Canada

by Beckles Willson

In the midst of the increasing prosperity of the New Empire which was growing up for Britain in the west, an empire compounded of both French and English, a war-cloud began to loom upon the Southern horizon. The American Republic, after thirty-five years of independence, quarrelled once more with the mother-country. Once again England was, in 1812, as she had been in the days of the American Revolution, engaged in a terrible struggle with France. The ambition of Napoleon Bonaparte had rendered him an appalling danger to the whole of Europe. It was to quell Napoleon that Britain put forth all her strength. On land she met with alternate victories and defeats, but there was none to gainsay her on the sea. The embargo on British goods pronounced by Napoleon in the Continental blockade was America's great opportunity. A great ship industry, a splendid carrying trade sprang up between America and France. England insisted on a right of searching any vessels suspected of bringing "aid and comfort" to the enemy or of harbouring English deserters. Dozens of times was it shown that the cargoes the American vessels carried were not American products, but had been bought at a French colony and were on their way to France. Even many of the vessels flying the American flag were foreigners or English blockade-runners. This act of self-preservation was all the excuse the Americans wanted to declare war and pounce once more upon Canada, in the sure hope this time of success attending their plans. They declared that their object in taking up arms was to uphold the honour of the Stars and Stripes. "The flag," they said, "covers the cargo; you have no right to search for seamen who have deserted or for contraband goods. If you persist, we will fight you."

Wherefore, in June 1812, Congress declared war. It was not so stated in the declaration, but its real object was to snatch Canada from Britain, and, with the help of Napoleon, extinguish King George's maritime and colonial Empire. True, there were many opponents of this war in America. The people of New England in particular denounced it as wicked and senseless, and in Boston the flags were hung at half-mast. Yet the temptation was too strong for the masses led by Thomas Jefferson. "France," he said, "should be the mistress of Europe, America should be mistress of the New World!"

It seemed natural to expect that 400,000 people could not stand out against 8,000,000. The Stars and Stripes must be planted forthwith at Quebec, York (Toronto), Montreal, and Kingston. "On to Canada" was the cry of the war-party. So while Napoleon, at the head of a vast army, was marching on to Moscow, and Wellington in Spain was holding Napoleon's marshals at bay, the American army set out once more to conquer Canada.

Innocent of having given any cause of offence to their neighbours, the Canadian people, farmers, lawyers, doctors, school-teachers, shouldered their arms to a man and steadfastly waited the foe. Enough it was for them to know that the enemy had declared war against Britain, and that their portion of the Empire was threatened with invasion. A long frontier it was to guard, 1700 miles, and there were only 5000 regular troops. But Canada had a host unto herself in the gallant, dauntless person of General Isaac Brock, commander in Upper Canada. Brock had scarce need to call for volunteer battalions before they were already formed. More men flocked to his banners than there were arms with which to equip them. The Indians, too, well content with British policy and fair play, came tribe after tribe and offered their services. Chief amongst them stands the noble figure of Tecumseh, leader of the Shawanoes. His tribe had already fought the Americans, and been defeated by them at the battle of Tippecanoe. After the battle the red-men, like the Loyalists, had refused to live under the flag of the Republic and had migrated northward to Canada. Three distinct American armies began the attack. The leader of one of these, General Hull, crossed the Detroit River and, landing in Canada, issued a proclamation offering peace, liberty, and security to all who would accept American rule. To those who refused, all the horrors of war would descend upon their heads. Instantly another proclamation was issued by General Brock. "Britain," it ran, "will defend her subjects!" Canada, well knowing her duty to herself and her sovereign, was not to be bribed nor bullied. A little band of Canadian soldiers and voyageurs appeared before the American fort of Michilimackinac, which commanded Lake Michigan, and compelled it to surrender. Another small body of 350 Canadians, accompanied by Tecumseh and his zealous Shawanoes, cut off Hull's supplies and checked his progress. This prompt action greatly astonished the bombastic American general. He set out at once upon a retreat to Detroit, and there was quickly followed by Brock. The Canadian leader commanded but little more than half the number of men his adversary could boast, but nevertheless Brock was bent on storming the enemy's fort. He was on the point of giving the signal for assault when, to his amazement, a white flag was raised aloft and Hull offered to capitulate. The result was that 2500 troops and 33 cannon and the whole territory of Michigan was surrendered to Canada. No wonder that Brock became a hero, and that the heart of every Canadian who heard the tidings was fired with patriotic enthusiasm.

