Whatever cause may have impelled him, it is sufficiently evident that he had become out of sorts with society, and had resolved to betake himself to a distance from the haunts of civilized mankind. Aided by the influence of ex-Governor Simcoe and other powerful friends, he obtained a grant of five thousand acres of land as a Field Officer meaning to reside in the Province, and to permanently establish himself there. The land was situated in the southern part of the Upper Canadian peninsula, bordering on Lake Erie, and included the site of what afterwards became Port Talbot. This, however, was only a portion of the advantage derivable from the grant. In addition to the tract so conferred upon him he obtained a preëmptive or proprietary right over an immense territory including about half a million acres, and comprising twenty-eight of the adjacent townships.[2] For every settler placed by the Colonel on fifty acres of this land, he was entitled to a patent of a hundred and fifty additional acres for himself. He thus obtained practical control of an expanse of territory which, as has been said, was "a principality in extent." Armed with these formidable powers he once more crossed the Atlantic, and made his way to the present site of Port Talbot, which had so hugely attracted his fancy during his tour with Governor Simcoe. He reached the spot on the 21st of May, 1803, and immediately set to work with his axe, and cut down the first tree, to commemorate his landing to take possession of his woodland estate. The settlement which subsequently bore his name was then an unbroken forest, and there were no traces of civilization nearer than Long Point, sixty miles to the eastward, while to the westward the aborigines were still the lords of the soil, and rules with the tomahawk. In this sequestered region Colonel Talbot took up his abode, and literally made for himself "a local habitation and a name."
At the time of his arrival he was accompanied by two or three stalwart settlers who had crossed the Atlantic under his auspices, and with their assistance he was not long in erecting an abode which was thenceforward known as Castle Malahide. It was built on a high cliff overhanging the lake. The "Castle" was "neither more nor less than a long range of low buildings, formed of logs and shingles." The main structure consisted of three divisions, or apartments; viz., a granary, which was also used as a store-room; a dining-room, which was also used as an office and reception-room for visitors; and a kitchen. There was another building close by, containing a range of bed-rooms, where guests could be made comfortable for the night. In his later years, the Colonel added a suite of rooms of more lofty pretensions, but without disturbing the old tenements, and these sumptuous apartments were reserved for state occasions. There were underground cellars for wine, milk, and kitchen stores. This description applies to the establishment as it appeared when finally completed. For some time after the Colonel's first arrival it was much less pretentious, and consisted of a single log shanty. In order to prevent settlers and other people from intruding upon his privacy unnecessarily, the Colonel caused one of the panes of glass in the window of his office to be removed, and a little door, swung upon hinges, to be substituted, after the fashion sometimes seen at rural post-offices. By means of this little swinging door he held conferences with all persons whom he did not chose to admit to a closer communication. This, which at a first glance, would seem to smack of superciliousness, was in reality nothing more than a judicious precaution. In the course of his dealings with settlers and emigrants, some of them were tempted, by the loneliness of his situation, to browbeat, and even to manifest violence towards him. On one occasion, it is said, he was assaulted and thrown down by one of the "land pirates," as he used to call them. The solitary situation in which he had voluntarily placed himself, and the power he possessed of distributing lands, required him to act frequently with apparent harshness, in order to avoid being imposed upon by land jobbers, and to prevent artful men from overreaching their weaker-minded brethren. His henchman, house-steward and major-domo, was a faithful servant whose name was Jeffery Hunter, in whom his master had great confidence, and who, as we are gravely informed, was very useful in reaching down the maps. Jeffery, however, did not enter the Colonel's employ until the later had been some time in the country. Previous to that time this scion of aristocracy was generally compelled to be his own servant, and to cook, bake, and perform all the household drudgery, which he was not unfrequently compelled to perform in the presence of distinguished guests.
Some years seem to have elapsed before the Colonel attracted any considerable number of settlers around him. The work of settlement cannot be said to have commenced in earnest until 1809. It was no light thing in those days for a man with a family dependent upon him to bury himself in the remote wildernesses of Western Canada. There was no flouring-mill, for instance, within sixty miles of Castle Malahide. In the earliest years of the settlement the few residents were compelled to grind their own grain after a primitive fashion, in a mortar formed by hollowing out a basin in the stump of a tree with a heated iron. The grain was placed in the basin, and then pounded with a heavy wooden beetle until it bore some resemblance to meal. In process of time the Colonel built a mill in the township of Dunwich, not far from his own abode. It was a great boon to the settlement, but was not long in existence, having been destroyed during the American invasion in 1812. For the first twenty years of the Colonel's settlement, the hardships he as well as his settlers had to contend with were of no ordinary kind, and such only as could be overcome by industry and patient endurance.
