Elbows Up, 1812 Edition
The war of 1812 is very much on my mind this week – for obvious reasons! That existential crisis for the Province of Canada left an indelible mark in myth and memory. But there is one aspect of the story that is not so well known and merits a little attention. Part of it is the intriguing role played by Elizabeth Simcoe.
One afternoon in the early 1950s, Colonel C.P. Stacey came across a fascinating report published in 1817, tucked away in the collection of the Royal Empire Society in London (England). He had recently completed his draft of the official history of the Canadian army in the Second World War and had turned his attention to the War of 1812. He was working on what would be published as the first booklet in a new series for the Canadian Historical Association, focused on the myths and “reality” of the so-called undefended border between Canada and the United States.
The report Stacey stumbled across had been published by a group called the Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada. Established in December 1812 at York (Toronto), it brought together a group of leading men to draw up support for the British war effort through practical and tangible means. Since Stacey “discovered” its 1817 account, the report has become widely known amongst historians and genealogists for the wealth of information it contains about the social impact of the war on Upper Canada. Less well known are its connections to England.
A little background is in order.
As the spring of 1812 rolled into summer, the United States declared war on Great Britain. Just over three weeks later, American General Hull invaded Upper Canada at Sandwich (Windsor). Five days after that, a combined British and Indigenous force seized Michilimackinac at a choke point on the vital transportation route through the Upper Great Lakes. The war became real very quickly.
Not so quick was the time it took for news of the war to reach England. “News, not perhaps unexpected, but of a disagreeable nature, has reached town,” noted The Times on July 21 in a small notice at the bottom of a long column. Nothing of concern, though. Undoubtedly, “the Americans will withdraw the declaration as soon as they learn the offending Orders in Council have [already] been withdrawn.”
Those on the other side of the Atlantic were far more concerned. Major-General Isaac Brock had arrived in Upper Canada scarcely a year before and was still probing the complexities of the local situation. He faced a herculean task of organizing the defence of a territory that John Graves Simcoe had concluded was defenceless without elaborate planning and spending. Some efforts were underway, but it was still a situation that Simcoe would have recognized.
Brock had only about 1600 “regular” (professional) soldiers at his disposal and could expect no more because of the demands on the army in the European war. He could (and did) appeal to His Majesty’s Indigenous allies but Indian policy had been on shaky ground for some time and there were serious disagreements among the First Nations as to whether the British really were allies. There was a naval force on the Great Lakes known as the Provincial Marine, but it was more an armed transportation service than a fight-ready navy.
There was another option. Under the direction of Lieutenant Governor Simcoe, the legislature of Upper Canada had passed a Militia Act in its second session, laying out detailed provisions for a citizen army that could be of use in protecting the province. Every man between the age of 15 and 50 (later extended to 60) who was “deemed capable of bearing arms” was required to participate on penalty of heavy fines.[1] There were provisions for a little (very little) drilling and instruction; the lieutenant governor or his proxy was empowered to call out the militia in case of “war, rebellion or any other pressing exigency.”
In theory, there were approximately 90,000 men in Upper and Lower Canada of militia age. But Brock could call upon only those in Upper Canada and he scarcely trusted them, as many were recent arrivals from the United States. Furthermore, they were barely equipped and mostly untrained. When Brock attempted to get the Upper Canadian assembly to strengthen the provisions of the militia law, he was turned down. When he began to call militiamen to active service, many responded – but many others did not.
Brock’s solution to the problem of drumming up support for the war effort was a military one: “a vigorous local offensive” in the words of historian C.P. Stacey. It would encourage both Indigenous warriors and settler-farmers. And when Brock and Tecumseh succeeded in capturing Detroit in mid-August, that approach seemed to bear some fruit.
Others turned to a more social solution. Realizing that the war would require farmers to be away from home for extended periods and winter would soon be upon them all, a group of women at York began to discuss how they could help. Meeting the needs of militiamen and their families would be not only Christian charity but might go a long way to encouraging loyalty and support for the British more generally. The women initially devised a plan to supply “flannel sheets” to the militia companies stationed between Niagara and Fort Erie. Money would be raised by private subscription while “the personal labour of the young Ladies of the place” would produce the sheets.[2]
The initial plan quickly expanded. According to historian Carl Benn, Elizabeth Selby (daughter of the receiver-general) proposed that the families of militiamen had to be supported as well.[3] That autumn, the question had become acute because the Americans were raiding settlements in Upper Canada to destroy the food supply lines and punish civilian supporters of the war effort.
