapse of Napoleon's Imperial Guard by an unauthorized charge in 1815. Later, some military historians would credit this audacious manoeuvre with assuring the success of the Battle of Waterloo. No stranger to the Canadas, Colborne was appointed lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada in 1828, but he filled the position with only moderate success. He was recalled in 1836 but was then appointed commander-in-chief of British forces in the Canadas. Back in military harness, he was more comfortable and successful. Although in the summer of 1837 he thought the patriotes' meetings and agitation would 'produce little effect,'4 he nonetheless prepared for the improbable by fortifying Quebec and ensuring a fresh supply of weapons and ammunition. He also recruited troops, including veterans of his old regiment, the 52nd, who had emigrated to Lower Canada. Sir John was the ideal soldier - ruthless in battle but generous in its aftermath. When the first rebellion was put down in December 1837, he was quite willing to leave punishment to the courts, albeit courts martial. By January 1838 he was complaining to Chief Justice John Beverley Robinson of Upper Canada that 'unreasonable gentlemen of Montreal' expected he would 'open my Martial Law session, and hang about a dozen of our Prisoners daily/5 Colborne thought transportation to a penal colony a sufficient sentence. He sought permission from the colonial secretary, Lord Glenelg, to establish courts martial. Glenelg sent a dispatch granting this request

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 29

and even allowing executions, though only 'under circumstances of peculiar and pressing urgency/6 But by the time the dispatch reached Montreal, about five weeks later, its contents were obsolete. The province was peaceful again; nothing impeded the operation of the regular criminal law. Suspected men in the rebellious areas could be arrested on warrants issued by magistrates, then brought before the Montreal courts, which had never ceased operation and were now free from any possible threat. Meanwhile, the colony remained under martial law. Although it would be revoked 27 April 1838, it complicated rather than simplified the issue for Colborne. Quite simply, martial law had no firm legal basis. In contrast, under a military government, an army's occupation of an area gave its orders their legitimacy. This had happened in Canada when the English had conquered New France and would happen in Germany, immediately after World War n. The internal law within the armed forces in 1759 and in 1838 was defined by the relevant Articles of War and Mutiny acts. Therefore, civilian rebels were outside the articles' and acts' jurisdiction.7 Martial law was an ad hoc arrangement, a crisis-management tool of governing, and as Lord Hale remarked in his History of the Common Law, it was 'no Law, but something indulged rather than allowed as a Law'8 and the crown's law officers were obliged to justify the use of such a governing device over ordinary law. Moreover, unless such use were sanctioned by Parliament, or by colonial statute, the crown could not legally justify its actions if a previously rebellious area had been pacified. Glenelg received advice to this effect in January 1838,9 so that even if Colborne had limited the sentences to transportation, banishment, or jail, any court martial would have been illegal. The imperial parliament had not given its legislative sanction to such a measure, and as the Lower Canadian House of Assembly had been suspended since late in the summer of 1837, no legislative help could come from that body. Colborne, defying loyal opinion, released more than two hundred prisoners. He wrote Glenelg a second letter, advising the Colonial Office of this and asking about the remainder, who included Wolfred Nelson and Papineau's cousins, Denis-Benjamin and Bonaventure Viger. Severe punishments would have to be exacted, he wrote, or the Canadiens would 'take up arms on every future occasion' when they disagreed with government. To buttress his arguments for courts martial, he enclosed opinions from the provincial law officers and Montreal magistrates advising London that jury trials would be useless, probably dangerous.10 Two months later Glenelg responded, rescinding his earlier approval of courts martial because such would infringe upon the 'principles by which the administration of criminal law is guided throughout the

30 Background to Rebellion

British dominions/11 To meet the Lower Canadian situation, he proposed action based on the prisoners' degree of guilt. The least dangerous could be immediately released. The next level of suspects could be allowed to plead guilty on the condition that they afterwards removed themselves from British North America. Beyond these, Glenelg advised Colborne to select as test cases for jury trial four or five rebels from the rest against whom there was particularly strong evidence. If they were convicted, the remainder could also be tried; if acquitted, others whose freedom was thought to threaten the colony were to remain in jail under the government's best friend, a suspension of habeas corpus. London had not thought the situation through, ignoring problems that would arise from the banishment of scores of patriotes. These men would not forget their homes or families and would organize and stir up trouble on the American border. If juries acquitted the four or five leaders selected for trial, they would be freed, leaving men of equal guilt languishing in jail. Not surprisingly, Colborne postponed the selection of the leaders, wisely leaving the problem for Lord Durham, the newly appointed governor-general of the Canadas, to tackle on his arrival.12 In the interim, he continued discharging the lesser lights, until only 125 suspected rebels remained in jail. Of those, he considered half to be the 'principal promoters' of the revolt. As authorized by imperial statute and ordered by Glenelg, Colborne announced the creation of a special council to help administer the colony. He appointed twenty-two men, most with impeccable conservative credentials, to it. Of those, eleven were Canadiens. Among its English members were William Christie, the despised seigneur of De Lery, and seventy-one-year-old Samuel Gerrard, who represented the interests of Edward Ellice, seigneur of Beauharnois in Lower Canada. Glenelg's conciliatory policy became easier to impose as English opinion moderated in the province. Only the Montreal Herald still called for blood, writing that it was nonsensical 'to fatten them up all winter' only for their death on the gallows.13 The Montreal Gazette, no longer advocating revenge, now called for constitutional change - the union of Lower and Upper Canada and an imperial statute to abolish Canadien civil law, French as a quasi-official language, and feudal tenure. And what should be done with the prisoners? Surprisingly, the Gazette thought they should be tried by 'means of the palladium of British subjects - Trial by Jury' as sanctified by the Magna Carta. Although acquittals would likely result from such action, 'let it never be said that any other course had been resorted to within the British dominions.'14 As time passed, the imprisonment of suspected rebels remained a festering sore in the minds of Canadiens and it awaited healing by the new governor.

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 31

John George Lambton, Lord Durham, reached Lower Canada in May 1838. After months of intense discussion and study, he decided on an original solution. In exchange for signed confessions of guilt, he offered several prominent leaders the punishment of transportation to another colony. Eight accepted when Durham's negotiator, John Simpson, the customs collector at C6teau-du-Lac and the stepfather of the radical member of Parliament John Roebuck, hinted that the exile might amount to only a few months, offered each man £500 for expenses, and made it clear that the leaders' cooperation was essential if the remaining rebels were to receive amnesty. Jean-Joseph Girouard, from St-Benoit, refused Durham's offer and advised his comrades against signing incriminating confessions. In these so-called confessions, the eight claimed to have been incited to 'madness' by the Tory press. Their rebellion had been defensive in nature. They had merely protected themselves 'against colonial misgovernment' and arbitrary arrest. As leaders of the patriotes they had not 'struggled for independence' but towards 'the true spirit of the British constitution and British liberty,' and 'if there be guilt in high aspirations' such as those, they confessed and pleaded guilty. Such sophistry was unacceptable. After a week or so Simpson and Durham's secretary, Charles Buller, extracted a second document from the eight. This contained an admission of participation in the rebellion but not of guilt. Influenced perhaps by the imminent coronation of Queen Victoria, now just three days away, Durham accepted this token confession and on 28 June 1838 the Special Council enacted what became known as the Bermuda ordinance, which would send the eight leaders to Bermuda.15 Following this, the governor issued a proclamation granting a general amnesty to all rebels except for the eight leaders exiled to Bermuda, LouisJoseph Papineau and fifteen others who had fled to sanctuary in the United States, and those suspected of the murders of Lieutenant Weir, a young despatch rider, and Joseph Armand dit* Chartrand, an informer.16 The amnesty and the onset of summer encouraged many fugitives to * The word 'dit7 ('also called7 in English) following the surname indicated that the person had a popular name, such as the name of a geographical place to distinguish a particular family, a nickname, or the name of a family that had informally 'adopted7 the person or an ancestor (there was no legal adoption until the twentieth century). Following the usage adopted by the Dictionary of Canadian Biography (see, for example I: 2, ii: 449, and vn: 246), I have given both names in the first textual reference, but thereafter normally used the proper or legal name alone except where I know from contemporary evidence that the popular name prevailed, in which case it alone was given. For example, Lepailleur's journal (see note 8, Preface) makes clear that Antoine Coupal dit Lareine was usually called Lareine or old Lareine by his fellow prisoners, while Andre Papineau dit Montigny (a place in France) was known as Papineau. Lepailleur's journal indicated that only two of the eight 'dits7 among the prisoners were generally referred to by their popular names: Lareine and Charles Bergevin dit Langevin.

32 Background to Rebellion

return to their farms. Among them was Theodore Bechard, who had been so prominent in Napierville and had represented his parish at the Assembly of Six Counties. In his late forties, married with two children, he was one of the more prosperous in the area, farming a total of 210 arpents in the De Lery and Longueuil seigneuries. Before he returned from the United States, though, Dr Cote warned him to be ready for another rebellion and initiated him into the Freres Chasseurs.17 Cote, Robert Nelson, and other leaders had established this secret society because they were 'desperate ... seeing all their secrets exposed by the indiscretion of the people/18 There were other secret groups (particularly in Upper Canada), but the Freres Chasseurs - roughly modelled along Masonic lines - proved the most effective. After adoption by all patriote groups, it spread throughout the Canadas. Embraced by Americans as well in the border states of New York, Ohio, Michigan, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine,19 it even reached as far as Paris. With the longrange goal of eliminating British government from the Canadas, the Freres Chasseurs not only connected all rebels, but formed them into an easily controlled, compact body. It was an excellent organizational tool for the expatriate leaders. Through it, morale was controlled, information collected and dispersed, and finances coordinated. Money was raised in several ways, but the best and most reliable was through subscriptions by member chasseurs (or hunters). Some people donated solely for the welfare of the expatriates, others for arms and ammunition.20 Louis Bourdon, the treasurer for St-Cesaire, later testified that the commander of the Richelieu valley area, E-E Malhiot, had asked him to find money 'to defray expenses/ On another occasion he gave Malhiot $17.50 when requested to 'collect as many subscriptions as possible because we're short of money/ At the time of rebellion in 1838, Bourdon had $17.00 in his possession, which he had 'collected under the pretext of aiding the exiles/ Some donations were in kind: Jean-Baptiste Tetro of St-Marie gave twenty-five Americans guns, eight bayonets, and ammunition to Bourdon's chasseurs because the men in his parish were too few 'to rise in rebellion/21 Robert Nelson encouraged a unique form of fund raising - a 'dash with the cash/ Patriotes, he suggested, should borrow money from the Montreal banks, then race to the United States and the rebels' coffers. Not only would this bring in needed funds, but a strain would be placed on the specie resources of the banks. Nelson himself attempted to borrow from American banks as well, particularly from Astor and Creal, using a promissory note signed by several leaders as security. In these negotiations, he grandiloquently referred to his embryonic 'Bank of Lower Canada/ a bank that would see birth only with the establishment of a Lower Canadian republic. To fund his bank, Nelson planned to

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government7 33

expropriate crown lands and the resources of the British American Land Company. He also intended to extract reparations for 'wrongs' against la nation canadienne from such leading Montreal merchants as Peter McGill and John Molson.22 But for all his grand schemes, the only tangible and reliable assets were members' subscriptions, and these were so small that a single donation of $400 was remembered and talked about.23 To ensure secrecy, members could speak about chasseur affairs only in their lodges. Initiation was a frightening ceremony, calculated to reinforce the habitants' fear of the unknown. After being blindfolded, the recruit would be taken into a room. There the blindfold would be whipped off and he would see long daggers and rifles, the symbols of the society, ranged against him. These would be held in the hands of people he knew, but the eyes above the weapons would be cold and unfamiliar. With such intimidation, secrecy was rarely broken. Although some flexibility was allowed local leaders as to the form of oaths members had to take, the standard was the following: I, A.B., freely and in the presence of Almighty God, solemnly swear to observe the secret signs and mysteries of the said society of Chasseurs never to write, describe, nor make known, in any way, any things which have been revealed to me ... to be obedient... providing I can do so without great prejudice to my person; to aid with my advice, care and property, every brother Chasseur in need, and to notify him in time, of misfortune that may threaten him. All this I promise without Reservation and consenting to see my property destroyed, and to have my throat cut to the bone.24

Theodore Bechard administered a far more direct oath to his recruits. After they had sworn by the saints and their hope of reaching Paradise, they vowed 'to keep quiet and not talk politics, day or night but if they come to throw us in jail this year as they did last year we must resist.'25 After the oath taking, each recruit received his rank. These ranged from the lowly chasseur, equivalent to an ordinary soldier, to the grand aigle, or commander-in-chief. Nine chasseurs formed a unit led by a raquet, or corporal. Two castors, or captains, commanded five squads of chasseurs and raquets, that is, fifty men. If the importance of the area warranted it, or if the number of men reached approximately five hundred, a colonel, or aigle, took control.26 The three inferior ranks had their own passwords and identification signs. For example, a man in one area might place the forefinger of his right hand in the corresponding nostril or say, 'Chasseur, this is Tuesday,' to elicit the response of 'Wednesday.' Men became chasseurs for many reasons. Some believed that political change was necessary. Some joined to preserve their status in the community or after others in their families became members. Without

34 Background to Rebellion

any doubt, however, leaders sometimes had to apply pressure to swell chasseur ranks. For example, Bechard's cousin, Louis, the marguillier (churchwarden) of L'Acadie parish, was an unwilling recruit.27 EdouardPascal Rochon of Terrebonne admitted that one of his brothers told him that membership 'would secure his property/28 Many could not, or chose not, to understand the aims of the society, seeing the lodges as pleasant social gatherings where the hated English could be safely discussed. Others, farmers with generations of agrarian forebears, mourned the past and believed an independent nation canadienne the sole remedy for their grievances. The nerve centre of patriote operations in Lower Canada was the Montreal office of advocate John Picote de Belestre M'Donell.29 Not only were members enlisted there, but local leaders would bring in donations, membership lists, and news. Once a week M'Donell sent a messenger to the exiled leaders in New York state with money and information about troop movements; the messenger would also convey the latest rumours and opinions circulating in the parishes. Leaders from rural areas also travelled south to share in the planning there and to have their doubts washed away by the fervour of the grand chefs, as the exiled leaders were sometimes called. After returning to Lower Canada, they travelled from inn to inn, parish to parish, giving the secret signs and initiating new recruits. They urged chasseurs, 'sometimes by compliments, sometimes by reproaches/ to be ready 'to march/ and they expounded upon the support promised Lower Canadians by the Americans. Even though the U.S. government had proclaimed neutrality, Nelson's emissaries insisted that the American people waited only for the patriotes to rally 'in some corner of the country' to provide as many men and arms as required.30 While chasseurs scurried throughout the countryside, preparing to overthrow the government, Durham decided, at long last, to deal with the men implicated in the November 1837 death of the government informer Chartrand. Six were indicted by the Montreal Grand Jury, and of these six, four faced trial for murder.31 The subsequent proceedings were a sensation. Newspapers of all political hues sent reporters. Spectators packed the galleries, either loudly deriding the suspects or sympathizing with them. Charles Ogden, attorney general of Lower Canada, and Michael O'Sullivan, solicitor general, represented the crown, while Charles Mondelet, who had actively supported the patriotes prior to the rebellion, led for the defence. Ogden presented a solid case, fully documenting Chartrand's death at the hands of the accused beyond a shadow of doubt. Mondelet did not deign to argue fact. Instead, he claimed that there was no law as Ogden understood it during times of rebellion. People in the Six Counties had planned elections

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government7 35

for their own magistrates and justices of the peace, for instance. Anarchy had governed certain areas of Lower Canada, resulting in a legal and political vacuum. Therefore, the laws of nature had overtaken those of man. In such situations men had a natural right, Mondelet argued, to kill those who threatened their safety. In his charge to the jury, Chief Justice James Reid dismissed this reasoning as dangerous rhetoric, soberly instructing the all-Canadien jury to do its duty. However, in a stunning assertion of independence, the jury ignored Ogden's arguments and nullified Reid's instructions. As Ogden's face almost certainly whitened with shock, the foreman announced a verdict of 'not guilty.' And with that, commotion broke out - not only in the courtroom but in many parts of the city. To further Durham's consternation, London sent word that his Bermuda ordinance had been vetoed. Although a stunningly creative solution to the Lower Canadian problem, it had one major drawback: illegality - it was beyond Durham's power to assign prisoners to another colony. Once his proclamation was disallowed, the governor resigned in a fit of pique and made arrangements for his immediate return to Britain. His precipitate actions upset most Lower Canadians, for during his short tenure he had in fact reduced racial recrimination.32 By sending representatives, like the journalist Stewart Derbishire,33 throughout the province to probe the English/Canadien hostilities and the reasons for them, he had allowed otherwise disenfranchised people a chance to talk. By giving men such as the rabidly anti-Canadien editor of the Montreal Herald, Adam Thorn, a voice in his councils, he had redirected the expressions of their ire. Now, with Durham preparing to leave, instead of believing their wrongs could be righted, many citizens, both Canadien and English, felt abandoned. Not all Canadiens, of course. Chasseurs in the parishes understood that the overthrow of the British was set for October. As men steeled themselves for revolt and news of Durham's resignation filtered southward, Nelson decided to delay. Some habitants' rebellious ardour cooled as they thought about the onset of winter, and Nelson's messengers raced throughout the countryside attempting to restore morale. When peaceful words proved ineffective, threats were used. Malhiot, for example, warned Bechard that his buildings would be burned if he did not lead his recruits to battle. As Durham's departure drew nearer, Nelson became increasingly optimistic. By the end of October his final plans were in place - a complete contrast to the ad hoc nature of the 1837 rebellion. Malhiot, who with a couple of engineers had scouted the fort at Sorel on the Richelieu River, would lead an attack on it. Not only would he capture its stores of

36 Background to Rebellion

arms and ammunition, but he would cut communication between Montreal and Quebec. A second force, commanded by Nelson and Cote, would invade Lower Canada from the south and capture St-Jean, another fort on the Richelieu. After this, the two armies, augmented by rebels who would have participated in some secondary attacks, would converge on the central fort of Chambly in a pincer movement. The parishes in the Beauharnois seigneury would attack the manor house, acquire the store of militia arms on the grounds, and cut communications with Montreal and Upper Canada by seizing and dismantling the steamer Henry Brougham. Chateauguay patriotes were to take arms and ammunition from the Mohawk people at Caughnawaga (known now as Kahnawake), then join Nelson's army in Napierville. Communication between Montreal and the north was to be cut by Terrebonne rebels. To ensure the total isolation of the city, other patriotes would sever the railway line between St-Jean and Laprairie. The plan was excellent. By isolating Montreal, Nelson would consolidate his strength in the area most sympathetic to his aims. But everything depended on the chasseurs' organizational ability, on their having men at the right places and at the right times. Equally important, the promised arms and support from the United States had to arrive. Robert Nelson's final choice for the moment to attack was also good. If ever Lower Canada was to be vulnerable, the moment between Durham's departure and the changeover to a new administrator would be the time. A regular army officer, Charles Grey, worriedly wrote his father, former prime minister Earl Grey, that the British could only honestly say they held Lower Canada by right of military occupation, so strong were the stresses within the colony. There was no legislature, no governor, no unity. But if armed insurrection resulted, he thought the Canadiens would have no chance for success. With chilling insight he wrote that he could not quite understand the winter being the best season for such attempts. It is quite clear if we have anything serious to do in this Province, that our system must be to burn the houses on each side of the roads as we go along and, with the thermometer 20 degrees below zero, what will become of the poor misguided wretches.34

The government troops numbered five thousand regulars, and these were augmented by thousands in the militia. They were ready, although few believed they would see action. The chasseur secrecy had worked well. On 2 November 1838 as Durham left Quebec, Nelson's orders filtered through to the parishes. Word went from aigle to castor to raquet

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 37

Figure 2.1 Nelson's Plan of Attack, 1838

38 Background to Rebellion

and down finally to the chasseurs: 'march/ Determined men began marching in the thick mud that served as roads south of Montreal Island. Timid bodies disappeared from some houses. In others, warm clothing, ancient weapons, and provisions materialized when the knocks rattled the door. Undetected by English residents, an undercurrent of resolve swept through communities. Louis Bourdon and two hundred others gathered in St-Cesaire, then marched off to wage war at Chambly, shouting, 'Long live la nation canadienne, long live the patriotes and down with the English!' Francois-Maurice Lepailleur rode between Beauharnois and his own parish of Chateauguay, trying to coordinate activities and spread the latest news. In this atmosphere, and for the second time in twelve months, Sir John Colborne became the colony's administrator. He had learned a good deal over the year. Once back in Montreal on 4 November, with an intrepidity honed by years of battle, he suspended habeas corpus by declaring martial law and imprisoned several prominent Canadiens, including Louis LaFontaine (the future premier of the united Canadas) and Denis-Benjamin and Louis Viger. As news of uprisings and armed battles poured into the city, this decisiveness struck the right nerve for the enraged English. By 11 November armed resistance ceased. English Montrealers, looking across the St Lawrence to the south, saw flames soaring into the air as house after house burnt in the military's subjugation of civilian insubordination.35 Almost certainly they gave thanks for their no-nonsense administrator. The new Montreal prison filled as arrests and captures accelerated. Eventually, sheer volume forced the reopening of the old one on Notre Dame Street and the resort to other detention areas. While castigating the rebellion as 'most wicked, most unprovoked and unnatural/ the English newspapers gleefully reported the names of those freshly captured or imprisoned. Ignoring the fact that many of those arrested by virtue of Colborne's proclamation either had, like Louis LaFontaine, no sympathy for an insurrection or had, like Jean-Joseph Girouard, actively advised against participation in it, the Montreal Gazette editorialized on the situation. 'It was impossible,' it pronounced, 'to conciliate the respect or obedience of a FRENCH CANADIAN demagogue or rebel by kindness or concession.' Only 'condign [severe] punishment' would convince him of his 'folly' and the 'criminality of his conduct.'36 Few English Montrealers thought that punishment needed judicial sanction or proof of guilt. 'A Citizen' complained of the burden poor people shouldered, calculating that Colborne's order that occupied houses burn two candles from dark to daylight cost each household eight pence nightly. Resenting the

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 39

fact that someone had to stay awake to tend those candles, he felt it 'rather too much' for 'one third of a soldier's pay to be burnt while he is on duty, guarding the city.' He had a simple solution: all the 'moveable property of the Rebels now in custody, and the Rebels hereafter to be in custody' should be confiscated, sold, and the proceeds consolidated into a fund so that the 'poor unfortunate loyal subjects of Montreal' who drilled each day and watched at night could be indemnified.37 It is interesting that 'A Citizen' advocated only the sale of property of those in prison or those who would join them, since, as events would show, the British army and other loyalists did not suffer from such scruples. The 1838 rebellion differed dramatically from area to area, as did the destruction in response to it. Many of the houses burning in Napierville had been incinerated on Colborne's orders. Although he later countermanded these, British noncommissioned officers specially chosen for the task destroyed several homes and considered any money they found to be lawful plunder. Even Napierville's parish funds were happily confiscated.38 These men were not alone in their attitude towards Canadien property. The Glengarry militia from Upper Canada, called into the province to help subdue the Beauharnois area, consciously used plunder and destruction as punitive weapons. Of the more than six hundred who arrived on foot, only fifty returned without horses.39 Moreover, petty men seized the chance to settle small scores. Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Grey, while admitting that the loyalists had cause for revenge, worried that 'now that they have again got the upper hand they are disposed to exact too severe a retribution and require to be kept in order.'40 The savagery of the aftermath touched even the commander of the Glengarries, Colonel Angus Macdonell, who observed the distress of the Canadien women and children 'on beholding their houses in flames.' Not only did they lose their shelters, but their 'husbands, fathers, sons, and relations' were dragged away as prisoners. He saw 'women perishing in the snow, small children frozen stiff by their side,' and 'half grown children running frantic in the woods, frightened at the sight of friend or foe.' If Canadiens failed to answer the knock on their doors, 'their houses were consigned to the flames, as they were supposed to be at the rebel camp.'41 Retribution was merciless, no quarter given. Not content with looting and destroying property, soldiers and loyalists also raped and murdered. Did Colborne know the extent of the atrocities?42 The contemporary historian Robert Christie wrote that Sir John was annoyed because 'he had given positive orders to avoid all excesses of the kind.'43 The widespread destruction and brutality, therefore, indicated a surprising degree of insubordination if Christie's assertion was correct. Certainly, Grey

40 Background to Rebellion

believed he was the only British officer attempting to control his men, and Canadiens had no difficulty in assuming that their new administrator governed more by the sword than the law. Upon finding an injured rebel, Achille Morin, Colborne allegedly ordered, 'Hang him immediately/ Thereupon a witness, 'inveterate as he was against the patriots!,] turned pale ... "Good God," said he, "have the days of barbarism returned? Why put a Man to death without trial?"/44 That question summarized Colborne's predicament. The English scented - demanded - blood, and he set about appeasing them while pacifying the province. He reinstated his trusty Special Council and on 8 November ratified two ordinances 'to make temporary provision for the government of Lower Canada/ One suspended habeas corpus. The more far-reaching ordinance empowered magistrates to take 'the most vigorous and effective measures' and authorized officers to punish 'either by death or otherwise' all persons who had 'aided, acted or in any manner assisted' the rebellion. Suspects did not need to be captured 'in open arms against Her Majesty/ Mere suspicion and/or allegations of treasonable activity were deemed sufficient grounds. Those who survived were to be brought before a court martial and tried for 'all offences committed since the ... first day of November/ Worried about the retroactive nature of this ordinance, which was a breach of British tradition, Colborne denied recourse to the courts. No part of the ordinance could 'be questioned in any of Her Majesty's Courts of Justice in the said Province' and writs of habeas corpus of course would not be answered. In an ironic misrepresentation of the abuses committed and by whom, which would become apparent with the cessation of the rebellion and through testimony at the trials, this legislation referred to the 'horrid excesses and cruelties on the properties and persons of Her Majesty's loyal subjects' - an apt description indeed of the behaviour of many 'loyal subjects' and not of the rebels.45 As word of the ordinance filtered down, any distinction between it and lex talionis (the law of retaliation, where the punishment resembles the offence) disappeared. Even capture could not guarantee safety or freedom from persecution. Once the rebellion was stamped out in Beauharnois, the Glengarries seized Frangois-Xavier Provost, whose tavern had been used as a rebel meeting place. Provost had to watch the incineration of his inn, while his family was pursued from shelter to shelter until Charles Grey stopped such loyalist sport.46 There were similar occurrences in other areas. Not all of the prisoners, however, were captured or arrested by government supporters or troops. Friends and relatives delivered Theodore Bechard of L'Acadie to the authorities in St-Jean. In his subsequent deposition, Bechard took great care to name his captors, many of whom he

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 41

had sworn into the Freres Chasseurs. He may have realized that while he, a recidivist who had claimed Durham's amnesty, had no chance, they might yet escape punishment and therefore wanted his capture to help establish their loyalty.47 But as Frangois-Xavier Prieur later remarked, the 'most holy causes have their apostates and their traitors, the most chivalrous nations have their renegades ... we have had ours.' He personally had learned the meaning of betrayal after evading capture for more than a week. During this time strangers gave him succour, ignoring the price on his head, until some imprisoned comrades bargained knowledge of his whereabouts for their own release.48 With the Montreal jails full, the authorities established incarceration centres in outlying areas, such as the Beauharnois flour mill. Dozens of justices of the peace and their clerks took depositions, there and in the city, inviting the deponents to say what they knew of 'the said John Doe' or past events. Some Canadiens implicated those who they thought had no chance to escape justice or who had successfully reached the United States. A few, such as Louis Bourdon of St-Cesaire, named only unmarried men.49 Others had convenient lapses of memory, forgetting who had inducted them into the Freres Chasseurs or the men they themselves had initiated. Some, too exhausted or too 'stunned with the misery' they had witnessed to govern themselves, admitted more than they would have wished.50 Many were simply intimidated by the turn of events and the trappings of authority and confessed everything they knew. One person, however, bartered the lives of his fellow prisoners for his own. An educated man, Dr Jean-Baptiste-Henri Brien of Ste-Martine was part of the radical Canadien elite. He had taken an active leadership role in the months leading up to the rebellion in Beauharnois, but once the uprising began, he fled for the United States. Captured by a British detachment before he could reach sanctuary, he was brought to Montreal on 5 November. To the authorities, he must have marked himself out as a weak link. Maybe he hinted he would be willing to turn Queen's evidence. Perhaps those who knew him persuaded him - verbally or through blackmail to confess, for on 16 November 1838 Edward Ellice junior, son of the seigneur of Beauharnois, and John M'Donald, a Chateauguay magistrate, visited the prisoners from Chateauguay. After they had left, Charles Ogden, Lower Canada's attorney general, ordered that 'the Prisoner Dr. Brien is to be Kept separate and on no account is any one permitted to speak with him.' But the following day Odgen countermanded this, and the prison warden allowed 'Mr Ellice to see Dr. Brien in his room' alone.51 Whatever passed between Ellice and Brien must remain a mystery. Did Ellice return to threaten Brien? Did he report that the crown had deposited funds in an account for Brien or that

42 Background to Rebellion

Ogden would spare Brian's life in exchange for information? Certainly the authorities were desperate for evidence on the Freres Chasseurs as they began to prepare cases for trial. Sequestered from the other prisoners, Brien laboured over a thirty-nine-page document that implicated scores of patriotes, ranging in importance from Robert Nelson to humble messenger boys.52 While Brien busied himself, others prepared for the consequences of his far-reaching confession. A Montreal carpenter named Bronsdon built a multiple gallows 'facing the prison, so that the incarcerated ... [might] enjoy a sight' that would doubtless 'not fail to assure them sound sleep and agreeable dreams/53 It seemed to Colborne and his subordinates that they were left little choice in how to deal with their prisoners: no matter what London might say, bodies would swing from Bronsdon's handiwork. Amnesty following the 1837 revolt had not created a grateful Canadien population. Instead, the rebels had seized upon new grievances to create another rebellion. Deportation had been disallowed by London. The only jury trial had resulted in acquittals even though guilt had been proved. Furthermore, since the insurrection had been suppressed, summary punishment by firing squads, under the guise of military necessity, was impossible. Even though a patriote leader, Joseph Dumouchelle of Beauharnois, declared that the lesson had been learned and not 'one in 400' would rebel again, the authorities needed examples.54 But how were they legally to justify the executions? The answer lay in Colborne's ordinance of 8 November. Prisoners could be tried by court martial for offences committed since 1 November, that is, before the outbreak of insurrection. The authorities scheduled the first trial for 19 November and began preparing for it. As Brien produced his 'confession' on 18 November, the need to study and assimilate it may have caused the postponement of the court martial to the 28th. In the meantime, clerks and justices continued to take depositions, decisions were made about prisoner incarceration, and officers were selected from various regiments to serve as judges. On 21 November, however, the unexpected occurred. In spite of the meticulous preparations, a blow to the very legality of what was happening was struck from the bench itself. Sir John may have had trouble comprehending, at first, how a decision made in the capital city of Quebec would affect the functioning of the general court martial being set up in Montreal. But in Quebec, Judges Philippe Panet and Elzear Bedard issued a writ of habeas corpus, ordering the keeper of the Quebec common jail to produce a prisoner, John Teed. When this was not done, ostensibly because Teed had been moved to another jail, the judges confined the keeper to his quarters and

To Overthrow Her Majesty's Government' 43

ordered the arrest of the commanding officer of the Coldstream Guards responsible for the security of the Citadel. Once the reasons for these actions were known, legal turmoil erupted. Panet and Bedard based their decision to invalidate the suspension of habeas corpus - and by implication the jurisdiction of court martial on the grounds that the Special Council had only limited powers. The statute establishing the council prohibited amendments to acts of Parliament applying to the colony. These included Charles n's Habeas Corpus Act (1679), which had become part of Lower Canadian law by virtue of the Quebec Act's (1774) provision continuing in force the criminal laws of England. According to Panet and Bedard (and their literalminded position was then reasonably arguable), the criminal laws could not be altered because the Quebec Act could not be altered.55 The logic of the judges' challenge was obvious to contemporaries. The editor of the Quebec newspaper Le Canadien explained it to his readers; Samuel Gerrard, a special councillor, did the same for Edward Ellice, the seigneur of Beauharnois; and a Montreal judge, Jean-Roch Rolland, praised Bedard for his courage and intelligence.56 These qualities were needed almost immediately, as Colborne demanded of the two Quebec judges a justification of their decision. As they readied themselves, Sir John sought advice from the attorney general, the solicitor general, and four other judges. The bone of contention was a proviso inserted into section 3 of the statute establishing the Special Council: 'nor shall it be lawful, by any such law or ordinance, to repeal, suspend, or alter any provision of any Act of the Parliament of Great Britain, or of the Parliament of the United Kingdom, or of any Act of the Legislature of Lower Canada/ 5 7 Colborne's advisers concluded that this proviso had been added only to ensure that the council could not amend British statutes expressly applying to colonies in general or to Lower Canada in particular, and that the judges had erred.58 Bolstered by this support, Colborne promptly suspended Panet and Bedard.59 In his eyes, they were as dangerous as the rebels who had taken to arms. By questioning whether or not the military could hold civilians without trial, they threw Colborne's idea of order into chaos. Furthermore, their opinions, if left to stand, would have made the ordinance establishing the court martial illegal. Sir John, insensitive to the wrongs that burnt into the consciousness of the Canadiens he administered, added to them once the legality of the court martial became unassailable in his mind. Like Lepailleur, almost all of those selected to stand trial first came from the group of men who had marched into Montreal on 4 November. Arrested and imprisoned while the colony was subject to common law, they now faced trial under martial law. They would be tried by a court martial that owed its validity

44 Background to Rebellion

not only to the dubious jurisdiction given it by the Special Council, but also to the stratagem of predating the outbreak of rebellion - that is, retroactively to 1 November. Trial of civilians by court martial was not new to Lower Canada. A couple of the most interesting examples dated from the period immediately after the conquest of New France (1760), when civilians were tried by British officers. The controversial Marie-Josephte Corriveau was hanged in Canada following her conviction in a military tribunal for the murder of her husband in 1763. Even more sensational was the treason trial two years earlier of a young man named Barns. A native of Boston, Barns had the misfortune to be kidnapped by the Abenaki. After four years the nation allied itself with the French and captured a British patrol in 1759. Three soldiers were scalped, and Barns, to gain full admission to the tribe, allegedly painted one of the scalps and presented it to an elder. He was captured, taken to Montreal, convicted of treason, and executed.60 The authority for trying these civilians by court martial lay in the fact of the Conquest. In the interregnum between the French defeat in 1759-60 and the introduction of civil government in August 1764, Britain as conqueror was able to impose any system of government it wished. There was no law other than that imposed on the military by the Mutiny acts and the relevant Articles of War. No civilian courts were in session. This was not the case in 1838, as the Quebec judges rightly pointed out. With Panet's and Bedard's objections brushed aside, suspects from Chateauguay were chosen for the first trial. Two men moved inexorably towards Mr Bronsdon's gallows and six towards transportation to New South Wales.

PART TWO Treasons and Trials

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3

Fiasco in Chateauguay

It had been a couple of days since he had last seen Frank Warwick and Lepailleur found himself looking forward to another interview. But when the young reporter entered the parlour, the older man wasn't quite so sure. There was a look in Warwick's eyes that he had seen over and over again through the years in the eyes of his children and then his grandchildren. Almost invariably it denoted mischief of some kind or another. Still, Warwick was as polite as ever as they exchanged greetings. For a minute or two, they discussed the weather and the recently reported death of Lord Lucan, the infamous general who so long ago had led the Charge of the Light Brigade. Lepailleur waited while Warwick took out his notebook, arranged a selection of pencils on the table beside him, and finally looked across at him. 'Mr Lepailleur,' the reporter began, 'I've spent a couple of rewarding hours with the Reverend Borthwick, examining some of the old documents from the Montreal prison. And after a while, when I was looking through committal documents, depositions, and such, I came across your name in a surprising context.' Lepailleur, still not understanding what to make of the mischievous glint in Warwick's eyes, hastened to explain: 'Well, of course. I still remember giving my deposition the Sunday I was imprisoned, that fourth of November. I was so tired. I hadn't slept for more than twenty-four hours, and it seemed I'd been on the move for that entire time. Riding to Beauharnois and back, walking along roads with my men. So, when I was interrogated, my exhaustion made me incautious. I answered every question truthfully, forgetting I was incriminating my own brother-in-law. Til regret that deposition till my dying day.' Warwick shook his head. 'It wasn't that,' he replied. 'I saw a deposition made against you and others on the strangest charge - suspicion of sacrilege. I started wondering what you had done. Taken the Lord's name in vain? Drawn a moustache on the queen's portrait, perhaps?' To his great embarrassment, Lepailleur could feel himself blushing. 'Suspicion of sacrilege means that someone is suspected . ..'His voice trailed off.

48 Treasons and Trials

'Of stealing church funds/ Warwick continued for him. 'That's what you were accused of in February 1838 by the Chateauguay churchwarden, Mr Lepailleur. But I remember you saying you didn't join the patriotes until the summer of that year!' 7 didn't/ Lepailleur snapped. After all the years that had gone by, the accusation still stung. 'It was such a frivolous thing. Mr Thibert, the churchwarden, heard some gossip and reacted to it. I certainly had no part in taking money from the Chateauguay church.' Suddenly he straightened himself in his chair and looked across at Warwick. 'What's more I can tell you why you should believe that.' As he spoke, his forefinger jabbed the air for emphasis. At my trial, my priest gave me a character reference. Now, if I had been involved in stealing money from his church, he would not have done that, would he?' Warwick had known there would be some explanation, but his reporter's instincts made him carry on. 'You were just one person named, Mr Lepailleur. What about the others?' For a moment Lepailleur looked chastened. When he had prepared for the interview, that old charge of suspicion of sacrilege was the last thing he had expected they would talk about. And the truth was he honestly didn't know how to reply. In his heart he knew what he had done and thought that February of 1838. 7/ the others were still alive, Mr Warwick/ he eventually continued, 'Id suggest you ask them. I can't speak for their actions, particularly when I don't know them. But there could be some truth to it, I suppose. Mr Thibert may have had cause to be suspicious/ 'What do you mean?' 'Well, people thought differently then about everything, it seems to me, including the church. My goodness, some of us even held elections for justices of the peace and militia captains right at the church door. In many parishes there was a feeling that we, the parishioners, owned our own church and the house where the priest lived. After all, we were the ones who had built them and our tithes paid for their upkeep. Some people began to say we should use our own property for the good of the community, and in their eyes that property included parish funds. And, they would argue, since the good of the community meant the overthrow of the British, parish funds should pay for weapons.' Warwick sat back in his chair. He could follow the argument, though he thought it was rather far-fetched. But he was a man of the late nineteenth century and used to the extreme reverence given the church. He could no more imagine a group of parishioners in 1888 arguing that case than he could Queen Victoria being amused. 'In a way,' Lepailleur went on, 'Mr Thibert's deposition was terribly ironic. You see, the following November he himself was also standing trial for treason.' 'Really?' Warwick exclaimed. 'Mr Thibert became a chasseur?' 'Not only that,' Lepailleur nodded. 'He went with me to New South Wales.' 'Why? What did he do?'

Fiasco in Chateauguay 49

'Well, he was a castor, like myself. The night of our rebellion, he went house to house collecting weapons and rounding up men.' 'That was all?' 'Mr Warwick, you have to understand one thing. We men from Chateauguay were the first to be captured. Before Robert Nelson cantered into Napierville and declared Lower Canada a republic, we were on our way to prison. We had not shed one drop of blood. Not one. We did not wage war. At most we collected weapons and imprisoned prominent men who were very loyal to the government. And for that, six of us went to New South Wales ...' 'And two were hanged,' Warwick finished. 'Why?' At that moment one of Lepailleur's grandchildren entered the room, pushing a small coffee wagon. Lepailleur gratefully accepted a steaming cup and proudly watched as she served Warwick. He then blew on his beverage a couple of times while he collected his thoughts. 'It's because we were the first, I believe,' he answered eventually. 'Because of that, we were the ones the government chose as examples. My dear Cardinal must have realized that almost immediately. He was a big fish, almost the biggest they caught. He had been our member in the legislature. He was a leader. If the authorities were as serious about executions as we heard, then it seemed inevitable he would be sacrificed. And he was.' Warwick nodded slowly. He could see that Lepailleur was becoming emotional, so he gave him time to recover. Obviously, he still mourned his brotherin-law. To fill the silence, the reporter flipped through his notes, looking for the name of the other man from Chateauguay who had been hanged. 'What about Duquette, then? What was his crime?' Lepailleur sniffed, patted his eyes a little with a handkerchief, then answered brusquely. 'Nothing. He was a youngster, still wet behind the ears. Twenty-one or so. But he was studying to be a notary and his two mentors were my dear Cardinal and another patriote chief, Chevalier DeLorimier. He had joined the Sons of Liberty and taken a small part in the Rebellion of 1837 before escaping to the United States. Then, after Lord Durham's amnesty, he came back to Canada. I think that's what his problem was. That he abused the amnesty.' 'Then, you think he died because of'1837 rather than 1838?' Lepailleur threw his hands into the air. 'Who can tell? I heard talk in prison that Sir John Colborne was making him pay for the sins of his elderly mother. You see, she owned an inn in Chateauguay. It was a place where we patriotes could meet and talk safely, you understand. Apparently, the government believed that his mother, Madame Dandurand, played a large part in the success of our Chateauguay chasseurs.' 'And did she?' Lepailleur shrugged. 'Her inn did,' he admitted. 'We met there to work out our plans the night of our so-called rebellion.'

50 Treasons and Trials

'So, there was some justification on the government's part,' Warwick said. 'Some. Anyway, Madame Dandurand was devastated once her son was sentenced to death. The inn had been burnt to the ground after the rebellion and she was poverty-stricken. She pleaded with Sir John to spare her son's life, but of course, to no avail. And his death was particularly dreadful. The noose wasn't fastened properly and when they dropped the trapdoor, he was able to loosen it somewhat with one of his hands. His head smashed against the gallows, his face had blood all over it, and for twenty minutes or so, I'm told, he hung there, clinging to the noose, until the hangman let him drop a second time. 'I'm thankful for very few things from those days,' Lepailleur said quietly as tears streamed down his cheeks, 'but I give thanks over and over again that we did not witness those two executions. The authorities forced us to watch the others, but not those. So I was spared the sight of my dear Cardinal ending his days and young Duquette's massacre.' After he finished speaking, Lepailleur stared sightlessly at the fire, his thoughts fifty years in the past. Warwick looked across at him, uncertain whether to break into his contemplation or to let him be. Finally, he gathered his belongings and began to tiptoe across the room. He had no idea how many times Lepailleur had gone over that scene but he did know the rest of the interview could wait until another day. He had almost reached the door when Lepailleur called to him. 'Come back, young man. We've still got a lot of work to do. And one thing I've learned. At my age, I can't afford to waste time.'

SUNDAY MORNING, the fourth of November 1838, began normally for thousands of Montrealers: they dutifully went to church. But they emerged from worship to hear extraordinary news. The streets buzzed with excitement and rumours flew. Rebellion had broken out for the second time in twelve months. The seigneur of Beauharnois had been killed by rebels. An English1 child had been stabbed to death in its mother's arms. Some even said that the Americans had invaded.2 Throughout the spate of conjecture, two facts seemed certain: Chateauguay, southwest of Montreal Island, had rebelled, and the leaders had been taken prisoner. And the word was that they would be marched into the city at any moment. Outraged citizens promptly forgot Sunday dinners in their search for vantage points to see these rebel upstarts. By one o'clock every possible spot was occupied and people in the western part of the city had caught a glimpse of the approaching men. Escorted by men and eager boys from the Lachine militia, the prisoners, grey-faced with fatigue and apprehension, trudged silently through the ankle-deep mud in the streets.3 Although most had never

Fiasco in Chateauguay 51

been in the city, they stared straight ahead while the militia, busbies bobbing, proudly acknowledged the plaudits of the crowds along the way. In the commotion a hundred onlookers who had not heard of the rebellion and who probably thought this was a religious procession, fell into rank and marched right along. As the prisoners moved deeper into the heart of the city, the crowd's mood changed. People began to sense the import of the day. Rebellion. Again. Suddenly infuriated, some threw invective and stones at the men from Chateauguay, forcing the Lachine militia to protect them. As prisoner Francois-Maurice Lepailleur later recalled, the 'word "rebels" sounded over all/4 The route chosen by the commander was circuitous, designed both to punish the captives and display them to as many as possible. It was only after a hard march of three hours that the prisoners reached an area in Montreal's eastern outskirts known as the Quebec Suburbs. There, on St Mary Street, was the new jail. Once the Chateauguay men entered its gates, the legal machinery swung into high gear as officials recorded the particulars of each man and hastily summoned justices of the peace took depositions. Finally, the exhausted prisoners received nourishment and the Lachine militia, well satisfied with the day's work, withdrew to its Montreal headquarters for refreshments and fresh supplies of ammunition. In other parts of the city, armed loyalists and soldiers deployed cannon and pickets at various strategic points. Angry Montrealers milled outside the prison's high walls for hours, excitedly discussing the day's events and the implications of another rebellion. Most wanted quick justice - no trials, just bodies swinging from gibbets. Talk was as cheap as rebels' lives. They would not tolerate a third rebellion. This time the punishment had to be swift and brutal enough to teach the Canadiens a lesson they would never forget. With that decision made, they drifted off to their homes. Francois-Maurice Lepailleur, a bailiff, had been the first man through the prison gates.5 His capture astounded most who knew him, for in Chateauguay he had the highest reputation. The Chateauguay parish priest, Father Jean-Baptiste Labelle, later testified that he, for one, had shared this surprise.6 Lepailleur, thoroughly aware of his responsibility towards his family and his god, had always worked hard, supplementing his income as a bailiff with work as a house painter and a mail courier. Many suspected that the influence of his brother-in-law, JosephNarcisse Cardinal, was the likely answer to his being caught up in the province's political struggles. Cardinal was popular, well educated, and ambitious. First elected to the Lower Canada House of Assembly in 1834, he had quickly adopted the ideals of the radical Canadien elite. Unlike most Chateauguay men now in the Montreal jail, he had participated in the 1837 rebellion.

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Lepailleur had helped him flee to the United States, where he had assisted in the planning of the second insurrection. On Cardinal's return to Lower Canada in the summer of 1838, he had found Chateauguay ripe for rebellion. People, deeply angered by the savage repression of the 1837 rebellious areas, now decided 'to take a hand in the movement' that they believed was directed 'solely ... towards securing THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE COUNTRY/ Consequently, Cardinal enlisted many adherents in the Chateauguay chapter of the Freres Chasseurs.7 The conservative Lepailleur had been unwilling to join at first, finding Cardinal's rhetoric unpersuasive. But finally, and only after being assured that armed support would come from the United States, he reluctantly 'went in with the others.'8 Elevated to the middle ranks of rebel leadership immediately by virtue of his position in the parish, Lepailleur became a castor. Furthermore, his experience delivering the mail, which had given him a solid knowledge of the best routes in the vicinity, was important in his role as messenger and go-between for rebel chapters in the area. On Saturday, 3 November, it became vital as he cantered several times between Chateauguay and neighbouring villages in the Beauharnois seigneury relaying the order to revolt and attempting to coordinate the two uprisings. It was not surprising that thirty-six hours later, in the dark of his cell, an exhausted Lepailleur shivered with cold and worried about his fate. The ramifications of his actions began to hit home. Many others thought the legal consequences would be slight, an understandable belief considering the aftermath of the 1837 rebellion. The 1837 leaders had escaped serious punishment. Men who had participated in the pitched battles of St-Charles, St-Denis, and St-Eustache had been either pardoned or banished and a jury had acquitted those implicated in Chartrand's death. To those in 1838 who thought they would receive equally lenient treatment, disillusionment came late Saturday night, 24 November, when twelve received notice they would stand trial within four days.9 The seriousness of their situation quickly became apparent. They were taken from the communal room and placed in isolation. Provisioned now with the basic rations of little more than bread and water, housed in frost-covered cells just eight by five and a half feet in size, they suffered further by being forbidden to see families and friends. Only after bitter discussion was permission to consult legal counsel given. Even that involved problems. Four of the most respected Canadien lawyers (Louis LaFontaine, the feared Charles Mondelet, and Papineau's Viger cousins) were in the prison cells above them, having been arbitrarily arrested on 4 November on Colborne's orders. Some argued that these men could not be of much assistance, as Canadien rep-

Fiasco in Chateauguay 53

resentation would work against accused patriotes, especially if people remembered Mondelet's eloquence and the acquittals in the Chartrand case. In the end, the accused chose two young lawyers: Lewis Drummond, who would go on to become attorney general for Canada East,10 and Aaron Philip Hart. Hart had interesting family connections. In 1808 and 1809 the Lower Canada House of Assembly, led by the political predecessor of the Parti patriote, the Parti canadien, had expelled his grandfather, Ezekiel, because of his Jewish faith.11 Hart's uncle Benjamin, a magistrate, was perceived as an archenemy after he had arrested scores of suspected patriotes in the fall of 1837. In fact, it was widely rumoured that he would be 'elevated to a gibbet' if the 1838 rebellion succeeded.12 Twentyseven-year-old Aaron Philip, then, came from a family that generally supported the government while fighting for Jewish liberties. He seemed an unlikely defender of the rebels. Nevertheless, he and Drummond would combine to produce a solid defence under exhausting circumstances. On Monday, 26 November, assisted by a Canadien, Pierre Moreau, they began work. The crown hampered them at every turn, Colborne and his advisors apprehensively remembering the not-guilty verdict in the Chartrand case. Under the umbrella of the court martial ordinance, they ignored the special protections given by British law to persons charged with treason: such persons had the right to receive ten days' notice of trial and annotated lists of witnesses and jurors (or, in this case, judges). Up to this point, these guarantees had prevailed in Lower Canada. As Drummond and Hart raced against time and these handicaps,13 an even more serious problem emerged. Since 1696 in Britain and McLane (1797) in Lower Canada, lawyers had taken full charge of the case of a person charged with treason - that is, they examined witnesses, presented the case for the defence in court, and addressed the jury.14 Under the rules governing the Montreal general court martial, however, the accused rebels would plead their own cases. Drummond and Hart could only offer advice and read prepared statements to the court. Given these restrictions, it was fortunate that Cardinal was among the first group selected for trial. While counsel prepared legal argument, he could advise his fellow prisoners on procedure and lines of defence. Early Wednesday morning, 28 November, the twelve accused set off from Pointe-a-Callieres to court. Onlookers crowded the way, most jeering at the prisoners, chained in pairs. No patriote dared shout support; loyalists made choking motions, imitating the gibbet's rope. After reaching the courthouse on Notre Dame Street, the men were searched, then waited an hour before their chains were removed. At ten o'clock, these civilians faced their judges and jurors: fifteen

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British military officers with stern faces and disciplined souls.15 They were men to whom a command meant instant obedience; and defiance, punishment. The president of the court, Major-General John Clitherow, had only eighteen days before led his men against the rebelling patriotes. He had served on the Special Council. More damningly, from a conflict of interest viewpoint, as commanding officer of the Montreal district, he had collected intelligence during the months preceding the rebellion and would have heard rumours of the atrocities that might be committed in the event of another revolt. At that time, he had concluded that such an event was highly unlikely, which undoubtedly influenced Colborne's misreading of the situation.16 Most, if not all, of the other officers had been involved in the fighting, some in the subjugation of the population afterwards. Undoubtedly all remembered the still unavenged death of Lieutenant Jock Weir, murdered the year before. Impartiality was difficult, if not impossible. The general court martial operated under military law. As such, there were no prosecutors. Two civilians and a captain of the Royal Regiment, Edward Muller, acted as deputy judge advocates. They would both prosecute and advise the panel of officers as to the merits of legal points or arguments made by the defence. Muller took only a nominal role. The real prosecution was led by civilian Charles Dewey Day, QC,17 a highly respected advocate who had been responsible, ironically, for Lewis Drummond's legal training. Day's confrere, Dominique Mondelet, brother of the dreaded and jailed Charles, had broken from the patriotes in 1832. A member of the Special Council, Mondelet's loyalist leanings were solid. He must have relished this chance to restore the family's honour, at least in the eyes of the British. Of the twelve accused, probably only four - Lepailleur, Cardinal, Duquette, and Jean-Marie-Leon Ducharme - had a passing knowledge of English, the language of the court. Most stared uncomprehendingly as the warrants were read. None challenged the composition of the court or brought up a possible conflict of interest. Nor was the dual role of prosecutor and advisor challenged, even though British authorities had begun to recognize that it was almost impossible for deputy judge advocates, as in the Montreal situation, to be impartial when giving advice. Three interpreters were sworn in - two Frenchmen and, translating for those testifying to events at the Caughnawaga (now Kahnawake) reserve, a Mohawk. The prisoners were then charged 'that they did meet, conspire and agree amongst themselves ... unlawfully and traitorously, to subvert and destroy ... the Legislative rule and Government ... in ... Lower Canada, and to depose and cause to be deposed our said Lady the Queen from the Royal State and Government of the said Province/18 When asked to plead, the twelve men challenged the validity of the

Fiasco in Chateauguay 55

court martial itself, claiming their right to a jury trial. In a highly technical document known as 'A,' obviously prepared by Drummond and Hart, the accused claimed that the authorities had denied their constitutional rights to a full defence by depriving them of a list of witnesses. They brought the court's attention to the guarantee that a copy of the charges should have been given to them ten days before trial (instead of four) and questioned the vague wording of the charge, claiming it lacked 'certainty and precision/ Additionally, authorities had impeded the preparation of their defence by denying 'relatives, connexions and friends' access to the accused. Echoing the arguments of Judges Panet and Bedard, they claimed the 'ordinary law of the Province cannot be repealed, nor the ordinary tribunal superseded.' More to the point, they specified that the Special Council could not depart 'in any way from the practice of administering the Criminal Law of England, as introduced into this Province by the Act of the Imperial Parliament, of the 14th Geo. m, cap. 83, or abrogating the Statute of Treasons, of 25th Edward m.'19 This important argument formed the basis of the defence for almost all those tried in the Montreal General Court Martial. Although seven of the Chateauguay accused signed document 'A,' perhaps Cardinal alone understood it. The British officers certainly did not, becoming more hostile than ever at this perceived insult to their intelligence. After clearing the court and deliberating for all of thirty minutes, they easily dismissed its objections. Once that exhibition of legal understanding had passed, the Chateauguay accused began fighting for their lives. After a plea of not guilty, a deputy judge advocate stood to address the court. He specified that the accused must be convicted of an open deed or overt act of treason, which he defined as imagining or compassing the queen's death, or levying war against her in the province of Lower Canada. Perhaps learning from the judges' confusion over document 'A,' he took care to spell out to the court the exact meaning of 'overt acts' before declaring that the twelve men standing before them had been carefully selected from the hundreds in jail. Not only was their guilt of high magnitude but they had 'held stations of command' and 'exercised great influence amongst their companions.'20 But as the crown made its presentation, a clear picture of the 'rebellion' emerged. It had been a fiasco. The main treasonous acts were an attempt to collect weapons from the Mohawk people at Caughnawaga and the imprisonment of several prominent loyalists. Unlike the detailed instructions that Nelson sent to other areas, those he sent to the Chateauguay area were fatally vague. Patriotes here were left to decide on their own actions. During Saturday, 3 November,

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while Lepailleur and others went door to door 'borrowing' weapons and ammunition or summoning their men, Cardinal and Duquette discussed strategy with Prieur, the leader of the patriotes in neighbouring StTimothee, and with Dr Samuel Newcomb and his son Henri from their own village. At first, they planned to help the rebels in Beauharnois, just a few miles away. Then they changed their minds, deciding instead to go east to lend support in Laprairie, another neighbouring seigneury. By six o'clock, more than 250 men had assembled for instructions in a 'camp' on the outskirts of Chateauguay at the farm of Louis Guerin dit Dussault, one of the accused. As the waiting dragged on, some would-be rebels grew faint-hearted but threats such as 'whoever returns will have his brains blown out' kept the force intact.21 At seven o'clock the irresolute leaders made a third decision: one hundred men would go to Laprairie; one hundred would march to Beauharnois; and the remainder would guard the village. In the rain and cold, while this was under discussion, some castors wandered among the troops, talking about their common grievances or the glories that would come with Canadien independence. Then the leaders changed plans again. The two hundred who were to have gone to help their comrades in Laprairie or Beauharnois would instead disarm and capture the local Scots. They would also attempt to persuade the Mohawks to make common cause by providing weapons or, at the very least, to remain neutral in the coming conflict. The men became confused. Some thought, according to one witness's testimony, that they would 'get the arms belonging to the Indians/ but he 'did not hear any ... say ... they intended to do harm.' Another swore he had heard 'that the Indians were coming, with the Scotch, to massacre the Canadians.' However, with the plan firm, at least in the leaders' minds, the camp moved to the inn owned by Duquette's mother, which was close to the church and, more importantly, to the bridge spanning the Chateauguay River. From this base, groups of rebels fanned out to collect more weapons and capture anyone who might lead an attack against them. Jean-Louis Thibert, a respected churchwarden, was one of those who led his men towards the Scottish houses. Incredibly, they were surprised. One Scot managed to evade capture by concealing himself in a hearth.22 The magistrate and leading merchant in the village, John M'Donald, was just preparing for bed when the patriotes came to 'arrest' him; he had only enough time to send a warning to Edward Ellice junior in Beauharnois. Thibert's men confiscated powder and shot from M'Donald's house and store, and the magistrate found himself in the ignominious position of being marched from door to door in his nightshirt while Thibert asked settlers of British origin to surrender their persons and weapons.23

Fiasco in Chateauguay 57

Their missions complete, the various bands settled down as best they could to wait for dawn, when they would mount a raid on Caughnawaga. Cardinal and the other leaders genuinely believed Canadien independence had arrived. Chateauguay lay securely in their hands - and without a drop of blood being shed. Their chief enemy, the detested M'Donald, was safely in custody, and they knew Nelson's plans were being implemented elsewhere. Few feared the morning. Rain fell steadily throughout the night but could not dampen the men's ardour. Some, Lepailleur for one, had not slept for twenty-four hours, yet exhaustion had not yet set in. In the quiet before dawn, the leaders distributed weapons - 'guns, some sticks, with iron points' - and an hour later they moved out. Describing the scene before the court martial, blacksmith Narcisse Bruyere testified that someone had asked if he were afraid. 'Not more so than he,' Bruyere had replied, 'and ... if I was to die, I would do so in front as soon as behind, and then [the interrogator] went to the front' with his gun. As they moved through the woods, the leaders encouraged the laggards, Cardinal explicitly promising that support was coming from the United States as soon as 'they had taken possession of one place.' In the village of Caughnawaga, at about seven o'clock, the chiefs gathered in the house of Ignace Kaneratahere, who had just returned from Montreal. Unlike the Scots, they had some suspicion of the patriotes' plans. Kaneratahere reported that all was quiet in Montreal, and the chiefs, reassured, dispersed to prepare for church. A bare half-hour later, a woman rushed into the village with startling news. She had been chasing a recalcitrant cow through the woods when she had seen armed Canadiens approaching. A horseman, sent to verify her story, confirmed that the patriote force was only a mile away. While church bells called the devout to mass, the chiefs plotted strategy. When Cardinal blithely entered the shop of Georges DeLorimier, a relative of patriote leader Chevalier DeLorimier, the shopkeeper advised him that the village had only thirty weapons. Dismissing thirty as being hardly worth the effort, Cardinal left, hoping to collect money from Gervase Macomber (who would later interpret for the Mohawks at the court martial) instead. DeLorimier, according to his testimony, rushed to warn the congregation to arm themselves, as the 'enemy' was coming. No further exhortation was needed: the Mohawks deeply and unshakably believed that the Canadiens meant to capture them. Within minutes, they relocated near their maypole, sending ten unarmed men to intercept the main group of rebels. Lepailleur, with a comrade, encountered this group. He tried to convince them that he was on his way home from Laprairie, a patently implausible tale, and that he meant no harm. The Mohawks confiscated

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his pistol and shot belt, but his companion escaped to the woods, reemerging minutes later with a hundred armed supporters. As they advanced to rescue Lepailleur, the situation became explosive. Lepailleur tried to be conciliatory. He told the Mohawks he was unarmed and wanted to negotiate with them in a 'brotherly' way. He advised Kaneratahere to lend weapons to the patriotes, promising that 'if the Government... [was] displeased' the rebels would protect him. His men smelled danger. Impatiently they cocked their guns and one called out, 'We are ready, Lepailleur - give the word/ Lepailleur refused, knowing that 'the word' would result in scores of deaths. After further negotiation and once he had received explicit guarantees of safety, he followed Kaneratahere towards the village, straight into an ambush. Sixty-five of his men were captured. No matter what the Canadiens said, they could not shake the Mohawks' conviction that their presence meant danger. Promises proved fruitless in allaying this fear. The chiefs refused to lend arms, saying that 'they ... would defend them with the last drop of their blood, as they had been given to them by the Government.' One, Jacques Teronhiahere, later testified that 'the french wanted to take us prisoners; they could not do that; so we Indians took them prisoners.' Seven of those prisoners - Cardinal, Duquette, Lepailleur, Jean-Louis Thibert, Joseph Guimond, Antoine Cote, Louis Guerin - listened to his words at the trial. Meanwhile Leandre Ducharme assumed command of the Chateauguay rebellion, according to Magistrate M'Donald's testimony. He kept the men drilling and guarded the prisoners, whose ranks now included Edward Ellice junior and several other notable loyalists from Beauharnois. On Saturday, the tenth, the Chateauguay rebels decided to link up with the main group at Napierville. Led by Ducharme, they set off, or so testified M'Donald. Word of Nelson's defeat reached them on the way. Alarmed, they decided to release their prisoners and return to their homes. All were eventually captured. Louis Lesiege joined his comrades in jail on the thirteenth of November, Edouard Therien and JeanMarie Thibert on the sixteenth, and Joseph L'Ecuyer on the twentysecond. That, in essence, was the prosecutors' case. It rested on three specific points: first, rebellious conspiracy and/or activity in the parish of Chateauguay on the night of 3 November, continuing into the small hours of the morning of the fourth; second, the actual presence of the accused in the village of Caughnawaga; and third, the continuing preparation for rebellion after the capture of their leader, Cardinal. Testimony established six of the accused - Cardinal, Duquette, Lepailleur, Jean-Louis Thibert, Guerin, and Cote - in compromising situ-

Fiasco in Chateauguay 59

ations in Chateauguay, on the road to Caughnawaga, and in the Mohawk village itself. Two others, Jean-Marie Thibert and Joseph Guimond, who had been seen on the road but not in the village itself, had been active in Chateauguay both before the raid and afterward. UEcuyer, Therien, Ducharme, and Lesiege had limited their rebellious behaviour to Chateauguay. The witnesses to this activity were impressive. The Mohawks could not be doubted: after all, they had captured the accused. Those from Chateauguay included three Canadiens who had turned Queen's evidence, a farmer named Grant, and a Scot named M'Donald. The other M'Donald to testify, a magistrate and merchant, would attract the most attention. He had visited Dr Brien in his cell on 16 November.24 According to Brien, the patriotes had wanted John M'Donald's death because of his 'activity and indefatigable vigilance as a Justice of the Peace and a political partizan.'25 M'Donald was friendly with the heir to the Beauharnois seigneury, Edward Ellice junior, and was held in high regard by the government.26 His testimony covered the period from the third of November to the tenth, implicating all the accused. Jean-Louis Thibert had informed him, so the magistrate testified, of the independence of Lower Canada. After M'Donald's capture, at Cardinal's office, he had recognized Lepailleur, Duquette, Guerin, L'Ecuyer, and Therien, in arms, among those present. He had seen JeanMarie Thibert, Cote, and Ducharme at daylight the next morning, also armed, together with Guimond and Lesiege. They, together with Therien, had drilled the remaining men in Chateauguay. After news of the botched raid had reached the village, Ducharme had taken command. On the Monday or Tuesday morning, he had escorted the Beauharnois prisoners to their makeshift quarters and told M'Donald he would be lodged with the Ellice group. During confinement, M'Donald saw Ducharme drilling over a hundred men until Saturday, the tenth, when Ducharme had told him that the Americans had taken Napierville and the Chateauguay prisoners would be handed over to them. Loaded into a cart and under the 'principal command' of Ducharme, M'Donald had seen, on this last day, Lesiege, Jean-Marie Thibert, and Therien. To fight against this detailed testimony, the defence needed time. The prisoners asked for an adjournment until 1 December on the grounds that they had been given only two working days' notice of trial. They also pointed out that the distance between Montreal and Chateauguay made it extremely difficult to get witnesses into the city 'at a season when communication between the two areas was next to impossible.' That friends and relatives were denied access to them had also hindered their preparation. Surprisingly, given the lack of debate over document 'A,' the court agreed, adjourning until 4 December.

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When the court martial reconvened, the defence again attacked its jurisdiction, this time citing precedents in a document marked as 'E/ As before, their major objection was to the 'competency/ or validity, of the court martial. As a deputy judge advocate read the words 'the said Tribunal is wholly incompetent to take cognizance of the offence of High Treason/ the judges muttered and bridled. One came close to apoplexy, calling out that the phrase was '"insulting in its terms/" No military person would challenge their 'competency/ and had not they just proved it on the field of battle?27 But competency meant validity, or legal authority, and the accused argued that the military had no right to try civilians, especially with the rebellion subdued and the ordinary criminal courts in session. In rejecting this argument, President Clitherow stated that the court had 'its mandate from superior authorities, and consequently ... a right of jurisdiction over the prisoners/ The accused also petitioned to have Lesiege discharged: the case against him was almost nonexistent and they needed him as a defence witness, which was legally impossible while he remained on trial. This was refused, a tactic used more than once by the court. With that, the prisoners began their individual defences. Jean-Marie Thibert led off. Thibert, a farmer in his late thirties with almost eighty arpents of land,28 was illiterate and had no knowledge of English.29 His hair was thinning; in fact, he was bald on the crown of his head. His tattoos suggested a deep religious belief: an IHS (Jesus Hominum Salvator) and a cross on the back of his lower right arm, another cross on his left wrist, and a chalice on the back of his left hand.30 Now he pled involvement under duress. Frightened by violent threats, he had been part of the camp the night of 3 November, but had run away on the trek to Caughnawaga. His uncle, Jean-Louis, the churchwarden, also used duress as a defence, claiming he had been constrained by the leaders.31 He had not been implicated in the 1837 revolt. Indeed, he had made a deposition accusing several prominent patriotes in his parish of 'suspicion of sacrilege' after several dollars were stolen from the parish church.32 But sometime during 1838 he had become a chasseur. Lepailleur, Cardinal, Duquette, L'Ecuyer, Guerin, and Guimond as much as admitted their guilt, but they attempted to counter the prosecution's case by proving they had good characters and unblemished records.33 Given the circumstances of their capture on 4 November, this was probably the only line of defence open to them. Jean-Marie-Leon Ducharme's case was strikingly different. Unlike the others he had been born into the radical elite and his roots in the city of Montreal were deep.34 His grandfather, Jean-Marie, a wealthy fur trader, had been charged with high treason in 1765 when, according to authorities, he and a fellow merchant had provisioned Pontiac's forces.

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Indicted in April 1765, Ducharme was later discharged (on a second bill) in August by a Grand Jury.35 Three decades later Jean-Marie, running in Montreal County, won a seat in the House of Assembly as a supporter of Joseph Papineau's Parti canadien.36 The young Ducharme, known as Leandre, knew Joseph Papineau's grandson Amedee, son of LouisJoseph, and other members of the Sons of Liberty, including Brien. Furthermore, the local patriote elite, such as DeLorimier, Cardinal, and Duquette, were frequent visitors at Ducharme's father's house in Chateauguay.37 The prosecution produced only two witnesses to testify to Ducharme's treasonable activity. John Lewis Grant, a Lachine farmer, was somewhat vague and decidedly brief: 'I have a recollection [as a prisoner of the rebels] of having seen ... Ducharme when he arrived in Chateauguay, in the company of one Brault; they were both armed with guns, and were welcomed by the rebels.' In contrast, the fanatic Tory John M'Donald singled Ducharme out as an ever-active and somewhat brutal leader. From his confinement in Cardinal's office, located in the home of Elizabeth Saint-Denis, who was also known as the Widow Boudria, the witness claimed to have seen Ducharme early Sunday morning, 4 November. An armed Ducharme, he claimed, was among a small group, 'giving orders, and drilling men, and appeared the chief commander.' Later on that day the accused ordered other men around, 'even pushing them with his gun.' On Monday or Tuesday, M'Donald further testified, Ducharme and another rebel escorted a number of loyalists brought from Beauharnois, including Edward Ellice junior, to a house belonging to a Pierre Mallette. Shortly after that, an armed escort led by Ducharme transferred M'Donald himself to the house, to be confined in the dark: One morning during our confinement, one of the shutters was accidentally opened, and I saw Ducharme commanding one hundred men, who were armed and drilling ... I heard Ducharme reprimanding the sentries and saying that the first of us who opened a shutter was to be shot; he then closed the shutter himself. In obedience to Ducharme's previous orders, on the next morning, one of the sentries presented his gun, which was cocked, at Mr. Ellice, who was near a window that happened to be uncovered by the shutter. I pulled Mr. Ellice away, saying they would shoot him. After this we were more closely confined, and were allowed candles.

Still under oath, of course, M'Donald detailed the accused's activities at the end of the rebellion:

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On the Saturday, the tenth of November instant, Ducharme came in, and stated that the Americans had taken possession of Napierville, and, that we were to prepare to go there, as that was to be the principal camp ... At this time, carts were prepared, and we were, with the exception of Mr. Ellice, tied two and two. When we were in the carts, proceeding to the grand camp, I recognized among our escort of armed men L'Ecuyer, who appeared very active. Ducharme appeared to have the principal command.

In his defence, Ducharme called a witness who swore to seeing him in Lachine, across the St Lawrence River, on the evening of 3 November and as early as 7:00 or 8:00 a.m. Sunday the fourth. According to other evidence, the time of passage between the two shores of the St Lawrence was normally between two to three hours, on the night of 3 November the weather had been stormy, and the steamboat had not run on the Sunday. Another witness, however, testified that he had 'crossed from Lachine to Caughnawaga in Laflamme's 'ferry-boat' on that very same Sunday morning. This possible opening would not be exploited by Deputy Judge Advocate Day. Elizabeth St Denis claimed not to have seen Ducharme at any time on the fourth, although on cross-examination she admitted seeing him, alone and unarmed, in Chateauguay on Monday, 5 November; Ducharme attempted to mitigate this by having another witness testify that he regularly visited the village to see his father. To convict an accused of high treason, two credible witnesses had to provide proof. These had to swear to the same event or two separate overt acts of the same treason. St Denis's evidence did not constitute proof of any overt act, although the deputy judge advocates cited it as part of their case against Ducharme. Therefore, his guilt depended upon Grant's vague testimony and M'Donald's detailed indictment. Grant had referred to Ducharme's arrival in Chateauguay. The most likely date for this, if Ducharme had been an active rebel, was Sunday, the fourth. But Elizabeth St Denis gave evidence of Grant's drunkenness on this date, which was indirectly corroborated by M'Donald, and for 4 November Ducharme had established a prima facie alibi that the crown had not succeeded in refuting. Consequently, even if Grant's testimony was persuasive, Ducharme's guilt would hinge on M'Donald's credibility. That proved small indeed. First of all, M'Donald swore that on Monday the fifth, or Tuesday the sixth, he had seen Ducharme escorting various prisoners, including Ellice, to Mallette's house. This contradicted Grant's evidence that the rebels had imprisoned Ellice there on the fourth (testimony at a later trial would support Grant's date). Second, since Grant and M'Donald were fellow prisoners in Cardinal's office on the Sunday and at Mallette's during the time when the windows were

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shuttered, their testimonies should have matched in other respects as well. If Grant had been drunk on the fourth, he might have missed the spectacle of Ducharme pushing his men around, but how could he have missed the sight of the accused drilling a hundred or so men or forgotten Ducharme's orders to have the prisoners shot if they opened the shutters? To refute M'Donald's damning testimony about his leadership activities on Saturday, 10 November, Ducharme created a sensation by calling not only Pierre-Jacques Beaudry, keeper of the Montreal jail, but also John Wilson, the provost martial, the man who would be responsible for carrying out any sentences of execution from the court. In a stunned courtroom, Beaudry testified that Ducharme had been a prisoner in his jail since 7 November. The provost martial corroborated this testimony, declaring that Ducharme had only been out of the jail on 28 and 29 November, the first two nights of the trial. Many stared hard at the merchant-magistrate from Chateauguay, who stood by the inner door of the courtroom as Ducharme's defence unfolded. Some of the defendants, standing uncomfortably before the court, may have permitted themselves a small smile of triumph at the look of chagrin on M'Donald's face. Ducharme and his fellow prisoners attempted to capitalize on M'Donald's lack of credibility by calling another witness, Commissioner, Justice of the Peace, and Captain of the Militia Joseph Couillard. Couillard testified that a day or two earlier, when he had come to the courthouse with two or three farmers, including Pierre Mallette, 'McDonald [sic] asked us where we were going/ After they (the farmers) had answered, ' "to give evidence, in obedience to the summons of the Court,"' M'Donald responded, ' "If you do not go home, you will get yourself into prison."' Couillard could not remember if M'Donald had threatened to get them put into prison himself or had just warned them. On cross-examination, however, Couillard qualified his statement, admitting M'Donald could have meant that they might be imprisoned after incriminating themselves. Neither Ducharme nor his fellow accused thought to ask, on re-examination, about the manner in which this advice was given. Over the strong objections of the accused, John M'Donald, JP, took the stand again. The magistrate admitted he had been in the courtroom during Ducharme's defence, although 'not for more than a second at a time.'38 Then he listened carefully to the question put him by the judge advocate: You have stated in your examination of the twenty-ninth November last, that on ... the tenth November, Ducharme came in, and stated that the Americans had

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taken possession of Napierville ... that you recognized among your escort of armed men, Ducharme, who appeared to have the principal command; declare to the Court, whether the Ducharme, as seen by you on the said tenth of November, is or is not Ducharme, the prisoner before the Court?

In reply, the embarrassed magistrate, a man practised in questions of identification, could only state he had been overcome with 'excitement' on the tenth and could not, after hearing Ducharme's witnesses, 'positively swear that the prisoner before the Court was there on the tenth of November/ Ducharme missed the opportunity to ask on cross-examination whether the 'excitement' had existed from the moment of capture or had arisen because of his impending departure to the grand camp in Napierville. One of his co-accused, however, made the point in his statement that 'Ducharme's is not a face to be mistaken ... but by a witness like M'Donald, who, in his desire to be revenged for his own wrongs, hesitates so lightly to swear that which may ... forfeit... the life of a fellow creature.' How could M'Donald have mistaken the person in command on 10 November for Ducharme, the man whose activities from 4 November on he had so graphically described? The abortive journey to Napierville was not a mad dash. It had involved the preparation of carts, the tying of the prisoners two by two, and a slow progress of several miles. Finally, how could M'Donald have been confused about the identity of the person who came to Mallette's to tell the prisoners the news about the Americans in Napierville? Surely any disorienting excitement Magistrate M'Donald laboured under, unless he had been hysterical from the beginning, came after he had learned, and precisely because he had learned, the false news of the patriote victory and his imminent removal to the Napierville camp. Therefore, he could not have been 'excited' when 'Ducharme' first came in with the message, and his subsequent alarm, if it existed, would have riveted forever in his mind the identity of the herald. Magistrate M'Donald, sworn to uphold the law and administer justice impartially, lied under oath in the hope of having a political opponent, only twenty-three years of age, condemned to death. Small wonder that Ducharme complained that M'Donald had displayed the utmost 'resentment and partiality' throughout his testimony! That concluded the prisoners' presentation of their case. Messrs Drummond and Hart then read prepared comments. Lepailleur, Duquette, Guerin, and Guimond begged that the court bear in mind that time had not permitted a detailed statement to be made on their behalf, praying that it apply to their cases 'the objections urged by our fellowprisoners against the evidence adduced on the part of the prosecution.' In document 'E,' the accused railed against the court martial itself:

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Arraigned before a tribunal hitherto unknown to all without the precincts of a barracks or the limits of a camp - so formidable in appearance, so vague in its character, so unsettled in its proceedings; and called upon to answer for life and liberty, or death and opprobrium to our posterity, - we dared to demand the right of every British subject, a trial by our peers.

Finally, in a joint address, the prisoners appealed first to the court's compassion. Condemning anybody to death was an action 'which any human being must shudder to perform.' They would dispose 'not only of the lives and properties of twelve fellow creatures, but perhaps ... make their unprotected wives widowed, their innocent children fatherless' and 'fill to overflowing that cup of human misery, which they ... have already too deeply quaffed.' The prisoners then appealed to the military officers' sense of fair play: 'Were we soldiers, accused of mutiny, we should be prepared to be tried by this Court - we should know what judges would sit in judgment upon us.' Referring to the laws that bound the armed forces outside Britain, the accused reminded the court that they were 'civilians, tried for an offence not mentioned in the Mutiny Act or the Articles of War.' They pointed out that 'as the copy of the charge served upon' them stated, they were accused of treason as laid out by a statute that did not prescribe trial by court martial. The accused incorrectly stated they were the first since the 'Conquest of this Colony' to 'have been subjected to the jurisdiction of a Military Court.'39 Unlike soldiers, most of the prisoners were 'peaceable agriculturists, poor and uneducated' - yet it seemed they were required for 'slaughter.' Although the form of the tribunal allowed them the assistance of counsel, the prisoners had been 'unable even to state our own defence, unable to combat the argument of the learned men, who have been for this occasion, contrary to the usual rule, selected to aid the military prosecutor' (emphasis added). As they had conducted their own defence, the accused now reminded the officers, they had sometimes been 'unable to detect the inaccuracy, the inconsistency of much of the evidence adduced' against them. They concluded with an emotional and spiritual plea, and with that the court adjourned to consider its verdicts. On their return, the officer-judges pronounced ten guilty, deeming only Therien and Lesiege innocent. Sentences were passed immediately but would be announced only after they received sanction from Sir John Colborne. On 8 December the court reconvened with the accused absent. Predictably, given their local status and leadership roles, Cardinal, Duquette, Lepailleur, and Jean-Louis Thibert received the death penalty - condemned to hang 'by the neck ... until dead.' The other six were 'to be transported for life.'40

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The judges had indeed taken note of the deputy judge advocates' advice to reject the prisoners' appeals to their 'humanity and compassion.' They had obeyed the edict that 'duty ... must be sternly performed, according to the law and evidence of the case.'41 But how would they explain their duty according to the law and evidence in Ducharme's case? In summarizing its case, the prosecution had informed the court it did not believe Ducharme had proved his alibi for 4 November, adding that in any case he lacked one for the fifth and sixth. At most, the proof of the alibi 'resolved itself into a ground for impeaching M'Donald's testimony.' The deputy judge advocates admitted the magistrate had been inaccurate as to Ducharme's role on the tenth and 'that a strong doubt... has been cast up on the accuracy of some other statements, not material to the case before the Court.' According to them, the law allowed that even where a witness was contradicted on a material point, his evidence on other points 'will not ... be altogether rejected' provided his general character had not been impeached and the evidence was treated cautiously and corroborated. The latter might be found in Grant's and St Denis's testimony, they claimed. Under such circumstances the court could accept some of M'Donald's testimony: If the prisoner were on his trial for murder, and the evidence against him drawn solely from a witness as M'Donald now is, we should be disposed to say, that it would be insufficient to justify a conviction: we give this example as an illustration of our understanding of the rule, but after all is said, it is a question for the conscience of each individual member of this Court, to determine whether and how far he will believe or disbelieve M'Donald's testimony.

This legal doctrine was incredibly far-reaching. Elizabeth St Denis did not corroborate M'Donald's testimony in any way. Grant referred only to Ducharme's arrival, armed, an incident not even mentioned in the magistrate's evidence. M'Donald had deposed to three overt acts. When contradicted on the third act, his credibility collapsed, and therefore his evidence on the other two needed corroboration. Grant had given none directly related to acts one and two, instead testifying only to a fourth act. The prosecution's advice to the court reduced to the farcical the requirement that where two overt acts of the same treason were in question, proof must be provided by at least two credible witnesses, at least one deposing to each act. M'Donald's credibility in testifying to specific acts was the issue, not his credibility in having given evidence suggesting Ducharme had engaged in treasonable activity. Rumours that Ducharme would have to be acquitted reached Quebec, and the newspaper Le Canadien reported them.42 But that was not to be. As the prosecution remarked, belief in M'Donald was a matter

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of individual conscience, and as in the way of the world, the military consciences of officers listened to rank, not truth. Despite its obvious flaws, M'Donald's testimony stood. Ducharme was found guilty.43 The officer-judges, answerable only to their commanding officer, Sir John Colborne, no doubt thought they could pronounce any sentence they wished. But their verdicts, unknown as yet to any of the prisoners, created confusion in Colborne's headquarters. In short order, the general rejected their decisions, telling Clitherow that the lenient sentence of transportation could not legally be confirmed in the opinion of the colony's law officers. On 14 December he had the court martial reconvened to finally pronounce revised sentences of death on all those found guilty. It did, though, recommend a 'commutation ... for a punishment less severe' for some.44 Two days later, on Sunday evening at seven o'clock, the ten who had been found guilty first heard their sentences. Afterwards they waited anxiously in separate cells, expecting to receive word at any moment to prepare themselves for the gallows. On 18 December Cardinal and Duquette received the summons to the jailer's quarters. The eight others waited anxiously until Cardinal returned with news that the decision had been made. 'My friends,' he told them calmly, 'I expected it. I am to die on Friday.'45 While Cardinal, with his legal training and political background, may have expected the news, his community had not. Galvanized into action, Canadiens outside the prison walls bombarded the governor with clemency appeals. On the day Colborne received an 'Argumentative Petition' (from Drummond and Hart), four other notable petitions reached the chief secretary. Joseph Duquette's mother brought her son's age to Colborne's attention, claiming that as a young man, not yet twenty-one, he had been led astray by older and more sophisticated men. She pointed out the obvious. Duquette, like the rest of the Chateauguay condemned, had not spilt a single drop of blood. She and her daughters had already suffered punishment for his wrongdoing, as their house had been burnt down. Eugenie St-Germain, Cardinal's wife, sent a more emotional letter to Lady Colborne, asking her to plead Cardinal's cause because 'the death warrant is already signed!! ... Tomorrow! alas, tomorrow! God! God!' In excuse for Cardinal's conduct she claimed that 'a torrent against which the strongest man would have resisted in vain' had led him astray. Again came the reminder: Cardinal had 'made no victims - on the contrary, he ... [was] a victim himself.' Then, woman to woman, she appealed to Lady Colborne: Have we not, your humble petitioner and her children, [suffered] enough on his account? ... have we not been banished from our homes by the lighted torch of the incendiary? Have we not been stript of every article we had, even of our

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clothes from our backs? Have we not been reduced to live on the bread given unto us ... through charitable people?

The Mohawks, 'struck with deep grief/ also petitioned Sir John, seeking mercy for the two condemned. Cardinal and Duquette had done them no harm - They have not imbrued their hands in the blood of their brethren/ They then asked a crucial question, 'Why spill theirs? If there must be victims, there will be enough besides them of unfortunate men, who are a thousand times more guilty/ As the Mohawk people themselves had never failed in their duty to the queen or her ancestors, the Mohawk petitioners hoped their request might weigh heavily in Cardinal's and Duquette's favour. In closing, they told Colborne they would 'never cease to pray unto the Great Spirit, for the glory and conservation' of himself and 'the happiness of his children/46 With a potential caseload numbering more than seven hundred, Drummond and Hart fought a desperate battle. While preparing for the second trial, they challenged the first by applying for a writ of prohibition from the Montreal Court of Queen's Bench. Using the technical excuse that the writ could only be issued in term (that is, when the court was sitting), the court denied a hearing.47 On 19 December Drummond and Hart next petitioned Colborne for a full hearing before the Special Council and the judges.48 Denied this, the next day they gave the administrator an 'Argumentative Petition' of more than eight thousand words. Obviously they had worked on this throughout the first trial, for it detailed their argument that the proceedings had 'been illegal, unconstitutional and unjust/49 In a courageous personal letter to Colborne, Lewis Drummond - in his 'private character as a man and a Christian' - implored him to at least postpone the hangings until the doubts about the legality of the court martial could either be 'matured into certainty' or 'set at naught/ He appealed to Colborne's feelings of humanity, not just of justice. If justice were an issue, Drummond asked, what inferences could be drawn if 'the principles of equity, implanted by nature into the hearts of all men, and recorded in the code of every civilized nation in the world, tell us with a loud voice, that no man should be tried by a Law enacted after the commission of the offenses with which he stands charged/ He answered his own question with a prophecy: if Colborne proceeded with the execution, Cardinal and Duquette would be elevated from the ranks of minor players to martyrs. As such, they would live in the consciousness of Canadiens for a long time. Given the level of emotion in December 1838 in Lower Canada, all pleas to justice and humanity would fail. The English newspapers saluted the court martial's work. The Montreal Gazette, for example, wrote

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that the 'legality and force of the whole measures of the Executive Government and Special Council [were] most gratifying to every loyal subject in the country/50 Colborne himself had already written to England boasting of the court martial as 'the only tribunal which, in the deplorable state of this province, [couldl be relied on to dispense impartial justice between the Crown and the subject/51 With those brave words wending their way to the colonial secretary, Sir John Colborne could not afford to listen to his 'humanity' or to consider abstract legal arguments disputing the Special Council's power to legislate a court martial's jurisdiction over civilians. Cardinal and Duquette spent their last day with wife and mother, respectively. Lepailleur, racked with guilt over his implication of Cardinal in the voluntary examination taken 4 November, now vowed to care for Eugenie and Cardinal's children if he were spared. The Chateauguay parish priest, Father Labelle, rendered what solace he could and prepared them for death. On the fatal morning, they rose early and with their ten comrades celebrated mass. Only Therien and Lesiege, who had both been acquitted, did not expect to follow them to the scaffold. Most, in fact, thought their own executions would come a week later. Shortly before eleven o'clock, accompanied by jail officials and priests, Cardinal and Duquette marched to the gallows. In vain a huge crowd waited outside for a last-minute address from the condemned. Cardinal died quickly and quietly. Young Duquette, however, rent the air with his screams after the hangman bungled the execution and his face smashed against the gibbet. Someone in the crowd quickly called for a pardon, but the authorities would not be swayed by compassion. After some time the hangman adjusted the rope and dropped Duquette to his doom. Ducharme, Lepailleur, and their companions remained locked, two by two, in their cells. In the bitter winter they slept on bare floors, covered with just one blanket. While he waited for his formal discharge, Lesiege solaced his condemned friends by cooking scanty rations in the passageway, varying the diet as best he could. The first trial had ended. From it, patterns formed. Miscarriages of justice would occur in other trials. Lotteries would choose victims - not justice, nor degree of guilt. Lepailleur would be spared for eventual transportation; men of greater culpability would go free. Anxiety for the condemned men would compound until the lust for blood was sated. While the Chateauguay condemned stoically endured their uncertainty, men from other areas received notice of trial. On their way to the courtroom, they would walk under Mr Bronsdon's gallows, still displaying the corpses of their friends.

4

Napierville - To Conquer or Die7

'My dear Cardinal and Duquette, of course, became martyrs. Our people would not, did not, let the memory of them die. For that I am truly thankful. But they were so young, with so much more to give. Narcisse, of course, was in the prime of life. If spared, he would have become a cabinet minister down in Ottawa, I truly believe. And the young Duquette? He hadn't even started to live.' Lepailleur slowly sipped his cup of coffee, thinking of the potential contributions of his executed comrades. Then his mouth twisted in an ironic smile. 'I must confess to you, Mr Warwick, that I still feel somewhat bitter. Dr Wolfred Nelson, the one who led the fight at St-Denis, lived to become mayor of Montreal. Some of us who went to New South Wales became important men in our communities. But my dear friends Cardinal and Duquette never had a chance to redeem themselves.' After all this time tears still stung Lepailleur's eyes when he talked of the executions. Making no apologies, he wiped them away, sitting in silence for a few moments until Warwick asked, 'Didn't the verdicts bother you?' 'Bother me?' Lepailleur retorted, staring at the young reporter in shock. 'Bother me? What do you think I've been saying? Of course, they bothered me. My friends were executed, and for the longest time I believed that I, too, might end my life courtesy of the hangman's noose!' Warwick gulped, his Adam's apple protruding over the points of his stiff white collar. 'Sorry. I was thinking of Mr Ducharme's verdict, actually. As you told his story, I kept thinking he would get off. That the deputy judge advocates had not proved their case. After all, he was already in jail when that magistrate testified about being manhandled by Mr Ducharme on the way to Napierville.' Forcing his mind back to that courtroom of fifty years before, Lepailleur nodded agreement. 7 can only speak for myself, you understand, but I do remember distinctly thinking he would be acquitted. Mr Drummond had explained so carefully that we needed two witnesses to our treason and we thought once Ducharme proved M'Donald lied, the case against him would collapse. I even recall thinking it was like a ray of sunshine. That one of us would escape.' 'That's what I meant to ask about,' said Warwick. 'How did the guilty ver-

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diet affect the rest of you? Surely it and the executions must have made everyone more fearful and pessimistic.' 'Of course,' Lepailleur shrugged. It went without saying. 'But on the other hand,' he added, 'it made some of us think of creative defences.' 'Such as?' 'Well, you have to first understand that most of us really did not have a defence. We had committed treason. We might not have understood that fact at the time, but the law says that ignorance is no excuse, I believe. So, some thought of ways to explain their participation in the rebellion.' 'Like pressure, for example,' Warwick offered. 'You told me you yourself joined the chasseurs because everyone else was doing so.' Lepailleur acknowledged the younger man's sly gibe with a subtle lifting of an eyebrow. 'Well, yes, to an extent. And that fitted in with the defence of duress, as our lawyers explained. Some men had joined with us only because they were scared of losing their lives, of having their homes burnt, or of being beaten up. Mr Drummond and Mr Hart thought those men should plead coercion. The problem was proving it to the British judges, and I have the sneaking idea that they, as army officers, as veterans of armed warfare, looked upon the men pleading duress and compulsion as cowards and therefore despised them.' 'That could well be,' Warwick answered thoughtfully. 'But remember what you told me about your own chasseur initiation. You said you believed those long knives and daggers were more than theatrical gestures. Surely that kind of intimidation could have been easily proved, making direct threats believable.' 'Maybe to you,' Lepailleur shrugged. 'But Mr Charles Huot was the next defendant after us and if ever a man was truly coerced it was he. I felt so sorry for him. He was all by himself, had to endure the whole trial alone without friends or comrades to support him. We did what we could from our cells. And of course the advocates worked furiously, but...' The reporter stopped writing and was paging through his copious sheaf of notes. 'That's Mr Charles Huot, the notary from Napierville? How was he coerced?' T suppose it started well before the rebellion. 'You see, one of his best friends was Dr Cotes brother-in-law. Mr Huot visited the doctor's house regularly and was present at some of the anti-government meetings before the 1837 rebellion. But his heart truly was not in it. And, in fact, few patriotes believed he was on their side. They harassed him at times. Anyway, come the rebellion, he became the rebel quartermaster, signing hundreds of lous for provisions. You can see, can't you, that the government's case against him must have seemed clear-cut. In his defence he brought out his moderation in politics and the various harassments he had undergone, but he was still found guilty. Mr Huot was not even recommended for mercy.' 'But this plea of duress helped him, wouldn't you say? At least he wasn't hanged.'

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Lepailleur sighed. It wasn't as simple as Warwick thought. 'Maybe. Maybe just a little. But that plea was so chancy. Even men like Joseph Pare chose not to use it/ 'Pare?' Warwick flipped fruitlessly through his notes. 'I don't think I've heard of him.' 'Probably not. He was a dairy farmer in the Napierville area before the rebellion. When Robert Nelson proclaimed his republic, Pare found himself in charge of transportation. He was captured shortly afterwards, and when his time came to stand trial, he put his mind to work, thinking out a defence to excuse his participation.' 'And?' 'Lunacy. The crafty old devil claimed he had temporary periods of insanity. But only when the moon was full.' Lepailleur frowned, trying to remember if he had it right. 'Or maybe it was the new moon that made him crazy. Whatever,' he muttered. 'Anyway, whatever kind of moon was in the sky of November 4th, 1838 turned him into a lunatic/ 'He proved this in court?' Warwick asked incredulously. 'Tried to,' Lepailleur answered. 'And looking back, I think the prosecution erred when dealing with him. For example, they didn't ask why his family didn't legally restrain him. After all, if he periodically became crazy, it stood to reason he may have given his milk or cheese away. And, of course, if he was a lunatic why would Robert Nelson have given him such a responsible job.' 'Are you saying this defence worked?' 'Of course not. The prosecution produced evidence from a couple of commissioners that he was not only sane but more intelligent that most of us. And I can vouch for the latter. When we were in Sydney, he devised fantastic traps to catch fish. This not only improved our food supply but netted him a little money as well. What do you think of that?' Warwick smiled. 'Maybe the moon in New South Wales was less powerful,' he suggested wryly, then looked at his notes. 'You said Pare, as well as Huot, was from Napierville. That's where everything happened, wasn't it?' 'Most of the hard fighting, if that's what you mean. It certainly was the centre for chasseur operations and many of those transported with me came from there: Mr Huot and his best friend, Captain Morin. And Pare, of course. Theodore Eechard, the Heberts. So many.' Picking up his pencil and reopening his notebook, the reporter gently prodded Lepailleur into his story. 'Would you say those in Napierville were more aware of politics than you?' 'You're talking about 1838?' Lepailleur snorted. 'Of course I would, my young friend. Compared to men like Jacques-David Hebert, I was a neophyte. Mind you, I didn't have his grievances, not being a farmer. But he had been agitating for years, trying everything. Petitions, meetings, you name it. Nothing worked. It's no wonder he felt he had to fight for a new country where

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someone would not only listen to him, but would correct the wrongs done against him.'

