Books: Neville Trueman the Pioneer Preacher
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William Henry Withrow >> Neville Trueman the Pioneer Preacher
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"Mr. Trueman, I respect your calling, and respect your character;
I therefore advise you if you have any personal effects in the
town to secure them at once, or I will not be answerable for the
results."
"I have only a few books and clothes," said Neville, "but there
are families here who have much at stake. Surely no evil can be
intended those innocent and non-combatant people."
"There exist reasons of military necessity which I cannot expect
you to appreciate," said the Colonel, stiffly.
"There are no reasons that can justify inhumanity," replied
Neville, stoutly," and inhumanity of the gravest character it
would be to injure the persons or the property of these
defenceless people."
The gallant Colonel seemed rather to wince under these words, but,
as if anxious to exculpate himself, he replied, "An officer has no
option in carrying out the instructions received from the military
authorities."
"That will not remove from you, sir, the responsibility of the
act, if, as I infer, the wanton destruction of this town is
intended," replied Neville, with significant emphasis. "I make
bold to affirm that the act will be as unwise as it will be cruel.
It will provoke bitter retaliation. It will tenfold intensify
hostile feeling. I know these people. I have travelled largely
through this province, and mingled with all classes. They are
intensely loyal to their sovereign. They would die rather than
forswear their allegiance. They will fight to the last man and
last gun before they will yield. If wanton outrage be inflicted on
this frontier, I predict that fire and sword shall visit your
cities, and a heritage of hatred shall be bequeathed to posterity,
that all good men, for all time, will deplore."
"Young man, I admire your zeal, although I may not appreciate your
sympathy for a country which I understand is not your own,"
answered the officer, haughtily. "I am, however, responsible for
my acts not to you, but to the War Department at Washington. This
interview is fruitless. I see no advantage to be gained by
prolonging it."
"Sir," said Neville, solemnly, as he rose to leave, "you are
responsible to a higher tribunal than that at Washington. I have
not learned to limit my sympathies and my instincts of humanity by
a boundary line. You are a scholar, sir, and perhaps you remember
the words of the Latin poet: 'Homo sum; humani nihil a me alien um
puto.' I have the honour to wish you good day," and he bowed
himself out.
As he returned to the town he beheld soldiers going from house to
house warning the people to turn out and remove their property,
and proceeding, with inhuman alacrity, to set the buildings on
fire. Then might be seen the women--most of the men were away with
the troops--hastily gathering together their own and their
children's clothing and a few treasured heirlooms, and with tears
and bitter lamentation leaving their sheltering roof, going forth
like the patriarch, not knowing whither they went The frost had
set in early and severe. The snow lay deep upon the ground. Yet at
thirty minutes' warning, of a hundred and fifty houses in Niagara,
all were fired save one. There was scarce time to rescue the
nursling babe, and the aged and infirm, from the doomed dwellings.
The wife of Counsellor Dickson lay on a sick bed. Her husband was
a prisoner on the American side of the river. The unfortunate lady
"was carried, bed and all, and placed in the snow before her own
door, where, shivering with cold, she beheld her house and all
that was in it consumed to ashes."[Footnote: Jaines. Quoted by
Auchinleck.] Of the valuable library, which had cost between five
and six hundred pounds sterling, scarcely a book escaped.
Late into the night burned the fires, reddening the midnight
heavens with the lurid flames of comfortable homesteads, well-
filled barns and is stacks of grain. Herds of affrighted cattle
rushed wildly over the adjacent meadows, the kine lowing piteously
with distended udders for the accustomed hands of their milkers at
eventide. Of the hundred and fifty dwellings fired, only two or
three escaped by accident, one of which still remains; and four
hundred women and children were left to wander in the snow or seek
the temporary shelter of some remote farm-house or Indian wigwam
in the woods. Some wandered for days in the adjacent dismal "Black
Swamp," feeding on frost-bitten cranberries, or on a casual rabbit
or ground-hog.
But a swift avenging followed the dastardly outrage. In two days
the British re-occupied the site of the smouldering town, now but
a waste; of blackened embers, which the Americans had, evacuated--
horse, foot, and artillery--not a hoof being left behind. So
precipitate had been their retreat, however, that a large quantity
of stores, together with the barracks and tents, were left, which
fell into the hands of the British. As the old red-cross flag was
run again on the flag-staff of Fort George, an exultant cheer went
up to heaven, and not a few eyes of those hardy militiamen were
filled with tears. Their homes were but heaps of ashes, it was
true; but their country remained; its soil was relieved from the
foot of the invader, and their loyal allegiance to their sovereign
had been shown by their costly sacrifice.