The Reverend John Strachan picked up Miss Selby’s idea and at a meeting in December 1812, the Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada was founded at York. It would raise money to alleviate immediate “distress” and find ways to recognize and commend “meritorious service” to encourage support for the British cause. The society at York soon had offshoots in each of Upper Canada’s administrative districts and at Quebec and Montreal. News of the society began to circulate in the British papers the following spring.
The lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada, Francis Gore, was on leave in England at the time. It appears that Strachan reached out to him for advice and assistance. Gore went to work.
In early July 1813, according to The Times, “A respectable, though not very numerous” gathering convened at the City of London Tavern.[4] The venue was scarcely what its name suggested. Rather, it was a large and dignified meeting place in Bishopsgate where public and private meetings were held regularly for political, charitable, and other causes. The respectability of this gathering was underscored (no doubt deliberately) by the fact that His Royal Highness, the Duke of Kent (future father of Queen Victoria) was in the chair and delivered the opening remarks.
Other worthies in attendance included Lieutenant Governor Gore, who spoke on “the loyal character and alacrity of spirit evinced by the provinces.” Hugh Inglis, a director of the East India Company, a politician, and a partner in the shipping firm of Inglis, Ellice & Co., encouraged philanthropy based on the “advantages which could arise to this country from the prosperity of the colonies.” John Atkins, member of parliament and city of London alderman with interests in West Indies shipping, enthusiastically seconded all the motions. And Francis James Jackson, a career diplomat who had just returned from a stint as what today would be called the ambassador to the United States, managed to combine arguments about the benefits both of trade and of loyal citizens. A committee was established to manage the fundraising and a list of banks prepared to accept donations was drawn up.
The attendees at the meeting itself may have been “not very numerous,” but Gore had been busy behind the scenes. Accompanying the newspaper announcement was a long list of initial donors with the amounts promised amounting to well over £6000 “for the RELIEF of those Inhabitants of the British North American Colonies, who have been involved in distress by the Invasion of those Colonies by the American Army.” All were men (or their businesses) with one exception. Elizabeth Simcoe subscribed £25 to the initiative.
It is unlikely that Mrs. Simcoe attended the founding meeting. I suspect that Francis Gore appealed to her directly beforehand. The appearance of her name on the list is remarkable for three reasons.
First, the amount that she had donated was significant (in the range of £1500 in today’s value). Second, she had clearly been approached as a surrogate for her late husband – an interesting insight into ideas about women’s status. Third, the placement of her name on the list of subscribers hints at the respect that her position as that surrogate warranted and still held, nearly two decades after the Simcoes had been in Upper Canada.
At the time, it was customary for published lists of subscribers to be arranged not in alphabetical order, but in order of social hierarchy. Hence, the Duke of Kent was named first, followed by the Duke of Northumberland, then the Honourable F. N. Burton (lieutenant-governor of Lower Canada). Next was Francis Gore (as lieutenant-governor of Upper Canada). Fifth was the Honourable Henry Blackwood, a captain in the Royal Navy (and Gore’s brother-in-law). Number six was “Mrs. Simcoe.” Even the Governor and Company of the Bank of England, with their £1000 donation, came well below her on the list. Elizabeth may not have been Lady Simcoe, but clearly, she was accorded a position of respect and deference as the stand-in for the late lieutenant governor of Upper Canada.
While her £25 donation was at the lower end of the scale, it must have been something of a hardship for her to offer even that much. She was still struggling with the financial disasters that had been left to her on her husband’s death; readers of my biography will recognize this as one of the “dark years” when she had even been considering giving up her beloved house in Devon to pay the outstanding (and often disputed) bills that her husband had generated.
Beyond the financial considerations, participation in the effort to support the people of Upper Canada must have produced considerable emotional turmoil. She maintained great affection for the province and still had friends living there. She had met American General Hull there – and thoroughly disliked him. But war was now even closer to home. A little over a year earlier, her eldest son Francis had been killed in the brutal and bloody siege at Badajoz in the Peninsular War. Her closest friend Mary Ann Burges had lost a nephew at the same place. One of her Devon neighbours had been killed and another wounded for life, all within months.