WITH THE FIRST 'SHOW' TRIAL satisfactorily completed, the court martial turned to punishing those from Napierville - the centre of patriote operations. Chateauguay's insubordination had consisted in the collection of weapons, the imprisonment of loyalists, and the futile raid on Caughnawaga. By contrast, thousands in Napierville had witnessed the proclamation of the republic of Lower Canada and had cheered their self-appointed president, Robert Nelson. Afterwards, desperate men took on British troops in a battle for political independence. Their motives varied somewhat, as did their determination. Occasionally their courage faltered or failed - as testimony at the court martial revealed. Many of those tried in the six Napierville-area trials1 had dedicated themselves to creating a republic of Lower Canada under 'president' Robert Nelson, a commitment to independence traceable back at least two years. They had attended protest rallies in the summers of 1836 and 1837. Some had fought at St-Charles or St-Denis. If the Chateauguay rebels had acted like bumbling amateurs, these men from the Napierville area, like Jacques-David Hebert, had conducted themselves like hardened professionals. Hebert believed in the republic to come. A farmer in the De Lery seigneury, he came to feel antipathy for the British naturally. His grandfather, an expelled Acadian, had settled in the L'Acadie area, and Hebert's evolution from humble assembly petitioner, to prominence at protest meetings, and thence to rebel captain undoubtedly owed much to his Acadian heritage.2 His anger and frustration also stemmed from perceived political and seigneurial wrongs. Even the process of electing a representative to the House of Assembly prompted outrage, as he and others from the De Lery seigneury, despite petitions, had to travel more than thirty miles to a polling station outside their seigneury. The appointment of Loop Odell as small-debts commissioner angered them as well. Not only did his education seem 'altogether inadequate' but his insufficient fluency in French prevented him from 'consciously and impartially ... [deciding] all suits which might arise among persons [speaking] that language and no other.' While members of an assembly committee agreed that this complaint had merit, nothing was done.3 To add to their troubles and perceived wrongs, the executor of the De Lery estate, Magistrate William McGinnis, began extracting the payment of 'the illegal arrears' on rents. Petitioning the assembly yet again,

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the De Lery farmers predicted that 'more than three-fourths of the Censitaires will be forced to abandon their property, and to seek elsewhere an asylum where less oppression may exist/4 The continued inaction of the assembly infuriated the De Lery representative, Dr Cyrille Cote, who warned that his constituents were being driven to drastic action.5 Despite Cote's prophecy, his constituents' next step was peaceable. On the 'Glorious 4th of July' 1836, Hebert, as 'vice-president' (vicechairman) of a protest meeting, successfully introduced a motion to petition the assembly once more to expose 'the grievances under which we labour by the feudal tenure, as practised in the different seigneuries of this country.' Hebert's influence perhaps owed much to his substantial landholdings in De Lery His farm of 84 arpents had a family residence, stables, coach house, and various other wooden buildings on it; Hebert owned an additional three lots, two with wooden barns, giving him more than 228 arpents.6 Another petition passed at the meeting protested the 'odious system of misgovernment and irresponsibility' that ignored their 'frequent complaints, petitions and protests/7 In July 1837 the De Lery patriotes held an anti-coercion meeting, with Hebert selected as one of its vice-presidents, a role Governor Gosford asked him to explain. After dallying for several weeks, Hebert finally responded. Giving the lack of a suitable translator as his excuse for tardiness, he went on to resign his commission as captain of militia, informing Gosford that he preferred his countrymen's esteem to the 'empty honors of an administration ... reprobated by all ... [who were] respectable in the country/8 Despite the official reprimand, Hebert continued to agitate, representing his parish on the Committee of Vigilance set up after the July 1837 meeting and proposing to the Confederation of Six Counties in October 1837 that the people should consequently provide for its own wants, establish that superintendence necessary to good order as well as social happiness, and that the CONVENTION, the members of which were named at the general primary meetings of counties throughout the Province, would be a body to which such a duty might be confided.9

This sophisticated sentiment, with its undertones of Rousseau, was a far cry from his simple resolution of July 1836. Undoubtedly it owed its origin more to members of the patriote elite, such as Cyrille Cote, than to Hebert himself, but it clearly showed his path from petitioner to ardent activist. While no depositions were made against him in 1837,10 he must have supported the first rebellion. A year later, on Saturday, 3 November, many people in the Napier-

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ville environs, having trod the same road as Hebert, converged on the village. Among them was dairy farmer Joseph Pare, forty-seven years of age. Pare, who stood six feet tall, commanded much respect in his parish, and like Hebert he had also been prominent at the July 1837 Napierville meeting. Earlier in the day, Pare, in his role as chasseur captain, had been hosting a group of strangers, including some Americans. The Americans had told him to 'march/ that the time had come to assemble in Napierville.11 Also receiving orders was castor Antoine Coupal dit Lareine, the descendant of a French marine. Lareine, who had lived in UAcadie all his fifty years, was a foot shorter than Pare and epileptic. He had owned 604 arpents in 1831, but by 1838 his holdings had been reduced to almost half that.12 On 3 November, after hearing that English volunteers were coming to kill the Canadiens, he rounded up twenty men. Following orders from three of the main patriote leaders (Cote; Francois Nicolas, one of those acquitted of Chartrand's murder; and Lucien [also known as Julien] Gagnon),13 Lareine took his men into UAcadie. Charged with appropriating the parish funds from marguillier Louis Bechard, he went through elaborate chasseur signs, placing his left thumb on his nostril while commenting that the weather was beautiful. A cautious Bechard ignored Lareine, capitulating only after threats of being bound with rope and sent by cart to Napierville. His mission successfully completed, Lareine and his men set off for Chambly only to be ordered back to Napierville. Angered by the confusion, Lareine dismissed his chasseurs and went to find out for himself exactly what was going on. He found a village swelling with patriotes. Hebert, for one, had arrived at the head of 42 men. By early afternoon, more than 150 had assembled, armed with weapons of every description - scythes, pitchforks, hunting weapons, and the odd state-of-the-art musket purchased in the United States. Prominent in the centre of activity was Napierville's notary, Charles Huot. Huot was both respected and reviled by the patriotes. He had been the recorder at the July 1837 anti-coercion meeting but was afterwards harassed for his lack of zeal. Friendly with Cote, Huot frequently acted as secretary to the area legislative assembly representative, but Loop Odell, the despised merchant-magistrate, thought him an honest and peaceable man who 'wanted reform, not revolution/14 Typically, on this Saturday Huot straddled the fence. As rebel quartermaster, he commandeered merchandise for Nelson's army from various merchants, including Odell, before joining him in captivity himself as a suspected 'bureaucrat/ Some of the Napierville inhabitants managed to ignore the activity and go about their normal business. Cote's brother-in-law, Pierre-Hector

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Morin, left for a shopping expedition in Montreal.15 Louis Defaillette, a farmer of modest means who had testified in favour of one of the accused at the Chartrand trial, took his grain to the United States for milling.16 Even Pare went home. Returning to the village the following morning, Pare found more than five hundred patriotes roaming the streets. Cote had effected Huot's release, and now the notary issued the first of more than one thousand bons, or vouchers, for rations.17 Number 17, for example, went to J.-D. Hebert for one hundred pounds of beef and a hundred pounds of bread.18 While Huot incriminated himself issuing the vouchers, others scoured the countryside for more recruits, hoping that increased numbers would bolster the flagging courage of the reluctant and reassure those who had doubts. Gagnon visited Captain Theodore Bechard at his home, threatening to burn his buildings if he did not take his men back to Napierville. For those already in the village, anticipation ran high. Once the news of Robert Nelson's imminent arrival reached them, Cote ordered the chasseurs on parade. Standing at the head of his company, Jacques-David Hebert, for one, proudly watched his 'president' canter in. After a welcome from Cote, Nelson first asked for a forty- to fiftyhorse cavalry unit, then made it clear that the fight against the British government would require sacrifice for success. He introduced two French officers, Charles Hindenlang and Philippe Touvrey, who would teach military strategy and discipline. Hebert, like many others, was impressed that two foreigners would be prepared to give their lives for the Canadien cause.19 Amidst wild cheering, Nelson officially proclaimed the Republic of Lower Canada and read its declaration of independence.20 This farreaching document embodied the ideals of the patriote elite. It promised aboriginal people the same rights 'as any other citizen,' granted religious freedom, guaranteed the separation of church and state, and abolished feudal tenure as if 'it had never existed in Canada.' Nelson's declaration addressed the real concerns of his chasseurs, promising absolution from 'all debts, dues, obligations, real or supposed' to 'each and every person who shall bears arms,' or 'otherwise furnish assistance ... in this contest for emancipation.' The more sophisticated listeners could not doubt that Papineau's ideas were passe. Various clauses facilitated land transactions (in the interests of commerce), others pledged trial by jury in all criminal and most civil cases, abolished capital punishment except for murder, and promised freedom of the press, together with the introduction of public education, as quickly as possible. Nelson also addressed himself to the election process. In his radical republic, voting would be by secret ballot and the franchise extended to

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all males over twenty.21 Thoroughgoing official bilingualism completed this revolutionary package, to which he, as president, his officers, and followers pledged their lives, fortunes, and 'most sacred honor/ His remarks and the reading of the declaration raised patriote fervour to new heights in the muddy Napierville streets, a spirit that remained unquenched after the reminder that 'last year [the patriotes] had no arms ... this year they must conquer or die/22 The loyalists in Napierville took note. Notary Pierre Gamelin testified that after receiving a copy of the declaration from Cote, 'I understood, their intention was to subvert the government, and establish laws of their own. The name of Dr. Robert Nelson/ he continued, 'was printed at the foot of this proclamation as President/23 But to farmer JacquesDavid Hebert, Nelson's guarantees, ideas for reform, and rhetoric meant only one thing: relief from his seigneurial dues and the tithe. For that, he would gamble his life and property. A few of the rank and file were armed with 'new American muskets' brought in by Nelson's convoy. Others, carrying muskets taken from loyalist volunteers, 'American swords, pitchforks, scythes, and poles with spears to them,' continued to enlist, raising the total to more than three thousand. Joseph Pare, though, noticed entire companies without any weapons whatsoever.24 In Sunday's confusion, Nelson established a semblance of order, setting up his headquarters staff, making Pare his transportation coordinator, and appointing a young law clerk, Guillaume Levesque, his aide-de-camp. Cote, as second in command, decided to augment Nelson's funds by raising a 'loan' of £327 12s. 6d. from the Napierville parish funds. With Francois Trepanier and Gagnon, Cote went first to the priest, who told them the churchwarden had the key to the church. The warden, very conscious of his responsibilities, refused to give it up. Threatened with violence' he reluctantly 'accompanied them to the presbitary [sic] where he found the cure [parish priest] surrounded by rebels, remonstrating with them against the unholy spoliation they were about to commit/ Still the warden held out, 'unwilling to be a party to the robbery by yielding the key/ He 'expostulated with them, telling them that the money "was a gift to God,"' until the priest intervened because 'it was useless to endanger the lives of both' of them. Despite the ferocity of their threats, the rebels gave the warden a receipt for the funds.25 In all the goings and comings, cautious men began to evaluate their commitment. Late that night several gathered to plot against their leaders. Some, allegedly including Francois Nicolas, believed that only by arresting Gagnon, Nelson, and Cote could they mitigate their already treasonable actions. But according to Hebert, the majority opposed this line of thinking and carried the day.26

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The next morning Nelson dispatched several companies to arrest loyalists outside the town, among them William McGinnis, the De Lery estate agent. Pare led one of several raiding parties that seized livestock from loyalists' farms, and Touvrey took some men to establish an outpost in Lacolle, close to the American border. Nelson had a supply of weapons, including six cannon, in Rouse's Point, across the U.S. border, and Touvrey was to contact and establish lines of communication between Napierville and those guarding the cache. His company successfully passed through loyalist territory on the way; a group of loyalists had rounded up their livestock to protect them from marauding rebels, thus inadvertently leaving the path south clear. The following day Gagnon, a specialist in routes to the United States, and Cote took a hundred men (thirty-nine of them mounted) to bolster the Touvrey encampment at Lacolle and bring American arms and artillery into Lower Canada. Torrents of rain fell, making the already muddy roads virtually impassable. No one expected patriote movement in such weather, and eighteen of the English volunteers, who had made the mistake of sitting out the action the previous day, headquartered themselves in an old stone mill on the Lacolle River, on the road leading directly south to Rouse's Point. Now wishing to atone for their mistake, the outnumbered loyalists attacked the patriote force furiously, managing to unseat four mounted rebels before the remaining men struggled through to join up with Touvrey and his men in the United States. This success worried the loyal forces. Volunteer officers in the various hamlets and villages south of Montreal communicated frequently with one another, fearing a possible two-front attack. On Wednesday, 7 November, armed loyalists responded to the threat. The weather had improved with an overnight frost hardening the roads. The sun shone brightly. Visibility was excellent. As these volunteers neared Odelltown, they saw the patriote camp, a mile and a half away, just two hundred yards from the American border. This time they outnumbered the rebels, by about 400 to 170. After twenty-five minutes of vicious fighting, in what became known as the battle of Lacolle, they routed the patriotes. A gloating letter to the Montreal Transcript reported that the loyalists had adopted a policy of falling on the ground as soon as they saw a patriote ignite his weapon. The application of the next [patriote] match,' it explained, 'brought the whole company on their faces. On this General Cote [sic] exclaimed, "Hurra Boys! Canada is our own." When the ball passed over, the dead men sprang to their feet.' In the face of such miracles, 'General Cote was so terrified by the bristling steel of these dead men, that he fell into an epileptic fit, and had to be removed from the field by four of his men.'27

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Figure 4.1 The Battle of Lacolle, 1838 Source: After a map in Elinor Kyte Senior, Redcoats and Patriotes (1985), 81 (taken from maps NMC H12/300/1838 and NMC BK 1100/1838, NA)

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Whatever the loyal volunteers' tactics, they succeeded. As the victors combed the area for weapons and prisoners in the aftermath, one group noticed a dead horse by a barn. On closer inspection they discovered a man lying between the supporting framework or windowsill and the ground. Benjamin Mott of Alburg, Vermont, was thus captured two hundred yards from the border, seconds from safety.28 Despite protesting that he had come to Canada to collect a debt and, as 'no friend to the patriot cause,' had only been a drunken spectator at the battle, Mott became part of the loyalists' spoils.29 So did the new cannon and arms Touvrey had laboriously brought into Lower Canada. The volunteers continued their mopping-up actions, taking another seven prisoners and counting eleven bodies left on the field. As he and others fled for American sanctuary, Dr Cyrille Cote probably spared nary a thought to his leader's pledge of sacrificing life, fortune, and honour. A few survivors straggled back to Napierville to tell the doleful tale. There they were filled with a new sense of disaster on hearing that Sir John Colborne had taken personal command of the British forces, which combined hundreds of vindictive loyalist volunteers with thousands of the best soldiers in the world - the Grenadier and King's Dragoon Guards, the 15th, 24th, and 73rd regiments, and the 71st Highland Light Infantry. Dividing this might, which included 1,320 men from Upper Canada and 800 Mohawk warriors, into three, Colborne gave command of the centre to the very man who would preside over the court martial, Major-General John Clitherow. Not surprisingly, as this array crossed the St Lawrence to begin its way to Napierville, many patriotes left the chasseur camp for their homes, the forests, or the United States. To combat desertions, Nelson decided on Thursday, the ninth, to retreat south to Odelltown, where he hoped to make a stand. According to Hebert, he reiterated that the patriote forces still had more arms than they needed in the United States. All that had to be done to gain access to these weapons was to seize control of Odelltown. Again, captains attempted to round up the recalcitrant, going into homes, threatening to burn barns, livestock and houses. On a higher level, they reminded farmers of their seigneurial woes and held out the promise of an independent Canadien Utopia. Some men's fervour never dimmed. Two young men, Achille Morin, an in-law of Cote's, and Hippolite Lanctot, a notary,30 for example, willingly marched with Nelson. Others foresaw doom, like Hebert, who had profound doubts about his president's commitment to the Canadien cause. When Nelson left with a mere thousand or so the next morning, Hebert remained in the village. So did Joseph Pare.31 A few patriotes, such as Louis Defaillette, had already patrolled the border area for two days. On Thursday morning Defaillette received a

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message from Nelson asking to see him. He promptly presented himself at Louis Dupuis's farm, four miles from the patriote base on the Lacolle River, only to be redirected to a barn at the rear. A shocked Defaillette thereupon concluded that his president was a coward. As a veteran of the War of 1812, he found it bizarre that a general should not only surround himself with rank-and-file soldiers but also hide in a barn. More than that, as they talked, he began to believe that Nelson only sought someone to guide him safely to the United States. Despite reassurances, Defaillette ordered his men to take the general and his two aides (Nicolas and Francois Trepanier) prisoner. Certain now of the rebellion's imminent failure, he blamed Nelson for compounding Canadien misery and ordered that the three men be taken to Colborne. On the way, however, his men apparently remembered the long knives and daggers of their chasseur initiation. Defeat was one thing; treachery another. As they talked, they convinced themselves that delivery of the three to the patriote base in Lacolle32 was a better punishment (and one safer for themselves). Defaillette chose not to go, resuming his border patrol. But his sentiments never altered. Days later in a deposition he would say, 'I think now and I thought then that Nelson's aim was to use us to guard him on his way to the [United] states and to find a way for him.'33 Unceremoniously delivered by cart to Lacolle and surviving whatever story his deliverers told, Nelson continued to command support on Friday morning, 9 November, as the chasseur army headed south for Odelltown. Hindenlang, the French 'brigadier-general,' found himself in charge of 911 men with limited or no military experience. About 700 were armed with muskets, 200 with but pikes or spears on poles. Splitting his men into three units, he kept control of the centre himself but handed the right wing over to Nelson. As the patriote forces marched, Nicolas, for one, made the rounds of the men. Sometimes cajoling but more frequently brandishing a cocked pistol, he stationed himself between them and the road home. Some walked sullenly. But others, with the light of adventure or retribution in their eyes, strode confidently forward. Only two hundred loyalists protected Odelltown and the route to the United States. Victory seemed assured. But a harbinger of patriote fortune, Lieutenant-Colonel Cyril Taylor, British intelligence officer at StJean, had ridden in just before they arrived. Assessing the situation, this veteran quickly ordered sixty men into the Methodist church, which straddled the north-south route, deploying others in a trench at its rear. One of the cannon left behind by Cote now served the British cause. Placed in front of the church, it took the central path away from the patriotes while giving notice of the loyalist volunteers' determination to

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stop Tapineau's men/34 Battle was joined just before eleven o'clock, and 'hot firing' lasted about two and a half hours. The patriote captains, such as Francois Bigonnesse, led their desperate men as best they could. Hindenlang, frankly disappointed in the fighting quality of his Canadien army, later remarked that it seemed 'more occupied in praying than fighting/ mentioning that one chasseur was shot while kneeling in prayer.35 According to the biased Montreal Transcript, Hindenlang broke his sword at the conclusion of the battle, declaring 'he would rather be hung, than shot in such company as he had found in the rebel ranks/36 In spite of Bigonnesse's exhortations and leadership, Hindenlang's commands, and numerous personal examples of courage, the bell in the Odelltown Methodist church soon tolled the death knell of the Freres Chasseurs, and Canadien nationalism of a secular kind would need much more than one hundred years before it would be resurrected. What about the self-proclaimed saviour of the Canadiens - the president of the Republic of Lower Canada? Upon seeing the loyalist troops in the church, he remembered St-Eustache, where British troops a year before had set fire to the church and then shot patriotes as they tried to escape. According to Dr Cote, Nelson wanted to re-enact the situation, but this time, of course, with loyalist troops being caught between gunfire and flames. He ordered straw and hay set around the foundations of the church and set afire. When no one obeyed, he washed his hands of the entire battle and left at once for the United States, where Cote was later 'happy to say he safely arrived/37 Did Nelson regret his lack of action at Odelltown? Was he ashamed that he too did not honour the pledges made before thousands only five days before? In Cote's words again, he was 'perfectly justified in doing as he did ... It is not the duty of a commanding officer to lead his men into action when he could not rely upon the personal attachment of his men/38 Behind Nelson, fifty bodies littered the field of battle. Many wounded struggled towards safety as best they could, some reaching Napierville, twenty miles away, late in the afternoon. There the defeated patriotes held a dispirited council of war. Asked what he should do, Nicolas stated his plight.' "Mr. Odell," he said, "wishes to save his property, but I do not care a d_n about that -1 wish to save my life/" If taken alive, Nicolas had no doubt that as one who had cheated the hangman's rope once when acquitted of Chartrand's murder, he had no luck left. Others, a minority, misread the mood of the loyalists and Sir John Colborne. Theodore Bechard, in a show of unconcern, called at Loop Odell's store, buying liquor that he presumably shared with his men. Charles Huot was convinced he would be spared once the patriotes laid down their weapons. The majority at the meeting, however, thought flight the only solution.39

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Sir John Colborne, believing inflated volunteer reports of the size of the patriote army, had waited patiently in Montreal until his forces assembled. During that time he had acted administratively, issuing proclamations and guiding ordinances through the Special Council. Now the time had come for military action in Napierville, but when his army of three and a half thousand, dressed in full winter gear of white mittens, long mukluk-type boots, and brown protective headgear, entered the town, Saturday morning, 10 November, it found the village virtually deserted. As Colonel Charles Grey reported to his father, Earl Grey, 'Sir John Colborne was ... there, so that we had a LieutenantGeneral, Two Major-Generals, Heaven knows how many Colonels and Lieutenant-Colonels, etc. etc., all to defeat an enemy that a division of the [London] Metropolitan Police would have been sufficient to defeat/ Grey further noted that the force dispersed in a hunt for weapons and they hoped to be back in Montreal in a few days 'having concluded, as far as we are concerned, a bloodless campaign/40 If Grey thought magnanimity would be the order of the day, Achille Morin could have enlightened him. In a letter to the North American he described being taken prisoner by Colborne himself. Wounded in the leg at Odelltown, unable to escape, he had lain helpless. After capture, two soldiers with bayonets had escorted him back to Napierville, prodding him whenever his pace slowed. There, a compassionate major found a carriage and sent him to Montreal. But his troubles did not end on the other side of the St Lawrence. Once again, soldiers demanded he march to the jail but he defied all their efforts until someone finally provided another carriage.41 Jacques-David Hebert was arrested on 12 November 1838. His thoughts can only be imagined. His house lay smouldering in ruins, his reputation in the parish was shattered. He had lost his gamble with life and property without alleviating the troubles plaguing the seigneury of De Lery. Worse, the patriote cause and la nation canadienne were utterly defeated. Even while he made his way to prison, triumphant loyalists busily destroyed what he and his forebears had built. He had no faith in British justice because he had seen none in De Lery. Under the leaden skies of a Montreal November, he reached prison. There, officials were deciding who should stand trial. The hundreds of vouchers signed by Huot must have seemed a godsend to them. The erstwhile quartermaster had taken no effort to disguise his handwriting, and the bons documented much of the patriote activity during the week of 3-10 November. While preparing the prosecution against other Napierville prisoners, they selected Charles Huot to stand trial on 17 December. Despite his plea of not guilty, the prosecution was confident it had an open-and-shut case. The judges had no reason to fear any esoteric legal arguments as to Huot's complicity - the handwritten vouchers

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said it all. Huot, though, had a substantial defence - duress. His problem would be producing the proof. Conducting his own defence (as all the other accused would do), he attempted to establish his record as a man who succumbed to threats, bringing to the court's attention the harassment he had endured during the time of the 1837 rebellion. However, there were few potential witnesses willing to admit to having threatened him, even if the court were to believe them. Cote, the leader responsible for much of the duress, might have recognized the inevitability of his fate and tried to save Huot by testifying to compulsion, but he was safely in the United States. Huot did elicit testimony that Cote had forced him to act as quartermaster, breaking him out of jail after he had been arrested as a bureaucrat, but he could not establish that the threats had been to life or limb. Even though the deputy judge advocates, while acknowledging Cote's actions, stated that 'palliative circumstances' accompanied his guilt and could lead to a 'favourable consideration/ the judges decided otherwise. Huot was convicted without recommendation to mercy42 The third trial began on Christmas Eve. Among the ten Napiervillearea accused was a friendly and intelligent man of fifty-eight, PierreHector Morin, who had served as an officer during the War of 1812, helping defend his country and the British Empire. Two of his sons had recently joined the volunteers in Upper Canada. Another, Achille, was on trial with him.43 For many years the elder Morin had captained the steamer Canadian Eagle between Quebec and Montreal, and he was widely respected as a gentleman in both cities. Now he faced pejorative attacks as he fought for reputation and life. Two witnesses, Dr Joseph Sarault and scribe Jean-Baptiste Trudeau, testified that during 4-11 November Morin had been in the rebel camp at Napierville, free to go about as he pleased, although when they had seen him, he had been unarmed. Carpenter James Umpleby testified that after his capture on Saturday, the third, he had asked where his captors were taking him and 'they said they would go ask Captain Morin/ When Nelson arrived in the village on the fourth, Umpleby went on, 'I saw Pierre Hector Morin ... with others, paying his addresses to him/ He had not heard what was said at that time, but he believed the patriotes intended to 'kill their prisoners and cut their heads off/ Other prosecution witnesses, merchant Thomas Thompson and notary Pierre Gamelin, claimed to have seen Morin on sentry duty at the common jail where they and other loyalists had been imprisoned. To buttress their case, the deputy judge advocates produced two vouchers to show that Morin had acted as a quartermaster and ordinance officer for the patriotes. The first, dated 8 November, purportedly authorized Narcisse Racine to transport ammunition from the house of

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one Dumais to Cote's barn. The second, also dated 8 November, allowed the issuance of a glass of rum to each member of a patriote company.44 In his defence, Morin attempted to prove that the handwriting on the bons bore little or no resemblance to his, which he claimed was smaller. Montreal shopkeeper Nelson Goslin testified that he had done extensive business with Morin and thus knew his handwriting well. When shown the court exhibits, he declared he could 'see no similarity between the writing of those papers and the writing of P. H. Morin whose [sic] I have in my possession.' Responding to a question from a deputy judge advocate, Goslin stated he had last seen Morin's writing 'the third November last/ when he had been in his shop. Next, Morin produced three witnesses who had been patriote prisoners and who swore they had seen Morin at the prison but unarmed. As prisoners, naturally worried about their fate, they had tried to glean every possible bit of information. They had been able to see through the bars of the prison's windows and had watched patriote activity very carefully. Without any doubt, they would have remembered if the respected captain had carried arms or acted as a humble sentry. In questioning one of these, Pierre Renault of St-Valentin, Morin attempted to cast doubts about the credibility of prosecution witness notary Pierre Gamelin. Responding to a question about Gamelin's state of mind, Renault answered that the notary 'was sound of mind' when he entered the jail, but the next day he lost his senses from fright. I spent the night of the eighth watching him; whenever the sentry came near the door, he thought he was going to be killed; a cloak fell down, and he was so frightened that he jumped over those who were in bed; I saw him last week, and he told me he had not then recovered and had still something in his head that prevented him from getting along as he used to.45

Mentally competent or not, Gamelin's evidence might have proved fatal. Building on Goslin's testimony that he had been in Montreal on the third, Morin now attempted to prove that he had arrived in Napierville with his purchases about one o'clock on the Sunday afternoon, four hours or so after Nelson's triumphant reading of his declaration of independence. Then he directed attention to the most damning fact of all against him, something that up to that point had not been brought to the court's notice by the prosecution - his relationship to Dr Cyrille Cote. Morin was the patriote leader's brother-in-law. Worse, poverty had forced his family to live in Cote's Napierville house about eight months before the rebellion, as Morin had been unemployed for four years. In addition, his father-in-law, a man in his eighties, needed care. He made a

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strong case that he had been anything but a political supporter of Cote's. One of his friends, Charles Seraphim [sic] Rodier, who had known him for twenty-five years, testified that he had been 'attached to the government/ Rodier had often seen Morin in Cote's company and had often spoken politically with his assembly representative. 'Dr Cote and myself never agreed on' politics, Rodier testified, then added, 'in all the conversation that I had with Dr. Cote, you [Morin] were almost always on my side/46 As frequently happened in the court martial with the accused men conducting their own defence, a couple of Morin's witnesses were not helpful. Shipmaster Alexis Painchaud of Montreal swore that he thought Morin would be 'the last man to take up arms against the British government/ When a deputy judge advocate invited Painchaud to speculate why Morin might have rebelled, the shipmaster cited Morin's financial problems as a reason, together with 'the bad counsel he has received from Dr. Cote [sic].' After seeing what he had done, Painchaud attempted to retrieve the situation by adding that Morin had come to his house in Montreal about ten months earlier and confided that Cote 'was a bad man, to take up arms against so generous a government/47 William Southard, a St-Valentin innkeeper, testified to the improbability of Morin coming armed to the prison. When asked if he had seen people who were opposed to the rebels in the prison, 'otherwise than prisoners/ Southard answered that it seemed that 'every one who came in had more authority than ourselves/ In fact, 'a great many of the prisoners' wives and connections came in with passes; when Morin came in, he had no pass' that the witness had seen.48 In his final address, which he had largely prepared himself, Morin insisted he had proved his loyal opinions and that the handwriting on the voucher exhibits was not his. He then made some telling points. If he had been a patriote, a member of the Freres Chasseurs, why had he not been in Napierville when the rebellion broke out? As testimony proved, those of command in the chasseurs had known on Saturday the third to round up their men. Morin, however, had gone to Montreal to shop. On his return the next day, he could of course not leave the village. Rebel guards controlled all movement. And as for welcoming Dr Nelson, he had not been present when the leader arrived. Morin claimed that the sole witness to this event, Umpleby, had no credibility. When first brought to the stand, Umpleby had stated in a 'wholesale declaration that he knew all the prisoners' then standing trial. But he was not able to identify Guillaume Levesque or Jean-Baptiste Dozois, a fact brought out in the defence statement of four other accused. In fact, Francois Trepanier junior described Umpleby as testifying with 'a fierce joy ... on his countenance, at the moment when he must have supposed

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that the lives of eleven of his fellow creatures were depending on his words/49 That he had acted as a lowly sentry, Morin contended, was highly improbable. Three loyalist prisoners had not seen him do so, and if he had, the witnesses to his going out in the village, Sarault and Trudeau, surely would have noticed him wearing a gun at least once. More than that, the mental condition of the prosecution's witness to his supposed stints of duty might easily have transformed him from an unarmed man 'into a warrior,' armed to the teeth. He did not refute testimony that he had entered the Napierville prison, but did entering a jail without a pass make anyone a criminal? Morin had come to the prison just to visit a sick man, or so he claimed, and only problems of obtaining proof prevented him from establishing that fact.50 But he had a lot of trouble 'obtaining admission and was ... allowed to remain there a few minutes only' and had never returned. Morin next reiterated his loyalty to the government. Even if he had forgotten his principles and become a rebel, his rank in the patriote hierarchy would have been 'of a higher grade than that of a simple soldier.' To the bench, army men who understood rank and the privileges due it, this should have been the strongest argument. Morin, as a steamer captain on the Quebec-Montreal run, had taken responsibility for many lives over the years. In addition, he was the brother-in-law of Nelson's second in command. As the Montreal Transcript reported, he was well known to the city's society, possessing 'manners, intelligence and information.'51 Morin concluded strongly, declaring that if the trial had been 'before any ordinary court, there is not a judge who would not charge the jury to acquit me.'52 The strength of his defence troubled the deputy judge advocates. They conceded that unless the court believed he had disguised his handwriting, exhibits one and two were useless. Morin had made a strong case for his loyalty prior to the rebellion, and the judges would have to weigh the credibility of Gamelin's testimony when deciding whether or not Morin had performed sentry duty. They concluded their address to the court by singling out the 'case of P. H. Morin' as 'being entitled, perhaps to a more merciful consideration' than those of his fellow prisoners. Notwithstanding these admissions and suggestions, the court sentenced Morin to death, without any recommendation to mercy, on 2 January 1839.53 Why? Judicial factors could not have played much part. The case against Morin depended upon the testimony of five men and two exhibits. Umpleby's testimony that his captors on 3 November had sought information from Morin and that he himself had seen the captain paying his

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respects to Nelson was countered by Goslin's evidence that Morin had shopped in Montreal on the third. Morin also adduced proof, although not conclusive, that he had arrived back in Napierville early Sunday afternoon, the fourth. Had he acted as an armed sentry? Three loyalist prisoners with access to the windows of the jail had not seen him do so, and as Morin pointed out, such a lowly position would have been beneath his dignity. In addition, Sarault and Trudeau, who had testified to his movements in the village, had sworn he was unarmed, which would have made him highly ineffective. Maybe the court, when considering the evidence, relied primarily on the tangible proof - the so-called vouchers with Morin's signature. As they would demonstrate in other trials, the deputy judge advocates firmly believed that rebels falsified their writing during the week of 4-11 November. Thus, they would have discounted Morin's contention that the single word 'Morin' on the bons bore little resemblance to his usual handwriting and ignored his testimony that his habitual signature was 'P. H. Morin.' Yet, they were fresh from the trial of Huot, just days earlier. The rebel quartermaster had not disguised his handwriting on hundreds of vouchers and would be condemned to death by that fact. Somehow, though, they managed to allow the bias of their beliefs to outweigh this. As matters stood, the court lacked the two necessary credible witnesses to Morin committing overt acts of treason. The supposed signature had not persuaded the court's own prosecutors, those upon whom the court relied for help in legal matters. In convicting Morin without recommendation to mercy, was the court swayed by extra-judicial factors? Major General Clitherow had commanded one of the columns that had 'freed' Napierville, and twelve of the fourteen other judges belonged to units involved in that operation. In the mopping-up phase, officers and their men vindictively avenged the loyalists' sufferings. On a direct order from Colborne, they had torched rebel houses, including that of Dr Cote, where Morin resided.54 Given Clitherow's role in assessing evidence in 1838, possibly he believed the alarmist reports of the loyalists who attributed atrocities, real or intended, to the patriotes. In the summer of 1838 he had reviewed one such report, from LieutenantColonel Charles Taylor, intelligence officer of the fort at St-Jean, that the patriotes planned a 'general rising ... having for the object the destruction of all who speak the english [sic] language, or who are favourable to British supremacy.'55 Clitherow received similar warnings the very week before the rebellion broke out.56 Did Morin's crime lie in the fact that the patriotes had not arrested him as a bureaucrat? He claimed the judges took the view that any

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Canadien at large in Napierville during the second week of November was guilty of treason. This assumption, coupled with the court's belief that rebels falsified their handwriting, may have accounted for his conviction. But why did the court not recommend Pierre-Hector Morin to mercy, particularly after the deputy judge advocates specified him as deserving such? Morin believed that he became a proxy for his escaped brother-inlaw, Cote, that the relationship was 'the great head and front' of his supposed crime: Yes, Gentlemen, I am his [Cote's] brother-in-law, but when I married his sister [in 1808] he was not even born, and hard would be my fate if the misdeeds of a connexion should be the means of destroying his relative, whose principles, whose politics, and whose conduct prove, incontrovertibly, his abhorrence of the course pursued by Dr. Cote.57

By not singling out Morin for mercy, the court made him a victim of prejudice, a conclusion proved almost irrefutably by abundant extrajudicial evidence. In their report to Sir John Colborne after the trial, the deputy judge advocates tried to rank the Napierville accused according to culpability and they singled out Morin as a prisoner 'against whom the evidence is not strong.'58 At trial, they had discounted testimony from their own witness, Pierre Gamelin. In a deposition dated 19 November the notary swore he had been escorted to rebel headquarters at Cote's house and Guillaume Levesque had told him the order came from Morin, who ranked second to his brother-in-law and acted as commander in his absence. More than that, Gamelin had supposedly seen Morin giving orders to rebel soldiers at their headquarters and the captain had told two soldiers to escort him back to jail.59 Such damning words were not testified to in court, leaving no conclusion other than that the deputy judge advocates did not believe their own witness. In the aftermath of the 1837 rebellion, Morin had written a revealing letter to his son, Pierre-Hector junior of Upper Canada. In March 1838 he had looked at the wholesale arrests with outrage. People were being incarcerated on the slightest suspicion, and Morin had expected his turn would come 'without knowing why; it's enough to say that we have the original sin of being Canadiens/60 These words, however, did not make him a patriote, for he had gone on to remark: 'We learn with pleasure that you have voluntarily dedicated yourself to the service of your Government and have done your duty -1 venture to hope - with honour and courage.' This evidence, however, would not have counted with the judges when another son, Achille, was tried with his father. On the day after the court announced its verdict, 3 January 1839,

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people rallied to save Morin's life. The former barrack master at lie aux Noix, Thomas Jobson, deposed that Morin had long been 'a useful man in the Disturbed District by his endeavours & exertions to bring the insurgents to a sense of their duty/ The captain had provided information about the patriotes' plans because he believed they 'were bringing upon themselves & upon the loyal inhabitants ruin/ 61 Cote's wife, Margaret, also made a deposition, a very detailed and persuasive one, swearing that her husband had never trusted his brother-in-law with any patriote secrets, as Morin always professed loyalty to the government. She herself had been in and around Napierville during the week of the rebellion, and she deposed that Morin had been occupied solely with family matters.62 Within a week of the verdict, petitions circulated in Quebec and Montreal, pleading that Colborne pardon Morin.63 The Montreal document, signed by dozens of prominent Englishmen and Canadiens, virtually claimed he had been wrongly convicted and reiterated Morin's defence. 'If your petitioners have been rightly informed/ they wrote, the proof presented at trial did not go to establish that he took a prominent part in the Outbreak at Napierville while on the other hand several of the witnesses adduced in his favour are said to have contradicted that proof to a certain extent while others proved that even to the eve of the late disturbances his views were entirely opposed to those of the political leaders in the part of the Country where he resided and that during the whole Course of last summer he had exerted himself to procure a situation in this City in order to remove himself and his family from the baneful influence which the intrigues of Cote [sic] and other Refugees might have over his prospects if he remained in Napierville.

If nothing else could have established Morin's innocence, one of the signatures on the petition must have given the acting governor pause. Included among the many names was that of Robert Weir, the editor of the bloodthirsty Montreal Herald, a man who saw an enemy of British supremacy in almost every Canadien. Hindenlang's trial provided another instance of the prosecution's tailoring of the law to fit political ends. He was the prize catch in the battle of Odelltown's aftermath. As a foreign 'general,' some way had to be devised to satisfy loyalist demands that he pay for his crime with his life64 so that his hanging might deter brigands who threatened to invade both Canadas from Vermont and New York. British officers had little respect for the patriote 'brigadier general,' telling him he would be treated the same as the canaille (rabble) he had led to defeat and this, according to a gleeful Montreal Herald, meant hanging. The Montreal Transcript

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also assured its readers that the 'Rebel Generalissimo' would dangle from a hangman's noose.65 In an attempt to save himself, Hindenlang signed a long confession, stressing his ignorance of Lower Canada's internal affairs and denouncing Robert Nelson as a coward and thief.66 Maybe he pinned his hopes on France intervening. It did, but only in a half-hearted way. M. de Pontois, the French minister to the United States, unofficially requested that Hindenlang be treated as a prisoner of war with his fate to be decided through government negotiation. From Paris, the French foreign minister directed his ambassador in London, Count Mole, to intercede. Mole could not excuse Hindenlang, but asked that his French citizenship and British humanity be invoked to spare him. He did not raise the question of allegiance. Lord Palmerston sent a copy of Mole's despatch to the colonial secretary, Lord Glenelg, asking that it be indulgently considered. On 7 February 1839 Glenelg wrote Colborne, enclosing the despatch and Palmers ton's wish, instructing Colborne to 'give such consideration to Count Mole's intercession, as the facts of the case and the circumstances of Lower Canada appear to you to justify it.'67 This intervention was too late for Hindenlang. By the time these requests reached the colony, he had been tried, condemned, and hanged.68 Would Colborne have acceded to the London's requests? Probably not. Aware of the debatable nature of a Frenchman's duty of allegiance to Queen Victoria in the circumstances, and likely apprehensive about diplomatic repercussions, the deputy judge advocates had drafted the indictment very carefully, charging Hindenlang not only with levying war but with murder. The indictment specified that he and others had shot and killed Captain Donald McAllister of the West Sherrington Loyal Volunteers during the battle of Odelltown or that he had aided and abetted unknown persons who had shot the loyalist. These allegations of murder were legally tenuous. As Drummond argued in a written statement on Hindenlang's behalf, it was uncertain if murder could be committed in a formal battle, as Attorney General Ogden himself had denied during the Chartrand trial. The real questions were did Hindenlang owe allegiance and if not, could he be tried for murder. These issues had troubled Upper Canadian law officers and the chief justice in 1838 when they concluded that an alien invader did not owe allegiance to the crown and for that very reason could not be charged with treason or any felony. This followed a decision by the British law officers in August 1838 that if an invader could not be held liable for treason (which they said he could not) and if he 'were to kill an English soldier in action ... he could not be tried for murder.'69 Drummond

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picked up on the issue, writing in his address to the court that 'levying war by an alien is not a crime known to the criminal code of England/ a fact the 'Legislature of Upper Canada' seemed to have understood. Earlier in the year it had passed 'a specific Act for the trial and punishment of such foreigners, as might be found levying [war] against the Government of that Province' - the so-called Lawless Aggressions Act.70 Not contesting the facts at issue, Hindenlang submitted two statements in defence. The first, read by him in French, emphasized his hatred of Nelson and confidently predicted that the officer-judges' sense of fair play would extend to him, a military colleague. He had acted, he assured them, out of a passionate love of liberty. Their own British national history had its share of similarly motivated people whom they considered heroes. 'Was it likely,' he asked them, 'that the English government would act so as to declare that the immortal Lord Byron was a brigand?' Drummond's statement raised the issue of Englishman Robert Boyd, who had joined an invading Spanish revolutionary force of liberals led by Jose Maria Torrijos that was forced to surrender near Malaga in December 1831. Despite protests from British diplomatic officials in Spain, Boyd was among those executed. Drummond now claimed that when the Malaga governor, Don Vincent Gonzales Moreno, had visited England in 1834, demands had been made in Parliament that he, the governor, be tried for murder.71 But Lord Palmerston had denied these demands, saying that no British court had jurisdiction and that the context of Torrijos's invasion 'took the case of Mr. Boyd out of the protection of the law of nations.'72 Colonel Grey recalled these facts in 1839, and most likely at least one of the judges did as well. On safer ground, Drummond quoted treason jurist Sir Michael Foster on the correlation between protection and allegiance, and stressed that Hindenlang had neither asked for nor received the former: 'I sought no protection from the British Government, and in verity, I have hitherto found none, save that which the roof of the prison house has afforded me against the inclemency of the elements.'73 Drummond's best argument, though, was the reference to the Lawless Aggressions Act, a clear admission by Upper Canadian law officers and the chief justice (its main draftsman) that 'levying' war by an invading alien was not a crime in English law. The deputy judge advocates refused Drummond's bait. They made no reference to the Upper Canadian act, nor did they argue that aliens entering a colony to support rebels in open warfare enjoyed the right to protection or owed the duty of allegiance, contenting themselves with a single quotation from the famous British jurist Sir William Blackstone to the effect that subjects who assisted 'foreign pirates or robbers' commit-

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ted treason. This missed the point entirely because Hindenlang was not a British subject. To forestall any thoughts the judges might entertain about recommending mercy and perhaps to exploit any trace of xenophobia, the deputy judge advocates passionately asked them: 'What can be urged to palliate the insolent interference of foreigners in our internal affairs; and have we not a right to presume that the basest motives alone have called forth their mischievous exertions?'74 Hindenlang, subject of France, was convicted of treason and of aiding and abetting unknown persons to murder McAllister. The court did not recommend mercy and shortly afterwards Hindenlang was hanged. Vermont citizen Benjamin Mott, who later raised a similar defence, would also be found guilty, but would be transported to New South Wales.75 Of the fourteen trials in the General Court Martial, six involved men from the Napierville area. Five accused were executed.76 As Nicolas had predicted, he and Daunais, who had only fleetingly participated in the rebellion, finally paid for their involvement in Chartrand's murder. The gallows would not be cheated twice. In their efforts to ensure that retribution, the deputy judge advocates, however, cheated the law, manipulating it and bending it to meet their extra-judicial needs. While the officer-judges cannot be held responsible for this, those charged with serving justice were culpable from Attorney General Ogden, who must have known about the alien question in Upper Canada, to lawyers Mondelet and Day, two of the deputy judge advocates. These trials would not be the only ones where justice was manipulated to convict men. Nor was a guilty verdict the only one sought by manipulation. In a Beauharnois trial it resulted in an inexplicable acquittal.77 As for Jacques-David Hebert, he was found guilty in the seventh trial and would join other Napierville chasseur captains, like Pare, Defaillette, and Lareine, in New South Wales.

5

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois

Warwick approached his assignment the following day less than enthusiastically. He'd been awake most of the previous night, dreaming of Duquette's bloody body, thrashing on the gallows. He wasn't quite ready to listen to stories of futile dreams, betrayals, and personal loss - even though he was gathering excellent material. But as he approached the house, his steps quickened once he saw Lepailleur, swathed in brightly patterned rugs, sitting out on the porch, enjoying a rare warm sunny afternoon. 'Good afternoon, Mr Lepailleur. You're in fine form today. Sleep well?' 'Oh, yes. Very soundly. I woke only a few times during the night.' Lepailleur tugged the rugs a little tighter around him, squinting into the sun as he talked. 'I have to take advantage of every last ray of sun at my age. We won't get too many days like this until next spring, I'm afraid.' Warwick agreed as he sat down on the top step, seizing the opportunity to bask in the weak rays himself. They enjoyed a few minutes of silence before Lepailleur resumed the conversation. 'I've been thinking of Joson. It must have tired me out. He was one of those named in that suspicion-of-sacrilege complaint, you recall.' He chuckled a little at a joke only he could see, then went on, 'Joson's long gone now, of course, but I still get a smile when I recall some of his antics.' 'Joson?' 'Joseph Dumouchelle, of Ste-Martine in Beauharnois. He really was the most extraordinary man - an original, as they say nowadays.' The sun went behind a cloud and the air chilled. Lepailleur shivered. 'Come along,' he ordered, rising to his feet. 'Let's get inside before we catch our deaths.' Warwick dutifully grabbed a couple of rugs and a pillow and helped Lepailleur into the front parlour. He seated himself by the fire, then watched as Lepailleur settled and his womenfolk fussed over him before bringing in cakes and coffee. Once the women had retreated to the kitchen, Warwick pulled out his notebook and pencil. 'You mentioned Beauharnois, Mr Lepailleur. That's where Mr Prieur came from as well, isn't it?'

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Lepailleur nodded. 'Indeed, yes. I saw him just a short while ago. He looked remarkably well. Not as good as me, of course,' he added with a self-deprecatory laugh. 'But my, how beautifully he did for himself when we came back from New South Wales. Superintendent of prisons. What an achievement, seeing he was once a convict himself.' Murmuring agreement, Warwick industriously made a brief note to find out more. 'So, would you say he was the most successful of the Beauharnois men?' Lepailleur's snort of laughter surprised him, as did the salacious glint in his eyes. 'Depends on how you define success,' he replied dryly. 'When we were in Sydney, I'm sure many of us thought Joson the most successful of us all.' 'Then tell me about him, sir. He sounds fascinating.' 'Fascinating?' Lepailleur leaned forward, holding his vein-knotted hands to the fire and sighing in satisfaction as they warmed. 'Maybe. But I think amazing might be a better choice. He really was the most mesmeric man.' Warwick drained his coffee cup and settled back in his chair. From the look on Lepailleur's face, he knew he'd enjoy the story and that the wait for the more important information would be worth it. In any case, he had far too much respect to hurry the older man. 'He was tall. Really tall. At least this much more than me.' Lepailleur stretched his hands outward to a span of something like three feet. Seeing the disbelief on the reporter's face, he laughed and closed the distance to something like seven inches. 'And he had thick brown hair with a little grey mixed in it. I tell you, Mr Warwick, his eyes flashed fire when he spoke of something that interested him. And although he was just a habitant, hadn't been to a college, he spoke as well as anyone. Better than most of us, in fact. He couldn't read or write but that didn't stop him from being an orator.' 'What did he speak about?' 'Anything he thought of. He had a really good opinion of himself, of course. But then, why wouldn't he?' Lepailleur shrugged. 'He was the only habitant commander in the Freres Chasseurs. He had the same rank, aigle, as my dear Cardinal and many of the doctors and notaries.' Warwick was impressed. He had thought that level was reserved for the rebel elite. 'Of course,' Lepailleur went on, 'the rebellion in Beauharnois was as different as could be from mine in Chateauguay or even Napierville's. I think it reflected Joson and his personality as much as it did his fight against the British. He wasn't that sure of his politics, but when the time came, he and his men were there, ready to be counted.' 'And he went to New South Wales? You did say he was successful in Sydney.' Lepailleur's legal training surfaced immediately. 'I think I said it depended on how you defined success, young man. Anyway, let me tell you just one little

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story and we'll get back to work.' He sipped his coffee, making a face when he realized it was only lukewarm. 'As Til tell you later, our stay in Sydney had three parts to it. First we were all together in a prison stockade. Then we were assigned to various employers. The third phase was something like our modern probation period. We were free to get what jobs we could, and to a large extent we were independent of the prison system, although we had to report regularly. 'Well, Joson managed to find employment in the house of one of Sydney's most well known lawyers. A Mr Charles Nichols - with two city residences and a country property a couple of hundred miles south of Sydney in Yass. Mr Nichols was a barrister and, like our advocates, used to pleading his cases in court. Everyone said he was highly successful. But Joson was also argumentative. It's possible the two argued a few times. In any case, the lawyer must have been out of the house a lot during the time Joson worked there because, to our shame and also amusement, it soon became obvious that Joson was having a very public affair with Mrs Charles Nichols.' 'No!' Warwick, a true Victorian, was genuinely astonished. He could not imagine Lepailleur behaving with anything less than complete rectitude and he had supposed all the patriote convicts would have been much the same. 'Yes!' Lepailleur mimicked, eyes twinkling. He understood a little of the younger man's surprise and was enjoying it. 'Well, as I said, it was a very public affair and Mrs Nichols, it soon appeared, was absolutely besotted with Joson. So much so that she gave him several pieces of jewellery.' A snickering Warwick leant forward, giving up any pretence of taking notes as he savoured this rare piece of gossip. 'Not the family jewels?' he asked with mock incredulity. Lepailleur gave him a long, thoroughly man-to-man look. 'Indeed, yes. The family jewels. Mr Nichols, as you can imagine, was absolutely outraged when he found out. He seemed to lose sight of the fact that everyone else found the situation amusing and that anything he said or did only drew attention to his situation. He had been humiliated, cuckolded, and he decided Joson must pay. So to cut the story short, he charged him with theft. And,' he added more seriously, 'you know what that would mean for Joson.' 'Not really. Would he be found guilty automatically because he was a convict?' Sighing with the tedium of having to explain technicalities when he hadn't yet finished Joson's story, Lepailleur responded: 'Well, if Joson was convicted, he could have received five hundred lashes or so. He might have been sent to a place like Norfolk Island or Moreton Bay. Places I think the devil himself devised and where they sent second offenders. But more importantly for the rest of us, it would have been a stain on our records. No one would have trusted us as much.' Warwick flipped to the back of his notebook, to the 'Must Look Up Later' section, and jotted down Norfolk Island and Moreton Bay. He nodded his head

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 97

to show he understood. 'Please go on. What happened?' 'Next, of course, was the trial. I, myself, was there because I was the translator for Joson. Mr Nichols, as you might imagine, was absolutely brilliant in building his case. But Joson was even better in his defence because he produced Mrs Nichols as his key defence witness. She swore to the judge that she had in fact given the jewels to him. And that was it. Joson was acquitted of theft.' Warwick laughed. 'And you all relaxed?' 'Some of us did, for certain. But the judge found Joson guilty of poor behaviour and sentenced him to six months in the barracks. At the time I was so angry with Joson for bringing disrepute on our names that I could hardly talk to him. But as the years went on, I mellowed and softened some of my opinions. Now I get a good chuckle from the story/ Sensing that the real interview was about to begin, Warwick sat straighter in his chair, ready to take notes. But Lepailleur had one more surprise for him when he asked, 'Do you want to know what was the most astounding thing about the whole Nichols affair, Mr Warwick?' 'The fact that a rich society lady would risk scandal to have an affair with a convict? With a foreigner who couldn't read or communicate with her?' 'Well, he could speak a little English,' Lepailleur murmured in half protest before smiling widely as he anticipated the finale of his story. 'No. The most extraordinary thing, my dear young man, is that Joson had no front teeth. When he grinned, there it was. Everyone could see it. A gap. He had no front teeth. More than that, he had a scar under the outer corner of his lip. That's why some of us, not me personally of course, always said Nichols was crazy accusing Joson of theft. Why would he need to steal when he already must have had the best set of family jewels around!'

SATURDAY, 3 NOVEMBER, was sunny.1 The bright morning sky gave little indication that the night would bring not only torrential rain but also the storm of insurrection. In the afternoon an aristocratic lady left the Beauharnois manor house to go visiting in the nearby village.* Katherine Jane Ellice was the daughter-in-law of the seigneur, Edward ('Bear') Ellice, MP, of London and Inverness. An educated woman and a talented water-colourist, she was perhaps not atypical in her insensitivity to those she thought beneath her, such as her father-in-law's 'poor ignorant habitants/2 Jane * In 1838 there were three Roman Catholic parishes in the northern part of the seigneury of Beauharnois - St-Timothee, Ste-Martine, and the largest, St-Clement. The latter was in the village that had grown up around the seigneurial manor house and its farm. It was also known then, as now, as simply Beauharnois.

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and her sister Eglantine (Tina) Charlotte Balfour walked to the village 'tho the roads were a mass of clay & mud/ calling first on the Presbyterian minister's wife and then on two villagers. (As Jane later remarked, there they 'had the satisfaction of dirtying all their floors just after they had got their Saturday's scrubbing' finished.)3 At no stage did the women detect any Canadiens readying themselves for rebellion. Beauharnois in 1838 was particularly beautiful, fronting the eastern shore of the St Lawrence where it broadens to form Lac St-Louis. Governor General Lord Durham had favoured it with a visit in the summer, spending a few days at the manor house.4 Under the French regime the seigneury of Beauharnois had not been considered particularly lucrative, having been sold for $8,000 in 1763, but by 1795 its value had increased substantially and Alexander Ellice (Bear's father), a financier, supplier, and middle man in the fur trade, bought it for approximately $41,600.5 Before the British Conquest, rents had been one and one-third sols per arpent.6 Within four years of acquiring Beauharnois, Ellice raised the rent to eight and a quarter sols per arpent, reserved all timber for himself, and forbade his tenants to market anything from their concessions.7 Edward Ellice acquired control of the property in 1817.8 Like his father, he was heavily involved in the fur trade. He had married into the Whig aristocracy, his wife being a daughter of the first Earl Grey. Inheriting his father's financial acumen, Edward had looked upon Beauharnois as a source of cash until he realized that feudal tenure made selling land virtually impossible, and although he would not actually see his property until the mid-1830s, Ellice began long before that to work through agents to alter the landownership system. Passage of new legislation proved tediously difficult. The Canada Trade Act, 1822, and the 1825 Canada Tenures Act permitted only gradual and very expensive change, as the conversion rate was set so high that few commutations were made.9 By 1825 the seigneury's population had grown to more than two thousand people, half Canadien, with few of the 433 families possessing title to their land. In 1826, resigned to the fact that tenure modification would be a long process, Ellice instructed his agent, Lawrence Brown, to issue deeds of concession. Within two years Brown conceded twenty thousand arpents to 228 settlers, and the seigneury began to resemble an ethnic patchwork quilt. Americans, forced to leave Massachusetts through overcrowding, dominated the southern area near the United States border; Canadiens, following traditional patterns, settled along the St Lawrence to the north; and Scots sandwiched themselves between the two groups. Tensions between the three gradually crystallized into a straightforward FrenchEnglish animosity, with obvious differences in farming methods, dress,

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diet, religion, and political loyalties solidifying the language barrier. Only one issue united these settlers - seigneurial abuse - although Ellice poured money into the area, building mills, schools, post offices, churches, and taverns. He speculatively financed roads and made plans to build a canal and a railroad through the seigneury, linking Montreal with Albany, New York. To improve agriculture, he allowed Brown to operate a model farm with specially bred cattle. Overall, his expenditures in the area far exceeded his revenue, and to many Edward Ellice might have seemed the ideal seigneur; but any good will he might have garnered, his agent dissipated. Like Lower Canadian farmers elsewhere in the 1830s, those in the Beauharnois seigneury looked to the House of Assembly for help. In petitions and testimony before a special committee, they detailed agent Brown's practices. Not only had rents risen to an exorbitant twelve sols (or sixpence) per arpent but Brown regularly extorted ten dollars from individual farmers for a temporary location ticket.10 During the years when he could not issue deeds, he had given written permits to some settlers, allowing them to clear and cultivate certain plots of land. Brown later revoked most of these permits and evicted the farmers, but the improvements they had made meant higher prices for their lands and, of course, a greater fee for him. This particular tactic also affected the Americans, many of whom had strayed into Beauharnois by accident. Attracted by Beauharnois's fertile plain and its easy access to Montreal markets, ignorant of feudal tenure and the exact location of the international border, the American settlers divided the virgin land among themselves. For a few years their life was idyllic. During winter they cut trees into cordwood or squared timber, which they rafted to Montreal after the rivers thawed. In the summer they cleared and cultivated their land, made potash,11 and at night sang about their independence from judges, juries, and taxes. Eventually, Brown paid them a visit. His subsequent land assessments included the value added by their labour, and thus began the acrimonious relations between the American settlers and the seigneury. Greed motivated Brown's dealings with them as much as his dealings with the Canadiens. Indeed, the Americans' willingness to testify, petition, and litigate revealed the plight of all Beauharnois censitaires.12 When Edward Ellice senior finally visited the seigneury in the 1830s,13 his tenants' animosity amazed him. At a public meeting in the village of Beauharnois he stopped recitals of grievances with the indisputable claim that the seigneury cost more than he received from it. In vain, the farmers protested that the withholding of land was the major problem, leading to serious overpopulation of many areas. The model farm, which drained Ellice's resources, was ignored or distrusted. The

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Canadians saw it as a paternalistic gesture; it did not mitigate their resentment over the acres of virgin land, so tantalizingly close, that were kept off the market. In the decade of crop failures, petitions to the assembly, and official investigations, Brown had issued deeds to only 10,208 arpents. A grand total of 120,208 remained unconceded as Ellice awaited further land-tenure reform.14 Education also concerned the Canadiens. The schools built by Ellice were stubbornly English.15 The one in Beauharnois, for example, anglicized Canadien surnames: Gauthier to Gatia; Bourbonnais to Berbonnet, and Gendron to Gondra.16 In 1838 Jane Ellice happily noted that the Scottish teacher had twenty Canadien students who learned 'even English quicker than the English. One boy, a little Papineau (a relation of the Papineau) in particular read remarkably well in English/17 Jane's husband, Edward junior, had come to Lower Canada in 1838 ostensibly as private secretary to Lord Durham, his father's cousin by marriage. Edward senior, however, was very explicit about his son's mission. 'Go out,' he advised, 'not to be included in Durham's affairs or disputes, but to look minutely and with industry into my own concerns.' Edward junior should not be misled by 'Mr Brown's blarney' but should examine and 'sift everything.'18 In financial difficulty at the time, Bear Ellice desperately needed some money from his vast seigneury. 'I must and will have an income,' he insisted on 17 September and reproved his son for spending money in the colony rather than sending it home for investment. To his consternation, he now realized he had missed much information offered by the censitaires at the abortive public meeting and that in truth Brown might be bleeding him dry. He acknowledged his agent as 'shrewd - clever and active,' but nevertheless instructed his son to 'examine rigidly his money matters - and put him to the proof of remitting a certain income from the property.'19 An astute politician, the Bear sensed ethnic tensions not only in his estate but in the colony at large, recognizing that they would continue if conditions remained the same. To some extent he sympathized with the Canadiens. They 'should not be left to the ascendency of a vulgar English faction,' he wrote. His solution was surprising for such a powerful Whig - the adoption of American laws and institutions and perhaps, someday, assimilation into the United States. As for the seigneury and its woes, he proposed a form of segregation. Brown would continue to handle the English, Scot, Irish, and American tenants, but control and management of the Canadiens should pass to 'a very respectable man altho' very French/ advocate and patriote politician Louis-Hippolyte LaFontaine. Such a surprising remedy was strictly in line with his pragmatic belief that 'politics should never be allowed to interfere with busi-

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 101

ness/ Was a rebellion possible in 1838? He had indeed heard of such plans but discounted them as rumours floated by the militia and volunteers to perpetuate their stipends from the government's coffers.20 With such precepts and philosophies in mind, the younger Ellice began inquiring into the estate's books, finding virtually everything debited to the seigneury with precious few credits. In August 1838 he itemized his impressions to Samuel Gerrard, his father's representative in Montreal and a stalwart member of the Special Council, accusing Brown of gross mismanagement and financial irregularities.21 To buttress his views, he sought a second opinion from merchant John Molson, particularly regarding the model farm that absorbed so much of the seigneury's income. According to Ellice, Molson agreed that 'the sooner the last [model] farm is disposed of the better. The soil is bad - and worn out and the crops this year most wretched ... I [Ellice] look at the whole of the ... arable land to be a dead loss/22 This assessment was undoubtedly correct, but while the younger Ellice could detect financial mismanagement, he was insensitive to the severe difficulties of the farmers. If the soil of the model farm was in such desperate shape, conditions would be incalculably worse for the censitaires, who had nothing like the Ellice resources to lavish on their land. As the heir probed more deeply into the estate's books, he discovered a debt of 'unknown quantity' - arrearages of lods et ventes. 'Should not certain cases be selected,' he queried Gerrard, 'and ejections tried to be enforced? ... it would show we possessed the power' and should 'not the payments be enforced as soon as possible?'23 One debt selected to make his case was owed by Jacques Goyette, syndic (school trustee), in the amount of £10 6s. 9d. Goyette, who had a modest holding of sixty arpents, may have augmented his income by piecework, for he later claimed skills as a mason to New South Wales officials.24 Collection of such debts as Goyette's was obviously implemented because the gross revenue of the seigneury rose within a couple of years by 137 percent or £4,890 11s. 2d. To further increase the seigneury's income, Ellice's agents later went to court. Of the 664 seigneurial suits lodged between 1839 and 1842, Beauharnois, the third most litigious seigneury in the colony, accounted for 96.25 The investigations of the summer of 1838 had an immediate impact, provoking fear and uncertainty and further isolating the Ellices from their tenants. While Jane Ellice faithfully painted the pastoral beauty of the area, she had little awareness of the troubles fermenting within it. In July she heard 'the distant booming of Cannon,' mistaking it for thunder, and she discounted 'all sorts of reports of disturbances' until they could be confirmed.26 When Charles Buller, radical MP, Durham's chief secretary, and a Special Council member, visited the seigneury a couple of

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weeks later, three shoemakers in Beauharnois refused to mend his shoes. Jane recorded the incident but drew no conclusions.27 In October the Scottish teacher in the village impressed her when he remarked that two or three of the Canadien children had asked for Bibles and that 'Young Papineau, the blacksmith's son, saved all his little earnings until he had collected enough & then came ... & said he wished to buy one/28 She wondered why the Catholic priests allowed purchases of Protestant Bibles, concluding they were not as 'vigilant' as she thought. However, St-Clement's parish priest, Michel Quintal, distressed by the increasing occurrence of such incidents, reported them to his bishop while pleading for a Catholic school.29 Although Beauharnois did not rebel in 1837, the fighting elsewhere and its savage suppression had a profound effect on the seigneury. A political opponent of Papineau's, Charles Archambault, a surveyor, inspector of schools, and former deputy in the assembly30 - a man who thoroughly knew the Beauharnois area - was quoted as saying: 'I have always been the foremost to keep down the discontented Canadians, but by God as it seems that the Canadians are to be made slaves of I will do my utmost and spend the last drop of my blood to support the Canadian cause/31 Many had similar sentiments. Once order was restored in Lower Canada in early 1838, Beauharnois prepared to join the second revolt. While the men worked the fields in the summer, their womenfolk quietly and effectively promoted the Freres Chasseurs - even swearing recruits into the society.32 One such woman was Marguerite-Julie Cornelier, wife of Joseph Dumouchelle.33 As her husband, nicknamed Joson, could neither read nor write, Cornelier herself swore in the new members.34 Joseph Dumouchelle, as aigle for the Beauharnois area, naturally had access to the elite through Dr Henri Brien, and to him Joseph confided his philosophy. He would enlist everyone, 'to implicate all in the crime ... to oblige the timid to fight, after having been thrown, in spite of themselves, into the horrors of civil war/35 Joseph, in his late forties, had four children and was reasonably prosperous. He and his brother Louis, the Ste-Martine innkeeper, had knowledge of what civil war might bring, for their relatives had been devastated in 1837. After meeting one of these relatives (a Madame Dumouchelle of St-Benoit), Stewart Derbishire, Durham's investigator, reported: Having had seven houses belonging to the family burned down, the whole of their property, cattle &c taken, her husband & two sons in prison, she was subject in the miserable hut in which she had taken refuge to the visits of the Volunteers who came & threatened her with their drawn swords placing them

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 103

close to her face and almost depriving her of life by terror. The statement ... is strictly consistent with the facts.36

Such treatment of his relatives helped to make Joseph a rebel, turning him from his captaincy of the militia into the only habitant aigle in the chasseurs. As advocate Charles Grece pointed out in a petition on Dumouchelle's behalf, he had 'on all occasions refused to take any part in the popular meetings or join any political association7 before the rebellion.37 When talk in Ste-Martine turned to politics in Louis Dumouchelle's inn, Joseph would have been an intimidating figure. He stood five feet eleven inches and his brown eyes flashed and his voice seethed with hatred as he declaimed against the British government that had allowed such widespread, indiscriminate property destruction. Dumouchelle argued that Canadiens had but one choice - that of taking up arms to defend their property and to preserve their lives from English attempts at total destruction. He farmed 114 arpents and must have understood from his relatives' experience that defeat would mean the loss of this substantial property and at least jail for himself. No one questioned his zeal and few declined his invitation to 'hunt' with his chasseurs. But Joseph Dumouchelle's organizational success went far beyond the impressive number, more than three hundred, he recruited. One of his neighbours, Frangois-Xavier Touchette, hammered pikes in his forge throughout the autumn to supplement the ammunition Joseph bought. His lieutenants were men with solid standing in the parish. One, Charles Bergevin dit Langevin, farmed more than 140 arpents and had fought with the Canadian military hero de Salaberry against the invading Americans at the battle of Chateauguay in 1813. Twenty-five years later, when Langevin was fifty and had seven sons, he enlisted in the rebel cause, serving as the treasurer for Ste-Martine. One of those not recruited by Dumouchelle was Henri Brien. With access to the highest patriote circles, it would be he who put fear above ideological belief and loyalty to comrades when the day of reckoning came. Although men of similar substance to Touchette and Langevin joined the chasseurs in the other Canadien Beauharnois parishes (notably Charles Roy dit Lapensee, churchwarden in St-Clement), other castors were probably more motivated by self-interest than Dumouchelle. In Beauharnois, thirty-year-old Toussaint Rochon, a housepainter, carter, wheelwright, and bailiff, led the patriotes. He was new to the area, having arrived only three years earlier, and he perhaps saw the rebel cause as a means to enhance his standing in the community. Sycophantic Frangois-Xavier Prieur, a shopkeeper, led the StTimothee chapter. Although he was sincere in wishing his people's

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grievances addressed, he was also exhilarated by his contacts with the grand chefs, by the promise of success and social mobility, and by power. As Robert Nelson's plans became more definite, the elite, maybe not quite trusting Joseph Dumouchelle's ability, sent Montreal notary Frangois-Marie-Thomas-Chevalier DeLorimier to supervise the final preparations.38 When the final orders came, they were addressed to Chateauguay's notary, Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal. It would be his articling clerk, the young Duquette, who sent Lepailleur off on horseback to deliver them to Prieur.39 On Saturday, 3 November, as men readied their weapons and Lepailleur rode from Chateauguay to St-Timothee and then back to Chateauguay with Prieur, the Ellices remained blissfully unaware. Prieur returned to St-Timothee to organize his chasseurs, and as night fell, Rochon and Dumouchelle quietly mustered their forces, bullying the reluctant as necessary. In the manor house Edward regaled his wife and Tina with an account of his day.40 He had gone shooting and he now guffawed about mistaking nests of muskrats for houses of 'some poor wood cutters.' Tina read aloud from a book on Russia before they went to bed. Once upstairs, the two sisters joked about the 'fantasies' Mrs Roach, the Presbyterian minister's wife, had been talking about that afternoon. Tina determined to outdo the heroic Cora of The Last of the Mohicans if rebels dared attack. Jane slept badly, waking once to tell Edward that the dogs were barking and the turkeys making strange noises. Ellice twitted her fondly, made an indulgent check, then fell back to sleep believing his seigneurial world secure. As he slumbered, a messenger clattered into Beauharnois from Chateauguay, stopping at the village's largest shop to ask directions to Lawrence Brown's house. The shop owner, John Ross, captain of the Beauharnois volunteers, was curious about the lad's urgency and asked why Brown was needed at such a late hour. The news of the uprising in Chateauguay startled him into rounding up his own men. Brown, disarmed by the tranquility of the day, flatly refused to believe the courier, but he did go to the manor house to check the security of the volunteers' cache of weapons. Waking Ellice at one o'clock, he told him about the warning from Chateauguay, but as it was sixteen miles away and Beauharnois quiet, Brown returned to his home and Ellice went back to bed. The village was silently restless. Twelve volunteers conferred in Ross's shop - somewhat incredulous and extremely angry. Living in the heart of a Canadien village, they had perceived no signs of a planned revolt41 - some had even helped their Canadien neighbours with chores and had come to know them. But they needed little convincing now. Every window in the village was shuttered, and men were seen waiting in the inn of Frangois-Xavier Provost.42

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 105

In Provost's inn, despair, indecision, and fear gnawed at the assembled men. As they waited for support from the two other parishes, many thought the news from Chateauguay and the activity of the English augured betrayal. Hope rose when Dumouchelle galloped into the village. His men, he explained, had been delayed by the tardiness of Prieur's chasseurs but now this support was in place on the churchyard hill overlooking the village. The relieved men burst exultantly from the inn, and to the watching loyalists it appeared that the village exploded as men, women, and children rushed from quiet houses, shouting and cheering their warriors on. After seizing the village ammunition cache, the chasseurs marched on the manor house. There, the Ellices and Tina were awake. Edward again checked for signs of a disturbance, explaining away some sounds as 'nothing but a cow.' The three laughed at their apprehensions and returned to bed. But just five minutes later, more than five hundred Canadiens shattered their quiet.43 Surrounding the manor house, they were a frightening sight. Some wore grey hooded cloaks, others protected their heads with blue or red toques, and at least one sported a tam-o'-shanter. Most had bright-red habitant sashes and carried weapons, whether guns or scythes, crudely fashioned onto sticks.44 Led by Joson Dumouchelle, they thundered their demands. They made no claims for constitutional change or an elected upper house, but as remembered by one volunteer, 'they said they wanted their rights. I did not hear them speak of the government.' Clearly they resented the fact that Bear Ellice's desire for an income had put pressure on the tenants to pay their arrears. David Normand, a village merchant, testified he was told 'they wished to abolish the lods et ventes and ... were now for Nelson and Papineau and were resolved to succeed or die.' Brown later testified that the patriotes 'called out, "We have suffered long enough - we want no more of the present Government - the Canadians must have their rights."'45 No witness reported hearing any republican sentiments. Indeed, at least one of Dumouchelle's men thought he was helping create a Canadien monarchy.46 As the patriotes angrily shouted their complaints, a confused Ellice hurriedly helped his women, barefoot and 'en chemise,' into the cellar, leaving one of his servants to capture the first few rebels to venture into the house. When overwhelming numbers followed, Ellice and his men had little choice but to surrender their arms and persons. The three leaders, Dumouchelle, Rochon, and Prieur, debated among themselves for a few minutes and then despatched the Beauharnois seigneurial heir, his estate agent, and other male loyalists to Chateauguay. Shortly before the patriotes had burst into the manor house, several farm employees, thinking the house inviolate, had hurriedly brought

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weapons for safekeeping into the damp cellar where Jane, Tina, and some servants were huddling. But sounds above and outside disabused them as the patriotes scoured the house and grounds for arms. Then 'five or six of the most ruffian men' Jane had ever seen (except in her most vivid dreams of Robespierre, as she noted in a Freudian aside) descended the cellar stairs and proceeded to ransack the basement.47 Finally, about an hour later, the women were allowed the comparative warmth of their bedrooms. There they hurriedly packed some clothes in the hope of escape, but when they looked from the windows, the sight of three or four hundred men patrolling the grounds around the house chilled their optimism. Before he was taken to Chateauguay, Edward had managed to advise Jane and Tina to 'get to Montreal ... in the Steam Boat, Canoe or any how.' The women pinned their hopes on the arrival of the steamboat Henry Brougham. Dawn revealed not only the smoking funnel of the steamer nearing the Beauharnois dock but ominously a number of chasseurs concealed in the wood nearby. As soon as the Brougham docked, many sprang aboard. Rochon himself dismantled the boat's engines by unscrewing the starting bar, and he took the opportunity to swear one of the passengers into the chasseurs. Others searched for valuables until some rebels, not entirely certain about machinery and perhaps a little afraid of it, scuttled the boat. The passengers were taken to Provost's inn before being sent to Chateauguay.48 To the dismay of Jane and Tina, the rebels even remembered the canoes, using swords or pitchforks to poke holes in them. Their work done, some patriotes, such as Jacques Goyette and Charles Roy, celebrated mass with their families. Others, elated with their success, began to pillage the manor house, tossing blocks of maple sugar around before devouring it. Jane sourly noted that 'several 100 Ibs. disappeared in a moment.' She attempted to alleviate her situation by summoning the cure, seemingly oblivious that he might consider his Sunday responsibilities more important than her need. Many of her captors also forgot the Sabbath, becoming gloriously drunk once they discovered the Ellice supply of cherry brandy. It must have been good, Jane dryly noted, because it was in 'the only bottles, they did not break the necks of for fear of losing a drop.' Soon many patriotes, inhibitions forgotten, celebrated their rebellion by dancing on the green, 'quarrelling with each other ... fighting ... swearing & firing at marks or throwing stones' at windows. After overseeing the safe journey of the men to Chateauguay, Joson Dumouchelle returned to Ste-Martine, where he joined a venture much like the one in Beauharnois. Like their counterparts, the Ste-Martine English settlers had gone to bed 'without dread and with a full feeling of

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 107

security/49 They woke to the sound of pounding on their doors, and their houses too were searched for weapons. When farmer David Cameron saw his shanty being rummaged, he asked why. A patriote replied that they were 'going to get tithes and rents put away, which will be a good thing for you too/ Cameron questioned the intruders further and was told, 'We are going to take you to Ste-Martine to see King Papineau.'50 When he, his father, and others reached the village, they found Dumouchelle distributing arms from his brother's inn. Attempting to make common cause with his fellow censitaires, Joson promised them they could return home if they swore allegiance to 'King Papineau/ To show good faith, he even offered an English Bible for the oath. In total control of the northern part of the seigneury, the Beauharnois chasseurs made no effort to proclaim a republic, fly patriote flags, or even preach the radically liberal ideology of Nelson and his elite. 51 Some believed a change of government would result in Papineau's elevation to king, changes to the seigneurial system, and the abolition of tithes.52 The only parts of the patriote gospel they understood or chose to listen to concerned habitant values. For some of those who had fought for the end of the tithe the preceding night, the authority of the priest did not diminish the next day. Joseph Goyette, nephew of Jacques Goyette and Toussaint Rochon's brother-in-law, sought the advice of the cure Quintal when ordered to take a message to Chateauguay, and other chasseurs allowed the priest to bring the Ellice women to the sanctuary of his home, the presbytery on the hill above the village of Beauharnois.53 Monday, 5 November, was a day of consolidation. Goyette rode to Chateauguay, where he found the patriotes demoralized by the capture of Cardinal and the Caughnawaga raiders practising drills to keep their spirits up. The prisoners in the presbytery scanned the river, watching for possible salvation; they read and reread the personal messages from their loved ones brought from Chateauguay by Joseph Goyette. Rebels still occupied the manor house, many spending the day happily exercising the Ellice horses. Late that night, those in Quintal's house wakened to the arrival of the Brougham passengers. As Jane sympathized, 'Poor people they had been driven to Chateauguai [sic] in Carts, thro' all the rain & snow, & when there, were sent back as they came, only half dead with cold, wet & fright/54 Food became a problem as the number of presbytery refugees swelled to more than sixty. Jane Ellice negotiated with her guards, finally receiving written permission to have Ellice cattle and sheep slaughtered for food and milk brought in from the dairy. In her diary, she recorded how a habitant sitting on a Union Jack in one of the rooms provided

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some comical relief. The priest had given him the flag to guard, he explained, as God resided in it. Other men claimed her attention. Some guards begged that she remember they were reluctantly forced into rebellion by threats to life and liberty. It was a measure of her recent experiences that she at last began to see life more clearly, for she noted, This may be true of some but it cannot be the case with all who plead this excuse/55 To relieve her tedium, she painted her captors - the 'picturesque ruffians' who surrounded Quintal's house. Outside of her vision, patriote operations continued in their exceptional way. As the Montreal Transcript reported, 'The rebels at Beauharnois, having everything their own way, broke into the stores of the loyalists, and got so gloriously drunk that they were rolling about in the fields.'56 Although they looted stores, they kept a running tally of their larceny for repayment by the new government. Such fiscal responsibility extended to searches of the Brougham and its passengers. While mail and papers were seized and read, no money was touched and ious acknowledged food and cattle taken from the Ellice farm. This scrupulousness would provide a stark contrast to the loyalists' pillage a week later. That they would suffer defeat was only a remote possibility to the Beauharnois men, and as they waited for more instructions and the promised American support, they enthusiastically guarded their success. On Wednesday, an urgent call for help from Ste-Martine reached the village, and two hundred men commanded by Prieur left in response, among them Jacques Goyette. The enigmatic DeLorimier also responded, and Goyette would later observe how easily he had moved between the three camps in the seigneury (Beauharnois, St-Timothee, and SteMartine). In the latter area, Dumouchelle and a local merchant, Dr James Perrigo, had centred the chasseur operations at Camp Baker on property owned by an American, George Washington Baker, barricading the banks of the Chateauguay River and the roads around it. The following morning the Ste-Martine patriotes, now numbering more than a thousand with Prieur's reinforcements, easily repulsed an attack by the Huntingdon volunteers. But news of failures elsewhere began to penetrate the euphoria in Beauharnois. As tensions rose, they guarded the presbytery prisoners more closely. Petty acts became the order of the day. Surly patriotes refused to allow more milk from the Ellice farm to be delivered to the presbytery and made sure that all windows of the house were shuttered. Saturday began with dissension and ended with defeat. Reports reached the Beauharnois area that troops were nearby. Some patriotes spent the morning arguing that their captives should be moved 'further up the country.'57 Two hundred and fifty men, led by Prieur, marched off

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 109

to shore up chasseur strength at St-Timothee, dragging four wooden cannon on improvised gun carriages along the frozen ground. They stopped about four miles outside the village of Beauharnois, forming a semi-circle to meet the advancing volunteer troops. As they waited on the frozen ground, guns on hips and chanting litanies, a Captain Roy addressed them. Their chances of succeeding, he claimed, were negligible and resistance would only bring bloodshed and reprisals to their hapless parishes. Prieur gave them the order to disarm and the men left for their homes.58 At the presbytery Quintal sensed the general confusion, and his 'pale frightened face' added to his guests' apprehension. Saturday crept by slowly; then, at eight in the evening, Jane Ellice thought she heard a shout - 'In five minutes a brisk firing commenced all round the cottage; bullets coming thro7 the houses in all directions. Then came a dreadful rush of Men, women & children, screaming, some falling & being trampled upon in the door way. We [that is the prisoners in the presbytery] thought the rebels were coming to murder us/59 Instead, someone rushed through the crowd, trumpeting news of the rebels' defeat. All Jane could say was 'thank God/ The confusion in the village matched her incoherence. Beauharnois was 'free/ Its 1,400 liberators were the Glengarry volunteers from Upper Canada and a company from the 71st Regiment. Some of them may have sung an ode to 'Sir John ... the noble Colebourn [sic}' as they tramped their way to the village: But our constitution we will uphold Against this misled Band those peace destroyers that would bring Destruction on this land But loyalty we will display And fight while we can stand or bear a sword in hand For this our happy land.60

Before dispersing, the patriotes fired a volley, killing one soldier and wounding three men from the 71st. After freeing the prisoners, the Glengarries began their main business of the evening. Still in the presbytery, Jane stayed up till four o'clock 'watching the village in flames; an awful sight but very beautiful.' When she, Tina, and the other erstwhile prisoners left the house the next morning, the Glengarries drew up into a guard of honour around one of the churches. Blood stained the roads around that place of worship, Canadien houses and barns were burning in the village, and women and children sought sanctuary in all directions - 'the melancholy consequences of civil war.'61

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After the funeral of the dead soldier, who was buried with full military honours and a bagpipe lament provided by the Glengarries, the troops began searching out rebels or those suspected of disloyalty. They captured Jacques Goyette almost immediately. Others rebels had taken to the woods, where they hid out until forced to surrender. The notorious rebel named Dumouchelle/ for example, reached a state of complete starvation. As four Glengarries rowed the Ellices, including Edward (who had returned from Chateauguay), across the river to Lachine, Jane's last impression was of 'the water ... lighted up by the reflection of the villages burning in all directions/62 Edward Ellice tried to control the pillage and destruction but racial animosities were too strong. Even the Caughnawaga Mohawks took the opportunity to ransack parts of Chateauguay. Canadien families fled to the frigid woods, waiting desperately for compassion or sanity to return to the English. Colonel Grey sadly wrote his father: The Glengarry arrived having come through Beauharnois where they dispersed the rebels leaving a trail, to use their expression, of six miles wide as they came along - burning and pillaging. I heard nothing but dropping shots the whole day which is said to be the Volunteers shooting Poultry, etc. I hope, but would not answer for it, that they are not shooting Canadians as well. Colonel Fraser, who commands the Glengarrys, says they are looked upon as savages, to which I could not help answering that I thought by his own account they rather deserved it.63 Other accounts confirmed Grey's. In July 1839 the patriote newspaper North American64 published detailed figures of property damage in the three Canadien parishes in the Beauharnois seigneury. Among those losing their homes were both Dumouchelles, Langevin, Provost, Prieur, Rochon, Charles Roy, Touchette, and Jean Laberge. As the North American reported, 'By these acts hundreds of Canadian farmers have been exposed to the pitiless blasts of a Northern winter, without shelter, without food, and almost without clothes.'65 The extremity and amount of suffering, the paper added somewhat grandiloquently, were 'without parallel in the history of this Continent/ While in control of Beauharnois, the patriotes had largely confined their looting to the manor house (and its cellars). They had been scrupulous with money, signing chits when appropriating cattle and other property. In retribution, the English and in particular the Glengarries asserted their supremacy by force, taking what they wanted without mercy. This may have included women's bodies. In a letter to William Lyon Mackenzie's Gazette (published in New York by the exiled Upper Canadian rebel leader), two patriote refugees - E.-N. Duchenois and

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 111

Table 5.1 Estimated Property Damage and Destruction (1839 $) Ste-Martine 35 houses 19 barns, 45 sheds and stables 376 families pillaged Total in parish

($) 35,533 12,400 98,248 146,181

St-Timothee 4 houses burned 3 sheds and stables 60 families pillaged Total in parish

3,200 400 10,000 13,600

Si-Clement (Beauharnois village) 40 houses burned 4 barns, 48 sheds and stables 350 families pillaged Total in parish

27,200 5,912 51,400 84,512

Total loss in the three parishes

244,293

H.-A. Gauvin, who had returned from Bermuda - claimed there had been several victims of the volunteers' lust in the Beauharnois area, including a pregnant Canadienne who died after six soldiers raped her, a twelve-year-old girl, and a mother who was gang-raped before the horrified eyes of her three daughters.66 LaFontaine made similar allegations in a petition to the House of Commons, which he claimed he could easily substantiate.67 The North American detailed many accounts of Glengarry atrocities. The paper described, for example, the shooting of a suspected patriote, who was then bandaged and hidden by two Tory ladies/ Apparently, the Glengarries later returned and opened the dressings, letting the poor man bleed to death. They then raped 'four respectable young ladies/ The newspaper asserted that several 'other women have been Colbornized in the same manner/68 While the rapes, arson, and physical brutality struck terror in the minds of the Canadiens, the subjection of their hearts was not yet complete. Just a few weeks later, on 1 December 1838, the Montreal Transcript reported that three pieces of wooden cannon69 had arrived in the city together with sixty-

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four Beauharnois prisoners, adding 'that already, in the district so lately visited by Her majesty's [sic] Troops, the rebellious disposition is again visible/ Given the vengeful reaction of the loyalists and the peculiarly pedagogical aspects of the court martial, the Beauharnois men were perhaps fortunate in not being selected to stand trial before January the following year. By that time, seven rebels had been hanged. As the first Beauharnois prisoners (who included Dr Brien, the Dumouchelles, Prieur, and Rochon) prepared to defend themselves, they must have wondered who among them would serve as public examples. When the dozen accused walked to the courtroom on 11 January, they passed under the scaffold 'freshly splattered with the blood' of their friends, Cardinal and Duquette.70 This trial would differ from previous ones. The first guilty plea, that by Henri Brien, was entered (any other plea by Henri Brien, given his duplicity, would have made the court martial a complete travesty). But before that, something inexplicable occurred. According to Prieur, Dr James Perrigo (Dumouchelle's co-leader at Camp Baker) gave the Free Mason sign of distress to the panel of officer-judges as he entered the court.71 The record merely noted that the deputy judge advocates declared 'that they will not proceed to ... trial ... on the charge now before the Court.' Accordingly, Perrigo was 'remanded and withdrawn'72 to stand trial a month later with eleven other Beauharnois accused. One of those in the January trial was a Montreal member of the patriote elite. Like Cardinal, Chevalier DeLorimier had been involved in the overall planning of the rebellion. A notary, descended from a French noble family that had remained in the colony after the Conquest, DeLorimier had been active in various patriote causes since his teens, probably beginning with the protest movement against the Union Bill of 1822. During the 1830s he worked to elect Papineau men (including the radical Irish editor Daniel Tracey in 1832)73 and aligned himself with the various patriote protests and causes. On 15 May 1837 he was chosen cosecretary of the patriote Central and Permanent Committee. In this capacity he represented Montreal at the Assembly of Six Counties in October 1837. In the ensuing 1837 rebellion, DeLorimier was appointed captain of the St-Eustache battalion and was present at the bloody battle in that village. Quickly recognizing the hopelessness of this particular fight, he advised Jean-Olivier Chenier, the local leader, to surrender. He then escaped to the United States via the Eastern Townships. This experience ensured his command and overall responsibility for the chasseurs in the Deux Montagnes and Beauharnois areas. To fulfil his duties, he jour-

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 113

neyed back to Lower Canada several times in the summer of 1838 to oversee preparations. After one such trip, he wrote: 'I am ever ready to spill my blood on the soil which gave me birth, in order to upset the infamous British Government - top, branches, roots, and all/74 That readiness was not especially apparent during the week of rebellion in Beauharnois; instead, DeLorimier's actions suggested he might have been preparing a defence should he be brought to trial. Carefully keeping in the background, he did not participate in the attacks on the manor house or the steamboat. Partially covering his face with a neckerchief and wearing green glasses as a disguise, he told several people during the week of 3-10 November that he had nothing to do with the disturbances, that rather he had come to the village 'by accident' and had remained there only because he hoped to prevent rebel violence. DeLorimier based his defence on these statements and on the question of his identity. But his disguise had only been partially successful: too many witnesses testified they had seen him exert authority over the Beauharnois rebels. Since the real proof of DeLorimier's leadership, Brien's confession, could not be admitted in court, the deputy judge advocates, in their eagerness to convict such a notable patriote, permitted hearsay evidence. Etienne Lebouef, for example, swore that he 'had heard ... Mr DeLorimier had just returned from the States/75 Such second- or third-hand evidence would convict DeLorimier, the highestranking rebel tried before the court martial. Like DeLorimier, Brien had actively organized the chasseurs on both sides of the border and had been a leader during the week of rebellion in Beauharnois. His confession itemized patriote plans, identifying more than two dozen leaders and pointing out DeLorimier's eminence. Perhaps hoping for further incriminatory evidence, the authorities selected Brien to room with DeLorimier in the jail and to stand trial with him. At his arraignment, Brien pleaded guilty, handing in a statement designed to protect his treachery. In this statement, known to be a flagrant lie by the prosecution, Brien attempted to show he had had nothing to do with the rebellion until the last moment, 'when awakened from sleep, and called ... to join the desperate enterprise/ After a moment's thought, Brien had given 'way to a mistaken enthusiasm ... unhappily' forgetting the allegiance owed his queen. But reality soon replaced that enthusiasm, and, 'conscious of my error, and regretting deeply the unfortunate course,' he returned home and 'was in no way implicated in the after proceedings/76 He called five witnesses to substantiate these claims. The prosecution allowed the charade to continue. In their final address, the deputy judge advocates argued that his 'superior intelli-

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gence and supposed knowledge of his duties to society' aggravated his guilt. Although there may have been mitigating circumstances, they advised the court to find Brien 'conspicuously guilty/ To further protect their turncoat, they did not recommend him to mercy, and when he returned to the jail under a sentence of death, he lived among those he had betrayed for several months.77 He was, however, permitted one small concession. When his nerve cracked as the time neared for DeLorimier's execution, he received permission to exchange cells with Prieur so that he would not have to watch over his condemned 'friend/ James Perrigo, in the second Beauharnois trial, also benefited from special handling. Ostensibly the prosecution could not prove he had acted as military commander at Camp Baker. They could, and did, establish that he had met with patriotes in the camp and at his own nearby house. Several loyalist witnesses documented his role as a liaison between themselves and Joseph Dumouchelle. When they asked about the goals of the rebellion, he had answered, 'they intended to abolish the lods et ventes, make the country free, do away with the rents, and clip the gowns of the clergy/ William Browne, a witness who had known Perrigo for more than twenty years, testified that Perrigo had been part of the band that fired on the Huntingdon volunteers on 9 November. In his defence, Perrigo attempted to establish that he had met with the rebels only to protect the loyalists, citing evidence on that point. One witness swore Perrigo had declared there was no reason to fight 'old country people/ but added that the doctor used the pronoun 'we' when talking about the patriotes and that Dumouchelle and others seemed to defer to him. An English merchant also testified that Perrigo, who had released him, used 'we' when referring to rebels who called him 'Major/ To undermine Browne's evidence, Perrigo produced a witness who claimed Perrigo's accuser had a twelve-year-old grudge against the doctor and had spent weeks trying to get proof of his treasonable activities. During their final address the deputy judge advocates made an extraordinary concession, waiving all benefit from Browne's testimony. In Ducharme's trial, they had only dismissed the discredited parts of M'Donald's testimony when their witness had been caught prevaricating. In Perrigo's case, they maintained that his role as a rebel leader had been proved, but contrary to their usual practice they did not explain why (in several other trials, such as those of P.-H. Morin and Mott, they advocated the thesis that an accused's mere presence among rebels created a presumption of guilt). However, they did point out that Joson Dumouchelle had given way 'to what Perrigo said' and that all other rebels 'seemed to be in obedience' to the merchant doctor. Perrigo had produced nothing in his defence 'to invalidate or even shake' their case, and they concluded 'there remains enough on record to ground the

From Euphoria to Defeat in Beauharnois 115

belief that Perrigo was a participator, and a leading one, in the plans and movements of the rebels, acting simultaneously and in concert' at Camp Baker and Beauharnois.78 Despite this strong summary, the soldierjudges found Perrigo not guilty. Attorney General Ogden refused to accept the verdict, as he thought Perrigo's 'guilt as a traitor ... proved beyond contradiction/79 Believing that Perrigo's superior education, intelligence, and status made exemplary punishment necessary, the attorney general recommended that Colborne send the proceedings back to the court martial so that the officers might reconsider their verdict. Colborne refused and Perrigo was released on bail 2 April 1839. The contrast between Perrigo's treatment and DeLorimier's could not have been more stark. In the latter's case, the prosecution went out of its way to reinforce in the court's mind the prevailing thesis that educated men must be treated harshly. 'We feel we cannot ... withhold our opinion that ... De Lorimier, is one of that most dangerous class of offenders, whose machinations have raised up the rash and wicked rebellion,' they declared, adding that he was 'morally accountable for the lives' of his 'less intelligent brothers in guilt, who, on the scaffold, have paid the forfeit of their lives to offended justice.'80 Unlike Perrigo, DeLorimier had made no Free Mason gesture to the judges, and Prieur noticed that during the trial the judges amused themselves by doodling figures of men hanging from gibbets.81 DeLorimier, together with his co-accused in the fifth trial, was found guilty and condemned to death. Two men would later be released on bail; Brien would be banished from the colony; and Joson Dumouchelle and seven others would be transported. DeLorimier's sentence, however, would not be commuted, and on 15 February he fulfilled his judges' prophecy when he died on the gallows.82 He was the only man from Beauharnois to pay the extreme penalty, although more than a third of those transported to New South Wales came from the seigneury. Maybe the others owed their lives to the passage of time, as the English bloodlust was abating. Prieur, though, believed the intervention of Jane Ellice and her sister Tina had saved his life.83 In the aftermath of the fighting, Edward showed that his experience as a captive may have taught him to be more sensitive to the concerns of his censitaires. He did all he could, according to his wife, to save many burning buildings in Beauharnois, although volunteers immediately undid his work.84 Before leaving Beauharnois for Montreal, he, Jane, and Lawrence Brown had met a priest from a neighbouring parish. When they asked him 'if it was true that he had preached to his congregation 'that the Seeds of Independence had been sown this year and that next year they

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would flower and they would gain their liberty,' Father Richard had replied yes before going on to justify his message. Lawrence Brown flared with anger, wanting to make an immediate example of him, but Ellice, perhaps sickened by the senseless burning and destruction or by the fear in the eyes of Canadien women and children at his approach, merely dismissed the priest, stating 'that in the future, he would be considered "un homme suspect/"85

6

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government7: Mayhem in Laprairie - Caution in Terrebonne1

When he presented himself at 170 Sanguinet Street the following Monday morning, Warwick felt and looked very subdued. After gratefully accepting a cup of coffee, he stared gloomily at his boots for several moments before lifting his face. Lepailleur smiled. 'Did you lose a fight on Saturday night, perhaps?' he asked, eying the multi-coloured bruise below Warwick's left eye. To a walking stick,' Warwick mumbled. Lepailleur leaned forward, his brown eyes sparkling with interest. 'A walking stick? This should be good.' But instead of replying, Warwick once more concentrated on his boots. Seizing the chance to tease the younger man, an unabashed Lepailleur continued, 'In my day we fought for our lady's honour, not walking sticks.' The reporter's head lifted immediately. 'Well, sir, in my day we fight for ...' He stopped, hesitating a little. 'It's a silly story. I had hoped you'd let this pass, not make me explain. But, obviously if we're to get any work done, Til have to tell you what happened.' The old patriote sat back, content to let Warwick take his time, yet eager for the story. 'I went to my cousin's wedding on Saturday. It was across the river, at the Anglican church in Laprairie. Almost all the relatives on my mother's side were there, and you know how people talk at such events.' Lepailleur nodded. 'Every piece of news is examined and re-examined; every story searched for a piece of scandal. Oh yes, I know.' 'And every mother has to boast about her sons.' 'Of course. Weddings would not be the same without the gossip/ 'Well, Mr Lepailleur, my mother boasted about my assignment with you.'