Meanwhile how fared it with the other American armies? General van Rensselaer brought his clamorous, eager followers to Niagara, where the mighty torrent of waters scarce could drown their huzzas of expected victory when they sighted from afar Canadian soil. The woods flamed with crimson and yellow, vineyards were thick with their purple harvests when Van Rensselaer led his army to the attack on Queenston heights. The Canadian shore of the Niagara River rose sheer and splendid from the foaming rapids below. At a spot where the river's course is somewhat checked the embarkation took place. The sound of oars caught the ear of a sentinel, and a Canadian battery opened fire. Too late! The Americans also had their batteries planted, and they were far more numerous. Thirteen hundred Americans, led by Captain Wool, moved slowly up the slope and gained the summit.

The sound of the firing reached Fort George, where General Brock then was. No time was to be lost; he flew to the fray. The Americans must be dislodged at the point of the bayonet. "Scale the heights!" rang out as the battle-cry. Waving his sword at the head of the charging lines, Brock's voice could be heard shouting, "Push on, ye brave York volunteers!" The words had scarce left his lips ere the brave Brock sank down shot through the breast.

Under the hot fire from the summit on Queenston heights the ranks of his followers were fast mowed down—so fast, that at length the Canadians were fain to halt awhile to gather breath. They had not suffered without inflicting suffering on the foe. The American general was disabled, many of his troops killed, and his position on the crest far from secure. Although he still had several hundred more men than the Canadians could bring against him, and 4000 more American soldiers were at hand on the other side of the river, the fate of the invaders was sealed. Brock's successor, Roger Sheaffe, stormed them on three sides, while on the fourth side was a precipice, 200 feet deep, its base washed by the angry river. They fought madly, but nothing could stop the fury of the Canadian charge. Back, back they fell until the very edge of the precipice was reached. There was nothing now but death or surrender, and 1100 Americans laid down their arms and became prisoners of war.

When the first year's campaign came to an end Canadian soil had been freed from the invader.

Next year, however, the enemy attacked with even greater vigour. They had met with several successes against the English at sea, for England could not always spare her best ships for the American conflict, and America thus felt the late defeats of her generals more than atoned for. York, afterwards Toronto, was captured, its public buildings burned, the church pillaged, and the public library sacked. A number of private houses were also looted and destroyed. But all this was not to go unavenged. Before the war was over a British general in the very capital city of the enemy had exacted terrible retribution. The capitol at Washington was burned and several other public buildings destroyed by way of retaliation.

With this campaign is associated in Canadian annals the story of a brave woman, Laura Secord. It shows the qualities which the womanhood of Canada possessed at a time of storm and stress, when their country was invaded by the foe. The American general-in-chief despatched one of his officers, Colonel Boerstler, to capture by surprise two of the Canadian outposts. Two valiant Canadians held these posts, Fitzgibbon at De Ceu's farm and De Harren at Twelve Mile Creek. On a clear June night the Americans set out from Fort George. In advance of their main body a strong picket roamed the country to capture all the male inhabitants they met, so that no tidings of the American approach could reach the threatened garrison. But although they captured many, there were some they were constrained to spare. Of these was a wounded militiaman, named James Secord. He had lately been fighting for his country and flag at Queenston heights when an American bullet had brought him low. Deeming him helpless, the pickets of the enemy spoke freely. Secord overheard them speaking of the projected attack on De Ceu's farm, where Fitzgibbon's thirty picked men slept ignorant of danger. A pang shot through the hapless Secord's breast. How to warn Fitzgibbon? How to apprise him of the certain doom which awaited him? He spoke of the matter to his true-hearted wife, Laura. She too came of sterling Loyalist stock. The parents of both had suffered much at the hands of the American revolutionists. They had lost all they possessed and had fled to Canada for refuge from persecution. She saw instantly the danger, and said quietly to her husband, "Fitzgibbon must be warned, and I will warn him." Secord stared at his wife in amazement. Did she realise the magnitude of such a task? The roads were swollen with rain and almost impassable by reason of the mud. The woods were deep in swamp. American and Indian marauders abounded. Twenty miles of wilderness had to be traversed, not by a strong, lusty man in the pride of youth, but by a frail woman, nearly forty years of age, and the mother of five children. Yet Laura Secord did not shrink. Seeing her resolution, her husband bade her God-speed, and she set off dauntlessly at daybreak. After struggling along through unfrequented paths for nineteen miles, subject to constant alarms, she came to a branch of a river. For want of a bridge to cross it, she reached the opposite bank by the aid of a fallen tree-trunk. At nightfall she suddenly found herself in an Indian camp. The moonlight shone on her figure, and the Indians, seeing her, burst into fearful war-yells. Laura Secord was almost slain before she could give an account of herself to the chief. The Indians were friendly and conducted her to Fitzgibbon; to him she quickly imparted her tidings. The Indians suggested that the Canadians should wait in ambush for the American column. Fitzgibbon was a brave, intelligent officer and made his plans swiftly. Sending word to his fellow-officer, De Harren, he distributed his dusky allies through the woods and waited.