Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

“Farther to the north, beyond the French River, which falls into Lake
Huron, are immense mountains, some of them of great elevation. Many of
the mountains which describe the great valley of the St Lawrence, are
from 2000 to 3000 feet above the level of the river; and that part of
the chain which approaches the city of Quebec, on the northern side of
the river, is worthy the attention of the geologist; and, in a
particular manner, of the mineralogist, from the hope there is every
reason to entertain that these mountains yield several rare and
valuable kinds of earth for pigments, which may hereafter become
articles of commerce. When in Quebec, some years ago, the writer of
this sketch was shown several fine specimens, in the seminary of that
city, which had been procured in those mountains at no great distance
from Quebec; amongst which may be mentioned a rich brown resembling
the Vandyke brown of artists; a yellow, equal to that of Naples, and
an extraordinary fine blue, of a tint between that of indigo and the
costly ultramarine. The subject is mentioned in this place with a view
of exciting further inquiry and experiment; because, at present, the
artists and colourmen of London are principally supplied with their
most valuable pigments from Italy. A scientific gentleman who has
lately explored the coast of Labrador, and the Gulf of St Lawrence,
was very successful in his mineralogical pursuits, particularly in the
neighbourhood of Gaspé, from whence he obtained some new, and many
valuable and beautiful specimens of the quartz family—including a
great variety of cornelians, agates, opals, and jaspers; several of
which have been cut into useful or ornamental articles at Quebec. From
Labrador the same gentleman brought several large and beautiful
specimens of the spar so peculiar to that coast, and which is commonly
known by the name of Labrador spar, of a brilliant cornelian or
ultramarine tint, with others of a green, yellow, red, and one or two
of a singularly fine pearl-gray colour. These specimens were found at
Mingan, imbedded in a rock of granite.

“It may give a just idea of the general richness of the soil to state,
that we have frequently heard of instances where 50 bushels of wheat
per acre have been produced on a farm, even where the stumps (which
would probably occupy one eighth of the surface of the field) have not
been eradicated; and, in the district of Newcastle, many examples may
be found wherein wheat has been raised on the same ground for 16 or 18
years successively, without the application of manure! The general
average of the returns of wheat crops, however, throughout Upper
Canada, is probably not more than 25 bushels per acre, owing to the
space occupied by stumps, and the indifferent skill of some of the
farmers. The winter wheats are found to be the most productive, and
they weigh the heaviest: the best seldom exceeds 64 lb. or 65 lb., to
the Winchester bushel, although we have known several instances of
higher weights.

“Of Indian corn or maize, from 60 to 80 bushels per acre is not an
uncommon return; and of pumpkins, of the largest kinds, we have
instances of more than a cwt. being produced from a single seed. But
there cannot be a more certain indication of the depth and richness of
the soil than the fine growth of the timber which it produces; and we
have not unfrequently measured particular trees of that species of
white oak, which grows in low moist places, and which is usually
called swamp oak, that gave circumferences of sixteen to seventeen and
eighteen feet, and an altitude of from thirty to forty, and even fifty
feet to the first bough. And we have more than once, on the rich lands
to the northward of Rice Lake, found white pine trees, that give a
diameter of five feet, and altitude of two hundred! These are facts
that determine at once the depth, richness, and vegetative power of
the soil, since those giants of the forest are not nourished solely by
the heavens which they pierce, but also by the earth from whence they
spring.

“Vegetation is so rapid in this country, that barley sown in July has
been reaped in the second week of September, for several years
successively, and on land that was deemed poor and exhausted; and a
more abundant crop has been seldom witnessed.

“From every observation and experiment that has been made, no doubt
can be entertained of the great fertility of the soil of this fine
country. Not only does every vegetable production which thrives in
similar latitudes in Europe prosper here, but others, which require
either greater heat or greater care, are found to succeed in Canada,
without any particular attention. The finest melons and cucumbers are
brought to perfection in the open fields, and tobacco is cultivated
with success. Even the wild grapes become ripe by the first or second
week in September; so that there is every reason to believe, if
vineyards were cultivated, the inhabitants of this country might add a
variety of choice wines to their list of articles of home consumption,
and of foreign trade. We have drunk of wine very nearly resembling,
and but little inferior to, that of Oporto, which was made from the
common wild grape of the country.”

Now, we have already shown the prosperity that has attended labour in these provinces, and the comfort and independence that is enjoyed by their farmers. Few readers in England—at least it is to be hoped there are few—have not read something of the life and prosperity of the thousands who are annually taking possession of the vast prairies of the western states and the valley of the Mississippi. We have shown that, by the most adventurous and the shrewdest people in the world, the Canadas have been preferred to them. If England had the world to select from, she could not desire a finer country for her poor to prosper in, or for her poor gentlemen to strike out for themselves in, and to work where labour is honoured, and where its rewards are the only titles that the people lay claim to. We have, after some pains and calculation, arrived at the conclusion, that at least five millions of additional inhabitants can, by agricultural pursuits alone, prosper, in a manner unknown in Europe, in the province of Upper Canada; not by the hundreds perpetually toiling for the tens, but by the hundreds having an opportunity, from the prodigious extent of the country, of becoming, by industry and management, the lords of their own, and that an abundant, share of the soil. Now, will Great Britain let it go forth to the world, that she cannot keep her flag floating over this great country in prosperity and peace? We think not. But will she do what may be necessary to make it to her what it ought to be? and make herself to it what she might, and should be? We think she will; and we shall now, in so far as our short space will admit of, point out what the country has suffered from, and what it requires to make it a credit to England, and a support to her power, instead of being a source of mortification to her, and an inglorious field for the employment of her troops.