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'Indeed.' Lepailleur exhaled a long breath. 7 see. And in Laprairie.' 'Worse, sir. My cousin's husband is related to the Walkers. Aaron Walker's descendants/ Lepailleur remembered hearing about Aaron Walker. A farmer whose pride was perhaps bigger than his common sense, Walker had been killed in 1838 by the patriotes. The English Montreal newspapers had lionized his widow and children, keeping them in the public consciousness for months until some of those convicted of his murder had been hanged. He could well imagine that Walker's descendants had made him into a martyr. 'Oh dear,' he said simply. 7 was in another room,' Warwick told him, 'talking to the most beautiful young lady I'd seen in months, so I only know the barest details about how the situation got out of hand, you understand. But apparently, one of the Walkers told my mother she should be ashamed of me, that I and the Star were betraying our heritage as English Canadians.' 'But your editor came to me,' Lepailleur protested. 'We, the French, did not go to him.' 'Don't get excited, sir. Of course, we came to you. Some of us know that fifty years ago there were things that had to change and we appreciate the sacrifices you and your friends made. Not necessarily the law breaking, you understand. But we know that Canada is a strong dominion today, Atlantic to Pacific, because you forced the British to make reforms.' Lepailleur's eyes had long since lost their sparkle. 7 had hoped that such bitterness was long past/ he said soberly. 'That once we paid for our crimes and I'll never forget that men like my dear Cardinal paid the ultimate price - we would be allowed to live in harmony. Maybe my friend Ducharme is more right than he thinks when he says the English will never totally accept us.' 'Bosh/ Warwick answered succinctly. 'Just think of the Reverend Borthwick and how much he's done for the jubilee celebrations of the rebellions. Why he even put you into his "Liberal cabinet," didn't he?' That Dr Borthwick had asked him to sit for his portrait and had then had it mounted in a collage along with photographs of such famous men as Sir Louis LaFontaine and Sir George Cartier was a matter of great pride to Lepailleur. He smiled with pleasure as Warwick walked across the room to look at his copy of the collage. After examining the portraits, Warwick turned and said softly, 'You were defended at the wedding, sir. Most ably, I might tell you, by my grandfather. He believes in this province and he says that together, and only together, we can make Montreal the jewel of Canada. You, the French-speaking residents, give it an elan, a flair that almost no other city in the British Empire has. We, the English, help with our practicality and knowledge of business. My grandfather even thinks that in time the biggest businesses in the city will have French as well as English names. And because of his beliefs, he defended you.'

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government' 119

'Did he in 1838?' a somewhat bitter Lepailleur asked cynically. 'In 1838, sir, he was a member of the Lachine militia. Although he never met you personally, he was part of that escort from the river to the jail. And no, he didn't defend you then. In his mind, you had gone to war with him. You had committed treason. And for that, you were tried, found guilty, and punished.' Lepailleur's eyebrows had raised during this speech. 'Why didn't you tell me this before?' Warwick shrugged. 'Because I feared your reaction. I thought if you knew of my grandfather at the beginning of our interviews, you might not talk so freely to me. I did intend to tell you, however.' Now it was Lepailleur's turn to stare at the floor while he assimilated the younger man's defence. A fair man, he had to admit to the justice in it. Yes, he would have reacted differently if Warwick had told him of his grandfather. And yes, the bond between them would not have been established, much less become as strong as it had. He raised his head and looked at the bruised eye, then walked stiffly to the kitchen to arrange for more coffee. Once seated again, he asked for the rest of the story. 'So, if you were in another room, how does your eye meet a walking stick?' 'Tempers got out of hand,' Warwick answered quietly. 'My grandfather told the Walkers that if he could forget the past and build for the future, they should too. He said that dwelling on Mr Aaron Walker's death in effect robbed it of dignity. That bleeding sores need drastic measures for healing. Then the Walkers replied that it was men like him who had let the French get out of hand in 1838. That he and I were both traitors to the queen for associating with people like you, the enemy.' 'Your grandfather is a traitor?' 'According to Mr John Walker, he is. Mr Walker kept calling him that, and I gather things became rather ugly. Someone came and got me, since I was partly at fault, they said. All I know is that when I entered the main room, Mr Walker hit my grandfather. After that almost everyone over fifty, it seemed, paired off. I rushed over and got in the way of someone's walking stick. Hence my black eye.' 'What a way to begin a marriage,' Lepailleur sighed. 'Oh, I don't know. Sarah and her husband had left by the time all this started, and my relatives said they hadn't had such a good time in years. Just think. There'll be enough gossip for the next ten weddings.' Lepailleur permitted himself a small smile. 'That's true, I suppose. Still, I'm sorry that I somehow caused you pain.' 'It's a small price,' Warwick said. 'But one you'll have to pay by telling me all about the Walker killing and the Sanguinets. I only realized as I walked here that your street must be named after two of the men involved in Aaron Walker's death.'

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Lepailleur waited while the younger man dug out his notebook and pencils, then began to talk once more about the events of 1838.

ROBERT NELSON'S PLAN TO ESTABLISH his republic in Lower Canada relied on patriote action in three more areas. The chasseurs of St-Cesaire were to attack Chambly. Men in Terrebonne, after neutralizing the loyalists and volunteers in that area, would join a planned attack on Sorel, seize the bridge across the St Lawrence leading into Montreal, and then march on the city itself. The object of the Laprairie patriotes was the severing of the railway link between Montreal and St-Jean. This operation would be brief but would have fatal consequences. Rebellion in the Laprairie area was fuelled by ethnic tensions and seigneurial unhappiness. The seigneury of La Salle had been owned by the Sanguinet family, remembered as generous and humane. Many of the censitaires believed, rightly or wrongly, that the Sanguinet heirs had lost the seigneury around the turn of the century through an illegal Tory plot and that after the change of ownership they 'were constantly harassed by the hirelings of the English government/ To compound the bitterness, two poverty-stricken Sanguinet brothers, Charles and Ambroise, settled in La Salle and attempted to farm their way back to prosperity.2 The brothers were an anti-government force in their communities. They supported the petition against the abortive Union [of the Canadas] Bill of 1822, the movement for Lord Dalhousie's resignation in 1827-28, and the Papineau party in the 1830s. Anti-Gosford feeling was so strong in the seigneury that English farmers felt threatened. In early November 1837 David Vitty and three others had deposed 'that a certain number of men disguised and armed' paraded at night 'using threats to all loyal subjects' who refused to join their cause. About thirty men had forced Aaron Walker 'to say he was of the same political party as them, meaning the Papineau party/ and made him resign his captaincy in the militia. The angry deponents claimed they had 'ceased ploughing and threshing or otherwise working on their land to their great loss and damage' as a result.3 One night almost a year later, patriotes in the area prepared for rebellion. Once darkness fell, resolute leaders walked along the roads summoning their chasseurs. Most responded. As their ranks swelled, groups of men began to canvass every house systematically, taking as prisoner anyone reluctant to join their 'hunt.' John Hood, an engineer from StPhilippe, described the activities of the twelve men who took him captive: 'They continued, calling at all the houses on the road, and made prisoners of the loyalists; they called at all the houses of the habitans [sic],

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government' 121

and those who would not go, had to go - others went voluntarily/4 At one point they grabbed Hood's head 'and laughing said he had too good a little head to be shot/5 Hood's group called at Aaron Walker's house, and finding it empty, confiscated his muskets and Volunteer accoutrements/ dividing them among themselves before continuing on their way. Apparently sensing the patriotes' approach, Walker had fled with his wife and four children to David Vitty's farm in St-Constant and 'begged him for God's sake to give them protection/6 Vitty, in bed when the Walkers and other refugees arrived, offered the hospitality of his own bedroom; he then sent a servant to summon help from the Laprairie barracks and began securing his house. Minutes later, more than forty rebels were outside, demanding admittance. When Vitty refused to open his door, they threatened to break it down. According to Robert North, who had also taken shelter, 'Vitty told them, that if they broke open the door, we were well armed, and would fire upon the first who dared to come in/ The patriotes ignored him, reiterating their demand that the door be opened. Then came the fatal chain of events. The rebels, after breaking open the outer door, attacked the inner. Vitty fired. He and Aaron Walker manned the doorway, the latter determined he would not be humiliated or forced to make a second conversion to the Tapineau party/ As soon as Vitty's gun had sounded, bullets riddled the house from all sides. One of the refugees in the kitchen 'distinctly heard the ball discharged by ... [the] volley whizzing about her in every direction and the glass from the windows flying about her person at the same time/7 Vitty received at least four wounds, which did not stop him from returning the fire, as his 'spirit was up/8 In any case, the thunder of the guns drowned both the screams of the women and children and any plea for mercy he might have made. Then Walker gasped, '"I am gone/" fell down, and died instantly.9 With his friend dead, Vitty finally opened the door. Canadiens poured into the house, one firing from behind, incapacitating Vitty. Some intruders took sadistic pleasure in making the occupants kneel and vow allegiance to their cause. The chasseurs found three military muskets, a gun with eleven rounds of ball cartridges, and a pint and a half of spirits, which Mrs Vitty was forced to distribute among them. Walker's death met a mixed reaction. According to John Hood, 'Charles Sanguinet said it was good for the old fellow - he had no business to fire/ Some of Sanguinet's confreres 'were exulting/ but others regretted 'that the murder had been committed/10 The La Salle patriotes left no ambiguity as to their aim. According to one witness, they intended 'to declare their independence, and destroy

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the British Constitution/ Hood heard them say that not only would the government be overturned but that he 'would have the pleasure of seeing the Laprairie barracks on fire and the steamer Princess Victoria burned/ Joseph Longtin, the fifty-nine-year-old son of one of the heroes of 1813, Major Joseph-Marie Longtin, and himself a father of twelve children, led a group of rebels on the opposite bank of the La Tortu River, which ran behind Vitty's house. When coercing a day labourer to join his group, Longtin told the reluctant emancipator that the Laprairie barracks would be taken, that ten thousand men waited on the La Tortu bridge, and that Americans were coming to help Canadiens establish a government of their choosing.11 The gunfire had drawn all remaining patriotes to the bridge area. Then the whole contingent moved off towards Laprairie, continuing to acquire weapons and recruits, who were informed that they must support the chasseurs until death. As they marched, some of the chasseurs talked of Walker's death in whispers, while others, notably the Sanguinet brothers and a teenager called Petit Hamelin, boasted of their bravery. Meanwhile, Hood taunted his captors with mocking remarks about what a good beginning had been made to the Sabbath. As he later deposed, 'the cry was that they had shot Mr Walker and mortally wounded Mr Vitty' but that 'at the same time the Rebels brought out of the house Robert North, a prisoner with his hands tied/12 After a mile's journey or so, two horsemen drew up, warning the marchers that Laprairie cavalry, responding to Vitty's appeal, approached. Unprepared for the fight, many patriotes left after a few desultory shots. Only Joseph Longtin vainly attempted to rally his company.13 To the deputy judge advocates, Aaron Walker's death proved the point that 'he who, forgetting his duty to his Sovereign and his fellowsubjects, leagues with traitors, knows not into what abyss of crime his perilous course may lead/14 Therefore, they mounted the first of two murder trials as a lesson for the disaffected and neutral. Vitty was allowed to produce his blood-soaked clothes in court. The jacket he had worn on the night of 3 November had twelve gunshot holes; there were another six in his waistcoat and two in his trousers. In their final address, the deputy judge advocates made their viewpoint clear: In the preceding trials, we have been called upon to consider offences, which, although the gravest known to the law, were yet unattended with any strong circumstances of personal malignity or active moral guilt. So much has this been the fact ... that to an unreflecting mind ... treason has almost seemed a venial error. It was necessary that a case should be laid before you, developing circumstances which, with a startling and unavoidable force, should call to the convic-

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government7 123

tion of every man within and beyond these walls, that the crime of treason ... is pregnant with every enormity to be found in the long catalogue of guilt. That murder, rapine, and violence are its legitimate and necessary offspring, and that daily and hourly we may expect to see, springing from its bosom, the ruin and desolation, moral and physical, which fierce and excited passions naturally generate.15

In the killing of Aaron Walker, 'fierce and excited passions' generated disaster. But it must be realized that sentiment cut both ways. Had Vitty and Walker chosen, like many of their friends, to go peacefully with the rebels, probably no one would have died. That they fired first, precipitating the fatal round of shots, was downplayed in court. To further enforce the deputy judge advocates' lesson, the Sanguinets, Hamelin, and farmer Joseph Robert joined Pierre Decoigne of Napierville on the scaffold, 18 January 1839. Another patriote considered important enough to be tried in the first Walker trial was Pascal Pinsonnault, a farmer from St-Edouard. Although the deputy judge advocates charged him with Walker's murder in addition to treason, they could not establish he had been at Vitty's house when the fatal shots were fired. Three witnesses, however, swore that on 3 November Pinsonnault and other armed men had made prisoners of the loyalist settlers on the other side of the La Tortu River. One of them, Richard Boyce, testified he had seen Pinsonnault at about ten o'clock, with 'a weapon in his hand/ As a patriote prisoner, taken 'in the direction of Laprairie ... to a house opposite David Vitty's house,' Boyce 'did not see that Pascal Pinsonnault exercised any authority among them [the rebels], any more than he did to' himself.16 Elizabeth Boyce could 'not swear whether he [Pinsonnault] was armed,' but she remembered that when someone proposed they leave her husband behind, 'Pascal Pinsonnault said every body must go. They said they would not hurt him or me. They took him [Richard Boyce] away undressed, and I sent his clothes after him.' Their neighbour, Robert Boyce, had also been captured by a Pinsonnault armed with either a sword or a gun. but according to him, Pinsonnault had been an enthusiastic bully. When the patriotes said he would be sent to Napierville, 'my wife got betwixt me, saying, I should not go, and Pascal Pinsonnault cried out for two ropes to tie me and my wife ... I could not find my shoes, and ... [he] said "damn him, take him away, he is well enough without shoes;" he said so in good English.'17 On examination by the court, Robert Boyce reiterated that Pinsonnault had indeed said 'damn him' in English. Pinsonnault boldly used coercion as a defence, having his mother, Margaret Faille, testify that at about nine or ten o'clock on the Saturday

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night a group of armed men had come to the house, demanding that Pinsonnault go with them. According to her testimony, he got up from bed, 'threw himself in tears at my feet, and said that if he went, he would not hurt anyone/ The group's leader, 'General' Rigoche Lefebvre, threatened him with 'death if he did not go; he was thus forced to accompany them.'18 Pinsonnault's mother also claimed he had taken no part in the rebellion after that Saturday and had voluntarily surrendered about a month later. His sister corroborated this testimony. When asked if Pinsonnault had meddled in politics before 3 November, she answered that he had 'declared that if a rebellion should be brought about by the Americans, he would never obey their orders as they could only proceed from scoundrels.'19 Frangois Demeule, a St-Philippe farmer, gave evidence that just before the rebellion, the prisoner had said the refugees 'in the United States were scoundrels who went there and found others.' He also testified to Pinsonnault's presence on his farm during the remainder of the rebellion and to his voluntary surrender. The mother, Demeule, and StPhilippe tavern keeper Eugene Rousseau all gave convincing evidence on a critical point - Pinsonnault could speak only a few words of English. As the deputy judge advocates admitted, this certainly put Robert Boyce's credibility in doubt. Three points were made against the defendant. First, the fact that evidence of coercion came from family members weakened his claim. To the judge advocates, it went beyond doubt that Pinsonnault's mother and sister 'were giving evidence to save a son, and a brother, from an ignominious death ... [and could] scarcely be supposed free from bias.' Second, Pinsonnault had not proved, as the law required, that he had been continually forced to accompany the rebels. Finally, the whole idea of compulsion was 'totally irreconcilable with the alacrity and zeal with which three witnesses swear he displayed in the service of the insurgents.'20 However, testimony by both crown and defence witnesses who had seen the activity in the area on 3 November somewhat negated the first point. As John Hood had testified, the rebel captains 'made the French join them.'21 A defence witness for another accused in the same trial swore that on that Saturday night her brother had gone to bed early, remaining there until ten o'clock, 'when a number of persons, armed with guns, sticks, and pitchforks, came and ordered him to go, and threatened to kill him if he did not/ Despite her pleas, 'they said all must go/22 Theoretically, a patriote could hope for acquittal if he proved he had been forced to participate in the rebellion. Common law recognized that a person might commit a crime after threats of violence.23 Although trea-

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government7 125

son jurists Sir Michael Foster and Sir Edward Hyde East thought the defence of duress appropriate only when a person initially feared death, Sir William Blackstone wrote that it extended to 'threats or menaces, which induce a fear of death or other bodily harm/ In general, the jurists agreed that duress was a defence to participating in treason. According to Blackstone, 'a man may be justified in doing many treasonable acts by compulsion of the enemy or rebels/ In the leading case, R v. M'Growther, the defendant had been a lieutenant in the Jacobite army for over four months in 1745.24 In his charge to the jury Lord Chief Justice Lee stated that duress was permitted as a defence to treason but the burden of proof lay with the accused and went beyond establishing an initial threat: It is incumbent on every man who makes ... [it] his defence to show an actual force, and that he quitted the service as soon as he could/25 Foster recognized that if the burden of proof lay on the accused, he or she might have to prove coercion for every moment or day spent with rebels or enemies. This would be virtually 'impossible, and, therefore, if an original force be proved, and the prisoner can shew ... that an attempt to escape would have been attended with great difficulty and danger ... he may be presumed to have continued amongst them against his will/ So, 'though not constantly under an actual force or fear of death, these circumstances, and others of like tendency' would be 'sufficient to excuse him/26 Therefore, Pascal Pinsonnault, by having no part in the rebellion after the initial Saturday, seemingly met one of the criteria established in the M'Growther case and by Foster. Over 150 men from his community continued their fight until the battle of Odelltown. Furthermore, if Pinsonnault had refused to take prisoners on 3 November, things would have gone badly for him. Crown witness Robert North testified to the patriote policy of capturing all loyalist males to hold as hostage. 'The whole party/ he declared, stopped at 'every house ... getting the men to join together, saying ... every one must stand by them until he was killed/27 Despite the law as laid down in M'Growther, Foster, and East, the deputy judge advocates insisted the defendants prove continuous compulsion. Even though testimony from crown witnesses confirmed the on-site administering of oaths to continue the patriote fight until death, Pinsonnault did not succeed with his defence of duress. Although he was acquitted of the murder charge, he was convicted of treason and would be eventually transported to New South Wales. Louis Bourdon, Jean-Baptiste Bousquet, and Fran^ois-Xavier Guertin would join him. All three St-Cesaire castors had been deeply involved in the 1837 rebellion, spending time in the Montreal jail. Bousquet, a miller,

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had announced his intention, in 1837, of 'overthrowing Her Majesty's government/28 Imprisoned on 20 December 1837, he was released after posting a bond of $1,000 for his future good conduct. Befittingly for one who signed a loyal address with one hand while aiding and abetting fugitives to the United States with the other,29 this 'good conduct' meant actively recruiting chasseurs and administering the oaths that bound these recruits to resist the colony's government. In 1837 Louis Bourdon had tried 'to raise a Force to rescue some Persons which had been stoped [sic] in her Majesty's name' and had threatened 'the miscalled Patriots who were inclined to be Loyal to take arms against her Majestys Leige [sic] subjects.' Charged with 'having advised & encouraged the people of St-Cesaire to take arms against [the] Government,' Bourdon was imprisoned 9 December 1837 and, like Bousquet, later released on good behaviour.30 The third St-Cesaire castor, Frangois-Xavier Guertin, had encouraged the 1837 rebels to redistribute cattle and, more seriously, various commodities from the store of William Chaffers, a magistrate who zealously imprisoned any suspected patriote. Unlike Bourdon, he was charged with high treason, committed on 6 January, and subsequently released.31 Once freed, the three took up the threads of their lives. Bourdon, after initiation into the Freres Chasseurs, became responsible for recruitment and St-Cesaire's finances. Working for an October uprising, he diligently enlisted many who subsequently remembered taking their oaths in the early autumn before the 'trains,' or sleighs, were used.32 Once the October date was postponed, the St-Cesaire leaders received a visit from Jean-Baptiste Tetreau, tanner and innkeeper in the neighbouring village of St Marie. Tetreau, having visited Robert Nelson in the United States, now advised that he and Bourdon lead a group to Chambly. There they would wait for a signal and for the weapons they would need to attack the British fort. As this news became widely known, Guertin made many men swear to divulge 'nothing of the approaching troubles.'33 Forty men later met in his house to discuss going a la chasse, a euphemism later described in testimony to the court martial as having 'a secret and conventional meaning, perfectly understood by the initiated.'34 On Saturday, 3 November 1838, men filled St-Cesaire's streets, talking of the coming 'hunt.' At six o'clock two hundred chasseurs, commanded by Bourdon, left in search of their big game. Fear of patriote reprisals undoubtedly motivated some. Others, however, like Moise Roy, went along out of curiosity - to see 'what was going on.'35 After travelling north for four hours to the parish of St-Jean Baptiste, Bourdon suddenly disappeared into a stable loft, re-emerging to distribute some 'bright American muskets' from a patriote cache. Next, they marched to St Marie, where they found Guertin, Bousquet, and another

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group of chasseurs. Spears were now given out to some of the men. After Bourdon announced they would depart for Pointe Olivier, a number decided they had had enough hunting. About sixty-three downed their weapons, declaring they would go home. When Bourdon threatened to shoot anyone who left, twenty or thirty men sullenly retrieved their arms. The rest started back to St-Cesaire, urging their friends to accompany them, but an incensed Bourdon ordered the remaining men to keep marching. Cold and wearied by Bourdon's circuitous route, they eventually arrived at Pointe Olivier between one and two o'clock Sunday morning.36 There was no sign of a burning building - their signal to attack - so they bedded down to conserve their energies. Bourdon stood at an open doorway of the house in which they sheltered, staring into the darkness, probably willing flames to appear. Guertin paced up and down. As cold and exhaustion slowly sapped their will, the men began to slip away. Despondently Bourdon walked into Chambly in the eerie light of dawn. Finding everything peaceful, he sent his remaining men home. During the next days Guertin and Bousquet continued to administer the chasseur oath of secrecy to fearful recruits while trying to explain away the bungle at Chambly. To sceptical men who had risked their lives, homes, and reputations, they offered the weak rationalization that the rebellion had started two days early. Later in the week, when the leaders went house to house extending an invitation to Nelson's 'wedding' in Napierville,37 they could not have been too surprised by the wary men's refusal to help consummate it. All three, Bourdon, Guertin, and Bousquet, were defendants in the ninth trial, 22-28 February 1839. Found guilty and sentenced to death, they would eventually be transported to New South Wales. But another man who allegedly assembled a company to help attack Fort Chambly escaped retribution altogether. Dr Jean-Baptiste Allard of Beloeil was arrested on suspicion of treason, 26 November 1838, then released on bail a couple of weeks later following a report by the Commissioners of Enquiry.38 New depositions, prepared for the area's military investigator, Colonel George Cathcart, led to his re-arrest on Christmas Eve and a raging debate in official circles. Influential friends, including two Canadien magistrates, intervened on Allard's behalf. Cathcart produced evidence that suggested the doctor had been as guilty as Bourdon, Bousquet, and Guertin, and he adamantly believed Allard should be tried. He reiterated the prevailing philosophy to Attorney General Ogden: The circumstances of his superior education makes his fault the less excusable, that his influence, derived from the respectability of his connections, renders him the more dangerous, and that it is to the class of Doctor to which he belongs, that

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the misguided & ignorant Habitans chiefly owe their recent calamities/39 Ogden referred the matter again to the commissioners, who this time concurred with Cathcart, but General Sir John Colborne inexplicably decided that Allard should be released. As men with lesser guilt and no education worried about their fate, Allard left jail at the beginning of April 1839. The rebellion in Terrebonne was as different from ones in Laprairie and St-Cesaire as could possibly be. Even the deputy judge advocates admitted this, describing it as 'altogether of a novel character/40 In Nelson's overall plan, communication between Montreal and areas north of it would be blocked by patriotes from lie Jesus and Terrebonne. Preparations began early, with the leading carriage maker in Terrebonne, Edouard-Pascal Rochon ('a most pestilent subject'),41 journeying to Champlain, New York to meet with the patriote leaders in September or early October. He had had a pragmatic conversion to the Freres Chasseurs after a brother had pointed out that membership would guarantee the protection of his very considerable property.42 Once committed, Rochon recruited many men, allowing them to use his workshop to make weapons and ammunition. Visitors frequently found themselves contributing a dollar or two to the cause and swearing secrecy about the armament manufacture. Two cousins would be important to events during the second week of November 1838: loyalist J.-O.-A. Turgeon and Charles-Guillaume Bouc, Rochon's co-leader. Bouc's father, Charles-Jean-Baptiste, had been elected to the assembly in 1796, then expelled three times after a conviction for fraud.43 No doubt his disgrace radicalized the son, who in the weeks preceding the rebellion had debated the merits of the patriotes with his cousin. Turgeon believed Bouc was being used and 'influenced by the mob/ While Bouc acknowledged this, he also thought that he and perhaps 'two or three others [would be] the only men to fight/44 Bouc's willingness to participate became crucial when, very early in November, Rochon went into hiding - probably at his farm in Lachenaie. Before doing so, however, Rochon had paid a self-serving visit to Magistrate-Legislative Councillor Roderick Mackenzie,45 telling him that several patriotes were about to rebel and that he, Rochon, had prevented them, 'giving as a reason that the proper time was not arrived adding that if they persisted he would immediately inform Mr. Mackenzie against them/46 Others were equally eager to tell authorities about patriote plans. When the chasseurs made their camp in Terrebonne, Turgeon, as leader of the loyalists, was quickly informed. Responding to a letter from the Montreal police superintendent, he visited the city on Sunday, 4 November, and heard news of the Chateauguay and Beauharnois upris-

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government7 129

ings. He told Montreal authorities that the Terrebonne operation would be auxiliary to others and gave the names of the 'most active instigators/ If they arrested these men, he advised, Terrebonne's rebellion would collapse. Accordingly, General Clitherow and Colonel Wetherall gave him authority 'to disarm, and to act in the best manner for the interests of the Government/47 Turgeon and Magistrate Alexander Mackenzie decided to start with notary Joseph-Leandre Prevost. But after they found their quarry had prudently disappeared, they, together with a police escort, settled for a lesser prize, Eloi Marie. Distrusting the village's mood, they took Marie into Montreal for safekeeping, fording the frigid and turbulent Riviere Jesus to escape patriote patrols. On their return to Terrebonne, however, they found that Turgeon's strategy was backfiring. Instead of weakening the will of the populace, Marie's capture had inspired resentment, making the villagers fiercely determined to resist further arrests. Worried by this development, Bouc wrote to Rochon for advice. From his own hideout Rochon counselled flight if the situation worsened; otherwise, Bouc should set up a strategic base in a house owned, ironically, by Turgeon, near both the entrance to the village and the bridge across river, and fight. By Tuesday, 6 November, approximately fifty armed men wandered about Terrebonne in groups of four or five, ready to defend themselves and prevent any further arrests. Unaware of this hostility, Turgeon returned from Montreal with an escort of eleven armed men, intent on arresting his cousin Charles Bouc, although he lacked a warrant to do so. (Later he would explain rather weakly that 'it was ... perfectly ridiculous to send to Montreal for warrants, when the people were in arms,' conveniently forgetting he had just come from the city.)48 He found the village on alert. Even though it was nearly midnight, all the houses were lit. Turgeon ignored these warning signs and led his men to Bouc's house. When he entered it with police constable Loiselle, two patriotes warned everyone to get their guns, then ran to the kitchen, one of them dropping a gun in his haste. As Loiselle bent to pick it up, someone shot him in the stomach. The waiting magistrates and police outside the house evaporated into the darkness, and in the confusion Bouc and his friends escaped. Loyalists and patriotes thought long and hard over the next few hours, assessing their respective chances of success. The next morning Turgeon fanatically attempted to disarm the villagers, but armed chasseurs frightened his men away. After this the patriotes took over the bridge, establishing their base at Bouc's house and effectively isolating Terrebonne. Their strength was obvious. They had weapons and Rochon-made ammunition, and their resolute faces denied all access to

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their village. But instead of consolidating their position or going on the attack, these Terrebonne patriotes used their force to negotiate a treaty. The Hon. Joseph Masson,49 undoubtedly the richest and most important loyalist in Terrebonne, met the rebels at Bouc's house the afternoon of the seventh. The patriotes immediately wanted to know why Turgeon had attempted to arrest Bouc and disarm them. After expressing a few platitudes, Masson suggested they disperse to maintain peace. Bouc angrily rejected this option but promised to forbid alcoholic consumption by his men. Masson pressed his point, promising that he and his 'party will undertake that what you have done already will be overlooked by the Government' and that no arrests would be made. After more thought and discussion, he offered to put this undertaking in writing.50 The rebels talked about Masson's overture throughout the night. Some of them were satisfied with his mere promise, but others, with a traditional habitant reverence for written text, demanded a contract. When the parties met again the following morning, patriote notary Prevost unsuccessfully tried to negotiate recompense for Turgeon's damage to Bouc's house. Four copies of Masson's undertaking were made, each party keeping a pair signed by their opponents.51 After this Bouc repeatedly offered to give up his weapons, stating his 'earnest desire' to 'maintain order and tranquillity' in Terrebonne. Others did the same. Rochon returned to the village within a few days, pragmatically accepting the Terrebonne patriotes' desire for peace. Some loyalists agreed to the contract only because the numerical strength of the rebels threatened themselves, their families, and property. The treaty was 'a local agreement, not at all binding on the part of the Government.'52 And so, with both sides protecting their essential interests, the revolt in the village of Terrebonne whimpered to its conclusion. At no stage did Bouc and his fellow patriotes levy war on Queen Victoria. This fact, however, did not influence the court martial. Bouc, Rochon, and their codefendants53 were arraigned for trial (the tenth) on 1 March. Prosecution witnesses clearly established the defensive aim of the rebels. One testified, 'I always heard them say, they would not fight unless attacked'; he also claimed to have 'often heard Bouc say, that he would only injure those who sought to injure him.' Another quoted Bouc and his followers as saying 'that the arms were to protect themselves from being made prisoners.' On the stand Masson - seigneur, magistrate, member of the old Legislative Council, and the chief negotiator for the loyalists - gave his account of the meeting at Bouc's house, ending with Bouc's promise 'that their remaining together should not disturb the public peace.'

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Magistrate John Mackenzie recalled that some rebels had called out, 'We want our prisoners given up/ Merchant Jean-Baptiste Prevost corroborated this, swearing that the spokesman for the patriotes on the bridge across the St Lawrence had declared 'they wanted the liberation of the prisoners that had been made, and the arms which had been taken from them/ Miller Pierre Beauchamp remembered one man threatening, rather inaccurately, 'no mercy unless our prisoners are given up - and the arms you have taken returned/ Crown witnesses agreed that from the very beginning the rebels would have dispersed if the loyalists had met certain conditions and that both sides had strictly adhered to the terms of Masson's agreement, signed by Bouc and Roussin among others. In their final addresses, the defendants attempted to define 'levying war/ This treason required the assembling of persons (not necessarily armed) exercising or intending to exercise force either to overthrow constituted authority altogether or to usurp it in part. However, the actual or intended usurpation had to be aimed at a general policy of government, not at some perceived local grievance or a grievance against certain individuals. This meant that imprisoning one unpopular magistrate, tearing down a seigneurial mill, ransacking a manor house, or nullifying the enforcement of a law in one area all constituted riot, not rebellion. A plot to imprison all unpopular magistrates, to tear down all seigneurial mills, to ransack all manor houses in reach, or - arguably - to nullify the total operation of a statute constituted levying war. The defence therefore contended that the prisoners, in a time of extreme tension, merely tried to protect themselves from lawless retaliation by their political opponents. In Terrebonne they had had no general aims, such as encouraging resistance to all magistrates in the district. Neither had they planned to seize the area to help rebels elsewhere. To support this contention, the defence produced evidence of a generalized fear of loyalist reprisals, emphasizing that the first arrest had been made without a warrant being exhibited. In Bouc's case, there had been no warrant at all, no magistrate had been visibly present, and the source of the disarmament order had remained unclear. Even if the attempt to arrest Bouc and the disarmament order had been legal, patriote resistance to both had amounted to nothing more than a riot, which was only a misdemeanour. The defendants cited leading treason jurists - Sir Edward Coke, Blackstone, Foster, and East quoting the latter: 'When the object of an insurrection is a matter of a private or local nature, affecting, or supposed to affect only the parties assembled, or confined to particular persons or districts, it will not amount to High Treason, although attended with the circumstances of military parade always alleged in indictments for levying war/54 The deputy judge advocates responded with two tactics. First, with-

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out citing authorities, they asserted a new version of the law: that in circumstances of widespread rebellion, resistance to magistrates and armed assembly in themselves became treasonable. The novel example of resistance to authority, which they have exhibited, is of that highly dangerous tendency, that were there not redeeming circumstances in the conduct of these prisoners, we could not too severely animadvert on the character of their rebellious proceedings. At so critical a juncture, it was, more than at any other time, the duty of the prisoners to submit, in order that the difficulties of the times might not be increased; and this unquestionably would have been the conduct of loyal men, had they been unjustly accused.55

Whether the deputy judge advocates intended it or not, the phrase 'rebellious proceedings' could easily have been interpreted by the officer-judges as 'levying war' or 'treason.' Later in 1839, an English judge would wrestle with the same question in the trial of John Frost.56 Frost led the Chartist movement in Wales for universal male suffrage, secret ballot, annual parliaments, equal electoral districts, no property qualifications for electors, and pay for members of Parliament.57 During the summer of that year, riots and demonstrations involving Chartists and their opponents were common in England and Wales, and the arrest of a number of Welsh leaders made the situation volatile in the coalfields. On 4 November 1839 Frost led an armed body of about five thousand colliers and ironworkers, armed with muskets but more frequently pikes, into the city of Newport. After exchanging shots briefly with a small detachment of troops, they dispersed. The government and the British attorney general who prosecuted the case believed that, by seizing Newport, Frost had intended to signal for a general insurrection of labourers in Wales, northern England, and the Midlands. The defence lawyers, however, demolished this thesis. Whatever his goal, the most that could be said was that Frost, with 'physical force/ had consulted leaders in other areas about the possibility of a general insurrection but that they had not been willing or able to coordinate their plans with his. While Frost had perhaps intended nothing more than a demonstration of his men's frustration over Parliament's earlier rejection of the Chartist petition,58 he may also have wanted to force the release of several Chartist prisoners. This latter motive formed the basis of his defence. Lord Chief Justice Nicholas Tindal, presiding at trial, made a clear distinction between levying war and a riot. He directed the grand jury's attention to 'the object and motive of the rising, whether it was to effect some general and public end, in which the whole community are con-

'Damn You, and Your Queen, and Your Government' 133

cerned equally with the insurgents, such as the introduction of any great change or innovation in the government or laws of the land, by dint of numbers of violence or whether it was confined to the effecting of any private or local or particular object/ In his charge to the trial jury, Tindal again expressed the distinction clearly, quoting examples drawn from authorities. One, from Sir Matthew Hale, was particularly appropriate to Frost - and to the Terrebonne prisoners: If men levy war to break prison, to deliver one or more particular persons out of prison, wherein they are lawfully imprisoned (unless such as are imprisoned for treason), this, upon advice of the judges, upon a special verdict found at the Old Bailey, was ruled not to be high treason, but only a great riot; if it were to break prisons, or deliver persons generally out of prison, this is treason.

Tindal reminded the members of the jury that the crown had to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt, then directed their attention to Frost's claim that he had never intended to take the town and that the skirmish with the military had been purely accidental. Frost had merely intended 'to make a demonstration to the magistracy of Newport and the country of the strength of those persons who were called Chartists, for the single purpose ... of inducing the ... liberation of ... persons who had been convicted of some political offences ... or at all events, to procure a mitigation in their mode of treason whilst under Imprisonment.' Tindal concluded by stating that if the evidence supported this, Frost must be acquitted of treason, although he would be liable to prosecution for a misdemeanour. In the Frost case, one of the finest British judges of the time held that even a massive demonstration of armed force, which was certainly not the case in Terrebonne, to free locally held political activists did not amount to treason. Significantly, he did not refer to the surrounding circumstances of physical force, rhetoric, and rioting in other parts of Britain. Thus, one segment of a loosely connected political movement could use force for a specific objective without committing treason, even if groups elsewhere engaged in treasonable activity - unless, of course, a direct link could be proved. As for Frost, he was convicted of treason and sentenced to death. Owing to a technical irregularity in the pre-trial proceedings, his sentence was commuted to transportation for life to Van Diemen's Land (or, as it is known today, Tasmania). In Bouc et al, the deputy judge advocates had a second tactic. They quickly seized upon any serviceable item that might be twisted to suggest that the patriotes' ulterior motive was control of the area. This thesis would likely not have succeeded if the trial had been held before judges

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who were learned in law and appreciative of the rules of evidence. But the court martial's officer-judges, schooled in military tactics and appreciative of loyalty and discipline, allowed this disgraceful advocacy. The prosecution dealt with three main 'facts/ First, the deputy judge advocates argued that by signing the agreement that appeared to guarantee their pardon, the accused acknowledged that their actions were treasonable. They ignored the fact that the document did not refer to treason and that Masson's evidence gave no hint that Bouc and his fellow patriotes contemplated such charges being laid. When asked the 'nature of those acts for which an amnesty was promised/ Masson answered that he believed such acts 'were their illegally assembling to resist the arrest of Bouc, and firing on the bailiff, Loiselle, as I heard/ The second supposed 'fact' involved the continuing conspiracy between Bouc and Rochon during the days of rioting. A single witness provided the link. George Fervac dit Larose, formerly an indentured servant in Rochon's employ, swore that Bouc had sent him to Rochon's hideout with a letter. This was not produced in court, nor were its contents revealed. Rochon, according to Larose, sent him back with the oral message that if Bouc thought it feasible, he should 'form a camp, and make a fight ... and to be sure and shoot, and execute Mr. Alfred Turgeon' as well as other prominent loyalists.59 The deputy judge advocates offered no proof that Bouc had acted on this advice or even expressed agreement with such strategy. Their case revolved, therefore, on the uncorroborated evidence of a single witness to a single conversation with Rochon. Moreover, by his own testimony, their witness was an accomplice, subject himself to possible charges of treason. These considerations did not stop the deputy judge advocates from concluding that 'if the Court be satisfied of the existence of this intelligence, and concert between them [Rochon and Bouc], the acts of Bouc and his confederates, become those of Rochon, to every legal intent/60 Rochon made the mistake of not cross-examining his former employee, instead calling two witnesses to testify to his relationship with Larose. Jacques Roy, a painter, swore that after the riot Larose had failed to complete his indentures with Rochon and that the latter had had him arrested for that breach of contract. About a fortnight before this arrest, Larose had allegedly told Roy that if 'Mr. Rochon arrests me, on the ground of not fulfilling my indentures, I shall no sooner be in prison, than I will cause him to be arrested/61 Andre Dubois, a Montreal shipwright and police constable, supported this by stating that two days before the trial Larose had boasted 'that two words of his would hang or save Rochon/ Were these witnesses credible? Roy, a former employee, had earlier testified that Rochon had made cartridges. As a prosecution witness, he

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had been believed. Dubois's evidence was very precise, as he included the time and place of his conversation with Larose, as well as the name of a witness to it. The deputy judge advocates did not call witnesses in rebuttal or insinuate that the manner in which Roy and Dubois had given evidence undermined their credibility, tactics used in other cases. Instead, they blandly concluded that it was 'worthy of observation, that this witness [Larose] was not cross-examined, and that the attempt made to impeach his character has resulted in utter failure/62 The third 'fact' consisted of the opinions of Masson and Mackenzie, neither of whom was an expert witness. In trying to establish the defendants' 'universal' aim, the deputy judge advocates contended that if they 'together can furnish any cause to their ulterior views, we have Mr. Masson's statement, that it was notorious that the cause of excitement in Terrebonne was the troubles in other parts of the Province; and from this we have to infer that the arrests alone had not occasioned the disturbances.'63 John Mackenzie, magistrate and lieutenant colonel in the militia, swore that 'their object was to destroy the few loyalists who were there/ and that 'they expected the Americans in, to assist them in taking possession of the country; this was a fact of public notoriety/64 The evidence Mackenzie and Masson should have spoken for itself. When asked by the court for the ulterior aim of the Terrebonne patriotes, Mackenzie acknowledged that while the expectation that Americans would assist them in their rising for independence was 'a notorious fact/ he had not heard 'this from any of the prisoners before the Court/ Masson told the deputy judge advocates that he believed the 'object of that unusual assemblage of armed men' was to 'defend themselves in case any more prisoners should be made, and to resist persons making them prisoners/ When pushed as to their 'ultimate object/ this former legislative councillor testified, 'They had no other/65 The accused had no opportunity to answer the prosecution's thesis. But they had anticipated it and included arguments in the final addresses purporting to show they had had no general revolutionary aim. Pointing out that evidence from both prosecution and defence witnesses gave sufficient reason for their actions, they quoted persuasive authority to show that the burden of proving a traitorous conspiracy behind their otherwise explainable behaviour was a particularly heavy one. Other points they made included the improbability of fifty or so armed men, on the north side of the St Lawrence, attempting a revolt. If they had been acting in concert with their fellow patriotes to the south, why had they assembled as late as 7 November, when disasters like Chateauguay had become common knowledge? Finally, if they had actually intended to seize the village and its neighbouring area for the patriotes, why had they signed an armistice, given up their weapons, and

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dispersed? Surely, if they had intended to rebel, they would have done something more decisive than march to the village, remain quietly there for a few hours, and then seek protection from the seigneur? In their own words, 'when we found all the inhabitants of the village, their property and their wealth, in our power, would we not, had we risen in rebellion, have proceeded to make ourselves masters of the village?'66 There was no answer to this question, particularly since it was corroborated by the prosecution's own witness John Mackenzie: Their force was so superior to ours, that we were induced into this arrangement, for the sake of our wives, families and property/67 All the Terrebonne accused were convicted without recommendation to mercy. None would hang. Bouc and Rochon were transported to New South Wales. Extra-judicial factors must have influenced this travesty of justice. Bolstered by Brien's information that Bouc was the leading patriote in Terrebonne, the deputy judge advocates pushed their doctrine of undiluted loyalty to the extreme and greatly enlarged the concept of levying war. Although the prosecution did attempt to make a case that the accused had conspired to levy war and had thus planned Queen Victoria's death, a dubious proposition in law, they did not prove it. Bouc's and Rochon's subversive actions before 4 November were described by the crown's own witnesses as defensive in nature. And, as Rochon argued, there was no proof that anyone had administered the chasseur oath after 1 November 1838. Two witnesses set the time for their own initiation in October, a third could not remember, and a fourth set the date about the first of November. As in the other trials, the officer-judges had little concern for legal technicalities. In this particular case, the patriotes had been prejudged. The military officer from whom loyalist vigilante Turgeon had received permission to disarm the people of Terrebonne was none other than the president of the court martial, Major General Clitherow. He had believed Turgeon's hypothesis then. Months later, he would not change his mind.

7

Abuses, Numbers, and Processes

'What was prison like, Mr Lepailleur?' 'Prison? You want to know what it was like living from moment to moment, wondering if you might be called to the office to be told you were the governor's choice of victim for the next day?' Warwick shook his head. As a man who dealt in facts, he wanted tangible details. 'No, I'm curious about ordinary things. How big was your cell, what kind of food did they give you? In short, how did you live?' 'With hope, with prayer, and surprising dignity,' Lepailleur answered soberly. Then he held up his hand. 'I'll answer your questions in a minute. But I want you to understand that in the midst of our sorrow and despair, most of us raised ourselves to a higher level than we had ever lived. We did our best to support each other, sharing what little we had. I'll never forget those days.' 'But you would not want to live through them again, would you?' Lepailleur sat quietly as he considered the question, surprising Warwick who had thrown the challenge into the conversation as a means to keep the older man talking. Eventually Lepailleur laughed gently. 'No, I do not believe sleeping on stone floors would be good for my arthritis.' Warwick grinned, then waited, pencil at the ready. 'I lived in a part of the jail,' Lepailleur began, 'with other men from our area. The Beauharnois patriotes, whom most of us knew, and my friends from Chateauguay. There were two of us in each cell. I, of course, shared mine at first with my dear Cardinal. But then he was taken from us ...'He broke off, his eyes bleak. Warwick sat silently while Lepailleur struggled with his grief. The younger man was learning a lot during the interviews, coming to understand that some losses remain as fresh as the day they happened. So he watched the fire's dancing flames until the old patriote cleared his throat to signal his willingness to go on. 'You have to understand, of course, I was the first to enter the jail, and we men from Chateauguay endured the worst because we remained locked up from November fourth until nearly the end of September, the following year. After our trials, we stayed in our cells for thirty-three days with only a single blanket

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each, and like I said, we slept on the bare stone floor. It was so cold that frost covered every single inch of the walls. You can't really imagine it, I'm sure. We were freezing with cold and so terribly dismal. We begged the jailer to allow us to open the door, even for a few minutes, just to give us a sense of hope. Finally, he relented and after that we were allowed out between ten in the morning and four in the afternoon. Not that long really, but those six hours were more precious than gold.' 'Of course, you couldn't have spent gold in jail, Mr Lepailleur.' 'Yes, we could. Things were very different then. We depended on relatives and friends to bring us things, like extra blankets. So, if we had had gold, I'm sure we could have purchased a few luxuries. Like better food, you understand.' Warwick nodded in commiseration. 'I expect the food was pretty bad, eh?' Lepailleur shrugged. 'Bread and water? Even if the bread was hard, the water could soften it. But our relatives made sure we did not starve. And for several months one of our colleagues' misfortune helped us all. Louis Lesiege had been in the same trial as me. He was acquitted, but they wouldn't release him. However, they did allow him into the passageway between the cells and he cooked our food until he finally went home.' 'Bread and water? I find it difficult to believe that was all the food the government gave you.' 'Most of us thought the same. Our lives would have been hard indeed without the generosity of many people. Some I had never met, yet they went out of their way to make sure we were looked after.' 'Who were they?' 'Residents of the city. Some of them, I was told, came by the jail each morning, bringing a few vegetables, warm clothes, a little meat - the sheer necessities of life we take so much for granted. And then there were the clergy. They also came every day to minister to us. And you have to understand, I am not just talking about the men in my part of the jail. There were hundreds of us during the winter of 1838-39, and without the help some might have died. I will never stop feeling grateful to those strangers who helped me then.' 'Maybe my grandfather was one,' Warwick suggested snidely. 'No.' Lepailleur's answer was swift and unequivocal. 'At that point, most English, according to the newspapers, thought there was little point in feeding us. In their own words, they wondered why the government fattened us up merely for the gallows.' Warwick shuddered. He could not bear to think how close Lepailleur had come to ending his life at the end of the hangman's rope. 'What people, in particular, can you remember helping you, sir?' 'The fathers Labelle, Trudeau, and Lavoie were almost always there giving us solace, listening to confession, purging our souls. And then there were two Canadien ladies, who later became Sisters of Charity, Mesdames Gauvin and Gamelin. And, of course, our wives and parents visited as much as possible. My

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own dear Domitile tried always to keep my spirits high. It was only much later that I discovered how many details of her horrible existence she had hidden from me. Our house had been burned and shed had little money to buy anything for herself or our two little sons. While I agonized, of course, I had little real idea of her dire straits. Her situation was much, much worse than I thought at the time.' 'And there were many like her?' 'Hundreds. Literally hundreds, if not thousands. People told me later that our area was a mass of blackened skeletons of houses sticking out from the pristine snow. I will never forget the sacrifices people made to help us all, back then. Mr Warwick, I will never stop feeling grateful to them. And I am proud that in some small way I can pay part of the debt by helping today's people really understand what it was like in 1838.' 'I'm honoured to help,' Warwick began, only to stop when Lepailleur rose and pointed to the dining room. 'We have a wonderful tourtiere. Pork. Please. Join us for lunch.'

LEST ANYONE DOUBT their intent, the deputy judge advocates declared two themes early in the Cardinal trial. In their opening address they told the court that treason was a crime 'in its character and consequences the gravest which a man ... [could] possibly commit/ Time and time again they emphasized the crime's horrific nature. Their second thesis was that those 'selected for trial' had 'held stations of command' and exercised 'great influence amongst their companions/1 and that the deluded 'peasantry' of Lower Canada had risen in revolt only through the accused's machinations. They emphasized that the court martial's verdicts must acknowledge this. A third theme would appear within weeks: anything other than unqualified loyalty amounted to treason. One hundred and eight prisoners appeared in the fourteen trials.2 The number of accused in each trial varied, from one in the proceedings against Huot, Hindenlang, and Mott to nineteen in the thirteenth trial.3 Besides facing the standard charges, eleven men were also tried for murder and three others for administering illegal oaths. When the court martial finally finished on 1 May 1839, after the challenges to its jurisdiction, the hours of testimony and cross-examination, the final addresses and pleas, only seven accused were acquitted and the remaining lot sentenced to death. Had the patriotes received a fair trial? The Montreal Gazette certainly thought so, telling its readers it took only 'a few seconds ... to be convinced, that justice and impartiality' pervaded all the court's actions 'and that there never existed a tribunal in the country where the cases

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brought before it are conducted with more scrupulous attention to the rights of all the parties/4 With the benefit of hindsight, the paper might have concluded otherwise. Within the court's facade of justice, the deputy judge advocates not only highlighted their theses but attempted to intimidate the Canadiens. Their opening address demonstrated their belief that the Canadien middle class of doctors, notaries, advocates, and shopkeepers had been responsible for the rebellion. Government authorities agreed. Lieutenant-Colonel George Cathcart, pressing for Dr Allard's prosecution, declared, 'It is to the class of Doctor to which he belongs, that the misguided and ignorant Habitans chiefly owe their recent calamities/ Many people in the parishes either concurred with Cathcart or used the thesis when petitioning for the lives of the condemned men. Beauharnois petitioners, for example, after testifying they had known Jacques Goyette for many years, pointed out that 'his errors' were 'solely attributable to the dangerous counsels of men whose education gave them influence over his untutored mind, kept them aloof and left him to atone for their crimes/ Also emphasizing this point were the petitions against the transportation of the condemned men that poured into the civil secretary's office. St-Edouard residents, for example, described Theophile Robert 'as a good and peaceable man but totally deprived of the advantages of education/5 This particular idea, which shortly received official sanction in Lord Durham's report, had its roots in the 1790s. By the second election after the Constitutional Act of 1791, Canadien political leaders came from the bourgeoisie.6 Although only about 5 percent of the rebels in 1838 came from this class, it dominated leadership positions in the Freres Chasseurs, with the unique known exception of aigle Joseph Dumouchelle. When justifying his selection of those to be executed, Colborne also stressed the thesis, characterizing notary DeLorimier as a 'man of Education and Intelligence, whose standing in Society invested him with an influence which he had long and systematically abused in exciting the passions of his ignorant and credulous fellow-Countrymen/ Bailiff Narbonne belonged to a 'class of men' commanding 'a peculiar influence among the lower order of the Canadian peasantry. Possessed of some Education and a certain degree of intelligence,' such men wielded extraordinary influence over those 'who have reason to dread the effects of their caprice/7 To Colborne's mind, the 'deluded peasants' lived in the best of all possible worlds. In Lower Canada they enjoyed British civil liberties, a fair and balanced constitution, and economic free enterprise. What possible grievances could they have? That men like Jacques Goyette rebelled, therefore, was solely the fault of their leaders.

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Of the more than 800 arrested after the 1838 rebellion, about 130 belonged to the 'leadership' class. In many cases, they had been jailed solely because of their professional status. Colborne, upon hearing of the outbreak, immediately imprisoned such prominent patriote politicians as Louis LaFontaine and Denis-Benjamin Viger. Evidence against such leaders was usually slim, and when the court martial finished, only 25 or so had faced charges. The Special Council's authorizing ordinance allowed the court to try prisoners 'in a summary manner/ The deputy judge advocates took this provision to its extreme, ignoring special procedural guarantees that had evolved in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to protect those facing trial for high treason. As such, the accused had a right to receive, at least ten days before trial, a copy of the indictment as well as the list of prosecution witnesses and of the jury panel, with addresses and occupations.8 Crown prosecutors had scrupulously respected these matters in both Britain and the Canadas in treason trials. Chartist John Frost owed his life to a prosecutor's failure to follow procedural law to the absolute letter. 9 Defendants charged with treason in Upper Canada's 'bloody' Ancaster assize of 1814 had no complaints on this issue.10 In Lower Canada itself, in the treason trial of French undercover agent David McLane of Rhode Island, the prosecution did almost everything it could to guarantee conviction: promising townships to witnesses and manipulating the jury panel.11 Despite all these machinations, it honoured the treason guarantees legislated in the reigns of William m and Anne.12 These guarantees also allowed the accused to make full defence through trained counsel, who could question and cross-examine witnesses, raise legal points, and address the jury. Although only newly guaranteed in the criminal courts of Britain and Lower Canada (1836) for felons, this full right had never been denied in treason trials since 1696 - that is, until Montreal, 1838-39. As the accused patriotes found, their representation was limited to their advocates reading, in their names, various legal objections and final defence statements. As best they could, given the unrelenting pace of the trials, Lewis Drummond and Aaron Philip Hart gave advice to the prisoners beforehand.13 They also prepared questions for defence witnesses and tried to anticipate cross-examination tactics.14 But they could not make the defendants' decisions in court. There these illiterate men, intimidated by the uniforms of the officer-judges and the language of the proceedings, often fumbled their own defence. Farmer Pierre Lavoie of St-Cyprien, for example, had one witness testify that he 'was not fond of politics.' His very next witness, however, swore he 'often spoke of politics ... [but] always for the government!'15 None knew the identity of his accusers even a day in advance or

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received a copy of the indictment ten days or more before arraignment. When defendants in the first trial pointed out this procedural deficiency, the court ignored the protest. Organizing witnesses was difficult. Since written consent from both the superintendent of police and the governor's civil secretary was necessary before visitors were allowed into the jails,16 several prisoners were denied access to potential defence witnesses. They invariably lost motions for a delay of a day or two to gain the necessary documents. Language was another problem. Canadiens conducting their own defence with only a rudimentary knowledge of English frequently floundered. They could not understand arguments from the deputy judge advocates, comments from the bench, or English testimony. In Lepailleur's trial, the accused complained that French-speaking witnesses spoke so softly to the interpreter that only the English translation could be heard. There was, of course, no translation into French of English testimony. The lack of a professionally trained defence showed in other ways. Few accused made objections to hearsay or opinion evidence, even when they could hear or understand it. In the fifth trial, stonemason Etienne Lebouef of Beauharnois testified to what he had seen, noting that he 'had heard ... Mr Delorimier had just returned from the States/ The deputy judge advocates turned this second- or third-hand evidence into the damning fact that DeLorimier had been one of the men in exile who had planned the rebellion. In the Terrebonne trials, sheer guesswork about the ultimate aim of the 'rebels' was encouraged by the prosecution, who also used testimony from accomplices. Under cross-examination Etienne Lebouef admitted he was in prison himself as a suspected traitor and that he would be freed providing he 'rendered a fair and just evidence/17 Obviously the prosecution was happy with his testimony because he was released about a month after DeLorimier's conviction. When the credibility of a prosecution witness was in doubt or flawed, as was the case with Magistrate M'Donald's testimony regarding Ducharme,18 the deputy judge advocates admitted the fact but let the court decide how persuasive it was. Where no such problem existed, they emphasized their own witnesses' particularly high credibility and disparaged, with oratorial disdain, that of the opposition witnesses. One prisoner who offered what they thought a perjured defence had thereby, they said, 'confirmed his guilt, and whatever may have been his criminality before, he has now added to it an aggravation calculated with irresistible force to drag him to destruction/ Perjury thus equalled treason!19 In the seventh trial, the deputy judge advocates claimed to speak for the bench when generalizing 'that the Court can attach little weight to evidence in impeachment of character, or, in fact, on any other point,

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drawn from those, whose political connection with the party accused, naturally leads them to shield him from punishment and engenders feelings of hostility towards all who are instrumental in bringing him to justice/20 And, as Pascal Pinsonnault had discovered, relatives, often the only people who could testify to the degree of coercion exerted on the accused, were also easily discounted as biased. Despite the supposed applicability of the special procedural guarantees in treason trials, the deputy judge advocates extracted every possible advantage for themselves. They disregarded the requirement that either at least two witnesses must swear to the same treasonable action or one witness to two separate overt acts of the same treason - levying war, for instance. Leandre Ducharme was just one who found this out. Authorities also arrested potential defence witnesses or threatened to do so. When Magistrate M'Donald met several Canadiens on the courthouse stairs in Ducharme's trial, he warned them not to testify or they would find themselves in prison.21 In the fourth trial, St-Constant farmer Jacques Longtin complained that 'the violence which was exercised [i.e., coercion] ... could have been brought home ... by a witness in attendance yesterday, who had been compelled to join the armed band at the same time/ As two other witnesses had been arrested following their testimony, Longtin could not expose 'the safety of that individual, by compelling him to come forward/ 22 However, Jean-Baptiste Trudeau, who was forced to assist Charles Huot at Napierville, not only escaped arrest but testified for the prosecution in four trials.23 Potential defence witnesses sometimes found themselves among the accused facing trial. Even when the evidence against them was so flimsy that an acquittal seemed certain, the authorities used this tactic to avoid their giving embarrassing testimony. They refused to discharge Louis Lesiege in the first trial, for example, in case he be called for the defence. Common-law precedents, therefore, were ignored.24 To the deputy judge advocates, anything other than unqualified loyalty in times of insurrection amounted to treason. They spelled this out very clearly for the officer-judges when they declared that 'any assent makes the party a principal traitor.''25 In two cases, after failing to prove the accused had levied war, they gained convictions by showing that the defendants had had some knowledge of the upcoming rebellion and had not notified authorities. By equating misprision of treason (that is, the crime of knowing that another person has committed high treason and not reporting him or her to the authorities) with the real crime, they convicted Theodore Bechard and Antoine Lareine. In the Terrebonne trial the deputy judge advocates even claimed that any resistance to law enforcement during the week of 4-11 November 1838 amounted to treason, and in Mott's trial they introduced the truly horrifying precedent

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that watching a battle from behind rebel lines, thus apparently 'countenancing traitors/ was treason.26 Good intentions meant nothing. Farmer Michel Longtin proved previous loyalty, then tried a 'good Samaritan' defence, having voluntarily given food and other supplies to the Beauharnois prisoners and bargained effectively for the freedom of a few. In a pedagogic final address the deputy judge advocates disdained such behaviour: If indeed, he was sincere, let him, and all others who need the instruction, learn that there can be no middle course between loyalty and disaffection, and had he, and those who pretend to have been forced, and those who concealed themselves, and those who remained inert, united manfully together to resist the tyranny of a few wicked and unprincipled men, he ... would not be on his trial for his life.27

Longtin was convicted for treason, sentenced to death, but later released on bail. Conventional wisdom in British legal circles well before 1838 had treason as the ultimate crime. The 8 November ordinance referred to the rebels as having committed the 'most horrid excesses and cruelties on the properties and persons of Her Majesty's loyal subjects.' That few such atrocities took place did not deter the deputy judge advocates when it came time for trial. The virtually bloodless attack on the Ellice manor house only proved that 'he who, forgetting his duty to his Sovereign and his fellow subjects, leagues with traitors, knows not into what abyss of crime his perilous course may lead/28 Aaron Walker's death only reinforced the belief. Of the 108 persons tried, only 3 pleaded guilty: Dr Henri Brien, of course; James Perrigo; and Guillaume Levesque. Nineteen-year-old Levesque, Nelson's aide-de-camp, hoped he might escape execution by dissociating himself from his fellow accused, acknowledging guilt and emphasizing his contrition and high social status. He hired his own advocate, William Walker, refused to challenge the court's jurisdiction, and claimed that a 'generous, though mistaken enthusiasm' had motivated his rebellion.29 His character witnesses included Judge Jean-Roch Rolland of the King's Bench and two members of distinguished seigneurial families - former legislative councillor, current sheriff of Montreal Roch de Saint-Ours and Pierre de Rocheblave, a special councillor. Such measures probably kept young Levesque from the gallows. Another unusual case was that of twenty-three-year-old notary Hippolite Lanctot, who assisted Hindenlang at Odelltown. About forty years later he proudly recalled that he had defiantly and loudly 'read out in Court a pleading in which he protested the legality of the tribunal

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and for that reason peremptorily refused to take any part in the proceedings/30 Several who pleaded not guilty admitted guilt in their final addresses, asking for the court's mercy. Some ambivalently maintained innocence while begging for clemency should they be convicted. Most found that their best chance of discrediting the charges lay in casting doubt on the sobriety or truthfulness of the prosecution's witnesses, exploiting to the utmost any confusion in time, place, or person in their testimony. Like Lepailleur and Levesque, many of the accused called character witnesses and a few tried to establish alibis. The majority of defendants clutched any straw to avoid conviction and/or execution, using a desperate variety of excuses in their final addresses: youth, senility, coercion, misguided enthusiasm, contrition, family responsibilities. A few revealed the general anger that they should be singled out for punishment while their leaders enjoyed sanctuary in the United States. Most minimized their guilt. Only Joson Dumouchelle admitted playing a major role. To justify his actions, he claimed to have 'put ... [himself] at the head of the insurgents' to 'prevent all destruction of life.'31 Five Beauharnois men - 'humble and unfortunate individuals' - claimed that their ignorance of the law rendered them 'wholly unconscious of the criminal character of the acts' they were charged with.32 The siren call of the 'novelty and excitement of military preparation,' abetted by his ignorance of 'the intricate obligations arising out [of] the laws of Society,' had made teenaged Desire Bourbonnais see 'a good and glorious objective.'33 'Delusive dreams of a national independence' had seduced Brien, or so he claimed, and no doubt he added to a prevalent view of untrustworthy Canadiens when he solemnly testified that he 'was not aware of the coming outbreak until the very moment when awakened from sleep.'34 Bourdon reminded the court that the political 'errors of youth ... seldom spring out of base motives, and are, almost invariably, the result of a deep sense of wrong.'35 After evaluating these excuses, the court recommended twenty-one prisoners to a commutation of the death sentence. None of the twenty-one were executed, although ten were later transported and Levesque was banished. Intimidation surrounded the accused. Frangois-Xavier Prieur reported that he and his fellow defendants had to walk past 'five corpses of our friends stretched out on the snow in their convict uniforms.' One volunteer, pointing at the bodies, gleefully prophesied that they would soon be in the same position.36 As they trudged into court, chained and handcuffed in pairs, angry spectators crowded stairwells and hallways, taunting them. Those prisoners with access to the newspapers regularly read prejudgments of their trials. The Montreal Herald correctly predicted,

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even before he reached the city, that Francois Nicolas would hang, describing his capture as 'Divine interposition to punish the guilty in this world/37 Guillaume Levesque's guilty plea convinced the Montreal Transcript that his fellow accused had persuaded him 'from his allegiance, and were, inevitably his associates in TREASON/38 The newspapers printed many of the deputy judge advocates' closing addresses, imputing impartiality and legal brilliance to them, while invariably ignoring those of the defence. But why should they do more when, as the Montreal Gazette told its readers, no other court had ever paid 'more scrupulous attention to the rights of all parties'?39 Although substantive and evidentiary rules of criminal law governed the court martial, the establishing warrant directed that it proceed according to 'martial law/ Hence, there would be several procedural differences between it and an ordinary criminal court. The deputy judge advocates did not have to outline their case against the accused, and the defence could not deliver an opening statement before examining its witnesses. The most detrimental difference, though, was the dual role of the deputy judge advocates. While the incompatible combination into a single entity of prosecutor and adviser to officer-judges on points of law was still permitted in Britain, it had long since ceased being normal. Usually the accusers or a designated officer prosecuted cases before courts martial, thus allowing the judge advocate or his deputies some semblance of objectivity when offering legal advice.40 However, Colborne opted for the older practice and, in so doing, heavily tipped the scales against the defendants. The prosecution's rate of success on procedure and evidentiary questions was more than 90 percent, and no matter how thin the evidence, the deputy judge advocates almost always had their interpretation of facts accepted. Although the trials resulted in seven acquittals, in only two of those cases did the prosecution push for conviction. The press quickly learned to predict results on the basis of the closing statements of the deputy judge advocates. While not binding on the court, these addresses must have greatly influenced the untrained officer-judges, especially as treason authorities like East and Foster were not normally analysed or even cited. The prosecution's rhetoric, therefore, seemed more like revelations from a mountaintop than an argument. As shown by the following cases, this blind acceptance resulted in many exotic interpretations of treason law. Innocent people throughout history have found themselves caught up in exciting events, simply by being at the wrong place at the wrong time. November 1838 was no different. The curious among the population watched battles or riots, wanting to know what was going on.

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Others went about their normal business - even in such centres of rebellion as Beauharnois, Napierville, and Chateauguay. For a certainty, politically neutral people lived in such places. During the week of 4-11 November, notary Louis Hainault of Beauharnois made a determined effort to preserve essential documents such as title deeds. For one brief period he pretended to be a rebel and wore a sword in order to escape arrest by Beauharnois patriotes. For this, he was convicted of treason.41 Such inequities illustrated Cardinal's claim that the court believed 'that mere presence among armed men was sufficient to incriminate/42 Pierre-Hector Morin only confirmed this when he declared that the judges considered the 'fact of my being at Napierville ... proof of the crime imputed to me, an idea which must be repudiated by every person acquainted with the laws of this country/43 The case of St-Constant innkeeper Francois Camyre further proved this point. Although Colonel Grey, who conducted his own investigation into Walker's death, firmly believed that Camyre had led a group of chasseurs during that incident,44 the prosecution could apparently find no proof. Their main witness, Jean-Baptiste Trudeau, merely testified that Camyre 'came to Napierville at the same time, with certain rebel parties from Saint-Remi, La Pigeonnaire and other places; they all came together/45 To counter the charges against him, Camyre explained that his house had been burned down by British troops, thus making him a refugee. In his final address he swore 'most solemnly' that he 'did not arrive at Napierville in company with any other party, but was, on the contrary alone/ from the time he ran away from the destruction of his house until he entered the village to stay with friends. Antoine Dore of St-Jacques le Mineur, a merchant who claimed to have gone to Napierville to guard some deeds of hypothec, filed a joint address with him. In it they correctly predicted the deputy judge advocates' assumption that they should 'shew why we went to the village at that time/ This was a monstrous principle, they claimed, and equity and humanity called against it. As they told the court, even in peacetime 'it is generally impracticable to prove the object an individual has in view of going from one place to another, but in seasons of disturbances, it [be]comes in most instances, impossible to do/46 The prosecution argued forcibly that in Camyre's case, 'the burning of his premises by the troops would account ... for his having fled from home, but it would not account for his taking refuge in a nest of traitors at Napierville/ Thus they denied Camyre one of the basic principles of common law - that the crown prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he had levied war. In failing to do this, the deputy judge advocates ignored the leading decision on point - The Trials of Peter Messenger et al. of 1668. In these proceedings several men had been charged with levying war

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after raising 'a great hubbub' as part of a 'rude multitude of people' and 'pulling down Bawdy-Houses.' Lord Chief Justice John Kelyng discharged two defendants, William Green and Edward Bedle, explaining: We are all agreed that the verdict was not full enough as to them, for us to judge it treason ... because the verdict only finds that they were present, and finds no particular act of force committed by them, and doth not find that they were aiding and assisting to the rest; and it is possible one may be present amongst such a rabble only out of curiosity to see: and whether they are aiding and assisting is a matter which ought to be expressly found by the jury, and not left to us upon any colourable implication.^7

In his Treatise on the Pleas of the Crown, jurist East agreed with Kelyng's reasoning. It 'being only found they were present/ he wrote, 'and not finding any particular act of force committed by them, or that they were aiding or assisting ... the rest, which is a fact that must be found by a jury, and cannot be implied, they were discharged/48 So the law was quite clear. The court could not presume treasonable activity from an accused's presence in rebel territory or even among rebels themselves. Only Dore, who proved that various Napierville notaries had his mortgage papers, was acquitted.49 Like Camyre, American Benjamin Mott became a victim of this novel presumption of guilt. Mott was captured after the battle of Lacolle on 7 November. He claimed to have been an innocent, though drunken, spectator, but the authorities believed he had fired a cannon on loyalist troops and considered him a great prize. Mott, like David McLane in 1797, would serve as a sacrificial example to meddling Americans. That he would be tried was certain. The problem for the prosecution had to be establishing proof. As the deputy judge advocates worked to prepare their case, Lewis Drummond was equally energetically preparing Mott's defence. In March 1839 he informed Mott's brother Danforth of the imminence of the trial and told him what documents and witnesses were needed. Drummond kept his client advised and carefully prepared him for trial, giving him notes on the challenges he should make to the court's jurisdiction and how Mott would have to destroy testimony from the prosecutor's key witness, teenager Jean-Baptiste Couture. At the trial, which began 9 April 1839 and would be the last in the court martial, Mott told the court it could 'take no legal cognizance of the subject matter or Matters' with which he was charged because 'he the Deft, is a citizen of the United States of America and not a member of any Military corps in this or any other Province.'50 The prosecution and bench ignored this motion of dismissal, and the trial proceeded. Obtaining witnesses had been difficult. In February 1839 Lieutenant

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Edward North of the Montreal police had tried to kidnap potential witness Pierre Tarte in Alburg, Vermont, after he had refused to return to Lower Canada voluntarily. Twenty-five men, including the local sheriff, thwarted this scheme, jumping into six sleighs to chase down North and his men. After the reluctant witness was released, one of his rescuers 'swore he would be damned if ... [North] took Tarte across the Canadian side/51 Tainted proof, which had been part and parcel of many of the trials, would close out the court martial. Sixteen-year-old Jean-Baptiste Couture now became the key witness. Couture, who had participated in the battle as a patriote, had previously sworn two depositions - one implicating, the other excusing, Mott. On the witness stand he admitted that he had come from exile in Vermont solely to testify for the prosecution and that authorities had warned he might otherwise never be permitted to return to Lower Canada. A Captain Vaughan, for instance, had threatened both Couture and his father that the teenager would not be permitted to return to Lower Canada if he did not bear witness against Mott. Kidnapping had not worked in Tarte's case, but bribes and fear enticed the lad from his sanctuary in Vermont to testify at trial. His evidence that the American had fired the cannon during the battle of Lacolle, 7 November 1838, became crucial.52 Discrediting the young Couture was vital for the defence. Mott scrupulously made notes, such as This boy's testimony is to be Specially invalidated by the evidence of Lyman/53 But despite such care, he was convicted of treason and levying war. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time in Lower Canada on 7 November 1838 would virtually bankrupt Benjamin Mott, and if he ever became solvent, it would only be at the end of his life.54 Few, if any, of the defendants would have agreed with the Montreal Gazette's description of the court's magnificent impartiality. An unnamed Canadien woman's assertion that its proceedings were 'a mock trial before the inquisition of Canada' would have seemed more accurate in their eyes.55 Major-General Clitherow, the recent enemy, presided on the bench. Sitting with him, bristling indignantly when their 'competency' was challenged, were army officers with little legal training. Their prejudices and ignorance governed many rulings. If a defendant testified that the handwriting in an exhibit differed from his, such evidence was dismissed on the grounds that everyone knew rebels disguised their writing. When a prisoner proved past loyalty, these officerjudges assumed a Machiavellian scenario that had him hiding his true opinions from everyone. Two Canadien lawyers, attempting to lighten Drummond and Hart's caseload, were trivialized as 'rebels defending rebels.'56

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When an accused in the first trial protested cross-examination on a topic not raised in direct examination, Clitherow, reflecting the bench's lack of legal knowledge and its disrespect for judicial tradition, declared the court was not bound by any evidentiary rules whatsoever. 57 Although this statement would later be revised, the fact that it was allowed to stand for even a while spoke volumes for the court's integrity. The recollections of two men - made in the 1860s and 1870s - may draw the clearest picture of the manner in which the bench conducted itself in the Montreal court martial. Visibly bored by the flow of testimony and cross-examination in the fifth trial, the officer-judges busied themselves, according to Prieur, 'sketching little figures hanging from gibbets ... which ... passed to one another ... appeared to amuse them greatly/58 This was not the only time they resorted to art to relieve tedium. In a subsequent trial Lanctot observed the same activity and later remembered that when thus engaged the members of the bench usually grinned or made provocative gestures.59 Such recollections may be considered biased and untrustworthy, but notes made by one member of the bench during the Prieur trial have survived. In these, the unknown officer kept track of witnesses, noted their testimony, and doodled. He had a preoccupation with initials and in one of his variations drew a face with curly hair and glasses - perhaps DeLorimier's. The doodled face partially corroborates Prieur's and Lanctot's claims.60 Such lack of professionalism would not count. In the six months of hearings the officer-judges apparently did their duty to the satisfaction of their general, Sir John Colborne. It would be he who would make the final decisions as to the condemned men's fates. The English lust for blood began to abate by late February 1839. By then, several object lessons had been given and received. When the habitants had refused to believe that Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal and Joseph Duquette had been hanged, Colborne had ordered the gallows moved to a more public place. After that, the watching crowds reflected the tensions gripping Lower Canada. 'Very many wept,' recalled John Borthwick who as a teenager had brought the first group of Chateauguay rebels into Montreal, '[while] others positively laughed at the awful spectacle.'61 Following decisions by the Special Council 'for the vindication of public justice,' Colborne used both subjective and objective criteria to choose the victims for that spectacle. The men chosen to die on the gallows were not representative of all participants in the 1838 rebellion. With the exceptions of Nicolas and Robert, the condemned were under forty. Eight of the eleven Canadiens were literate, and with the exception of young Hamelin, all had taken a prominent part in the unrest before

Abuses, Numbers, and Processes 151

1837, in the 1837 rebellion itself, and in the planning for the 1838 insurrection (see Table 7.1). The five farmers had been involved in incidents resulting in death - either Chartrand's or Walker's. Colborne's own words left no doubt that the executions were lessons for the Canadien people. On 19 February 1839 he wrote to his superiors in London of the 'earnest and painful deliberations of the Executive Council [i.e., the Special Council sitting in an executive capacity]' in selecting prisoners 'whose noxious influence, virulent activity and general dangerous characters rendered them fit examples to a community hitherto unhappily, but too ignorant of the authority and power of the law.'62 Colborne himself, though, had modified the council's 'earnest and painful deliberations' in seemingly arbitrary ways. Toussaint Rochon of Beauharnois escaped death because the governor, considering him 'a habitant of no influence,' commuted 'the Extreme Penalty of the law.'63 Two days after Cardinal's death, Lepailleur learned he had been spared and believed the intercession of his aunts, two cloistered nuns, responsible.64 Prieur claimed he owed his life to the intercession of Jane Ellice and Tina Balfour,65 and Levesque's commutation came not only because of his youth but also through his connection 'with Canadian Families of great respectability and known loyalty/66 There can be no doubt that Colborne walked a difficult path during the months following the 1838 rebellion. English citizens, spurred on by the Montreal Herald, demanded blood as late May 1839, but Colborne believed his 'grand object' of warning the Canadien 'peasantry' had been achieved with the twelve executions. He informed Colonial Secretary Glenelg in February 1839, The examples which have been thus far made for the Vindication of the outraged laws could not have been avoided without danger to this Province. They appear also to me to have been sufficient.'67 Downing Street received this news with 'high satisfaction,' replying that it was 'gratifying to be able to dispense with a mode of punishment which can never be resorted to without reluctance.' Perhaps Colonel Grey's regular reports to his father, Earl Grey, had something to do with this response. He was less than impressed by the court martial. In January 1839 he declared 'the Law Officers here to be dreadfully inefficient and the manner in which the evidence appears to be got up, in the cases of which I know anything, seems ... very disgraceful.'68 To reinforce an attitude of leniency in Colborne's mind, the new colonial secretary, Constantine Henry Phipps, first Marquess of Normanby, added that if 'shown towards the great mass of the persons arrested for participation in the Rebellion,' leniency would 'have a beneficial effect in attaching the lower classes of French Canadians to the Government of the Country, and in disabusing their minds of the false opinions which have

Table 7.1 Statistical Breakdown of the Executed Canadiens Name

Occupation

Age

Children

Literacy

Activity in 1837

Area of 1838 Activity

Cardinal

notary

30

5

yes

yes

Caughnawaga/Chateauguay

Daunais

farmer

20

single

Chartrand

Odelltown

Decoigne

notary

24

2

yes

yes

Napierville

DeLorimier

notary

34

3

yes

yes

Beauharnois

Duquette

law student

20

single

yes

yes

Caughnawaga/Chateauguay

Hamelin

farmer

18

single

?

Walker's death

Narbonne

bailiff

34

3

yes

yes

Napierville

Nicolas

teacher

41

single

yes

Chartrand

Napierville /Odelltown

Robert

farmer

58

5

yes

Walker's death

Sanguinet, A.

farmer

38

5

yes

yes

Walker's death

Sanguinet, C.

farmer

36

2

yes

yes

Walker's death

Sources: Report of the State Trials, passim; Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, passim; Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 49-55; North American, 15 May, 29,26 June, 28 Aug., 16 Oct. 1839

Abuses, Numbers, and Processes 153

been inculcated by designing and ill-affected persons/69 While Colborne agreed that the basic lesson had been well taught, he still faced the problem of hundreds of Canadiens gracing his jails. If he released them, English sensibilities would be outraged. On the other hand, Normanby had made it quite clear that London would accept no further hangings. Colborne decided to pardon many men conditionally, commuting the death sentences to release on good behaviour bonds, banishment, or, for the worst cases, transportation. It may have been decided before the court martial first convened that some of the guilty would be transported from Lower Canada.70 Such sentences were by no means unknown in British North America. In fact, although no women were subjected to transportation, 1,738 men were sent to prisons in Bermuda, Gibraltar, England, and the Australian colonies between 1804 and the 1860s.71 Felonies committed by those who were transported included arson, forgery, highway robbery, murder, rape, sacrilege, and burglary. A large number of convicts, though, had committed serious breaches of the Mutiny Act or the Articles of War, such as desertion, offering violence to superior officers, and mutinous conduct.72 As military men governed by the Articles of War and the Mutiny Act, the officer-judges sitting on the court martial bench were well aware of this sentence. Six of those convicted in the first trial were selected for transportation. In asking that these sentences be altered, the Lower Canadian law officers may have been remembering the fiasco after Lord Durham had exiled eight of the 1837 rebels to Bermuda. Colborne himself raised the issue with Downing Street shortly after he had subdued the 1838 rebellion, and by the end of February 1839 he advised London that the number to be transported would not exceed one hundred. On 5 May 1839 he wrote Normanby with news of the ending of the court martial and of his selection of 'those individuals whose guilt and whose dangerous characters render it indispensable that they should be removed from the colony/73 The decisions behind the selection of the fifty-eight men to sail for New South Wales were in some cases as unjust as some of the trial proceedings. The defence lawyers were well aware of the possibility of transportation as early as 9 May 1839, for Drummond wrote to Danforth Mott on that date telling him that 'capital punishment is not to be apprehended but some measures must be adopted to save [Benjamin] ... if possible from transportation/74 He obviously considered time of the essence and advised his client's brother 'to take a Petition on his behalf to the authorities. Consequently, Mott came to Montreal in May 1839. He would not only present his petition with letters from the Vermont governor and a couple of senators but would attempt to settle some of his

154 Treasons and Trials

brother's accounts, including Drummond's fee of $200.75 Nevertheless, that Mott would be one of those transported was a foregone conclusion. In trying to decide which other men should go, Colborne sought the advice of the deputy judge advocates, who began sifting through their files in April. In early May they produced a list of 'persons against whom the evidence is not strong or in whose favor mitigating circumstances or a promise of pardon from Major Denny can be proved.'76 The Special Council, whose members included DeRocheblave, one of Guillaume Levesque's character witnesses, met in June to review the court martial, its sentences, and its recommendations, and to select prisoners for transportation. The council also ranked the condemned patriotes, but its list differed widely from that of the deputy judge advocates with respect to certain prisoners, such as Jean-Louis Thibert.77 Colborne also sought advice from prominent men in the parishes, such as Lieutenant-Colonel Lawrence Brown of Beauharnois. In a cover letter Brown wrote that he suspected Beauharnois was peaceful merely because the people lacked weapons and ammunition; he then attached his impressions of the thirty-four seigneury prisoners, noting as well their profession, general character and 'standing/ and 'conduct during the rebellion.'78 Brown considered Brien 'well conducted and respectable,' praising him for having good control over his men during the rebellion, although he pointed to the doctor's connections with 'refugee leaders in the United States.' Joson Dumouchelle, on the other hand, was 'immoral & debauched,' with 'extensive property and influence/ According to the seigneurial agent, Joson, who spoke 'English well,' was a 'dangerous and desperate character' with 'no education/ The school trustee Jacques Goyette was a 'depraved and desperate' character who had been an active agitator before and during the rebellion. Although Prieur appeared 'mild and gentle in manner/ he was 'deceitful and intriguing/ Constant Buisson, a blacksmith and bailiff, had hitherto been 'a respectable young man/ but Brown identified him as having been present when the Ellice manor house was stormed and 'employed at hooping wooden cannons/ All thirty-four men had their characters thus analysed by Brown, their property, or lack of it, mentioned as well as their education. Without doubt, these impressions influenced Colborne. The men who were tried in the unpublished thirteenth trial, such as Basile Roy, or those who had been recommended to mercy by the court martial, such as Desire Bourbonnais, may have thought they would escape transportation. But when Brown identified tavernkeeper and rough carpenter Michel Allary, also tried in the thirteenth trial, as 'a desperate character, vicious and dangerous,' Allary became a candidate for New South

Abuses, Numbers, and Processes 155

Wales. Another tavernkeeper, Provost, was 'a bad profligate character' and it was 'at the house of this individual that nocturnal and secret meetings were held before the insurrection/ Brown's conclusions, many of them prompted by petty considerations or slights, do not totally explain how the final selection of men from the Beauharnois seigneury was made. Joseph Wattier dit Lanoix was a St-Timothee farmer and storekeeper. His political agitation preceded the events of November 1838. According to Brown, he had been an 'active disseminator of revolutionary doctrine for some years back/ A 'well doing, industrious [and] intelligent man, above the ordinary class of Farmers [and] possessed considerable influence/ he had also taken part in the 1837 rebellion. Nevertheless, Wattier was not selected to journey to New South Wales. Joseph Roy dit Lapensee was. Joseph Roy, a labourer, had no property, education, or influence. He would be sent to New South Wales because he did not know his place in society. Brown pointed out that Roy was 'employed and paid by the Signior only a few hours before the attack' on the manor house. Brown's list explained why nineteen-year-old Desire Bourbonnais, also with no property or education, was transported while Guillaume Levesque, who had played a major part in the rebellion, was well educated, and came from a prominent Canadien family, was not. Young Bourbonnais was apprenticed to the Ellice blacksmith and learned his trade at the seigeurial smithy. Although he was 'acquiring his trade with diligence' and under a 'British tradesman,' he had taken an active part in the rebellion and 'showed the vilest ingratitude/ Obviously Brown believed that Canadiens should not bite the hand that fed them. There can be no doubt that Colborne used Brown's list. As the case of Wattier showed, a man with extensive property, education, or influence could be spared. There was only one item on the list that made transportation certain. If Brown identified a man as an Ellice employee or as having been present during the attack on the manor house, transportation became inevitable. There was a single exception: Dr Henri Brien. Tavernkeeper and bailiff Charles Rapin of St-Timothee was also a strong candidate. Brown gave him a 'general good character/ noting he was 'much esteemed and influential/ Rapin could read and write and had taken 'a leading part both before and after the rebellion/ But he had bargained information on Prieur's whereabouts for his life. The nefarious deal with Major Denny was finally carried out, and he was later released on bail. Using the various lists and recommendations, Colborne narrowed the possibilities to seventy-three or seventy-four men, including Rapin and Brien at this point. Accordingly, Civil Secretary Thomas Leigh Goldie set the official apparatus in motion. Parchment paper was bought

156 Treasons and Trials

and various calligraphers hired to inscribe the conditional pardons and warrants for transportation and discharge; these scribes would charge from sixpence per word up to seven shillings for a pardon.79 Work began 10 June on the conditional pardons and on the draft warrants to the governor of New South Wales; to James Wood, captain of HMS Buffalo-, and to the sheriff of Montreal. As the tradesmen laboured over the parchment documents the governor of Lower Canada honed his lists and waited for a ship to bear away his refuse, spring finally came to the colony. The spring of 1839 was particularly beautiful.80 Most Canadiens, however, could not appreciate its glories. Throughout the countryside south of Montreal, blackened skeletons of houses and barns dotted the landscape. According to one estimate, the destruction and pillage by the volunteers to Canadien property totalled close to a million dollars.81 Table 7.2 (page 152) lists certain specific losses and to these must be added the composite Beauharnois statistics: the destruction of 79 houses (loss of $65,933), 23 barns, and 96 sheds and stables ($18,712), and the pillage of 786 family homes ($159,648), a horrendous number.82 Clearly, the regular soldiers and loyalists paid special attention to areas that, in their minds, had been centres of rebellion: Chateauguay, Napierville, and Beauharnois. In the aftermath some habitants attempted to renew links with the past by rebuilding their farm buildings and planting crops. They were the fortunate ones. Others, many of whom had faced starvation, relinquished their traditional life, no longer able to put their trust in their neighbours. Fleeing the effects of the volunteers' torches, increasing numbers of previously self-sufficient farmers sought work as day labourers. Edward Henry Brown, a stipendiary magistrate at Chateauguay, reported that many Canadien families in his area were leaving 'their farms ... in search of labour and food either in the United States or in the less disturbed Counties of their own Country, where they must remain until the new potatoes are fit to eat/83 Two spinsters, Elizabeth and Therese St-Germain of St-Denis, were two of the many surrogate victims. They supported an aged mother and had no connection with politics, but they had the misfortune - as it turned out - to be Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal's in-laws. Their house and property were burned in December 1838.84 Two other maiden ladies, Therese and Louise Dormicourt of the same parish, had no rebel relatives but they had tended four wounded men, one of whom they decently buried after his death. Human kindness was apparently considered treason by the loyalists who pillaged their house.85 Tensions continued between the English and the Canadiens in Brown's area of Beauharnois-Chateauguay, as both expected another invasion from the refugees in the United States. Many English settle-

Abuses, Numbers, and Processes 157

Table 7.2 Estimated Property Damage in 1839 Dollars from Fire, Destruction and Pillage, in Certain Rebellious Counties (Excluding Beauharnois, Terrebonne, and Others)* Total in $ COUNTY OF LAPRAIRIE St-Remi I house burned 102 families pillaged Chateauguay 19 houses burned 3 barns, 22 sheds and stables 816 families pillaged COUNTY OF L'ACADIE Lacolle 5 houses burned 19 families pillaged St-Valentine II houses burned 13 barns, 19 sheds and stables 69 families pillaged St-Cyprien or Napierville 62 houses burned 47 barns, 72 sheds and stables 503 families pillaged St-Edouard 5 houses burned 7 barns, 15 sheds and stables 31 families pillaged COUNTY OF CHAMBLY St-Marguerite de Blairftndie or L'Acadie 39 houses burned 32 barns, 49 sheds and stables 206 families pillaged TOTAL

1,500 9,850 11,350

25,400 4,500 81,600 111,500

2,400 6,050 8,450 5,800 2,420 7,950 16,180 51.200 11,390 101,700 164,290 4,000 2,000 9,050 15,050

31,100 16,650 76,970 124,720

* The parishes of Longueuil and Boucherville in the County of Chambly; the counties of Vercheres, Shefford, St-Hyacinthe, and Rouville; and the parishes of St-Isadore and St-Constant in the County of Laprairie: North American, 31 July 1839

158 Treasons and Trials

ments manned a nightly vigil, and Brown complained that 'generally believed' gossip ran rampant, converting a Canadien wedding 'by common report into secret meetings for the purposes of training' new chasseurs. The grumbling Brown had found it necessary to attend the ceremony simply to quieten the English fears. The Canadiens were also wary and priests found it difficult to communicate with their parishioners. Suspicion and sullenness dominated the region. The spring's beauty passed unappreciated by the prisoners in the jails also. However, amidst rumour and tension, the church became a solace. Even the Bishop of Montreal, Jean-Jacques Lartigue, who had refused space in consecrated graveyards to the 1837 rebel dead, now visited the prisoners under sentence of death, giving consolation. As Colonel Grey reported to his father, people waited 'anxiously to see what Sir John Colborne means to do with all the Prisoners against whom sentence of death has been recorded.' He hoped the governor's decision would be the transportation of 'the greater number if not all' and thought Sir John would be highly imprudent 'to disregard the opinion of the British Inhabitants of this Province who are loud and violent in their demands for ... punishment.'86 The Montreal Herald also wrestled with the question before proclaiming: The punishment of the leaders ... would not make so deep and so useful an impression on the people as the sight of strange farmers settled on the land of each agitator in each Parish. The sight of the widow and orphan hawking their wretchedness around those wealthy houses of which they should be dispossessed would have a good effect.87

Grey also worried about the effect of punitive examples, telling his father he thought transportation was necessary, for he had 'had considerable experience of these People during the last six months' and was 'convinced that ... the Canadians of the present generation will never now be loyal or well affected.' Therefore, the transportation of the majority of those under the sentence of death, the people's leaders, would mean the government need have 'little fear of a renewal of disturbances next winter.'88 While Colborne pondered his lists, rearranging them, eliminating some men, the naval vessel HMS Buffalo left London. Unknown to many men in the Montreal jail, their lot was cast. In the sweltering heat of the summer of 1839, as they languished in their cells, the Buffalo made steady pace across the Atlantic. The warrants were already inscribed, and when Captain Wood arrived, fifty-eight men would be given into his charge for delivery to the governor of New South Wales.