CHAPTER XIII.
A STERN NEMESIS--A RAVAGED FRONTIER.
On the evening of that eventful day, again a family gathering took
place at The Holms--for so closely had trial, adventure, and
suffering for a common cause knit together the guests and inmates,
that they seemed like a family group. The sword of the
grandfather, above the mantel, was now crossed by the cavalry
sabre of Zenas, and the old Brown Bess was flanked by the
dragoon's carbine. Good cheer in abundance spread the board, for
the broad acres of the farm and the kindly ministries of nature
had not stinted their yield on account of the red battle-year. But
an air of pensiveness, almost of dejection, broken by sharp
outbursts of indignation marked the social converse. Many
incidents of privation and suffering, in consequence of the
burning of the town, were told. Indeed the resources of the
household had been taxed to the utmost to relieve the pressing
distress, and every room and guest-chamber was filled with
houseless refugees from the inclemency of the weather.
"There will be a grim revenge for this, before long," said Captain
Villiers, who had embraced the earliest opportunity to renew his
homage at a shrine that had almost unconsciously become very dear.
"In which I hope to take part," interjected Zenas, with a fierce
gesture.
"We must carry war into Africa," continued the Captain. "Hitherto,
for the most part, we have acted on the defensive. The time has
come when we must repay invasion by invasion, and outrage by
retaliation." So does the cruel war-spirit grow by that on which
it feeds.
"That 'ere fort with its big guns a-grinnin' an' growlin' like
mastiffs in their kennels, has bullied us long enough," said Tom
Loker, who availed himself of the democratic simplicity of the
times to express his opinion.
"It wadna be sae muckle a job to tak it, I'm thinkin'," said Sandy
McKay, looking up from his musket that he was oiling and cleaning;
"it's no sae strang as it luiks. I ken its rayelins and demilunes
unco weel, bein' sax weeks a prisoner wi'in thae walls. Gin your
ance ower thae brig and inside the outworks it wad be easy eneuch
tae win au' haud the fort."
"That's the rub," said the squire, "to gain a footing and win the
outworks. If they keep a vigilant watch it would be a difficult
task. The only way would be to surprise the garrison. A few stout-
hearted men, well supported, might overpower the guard. That's the
way Ethan Allen took Ticonderoga, in the old war."
"Father," said Zenas, with enthusiasm, "It can be done, and must
be done, and I must help do it. I claim a place in the forlorn
hope. I'd like to be the first man in."
The old man winced a little at the awful contingency of death and
danger for his soldier boy, so close at hand; and Kate gazed at
him, with tears of sympathy filling her eyes and the blood
mantling her cheek.
"As God wills, my son," answered the sire. "I said the time might
come when you should bear the battle's brunt. If your heart calls
you I will not say nay. I gave you to your country, and dare not
hold you back."
"Young maister," said McKay, with Scottish fidelity, "whaur ye
gae, I'll gae. I'm an auld mon, noo, an' how better could I gi' ma
life, gin sae it's written, than for my King? Forbye I ken weel the
place, an' sae God wills, I can guide ye intill it by nicht as weel
as ithers could by day."
"I'm not the man to shirk the call to arms when the bugle sounds,"
remarked Tom Loker, "but I must say I've no stomach for this going
before I'm sent. It's a sheer temptin' o' Providence, seems to
me."
"Hoot, mon," said Sandy, "what is to be, is to be. Gin ye're to
fa', ye'll fa' at the rear o' thae column as sune as at the heid
o' it, an' I'm gey sure the first is the mair honourable place."
"Had I two score gallant fellows like you and Zenas," broke in
Captain Villiers, grasping the hilt of his sword, "with a couple
of companies to support us, I'd guarantee the fort would he taken
before a week. Something more will come of this, I warrant"
Full of this daring scheme, the very next day he proposed to
Colonel Murray the bold plan. That officer sent for McKay,
questioned him thoroughly as to the fort and its defences, and had
him draw a rude plan of its approaches, curtains, and bastions. He
heartily fell in with the idea and made immediate preparation for
its execution.