The country’s whole wants may be comprised in few words. It wants population—not paupers, without industry, or anything left to engraft a manly pride upon; but people that the country is by nature adapted to benefit, and who are by nature adapted to benefit it. It wants capital, nationality, stability in its institutions, and peace.

Now, will the people of England, under the present colonial system, which has from the very first been marked by broils, misunderstandings, and commotions—which have always undermined the credit of the colonies, which are now worse than ever, and which must soon lead to something worse still, (for paroxysms such as they have must change for the better, or the state of the patient will become hopeless,)—will the people of England, then, who have anything to lose, and who wish to live in peace, settle in the Canadas in this state of things; and in this state of hopes, too? We think not.

The same reasons which would prevent people settling in the colonies, would likewise prevent capital being invested in them; so that, under the present system, there can be no rational hope entertained of the colonies having much, if any, capital invested in them.

This brings us to the consideration, then, of this other great and principal want, upon which, in fact, all the others are mainly founded—namely, a nationality and stability in their institutions. We have already, in the October number of the Magazine, pointed out at some length, that these can only be properly and effectually acquired by the colonists being represented in the Imperial Legislature, and raised to the standard, in fact, of British subjects. We have shown—and every event and circumstance that has transpired since has confirmed us in the opinion—that it is only by this that the colonies can be, or, indeed, ought to be, connected with Great Britain. They can never otherwise have the stamp of permanency put upon their institutions. They can never otherwise command that credit in the world which they are justly entitled to. But, above all, they can never otherwise make their property and worth known to England, or to the world, in such a way as to secure that attention to it which is absolutely indispensable to the legitimate prosperity of the country.

We have left ourselves comparatively little space to say much, in addition to what we said in October, upon this great question. It may in the end, however, be mainly resolved into this—Would it be better to have intelligent colonists representing and making known their own interests in Great Britain, than to have incompetent governors sent out to the colonies, to keep them in constant broils among themselves, and in constant collision with the colonial office in England? We are but too well assured that it would be better. And in forming these great colonies into an empire, which Great Britain must do if she does them justice, and which indeed will be done with or without Britain,—the race that inhabits them must, in the very nature of things, be and become what they ought to be. But if Great Britain will but undertake to do so, can any man say that no questions could arise in that empire’s growth and maturity, upon which her wisdom, experience, and mind might not exert a salutary influence? Or can any person, willing to take a broad view of this great question and country, continue in the belief that it should be, or ought to be crippled, or have its growth longer stunted?

Probably one of the most galling circumstances connected with colonial residence and birth, is the constantly seeing and feeling that colonial mind is underrated by England; for no other reason, it would seem, than because it is colonial; or, if there be another reason, it is the no less humiliating one, that England deems the mind of the colonies beneath her attention. Not less injurious, though less disagreeable, is the indifference constantly displayed by England towards the colonies, and the almost universal ignorance that prevails there as to their importance and worth. It was the same with the old colonies. The idea was ridiculed of “clod-hopping colonists” entering the House of Commons, and holding up their heads among the collected wisdom of Great Britain. The unpretending but profound wisdom of Franklin was sneered at and underrated by men as much higher than him in power as they were lower in understanding. The powerful and convincing eloquence of Patrick Henry fell dead upon the English nation; and what has since commanded the admiration of the world for its originality and boldness, was then regarded with cold contempt.

Speaking of what should be the treatment of American mind by England, Adam Smith used the following language; and its complete applicability to the present state of things, shows that great truths lose nothing by long keeping. He said—

“By this representation, a new method of acquiring importance, a new
and more dazzling object of ambition, would be presented to the
leading men of each colony. Instead of piddling for the little prizes
which are to be found in what may be called the paltry raffle of a
colony faction, they might then hope, from the presumption which men
naturally have in their own ability and good fortune, to draw some of
the great prizes which sometimes come from the whole of the great
state lottery of British politics. Unless this, or some other method
is fallen upon—and there seems to be none more obvious than this—of
preserving the importance and gratifying the ambition of the leading
men in America, it is not very probable they will ever voluntarily
submit to us; and we ought to consider that the blood we shed in
forcing them to do so, is, every drop of it, the blood of either those
who are, or of those whom we wish to have, for our fellow citizens.”