Sir John Colborne, by Richmond. National Archives of Canada, C20764

Two habitants, with horse and sleigh-load of wood. Attributed to Sir George Gipps. National Archives of Canada, C117

Edward Ellice, junior. J.S. Agar, engraver. National Archives of Canada, C2835

The seigneury of Beauharnois, 1838. A painting by Jane Ellice. National Archives of Canada, C13389

The Beauharnois rebels, 1838. A painting by Jane Ellice. National Archives of Canada, C13392

Frangois-Maurice Lepailleur, c. 1888. From Le Monde Illustre, 1891

Hippolite Lanctot. From J. Douglas Berth wick, "Jubilee Souvenir Group of Patriotes, 1837-38," National Archives of Canada, MG 29, D 24, vol. 1

Leandre Ducharme. From J. Douglas Berthwick, "Jubilee Souvenir Group of Patriotes, 1837-38," National Archives of Canada, MG 29, D 24, vol. 1

Dr Jean-Baptiste-Henri Brien, by J.J. Girouard. National Archives of Canada, C18449

A habitant glances over his shoulder towards two members of the 2nd Battalion, Grenadier Guards, 1838. National Archives of Canada, C40295

Soldiers of the 71st Highland Light Infantry bring suspected rebels to Montreal, where they will face imprisonment and trial. Drawn by M.A. Hayes; J.H. Lynch, engraver. National Archives of Canada, C3653

The execution of the patriote rebels outside the prison gates, Montreal, by Henri Julien. National Archives of Canada, C13493

Parramatta, 1838, by Conrad Martens. Dixon Library, Sydney, New South Wales

Dr Samuel Newcomb, by Jean-Joseph Girouard. National Archives of Canada, C18424

Emmanuel Neich, proprietor of the Bath Arms Hotel in New South Wales. Courtesy R.W. Wade

George Street, Sydney, looking north, by John Rae, 1842. Dixon Library, Sydney, New South Wales

Some points of interest in 1842 Sydney: Hyde Park, St James Parsonage, the Dispensary (afterwards the Mint), and the Emigration Barracks, by John Rae, 1842. Dixon Library, Sydney, New South Wales

The city of Sydney, New South Wales, from the North Shore, byJ.S. Prout, 1844. Sydney Illustrated

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PART THREE Transportation and Life in New South Wales

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8

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship7

Lepailleur had been right. The tourtiere was marvellous. Warwick imagined his grandfather would have said it was the kind people used to make before machines took over the world. In any case, he made sure he gave heartfelt thanks to the cook before going back to the parlour to collect his belongings. Knowing Lepailleur usually had an after-luncheon nap, he was pleasantly surprised when the elderly gentleman gestured to his chair, indicating his willingness to finish the session. 'You mentioned some ladies, before lunch, Mr Lepailleur. They became nuns, didn't they?' 'Oh yes. Madame Gamelin founded the Convent of the Sisters of Providence, right here in Montreal/ Warwick flipped his notebook to the 'Must Look Up Later' section and dutifully added her name. 'What about other ladies, sir? Do you recall any special tales about them?' 'Well ...' Lepailleur hesitated. 'Most stories are the same. Our womenfolk had to first survive harsh weather, then surmount almost impossible conditions to keep our families together. Their sacrifices were many, but not necessarily those of the grand manner, you understand.' He sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his eyes while he thought. Finally, he seemed to recall a story that might satisfy Warwick, and he leaned forward in what the young reporter recognized as his storyteller's pose. 'There is, of course, one woman whose commitment to her husband was extraordinary. She believed with all her heart in her husband's cause, that the government had to change. I suspect that if she had been born a man, she would have taken up arms and fought in 1838. I shake my head in wonder when I think of all she did.' Warwick too leaned forward, gesturing encouragingly. 'Go on, Mr Lepailleur. Who was it? Mrs Dumouchelle? Mrs DeLorimier?' 'No, no. An Upper Canadian only a few of us remember/ Lepailleur paused, making a steeple of his fingers. 'Fame is such a funny thing. If you asked most people about Upper Canadian heroines, I'm sure they'd name Laura

162 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

Secord from the War of 1812. Yet her act was an impulsive one of a few hours duration. Maria Wait's heroics, on the other hand, lasted years.' 'You're right, there,' Warwick interjected. 7 learned about Mrs Secord in school but this is the first I've heard of Maria Wait. What did she do?' 'Single-handedly save her husband's life, to begin with,' Lepailleur retorted. 'Although she was tiny, she stands as tall as an Amazon when I think of what she did for her husband.' 'How? Helping him escape?' 'Oh no. Well, you could say she helped him escape his death, because Benjamin Wait was condemned to die. Though, of course, he had a regular trial, you understand, not a court martial,' he added in an aside. 'Then Wait must have been tried in Upper Canada,' Warwick nodded. 'What was he charged with?' 'Treason,' Lepailleur answered simply. 'Just like us. But, unlike me, he was a firm republican. He was one of the organizers of the Hunters' Lodges in the United States, recruiting men and planning raids on his homeland. And it was in one of those raids - into Upper Canada from New York - that he was captured. Of course, he had little defence. He stood trial, was convicted, and was sentenced to hang on the thirtieth of August 1838. 'His wife, Maria, who lived down in the Niagara region, was distraught. My Domitile told me how she felt when she heard of my sentence, so I understand a little, I think. My dear wife kept thinking it was a dream, that she would wake up and find me alongside her in bed.' He shrugged. 'But Maria?' 'Maria was not only distraught, she refused to accept the court's sentence. She made up her mind that Benjamin would not end his life on the gallows, that she herself would beg Lord Durham for a reprieve. Well, sometime after August 11, she left her baby behind, travelling to Quebec with only the teenage daughter of another convicted rebel for company. 'To this day, I do not know where she found the courage and commitment to do such "unladylike" things. Before she left, she made her friends promise that should she not persuade Lord Durham, they would not allow Benjamin's body to be given to the doctors for dissection. That was a common practice in the Canadas at the time/ 'Ugh/ Warwick shuddered, thinking it would be the most ignoble end to a life, to not only hang, but to be then dissected by eager medical students. Lepailleur smiled a little at his obvious discomfort. 'Well/ he continued, 'as you might imagine, many sympathized with her. At the very beginning of her trip she received free passage and four dollars from the captain of the ship she travelled on. Others on board gave small gifts of money. Then Maria and her companion transferred to a steamer at Kingston and sped towards Quebec. At first the governor's aides refused to let her see Lord Durham. After staying overnight on the steamer, courtesy of its captain, the two women tried the next

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship7 163

morning to get access to the governor. Again, they were turned away. 'Time, by now, was becoming their enemy. Because, you must understand, Mr Warwick, that Mrs Wait and young Miss Chandler would have to make the return trip with the governor's reprieve before Benjamin's sentence was carried out. While they waited, they passed the time as best they could. Finally, they returned to the Citadel. Again, the aides refused to allow Maria access. Maria cried. Then she decided to sit where she was until the governor gave her an answer. Her determination paid off - the aide went to Lord Durham, spoke on her behalf, and returned with good news. Benjamin's sentence would be commuted. Lord Durham promised to send that information to Sir George Arthur, the lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada, immediately, and Arthur would then send official word to the sheriff in Niagara/ Warwick exhaled the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. 7 can't begin to imagine how happy she must have felt/ he exclaimed. 'She must have been walking on air/ 'Not quite, at most sailing on a steamboat,' Lepailleur responded, his kind smile muted. 'You see, Mr Warwick, all was not well. No one knew where Governor Arthur was. So on the way back to Niagara, Maria and Miss Chandler asked everyone for his whereabouts. They finally caught up with him, but far from helping them, he seemed annoyed by Lord Durham's action. In fact, he went so far as to say he could not grant his superior's request until he had studied the trial documents. Well, rather than simply giving up, Maria became more determined than ever. The next morning she sat down and wrote to Lord Durham, telling him of his subordinate's attitude. Then she marched right into Sir George's room and told him exactly what was in the letter.' 'My God, what courage!' 'Indeed,' Lepailleur agreed. 'Sir George Arthur was a very tough man. But in this instance, he did not want that letter going to his superior. So he told Mrs Wait that he would order a respite for Benjamin and send words to that effect to the Niagara sheriff. The steamer could not go fast enough now for her. Once she reached Niagara, she fairly flew to the prison to tell her news. But no one believed her. I suppose the jail officials thought she was making a last-ditch effort to save her husband's life by lying. So she put her travelling clothes back on and journeyed to Toronto. She went to the chief justice for help but he wasn't home. Then she tried the solicitor general. He sent her to the legislative buildings. No one had heard of Arthur's decision but everyone promised to send the respite post haste should it arrive.' 'And I suppose by now, she had run out of time.' 'Indeed. There was just enough for her to get back to Niagara for what might have been a last good-bye to her husband. It must have been horrifying. She knew her husband had been spared, but to everybody else Benjamin Wait was a convicted felon who must be hanged that afternoon. Finally, at noon, just a few hours before the scheduled execution, the sheriff arrived from Kingston

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and with him came the respite. Maria's journeys, totalling more than seven hundred miles, had saved her husband's life!' 'What a marvellous story,' Warwick breathed as he flexed his tired fingers. He had been totally caught up in the drama, scribbling notes furiously as Lepailleur spoke. 'I'm not finished,' Lepailleur said, 'and neither was Maria.' 'Why? She had secured her husband's life.' 'Yes, but the price was the same as I had to pay. Transportation.' 'Oh.' Lepailleur continued at a slower pace, his voice softer. 'The commutation of Benjamin's sentence meant transportation to Van Diemen's Land.' He shuddered. 'As I'll tell you tomorrow, it was a truly brutal place. Worse, much, much worse, in my opinion, than New South Wales.' 'That's hard to believe.' 'As I said, it's my opinion. But back to my story. Maria was not going to allow Benjamin to stay in Van Diemen's Land, and now she had a formula in her mind. She'd had success by going to the top when she'd approached Lord Durham, so now she decided to go to London, right to Queen Victoria, if necessary. She began collecting petitions. Once more, people rallied around her cause, donating the passage money. And after a great deal of thought and some personal agony, she decided to make a mother's ultimate sacrifice and leave her child behind.' That news surprised Warwick. 'How could she?' Lepailleur understood. He'd felt the same sense of shock when he had first heard the story. 'It wasn't that she didn't love her baby,' he explained, 'but Maria had decided that if she couldn't get Benjamin's free pardon, she would join him in exile.' 'And send for the baby from Van Diemen's Land?' 'Presumably.' Lepailleur was getting tired and didn't want to get into irrelevancies any more than he had to, so he answered somewhat testily. 'Anyway, she reached London late in 1839, the same time that I was sailing towards Van Diemen's Land, in fact. Once again, she went to anyone and everyone she thought might help - Mrs Elizabeth fry, Lord Durham. Lord Russell promised to present her petition to the queen. Queen Victoria, only nineteen or so at the time, was apparently touched by it. But there was no fast answer. While she waited, Maria's money ran out and to survive she became a widow's companion. She finally got her answer: Her Majesty could do nothing to help. 'Once more Maria began saving for a journey - this time to Van Diemen's Land. In the meantime she busied herself with causes, such as freedom for slaves. She also knew she'd have to earn her living in Van Diemen's Land, so she studied teaching. Presumably she planned to start a school. Eventually, she'd saved enough to come back to Niagara to prepare for her trip to the Antipodes.'

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'Did she actually go?' 'No. As it turned out, Benjamin Wait was a kindred spirit. He escaped from Van Diemen's Land in 1842, made his way back to the United States and Maria's side/ Frank Warwick closed his book and put his pencil down. 'Ah,' he said, with a wide smile. 'Finally, Mr Lepailleur, you've given me a happy-ever-after ending/ 'Not quite, young man/ Lepailleur's eyes turned bleak. 'You see, like my own Domitile, Maria Wait died. In childbirth. Exactly nine months after her husband returned. And Benjamin, as far as I know, still lives somewhere in the United States/ Warwick absorbed this silently for a few minutes, thinking of the indomitable will Maria Wait had possessed and how ironic it was that love was the one thing in the world that had ultimately destroyed her. Had Benjamin Wait truly appreciated his wife? Warwick hoped so. Most loves were celebrated with flowery odes, not with almost impossible sacrifices such as those made by Maria Wait. 'Can you tell me more about the Upper Canadians, Mr Lepailleur? And did you ever meet Mr Wait, sir? He could not have been one of those transported by your ship, could he?' 'Tomorrow.' Lepailleur rose and led the way to the front door. 'Tomorrow, we'll talk about my trip to the southern continents and the little I know about events in Upper Canada. And after that, if I remember, I'll tell you of an Englishman whose refusal to take no for an answer has always reminded me of Maria Wait.'

BASILE ROY OF BEAUHARNOIS was a most unlikely candidate for history's pages. When asked to 'hunt' on the night of 3 November 1838, he unwillingly left his pregnant wife.1 Shortly afterward he had second thoughts and returned home, thus not participating in the attack on the Ellice manor house or the capture of its inhabitants. Patriotes seized him the next morning after mass, and he remained with them until the following Saturday. During that time he received a sword from Toussaint Rochon and did two spells of night sentry duty.2 Authorities considered Roy a minor offender after his capture on 15 November, discharging him shortly afterwards. But by early March 1839 they had changed their minds, admitting him to the new jail.3 Placed in the wing occupied by the Chateauguay-Beauharnois patriotes, Roy was tried between 25 March and 4 April, found guilty, and condemned to death. By early May it had been decided that some of the convicted men

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would be transported, and in very early June whispers of reprieve circulated widely, prompting various reactions. William Pennright, a farm labourer, petitioned that he be authorized to take 'the State Prisoners to Van Diemen's Land/ for example. He had been in Lower Canada for two years and made 'this offer ... to get away from this Country to what I hear[d] told of as a better [one]/ In exchange for this gesture of helpfulness, Pennright merely requested a private's pay. He did not explain how he would manage the dozens of prisoners being considered for transportation.4 As rumours competed for credence, the prisoners learned distrust. Too many times hopes raised by one tidbit of information were smashed to fragments the next day by another. As Lepailleur later exclaimed, 'We expected to die, but when?'5 In any case, hard evidence of the widespread destruction and pillage in their parishes now became common knowledge. In the Beauharnois ward alone, the houses and barns of ten of the prisoners had been burnt to the ground. These men must have wondered how they could possibly re-establish themselves if they were ever freed from their cells. Others, like Frangois Bigonnesse and JosephJacques Hebert of De Lery, optimistically continued to pay their seigneurial dues and rents.6 Besides this vacillation between hope, despair, and resignation, the agonizing knowledge that some wives and children were subsisting only through charity eroded the spirits of the condemned.7 A few, haunted by the agony of defeat, slipped into a fantasy world where the rebellion had succeeded in establishing their nation canadienne. Others imagined executed friends alive and well, and when some distraught men turned to alcohol, fellow prisoners asked the assistant jailer to forbid strong liquor in the cells.8 The hundreds of men were scattered throughout the various wings of the new jail, the old jail, the chapel, and the church. Some were even housed in the debtors' ward. Hippolite Lanctot had the good fortune to have been placed with twenty or so professional men. In contrast to the harsh conditions described by Ducharme and Lepailleur, his, he wrote, consisted of spacious and well-lit cells where there was much mirth and cheerfulness.9 Elsewhere, as the tensions rose in the summer months, so too did the humidity, becoming well-nigh unbearable. Not surprisingly, as more and more information became available, the prisoners learned of Dr Brien's betrayal. News of his conditional pardon circulated rapidly. Many prisoners, remembering their chasseur initiation vows, wondered how he could have broken them, particularly as he was a leader. Others, who had scrupulously avoided naming married men or friends and colleagues in their own depositions, were outraged. Many of them, angry and embittered, decided to take revenge, to make Brien pay, and only

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the respected Pierre-Hector Morin's intervention saved his life. But there were other ways to punish him, and as Brien waited for release, his former comrades ostracized him, totally cutting him out of their prison community.10 In the end, Brien was banished from British territory and would never return to Lower Canada. As persons convicted of high treason, the condemned patriotes forfeited their property (real and movable) to the crown. In addition, they suffered 'corruption of the blood/ which meant they could not inherit or hold property or bequeath it to a descendent. On 5 September 1839 sixty-five writs of execution were issued against their lands. Immediately, those wives and relatives who could took advantage of a provision in the attainder act specifying that persons having 'claims a fin de distraire, or a fin de charge, or for dower' had to make their claims 'fifteen days, at least, before the day fixed for the sale of such unmoveable property/11 Women such as Marguerite Cornelier, Joson Dumouchelle's redoubtable wife, immediately began protecting themselves, filing oppositions to the sale of the family farms.12 Like his fellow prisoners and the newspaper L'Aurore des Canadas, Basile Roy might have 'indulged in the hope that one day or another it would be ... [the government's] lot to announce measures of leniency/13 But Brown had informed Colborne that Roy had taken 'a leading part' in the rebellion and that although he had 'good property' and was 'a substantial and respectable yeoman/ he also had a 'dark and violent temper/14 No matter that a writ of execution had been issued against his land and that it was common knowledge that some would be transported, it still came as a shock when, at about three o'clock on 25 September 1839, he was called to the jailer's office and informed that he would leave Lower Canada the following day. Unlike some others Roy asked his destination. The answer almost destroyed him: New South Wales. Frangois-Xavier Prieur's betrayer had good news, however. Charles Rapin learned he would be released under the following conditions: demonstration of loyal character and a commitment to good behaviour for seven years. He could not leave the province without permission and had to provide sureties of £1,000 himself and a like sum from two to four other men. Through his treachery he had done well for himself. Before the Buffalo would reach Sydney, his goods and chattels, lands and tenements would be remitted.15 Unlike Rapin and Brien, the fifty-eight men chosen for transportation paid a high price for their lives - their possessions and their families' destitution. Even the American Benjamin Mott would be ruined financially. To maintain himself in jail, to pay his legal bills and prepare for transportation, he was forced to mortgage his 115-acre Vermont farm fronting onto Lake Champlain.16 With less than twenty-four hours'

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notice, the Canadiens tried to set what remained of their affairs in order. Messengers raced to the various parishes, and families, after trying to imagine what their men might need in the Antipodes, hastened to Montreal with whatever they had procured. On his last night in Lower Canada, Lepailleur wrote to his 'Friends and Protectors/ thanking them for their solace during his imprisonment, apologizing that time prevented him from addressing each of them individually, and asking his fellow Canadiens to care for his family: After having had all my property burned and destroyed, and the most extreme misery brought upon my children, the enemies of my country have separated me from them, perhaps for ever. They have exiled me! Adieu Canada! My friends - O tender and compassionate friends! who have sustained me for nearly a year, in this miserable and obscure prison -1 tender you a thousand thanks ... I leave a wife in tears - feeble, without resources! - poor woman! Children too young to remember their father - without education; Poor orphans! you will break my heart! Who will watch over you! Who will give you bread and education! ... my countrymen, protect the defenceless. Protect, and give unto them, and Heaven will reward you! Adieu!17

Lepailleur was fortunate in being able to say good-bye to his family in person. Leandre Ducharme was not so lucky. He had not seen his aged mother since imprisonment, as she was too frail to make the trip from Lachine to Montreal. On the eve of his departure to New South Wales, he spent more than seven hours writing to her. Angry that he could not see her, or even tell her himself where he was going, he poured out his heart, imagining himself in her arms, telling her that sometimes he felt Lower Canada was free but the 'illusion suddenly disappears, and nothing is before my eyes but the bare walls of my damp and dreary dungeon, and the wretched straw-bed, on which I try sometimes to bury my misfortune in slumber/ As he wrote, Ducharme heard the sentries' calls, which brought his mind back to the 'sad reality' of his country's fate. He comforted his mother, bade her courage, warned her of the turncoat Brien, and commended Guillaume Levesque and Captain Morin to her prayers.18 Early the following morning a host of the patriotes' families and friends invaded the jail, bringing provisions for exile: French-English dictionaries, books of varying descriptions, Bibles, prayer manuals, clothes, writing paper, ink powder, tobacco, pipes, and small supplies of money.19 Some of them had managed, in spite of the short notice, to procure references. Charles Grece, for example, a Montreal advocate, certified that the Dumouchelle brothers had been prosperous, law-abiding men before the rebellion, with relatives in the church and the legislature.

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(Revealing a woeful geographic ignorance, Grece identified himself to New South Wales authorities as someone an Indian army officer could vouch for.)20 In the bustle before departure, every item was welcomed, even such dubious letters of recommendation, and the patriotes carefully packed up their valuables in chests for the voyage. Some prisoners tried to discharge their responsibilities as heads of families by giving last-minute advice. Joson Dumouchelle, for one, forbade marriage to his sons unless they received his consent from New South Wales.21 Others offered whatever solace they could to their distraught wives until a sudden clatter of irons silenced all. At one o'clock, 26 September 1839, after sending the families away, a specially hired blacksmith chained the men in pairs.22 Handcuffed to his uncle Charles, Basile Roy marched into the courtyard for the final inspection. Even hard-hearted wardens and turnkeys broke down as they wished the Canadiens courage. Families and friends who had arrived at the jail too late for admittance now clamoured for a last glimpse or a final shout of reassurance, but tardy relatives took second place to the officials' tight schedule. Flanked by a large cavalry escort, the prisoners began their march to the wharf. As they moved through the crowded streets, the prisoners occasionally heard a shout of recognition. Children were hurriedly hoisted onto adult shoulders for a view of a father, uncle, or grandfather. Some relatives tried to reach the men for a last hug, but the soldiers repulsed any such attempts, stolidly ignoring the many 'tears [and] heart-rending farewells.' Perhaps fearing a last-minute rescue attempt and anxious to avoid any semblance of 'embarrassment and trouble' from the volatile crowd, they hustled their charges to the pier without delay.23 There were more people and precious few dry eyes at the wharf. Basile Roy caught sight of his wife and heard her wish him courage. Even the antagonistic Montreal Herald movingly reported that 'the parting scene between the convicts and their relatives ... distressing in the extreme,' had caused 'tears to flow from all eyes.'24 Ridden by anxiety lest emotions get out of hand, the authorities hurried the prisoners on board the aptly named steamer British America. The ship then pulled away from the dock and quickly reached top speed once the men were below deck. Their chains were then removed. There was a brief hiatus at the mouth of the Richelieu River while another steamer transferred eighty-six convicts from Upper Canada to the British America. Of these, three were criminals with no political associations, five came from the colony itself, and the remaining seventy-eight were Americans. Once they were on board, the British America sped towards Quebec. Upper Canada had had a rebellion as well.25 In December 1837 a motley, half-armed crew under politician-editor William Lyon

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Mackenzie, a newly converted republican, was easily suppressed in the Toronto area. A week later, a similar rising in the western part of the province met a similar fate. The 1837 Upper Canadian revolt, like that in Lower Canada, was inspired by Jacksonian/Jeffersonian democracy and directed against privilege - ecclesiastical, political, and social. Targets were the 'minority7 Anglican Church and its privileged position in education and landholdings, the irresponsible executive/legislative councils, and the 'Family Compact' with its near monopoly of official positions and choice of crown lands. But there were major differences between the rebellions. Upper Canada's troubles were uncomplicated by seigneurial land tenure, the brooding presence of a 'majority' Roman Catholic Church, or ethnic tensions based on religion, laws, customs, and language. Support for rebellion in 1837-38 was far greater in the Montreal area than in the Toronto region, and there was no Upper Canadian revolt in 1838. Instead, Upper Canada experienced a series of American-Canadian patriot raids emanating from the United States.26 On board the British America, such comparisons were the last things on the patriotes' minds. Although most had had little to eat since the previous day, they refused the bread and ham distributed by the steamer's crew. If Prieur was typical, the day's experiences ranged from the delights of breathing fresh air and seeing the sky to the emotional ravages of leaving everyone one held dear.27 To this must be added the fear of the unknown. If any of them had seen the ocean, it would have been Captain Morin. Some may have heard sailors' tall tales but no one would have met anybody who had lived through a six-month journey in the bowels of a ship. As the prisoners dealt with their emotions, the steamer reached Quebec. Authorities again chained them for transfer to the waiting naval three-decker vessel, the HMS Buffalo. Captained by John V. Wood, it was well armed with about fifteen guns of various sizes and manned by a crew of 150 - more than enough to handle its volatile cargo of 144 political prisoners. There was one man on the wharf who knew from personal experience the hell they would face. He had escaped from New South Wales as a stowaway, lived for a while with a cannibal tribe, then after sailing in whatever ship he could, reached Quebec in the summer of 1839. He was at the point of signing on with the Buffalo's crew when he asked the ship's destination. Of course, he immediately changed his mind about sailing with her, as he would never voluntarily have returned to 'that dreadful land where chains and darkness' would be his 'lot.'28 Chains and darkness, though, quickly became the Canadiens' lot. No sooner had they stepped on board than 'they were all stripped naked, scrubbed and mopped, their heads shaved as smooth as an

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apple, their clothes bundled up and tossed overboard into the St. Lawrence, and replaced with canvas or due [sic] shirts and trowsers, coarse grey roundabouts, and oil skin caps to cover their baldness/29 The trousers were the convict 'pantaloons/ specially 'made to Button up on the out side [sic] of each leg for the purposes of putting on irons/30 There was time for one last look at the glorious autumn hills of their homeland before the shocked and humiliated patriotes stumbled through a small hatchway leading to the decks below. They had all expected some sort of confinement, but the first glimpse of their dark quarters on the starboard side of the third deck below the waterline horrified them nonetheless. Despairingly they hauled trunks down the narrow stairs and set them up as a barrier between themselves and the Upper Canadian prisoners, who occupied the other half of the deck. To conform with the ship's system, they sorted themselves into messes of twelve men who would eat together and sleep in the same compartment for the voyage. Each mess selected a captain who would ensure the cleanliness of the sleeping areas and distribute food. The unpacking and organizing finished, many rested. Some may even have sung the lament 'Farewell to Canada/ popular among the patriote exiles: Land where in youth I sported in gladness Land which I loved e'er my bright days are gone ... O, could I cast in oblivion's dark waters, The thorts [sic] that in bondage she still must remain. Yet still while in sadness I wander forlorn, I must rouse brighter hopes oh my country! for thee For thy wrongs unrevenged will forbid me to mourn Yes! from Tyranny Canada yet shall be free!31

At five the next morning a steamer, the St George, towed the Buffalo forty miles downstream until favourable winds caught its sails. Below deck the Canadiens heard sounds of disciplined activity and felt the ship begin to move. Most remembered their loved ones and wept.32 In England the practice of expelling undesirable citizens dated back to 1215, when the Magna Carta made subjects liable to banishment upon a legal declaration of guilt. Several Elizabethan statutes, such as 'An Act against Seditious Sectaries/33 refined the process 'to the end that the realm be not pestered and overcharged with the multitude of such seditious and dangerous people/ and in an age when galleys needed oarsmen, such people generally became proficient rowers. Both John Knox

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and St Vincent de Paul served England in this manner. A shortage of servants in the American colonies prompted the enacting of several laws to enable felons to serve out their sentences across the Atlantic.34 At least fifty thousand criminals were thus transported before the American Revolution (representing one-quarter of the immigrants from the British Isles in the eighteenth century), and it seemed to the British that this suited themselves and their colonists well. Virginia's 1670 statute prohibiting the state from receiving British 'Jayle Birds' was overrriden by the Transportation Act of 1718, for example. Pennsylvania, which had passed its first act against receiving British convicts in 1683, managed to circumvent the 1718 act by not sending its 1722, 1729, 1730, and 1738 statutes to London for approval - or more assuredly, disallowance. Even after London vetoed Pennsylvania's 1742 and 1748 acts, supplementary legislation was again passed and again not forwarded to Britain. When Benjamin Franklin became a member of the Pennsylvania Assembly, he championed the cause, asking, In what can Britain show a more Sovereign Contempt for us, than by emptying their Jails into our Settlements; unless they would likewise empty their Jakes [chamberpots] on our tables?'35 The outcry soon rivalled that against the Intolerable acts (such as the Quartering and Quebec acts) of 1774, designed to stifle American colonial unrest in the years leading up to the revolution. In 1767 a Maryland writer denounced the transportation practice as 'the greatest colonial grievance/ stating that Americans must find a way 'to purge ourselves of the false and bitter reproach, so commonly thrown at us, that we are the descendants of convicts?'36 But Britain was as indifferent to this particular grievance as it was to the many others emanating from the American colonies at the time. During the eighteenth century, transportation had became firmly established as a method to populate the colonies and deter crime in the homeland. That it was also the 'most humane and effectual Punishment' was a superb bonus. More than two-thirds of the criminals convicted at the Old Bailey were transported to America, and only a cataclysmic event would stop the practice.37 The American Revolution was the cataclysm. While it was being fought, British prisons became horrendously overcrowded. Ships' hulks rotting at anchor in the Thames and other rivers throughout the kingdom became floating jails, but they could accommodate only a limited number of prisoners. In 1783, in desperation, Britain sent prison ships to Virginia and Maryland, but the newly formed independent states, naturally enough, refused to accept their human cargo. The colony of Honduras, Britain's second choice, did the same.38 Other possibilities considered by the British authorities included

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Gambia, in 'unhealthy' tropical Africa. Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, the northwest frontier of modern Quebec, and the present-day site of Ottawa were all thought too cold. While politicians and civil servants pondered and weighed options, Londoners took matters into their own hands, petitioning for the removal of the hulks. Sir Joseph Banks, the botanist on the HMS Endeavour, the ship that had first charted eastern Australia in 1770, stepped into the debate. In testimony before the Committee on Transportation in 1779, he recommended 'Botany Bay, on the coast of New Holland [today's eastern Australia] and, in the Indian Ocean, which was about Seven Months Voyage from England/ as meeting the committee's criteria.39 Such a colony would be in a distant part of the globe, 'from whence ... [prisoners'] escape might be difficult, and where, from the Fertility of the Soil, they might be enabled to maintain themselves.' He justified his decision in classic mercantilistic terms, telling the committee that benefits to the 'Mother Country' must certainly result, for if 'the people formed among themselves a Civil Government they would necessarily increase and find Occasion for many European commodities.'40 It was not an easy decision.41 Naval concerns and European politics complicated the question. But in 1786 Sir Evan Nepean, the undersecretary of state responsible for convicts, announced that a colony would be established at Botany Bay. He thus relieved the mother country of unwanted criminals, satisfied the demands of the Londoners, and embarked on a project that would prove financially beneficial in the long run. A seriously undermanned Home Office staff of thirteen42 began making arrangements for establishing and maintaining the colony, and in 1787 a flotilla of ships left London. This 'First Fleet' arrived in Botany Bay in January 1788, found the environs unsuitable for a large settlement, and sailed a few miles north to Sydney Cove. For many years from that time, 'Botany Bay' (parlance for New South Wales) became a feared destination. Wild tales about its criminality, strange animals, and lawlessness filtered as far as North America. It was not surprising, then, that the Buffalo's sailing provoked an outbreak of fury in Lower Canada and the neighbouring American states. The executions of Cardinal, DeLorimier, and the other men had been a deep but clean wound in the Canadien psyche, which time was healing. But no amount of scar tissue could, or would be allowed to, bind the incision made by the exiling of respected family men to a distant land peopled by felons. Like Basile Roy, almost everybody in Lower Canada had thought the executions, property confiscations, and losses sufficient punishment. That the government would send Canadien political prisoners thousands of miles from home seemed to border on torture. The Quebec Mercury reported that the prisoners had kept their composure until the

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'CONVICT DRESS was put on them and THEIR HEADS SHAVED/ after which 'they felt the degraded state to which they had brought themselves/43 The North American referred to the Buffalo as a 'slave ship' leaving for 'British Siberia'44 and claimed that the tears of the wives in Montreal had made even hardened Hussars weep over 'the fate of persecuted innocence/45 In the North American's eyes, the patriotes were 'men of whom traits of heroic bravery and moral honesty are reported' and among the men sailing to New South Wales were those 'belonging to noted families' who had held 'a respectable rank in society/46 This viewpoint differed significantly from that held by the Lower Canadian government authorities. The question must be asked: Were these men on the 'slave ship' Colborne's 'dupes of designing men/ Brown's 'bad profligate characters/ or the North American's respectable heroes? Of the fifty-eight, two had been born in the United States, Benjamin Mott and Dr Samuel Newcomb (the latter was seriously ill with an asthmatic condition).47 Twelve Canadiens were unmarried, two were widowers, and in age they ranged from the twenty-year-old Bourbonnais to the venerable Newcomb, who was sixty-five.48 According to the North American's hyperbole, the 'she King/ Queen Victoria, had deprived '47 women and 184 children' of the support of their husbands and fathers; such, the paper moralized, were 'the tender feelings of a young English girl of nineteen/49 In fact, 42 wives were affected but a staggering total of 202 children were left fatherless in a society that regarded such as orphans. Lepailleur had only reflected Canadien values when he had mourned his 'Poor Orphans' in the letter written on the eve of his embarkation.50 And as witnessed by Joseph Dumouchelle's concern about his sons' marrying, many patriotes left their families at a time when important choices for the future would have been made. As the Canadian government acknowledged in 1970, Colborne made 'erratic ... arbitrary at best' decisions when choosing those to be transported, applying no criteria consistently.51 By far the largest group on the Buffalo came from Beauharnois, not Napierville, where thousands had massed, or the Laprairie area, scene of Walker's death. Given that all the condemned men received the same sentence, logically, the implementation of their sentences should have been uniform. Young Guillaume Levesque had been Hindenlang's aide-de-camp, but Colborne had exempted him from execution, pointing to his family's social respectability and record of loyalty. Levesque secured release from jail with a $10,000 bond and on the condition that he live more than six hundred miles from Lower Canada.52 Desire Bourbonnais had couriered messages between Chateauguay and Beauharnois, escorted prisoners from the Brougham to Provost's inn, and gone to Camp Baker; there was

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no history of treason in his family and yet Desire was sent thousands of miles from his home. His complicity in rebellion was far less than that of either Levesque or advocate John Belestre M'Donnell, whose Montreal offices had been the Lower Canadian headquarters of the Freres Chasseurs. Yet M'Donnell sat in jail the day Bourbonnais sailed and Levesque was a free man, albeit in the United States.53 It seemed that Colborne heeded the Montreal Herald's advice to put interlopers on previously prosperous farms. In Beauharnois most censitaires farmed concessions of less than 100 arpents. The holdings of the transported men from that seigneury averaged 127 arpents. A similar pattern held in De Lery. The acting governor clearly believed that the sight of desperate women and fatherless children - homeless, without financial resources, forced to rely on charity in parishes where they had previously lived in substance - would have 'a good effect' on anyone foolish enough to contemplate another rebellion. Close personal ties united many of the men on the Buffalo. PierreHector Morin and Charles Huot had been friends for more than thirty years. Twenty-two men were related, either fathers and sons (the Morins), brothers like the Dumouchelles, uncles and nephews (Charles Roy and Basile Roy), or cousins (Jacques-David and Joseph-Jacques Hebert). Toussaint Rochon, along with his two brothers (Edouard-Pascal of Terrebonne and Jeremie of St-Vincent de Paul), also sailed with a brother-in-law, Joseph Roy.54 Several were neighbours, and a few (like David Gagnon) had worked for some of the others (Prieur).55 In all, more than half had had close relationships with others on the ship before the rebellion. But the men, sunk deep in sorrow as their homeland slipped further away, were far more than statistics. Even though most were unable to read or write, their intelligence and individuality had shown during the court martial. Pare, displaying the ingenuity that would serve him well in New South Wales, had submitted the plea of periodic lunacy. Other accused had vainly tried to help their friends. Captain Morin testified in Charles Huot's favour and David Gagnon attempted to support Prieur's plea of coercion. One of the most dramatic incidents in the court martial occurred during the unpublished thirteenth trial when 'one of the better class of farmers/ Charles Langevin of Ste-Martine, interrupted a crown witness who was accusing a fellow defendant of 'a grave offence/ Langevin shattered the testimony by shouting, ' "It is myself who did that. I am unwilling that another person should suffer for my own deeds/'/56 After his incriminating words had ensured his transportation, perhaps like Ducharme he consoled himself with the thought that he had done his duty for his beloved nation canadienne. At the beginning of the voyage one patriote was pleased to be leaving

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Lower Canada. Achilla Morin could not imagine a worse place than the Montreal prison.57 But as the Buffalo ploughed its way through the Atlantic and the 'waves dashed against the sides of the vessel with a stunning sound/58 he began to change his mind. The prisoners' quarters below the waterline were far worse than he had endured in Montreal's jail. As can be seen from Prieur's diagram of the quarters, sentries and a barred hatchway segregated the Upper and Lower Canadian convicts (symbols B and C), preventing any communication between the two groups. Symbol GG represents the eighteen areas where the men slept, eight to a compartment, on either side of the ship. Within each were two rows of berths, one above the other. A three-foot space between the foot of the berths and the chests acted as a common room, and a bench running the length of the quarters provided the only seating area (symbol FF). In this cramped space, headroom was less than five feet. No prisoner could stand upright, and the upper decks could be reached by only one stairway. Not surprisingly, Achille Morin was longing for his Montreal cell after only a few days at sea.59 In 1827 Surgeon-Superintendent of Convict Transports Peter Cunningham, reporting on standard accommodations on such voyages, had written that each berth or compartment of six square feet, 'calculated to hold four convicts/ allowed the 'ample space' of 'eighteen inches ... to sleep in/60 Prieur, like Morin, would have violently disagreed: 'It [the sleeping area] was as difficult to crawl [into] as it was to discover a position that could be endured.'61 To compound their discomfort, lice infested the lumpy mattresses. Although Cunningham claimed convict rations were 'good and abundant' and certainly 'more than is requisite to keep ... [the convicts] in health, as they have no work to do/ the Canadiens grumbled about the quality, quantity, and taste of their food.62 They breakfasted on oatmeal porridge; for lunch they had a half-pint of pea soup, a quarter pound of pork, and a few biscuits or, on alternate days, four ounces of salted beef, suet pudding, and biscuits; and at night they were given tea or coffee. Getting the food was an elaborate procedure. Once the cook called 'Dinner O!/ sentries passed the call to the hold, and the men would gather in the stairwell to receive their food, the mess captains dividing it equally as best they could. Each man received just one pint of water daily to relieve the thirst these salty rations created, even when the Buffalo sailed through equatorial latitudes. To combat scurvy they were 'aloud [sic] three Gallons of wine and two quarts of Lime juice mixed with water - Enough to give 140 men a half pint.'63 The relatives and friends who had provisioned the patriotes at the last minute had not imagined they would need simple eating utensils. Consequently, men who prided themselves on their dignity and

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship' 177

Figure 8.1 Prieur's Plan of the Buffalo

178 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

respectability now waited their turn for the use of a rare knife or spoon or 'were compelled to tear with their teeth their meat which they held/64 When craftsmen tried to carve wooden implements, officials would prohibit them from doing so. While officially this was a safety precaution, the Canadiens believed malice prompted the restriction. Certainly the crew felt animosity, perhaps racial, towards them, seeming 'extremely biased ... and exhibiting] a great deal of fear/65 The Americans apparently received different treatment, for Aaron Dresser reported that his mess made wooden spoons shortly after boarding the ship.66 Although the patriotes complained of the food and conditions, they were fortunate their trip was made towards the end of the transportation period. Convicts who sailed in the early voyages from the British Isles to New South Wales would have cheerfully traded places. Those criminals sailing in the First Fleet with Captain (later Admiral) Arthur Phillip in 1787-88 owed their survival to him rather than to government planning.67 Phillip, a conscientious organizer, made sure his ships were equipped with sufficient scurvy preventatives and that the air below deck was kept as fresh as possible. However, standards slipped when the convict-passage business was contracted out to former slave traders such as John Newton (writer, somewhat ironically, of the hymn 'Amazing Grace'). Maybe no voyage to the Australian colonies was more hellish than that of the Second Fleet in 1790. Approximately 40 percent of the 1,006 convicts died, either at sea or shortly after landing in Sydney Cove.68 Other hell-ships were the Hercules (1802) with a 37 percent death rate, and the Atlas II (1802) on which 63 of its 151 male convicts died. The two latter ships both carried Irish prisoners.69 After 1820, though, conditions had improved so much that they compared more than favourably with emigrant ships sailing to North America. According to various authorities, the mortality rate on the later convict voyages was a little less than 1 in 50. The British navy, at the time, boasted a ratio of 1 in 30, while emigrant ships (with their much shorter voyages) had an appalling rate of 1 in 107° To some extent, therefore, the Canadiens' complaints at the beginning of the Buffalo's voyage reflected that they were relatively pampered men who had known little deprivation.71 At the beginning of the voyage, the prisoners (including the ordinary criminals) were divided into groups of thirty-six and were allowed the luxury of two hours of fresh air each day on a section of the main deck. These sessions were a welcome relief from their cramped, dark quarters below. The men would cluster at the railings of the ship, counting whales and catching their first sight of flying fish. Six days out of Quebec, a violent storm whipped the Atlantic into

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship7 179

prodigious waves, and the Buffalo pitched and tossed. Few had had time to get their sea legs, and most of the men in the Buffalo's hold succumbed to sea sickness, battling their illness and the erratic motions of the ship for a week. They stumbled around, slipping in the spilt waste from the tubs that served as lavatories, and sliding into friends. The tubs careened around the confined spaces, the prisoners doing their utmost to escape them. At first some laughed at the antics of their friends as they fought to avoid bumping into man or tub, but as the storm continued to rage, and exhaustion and sickness conquered them, their laughter turned to swearing.72 Only thirteen Canadiens escaped unscathed. With true heroism they scrubbed down the quarters, which 'had become wet, slippery and stinking through the vomitings/ and tended their comrades, 'washing them, putting them into their beds in the evening and taking them out of them in the morning at the hour fixed by regulation/73 Once the storm abated, another sort of trouble struck. On a day when things were almost back to normal, though the sick were still recovering, the Canadiens heard sudden movements above deck and the sound of firearms being checked. Armed soldiers suddenly flooded their quarters, demanding keys to their chests and boxes before locking all the men into a space about twenty-five-feet square. Neither the Canadiens nor the men from Upper Canada knew the reason for this treatment. Astonished, they listened to the sounds of tearing, wrenching, and shouting as their belongings were ripped open to be tumbled into heaps on the floor and their sleeping berths minutely examined. For more than two hours they brooded about the madness of the British before being ordered to the main deck. An officer named Niblett read out new rules 'in the coarsest way/ Exercise was now limited to one hour and only one mess at a time would be permitted on the deck. Bedtime became eight o'clock, with absolute quiet mandatory from then until morning. If a man needed to relieve himself in one of the tubs, he had to identify himself to armed sentries before moving along the passageway - otherwise they would shoot him. Without hearing any explanation for the incident or the new restrictions, the befuddled prisoners returned to their quarters to find their possessions strewn about and their razors, scissors, pocketknives, and money confiscated. At eight o'clock that night officers began the nightly inspections, a practice that would last, along with the new rules, until the ship reached Sydney. As it turned out, the Americans were responsible for the incident. During an exercise period, as they had watched the coastline of the northern states, they had speculated about taking over the ship. Their plan was simple and might have succeeded. They had noticed that a small room on the aft deck contained loaded muskets and bayonets, and

180 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

they thought that the thirty-six men who exercised on deck while the officers and soldiers ate dinner could overcome their guard of sometimes no more than three sentries, seize the weapons, and lock the soldiers below the ship's hatches. They could then sail the Buffalo into New York. At that point they might not even need the sailors' cooperation, for they'd noticed that the Canadien prisoner Captain Morin regularly took 'the sun's position and the reckoning of the ship.' In fact, William Gates, a staunch republican from Lyme, New York, believed the British naval officers even asked Morin his opinions.74 As the Buffalo sailed ever closer to New York, the conspirators' spirits and confidence grew. On the day they had decided to try their plan, they gulped down their dinner with almost uncontrolled eagerness and prepared to go above deck, only to find their way barred. An Upper Canadian, John Tyrell, hoping to get into the officers' good graces, had reported the plot. Captain Wood told the Americans he would forego the usual custom of putting them in irons, but from that moment the British feared the rebels, particularly the French-speaking ones, and hence made the trip almost intolerable for them.75 In spite of everything, the patriotes attempted to maintain religious and familial ties with their homeland. Even on the first day, as they were towed down the St Lawrence, they held a communal morning prayer and several men wrote or dictated letters to their families. Each time the Buffalo met another ship on the route, they petitioned the captain to send these letters back to Lower Canada. Claiming the crew was too busy to censor them, Wood usually declined.76 Each Sunday Lepailleur continued a practice begun in the Montreal jail, reading mass. Ten prisoners, including Dr Newcomb, were very sick. Their comrades 'cared for them as best ... [they] could, but these attentions were only those of sympathy,' as they lacked medication.77 The eighty-six men transported from Upper Canada were worse off. These prisoners had languished in Fort Henry for months. Confined to their rooms without exercise, bodies and bedding infested with lice, they became 'dispirited, emaciated, weak in body and sick at heart.' When in September 1839 the order came that they prepare themselves for trip, they hoped the change would be beneficial. If William Gates recalled events accurately, they did not know their destination when they were loaded onto the Buffalo, and as the ship sailed southwards the seventy-eight Americans among their group were certain of one thing only: being carried farther and farther from our homes - our wives - our families and all that we held dear and sacred in life. The cherished scenes of ... boyhood's sweet hours came thronging upon our memories, and bitter thoughts were roused in our agonized minds against the oppressors who were ... carrying

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship7 181

us forth to spend our lives in misery, woe and degradation ... perhaps to be bowed to the earth with bondage in some foreign work-house, or penal colony ... Well might Justice veil her face in shame for the outrages which British tyranny was enacting in her sacred name.78

The Americans had become involved in Upper Canada's troubles for many reasons. A number of them had an unrelenting abhorrence of things British, a legacy from their revolution. Others, like Gates, fervently hoped to propagate republicanism. Less altruistic reasons concerned access to Upper Canada's land and employment and investment opportunities, not to mention the spoils of pillaging and looting. Because they viewed Canadiens and Upper Canadians as the downtrodden serfs of aristocratic elites, a very natural sympathy for the underdog kicked in. Furthermore, the savage repression of the outbreak of revolt in 1837 in both colonies no doubt galvanized some Americans into enlisting. Gates was just one of those who 'felt the spirit stirring my youthful blood in sympathy for the down-trodden of England's rule.' In addition, many Americans saw themselves as following in the footsteps of such distinguished foreign activists in the Thirteen Colonies' fight for independence as 'Steuben, De Kalb, Kosciusko [sic], and La Fayette/ Gates would count himself among these latter; to him, the 'only difference' between these heroes and himself was that 'they were successful, we and the Canadians were not.'79 Gates, a raider, an invader of Upper Canada, had joined the Hunters' Lodges.80 Roughly equivalent to the Freres Chasseurs, though lacking their tight parish-by-parish organization, the Hunters' Lodges had widespread support in the United States, with estimates of membership there ranging between 40,000 and 200,000.81 Its members kept the flag of insurrection waving faintly in Upper Canada in 1838. For example, once his Toronto rebellion was suppressed, William Lyon Mackenzie headed for the United States and its Hunters on 11 December. After recruiting volunteers and amassing weapons and supplies, he established a base on Navy Island in the Niagara River and proclaimed a provisional government, offering land to those who joined him. Shortly thereafter an American steamer, the Caroline, was identified as Mackenzie's main source of men and supplies. Consequently, Upper Canadian authorities arranged for its destruction. Loyalists boarded the Caroline and in the ensuing skirmish an American was killed and the ship set on fire. Adrift, it broke into pieces in the rapids above Niagara Falls. The United States' patriots responded with a series of border incursions beginning in January 1838. One of the most notorious became known as the Short Hills raid.82 In June 1838 fewer than thirty men

182 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

crossed the Niagara River thinking they would join hundreds of Upper Canadians in revolt. This estimate, provided by forty-six-year-old wagon-maker Samuel Chandler, who had accompanied Mackenzie on his escape, proved grossly inaccurate. Only about fifteen Upper Canadians joined them. For some days Americans and Upper Canadian exiles remained in the province, scavenging food and arguing over whether or not they should return to the United States to wait for a better chance in the invasion planned by other patriots for 4 July. Authorities knew of the incursion. In fact, Sir George Arthur, exgovernor of Van Diemen's Land and now lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada, claimed in a letter to London that one thousand raiders had entered his province.83 A small group of British regular troops - the Lancers - searched unsuccessfully, but the 'atrocious banditti' remained at large for nine days without incident until a number of them robbed a venerable loyalist of $1,000 and captured seven loyal Lancers. Other Lancers then undertook an intensified search, with Samuel Chandler an early prize. With that, the remaining men dispersed in attempts to retreat to the United States. The hunt for them began in earnest. One of those subsequently captured was a young London patriot who had left his home, wife, and child upon hearing of the uprising in December 1837 - confirmed republican Benjamin Wait. Described by the Toronto Patriot as 'a Yankee Dandy, quite young/ he carried rebel muster-rolls, letters, maps of the Niagara district, as well as a rebel flag of blue-and-white silk with two stars and the word 'liberty' on it.84 When they had finished, the Lancers had taken thirty-nine men and two women captive, among them Linus Miller, another who would be transported with Wait and Chandler to Van Diemen's Land.85 Although this raid ended in utter failure, the rebellion in Upper Canada and invasions across the international border would continue for several more months, extending from Prescott in the east, where William Gates was taken prisoner, to Windsor in the southwest. Upper Canadian law officers and government officials had determined quite early that the American raids would have legal repercussions. On 12 January 1838 royal assent was given to two annually renewable acts for 'the Preservation of the Peace, and for the Trial of Persons charged with Insurrection and Revolt against the Government of the Province.' One act authorized the apprehension and detention of those 'suspected of High Treason, Misprision [Concealment] of Treason and Treasonable Practices'; the other provided 'for the more effectual and impartial Trial of Persons charged with Treason and Treasonable Practices committed in this Province.'86 A third act - 'to protect the Inhabitants of this Province against Lawless Aggressions from Subjects of Foreign Countries at peace with Her Majesty' - received assent the

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship' 183

same day. It represented an honest effort to deal with a very complex international legal issue.87 Unlike their counterparts in Lower Canada, Upper Canadian law officers respected the inherent problem in trying American raiders for treason, even in times of peace between Britain and the United States.88 By contrast, in April 1839 Benjamin Mott of Vermont would face his trial by court martial with Lower Canadian authorities unworried about the niceties of allegiance, which lay at the root of treason.89 In feudal times, treason came into play when a lord demanded allegiance in return for protection. Where there was no protection, no allegiance was required. And if there was no allegiance, there could be no treason. In most cases it was really that simple. As 'brigands' invading Upper Canada, American citizens received no protection. Chief Justice John Beverley Robinson acknowledged this in March 1838: invaders from 'a country in amity ... making war upon us without a commission from their government cannot be treated as traitors, because having received no protection, they owe no allegiance/ Instead, they were considered outlaws. Debate over Robinson's contention was violent both within and outside of the colony. Some inhabitants, such as the notorious magistrate Colonel John Prince, took the law into their own hands.90 And London disagreed. Nevertheless, the legal authorities persisted in their reading of the law and used the statute as the basis for trying American citizens in the succeeding months, beginning with the botched prosecution before a court martial of Thomas Jefferson Sutherland in March 1838.91 The Short Hills raiders would, however, be tried in July and August 1838 by a regular court at the Niagara assizes. Five Americans (including Linus Miller) faced the charge of lawless aggression and twenty-four Upper Canadians were accused of high treason. Of the latter, ten pleaded guilty to treason and nine were acquitted by the jury. All five Americans were convicted, and of these three were recommended to mercy, in one case 'on no particular grounds,'92 which of course exasperated the judge. Benjamin Wait heard his sentence on 11 August: 'You, Benjamin Wait, ... be taken from the court to the place from whence you last came, and there remain until the 25th of August, when, between the hours of 11 and 1, you shall be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, and there hanged by the neck, until you are dead, and your body shall be quartered. The Lord have mercy on your soul!'93 Samuel Chandler, also condemned to death, and Wait received reprieves through the intercession of Benjamin's wife, Maria, with Lord Durham. Their sentences commuted, they were sent to Britain. After spending time in the prison hulks, they were subsequently transported with Linus Miller from England to Van Diemen's Land. William Gates invaded the Prescott-Kingston area from Ogdens-

184 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

burg, New York, taking part in the Battle of the Windmill, 11 November 1838. The raiders were initially successful, occupying a large stone mill near the St Lawrence River for the better part of a week, but they suffered heavy casualties and needed medical and surgical supplies from Ogdensburgh. Gates and three others volunteered to cross the river in a ramshackle yawl. Captured in American waters by the steamer Coburg, Gates heard taunts that he and his fellow raiders would ' "be hung to the yard arm'" or become '"targets for her most gracious majesty's loyal militia."'94 They were imprisoned at Fort Henry, and their 'watches, money, knives, hats, boots, and even such articles of clothing as were of any particular value, were appropriated by those insatiate FREE-BOOT-ERS, the militia.' After resisting persuasive efforts to turn Queen's evidence, Gates was tried by court martial. In groups of twelve to fifteen, the Prescott "brigands/ who had also been captured, faced proceedings lasting less than an hour: 'All that seemed necessary was to bring the culprit into the presence of the court ... to hear his indictment, and to give him the opportunity of repeating, "Guilty," or "Not Guilty," either of which repetitions was sufficient to warrant a condemnation/95 Found guilty, Gates was sentenced to death. Several of the 'brigand' officers were executed,96 but Gates's sentence was commuted to transportation. As men who had languished in Upper Canadian jails for months, Gates and his compatriots lacked the provisioning given the patriotes by their families. From the Canadiens' viewpoint, the Americans' lack of a deep spiritual faith compounded their ills even further. They had no god, no hope of a future paradise, and when one of them - Asa Priest of Massachusetts - died in October 1839, everyone - Canadien and American alike - mourned. After the abortive mutiny, conditions on the Buffalo worsened.97 The prisoners' food arrived in filthy containers, and the shorter exercise period became a mixed blessing. On the one hand, the men saw just how their food buckets were 'cleaned'; on the other, the sea air whetted their appetites. The hour above deck was exhilarating but the fresh air made the asphyxiating stench of their quarters all the more unendurable upon their return. After a time, the lice that infested their bedding also plagued their bodies. Since their razors had been confiscated, they were forced to shave twice weekly in salt water, using the ship's implements, which were half eaten away with rust. Mirrors were denied them, and the more hirsute frequently returned to their sleeping areas covered with blood. The days when they scrubbed their clothes and whitewashed their quarters were welcome breaks in the tedium. As the Buffalo neared the tropics, conditions worsened. In their quarters, where there was no direct light, the only air came through two scut-

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship' 185

ties fitted with a primitive canvas fan. Even the exercise period up on deck became intolerable, as there was no shade. Rain from the tropical storms collected in the long boats that housed the ship's pigs and cattle. Some enterprising sailors scooped this out, selling it to prisoners whose money had been too well hidden to be found in the 'mutiny' search or to others who traded shirts or pants for water so 'impregnated with dung that it was brown in colour.' But in their great thirst, remembered Ducharme, 'the water appeared ... like honey.'98 Sweat saturated their lumpy mattresses and their clothes. Locked in airless, stiflingly hot compartments for ten hours each night, their health deteriorated. Teeth loosened. The doctor pulled as many as ten or twelve from some men. Gates counted himself lucky to have only lost three." Ducharme reported that fresh boiled rice was given to those who appeared close to death,100 such as Lanctot and Newcomb, but Prieur railed against uncaring officers and a captain who did not ever venture below deck to inspect his prisoners. However, as he noted, 'good-hearted people' exist everywhere and the Buffalo was no exception. Two sailors brought water laced with their daily ration of rum to the ill but they were caught and flogged. Ignoring this punitive example, another smuggled 'delicious' water in his boot, thus making life more endurable - at least for a few hours.101 Incidents such as these were not forgotten. Years later Lepailleur, for one, shuddering at the memory of the hot hellhole, spoke of the amazing courage of those ordinary sailors.102 Once the ship reached Rio de Janeiro on 28 November 1839, the Canadiens successfully petitioned the captain for permission to buy fresh fruit and sugar from funds confiscated in the mutiny search. Although Rio was hot, it was a welcome change. They ate fresh food and were allowed more time above deck. Taking advantage of the calm water of the port, they thoroughly scoured their quarters, erasing much of the dank, sick smell. The break was brief and after five days they sailed for the Cape of Good Hope. The prisoners' suffering continued. Lice multiplied. Scurvy appeared, bringing the modest benefit of a gill of lime juice per person and more water in their rations. They encountered storms of terrifying proportions, but many men, instead of being terrified, seemed indifferent to their fate. Some wished for death. But as the weather gradually cooled, the patriotes began to speculate about their destination. Although the sailors told stories about Sydney, some prisoners refused to believe it would be their destination. No matter what was said, what official documents were produced, they clung to the comforting thought that their journey would end at the Cape of Good Hope. On 21 December, the anniversary of Cardinal's and Duquette's executions, the Canadiens resolved to have a grand mass said once their

186 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

confiscated money was returned,103 not only to honour all who were hanged but to celebrate their survival of the Buffalo's hell. When a strong wind prevented the ship's calling at the Cape of Good Hope, the members of Ducharme's mess, which included the Morins, Lanctot, Newcomb, and Huot, were glad, as it meant they would arrive that much more quickly in Sydney. Others did not share their confidence. Men in Basile Roy's mess wept, so great was their desire to disembark. New Year's Day came and went. In Lower Canada this was a day of family reunion; on the Buffalo men mourned their absence from family, Canada, and everything they held dear.104 In contrast to British convicts in the later period of transportation, the Buffalo's prisoners had few recreations. Some read when light was sufficient, and presumably the illiterate listened. Exercising when possible, cleaning their clothes and quarters, writing letters, and keeping journals helped pass the time. On other convict ships prisoners tore their Bibles and prayer books apart to make playing cards and then gambled constantly, or they might entertain themselves by dancing and singing into the early-morning hours. Under the Buffalo's restrictions such frivolity was impossible and the Canadiens' morale gradually disintegrated. In the sullen silence of night, under continuous watch by armed sentries, some men would brood over the day's petty happenings and then play foolish or vengeful tricks on the others. The frequency of heated arguments in Joseph Fare's mess increased, prompting him to request transfer to another. A saddened Basile Roy mourned the loss of their group's cohesion.105 Little did Roy realize that the voyage was a harbinger of their reception in New South Wales. On the Buffalo, the British naval officers feared them and treated them abusively. It seemed to Prieur that the closer they came to their destination, the greater ship's officer Niblett's antagonism became. Incensed by their inability to speak English, he frequently called them 'stupid asses.'106 But other officers observed the real suffering below deck and in January they exempted the two oldest and most ill, Captain Morin and Dr Newcomb, from scrubbing floors. Even in these difficult circumstances the Canadiens showed the altruism that ran through the whole of their convict existence - from the moment of imprisonment in Montreal to their eventual departure from Sydney. Before the Buffalo had left Lower Canada, for example, some Montreal citizens had given Captain Wood wooden pipes and tobacco for rationing and dispersal every two weeks during the exercise period. The patriotes generously asked Wood to include the more numerous Upper Canadian convicts in the distribution of this luxury.107 To the relief of many, the Buffalo reached Hobart, Van Diemen's Land, on 8 February 1840, but changeable winds prevented it from sail-

Taking a Trip on a Government Ship' 187

ing down the Derwent until two days later. The prisoners, Canadien and American alike, crowded the sides of the ship. To Basile Roy, 'anbarttown' (Hobart) was a pretty place, much the size of Trois Rivieres in Lower Canada; it had three Protestant churches, a Catholic one, and a beautiful windmill.108 The more sophisticated Ducharme, however, thought it 'somewhat rustic/ with 'fair enough' buildings and 'well cultured' fields. The harbour itself was very spacious, being a provisioning port for American and French whalers.109 Prieur would never forget Hobart, as some of his self-esteem was restored there. A British army officer visited the Buffalo, consoling and encouraging the Canadiens and comparing their exile to his own captivity during the Peninsula War. French naval officers also came on board, buoying the patriotes' spirits by giving hope of a speedy return and likening their banishment to a turn in fortune's wheel. On 14 February officials from the office of the superintendent of convicts inspected the Upper Canadian and American convicts, who would disembark the next day. Many from this group would be harshly treated in Van Diemen's Land. The governor, Sir John Franklin (later remembered for his arctic explorations), after hearing that the vast majority were Americans, reportedly exclaimed, 'So much the worse. You Yankee sympathisers must expect to be punished. I do not consider the simple Canadians, especially the French in Lower Canada, so much to blame, as they have been excited to rebellion by you Yankees.'110 The 'simple' Canadiens did not know of this, and as the Buffalo sailed north towards New South Wales, they looked forward to their own disembarkation.

9

Sydney - 'Until Yesterday a Byword of Reproach'

Lepailleur was already waiting at the door when Warwick neared 170 Sanguinet the next day. 'Come along, young man,' he briskly announced. 'We're going out. Today, we'll lunch and talk at my brasserie.' A bemused reporter allowed himself to be half-towed back down to the street. 'What were brasseries called in New South Wales? Pubs? Taverns?' 'Inns.' Lepailleur shrugged. He wasn't that interested in comparing names for drinking places. 'Inns,' he repeated as they neared his brasserie. 'I had a friend who owned one, the Bath Arms.' 'ACanadien?' 'No, no.' They entered the smoky room and found a table close to the window looking onto Notre-Dame Street. While Lepailleur settled into his chair, Warwick ordered two pints at the bar. Returning to the table, he put one in front of Lepailleur. 'I didn't know what you'd prefer,' he said, 'but I thought we're probably going to talk about Sydney so I got ales for both of us.' The elderly gentleman nodded his agreement. Since he wasn't going to drink that much, the choice made as much sense as anything. Taking a small sip, he sighed with satisfaction. 'You seem happier today,' Warwick commented. 'Is there a reason?' Lepailleur took time answering. 'Maybe there is. I don't know. Maybe, it's because we've dealt with the events that are still so painful to me. Although I hated being in New South Wales at the time, and I really suffered there as well ...'He broke off and took another sip of his ale. 'I'm an old man, Mr Warwick, with an old man's perspective on life. When I talk about Sydney, I tell stories. It was the most extraordinary place. An upside down place. And so, people are fascinated by it and by the stories I heard when I was there.'

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'As I am/ Warwick quickly interjected. 'But, upside down?' 'Upside down. The seasons were opposite to ours. Summer in wintertime. Water gurgled its way down sinks the opposite way. So, I suppose it was inevitable that some of the people and customs were totally different to what I'd known! 'Give me an example! As he thought about what to say, Lepailleur looked across the road to the hussiers' alley. There, bailiffs waited, stamping their feet, for papers to serve on miscreants and other citizens. For a moment he felt nostalgia. After he'd come back from New South Wales, he had spent more years in that alley than he wished to acknowledge. But then inspiration struck and he turned back to Warwick with a smile. 'Once I'd been found guilty of treason, I became, like every other criminal in Lower Canada, what the lawyers call "civilly dead." That meant I had no right to sue anyone, or even own property. You might imagine that in a penal colony of all places - because that's what New South Wales was - I should be civilly dead there as well. But I wasn't.' Warwick tugged his trusty notebook and pencil out and wrote 'civilly dead' on the back page. He'd never heard of the term, but it seemed worth knowing. 'I've got all day, Mr Lepailleur,' he said. 'Go ahead, tell me why.' In 1783,' Lepailleur began, 'a woman in Norfolk, England, was convicted of breaking into a house and stealing various items from it. In those days there were more than two hundred crimes punishable by death. Burglary was one. But she was lucky because the judge recommended mercy and the sentence was commuted to transportation to the American colonies. But those colonies weren't available to the British anymore - the American Revolution had succeeded. There was no place to send her so she remained a prisoner in the Norwich Castle jail.' 'New South Wales wasn't settled until 1788. There must have been a large number of other criminals in that situation,' Warwick hazarded. 'Indeed. And in this particular case, one was a young man two years her junior. Now, you have to understand that the Norwich Castle jail was not like our penitentiaries nowadays. Prisoners could visit each other more easily and socialize. In this case, the woman, Susannah, met the young man. They must have had some kind of privacy in the jail, but then,' he smiled, 'maybe not. Who knows. But the net result was the birth of a son in 1786.' 'In prison?' Lepailleur nodded. 'Henry Kable, the young man, applied for permission to marry Susannah but was denied. Worse for the young family, 1786 was the year officials selected convicts for the First Fleet. Apparently there was a dearth of suitable female convicts in London because Susannah was selected. Henry petitioned again, not only to marry her but go with her to the new colony. But, once more, his pleas fell on deaf ears. She was still breast-feeding the infant

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when she was taken from the jail and delivered to a prison hulk in Plymouth in November 1786. 'The captain refused to accept the baby, claiming he had no authority to take the child on board. But Susannah was fortunate. The prison turnkey who had brought her from Norwich and had rowed her out to the hulk was a very compassionate man. He not only ferried the baby back to shore, but travelled all the way to London to confront Lord Sydney himself with the motherless infant. 'His lordship was surprised. Messy details like a convict mother being separated from her child rarely crossed his desk. And perhaps that was why he allowed Susannah to keep her child. Now, it seems to me that the turnkey had something of Maria Wait's determination in him, for he wasn't yet finished with Lord Sydney. The next thing he did was extract his lordship's permission for the father to marry Susannah and accompany his family to New South Wales; then he went to Norfolk, collected Henry, and reunited the family in Plymouth.' 'Incredible.' 'Indeed. I told you Sydney was a place full of stories,' Lepailleur said somewhat smugly. He paused for a moment, getting his second wind as it were, and took the opportunity to sip his ale. He continued after a couple of minutes: 'The turnkey's mercy expedition ... it was a seven hundred-mile round trip, Mr Warwick. People talked about it. Especially the newspapers in both Norfolk and London. A lady started a public subscription and raised twenty pounds - a very substantial sum in those days. A labourer might only earn ten pounds all year. With the money, people bought clothes and other items to donate to Henry and Susannah for their new life in the Southern Hemisphere.' Warwick considered what that gift would have meant. Without the turnkey's intervention, they probably would have had nothing but the clothes they stood in. Suddenly, they were well equipped to survive once they reached New South Wales. He was shocked as Lepailleur continued the tale. 'Susannah and Henry were married in Sydney in February 1788, but when they went to claim their parcel of goods, it was missing. For the next few months the Kables searched, petitioned, and did everything they could to find their "grubstake" in their new world. And eventually Henry took the matter to court, filing a suit that named the ship's captain as the defendant. Witnesses swore that the parcel had been loaded onto the ship. But, except for a few books, its contents could not be located. The judge found for the Kables, awarding them fifteen pounds. 'Now, this is the part of the story that has to do with why I wasn't civilly dead in New South Wales. If the court had known that Henry and Susannah were convicts, they wouldn't have been able to sue, let alone win. As in England, they would have been considered civilly dead. Well, there was a place on the writ where the plaintiffs had to declare their occupation, but the Kables hadn't written "convicts." Someone had put "New Settlers of this place" in the

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space, though that was crossed out. So, I imagine the clerk processing the documents saw nothing amiss, and the judge, not realizing he was setting a legal precedent, heard the case on its merits. 'And so, from 1788 on, convicts had property rights in New South Wales and were able to protect those rights in court. Elsewhere, in England and Lower Canada at the time, the legal system regarded them as dead. Do you remember I told you that Susannah's penalty for burglary was death but that through royal mercy it was commuted to transportation?' Warwick nodded. He understood this part. 'As your death penalty was as well.' 'Exactly. But in the eyes of the law, it was as if my execution had taken place. That I was alive through the queen's mercy was irrelevant. Legally I had been found unsuitable for this earth and the law assumed the sentence had been carried out. Therefore, I was civilly dead in all places under English law.' 'Except New South Wales.' 'Except New South Wales,' Lepailleur repeated. 'It turned out to be useful for some of us. We owned houses in Sydney, you know.' Warwick opened his mouth to ask more about Susannah and her family, but Lepailleur abruptly pointed to the pencil lying on the table next to the notebook. 'Now, let's get to work. Let me explain some things about Sydney. Then we'll have lunch and maybe there will be time for more stories after that.'

As THE BUFFALO BATTLED its way up the eastern coastline of New South Wales, Sydney's people, fearing its approach, began to debate about where the patriotes would be imprisoned. More than fifty years had passed since the arrival of the First Fleet, and during that time 67,980 male and 12,460 female convicts had arrived from the British Isles. Approximately one-third were Irish and Roman Catholic and a quarter had been transported for life.1 Convicts and settlers alike had hacked a thriving city from virgin bush, breaking axes and many hearts in the process. The colony's governors had varied in quality, from the meticulous and humane Arthur Phillip to the irascible Captain Bligh of HMS Bounty infamy. One of the most controversial governors, Lachlan Macquarie, with the help of convict architect Francis Greenway, left a legacy of magnificent golden sandstone buildings in the Georgian style. Travellers sailing down Port Jackson on their way to the port of Sydney passed many beautiful and spacious homes that bespoke the colony's wealth, making them favourably compare this Antipodean town with cities in England and Scotland. By 1840 Sydney had become prosperous; that, together with its

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incredible natural beauty, disarmed the travelling British, who expected a 'very noisy, dissolute place/ John Hood, for one, noted that the town paid as much respect to the Sabbath as that 'most exemplary city in the world/ Edinburgh.2 After only one day in the colony Charles Darwin congratulated himself on being born an Englishman, comparing Sydney 'to the large suburbs, which stretch out from London and a few other great towns in England/3 Mrs Charles Meredith, a very proper English lady indeed, likened the young metropolis to 'portions of Liverpool or Bristol/ even though few buildings had any 'pretensions to architectural beauty/4 In 1840 Sydney's straight, though narrow, streets were in the process of being paved, and many of its shops rivalled those of London's Bond Street. The town possessed two resident bishops, two cathedrals, four banks, several newspapers, a Benevolent Society, a mayor, a corporation, and a well-organized police force. And it was growing. According to Charles Darwin, not even London or Birmingham had such rapid expansion, with the population increasing more than 150 percent in the decade 1830-40 (from 11,500 to 29,000).5 But in spite of the prodigious building boom throughout the city, 'every one complained of the high rents and difficulty in procuring a house/6 Some citizens lamented the fact that familiar faces were rarely seen during a morning's ride. Nevertheless, as in the past, most citizens looked to the future. Sydney's inhabitants planned many changes, confidently expecting that 1840 would be the last year in which convicts arrived to pollute their society. Gas lighting not only would soon make the streets safer but would be a source of civic pride; one reporter eulogized that in 'these ends of the earth - ... until yesterday a byword of reproach throughout Europe - this exquisite production of science has found a people who can both appreciate its value and supply the means of providing for its costly apparatus/7 Within the next two years Sydney would be incorporated as a city and the colonial government would assume responsibility for roads. Civic consciousness forced the major newspaper, the Sydney Herald (a 'publication of considerable influence' and 'a supporter ... of the Church of England,'8 with a circulation of a little more than two thousand), to complain of the lack of sewers and pavement and to demand that the district surveyor not only ensure 'that buildings are properly put up, but... order unsafe buildings to be pulled down/9 Sydney's dream of exorcizing the past was a delusion, however. Its history as a receptacle for Britain's criminal refuse could not be dismissed. Antagonisms rent the city. Like an upwardly mobile adolescent trying to distance itself from lower-class beginnings, Sydney worried excessively about appearances. John Thomas Bigge, inquiring into the state of the colony for the British government in 1820, reported its divi-

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sion into four classes. At society's apex were those who had travelled there as 'free7 adults - public servants, merchants, settlers, military personnel, and the like. Children ranked next, whether born of free settlers or convict parents. Convicts whose sentences had expired, been remitted, or pardoned, the so-called emancipists, comprised the third level. At the bottom of Bigge's pyramid were those unfortunates still serving their sentences.10 There were, however, others in New South Wales unacknowledged by Bigge: the indigenous peoples.11 Britain claimed New South Wales as terra nullius, that is, owned by no one. Although recognizing that it owed some kind of protection to these 'primitive and uncivilized, native peoples/ Britain did not believe that this should extend to their lands. The aboriginal peoples were in a legal no-man's-land. As they did not believe in the Christian faith, they could have no standing in the courts and could not swear oaths. Were they British subjects? If not, could they be looked upon as enemies and killed? Their legal status remained murky until 1836, nearly fifty years after the First Fleet's arrival. In that year Jack Congo Murrell, an aboriginal, was charged with the murder of another aboriginal.12 In his defence, Murrell's lawyer pleaded non-jurisdiction - that is, that Murrell was not subject to British or European law. Three Supreme Court judges rejected this plea. While the case might have decided the legal status of the aboriginals, it did nothing to change white perceptions of them. They remained on the fringes of the new society in New South Wales, lower in status than the most brutal convict. By 1840, even though only about 23 percent of the population were convicts, the taint remained. Questioning acquaintances about their parentage or the ship they might have arrived on marked the enquirer's gaucherie. Good memories and inquisitive minds were 'peculiarly disliked.'13 In a society where the omission of 'esquire' on a letter might cause lasting rancour, interesting questions puzzled those preoccupied with social niceties. Should one, for example, acknowledge the convict mistress of a high-ranking officer if one met her on the street? If the richest man in a room was an emancipist, should he be greeted? Many residents lived comfortably, even luxuriously, but they paid intangible prices for their lifestyle. As Darwin noted, it was 'thoroughly odious to every feeling to be waited on by a man, who the day before, perhaps, was flogged, from your representation, for some trifling misdemeanour.' And as children of the well-to-do commonly received care and supervision from convict women, they adopted some of their caregivers' values, ideas, and expressions.14 This influence was particularly worrisome if the woman was neither Scottish nor English. Fiery Presbyterian cleric Dr John Dunmore Lang complained in 1837 that one-

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third of the city's population was Roman Catholic and Irish. Worse, 95 percent of them had come to the colony as convicts.15 The Herald agreed, moaning that for every ship from England three arrived from the emerald isle. Having English thieves was bad enough, it sermonized, but the infliction of the Irish, with their chief characteristic of 'criminality grafted upon ignorance and superstition/ was worse.16 Many correspondents wrote vituperatively about the Catholic religion. One judged the initiation of novices into the church as 'grossly absurd, and ... so nauseating and disgusting as to fill all unbiased witnesses with pity for those who are weak enough to be misled/ He railed against an assertion that the Church of Rome was the Church of Australia. According to him, his fellow Protestants should 'unite in arresting the spread of this pestilence/ Otherwise, or so he claimed, with an utter disregard for mixing metaphors, 'the cloven hoof concealed by 'Jesuitical cunning' would trample underfoot all those whose 'too great liberality and charity ... restored to the serpent its venomous fangs/17 In such debate no moderation was possible. Plans to introduce secular education floundered. Anglicans feared the colony would embark on an irreversible road to atheism. The Catholics worried that Protestants' numerical strength would diminish their faith. Isolated as they were from the mother country, Sydney's citizens depended on travellers and English newspapers for knowledge of the latest fashion trends. In a society where one's public appearance was vital, individuality stamped a person as uncouth or ignorant. Continuous public punishments, such as floggings, and the ubiquitous and distinctive convict dress reinforced the caste system and created an enduring desire to impress one's superiority on others. Not only were the convicts and the poor a labouring force exploited by their 'betters'; they were also a measuring stick by which society could tell high from low. These circumstances amazed Mrs Charles Meredith, who arrived in the colony from England only a few months before the Buffalo, and she wrote scathingly about them. To impress others with their wealth (as revealed by horseflesh and carriages), 'no "lady" in Sydney (... grocers' and butchers' wives included) [believed] in the possibility of walking/ Because housemaids were courted by suitors in the beautiful Domain (a central park) on Sundays, 'that shocking circumstance ruined its character as a place for their mistresses to visit; the public streets being so much more select/18 Trivia enslaved the free women. They followed the ongoing battle in British fashion between bouffant and tight sleeves as closely as military cadets studied Hannibal's or Napoleon's campaigns. They were endlessly fascinated by the guest lists for various parties, and all of them dressed in the 'latest known fashion,' but as Mrs Meredith

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cattishly observed, they lacked 'that tasteful attention' of elegant Englishwomen.19 Peter Cunningham concurred: The moment a lady blooming fresh from England is known to be tripping along a Sydney street, you will see our prying fair, singly or in groups, popping eagerly out their pretty "repositories for curls," to take note of the cut of her gown, the figure of her bonnet, and the pattern and colour of the scarf or shawl ... that they may forthwith post off to put themselves in the "dear fashion" too.'20 With such preoccupations, literature, art, 'far less a remark on political events,' were unknown to these select ladies. Consequently, the city's libraries were woefully inadequate. Men preferred cigars to books and women concentrated on 'the adornment of their head without' rather than that 'within/21 Sydney's societal strata reminded Mrs Meredith of Dickens's 'Dockyard people.' Government officials disdained merchants; merchants, shopkeepers; and the latter distinguished among themselves. Carriage owners refused to mingle with those who drove gigs. Freshly caught fish were considered inferior to cured or preserved English salmon or cod. Setting a dinner table correctly became more important than providing gates on properties. Emancipists and others on the lower end of the social scale used wealth as a battering ram in their attempt to rise in the peculiar world of Sydney. The goal of becoming a member of the English 'higher middle classes' determined all their behaviour, resulting in a distinct preference 'for glitter and show.'22 Above all, rebels, radicals, and those who questioned society, its directions and values, were anathemas. Divisions among ethnic groups, religions, and classes made Sydney a schismatic place in 1840, and as noted, fear of Irish Catholics racked the Protestant majority. The Buffalo's imminent approach, then, with its cargo of rebellious, French-speaking Catholics, was like the proverbial red flag to a bull. Outraged Anglicans believed that only a conspiracy to overthrow their government could result from the union of convicts from England's two conquered Catholic colonies, Ireland and Lower Canada. Canadian unrest, both Upper and Lower, had received full coverage in the newspapers. One paper quoted the Montreal Courier's opinion that 'the mawkishly sentimental policy of the Government' was responsible for the 1838 rebellion. 23 The Herald had carried a report on the Brougham's capture by the Beauharnois patriotes. Illustrating the maxim 'Ignorance is bliss,' the writer told of the steamboat's passengers being taken to Provost's inn, never anticipating, of course, that the inn's proprietor would be part of Sydney's population less than a year later.24 Not surprisingly, once the decision to transport the Lower Canadian rebels to New South Wales became common knowledge, hysteria ruled the town.

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Citizens questioned the 'sound policy' of the British government. How could the 'Ministry crush one rebellion and transport to another Colony the elements of insubordination and rebellion?' The Herald reminded its readers of an earlier rebellion: The only instance of any united attempt to overturn the Government here, was after the arrival of the Croppies in 1804, and it was many years before the seeds of disorder and riot were crushed/25 In one fell swoop the colony's leading newspaper married the patriotes to the Irish who had been transported in the years following the United Irish 1798 and 1803 rebellions, and some readers must have recalled the fulminating sermons of the leading clergyman in early New South Wales, Samuel Marsden. Appointed to the bench in 1795, Marsden earned the nickname The Flogging Parson' for the brutality of his sentences. Confident in his evangelical god, the magistrate-cleric condemned convicts to savage beatings. Evidence produced in court played second fiddle to his perception of right and wrong.26 Marsden habitually described the Irish as 'extremely superstitious, artful and treacherous.' Such a nature made it impossible for even 'the most watchful & active Government to discover their real intentions.' And if the Roman Catholic faith were to be further encouraged, 'they would assemble together from every Quarter, not so much from a desire of celebrating mass, as to recite the Miseries and Injustice of their Banishment, the Hardships they suffer, and to inflame one another's Minds with some wild Scheme of Revenge.'27 Although Marsden died in 1838, his hatred of all things Irish lived on in the colony. Because the Lower Canadian rebellion was thought 'romantic,' the Herald predicted 'a ready welcome from the many restless spirits' in the colony. Why had the imperial government chosen New South Wales for their place of punishment, it asked before thundering that they should have been transported to Westminster itself. Then, directing its attention to the governor, Sir George Gipps, the Herald expressed the hope that he would bow to public opinion and 'prevent any danger from their location' in the colony.28 But for all their smugness and sense of superiority, New South Wales citizens had had to wait more than fifty years before gaining the legal and political institutions that other British subjects, including Lower Canadians, took for granted. When the planning was almost complete for the First Fleet, Evan Nepean, under-secretary at the Home Office, requested the appointment of a deputy judge advocate 'to controul [sic] the Criminal Courts.' As he told his superior, Lord Sydney, Lord Howe (first lord of the Admiralty) had thought the new colony would be under military law - convicts as well as soldiers. After Nepean had pointed out that convicts 'were not to be amenable to Military discipline,'29 legislation established a criminal

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court, albeit with a (deputy) judge advocate30 and a military bench. A charter set up the civil court, which would have a judge advocate and two civilians as its bench. Ironically, the first case before the civil court established far-reaching legal precedents in New South Wales. In July 1788 two convicts, Henry and Susannah Kable, sued the captain of the ship that had brought them from England for damages. That they should have been able to do so was legally unique. Elsewhere under English law they would have been considered civilly dead, for they were convicted felons, although royal mercy had commuted their death sentences to transportation. But Captain David Collins, the judge advocate, probably unaware of the legal nuances, allowed the case to come before his court. From that point on, convicts used the law to settle disputes and were able to contract and own property. The Kables, like other settlers, convict and free, came to New South Wales with certain assumptions about their legal rights. Jurist Sir William Blackstone was their foundation. To begin with, they believed that the land was terra nullius, that is, deserted. Accordingly, they cited one of his dictums: if 'an uninhabited land is discovered and planted by English settlers, all the English laws are immediately there in force. For as the law is the birthright of every subject, so wherever they go they carry their laws with them/31 All groups - governor, military, free, convict - protested the hybrid 'un-British' nature of legal institutions in the colony. Over the first part of the century, convicts, emancipists, and free citizens of New South Wales would fight for their birthright as British subjects: trial by jury, habeas corpus, and a representative legislature. The fight pitted two groups - the exclusives and the emancipists squarely against each other. While free settlers (the so-called exclusives) advocated trial by jury, they would never allow a jury that might have ex-convicts on it. Nor would they willingly agree to a legislature if emancipists could be members of it or even vote in its election. When allied to the military, as in the years of Governor Bligh, the exclusives wielded extraordinary power. Bligh's successor, Lachlan Macquarie, touched off a powder-box when he expected exclusives to share his dinner table with emancipists. The law became a prime battlefield. Exclusives fought emancipists; judge advocates, the governors. In 1814, for instance, Macquarie asked judge advocate Ellis Bent to draft some port regulations, as he had no law officers and no non-convict lawyers to do so. The judge advocate, slighted by such a menial task and also of the mind that the proposed regulations exceeded the governor's powers, refused. In doing so, Bent illustrated one of the huge differences between Lower Canada and New

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South Wales. To a large extent, judges in Lower Canada assumed a 'Baconian' role: their defiance of the governor was unthinkable; their acquiescence in helping him assert his power was almost invariable.32 In New South Wales, however, the judges arrayed themselves against the governor. As did the justices of the peace. It was in their local courts that much power was disseminated in the colony. Besides carrying out duties similar to those of their English counterparts, the New South Wales magistrates supervised the convict system. This involved overseeing the process of assigning convicts as virtually free labour to employers, the conditions and fulfilment of parole (ticket-of-leave), and discipline if parole was breached. Most magistrates were pro-exclusive settlers trying to improve their own prospects in the colony as best they could. That those interests could conflict with their magisterial function was a foregone conclusion. The governor appointed and could dismiss justices of the peace, but dismissals created controversy. Macquarie and Governor Thomas Brisbane were responsible for two notorious dismissals . Macquarie had the temerity to sack the Reverend Marsden - partly because of the severity of his sentences, partly because of his propagation of the exclusivist cause. Brisbane dismissed five justices of the peace who had censured a fellow magistrate and thus defied his authority. In both cases, London would agree with the governors, but in the meantime these ejections from the bench created havoc in the young colony and the message was clear to all. The bench, whatever the reasons, would not hesitate to challenge the power of the governor. Some of the legal issues had been resolved by 1840. The previous year London had decided to cease transporting convicts to New South Wales, although transportation would be reinstated for a short period in the 1850s. The first stipendiary magistrates were appointed in 1825, easing much of the pressure on the existing amateurs. After a lengthy and bitter battle, trial by jury finally became unequivocal law in 1839.33 For male citizens, a freehold property qualification and good character became the criteria for eligibility on both the jury panels and voters' list for the representative legislature, which would begin in 1842. Responsible government was another decade away. So, to an extent, there was cause for Sydney's civic pride and sense of advancement. That a potentially volatile group of convicts would arrive in the last foreseeable year of the transportation era was indeed worrisome. But as the Buffalo sailed up the New South Wales coast, the Canadiens remained blissfully unaware of Sydney's paranoia. They put their own house in order. Drawing together what strength they had, they tried to imagine their new ordeal. On 24 February Lepailleur presented a message of thanks to Captain Wood and the ship's doctor for their care of the sick. Forty-one men signed the token of thanks; the

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others, remembering the many insults, the unnecessarily harsh restrictions they had endured after the so-called mutiny, refused to be part of it.34 Ducharme was on deck the morning of 25 February when the Buffalo neared Sydney's headlands. The precipitous coastline, with the sea breaking on it and rising 'more than fifty feet into the air,' impressed him. As they waited for a pilot to board, he conversed with the crew, echoing their astonishment that they had survived the voyage without accident.35 Although the Buffalo dropped her anchor in the afternoon of Thursday, 25 February 1840, other patriotes had to wait until the following day before they were allowed on deck to inspect their new country. For some Canadiens it was a time of blessed relief. After being tossed to-and-fro on the ocean, they were happy to adjust to the still water of Port Jackson, as the harbour at Sydney was called. For months they had huddled together as waves had thundered against the sides of the ship, assaulting their ears. Now they marked time in their quarters, speculating excitedly as they heard the sounds of a busy port, maybe also puzzling over the strange, cackling laughter of kookaburras. The next morning, after climbing the stairs, they rushed to peer over the sides of the ship. The enthusiasm of some waned instantly as they looked 'with horror' at the land they had been so anxious to reach. They did not appreciate the sandstone glories of Greenway's buildings or the 'beautiful villas and nice cottages' that Darwin had praised; instead their attention was caught and held by 'miserable wretches harnessed to carts, engaged in dragging blocks of stone for Public Buildings.' Some of them immediately concluded that they 'too would be employed in exactly the same way.'36 They would have fearfully identified with the words of a popular convict song: ... my fellow sufferers, Fm sure I can't tell how, Some chained to a harrow And some to a plough. No shoes nor stockings had they on, No hats had they to wear, Leather breeches and liner drawers, Their feet and heads were bare. They drove about in two and two Like horses in a team, The driver he stood over them With his malacca cane.37

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But the harbour mesmerized the more optimistic among them as they counted ninety-nine ships and watched three Royal Navy vessels enter and tie up.38 Someone pointed out the governor's residence. While they admired it, the more politically aware, like Lanctot and Huot, may have remembered how Governor Gipps, a member of the Gosford Commission, which had investigated Lower Canada's constitutional problems, had come down strongly against the patriote viewpoint in 1836. Given the city's isolation, a ship's arrival was an event. Citizens in rowboats frequently escorted it down the harbour, yelling questions to passengers and crew alike. With its cargo of French-speaking convicts, the Buffalo would have been doubly interesting. Not surprisingly then, crowds gathered the next morning to inspect these rebels. The Canadiens endured their curious stares, hoping some of these inquisitive residents might have information about their disembarkation. But none did. By the next day, the patriotes knew the worst. Sydney did not want them. The town's important people advocated they be transported further, to the hell of Norfolk Island, a prison for incorrigible convicts eight hundred miles northeast of Sydney - the ultimate in convict degradation. And as they had waited in the Montreal jail while Colborne arranged their fate, they now had to endure confinement in the cramped, stuffy quarters on the Buffalo while the New South Wales governor pondered their destination. Captain Wood, so despised by some, had created a dilemma by giving a glowing report of his charges to Gipps and recommending their settlement in Sydney. The governor, an astute politician, foresaw hysterical reactions. Marsden's followers and the Herald's readers would never willingly allow these Lower Canadian Catholics to remain among them. While Gipps discussed the matter with his Executive Council, Wood further compounded the problem by seeking out the one person who could be not only the Canadiens' friend in court but their pastoral guide as well. In response to Wood's plea and letters from Bishop Ignace Bourget of Montreal, the Catholic Bishop of Sydney, John Bede Folding, and his secretary, Father John Brady, visited the Buffalo on 27 February, giving intense comfort to the devout, such as Lepailleur and Prieur.39 The bishop returned the following day with two priests who heard confessions, prepared the men for communion, and, after intimating that Norfolk Island was their probable destination, exhorted them to endure their fate. The patriotes' dejection may well be imagined. They passionately wanted to get off the ship and feel solid ground beneath their feet.40 Religion gave them solace. Some prayed, while others built an altar from

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their boxes, decorating it with religious icons (a few lent by Father Brady) in order to make it 'quite seemly'; Ducharme, at any rate, believed 'God found it so, for it was a work of most ardent devotion/41 At eight the next morning Bishop Folding and two missionary priests again boarded the ship. After making their way to its depths, they held a low mass. Fifty-one men took communion.42 Most of the educated elite, such as Ducharme, appreciated the humanity shown by this bishop and his priests, who crawled around the depths of a convict ship, unafraid of its stench, to comfort lice-infested men not of their own cultural heritage or congregation. The Canadiens' plight added to these men's already over-heavy load, but because of their kind actions some of the patriotes whom Bishop Lartigue had alienated after the 1837 rebellion became reconciled to their church.43 Visitors continued to come on board. None, however, could give the prisoners any reliable information about their disembarkation. When 1 March passed with no decision made, the patriotes wrote Folding, asking him to intercede with Gipps. Several of them, including Lepailleur, Ducharme, and the Thiberts, had been imprisoned for sixteen months by this time. As they told Brady, every one of them was weary, many were old and sick, and their dearest wish was to settle in Sydney. While rumours swirled on the dock below, changing minute by minute, the Canadiens could do little more than wait. Despair, born of homesickness and nurtured by the horrors of the voyage, wrestled for control of their hearts and minds. Only the solace and spiritual hope given by Bishop Folding and his priests kept it at bay. The newspapers discussed them, of course. The Colonist reported on the many questions being asked, advising authorities to make a distinction between 'those who were found guilty of the bare political crime of being in arms against the Governor of their country' and those 'convicted of reckless atrocities against the lives and properties of their fellow subjects/ A more forthright opinion came from the Sydney Gazette when it announced that the Canadiens would be sent on to Norfolk Island. It applauded the decision because Sydney had enough 'bushrangers, highway robbers and house-breakers ... already without having a cargo of malcontented political incendiaries, vulgarly called Patriots (which in Canada was a plausible name for cut throats)/ landed on its shores.44 The first indication that they might stay in Sydney came nine days after the Buffalo had docked. Three officials from the Superintendent of Convicts Office boarded the ship to interview the patriotes in groups of twelve, asking ages, marital status, occupations, number of children, and education.45 According to the Buffalo's manifest, two gentleman (the Morins), thirty-one yeomen, and three bailiffs had embarked in Quebec; none of them were recorded as having disembarked in Sydney.

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Following advice they had probably been given by those familiar with the system (such as Brady and Wood), the patriotes answered the officials' questions in ways that would help them most in New South Wales. Their responses and the physical examination carried out the next day would form part of the official documentation on them. For example, Frangois-Maurice Lepailleur's profile was drawn up as follows: Standing No. of Convict Indent no.46 Name Age Education Religion Single, Married or Widower Children Native Place Trade or Calling Offence Tried Sentence Former Convictions Height Complexion Colour of Particular Marks, or Scars

40-572 6 Francois [sic] Maurice Lepailleur 33 R[ead] & W[rite] Catholic Married 2 males Lower Canada House painter Treason Montreal, [between] 28 November 1838 [and] 8 December 1838 Life None 5 [foot] 4^/4 [inches] Very dark sallow Hair - brown; eyes - brown Two small moles on right cheek47

Theodore Bechard claimed proficiency as a veterinary surgeon, Charles Bouc as a clerk. The officials impressed the men with their friendliness and politeness, and some casual conversation obviously took place, as Lepailleur identified one of them as an Irishman named Tracy.48 The physical examination seemed a gross English indignity to some of the Canadiens, but others reluctantly accepted it as just part of the convict system. The fifteen-day stay in Sydney Harbour would be a precursor to their reception in the colony. The Roman Catholic Church, as shown by the outstanding kindness and compassion of its hierarchy, and the Irish in general were friendly and sympathetic. Sydney's other citizens reacted for the most part with hysteria, viewing the fifty-eight men as monsters to be shunted elsewhere, even though they were the only sizable group transported with no previous criminal records. The press castigated them as 'cut throats/ clearly expecting them to become violent criminals. With only a bare understanding of these feelings, the Canadiens

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may have mournfully sung one of their patriote songs as they stared as the bustling port: Rich cities, keep your opulence, Only my country has delights for me ... In my gentle homeland I want to end my life.49

Coming from rural areas, from a culture with vastly different values, the Canadiens nevertheless desperately wanted to get off the Buffalo and put stability into their lives. And while they watched other convicts, harnessed to carts, working on the roads, they thought they would somehow be different. Surely, sooner or later, the authorities would come to their senses and return them to their 'gentle homeland/ In most of their minds, Sydney was only an interlude. On 11 March Captain Wood announced that they would be sent to a prison camp just outside Sydney and the patriotes immediately prepared for disembarkation. Basile Roy hoped they would be split up. Petty jealousies, the stress of the long voyage, and their uncertainty in the port had undermined their collectivity.50 But Gipps had other ideas. With security concerns first and foremost in his mind, he placed them all together in the Longbottom prison camp without any other convicts. Guarded by five soldiers, they set off by barge at half-past nine for their new prison on the Parramatta River. When establishing the satellite town of Parramatta in 1788, Captain Phillip had expected that travel between it and Sydney would be by the Parramatta River, as the land distance was fifteen miles. At first this had been the case; however, within three years a track, which later became the Parramatta Road, had emerged between the two settlements and the government began using this road for transporting the convicts destined for Parramatta. Since men in heavy irons could not walk far in a single day, in 1792 Phillip selected a stockade site, exactly halfway, for a night's rest. The governor reserved 936 acres of the surrounding area, which was heavily timbered and had rich soil, for a government farm - called Longbottom. After free settlers received land the following year, Lieutenant Governor Francis Grose named the area Concord.51 By 1822 the Longbottom farm was a thriving concern. The 110 convicts quartered there made charcoal and tended the crops and gardens. The primarygrowth trees, with diameters of up to twelve feet, were cut into logs and then to shingles. Commissioner Bigge had praised the wooden buildings that housed the men because they had been built 'with due regard to economy and

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the comfortable lodging of convicts/ But Bigge also reported that while the farm benefited from its easy access to the Sydney markets, the convict labouring force also took advantage of Longbottom's position on the colony's most heavily used road. Many escaped. Others strolled along the highway, stopping carts and helping themselves to whatever valuables took their eye.52 In the following years, convict authorities phased the prison farm out, and after coming under the colonial engineer's jurisdiction, Longbottom was designated as a carters' barracks in 1836. About two years later, the police received part of the original grant and used some of the fields to graze their horses. Convicts who worked in chain gangs on the roads, however, continued to be housed in the main barracks, just 150 yards from the Parramatta Road. On 11 March, while the Canadiens made their way up the Parramatta River on the government barge, the Longbottom stockade was in a frenzy of activity. Just the previous day the people there had read in their Sydney Gazette that the patriotes would be sent to Norfolk Island. This change in their destination was startling. No one had anticipated that the governor would house these French-speaking rebels at Longbottom - it had never been part of the rumour mill. Now officials and convicts alike rushed about preparing for the new arrivals. As men readied the stockade, the 'beautiful little village'53 of Concord, which had grown up outside its gates, also steeled itself to receive the most exotic of all convicts.