Colonel Talbot for many years exercised almost imperial sway over the district. He even provided for the wants of those in his immediate neighbourhood, and assembled them at his house on the first day of the week for religious worship. He read to them the services of the Church of England, and insured punctual attendance by sending the whiskey-bottle round among his congregation at the close of the ceremonial. Though never a religious man, even in the broadest acceptation of the term, he solemnized marriages and baptized the children. So that his government was, in the fullest and best sense, patriarchal. His method of transferring land was eminently simple and informal. No deeds were given, nor were any formal books of entry called into requisition. For many years the only records were sheet maps, showing the position of each separate lot enclosed in a small space within four black lines. When the terms of transfer had been agreed upon, the Colonel wrote the purchaser's name within the space assigned to the particular lot disposed of, and this was the only muniment of title. If the purchaser afterwards disposed of his lot, the vendor and vendee appeared at Castle Malahide, when, if the Colonel approved of the transaction, he simply obliterated the former purchaser's name with a piece of india-rubber, and substituted that of the new one. "Illustrations might be multiplied," says a contemporary Canadian writer, "of the peculiar way in which Colonel Talbot of Malahide discharged the duties he had undertaken to perform. There is a strong vein of the ludicrous running through these performances. We doubt whether transactions respecting the sale and transfer of real estate were, on any other occasion, or in any other place, carried on in a similar way. Pencil and india-rubber performances were, we venture to think, never before promoted to such trustworthy distinction, or called on to discharge such responsible duties as those which they described on the maps of which Jeffery and the dogs appeared to be the guardians. There is something irresistibly amusing in the fact that such an estate, exceeding half a million of acres, should have been disposed of in such a manner, with the help of such machinery, and, so far as we are aware, to the satisfaction of all concerned. It shows that a bad system faithfully worked is better than a good system basely managed."[3]
During the American invasion of 1812-'13 and '14, Colonel Talbot commanded the militia of the district, and was present at the battles of Lundy's Lane and Fort Erie. Marauding parties sometimes found their way to Castle Malahide during this troubled period, and what few people there were in the settlement suffered a good deal of annoyance. Within a day or two after the battle of the Thames, where the brave Tecumseh met his doom, a party of these marauders, consisting of Indians and scouts from the American army, presented themselves at Fort Talbot, and summoned the garrison to surrender. The place was not fortified, and the garrison consisted merely of a few farmers who had enrolled themselves in the militia under the temporary command of a Captain Patterson. A successful defence was out of the question and Colonel Talbot, who would probably have been deemed an important capture, quietly walked out of the back door as the invaders entered at the front. Some of the Indians saw the Colonel, who was dressed in homely, everyday garb, walking off through the woods, and were about to fire on him, when they were restrained by Captain Patterson, who begged them not to hurt the poor old fellow, who, he said, was the person who tended the sheep. This white lie probably saved the Colonel's life. The marauders, however, rifled the place, and carried off everything they could lay hands on, including some valuable horses and cattle. Colonel Talbot's gold, consisting of about two quart pots full, and some valuable plate, concealed under the front wing of the house, escaped notice. The invaders set fire to the grist mill, which was totally consumed, and this was a serious loss to the settlement generally.
It was not till the year 1817 that anything like a regular store or shop was established in the settlement. Previous to that time the wants of the settlers were frequently supplied from the stores of Colonel Talbot, who provided necessaries for his own use, and for the men whom he employed. The Colonel was punctual in all his engagements, and scrupulously exact in all monetary transactions. The large sums he received for many years from the settlers were duly and properly accounted for to the Government. He would accept payment of his claims only in the form of notes on the Bank of Upper Canada, and persons having any money to pay him were always compelled to provide themselves accordingly. His accumulations were carefully stored in the place of concealment above referred to; and once a year he carried his wealth to Little York, and made his returns. This annual trip to Little York was made in the depth of winter, and was almost the only event that took him away from home, except on the two or three occasions when he visited the old country. He was accustomed to make the journey to the Provincial capital in a high box sleigh, clad in a sheepskin greatcoat which was known to pretty nearly every man in the settlement.
Among the earliest settlers in the Talbot District was Mr. Mahlon Burwell, a land surveyor, who was afterwards better known as Colonel Burwell. He was of great assistance to Colonel Talbot, and became a privileged guest at Castle Malahide. He surveyed many of the townships in the Talbot District, and later on rose to a position of great influence in the Province. His industry and perseverance long enabled him to hold a high place in the minds of the people of the settlement, and he enjoyed the reflection of Colonel Talbot's high and benevolent character. He entered the Provincial Parliament, and for many years retained a large measure of public confidence. Another early settler in the District was the afterwards celebrated Dr. John Rolph, who took up his quarters on Catfish Creek in 1813. He was long on terms of close intimacy and friendship with Colonel Talbot, and in 1817 originated the Talbot Anniversary, to commemorate the establishment of the District, and to do honour to its Founder. This anniversary was held on the 21st of May, the Colonel's birthday, and was kept up without interruption for about twenty years. It was attended by every settler who could possibly get to the place of celebration, which was sometimes at Port Talbot, but more frequently at St. Thomas, after that place came into existence. Once only it was held at London. It is perhaps worth while mentioning that St. Thomas was called in honour of the Colonel's Christian name. Here the rustics assembled in full force to drink bumpers to the health of the Founder of the settlement, and to celebrate "the day, and all who honour it." The Colonel, of course, never failed to appear, and even after he had passed the allotted age of three score and ten, he always led off the first dance with some blooming maiden of the settlement.