Before concluding this part of our subject, we cannot avoid comparing the conduct of the American States towards their distant possessions, and the feeling of these distant possessions towards them, with that of Britain towards her colonies, and of her colonies towards Britain. We could perhaps adduce no better argument in favour of what we are contending for; and the example of America is well worthy the attention of a power like Britain, which owes so much of its greatness to its distant possessions, and so many of its troubles and embarrassments to their bad management.

California is between five and six months’ passage from New York round Cape Horn. It is about thirty-five days by way of Panama. It is several months—and the journey is only at certain seasons accomplishable at all—by the south pass of the Rocky Mountains; and it is about forty days by way of the Mexican territory, with many dangers and uncertainties attending it to even well-protected parties—and somewhat of the most hazardous to those who are not protected. Now, these distant possessions of the United States—which are, measuring distance by the time and difficulties attending the journey, at least four times as far as Halifax is from Liverpool—these distant possessions, how are they treated by America? Has their intended application to be received into the Union, and to bear their share of its burthens, and receive their share of its benefits and protection, been regarded as dreamy and utopian? Have the States regarded it as impossible to extend to them their stability, and the conservative elements of their legislation and federal government? Have the States had their misgivings, as to California’s representatives having too much influence in their government? or have the Californians thought the United States’ government would exercise too much power over them? Whatever they have, or have not, thought in this respect, the great consideration of their becoming an integral portion of the United States, of their being identified with their destiny, and borne along with their prosperity, has utterly obliterated all others; and there is no doubt but that in a few years they will bear the same relation to the American Union that Louisiana and Texas do.

Now, what good reason is there why Great Britain should not regard her North American colonies and her West Indian possessions in the same way as the States do California? And why should these colonies and possessions not look to England as the Californians do to the States—and seek, in the same way, to identify themselves with her destiny—to share in her stability—to participate in her glory and greatness—and to enjoy, as far as they merit it, her vast credit?

But it is not alone in the mutual appreciation of each other’s value, by the States and their distant possessions, and their mutual willingness to share in each other’s burthens, and to have an identity of destiny, that these States and their possessions differ from Great Britain and her colonies. The two nations, apart from the views of their respective colonists, differ widely from each other in the most essential point necessary to the beneficial governmental connexion of any country with another, be it empire or colony, or distant far or near. And that difference consists in the people of the United States always becoming thoroughly acquainted with what they are connected with, and thoroughly understanding how that connexion may be rendered advantageous; and in the people of England’s desiring to retain their sway over what they will not take the trouble to understand, and wishing to combine and harmonise their interests with those which they seem, and ever have seemed, determined to be in ignorance regarding. Almost every intelligent inhabitant of the States, at this present moment, has nearly as definite and particular a knowledge of the portions of California that have been explored, as those who live in or have traversed California for themselves. The value of town lots, their situation and eligibility in San Francisco are as well understood in New York and Boston as they are by the man who occupies the next lot to them. There is not a spot where a village might grow up—there is not a place where a mill might be advantageously built—that is not known, marked, and considered, with all its relative bearings and benefits, by thousands in the States, with just as much intention of taking advantage of it, and, from the extraordinary enterprise of the people, with just as much likelihood of being able to do so, as those that are on the spot. The whole country—its towns, its situations for towns, its valleys, its hills, its woods, and its want of woods, its crops, and its climate, are, for all purposes of business, for present and for future advantage to the States, well and universally understood by the mass of the people. Its newspapers, published at the immense distance that San Francisco is from New York and Boston, are largely supported by subscribers in these cities, and by the people in every direction over the vast surface of the United States. The advertisements in them of village lots for sale, are matters of nearly as much interest to Americans as an auction sale of a bankrupt’s furniture and plate would be to a Jew in London.

Now, can it be accounted as other than natural, that the legislation of America should partake of the universality of its mind, and the largeness of its activity and enterprise?—that, California’s interests, situation, extent, and value, being well understood by America, America might wisely legislate for it?—that America might beneficially extend the mantle of her wisdom and experience over it, and infuse the conservative elements of her federal government into it, and raise it as much in the estimation of the world as it benefited it within itself? Hence the desire of the Californians that the flag of the United States should not only represent their protection of California, but their government over it, and their legislation in it, which the world has associated with success and advancement.