10

Longbottom Stockade: In French Long Fond ... a Pretty Enough Place71

Warwick brought two more mugs of ale to the table. To create space he took Lepailleur's stale half-empty glass back to the bar. 'There,' he announced with satisfaction on his return. 'That's better.' 'Better for you, maybe,' Lepailleur grumbled. 'If any of my friends see me, they'll think I've become a sot!' Warwick smiled. He knew there was no malice in the remark. 'Mr Lepailleur, you said a while back that you thought Hobart a pretty place. Once you'd seen it, did you wish you were getting off the ship with the Americans and settling down there?' 'Not if I took the sailors' stories seriously/ Lepailleur replied immediately. 'In fact, I thanked God we were going on to Sydney. And in fact, I still do, even with hindsight. I mean, I'm still thankful we were sent to New South Wales rather than Van Diemen's Land.' 'Why?' 'Why? There was a place close to Hobart called Port Arthur. Named after Sir George Arthur, lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada at the time of our rebellion. He had governed Van Diemen's Land earlier and Port Arthur was supposed to be his "monument" in the convict system. Sir George, or so I was told, wanted this place to take "the vengeance of the Law to the utmost limits of human endurance." And from what we heard,' Lepailleur continued a soft voice, 'the good governor got his wish.' 'Through torture?' Warwick asked, rocking back in his chair as he gulped his beer. 'In a way. I think authorities recognized that floggings sometimes produced the opposite effect. I was always terrified of the lash myself when I was a prisoner, but other convicts told me that once they had been flogged, they knew what to expect. Some, of course, decided right there and then they would never, ever,

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do anything to get it again. But for a few it was different. As their skin healed and hardened so did their ability to handle pain. Twenty-five lashes meant nothing, so the number of strokes had to multiply to be effective. From the moment they realized that somehow they could survive the lash, they lost a lot of their fear for the cat-o'-nine-tails.' Warwick shuddered. He could never imagine receiving the whip with equanimity and he told Lepailleur that. 'Neither could I,' the ex-convict told him. 'But the stories had to be true because in Port Arthur they designed punishments for those who no longer feared a sentence of, say, five hundred or a thousand lashes.' 'Five hundred? A thousand? Could any man survive that?' 'Apparently. When I was in hospital in Sydney I heard of a man who had received more than two thousand lashes. Everyone talked about him. And an old lag I met on the Parramatta Road told me the whip at Port Arthur was something special. They doctored the cat-o'-nine-tails with salt water so that when the eighty-one knots hit a man's back they would rip the flesh apart like a saw. But Port Arthur had other horrors. They put people in solitary confinement and built "dumb cells" to deprive convicts of sound and light, sending some, of course, totally insane.' 'And people nowadays complain about our prisons,' Warwick said sarcastically, trying to inject a note of levity. When there was no response from Lepailleur, he focused again on Lepailleur's own story. 'So, you were glad to be going on to Sydney. Can you remember what you were thinking about when the Buffalo sailed north?' 'Of course I remember,' a testy Lepailleur replied. 'That was a time when I did little else but think. It's only natural my thoughts somehow tattooed themselves into my brain, becoming indelible. First and foremost, I missed my family. You have to understand just how young my sons were. I am sure you see Alfred now as an old man. When I sailed, he was just six and my Baptiste only two. One of them had just begun to read and the other to run everywhere. It was a time in their lives when I should have been the "Papa" - showing them how to do things, guiding them, preparing Alfred for his first communion. 'Instead, I was in a small, dark space with men I admired but who were beginning to get on each other's - and my - nerves. There was so much silliness, since we were men who were used to action. We had been leaders, fathers, husbands. On that godforsaken ship we were like the hens my neighbour kept in Chateauguay. Every time we heard someone call "Dinner O," we came running. If the voyage had lasted longer, I'm sure some of us would have lost our respectability. And there were nights, I'm sorry to tell you, when I wondered why the Good Lord had spared me. That it might have been better to have shared my dear Cardinal's fate.' Warwick stared. In his naivety, he had thought that once the interview had reached the New South Wales phase of the story, the dark bitterness and sorrow

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would be left behind. 'But God ordained that you did not/ 'Yes, God ordained that I should live. But to get back to your question, once we were actually in the Sydney Harbour, in Port Jackson as it is called, my spirits revived. Everything was new and my curiosity vanquished the dark thoughts. I was one of the ones who had to wait until the next day to come up on deck to see our new home. And I can remember lying on my little mattress that night, wondering what the city would look like. I already knew it would be different from everything I had ever seen/ 'Oh? How did you know that?' Warwick asked, pencil poised, ready to write down any detail that might interest his readers. 'Well, first there was the smell. By that time, I was used to the usually rank smell of ports. But Sydney's air was rather pleasant. Aromatic, even. It's the trees that grow there - the eucalyptus. And then, of course, there were the sounds. Nature, in the Antipodes, my dear young friend is extremely raucous.' 'Loud?' 'Deafening. There are locust-type insects called cicadas that cling to trees and shrubbery and just shriek at night time. The birds ...'he stopped, waving his hands around, searching for words to somehow explain the avifauna. 'There were brown birds called kookaburras that sounded like drunken men laughing. And they laughed morning, noon, night, let me tell you. There were grey and scarlet ones called galahs that made the most untuneful squawks you can imagine. And parrots of every possible colour combination it seemed the Good Lord could put together. Added together, they were enough to wake the dead on Judgment Day.' Warwick nodded sagely, at last identifying with something. 'I've seen a parrot,' he remarked. 'Last year I wrote a story that took me down to our docks here. There was a sailor who had one. It talked, but its vocabulary would have embarrassed my mother.' 'Not just "pretty Polly," I imagine,' Lepailleur chuckled. 'I, too, have seen just such a bird. But I have the advantage, sir, of also seeing them in their natural state, in a country where they could fly free.' 'And did you also see kangaroos?' 'Of course,' the older man replied, 'you didn't have to go far out of your way to see one.' 'What was the city like?' 'Ah. Well, you have to understand I saw it through the eyes of a prisoner. No matter how fine it was or could be, it was still a jail to me. The bars on my cell window in Montreal had been replaced by miles and miles of ocean that kept me from my dear family just as effectively.' He stopped for a sip of his ale, and Warwick, who knew him well by this time, could see his mind moving deeper into its memories. 'But about Sydney. The city itself ... Well, right from the beginning I thought it extremely beautiful. That first morning in February 1840 when we were allowed on deck, I was one of the last up the hatchway.

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Every space along the rails on the city's side was taken, so I walked across to the other side and looked at the northern shore. I had never imagined such scenery. The trees were totally different from ours in colour and shape, as well as smell. Their branches went every which way and the foliage was a bluish, greyish green. The harbour itself was a brilliant blue, the colour of our sky on the warmest summer's day. And the sand on the shore was golden yellow. I had never seen such sand.' 'Like this?' Warwick picked up a plate and pointed to the yellow in its glaze.' 'No. Far more golden. One of the sailors told me that many of Sydney's buildings were made of sandstone of the same colour. Anyway, when there was a space I rushed to the other side, thinking I would see a fairyland, a golden city.' 'And of course, you didn't.' 'Well, to be honest, I did see some magnificent sandstone buildings as well as ones built with red bricks like you can see here. But that wasn't what got my attention. All the others around me seemed upset and I wondered why. And then I looked down at the wharf itself and saw human beings pulling carts like oxen. They had clothes with arrow patterns on them and I knew right away they were prisoners like us. I couldn't speak and my mind blotted out what my friends were saying. I think I must have stared down at those poor workers for minutes, watching as they dragged blocks of stone around and worked on the roads. 7 think that was the moment I really understood my plight. Up till then I had been engrossed with my problems, my trial, then wondering if I would be spared the gallows. After that I worried about my dear wife Domitile and the boys. I thought of almost everything else, it seems, when I look back on it, except what would happen once I arrived in a penal colony of Great Britain. So, you have to understand, Mr Warwick, that when I saw those convicts pulling carts, I suddenly understood that I had become an animal to be used on roads or in the fields. In the eyes of the prison authorities, I was probably only valuable for what I could do as a worker. Everything else, my love for my family, my education, my dreams of a better country, my despair, meant nothing. 'And that, sir, is what I remember about my first morning in New South Wales. My status as a convicted felon had finally become real to me.'

THE PATRIOTES REACHED the Longbottom dock on the western shore of Hen and Chicken Bay at about 11:00 a.m. Wednesday, 11 March 1840. Many colonists thought Longbottom the best convict establishment in New South Wales, and at first glance the Canadiens agreed, calling it 'a reasonably pretty place/2 A platoon of soldiers met them at the beach, then escorted them to the main barracks about a mile away.

Longbottom Stockade 209

Their sergeant was not happy. Nor were the other authorities in the place. Like bureaucrats everywhere, the Longbottom officials reacted poorly to sudden changes of plans, and thus the commander of the barracks received the Canadiens with an ill-concealed lack of grace. As he readily believed the 'prejudices, false reports and ill-will' circulating throughout Sydney, these newest prisoners were to him 'objects of terror and of hatred/3 To some extent this attitude was understandable. The commander, like many colonists, had probably heard that the patriotes were to have been sent to Norfolk Island. There would have been scarce time to arrange transfer for some of the criminals assigned to the road gangs, so as to make room for the newcomers, and to make matters worse, the necessary provisions for the incoming convicts had not arrived. For several nights, they would have to make do with bare boards for beds. Determined to intimidate these French-speaking prisoners from the start, the sergeant lined the patriotes up, military-style, in ranks. Ignoring their fatigue, he let them know in no uncertain way who would be boss and that a cat-o' -nine-tails would enforce Longbottom's rules and regulations. If they went out of bounds, either within or without the stockade's perimeter, a minimum punishment was fifty lashes. Disobedience, lack of respect, and laziness would also be rigorously punished. Having cowed his charges, he allowed them a little free time before reassembling them at five o'clock to assign them to three of the four sleeping huts. A minute or so before sunset, he despatched them to bed. From that moment until six the next morning they would be locked up and forbidden to speak. The men rose in the early dawn, bones and joints aching, bodies stiff from the chilly boards. Humiliation lay ahead. During the day their clothes were branded with 'L.B.,' which stood for 'Longbottom Barracks.' Canadiens who had fought for England in 1813 at the battle of Chateauguay were especially mortified. One former soldier, who had been promised rewards and honours, was indignant, especially after a friend quipped that the letters were his long-awaited 'cross of honour.'4 Some of the patriotes, reacting to the vermin and filth left behind by the stockade's previous inhabitants, shocked their guards by requesting permission to scour their quarters. The guards soon found that most patriotes welcomed their first stint at penal forced labour as it gave them a chance to use muscles that had softened during the months of enforced activity in jail and on the Buffalo. After their cramped quarters, the open air was invigorating, and much to the guards' confusion, they embraced their jobs with something approaching enthusiasm. As Prieur later wrote, he 'even derived pleasure from the hard work,' feeling they 'well and honestly earned the poor bread and meat' they were given.5 Some

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Canadians, including Lepailleur, unloaded stone from barges at the wharf onto bullock carts. Another group drove the carts to the crushing area, where the stone was pounded into smaller pieces for use on the roads. Professional men, semi-professionals, and farmers alike performed manual labour with few complaints. Major George Barney, the colonial engineer (the person in charge of the colony's roads and thus of the road gangs at Longbottom), arrived two days later accompanied by a French-speaking civilian. Patiently, the patriotes stood in line while he inspected them. Louis Bourdon suddenly shocked most of the assembly by stepping forward. After presenting his letters of reference from Montreal to the impressed colonial engineer, he volunteered the trade or professional skills of his compatriots. After Barney and the civilian left, there was a buzz of speculation. Some worried about the inspection, others were aghast at Bourdon's presumption, and a few wondered about the role of the civilian. This individual returned to the camp on 24 March 1840 and took over from the military the responsibility for the Canadiens. As assistant engineer and superintendent of Longbottom, Henry Clinton Baddely would receive an annual salary of £109 10s. together with forage for one horse and military rations. Uncertain about the new prisoners and determined to prevent trouble, officials sent a scourger (an expert wielder of the cat-o'-nine-tails) to the camp at an annual salary of £31 18s. 9d. at the same time.6 Fortunately for their peace of mind, the Canadiens remained unaware of this. For most convicts arriving in New South Wales at the time, the period spent in superintendence (that is, under supervision in a prison stockade) would either be brief or non-existent. Most were assigned (hired out) to employers waiting at the wharf on their arrival in the colony. The fact that none of the patriotes were immediately assigned was a consequence of the general fear of them. So, with Baddely's arrival, life at the convict camp settled into a routine that would last, by and large, for the next eighteen months. 7 He appointed Maurice Lepailleur as work overseer, a choice reflecting the patriotes' general respect for Lepailleur. It was a responsible position. Orders given by the overseer would be backed by the lash. Three days later, however, before Lepailleur had much time to settle into his job, a countermanding order arrived from Barney. The colonial engineer had obviously read and reflected upon Bourdon's reference letters. They had so impressed him that he appointed Bourdon as camp clerk, the intermediary between the convicts and Baddely. Thus, to the surprise of almost every patriote, Louis Bourdon became their chief. With this change another hierarchy formed. Lanctot and Ducharme were appointed the new work overseers, replacing Lepailleur, and Newcomb was named the camp doctor. As hut

Longbottom Stockade 211

Figure 10.1 Convict Camp at Longbottom, c. 1841

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captains, Bouc, P.-H. Morin, Huot, and the demoted Lepailleur were given the added responsibility of night sentry duty.8 The work day for the remainder began at six o'clock when the captains released them from the huts. After breakfast they dispersed to various locations under armed guard - the wharf, forest, stone-breaking area, and, later in their stay, brickyard. They worked through the day, with only a short lunch break, receiving no evening meal. At sundown, 'worn out by fatigue and hunger/ they were locked again in their huts. On Saturdays they only worked until ten in the morning. After that they were expected to clean their clothes and sleeping quarters and ready themselves for the Sabbath. With this strict regime, everyone looked forward to the three holidays the convict establishment allowed - Good Friday, Queen Victoria's birthday (May 24), and Christmas Day.9 The Canadiens slept in spartan quarters. The depressingly grey huts, only seventeen feet by ten in size, housed up to twenty men. They had no chimneys, windows, or partitions, and no furniture other than mattresses, fifteen inches wide, three inches thick.10 One blanket guarded each man from cold; consequently, as the huts were very chilly, badly built, and drafty many of them caught colds or contracted rheumatism. They ate in messes of six and found the food inadequate. Each man was allotted daily a half-pound of flour or corn kernels and an ounce of brown sugar, which Lepailleur described as 'leftover filth, full of little bits of wood and rice/ The meat ration, a pound of beef or mutton, was also below standard, although the government paid well for it. As Longbottom had no cellars to keep the meat cool and as the contractor almost always 'forgot' to bring salt with him, it quickly spoiled.11 Their cooks, fellow patriotes, did their best, creating pates, tourtieres, soups, and other dishes, but they could not, for example, totally disguise the taste of rotten meat. Not only the quality of the food was distressingly poor, but the quantity failed to meet the caloric requirements of men performing hard physical labour.12 As Lepailleur asserted, although a convict rarely starved to death, he was always hungry. As early as August 1840 several men (Achille Morin, for one) showed the effects of malnutrition. The most obvious sufferer was six-foot-three Ignace-Gabriel Chevrefils, an innkeeper from Ste Martine. His need was so obvious that his friends, including Lepailleur, gave him their bread rations.13 The convict winter issue of clothes arrived in Longbottom on 3 May 1840: striped coarse-cotton shirts, grey trousers, a jacket and cap of the same cloth, the seams and button holes stitched in white, and a pair of shoes with heavy nails in the soles. The letters 'L.B/ and 'D.O.' and crow's feet (arrows) that were on the clothing told one and all that the wearers were convicts from the Longbottom Barracks of the Department of Ordinance. But more than that they reminded previously proud men

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of their disgrace. Only two years before, some of these patriotes had been leaders in their communities, men selected by their peers for important parish positions such as churchwarden or school trustee. In Longbottom, as they pulled on the despised convict clothes in the cold mornings, they were criminals doomed to work out their days at the government's pleasure. Even so, no matter what their appearance might say, they never stopped thinking of themselves as 'respectable people.'14 Like their British counterparts, the patriotes undertook hard physical labour. In their case, the work revolved around supplying the raw materials to build and maintain the colony's roads. After stone had been brought from the dock and broken in small pieces, eight men15 transported the fragments by bullock drays to road gangs in various localities. Several built furnaces to fire bricks for the highways, producing about one hundred thousand bricks during their superintendence, or period, at Longbottom.16 As befitted men from frontier areas, some Canadiens husbanded the timber on the Longbottom reserve, lopping the tops from several trees and splitting the trunks into serviceable planks and thence to blocks for the Sydney roads. The trees were primary growth. One giant measured eleven feet in width and thirty-three feet in circumference after its bark had been removed.17 Other patriotes, such as Basile Roy, made charcoal or dug ditches. Joseph Roy expended considerable effort digging a well that eventually provided the settlement with fresh water. As soon as Baddely recognized the quality of men he supervised, he quickly began to put their work to his own advantage. In April 1840 he commandeered the masons and carpenters to build him a house, and when it was finished, Lepailleur painted it.18 From his new residence, fifty yards or so from the prison gate, Baddely easily controlled access to and egress from Longbottom. In spite of complaints about food and clothing, the conditions at Longbottom in the first few months were not severe when compared to such establishments as Norfolk Island. Although numerous and frequently petty, Baddely's rules were not onerous. He allowed no one outside the stockade gate and forbade all communication with outsiders. Lanctot was once sentenced to four hours in solitary confinement after speaking with two boys who lived near the wharf. After that, Baddely must have feared an escape attempt, for he evicted all the fishermen from their huts on the stockade's beaches. But overall, the patriote convicts had a surprising amount of freedom. Visitors wishing to enter the prison camp reported first to a Canadien manning the gate on the Parramatta Road. The Canadien then took their particulars to Baddely for vetting. Bourdon, in a classic case of favouritism, had initially chosen Prieur for this task, overlooking the fact

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that he spoke no English. When this created difficulties, Lepailleur was given the position, much to his mortification, while Prieur assumed his job as hut captain.19 Lepailleur initially thought the role of gate sentry was beneath him. He despised the job at first, moping and feeling extremely sorry for himself. Bouc visited him twice a day, and Louis Guerin brought him his dinner, but otherwise contact with his fellow patriotes was rare. On one rainy Tuesday he wrote, 'As ever I guard the gate in a cell made of branches and covered with bark, about six feet square' reading 'the prayer books I brought with me from Canada/ Fortunately for posterity, he reconciled himself to his fate, discovering that it gave him opportunities no other Canadien had. With 'nothing to do but amuse' himself, he observed everything and everyone around him, writing copious notes in his journal. This did not go unnoticed in the camp. In May 1840 the illiterate Basile Roy arranged for Lepailleur to keep a record of Longbottom for him as well.20 For this task of writing between sixty and eighty pages, Lepailleur received five shillings. Everything fascinated him - 'the birds ... the animals of the forests and the beasts of the water, that is to say the animals of the sea.' He described an 'English cock,' a cockatoo, and a sea horse in loving detail. On 9 June 1840 he saw a flying fox before Baddely brought it in to be stuffed, and in Parramatta on Sunday, 12 July 1840, he observed his first emu, describing it as 'an ostrich in the street... tame ... extremely tall.'21 The traffic on the Parramatta Road was a constant source of interest, particularly for a man from a rural area. Carts loaded with produce passed regularly, amazing Maurice with the quantity they carried. While he should have expected New South Wales, with its warm climate, to be more fertile than the Chateauguay basin, entry after entry reveals his surprise. He recorded the number of bales of hay and wheat and the prices they might fetch, the number of sheep in a flock, and the rarity of black-coloured ones. On 15 July 1840 he saw about twelve parrots in a cage, 'crimson in colour, with wings of a fine apple green. The others are coloured black and red ... The cage was being taken to market to be sold.'22 He noted the governor's travels, commenting on 14 July that he 'passed by for Parramatta ... in his stand-up with his two white horses.' Three days later Gipps returned to Sydney 'in a state-coach with his family ... 4 horses on the carriage and his trooper at the rear.' All passers-by were worthy of comment: not just the rich or the powerful, like Gipps, but the ordinary people who stopped to relate stories about the colony's early days or to gossip or exchange financial news. Some even gave him their spare change.23 Although newspapers were forbidden to convicts, Lepailleur had

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full access to them. He read avidly, following politics and international news in particular, such as the treason trial of Chartist John Frost. He was aware of the Sydney Herald's campaign against the Canadiens and of the written battle Father Brady waged on their behalf. Sir John Colborne's promotion was duly noted in his journal, as was news of the union of the Canadas, Upper and Lower, in 1840.24 As the camp settled into a routine, the Canadiens discovered more and more regulations. As many patriotes firmly believed that their 'exile' was temporary and that misbehaviour would only add to their time away from Lower Canada, there was great individual incentive to abide by the rules, and this was reinforced by a powerful group pressure. On 7 May 1840 Lepailleur recorded an incident involving the senior Morin. Morin had not noticed, or duly acknowledged, Baddely's approach. For this disrespect the superintendent made everyone form into ranks before calling out Captain Morin for a severe reprimand. Fortunately, that was the end of the matter, but Morin could 'have been sent to Sydney, if it had not been for the harm to the other prisoners, because punishing one prisoner would cast suspicion' on the rest.25 After the first three months had passed without serious incident, authorities withdrew the military guard leaving, the Canadiens responsible, to a large extent, for stockade security. During the day Lepailleur kept watch at the gate; at night the hut captains patrolled the grounds. This change reflected public opinion. By April several Sydney newspapers were convinced that the patriotes would prove beneficial to the colony They reported their good behaviour, and various visitors and officials led the men to believe their time in the stockade would be short. Of course, the citizens' motives were not altruistic. Convict workers possessing the skills and work habits of the Canadiens were few and far between. As time went on and more and more people realized this, officials further relaxed the restrictions upon them. Unlike ordinary felons, the Canadiens did not work in chains even when outside the stockade. They were allowed to keep their few possessions and, after awhile, to wear their own clothes on holidays and Sundays. Although their conditions were not excessively cruel, the patriotes still thought them hellish. Lepailleur complained that there was 'nothing in the world more painful and wretched than an exiled prisoner/ He was 'the slave of everyone, not only one person, but all those in authority.' On 25 September 1840 he poured out his soul: We left with hope that our good conduct and [the fact that] Canada was quiet would shorten our exile and we're still in the same position today. For a year we have heard nothing certain about what's going on in Canada. It seems everything is quiet but we are not certain that is so. All we know is that our trip was

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sadder than we imagined, by far ... today, it's seven months since we arrived in Port Jackson. That day we had greater hopes of being freed soon within this island than we have today after seven months in slavery and in more cramped cells than we had the year before and with a much greater danger of being disgraced by punishment which some of us do deserve, although the offences would have been minor. To talk back to an overseer is sufficient to get the lash. To neglect one's work is also an offence serious enough for flogging and how many other similar offences can bring upon us a punishment which will disgrace us and our families for the rest of our days? The misery of exile is worse than death on all counts. What good is life when I know that my family is in dire need and without help and without me being able to help them and who cry for me night and day and when I am wrenched away from all I hold most dear in the world?26

They all suffered. Prieur, whose first job involved trundling rocks in a barrow, quickly found his feet lacerated and shoes ripped by the rough surface of the stone-breaking yard.27 The men succumbed to dysentery shortly after they arrived at the camp, and many endured recurrent attacks afterwards. More galling than anything else was the censorship of letters to wives and families. Baddely and Bourdon, to the men's disgust and horror, read the letters before sending them to Sydney for further censoring. Lepailleur spoke for many when he exclaimed, 'Our letters must pass through the hands of Tom, Dick and Harry. It's too humiliating.'28 The patriotes quickly worked out alternate mail systems. With the implicit approval of the Catholic hierarchy, most gave their mail to church officials who entrusted it to people going to Britain. From there it was sent to Bishop Bourget in Montreal, who despatched the various letters to the parish priests. 29 Benjamin Mott and others used the services of Emmanuel Neich, innkeeper of the Bath Arms, almost directly across from the prison gate on the Parramatta Road.30 For the men who were accustomed to visible signs of respect in their parishes in Lower Canada, such as Morin and Huot, Longbottom meant a change in values and habits. Baddely, perhaps incensed by these men's natural dignity, went out of his way to humiliate the two. And Bouc and Mott found Bourdon had become their nemesis. At just twenty-three years of age, Bourdon assumed airs and graces, arrogantly misusing his almost despotic powers as camp clerk. But while he might order the patriotes into solitary for minor misdemeanours, he was never responsible, as other convicts in his position had been, for the flogging of a fellow prisoner.31 Two incidents in June 1840 changed life for everyone, turning Longbottom into a most extraordinary convict stockade.

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To the authorities, one of the first indications of the Canadiens' special qualities must have been their request to scrub and clean their quarters on 12 March 1840; the second, the alacrity with which they embraced work. A third indication might have been their intense devotion to their religion, and it was around the question of the church that the first incident revolved. As soon as they settled into a regular regime at Longbottom, Lepailleur reassumed his unofficial chaplain role by reading mass. Most men took part in communal morning and evening prayers, a practice at least one Sydney newspaper found worth mentioning.32 After the first month, Bishop Folding visited them, promising to send a priest to minister to their needs. That Easter they gathered together to listen to a sermon sent by Father Brady, and the missionary father himself arrived on 23 April 1840. Joined by Folding the next day, he heard confessions and offered encouragement. Apparently the government granted the men time off work, as confessions continued the following day when fiftyfour men received communion in the dining hut, which had been lovingly decorated for the occasion.33 The two leaders not only gave spiritual solace but provided emotional comfort as well. Brady promised to try to influence Governor Gipps to assign them to good employers, then caused a small furore by suggesting the men petition the governor for permission to walk to the church outside the camp on Sundays. Some willingly embraced the idea. Others, fearing prison guards would accompany them, thought the journey would be too humiliating. A couple of days later, however, Brady returned with the news that permission to attend church had been granted and that, in lieu of a police escort, the patriotes would be responsible for their own security. This news failed to close the rift between the two groups. Once those sensitive to public humiliation thought about it, they realized they would be wearing the despised convict clothes for all and sundry to see. When questioned on the issue by Bourdon, twenty men put pride above piety, an incomprehensible attitude to those who would wear anything 'rather than miss the benefit of holy mass and the benefit of receiving ... [their] Divine Saviour when properly prepared/34 An empathetic Brady raised the question of Sunday clothing with Baddely in June; then, to everyone's surprise, the governor himself visited the camp a day later. After inspecting the assembled men, viewing the work and sleeping areas, Gipps promised them that they would obtain some future favour if their good behaviour continued. Baddely apparently raised the clothes issue with Gipps directly, for the governor declared they might be able to wear their own clothes to mass at some point in the future. As a sign of his general approval, he allowed an

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extra hour's freedom each night before the huts were locked. The following Sunday, 7 June 1840, the Canadiens left Longbottom to walk to church in Parramatta, a trip of fifteen miles there and back. Not everyone wore the convict dress. Baddely allowed Prieur, Huot, Lanctot, and Ducharme to wear different hats and jackets by virtue of their positions in the camp or their friendship with Bourdon, who was quickly becoming more autocratic than Baddely himself. According to Roy, Bourdon, dressed entirely in his own clothes, acted like a complete martinet: I don't want to condemn their conduct because I myself am ashamed [of the convict clothes, but] to see Canadiens, exiled with us and for the same cause, wanting to set themselves apart [because of] the little jobs and exemption from work that the Commandant has given them - strangers have not despised us as much as our convict officers have. We marched to church in ranks like common soldiers and returned in the same manner ... It is 71/2 miles from LongBottom [sic] to Parramatta. Many of us are exhausted.35

To add insult to injury, or maybe to impress a status-driven society, Bourdon and his four captains walked ahead of the rest of the men, who followed in rows of three. His rules for the journey were strict - no loud talking, a steady pace but not too fast, and frequent halts 'to wait for Mr. this and Mr. that.' To enforce his superiority, Bourdon allowed no one to wear a watch, other than himself of course. On their return, a deeply hurt Lepailleur exclaimed: We are led by our own people like the bullockies drive their oxen, and with as much contempt ... He [Bourdon] asked Robert to lend him his blue jacket. Robert refused, saying he wanted to wear it himself. Bourdon said there were too many with blue jackets and this would lead to confusion. He wanted himself and his friends to appear as gentlemen, while the rest of the prisoners looked like criminals. We mustn't complain because our gentleman is that filth Baddely's pet and he'd put us in the lock-up without ceremony, because Mr. Bourdon is everything. He is commander, clerk, turnkey, jailer and so on.36

In Lower Canada the Canadiens had fought the same enemy, faced the same judges, received the same sentences. In New South Wales many patriotes found no equality on the road to Parramatta. The second incident, also in June, was both tragic and farcical. Although the military guard had long since left the stockade, there remained a contingent of mounted police on the grounds. On the evening of 12 June 1840 two of them, Samuel Gorman and Sergeant James Lane, returned to Longbottom after searching for bushrangers

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(criminals who hid in the bush and survived through robbery). Gorman began drinking, then in a jealous rage started to beat his wife. When Baddely intervened, Gorman attacked him. The commandant hastened to Lepailleur's hut and ordered the patriotes there to arrest Gorman and put him in the lock-up. This they willingly did because, far from maintaining the stockade's security, the drunken police only 'created discord in the camp/ The next morning Baddely extracted a promise of good behaviour from the sobered Gorman and, instead of sending him to Sydney as he had threatened to do, released him. Gorman and Lane had originally been part of the 28th and 39th regiments, respectively.37 At the time of the incident, Lane had been with the police for eight years, Gorman four, and their records were relatively clean.38 Lane, in particular, would pay dearly for what happened next. Freed from solitary, the seething Gorman spent the day exaggerating the incident in his mind while downing glass after glass of alcoholic refreshment. In the evening four more police arrived, and they began drinking with Lane and the Gormans at Lane's house. Baddely returned from a day-trip to Sydney at about midnight and went to bed, but fifteen minutes later all hell broke loose when the Gormans left Lane's house. Once outside the door, the policeman 'fell upon his wife, kicking and punching her. With every blow she fell to the ground, crying out like a person being brained.' Some other police (not the fellow imbibers), aroused by the noise, came to the scene but did nothing to stop Gorman's attack. Bourdon heard the woman's screams and raced to Baddely's quarters to tell him that Gorman was once more abusing his wife. When they arrived at Lane's house, Mrs Gorman shouted, '"Are you going to let me be slaughtered?"' Commandant and convict began pulling Gorman off his wife. With this intervention into what they considered a domestic matter, the police went berserk, smashing crockery and assaulting Baddely and Bourdon. Bourdon sent first for the carters' help in quelling the police riot, then opened all the hut doors. The Canadiens burst out, happy to brawl, relishing the chance to fight against the Vile ... drunken scum' - the police. It must have seemed a heaven-sent opportunity to vent frustrations, and according to Lepailleur, Baddely and Bourdon 'went completely out of their minds.' In the end, the convicts locked up the police and returned to bed. A disapproving Lepailleur had never seen such a 'farce.' His viewpoint may have been influenced by the fact that he and several others were forced into sentry duty on a night when torrential rain fell constantly. Prieur, more realistically, put Baddely's penchant for womanizing at the root of the bad blood between the commandant and the Gormans.39 The incident had many consequences. In an official inquiry into the

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riot, ten Canadians testified before a police court, with Bourdon acting as interpreter.40 Sergeant Lane, found guilty of being drunk when in 'charge of the Police Station at Longbottom/ was reduced in rank to a private, with a consequent loss in pay. Gorman, disciplined for being 'drunk and riotous at the Stockade at Longbottom and Striking or otherwise mistreating Henry Clinton Baddely/ was docked fifteen days' pay and was not allowed a pass for a month, which time he apparently spent on the treadmill.41 A third policeman, Richard Smith, had had a record of alcohol-related offences. Convicted of being 'drunk and riotous at Longbottom, being at the time on duty in search of runaway convicts/ Smith was given six months in the Hyde Park Barracks. The first and last months of his sentences were to be in solitary confinement and the rest in hard labour.42 Mrs Gorman, in almost a classic battered-wife reaction, stuck by her man, scolding Baddely and Bourdon for their interference. Others in the 'free' community of Concord sided with her. With Baddely justifying his actions and relying on his convicts more and more, relations between him and the village worsened. Lepailleur, for instance, refused to open the gate for the police, acting on Baddely's order that he was only obliged to open it for the governor. Interaction between the superintendent and the outside became so acrimonious that settlers around the stockade began working to rid themselves of Baddely's presence. The most important result was the consolidation of the BaddelyBourdon alliance. The patriotes quickly realized that as long as they satisfied their two bosses, they could have the run of the stockade. Baddely probably owed his appointment to his fluency in French rather than to a good reputation, as he had been dismissed from the army and he had lost, Lepailleur believed, other posts at Grose Farm and Cook's River.43 The Canadiens' first impressions of him had been favourable. Toussaint Rochon, before the Gorman melee, saw him as 'a gentleman who was very mild ... well pleased with each of us and who ... [conducted] himself in an irreproachable manner,'44 and in May Lepailleur wrote to his wife that the patriotes had 'a worthy man' named Baddely whose 'kindness' made their exile 'more bearable.'45 As they observed his growing dependence on Bourdon, their opinions changed. After the police incident, the superintendent recognized more than ever the small gold mine he possessed in his convicts. Accordingly, he seconded some to work for him. Although he received rations, forage for his horse, and a per diem of six shillings, he more than doubled this by speculative activities. In fact, Lepailleur estimated he earned up to an extra fifteen shillings daily through the Canadiens' labour. It took only a few weeks for the fact to become obvious both to officials and to the now hostile Concord community.

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As early as September 1840 the superintendent of bridges in the colonial engineer's department began complaining to Major Barney about the insufficient amount of work done by Longbottom's convicts. When these complaints were ignored, Baddely felt so secure that he lent the patriotes to his friends. David Gagnon, for example, worked for the Reverend George Turner of Ryde.46 Several men built canoes, others made wheel spokes, and the woodsmen provided Baddely with a lumber business. On top of this, the commandant sold forage and manure. Community tensions continued to grow. Forest warden Thomas Rose, who had lived in the area since its opening to settlers in 1793, was accustomed to take a shortcut through the camp to the wharf. Fearing what Rose might see, Baddely forbade him use of the camp gate and track, thus making a persistent enemy who did not scruple to smash a new canoe when an opportunity arose. After the first such incident, the Canadiens guarded their illegal businesses and wares at night. In July 1840 Sergeant Lane accused Baddely of cheating on his convicts' meat rations.47 Baddely also quarrelled with Lane over the latter's garden in September 1840, and by January 1841 Lepailleur noted 'that Mr. Baddely cannot put up with any neighbour without having a fight or some lawsuit/4* Baddely's deteriorating health may have had something to do with his behaviour. During 1840 his transformation into a petty despot was progressing erratically. When Doctor Newcomb seemed unconcerned with the poor health of some patriotes, Baddely had the humanity to ride into Sydney for a second opinion from the doctor in charge of convict health. But the picture painted by the Canadien commentators revealed a possessed man rapidly succumbing to a fatal disease, probably syphilis. The superintendent was a man of contradictions. A bachelor, he was described by Prieur as 'having so little respect for himself that he was pretty indecent/49 At the same time, he stirred antagonisms between himself and his neighbours, quarrelling with Rose over trifling issues like horse manure. He was friendly with the Reverend Turner, minister of Saint Anne's (Anglican) parish, Ryde, and also with a justice of the peace, Captain J.W. Brown of Taterson,' Parramatta. As time went by, he increasingly divided his time between Sydney, the Insane Asylum across the river at Tarban Creek, and the Female Factory for women convicts in Parramatta, presumably to satisfy his sexual needs.50 By April 1841 Baddely had changed from being merely irrational to being outrageously autocratic. He was now vomiting blood and believed his death was imminent. When he visited Sydney or Parramatta, he demanded that one of the convicts meet him with his horse so that he could ride from the wharf to his destination in either city, even if the

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distance was a mere hundred yards or so. Accommodating his personal needs and comfort soon required the full-time services of a quarter of the Canadiens. As his fear of death increased and the disease progressed, Baddely vented his rage on the patriotes, threatening to make them wear convict dress to church, forbidding them to buy bread or alcohol on their way home. On an occasion when he heard they had purchased bread, he immediately reported them to the Parramatta police, ordering their imprisonment if they were ever again seen buying food. Jealous of his rights, he seemed to believe that the convicts worked for him, not the government. In addition to the other ways he exploited their labour, he had ten men make furniture for his own profit, and he tried to circumvent Barney's order that the convicts work on the roads so that they could do jobs for him in the stockade instead. He became dangerous to be around. Joseph Marceau, who had the misfortune to be his cook and general servant, sometimes had hatchets thrown at him. When Captain Morin raised an arm to prevent Baddely7 s cane landing on his face, the superintendent wanted to send him, in irons, to Sydney. Lepailleur, who assumed Bourdon's duties in September 1841, received a severe scolding because the convicts did not work every moment of the day. Men became so terrified of Baddely's madness that they would flee the dining hut at his approach, abandoning their food. Knowing that various patriotes kept journals and afraid that events might be truthfully depicted, Baddely and Bourdon made determined searches for them. At one point Lepailleur had to give his journal into a friend's safekeeping. Driven by this fear of exposure, Baddely punished any convict he saw talking with the public. Editors and newspaper writers who asked to speak with the Canadiens received summary and crude refusals, even when armed with permission from Barney's office. The Canadiens also had to cope with another tyrant, Louis Bourdon. Just three days after he had been appointed camp clerk by Barney, Bourdon put Toussaint Rochon into solitary, accusing him of stealing food to make tourtieres.51 He favoured friends. While strictly enforcing curfew before the Gorman fracas, he nonetheless had allowed some favourites to stay up later.52 One of those not favoured by Bourdon was Antoine Lareine, who stood only five feet tall. After Lareine complained of a sore arm to Newcomb, Baddely ordered him to solitary, where he suffered an epileptic fit. Both Newcomb and Bourdon were well aware of this, but 'it made no impression on them. More insensitive than the lowest animals, they left the poor man to struggle all day.'53 Although most of the men were furious, they felt powerless to intervene, so effectively had Bourdon

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established his authority over them. Fearing any diminution of control, Bourdon forbade the journey to mass if he should decide not to go himself. For one year, therefore, religious observance depended on his whims. When Joson Dumouchelle impulsively went about a hundred yards outside the stockade to help an elderly drunken woman, Bourdon and Prieur reported him to Baddely. The camp clerk's control of his fellow patriotes was so great that impressed outsiders wanted him assigned to them to oversee their own convicts. Bourdon may have been reluctant to leave Longbottom, for he found convict life very profitable. As early as July 1840 he seemed to be rolling in wealth. A shrewd businessman, he made £40 on just one of the Canadien enterprises, that of gathering oyster shells and selling them to lime manufacturers.54 The promise of easy money lured Joseph Pare into making a bad bargain. He bought the rights to sell the shells to the bargemen for £3, pledging his watch as security. Bourdon, the middleman, still bought the shells from the gatherers for eight or ten pence a bushel, then sold them to Pare for a shilling (twelve pence). As the contractor's price varied, Pare did not make much money. But Bourdon had many other enterprises. Using government oxen, he brought government wood to the wharf at night, selling bargeloads for his own profit, usually about twenty-four shillings per load. As sometimes six were sold each night, earning him £7 4s., he soon became a very rich convict. Following Baddely's and Bourdon's example, many Canadiens also became entrepreneurs. After the Gorman incident, their huts were opened as soon as Baddely went to bed. In these hours, many literally 'moonlighted.' E.-P Rochon set up a shop that produced carriages, axes, wheel spokes, and even a gravestone. Some of the carpenters made razor boxes and chests out of the magnificent red cedar that could still be found at Longbottom. The self-described lunatic Pare constructed an efficient fish trap, catching not only edible fish but sharks and stingrays.55 The Heberts and Bigonnesse made canoes. Gagnon helped build carriages and carts, while David-Drossin Leblanc fashioned shoes from the tanned government leather. Among the oyster gathers were the Thiberts, Joson Dumouchelle, the Longtins, Jean Laberge, the indefatigable Pare, Jeremie Rochon, and Langevin, while Bourbonnais, Laberge (again), and the carters provided the muscle that allowed the wood business to flourish. Only the oyster shell business was strictly Canadien. Baddely received the lion's share of the profits from all the other enterprises. Needless to say, while the businesses provided money, they lowered morale. The men in the oyster shell trade made between them £120 to £150, a vast sum for convicts under superintendence. In the

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restricted environment of Longbottom, greed and jealousy devoured many. Lepailleur alleged that Jeremie Rochon sold an axe made by Touchette and Buisson. In August 1840 Sergeant Lane stole Rene Pinsonnault's trunk, which the latter had built from Rose's discarded bed frame. Several patriotes feared he would take the trunk to Sydney to expose their illegal activities. Lepailleur was only one Canadien who thought the time had come for them to be separated, before all were punished. There were frequent rumours of their departure. It seemed that anyone who met them tried to instil cheer by predicting that they would be pardoned and allowed to return to Lower Canada or that they would be assigned to settlers. And while some learned not to trust in these wellmeant stories, others pinned desperate hopes on them. But in the depth of their hearts, none of them believed he would spend the rest of his life in New South Wales. This stubborn hope showed in many ways. Most importantly, it gave them a huge incentive to make money in any way they could, at whatever risk to their health, in order to save for their passage home. The journals were another sign of this hope. They not only provided an outlet for the day's trials and tribulations, they became talismen. Men laboriously recorded the highlights and lowlights of their existence so that these could be shared with their loved ones and communities once they returned to Lower Canada. In harbouring these hopes and beliefs, the patriotes refused to reconcile themselves to life in New South Wales. Nor could many of them accept the fact that they were paying a price for a crime others had also committed.56 Seeing themselves as victims of an arbitrary fate, they justified their headlong pursuit of wealth as a way to ameliorate their lot. Ducharme expressed much of this philosophy when he wrote about the prisoners' abuse of government time and goods: As for ourselves, it mattered little ... whether we were working for the Government or for anybody else, being, as we were, responsible only for obedience to the superintendent, and being able to obtain any amelioration to our situation only by sharing his interests and flattering his wishes. Nothing is more natural than that a prisoner should seek to improve his lot, especially when the Government alone is the sufferer.57

The thefts and illegalities were thereby excused. Like many others, Basile Roy had thought that once they had arrived in New South Wales, they would be free and not forced to perform manual labour. Although he found the pursuit of riches by many of his comrades incomprehensible, he realized hunger was a powerful

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motive and that money, even if dishonestly obtained, could stop its pangs. He and others may have had qualms about how certain sums were earned, but they all ate the peach pies made from fruit purchased from Alexander Macdonald, a neighbour near the stockade. With such treats, welcome additions to the otherwise dreadful food, few worried about the law forbidding convicts to buy anything while under superintendence. Expediency governed, although some still feared disgrace and punishment. No matter what the situation or how much money they made, none forgot their absent families. Mott joined Chevrefils one night in tears. Basile Roy found the pain of exile greater than death, sometimes wishing he had been executed, as then his agony would have ended. He recorded what it meant to him to be a convict: Always living without being oneself, always a slave without liberty, this terrible [existence] causes a pain which never ends and renews itself every moment of life, still more painful for he who has left a wife and dear children. I will not dwell any more on this ... because anyone can imagine it.58

The worst fate Roy imagined for himself was dying in New South Wales, thousands of miles from his loved ones. These fears took tangible form when Louis Dumouchelle became ill. Dr Samuel Newcomb, with the responsibility for the convicts' medical care, placed greater value on the government's needs than on his patients' health. In charge of the special rations for the ill, 'tea, sugar and rye, sweet bread of Arrowroot/ he appeared to prefer they 'be lost or stolen rather than given to the sick/59 Other patriotes suffered from his neglect and inhumanity. Usually a convict was allowed a sick leave of three days after being given medicine. Longbottom men were released for work the next day.60 By October 1840 it became obvious to everyone that Louis was extremely ill - to everyone, that is, except Dr Newcomb. He would not treat Louis, threatening him with solitary if he refused to make mortar in the cold water of the brickyard. Louis's brother, Joson, complained to Baddely, who threatened Newcomb with the loss of his position if he didn't take better care of the ill. Dumouchelle was immediately sent to the hospital in Sydney, along with a sick Lepailleur, who could act as an interpreter. They found Sydney Hospital on Macquarie Street 'one of the finest and largest buildings in all of Sydney ... in one of the most beautiful parts of town/ Lepailleur estimated the length as '400 feet long with two floors, all in sandstone with 2 balconies all around/ From its balconies he could see the 'entire city of Sydney and the whole entrance of Port Jackson/ He also saw six windmills in front of the hospital, behind the

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parade ground, as well as the Catholic church (St Mary's) and several English churches, such as the Anglican St James.61 Its appearance aside, the Sydney Hospital was a cruel place. Lepailleur, diagnosed as suffering from dysentery, and Dumouchelle, from dropsy and malnutrition, were assigned to a large ward holding twenty patients.62 Convicts supervised it, frequently brutalizing the sick. No care was given during the night and many patients, seven in the space of Lepailleur's stay, died with only their fellow sufferers aware of the fact. One death particularly enraged him. A convict suffering from an ear infection had been systematically mistreated since entering the hospital two weeks earlier. Only forty-eight hours before his death the 'nurses' had shaken and beaten him in an effort to make him stand. He died tied to his bed because he had let his sheets drop to the floor. Hospital food was worse than Longbottom's. Portions were extremely small, the same contractor supplied the same bad meat, and there were no Canadien cooks to imaginatively disguise the taste. Fortunately for Louis and Lepailleur, the Longbottom community and their friends rallied round, giving help and consolation. Baddely permitted Joson frequent leaves, which allowed him to stay overnight at the hospital with his brother. Bishop Folding, Father Brady, and Vicar General Francis Murphy visited the two Canadiens, the latter giving Louis absolution. Prieur generously sent money and sugar. This was a particularly altruistic gesture because, although favoured by Bourdon, he had not been infected by the money craze and was not one of the wealthiest in camp. In spite of Louis's obvious distress, Joson denied the evidence of his eyes and pathetically attempted to make his brother eat normally. The doctors also tried. Louis took medicine, drank drafts, suffered an operation in which three gallons of blood and water were extracted from his abdomen, but still grew weaker. Seeing the end approach, Lepailleur wrote letters and messages from the sometimes delirious man to his family in Lower Canada. Forty days after his admittance, Louis Dumouchelle died, hallucinating that he was reunited with his beloved wife. He was placed naked in a coffin, to Lepailleur's dismay, and, with Joseph in attendance, buried 24 November 1840.63 Without any doubt, Louis's death had a profound effect on his compatriots. It was their worst nightmare - to die thousands of miles from family and friends. To deal with this fear, as well as with increasing homesickness and the tension within the camp, many now turned even more fervently to their religion. Several men joined the lay brotherhood of Our Lady Help of Christians. Frangois-Xavier Guertin, who led prayers, became so devout that Lepailleur feared he would soon don a cassock and take up preaching. On 25 July 1841, together with Turcotte

Longbottom Stockade 227

and Guerin, he chanted the first high mass performed in the Parramatta church.64 After this feat, the Canadiens were given the collection money of £3 2d. Is., which Lepailleur divided into twenty-two shares of ten pence (presumably for those who did not attend) and thirty-five of fifteen pence.65 Their Christian God, however, was not just worshipped on Sundays. He was part of the ballads sung at Longbottom: God comes to loosen our chains, Eases our moanings; Condescends to soothe the sadness Of our [his?] dear little children.66

Prudent convicts concealed their feelings if they were wise. As Toussaint Rochon could have testified, any attempt to stand up to Bourdon resulted in hours of solitary confinement. But even their little despot' must have joined in singing a folk song mocking British institutions and therefore their captors: Always winter and summer Hot water with tea, Always butter over bread The roast beef is their cuisine. But at times, a stew without taste, without taste, God! How boring, what distaste ... And who among them could have resisted singing about the effect of Canadien women on a man's heart: We pass the bottle, fly my heart fly. We pass the bottle, We pass one after the other, We drink one after the other, gently. We drink one after the other, Dancing with our girlfriends, fly my heart fly. Dancing with our girlfriends, We hopped like real fools, We hopped like real fools, gladly We hopped like real fools.

But even spirited songs such as these could not stop the burning ache for Lower Canada and the loved ones there. From their first days on the Buffalo, the patriotes had written letters home. When mail from Lower Canada finally arrived in 1841, it was read aloud for everyone

228 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

who listened. They all hoped to glean information on the efforts to get them home or snippets of news regarding their own families. Newspapers, both local and the occasional one sent from home, were scanned avidly, and items concerning themselves clipped out and saved. Although official policy denied convicts access to newspapers, the Canadiens managed to read various Sydney papers daily, a sign that they were respected by the local community. Innkeeper Neich willingly lent his papers, and while Lepailleur was the gate sentry, a young schoolboy, Thomas 'Sanmorfil/ brought them to him every morning.67 So highly were these papers prized that one was stolen from Lepailleur's bag. There was a wide choice, ranging from the Australasian Chronicle, which, being Catholic, favoured the Lower Canadian convicts and advocated their release from superintendence, to the Australian, owned by one of the stockade's neighbours, George Robert Nichols.68 The Sydney Herald continued to oppose the Canadiens7 liberation. For many months the issue remained controversial. By late March 1840 the Sydney Monitor and Commercial Advertiser gave the patriotes a glowing report. After advising its readers of their Longbottom residence, the paper praised Governor Gipps for acting 'judiciously in keeping these men apart from the other convicts/ Only four or five patriotes spoke English, according to this newspaper, but as a whole they generally acknowledged 'they were wrong in being concerned in the insurrection' and thought themselves 'the dupes of those who got it up for selfish reasons/ The Monitor praised their behaviour as 'impeccable/ commended their religious devotion, and called for their release 'after the briefest possible probationary period7 in order that 'Canadian husbandry7 be introduced into the colony.69 The Colonist had a small write-up on the same day. It called the Canadiens 'unfortunate men7: No mention or complaints are heard from them, and they pay implicit obedience to any orders they receive. Every evening they congregate near their ... house for the purposes of prayer. After they are locked up each division may be heard for a short time imploring the Supreme Being and then all is hushed till the morning, when they return to their severe probation.70

A letter in the Colonist, signed 'Clementinus,7 supported this viewpoint. The writer noted that a distinction had to be made between 'moral and political offences,7 and went so far as to say that the patriotes 'now pray hourly7 for the queen's welfare, bitterly repenting the time they 'took up arms against their sovereignty/ Clementinus not only advocated the Canadiens7 promotion to assignment but called for them to become 'free

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settlers' and for the government to bring out their wives, children, and parents. This, he thought, would be a 'gem indeed in the Crown of England and ... an immense advantage to the Colony for these men are industrious and pious/71 In July the Australasian Chronicle published a letter from Father Brady declaring the fare at Longbottom so bad 'that the white slave from Ireland, accustomed as he is to ... live upon potatoes and salt, could scarcely exist on it/72 This, coupled with Clementinus's suggestions, was entirely too much for Sydney's bigots. The Herald, which had called for the early assignment of the Canadiens in April, now reversed itself, launching into a diatribe against Brady and the rebels. The editor, fresh from reading the transcript of their trials in a copy of the Report of the State Trials before a General Court Martial, queried Brady regarding the burning and pillaging, asking how many wives and children were without fathers because of the rebellion. To further emphasize the point that the patriotes had brought their woes on their own heads, he speculated about how many wounds the military had suffered when suppressing the revolt. In the editor's mind, punishment needed to be meted out for these 'enormities.' And as for the plea that the governor improve the patriotes' situation, the Herald pronounced the Canadiens 'much better off than men in assigned service.' Although the paper disapproved of the convict system, it decided that Gipps would only compromise himself if he released the Canadiens before six months, which would be unjust 'to the well behaved Protestant Prisoners/73 The Colonist reported on the war of words between its rivals and also sent a man to Longbottom to observe the situation there. Were the Canadiens really suffering, as Brady wrote? As it was Sunday, the reporter had seen the men enjoying their free time. They watched passers-by or walked among themselves; a few read.74 Reading was a popular pastime for the literate among the Canadiens, and judging from Lepailleur's accounts, there were many books within the stockade. These ranged from biographies of the powerful (especially Napoleon and the French kings) to religious tracts and almanacs. Innkeeper Emmanuel Neich appears to have been a limitless source, not only providing books in French but probably selling paper to Lepailleur and other journal keepers as well. Lepailleur made drawings of the stockade - some of these he would sell, others were gifts. The fauna and flora fascinated everyone and they searched their FrenchEnglish dictionaries for their names. They could not find 'cockatoo' and decided that 'goanna' had to be 'iguana.' Literate or otherwise, they hunted for specimens to take back home. Many fished to supplement the dreadful diet. After a while they discovered that oysters were edible and from that moment frequently ate

230 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

their fill. To gather them, both for food and for their shells, they illegally ranged from the Longbottom dock on the western side of Hen and Chicken Bay. Using the canoes manufactured for Baddely, they crossed the Parramatta River, paddling as far as Kissing Point and Tarban Creek. Sometimes they encountered picnickers who generously shared food and money with them and, as was normal, offered hope for their deliverance from the stockade. On one occasion Pare, in his role as oyster shell supplier, strayed to the Five Dock, or eastern, side of the bay and drank alcohol with some people there.75 In that, he was not alone. Until Baddely stopped the practice, the Canadiens regularly bought beer in Parramatta on their way home from church, and without doubt some of Neich's liquid wares must have found their way into the compound. After the Gorman fiasco, work hours became flexible. As intelligent men, the Canadiens quickly realized that their work output far exceeded the normal and they learned to meet or better their quotas in the most efficient way. For example, Lepailleur, who became a work overseer after his return from hospital, expected a certain amount of labour from his men. Once they had done it, he freed them to work on their own projects. One Ascension Day he even gave them a holiday, thinking rather naively that they would appreciate having time to perform their religious duties. To his horror he found that his crew had acclimatized to colonial values so well that they had spent their 'holy day' gathering oyster shells. Not all their time was devoted to profitable activities, either temporal or spiritual. Lepailleur lavished love on a little dog called 'Sergeant' and frequently took long walks in the woods at dusk. The patriotes made their own fun. They played jokes on each other, and E.-P. Rochon gave everyone pleasure when he carved a set of bowls. Thereafter the men played the game of bowls regularly, the first recorded instance of the pastime in the Concord area.76 Other games included checkers or draughts. On the twelfth night, January 1841, the convict hierarchy treated themselves to a fete. A cake was made, Huot crowned king, Prieur queen. Among the celebrants were Bourdon, Lanctot, Dumouchelle, Provost, Ducharme, and Lepailleur.77 Perhaps using this festivity as an example, Dumouchelle, Bourbonnais, Langlois, Gagnon, a Rochon, a Leblanc, and others held a Grand Fete in the woods on Easter Sunday, with quantities of rum contributing to their merrymaking. Unfortunately, Bourdon treated these roisterers roughly.78 In spite of the values and mores of the 1840s, it should come as no surprise that several managed to enjoy sex while under superintendence. They were, after all, ordinary men. Twenty-two-year-old Etienne Languedoc of St-Constant was one. A general troublemaker, he laughed at those who went to church. Baddely once sentenced him to walk in

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chains behind the churchgoers to curb his insolence. This would have humiliated the pious much more than the troublemaker. After the devout pleaded with Baddely to stop this offensive punishment, the superintendent instead made Languedoc walk up and down the stockade road with his hands manacled. Alienated from everyone except Jeremie Rochon, Languedoc cared little if his behaviour damaged the group's chances of early assignment or eventual return to Lower Canada. For this reason, the other Canadiens despised him and on at least one occasion petitioned Baddely to transfer him to another camp. For his part, Languedoc regularly had someone record details of the compound's activities so that he might expose Baddely, Bourdon, and the rest of his enemies. As these documents would have hurt everyone, Bourdon was informed when they were ready to be despatched to Sydney.79 Virtually isolated from his compatriots, Languedoc did make friends with an English convict attached to the camp as its messenger, Joseph Oxley. The two of them frequently slipped across the Parramatta Road to seek out the women who lived in a 'house of ill repute.' On one such occasion, Baddely had need of his messenger, and Bourdon discovered their whereabouts. Oxley was sent to Sydney for forty lashes from the Hyde Park scourger. Bourdon, however, concealed his compatriot's guilt, even though he had caught Languedoc red-handed, so to speak, a red-haired prostitute on his knee!80 Through such subterfuges, the Canadiens became the only group of men who never had a single official complaint laid against them during their period of superintendence. With this record of good behaviour and their reputation as skilled artisans and tradesmen, pressure mounted on Governor Gipps to release them into assignment to work for private employers at varying wages and under varying conditions.

11 'Land of a Thousand Sorrows71

'Mr Lepailleur, you said your first impression of Sydney made you understand that in the eyes of the world you were a felon. Do you think the experience in New South Wales helped Mr Prieur in later life? Helped him understand prisoners better?' 'You mean when he came superintendent of prisons?' Warwick nodded. 'It seems to me that the fact he was once a convict himself would have made him an ideal superintendent.' 'Yes, I can see why you might think that.' Lepailleur sat lost in thought for a moment. 'But it was quite different. First and foremost, none of us ever thought we were criminals. In our minds and in the minds of our loved ones, we had not committed a crime. And in Sydney, why, most of us considered ourselves better than the regular convicts. So, I doubt that Mr Prieur can truly understand a man who's in jail for robbing or assaulting another human being.' 'You and he are great friends, aren't you?' 'Oh yes. In fact, we are now much greater friends than we were in that cursed prison camp at Longbottom. We've made a pact, you see, to be each other's pallbearer.' He laughed a little at Warwick's face, then clarified his statement. I meant that if I should pass away first, then Mr Prieur would honour me in that way, as I would him if the Good Lord permits me to outlive him.' Warwick was impressed. Such thinking bespoke strong ties of friendship. 'But I don't understand exactly why you say you have become greater friends now. The way you spoke seemed to imply you weren't close to each other at all in Sydney.' Lepailleur beamed, pleased at the younger man's facility for picking up unstated nuances. 'No, we were not. In fact, there were many days when I disliked him, to be honest.' 'Why?' 'For one thing, we competed for the same positions in the camp. Eventually, Mr Prieur threw in his lot with Louis Bourdon to get ahead. Now, I could not stand Bourdon myself, so that was another source of conflict. For a while it seemed Xavier Prieur thought himself too good for those of us who'd known him

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 233

as a young shopkeeper before the rebellion. But I have to admit he didn't really change that much. I first realized that when Louis Dumouchelle and I had to go to the Sydney Hospital.' He shuddered at the memory. 'That truly was a horrible place. Convicts supposedly nursed other convicts. In reality they brutalized and stole from their patients. I was there for several weeks, and my dear Mr Prieur sent gifts of money and sugar to help me. Acts, you will agree, of a true Christian gentleman, not a criminal.' Warwick nodded, then watched the waiter place their lunches on the table. 'Tourtiere,' he said, as he started to eat. 'Two days in a row. It's good though, Mr Lepailleur. Almost as good as yesterday's.' After allowing his meal to cool for a few minutes, Lepailleur took a small bite. 'You realize, when I was a small boy we still used pigeons to make tourtieres. Now, I'll admit this is good - but only for a pork and veal pie.' After they'd finished eating and the waiter had removed the various platters, Warwick looked expectantly across the table. 'Now, sir. If Mr Prieur and you weren't that friendly in the prison camp, who were you friendly with?' 'Oh, my associates from Chateauguay and Beauharnois, of course. I came to know Mr Basile Roy quite well. Seeing he couldn't write, I kept a journal for him. And for a while, I guarded the gate into the stockade. At first it was a very lonely job, very boring. Mr Bouc from Terrebonne was the only one who visited me regularly - twice a day in fact, to help me pass the time. But after a while I made good friends in the neighbourhood. People began to recognize me and would stop and talk. Gradually, several of us developed a strong respect for each other. And then of course, there was the Bath Arms.' He took a handkerchief from a pocket and fussily wiped some pie-crust fragments from their table. Then he reached for his mug and held it high. 'And talking about that, I give you Mr Emmanuel Neich. Let us drink to his good health, my young friend.' Warwick took his own mug and made a minor ceremony of clinking it against Lepailleur's. 'Mr Emmanuel Neich,' he toasted, 'and his good health.' He grinned across at the older man. 'Sir, who is Mr Emmanuel Neich?' 'An innkeeper,' came the surprising answer. 'Mr Emmanuel Neich was and still is, I believe, the proprietor of the Bath Arms in Concord on the Parramatta Road. Or, as I understand from my old friend's letters, what used to be the Parramatta Road. They built a new one that does not go by his hotel any more.' Warwick happily rearranged his pencils, content to ease into the rest of the interview through a story. 'If you were in a prison camp, sir, how did you manage to meet?' Lepailleur laughed, his whole face reflecting enjoyment of the moment. For almost the first time Warwick could not detect undertones of pain or bitterness. Just thinking of his old friend seemed to have given Lepailleur happiness. This showed as he continued: 'The question you should be asking, my dear young

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man, is how Mr Neich managed to meet me. You see, travelling to New South Wales was never part of his plans. 'Manuel grew up in Genoa, Italy. He was exactly the same age as me, but we had spent our early years very differently. I established myself in Chateauguay, married my dear Domitile, and had my children. Neich had a travel lust, so he wandered the world. In 1826, when he was twenty, he found himself on Mauritius, in the Indian Ocean. One night, after drowning his homesickness in alcohol, he walked along the wharves, looking for any boat that would take him closer to home. He finally discovered a British ship leaving almost immediately for Holland, and telling himself he could easily find his way to Genoa from Holland, Neich walked on board, paid for his passage, and found himself a place to sleep. Some time later, when he had slept off the effects of drink, he went up on deck. To his dismay, the ship was sailing south. Even with a hangover, Manuel knew Rotterdam was north.' Warwick nodded. Mauritius was in the Southern Hemisphere; Rotterdam in the Northern. He too knew that the ship should have been sailing north. He also knew Lepailleur had spun the story out so that he would have to ask the obvious question. Catering to the older man's whim, he prompted, 'What had happened? Was there a reason?' 'There certainly was,' Lepailleur chuckled. 'You see, Neich had not read the sign correctly. The ship was sailing to New Holland, to Sydney in fact, not Rotterdam in Holland.' Warwick threw back his head and laughed. He could well imagine the mistake but not Neich's reaction. 'What did he do?' Lepailleur shrugged. 'What could he do? The ship wouldn't reach any land for weeks. So he resigned himself to seeing a part of the world he had heard so many horrible stories about. When he first landed, he was disgusted by the place. Like us, he saw men loaded down with heavy chains working in the streets - and everywhere else, in fact. He got himself out of Sydney as quickly as he could, travelling around the colony extensively. In fact, he even went as far as Hobart. But after a while he wanted to settle down. He couldn't face the months on ship it would take to go home, so in 1829 he took over the lease of an inn.' 'Ah, the Bath Arms. Finally, a happy ending.' Warwick rearranged his notebook and pencil, itching to get to the main story of the interview. 'Ah, this wasn't the Bath Arms - it was another inn. And there were problems,' answered Lepailleur, as usual taking his time before delving into his own past. 'You see, the authorities would not grant an operating licence to my friend because he was a bachelor. Emmanuel was outraged. He stamped his feet, threw his arms about in true Italian fashion, telling the official that while he might be a bachelor that day, he was engaged and would be taking his nuptial vows within the week. Of course, he got his licence and five years later got around to finding a wife. Mary, her name was. In that same year, 1834, he moved to the

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 235

Concord, or Longbottom, area and his father-in-law, Mr Coomer, built the Bath Arms for him, just a quarter of a mile away from the gate into the prison stockade.' 'A captive market/ Warwick commented, with a straight face. Catching the pun, Lepailleur grinned. 'Not legally. Convicts were forbidden to buy alcohol. But like so many rules, there were always ways around it. We certainly did not abstain when we were there anyway. And Mr Neich was a good friend to all of us, me in particular. I came to respect and like that man very much.' 'What an incredible story.' Warwick with a show of determination placed his pencil at the top of a blank page. 'Now sir, to work. Were the rest of Sydney's people like Mr Neich? Good friends to you?'

WHEN LEPAILLEUR RECORDED in September 1840 that he had spent 'seven months in slavery' and wrote in Basile Roy's journal that a convict was 'always a slave without liberty/ he unknowingly entered a debate on the merits and morality of the convict system. Early critics of the system, such as English abolitionists William Wilberforce and Lord Russell, equated convictism with slavery.2 To a limited degree, this idea was sound. In the type of slave society depicted as a 'simple account,' some slaves belonged to their masters no matter how they had been acquired.3 In return for providing the slave food, shelter, and minimal protection, the master had a chattel he could use, abuse, or sell as he willed. The most significant limits to his power were imposed by the consequences of his treatment of his slave, as when malnutrition engendered poor productivity. Market forces also shaped punishment levels to some extent: if marks of flogging criss-crossed a slave's back, that individual became less valuable to potential purchasers, who would not want to buy a fellow owner's problems.4 Slavery was forever; death could not extinguish it. Children begotten by slaves would also be slaves. Within other slave systems laws restricted the owners' powers and provided certain limited rights. But the bottom line remained the same. Slaves belonged to an owner and could be bought and sold like any other possession. By way of contrast, as punishment for breaking society's laws, convicted men and women forfeited their freedoms to the government (not to an individual), becoming liable to transportation. In the case of the Canadiens, the issue was quite explicit. Under her royal prerogative the queen remitted their death sentences on the condition they be transported for the remainder of their lives. For that exchange, the patriotes virtu-

236 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

ally became the property of the government, which could do with them as it wished under legally established limits. Most convict sentences to the Australian colonies had definite limits. A quarter of them were for 'the term of their [the prisoners'] natural lives/5 and only a few convicts spent their entire sentences in superintendence working solely for the government. Ninety percent of all convicts were 'assigned' or lent to private individuals who were then responsible for the convicts' housing, rations, minimal pay, and discipline. This assignment system was the key ingredient in the rapid growth of the Australian convict colonies, providing the only stable labour supply in New South Wales for many years. Under the terms of assignment, convicts had certain rights. They could bring charges of abuse against their employers (if they were brave enough) and, as they were not 'civilly dead,' use the courts in other ways as well (they could testify or sue in civil court, for example). When their sentences expired, they could apply for land and were then eligible to have convict workers assigned to them. Their children were 'free,' with the same rights as those born to 'free' parents. Whether an employer was 'good' or not depended on many factors, particularly his financial stability.6 Residents of New South Wales could request convicts by name, but there was no guarantee they would receive them. Uncertainties such as these could not stop the patriotes from wanting to leave Longbottom. On the advice of Major Barney, delivered through Baddely, they petitioned Governor Gipps in January 1841 for tickets-of-leave, a status above assignment akin to parole. Gipps was inclined to grant them this. As he told Lord Russell in a letter to London enclosing the petition, 'These prisoners have, ever since their arrival, been kept entirely by themselves ... and their conduct has in every respect been, I am happy to say, exemplary - not one having incurred any extra punishment.' But he believed his hands bound 'in consequence of the enactments in the 2nd & 3rd Wm. iv c. 62, s.2,' which did not give him the power 'to grant them this indulgence without special sanction of your Lordship.'7 As this letter and then Russell's response crossed the oceans, the Canadiens lowered their sights. If tickets-of-leave were impossible, they wanted to be assigned to employers. Perhaps being separated from one another would close the chasms developing between them. And when a few Canadiens began reporting thefts of various belongings, obviously stolen by fellow patriotes, most realized the time had indeed come to go divergent ways. In August 1841, as he waited for a response from London, Gipps let it be known that the Canadiens were assignable.8 Deputy-Surveyor Samuel Perry and Captain McLean personally brought the first authorizing documents to Longbottom, as they would be taking Canadien work-

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 237

ers themselves. McLean, as principal superintendent of convicts, had demanded very good wages and conditions for the men: three shillings and sixpence weekly to be paid to the men personally; clothing and rations; and additional lump sums of twenty shillings for the tradesmen among them and fifteen for the rest, to be paid into the Savings Bank of New South Wales in the men's names. Some employers, such as Baddely's friend Captain J.W. Brown, justice of the peace, of Taterson/ Parramatta, claimed the annual wage was considerably higher than what he paid 'free7 immigrant workers. Nevertheless, he accepted Provost (at a shilling a day according to Lepailleur) and later Marceau.9 Once the first men left the camp and it became obvious that all the patriotes would shortly be assigned, Baddely became distraught. In an effort to control his 'cash-cow,' he compiled a list of preferred employers, mainly friends like Brown. McLean immediately countermanded this action. But Baddely, with too much to lose, tried to stop or disrupt the assignment procedure entirely. He would not succeed, but an economic crisis that gripped the colony slowed the process considerably. Although the Canadiens were highly regarded by potential employers, Sydney was in the midst of a severe depression.10 Property values were down, jobs very scarce. Men, free and convict alike, roamed the streets looking for work, and although Legislative Councillor William Lawson of 'Veteran Hall,' Prospect (famed for crossing the Blue Mountains in 1813 with Gregory Blaxland and William Charles Wentworth), might complain of employees running away from his country properties, men also combed the rural areas of New South Wales for work.11 It was an employers' market, allowing them to pick and choose between free and convict workers. A merchant named Joubert,12 for example, did not want a convict assigned to him, even one with Louis Bourdon's references. Bourdon did not take this refusal lightly, going to Sydney himself to change the merchant's mind.13 The United States consul, J.H. Williams, took Mott.14 Lanctot, who should have known better, was upset to find he could not practise his notarial profession.15 Some tried to hasten their own assignment while helping others escape Baddely's increasing tyranny. Lepailleur, for one, gave lists detailing his compatriots' trades and skills to Parramatta priest Father Joseph Platt and to one of the stockade's neighbour's, John Rowley of 'Burwood' (a hundred-acre estate on the Parramatta Road). Both these men did their best to help, and shortly afterwards the Canadiens left Longbottom with increasing regularity. As their numbers dwindled within the stockade, morale declined even further. Rumours fed on each other, making the men homesick and fretful. One story had their wives and families arriving in the near future on a ship from Montreal. Not surprisingly, productivity declined. There

238 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

was 'not much will to work, even apart from homesickness/ Worse, the men became prey to psychological demons. Lepailleur, for example, frequently dreamt about his wife and now imagined he saw her in actuality. When a woman on the road 'stopped before the gate and looked in from the side of the settlement/ it was all he could do to restrain himself from going outside to see her.16 With Bourdon assigned, Lepailleur became camp clerk and now served Baddely directly in ways that humiliated him. He was once forced to follow the superintendent 'in the dust on foot beside his horse, with a bottle of medicine in one hand and a stem glass in the other, dressed in prison gear/ He was at least thankful he endured 'this humiliation out of sight of ... relatives and friends/ Unable to function rationally, Baddely refused his friend Brown's extraordinarily kind offer to pay his passage back to the British Isles so that he might end his days with his mother. The men on assignment visited Longbottom regularly, some to collect letters Lepailleur had written for their families. In these he always included a note for his wife; by December 1841 he had written fifteen to her. More importantly, the men from the outside confirmed the rumour, first told by passers-by on the Parramatta Road, that London would permit Gipps to promote them to ticket-of-leave status. Some Canadiens, cynical after many beguiling promises, refused to believe this. But Father Brady told them that Bishop Folding had written from London that the change would occur in February 1842. The men remained cynical, but shortly after this Joson Dumouchelle, who used to run 'about everywhere with news and the newspapers' with 'his friend Bechard,' electrified the camp by producing the issue of the Australasian Chronicle that contained the report that 'Lord John Russell has promised to grant a conditional freedom [ticket-of-leave standing] to these political victims in February next/17 News from Lower Canada arrived regularly now. Captain Morin received several newspaper clippings, one of which, published by L'Aurore des Canadas, was a letter Bourdon had written to his wife and sent via Bishop Folding. Snippets of political news, such as the names of Canadien members in the new united Province of Canada's legislature, were savoured. Just before Christmas a bundle of eighteen letters arrived, bringing much joy and also news of the Jalbert trial.18 (Frangois Jalbert had been tried for an atrocity in the 1837 rebellion. When Lieutenant George 'Jock' Weir had tried to escape from the rebels, he had been hacked to death. Jalbert was released because of a hung jury.) Emotions plummeted when Parramatta priest Father Platt told them the Australasian Chronicle had incorrectly reported Folding's news, but skyrocketed when a letter from Jean Laberge's mother reported that some

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 239

Lower Canadians were leaving to visit them. After work that night the men speculated about who the visitors might be, narrowing the choices to 'young people like ... [Henri] Newcomb, Langlois or young Morin, the son of the captain/19 Meanwhile, employers such as Sir Thomas Mitchell, noted explorer and surveyor-general of New South Wales, magistrates William Deloitte of Five Dock and Edward Cox of Mulgoa, and wealthy landowner N.S.W. Legislative Councillor Gregory Blaxland arrived to collect their assigned workers.20 One Longbottom resident watched as the Canadiens began to leave, and commiserated with those remaining in the stockade. In October 1841 innkeeper Emmanuel Neich decided to take a patriote himself.21 Once he had made the decision, Neich journeyed to Sydney to apply for Maurice Lepailleur. As days passed by with no news that his request was granted, Neich solicited the help of Rowley and George Robert Nichols, another neighbour, who was a prominent Sydney barrister and owner of the Australian. In spite of their influence, Neich was unsuccessful and Lepailleur heard on 22 December 1841 that he had been assigned to Hamilton C. Semphill, a Darlinghurst magistrate and a friend of Governor Gipps's.22 With much regret Lepailleur said farewell to the innkeeper who had become his friend, but he left Longbottom rejoicing that his slave days had ended, happy to escape the dying Baddely's tyranny and glorying in the chance to earn legitimate money - money, he hoped, that would eventually find its way to his 'dear Domitile/ He began working in January 1842 for Magistrate Semphill as a painter and labourer. For his efforts he received twenty shillings, or one pound, a month (which Semphill would bank in trust for him) and three shillings and six pence weekly. His assignment was brief. London's affirmative answer to Gipps's letter requesting permission to grant the patriotes ticket-of-leave status arrived in Sydney on 28 January 1842.23 The Principal Superintendent of Convicts Office in Hyde Park immediately began the paper work, and Lepailleur heard the good news on 4 February. By month's end every patriote had left Longbottom, and although none had yet received his ticket, they held a celebratory party at the inn of a French immigrant, John Meillon. His Jew's Harp at 205 George Street in the Brickfield Hill area became the Canadiens' Sydney headquarters.24 Lepailleur received his discharge from Semphill within days and moved to the Jew's Harp with Toussaint and Edouard-Pascal Rochon and Constant Buisson. From this base he and the others looked for jobs and shared the information they gathered. At this time, apparently, the men were finally eligible to draw out from the Savings Bank the money they had brought with them from Lower Canada. Mott had banked the

240 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

large sum of £21 17s. Sd., while Prieur had deposited a very modest 12s. 5d.25 Now that he was responsible for himself, Lepailleur found life radically different. At Longbottom he had been part of the patriote hierarchy, whether manning the gate, acting as hut captain, or serving as camp clerk. Unlike others, he had neither worked in ice-cold water making mortar nor driven recalcitrant oxen. Now, while he waited for his official ticket-of-leave and searched for a job, Lepailleur swallowed his pride, scrubbing floors and acting as a handyman at the Jew's Harp in exchange for board.26 His unemployment would not last long. On 17 March another innkeeper hired him for one pound per month plus room and board a wage considerably less than the going rate of £2 15s., but very welcome given Lepailleur's values and priorities. John Ireland owned the Plough Inn on the Parramatta Road in present-day Ashfield. Like the Bath Arms, Ireland's inn was a convenient changing place for coaches going to Parramatta, Windsor, Bathurst, and other western settlement areas. Lepailleur painted coaches and houses and lettered some post office carts. He and Ireland had an amicable relationship. When Lepailleur's official ticket-of-leave papers came through, giving him his liberty within the Parramatta District, it was Ireland who sponsored him.27 By early June 1842 Lepailleur had received the net sum of £3 11s. 8d. After various stints with other innkeepers in the area, earning him a magnificent six pounds a week on one occasion, he was hired by J. Purkis of Five Dock and Pitt Street. Again he served as a skilled handyman, driving coaches, tarring and painting barges and canoes. More importantly, his work at Five Dock brought him back in contact with his friends at Longbottom. In October 1842 Alexander Macdonald, who had earlier supplied the Canadiens with peaches and watermelons, employed Lepailleur to build a house and letter tombs in the St Anne's cemetery at Kissing Point across the Parramatta River.28 After finishing this work, Lepailleur painted rooms for Meillon, then found a job with his old friend Emmanuel Neich at the going wage of five shillings weekly plus room and board. In this period he also glazed the windows for the new Longbottom schoolhouse, earning thirty shillings for four days' work. Judging from Lepailleur's experience, workers in the Parramatta District earned higher wages than their counterparts in the Trig smoke' of Sydney In late 1843 and 1844, his wages averaged only three shillings weekly when he worked in the city. Whether he worked for fellow Canadiens on their various enterprises or for the wealthy William Charles Wentworth of Vaucluse, he received what seemed the standard rate of pay - at least it was for the sorts of jobs he could find. With his willingness to take relatively low wages, Lepailleur was rarely out of

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 241

Figure 11.1 Main Areas of the Canadiens' Activity While on Ticket-of-Leave

242 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

work in a depressed city whose employers could not pay their workers as they had 'when the profits were as formerly/29 The patriotes gradually adjusted to their economic freedom. While the masons among them worked on the foundations for the new army barracks at Paddington, their confreres developed a network. Those with good employers made sure other job openings were filled by compatriots whenever possible. For example, Lepailleur recommended Basile Roy for employment at John Ireland's and in turn benefited from the system when Joson Dumouchelle told him of an opening with Purkis. Some found their 'liberty' a mortification. Dr Newcomb, as might be expected, preferred life at Longbottom to that as a semi-free man. Aged sixty-seven in 1842, with only surgical skills to offer, he was 'unable during the whole time to earn more than a subsistence.'30 Prieur experienced disappointment and considerable disorientation as well. Before the rebellion his self-esteem and social standing had been largely based on his status as a country merchant. His efforts to establish himself in New South Wales would be difficult. By January 1842, barely a month out of Longbottom, he had lost his first job. His explanation was that his employer would not allow him time off to go to church on Sundays. His compatriots, however, uncharitably thought he found the menial work of making candy too demeaning.31 Whatever the reason, he felt that working in partnership might be preferable. This was not a new idea. Others had already decided that if employers weren't to be found, they could become self-employed. Some Canadiens started up a timber business in Balmain: the less skilled (Ducharme, for example) made shingles; the others (Buisson, Laberge, the Thiberts, Langlois, Alary, and Touchette) ran the sawmill.32 Like Prieur, Bourdon had taken various jobs since Longbottom, only to have his employers fail and close shop. Both he and Prieur thought their best chance of financial survival was to join the ten or so Canadiens in the sawmill operation. While pleased to see their two compatriots, the men at the mill had doubts. After all, neither Bourdon nor Prieur had done much manual labour. But they lent a hand, teaching the two the best way to manufacture four-foot laths from trees one hundred feet tall and six feet in diameter. During the first afternoon's work, Bourdon and Prieur managed to produce forty laths between them; as the latter ruefully noted, an experienced woodsman might have made two hundred. That evening, they had, according to Prieur, the most agreeable evening which so far it had been our lot to pass in the land of Australia. Until eleven o'clock, our conversation, mingled with Canadian songs, centred round our own dear country, our relatives and our absent friends. Each one of us thought and talked about his family, his parents, expressing the hope

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 243

of seeing still once again, both of these before his death. This very pleasant conversation, doubtless, was not without grief, however, for there were amongst us husbands and fathers whose wives and children were absent and perhaps in necessitous circumstances.

During the next few days, they worked continuously, gaming expertise. However, Bourdon was physically weak and found the manual labour very difficult. After a while the mill proved unprofitable, and the men drifted into other enterprises. Ducharme found a gardener's job with Charles Smith, an affluent butcher. Prieur joined him for a short while, then left to open a shop in Irish Town on the Liverpool Road (in today's suburb of Yagoona) together with Jean-Marie Thibert and Touchette, who knew the area well from their assignment to Magistrate William Lawson.33 Once established, the three Canadiens tried to entice customers by offering a variety of goods, ranging from foodstuffs to the products of blacksmith Touchette's forge. They built an earthen oven for baking bread in the Canadien style, which was a source of interest for the few residents and passers-by. But curiosity did not generate much money and they quickly dissolved the partnership. Other ventures were more successful. Entrepreneur E.-P. Rochon bought two lots in Kent Street, Sydney, for £135 10s., borrowing money from within the Canadien community. He then built two two-storey houses, with help from various tradesmen, including Lepailleur. Five months later, after their completion, he rented them for thirty-two shillings per week, then sold them in April 1843 for £295. Hoping to emulate Rochon's success, other Canadiens, including Jacques Goyette, Etienne Langlois, Pascal, and Louis and Rene Pinsonnault, pooled their money (with lenders offering interest from 6 to 15 percent).34 They met with varying results - one investor got into financial difficulty after he lost his £35 stake.35 Lepailleur himself caught the real-estate fever, buying a house Moyse Longtin and Rene Pinsonnault had built for £235, but he had miscalculated either the house's value or the changing economic times and resold it for a mere £165. Shortly afterwards Prieur informed Le Canadien's readers that several other men would be hard pressed to sell their speculative houses for a profit.36 The traditional habitant distrust of the English and their banks surfaced in Sydney. Basile Roy, for example, regularly gave his wages to Lepailleur for safekeeping. As well as trusting each other more than foreign institutions, the Canadiens retained their communal values, sheltering those less fortunate. In a colony that prized brawn, the elderly patriotes suffered the most - as might have been expected. Newcomb, Huot, P.-H. Morin, and Bouc all received and relied on donations of money from their compatriots. When Ducharme and Prieur worked for Charles

244 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

Smith, the elder Morin lived in his shop free of charge until Smith ordered his eviction.37 Papineau, who had set himself up as a farrier in Canterbury, invited a couple of the unemployed Canadiens to help him.38 Newcomb lived with Guertin in the Longbottom area, and Bousquet, who had suffered a badly broken arm and smashed hand, stayed with several friends until Meillon compassionately offered him a home for a year without demanding any apparent recompense.39 Generally speaking, the Canadiens trusted and respected few outsiders. Lepailleur left £17 with Alexander Macdonald to keep for his passage back to Lower Canada, exhibiting a rare faith in a New South Wales citizen. In testimony before the Legislative Council's select committee, an E. Mullens spoke of a shipmate who had 'a bad employer who would not pay his wages' and of another acquaintance called Regan who was forced to leave the Illawarra District to come to Sydney to 'put his case in a solicitor's hands' after he had worked nine months and received just twenty shillings for his labour. Canadiens had also lost money. One such instance involved A.G. Dumas of Newton, a second-class clerk in the Principal Superintendent's Office in Hyde Park, who declared himself unable to meet his debts of £2,000. At the time of his bankruptcy, Dumas's liabilities included wages of £16 owed to Jacques-David Hebert, £12 to Allary, £8 to Prieur and Ducharme, £17 to Mott, £12 to Jacques Goyette, and a similar sum to Louis Pinsonnault. To these Canadien workmen Dumas's bankruptcy meant a total loss of more than £100, money no longer available for their passages home. Lepailleur angrily summed up their losses, asking how a man employed as a clerk could amass such a debt load.40 Acquiring debts seemed easy in colonial New South Wales. Both John Rowley and George Robert Nichols declared bankruptcy. Rowley's liabilities totalled more than £8,000. Nichols, who had inherited more than £12,000 from his father in 1819 and who earned more than £2,000 annually, owed £18,999. The bankruptcy laws in New South Wales bemused Lepailleur. If a debtor had liabilities of more than £10,000 and a mere £100 to meet them, by declaring himself a bankrupt he could force a final release from debt from his creditors. As Lepailleur realized, many unscrupulous men worked the bankruptcy laws to their advantage.41 While the rich played games with the law and their credit, money became an increasingly rare commodity for Sydney's poorer citizens. As Benjamin Mott told his brother, 'the Country is swarming with Emigrants.'42 In 1841 free immigrants accounted for 37 percent of the population of New South Wales.43 Many newcomers, unable to find work, pressured the government to supply them with accommodation. To their chagrin, this would sometimes be unused convict barracks. And as they looked around and saw convicts earning good money, they petitioned the government to ban the employment of all felons, whether on

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows7 245

assignment or ticket-of-leave, in the Sydney area. To make the situation worse, boatloads of new settlers arrived regularly. In November 1843 Benjamin Sutherland testified before the select committee about the unemployed people that he knew. Almost 500 labourers, 119 carpenters, and 57 masons were without jobs, as were various numbers of painters, shoemakers, tailors, plasterers, and so forth.44 With statistics like this, it was remarkable that the Canadiens thrived as much as they did. Lepailleur thought they owed their employment record to the fact that reliable workers were rare commodities in New South Wales. Sutherland and the men he talked with would have disagreed. Nevertheless, and for whatever reason, few of the able-bodied patriotes went without work for lengthy periods of time.45 Even workers with well-paying jobs, though, found living difficult in the Sydney area. British writers warned prospective immigrants that although there might be high wages, rents and prices were frequently exorbitant.46 Theft was a constant problem. Xavier Prieur compared New South Wales to the 'deserts of Africa and Arabia' because of the bands of 'thieves and assassins/47 The Canadiens certainly suffered frequent losses while on ticket-of-leave. For example, the workers at the Balmain sawmill were robbed of the £46 they had hidden in a flour tin. They must have concluded, as Lepailleur had earlier, that good people were rare, maybe fewer than two in a thousand, because 'the lowest garbage of the United Kingdom find refuge in this island/48 The most notorious robbers were the bushrangers. The Canadiens recorded many of their thefts, including the story of one who kept his stolen gold in his 'stomach purse/ 49 Their daring was proverbial. Virtually every contemporary commentator on New South Wales discussed their exploits, but they focused as well on the problem of drunkards. While bushrangers frightened Mrs Meredith so much that she imagined misshapen tree limbs to be highwaymen with pistols as long as her arm, she reserved her most caustic comment for an intoxicated 'wretched creature/ describing, in tones that bore only censure, this young girl's 'dull light coloured hair' as hanging in 'matted tangles about her neck and ears' and 'her dress ... disordered, torn, and dirty; and her face bloated and stupid from the effects of drink/50 John Hood calculated the ratio of public houses in the colony to be one for every 150 'souls, including women and children.' He went on: The want of the usual attractions of a home, a wife and a family, and the absence of everything like English domestic fire side comforts, I have no doubt drive many to the gin-shops/51 The proper Mrs Meredith feared that these 'only too well supported' places received the 'greater part of the earnings of the lower classes, among whom habits of intemperance are unhappily very prevalent/ Lepailleur and other Canadiens did not just fear the truth of this -

246 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

they knew. While drunks falling out of gigs may have been noted by some with amusement, it was with genuine sorrow that Lepailleur recorded the effects of alcohol on the wife of one of his employers, a Mrs Stone. According to him, she drank as much as a man, and although she was fortunate in having a pretty face, she was rapidly becoming deranged, dishevelled, and careless of her appearance.52 Other Canadiens echoed Lepailleur's comments. All were surprised that women in New South Wales drank so much. To Hippolite Lanctot, 'intemperance was la rigeur; sobriety the exception, amongst women as it was for men/53 Indeed, alcohol played a large part in the many scandals the Canadiens reported. In Longbottom they once saw two females, drunk on too much rum, fight on the Parramatta Road, punching, kicking, tearing off each other's clothes, and pulling each other's hair.54 On their return from Sydney, the witnesses in Gorman's trial regaled their comrades with their impressions of the city. Not surprisingly given their backgrounds and culture, the most shocking observation was the number of drunken women.55 On another occasion an intoxicated convict, just released from the Female Factory, stood in the middle of Parramatta Road screaming curses at a woman who lived opposite the compound. When Baddely sent for a policeman, presumably to isolate her in the lock-up, the woman 'turned her back ... lifted up all her clothes and showed ... her bum, saying that she had a "black hole" there and slapping her belly like the wretch she was,'56 truly horrifying the Canadiens. Lepailleur sombrely noted that she was back on the road the next day, slightly sobered up but soliciting passers-by. The colony's sexual mores fascinated the patriotes, causing much gossip and comment. Neich's mother-in-law had married when only twelve, bearing her first child at thirteen. Lepailleur recorded that Neich's daughter followed her grandmother's example by running off with a lover when also in her early teens. Women living with men outside marriage were a topic of conversation, often without blame ascribed to them, but in the Sydney of 1840 they frequently paid a price for such behaviour. For example, the bankrupt Dumas lived with a woman for several years, fathering five children. Arriving back from a trip to Hobart, married to a rich, young 'lady,' he expelled his lover and their children from the house. Lepailleur wrote that the defenceless woman comported herself with dignity and did not deserve this disgrace. Undoubtedly Sydney's pompous society, as well as Dumas himself, would have been shocked had they realized that convicts dared criticize their values and actions. Promiscuity and prostitution were more prevalent in New South Wales than in Lower Canada, and within the sanctity of marriage, according to the patriotes, relationships were rarely harmonious.