Practically speaking, there is no limit to the number of anecdotes which are rife to this day among the settlers of the Talbot District with respect to the Colonel's eccentricities and mode of life. On one occasion a person named Crandell presented himself at Castle Malahide, late in the evening, as an applicant for a lot of land. He was ushered into the Colonel's presence, when the latter turned upon him with a flushed and angry countenance, and demanded his money. The Colonel's aspect was so fierce, and the situation was so lonely, that Crandell was alarmed for his life, and forthwith surrendered all his capital. He was then led off by Jeffery to the kitchen, where he was comfortably entertained for the night. The next morning the Colonel settled his business satisfactorily, and returned him his money, telling him that he had taken it from him to prevent his being robbed by some of his rascally servants. On another occasion a pedantic personage who lived in the Township of Howard, and who spent much time in familiarizing himself with the longest words to be found in the Dictionary, presented himself before the Colonel, and began, in polysyllabic phrases, to lay a local grievance before him. The language employed was so periphrastic and pointless that the Colonel was at a loss to get at the meaning intended to be conveyed. After listening for a few moments with ill-concealed impatience, Talbot broke out with a profane exclamation, adding: "If you do not come down to the level of my poor understanding, I can do nothing for you." The man profited by the rebuke, and commenced in plain words, but in rather an ambiguous manner, to state that his neighbour was unworthy of the grant of land he had obtained, as he was not working well. "Come, out with it," said the Colonel, "for I see now what you would be at. You wish to oust your neighbour, and get the land for yourself." After enduring further characteristic expletives, the man took himself of incontinently. Although many of his settlers were native Americans, the Colonel had an aversion to Yankees, and used to say of them that they acquired property by whittling chips and barter—by giving a shingle for a blind pup, which they swopped for a goose, and then turned into a sheep. On another occasion, an Irishman, proud of his origin, and whose patronymic told at once that he was a son of the Emerald Isle, finding that he could not prevail with the Colonel on the score of being a fellow-countryman, resorted to rudeness, and, with more warmth than discretion, stood upon his pedigree, and told the Colonel that his family was as honourable, and the coat of arms as respectable and as ancient as that of the Talbots of Malahide. Jeffery and the dogs were always the last resource on such occasions. "My dogs don't understand heraldry," was the laconic retort, "and if you don't take yourself off, they will not leave a coat to your back."
By the time the year 1826 came round, Colonel Talbot, in consequence of his exertions to forward the interests of his settlement, had begun to be very much straitened for means. He accordingly addressed a letter to Lord Bathurst, Secretary for the Colonies in the Home Government, asking for some remuneration for his long and valuable services. In his application for relief we find this paragraph: "After twenty-three years entirely devoted to the improvement of the Western Districts of this Province, and establishing on their lands about 20,000 souls, without any expense for superintendence to the Government, or the persons immediately benefited; but, on the contrary, at a sacrifice of £20,000, in rendering them comfortable, I find myself entirely straitened, and now wholly without capital." He admitted that the tract of land he had received from the Crown was large, but added that his agricultural labours had been unproductive—a circumstance not much to be wondered at when it is borne in mind that his time was chiefly occupied in selling and portioning out the land. The Home Government responded by a grant of £400 sterling per annum. The pension thus conferred was not gratuitous, but by way of recompense for his services in locating settlers on the waste lands of the Crown. That he was entitled to such a recompense few, at the present day, will be found to deny. He was a father to his people, and, in the words of his biographer, "acted as the friend of the poor, industrious settler, whom he protected from the fangs of men in office who looked only to the fees."[4]
In course of time the Colonel's place of abode at Port Talbot came to be a resort for distinguished visitors to Upper Canada, and the Lieutenant-Governors of the Province frequently resorted thither. The late Chief Justice Sir John Beverley Robinson was a frequent and an honoured guest at Castle Malahide; and Colonel Talbot, in his turn, generally availed himself of the hospitality of the Chief Justice during his annual visits to Little York. Among scores of other distinguished visitors may be mentioned the Duke of Richmond, Sir Peregrine Maitland, Lord Aylmer and Sir John Colborne. Mrs. Jameson also visited the spot during her sojourn in this country just before the rebellion, and published the most readable account of it that has yet appeared. Speaking of the Colonel himself, she says: "This remarkable man is now about sixty-five, perhaps more, but he does not look so much. In spite of his rustic dress, his good-humoured, jovial, weather-beaten face, and the primitive simplicity, not to say rudeness, of his dwelling, he has in his features, air, and