Now, for upwards of half a century, there has been an extensive commercial intercourse carried on between Great Britain and her North American colonies. The province of Upper Canada is all that we have described it to be—open to five millions of people to settle and become independent in—open to many more millions of capital being profitably invested in it. The other colonies ever have been, and are, full of opportunities for the successful employment of money and enterprise, and the profitable application of labour. But we would here ask, with such opportunities on the part of Great Britain of knowing the value of these magnificent possessions, has she shown anything of the activity of mind and the universality of enterprise of America? Has she literally done anything where the Americans have done everything, to render these possessions valuable to her—to render them a vast boon to her people, instead of being a perpetual source of confusion and embarrassment to her government? Who has there been in England, with capital ready to invest and enterprise ready to undertake, looking out for valuable mill sites on the magnificent rivers of the Canadas? How many of her capitalists have been looking over the map of the colonies, and inquiring into the richness and value of particular lands, adjacent to a stream, where a village or a town might be formed and grow up? Who in England have been learning the wealth of her colonies in timber, in fisheries, in minerals, and in scores of other things, with the view of profitably employing their capital in them, and making the colonies while they enriched themselves? Few, very few, indeed. Is it not a fact, that thousands in Great Britain, whose capital might be of the vastest use to the colonies, and the colonies the best field in the world for reproducing it, hardly know whether they lie on the north or the south side of the St Lawrence; hardly know whether the cities of Hamilton and Toronto are on lake Ontario or lake Erie; hardly know whether Upper Canada is a cold, inhospitable region, or possesses the bracing, genial, and healthy climate it really has? And though it is now but a ten days’ trip from these colonies to Great Britain, and they possess so many objects of interest and value to her, we believe we might with safety offer a reward to any person who would find in England, apart from government officials, news-rooms, and colonial traders, twelve men who take a Canadian newspaper. Now, is it any wonder that the colonists would like to get rid of a system of colonial government which has been productive of no better knowledge or understanding, for this period of time, of their interests and prosperity than this? Is it any wonder that they feel that they never can, and never will, be appreciated, valued, or benefited as they should, and might, and ought to be, as long as the present system is kept up? Is it any wonder that, knowing their great country—knowing what it is capable of—and knowing what they as colonists should be thought of in connexion with it, they should seek in the parliament of Great Britain to place themselves and their country before the world in the position that they both should occupy?

As pertinent to this view of the question, we may here mention that the facilities of communication between Great Britain and the colonies have now become so great and so perfect, that all the commercial houses of importance in the colonies send home their agents twice a-year to purchase goods. Thus these agents go home in January to lay in their spring and summer stocks. They return to Canada again in the latter end of March, and make their observations of the trade, and help to sell the goods they purchased in England. In July, they go home again to buy their fall and winter stocks, and in October they return to help to assort and to sell them. The agent for the large importing house of Buchanan, Harris, & Co., in Hamilton, at the head of Lake Ontario, has done this for years; and between Hamilton (which is five hundred and ninety-five miles above Quebec) and Liverpool, since the Canard steamers have been running, the time occupied on the journey has not varied two days, the time of performing it averaging but eighteen days. We may add, too, as a singular fact, that we have seen, in a country village six hundred and twenty-five miles above Quebec, fashions worn within the same month in which they first appeared in London!

Now, should these extraordinary evidences of the triumphs of science over matter not teach legislation to move from its old and crippling paths, and to keep pace with the spirit and the advancement of the age? Is it not a fact, pregnant with powerful reasons why the colonies should represent their own interests in the Legislature of Great Britain, that commercial houses find it indispensable to their success to be represented twice a-year in the British markets? Yet the vast property and interests of the colonies are without any representation in that legislature, where alone they can be fostered or withered. We have pointed out the consequences.

Before concluding this paper, it may be expected by the English public, (and indeed by the Americans,) that we should not pass unnoticed a movement in the colonies, which, though it might well have been looked for, from what we have already proved and shown, has still struck the great body of the people of England with surprise, if not with alarm. We mean the movement in favour of the “annexation” of the colonies to the States. It may be proper, in the first place, to say, that though its name would seem to imply that the consent of the government and people of the United States had been solicited and obtained, before the “banns” were published to the world, yet that consent has never been asked, nor was it either promised or given without the asking. The people of the United States are quietly and calmly looking on at the dispute between Great Britain and her colonies, and they are determined to continue so to do until that dispute is settled. The days of their bitterness and hostility to England are over. What they may, or what they would do, if the colonies should be separated from Britain, they reserve to themselves the right of deciding when the colonies are in a position to ask for themselves, and to act for themselves. In this we believe we express the feelings and opinions of the great body of the intelligent people of the American States—certainly we do of the distinguished individual at the head of their government, and of the whole of the respectable portion of the American press. A report may reach England, that a portion of the money which was collected in the States, to aid the late unhappy insurrection in Ireland, has been contributed to establish and support “annexation” newspapers in the Canadas. This report requires confirmation; and if it were even partially true, it would only amount to this, that the “Irish Directory” in New York, who are said to have the money, have been regularly sold; for if they wished to dismember England, there is nothing they could possibly do that would more effectually tend to defeat their intentions. The “annexation” movement rests, in truth, upon the merits or demerits of its own treason, for treason it assuredly is. Authorised by whomsoever it may be—justified, occasioned, or palliated by whatever men or measures, in England or elsewhere—it is clearly a case of attempting to dissolve her Majesty’s empire in the name of “material interests,” being moved and instigated thereto by a certain individual called _free trade_.

But can this movement go on and prosper, seditious as it palpably is, without establishing a most dangerous precedent for England? And can it be stopped without a waste of life and money, that would bring Great Britain but little credit, and less advantage?