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Prominent citizens had well-publicized marital problems. In November 1842, for example, Robert Nichols of Longbottom advised the 'world' he would no longer be responsible for his wife's debts, but then, as events proved with his own bankruptcy, he was not responsible for his own either. Another man in the Longbottom-Concord community cautioned 'against giving credit ... without ... written permission' to his wife Mary.57 Resident Jose Frank had the stormiest relationship with his wife. Frank, a Portuguese, routinely abused the woman, who would leave him only to return the next day. On one occasion he stripped off her clothes, tied her hand and foot, put a rope around her neck, and tried to hang her on a tree outside his house. She was riddled with stab wounds and almost dead when Jean-Baptiste Trudelle and Desire Bourbonnais rushed to her assistance. For his Good Samaritan act Bourbonnais was reported to the police. When no action resulted against Frank, even though he had almost succeeded in murdering his wife, the Canadiens believed he had bribed the police. This they thought commonplace: that for 'half a pound you can always escape from a policeman.'58 Brutal incidents such as this were regular. From the stockade the Canadiens noticed the frequency with which men, free and convict alike, assaulted their women without any compunction. Alcohol was frequently a contributing factor. The forest warden Rose routinely beat his wife, her taste for rum sometimes the ostensible excuse. Once, in a parody of convict discipline, Mrs Rose was tied to a bell-post and given fifty blows because she would (or could) not name her supplier.59 On another occasion Lepailleur wrote that 'Rose really gave it to his old woman tonight when he returned from Sydney. She was drunk and he punched her and beat her with a whip. It was her New Year's present.'60 After having become familiar with the raucous laughter of the kookaburra and the jeering squawks of galahs and cockatoos, Lepailleur observed that 'we hear more women crying in the night here than birds singing in the woods during the day. I think every husband beats his wife.' He wrote of hearing 'the weeping and screams of the women living near Neich. Again, it's someone lording it over their wife. It's incredible what mistreatment the women suffer from their husbands in this colony, and this happens at night which is more alarming.'61 One woman was cudgelled to death by her husband, who then drove off without realizing he had killed her. He only found out when her body was discovered the next day. Carrying a child in arms seemed no deterrent. Lepailleur wrote of a woman who was thrashed as she protected her baby. Mrs Pusey, mother of ten children, was beaten for no good reason that Lepailleur could discern, leading him to exclaim, 'What a country for assaulting women. Canadien women are a thousand times happier than those of New South Wales.'62

248 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

The story of the Powers bore out these impressions. Michael Power, a settler in the Hawkesbury area of New South Wales, routinely beat his wife. 'I have often struck her/ he observed, "but that is nothing between man and wife/ Not too surprisingly, Mrs Power tried to escape this relationship. Neighbours frequently took her in, washed the blood away, tended to her wounds, and then sent for Power to collect her.63 While it seemed almost every woman endured physical abuse in relationships, rape was also common. While working at Ireland's, Lepailleur listened to the overseer boast after committing one. Groups of men roamed the highways searching for defenceless women who were then gang-raped. Punishment for convicted rapists was severe, although most offenders were hanged only when the crime was truly heinous. For example, in December 1840 one Francis Legge, a 'hoary-headed ruffian' of between fifty and sixty, was executed after sexually assaulting a fouryear-old girl.64 As the Canadiens observed the society to which they'd been transported and in which they were presumably the lowest of the low, they shuddered. While Lanctot might later recall the halcyon countryside, 'with its prosperous establishments, houses with wide verandahs, serene skies and an exceptional climate in which intelligent and hardworking colonists might prosper and even amass enviable riches/65 most saw the day-to-day reality for workers like themselves. As they told a French missionary priest who ministered to them for a short time in 1842, 'Ah, Monsieur, it is not like this chez nous/66 Motivated by his 'love for the Canadians/ Father Petit-Jean wrote a lengthy letter to the Australasian Chronicle describing them as humble, pious men desperately worried about their wives and families. As he had detected some timidity among those who could not speak English, he asked if someone would volunteer to be these patriotes' protector when they had dealings in Sydney. The Sydney Morning Herald reacted as the proverbial bull to a red rag, deriding this well-meant suggestion. Not only did it object to the tone of the letter, it managed to find some very sinister undertones. The Canadiens were descendants of French colonists in Canada, the newspaper writer reminded his readers before pointing out that no one who followed 'the course of events during the past few years can have the slightest doubt that France is endeavouring to create an interest, and disturb British influence, in the South Seas' and that its emissaries were the 'Roman Catholic missionaries.' As for Petit-Jean's description of the Canadiens as 'political martyrs/ the Herald sniffed that the priest had made an 'impertinent interference.' The writer did not deny there were scandals in the Concord area but asked what an English clergyman might find if he visited the 'galley slaves of Brest or Toulon.'67 To the patriotes the missionary priests, far from being French spies,

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 249

were sincere friends, genuinely interested in their plight. Certainly Father Petit-Jean earned their devotion by walking to their homes and partaking of whatever hospitality they could offer. Another French priest, Father Bourgeois, also ministered to them, going out of his way to preach sermons in their common language. But the trust they had in other ecclesiastics waned, as did their religious observance. (Even Lepailleur, who had been an unofficial chaplain, sometimes decided the distance to the church was too far to walk, once skipping mass for four consecutive Sundays.)68 Criticism, implicit or explicit, surfaced about the Catholic priests in the colony. The patriotes found Brady's assumption that they should pay Jean-Baptiste Bousquet's medical bills astounding, and they were unhappy with the church's treatment of Charles Huot. The chronically unemployed Huot, who had applied to teach in the Catholic schools, was refused on the grounds that he was a convict. This created real bitterness and made the patriotes wonder how they were perceived by the community at large. They decried the church for offering Huot no encouragement. Huot, elderly and without marketable skills, was forced to live on the charity of his comrades.69 Archbishop Folding returned from London in March 1843, making a triumphal journey to his presbytery at St Mary's. Bands, uniformed members of a temperance society, and about eight thousand parishioners came out to greet him. Lepailleur was among the crowd.70 Impatient to hear news about themselves or about arrangements Folding might have worked out in London, the patriotes, helped by fathers Petit-Jean and Brady, secured an appointment with him the Sunday after his arrival. As the day neared, Canadiens scurried throughout Sydney and its suburbs making sure everyone knew of the meeting. Several made the trip to St Mary's only to learn that Lord Stanley was favourably disposed towards them and that they should have patience. It was the same old story and they left downhearted. But they had been even more dismayed by Folding's manner. He had not invited them into the presbytery and had spoken only a few words to them on the church steps. This they attributed to Folding's feelings about their convict status. When they read in the newspapers that Stanley was not in fact in favour of pardoning them, they declared Folding a hypocrite. The archbishop reinforced this belief a month later when he told Michel Allary that the patriotes were in New South Wales for life and should bring out their wives and families. The lame explanation coming with this advice only added to their despair and disillusionment. Folding had not thought them strong enough for the truth.71 The patriotes' perception of Folding differed markedly from the more traditional view. Whether their harsh judgment of the man was valid or not, Lepailleur and his comrades had suffered acutely when

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Folding dealt their hopes a hard blow. Because Lepailleur had written his account at the time of these events, the convicts' viewpoint he expressed was unsoftened by the passage of time. And future status had not censored his record, as it would Lanctot's letters and Prieur's reminiscences.72 Loneliness added its share to the burden of pain felt by the patriotes. Parted from his beloved wife, Lepailleur dreamed vividly of her, revealing the psychological damage of transportation for at least one convict. In little more than a month in 1840,73 he recorded four dreams of Domitile. In one she was a widow, and in two she was with Eugenie, her sister (Cardinal's widow). When a patient in Sydney Hospital, he worried about sexual impotency, dreaming that Domitile refused him her bed, laughing at him before running from the upper to the lower floor of their house. 74 At other times he dreamed that he returned to Chateauguay only to find her absent. Then, before he could see her, he would be retransported to New South Wales. His dreams resembled those of Lieutenant Ralph Clark, an officer on the First Fleet. Clark's equivalent of Domitile was Alicia. He dreamed of her and judged other women by her standard: 'Dear good woman I did not know thy worth ... Alicia, my friend, my dear wife.' And like Lepailleur, sometimes his dreams were sexual. Clark also felt guilty about his separation and feared losing her. Writing at a time when few 'free' women had made their way to the colony, Clark uncharitably compared the convict women to women in England, writing: 'I could never have thought that there were so many abandoned wenches in England, they are ten thousand times worse than the men Convicts.' With this, Lepailleur would disagree: it was the convict men he saw brutalizing the convict women. However, he shared many of Clark's sentiments on the latter's debauchery.75 Although Lepailleur had many a nightmare about Cardinal's hanging, Domitile was his recurrent dream. When he was on ticket-of-leave and working for the Macdonalds, his torment took a more tangible form. Mrs Macdonald physically resembled Domitile and that fascinated Lepailleur to the point that he even measured her to confirm she was the same height of five feet, two inches. Lepailleur lavished love on the Macdonalds, making them his surrogate family. He bought them presents, explaining to Domitile in his journal that six- or seven-year-old Marie Elizabeth resembled his own dear Jean-Baptiste with her blue eyes and snow-white hair.76 But his substitute family could help only a little. In December 1842 he wrote to his 'dear wife, his darling,' telling her 'I ask myself where you are ... I tell you I won't have any rest until [I] return to you or if not that - death!'77 Other patriote convicts felt the same way, although they

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows' 251

might not have expressed themselves as poignantly as Lepailleur. In a letter published in La Minerve, one agonized over his children's schooling because his wife had not told him if they were applying themselves and had not given him news about a child born after his departure.78 Rene Pinsonnault expressed his pain in a long letter to his wife written from Windsor, New South Wales, on 5 October 1842: I am taking advantage of Mr Lonctin's [sic] letter to write you a few lines. Why, my God, can't I bring them to you myself! I am certain you are far from being well-off and that you are forced to beg for your living and that of our poor children. If you were here I could - with a lot of work - keep you from misery. Every moment we expect a change in our situation. If however this does not happen and all hope of returning to our country is snatched away, many of us want to bring our wives and children to be with us ... It will cost a lot to ask our families to join us here, because then we must give up hope of seeing our country again. But the desire to see our wives and our children and to help them, when we know they are in misery, dispossessed through confiscation of all we left them, exposed as you are to charity, overrides all other considerations. It is well to resign ourselves to everything if we have no more hope! We shall, however, wait a few more months; perhaps finally the voice of justice, of mercy, will be heard in favour of so many unfortunate people who have already, by so many torments and hardships, paid for a fault shared by so many others, for whom we are paying the debt. God wished it that way, we shouldn't complain; there must always be victims. But, I repeat, the end of our captivity is keenly awaited - will it have an end? We have been beguiled by promises which perhaps will never be realised. This thought is very painful and I push it away as much as possible because God is all powerful and merciful.79

Many patriotes, emotionally adrift like Pinsonnault, felt the temptation to console themselves with other women. Even Lepailleur lamented that he had been close to making 'the worst folly a man could make/ A few did make that 'grand follie/80 including Joson Dumouchelle. His behaviour had become increasingly erratic after his brother's death, and in May 1842 a rumour that he had ran off with Mrs Charles Nichols rocked the Canadien community. Though the rumour was premature, almost a year later Lepailleur noted that Joson lived for the day, imagining he was nineteen or twenty with women chasing after him. In August 1843 Joson cast off all restraints, assaulted Antoine Lareine, and decamped with 'Madame the whore Nichols.'81 Not surprisingly, an affronted husband had him arrested and his belongings were searched. When some valuables were found in his trunk, Nichols charged Joson with theft.82

252 Transportation and Life in New South Wales

In the ensuing trial Lepailleur acted as interpreter and the Canadiens collectively paid £3 3s. for a lawyer, but Joson's best defence came from Mrs Nichols. She spoke highly of him, decried her husband's behaviour, and declared she had given Joson the jewels as gifts. Found innocent of the charge of theft, Joson was nonetheless sent to the Hyde Park Barracks to serve a six-month sentence for bad conduct.83 In an attempt to erase the court's decision, Joson wept for three days and then had himself admitted to the hospital on 23 September 1843. When visited by Lepailleur, he threatened a hunger strike if his compatriots did not mount a campaign to have his sentence annulled.84 Even though Lepailleur wrote of his contempt for Joson, he nonetheless walked miles throughout Sydney to garner petition signatures - not so much for Joson's sake but in gratitude for the Dumouchelle family, which had befriended Domitile. While the petition did not gain his release, some amelioration occurred. When Dumas promised Joson a position as camp messenger, his illness suddenly vanished. But after serving his six months, trouble struck again. This time he was implicated with an American who passed forged bank notes. After his arrest, he tried his previous tactic of feigning illness and gaining admittance to the hospital. Found not guilty at trial, the sickness disappeared as before. To the relief of his compatriots, Joson's pardon arrived soon thereafter and he left the colony before more trouble could envelope him. Etienne Languedoc was another who served time while on ticket-ofleave, being convicted of fraud.85 The judgment did not surprise many Canadiens. Lareine firmly believed him responsible for the theft of £37 from his trunk at Longbottom. While on the treadmill Languedoc asked his fellow patriotes to donate money so that he could improve his diet and living conditions, but nearly all refused to help.86 In October 1843 Jeremie Rochon was arrested for drunkenness, another action that caused little surprise. Papineau, though, faced the most serious charge after he unwittingly allowed a bushranger to stay with him at Canterbury. With Lepailleur again acting as interpreter, the court believed his story and he was acquitted.87 While working on ticket-of-leave and waiting to know their destiny, the patriotes whiled away their time as best they could - fishing, boating on Sydney Harbour, and watching the strange fauna, especially kangaroos. Those who lived in Sydney frequented the Domain after mass on Sundays, enjoying the park. Some toured the city on horseback, visiting far-flung comrades in the process. As might be expected, they were intrigued by the story of the French explorer Jean-Frangois de Galaup, Comte de La Perouse, his short visit to the northern shore of Botany Bay in 1788, and his subsequent disappearance. One Sunday Prieur, Huot, Pierre-Hector Morin, and Lepailleur made the nine-mile journey along

'Land of a Thousand Sorrows7 253

'atrocious roads' to visit his monument.88 Less educational pastimes were also enjoyed. When Lepailleur worked for Emmanuel Neich, the innkeeper encouraged him to enjoy the horse races at Homebush, lending him a horse on one occasion.89 But frivolous outings such as these could not stop heartache and homesickness. At best they could only temporarily distract the men from worrying about their loved ones. Lepailleur described one Sunday when he, Jean-Louis Thibert, Toussaint Rochon, and young Bourbonnais had walked in the Domain until their feet were sore. Although the park's beauty provided a bit of pleasure, their concern was always for their families.90 Louis Bourdon also fretted about his wife and children. On a trip into Sydney with Prieur, he encountered officers from a French whaling ship who offered to help them escape. There was a considerable risk for both parties. People who knew a convict had stowed away faced a fine of £500 or imprisonment. If the captain or owner was involved, the ship would be confiscated. The officers downplayed the dangers, and the whaler's doctor announced his readiness to assume personal responsibility. Both men thought hard about the proposal. Escape still meant exile from Lower Canada for they would be forced to live in one of the American border towns. If they were captured, the best they might hope for would be a reassignment to the recidivist prison on Norfolk Island and they would have forfeited all chance for a legal, speedy return to their parishes. For Prieur the risks outweighed any possible advantage. Not so for Bourdon. The opportunity to be reunited with his family became irresistible. Telling all and sundry he was going to Yass, a town about two hundred miles south of Sydney, presumably to look for work, he instead clambered onto the ship, leaving comrades and sundry debts behind.91 Eventually he reached New York, and after the pardons were issued, he made his way back to St-Cesaire.92 Like others who had stayed in Sydney, Lepailleur thought the risks Bourdon had taken outweighed the benefits.93 The belief in an eventual repatriation ran very deep in the Canadiens' minds. Even though this hope competed with despair, nothing could shake it. No matter what outsiders such as Archbishop Folding might say, the Canadiens never accepted that they would not be reunited with their families. While chopping trees, painting houses, baking bread, or making blocks for the roads, every man had a constant and overwhelming confidence that one way or another he would see his loved ones again. So they saved what they could, looking to the future. If the government would not allow them to return to Lower Canada, they would bring their wives and families to New South Wales - 'the land of a thousand sorrows.'

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PART FOUR The Conclusions

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12

Aftermath

'You must have been excited when your pardons finally came and you could leave Sydney, Mr Lepailleur/ 'And extremely thankful that the Good Lord had answered my prayers/ Lepailleur replied. 'It was such a bustle leaving Sydney, putting my affairs in order, and saying good-bye to my friends. I knew I would never see them again/ Warwick stared outside the brasserie at the passers-by in the street. The next day he would be saying his farewells to Lepailleur himself. He hoped he would be allowed to keep in touch. 'I think the rush to make sure I could pay for my passage helped me, though/ Lepailleur went on. 'When we were finally on board the ship and began sailing down the harbour, I allowed myself to relax. I had had nightmares for days before, worrying that something would happen to cancel our pardons, that the government might have second thoughts. So, it was only when the ship began moving that I allowed myself to really believe I was going home/ Warwick nodded. When he was a youngster, his parents had promised him a trip to Niagara Falls if he behaved himself. It was only when the train left the station that he believed he'd see the famous waterfalls. 7 understand,' he prompted. 7 well remember that feeling of great anticipation and worry.' 7 don't think the worry ever went away completely. But when we were almost out of the harbour, I can distinctly remember writing in my journal how glad I was to be leaving that land of a thousand sorrows. I had been so unhappy there and I knew how miserable other convicts were. Now though, when I look back, I can get some perspective. 'From the time of our arrival on the Buffalo, some people never gave us a chance to prove we were respectable. But others went out of their way to help us. I'll never forget their many kindnesses/ 'Were they kinder to you, do you think, than they were to other convicts?' 7 don't know. Perhaps they were kinder to us as a group. Maybe, though, other individual convicts received more freedoms and were treated with greater leniency once they'd stepped off the ship from England. I've thought a lot about what New South Wales meant for them.

258 The Conclusions

'We hated so much about that place. We simply could not understand why Petit Jacques, old Marceau from St-Cyprien parish, chose to spend the rest of his life there. One of us said that Baddely's violence towards him must have done more damage than we thought. But for those from the British Isles, New South Wales was a land of opportunity. It gave them a second chance in life. The Kables I told you about earlier became rich and important people in Sydney. In fact, Mr Kable was a partner in one of the biggest shipping firms in the colony and still alive when I left Sydney. Some of the convicts I talked with spoke of the slums they had grown up in. For them, New South Wales was a place where they could breathe fresh air and feel the warm sun. Rather than a land of a thousand sorrows, it was one of a thousand dreams or pleasures/ 'Did most of them come from London, Mr Lepailleur? I've been to England, to visit my mother's parents. They warned me never to go into parts of London,' Warwick said slowly as he absorbed Lepailleur's ideas. He had found England's capital a noisy, dirty place and had much preferred the lush countryside south of the city. 'It's funny, I can't remember that much about London. It was just a way stop. Just another place where we worried about money constantly, about getting ourselves across the Atlantic. I, myself, was running dangerously low in funds. If we had had to stay there for a lengthy period, I'm afraid I would have had to work to get home. My Domitile was so tantalizingly close. Only a fiveweek passage away. I don't know if I could have survived another long separation from her, now that I was that near to her.' 'But surely there was enough money. Almost everyone contributed to get you home. Even my grandfather donated a pound, he says.' 7 doubt if many other English did,' Lepailleur snapped somewhat ungraciously, his mind now firmly in the past. 'All I can tell you is that when we arrived home many of our fellow citizens had not forgotten the rebellion. We might have been received as conquering heroes in our parishes, but the English rioted when they thought we might be able to recoup some of our financial losses.' 'Not all the English/ Warwick insisted firmly. His perspective on French Canada and its problems had changed dramatically since he had first walked into Lepailleur's house on Sanguinet. Furthermore, he had taken to having long talks with his grandfather, getting his perspective on the rebellion. And if there was one thing he had learned over the last few days, it was that the past must be left behind. It could never be relived and those who kept trying to fight old battles never felt the thrill of success, the healing of wounds, or the satisfaction of simple contentment. Feeling that way, he would not let Lepailleur get away with such a sweeping statement. 'Sir, you speak so tolerantly about the many friends you made in New South Wales. They were English/ 'And you think maybe I should say nice things about your grandfather and

Aftermath 259

his friends now?' Lepailleur questioned. 'You're right. I do have friends among the English. Some of them, while not agreeing with what we did in 1838, do admit things had to change/ 'Like the Reverend Borthwick? And, as I told you, my grandfather is not alone in his sentiments. Let's leave recriminations behind, sir. We were talking about you coming back to Montreal. I think I've heard you arrived in January. You must have come through New York. Did you like it? How did it compare then to, say, London or Sydney?' Lepailleur smiled, acknowledging the younger man's change of topic. 'January 1845. That's when we returned. And we did come through New York. But I can't really remember much. It's funny. On the ship between Sydney and London, time passed so slowly. As paying passengers, we had the run of the ship but the voyage still seemed endless. Before the pardons, we had become used to worrying about our families almost constantly. Once we knew we were returning, much of the anxiety left. I didn't even feel like writing to my dear Domitile because I knew I'd see her before my letters would reach her. So, in a way, I was numb. I existed but I cannot say I really lived on that first leg of the journey home. 'Then London? We were busy again for a few weeks. We had to arrange to get home, had to petition for help. So we were revitalized. And we adjusted back into the Northern Hemisphere. Into winter at the right time of the year. And the second sea trip just flew past. That pace, that sense of urgency, of finally getting somewhere, accelerated once we landed in New York. Then other worries occupied me. How would I recognize my dear children? 'You're forgetting, I'm sure, Mr Warwick, there were no photographs for ordinary people in the 1840s. My boys had aged seven years since I had last seen them. I hoped they would not be frightened of me, that they would know who I was. Domitile was so poverty-stricken they had been sent to Deschambault, away from her, to live with strangers. I remember wondering if they would resent me. If maybe the two wonderful people who had taken them in and cared for them had replaced me in their minds. That those two gentlemen of Deschambault had become the father to Alfred and Jean-Baptiste, not me. It must have been so hard for them and for a while I believed they might blame me for putting the worry lines on their dear mother's face. But I have to admit, my main worry was whether or not I'd recognize them.' 'But you did, didn't you?' 'Oh yes/ Lepailleur beamed. 'That knowledge was something the government, or time, could not take from me. But you can see why I can't remember my impressions of New York. Getting back to my family preoccupied my mind and I determined that never, ever, would I be the cause of separating us again.'

260 The Conclusions

IN DECEMBER 1838 the Canadians' rebellion was over. Roofless walls thrust into the winter's sky, blackened mounds of ashes lay where stables and barns had once stood, and desolate tracks led south. Widows and orphaned children and the families of the jailed men sought help from a stunned nation canadienne. In the parishes south of Montreal, another rebellion was the last thing on anyone's mind. Not so for the authorities. In his dual role of administrator of the civil government and commander-in-chief of the armed forces, Sir John Colborne determined that never again would local authorities be caught unaware. Nor would he allow French Canada a third chance to be lucky.' Even as Cardinal, Lepailleur, and Ducharme faced charges in the first trial, Colborne called for plans to set up a rural constabulary to parallel the urban police established after the 1837 rebellion. To the assistant civil secretary of the colony, William F. Coffin, the request came as manna from heaven. A natural bureaucrat, Coffin sprang into action - with his pen. By 15 December 1838 a report wended its way to Quebec for the administrator's consideration.1 Coffin linked the 1838 rebellion's locale with the need for rural police. The recent spirit of insurrection which has been so generally exhibited in some parts of the Province and so unequally diffused in others,' he told Colborne, made it 'inconvenient if not impracticable to adhere to the district divisions in the future disposition of any contemplated Police force.' Rather than continue with the current five,2 he proposed splitting the province into fifteen sections with himself superintending both the military and civil functions of the proposed force. Ranks below his would range from the 'inspector general of police' to men on the beat, the 'guides,' with annual salaries running £800 to £60. Altogether Coffin projected an annual budget of £12,000 for stipends and wages alone. Magistrates and other officials in legal enforcement would be paid from different accounts. When detailing his plan to combine the civil and criminal jurisdictions for the District of Montreal, Coffin included some unusual ideas:3 magistrates' powers would be increased; the area would be divided into four for easier administration, with fortnightly court sessions, which would be both 'courts of requests' and sessions of the peace, held in each centre; criminal offences of 'a graver nature than those which may be transferred to a Justice of the Peace' would be merged with the jurisdiction of the Court of King's Bench, Montreal. Coffin also advocated abolishing the commissioners of small causes and all juries, except those in the King's Bench, Montreal.4 By March 1839 Coffin had a full-blown bureaucracy in place. The first 'guides' or constables had been hired, and at least one had already been dismissed.5 Coffin's rural police force would not come cheaply.

Aftermath 261

One estimate submitted to the governor put the cost of establishing nine stations on the south shore of the St Lawrence at £4,500.6 The cost of provisioning Ste-Martine, Joson Dumouchelle's parish, bore such high figures out. In a report of 30 June 1840, Sergeant Patrick Duggan illustrated Coffin's obsession with detail.7 Duggan was an Irishman, thirty-five years old and married with one child. His constables included two other Irishmen, a Scot, and a nineteen-year-old Canadien.8 The supplies issued this contingent in a small parish were mind-boggling, including two horses, seven pistols with one hundred rounds of ammunition, ten bedsteads, twenty blankets, one oat bin, and one driving whip.9 Not content with this, Duggan listed various other items, such as a sleigh, which he thought necessary to complete the station's equipment.10 Money became no object once the province's security was in question. To help defray these horrendous costs Coffin may have taken advantage of supplies the Montreal jails had acquired when they had held the hundreds of patriotes, supplies now redundant with their release. Duggan painstakingly made note of one blanket with burns in the centre and two others with torn ends.11 Businessmen studied the situation and reacted accordingly. Tailors, for example, prepared tenders for the force's navy-blue uniforms.12 Outof-work volunteers petitioned for employment, some willing to work anywhere providing they were paid. They were not the only ones wanting to cash in on their proven loyalty. Prominent men jockeyed for appointment as stipendiary magistrates. Attorney General Ogden had no difficulty recommending De Lery agent McGinnis as 'one of the most zealous and active Magistrates of this District, and from whom during the last and present rebellion I have received most important information besides hundreds of Depositions implicating the most daring of the Insurgents.'13 The most important appointment of all was that of Bartholomew Conrad Augustus Gugy to the position of inspecting stipendiary magistrate.14 From his base at the tony Rascoe's Hotel in Montreal,15 Gugy studied reports from his various magistrates and toured the area, detailing concerns and impressions. This role was not his first choice. In his letter of acceptance of 1 February 1839, he asked Civil Secretary Goldie to inform Colborne that he hoped his appointment would not stop his being considered for deputy adjutant of militia.16 It was fortunate for Lower Canada that Colborne overlooked him because Gugy, more than Coffin, would be the heart and soul of the rural police. In manning his force, Gugy looked closely at many applicants. Not surprisingly, given the fact that trials and executions were continuing in Montreal, he found 'french Canadians as a body reluctant to enter the corps.' This, he felt, was 'characteristic of the people of this district,' but

262 The Conclusions

it was absolutely essential 'that some of that well meaning but credulous & misguided people, should enter the ranks/17 This concern would be a lasting one. In March he wrote that the rumours swirling through the area of war with the United States made it propitious 'to place among them [the Canadiens] a class of persons attached to the British Government and qualified to associate familiarly with the Peasants' in order to 'guide them in the forming of opinions/ The Canadiens had 'resorted habitually to some one person or more in each Parish who first gained their confidence and then moulded them to their purposes' and many were 'still disposed to adhere to that practice!'18 He advised placing 'a young loyal surgeon' in Ste-Martine, for example, because 'the previous doctor [Brien] languished in jail/19 He would soon sadly inform William Coffin that although he had 'never rejected a good man,' he found few 'fitting candidates/ Consequently, he feared he would have to recruit Canadiens from the Quebec District. His letters detailed the common attitudes among the loyalists and the atrocities they committed. There was clearly good cause for Canadiens to remain aloof. In St-Cesaire a volunteer soldier stabbed a Canadien four times in the back. What could be done, Gugy asked Coffin, about this 'outrage ... considered wanton and barbarous and which has created much excitement/20 A couple of months later he wrote of another such act of brutality, this one committed by a man named Harrison, 'a Sergeant of Volunteers stationed at Napierville/ Harrison, 'inflamed by liquor ... [had] entered the house of a peaceable habitant about dusk and without any manner of provocation ... discharged a pistol at the owner and subsequently laid the man's cheek open with a blow from that weapon/ The sergeant did not bother denying the incident. Rather he justified it and his attitude as 'being not only proper but indispensable in dealing with the french Canadians/ In Gugy's mind, the incident required a public trial 'to give the people a proof of the disposition of the government to protect them/ But there was a problem. Harrison lived as an orderly in the house of Colonel Cyril Taylor, an intelligence officer, and Taylor believed a pardon for Harrison was the only possible action. Gugy concluded: 'In truth few are disposed to deny the justice of the principle of absolute impartiality to which I am resolved to adhere, but in it's [sic] application to particular cases, as in that of Harrison, reasons are always found for departing from it/21 Hatred and suspicion on the part of Her Majesty's 'loyal inhabitants' would last a long time. Suspicion and distrust would also be a part of the force's early history. In a 'strictest sense of the word private [letter]' to Coffin in February 1839, Stipendiary Magistrate David Kinnear expressed such feelings, applying the adage Too many cooks spoil the broth/ He considered

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Coffin 'the temporal head7 of the stipendiary magistrates and rural police, with 'the Governor for the time being, being the Spiritual/ But Kinnear wrote that he was also answerable to Civil Secretary Goldie and, to add to his confusion and frustration, Gugy. Was Gugy a superior officer, a colleague, or his coadjutor? Kinnear considered him a 'ladies man/ Worse, his object was 'to gain popularity with the mass of the people, i.e. the disaffected/ Gugy, according to Kinnear, would know how to use his popularity 'in any representative form of constitution being given to the province/22 Overall, though, he thought Gugy's police, if modelled after the Irish force or the 'gens d'armerie' in France, would be effective in 'restraining the disaffected/ In concluding, Kinnear asked for 'copies of the Provincial Acts and ordinances' - no doubt so that he could study the legal framework of the rural police.23 Kinnear would have found such documents disappointing. And to add to Gugy's problems, the enabling legislation for the force was not immediate. Gugy fretted about the force's legality constantly.24 Others were more anxious about its fiscal framework. In late January 1839 Sir John Colborne requested additional powers for his Special Council as a 'means of improving the Province and establishing an efficient Police ... and how far it may be desirable to raise funds by imposing taxes/ Late in 1839 the inspector general of public accounts reluctantly approved the proposal that 'expenses incurred without any legal provision [would be] hereafter made good' by the rural police. The amount came to £8,873.25 It was a matter of public opinion that proven loyalty in 1838 should be rewarded. Thus, many of the court martial's prosecution witnesses became stipendiary magistrates: Dr Timoleon Quesnel in L'Acadie, William Unsworth Chaffers of Napierville, and even the perjured M'Donald from Chateauguay.26 These men followed movement within their sectional responsibilities very carefully, tracking returning refugees particularly. 'What should we do about them/ asked Magistrate P.-E. Leclere in September 1840 when he reported the return from exile of one Louis Lucupe to Commissioner Coffin.27 Similar questions came from others, leading Coffin to request an opinion from the colony's law officers. Was Henri Alphonse Gauvin, one of the eight transported to Bermuda, 'amenable to the Laws of this Province for the crime of High Treason committed in 1837, and which led to his transportation to Bermuda in 1838?'28 Disaffection was a constant worry. Thomas Colman reported from St-Hyacinthe that judging 'from various conversations' he had had with 'the [Canadien] upper classes [that] ... few of them [were] disposed to abate one iota of their pretensions/ They still demanded 'an elective Legislative Council, the independence of the Judges, an entire control over the revenue, and a greater share of the employments under

264 The Conclusions

Government/ Colman also recorded the views of the 'lower classes/ who understood 'little of these matters/ being concerned with the abolition of tithes and lods et ventes. The latter was a substantial grievance, he thought, because 'the most industrious' bore its greatest burden.29 Major Thomas Burton reported that suspected rebels still assembled at night, although not in their usual meeting place after he had spoken to them. In fact, his police were so 'worn out watching day & night' that he needed four extra men.30 Magistrate McGinnis seconded his plea, writing of 'a few of the guilty who escaped imprisonment ... and who should now be engaged in their agricultural labors, [not] loitering about the village with suspicious looking strangers/ All was 'not as it should be' but would improve 'if half a dozen police men were added to the number Major Burton already has/31 Lieutenant-Colonel Lawrence Brown of Beauharnois also noticed nocturnal meetings. Although most people now thought the countryside tranquil, his 'best information' differed. The 'French Canadians' continued to be 'hostile to the British Government/ refusing to admit 'that they have acted wrong in their late Rebellions/ He had only one answer for the apparent peacefulness of his seigneury: 'it is to the want of arms that may be ascribed the present state of tranquillity/32 This stubborn refusal on the part of the habitants to admit guilt was noticeable elsewhere. Charles Globensky, stipendiary magistrate in the St-Eustache area, reported that those who had been conditionally released from jail on bail were considered 'not in the least bit guilty/33 In St-Cesaire, Magistrate Chaffers worried about the propriety of Frangois Papineau (Bourdon's father-in-law and a 'brother rebel') managing JeanBaptiste Bousquet's various mills while Bousquet was in New South Wales.^ With continuous monitoring by the stipendiary magistrates and police, the Canadiens acted as Hippolite Lanctot would do in Longbottom - they kept their heads down. Overt opposition to the government could no longer be considered. In September 1839, when the Buffalo began its way south, Colborne happily informed LieutenantGovernor Sir George Arthur of Upper Canada that the police were vigilant and 'the population generally well aware that the force in this District ... [was] sufficient to redress disturbances in the interior or hostile movements on the frontier/ Then, displaying true Lower Canadian 'garrison mentality' paranoia, he added that 'Russian Emissaries' were suspected to have given 'Countenance and support to the Canadian rebels/3* But by this time Sir John was considering a document entitled To recover a Province which has been convulsed with rebellion/36 The author of this document stated a familiar theme, 'The Canadian popula-

Aftermath 265

tion neglected by the Government have fallen a prey to the Advocates and Medical men/37 He then painted a stark picture of Lower Canada: The whole rural population with few exceptions are now deeply in debt, their farms from bad farming nearly exhausted ... in many instances the Townships bordering the Seigniories preclude the possibility of the Canadiens settling upon fresh land, without the means of purchasing it, and even in the Seigniories where the lands have not been all conceded, the prices have of late years, been so much raised by the Seigniors, - they are unable to establish themselves on new farms, nothing therefore remains for them but to enter in service as daily laborers or to emigrate to the United States ... but it is a change of mode of life to them; and I have no doubt embitters their feelings towards the English population!

In the writer's mind, the 'younger men of the Clergy may be said to be altogether disloyal, though I do not think they are Republicans/ In this atmosphere the families of the transported patriotes eked out an existence as best they could. Although shocked into sullen submission by the executions, the transportation, and the exiling of many men, together with the constant surveillance by the rural police, many Canadiens would have testified, 'Je me souviens/ As just one example of the catastrophic effects of transportation, Lepailleur's wife, Domitile, was forced to become a lowly domestic servant and his children were sent to Deschambault fifty-three leagues (about 160 miles) from Chateauguay, where Frangois Morin, Deschambault's cure, and Hilaire Belile looked after the two small boys.38 On Sundays the sight of destitute women and children worshipping without the head of their families only deepened bitter feelings. The people, having lost their faith in secular saviours like Papineau and the Nelsons, now turned back to the church. Petitions began circulating in the week of the Buffalo's departure, pleading for another general amnesty and the repatriation of the rebels. Some newspapers kept the exiled men's cause before the public. Although at first the stories conveyed little of the actual conditions facing the patriotes in Sydney, they elicited a response from la nation canadienne bordering on hysteria. For example, the satirical newspaper Le Fantasque reported that, as a kind of 'appetizer/ the men were flogged before meals.39 Such degradation was unthinkable to those in the parishes who remembered the respect they had had for men such as Jean-Louis Thibert or to those who had followed Joson Dumouchelle to the Ellice manor house. With the engendering of so much pent-up ill feeling, the transported Canadiens became a focus for political, popular, and clerical agitation in the province. As the bills for 1838 poured in, authorities began to realize that

266 The Conclusions

bringing the exiles back would be cheaper than suffering another rebellion. Former deputy judge advocate Captain Muller of the Royal Regiment requested £367 10s. for the period 21 November 1838 to 14 May 1839.40 John Molson sent an account for the use of the steamer John Bull for two days in November, at a cost of £125 daily, to carry despatches from the attorney general to Montreal. The Champlain and St Lawrence Railway Company claimed £2,460 11s. 3d. because its steamboat and railroad were been appropriated for government use, resulting in public discomfort, 'pecuniary loss/ and wear and tear on the steamboat's engines and the railroad track.41 More humble creditors included men like William Lane, who had inscribed the parchment warrants at seven shillings each; other calligraphers, who had laboured on the conditional pardons for six pence a word; and C. Delagrave, who billed the attorney general £6 15s. for supplying fifty-four quarter sheets of parchment.42 The total cost of the rebellion was staggering when all the small accounts were added into the larger one. The numbers of jailed patriotes had made a prison hospital necessary, and the bill for its equipment items such as flannel gowns, night caps, tea, sugar, and candles totalled £74 15s. 8d.43 Not surprisingly, the inspector general of public accounts queried most bills, particularly one for £4,054 17s. 3 V2d. submitted by the representatives of the late sheriff of Montreal, Charles Roch de St-Ours, for extraordinary expenses between 11 April and 10 October 1839. In the inspector general's mind, St-Ours had taken entirely too much to heart a letter from the solicitor general asking that the prisoners 'feel as little [discomfort] as possible/ Why should a jailer submit a warrant for £211 2s. 6d. for clothing? Sir John Colborne had ordered it, was the answer: 'for how could the prisoners be taken to the Court house, if they were not cloathed [sic] - they [were] frequently ... half naked.' And the prisoners certainly were not happy. St-Ours's representatives justified the cost of £25 10s. for new padlocks on the grounds that there were 160 cells 'and the Prisoners are constantly destroying' them. A similar justification was made for the sum of £54 3s. to replace 1,083 panes of glass.44 Security was a constant concern. Both Colborne and Clitherow had ordered a blacksmith to examine the jail every day, presumably to make sure the prisoners had not managed to weaken its bars. This would cost £88. When the patriotes had been put in chains for their march from jail to the Buffalo, the blacksmith had charged two shillings for each prisoner, and he was paid £9 18s. for handcuffing them. Add to these details the cost of candles, stove cleaning, wall whitewashing to prevent disease, extra blankets, bed ticks, and so forth and the sum of £4,054 17s. 3 1 /2d. became understandable. One of the few items the inspector

Aftermath 267

refused was a claim by Bronsdon, the carpenter who built the gallows. The accounts office consulted three joiners who thought he had overcharged and consequently his bill was reduced. He, however, was but a small detail. When the year-end total was made, Great Britain would pay £100,720 10s. as a direct consequence of the Rebellion of 1838.45 It was no wonder then that a peaceful solution to disaffection would please everyone. The first step was the repatriation of the transported patriotes. Bishop Bourget worked tirelessly, as he promised Lepailleur in a letter, 'to obtain your freedom and that of your companions/46 He championed their cause before his fellow bishops and attempted to intercede with the various governors of the early 1840s.47 Maybe his most valuable contribution came when he convinced a visiting French prelate to make the transported patriotes' cause his own. Consequently, Bishop de Forbin-Jansen joined Folding when he and Reverend William Ullathorne of New South Wales met with Lord Stanley. Letters from Bourget's priests applied consistent pressure, echoed by the church's newspaper, Les Melanges Religieux. Anti-union politicians, thwarted by one cause, embraced that of the transported men. In June 1841 former chasseur Frederick Glackmeyer sent a petition with more than 2,750 signatures to the government. Hundreds of other petitions flooded into the civil secretary's office. In 1842 Governor Sir Charles Bagot reported that the 'pressure is great and will increase' and urged that pardons be issued. Two weeks later he reiterated this plea, declaring that clemency 'would tend beyond any other measure ... to create a feeling of gratitude and confirm the attachment of the Canadiens to the Mother Country/48 The British government was extremely reluctant to consider any thought of pardons, much less the repatriation of the patriotes. But in July 1843 the new governor-in-chief, Sir Charles Metcalfe,49 argued strongly that it should 'bury in oblivion the past troubles of the colony/ The 'great majority of the people of the United Province' favoured amnesty. Many of the refugee rebels had returned to Lower Canada and no effort could be mounted to 'bring them to justice/ As he pragmatically pointed out, it would be much better for the government to allow them to live in the province by 'an act of Grace' rather than to have them do it anyway through 'an act of boldness/ He pleaded the case of Guillaume '[L]Eveque, only 16 when he rebelled/ Levesque was still in the United States, and Metcalfe proposed that he be allowed 'to return, and thus relieve his innocent Mother from her pecuniary difficulties, as well as her natural distress during the banishment of her son/50 The transported patriotes agreed wholeheartedly with his most telling point: that it would be impossible, politically as well as morally, to 'extend a general Amnesty to those who have not been tried and found guilty,

268 The Conclusions

many of whom were among the leaders of the late Disturbances, & to exclude from it those, the greater portion of whom were followers, who are now suffering the punishment of Transportation/ 51 As Rene Pinsonnault pointed out, those in New South Wales expected pardon for their rebellion, as they had 'already, by so many torments and hardships paid for a fault shared by so many others/52 Fears that the Chartists would cite the Canadien precedent caused Stanley to hesitate. In the end he reluctantly bowed to Metcalfe's urging, allowing a general amnesty but excepting the transported men. Her Majesty, he advised, would be pleased to grant them individual pardons once petitions had been received. So once again families, friends and parishes exerted themselves on behalf of their exiled compatriots.53 A new organization sprang into being - L'Association de la Delivrance. It began printing and circulating petitions throughout the countryside. Meetings were held in various areas, and fund raising was organized through the reform newspaper, La Minerve. The war [rebellion] has made beggars of most of the unfortunate exiles/ it told its readers, reminding them that the transported men had sacrificed everything for them - 'their families, their property, their honour, their liberty, their life/ I/Association called upon each parish to organize a committee, then send delegates throughout the area to solicit modest subscriptions of '15, 20 or 30 sous per head' to help pay the costs of passages from New South Wales.54 To build the fund, La Minerve published the names of parishes that had subscribed and a 'Hall of Shame' listing those not donating.55 By June 1844, £2,000 had been collected and was in the hands of L'Association's treasurer, wealthy Montreal bookseller Edouard-Raymond Fabre. Fabre faced the problem of getting the money where it was needed. Because there was the belief that the British government would cover repatriation costs, Fabre asked John Roebuck, radical member of the House of Commons, for help.56 In late June 1844 Roebuck advised sending the money collected by L'Association to London. He would charter a ship to bring the men from New South Wales.57 By then, however, the question was almost academic. All the patriotes had been pardoned by March 1844, and the first warrants began arriving in New South Wales in April - for Louis and Rene Pinsonnault, Achille and Pierre-Hector Morin, and Charles Huot.58 That seemingly only five had been pardoned startled many of the patriotes, but eventually everyone understood that this was a matter of process, that their pardons would eventually arrive. Michel Allary wrote to his wife telling her they had 'more hope than ever before' because they realized they would all soon return to Canada.59 When May passed and no other warrants arrived, some men thought of petitioning

Aftermath 269

Governor Gipps, but when a batch of twenty reached New South Wales in June, they all turned their thoughts and energies to journeying home.60 Louis Pinsonnault had already left the colony by then. One month after receiving his pardon, on 22 May 1844, he sailed out of Sydney, paying an exorbitant fare of £30.61 At the end of June a group of patriotes gathered in Meillon's inn to organize their voyage home. After deciding to bargain for a group rate, delegates scoured the waterfront during the next few days seeking quotations. The best came from the captain of the Achilles. If fewer than thirty-five sailed, he would offer passage for £14 per person; the price would drop to £13 15s. if extra men made the trip. In May Michel Allary had estimated that maybe only twenty-five or so would be able to afford to leave. Now, with the Achilles's reasonable fare, dozens of patriotes closed their businesses, bade farewell to friends, and toured the sights for a last time. Lepailleur went to Longbottom to say good-bye to Neich, the Macdonalds, and Ireland. They had been very good to him and he appreciated that. The Macdonalds had shared their Christmas meals with him,62 Neich had thought nothing of lending him his horse, and Ireland had sponsored him on ticket-of-leave and acted as a reference when required. Friends such as these were rare. Yet they could not change the impression of New South Wales that Lepailleur carried away with him. Exile had not taught some of the stubborn habitants to trust the English. When the Achilles crossed the date line, they refused to believe the change in day, and prayers had to be said on both Saturday and Sunday to accommodate them.63 The Achilles made steady time - though not fast enough for the patriotes, of course - reaching London in November. The men immediately contacted Roebuck, telling him that some of their number were destitute and asking for an advance of £10 10s. each to pay for the rest of their voyage. Roebuck approached Stanley, explaining the men's plight and assuring him that the sum collected by L'Association was more than enough to cover the advance. To his credit, Lord Stanley immediately authorized an advance of £400 from the Treasury.64 'After an absence of six long years/ the transported patriotes finally arrived home in January 1845. The reunions and scenes of rejoicing can only be imagined. Children would have grown. A few youngsters viewed strange fathers for the first time. Years of worry, of struggling to survive, would have etched lines into many faces. But all would be forgotten for a few blissful hours. In the midst of the communal joy La Minerve reminded everyone of those who still languished in New South Wales, men like Pierre-Hector Morin. Full happiness could not come until they had all returned.

270 The Conclusions

These remaining fourteen exiles posed a problem for U Association and the government. Stanley wrote to New South Wales, enquiring about them as soon as the thirty-eight patriotes had left London. The convict office surveyed those left behind, finding they had saved very little, but this information was not forwarded to London, as Stanley's interest seemed to have waned.65 Prieur, one of those struggling to get home, was informed by Gipps that money from UAssociation had been forwarded to London and was expected to reach the colony by the next boat. As days and weeks went by and no money arrived, the unfortunate men realized they would have to make their own way back as best they could.66 It would take four years from the time Louis Pinsonnault arrived in May 1844 before the last transported patriote reached Montreal in June 1848. Gagnon, Joseph Goyette, and Langlois returned in May 1845; Prieur in September 1846; the two Morins and Rene Pinsonnault in August 1847. Dr Newcomb was almost seventy-four by the time he came back in early 1848. Jeremie Rochon was reunited with his five girls in May 1848, and the last five convicts (Bouc, Bourbonnais, Guimond, Trudelle, and Languedoc) straggled home about June 1848. With them came the news that Joseph Marceau had elected to remain in New South Wales, having married a nineteen-year-old Englishwoman, possessing 'a considerable dowry/ in October 1844. He would farm in the Dapto region.67 The transported convicts returned to a very different colony from the one they had left. After a forced union with Upper Canada, Lower Canada became Canada East. While Canada East enjoyed a numerical advantage over the more sparsely settled Canada West, its largely French-speaking population found gerrymandering guaranteed English supremacy in the new legislature. Many of the laws passed by this body, though, reflected reforms advocated in the 1830s and illustrated how different the 1837 and 1838 Lower Canadian rebellions had been from each other. In 1837 Louis-Joseph Papineau brought about rebellion through advocacy of constitutional change. An elected upper house and effective control of the colony's revenue were the twin pillars of his vision. As a seigneur, Papineau could neither imagine nor countenance changes to the land tenure system. Nor, as a very traditional man, could he agree to changes in the civil law that would destroy some of the old values. After his return to Canada East in 1844, he would find his values differed from those of former patriotes who had remained in the colony and taken political control. Many of these ex-patriotes now advocated reforms originally proposed by Robert Nelson. In his almost-prophetic declaration of indepen-

Aftermath 271

dence he had promised abolition of seigneurial tenure and sweeping revisions to the civil law. Members of the middle class who formed his elite fought for these changes as well as for an independent republic based on the American model. In the 1840s and 1850s men like Louis LaFontaine realized that business was the avenue of opportunity for Canadiens. To succeed in this area, they would have to forsake several traditional values. Nelson's declaration provided for 'mortgages on landed estates' to be registered 'in offices to be erected for this purpose, by an Act of the Legislature of Lower Canada.'68 Article 7 furthered this doctrine by stating that 'the douaire coutumier [customary dower] ... [was] prohibited and abolished.' This would mean that families would be able to mortgage their lands and farms. On the negative side, it cut deep into the old value of protecting the interests of vulnerable family members. Though Nelson was defeated on the battlefield, some of his values were legislated into law. The Special Council began the process in 1839 with a pro-merchant Bankruptcy Act, following this with a land ordinance in 1841 making land registry offices mandatory and enabling women to renounce the customary dower.69 Once elected to the legislature, former patriotes led the fight for further reforms, seeing in business the saviour they thought they had found in Papineau and then Nelson. The old 'harmonious' balance between the governor and his councils was lost forever, and if anyone doubted it, the passage of the Rebellion Losses Bill clearly established that responsible government indeed had come to Canada. In the debate LaFontaine opposed Tory spokesman Gugy.7o This legislation, which allowed indemnity to former rebels (only those convicted by the court martial being excluded), almost created a third rebellion. Tories, loyal to the government until this point, rioted at the thought of their taxes going to former rebels and turned some of their energies to advocating annexation with the republican United States. In the legislature LaFontaine, who had led the fight for the Rebellion Losses Bill, was now joined by a rising political star, GeorgeEtienne Cartier. Together with the transported patriotes' defence counsel Lewis Drummond, they would ensure passage of yet another Nelson reform, the abolition of seigneurial tenure; but in direct contrast to Nelson's declaration, seigneurs now became outright owners of any unconceded land and received compensation for lost lods et venles, banalites, and annual rents from their tenants. It was the church, however, that benefited most from the 1838 rebellion. It was given a second chance. The bitterness created by Bishop Lartigue's harsh edicts and by the burial of patriote dead outside consecrated ground was softened by the actions of many clerics in and after

272 The Conclusions

November 1838. Prieur long remembered Beauharnois priest Father Quintal as being instrumental in the provision of a stove to warm his parishioners in the freezing Montreal jail. Mere Gamelin became a legend through her care of the imprisoned men. Father Morin of Deschambault was just one of many who took care of patriote children during their fathers' exile, and Bishop Bourget worked indefatigably to repatriate the Canadiens from New South Wales. The church became a standardbearer for the old ways and values, speaking out against, for example, the union of the Canadas, republicanism, democracy, and lay control of education. In doing so, it pitted itself against Hippolite Lanctot, who was very much part of the republican elite. As such, he ran for election as a republican rouge in the 1850s, losing once by only one vote.71 After his arrival from exile, Lanctot returned to St-Edouard and resumed his notarial profession, re-establishing himself in a position of some affluence by supplementing his income through speculative investments and by serving as clerk of the Commissioners' Court. But he never forgot why he had rebelled and his ardour for the patriote cause did not dim. (His son Mederic, who was born in December 1838 while his father was in prison and spent his first years in hardship until Hippolite's return from Sydney, would become an influential journalist, lawyer, and politician. He learned many lessons from his father: 'I had only to follow my inclinations, and the feelings inspired by a political education drawn directly from the unshakeable patriotism of an exile who had returned to the family hearth.')72 The years in New South Wales had strengthened Hippolite Lanctot's convictions, and although he was never elected to the legislature, he advocated his views through his office as president of the Huntingdon Republicans. Pascal Pinsonnault was also a member of this group. As convicted rebels, Lanctot and Pinsonnault could not claim any compensation for losses suffered in the rebellion. Citizens of proven loyalty had made claims as early as 1839 under an ordinance passed by the Special Council. To deal with these, a Rebellion Losses Commission was appointed. It travelled throughout the colony, hearing justification for the many claims. These ranged in value from a mere twenty shillings to compensate J. Adams, whose guns were not returned by the militia, to the huge sum of £7,000 for damage to the St-Benoit church.73 While claims totalled £70,551 3s. 9d., the commissioners awarded only £10,292 4s. Id. in compensation. A second commission heard evidence justifying more claims in 1846-49. The St-Cyprien church asked for compensation for the funds taken first by Dr Cote, then by the volunteers. To support its request for £327 12s. 6d., it produced a receipt signed by Cote, but the claim was

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refused because the commissioners felt replacing 'money so taken would be to encourage future Rebellion by lessening its Risks/ 74 Joson Dumouchelle's wife, Marguerite Cornelier, had gone to great pains to protect her property. Early in 1839 she had sworn before notary Alex Douglas that certain items totalling £1,107 6s. 4 d. had been in her possession at the time of the rebellion but had been destroyed by people supposedly suppressing the uprising. Her list ranged from £365 for the house to £2 10s. for sixty chickens.75 On his return, Joson filed a claim with the commission for £1,878 13s. 9d. for the destruction of his property. This claim included £525 for compensation for seven years of imprisonment and exile. Lepailleur claimed £1,442 2s. 5d., of which £625 was for imprisonment and exile. Others, such as Ducharme, specifically asked for compensation for their passages back from Sydney. All were refused.76 The most audacious claim did not come from a former rebel. Catherine Chaussegros de Lery asked to be compensated 'for deterioration in the Value of Property burnt' in her seigneury. After giving an estimate for the destroyed property, she then estimated a sum she might have received for its lods et ventesl Needless to say, she too did not succeed.77 On their return, most of the transported patriotes burrowed into the collective warmth of their families and la nation canadienne. The majority, in general, became conservative. Charles Langevin, Frangois-Xavier Provost, Toussaint Rochon, and Joseph Roy signed a petition from Beauharnois asking for amendments to the tavern licensing laws to make alcohol more difficult to obtain.78 Now happily back in his parish, Joson Dumouchelle re-established himself through hard work and energy. (Undoubtedly he kept the saga of Mrs Nichols from his redoubtable wife!) Jacques Goyette received the contract to build a new presbytery for the St-Clement church in 1845 and was elected a councillor in Beauharnois five years later.79 Jean Laberge also prospered, remaining a life-long friend of Prieur, who went back into merchandising.80 By 1855 Prieur had become a justice of the peace, and in 1858 he moved to Montreal as partner in Renaud, Prieur and Company of 35 Sanguinet Street, importers of china, glass, and earthenware. Politically he became a Conservative, following George-Etienne Cartier, and in later life was rewarded with the post of superintendent of prisons.81 Louis Bourdon was elected a school trustee and then the first mayor of Farnham West.82 Toussaint Rochon also used his undoubted talents in the field of local government. On his return to Beauharnois, he became a councillor, winning election in 1849, 1855, 1859, 1862, and 1864. He also served as a marguillier in 1859 and like Bourdon became mayor (1862). When he died in 1865, he had risen to

274 The Conclusions

the rank of major in the Regiment de Beauharnois - the militia he had fought against in 1838. Charles Langevin was a Beauharnois councillor in 1847-49; he died in September 1864, fully esteemed by his community. Joseph Goyette served his parish of Bas du Fleuve as its secretarytreasurer and was appointed marguillier in 1866. Obviously, Beauharnois honoured its transported patriotes, as one or another of them served on its council for almost twenty years.83 Pierre-Hector Morin also flourished, becoming master of the port of Montreal in May 1848, only nine months after his return. He remained in that post until his retirement in 1864, when he moved to Amherstburg, Ontario, to live with his son Achille. When Pierre-Hector died in 1866, he was mourned as a popular man, known for his probity, urbanity, and gaiete canadien.^ In New South Wales Lepailleur had decided that it was foolish to take part in political matters.85 The other patriote convicts likely felt the same, and involvement on a scale larger than local government passed them by - quite rightly, given their lowly status in 1838. But what, if anything, did they achieve? Their rebellion exacted a tremendous price. Two died as a direct result of transportation. Jean-Baptiste Bousquet died shortly after his return, ruined by his experience.86 Others found their wives and children scattered throughout the colony, and in many cases only traces of their once prosperous homes and farms remained. As Rene Pinsonnault wrote, they paid and would continue to pay a price for a 'fault' shared by so many. The lottery of selection for trial and punishment continued. The men who had run away to the United States would be able to claim recompense for their losses. The funds collected by L'Association de la Delivrance appeared not to have helped the intended recipients.87 The intangible qualities that had allowed these patriote convicts to survive imprisonment, transportation, and their return to devastated properties also enabled them to re-establish themselves within their parishes. As time went by, an appreciation of their courage and of the wrongs they had rebelled against would dim in most minds, to be replaced by Papineau's politics and the constitutional intricacies of the 1837 rebellion. That they should be forgotten by their beloved nation canadienne was probably a worse wrong than many they had endured. As for Lepailleur, life at first was difficult but ultimately rewarding. He moved to Montreal in 1854 to work as a bailiff, living at 2 St Nicholas Toletin. His 'cher [dear] Domitile' died a year later. After mourning the companion who had haunted his dreams and motivated him during his sentence in New South Wales, he fulfilled a promise made to Cardinal by marrying Eugenie and taking their children into his household. In subsequent years he moved to 178 Jacques Cartier and then to 170

Aftermath 275

Sanguinet. In the 1880s he, Ducharme, and Prieur lived within blocks of each other. Rebellion brought a certain measure of fame to Lepailleur. In 1888 he joined Lanctot, Prieur, and Ducharme in a jubilee collage of portraits put together by an old nemesis, the Reverend J. Douglas Borthwick, who as a young member of the Lachine cavalry had escorted him through the Montreal streets to jail. Now, in a classic case of selective memory, Borthwick became a patriote glorifier, assembling his 'Liberal National Cabinet of the Province of Quebec (Lower Canada)' composed of veterans of 1837 and 1838 as well as actual ministers.88 Another case of selective memory had occurred a few years earlier when the patriote historian L.-O. David had rescued the wife and children of Chevalier DeLorimier from destitution. The moment that was burned most indelibly in Lepailleur's mind occurred on 19 January 1845, the day he returned to Chateauguay to reunite with his 'cher Domitile/ In that time of great rejoicing and pure happiness, he forgot his deep sense of wrong. Henceforth he would put family and his family responsibilities first. While others ventured into local government, he never forgot the lessons his disastrous foray into politics had taught him. As the events of 1838 receded deeper into the past, they began to seem like an aberration. Maurice Lepailleur, like so many of his countrymen, followed the dictates of his church and spent the rest of his life in quiet dignity. He died in 1891.

13

There Must Always Be Victims/i

Outside the house on Sanguinet the wind howled, shrieking the advent of winter. Warwick was still shivering as he entered the drawing room and walked directly to the fire to warm his hands. Lepailleur watched indulgently while the reporter stamped his feet and made an impressive show of rubbing his hands together. 'People in New South Wales will be just beginning to think of summer/ he said teasingly. 'Then I wish I were there,' Warwick answered. 'With the flies and the blazing sun. No, thank you. I've no regrets about being back in Canada.' Warwick left the fire's vicinity, walked to the chair he normally used and pulled his notebook and pencil out. He didn't want to appear in a hurry but he knew he'd never have a better lead into this, his final interview. 'No regrets actually, eh.' 7 didn't say that, Mr Warwick. How could I? Every day of my life I regret the repercussions from 1838. My dear Domitile and I spent less time together than the good Lord may have ordained otherwise. I missed several years of my boys' childhood. Cardinal, my brother-in-law and dear friend, ended his life on the gallows. Regrets? Oh yes, I have regrets/ 'But what about the rebellion? Would you have done things differently?' For a moment Lepailleur's eyes resembled the arctic conditions outside the house. 'That's really an unfair question, Mr Warwick. You weren't born in 1838. You don't know how things were or why we felt we had to make a stand. I don't even think I can answer the question honestly because I know what the results of my actions were.' 'But surely you must have thought about your participation in the rebellion and the price you paid for it?' Lepailleur suddenly realized that Warwick was going to be a bulldog on this question and resigned himself to it. 'I suspect, my dear young man/ he began, 'the question you're trying to ask me would be this: if I had known in 1838 the consequences of my actions - that they would be perceived as treason,

There Must Always Be Victims7 277

that I would be convicted and my property seized, causing considerable financial hardship for my family - would I have gone on that raid to Caughnawaga?' Warwick relaxed. That was indeed the question he had been leading up to. 'Yes/ he responded simply. Lepailleur threw his hands in the air. 'But how can I answer it/ he exclaimed. 'Only the Good Lord is all-seeing. When I ponder 1838,1 do it with hindsight. And, for your information, I have asked myself the question many times. 'We, in our area of the province, weren't the most poor, you know. But we certainly felt our wrongs as deeply, if not more deeply, than people in the area around Quebec, for instance. As I think I've been trying to tell you, we had given up expecting change from the British. I certainly believed Robert Nelson's plan had a chance of succeeding - that we would be able to get ourselves more political power. I'd be lying if I told you I believed entirely in his republic. But I thought my Cardinal would be an effective speaker for our area in any new legislature. We certainly should have been able to control our own revenues and our destiny.' Warwick stopped writing. As an English Canadian, he still didn't understand how the patriotes could have misjudged Britain's reaction to their plans. 'But surely, Mr Lepailleur,' he argued, 'you must have thought about the consequences? Did you think Britain was just going to hand the province over to you? Did you imagine it would abandon a colony it had fought for several times? Not just the once in the Seven Years' War. Because, you know, it defended the province during the American Revolution and the War of 1812.' 'That's true,' Lepailleur shrugged. 'And we French Canadians fought on its side, don't forget.' 'Then why did you think there'd be no repercussions?' 'I seldom if ever thought we'd fail,' Lepailleur answered slowly. 'If I did think about it, I must have imagined the worst that could happen to me would be a couple of months in jail. Exactly, I suppose, like what happened after the 1837 rebellion. That they would hang some of us, my Cardinal, never, ever entered my mind.' He shook his head sideways as if he wanted to clear it of such stupidity. 'I've talked about this very point with my grandfather,' Warwick announced. 'I've asked him why he felt there had been a second rebellion. He said he can remember people talking about that in 1838. Some wondered whether November rebellions were going to become a French Canadian habit. And in response to that, others said, as you well know, that the government had to make damn sure you Canadiens knew you'd never succeed.' 'Well, that policy worked with me. I do not believe that I, or anyone else who was transported with me, broke any laws once we came back.' 'Not even Mr Languedoc?' Lepailleur laughed. 'I don't know. I have to admit I lost track of him and a

278 The Conclusions

lot of the others over the years/ Then he became serious again. 'But if we leave out the hindsight part of your original question, the part that gives me the knowledge of the tragedies that would happen, then the answer is "yes." If I were living again in 1838, and that's without the hindsight, you understand, then yes, I would do it over again. 'The rebellion was supported by most of us in Chateauguay. I went in with the others, as did Mr Jean-Louis Thibert for sure, because that was what our community decided. We could see what was happening around us, our fellow Canadiens getting squeezed out of their farms, the English speculating with their lands. That sense was palpable that autumn of'1838.' 'And now that some of the things you fought for have come to happen, do you ever think they might have happened anyway without the rebellions?' 'Ah, that I'm not sure about. Once we rebelled in 1838, we certainly got the attention of the British. We have only to look at our pardons to realize that. And with the union of the Canadas and now, the confederation of the provinces into the Dominion of Canada, it is hard to separate what might have happened from what has happened. But I believe we made a difference.' 'And in retrospect...,' Warwick began. 'In retrospect, I am proud to have been a patriote. I am glad that on the anniversary of our rebellion my dead comrades are commemorated with a monument in the Cote des Neiges cemetery. As Touchette will be, along with Mr Ducharme, Mr Prieur, Mr Laberge, and myself when we die. What's more, I'm proud of the record we left in New South Wales. We may have been the lowest of the low, Mr Warwick, but we left our mark. So, yes, I regret so much. But ...' He stood suddenly, and his spine straightened so that Warwick could glimpse the younger man who had waged rebellion against Her Britannic Majesty. 'But/ he repeated, his eyes flashing with a fire that might only have been banked for the last fifty years, 7 never lost my honour. When asked to do so, I fought for what I believed in, my nation canadienne. That, I will never regret.' Warwick closed his notebook and slipped it and his pencil into his pocket. He too stood, holding out his hand in farewell. He had started the series of interviews with curiosity. Now, he felt only respect. There was really nothing more to say.

IN AN INTERVIEW given after Robert Hughes's history of convict Australia, The Fatal Shore, had received its due praise and the controversial reviews had begun to roll in, the author was asked if he had regrets about the way he had written his book. He did: I think I pulled my punches too much. I think I was too cautious. Now I would be much more speculative about the effects of transportation ... the offhand sexism in Australia, for example. And I think there is some part of mateship which can be traced to the convicts.2

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In speculating about how transportation may have contributed to Australian sexism and to the culture of 'mateship/* he was a rare author. Most Australian historians have been somewhat positive about the longterm influence of the convict system. A.G.L. Shaw thought it 'helped Australian development7 and that socially it 'did no great harm/ as 'colonial morals were not destroyed/ Russel Ward described convictism's legacy in even more glowing terms: 'Early Australian history surely gives much cause for pride and little for shame. From the most unpromising possible material there developed in a few short years the self-reliant progenitors of a free and generous people/ Stephen Nicholas and Peter Shergold believed that 'the convicts offered an exceptional workforce upon which to build economic growth/3 By contrast, only a few have been negative. In 1969 H. Reynolds argued that in the 1860s the convict legacy to Tasmania was 'more lunatics, more orphaned or abandoned children, more prisoners, more invalids and paupers' than were in the combined colonies of Queensland and South Australia with their two and a half times larger population.4 The late Manning Clark theorized that a powerful capacity for envy was just one among several convict legacies still operating in Australia: 'From the arrival of the convicts, a demon possessed the mockers of Botany Bay and made them bring down everyone and everything/5 And Clark felt that convictism even held the capacity to undermine the historical project itself. He believed, for example, that from the time Tasmanian convictism drew to a close, 'the ghost of the past haunted the minds of the living: the people became embarrassed by their past and were not even able to tell themselves that the whole point of knowing the past is so that one can dispense with such ghosts/6 For Miriam Dixson, author of The Real Matilta, these ghosts had to do with sex, ethnicity, and race. In 1976 she set out to anatomize their 'hauntings' so that an effective 'exorcism' might take place.7 She tied certain Australian inflections of domination partly to links forged between convict and colonial mores about class, race, ethnicity, and gender.8 Then, and more explicitly in later editions of The Real Matilda, she contested accounts of the self-Other relationship given by the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan. (This in turn challenged the currently dominant version of cultural theory. Though welcomed by some historians, others * The ethos of mateship evolved from the peculiar nature of early New South Wales settlement. As a result of the huge gender imbalance (as well as many other reasons), a large number of males gravitated to the rural areas - the bush or outback. Since they were so far away from Sydney and other well-populated areas, it became crucial for them to have a friend they could rely on for protection and help in case of emergencies. In other words, they needed a 'mate' who would support them through 'thick or thin/ (For Russel Ward's definition, see pages 285-6.)

280 The Conclusions

argued it was 'killing' the discipline of history).9 Dixson's book postulated that while the above historical links remained radically undertheorized,10 they could help to shape Australian attitudes to women and indigenous people. Manning Clark believed the 'whole point of knowing the past' was to dispense with its 'ghosts/ This demands exploring the good alongside the bad, so as to integrate positive achievements with the cultural underside. At first glance it would seem improbable that the patriotes should raise questions leading to a richer 'knowing' or that they might help lay to rest some of Clark's ghosts. There were only fifty-six Canadiens, and with the exception of Joseph Marceau, all chose to leave New South Wales once pardoned. At best their impact would seem to be confined to some place names (such as Canada Bay) on a map, chiselled stone in the Paddington Barracks' foundations, and wooden blocks underpinning some of Sydney's streets. Yet they left a matchless legacy - a daily view of the pyramid of 1840s Sydney from the very lowest layer. The Lepailleur journal is the rarest of rare convict documents - a five-year daily account of life under the bonds of penal servitude. The covers of the various booklets comprising the diary were made from the bark of Australian gum (eucalyptus) trees. His journal was not a retrospective like those described in Anne Conlon's article '"Mine is a Sad yet True Story": Convict Narratives 1818-1830.'11 For that reason, Lepailleur's impressions and statistics must be taken seriously, especially by those quantifiers of 'human capital' who, after claiming they sought to interpret the past from the bottom up, apparently made no effort to read the recorded thoughts of the men they studied.12 As pointed out by Raymond Evans and William Thorpe, the book Convict Workers (edited by Stephen Nicholas) is based on a sample of 19,711 convicts, yet only 5 are named.13 If the assumptions and statistics by Nicholas, Shergold, et al. in Convict Workers hold up under review and further research, the Canadiens must be seen as the most underprivileged group of workers arriving in the late convict period. Older, less literate, in poorer health, and with English as a second language, they did not resemble the ideal worker Australia would have chosen for its economic development. They should not have survived in the harsh depression of the 1840s, much less thrived to the extent they did. Lepailleur and his comrades saw Sydney 'bottom up' and did not care for the view. Their comments and observations raise disconcerting questions for Australian historians. What they experienced (and duly recorded) showed them that certain behaviour was common throughout the society - violence and alcoholic consumption, for example.

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Lepailleur did not distinguish between a convict worker and a policeman when describing the brutality of the city, and he grieved for all, prisoner or free, who were its victims. While he, as a typical man of his time, had a very low opinion of prostitutes, his opprobrium was for the practice, not the person. Mrs Charles Nichols, of Sydney's exclusive upper crust, was as much a 'putin' (prostitute) as the convict woman who revealed her 'black hole' on the Parramatta Road. Greed, like lust, is part and parcel of humanity. The patriote writers recorded many examples of endemic corruption. Government suppliers and convict overseers were not excepted. If they could make money by supplying the convicts at Longbottom with substandard food, they would. Historians like Nicholas (that is, historians who rely on numbers, who quantify) frequently fail to allow for such qualities, though a glance at the data supplied by the Canadiens might have alerted them. For example, Nicholas laboriously, though naively, calculated that in theory the convicts were allowed 4,005 calories daily: 'more ... than the 1979 recommended daily intake of 18-35 year old Australian males, established by the Nutrition Committee of the National Health and Medical Research Council.'14 But the Canadien commentators had bemoaned the quantity of their food and blamed Chevrefils's death on malnutrition. Prieur described the rations as 'stingy' and 'detestable,' noting that the allotted 'half pound of beef brought from Sydney [was] in the worst possible condition.'15 Ducharme commented that their bread was made from the 'most inferior quality of flour' and that after a hard day's work they went to bed 'worn out with hunger and fatigue.'16 Lepailleur also described the rations in detail throughout his stay in Longbottom, accusing contractors of supplying bad meat of the poorest cuts and sending the dregs of grain bins. For example, on 28 April 1840 he complained that the patriote convicts often ate meat that had 'been spoiled from the heat during the day and ... grain instead of flour. This bread is uneatable and is bad practically every day.'17 Father Brady validated these grievances to some extent when he wrote in the Australian Chronicle that a 'white slave from Ireland,' accustomed to potatoes and salt, would 'scarcely exist' on the diet.18 As pointed out earlier, the Canadiens used some of their illegal earnings to supplement the official diet, buying luxuries like peaches, and they were lucky enough to have a plentiful supply of oysters within walking distance. Moreover, in complaining of the inadequacy of their rations, they were not unique. Hunger drove other prisoners to riot and many were punished for stealing food. When looking at the evidence supplied by the patriotes' records, we must ask, as Evans and Thorpe did, 'How could the various authors of Convict Workers have got it so wrong?'19 The Canadien experience suggests errors in other assumptions. In

282 The Conclusions

this Nicholas and his group of economic historians share the blame with colleagues they themselves questioned. While detailing the benefits the eventual nation of Australia would gain from the forced 'migration' of convict workers, they failed to concern themselves with other factors. What were the long-term consequences of the huge gender imbalance? What values entered Australian culture from the forced separation of more than 160,000 people from their families? This latter question is where the Canadiens' legacy should be the most valuable. There was no place like Lower Canada to the patriotes and they were determined to return to it. If all else failed, they would bring their families to New South Wales, and they systematically set aside money for that purpose. The experiences of Benjamin Mott, Benjamin Wait, and the other Upper Canadians and Americans suggest the extent of this desire to reunite with family was a North American preoccupation. Mott, the sole U.S. resident in the Lower Canadian group, was no less homesick than his fellow prisoners. Days after the Buffalo left Quebec he wrote to his wife Almira: 'I shall return as soon as I can have the privilege, if God spares my life/ In 1842 he was at a low ebb, not having heard from his family. Rather petulantly he told his brother that although he was 'in the land of the Living/ he had 'almost given up all hope of Ever Seeing or hearing from home again/ Even as he poured out his soul that August, his emotional equilibrium re-established itself and later in the same letter he advised his brother Danforth that he thought he should 'be able to leave this Country within twelve months from this time/20 Among patriotes, Lepailleur was just one who thought of family constantly. During his time in New South Wales, he not only dreamt of his wife but wrote songs revealing his love: 'Charming Domitile / Object of my love / Your wondrous image / Pursues me night and day/ Despite a distance of more than ten thousand miles, he was determined to remain true: 'Always, always faithful to my sweet oath / Never another than she will have me as a lover / If she abandons me crying to my sad fate / In the fields of 'ballonne' [?] / I will seek death/21 Worry about his family's welfare was a Canadien convict's basic preoccupation, and it can be documented as such. Did any British convicts agonize as much over their loved ones left behind in the United Kingdom? As with most non-quantifiable questions, the answer cannot be stated in black and white terms. But what I call 'micro-history' can provide some answers. By studying small samples, the micro-historian can afford the luxury of running down every scrap of information relevant to the people being investigated. Eventually, the residents of the past come alive to shed light on their lives. And that enables the microhistorian to illuminate the wider picture other scholars have drawn. One such micro-historian is Babette Smith, who in her 1988 book A

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Cargo of Women wrote about ninety-nine female convicts. Before leaving England some had been thieves; others prostitutes. One woman gave birth to a daughter on board the Princess Royal just before it sailed to New South Wales in 1828; another had one of her five children with her. Whatever ties they might have formed on board the ship tended to disintegrate once they reached New South Wales, for on arrival in Sydney the women were separated through the assignment process. About 70 percent of these female convicts had at least one brush with the law in New South Wales, and a few might have resembled the woman with the 'black hole' who so scandalized Lepailleur. Smith discovered that 'those with a propensity to drunkenness were always the most vulnerable/ Women who were rebellious or who could not keep their tempers were ground to bits by the convict system's machinery. When responding to questions about the moral degeneracy of the Princess Royal's cargo of convicts, Smith pointed out that one of the women's few defences against their life as victims of society in general, and authoritative males in particular, was defiantly raucous, bawdy, cheeky, generally recalcitrant behaviour. They had to pretend not to care. They even had to convince themselves they didn't care, in order to survive their lives ... The idol of 'God's police' was held up before them and, since they could not possibly live up to it, their defence was to refuse to pay it homage and to shock the idol's worshippers by their behaviour.22

That was undoubtedly true. The chaste Lepailleur was not the only one who was morally outraged by the behaviour of such women. Unlike the Canadiens, the women transported on the Princess Royal left almost no written record. We can only guess at their dreams and feelings, but Smith's extrapolations show that they cared about their crimes, their morals, and their families. One woman's colonial-born child grew up to become archdeacon of the Maitland Diocese.23 The central figure in Smith's book, Susannah Watson, found salvation in New South Wales after 'many up and downs' and she corresponded with her children left behind in England. Her colonial-born son was brought up to love reading and to fight for what he considered right. Watson had taught her children that 'zeal in a good cause is commendable.' She died in 1877 thinking transportation to New South Wales 'the best thing' that had happened to her. She would have enjoyed a last laugh when her great-grandson became a justice of the New South Wales Supreme Court in 1959.24 Smith's detailed study contrasts sharply with the mind-boggling numbers crunched in the Convict Workers and the generalizations drawn from the ensuing statistics. Smith concentrated on drawing conclusions

284 The Conclusions

from concrete detail. To her, each and every woman was important. The research of Nicholas et al. concerned itself with a vast number of convicts and their statistical profiles. Convict Workers lacks the human dimension. We do not grieve when following anyone's colonial record as we might when reading about the rape of Margaret Maloney.25 Yet Nicholas and his group bring new dimensions to convict history. Their research indicates that close to 40 percent of convicts had relocated at least once before sailing for Australia - for example, from Liverpool to London, from county to county. They could thus be called 'economic refugees/ people who had voluntarily severed home ties.26 When they left for Australia, it was their second or third remove. But once that had been documented and we leave the safety of statistics, hard questions have to be asked. Did these economic refugees have the burning desire to reunite with their loved ones that so characterized the Lower Canadians? Did they too attempt to keep in touch with their families? Unfortunately, no answers to such questions are found in the Convict Workers. Because this kind of question is never raised, the humanity of the convicts never materializes for the reader. Partial explanations for this silence come from another microhistory. In the 1960s and 1970s George Rude studied the 'Swing' rioters, a group of men transported from England between 1831 and 1833 for agricultural dissent and radical agitation.27 Like the Canadiens they had generally been law-abiding citizens before their insurrections and riots, and they were the largest group up to that time to be transported from England for essentially the same political offence. In all a total of 464 were transported, with 139 sent to New South Wales. Some were 'men in a superior condition of life' - village artisans, carpenters, blacksmiths, a schoolteacher, and a surveyor - but the majority were farm workers (ploughmen, thatchers, stable-boys).28 The severity of their sentences varied. Some had had the death penalty respited, but more than half were transported for the minimum term of seven years. They were assigned on their arrival in New South Wales, and interestingly enough some of their employers (Wentworth and Semphill, for example) would later take Canadiens. They received free pardons after short six years.29 Like the patriotes, these agricultural tradesmen and skilled labourers came to the colony with highly valued skills, and they should have been able to flourish. There were key differences between the two groups. More than half the patriotes had worked their own farms in Lower Canada and were used to pioneering conditions. Some had families who had established farms on virgin soil, in Beauharnois, for example. A majority of them, therefore, were familiar with the basic task of clearing land for agricultural purposes. In contrast, the English rioters had laboured on soil that

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had been tilled for centuries. Slightly more than half of the Swing convicts sent to New South Wales were married, but when given the chance to reunite with their wives and families at government expense, only three took advantage of the offer. And as for their lives once they had disappeared from the convict system's records after receiving their pardons, Rude had to admit that he had 'no certain means of finding out' what had happened to them. He fruitlessly searched Sydney's Mitchell Library records, various directories, and censuses. While there was no record of their staying in New South Wales, it seemed they had not returned to England, for he could document only one of them sailing from Sydney and earlier historians postulated that Very few ... ever returned.'30 Did the Swing rioters make a complete break with their wives and families? Unlike the economic refugees, most were transported from their home parishes and would not have previously felt the wrenching loss of home and familiar surroundings. A partial answer can be found in a letter from the mother-in-law of Swing rioter Charles Fay.31 In it she notified Fay, a turner, of his wife's death, then explained how his family and village had reacted to the transportation. Fay's small son had been told that his father had gone 'abroad to fight the Blacks' and Fay's wife, having had no news of him from Australia, had 'thought he was dead and died of a broken heart.'32 Why did Charles Fay not bother to keep in touch with his family before his wife's death? He did not return to his son and later remarried in New South Wales.33 Did he ever correspond with the boy? It would seem that he cut his familial ties once he left England. As did others. In Convict Workers, Nicholas claimed quite proudly that 'the convict immigrants arrived without the young and the old, avoiding the burden of dependent service provisions, such as schools, trade training and old-age care, for two generations.' He then went on to assert: 'Australia's inflow of overwhelmingly single male convicts created an exceptionally high labour participation rate in which over 65 per cent of the total population were members of the male workforce. The age-sex structure of the convicts provided a unique workforce upon which to build economic growth.'34 But was this overwhelmingly single male workforce a beneficial foundation for a nation? One such advantage claimed for Australia has been the ideal of 'mateship.' Russel Ward, who traced its development in The Australian Legend, claimed that the solitary men inhabiting the frontier areas in the nineteenth century bequeathed to their nation such values as antiauthoritarianism and contributed to the prevalence of 'socialist ideas and "paternalistic" legislation.'35 He defined mateship as

286 The Conclusions

the most highly prized Australian character trait ... In reaction to their [i.e., the single convict males'] loneliness, to the sundering distances and to the harshness of nature, men learned to help and trust each other. This is not to claim, of course, that Australians are in fact notably more altruistic than other people, but merely that they tend to value collective effort and mutual aid more highly than do, for example, Americans.36

The following conditions created mateship: isolation, the absence of religion, the paucity of white women, nomadic conditions, and the reluctance of employers to hire married men. All these, according to Ward, accounted 'for the extraordinarily close class solidarity, and the strong tendency to mutual aid, displayed by outback workers/37 But this collectivist mateship had many negative values. It was exclusivist and did not extend to 'new chums/ women, blacks, or others who were 'different/ Secondly, it originated with men who were, in the main, emotionally and spiritually sterile, men who had avoided providing the 'dependent service provisions/ both institutional and personal, of an ordinary life. Compare this mateship with the comradeship of the Canadiens. Within the confines of a city, they exhibited many of the values claimed for the outback workers, such as generosity. They gave money to British convicts less fortunate than themselves. Lepailleur bought presents for the Macdonald children. Their scarce food was shared with the dying Chevrefils. Even as the Canadiens coped with maintaining themselves in New South Wales, they did not ignore or forget their distant responsibilities to wives and families. The patriotes came from a communal culture and acted accordingly. Once a threat materialized, they reacted in the group's best interest. For example, when Languedoc threatened to expose the entrepreneurialism of Baddely and Bourdon and thus deprive the group of its clean record and subsequent chance for pardon, the community turned against him. In the Australian context the patriotes were fortunate. Their family ties, culture, and religion gave them strength to endure and survive. Even though a letter took at least six months to reach its intended recipient, mail was sent regularly. The love they expressed for la nation canadienne was reciprocated. While they fought, scrimped, and saved to return, their communities petitioned and donated money to get them home. One reason the patriote convicts kept records of their lives in New South Wales was that they wanted to share their experiences with their families on their return, and they never lost hope that they would return. As they wrote in their journals and sent mail home, the community of French Canada responded by publishing their letters, thereby keeping their names and their plight before their people. Furthermore, concern for

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them was widespread in their homeland. Rank and social prestige stopped only a few from supporting the transported men's cause. Prominent politicians such as Louis LaFontaine joined illiterate censitaires in petitioning the government. Bishop Ignace Bourget of Montreal as well as lowly cures signed requests for pardons. This outpouring of emotion - the patriote convicts for their country and families; the Canadien nation for its 'errant' sons - had no real parallel in Britain. Most people there were glad to be rid of criminals and have them transported to the ends of the earth. No paper published the latest letters from Sydney or Hobart on a regular basis;38 few people grieved for the thousands expunged from the major cities. Undoubtedly this lack of concern went both ways. For convicts like Susannah Watson New South Wales was a second chance in life. It was to some extent still pre-industrial, with little of the lung-destroying smoke endemic in many English cities and towns. The few extant letters from convicts to their families in the British Isles boast of the marvellous climate and fresh air, the opportunities 'for well conducted persons.' At least one convict was 'very thankful to [his] prosecutors for sending [him] here to the land of liberty and freedom.'39 Lepailleur would not have called New South Wales the land of liberty and freedom. He felt like a slave and was repulsed by so much in the society around him. Added to these feelings was a constant fear. Punishment in New South Wales was exceptionally cruel and designed to be exemplary.40 The mere thought of it kept many convicts, not only the patriotes, in line. And as previously law-abiding men, the Canadiens also wanted to avoid further disgrace. Beyond the dread of barbarous punishment was anxiety over the sheer multiplicity of rules. A man could be flogged for drinking water without permission, for instance. The Hyde Park Barracks, to Lepailleur, was a place of torment and pain where 'cruelty and barbarism' were 'dished out' in frequent floggings.41 As a punishment flagellation was almost as old as New South Wales itself. Governor Phillip had ordered it as early as 7 February 1788, and by 1835 about one in every four convicts had received the lash. Sydney's citizens were hardened to its sight. Mr Justice Roger Therry reported seeing a convict carried to hospital screaming and 'writhing in an agony of pain.' Bystanders, when questioned, told him the unfortunate man was only 'a prisoner who had been flogged.'42 Itinerant traveller Alexander Harris reported that he saw a convict at Bathurst jail 'walk across the yard with the blood that had run from his lacerated flesh squashing out of his shoes at every step he took. A dog was licking the blood off the triangles, and the ants were carrying away great pieces of human flesh.' Harris was horrified to see 'white, ragged, and swollen' sinews protruding from the man's back.43 Did the regular sight of such

288 The Conclusions

floggings affect the citizens of New South Wales? Evidence that it did comes from various writers. Convicts' children, called 'currency lads and lasses/ were usually law-abiding, and the first generation of them in particular had a deep respect for property and authority. When currency boys grew old enough to marry, they were reluctant to wed convict women, having something 'approaching contempt for the vices and depravity of the convicts even when manifested in the persons of their own parents/44 Were such attitudes the result of constant exposure to the cat and its nine tails? Harris reportedly heard of children who made a game of flogging trees. In fact, flogging was so common that 'nobody thinks of it' and some children laughed as the 'greedy "cat" licked up skin and bone.'45 Thomas Rose's regular practice of giving his wife fifty blows, recorded by Lepailleur, was just a travesty of the official form of punishment and another indication of the possible long-term effects of convictism on Australia. Virtually all observers mentioned the brutality of Sydney. Without outrage, Mrs Meredith told of the wife of a nearby turnpike-keeper 'who was scarcely ever seen sober, and as rarely without a broken head or a black eye/46 She and other British visitors to New South Wales spoke to an audience well accustomed to savagery. The Industrial Revolution had made and was making indelible marks on British society. The British were growing used to black smoke rising from tall chimneys and incredible squalor pervading many of their cities, such as London and Manchester. Brutality among the poor was no novelty, and reports of such behaviour in New South Wales were probably dismissed with a shrug - 'Well, what else could one expect from such people?' Are the eyes of some Australian convict historiographers as blinkered as those of Mrs Meredith's contemporaries? In 'Bending the Bars: Convict Women and the State/ Marion Quartly notes that Lepailleur claimed to hear more women crying in the night than birds singing in the day. Quartly then writes: 'Lepailleur may be commenting here as much on Anglosaxon habits as on specifically Australian ones. But certainly the court records evidence of both the normality of occasional violence on the part of husbands and the reluctance of courts to interfere.'47 If such 'normality' did prevail, this itself may well stand as another example of the effects of convictism in Australia's past. But that aside, Lepailleur had lived for more than thirty years in a North American British colony where Anglo Saxon habits, uninflected by convictism, were readily observable. In these colonies generally and Lower Canada in particular, 'normal/ 'occasional' violence would have raised serious questions. As one British traveller noted: 'Crimes of an atrocious description, [such] as

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murder and violent assaults upon the person, scarcely ever occur/48 Although acts of brutality happened, they did not constitute an even 'occasional7 norm, as Quartly claims for Australia. Women were generally well, if paternalistically, treated by their men. In Lower Canada some women even had a history of voting and they were well protected by their dower and community-of-property rights.49 In Sydney, therefore, the patriotes were confronted with scenes that were quite unknown 'chez nous/ That is precisely why Lepailleur commented upon them. Nineteenth-century writers, notably Marcus Clark, William Astley, and the Bulletin's editors, questioned convictism's legacy. In an 1886 editorial, the Bulletin raised the issue of violence and its long-term effects, concluding that if 'the whole community' was 'not lowered and brutalised, then by all means flog away/50 It pointed out that 'the brutality of the lower classes of British people - the wife beating, animal torturing and general desire to inflict pain ... [was] due largely to the horrible punishments to which their rulers so long familiarised them/ Whether or not Australian attitudes to violence have been a consequence of 'the tainted surroundings of our early national life, or from the absence of any checks which the neighbourhood of cultivated nations might impose' is just one of the Bulletin's questions that remain ignored. The women comprising the cargo of the Princess Royal help balance the many brutal pictures and hint at answers. Yes, Sydney's convict population required extraordinary courage to do anything more than endure and some of the women were not up to the task. About 70 percent became recidivists, and no doubt a few would have been looked upon as sluts and scum. Yet others overcame all obstacles in their paths, managing to bring their children up with dignity and love. It is from their histories and those of the patriote convicts that we can gain hope in our own humanity. And it is precisely by looking the facts of convict history in the eye that we will allay the ghosts referred to by Manning Clark and satisfy Dixson's and Hughes's speculations about the convict system's long-term effects on attitudes towards women. When the Buffalo left Quebec, becoming part of Australian history was the last thing on the patriotes' minds. Yet they became a perfect example of micro legal history. From their trial records and depositions, and occasional references to them in newspapers, we know something of their motives for rebelling and their past political activity. But it was the transportation experience, with its unique documentation that really brought these men to life. We know who had multiple scarring, we know about their height, hair, and tattoos, and we even know about the infamous gap-toothed grin of Joson Dumouchelle. More importantly, the patriote convicts illustrate the effects of prison on proud men, even those coming from tight-knit communities with

290 The Conclusions

strong moral values. In Longbottom the sense of both community and morality unravelled a little; yet the transported men from British North America kept their strong familial ties. They were not economic refugees, willing to cut themselves off from families and loved ones to gain a better lifestyle. Young or old, married or bachelor, father or not, all (except Marceau) struggled for the day of reunion with their families. But that did not mean that in the 1840s they made no impact on New South Wales. In fact, what better epitaph can be given these Lower Canadian rebels of 1838 than those from Sydney itself. By 1890 forty-five years had elapsed since the main group of Canadiens had left the city and only a handful were still living: Lepailleur, Prieur, Laberge, Touchette, and Ducharme. There seemed no obvious reason why the patriotes should have been mentioned in a series of articles on various suburbs published by the Echo, a Sydney newspaper, in that year. Yet this series conveys the essence of the Canadien convicts and their impact. An article on Macdonaldtown made reference to some touching stories ... told by old residents of their [the patriotes'] care for the poor in the neighbourhood where they were at work. Many of them kept an informal sort of night school. There was such a school at Paddington, where a party of the Canadians were employed in quarrying stone for the Victoria Barracks. There was another in Macdonaldtown while they were there, and there were others wherever gangs of them were employed in making the Parramatta or other roads. Wherever they were at work they earned the respect and gratitude of their neighbours, and when they received their free pardons and were allowed to return to their native country, they were greatly missed by the poor of Sydney and the suburbs.51

Presumably, the schools spoken of were run by the elderly Huot, Newcomb, and Morin. Another article, about Enfield, mentioned that Father Brady 'held services with tolerable regularity in the slab barracks which the Canadians built themselves/ It also stated that a number of patriotes settled in the area 'near the Woodcutters' Arms Hotel' where they made 'a fine garden.' This particular story extolled the Canadiens' willingness 'to do any work required by the settlers in the district' and mentioned that many of them were 'excellent tradesmen.'52 In 1890 the Longbottom residents, the people Lepailleur had known best, not surprisingly remembered the patriotes in the greatest detail. They, too, talked to the Echo about the patriotes working on the Parramatta Road, and noted as well the 'excellent character borne by their comrades [i.e., other patriotes] in misfortune in Paddington, Macdonaldtown and elsewhere.' Neich and his friends had known the

There Must Always Be Victims' 291

Canadiens intimately and it is from them the greatest tribute came. As one resident put it: Their good deeds, their kindness to the poor, and their general courtesy and industry are still remembered/53 If New South Wales was indeed the 'land of a thousand sorrows/ it was also a place where these transported patriotes showed their true colours. In our jaded age, when men wearing size 24 basketball shoes become world-wide heroes, the patriotes of 1838 offer a different definition of heroism. Forced away from everything they held dear, the Canadiens adapted to an alien culture that initially feared and spurned them. In terms of the convict system, they had almost every card stacked against them; yet they helped other unfortunates whenever they could. Maybe, more than anything else, they were true 'mates/ It is not often that felons leave a legacy of courtesy, industry, good deeds, and kindness, especially to the poor. Sydney in 1890 remembered them. We should as well.

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Appendix A Biographical Notes on the Men Transported to New South Wales The data on occupation, age, parish (seigneury), marital status (m. = married), number of sons or daughters, literacy (reading/writing skills shown as R&W), and height for the patriote convicts are drawn from the lists (Indents) compiled as the Buffalo lay in Sydney Harbour. Landholdings (arpents) are taken from the Statement of Confiscations and are in many cases approximate. The surveyor described some lands as being the area encompassed, for example, between the Chateauguay River and the Grand Marais. The size of emplacements or town lots is not indicated but may be found in the Statement of Confiscations. All men were Roman Catholic, except for Benjamin Mott, a Methodist. None had any previous convictions. In special cases (e.g., Lepailleur, Prieur, and especially Lavoie, who had the most extraordinary series of tattoos), physical details are given in full. These illustrate the great concern for security shown by the Superintendent of Convicts' Office in Sydney. For further detail, see the appendices in Boissery, The Patriote Convicts/ The monetary amount after several men's names represents the amount claimed from the Rebellion Losses Commission (Appendix x to JLAC, 1846).

ALARY, Michel carpenter and joiner, 38, St-Clement (Beauharnois), m., 1 son, illiterate, 5' 63/4"

BECHARD, Theodore farmer and veterinary surgeon, 210 arpents, 49, L'Acadie (De Lery), m., 2 sons, 8 daughters, illiterate, 5' 7V2", £822 3s. 4d. (£670 6s. 3d. represented the value of his estate confiscated and purchased by his wife) BERGEVIN dit (also known as) LANGEVIN, Charles farmer, >140 arpents, 53, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), m., 7 sons, illiterate, 5' 6V2", £892 3s. 6d. BIGONNESSE dit BEAUCAIRE, Francois farmer, 112 arpents, 49, St-Cyprien (De Lery), m., 3 sons, 4 daughters, illiterate, 5' 5", £404 19s. BOUC, Charles-Guillaume clerk and 'bourgeois/ 48, Terrebonne, m., 2 sons, 5 daughters, R&W, 5' 5V2"

294 Appenidx A

BOURBONNAIS, Desire apprentice blacksmith, 20, St-Clement (Beauharnois), unmarried, illiterate, 5' 5V4" BOURDON, Louis merchant's clerk and farmer, 23, St-Cesaire (St-Hyacinthe), married, 1 son, 1 daughter, R&W, 5' 7V4", escaped from New South Wales, 1842, £37 BOUSQUET, Jean-Baptiste farmer and miller, 132± arpents plus a flour and sawmill, 44, St-Cesaire (Debartzch), single, R&W, 5' 4", £8 Is. BUISSON, Constant blacksmith and bailiff, 30, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), m., 3 daughters, R&W, 5' 7V4", £24 8s. CHEVREFILS, Ignace-Gabriel farmer, >90 arpents, 43, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), m., 1 son, 5 daughters, illiterate, 6' \", died in Sydney, 2 Sept. 1841 COUPAL dit LAREINE, Antoine farmer, 324 arpents, 50, L'Acadie (De Lery), m., 2 sons, 10 daughters, illiterate, 5' 0", epileptic, £300 DEFAILETTE, Louis farmer, 56 arpents, 48, St-Cyprien (De Lery), m., 4 sons, 4 daughters, illiterate, 5' 3V2", £814 4s. IQd. DUCHARME, Jean-Marie-Leon or Leandre merchant's clerk, 23, Montreal, single, R&W, 5' 6V4". Lost canine tooth left side of upper jaw, scar right side of upper lip, two small dark moles right side of neck, brown hair, brown eyes, sallow complexion. £262 5s. DUMOUCHELLE, Joseph or Joson farmer, 140± arpents, 47, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), m., 3 sons, 1 daughter, illiterate, 5' 103/4", brother of Louis. Dark sallow complexion, dark brown hair mixed with grey, and chestnut eyes. He had lost two front teeth, had a scar under the back of his left hand, a scar on right shin, another inside his left knee. £1,878 13s. 9d. DUMOUCHELLE, Louis innkeeper and farmer, 42, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), married, 2 sons, 4 daughters, illiterate, 5' 43/4". The brother to Joson, he died in Sydney, 24 Nov. 1840. GAGNON, David carpenter and joiner, 29, St-Timothee (Beauharnois), m., 2 daughters, illiterate, 5' 3V2", £32 15s. GOYETTE, Jacques mason and farmer, 60 arpents, 49, St-Clement (Beauharnois), m., 2 sons, 1 daughter, illiterate, 5' 7V4", uncle of Joseph, £506 17s. 9d. GOYETTE, Joseph carpenter, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 29, m., 2 sons, 1 daughter, R&W, 5' 43/4", nephew of Jacques, £541 6s. 6d.

AppenidxA 295

GUERIN dit BLANC DUSSAULT, Louis merchant and baker, 20± arpents, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 37, m., 3 sons, 1 daughter, R&W, 5' 5", £12 2s. GUERTIN, Francpis-Xavier farmer, carpenter, and joiner, 60 arpents, St-Cesaire (St-Hyacinthe), 44, single, R&W, 5' 6", £92 18s. GUIMOND, Joseph farm labourer and carpenter, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 48, m., 1 son, 2 daughters, illiterate, 5' 5V4", £8 10s. HEBERT, Jacques-David farmer, >228 arpents, St-Cyprien (De Lery), 49, m., 3 sons, 2 daughters, illiterate, 5' 6V4" - may have had more than 700 arpents. £298 4s. 3d. HEBERT, Joseph-Jacques farmer, 72 arpents, St-Cyprien (De Lery), 42, single, illiterate, 5' 63/4", £609 10s. HUOT, Charles notary, St-Cyprien (village of Napierville), 53, single, R&W, 5' 7", a sallow complexion, brown hair mixed with grey, brown eyes LABERGE, Jean farmer and carpenter, 145± arpents, 36, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), m., 4 sons, 2 daughters, illiterate, 5' 113/4", £104 6s. 7d. LANCTOT, Hippolite notary, 23, St-Remi, m., 2 sons, R&W, 5' 7V2", a pale, lightly pockmarked complexion, light hair, hazel eyes, and a mole on right cheek, six moles on his throat, another under bell of left ear, and one more on back of upper left arm, £681 5s. LANGLOIS, Etienne farmer and joiner, L'Acadie (De Lery), 26, single, illiterate, 5' 10V2", £420 LANGUEDOC, Etienne farm labourer, St-Constant (La Salle), 22, single, illiterate, 5' 5" LAVOIE, Pierre farmer, 53 arpents, St-Cyprien (De Lery), 49, m., 8 sons, 1 daughter, illiterate, 5' 5", a dark and slightly pockmarked complexion. He had brown hair mixed with grey, chestnut eyes, and a scar on the outer corner of his right eyebrow. He had extensive tattooing: a blue dot on back of his neck; a boat, cross, and two mermaids on his breast; 1793, star, cross, and tree on lower right arm; IHS (with a cross over the H) back of right hand; scar inside of right thumb; two mermaids, heart, cross, and cock on lower left arm; blue mark on back of left hand and on fore, middle, and third fingers of same. £339 8s. 9d. LEBLANC, David-Drossin farmer, 72 arpents, St-Cyprien (De Lery), 36, m., 5 sons, 1 daughter, R&W, 5' 41/2" LEBLANC, Hubert-Drossin farmer, 72 arpents, St-Cyprien (De Lery), 32, m., 2 sons, 2 daughters, R&W, 5' 3", £553 10s.