Now, two other sons of close connection were heading into the thick of things in British North America.[5] And she was emotionally consumed as her dear friend Mary Ann lay dying, suffering agonies. Indeed, Mary Ann died a month after the London relief meeting. Undoubtedly Elizabeth Simcoe’s strong sense of duty drove her to act despite the depression into which she was then spiralling.
The list of other subscribers to the fund makes fascinating reading. Besides the Duke of Northumberland (a Simcoe patron with longstanding interest in British North America) and naval officer Henry Blackwood (Gore’s brother-in-law), nearly all were businessmen and merchants with financial interests in North American shipping and trade.
They included a handful of fur traders such as Edward Ellice, Simon McGillivray, and the partners of McTavish, Fraser & Co. Many were members of the Canada Club, founded in 1810 to represent fur trading interests in London (and still very much active on a broader scale today).
Others shipped timber and sugar across the Atlantic; not a few of these also owned plantations and slaves in the West Indies.
Two military men stand out: a lieutenant colonel of the Inniskilling Dragoons who was then serving as deputy adjutant-general for Canada (and happened to be the son of fur trader Alexander Ellice), and Robert Pilkington of the Royal Engineers, who had been a particular friend to Elizabeth Simcoe in Upper Canada while he drew maps and designed buildings. He was now the absentee landlord of some 15,000 acres on the Grand River and clearly had a vested interest in saving the province from the Americans.
The Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada ultimately raised the staggering sum of over £21,000 (over £1.6 million today). Its final report lays out in detail how the money was spent, including who benefited and why, providing a treasure chest of data for genealogists and a glimpse into the social impact of the War of 1812 for historians.
It also represents an interesting example of a public effort to support those in need because of events beyond their control, in a time and place that had as yet no legal provision for alleviating poverty.
While it is difficult to measure the immediate impact that the funds had in encouraging Upper Canadians to support the war effort, in the long term, it seems that the project at least watered the roots of what has become known as the “militia myth” – the idea that ordinary Canadians won the War of 1812 through their dedication to the cause and bravery on the battlefield. Without civilian support for them and their families, a successful militia seems unlikely.
The project also provides an interesting counterweight to the historical opinion of Anglican clergyman John Strachan. Generally reviled as the leading man of the Family Compact (and certainly approached with caution by Elizabeth Simcoe in his day), his efforts in the War of 1812 have been overshadowed. For many ordinary people at the time, he was a hero. Not only was he the driving force behind the relief project, after the Americans seized York, he stayed behind to stand up to them and protect the interests of the York citizenry while Major General Sir Roger Sheaffe and the British regulars took their precipitous leave. Finding uncomplicated heroes in history is always a challenge!
Elizabeth Simcoe’s participation in the project is intriguing. There are no references to it in her surviving correspondence, so we have no idea what she really thought about it or why she agreed to donate. Certainly, as the only woman in England whose name was publicly associated with it, she played a public role even though she believed women should not be politically visible. Likely she concluded that the philanthropic goal outweighed the political and social engineering motives. But she was also willing to stand in for her late husband – and those around her clearly saw her as his metaphorical amanuensis.
[1] The act specifically excluded “quakers, menonists and tunkers” based on their religious beliefs, as were others in necessary occupations. For example, each grist mill could retain only one miller.
[2] The Report of the Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada (Montreal, 1817), p. 3.
[3] Carl Benn, “The Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada and Its Famous Medal,” The War of 1812 Magazine (April 2007).
[4] Article headlined “Sufferers in British North America” appeared in the 7 July 1813 issue.
[5] Another of Mary Ann Burges’ nephews, George Head, was posted to Canada to organize the supply logistics for the new British naval fleet under Sir James Yeo on the Great Lakes; he later published an account of his “adventure.” Lt. Daniel Pring, son of Devon friends Daniel and Honour Pring, was assigned to the same naval fleet and trekked overland from Halifax in the middle of winter to join it. In September 1814, he was captured in the Battle of Plattsburg and was briefly a prisoner of war. Please note that one of the Great Lakes in this story is called Lake Ontario! Thank you for reading the footnotes.
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