Whatever may be the danger of the precedent, and whatever may be its effects upon other colonies, or upon England herself, it seems clear that a large expenditure of blood and money, to suppress this movement in the Canadas, is neither desirable, nor, in the present temper of the British public, might it be possible. And this movement never could be physically or forcibly put down, without a large expenditure of both these. The men who have deliberately entered into it are not such as could be easily driven out of the land, or frightened out of their convictions in it. They would fight for their opinions, and, considering all things—loyalists disgusted, and Frenchmen in power—they are dangerously numerous.

This brings us, then, to consider what is being done in a conciliatory point of view, by the free-trade party in England—who are answerable for the difficulty—to take the wind out of this “annexation movement’s” sails. This is, according to Lord John Russell’s speech—at the dinner given some months since, for the purpose, it would seem, of discussing colonial subjects—to give them more liberty. Heaven help us! If Lord John Russell saw, as we have seen, liberty recently running clean mad in these colonies; if he saw responsible government playing its “fantastic tricks before high heaven,” with England’s “dignified neutrality” looking on, he would hardly be disposed to give them any more rope. But what is the character of the liberty and privileges they ask? and, being asked, he would give them? The last small instalment they require is, to elect their legislative council; and, thinking that the phantom of Great Britain’s power, called “dignified neutrality,” may be had at a cheaper rate at home, they propose to elect that also—feeling, too, not without justice, that they might thereby _neutralise_ the loss to the colonies of some four thousand pounds annually. But suppose England should waive the privilege of sending out a phantom, and the legislative lords would have, like David Crocket, to go about the country electioneering with a pocket full of _quids_, pray what, after all this, would be left in the colonies to recognise England by? An Englishman coming to them, like the man in the farce who had been asleep for a century, would find it rather difficult to recognise his relations. But, seriously, what is all this but annexation? And is this the only way the great authors of the colonial difficulties have of keeping the colonies British?—of making them a home for men who seek and who claim to live under the institutions of Britain? Better—infinitely better—would it be to tell men straightforwardly, and at once, that they must feel the iron enter their souls of seeing the flag of their forefathers hauled down on the American continent for ever, than compel them to endure its being thus slowly and gradually disgraced out of it. And this would and must be the inevitable result of Lord John Russell’s giving the colonies more rope.

But what other cause or question is there now before the colonies to put against this “annexation movement?” Of purely colonial questions there are none. Beyond the true and honest hearts which love Britain, despite of all her faults; who would, and will, cling to her, although she has sadly requited their attachment,—she has nothing now to bind her to or to represent her in America. Her institutions are gone; her government has ceased to be respected; Lord Elgin has made her power as “the baseless fabric of a vision.” There is nothing Britain can do; there is nothing Britain ought to do, but to say, emphatically and at once, to her North American colonies—We have not understood you—we have not appreciated you—we have not known your great country as we should have known it—we have not respected your mind or your interests; but we will now make you partners in our great legislature—we will impart to you our credit, our greatness, and our stability—and we will bind you up with our destiny.

Great Britain has a glorious part to play in America; and she has a disastrous one. _She has but a short time to decide upon which she will play._

HAMILTON, CANADA WEST, _Jan. 17, 1850_.

(POSTSCRIPT.)

The very day on which I last wrote you, we received a London morning paper, containing an announcement that the Whig ministry were prepared to give up these colonies, and to take upon themselves, before parliament, the responsibility of the act. Though it seemed unlike that party—whatever they might privately think, or whatever they might plainly see must be the inevitable result of their present free-trade policy—to take so bold, or rather, so frank a step, yet the articles which have appeared from time to time in the _Times_, and which bore on the face of them an air of authority, had prepared me to attach some credence to the statement. These, after all, may be put from the cabinet as feelers upon the country. They may be but a disingenuous _ruse_ of men who do not seek to regulate their conduct by what they ought to do from the dictates of enlightened principle and great national consideration, but are anxious only to float along with the current of popular delusion, regardless of the nation’s humiliation and dismemberment. It is my belief, however, that if the present ministry, backed by Mr Cobden and the Manchester party, play into the hands of those here who are struggling to dismember the empire, it will produce a civil or social war in the colonies. There is a large body of their British and loyal inhabitants who will cling to Britain, and keep her flag floating here; and who will, if necessary, part with their lives ere they part with it. It is possible—nay, is it not certain?—that Sir Robert Peel, and other statesmen, who have plainly and undeniably placed the colonies in a situation incompatible with imperial connexion,—may throw out such hints and suggestions in the approaching session of parliament, as will agitate and move the colonies to their very heart’s core,—one party to secure a majority in favour of their “annexation” to the States, the other to prevent the dismemberment of their mother country? Sir Robert Peel and others have thrown out such suggestions before; but, under existing circumstances, if they are again put forth, they will be regarded by the “annexation movement” party as an invitation to test the opinions of the colonies—to proselytise them, as in fact they are now doing, into insurrection, and away from allegiance to Britain. Meetings will follow; _the stars and stripes_ will be hoisted by one party; the flag of their forefathers by the other; and, take my word for it, you will hear of struggles of which God only can tell the end, and what they may lead to here and elsewhere. Certainly the world will never have witnessed such a scene. The statesmen, the cabinet even of Britain playing into the hands of those who would tear down her flag in America; and her loyal children supporting it against the influence of many who are, and have been, surrounding the throne.