296 Appenidx A

LEPAILLEUR, Francois-Maurice bailiff, postal courier, and house painter, 2.76 acres of presumably town lots, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 32, m., 2 sons, R&W, 5' 43/4" He had a fair complexion, with brown hair and hazel eyes, and two small scars on his right cheek. £1,442 2s. 5d. LONGTIN, Jacques farmer, >86 arpents, St-Constant (La Salle), 59,4 sons, 8 daughters, illiterate, 5' 4V4" father of Moyse LONGTIN, Moyse farmer, St-Constant (La Salle), 21, single, illiterate, 5' 3", son of Jacques, £151 5s. 3d. MARCEAU, Joseph dit Petit-Jacques farmer and weaver, 56 arpents, 34, St-Cyprien (De Lery), widowed, 2 sons, 1 daughter, R&W, 5' 6V2". Marceau married Mary Barrett in 1844 and remained in New South Wales, living in the Dapto region of New South Wales, where he died in 1883, aged 77. £87 17s. 4d. (presumably claimed by his Canadien children) MORIN,Achille clerk, St-Cyprien or Napierville, 25, single, R&W, 5' 71/4//, son of PierreHector MORIN, Pierre-Hector ship captain, St-Cyprien or Napierville, 54, m., 3 sons, R&W, 5' 6V2", father of Achille. Captain Morin had a sallow complexion, brown to grey hair with brown eyes. His two front upper teeth were decaying, he had a raised mole under the right side of his chin, his breast and arms were hairy, the third finger of his right hand contracted, he had a scar on the ball of his left thumb and another on the palm of his left hand. MOTT, Benjamin farmer, Vermont, U.S.A., 43, m., 2 sons, 3 daughters, R&W, 5' 9V2" NEWCOMB, Samuel doctor, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 65, widowed, 3 sons, 2 daughters, R&W, 5' 53/4" PAPINEAU dit MONTIGNY, Andre blacksmith, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 40, m., 3 sons, 4 daughters, illiterate, 5' 7V2", £30 7s. 6d. PARE, Joseph farmer, 56 arpents, St-Cyprien (De Lery), 48, m., 0 children, R&W, 5' H3/4", £576 16s. 4d. PINSONNAULT, Louis farmer, 210 arpents, St-Remi (La Salle), 40, m., 2 daughters, illiterate, 5' 5V2". I have not established the relationship between the Pinsonnaults, if any existed. £2,275 10s. 9d. PINSONNAULT, Pascal farmer, 60 arpents, St-Philippe (La Salle), 27, single, illiterate, 5' 73/4", £626 13s. 4d.

AppenidxA 297

PINSONNAULT, Rene farmer, 90 arpents, St-Edouard (La Salle), 48, m., 3 sons, 4 daughters, illiterate, 5'8V2" PRIEUR, Frangois-Xavier country merchant, St-Timothee (Beauharnois), 24, single, R&W, 5' 41/2", sallow complexion, brown hair, grey eyes PROVOST, Franqois-Xavier innkeeper, merchant, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 30, m., 2 sons, 1 daughter, R&W, 5'8", £1,147 3s. 8d. ROBERT, Theophile, farmer, >90 arpents, St-Edouard (La Salle), 25, m., 0 children, R&W, 5' 2V4", £388 10s. ROCHON, Edouard-Pascal carriage maker and painter, 45 arpents, 10 town lots in Terrebonne, 39, m., 1 son, R&W, 5' 33/4", brother of Jeremie and Toussaint, £1,944 Os. 5d. ROCHON, Jeremie wheelwright, St-Vincent-de-Paul, 36, m., 5 daughters, R&W, 5' 4V2" ROCHON, Toussaint wheelwright, painter, and bailiff, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 30, m., 2 daughters, R&W, 5' 5V2", £199 16s. 1(W. ROY, Basile farmer, 114 arpents, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 42, m., 6 sons, illiterate, 5' 73/4", sallow complexion with brown hair and black eyes, nephew of Charles Roy dit Lapensee and cousin of Joseph ROY dit LAPENSEE, Charles farmer, 159 arpents, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 52, m., 5 sons, 3 daughters, illiterate, 5' 8V4", uncle of Basile and Joseph ROY dit LAPENSEE, Joseph farm labourer, St-Clement (Beauharnois), 24, m., 1 daughter, illiterate, 5' 5", cousin of Basile, nephew of Charles THIBERT, Jean-Louis farmer, 117 arpents, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 52, m., 2 sons, 1 daughter, illiterate, 5' 6". Relationship with Jean-Marie not established conclusively THIBERT, Jean-Marie farmer, 76V2 arpents, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 38, m., 2 sons, 2 daughters, illiterate, 5' 53/4" TOUCHETTE, Franqois-Xavier blacksmith, 45± arpents, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), 32, m., 1 son, 3 daughters, R&W, 5' 7V4" TRUDELLE, Jean-Baptiste farm labourer and joiner, Chateauguay (Chateauguay), 34, m., 4 sons, 1 daughter, illiterate, 5' 43/4" TURCOT, Louis farmer, >117 arpents, Ste-Martine (Beauharnois), 36, m., 5 sons, 1 daughter, R&W, 5' 53/4"

Appendix B Montreal Star Interview with Frangois-Maurice Lepailleur Saturday, December 15,1888 SENTENCED TO DEATH

A Survivor from the Gallows P.M. Lepailleur, a Companion of Cardinal and Duquette, Condemned for High Treason, Adds a Page to History.

Fifty years ago, on December 8, 1838, Mr. Francois Maurice Lepailleur, then in his thirty-second year, and a bailiff of the Court of Queen's Bench, was sentenced to death for high treason together with Cardinal and Duquette, by the court martial sitting at Montreal, and presided over by Major-General Clitherow. The venerable old gentleman, who still lives, enjoying good health and in possession of all his faculties, came as near to the gallows as any man can without being executed. At this time, half a century ago, he was preparing to face death in the cells in the basement of the Montreal gaol. The two unfortunate men who were sentenced at the same time were executed on December 21st of that memorable year, and died bravely declaring that their love of country was the only motive that had actuated them. Mr. Lepailleur's sentence was commuted into transportation to Australia, in which country he spent five years, and then returned to Canada. He resides on Sanguinet street with his son, Mr. Lepailleur, one of the bailiffs of the Sheriff's office, and promises to continue to live for many years to come. With the view of obtaining some facts in connection with this remarkable episode in his life, Mr. Lepailleur was waited upon by a STAR representative, who found him quite willing to speak. He is a short, sparely built man with a keen eye, a well formed head covered with white hair, and still erect. His memory is still good and many facts are as lucid to him as if they had happened yesterday. "Yes, this is quite a memorable year for

Appendix B 299

me," he remarked as he made the interesting statement which follows. "I was born at Boucherville, but had been a resident for some years at Chateauguay when the insurrection broke out. During '37 nothing of any importance took place in that locality. In 1838, however, the inhabitants were much moved by what had taken place elsewhere, and decided to take a hand in the movement which in our eyes solely tended towards securing THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE COUNTRY. "Those who were most active in organising in our locality were Cardinal, Duquette, Dr. Newcombe and Jos. Dumouchel. I was unwilling at first to mix in the affair, but when I was told that we would receive assistance from the United States I went in with the others. Previous to this I had assisted Cardinal and Dr. Robert Nelson in escaping to the United States. When the former returned we began meeting in small numbers in secret, and finally some 200 of the inhabitants of the place had been initiated. Things went on quietly enough until the first days of November when we were informed by Cardinal and Duquette that they had been ordered by Mr. John Macdonald, a lawyer in Montreal, who was looked upon as the head centre, that we were to march to Caughnawaga and there receive arms from the Indians. On the evening of November 3 some 200 of us met by appointment at the church door, many of us armed, but the majority unarmed. It was about nine o'clock when we started to cover a distance of about six miles. We made but slow progress; the roads were very muddy and we were in no particular hurry. Towards the dav/n of day we halted at the outskirts of the wood just outside of the village. It appears that Cardinal and Duquette had received a promise from Mr. George de Lorimier, a resident of the place, that they would receive assistance in the way of arms, etc. Our intention was to then march back to Beauharnois and there join the patriots. Cardinal, Duquette and Newcombe left us in the wood and went into the village to confer with De Lorimier. They were a long time away, and I began to grow suspicious that all was not as we expected. Some of the men began dispersing, and Cardinal and Duquette said that they had been led into a trap, and they escaped along the river front. De Lorimier and some of his friends had given the alarm, and the whole body of Indians, some 200 strong, were preparing to make us prisoners. We did not expect a fight and consequently did not prepare for it. I was standing near the old Chapel on the Chateauguay road, quite near to the village, when I saw De Lorimier coming towards me with a large number of armed Indians. As he came up, I said, 'Where are Cardinal and Duquette?' 'I did not see them/ he replied, and then he added: 'Yes, they were at my place, but they are gone.' While this conversation was going on, I saw that we were being surrounded. I was armed with two revolvers, but did not attempt to use them. My friends wanted to fire,

300 Appendix B

but I prevented them, and we were all made prisoners. I received a slight scratch on the hand, caused by one of the Indians, but nothing more. No shots were fired and no one was injured. "WE HAD FALLEN INTO A TRAP which had evidently been prepared beforehand. We were taken across the village under this strong escort, and thence crossed over to Lachine in boats. Here about one hundred armed men surrounded us, and the march into the city was commenced. The roads were very bad and we were all covered with mud, and many were nearly exhausted for want of rest and nourishment. No demonstrations took place along the road; but in the city a large crowd followed us, flinging epithets which were not very complimentary. The word 'rebels' sounded all over. It was two o'clock when we reached the gaol (the present one), and I was the first to enter it. Our feelings can better be imagined than portrayed. Our names were taken and food was given us. We remained for a couple of days together, but after that we were confined to the cells and saw very little of each other. It was ten o'clock that night when Cardinal and Duquette were brought in. The officers of the time were Sheriff M. de St. Ours; Clerk of the Crown, Mr. A.M. Delisle; magistrate, Mr. Leclere; gaoler, Mr. Wand; physician, Dr. Arnoldi. Four days later Sir John Colborne suspended the habeas corpus and proclaimed martial law. On the 27th the court martial, composed of Major General Clitherow and fifteen officers, was constituted, and on the 28th the trials commenced. At nine o'clock on that day twelve of us were taken up for trial under strong guard to the old Court House, which stood on the square before the present Court House and City Hall. Large crowds witnessed our arrival. The court room was small and but few uninterested spectators were admitted. The members of the Court sat around a table and we stood in a corner of the room, twelve of us, Cardinal, Duquette, Thibert and myself among the number. The prosecution was carried on by Mr. D. Mondelet, Mr. C.D. Day, and Captain Muller, who were styled judge-advocates. We were defended by Mr. Lewis T. Drummond and Mr. Pierre Moreau whom we had sent for. The trials lasted several days. A large number of witnesses was examined. I did not attempt to disprove the facts alleged, but produced two witnesses as to character. Proceedings were carried on in a summary manner. When the trial was over we were brought back and the next day we were told that we had all been SENTENCED TO DEATH by being called into the gaolers room where the sentences were read to us. Cardinal, Duquette, J.L. Thibert and myself however had not been recommended to clemency, and therefore we did not expect to be commuted. We therefore expected to die, but when? That was the great question. On Tuesday afternoon, December 18, Cardinal was called into the gaoler's quarters. You may imagine with what intense interest we awaited

Appendix B 301

his coming out. He returned in a few minutes as calm as ever, and merely said: 'My friends, I expected it; I am to die on Friday/ Poor young Duquette, then only in his twenty-second year, was next called in and a moment later returned. He had also been told to prepare for death on the same day. It was hard for him to die while still so young but he faced his dreadful fate with fortitude. My anxiety continued. I was preparing to die and was expecting to be informed of the date every minute. The day passed, however, and I thought that the execution had been postponed for a week, and that my turn would come on the following Friday. I saw very little of poor Cardinal. He recommended to me his wife and children; he seemed to regret to die only on their account. Cardinal's wife came often to see him and heartrending scenes followed. Duquette's widowed mother was with him until the eve of the execution. Those were sad days all, I can tell you. On the morning fixed for the dual execution we awoke early. Rev. Father Labelle, cure of Chateauguay, who had prepared Cardinal and Duquette for the other world, celebrated mass, at which the whole twelve of us assisted and partook of communion, after which I retired to my cell after one last farewell to my friends. I saw them pass on their march to the scaffold, shortly before eleven o'clock, accompanied by the priests and the officers of the gaol; that was the last time I saw them. I did not witness the execution, which took place in presence of a large crowd over the entrance to the gaol. -Neither of them spoke. Cardinal died without a struggle, but poor Duquette met with a terrible fate. The rope, it appears, had been badly adjusted, and when he fell his face struck against the sides of the scaffold and became covered with blood. His agony was frightful; he had to be launched by the hangman a second time. I am not aware of where his remains lie, but those of Cardinal I had removed from the old cemetery, Dominion Square, some years ago to Cote des Neiges cemetery, and over them now stands the monument erected to the memory of the Men of '37-38. Two days after the execution of my two friends I was informed by Rev. Abbe Kublier [Quiblier], Superior of the Sulpicians, that I would be saved. I was never able to ascertain by what influence this was done, but I have always suspected that my good angels were my two aunts, two cloistered nuns who spent sixty years of their lives in the Hotel Dieu. Having been removed to another cell in the meantime I was AN UNWILLING WITNESS of the executions of Robert, Hamelin, the two Sanguinets and Decoigne on January 18, and of Narbonne, Nicolas, Daunais, Hindelang [sic] and de Lorimier on February 12, following. I will never forget those horrible sights as long as I live. The executions took place on the prison wall over the entrance and were witnessed by immense throngs. I remained in prison until September 29, following, when with fifty-seven others I was placed on

302 Appendix B

board a sailing vessel and left for Australia, to which country we were transported. Our leaving our country with our families, helpless women and children, was painful to a degree. We never knew when we would return. At Quebec we were transported to a man-of-war and then we proceeded on our long journey to Sydney, New South Wales, where we landed. For the first two and a half years we were detained in a penal establishment just outside of the city, and given hard work. Through the intervention of Mgr. Folding, Bishop of Sydney with Sir John Russell, we obtained our liberty, but were not free to return to Canada until two years and a half later. All of us returned except two [three], one [two] who had died and another who settled in Australia. I arrived in Montreal on January 19,1845, after having gone through enough experience to satisfy any man." Some years later, Mr. Lepailleur married Cardinal's widow and was the means of assisting in bringing up his family and thus carrying out his friend's last wish.

Abbreviations ACP ADB AHS ANQ ANQM App. F

AONSW BRH co CUP DCB E Indents

Affaires criminelles et de police, ANQ at Montreal Australian Dictionary of Biography. 12 vols. Melbourne: MUP 1967-90 Australian Historical Studies (formerly Historical Studies) Archives nationales du Quebec Archives nationales du Quebec, Montreal 'Report of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the state of the Laws and other circumstances connected with the Seigniorial Tenure in Lower Canada' Archives Office of New South Wales Bulletin des recherches historiques Colonial Office Cambridge University Press Dictionary of Canadian Biography. 13 vols. to date. Toronto/Quebec: UTP/Laval 1966 Documents relatifs aux evenements de 1837 et 1838, ANQ List of 58 Male Convicts by the Ship Buffalo, J. Wood, Master, AONSW

IUP JHALC JLAPC JRAHS ML MUP NA osc OUP Pardons Q series RHAF SLC s series ST sue UBC UBCP UP UTP UNSW

British Parliamentary Papers: Colonies, Canada. 33 vols. Shannon, Ire.: Irish University Press 1967-68 Journals of the House of Assembly of Lower Canada Journals of the Legislative Assembly of the Province of Canada Journals of the Royal Australian Historical Society Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney Melbourne University Press National Archives of Canada, Ottawa Ordinances of the Special Council Oxford University Press RG 4, B 20, NA MG 11, NA Revue d'histoire de I'Amerique Franqaise Statutes, Lower Canada RG 4, A 1, NA Report of the State Trials, Before a General Court Martial Held at Montreal in 1838-1839 ... 2 vols. Montreal: Armour & Ramsey 1839 Statutes, Upper Canada University of British Columbia University of British Columbia Press University Press(es) University of Toronto Press University of New South Wales

Notes PREFACE

1

2 3

4

5 6

7

'List of 58 Male Convicts by the Ship Buffalo, J. Wood, Master/ The Names and Descriptions of all Males and Females who arrived in the Colony of New South Wales (hereafter called Indents), 1840, 48-53, Archives Office of New South Wales (AONSW) Documents relatifs aux Evenements de 1837-1838 (hereafter E) Report of the State Trials, Before a General Court Martial Held at Montreal in 1838-1839 ... ,2 vols. (Montreal: Armour & Ramsay 1839) (hereafter ST). The convict records in the Archives of New South Wales are also impressive, allowing the researchers to trace savings, employers, etc., and there are a host of lesser sources. See F. Murray Greenwood, Legacies of Fear: Law and Politics in Quebec in the Era of the French Revolution (Toronto: The Osgoode Society/University of Toronto Press [UTP ]1993), chap. 7 for the account of McLane's trial in 1797. See chap. 6 for details. This statistic and all other references to the physical nature of the men comes from an evaluation of the Indents (see n. 1 above). Boissery, The Patriote Convicts: A Study of the 1838 Rebellion in Lower Canada and the Transportation of Some Participants to New South Wales/ Australian National University 1977. Tables 2 and 3,315-16. Contrast this exactitude with that 'rough indication' claimed by Allan Greer,

The Patriots and the People (Toronto: UTP 1993), 39-40; and the tables of Lucie BlanchetteLessard and Nicole DaigneaultSaint-Denis in Jean-Paul Bernard ed., Les Rebellions de 1837-1838: les patriotes du Bas-Canada dans la memoire collective et chez les historiens (Montreal: Boreal Express 1983), 335-6. Greer's table followed the work of BlanchetteLessard and Daigneault-SaintDenis, which was based on the 1831 census figures. However, in 1831 one of those transported, Antoine Coupal dit Lareine, had a total of 604 arpents. This property when confiscated in 1839 had been reduced to 302 arpents, which may have been a result of the common practice in the 1830s of subdividing farms to provide acreage for one's children. But it makes the figure cited in Greer, as he acknowledges, 'hypothetical/ Generally speaking, however, the land holdings of the transported patriotes confirm the above scholars' work. 8 See, for example, F. Murray Greenwood, trans./ed., Land of a Thousand Sorrows: The Australian Prison Journal, 1840-1842 of the Exiled Canadien Patriote, FranqoisMaurice Lepailleur (Vancouver/ Melbourne: University of British Columbia Press/Melbourne University Press [UBCP and MUP]1980). 9 See Boissery, 'Patriote Convicts/ 12-16; Lawrence Stone, 'Prosopography/ Daedalus 100 (1971), 46-79. 10 See Stephen Nicholas, ed.,

Notes to pages xiii-6 305

Convict Workers: Reinterpreting Australia's Past (Cambridge/ New Rochelle/Melbourne Sydney: Cambridge University Press [CUP] 1988) 11 (Kensington, N.S.W.: University of New South Wales [UNSW] 1988). I owe the use of the verb 'statisticised' to Ms Smith. 12 With publication of volume 1 scheduled for autumn 1996, these studies should be published before the turn of the century. CHAPTER 1 THE FIRST BLOW, AUTUMN 1837

1 Loop Odell, merchant of Napierville, ST, 1:117 2 These and similar details throughout the book come from newspapers, letters, and journals of the time. They are not fictional. 3 Following standard academic practice, I refer to inhabitants of Lower Canada of French origin as Canadiens. At the time, immigrants from the British Isles called themselves 'English/ 'Scots/ or 'Irish/ The term 'British7 refers to long-term visitors from the British Isles, such as those in government or the military, for whom Lower Canada was merely a tour of duty. When Great Britain conquered the French colony of New France in 1760, she renamed it 'Quebec/ After the American Revolution and the influx of American settlers, imperial legislation in 1791 divided the old province of Quebec into two, mainly along the Ottawa River, with the eastern portion becoming Lower Canada and the western, Upper

Canada. After the unification of the Canadas in the 1840s, Lower Canada became Canada East officially, but the old name continued in popular and official use, such as the Civil Code of Lower Canada enacted in 1866. 4 For the specific genealogical details on Bourdon's life I am indebted to conversations in the mid-1970s with Roland Auger, then of the genealogical branch of the Archives nationales du Quebec. See also Marcelle and Alban Berthiaume, Le Patriote Louis Bourdon: premier maire de Farnham, Quebec (Farnham, Que.: M. & A. Berthiaume 1989). With the encouragement of his father, a carpenter, Bourdon had learned to read fluently and write well. At nineteen, he had married Cesarie Papineau, whose ancestor Samuel Papineau dit Montigny had come to Canada more than 130 years earlier. At the time of their marriage in 1836, Bourdon's father-in-law, Frangois Papineau, was a major in the 3rd Battalion of the St-Hyacinthe militia; he was second cousin to the Speaker of the province's House of Assembly, Louis-Joseph Papineau. But Francois Papineau had another important second cousin: Madame Marie-Rosalie Dessaulles, the largest landowner (or seigneur) in the area, 'a clever and very charitable woman ... much beloved/ In the St-Hyacinthe area the influence of the Dessaulles-Papineau family was 'very considerable' ('Report of Capt. Colman on the State of the Country/ 5 Mar. 1839, E 3553).

306 Notes to pages 6-9

5 For further reading on this point, see Greer, Patriots and the People, 16-17 6 For a detailed analysis of rural Lower Canada, see Greer's, Patriots and the People, and the authorities cited therein; and Boissery, Tatriote Convicts/ chap. 1. 7 Hugh Murray, An Historical and Descriptive Account of British America comprehending Canada Upper and Lower ... 3 vols. (Edinburgh/London: Oliver & Boyd/Simpkin, Marshall 1839), 11:59 8 Although the Canadiens resembled their French counterparts in provision for their basic needs, or caloric, replacement and ceremonial 'funds' (Eric R. Wolf, Peasants [Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall 1966]), their provision for their children, a fourth 'succession fund/ set them apart. See a summary of the paper The Rebellions of 1837-38: Peasant Uprisings?' delivered by F. Murray Greenwood, 21 Feb. 1975, at UBC, encapsulated in Peasant Studies (Pittsburgh) 5 (1976), 29-33. 9 For an excellent study of the seigneurial system in New France, see Richard Colebrook Harris, The Seigneurial System in Early Canada (Madison, Milwaukee, London, Quebec: University of Wisconsin Press/ Laval University Press [UP] 1966). 10 'Appendix (F), Report of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the state of the Laws and other circumstances connected with the Seigniorial Tenure in Lower Canada' (here-

11

12

13

14 15

16 17

18

after App. F), Journal of the Legislative Assembly of the Province of Canada (hereafter JLAPC ) for 1843, n.p. For the rebellion in the Beauharnois seigneury, see chap. 5, and for that in the De Lery area (centred around Napierville and Odelltown) chap 4. For detailed information on the Christie seigneuries, see Franchise Noel, The Christie Seigneuries: Estate Management and Settlement in the Upper Richelieu Valley, 1760-1854 (Montreal and Kingston: McGillQueen's UP 1992). See, for example, the petition presented 5 Dec. 1832 detailing the history of the seigneurial system and a systematic citation of abuses in Beauharnois: Journal of the House of Assembly of Lower Canada (hereafter JHALC ) for 1832-33,160-3 For further reading on the factors that drove many patriotes towards rebellion, see Boissery, 'Patriote Convicts/ chap. 1; Greer, Patriots and the People, chap. 2. Petition from Nicolet, JHALC for 1835-36, 85-6 A direct contrast to the intendant who voided written contracts if duress had forced the tenants' signatures. Appendix A 25, App. F, n.p. For further detail see Evelyn Kolish, Nationalismes et Con flits de Droits: Le Debat du Droit Prive au Quebec 1760-1840 (La Salle, Que.: Editions Hurtubise HMH 1994), 239. App. A 30, App. F, n.p. In 1794 Jonathan Sewell, then solicitor general, later chief justice of

Notes to pages 9-15 307

19 20

21

22 23 24

Lower Canada, acknowledged the validity of complaints by censitaires against their seigneurs while pointing to the high cost of litigation that prevented them from obtaining their legal rights: Opinion of Jonathan Sewell on the Petition from the Baronie of Longueuil against D.A. Grant, c. 24 Feb. 1794, MG 11 (Q series), vol. 67, 86, NA. App. A 30, App. F, n.p. For further reading see W.H. Parker, 'A New Look at Unrest in Lower Canada in the 1830s/ Canadian Historical Review 40 (1959), 209-17; Robert Sellar, The History of the County of Huntingdon and of the Seigniories of Chateauguay and Beauharnois (Huntingdon, Que.: The Canadian Gleaner 1888), 221-5; Boissery, Tatriote Convicts/ 34-6; Greer, Patriots and the People, 20-51, particularly 31-5. The main areas of the 1838 rebellion were typical of the region as a whole. In the Beauharnois seigneury, oats production rose to 81.4% of all harvested crops in 1844; in Chateauguay, the proportion was 70%. Oats had already replaced wheat as the crop of choice by 1831 in the more densely populated De Lery. By 1844, however, rye was the dominant crop. Patrick Shirreff, A Tour through North America together with a Comprehensive View of the Canadas as Adapted for Agricultural Emigration (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd 1835), 136 Greer, Patriots and the People, 27 Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 224 Although the years cited are after the rebellions, the writs

25 26

27

28

29 30

31

32

33

offer corroborating evidence of the misery in various seigneuries that rebelled: 'Statement of the Number of Executions issued and lodged in the Sheriff's Office .../ RG 4, B 53, vol. 1-2, NA. Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 225 For detailed statistics see Fernand Ouellet, 'La sauvegarde des patrimoines dans le district de Quebec durant la premiere moitie du xixe siecle/ Revue d'histoire de I'Amerique franqaise (RHAF) 26 (1972-73), 320; Boissery, Tatriote Convicts/ 36-7. Joseph Bouchette, A Topographical Dictionary of the Province of Lower Canada (London: H. Colburn & R. Bentley 1831), La Salle entry, n.p. Norah Storey, ed., 'Stewart Derbishire's Report to Lord Durham on Lower Canada, 1838/ Canadian Historical Review 28 (1937), 57 'Derbishire's Report/ 57 The church was also a social centre and many parishioners' actions bordered on the irreligious. For fascinating detail on this point see Greer, Patriots and the People, 56-68. See Dictionary of Canadian Biography (hereafter DCB), vii: 208-11, for his biography. JHALC for 1835, 74. A sol equalled a halfpenny; an arpent was roughly five-sixths of an acre. The hostility to the tithe was so profound that after the 1838 rebellion the governor asked the church to seek another source of funds: Bishop Bourget to the Bishop of Sidyme, 16 Apr. 1839, Rapport de VArchiviste de la Province de Quebec, 1945^6,196.

308 Notes to pages 15-18

34 See chap. 7 for commentary on Lanctot's trial and chap. 12 for details of his life after returning from Australia; Jean-Paul Bernard, Les Rouges: Liberalisme, Nationalisme et Anticlericalisme an milieu de xixe siecle (Montreal: Quebec UP 1971), n.p.; DCB, x: 420-6, for the biography of his son, Mederic; and Journal of Hippolite Lanctot, MG 24, B 163 NA.

35 See chap. 6 for Bouc's trial and details of his father's travail. His father, Charles-Jean-Baptiste Bouc, after being convicted of fraud in criminal court, had been repeatedly expelled from and reelected to the assembly at the turn of the nineteenth century. 36 The most affluent of those punished after the 1838 rebellion was Edouard-Pascal Rochon, a wheelwright: 'Statement of Confiscations in that part of the Province which lately constituted Lower Canada ...,' RG 4, B 37, vol. 10, NA (hereafter Statement of Confiscations). However, both Lepailleur and Joseph Dumouchelle claimed amounts of more than £1,500 from the Rebellion Losses Commission; see chap. 12 and Appendix A for details. 37 English translation by Nicolas Rebselj, who kindly translated all the succeeding songs. This one probably dates from between 1834 and 1837. The original (including succeeding stanzas) is found in the Salle Gagnon, Bibliotheque de la ville de Montreal, Montreal. For a longer version see Boissery, 'Patriote Convicts,' 42. 38 JHALC for 1835-36, App. EEE, n.p.,

evidence 6 Jan. 1836, question 6 39 App. 29 to App. F, n.p. Further evidence may be found in Georges Baillargeon, 'A propos de 1'abolition du regime seigneurial,' RHAF 22 (1968-69), 365-91 40 Bouchette, Topographical Dictionary, Chateauguay entry 41 See Green wood, Legacies of Fear, 50-2,86-9. 42 Robert Christie, A History of the Late Province of Lower Canada, 6 vols. (Quebec/Montreal: Thomas Cary and others 1848-55), iv: 341 43 In 1834 the assembly had presented a lengthy, disorganized set of grievances, threats, and the like to the imperial government. London's response in 1837, articulated by Lord John Russell and hence known as the Russell Resolutions, was deemed unacceptable by the patriotes. For further reading see Greer, Patriots and the People, 141-52. 44 Cited by Mason Wade, The French Canadians (Toronto: Macmillan 1955), 156 45 Christie, A History, iv: 351-2 46 Cited in ibid., iv: 357-8 47 Vindicator, 25 July 1837 48 Christie, A History, iv: 358 49 The Vindicator, 25 July 1837. For further documentation of women's involvement in the rebellions see chap. 5 (Beauharnois); Boissery, 'Women's Work: The Varying Roles of Women in Quebec/ Lower Canada and Upper Canada during times of security crises, 1760-1840,' summary of a paper first delivered at Osgoode Hall, Toronto, May 1992, reprised at the Surrey (B.C.) Teachers' Convention, Mar. 1995,

Notes to pages 18-22 309

50 51 52

53 54 55

56

57 58 59

60 61

62

63

and to be published in Canadian State Trials series, vol. 2, sometime in the late 1990s; Marcelle Reeves-Morache, 'La Canadienne pendant les troubles de 1837-1838,' RHAF 5 (1951-52), 99-117; and Greeks chapter The queen is a whore!' in Patriots and the People, 211-18. Vindicator, 25 July 1837 See chap. 4 for Hebert's story. This and the following quotations are from the Vindicator, 18 July 1837. See chap. 4 for detail on this point. Vindicator, 6 June 1837. Cited in Greer, Patriots and the People, 146. Cited by Christie, A History, iv: 373-4. For Rodier's career see DCB, vn: 757-8. Address of Governor Gosford, JHALC for 1836,150. The homespun or smuggled clothes of the patriotes dramatically spelled out their policy of destroying the colony's revenue. P.-C. Lacombe to Stephen Walcott, E 1483 Vindicator, 6 Oct. 1837 For detail on this point see Elinor Kyte Senior, Redcoats and Patriotes: The Rebellions in Lower Canada 1837-38 (Stittsville, Ont.: Canada's Wings 1985), particularly chap. 2. 2 Sept. 1837, MG 11, Q series, vol. 238, 7, NA For those unfamiliar with sterling currency, twelve pence (d.) equalled a shilling (s.); twenty shillings, a pound (£). As late as 1843 Papineau had not collected payment: Metcalfe to Stanley, co 537, vol. 141,482-84. See chap. 4 for more detail on Huot.

64 For detail on the charivari, see Greer, Patriots and the People, 69-86. 65 ST, 1:125,132; for further information see Greer, Patriots and the People, particularly 239-57. 66 Christie, A History, iv: 397 67 St-Hyacinthe, Rouville, Chambly, Richelieu, Vercheres, and L'Acadie. The latter joined the confederation at the meeting. 68 See 'Affaires criminelles et de police' (hereafter ACP), 576, ANQ Montreal (hereafter ANQM) for a list of letters given to the attorney general, 16 Nov. 1837, stating 'the parish has elected its Officers' and naming those in StDenis who had resigned their commissions. 69 Vindicator, 27, 31 Oct. 1837 70 For the full text of the mandement in translation see Christie, A History, iv: 415-19. The quotations used are from pages 418-19. 71 31 Oct. 1837 72 'A bas le mandement.' 73 Cited in Christie, A History, iv: 419-20 74 31 Oct. 1837 75 The Rebellion of 1837 has extensive literature. In particular, readers are referred to the earliest study, Christie, A History, iv and v, as well as some of the latest: Fernand Ouellet, 'Les insurrections de 1837-38: un phenomene social,' Elements d'histoires sociale du Bas-Canada (Montreal: Hurtubise 1972); JeanPaul Bernard, Les Rebellions de 1837-1838: Les patriotes du BasCanada dans la memoire collective et chez les historiens (Ville SaintLaurent, Que.: Boreal Express 1983), and the authorities cited

310 Notes to pages 22-32

therein; Kyte Senior, Redcoats & Patriotes; and Greer, Patriots and the People, chap. 10. See Boissery, Tatriote Convicts/ 59 n. 2, for a more detailed listing. 76 9 Nov. 1837, E 3557 77 Cited by Jacques Monet, The Last Cannon Shot (Toronto: UTP 1969), 13 78 Bousquet would be tried with Bourdon in February 1839. For Bona venture Viger's leadership in an ambush to free prisoners on their way to Montreal, November 1837 see Greer, Patriots and the People, 301-2.

9 10 11 12

13 14 15

CHAPTER 2 'TO OVERTHROW HER MAJESTY'S GOVERNMENT'

1 Jean-Baptiste Trudeau, ST, i: 35 2 Brown's autobiography, 31 Jan. 1884, McCord Military Papers, M7690, McCord Museum, Montreal 3 For details of Sir John's military and government career see in particular: G.C.M. Smith, The Life of John Colborne, Field-Marshal Lord Seaton (London: John Murray 1903); and DCB ix: 137-44. 4 DCB ix: 142 5 3 Jan. 1838, John Strachan Papers, MG 24, j 1, NA 6 Enclosed with Glenelg to Arthur, 30 Jan. 1838, Irish University Series of British Parliament Papers. Colonies: Canada (hereafter IUP), ix 7 For a definitive and fascinating study of the subject see Frederick Bernays Wiener, Civilians under Military Justice: The British Practice Since 1689 Especially in North America (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press 1967). 8 Cited by Charles M. Clode, The

16 17 18

19

20

Administration of Justice under Military and Martial Law (London: John Murray 1872), 158 IUP: x Ibid., ix: 200; x: 1-5 Ibid. This was pointed out by Chester New, Lord Durham: A Biography of John George Lambton, First Earl of Durham (Oxford: Clarendon 1929), 388-9 Brockville Recorder, 12 July 1838; London Morning Chronicle, 20 July 1838 Montreal Gazette, 28 June 1838 For an exhaustive study of the Bermuda ordinance see F. Murray Greenwood, 'Lord Durham's Bermuda Ordinance: Origins and Applications' (unpublished essay). This and the preceding paragraph are based upon it and the works cited in part 1, n. 31. Hereafter, all references to Nelson are to Robert Nelson, as Wolfred has no further part in the rebellion. Ordinances of the Special Council (hereafter osc), 2 Viet. c. 1 Deposition of Bechard, 11 Nov. 1838, E 2456 Deposition of Jean-BaptisteHenri Brien, Brien Papers, MG 24, B 39, NA. An unidentified, translated, and expurgated version was printed in ST, n: 548-61, quotation at 550. In the United States, the society was known as the Hunters' Lodges. See chap. 8 for further information and Oscar A. Kinchen, The Rise and Fall of the Patriot Hunters (New York: Bookman Assoc. 1956), for the only general study of the movement. Deposition of Bourdon, ST, ii:

Notes to pages 32-9 311

533^1; Tetro information, 533 21 Ibid. 22 Molson's 'wrongs' were estimated at £80,000 ($320,000)! 23 ST, n: 560; Nelson told Charles Hindenlang that he had more than $20,000: Christie, A History, v: 255. 24 ST, n: 555. This oath was considered so important in 1839 that the editors of the State Trials printed Brien's original French in a footnote to add verisimilitude to the printed translation. For a similar version of the oath see the deposition of E.-P. Rochon, ST, n: 542. 25 Bechard deposition, E 2456 26 Usually these ranks were reserved for members of the elite. However, Joseph Dumouchelle, a habitant in the Beauharnois seigneury, was an aigle. See chap. 5 for his story. 27 Voluntary examination of Antoine Coupal dit Lareine, 23 Nov. 1838, E l3l2.Amarguillier was chosen by the priest for his piety, sobriety, and influence in the parish. 28 Deposition of Rochon, 15 Dec. 1838, E 1131. Rochon was the wealthiest of those attainted after the rebellion. This meant he could not own property. 29 M'Donell was arrested 3 July 1839 and released after posting a bond for good behaviour 16 May 1840. His light punishment contrasts starkly with that given men far less deeply involved in the plan to overthrow the British government. 30 ST, n: 552; 'to march' was a patriote euphemism meaning either the act of revolting or going to the place of rebellion. The

Neutrality Act of 1838 followed a proclamation of President Buren, 5 Jan. 1838; ST, n: 557. 31 For a detailed analysis see F. Murray Greenwood, The Chartrand Murder Trial: Rebellion and Repression in Lower Canada, 1837-1839,' Criminal Justice History 5 (1984), 129-59. 32 See, for example, 'Address to Lord Durham upon his Departure from North America,' from Georgetown, Beauharnois, 1 Oct. 1838, MG 24, A 27, vol. 3, NA.

33 See Story, 'Stewart Derbishire's Report,' 48-62. 34 W. Ormsby, ed., Crisis in the Canadas 1838-39: The Grey Journals and Letters (Toronto: Macmillan 1964), 139-41 35 For an eyewitness account see Patricia Godsell, ed., The Diary of Jane Ellice (n.p.: Oberon 1975), entries for 10,11 Nov. 1838, 143-4. 36 6 Nov. 1838 37 Montreal Transcript, 8 Nov. 1838 38 Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 147-8. The caisse (parish funds), of course, had previously been appropriated by the rebel leader Dr Cyrille Cote. The soldiers discovered it in his cart. 39 Ibid., 150. The hero of the Glengarries was the brother of John Roebuck, the British radical member of Parliament. If volunteers heard Roebuck had visited an area, they avoided it because it would have been stripped clean. Roebuck returned to his house in Upper Canada with 'two Bateaux loads of plunder, besides horses.' 40 Ibid.

312 Notes to pages 39^3

41 Macdonell to Bishop Alexander Macdonell (19 Nov. 1838) as quoted in D.M. M'Leod, A Brief Review of the Settlement of Upper Canada [1841] (Belleville: Mika Silkscreening 1972), 250-1 42 For details of the atrocities see M'Leod, A Bried Review, 23-8; letters and journal entries for November and December in Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas; Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, entries for 10-17 Nov.; F. Murray Greenwood, The General Court Martial of 1838-39 in Lower Canada: An Abuse of Justice/ in W. Wesley Pue and Barry Wright, eds., Canadian Perspectives on Law and Society: Issues in Legal History (Ottawa: Carleton University Press 1988), 279 n. 2; Greer, Patriots and the People, chap. 10. 43 Christie, A History, v: 260 44 Ibid.; Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 162; the patriote newspaper North American (Vermont), 28 Aug. 1839. Morin was convicted after the third trial. See also Beverley Greenwood, 'Achille Morin/ DCS, xn: 761-3. 45 An Ordinance to authorize the apprehension and detention of persons charged with High Treason, Suspicion of High Treason, Misprision of High Treason and Treasonable Practices, osc, 1838,1 Viet. c. 4, emphasis added (ST, i: 7-9) 46 Frangois-Xavier Prieur, Notes of a Convict of 1838 [1864, in French; trans. George Mackaness, 1949], (Dubbo, N.S.W.: Review Publications 1976), 30. Provost was convicted after the eighth trial. 47 Deposition of Bechard, E 2456. He was later convicted in the

seventh trial. 48 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 28 49 Deposition of Louis Bourdon, ST, n: 534 50 Deposition of Bourdon, ST, 11: 534; Christie, History, v: 255-6 51 Papers of the Rev. J. Douglas Borthwick, MG 29, D 24, vol. 1, items 78-80, NA 52 Borthwick, Montreal Prison, 117; deposition of Jean-BaptisteHenri Brien, Brien Papers, MG 24, B 39, NA. An unidentified, translated and expurgated version is in ST, ii: 548-61. Brien was never able to return to Canada. He died friendless in New York (1841). 53 Montreal Herald, 19 Nov. 1838 54 Grey to Durham, Durham Papers, MG 24, A 27, vol. 21, NA 55 31 Chas. n, c. 2; 14 Geo. m, c. 83. For a detailed treatment see Boissery, Tatriote Convicts/ 151-2; Greenwood, 'General Court Martial of 1838-39 in Lower Canada/ 267-73; Greenwood, Legacies of Fear, 24-7; Jean-Marie Fecteau, 'Mesures d'exception et regie de driot: Les conditions d'application de la loi martiale au Quebec lors des rebellions de 1837-1838/ McGill Law Journal 32 (1987), 465-95. 56 Le Canadien, 23 Nov. 1838; Gerrard to Edward Ellice sr, Ellice Papers, 6,19 Dec. 1838, MG 24, A 2, vol. 13, NA; Nov. 1838, co 42, vol. 295, NA 57 osc, 1 Viet. c. 9 58 Two comments must be made about this contention. First, if the draftsman had inserted the proviso for the alleged reason, he must have been fastidious to the point of imbecility. Second, the

Notes to pages 43-51 313

wording of the proviso suggests that it was the British statutes other than those expressly applying to the colonies or to Quebec/ Lower Canada that were at issue. The proviso prohibited the Special Council from amending Lower Canadian statutes that may have amended certain British statutes. But in principle and practice the Lower Canada legislature could not amend British statutes explicitly applying to the colony. Judges Panet and Bedard, at the very least, had a case that the contrary opinions solicited by Colborne did not answer. For further elaboration see Boissery, Tatriote Convicts/ 151-6. 59 These two judges were anything but patriotes; in fact, to most Canadiens they were vendus, or sell-outs, to the British. 60 For full details see the article on military government by Douglas Hay, F. Murray Greenwood, and Beverley Boissery planned for the forthcoming first volume of the Canadian State Trials series. I owe the detailed information on Barns to Barry Wright. CHAPTER 3 FIASCO IN CHATEAUGUAY

1

In the 1840s, people in Lower Canada could be classified into three groups. The overwhelming majority of the citizens were French-speaking Canadiens; people from the British Isles who had emigrated to the colony were known as the English; and members of the administration • and the military were called British. 2 This description, like all others

outside the transitions, is factual. See the following note. 3 One of the fresh-faced boys from Lachine later became the historian of the Montreal jail, and it is from his description that many of the details in this chapter are taken: see Borthwick, Montreal Prison, 80-5. 4 J. Douglas Borthwick, History and Biographical Gazetteer of Montreal to the Year 1892 (Montreal: John Lovell & Son 1892), 436; Montreal Star, 15 Dec. 1888 5 Lepailleur used at least five different spellings of his name. See the copy of his deposition in ST, II: 531-2, where the name is printed at the beginning as 'Lepailleur7 and the signature given as 'La Pallieur'; the contract dated 14 Apr. 1836 between Lepailleur, Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal, and Antoine Godreau, signed 'Le Pailleur' (MG 8, F 15, 112-13, NA); and a letter to John Roebuck, MP, dated 29 Nov. 1844, signed 'Lepailleur/ On the title page of the journal he kept while a convict, he used 'Le Pallieur' ('Journal De F.-M. Le Pallieur/ ANQ), but perversely indicated on the title page of the journal for Basile Roy that it was transcribed by 'LePallieur' ('Memoire de Basile Roy, Voyage en exil, Ecrit par Fee Maurice LePallieur, 1839 a 1844/ ANQ). All further references to the Lepailleur and Roy journals are to the typescript copies of the manuscripts. Lepailleur stated in his journal that he was born 18 Dec. 1808 at Varennes. The Varennes Register of Baptisms, Marriages and Deaths for 1806 records the

314 Notes to pages 51-60

6 7 8

9

10 11 12 13

14 15

baptism on 19 Dec. of a FrangoisMaurice born illegitimately the day before, of unknown parents (section de Genealogie, ANQ, Palais de Justice, Montreal). The notary Francois-Georges Le Pallieur acknowledged FrangoisMaurice as his son. Lepailleur's marriage certificate to AdelaideDomitilde Cardinal, 1 June 1829, describing Maurice as the son of Le Pallieur, was signed by Francois-Georges (Register of Baptisms, Marriages and Deaths for 1829, Saint-Joachim de Chateauguay, Archives Judicaires, District of Beauharnois, Valleyfield, Quebec). ST, i: 68 Montreal Star, 15 Dec. 1888 These details are from the Lepailleur interview, Montreal Star, 15 Dec. 1888. The twelve were Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal, Antoine Cote, Leon dit Leandre Ducharme, Joseph Duquette, Louis Guerin dit Dussault dit Blanc Dussault, Joseph Guimond, Joseph L'Ecuyer, Francois-Maurice Lepailleur, Louis Lesiege dit Lavoilette, Edouard Therien, Jean-Louis Thibert, and JeanMarie Thibert. DCB, xi: 281-3 Greenwood, Legacies of Fear, 189, 216-18,229-30 DCB, xm: 364 Four would go to court without a prepared defence. See ST, i: 96, comments of Lepailleur, Duquette, Louis Guerin dit Dussault, and Joseph Guimond. Greenwood, 'General Court Martial/ 257; Treason Act, 1695 (U.K.), 7 & 8 Wm 3, c. 3 They were drawn from the 7th

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29

30

31

32

Hussars, the 2nd Regiment of Grenadier Guards, and the 15th and 24th regiments. Biography of Clitherow, DCB, xm: 163-4 Within three years, Day would become solicitor general: DCB, xi: 237-8. ST, i: 19-20 Ibid., : 76-8 Ibid., : 72 Ibid., :37 Ibid., :25,27 Ibid., : 26 (M'Donald's own testimony) See chap. 2, n. 52. ST, n: 553 Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 116 Document 'E,' ST, i: 85-8; North American, 6 Nov. 1839 Statement of Confiscations. Upon arrival in Australia, however, he was listed as a farm labourer. These details are taken from the physical examination of Thibert by officials from the Principal Superintendent of Convicts Office in Sydney: see Indents. Indents, 53. Jean-Marie Thibert, standing 5' 53/4", would become convict 40-568. He had four scars, hairy arms and breast, and the mark of a boil on his lower left neck. His dark brown hair was nearly black and his eyes were brown. Jean-Louis Thibert, convict no. 40-567, was a mere quarter inch taller than his nephew. He had a dark, sallow face that was heavily pockpitted, and he had lost canine teeth from his lower jaw: Indents. Incredibly, one of those named was Francois-Maurice

Notes to pages 60-9 315

33

34

35

36

37

38 39

40 41 42 43

Lepailleur: RG 4, B 20, vol. 26, 11523, NA. Others included Henri Newcomb and Joseph Dumouchelle of Ste-Martine, a neighbouring parish (see chap. 5 for Dumouchelle's story). Typically 'father of a family7 indicated a good character and reputation in the parishes. Cardinal did not mention his participation in the 1837 uprising. His grandfather's grandfather had married in Montreal in 1659: Cyprien Tanguay, Dictionnaire genealogique des families canadiennes, 7 vols. (Montreal 1887), in: 490. See F. Murray Greenwood and Barry Wright, 'Introduction to Volume One/ in Canadian State Trials series (to be published by The Osgoode Society in 1996), vol. 1 at n. 33, for sources, acknowledgment, and analysis of the law. DCB, v: 272-3; F. Murray Greenwood, The Development of a Garrison Mentality among the English in Lower Canada 1793-1811' (PhD, UBC 1970), 292 Based on internal evidence in an anonymous letter in the North American, 29 Jan. 1840. Of all the transported men, only Ducharme was twenty-three, unmarried, had parents who lived in Chateauguay and the degree of education evidenced by the letter. ST, i: 72 See Wiener, Civilians, chap. 3, for examples during the Military Regime. ST, i: 73-4 Ibid., i: 110 10 Dec. 1838 ST, i: 108

44 Ibid., i: 111 45 Lepailleur interview, Montreal Star, 15 Dec. 1888 46 The petitions, with the central theme of no blood having been spilt, may have been orchestrated by Drummond and Hart or another central intelligence. For the full text see North American, 27 Nov. 1839; and Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 87-8. 47 Judge George Pyke to James Reid, 24 Feb. 1839, Collection Baby, MG 24 L 3, vol. 20, NA 48 Goldie to Drummond and Hart, RG 4, c 2, Letter Books, Quebec, Lower Canada, vol. 19, NA 49 The petition, dated 12 December, may be found in North American, 20,27 Nov. 1839. A translation was printed in 'Un Etudiant en Droit,' Proces de Joseph N. Cardinal, et autres (Montreal: John Lovell 1839), NA pamphlet no. I1698,108-44. 50 9 Feb. 1839 51 Colborne to Glenelg, 19 Dec. 1838, Dispatch 93, CO 42, vol. 296, NA. The administrator's assertion was not strictly true. He did not consider taking the trials out of the Montreal District to Trois Rivieres, for example, where disaffection was virtually absent. Even in Montreal an English jury would have handed down verdicts substantially the same as the officer-judges. Probably a jury of English and moderate-toconservative Canadiens would have done the same, although moderates might have found the charges against Ducharme not proven.

316 Notes to pages 73-6

CHAPTER 4 NAPIERVILLE

1 Of the fourteen trials, the following concerned Napierville and surrounding battles: the second, 17-22 Dec. 1838 (Huot); the third, 24 Dec. 1838-2 Jan. 1833 (ten accused); the sixth, 22-25 Jan. 1839 (Hindenlang); the seventh, 26 Jan.-6 Feb. 1839 (eleven accused); the eleventh, 12-19 Mar. 1839 (eleven accused); the fourteenth, 10 Apr.-l May 1839 (Mott). 2 Australian readers might not know that Acadia (today's New Brunswick and Nova Scotia) was a pawn in the war games between France and Britain in the early to mid-eighteenth century, with frequent changes of possession. Consequently, when asked to swear an unqualified oath of allegiance to Britain's monarch in 1755, Acadians twice refused, preferring an oath of political fidelity but military neutrality. This was unacceptable to the British governor, Charles Lawrence, who ordered them dispersed among various British colonies. See Antoine Bernard, Histoire de la Survivance Acadienne 1735-1935 (Montreal: Clerc de Saint-Viateur 1935), for a description of a subsequent bellicose protectiveness towards land developed by the exiled Acadians; see especially 429-30 for Hebert's genealogy. 3 JHALC for 1835, 72 4 Ibid., 35-6, 86. This was reiterated in Cote's testimony 6 Jan. 1836,App. EEE. 5 Ibid., 74 6 The second farm was fifty-six arpents, the third appears to

7 8 9 10 11 12

13 14 15 16

17

18

have been thirty-two (the only way the measurements make sense), and the fourth, slightly more than fifty-six. The latter figure is imprecise because one measurement involved perches. See Statement of Confiscations, item 67. Vindicator, 19 July 1836 Ibid., 12 Sept. 1837 Ibid., 31 Oct. 1837 At least, none that I have been able to find. Fare's voluntary examination, 14 Dec. 1838, E 2612 Ouellet, Elements d'histoire, 126; Statement of Confiscations, item 43. Whether the original farm was halved to provide for his children or to pay debts is unknown. For Gagnon's biography see DCS, vn: 333-5 ST,i:117 Ibid., i: 183 Defaillette farmed fifty-six arpents. His excuse, that of taking grain to the United States, is plausible. The De Lery seigneurial mill lacked a smut-removal machine, thus forcing farmers to travel to Champlain, N.Y.: McGinnis Papers, MG 8, F 99-2, vol. 1, 004343, NA; voluntary deposition of Defaillette, n.d., E 2712. The name comes from the first two words - 'good for.' Presumably the new patriote bank Nelson planned to establish would honour these bons. ST, i: 116-17,136-8. The various rebel captains used vouchers to provision their men. The bons provide a key to rebel leadership in Napierville but do not explain why only some men were select-

Notes to pages 76-80 317

19

20

21

22

ed for trial, much less for transportation. For example, a captain Joseph Poirier received fifty pounds of bread (bon 23) but did not face trial. And, in fact, Hindenlang would do so. Tried and convicted by the court martial, he was hanged 15 Feb. 1839. Versions can be found in ST, n: 562-4; Christie, A History, IV: 42-5,242-4. For the significance of the civil law elements of the declaration see F. Murray Greenwood, 'From Higher Morality to Autonomous Will: The Transformation of Quebec's Civil Law, 1774-1866' (a working paper in University of Manitoba's Canadian Legal History Project to be republished in Canada's Legal Inheritances, 1995); and chap. 12 of this book for a discussion of Nelson's proposed reforms and subsequent legislation after the rebellions. Some women who met the property qualifications had voted regularly from 1792, the first elections after the Constitutional Act of 1791. In 1834 a Papineau-dominated House of Assembly passed a bill prohibiting this practice, but it was reserved. Recent research indicates women continued to vote sporadically until formally disenfranchised by the Province of Canada in 1849: personal communication with Patricia Kennedy of the National Archives of Canada, June 1993. ST, ii: 45. The fact that only two of the patriote elite honoured Nelson's pledge of life, fortune, and 'most sacred honor' angered the men transported to Australia.

23 24

25

26

27 28

As attainted rebels, they resented the fact that they, together with the executed men, had paid for their rebellion while Nelson, Gagnon, etc., had gone unpunished. See letter of Rene Pinsonnault, Le Canadien, 16 Aug. 1843. ST, i: 163 ST, i: 124; examination of Pare, E 2612; see Kyte Senior, Redcoats and Patriotes, 175-92, for an excellent account of the events 4-11 Nov. from the loyalist and military viewpoint. 'Return of Judgments rendered on Claims investigated before 1st September 1850 no. 1 to no. 980 inclusive/ RG 4, B 37, vol. 9, 274-6, NA. The church's claim for recompense was rejected. See chap. 12 for details. Depositions made Tuesday, 6 Nov. 1838, give veracity to this story: see that of Vital Lefebvre, E 2718, supported by Hebert, 7 Dec. 1838, E 2437. 26 Jan. 1839, emphasis in original Kyte Senior, Redcoats and Patriotes, 180, states that Mott had brought forty men to the battlefield, together with 'a sixpounder field piece, 400 stand of arms, and some ammunition.' Such evidence, if true, would have been damning but was not brought out at Mott's trial, nor is it found in Mott's papers: MG 24, Bl71,NA.

29 ST, n: 458 30 See DCB, XII: 761-3, for my biography of Achille; chap. 7 for Lanctot's spirited defence; and chap. 12 for Lanctot's continued involvement with radical politics after his return from New South Wales. 31 As stated in the Preface, the truth

318 Notes to pages 81-90

32 33

34 35 36 37 38 39

40 41 42 43

44 45 46 47 48 49

is hard to discern from self-serving depositions and voluntary examinations. The natural inclination of men in such circumstances was to protect themselves and their families as best they could. Both Hebert's and Fare's reasons for remaining at Napierville seem at odds with what I know about their characters from other sources. Pare, in particular, was a clever and resourceful man. His excuse for remaining behind sounds implausible. Not the site of the battle of Lacolle. See Figure 4.1, p. 79. Deposition of Louis Defaillette, E 2712. There are at least two versions of this episode. See depositions of Pierre Babin, Edouard Latremouille, and Joseph Pinsonnault, E 2713-16; deposition of Romain Boule, 10 Jan. 1839, ACP 595; Kyte Senior, Redcoats and Patriotes, 184; Bernard, Rebellions de 1837-1838,129. ST, n: 12 Ibid., n: 17 13 Nov. 1838 North American, 12 Aug. 1841 Ibid. See Loop Odell's evidence, ST, n: 52-4, for an account of the meeting. Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 159 North American, 17 Sept. 1839 ST, i: 147 Achille Morin claimed Colborne had personally arrested him after the battle at Odelltown. ST, i: 199 Ibid., i: 185 Ibid., i: 170 Ibid., i: 174 Ibid., i: 188 Ibid., i: 216. Significantly the

50

51 52 53 54

55

56

57 58

59 60 61 62 63 64

deputy judge advocates did not rely on Umpleby's evidence when summing up the case against Morin. Morin did not explain these problems. However, he was one of seven accused who unsuccessfully tried to have Dozois discharged for want of sufficient proof so that he might be a defence witness. But, as with Louis Lesiege in the first trial, this was disallowed. Dozois was acquitted and released much later. 15 Nov. 1838, in an article reporting his capture ST, 1:207-12 He escaped the gallows but not transportation. Grey to his father, 11,13 Nov. 1838, and journal entry, 19 Dec. 1839, Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 146-9,158-62. Colborne countermanded the order much too late to save any buildings. Taylor to Clitherow, — July, 19 Aug. 1838, Durham Papers, MG 24, A 27, NA Major McGinnis to Clitherow, 3 Nov. 1838, Colborne Papers, MG 24, A 40, vol. 18,NA ST,i:212 Muller and Day to Goldie, 7 May 1839, RG 4, B 20 (hereafter Pardons), vol. 26,11,616-18, NA E 2544 11 Mar. 1838, E 2546 3 Jan. 1839, Pardons, vol. 29, 13,483-4, NA 23 Jan. 1839, RG 4, A 1 (s series), vol. 567,195, NA E 2549; Campbell to Goldie, 23 Jan. 1839, s series, vol. 567,196 Colborne to Arthur, 11 Nov. 1838, C.R. Sanderson, The Arthur Papers, 3 vols. (Toronto: UTP

Notes to pages 91-9 319

65 66 67

68

69

70 71 72 73

74 75 76

77

1957-9), i: 365 Quebec Gazette, 16 Nov. 1838; Montreal Transcript, 13 Nov. 1838 Christie, A History, V: 251-6 Glenelg to Colborne, 7 Feb. 1839, with enclosures, RG 7, G 1, vol. 42,142-8, NA With Chevalier DeLorimier, Nicolas, Daunais, and Remi Narbonne on 15 Feb. 1839 Law officers to Glenelg, 21 Aug. 1838, in William Forysth, ed., Cases and Opinions on Constitutional Law (London: Stevens & Haynes 1869), 199-204 Statutes of Upper Canada (sue), 1838, c. 3. 29 Jan. 1839, Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 184 U.K., H.C. Parliamentary Debates, 27 (27 June, 28 July 1834) ST, n: 25. For a detailed treatment of the issue see F. Murray Greenwood,' "Brigands" and the Law of Treason in Upper Canada, 1837-1839' (unpublished text of paper delivered at the Learned Societies Conference, Windsor, June 1988), 15-18. ST, n: 35 See discussion of Mott in chap. 7. The two Chartrand 'murderers' (Francois Nicolas and Amable Daunais), Hindenlang, lawyer Pierre Theophile Decoigne, and sheriff's officer Pierre Remi Narbonne See chaps 5 (Beauharnois) and 7 for an overview of the court martial. CHAPTER 5 FROM EUPHORIA TO DEFEAT IN BEAUHARNOIS

1

As explained in the Preface, this and similar details are taken from eyewitness accounts - in

2 3 4 5

6

7 8

9 10

this case entry for 3 Nov. 1838, in Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 130. 15 July 1838, ibid., 56 3 Nov. 1838, ibid., 130 21-24 July, ibid., 59-60 Or £9,000. For information on the seigneury and the Ellices see Robert Sellar, The History of Huntingdon and of the Seigniories of Chateauguay and Beauharnois (Huntingdon, Que.: The Canadian Gleaner 1888); J.-T. Donat Fortier, 'La seigneuries de Beauharnois de la famille Ellice,' Memoires de la Societe Genealogique Canadienne-Franqais 17 (1967), 170; Ubald Baudry, 'Sellar et al et les Ellice,' Bulletin des recherches historicjues (hereafter BKH), 56 (1950), 169-70; DCS, biographies of Alexander Ellice, v: 299-301, of Edward senoir, ix: 233-9. Title deed of Jean-Baptiste Laviolette, 9 Feb. 1759, JLAPC for 1843, App. F Title deed of Jacques Tessier, 25 Jan. 1799, ibid. Alexander died in 1805. A miller's son, he had profited from North America's opportunities to an extent rarely seen. His estate, valued in excess of £450,000, included 350,000 acres of land in the Canadas and New York, real estate elsewhere, ships, stocks, and mortgages. His heir, George, disappeared shortly after inheriting Beauharnois, plunging the seigneury into a legal hiatus that persisted until Edward's acquisition of it. 3 Geo. iv, c. 119; 6 Geo. iv, c. 59 A document sometimes issued to settlers until they proved their value by cultivating and clearing the land. Then they might

320 Notes to pages 99-101

11

12

13

14

receive the formal deeds of concession after the seigneur or his agent was satisfied they would be good and industrious tenants. According to documentation in JLAPC for 1843, App. F, a sol equalled a halfpenny in value and a dollar was the equivalent of four shillings and four pence. This meant that Brown extracted an annual rent of £2 5s. for a ninety-arpent farm and £2 3s. 4d. for the location ticket. As New South Wales also used sterling currency, computations in this currency are particularly useful when comparisons occur later. (Seen. 61,chap. 1.) Potash was one of the few ways to earn cash. Jane Ellice reported a payment of £5 for a small barrel in 1838: entry for 12 July, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 54. See, for example, petition from Beauharnois, JHALC for 1832-33, 162,220; testimony of Pierre Leduc, ibid., App. (NN), n.p.; petition dated 4 Dec. 1832, ibid.; Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 34. Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 213, states Ellice visited the province and the seigneury in 1832. The DCB, however, asserts he visited 'only twice, in 1836 and 1858/ and that 'the censitaires were satisfied with Ellice as seigneur': ix: 235. Brown testified before the Seigneurial Tenure Commission in 1842 that 110,000 acres remained unconceded. If the minimum price Ellice received in 1832 for similar land elsewhere is projected, the zealously soughtafter commutation of tenure would have realized a minimum of $100,000: 'Statement of

15

16 17

18

19 20

Annual Revenue & Cost of Management since 1 January 1822 to 31 December 1841, (Beauharnois)/ RG 4, B 53, vol. 1-2, NA; Bouchette, Topographical Dictionary, Beauharnois entry, n.p. For further information see 'Report by R. Armour on Beauharnois Schools/ RG 4, B 20, vol. 14, NA. R.-P.-Augustin Leduc, Beauharnois (Ottawa: La cie d'Imprimarie 1920), 99-100 Entry for 1 Aug. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 63, emphasis in original. Andre Papineau dit Montigny, father of the precocious scholar, would be later transported to New South Wales. The boy was probably Narcisse, who later became a merchant and a deputy in the Legislative Assembly in 1864: Jean-Jacques Lefebvre, 'Le patriote Andre Papineau/ BRH 67 (1961), 71-2. Edward Ellice to his son, 9 July 1838, Ellice Papers, MG 24, A 2, vol. 12, A2-154, NA. The National Archives' collection of Ellice material is largely photocopied from originals held by the National Library of Scotland. Same to same, 26 Aug., 17 Sept., 9 Aug. 1838, ibid. Same to same, ibid.; 15 Aug., 26 Aug. LaFontaine had followed Papineau until the eruption of violence in the first rebellion when he dissociated himself from the patriotes. Nevertheless, he was one of the first imprisoned, on 4 Nov. 1838. He later became premier of the united Canadas and ended his career as chief justice of Canada East. Robert Sellar stated that young

Notes to pages 101-4 321

21

22

23 24

25

26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

37

volunteers received twenty cents and rations daily during the 1837 rebellion and they continued to draw upon government rations while doing 'guard duty' during the following year: History of Huntingdon, 506. Ellice junior to Samuel Gerrard, 4 Aug. 1838, Ellice Papers, A5291-4 Molson was also a Special Council member. Edward junior to Gerrard, 4 Aug. 1838, ibid., A5293. Ibid., A5-292 Goyette had lived in Beauharnois for more than twenty years. He, together with another transportee, Charles Roy dit Lapensee, petitioned for a church in the parish of StClement in 1818: Leduc, Beauharnois', Statement of Confiscations; Indents. Beauharnois Statement of Annual Revenue and Cost (see n. 14 above) 14 July, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 55 1 Aug., ibid. 14 Oct., ibid. Leduc, Beauharnois, 99-100 Ibid., 158 Deposition of David Rutherford, 24 Feb. 1838, E 1082 Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 506 See chaps 7, 8, and 12 for more information on Cornelier. Brien's confession, ST, n: 552 Ibid. 'Derbishire's report/ 53. Both the Ste-Martine Dumouchelles were transported. ST, i: 341; entry for 12 June 1840, Lepailleur journal, detailing a copy of the character certificate by a Charles Grece, a Montreal

38

39

40

41

42

advocate, for Joseph and Louis. Grece swore that several of the Dumouchelle family were cures and one a member of the House of Assembly for many years. Petition against transportation 'to a distant land' by Greece, Pardons, vol. 27,12289-92. DeLorimier had a brilliant youth in the Papineau party and was the only one of the elite to be captured in the 1838 aftermath. The actual role he played in Beauharnois is shadowy. His last name is spelled in a confusing number of ways: e.g., de Lorimier (Kyte Senior, Redcoats and the Patriotes); De Lorimier (Gerard Filteau, Histoire des Patriotes, 3 vols. [Montreal: Editions Modeles 1938^42], m: 214); Lorimer (in Chevalier's biography in DCB, vn: 512-16); DeLorimier (Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 52). I have chosen DeLorimier as it reflects the consensus of the 1830s. In his deposition, the deferential and status-conscious Lepailleur referred to the young merchant as Mr Prieur, a title he abandoned upon further acquaintance. Details for the Ellices and their reactions to the events of the night are taken from Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 3-4 Nov. 1838, 130-1. This surprise was general throughout the area and is well documented. Besides the evidence in this chapter, see a letter to the editor, Montreal Transcript, I Dec. 1838. Provost, who had high standing in the village, would be sent to New South Wales. Throughout

322 Notes to pages 105-10

43

44 45 46 47

48 49 50

51

1837, newspapers published an advertisement giving notice of the intention to form a Beauharnois railway company. Provost and various prominent English Beauharnois men, such as Brown, signed it: Vindicator, 24 Oct. 1837. 4 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 131. Estimates of their numbers varied. Jane believed there were more than 500 armed men, Prieur claimed 600, and others put the size of the rebel force at more than 1,000. Details from a Jane Ellice watercolour, C13392, NA. ST, i: 297 Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 529 4 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice. Unless noted otherwise, all details about this night are from this entry. One resourceful lady managed to conceal government despatches on her person. Sellar, History of Huntingdon, 527 Ibid., 529.1 have not found a David Cameron deposition in ANQ or NA and therefore am relying on Sellar's general accuracy. The statement is consistent with other accounts and Sellar interviewed those he quoted in his book. The emphasis is mine as it reveals, once again, the Beauharnois patriotes' lack of political awareness. Robert Sellar, The Tragedy of Quebec: The Expulsion of Its Protestant Farmers (Huntingdon, Que.: The Canadian Gleaner 1907), 82. There were many patriote flags. Sellar described one with two blue stars on a white background, which confirms an account at the court

52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60

61 62 63

64

martial of 'a large white flag with two blue spots': ST, i: 157. However, earlier the witness had claimed to see 'two small flags with white spots': ibid. A common belief among habitants. See Ouellet, 'Les insurrections de 1837-38,' 364-6. Deposition of Joseph Goyette, 29 Dec. 1838, E 2131 5 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 138 6 Nov. 1838, ibid., 140 8 Nov. 1838 10 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 142 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 21 10 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 143 'National Song by Sergeant Patrick Carney,' complete words and music are found in the Colborne Papers, vol. 40. 11 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 143 12 Nov. 1838, ibid., 144 Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 161. Jane Ellice, writing more than thirty miles away, shared Grey's sentiments. 'People are less afraid of the Indians, than of the Glengarries. They seem to be a wild set of men ... One of them who rowed us over to Lachine told me that the houses they had spared in coming down the country, they would surely burn in going back': 14 Nov. 1838, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 150. 31 July 1838. The newspaper, published in Swanton, Vermont, was a blatant propaganda instrument for refugee patriotes. The accuracy of its estimate, however, is generally corroborated by evidence given to the Rebellion Losses Commission, Journal of the

Notes to pages 110-20 323

65

66

67

68

69

70 71 72 73

Legislative Assembly of the Province of Canada for 1846, App. x. Canadiens were often in dire need of clothes in the rebellions7 aftermath. The Montreal sheriff had to clothe some of his prisoners as they were frequently half naked: 'Remarks on the Contingent Account rendered by the Representatives of the late Honble Roch de St-Ours/ RG 1, E 15 A, vol. 89, NA. 1 Dec, 1838, 23 Mar. 1839. See also M'Leod, A Brief Review of the Settlement, 245-52; Greer, Patriots and the People, 353. _ Dec. 1838, LaFontaine Papers, MG 24, B 14, NA (with Charles Mondelet) 3 July 1839. See also RG 4, B 24, vol. 2, NA: Quesnel to Goldie, 1 Jan. 1839; Gugy to Coffin, 17 Jan. 1839; Gugy to Goldie, 25 Mar. 1839. These pathetic instruments of war were hollowed logs reinforced by bands of iron: 1 Dec. 1838. For a picture see Kyte Senior, Redcoats and Patriotes. On Nov. 16, more than 100 prisoners arrived at the Montreal jail and other batches followed: see Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 155-62. Among those jailed then were Charles Roy, Jacques Goyette, and James Perrigo. A larger group of those who would be transported arrived Dec. 4, including the Dumouchelles, Prieur, and Rochon. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 33 Ibid. ST, i: 293 See the essay on Tracey's imprisonment for seditious libel in the first volume of the Canadian

74 75 76 77

78 79

80 81 82

83

84 85

State Trials series by F. Murray Greenwood and Barry Wright, to be published by The Osgoode Society in 1996. Cited in DCB, vn: 513 ST, i: 321 Ibid., i: 356-7 See chap. 8 for the patriotes' reaction to the news of Brien's duplicity. ST, n: 283-5 Ogden to Colborne, 6 Mar. 1839, s series, vol. 572,132-329, NA. Perrigo's acquittal has intrigued many historians, such as Gerard Filteau, who thought that Perrigo may have been a spy or agent provocateur. ST, i: 162 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 37 DeLorimier's last hours are described in detail: Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 41-8. Besides consoling his family, he wrote a political testament and letters to friends (including new cellmate Prieur), cut a clipping of his hair for the latter, and prayed. He died gallantly, firm in his republican beliefs. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 39. He is mentioned by name in Jane Ellice's journal, Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 139. Godsell, Diary of Jane Ellice, 148 Ibid., 148-9 CHAPTER 6

'DAMN YOU, AND YOUR QUEEN, AND YOUR GOVERNMENT' 1

ST, I: 286

2 See the North American, 29 May, 5 June 1839, for the Sanguinet brothers' biographies and a short history of their family. 3 7 Nov. 1837, E 90. The other three deponents were Robert Boyce,

324 Notes to pages 121-7

4 5

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

24

Thomas Henry, and Rickinson Outtret. ST, i: 237 Deposition of John Hood, 20 Nov. 1838, ACP, 312 Deposition of Ann Kerr, 20 Nov. 1838, ACP, 313 Ibid. ST, i: 233 Ibid., i: 231 Ibid., i: 242-3 Ibid., i: 241,239,253 ACP, 312 One patriote impressed a loyalist that night with his 'considerate and forbearing' conduct. Castor Rene Pinsonnault appropriated a volunteer's house and 'refrained himself and restrained his men from indiscriminate pillage and wanton destruction.' Despite his consideration, Pinsonnault would be transported. Eventually, the Laprairie-area men, in spite of their mixed success and uneven leadership, regrouped, found their mettle, and joined Nelson's forces in Napierville: deposition of Alfred A. Andrews, 28 Jan. 1839, E 2618. ST, i: 372 Ibid., :284 Ibid., :252 Ibid., :254 Ibid., :266 Ibid., :270 Ibid., :291 Ibid., :237 Ibid., :258 This sectior is written with the assistance of F. Murray Greenwood. See Sir Michael Foster, A Report of Some Proceedings on the Commission for the Trial of the Rebels in the Year 1746, in the County of Surry; and of other

25 26 27 28

29 30

31 32 33 34 35 36

Crown Cases: to which are added Discourses upon a Few Branches of the Crown Law (London: E. & R. 1792), 216; Blackstone, Commentaries, iv: 30, and East, Pleas of the Crown, i: 75. In 1831 a man named Critchley, involved in breaking a threshing machine during one of the Captain Swing riots, was acquitted after proving a mob had forced him to join in the destruction: R. v. Critchley, 5 D. & P., 133. See the conclusion for some details on convicted Swing rioters who were transported to Australia. Foster, Crown Cases, 14 Ibid., 216 ST,i:235 Deposition of Jean-Baptiste Archambault against Bousquet, 16 Dec. 1837, E 1481. Bousquet was imprisoned in the Montreal jail five days later. 18 Dec. 1837, RG 4, B 37, vol. 3, NA Deposition of Thomas Wood, 27 Nov. 1837, cited by Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 103. Borthwick deciphered the name as 'Boindon.' Internal evidence such as 'son-in-law of M. Papineau' gives Bourdon's identity. See also a paper annexed to Bourdon's committal warrant dated 8 Dec. 1839, signed by Thomas Wood of Gransby, MG 29, D 24, vol. 1 (Borthwick Papers), 16. Deposition of Thomas Wood, 15 Dec. 1837, E 303 ST, n: 299 Ibid., n: 295 Ibid., n: 345 Ibid., n: 295 The incident is reconstructed from accounts published in ibid, n: 287-353; Bourdon's deposi-

Notes to pages 127-34 325

37 38

39

40 41

42

43

tion, ibid., n: 533-4; and deposition of Ignace Trahan, E 1491. ST, n: 305 Allard's case can be further studied in E 2761-78; Civil Secretary's Letter Book, RG 4, c 2, vol. 19, 70, NA; Fauteux, Patriotes, 84-5. Cathcart to Ogden, _Feb. 1839, RG 4, B 20, vol. 26, NA; see chap. 7 for elaboration on this point. ST, n: 441 Letter of A. Buchanan, George Weeks, John Bleakley, and Duncan Fisher to Hon. D. Daly, 25 Jan. 1839, E 1119 Besides Toussaint in Beauharnois, Jeremie of StVincent de Paul on lie Jesus would be transported with him: deposition of Edouard-Pascal Rochon, 15 Dec. 1839, E 1131. Rochon owned ten lots on StLouis Street in Terrebonne. His residence, stables, and coach house were all on one lot, which had a frontage of 90 feet and a depth of 180 feet. He also owned forty-five arpents in the seigneury of Lachenaie: Statement of Confiscations. In 1802 Charles-J.-B. Bouc was permanently banned from the House of Assembly after it passed 'An Act for disqualifying and restraining Charles Baptiste Bouc, from being elected, and from Sitting and Voting as a Member of the House of Assembly': SLC, 1802, c. 7. Imprisoned for suspected treason in 1807, Bouc was again convicted for fraud in 1811. For detailed information see DCB, vi: 77-8; and F. Murray Greenwood and Barry Wright, 'Parliamentary Privilege and the Repression of Liberal Dissent in the

44 45

46

47 48 49

50 51

52 53

54 55 56 57 58

59

Canadas,' in the Canadian State Trials series, vol. 1 (Toronto: The Osgoode Society/UTP 1996 [forthcoming]). ST, n: 389 Mackenzie was also in the second level of Montreal fur traders: see his biography in DCB, vn: 565-6. This meeting was not brought out in Rochon's trial, although it was later described by Mackenzie in a letter to Civil Secretary Goldie (Apr. 1839) in the hope of saving Rochon from transportation. Mackenzie stated the letter was made from notes taken at the beginning of the rebellion: Mackenzie to Goldie, Apr. 1839, s series, vol. 582,105-5a. ST,n:442 Ibid., n: 390 Masson was a tremendously wealthy merchant (worth about £200,000) as well as a seigneur, politician, and legislative councillor. See his biography, DCB, vn: 592-6. ST, n: 362 For the text of the agreement see ibid., n: 420 Ibid., n: 373 Illiterate farmers Paul Gravel, Leon Leclerc, Antoine Roussin, and Francois St-Louis ST, n: 432 ('citing 1 East, PC. 75') Ibid., n: 449 R v. Frost (1839) 4 St. Tr. (n.s.), 85 I am indebted to Chris Raible for clarification on this point. For further details see David Williams, John Frost: A Study in Chartism (Cardiff: University of Wales Press 1939). Williams claims this was probably Frost's aim. ST, n: 381

326 Notes to pages 134-42

60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

Ibid., n: 448 Ibid., n: 413 Ibid., n: 448 Ibid., n: 445 Ibid., n: 372,373 Ibid., n: 364-5; 372 Ibid., n: 437-8 Ibid., n: 373 CHAPTER 7 ABUSES, NUMBERS, AND PROCESSES

1 ST, i: 20, 22 2 Ibid., n: i-iii. Greenwood gives the number as 106, having taken into consideration two men who had their cases dismissed as a result of mistaken identity. See his 'General Court Martial/ 255, and the following note. 3 In the Walker killing trial, the deputy judge advocates declared they had no evidence against Jacques Robert and Joseph Longtin, 'they having been mistaken for other men of the same name only at the end of the fourth day and as they were about to close their case' (ST, i: 256). Constant Bousquet (seventh trial), Jean-Marie Lefevre (eighth trial), and Godfrey Chaloux (eighth trial) had their cases dismissed before pleading. According to Clitherow, Bousquet had never even been arrested: Clitherow to Colborne, 31 Jan. 1839, Colborne Papers, vol. 20, 608. 4 22 Jan. 1839 5 Goyette petition dated 23 Jan. 1839, Pardons, vol. 27,12389; Robert petition dated 15 June 1839, S series, vol. 587. Similar wording is found in many others. 6 See Greenwood, Legacies of Fear, passim, and his 'General Court

Martial of 1838-39' at 261-2. 7 To Colonial Secretary Lord Glenelg, 19 Feb. 1839, MG 11, Q 257,215-7, NA 8 7 & 8 Wm m (1695), c. 3; 7 Anne (1708), c. 21 9 R v. Frost (1839), 4 St. Tr. (n.s.), 85 10 During the War of 1812 with the United States, nineteen suspected traitors were tried at Ancaster by a special assize. Of the fifteen convicted, eight were hanged, giving rise to the nickname 'bloody.' For a detailed analysis of the assize see Paul Romney and Barry Wright, 'Security Proceedings in Upper Canada during the War of 1812,' in Canadian State Trials series, vol. 1. 11 For details see Greenwood, Legacies of Fear, chap. 7. 12 See ibid. 13 There were three days between the first and second trials, and between the twelfth and thirteenth; two days between the thirteenth and fourteenth trials. The remainder began the day after its predecessor finished. Frequently, however the court granted delays of two or three days after the close of the prosecution's case to allow men to prepare their defences. 14 For an example of this see MG 24, B 171 (hereafter Mott Papers), 3, 10, NA. 15 ST, n: 103 16 See, for example, copy of a pass for Danforth Mott to visit his brother Benjamin from Superintendent of Police Leclere and countersigned by Civil Secretary Goldie: Mott Papers, 7 17 ST,i:321 18 See chap. 3 at n. 38

Notes to pages 142-50 327

19 20 21 22 23

24 25 26 27 28

29 30

31 32

33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

41

42

43 44

ST, n: 136 Ibid., n: 133 Ibid., i: 70 Ibid., i: 277 Huot, Levesque, Narbonne, and Hindenlang First and third trials; see also North American, 27 Nov. 1839. ST, n: 130 Ibid., n: 525 Ibid., n: 274 Ibid., i: 372. One defender did manage to get shot in the thumb, however. Ibid., i: 199 L'Aurore des Canadas, 15 Mar. 1839; Lanctot to his children, 19 Aug. 1878, Hippolite Lanctot Papers, n.p. (trans.) ST, i: 362 Ibid., i: 359 (Touchette, T. Rochon, Goyette, Chevrefils, and Laberge) Ibid., n: 239,241 Ibid., i: 356 Ibid., n: 338 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 36 4 Feb. 1839 27 Dec. 1838 22 Jan. 1839 Thomas Frederick Simmons, Remarks on the Constitution and Practice of Courts Martial, 2d ed. (London: F Pinkney 1835), 152-3 Hainault, a defendant in the unpublished thirteenth trial, was later discharged on bail: petition to Colborne, 20 Mar. 1839, Pardons, vol. 27,12557-62; Day and Muller to Goldie, 7 May 1839, Pardons, vol. 26,11616-18. Cardinal to Leclere, 18 Dec. 1838, in Francis-J. Audet, 'Pierre Edouard Leclere/ Cahiers des Dix 8 (1943), 109-40 ST, i: 209 Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 152

45 ST, ll: 44 46 Ibid., n: 123^ 47 6 St. Tr. 879 at 913-14, emphasis added 48 East, Treatise of the Pleas of the Crown, emphasis added 49 He would be released later on bail. 50 Mott Papers, 5 51 Deposition of Edward North, 5 Feb. 1839, ACP 304 52 ST, n: 464 53 Mott Papers, 10 54 Drummond presented an itemized bill to Mott for $349.26, which included clothing, travel, food (for Benjamin in jail), witnesses' expenses, and his fee of $200. To meet these obligations, Benjamin mortgaged his 115-acre farm on Lake Champlain to his family for $1,200. From this sum his brother Danforth paid the expenses associated with the trial and sent some money with Mott when he was transported to New South Wales: Mott Papers, 16,21,23,25,26,29. The mortgage appears to have been formally discharged in 1856 (34). Other prisoners had financial problems as well but lacked Mott's resources. Francois Camyre requested that Drummond buy his lands to settle his debts and an unnamed man offered his horse: 'Collection "Rebellion 1837-1838,"' 06, MP2241/79, / I / S I , /I/83, ANQM. 55 Translated letter to her sister, 18 Mar. 1830, published in the North American, 11 Mar. 1840 56 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 33 57 'Un etudient en droit/ Proces de Joseph N. Cardinal, 67-8 58 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 37 59 Lanctot Papers, n.p.

328 Notes to pages 150-6

60 61 62

63 64 65 66

67 68 69

70

ACP, 587 Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 93 Colborne to Glenelg, 19 Feb. 1839, Q series, vol. 257,215, emphasis added Colborne to Glenelg, ibid. Montreal Star, 15 Dec. 1888 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 39 Colborne to Glenelg, 22 Jan. 1839, Q series, vol. 257,99, emphasis added Colborne to Glenelg, 19 Feb. 1839, Q series, vol. 257,218-19 Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 184 25 Nov. 1838, Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 164; Normanby to Colborne, 27 Mar. 1839, Q series, vol. 257,225-6 The issue of the legality or illegality of the transportation of the rebels to Australia has fascinated some historians who have confused (a) transportation as a legitimate verdict sanctioned by military law; (b) the illegitimate transportation of the eight patriotes to Bermuda in 1837 by Durham; and (c) the prerogative power of the crown when commuting the death penalty. See, for example, James A Gibson, 'Political Prisoners, Transportation for Life, and Responsible Government in Canada/ Ontario History 67 (1975), 186-9; Ernest Scott, 'Canadian and U.S. Transported Prisoners of 1839/ Journal, Royal Australian Historical Society (hereafter JRAHS) 21 (1936), 27-44; and Mary Milne McRae, 'Yankees from King Arthur's Court: A brief study of North American Political Prisoners transported from Canada to Van Diemen's Land, 1839-40,' Tasmanian Historical

71

72 73 74

75 76

77

78 79 80 81

82 83

Research Association, Papers and Proceedings 19 (1972), 148-51. Data provided by Patricia Kennedy, who is compiling a comprehensive data-base covering all civil and military courts in the British Empire, circa 1790-1865: 'Comments on the Use of Penal Transportation during the British Regime in North America' (uncirculated paper prepared for Beverley Boissery and Peter Oliver, Sept. 1994), 6. Ibid., 2 Colborne to Normanby, 5 May 1839, Q series, vol. 257,29 Because of the important information contained in the letter, Drummond sent a copy to Joseph Mott, another brother, to make sure Danforth received its news. Mott Papers, 16-26 Muller to Goldie, 19 Apr. 1839, Pardons, vol. 26,11619-21; 7 May 1839, ibid., 11616-7 4 June 1839, s series, vol. 586. Thibert ranked in the first ten on one list and among the bottom ten on the other. End., Brown to Goldie, 24 May 1839, s series, vol. 585 RG 1, E 15 A, vol. 89, year ended 10 Oct. 1839, NA Edward Brown to William Coffin, 5 June 1839, E 3677 See North American, 31 July 1839. Prieur's knowledge of damage to property owned by the prisoners in his wing of the Montreal jail corroborated this partisan report: Notes of a Convict, 49-55 See chap. 5 for the breakdown by parishes. To Major Goldie, 21 June 1839, E 3679

Notes to pages 156-69 329

84 'Report of the Commissioners Relation to Compensation for Losses Sustained during the Rebellion in Lower Canada/ IUP, xiv: 438. The sisters asked for an indemnity of £209 15s. 6d. and received £184 15s. 5d. 85 Ibid., 436 86 13 May 1839, Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 203 87 22 June 1839 88 Ormsby, Crisis in the Canadas, 203^1 CHAPTER 8 'TAKING A TRIP ON A GOVERNMENT SHIP'

1

2

3 4 5

6 7 8 9 10

11 12

In his deposition, 26 Nov. 1838, E 2221, Roy stated he had five children. A sixth son was subsequently born: Indents, 48-53. The above details are from Roy's deposition, E 2221. Roy was tried in the thirteenth (an unpublished) trial. Therefore, this is the only information regarding his involvement in the rebellion. Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 168 Pennwright petition, 11 June 1839, Pardons, vol. 586, NA J. Douglas Borthwick, History and Biographical Gazetteer of Montreal to the Year 1892 (Montreal: John Lovell & Son 1892), 434-7 De Lery rent book, MG 8, F 99, series 1, n.p. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 48 Facsimile of a letter, Rapport de VArchiviste de la Province de Quebec pour 1926-1927, n.p. Lanctot journal, 28 Aug. 1877 This and the preceding information were gleaned from Ducharme's letter in the North American, 29 Jan. 1840 osc, 1838,3rd session, c. 7, s. 4 See, for example, Statement of

13 14 15 16

17 18

19 20 21

22

Confiscations, entry for Joseph Pare, 7; Report of the Commissioners Relating to Compensation, 436 (item 17). For reading on Canadien property laws see Kolish, Nationalismes et conflits de droits. Cited by the North American, 16 Oct. 1839 s series, vol. 585 Pardons, vol. 29,13589 See note of payments made on mortgage dated 31 Aug. 1839 in the Mott Papers, 48, and chap. 7, n.54. North American, 27 May 1840 This extraordinary letter, obviously not written for publication, revealed more of the man Ducharme than did the pamphlet he wrote after his return from Australia. The letter also showed that Captain Morin assumed the role of father to the young prisoners; one of Ducharme's few consolations was that Morin had been selected to travel with them to exile. Details of Roy's feelings and actions are taken from his journal, entries for 25-26 Sept. 1839. Pardons, vol. 27 A restriction that went unheeded. Joseph junior and Hubert Dumouchelle married in 1841 and 1842 respectively. Prieur gave the time as eleven o'clock. As Roy's journal was transcribed earlier than Prieur's, I have chosen it, in terms of accuracy, over Prieur's later work. The blacksmith earned £5 16s.: RG 1, E 15 A, Vol. 89, NA.