deportment, that something which stamps him gentleman. And that something which thirty-four years of solitude have not effaced, he derives, I suppose, from blood and birth—things of more consequence, when philosophically and philanthropically considered, than we are apt to allow. He must have been very handsome when young; his resemblance now to our royal family, particularly to the King, (William the Fourth,) is so very striking as to be something next to identity. Good-natured people have set themselves to account for this wonderful likeness in various ways, possible and impossible; but after a rigid comparison of dates and ages, and assuming all that latitude which scandal usually allows herself in these matters, it remains unaccountable. . . I had always heard and read of him as the 'eccentric' Colonel Talbot. Of his eccentricity I heard much more than of his benevolence, his invincible courage, his enthusiasm, his perseverance; but perhaps, according to the worldly nomenclature, these qualities come under the general head of 'eccentricity,' when devotion to a favourite object cannot possibly be referred to self-interest. . . Colonel Talbot's life has been one of persevering, heroic self-devotion to the completion of a magnificent plan, laid down in the first instance, and followed up with unflinching tenacity of purpose. For sixteen years he saw scarce a human being, except the few boors and blacks employed in clearing and logging his land: he himself assumed the blanket-coat and axe, slept upon the bare earth, cooked three meals a day for twenty woodsmen, cleaned his own boots, washed his own linen, milked his cows, churned the butter, and made and baked the bread. In this latter branch of household economy he became very expert, and still piques himself on it." Of the château itself and its immediate surroundings, she says: "It" (the château) "is a long wooden building, chiefly of rough logs, with a covered porch running along the south side. Here I found suspended, among sundry implements of husbandry, one of those ferocious animals of the feline kind, called here the cat-a-mountain, and by some the American tiger, or panther, which it more resembles. This one, which had been killed in its attack on the fold or poultry-yard, was at least four feet in length, and glared on me from the rafters above, ghastly and horrible. The interior of the house contains several comfortable lodging-rooms; and one really handsome one, the dining-room. There is a large kitchen with a tremendously hospitable chimney. Around the house stands a vast variety of outbuildings, of all imaginable shapes and sizes, and disposed without the slightest regard to order or symmetry. One of these is the very log hut which the Colonel erected for shelter when he first 'sat down in the bush,' four-and-thirty years ago, and which he is naturally unwilling to remove. Many of these outbuildings are to shelter the geese and poultry, of which he rears an innumerable quantity. Beyond these is the cliff, looking over the wide blue lake, on which I have counted six schooners at a time with their white sails; on the left is Port Stanley. Behind the house lies an open tract of land, prettily broken and varied, where large flocks of sheep and cattle were feeding—the whole enclosed by beautiful and luxuriant woods, through which runs the little creek or river. The farm consists of six hundred acres; but as the Colonel is not quite so active as he used to be, and does not employ a bailiff or overseer, the management is said to be slovenly, and not so productive as it might be. He has sixteen acres of orchard-ground, in which he has planted and reared with success all the common European fruits, as apples, pears, plums, cherries, in abundance; but what delighted me beyond everything else was a garden of more than two acres, very neatly laid out and enclosed, and in which he evidently took exceeding pride and pleasure; it was the first thing he showed me after my arrival. It abounds in roses of different kinds, the cuttings of which he had brought himself from England in the few visits he had made there. Of these he gathered the most beautiful buds, and presented them to me with such an air as might have become Dick Talbot presenting a bouquet to Miss Jennings. We then sat down on a pretty seat under a tree, where he told me he often came to meditate. He described the appearance of the spot when he first came here, as contrasted with its present appearance, or we discussed the exploits of some of his celebrated and gallant ancestors, with whom my acquaintance was (luckily) almost as intimate as his own. Family and aristocratic pride I found a prominent feature in the character of this remarkable man. A Talbot of Malahide, of a family representing the same barony from father to son for six hundred years, he set, not unreasonably, a high value on his noble and unstained lineage; and, in his lonely position, the simplicity of his life and manners lent to these lofty and not unreal pretensions a kind of poetical dignity. . . Another thing which gave a singular interest to my conversation with Colonel Talbot was the sort of indifference with which he regarded all the stirring events of the last thirty years. Dynasties rose and disappeared; kingdoms were passed from hand to hand like wine decanters; battles were lost and won;—he neither knew, nor heard, nor cared. No post, no newspaper brought to his forest-hut the tidings of victory and defeat, of revolutions of empires, or rumours of unsuccessful and successful war."