A long residence in the colonies, and a habit of observing, unbiassed by colonial party considerations, the character and tendencies of men and measures, have enabled me to judge, with some accuracy, of the effects of causes not generally supposed to be pregnant with important results. At this moment there are, in my judgment, the slumbering elements of a deadly strife in the colonies. There is but a small remove between a civil revolution and a physical struggle. The seeds of the national and revolutionary hurricane are often sown in the peaceful closet, and by men who could weep over the thought of what they would produce. The seeds of a wild and fearful hurricane in the colonies, and which must and will reach England, may be now sowing in many a peaceful closet in England. Mr Cobden may talk of peace, and denuding Britain of her national defences, and convincing men against all humanity’s experience; but he must be, he should be, made aware, that he has not made Britain, and may not be allowed to unmake her. He has not added these colonies to her crown; and while he may be in words _twaddling_ about universal peace, his very speeches may be sowing the seeds here of a deadly struggle. Let him beware; let others beware of the vanity of free-trade success. The wisdom of the Manchester school has not been that which has made Great Britain. Let its vanity and its arrogance not ruin her. If it arms treason here—if it wings a storm, from which England may learn much, it may be taught to feel what it has done. The demagogues of Athens succeeded in banishing the great and the just, but they did not succeed in destroying greatness or justice—these are immortal. The free-trade party may denude Britain of her glorious possessions in America, but these possessions may be the rising, growing, unending shame of those who caused their loss, and the generation of Britons who permitted it.

HAMILTON, _30th January 1850_.

A LATE CASE OF COURT-MARTIAL.[1]

“Surely never was so slight a fault visited by so severe a punishment!” Such is the exclamation which will fall from the lips, or pass through the mind, we believe, of every one who shall peruse Mr Warren’s _Letter to the Queen on a Late Court-Martial_. The reader of that letter will also rise from its perusal with the painful conviction, that, in the awarding of this heavy punishment, a gross violation of one of the most ordinary and fundamental laws of jurisprudence has been committed; and he will probably conclude with Mr Warren, that if this be a fair specimen of the lax manner in which justice is administered in courts-martial, some reform is necessary in their structure, or, at all events, some higher court of appeal ought to be instituted for the revision of their proceedings.

We have read this admirable letter of Mr Warren’s with unusual interest. As a literary performance it well comports with, and sustains the established reputation of its author; but it reflects a high honour upon him of another and loftier description than that which springs from literary excellence. It shows him in the light of a warmhearted, zealous champion of one whom he believes, and with every appearance of reason, to be an oppressed and injured man. He had assisted Captain Douglas at his trial before the court-martial, on which he now comments, as his legal adviser; he had done his duty as counsel for the defendant, so far as such a court admits of the aid or interference of counsel; he had no interest to promote, and no obligation to fulfil, by any further advocacy of his cause. Captain Douglas had been condemned; the great authorities of the Horse Guards had sanctioned and confirmed the sentence: a cautious man, and a lover of his ease, would here have parted company. He would have shaken his mournful client by the hand, and, with some cold unmeaning words of condolence, have left him with that troop of summer friends, who have, no doubt, by this time, found him a most uncompanionable man. The world was now against him; to volunteer his defence was to oppose constituted authorities; it was to side with weakness against power—with defeat against triumph. It was to stand side by side with one in adversity—stricken, and condemned. But caution and love of ease are evidently motives that have very little influence on the mind of Mr Warren. As the counsel of Captain Douglas, he had grown warm in his defence; he could not suddenly cool when he saw him prostrate, defeated, and dishonoured. He was convinced of the innocence of his client; he felt persuaded that it was in his power to show to all mankind that that client had been cruelly dealt with—treated with a degree of harshness amounting to injustice. His position of counsel had also given him insight into the whole legal proceedings of this court-martial, which betrayed to his practised eye a palpable infraction of one at least of those essential rules by which every tribunal of justice ought to be governed, or cease to be considered a tribunal of justice. He knew all this, and the truth _burnt within him_; he could not sit down in silence; he could not at once dismiss his sympathy and indignation—his sympathy for an injured man, his indignation for the rules of justice violated. He had ceased to be the advocate of Captain Douglas, but he still clung to his cause, for it was the cause, he was persuaded, of truth and justice.

“Only a great and pressing exigency,” he thus explains himself in the
eloquent exordium of his letter, “could have induced one of the
humblest of your Majesty’s subjects to step forth from his obscurity,
and thus publicly and directly address your Majesty. Even had he not
known, however, the benignant and equitable temper of his sovereign, a
case like the present would have forced him to bring it forward; for
the voice of justice is a sublime one, strengthening the feeblest, and
elevating the humblest, who, hearing, endeavours to obey it.