23 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 59 24 27 Sept. 1839 25 I have done only passing research on the Upper Canadian

330 Notes to pages 170-2

rebellion. Readers wishing more detail are referred to the classics of Edwin C. Guillet, The Lives and Times of the Patriots: An Account of the Rebellion in Upper Canada, 1837-38, and the Patriot Agitation in the United States, 1837-1842 (Don Mills: Ontario Publishing Co. 1938), and William Kilbourn, The Firebrand: William Lyon Mackenzie and the Rebellion in Upper Canada (Toronto, Vancouver: Clarke, Irwin 1977); then to Colin Read and Ronald J. Stagg, eds., The Rebellion of'1837 in Upper Canada: A Collection of Documents (n.p.p.: Champlain Society & Carleton UP 1985), and the authorities cited therein; Colin Read, The Rising in Western Upper Canada, 1837-8: The Duncombe Revolt and After (Toronto: UTP 1982); and to the latest scholarly contribution, Carol Wilton,' "A Firebrand amongst the People": The Durham Meetings and Popular Politics in Upper Canada/ Canadian Historical Review 75 (1994), 346-75. 26 These raids, their legal treatment, and the subsequent transportation of the raiders will be dealt with later in this chapter. 27 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 58 28 Anonymous letter, written between 1840 and 1844, apparently to Lord Denman. The unfortunate man made his way eventually to Manchester, where a policeman recognized and captured him. His letter concludes movingly: 'Condemn me to death with a few hours preparation [and] I shall die cheerfully, sentence me to be hanged rather than go back to live like a dog

29 30

31

32 33

34

and die like a dog7: MSS 5536, Mitchell Library (ML). North American, 23 Oct. 1839 Journal of Aaron Dresser, MG 24, B 162,10, NA (hereafter Dresser journal). Dresser was an American being transported to Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania) for his part in the Upper Canadian rebellion. Song found in papers taken from commercial traveller J.L. Neysmith addressed to J.J. Astor: RG 4, B 20, vol. 28,13109-39, NA. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 59-63; 27 Sept. 1839, Roy journal 35 Eliz. c. 1 (1593). For an indepth study of the legal aspects transportation see A.G.L. Shaw, Convicts and the Colonies: A Study of Penal Transportation from Great Britain and Ireland to Australia and other parts of the British Empire (London: Faber & Faber 1966); L.L. Robson, The Convict Settlers of Australia: An Enquiry into the Origins and Character of the Convicts Transported to New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land 1787-1852 (London/New York: MUP/CUP 1965), especially the introduction; and The Law Governing Transportation/ Guide to Convict Records in the Archives Office of New South Wales (Sydney: Archives Authority of N.S.W. 1981), 9-11. See, for example, 6 Anne, c. 9; 4 Geo. i, c. 11; 31 Geo. m, c. 42. For readings on convicts sent to American destinations see Noel McLaughlan, Columbus and Australia: New World Nationalism & the Gulliver Complex (Parksville, Vic.: History Dept, University of Melbourne 1994); and A. Roger Ekirch, Bound for

Notes to pages 172-5 331

35

36 37 38 39

40

41

America: The Transportation of British Convicts to the Colonies, 1718-1775 (Oxford: Clarendon 1987). This and the succeeding paragraphs are based on McLaughlan's work. Letter published by the Pennsylvania Gazette, 9 May 1751, cited by McLaughlan, Columbus and Australia, 15 Letter to the Maryland Gazette, cited by McLaughlan, Columbus and Australia, 18 Sir John Fielding, cited by McLaughlan, Columbus and America, 19 For further information see Shaw, Convicts and the Colonies, 45 at n 2. This was where the Endeavour landed. Banks and the other scientists of the Royal Society studied the different fauna and flora and collected specimens. The banksia bush bears Banks's name. C.M.H. Clark, Select Documents in Australian History, 2 vols. (Sydney: Oxford University Press [hereafter OUP] 1957), l: 26-8 For details on Britain's decision making see Shaw, Convicts and the Colonies, 45 at n. 2; Alan Frost, Convicts and Empire: A Naval Question 1776-1811 (Melbourne: OUP 1980); Frost, 'Historians, Handling Documents, Transgressions and Transportable Offences/ AHS 26 (1992), 192-213; David Mackay, A Place of Exile (Melbourne/Oxford: OUP 1985); Mackay, 'Banished to Botany Bay/ AHS 26 (1992), 21416; Alan Atkinson, The First Plans for Governing New South Wales, 1786-87,' AHS 24 (1990), 22; Atkinson, 'Beating the Bound

42 43 44

45

46 47

48

49 50 51

52 53 54 55

with Lord Sydney, Evan Nepean and Others/ AHS 26 (1992), 217-29.1 have drawn heavily on Convicts and Empire for this paragraph. That is, for its entire business; see Neal, The Rule of Law, 8. Cited by North American, 16 Oct. 1839 It thus echoed an analogy made in 1747 by William Smith, president of William and Mary College, who felt that the convict 'stain' made Virginia 'a hell upon earth, another Siberia': cited by McLaughlan, Columbus and America, 23. Citing the Burlington, Vermont, Le Patriote Canadien, 16 Oct. 1839. Patriote Ludger Duvernay, former editor of La Minerve, edited the Burlington paper. 2 Oct. 1839 On 27 Apr. 1838 Dr Daniel Arnoldi advised authorities of this, certifying that 'it would be advisable to allow his Present Lodgings as he has already had a prejudicial affect from his close confinement in a crowded ward': Borthwick Papers, 110. For detailed statistical breakdowns of the transported Canadiens by age, marital status, and number of children, see Boissery, 'Patriote Convicts/ 188-9 2 Oct. 1839 See above at n. 17 Reprint of a press release, Image Canada [1970] North American, 16 Oct. 1839 He would be released on bail 16 May 1840. MG 8, G 3, vol. 2, 704, NA Bigonnese, Jacques-David Hebert, and Joseph Marceau dit

332 Notes to pages 175-81

Petit Jacques were neighbours. 56 North American, 16 Oct. 1839 57 Extrapolated from Lepailleur journal, 19 Aug. 1840 58 William Gates, Recollection of Life in Van Diemen's Land [1850], ed. George Mackaness, 2 vols. [1961], reprinted (Dubbo, N.S.W.: Review Publications 1977), i: 35 59 See Prieur, Notes of a Convict, chap. 8. 60 Peter Miller Cunningham, Two Years in New South Wales: a series of letters, comprising sketches of the actual state of society in that colony, 2 vols. (London: H. Colburn 1827), ll: 212 61 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 62 62 Cunningham, Two Years in New South Wales, n: 214; Roy journal, 26 Nov. 1839. All Canadien sources were unanimous in their opinion of the food, while the Americans thought it similar to their fare in Upper Canadian jails ('rather small and not many [sic] of them'); Samuel Snow, The Exile's Return (Cleveland: n.p. 1846), 8. 63 Dresser journal, 9 64 Leon (Leandre) Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile in Australia [in French, 1845], trans./ed George Mackaness [1944], republished (Dubbo, N.S.W.: Review Publications 1976), 15 65 Ibid., 18. 66 Dresser journal, 9 67 See Phillip's biography in Australian Dictionary of Biography (hereafter ADB), 12 vols. (Melbourne, London, New York: MUP/CUP 1967-90), n: 327-33. 68 For those interested in a general Australian history of the convict period, I suggest Robert Hughes, The Fatal Shore (New York:

69 70 71

72 73 74 75

76 77 78 79 80

Vintage Books 1986). Readers wanting the same scope but more depth are referred to C.M.H. Clark, A History of Australia, 6 vols. (Melbourne: MUP 1962-87). For further detail on convict voyages see Hughes, Fatal Shore, chap. 5; Charles Bateson, The Convict Ships 1787-1868 (Glasgow: Brown, Son & Ferguson 1959); Robson, Convict Settlers; Shaw, Convicts and the Colonies; Clark, History of Australia, i: 113-31; and Nicholas, Convict Workers, 60. Hughes, Fatal Shore, 190; Bateson, Convict Ships, 326 Robson, Convict Settlers, 8; Shaw, Convicts and the Colonies, 116 But by the end of the voyage, their conditions became almost intolerable and maybe justified some of the complaints. Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i:35 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 64-5 Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i:36 See Snow, The Exile's Return, 9; entries for 12-18 Oct. 1839 in both the Lepailleur and Roy journals; Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 67-8; Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 17-18. Gates, however, reported that after arriving in Van Diemen's Land, they found that the informer was a William Highland: Life in Van Diemen's Land, i: 37. Entries for 4 Nov. 1839, for example, Lepailleur and Roy journals Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 69 Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i:34 Ibid., i: 10,12 See the only general study of the movement for further detail:

Notes to pages 181-6 333

81 82

83 84

85

86 87

Kinchen, The Rise and Fall of the Patriot Hunters. Guillet, Lives of the Patriots, 179 For further general reading see Guillet, Lives and Times, chap. 11; E.A. Cruikshank, 'A Twice-Told Tale (The Insurrection in the Short Hills in 1838)/ Ontario Historical Society, Papers and Records 8 (1907), 5; and Colin Read, The Short Hills Raid of June, 1838 and Its Aftermath/ Ontario History 68 (1976), 93-115. Cited by Guillet, Lives and Times, 104 Details taken from ibid., 108. For Waifs own account see Benjamin Wait, The Wait Letters (Erin. Ont.: Press Porcepic 1976), 11-12 See Linus W. Miller, Notes of an Exile to Van Diemen's Land, Comprising Incidents of the Canadian Rebellion in 1838, Trial of the Author in Canada, and Subsequent Appearance before her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench, in London, Imprisonment in England, and Transportation to Van Diemen's Land. Also an Account of the Horrible Sufferings Endured by Nine Political Prisoners during a Residence of Six Years in that Land of British Slavery together with Sketches of the Island, Its History, Productions, Inhabitants, etc. etc. (East Ardsley, U.K.: S.R. 1968). sue, c. 1 and 2 respectively sue 1838, c. 3. For Chief Justice of Upper Canada John Beverley Robinson's account of the origins of this act, see 'Remarks upon certain Acts passed during the last Session of the Legislature in Upper Canada, in consequence of the insurrection/ enclosed with Arthur to Glenelg, 23 Apr. 1838, IUP, ix: 542 (act itself at ix:

88

89

90 91 92 93 94 95 96

97

98 99 100 101 102

103 104

547-8); Robinson to Arthur, 6 Aug. 1838, John Beverley Robinson Papers, Archives of Ontario, Toronto. For example, David McLane, American spy for revolutionary France, had been tried for high treason, convicted, hanged, and quartered in Quebec, July 1797. See Greenwood, Legacies of fear, chap. 7. For a full discussion of this question see Greenwood, ' "Brigands/'' Ibid., 43-7 For reading on this case see ibid., 29-40. St Catherine's Journal, 16 Aug. 1838, cited in ibid., 52 Wait, Wait Letters, 15 Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i:22 Ibid., i: 29 Gates named seven who were hanged but said there were others (ibid., i: 27). Gates's account of the voyage corroborates those of the patriotes. See Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i: chap. 4. Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 23 Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i:37 Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 22 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 71 Lepailleur journal, 29 Sept. 1840. See also entry for 1 Jan. 1841 in which he summarizes the voyage on the Buffalo: Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 72 It never was. Roy journal, 1 Jan. 1840; Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 27. Status-conscious Prieur listed Ducharme, Doctor

334 Notes to pages 186-93

105 106 107 108 109 110

Newcomb, lawyers Huot and Lanctot, and the Morins as being part of his mess: Notes of a Convict, 62 Roy journal, 21 Jan. 1840 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 75 Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 27 Roy journal, 13 Feb. 1840 Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 29 Robert Marsh, Seven Years of My Life, or a Narrative of a Patriotic Exile [1847], cited by George Mackaness in Gates, Life in Van Diemen's Land, i: 6. They would not be housed together and would eventually make their way back to North America in dribs and drabs. Some, like Wait, escaped before being pardoned; a few had their pardons withdrawn for disciplinary reasons. CHAPTER 9 SYDNEY

Robson, Convict Settlers of Australia, 4 2 John Hood, Australia and the East (London: J. Murray 1843), 88. Other commentators disagreed. For example, A. Marjoribanks, in his Travels in New South Wales (London: Smith Elder & Co. 1847), estimated that only 5,000 in the entire colony attended church. See also David Mackenzie, The Emigrant's Guide (London: Clark, Beeton & Co. 1853), 30,51. 3 Charles Darwin, Journal of Researches into the Natural History and Geology of the Various Countries Visited ... byHM.S. Beagle (London: T. Nelson 1890), 460 4 Mrs Charles Meredith, Notes and

5

6

7 8

9 10 11

1

12

13 14

Sketch of New South Wales During a residence in that Colony from 1839 to 1844 [1844], republished (Dee Why West, N.S.W.: Ure Smith 1973), 38 Darwin, Journal of Researches, 460; Alan Birch and David S. Macmillan, The Sydney Scene 1788-1960 (Parkville, Vic.: MUP 1962), 92 Darwin, Journal of Researches, 460. Hood wrote that shop rents were higher than in any other city he had visited: Australia and the East, 87. Sydney Herald, 4 May 1841 Enclosure of Governor Sir Charles Fitzroy to Earl Grey, 10 Jan. 1848, Historical Records of Australia, 26 vols. (Sydney: Library Commission of Commonwealth Parliament 1925), series 1, xxvi: 168 May 1841 Clark, Select Documents, 148 I have relied heavily for this and the succeeding paragraph on David Neal, The Rule of Law in a Penal Colony: Law and Power in Early New South Wales (Cambridge: CUP 1991), 17. R. v. Jack Congo Murrell (1836) 1 Legge 72. Besides Neal, Rule of Law, see also Alex C. Castles, An Australian Legal History (Sydney: Law Book Co. 1982), chap. 18, particularly at 526. Hood, Australia and the East, 98 Darwin, Journal of Researches, 472. For the essence of the contemporary lively debate about the status of female convicts, see Miriam Dixson, The Real Matilda: Woman and Identity in Australia 1788 to the present, 3d ed. (Ringwood, Vic.: Penguin 1993); Norma Grieve and Ailsa Burns,

Notes to pages 194-200 335

15

16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

eds., Australian Women, New Feminist Perspectives (Melbourne: OUP 1986); Deborah Oxley, 'Female Convicts/ in Nicholas, Convict Workers-, Portia Robinson, The Hatch and Brood of Time: A Study of the First Generation of Native-born White Australians 1788-1828 (Melbourne: OUP 1985); and Portia Robinson, The Women of Botany Bay: A Reinterpretation of the Role of Women in the Origins of Australian Society (Sydney: Macquarie UP 1988). Robson, Convict Settlers, 89. For reading on the Irish convicts see Patrick O'Farrell, The Irish in Australia (Kensington, N.S.W.: UNSWP 1986). 15 July 1839 15 Apr. 1839 Meredith, Notes and Sketches, 39.1 use Mrs Meredith frequently for two reasons. First, she observed and wrote about Sydney in the same time period asXepailleur and the other Canadien writers. Although she saw the city from an elite viewpoint, her comments frequently corroborate the patriote observers, who, of course, saw the city and its society 'from below/ Ibid., 49-50 Cunningham, Two Years in New South Wales, i: 53 Meredith, Notes and Sketches, 49 See Darwin, Journal of Researches, 472; and Meredith, Notes and Sketches, 52,131. Australian, 11 Apr. 1840 Sydney Herald, 13 Jan. 1840 Ibid. Clark, History of Australia, n: 24-6; Neal, Rule of Law, 120-1 'A Few Observations on the Toleration of the Catholic

28 29

30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Religion in New South Wales/ Marsden Papers, ML; for Marsden's biography see ADB, n: 207-12; for descriptions of Irish misery in the early years of the colony leading to the Croppie rebellion, see Hughes, Fatal Shore, chap. 6. 13 Jan. 1840 Nepean to Sydney, 9 Nov. 1786, cited by Neal, Rule of Law, 89.1 have leaned heavily on Neal again for this and the succeeding paragraphs. It appears 'deputy' was dropped from the title in New South Wales. Commentaries on the Laws of England, i: 104-5, cited by Neal, Rule of Law, vii See Greenwood, Legacies of Fear, 28-9, for further elaboration of this thesis. For reading on the convoluted history of this achievement see Neal, Rule of Law, chap. 7. Roy journal, 18,24 Feb. 1840 Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 30 Ibid., 31 Cited by Hughes, Fatal Shore, 314 Roy journal, 27 Feb. 1840 Ibid., 28 Feb. 1840. Prieur wrote that this visit occurred within hours of their arrival (Notes of a Convict, 78-80). This and other discrepancies can be attributed to the late date of his account (more than twenty years after the events). Ducharme (Journal of a Political Exile, 30) and Lepailleur (journal entry for 28 Feb. 1840) agree with Roy. In cases of dissimilarities, I have first taken Lepailleur's and Roy's accounts, then Ducharme's, as being more accurate than Prieur's.

336 Notes to pages 200-209

40

41 42

43 44

45 46

47 48 49

50 51

Folding, an Englishman, and the Irish Brady both spoke fluent French. See their entries in ADB, n: 344-7 and i: 147-8 respectively. Even the passengers who had travelled in relative luxury, such as Mrs Meredith, suffered from the length of the voyage. She compared the comfort of her stern-cabin to a 'weary "prisonhouse"': Notes and Sketches, 37. Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 32 Methodist Mott was, of course, not one of these. Another who might have exempted himself was Etienne Languedoc: entry for 27 Dec. 1840, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 70. Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 32 Colonist, 29 Feb. 1840; Sydney Gazette, 10 Mar. 1840. These comments are particularly ironic given the damage in the hundreds of thousands of dollars done by the militia and vengeful loyalists. The results of these interviews were the Indents. This referred to the number on the list of convicts brought by the Buffalo. Indents Lepailleur journal, 5 Mar. 1840 Chanson patriote, Fauteux collection, Salle Gagnon, Bibliotheque de la ville de Montreal, trans. Rebselj Roy journal, 10 Mar. 1840 See ADB, i: 488-91, for Grose's biography. For reading on the history of Concord see P.R. Stephen, The History and Description of Sydney Harbour (Adelaide, Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Perth: Rigby 1966),

265-71; Clarrie Wallace, A History of Concord (Concord, N.S.W.: Concord Historical Society 1970); Paul Ife Home, Concord - A Link with the Past (Sydney: Ambascol Press 1972); Geo. W.M. Shaw, compiler, Concord Jubilee 1883-1933 (Sydney: Canberra Press 1933); W.J. Delaney and John Dawes, They Passed This Way (Sydney: Devonshire Press [1970]). 52 J.T. Bigge, Report of the Commission oflncjuiry into the State of New South Wales [1823], (Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia 1966), 25, 39 53 William Henry Wells, A Geographical Dictionary, or Gazetteer of the Australian Colonies (Sydney: W. & F. Ford 1848), 240 CHAPTER 10 LONGBOTTOM STOCKADE

1

2 3 4

5

Toussaint Rochon, 17 May 1840, Claude Perrault, ed., 'Lettre de Toussaint-Rochon a sa femme,' RHAF 22 (1968-9), 91 Roy journal, 11 Mar. 1840 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 83 Ibid., 85. All the Canadien commentators mentioned this humiliation. See Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 35; Roy and Lepailleur journals, entries for 12 Mar. The portion of Lepailleur's journal written in the Longbottom stockade has been translated into English. Citations for the period 11 Mar. 1840 to 14 Jan. 1842 hereafter come from Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows. The veterans of the War of 1812 were Charles Bergevin, Jacques Longtin, Louis Defaillette, and probably Pierre-Hector Morin. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 85

Notes to pages 210-16 337

6 Returns, Principal Superintendent of Convicts, 1833-1855 (hereafter Blue Books), 1840,160-1 7 The Lepailleur and Roy journals are the only known accounts written daily by convicts. As such, they provide unique insights into the routine and specifics of the lives of the convict workers. 8 Bourdon's elevation was probably due to his Papineau connections, as he had not marked himself out as a leader in either the Montreal jail or on the Buffalo. 9 Roy journal, 13 Mar. 1840,; Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 6,15, 69 10 As a convict was issued only one mattress during his period of superintendence, great care had to be taken of it, a reasonable provision for those who spent the normal six months in superintendence. In the Canadiens' case, however, some men waited nearly two years for assignment and were thus reduced, like Lepailleur, to cutting up their clothes to mend their mattresses or sleeping on bare boards: Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 91. 11 Ibid., 12 12 I am aware of the claims by Stephen Nicholas in Convict Workers to the contrary. See chap. 13 for my comments on the issue. 13 Ibid., 12,38. Mrs Meredith, however, thought the food rations 'wholesome and abundant' and convicts' huts 'provided with every necessity': Notes and Sketches, 59. 14 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand

15

16

17 18 19

20

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29 30

Sorrows, 9,126; Roy journal, 3 May; Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 35; Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 86. As long as they were forced to wear this clothing or its summer equivalent (pants, linen smock shirt, and cloth cap), the patriotes remained unreconciled to it. The Dumouchelles, the Thiberts, Guimond, Mott, Languedoc, and Turcot: Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 2 Ibid., 5. The men included Robert, Trudelle, Bousquet, Pascal Pinsonnault, and Etienne Langlois. Roy journal, 8 July 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 5 E.-P. Rochon also manned the gate for a short period: ibid., 10-11. Roy journal, 1 June 1840, Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 11,16 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 30 Ibid. Ibid., 30,17 Ibid., passim. Ibid., 10 Ibid., 49 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 86 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrow, 50. He went on to say that the fact that anyone could read his thoughts discouraged him from writing. See, for example, Roy journal, 17 Nov. 1840. Mott advised his brother Danforth to direct letters to 'Manuel Neich in keeper [sic] Sydney New South Wales in the district of Parramatta.' He also advised that Neich was from

338 Notes to pages 216-20

31

32 33

34 35 36 37

Massachusetts - a most unlikely claim: 9 Nov. 1840, Mott Papers, 38. See also Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 86, for the alternate route via the clergy. Most of the camp felt Bourdon owed his prominence to his wife's Papineau connections. From testimony at the court martial, he appears to have been unpopular within his parish and to have displayed arrogance when leading the advance to Chambly: ST, II: 297, for example. See, for example, Colonist, 25 Mar. 1840. According to Lepailleur, this was written up in a newspaper. See Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 8. Ibid., 16 Roy journal, 7 June 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 18-19 Details on the careers, incidents, and punishments meted out are from the 'Record of offences by members of the Mounted Police Corps, 1839-50/ 2/671 (AO reel 2901),AONSW.

38 Gorman had previously been convicted of drunk and disorderly conduct in Parramatta, 21 June 1839; of disobedience, 10 Dec. 1839; and of bringing liquor to a soldier in the 'dry' room, 22 Jan. 1840. 39 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 20-2; Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 90-1 40 In addition to Bourdon, the Canadien witnesses were Trudelle, Mott, Joseph Dumouchelle, Achille Morin, Lanctot, Laberge, J.-.M. Thibert, Ducharme, and Guimond. The court had five officers, no law-

yers: Roy journal, 1, 2 July 1840. 41 A treadmill was a wheel with platforms at regular intervals. Convicts would be placed on these, and to turn the wheel, they walked on the platforms. It was monotonous, torturous, and used for discipline. See OED for a full description. Gorman would continue to have problems with his attitude and alcohol. In February 1842 he was disciplined for being drunk on duty at Goulburn; in May for insolence. In July of that year, after being insolent and absent from barracks, he lost a chevron. In Oct. 1842 he refused to follow orders and lost another. This sort of behaviour continued as late as 1845, for in July he was disciplined for being absent from barracks yet again: Record of Offences. 42 Smith would learn nothing from this incident. Resuming his job after his release, almost immediately he was absent from tattoo and in 1843 was dismounted after being absent from the Maitland Barracks (Record of Offences). At a time of high unemployment, it would seem the mounted police were a very forgiving lot to keep unreliable troublemakers such as Smith and Gorman. 43 For biographical information on Baddely see Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 152, n. 8. 44 See reference in n. 1 for this chapter. 45 Letter of 4 May 1840 from 'Long Bottom, New Holland/ published in L'Aurore des Canadas, 11 Dec. 1840. For the full text of the letter see Greenwood, Land of a

Notes to pages 221-8 339

46 47 48 49 50

51 52 53 54

Thousand Sorrows, 154, n.23. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 80 Roy journal, 30 July 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 76 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 90 See, for example, Roy journal, 38 December 1840; and Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 129, noting that Baddely stayed overnight in the Insane Asylum and Female Factory respectively. The Female Factory was a place where women awaited assignment or were sent to be disciplined. For an excellent summary of it and its tyrannous sway over female convicts, see Smith, A Cargo of Women, 55-7. Roy journal, 20 Mar. 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 17 Roy journal, 20 Aug. 1840 As lime was rare in New South Wales, oyster shells were an important ingredient in brick mortar. Longbottom had been involved in the oyster shell trade for more than twenty years. Commissioner Bigge reported that shell gathering was reserved for men of the 'worst character' as the shells were dug from the bed of the bay: Report of the Commission of Inquiry into NSW,

39. 55 For a pictorial description see Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 51 56 See letter of Rene Pinsonnault, Le Canadien, 16 Aug. 1843. 57 Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 37

58 59 60 61

62

63

64

65

66

67 68

Roy journal, 27 Sept. 1840 Ibid., 5 Aug. 1840 Ibid., 26 July, 5 Aug. 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 59. The hospital, one of Greenway's legacies, still exists on Macquarie Street. It has run through several incarnations, being at various times a mint and government offices. In the 1950s, as a very young fifteenyear-old clerk, I worked there for the N.S.W. Housing Commission. Details about this episode are taken from Roy journal, 16 Oct.-26 Nov. 1840; Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 56-66. Convict Death Register, 4/4549, p. 60, AONSW. Lepailleur, however, recorded the date as 26 Nov. 1840. According to Lepailleur, the priest mentioned this in his sermon: Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 106. Lepailleur obviously considered Mott a comrade, for he was not left out of the windfall. The generous sum reflected the general esteem held by the priests, nuns, and congregation of the Parramatta church for their Canadien parishioners: ibid. See Lepailleur journal, 7 June 1841, for the complete version. This and the songs sung in Longbottom are translated by Rebselj. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 36 Nichols was the son of Isaac Nichols, who was sent to New South Wales in 1790 for theft. Isaac Nichols, quickly distin-

340 Notes to pages 228-36

69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78 79 80

guished himself in the young colony, becoming chief overseer of convict labour gangs in Sydney. After his seven-year sentence was served, he became the colony's first postmaster and was granted fifty acres in the Concord area. This holding had become approximately 600 acres by 1841 and was owned jointly by George Robert Nichols, a lawyer by profession, and his brother Charles Hamilton Nichols, also a lawyer: ADB, II: 283. Both men would employ the Canadiens. See the prologue to chap. 5 and the next chapter for the incident involving Joson Dumouchelle and Charles Nichols. 25 Mar. 1840 25 Mar. 1840 28 Mar. 1840 4 July 1840 Sydney Herald, supplement, 15 July 1840, emphasis added 25 July 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 71,87 Ibid., 50 Ibid., 73 Ibid., 89 Ibid., 60 Ibid., 106. Even after the Canadiens had left the stockade, Joseph Oxley would get into trouble. On 2 Aug. 1842 he was hauled up before the Hyde Park Barracks court, charged with theft: 2/670, AONSW. CHAPTER 11 'LAND OF A THOUSAND SORROWS'

1 With apologies to my husband for the reuse of this title taken from Lepailleur journal, 10 July

2 3

4

5

6

1844. As he sailed through the heads of Sydney Harbour, 'having gone through enough experiences to satisfy any man,' Lepailleur gave profound thanks to his god that he was finally leaving this 'land of a thousand sorrows': Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 142. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 49; Roy journal, 25 Sept. 1840 For further reading on this idea see John B. Hirst, Convict Society and Its Enemies (Sydney: George Allen & Unwin 1983); and the fascinating debate between legal historian David Neal, 'Free Society, Penal Colony, Slave Society, Prison?' and Hirst, 'Or None of the Above: A Reply,' in AHS 22 (1987), 495-518,519-24 respectively; Neal, Rule of Law, chap. 2; Hughes, Fatal Shore, chap. 9.1 have drawn heavily on these sources for this and the following paragraph. This does not mean that slaves weren't savagely punished. Many, many times a paddle (which would not permanently mark the buttocks) was used on recalcitrant slaves. Robson, Convict Settlers, 9. In reality, convicts sentenced to life became virtually 'free' after serving fourteen years of a life sentence if they had a good conduct record. See evidence of E. Mullens before the Select Committee of the Legislative Council, 'Copies of extracts of Despatches from the Governor of New South Wales, transmitting Reports of the Legislative Council relative to the Monetary Depression in

Notes to pages 236-9 341

7

8

9

10

11

12

the colony, and the Petition of Distressed Mechanics and Labourers/ British Parliamentary Papers: Colonies, Australia, 34 vols. (Shannon, Ire.: IUP 1967-8), vn: 441-638 at 541 (hereafter 'Monetary Depression Reports'). Gipps to Russell, 26 Jan. 1841, enclosing petition of 8 Jan. 1841, A.1224, p. 213, ML In contrast to Lower Canada, where a response from London might have been received ten to twelve weeks after a letter was sent, the turnaround from Sydney was anywhere from twelve to eighteen months. Recent scholarship has shown that the convict office took care when placing the men, endeavouring to match skills with jobs. See in particular Stephen Nicholas, The Convict Labour Market/ in Nicholas, Convict Workers, 62-84. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 113,119,126. Brown became an executor of Baddely's will in 1842. Provost must have worked well for Brown, for Brown continued to employ him when Provost received his ticketof-leave: Ticket-of-leave No. 42/433, Ticket of Leave Butts/ Principal Superintendent of Convicts, 4/4159, AONSW. See Barrie Dyster, The 1840s Depression Revisited/ AHS 25 (1993), 589-607, and authorities cited therein. Testimony of Lawson, Monetary Depression Reports, 551-2; testimony of Benjamin Sutherland, ibid., 533 Possibly Didier-Numa Joubert (1816-81), who was then an agent for a Bordeaux wine

13

14 15

16 17 18 19 20

21

house. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 114. Bourdon was the first to leave Longbottom: Principal Superintendent of Convicts, Butts of Tickets of Private Employment 41/1-42/3, 15 Sept. 1841-28 Jan. 1842, 4/4289, AONSW. Ibid., 41/2 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 115. He eventually was taken as a clerk by a Dr Sherwin of Pitt Street, Sydney: 41/18, Tickets of Private Employment. Even after they escaped Longbottom's confines, the Canadiens continued to help each other find jobs. See ibid., 114-39, passim, and Lepailleur journal, 15 Jan. 1841-30 Mar. 1842, for many examples. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 131 Ibid., 133; Australasian Chronicle, 14 Dec. 1841 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 135 Ibid., 136 Mitchell took Joseph Goyette; Deloitte took Jacques and Moyse Longtin; Cox took Robert and Basile Roy; and Blaxland took Turcot: 41/8,41/33-4,41/31-2; 41/12, Tickets of Private Employment, respectively. Neich had used assigned workers previously but this request was not officially entered into the Registry of Applicants for assigned servants, 2/8206, AONSW.

22 41 /41, Ticket of Private Employment. 23 Via the Carthagena. Dated 1 Sept. 1841, it told Gipps to prepare tickets for the entire Lower

342 Notes to pages 239^4

Canadian contingent: A. 1286, ML. 24 Lepailleur journal, 24 Feb. 1842 25 A total of £146 6s. was paid out beginning 19 Feb. 1842: Savings Bank Warrants, 42/92 and 42/52 respectively, 2/8391, AONSW. If Lepailleur's claims are valid, some men never received the money confiscated on the Buffalo. 26 All information concerning the years 1842-44 is taken from the Lepailleur journal unless otherwise noted. 27 42/406, Principal Superintendent of Convicts, Butts of Tickets of Leave, 4/4159, AONSW. Conditions for the tickets varied between the Parramatta and Sydney districts. In the former, it was not necessary to have a regular master and the convict had only to report to a magistrate once every three months. In the Sydney region, the requirements were stricter - a permanent employer and a monthly report: Lepailleur journal, 1 Mar. 1842. 28 Kissing Point was renamed Ryde by the Rev. George Turner. 29 Evidence of Lawson, Monetary Depression Reports, 552 30 Enclosure in Despatches to Governor of N.S.W., 1845, A. 1296,203, ML. In 1845 Stanley requested Gipps to provide information on those Canadiens who remained in the colony and the Principal Superintendent's Office supplied the above information. 31 See Prieur, Notes of a Convict, chap. 17, and Lepailleur journal, 28 Jan. 1842, for the conflicting accounts. See also Prieur, Notes of a Convict, chaps 17-24, for details of Prieur's variety of jobs while in New South Wales.

32 Prieur stated they earned ten shillings per 1,000 laths, making about 12,000 in a fortnight. Their profits, however, barely covered expenses and food expenditures: Notes of a Convict, 110 33 Ibid., chap. 22 34 Perhaps it was a sign of Rochon's business acumen that he made 15% interest while Lepailleur was content with 6%. 35 Anonymous letter in La Minerve, 19 Aug. 1844. Although some internal evidence is provided as to authorship (e.g., a daughter named Louise had been born after the writer had left for Australia), it is not sufficient to make conclusive identification. 36 Lepailleur's £70 loss did not include wages he would have earned working as a day labourer elsewhere. An anonymous letter published in Le Canadien, 16 Sept. 1844, which can be attributed to Prieur through internal evidence, stated that Lepailleur, Rene and Louis Pinsonnault, Langlois, Toussaint Rochon, and Jacques Goyette were building in Meillon's vicinity. 37 Neither Ducharme nor Prieur thought their generosity worth mentioning in their books. Lepailleur, however, admired their compassion, noting it in his 5 June 1843 entry: Lepailleur journal. 38 Besides Canadien sources (Lepailleur and Le Canadien, 16 Sept. 1844), see Francis Low, The City of Sydney Directory for MDCCCXLIV-V (Sydney: E. Alcock 1844), 37, for Papineau's listing as a farrier in Canterbury. 39 Le Canadien, 16 Sept. 1844. See also the letter written by

Notes to pages 244-9 343

40

41 42 43 44

45 46

47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Bousquet thanking this rare citizen in the Australasian Chronicle, 13 July 1844. While in Sydney (Dec. 1994) I attempted to find H.L. Brabazon's Insolvent List of N.S.W. (Feb.-Apr. 1843), but a thorough search by librarians at the N.S.W. State Library failed to locate it, although it was listed in the card catalogue. Lepailleur journal, 14 Dec. 1842 Letter to Danforth Mott, 4 Aug. 1842, Mott Papers Cited by Neal, Rule of Law, App. 4 Other than those specified, the list included 31 smiths, 48 cabinetmakers, 3 coopers, 36 shoemakers, 47 tailors, 37 painters, 9 bricklayers, 5 upholsterers, 7 engineers, 23 sawyers, 1 coachmaker, 2 combmakers, 7 quarrymen, and 38 others: Monetary Depression Reports, 529. See, for example, Lepailleur journal, 14 Dec. 1842. See, for example, Hood, Australia and the East, 103. Hood's comments are supported by Lepailleur, who paid three shillings weekly to have his clothes laundered. Le Canadien, 16 Sept. 1844 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 8 Ibid., 6 Meredith, Notes and Sketches, 76 Hood, Australia and the East, 259 Lepailleur journal, 4 July 1842 Letter written Aug. 1878, Lanctot Papers Roy journal, 3 Oct. 1842 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 28 Ibid., 31 Australian, 8 Jan. 1841.1 am indebted to Neil Gow for this

58 59 60 61 62 63

64

65

66

67 68

69

reference. Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 84,130 Ibid., 126 Ibid., 136 Ibid., 94, 95 Lepailleur journal, 16 May 1842 Details from Alan Atkinson and Marian Aveling, eds., Australians: 1838 (Broadway, N.S.W.: Fairfax Symes & Weldon Assoc. 1987), 110-12 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 58, 67,159-60 n. 93; Sydney Gazette, 27 Oct., 10 Nov., 12 Dec. 1840; Monitor, 24 Oct., 9 Nov., 12 Dec. 1840. See also the case of Michael Keef e, who also received the death penalty: R v. Michael Keefe, 11 Apr. 1843, Supreme Court Criminal Minute Books, 2/2311, AONSW. Letter of July 1878, Lanctot Papers. Free translation by the author. Australasian Chronicle, 11 Aug. 1842, translation mine. This letter, praising Rowley and Nichols for their kindnesses to the Canadiens and sent to Montreal by Pierre-Hector Morin, was translated and published in La Minerve and Le Canadien, 13 Mar. 1843, together with the subsequent reply to it in the Sydney Morning Herald, the new name for the Sydney Herald once it began publishing daily in 1842. Sydney Morning Herald, 15 Aug. 1842 Lepailleur journal, 26 June 1842. During this period of ticket-ofleave, he would have had to walk twenty-two miles to attend church. Ibid., 1 Sept. 1842,10 Mar. 1843. One of the Longbottom neigh-

344 Notes to pages 249-52

70 71 72

73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

81 82 83

bours had more trust in Huot than his church. Protestant Alexander Macdonald hired him to tutor his family at a weekly wage of eight shillings: entry for 13 Oct. 1842, ibid. Ibid., 10 Mar. 1843 Ibid., 19 Mar., 1 July, 3 Aug. 1843 For this reason, his comments are well worth considering when evaluating Folding, other individuals, and the society he wrote about. Lepailleur journal, 11 June-15 July 1840 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 63 Quotations from Hughes, Fatal Shore, 148-9 Lepailleur journal, 16 Nov., 13 Dec. 1842 Ibid., 13 Dec. 1842 19 Aug. 1844 Translation of the original published in Le Canadien, 16 Aug. 1843 Others included Languedoc, Hubert-Drossin Leblanc, Guerin dit Dussault, and Marceau. One of the Rochons even fathered a child: personal communication by a descendant with the author in the early 1980s. Lepailleur journal, 20 Aug. 1843 Ibid., 20 Aug. 1843 I found no official evidence of the trial, so all details are taken from Lepailleur's journal for August and September 1843. The legal records for the period are incomplete, in many cases deliberately so, for they were destroyed in the last century in an effort to help surviving convicts and their descendants escape the 'taint/ I searched for the trial in the Register for

84

85

86 87

Information Laid, Sydney 1843, T 59, 60; Judges Minute Books, 2/2311; Supreme Court records, x44; Copies of magistrates' letters, 2650-1; Index of Hyde Park prisoners, 4/6271; Register of criminal cases, 5/2914; Letters sent to the Sheriff, 1828-50, App. R. 256; Register of Flash men, AO reel 2648; Hyde Park Court of Quarter Sessions, 2/670; Hyde Park Index of Prisoners, 4/6271; Depositions, 9/6326-7; Annual return of prisoners tried at the Supreme Court, x850; Register of convicts, carters' barracks, AO 600; Indexes to Quarter Sessions, 1839^7, AO 2728; Register of criminal cases tried at the Quarter Sessions, 1843,5/2919; Index of prisoners sentenced to work in irons, 1842-8,4/6271, all at AONSW. In addition, I searched the Hyde Park Barracks Minute Book for 1843 held at the Mitchell Library. The only official documentation I could find was Dumouchelle's ticket-of-leave, 42/418, which was cancelled and torn up for 'disorderly conduct,' 29 Sept. 1843; his restored ticket was 43/11451: Butts of Tickets of Leave. By dint of a small amount of genuine illness and a great thespian performance, Joson managed to convince the doctors for more than one month that he was truly sick. Lepailleur journal, 12 May 1842. As in the case of Dumouchelle and Papineau, I could find no legal record of his trial and sentencing. Ibid., 12 May 1842 Ibid., 1 June 1843. Basile Roy and

Notes to pages 253-60 345

88

89

90 91

92

Theophile Robert were involved in a misdemeanour on assignment, losing their wages when they left work to look for their tickets-of-leave without their employer's permission: ibid., 2 Apr. 1842 ADB, 11: 85, for La Perouse's biography; see also Guy Cabourdin, 'On French Soil? The Monument to Laperouse at Botany Bay: an Historical Note/ JRAHS 72 (1986), 149-52 The sober-minded Lepailleur tended to regard such excursions as a waste of his time and money, making them only because of his friendship with Neich. On 2 May 1843 he noted that it cost two shillings to enter the racecourse with Neich's horse, he had spent another six and had to lend Joseph Roy seven shillings and sixpence. Lepailleur journal, 18 Sept. 1842 Like the Dumouchelle case, there is no official record of the escape. He is not mentioned among the Principal Superintendent of Convicts' list of absconded convicts published twice a week in the N.S.W. Government Gazette (Sydney: W.R. Row 1843), nor in the twice monthly lists of convicts who had lost their ticketsof-leave. Whether this was official ineptitude or a covering up for political purposes (e.g., the office knew pardons were forthcoming) is uncertain. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 107-9. Prieur wrote that Bourdon published an account of his escape, but I have been unable to find any trace of it. He owed £4 to Louis Pinsonnault, £3 to Jacques Goyette, and £6 to Ducharme

when he left. In addition, he had not paid his bill for two months' rent at Meillon's and owed sundry creditors, such as a baker, £15. Pare was financially ruined for some time by Bourdon's escape. Bourdon's arrival in the United States was noted in Le Canadien, 31 May 1843. He wrote to Ducharme from the United States promising to pay his debt once they both reached Canada: M. & A. Berthiaume, Louis Bourdon, 56 93 For Lepailleur's comments see his journal, 23 Sept., 1,20 Oct. 1842 CHAPTER 12 AFTERMATH

1

'Report on a System of Rural Police for the Province of Lower Canada,' Montreal, 15 Dec. 1838, RG 4, B 14, vol. 23, NA (hereafter Coffin Papers). This particular volume contains a series of documents pertaining to developing a rural police force under the guidance of 'Sectional Stipendiary Magistrates,' including drafts of a regulating ordinance and the rules and regulations. I am not the first to make the connection between the rebellion and the establishing of the rural police. See the pioneering work of Allan Greer in The Birth of the Police in Canada,'in Allan Greer and Ian Radforth, eds., Colonial Leviathan: State Formation in MidNineteenth-Century Canada (Toronto/Buffalo/London: UTP 1992). 2 Quebec, Montreal, Trois Rivieres, and the inferior districts of StFrancis and Gaspe 3 'Plan for the Establishment of a

346 Notes to pages 260-1

4

5

6 7

combined civil and criminal jurisdiction for the District of Montreal/ Coffin Papers Sectional chiefs would have to reside in the central city, village, or town and would have a dual role. As commissioners of the police, they would organize the constabulary and report to the government 'on the general tranquillity and political state of his Section/ In their other role as chairmen of the Court of Requests, they would 'pronounce judgments with the customary formalities of the Court of King's Bench/ inferior terms. Only cases cognizable by the Court of King's Bench would be forwarded to Montreal. Circuit courts would be held every two or three months and their decisions would be final, with jurisdiction extended to cases of £40 or less. Interestingly some of Coffin's ideas came to fruition in the chaotic period (in terms of legal jurisdiction) between the Rebellion of 1838, union of the Canadas, and Confederation: personal communication with Evelyn Kolish, Aug. 1994. Gagne dit Belleauvance due to tipsiness 'from the report of his comrades/ 27 Feb. 1839: evidence of W.A. Chaffers, ST, n: 324 Bartholomew Gugy to Coffin, 11 Mar. 1839, Canada East Magistracy papers, RG 4, B 26, vol. 2 'Report on state of Ste-Martine/ RG 4, B 14, vol. 13, NA. The itemized records show that everyone in the system was characterized according to national origin. This is not surprising, given Coffin's wish that the contingents overseeing the 1838 rebellious parish-

8

9

10

11

es be heavily manned by Irishmen and Scots. By 1842 the force had dwindled to two in face of the continuing peacefulness of the area, with none of those listed in the 1840 report on it. Ste-Martine was issued '2 horses, 7 stand of arms, 7 sets of accoutrements, 7 pistols, 100 rounds of pistol ball cartridges, 420 musket ball cartridges, 2 horse saddles and bridles, 2 holsters and valises, 2 halters, cloths and rollers, 2 curry combs and brushes, 2 mane combs, 10 bedsteads, 10 bed ticks, 10 rugs, bolsters, 20 blankets, 20 pair of sheets, 3 tables and stands, 4 forms, 12 chairs, 1 saw and axe, 4 buckets, 2 sponges and water buckets, 2 hoof pickets, 2 shovels and fork, 2 saddle stands, 1 arm rack, 1 long scrubber, 2 hair brooms, 2 stoves and pans, 20 links of pipes, 2 elbows, 1 lanthorn, 2 chamois, 1 poke brush, 2 dispatch bags, 1 oat bin, 2 padlocks, 2 pair of spurs, 1 driving whip, 2 horse brushes and 2 stove brushes': Report dated 30 June 1840, RG 4, B 14, vol. 13, NA. Two lamps for station use, 2 dark lanthorns with straps for night duty, 2 sets of harness, 1 sleigh or cart, 2 hand scrubbers, 1 mop, 35 'Musquet' flints, 25 pistol flints, 2 swords and belts, 1 water barrel RG 4, B 14, vol. 13, NA. What did the superintendent of police gain from this expenditure? In June 1840 the Ste-Martine detachment dealt with only two men. One had gotten drunk on the Sabbath and had had the temerity to demand more liquor. For this Igneau Bello received '14 hours

Notes to pages 261-4 347

12

13 14

15 16

17 18 19 20

in the Black hole' before being released and admonished for his first offence. The other character, a Scot, James Douglas, was 'detained under suspicious circumstances': ibid. For samples of the cloth, which had an olive border, see tender of Robert Slack, 31 May 1839, RG 4, B 26, vol. 2, NA. Coats and 'pantaloons' from Slack would cost £4 5s. Other estimates were as low as £3 4s. 6d. Ogden to Goldie, 10 Jan. 1839, RG 4, B 26, vol. 4, NA See draft of his commission as magistrate, 22 Nov. 1838, by Goldie, RG 4, B 24, vol. 1, NA, and DCB, x: 320-2, for his biography. Curiously the latter mentions that he served as police magistrate at Montreal from 22 Nov. 1838 to 2 Jan. 1839 before being appointed adjutant-general of militia for Lower Canada, 14 Mar. 1841, totally ignoring the important role he played setting up the rural police. In his article (see n. 1 above) Allan Greer stated that the rural police 'was largely the creation of its first commissioner, Augustus Gugy.' I disagree, believing Coffin was the architect in the early and most crucial months of the force. Patronized by army officers and the Ellices, for example RG 4, B 24, vol. 2, NA. When Thomas Young received the coveted appointment, Gugy, a 'colonist so conspicuous for his devotion,' felt betrayed: Gugy to Goldie, 29 May 1839, ibid. Gugy to Coffin, 9 Jan. 1839, ibid. Gugy to Goldie, Mar. 1839, ibid. Same to same, 25 Mar. 1839, ibid. Gugy to Coffin, 17 Jan. 1839,

ibid. 21 Gugy to Goldie, 25 Mar. 1839, ibid. 22 Indeed, Gugy would run for office throughout the 1840s, finally being elected by acclamation as the Tory member for Sherbrooke in 1848. He would lead the opposition in the debate on the Rebellion Losses Bill: DCB, x:321. 23 Kinnear to Coffin, Napierville, 23 Feb. 1839, RG 4, B 24, vol. 6, NA 24 See, for example, Gugy to Coffin, 9 Jan. 1839, RG 4, B 24, vol. 2, NA 25 RG 1, E 15A, vol. 89, NA (hereafter Public Accounts), provincial secretary's file 26 Gugy to Goldie, 11 May 1839, RG 4, B 24, vol. 2, NA 27 RG 4, B 14, vol. 5, NA 28 Canada East Police Records, Superintendent's Letterbook, June 1838-Oct. 1840, RG 4, B 14, vol. 24,137, NA 29 St-Hyacinthe, 31 May 1839, s series, vol. 585,202-3, NA 30 St John's, 18 June 1839, ibid., 34-5 31 Christieville, 30 May 1839, ibid., 190-1 32 Beauharnois, 24 May 1839, ibid., 147 33 St-Eustache, 7 Oct. 1839, ACP 539 34 Chaffers to Coffin, St-Cesaire, 5 Apr. 1839, ACP 443 35 26 Sept. 1839, ACP 450. For further information on the paranoia see the Nesselbrode-Bodisco Correspondence, MG 24, B 44, NA; L.S. Stavrionus, The Rumour of Russian Intrigue in the Rebellion of 1837,' Canadian Historical Review 18 (1937), 367; and T.H. LeDuc, That Rumour of Russian Intrigue,' Canadian Historical Review 23 (1942), 398

348 Notes to pages 264-9

36 No indication of date, author, or recipient other than its repository in the Colborne Papers, MG 24, A 40, vol. 27,8001-3 37 The anonymous writer thought the notarial profession the principal one for Canadiens because, if talented, they could turn to making money by 'usury, lending money on mortgages' etc. 38 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 105 39 9 Sept. 1841 40 Calculated at £2 2s. allowance per diem, 175 days: Public Accounts, vol. 90, militia file 41 Arbitrators dismissed the latter claim, awarding the company only £1,210 11s. 3d.: RG 4, B 29, vol. 2A, n.p., NA. Included in the list of expenses was an extra trip to convey certain officers of the 15th Regiment to Montreal on 19 Nov., probably to serve on the court martial. 42 Public Accounts, vol. 89 43 Ibid., vol. 88 44 Ibid. 45 31 Dec. 1839, 'Account of Expenditure incurred by Great Britain for the Military Protection, and in Aid of the Civil Establishments in the Canada's [sic] from 1st January to 31st December 1839,' RG 4, B 29, vol. 2A, NA 46 22 June 1842, Lettres Bourget, vol. 2,560, Archives de la Chancelleries, Archidiocese de Montreal, Montreal 47 The Canadiens hated Colborne. As late as 1884 his name was such an anathema that city authorities renamed Colborne Avenue to honour one of the men he executed - DeLorimier. Ironically, this street borders the

48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64

site of the jail where the executions took place: Borthwick, History of the Montreal Prison, 95. In Sept. 1839 Colborne was succeeded by Charles Edward Poulett Thomson, first Baron Sydenham, who would die after an accident a little more than two years later, on 19 Sept. 1841. His replacement, Sir Charles Bagot, governed from 27 Sept. 1841 until Jan. 1843. Sir Charles Metcalfe assumed office on 30 Mar. 1843. To Lord Stanley, 13,26 Sept. 1842, MG 24, Al3, Bagot Papers, vol. 7, NA See Metcalfe's biography, DCB, vn: 603-8 To Stanley, 26 July 1843, co 537, vol. 142, NA Ibid. Le Canadien, 16 Aug. 1843 See, for example, petition from Sandwich, U.C., on behalf of PH. Morin, co 537, vol. 141. La Minerve, 22 Dec. 1843 See, for example, ibid., 20 Sept. 1844 Fabre to Roebuck, 27 June 1844, MG 25, A19, vol. 4, NA Roebuck to Fabre, published in translation, La Minerve, 20 Sept. 1844 Lepailleur journal, 10 Apr. 1844 Le Canadien, 14 Oct. 1844 For the pardons see 'Copies of Royal Warrants,' 4/4495,155-61, 174-90,196-225, AONSW. La Minerve, 12 Dec. 1844 Mrs Macdonald asked Lepailleur to write regularly once he returned home, to update her on Domitile and his two sons. Roy journal, 23 Sept. 1844 Released prisoners to Roebuck, 29 Nov. 1844, MG 24, A 19, vol. 4,

Notes to pages 270-4 349

65

66 67

68

69

70 71

68-9, NA; Stanley to Roebuck, 30 Nov. 1844, ibid., 70-2 See Governor's Despatches, 1884, Stanley to Gipps, 5 Dec. 1844, reply to Gipps7 s despatch of 24 July 1844: A. 1295, ML. Mott had requested and received permission to transfer to Van Diemen's Land; young Bourbonnais had suffered a crippling injury to his arm and consequently had been unable to work. Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 124-33 La Minerve, 26 May 1845; 10 Sept. 1846,4 Oct. 1847; 28 Jan., 17 Apr., 30 June 1848 Christie, A History, iv: 42-5. Nelson's two declarations are printed in this volume and differ subtly from each other (see also iv: 242-4). Although Nelson's declaration has received scathing criticism from academics such as Fernand Ouellet ('Les insurrections de 1837-38,' passim but especially at 378), the only part of it not implemented today is the creation of a Canadian republic. Perhaps with the decrease in the integrity of the monarchy and the rise of republican sentiment in Quebec and Australia, this too may come into being. osc 1839, c. 36; 1841, c. 30, ss. 28, 35,37. For a fuller discussion of the changing civil law see Greenwood, from Higher Morality to Autonomous Will, and authorities cited therein. See Monet, The Last Cannon Shot, 334—43, for more information. See Jean-Paul Bernard, Les Rouges (Montreal: University of Quebec Press 1971), n.p., for the election results.

72 Quoted from the biography of Mederic, DCB, x: 420-6 at 421 73 18 Apr. 1846, JLAPC for 1846, App. x, n. p., claims 1811 and 865 respectively. 74 'Return of Judgments rendered on Claims investigated before 1st September 1850 No. 1 to No. 980 inclusive,' RG 4 B 37, vol. 9, claim 573, NA 75 RG 4, B 20, vol. 27,12300-3, NA 76 App. x, claims 308,1107,1261, 1468, 992. Claim 1156 specified an amount to compensate for money spent on board while in prison. 77 Return of Judgments, claim 571 78 28 May 1850, RG 4, B 28, vol. 108, NA

79 Leduc, Beauharnois, 90,99,141 80 His son Philemon, a doctor and the sheriff of Beauharnois between 1881 and!901, signed Prieur's death certificate. 81 Robert W. Stuart Mackay, The Montreal Directory New Edition, Corrected May and June 1859 ... (Montreal: Moore, Owler & Stevenson 1859); 'List of Police and other qualified Magistrates for the Lower Canada distribution of the Statutes - 18th Victoria,' schedule 7, RG 4, B 26, vol. 6,45, NA; Emile Falardeau, Prieur, ridealiste (Montreal: Institut de la Nouvelle France 1944), 24,26 82 For a fuller description see M. & A. Berthiaume, Louis Bourdon, chaps 5-8. 83 Leduc, Beauharnois, 69,141 84 Le Journal I'lnstruction Publique, Sept. 1866 85 Lepailleur journal, 13 Apr. 1844 86 Fauteux, Patriotes, 134 87 At least according to various claims made before the Rebellion Losses Commission. To the best

350 Notes to pages 275-80

of my knowledge the money never reached its intended recipients. Prieur wrote that Roebuck told him there was nothing left for the stranded thirteen men in 1846: Notes of a Convict, 132. However, as the fund did not reimburse those who had paid their fare to London and as it totalled thousands of pounds, there should have been enough to bring the destitute men home. Maybe a graduate student will be able to solve the problem in the future. 88 Borthwick Papers, vol. 1; copy of portrait, C111312, NA

1 2

3

4 5

CHAPTER 13 'THERE MUST ALWAYS BE VICTIMS' Rene Pinsonnault, in La Minerve, 5 Oct. 1842 Cited in Miriam Dixson, The Real Matilda: Woman and Identity in Australia 1788 to the Present, 3d ed. (Ringwood, Vic.: Penguin Books Aust. 1994), 263 A.G.L. Shaw, Convicts and the Colonies (London: Faber & Faber 1966), 358; Russel Ward, Australia: A Short History [1947], rev. ed. (Sydney: 1975), 44; Nicholas and Peter R. Shergold, 'Convicts as Migrants,' in Nicholas, Convict Workers, 60 '"That Hated Stain": The Aftermath of Transportation in Australia,' AHS 14 (1969), 21 Cited by Dixson, 'Clark and National Identity,' in Carl Bridge, ed., Manning Clark: Essays on His Place in History (Melbourne: MUP 1994), 205. It appears that Clark himself is posthumously suffering from what one of his fellow historians, Stuart Macintyre, called 'tall

6

7

8 9

10

poppy-lopping': Australian Society, 1989,8-9. History of Australia, m: 225.1 made a connection between convicts and mateship myself in 1977: see Boissery 'Patriote Convicts/ Conclusion. See 'Eager Ghosts,' in Dixson, The Real Matilda. I am indebted to her for help on this and succeeding paragraphs. In writing the 'Eager Ghosts' chapter, Dixson systematically explored the 'Other/ a concept that has emerged as a central issue of Western thought since the 1970s. Where they grapple with the Australian class, racial, ethnic, and sexual Other, historians have tended to follow 'cultural theory' largely in terms of Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, and Jacques Lacan. See Dixson, Real Matilda at 266-80 See Keith Windschuttle, The Killing of History: How a discipline is being murdered by literary critics and social theorists (Sydney: Macleay 1994). See, for example, the feminist historian Marilyn Lake, The Politics of Respectability: Identifying the Masculinist Context/ in Susan Magaray et al., Debutante Nation: Feminism Contests the 1890s (Sydney: Allen & Unwin 1993), 1-15. Lake gives no hint that convictism ever existed or in any way influenced Australian gender roles so as to help shape the 1890s 'masculinism' she explored. In Patricia Grimshaw et al., eds., Creating a Nation (Ringwood, Vic.: McPhee Gribble 1994), Marian Quartly (27-105) paid scant attention to

Notes to pages 280-7 351

11

12

13 14 15 16 17

18 19

20 21

the broad cultural effects of convictism, implicitly, it would seem, denying any of a longterm nature. At p. 77, for example, she very briefly listed widespread colonial concerns that convictism brought cultural 'abnormality'; then at p. 78, she appeared to suggest we should see New South Wales as Portia Robinson does - basically as a standard model of the modern West: The Hatch and Brood of Time, vol. 1. Both authors politely but firmly evade any 'eager ghosts/ much less try to transcend them. JRAHS 55 (1969), 43-82. See also sources named in Raymond Evans and William Thorpe, 'Power, Punishment and Penal Labour: Convict Workers and Moreton Bay': AHS 25 (1992), 95, n. 13. Nicholas and Shergold, 'Unshackling the Past/ in Nicholas, Convict Workers, 3. Evans and Thorpe, 'Power, Punishment and Penal Labour/ 94 Nicholas, Convict Workers, 185 Prieur, Notes of a Convict, 83, 84 Ducharme, Journal of a Political Exile, 35 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 8. See also references in the index. Australasian Chronicle, 4 July 1840 Evans and Thorpe, 'Power, Punishment and Penal Labour/ On p. 91 they sarcastically refer to Nicholas's question about other historians whose hypotheses about the convict condition were not driven solely by quantification: 'How did Australian historians get it so wrong?' Mott Papers, 36,43 Translation by Rebselj

22 23 24 25 26

27

28

29

30 31 32 33

34 35

36 37 38 39

Smith, A Cargo of Women, 171-2 Ibid., 173 Ibid., chap. 17, passim Ibid., 58 I owe much of the work in this section to several brain-storming sessions with Patricia Kennedy in Ottawa, 1994. E.J. Hobsbawm and George Rude, Captain Swing (London: Lawrence & Wishart 1969); Rude, '"Captain Swing" in New South Wales/ AHS 11 (1965), 467-80; Rude, Protest and Punishment (Oxford: Clarendon 1978). See Boissery, 'Patriote Convicts/ 293-6, for a detailed comparison of the Canadiens with these rioters. Mr Justice Parke, who tried 270 of the rioters, cited by Rude, ' "Captain Swing,"' 471 Six men were denied their pardons on the basis of colonial crime: Rude, '"Captain Swing/" 474. Ibid., passim, quotations cited at 479 Fay was one of the rioters employed by Wentworth. Ibid. It must be remembered that Joseph Marceau also abandoned his Canadien family and remarried in New South Wales. He was the exception, not the commonplace. Nicholas, Convict Workers, 8 Russel Ward, The Australian Legand, 2d ed. (Melbourne: OUP 1974), 78 Ward, Australia: A Short History, 9 Ward, Australian Legend, 92-3 I don't know of any that were printed on a regular basis. Quotation from Patrick O'Farrell, ed., Letters from Irish Australia

352 Notes to pages 287-91

40 41 42

43

44 45 46 47

48 49

1825-1929, cited by Smith, A Cargo of Women, 173 See Neal, Rule of Law, 49-53 Greenwood, Land of a Thousand Sorrows, 49,60 R. Therry, Reminiscences of Thirty Years' Residence in New South Wales and Victoria [1863] (Sydney: Sydney UP 1974), 42 [Alexander Harris], Settlers and Convicts: Recollections of Sixteen Years' Labour in the Australian Backwoods [1847] (Carlton, Vic.: MUP 1969), 12-13. In the Bulletin (8 Nov. 1890), William Astley (Price Waning) explained that a pair of floggers spelled each other so that their muscles would not relax and spoil the severity of punishments. See another story by Ashley in the Bulletin, 1 Nov. 1890, 'In Floggers' Corner,' for further descriptions of floggings in their most repulsive detail. Cited by Ward, A Short History of Australia, 43 [Harris], Settlers and Convicts, 11; William Astley, 'Bathurst Field Day,' Bulletin, 8 Nov. 1890 Meredith, Notes and Sketches, 58 Marion Aveling [Quartly], 'Bending the Bars: Convict Women and the State,' in Kay Saunders and Raymond Evans, eds., Gender Relations in Australia: Domination and Negotiation (London: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich 1992), 154 Murray, British America, n: 59 As just one example, some Canadien women were able to protect themselves and their families through those rights. When censitaires forfeited their half-share in their farms to the crown upon their husbands' con-

50 51 52 53

victions for treason, some wives were able to purchase those halves and thus keep the family property intact: see, for example, claim no. 850, made by Thedore Bechard to the Rebellion Losses Commission for £670 6s. Sd., the value of 'his estate confiscated and purchased by his wife': App. x, JLAPC, 1846. 23 Oct. 1886 7 Aug. 1890 25 Sept. 1890 11 Sept. 1890

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New South Wales Calendar and General Post Office Directory for 1837. Sydney 1837 New South Wales Government Gazette. Sydney: W.R. Row 1841, and succeeding volumes to 1846 Ormsby, W., ed. Crisis in the Canadas 1838-39: The Grey Journals and Letters. Toronto: Macmillan 1964 Prieur, Frangois-Xavier. Notes of a Convict of 1838 [1864, in French], trans. George Mackaness [1949]. Dubbo, N.S.W.: Review Publications 1976 Read, Colin, and Ronald J. Stagg, eds.The Rebellion of 1837 in Upper Canada: A Collection of Documents, n.p.p.: Champlain Society/Carleton University Press 1985 Report of the State Trials, Before a General Court Martial Held at Montreal in 1838-1839: Exhibiting a Complete History of the Late Rebellion in Lower Canada, 2 vols. Montreal: Armour & Ramsey 1839 Sanderson, C.R. The Arthur Papers, 3 vols. Toronto: UTP 1957-59 Seguin, Robert-Lionel. Journal d'Exil: La vie d'un patriote de 1838 deporte en Australie, Franqois-Maurice Lepailleur. Montreal: Edition du Jour 1972 Sellar, Robert. The History of the Counties of Huntingdon and of the Seigniories of Chateauguay and Beauharnois. Huntingdon, Que.: The Canadian Gleaner 1888 Shirreff, Patrick. A Tour through North America together with a Comprehensive View of the Canadas as Adapted for Agricultural Emigration. Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1835 Simmons, Thomas Frederick. Remarks on the Constitution and Practice of Courts Martial, 2d ed. London: F. Pinkney 1835 Snow, Samuel. The Exile's Return. Cleveland: n.p. 1846 Story, Norah, ed. 'Stewart Derbishire's Report to Lord Durham on Lower Canada, 1838/ Canadian Historical Review 18 (1937), 48-62 Therry, R. Reminiscences of Thirty Years' Residence in New South Wales and Victoria [1863]. Sydney: Sydney University Press 1974 Wait, Benjamin. The Wait Letters. Erin. Ont.: Press Procepic 1976 Wells, William Henry. A Geographical Dictionary, or Gazetteer of the Australian Colonies. Sydney: W. & F. Ford 1848 SECONDARY WORKS BOOKS Atkinson, Alan, and Marian Aveling, eds. Australians: 1838. Broadway, N.S.W.: Fairfax Symes & Weldon Assoc. 1987 Bateson, Charles. The Convict Ships 1787-1868. Glasgow: Brown, Son & Ferguson 1959 Bernard, Antoine. Histoire de la Survivance Acadienne 1837-1935. Montreal: Clercs de Saint-Viateur 1935 Bernard, Jean-Paul, ed. Les Rebellions de 1837-1838: Les Patriotes du Bus-Canada dans la Memoire Collective et Chez les Historiens. Montreal: Boreal Express 1983 . Les Rouges: Liberalisme, Nationalisme et Anticlericalisme au milieu de xixe siecle. Montreal: University of Quebec Press 1971

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Berthiaume, Marcelle and Alban. Le Patriote Louis Bourdon: premier maire de Farmham, Quebec. Farnham, Que.: M. & A. Berthiaume 1989 Birch, Alan, and David S. Macmillan. The Sydney Scene 1788-1960. Parkville, Vic.: MUP1962 Bridge, Carl, ed. Manning Clark: Essays on His Place in History. Melbourne: MUP 1994 Castles, Alex C. An Australian Legal History. Sydney: Law Book Co. 1982 Clark, C.M.H. A History of Australia, 6 vols. Melbourne: MUP 1962-87 Clode, Charles C. The Administration of Justice under Military and Martial Law. London: John Murray 1872 Dixson, Miriam. The Real Matilda: Women and Identity in Australia 1788 to the Present, 3d ed. Ringwood, Vic.: Penguin 1994 Ekrich, A. Roger. Bound for America: The Transportation of British Convicts to the Colonies, 1718-1775. Oxford: Clarendon 1987 Falardeau, Emile. Prieur, Vldealiste. Montreal: Institut de la Nouvelle France, 1944 Fauteux, Aegidius. Patriotes de 1837-1838. Montreal: Les Editions des dix 1950 Filteau, Gerard. Histoire des Patriotes, 3 vols. Montreal: Editions Modeles 1938-42 Forsythe, William, ed. Cases and Opinions on Constitutional Law and Various Points of English Jurisprudence. London: Stevens & Haynes 1869 Frost, Alan. Convicts and Empire: A Naval Question 1776-1811. Melbourne: OUP 1980 Greenwood, F. Murray. Legacies of Fear: Law and Politics in Quebec in the Era of the French Revolution. Toronto: The Osgoode Society/urp 1993 Greer, Allan. The Patriotes and the People: The Rebellion of 1837 in Rural Lower Canada. Toronto: UTP 1993 Greer, Allan, and Ian Radforth, eds. Colonial Leviathan: State Formation in MidNineteenth-Century Canada. Toronto: UTP 1992 Grieve, Norma, and Ailsa Burns, eds. Australian Women, New Feminist Perspectives. Melbourne: OUP 1986 Grimshaw, Patricia, et al., eds. Creating a Nation. Ringwood, Vic.: McPhee, Gribble 1994 Guillet, Edwin C. The Lives and Times of the Patriots: An Account of the Rebellion in Upper Canada, and the Patriot Agitation in the United States, 1837-1842. Don Mills: Ontario Publishing Co. 1938 Harris, Richard Colebrook. The Seigneurial System in Early Canada: A Geographical Study. Milwaukee: University of Wisconsin/Laval Presses 1966 Hirst, John B. Convict Society and Its Enemies. Sydney: George Allen & Unwin 1983 Hobsbawn, E.J., and George Rude. Captain Swing. London: Lawrence & Wishart 1969 Home, Paul Ife. Concord - A Link with the Past. Sydney: Ambascol Press 1972 Hughes, Robert. The Fatal Shore. New York: Vintage Books 1986 Kilbourn, William. The Firebrand: William Lyon Mackenzie and the Rebellion in Upper Canada. Toronto/Vancouver: Clarke, Irwin 1977

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Kinchen, Oscar A. The Rise and Fall of the Patriot Hunters. New York: Bookman Assoc. 1956 Kolish, Evelyn. Nationalismes et Conflits de Droits: Le Debat du Droit Prive au Quebec, 1760-1840. LaSalle, Que.: Editions Hurtubise HMH 1994 Leduc, R.-R-Augustin. Beauharnois. Ottawa: La Cie d'Imprimerie 1920 Mackay, David. A Place of Exile: The European Settlement of New South Wales. Melbourne: OUP 1985 Magaray, Susan, et al. Debutante Nation: Feminism Contests the 1890s. Sydney: Allen & Allen 1993 McLachlan, Noel. Columbus & Australia: New World Nationalism & the Gulliver Complex. Parkville, Vic.: History Dept., University of Melbourne 1994 Monet, Jacques. The Last Cannon Shot: A Study of French Canadian Nationalism. Toronto: UTP 1969 Neal, David. The Rule of Law in a Penal Colony: Law and Power in Early New South Wales. Cambridge: CUP 1991 New, Chester. Lord Durham: A Biography of John George Lambton, First Earl of Durham. Oxford: Clarendon 1929 Nicholas, Steven, ed. Convict Workers: Reinterpreting Australia's Past. Cambridge: CUP 1988 Noel, Frangoise. The Christie Seigneuries: Estate Management and Settlement in the Upper Richelieu Valley 1760-1854. Montreal/Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press 1992 O'Farrell, Patrick. The Irish in Australia. Kensington, N.S.W.: University of New South Wales 1987 Ouellet, Fernard. Lower Canada, 1791-1841: Social Change and Nationalism. Toronto: Macmillan 1980 Robinson, Portia. The Hatch and Brood of Time: A Study of the First Generation of Native-born White Australians 1788-1828, vol. 1. Melbourne: OUP 1985 . The Women of Botany Bay: A reinterpretation of the role of women in the origins of Australian society. Sydney: Macquarie Library, Macquarie University 1988 Read, Colin. The Rising in Western Upper Canada, 1837-8: The Duncombe Revolt and After. Toronto: UTP 1982 Robson, L.L. The Convict Settlers of Australia: An Enquiry into the Origins and Character of the Convicts Transported to New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land 1787-1852. Melbourne/London, New York: MUP/CUP 1965 Rude, George. Protest and Punishment: The Story of the Social and Political Protesters Transported to Australia 1788-1868. Oxford: Clarendon 1978 Saunders, Kay, and Raymond Evans, eds. Gender Relations in Australia: Domination and Negotiation. London: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich 1992 Schull, Robert. Rebellion: The Rising in Trench Canada, 1837. Toronto: Macmillan 1971 Sellar, Robert. The Tragedy of Quebec: The Expulsion of Its Protestant Farmers. Huntingdon, Que.: The Canadian Gleaner 1907

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Senior, Elinor Kyte. British Regulars in Montreal: an Imperial Garrison, 1832-1854. Montreal/Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press 1980 . Redcoats and Patriotes: The Rebellions in Lower Canada 1837-38. Stittsville, Ont: Canada's Wings 1985 Shaw, A.G.L. Convicts and the Colonies: A Study of Penal Transportation from Great Britain and Ireland to Australia and Other Parts of the British Empire. London: Faber & Faber 1966 Shaw, George W.M., compiler. Concord Jubilee 1883-1933. Sydney: Canberra Press 1933 Smith, Babette. A Cargo of Women: Susannah Watson and the Convicts of the Princess Royal. Kensingston, N.S.W.: University of New South Wales 1988 Smith, G.C.M. The Life of John Colborne, Field Marshall Lord Seaton. London: John Murray 1903 Stephen, PR. The History and Descriptions of Sydney Habour. Adelaide: Rigby 1966 Tanguay, Cyprien. Dictionnaire genealogique des families canadiennes, 7 vols. Montreal 1887 Un Etudiant en droit. Proces de Joseph N. Cadinal, et autres. Montreal: J. Lovell 1839 Wade, Mason. The French Canadians. Toronto: Macmillan 1954 Wallace, Clarrie. A History of Concord. Concord, N.S.W.: Concord Historical Society 1970 Ward, Russel. Australia: A Short History [1947], rev. ed. Sydney: OUP 1975 . The Australian Legend, rev. ed. Melbourne: OUP 1974 Wiener, Frederick Bernays. Civilians under Military Justice: The British Practice Since 1689, Especially in North America. Chicago/London: University of Chicago 1967 Williams, David. John Frost: A Study in Chartism. Cardiff: University of Wales 1939 Windschuttle, Keith. The Killing of History: How a discipline is being murdered by literary critics and social theorists. Sydney: Macleay 1994 Wolf, Eric R. Peasants. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall 1966 ARTICLES Anon. The Law Governing Transportation/ Guide to Convict Records in the Archives Office of New South Wales. Sydney: Archives Authority of N.S.W. 1981 Atkinson, Alan. 'Beating the Bound with Lord Sydney, Evan Nepean and others/ AHS 26 (1992), 217-29 . 'The First Plans for Governing New South Wales, 1786-87,' AHS 24 (1990), 22 Baillargeon, Georges. 'A propos de 1'abolition du regime seigneurial/ RHAF 22 (1968-69), 365-91 Baudry, Ubald. 'Sellar et al et les Ellice/ Bulletin de recherches historique 56 (1950), 169-70 Boissery, Beverley D., and F. Murray Greenwood. The Canadien Patriotes in Exile: New Sources of Convict History/ AHS 18 (1978), 277-82

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Cabourdin, Guy. 'On French Soil? The Monument to Laperouse at Botany Bay: An Historical Note/ JRAHS 72 (1986), 149-52 Caron, L'Abbe Ivanhoe. 'Une Societe Secrete dans le Bas-Canada en 1838: L' Association des Freres Chasseurs/ Royal Society of Canada, Transactions 20 (1926) Conlan, Anne. '"Mine is a Sad yet True Story": Convict Narratives 1818-1830/ JRAHS 55 (1969), 43-82 Cruikshank, E.A. 'A Twice-told Tale (The Insurrection in the Short Hills in 1838)/ Ontario Historical Society, Papers and Records 8 (1907), 5 Derome, Gaston. 'Le patriote Pascal Pinsonneau/ Bulletin des recherches historique 53 (1947) . 'Le Canada-Australien Marceau/ Memoires de la societe genealogique franqais 22 (1948) . 'Le raid de la tortue: le 3 Novembre 1838/ RHAF 7 (1954) Evans, Raymond, and William Thorpe. 'Power Punishment and Penal Labour: Convict Workers and Moreton Bay/ AHS 25 (1992), 95 Fecteau, Jean-Marie. 'Mesures d'exception et regie de droit: Les conditions d'application de la loi martiale au Quebec lors des rebellions de 1837-1838/ McGill Law Journal 32 (1987), 465-95 Fortier, J.-T. Donat. 'La seigneuries de Beauharnois de la famille Ellice/ Memoires de la societe genealogique canadienne-franqais 17 (1967), 170 Frost, Alan. 'Historians, Handling Documents, Transgressions and Transportable Offences/ AHS 26 (1992), 192-213 Gibson, James A. 'Political Prisoners, Transportation for Life, and Responsible Government in Canada/ Ontario History 67 (1975), 186-9 Greenwood, F. Murray. 'From Higher Morality to Autonomous Will: The Transformation of Quebec's Civil Law, 1774-1866/ Manitoba Law Journal 1995 . 'Les patriotes et le gouvernement responsable dans les annees 1830/ RHAF 33 (1979), 25-37 . 'The Chartrand Murder Trial: Rebellion and Repression in Lower Canada, 1837-1839/ Criminal Justice History 5 (1984), 129-59 . 'The General Court Martial of 1838-39 in Lower Canada: An Abuse of Justice/ in W. Wesley Pue and Barry Wright, eds., Canadian Perspectives on Law and Society: Issues in Legal History. Ottawa: Carleton UP 1988 . The Rebellions of 1837-38: Peasant Uprisings?' Peasant Studies (Pittsburgh) 5 (1976), 29-33 Hirst, John B. 'Or None of the Above: A Reply/ AHS 22 (1987), 519-24 Lefebvre, Jean-Jacques. 'Le patriote Andre Papineau/ Bulletin des recherches historique 67 (1961), 71-2 Mackaness, George. 'Exiles from Canada/ JRAHS 50 (1964) Mackay, David. 'Banished to Botany Bay/ AHS 26 (1992), 214-16 McRae, Mary Milne. 'Yankees from King Arthur's Court: A Brief Study of North American Political Prisoners transported from Canada to Van Diemen's Land, 1839-40/ Tasmanian Historical Research Association, Papers and Proceedings 19 (1972), 148-51

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Morin, Victor. 'La republique canadienne de 1838/ RHAF 2 (1949) Neal, David. Tree Society, Penal Colony, Slave Society, Prison?' AHS 22 (1987), 495-518 Ouellet, Fernand. 'La sauvegarde des patrimoines et le district de Quebec durant la premiere moitie du xixe siecle/ RHAF 26 (1972-73), 320 Parker, W.H. 'A New Look at Unrest in Lower Canada in the 1830s/ Canadian Historical Review 40 (1959), 209-17 Read, Colin. The Short Hills Raid of June, 1838 and Its Aftermath/ Ontario History 68 (1976), 93-115 Reeves-Morache, Marcelle. 'La Canadienne pendant les troubles de 1837-1838/ RHAF 5 (1951-52), 99-117 Reynolds, H.' "That Hated Stain": The Aftermath of Transportation in Australia/ AHS 14 (1969), 21 Rude, George.' "Captain Swing: in New South Wales/ AHS 11 (1965), 467-80 Scott, Ernest. 'Canadian and U.S. Transported Prisoners of 1839/ JRAHS 21 (1936), 27-44

Stone, Lawrence. 'Prosopography/ Daedalus 100 (1971), 46-79 Warung, Price, 'In Floggers' Corner/ The Bulletin, 1 Nov. 1890 Wilton, Carol. '"A Firebrand amongst the People": The Durham Meetings and Popular Politics in Upper Canada/ Canadian Historical Review 75 (1994), 346-75 THESES, UNPUBLISHED ARTICLES Boissery, Beverley Dawn. '"A Deep Sense of Wrong": The Transportation of 58 Men from Lower Canada to New South Wales in 1839/ BA Hons., University of British Columbia 1973 . The Patriote Convicts: A Study of the 1838 Rebellion in Lower Canada and the Transportation of some Participants to New South Wales/ PhD, Australian National University 1977 .' "Women's Work": The Varying Roles of Women in Quebec/Lower Canada and Upper Canada during times of security crises, 1770-1840/ to be published in vol. 2 of the Canadian State Trials series Greenwood, F. Murray.' "Brigands" and the Law of Treason in Upper Canada, 1837-1839/ to be published in part in vol. 2 of the Canadian State Trials series . 'Lord Durham's Bermuda Ordinance: Origins and Applications/ to be published in vol. 2 of the Canadian State Trials series Greenwood, F. Murray, and Barry Wright. 'General Introduction to Volume One' [of the Canadian State Trials series, to be published 1996] . 'Parliamentary Privilege and the Repression of Liberal Dissent in the Canadas/ to be published in vol. 1 of the Canadian State Trials series, 1996 Romney, Paul, and Barry Wright, 'State Trials and Security Proceedings in Upper Canada during the War of 1812/ to be published in vol. 1 of the Canadian State Trials series, 1996

Index The key experiences of the fifty-eight transportees can be broken down, and their discussion located in this volume, as follows: Activity in the 1837 rebellion period, 3-38; participation in the 1838 rebellion Chateauguay, 50-69; Napierville, 73-93; Beauharnois, 97-116; Laprairie, 120-8; Terrebonne, 128-36, general, 139-50. Transportation sentences: the voyage on the Buffalo and arrival in Sydney, 150-204; the time at the Longbottom stockade, 205—31; assignment and ticket-of-leave, 232—56; pardons and repatriation, 265—75. * Denotes transportedpatriote Agricultural problems in Lower Canada, 5-9 *Alary, Michel, 154, 242, 244, 249, 268-9, 293 Alien question, 91-2, 148-9, 182-4 Allard, Jean, 127-8, 140, 325 Anti-coercion meetings, 16—18, 73—4; govt. reaction to, 18 Arthur, Sir George, 163, 205 Assignment, 236—9 Baddely, Henry Clinton (superintendent of Longbottom), 210-39 passim, 246, 286, 338, 339, 341 Balfour, Eglantine (Tina), 98, 104-15 passim, 151,321,347 Barney, Major/Lieutenant-Colonel George, 210,221-2,236 Barrett, Mary, 270 Beauharnois seigneury: history of, 97-9; problems, 11, 99-102; rebellion in, 103-10, 165; repression and atrocities, 39, 110—12; men selected for transportation, 154-5 *Bechard, Theodore, 18, 20, 32-5, 40, 76, 81, 143,202,238,293,312,352 *Bergevin dit Langevin, Charles, 103, 110, 175, 223, 273-4, 293, 336 Bermuda ordinance, 31, 35

*Bigonnesse dit Beaucaire, Francois, 166, 223,293,331 Blaxland, John, 239, 341 *Bouc, Charles-Guillaume, 15, 128, 129, 130-6 passim, 202, 212, 214, 233, 243, 270, 293, 308 *Bourbonnais, Desire, 145, 154, 155, 174-5, 223, 230, 247, 253, 270, 294, 349 *Bourdon, Louis, 5-6, 19, 22, 32, 38, 41, 125-7, 145, 210-38 passim, 242-3, 253, 264, 273, 286, 294, 305, 310, 324, 337, 338,341,345 Bourget, Monseigneur Ignace, 200, 272, 287, 307 *Bousquet, Jean-Baptiste, 23, 125-7, 244, 249, 264, 274, 294, 310, 324, 337, 342 Brady, Father John, 200, 202, 215, 217, 226, 229, 238, 249, 281, 290, 336 Brien, Dr Jean-Baptiste-Henri, 25, 41-2, 59, 102-3, 112-14, 136, 144-5, 154, 166-7,262,311,312,323 Bronsdon, Mr, 42, 44, 69, 263 Brown, J.W., 221, 237-8, 341 Brown, Lawrence, 98-9, 100, 104, 115-16, 154_5, 158, 167, 174, 264, 310, 320, 322 *Buisson, Constant, 154, 224, 239, 242, 294 Camyre, Francois, xiv, 147—8, 327 Cardinal, Adelaide-Domitilde (Mrs F.-M. Lepailleur), 139, 162, 165, 208, 239, 250, 252, 258-9, 265, 274-6, 282, 348 Cardinal, Eugenie. See St-Germain, Eugenie Cardinal, Joseph-Narcisse, 25-6, 49-69 passim, 104, 107, 112, 147, 150-2, 156, 173, 185, 250, 260, 274, 276-7, 298-302,314,315 Caughnawaga (Kahnawake), 55—8 Chartrand, Joseph dit Armand, 31, 34, 52-3,75-6,81-2,91 Chartrand trial, 34, 91 Chateauguay seigneury, rebellion, chap. 3 passim *Chevrefils, Ignace-Gabriel, 212, 225, 286, 294,327

364 Index

Civil death, 189-91, 197 Clitherow, Major-General John (president of the General Court Martial), 54, 67, 80, 88, 129, 136, 149, 150, 266, 300, 314,326 Colborne, Sir John (later Lord Seaton, administrator of Lower Canada), 22, 28-9, 38-40, 42-3, 49-50, 53, 67-9, 80-3, 89, 91, 109, 111, 115, 128, 146, 150-8 passim, 167, 174-5, 200, 215, 260-6 passim, 300, 310, 315, 318, 348 Confederation of Six Counties, 34-5 Convicts: clothes, 173-4, 209, 212; comparison with slavery, 235—6; Canadiens' entrepreneurialism, 223-4, 242; housing, 209; Canadiens' legacy, 280-1, 289-91; long-term effects, 279, 282-90; medical care, 222, 225-6; pastimes, 229-31, 252; punishments, 216, 223, 251-2, 287-8; rations, 176, 209, 212, 225, 281, 332; rules, 209, 213-15; work at Longbottom, 209-16, 221 Cornelier, Marguerite-Julie (Mrs Joseph Dumouchelle), 102, 161, 167, 169, 273 Cote, Dr Cyrille-Hector-Octave, 14-36 passim, 71, 74-8, 80-6, 88-90, 272, 311, 316 *Coupal dit Lareine, Antoine, 75, 93, 143, 222,251-2,294 Courts martial (see General Court Martial, Montreal), jurisdiction over civilians, 43—4; views on legality, 30, 44; as courts in New South Wales, 196-7 Cox, Edward, 239, 341 Day, Charles Dewey, 4, 62, 93, 300, 314 *Defaillette, Louis, 80-1, 93, 294, 316, 336 De Lery seigneury, abuses and problems, 11, 15, 73; rebellion in, chaps. 4, 7 Deloitte, Captain William Salmon, 239,

341 DeLorimier, Chevalier Francois-MarieThomas, 49, 57, 61, 104, 108, 112-15,

140, 142, 150, 152, 173, 275, 301, 319, 321,323,348 DeLorimier, Georges, 57, 299 Depression in New South Wales, 237, 340 Drummond, Lewis, 53, 55, 64-71 passim, 91-2,141,149,153,154,271,300, 315,327,328 *Ducharme, Jean-Marie-Leon dit Leandre, 54-70 passim, 114, 118, 143, 166, 168,

175, 185-7, 199-201, 210, 218, 224, 230, 243-4, 260, 273, 275, 279, 281,

290, 294, 314, 315, 329, 333, 335, 338, 342, 345 *Dumouchelle, Joseph or Joson, 42, 94-115 passim, 140, 145, 154, 167-8, 274-5, 223, 225, 226, 230, 242, 251-2, 261,

265, 273, 289, 294, 298, 311, 315, 321, 323, 337, 338, 340, 344, 345 Dumouchelle, Mrs Joseph. See Cornelier, Marguerite-Julie *Dumouchelle, Louis, 102-3. 110, 112, 168, 175, 225-6, 233, 294, 321, 323,

337 Duquette, Joseph, 49-69 passim, 94, 104, 112, 185,298-9,300,301 Durham, Lord George, 30, 31, 34-5, 41, 49, 98, 101-2, 140, 150, 152-3, 162-4, 183,328 Ellice, Edward ('Bear'), 30, 43, 97-101, 105, 165,319,320,321 Ellice, Edward, junior, 41, 56, 59, 61-2, 101, 104-6, 110, 115-16, 155, 321,

347 Ellice, Jane, 97-115 passim, 151, 321, 322,

347 Ethnic tensions in Lower Canada, 14, 22,

156-8 Female Factory, Parramatta, 221, 246, 339 Frank, Jose, 247 Frank, Mrs Jose, 247 Freres Chasseurs: fund-raising, 32; initiations, 24-7, 33; oath-taking, 26-7; organization, 32-4, 95, 112-13; plans for rebellion, 35-8, 52, 120 Frost, John, 132, 141,215,325 *Gagnon, David, 175, 221, 223, 230, 270, 294 Gamelin, Mere, 138, 161, 272 General Court Martial, Montreal, assessment of, chap. 7, 141; defence counsel, 52-3; defences used, 60-5, 72, 85-92, 123-5; establishment of, 41, 53; legality of, 42-3, 55, 60; prosecution, 54, 140-4; verdicts, 65-8, 70, 87, 93 Gipps, Sir George (governor of New South Wales), 196, 200-201, 203, 214, 217, 228-9, 231, 236, 238-9, 269-70, 341, 342

Index 365

Glenelg, Lord (colonial secretary), 20, 28, 29,91,151,310,315 Glengarry Highlanders, 109-12 Gorman, Constable Sam, 218-23 passim, 338 Gorman, Mrs Sam, 219-23 passim Gosford, Lord (governor of Lower Canada), 16-22, 200 *Goyette, Jacques, 101, 106-8, 110, 140, 243-4, 273, 294, 321, 323, 327, 342, 345 *Goyette, Joseph, 107, 270, 274, 294, 341 Grey, Colonel Charles, 36, 39-40, 83, 92, 110, 147, 151, 158,322 *Guerin dit Blanc Dassault, Louis, 56, 58-60, 64, 214, 227, 295, 314, 344 *Guertin, Francois-Xavier, 125-7, 226-7, 244, 295 Gugy, Bartholomew, Conrad Augustus, 261-3,271,347 *Guimond, Joseph, 58-60, 64, 270, 295, 314,337,338

Kable, Henry, 189-91 Kable, Susannah, 189-91 Kahnawake. See Caughnawaga

Labelle, Father Jean-Baptiste, 51, 59, 138, 301 *Laberge, Jean, 110, 223, 238, 242, 273, 278, 290, 295, 327, 338 Lacolle, battle of, 78 LaFontaine, Louis, 38, 52, 100, 111, 118, 141,271,287,320 *Lanctot, Hippolite, 15, 80, 144, 150, 166, 185-6, 200, 210, 218, 230, 237, 246, 248, 264, 272, 275, 295, 317, 334, 338 Lane, Sergeant, 218-24 passim *Langlois, Etienne, 230, 242-3, 270, 295, 337, 342 *Languedoc, Etienne, 230-1, 252, 270, 277, 286, 295, 336, 337, 344 Laprairie, rebellion in, 120—5 Lartigue, Monseigneur Jean-Jacques, 21—2, 158,201,271 *Lavoie, Pierre, 141, 295, 295 Habeas corpus, 38, 42-3 Lawson, William, 237, 243, 341 Habitants: anti-clericalism, 21; distrust of *Leblanc, David-Drossin, 223, 230(?), 295 English, 243-4, 269; Dumouchelle only *Leblanc, Hubert-Drossin, 230(?), 295, 344 Lepailleur, Alfred, 206, 208, 259, 265, 348 habitant aigle, 311; farming methods, Lepailleur, Domitile. See Cardinal, Adelaide9-13; traditions, 6, 9-16; way of life, Domitilde 14-16 *Lepailleur, Francois-Maurice, 3—302 Hart, Aaron, 53, 55, 64, 67-8, 71, 141, passim, 313, 314, 315, 321, 335-45 pas149,315 *Hebert, Jacques-David, 18, 72-4, 76-80, sim, 348 Lepailleur, Jean-Baptiste, 206, 208, 250, 83, 93, 175, 223, 244, 295, 316, 317, 259, 265, 348 318,331 *Hebert, Joseph-Jacques, 166, 175, 223, Lesiege, Louis, 58, 60, 65, 69, 138, 143, 314,318 295 Levesque, Guillaume, 77, 86, 144-6, 154, Hindenlang, Charles, 76, 81-2, 90-2, 139, 155, 168, 174-5,267,327 174,300,316,317,319,327 Longbottom: history of, 203—4; patriotes in Hospital, Sydney, 225—6 Hunters' Lodges, Upper Canada, 32; U.S., 32 the stockade, 203-4 *Huot, Charles, 20, 71-2, 75-6, 82-4, 139, *Longtin, Jacques, 143, 251(?), 296, 336, 341 143, 175, 186, 200, 212, 216, 218, 230, 249, 252, 268, 290, 295, 316, 327, 334,*Longtin, Moyse, 243, 251(?), 296, 341 344 Lunatic Asylum, Tarban Creek, Sydney, 221,339 Indemnity claims, 271-3 Ireland, John, 240, 242, 269 Macdonald, Alexander, 225, 240, 244, 250, 286, 344 Macdonald, John, J.P., 41, 56-70 passim, Joubert, Didier Numa, 341 Judicial system in New South Wales, 193 142-3, 268, 314 Juries, Chartrand, 34, 52; fight for in New Mackenzie, John, 131, 135—6 South Wales, 197-8 Mackenzie, Roderick, 128, 135

366 Index

Mackenzie, William Lyon, 110, 169-70, 181 *Marceau, Joseph dit Petit Jacques, 222, 237, 258, 270, 280, 290, 296, 331-2,

Nichols, Mrs Charles, 96, 97, 251, 252, 273,281 Nichols, George Robert, 96, 97, 228, 239, 244, 339, 340, 343(?)

344,351 Marceau, Mrs Joseph. See Barrett, Mary Martial law, definition of, 29, 38, 146 Masson, Joseph, 130, 134-5, 325 Mateship, 279, 285-6 McLane, David, 141, 148 McLean, Captain John Leyburn, 236, 237 M'Donnell, John Picote Belestre, 175, 263, 311 Meredith, Mrs Charles, 192, 194-5, 245,

Odelltown, battle of, 81-2 Odgen, Charles R. (attorney general of Lower Canada), 34-50, 41, 91, 93, 115, 127, 261 Oxley, Joseph, 231,340

Papineau, Louis-Joseph, xi, 6, 16—18, 20-1, 28-9, 31, 61, 76, 100, 102, 105, 107, 112, 120-1, 270-1, 274, 305, 309, 317,320,324,337,338 288, 335, 337 *Papineau dit Montigny, Andre, 244, 252, Micro-history, xv, 282-3, 289 296, 320, 342, 344 Militia: activity in 1838 rebellion, chaps. 3-6 passim-, atrocities, chaps. 2-7, 12 *Pare, Joseph, 18, 72, 77-8, 80, 93, 175, passim 186,223,230,296,318,345 Patriotes: economic policy, 20; elite, 15; Miscarriages of justice, xiii, 60-7, 85-9, political party, 15, 19 114-15 Mitchell, Sir Thomas Livingstone, 239, 341 Perrigo, James, 112, 114-15, 144, 323 Perry, Samuel Augustus, 236 Mohawks, 55-8, 68 Mondelet, Dominique, 54, 93, 300 Petitions: for clemency, 67-9, 89-90; seigneurial relief, 73; for repatriation, *Morin, Achille, 40, 80, 83, 175-6, 186, 210, 212, 268, 270, 274, 296, 312, 317, 265, 267-8, 287 Petit-Jean, Father, 248-9 318,334,338 *Morin, Pierre-Hector, 72, 75-6, 84-90, Phillip, Captain Arthur, 178, 191, 287 114, 147, 168, 170, 175, 180, 186, 210, *Pinsonnault, Louis, 243-4, 269-70, 296, 212, 215-6, 222, 243, 244, 252, 342, 345 268-70, 274, 290, 296, 318, 329, 334, *Pinsonnault, Pascal, 123-5, 243, 272, 296, 336, 343 337 *Pinsonnault, Rene, 224, 243, 251, 268, *Mott, Benjamin, 93, 114, 139, 143, 270,274,297,317,324,342 148-9, 153-4, 167, 174, 183, 216, 225, 239, 244, 282, 293, 296, 316, 317, 319, Platt, Father Joseph, 231, 238 Polding, Monseigneur John Bede, 200-201, 326, 327, 336, 337, 338, 339

Muller, Edward, 54, 266, 300 Murphy, Vicar-General Francis, 226 Napierville: centre of patriote activity, 74; site for declaration of the republic of Lower Canada, 76; rebellion in, 73-93 Neich, Emmanuel, 216, 228-40 passim, 246, 253, 269, 345 Nelson, Robert, 32, 35-6, 55, 57-8, 72-87 passim, 104, 107, 120, 126, 144, 270-1, 274, 299, 310, 311, 316, 317, 349 Nelson, Wolfred, 22-30, 29, 70, 105, 310 *Newcomb, Samuel, 56, 174, 180, 185-6, 210, 221-2, 225, 242, 244, 270, 290, 296, 299, 334 Nichols, Charles, 251-2, 340, 343(?)

217, 226, 238, 249-50, 253, 267, 302, 336, 344 Police, Longbottom, 218-23 Police, Lower Canada. See Rural Police *Prieur, Francois-Xavier, 56, 94-115 passim,

145, 154-5, 167, 170, 175-6, 185-7, 209, 213-4, 216, 218-19, 221, 223, 230, 232-3, 240, 242-5, 252-3, 270, 272-3, 275, 278, 281, 290, 293, 297, 321, 322, 323, 328, 333, 335, 342, 345, 349, 350 *Provost, Francois-Xavier, 40, 104-5, 106,

110, 155, 174, 195, 230, 237, 297, 312, 321,322,341

Index 367

Quantification, xv, 175, 280-2, 284 Quintal, Father Michel, 102, 107-9, 272-3 Rations. See under Convicts Rebellion of 1837, 16, 22-3, 28-9, 102 Religious observance, 186, 217-18, 226-7 Repatriation, 265-70, 287 Repression after 1838 rebellion, 38-42, chaps. 3-7 passim Republicanism, 15, 76-7, 270-1, 272 Robert, Joseph, 123, 150, 152, 301 *Robert, Theophile, 140, 218, 297, 337, 341,345 *Rochon, Edouard-Pascal, 34, 128-30, 134, 136, 175, 230(?), 239, 243, 297, 308, 325, 342, 344(?) *Rochon, Jeremie, 175, 223-4, 230(?), 231, 252, 270, 297, 325, 344(?) *Rochon, Toussaint, 103-7, 110, 112, 165, 175, 222, 227, 230(?), 253, 273, 297, 323, 325, 327, 342, 344(?) Roman Catholic Church: care for jailed rebels, 138, 161; care for transported men in New South Wales, 200-202, 248—50; organization of repatriation petitions, 265, 267-8, 287; refusal to allow Christian funeral to 1837 patriote dead, 22; relationship with Lower Canadian government, 14; tension with Lower Canadian parishioners, 14, 19, 21; tension with Protestants in Sydney, 193-4, 196 Rose, Thomas, 221, 224, 247, 274 Rose, Mrs Thomas, 247 Rowley, John, 237, 239, 244, 343 *Roy, Basile, 165, 167, 169, 173, 175, 186-7, 203, 213-14, 224, 225, 233, 235, 242-3, 297, 329, 335, 341, 344 *Roy dit Lapensee, Charles, 103, 106, 110, 169, 175,297,321,324 *Roy dit Lapensee, Joseph, 155, 175, 213, 273, 297, 345 Rural Police, establishment after the 1838 rebellion, 260-4 Russell, Lord John (colonial secretary), 236, 238, 302, 308 St-Germain, Eugenie, 67, 69, 250, 274, 302 Seigneurial system, chap. 1 passim Selection of men to be transported, 153-6, 165-8, 174-6 Semphill, Hamilton C, 239, 284

Sons of Liberty (Fils de la liberte), 19 Stanley, Lord (colonial secretary), 267, 269, 270 'Swing' rioters, 284-5 Sydney, chaps. 9-11, 13 passim Terrebonne, rebellion in, 128-36 *Thibert, Jean-Louis, 48-9, 56, 58-60, 65, 154, 201, 223, 242, 253, 275, 297, 300, 314,328,337 *Thibert, Jean-Marie, 58-60, 201, 223, 242-3,297,314,337,338 Ticket-of-leave, 239-53 *Touchette, Fran$ois-Xavier, 103, 110, 224, 242-3, 290, 297, 327 Transportation: history of, 171-3; to U.S., 172-3 Treason law, 62, 66, 91-2; special guarantees in treason trials, 141 *Trudelle, Jean-Baptiste, 247, 270, 297, 337, 338 *Turcot, Louis, 226, 297, 337, 341 Turgeon, J.-O.-A., 128-9, 134, 136 Turner, George Edward Weaver, 221 Upper Canada, rebellion and aftermath, 162-5, 169-70, 180-4 Wait, Benjamin, 162-5, 182-3, 282, 334 Wait, Maria, 162-5, 182-3 Walker, Aaron, 117-25 passim, 151 Weir, Lieutenant George (Jock), 31, 238 Wentworth, William Charles, 240, 284 Women: abuse in New South Wales, 219-20, 245-7, 283-4, 288-9; comparison in status between Lower Canada and New South Wales, 248, 289; role in rebellion, 102, 308, 352; suffrage in Lower Canada, 317 Wood, Captain J.V., 156, 170, 180, 198, 200, 202-3