The night of the eighteenth of December was moonless and dark. A
column of five hundred men of the Forty-First and Hundredth
regiments, a grenadier company of the First Royals, and fifty
militia, filed out of the portals of Fort George, bearing scaling
ladders and other implements of assault, as silent, as ghosts. At
the head marched the forlorn hope of twenty men, among whom were
Captain Villiers, Zenas, and McKay. But each man, though he bore
his life in his hand, walked proudly erect, as if with the
assurance of victory, or of a reward more glorious than even
victory. They marched several miles up the river to a spot where a
crossing could safely be effected without discovery or
interruption.
Now began the stealthy march on the devoted fort. Like an avenging
Nemesis, shod with silence, the column approached the unconscious
garrison. Every order was conveyed in a whisper. No clink of
sabre, nor clatter of muskets was heard. The snow, which had begun
to fall, muffled the tread and deadened each sound. The column
wound on in the hush of midnight over the wintry waste, stealing
like a tiger on its prey. The piquets, lulled into security by the
storm, were avoided by a _detour_. Now amid the blackness of
night, the deeper blackness of the fort loomed up. McKay and Zenas
moved to the front beside Captain Villiers who whispered his
commands. McKay silently led the way to the sally-port. A huge
grenadier grasped the sentry by the throat to prevent his giving
the alarm. The forlorn hope glided through the small opening of
the sally-port, and, well instructed beforehand, rushed to the
main gateway, overpowered the guard, and flung open the huge iron-
studded gates. The British column now poured in, and before drum
had rolled or bugle rung had reached the central quadrangle. The
garrison awoke from slumber only to a futile struggle with an
exasperated foe, and after a short resistance were compelled to
surrender. In this assault the loss of the victors was only six
men--a circumstance almost unparalleled in military annals--that
of the vanquished unhappily was considerably greater.
Three hundred prisoners, three thousand stand of arms, and an
immense quantity of stores were captured--the latter a great boon
to the well-nigh famished people of the devastated town of
Niagara. [Footnote: The writer was intimately acquainted with an
old resident on the Niagara River, who in his youth had been a
prisoner in the American fort, and formed part of the forlorn hope
which aided in its capture. From him many interesting incidents of
the war were learned.]
We would fain here close this record of retaliation. Enough had
been done for British honour and for the punishment of the enemy.
But when dread Bellona cries "Havoc," and slips the leashes of the
hellish dogs of war, the instincts of humanity seem lost, and
baptized men seem in danger of reverting to unredeemed savagery.
Trueman expostulated, and pleaded, and prayed for a mitigation of
the penalty inflicted on the vanquished, but in vain. In ruthless
retaliation for the burning of Niagara, the British ravaged the
American frontier, and gave to the flames the thriving towns of
Lewiston, Manchester, Black Rock, and Buffalo. At the latter
place, an American force, two thousand strong, made a stout
resistance, but was defeated, with the loss of four hundred men,
by the British, with only one-third the number of troops, December
30.
Thus the holy Christmas-tide, God's pledge of peace and good-will
toward men, rose upon a fair and fertile frontier scathed and
blackened by wasting and rapine, and the year went out in "tears
and misery, in hatred and flames and blood."
The marks of recent conflict were everywhere visible, and--saddest
evidence of all--was the multitude of soldiers' graves whose
silent sleepers no morning drum-beat should arouse forever. The
peaceful parish church of Niagara had been turned into a hospital,
where, instead of praise and prayer, were heard the groans of
wounded and dying men. Everything in fact gave indications of
military occupation and the prevalence of the awful reign of war.
Seldom has the frightful destructiveness of war been more
strikingly illustrated. The commerce of the United States was
completely crippled by the blockade of her ports, her revenue
falling from $24,000,000 to $8,000,000. Admiral Cockburn, of the
British Navy, swept the Atlantic coast with his fleet, destroying
arsenals and naval stores wherever his gun-boats could penetrate.