“He who has thus ventured to beseech the ear of his sovereign,
believes in his conscience that the cause of justice in this country
has recently sustained, through a defective system of military
jurisprudence, a calamitous defeat.

“An officer, an accomplished gentleman, of ancient and honourable
family, in the very flower of his age,[2] after having devoted
thirteen years to the faithful and zealous service of your Majesty in
almost every quarter of your world-wide dominions, has been
ignominiously expelled from that service, branded as a Liar. He stood
on trial before his brother officers with as high vouchers to
character, as could have been presented, had it unfortunately been
rendered necessary by such a casualty as has befallen him, by any one
of themselves. He was, moreover, the eldest son of a general officer
who lately descended to his grave with honour, after half a century
spent in the service of three of your Majesty’s predecessors; leaving
behind him, as his eldest son, the unhappy gentleman to whose case I
earnestly implore the attention of your Majesty....

“That gentleman I believe to be, at this moment, one of the most
deeply-injured men in your Majesty’s dominions. He has been convicted
of misconduct of which he is utterly incapable; and I consider that
conviction to be altogether contrary to law and justice, and to have
proceeded upon an unconscious violation of cardinal and characteristic
rules of British jurisprudence, essential to the safety as well as to
the liberties of your Majesty’s subjects. And what has thus happened
to Captain Douglas may happen to any other gentleman who is now, or
may be hereafter, honoured by bearing the commission of your Majesty.
I think myself able to bring forward facts which are incontrovertible,
and reasonings which appear, if I may be permitted to say it,
conclusive—and that not to myself alone, but to others whose judgment,
were it publicly pronounced, would be deemed entitled to the utmost
deference—to establish the innocence of one, upon whose brow,
nevertheless, stands at this moment, and has stood for eight miserable
months, the brand of ‘infamous and scandalous conduct.’”

He then proceeds to say that her Majesty alone has the power to redress the wrong of which he comes forward to complain.

“In the present case, the blighting sentence passed upon Captain
Douglas cannot be reviewed in any court of law. It was solemnly
decided, in your Majesty’s Court of Queen’s Bench, on a late occasion,
that it had no power to issue a prohibition to restrain the execution
of the sentence of a court-martial, after that sentence had been
ratified by the king, and carried into execution. And yet, in the
existing state of the law, the unfortunate accused has no means of
knowing the sentence which has crushed him, until it has been so
ratified, carried into execution, and thus declared _therefore_
irrevocable! And that sentence, too, pronounced by a _court of law_,
bound to proceed according to the law of the land—which law it may
have violated in every particular!”

It is hardly necessary to say, that the military law under which our army has been governed, ever since the Revolution, is as completely founded upon the statutes of parliament as any other branch of our jurisprudence. A less technical mode of procedure is recognised as prevailing in courts-martial, than that which regulates our civil or criminal courts. But there is nothing of an _arbitrary_ nature in the sentences they pass. These are determined, so far as this is possible, by the act of parliament. A judge of the bankruptcy court is not more bound by the statute, when he grants or withholds the bankrupt’s certificate, than are the judges of a court-martial when they sentence a fellow-officer to be cashiered. Let it be granted, therefore, that Captain Douglas had so far committed himself, in the course of the events we shall have to record, that it was expedient to bring him before a court-martial. Let this be granted—an opinion, however, from which many will dissent—when there, he claims justice! He is under the protection of the law. He is not to be punished with undue severity; he is not to be punished illegally.

It is probable that Mr Warren will be thought to have been carried a little too far, in his vindication of Captain Douglas’s conduct, by his generous zeal and by the ardour of advocacy. It would be asking too much to require that he should suddenly assume towards his late client the coolness of a quite impartial observer. But whilst his argument is that of an advocate, and is something too much tainted with the logic of the courts of Westminster, his statement of facts is full and impartial. He may be a too zealous advocate, but he is a candid historian. It is hardly necessary to add, that, whenever occasion legitimately permits, he is a very pleasant and graphic historian.

We do not intend that our account of this case should be a substitute for the perusal of Mr Warren’s pamphlet; we desire rather to prompt to such a perusal. It is far, therefore, from our design to enter upon all the topics it discusses. But the case is one to which, on public grounds, we would cheerfully assist in calling public attention. In doing so we shall endeavour, in the first place, to state, with perfect impartiality, the real and sole offence, or fault, or error, of which it seems to us Captain Douglas can be justly accused; and, in the second place, to show with what _illegal severity_ this offence has been visited. On the first of these topics, we shall, perhaps, be in some slight degree at variance with our author; on the second, we shall fully accord with him in his main and leading argument: for we think there cannot be a doubt that the judgment of this court-martial is vitiated—not by any merely technical error, but by an error affecting the very justice of the sentence—by no less an error than the finding a man guilty of an offence of a certain degree of guilt, and condemning him to a punishment expressly and solely awarded to an offence of a far greater degree of criminality—finding him, in short, guilty of the crime A, and inflicting the penalty decreed only to the crime B.