Great Britain also recovered her old prestige in more than one
stubborn sea-fight with a not unworthy foe. On a lovely morning in
June, the United States frigate "Chesapeake," of forty-nine guns,
stood out of Boston harbour amid the holiday cheers of a
sympathizing multitude, to answer the challenge to a naval duel of
H. M. S. "Shannon," of fifty-two guns. They were soon locked
muzzle to muzzle in deadly embrace, belching shot and grape
through each other's sides, while the streaming gore incarnadined
the waves. The British boarders swarmed on the "Chesapeake's"
deck, and soon, with nearly half his crew killed or wounded, she
struck her colours to the red-cross flag. In five days the
shattered and blood-stained vessels crept together into Halifax
harbour, the American captain, the gallant Lawrence, lying in his
cabin cold in death; the British commander, the chivalric Broke,
raving in the delirium of a desperate wound. The slain captain was
borne to his grave amid the highest honours paid to his valour by
a generous foe. Amid the roar of Broadway's living tide, beneath
the shadow of old Trinity Church, a costly monument commemorates
his heroic and untimely death. A few days later, the British brig
"Boxer," of fourteen guns, surrendered to the U. S. brig
"Enterprise," of sixteen guns. In one quiet grave, overlooking
Casco Bay, beside which the writer, one sunny summer day,
meditated on the vanity of earthly strife, their rival captains
lie buried side by side. Some kindly hand had decked their graves
with tiny flags, which in sun and shower had become dimmed and
faded; and planted fair and innocent flowers which breathed their
beauty and fragrance amid the shadows of death. So fade and pass
away the false and transient glory of arms. So bloom and flourish
in immortal beauty the supernal loveliness of virtue and piety.
It is a relief to turn away from these scenes of war and bloodshed
to the record of human affection and heroic self-sacrifice and
devotion.
George Morton, the faithful Canadian patriot, crippled,
impoverished, sick at heart, and despairing of ever claiming Mary
Lawson as his bride, returned after the burning of his native town
to the ashes of his ruined home to begin life over again. A
partial indemnity from the Government enabled him to resume
business on a modest scale, which, by thrift and industry, grew
and increased with the gradual growth of the town. Ensign Roberts
was among the slain at the taking of the Fort, and Mr. Lawson's
property was destroyed by the conflagration that followed. The old
man, broken by his losses and by exposure, gradually sunk, and
died, Mary nursing him devotedly to the last. After years of delay
the love of the no longer youthful pair found its consummation in
a happy marriage, followed by a calmly tranquil wedded life.
"Although this cruel war," whispered George to his bride upon
their wedding-day, "has robbed us of all our own worldly wealth,
has cost you your father, and has left me a cripple for life, yet
it could not take from us the priceless wealth of our affection."
"Nay, dear heart," she replied, "the long trial of our love has
purified it from earthly dross, and proved it the type of love
immortal in the skies."
In after years, to children and to children's children on his
knees, George Horton used often to recount the perils of those
fearful scenes of war and wasting; but no theme was more pleasing
to himself and to his youthful auditory, while the comely matron
in her mature beauty blushed at the praise of her own heroism,
than the episode of the fair Mary Lawson's midnight adventure in
the ice on the Niagara, in the terrible winter of the war.
CHAPTER XIV.
TORONTO OF OLD.
The state of religion in Canada could not be expected to be
prosperous during the prevalence of the demoralizing influences of
war. The Methodist circuit work, as well as the work of other
denominations, was very much disorganized. It was, from the
interruption of intercourse caused by the unnatural conflict,
without any supervision of the American Conference by which the
Canadian preachers had been stationed. They were consequently left
to their own resources to carry on their work as best they could,
and most of them struggled bravely, like Neville Trueman, the
example we have selected for illustration, against the various
obstacles in their way--the recklessness and spiritual
indifference begotten by the war--and the unjust and cruel
suspicions and aspersions to which they were themselves subject.
The Rev. Henry Ryan, as Presiding Elder of the Upper Canada
District--extending from the banks of the St. Lawrence to the
banks of the St. Clair--endeavoured, by frequent journeyings
throughout the vast field, to encourage both preachers and people
in carrying on the work of God, amid the disheartenments and
difficulties of the times. The Rev. Ezra Adams, in his
recollections of the period, says, "He used to travel from
Montreal to Sandwich, holding Quarterly Meetings: to accomplish
which, he kept two horses at his home at the Twenty Mile Creek,
and used one on his trip from the Niagara Circuit on his down
country route; the other he used on his Sandwich route."
Supplementing this statement with additional facts, the Rev. Dr.
Carroll, in his invaluable "History of Canadian Methodism,"
further remarks: "As his income was very small and precarious, he
eked out the sum necessary to support his family by selling a
manufacture of his own in his extensive journeys, and by hauling,
with his double team in winter time, on his return route from
Lower Canada, loads of Government stores or general merchandise."
Such were the shifts to which Methodist preachers had to resort in
order to sustain themselves in a work which they would not desert.
Mr. Ryan, by his loyalty, gained the confidence and admiration of
all friends of British supremacy, and, by his abundant and heroic
labours, the affections of the God-fearing part of the community.