The life of military men in time of peace presents, as we catch a glimpse of it here, no very attractive picture. Captain Douglas in barracks at Longy, in the island of Alderney, with one subaltern, Ensign Parker, is commanding his detachment. Lieutenant-Colonel Le Mesurier is commanding at Alderney, under the title of Town Major. Between these rival potentates disputes arise as to their respective jurisdictions. Instead of companionship, assistance, co-operation, there is only mutual repulsion, mutual hostility.

In this cheerless position of affairs, Captain Douglas “went one
day—on Friday the 5th January—about twelve o’clock, for a little
amusement, to practise pistol-firing, at a spot near the Frying-Pan
Battery, as it is called, which was at a distance of two or three
hundred yards from the barracks where he resided. This happened to be
the first and only time of his using firearms during his stay in the
island. No one but himself, indeed, knew even the fact of his
possessing firearms. He ordered his servant Riley to procure some
potatoes, and to follow him with them, and the pistol-case, (which,
however, Riley did not know to be such, nor for what purpose the
potatoes were required,) to the Frying-Pan Battery.”

These circumstances are mentioned to account for the scanty testimony which Riley afterwards gave; it being supposed that he had withheld evidence to serve the interest of his master. And certainly it is a little difficult to believe that Patrick Riley, who was a soldier as well as the servant of Captain Douglas, did not know what the pistol-case contained, or for what purpose he carried it and the two potatoes to the battery. We continue the narrative in the words of Mr Warren, which we should be very unwise not to adopt, wherever it is in our power to do so.

“Captain Douglas proceeded to make a target in the wall opposite,
which faced the sea—by putting a potato into the centre of an open
piece of newspaper, and then thrusting it into a crevice in the wall.
This he did to make the mark at which he intended to aim more
distinctly visible. He had selected this particular spot for his
practice because it was retired and safe. It was entirely hid from the
view of the sentry, or any of the men on guard at the barracks....
After firing about twenty or thirty shots, every one of them at the
target in question—standing all the while with his back to the sea,
and against the rampart, and at which stood the pistol-case and
potatoes—he saw Mr Parker approaching. It was a few minutes before one
o’clock when he got there. Having fired two shots, both at the same
target at which Captain Douglas had been shooting, he went down by a
somewhat precipitous descent to the beach, which lay about forty feet
immediately below them, accompanied by his dog—intending to amuse
himself for a few minutes by throwing stones into the sea, and sending
his dog after them; and also desirous of ascertaining whether a hole,
which had caught his eye in descending, was that of a rabbit or a
rat.”

Amusements were scarce at Alderney.

“Neither Captain Douglas nor Mr Parker’s attention was called to the
circumstance of their harmless pistol practice, on the 5th January,
till about three or four o’clock on the ensuing Monday afternoon—the
8th January. During the interval, Captain Henderson had arrived from
Guernsey; and he, Mr Parker, and Captain Douglas were walking together
towards the town, when they met Mr Bains, (a medical gentleman.) After
the ordinary salutations, Captain Douglas asked him, ‘What news was
going on in the town?’ To which Mr Bains answered, laughing, ‘Nothing
new, _since your sport with the bulls of Bashan at Longy_;’ and he
proceeded to say, to the surprise of Captain Douglas and Mr Parker,
‘that he understood a bullock had been shot at or near Longy.’ Captain
Douglas replied with a smile, ‘You surely don’t mean to say that _I_
am charged with having had anything to do with it?’—‘Indeed you are,’
said Mr Bains—‘and you will find the constable at your quarters about
it, on your return! But it is true, is it not, that you and Parker
were ball firing there?’—‘Yes, we were practising,’ replied Captain
Douglas unhesitatingly; ‘but I know nothing about the bullock.’ After
some other observations, Mr Bains, who knew the position in which
Colonel Le Mesurier and Captain Douglas stood towards each other, said
with a smile, ‘Colonel Le Mesurier has gone up to look at the
bullock.’ To this observation Captain Douglas made a brief sarcastic
answer; and shortly afterwards Mr Bains left them.

“The three officers, after continuing their walk for some time longer,
separated, towards five o’clock. Captain Henderson went to Corblets
barracks, to dress for dinner, both he and Mr Parker being engaged to
dine that evening with Captain Douglas; who, with Mr Parker, walked
towards Longy, expecting to meet with the constable spoken of by Mr
Bains. As they went, they conversed on the subject of his
communication, remarking how oddly circumstances seemed to favour the
notion that, if a bullock had really been shot, it must have been by
them; and they also adverted to the fact of Colonel Le Mesurier having
already become acquainted with the matter, and what could have been
his object in going to see the carcase of the animal. After some
consideration they agreed that it would be better, under the
circumstances, _not to admit the fact of their having been firing, but
leave it to be proved by those who seemed disposed to charge them with
having shot the bullock_.”