During the progress of the war he held three Conferences, one as
we have seen at St. David's; another, in 1813, at Matilda; and a
third, the following year, at the old Methodist settlement of the
Bay of Quinte.
After the burning of Niagara, and the complete disorganization of
his circuit by the border strife, Neville Trueman sought an
interview with his Presiding Elder during one of his periodical
visits to the town of York. In consequence of the military
exigencies of the times, navigation was maintained across the lake
by armed brigs and schooners during the greater part of the
winter. Taking advantage of one of these trips, Neville obtained
permission from the military authorities to take passage in the
armed schooner _Princess Charlotte_ to York. The voyage was
tedious and the weather bleak, so he suffered severely from the
cold. As York harbour was frozen over, he landed on the ice and
made his way to the twice-captured capital. It presented anything
but a striking appearance, unless for dreariness and ruin. The
half-burned timbers of the Parliament Building, Jail, and Court-
House, showed in all their hideous blackness through the snow that
failed to conceal beneath its mantle of white the desolation of
the scene. In its most flourishing estate before the war, the town
hardly numbered some nine hundred inhabitants, whose residences,
for the most part humble wooden structures, were grouped along the
loyally-named King Street, near the river Don. At the western
extremity of the straggling town were the ruin-mounds of the fort,
rent and torn by the terrific explosion of its magazine. On the
banks of the Don, and commanding the bridge across that sluggish
stream, as though the enemy thought it not worth the trouble of
destroying, stood a rude log blockhouse, loop-holed for musketry,
the upper story projecting over the lower, after the manner of
such structures. [Footnote: A cut of this is given in "Lossing's
Field Book of the War."]
Neville proceeded to the hospitable house of Dr. Stoyles, on King
Street, near the intersection of the little-used road leading to
the country,--Yonge Street, now the great artery of the
circulation of the city. Till the erection of the first humble
meeting-house, the Methodist preaching was often held in Dr.
Stoyles' house. That gentleman also gave a cordial welcome to the
travelling preachers of the day, and here Trueman found, as he
expected, Presiding Elder Henry Ryan.
The following is the account given by Dr. Scadding, our Canadian
historiographer and antiquarian, in his charming book "Toronto of
Old," of the mother Church of Methodism in this goodly city, the
parent of the fair sisterhood which now adorn its streets: "The
first place of public worship of the Methodists was a long, low,
wooden building, running north and south, and placed a little way
back from the street. Its dimensions were forty by sixty feet. In
the gable end towards the street were two doors, one for each sex.
Within, the custom obtained of dividing the men from the women;
the former sitting on the right hand on entering the building, the
latter on the left."
The learned Doctor then goes on to illustrate historically the
separation of the sexes in places of public worship, from the time
of the Jews and the primitive church down to the modern Greek
Church, so that at least the early Methodists had good precedent
for their usage.
This old church was situated on the south side of King Street, on
the corner of Jordan Street, so named from Mr. Jordan Post, the
pioneer goldsmith of the capital, while the street in the rear
commemorates the name of Melinda, his wife. When the Adelaide
Street Church, which, for the time, was a very imposing brick
structure, was built on what was then the public square, the old
mother church was converted into a "Theatre Royal,"--to what base
uses must we come!
All this, however, at the time of which we write, was still in the
future; and Elder Ryan preached and prayed and exhorted to a
little company in the worthy Dr. Stoyles' great kitchen, which was
employed for that purpose as being the most commodious room in the
house. It was the day of small things for Methodism in the capital
of Upper Canada. But of the religious zeal of the little company
of believers, we may judge from the fact that several of the
members of the society came from two to eight miles, through the
proverbially wretched roads of "Muddy York," to the class meeting.
[Footnote: Carroll's "Case and his Cotemporaries," Vol. II., p.
167.]
CHAPTER XV.
A QUARTERLY MEETING IN THE OLDEN TIME.
Having enjoyed the counsels and encouragements of his Presiding
Elder, Neville gladly embraced the invitation to ride with him in
his substantial sleigh, well filled with wheat straw, on which
they sat, to the village of Ancaster, where a grand Quarterly
Meeting was to be held, to which the people came for many miles
around. Religious privileges at that time were few, and these
occasions were made the most of by the Methodists of the day.
There was preaching on the Saturday; then a business meeting, when
the contributions of the several classes were received. Of money
there was very little; but promises of contributions of flour,
pork, potatoes, hay and oats were gladly received instead.
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