American liberation of Toronto

[Bogen]

I don't know if you are familiar with a series of books called "Uncle John's Bathroom Reader." They are books jammed with interesting trivia and stories. I highly recommend them; here is an interesting exerpt that I wanted to share, considering recent themes of military liberation and historical revision.

 

 

THE YANKS ARE COMING!

When the Yankees burned Toronto in 1813, they actually did Canadians a favor.

 

 

Back in early 1812, life along the American-Canadian frontier was relatively wide open and peaceful. Locals on both sides of the border traded back and forth. No one had to declare their goods, and even if they had wanted to, there was no one to whom they could do so. Marriages back and forth were also an important part of cross-border traffic.

 

So imagine the chagrin of the locals when the British (who governed Upper and Lower Canada at the time) and the Americans went to war.

 

GOD BLESS AMERICA

In April 1813, the two mighty nations chose to clash in a muddy little settlement on the shores of Lake Ontario. An American force led by Major General Henry Dearborn attacked the city of York (now Toronto), Upper Canada’s capital.

 

On paper, York was a well defended garrison town. It had an imposing fort, lots of supply storehouses, enough red-coated regular British soldiers to march around impressively, and a citizen militia that numbered about 300. It looked like Major General Dearborn had his work cut out for him. But by the end of the day, Dearborn had prevailed. In fact, much to his surprise, his forces were welcomed as liberators in more ways than one.

 

DON’T POINT THAT UMBRELLA AT ME

What Dearborn didn’t know was that Upper Canada’s stalwart militia was never exactly gung-ho, even in peace-time. In a sense, they were draftees. The British demanded militia service of every male settler between the ages of 16 and 60. The service required one day of attendance annually, a day when the men gathered and marched in motley formation – usually wielding umbrellas and sticks because real weapons were at a premium. Militia day was probably as close as Upper Canadians came to a national holiday. It was also an excuse for a monumental, 19th century-style drunken binge.

 

ENDING WITH A BANG

It was as much the Canadian lackadaisical sense of duty as a series of mishaps that won the day for Dearborn and Company. First, a British contigent got lost and showed up to do battle at the wrong place. Then the defenders of York accidentally blew up their own ammunition dump. Shocked (and probably somewhat deafened), the British troops hastily left town, and the militiamen, who hadn’t been all that enthused about the whole business in the first place, returned to their homes, farms, and places of business.

 

LET’S MAKE A DEAL

The merchants of York quickly cut a deal with Dearborn to prevent looting of private property. To that end, they graciously helped the Americans clean out the government storehouses, then they watched placidly as the “invaders” put the empty government buildings to the torch. The famous Burning of York was far more selective than Canadian history books have indicated. Local businesses were left untouched.

 

THE HONORABLE THING

Back then, prisoners of war were considered an inconvenience: They had to be fed, guarded, and sometimes treated for wounds – not the sort of activity that conquering heroes wanted to get involved in. So when an opposing army captured a prisoner, the prisoner was offered a “parole of honor” conditional on not bearing arms again. Paroles of honor were used as late as the American Civil War, at least during its early years. Both sides always respected these paroles, and they could not be lifted except by mutual agreement.

 

For Canadian militiamen, paroles of honor were a way out of fighting the War of 1812 – especially at seeding time for the farmers and potential profiteering time for merchants, which it was.

 

Remember when Major General Dearborn landed in York, and the local militia roll counted about 300 men? By the time he left a few days later, he had issued nearly 1,400 paroles of honor. Folks had come from miles around – by foot, horse, wagon, and canoe – all the way to the capital to get their free passes out of the war.

 

THE ANTICLIMAX

Even though the British regulars had moved on and most of the citizens had paroles in their pockets, Dearborn was forced to reinvade York that July, this time to defend America’s honor. It seems that during the intervening months, some enterprising Canadians had been confiscating crops, animals, goods, and machinery, brazenly stating they were doing so with approval of the Americans. Dearborn showed up to set the record straight and bring the villains to justice. It didn’t happen though: the thieves hid their booty and fled into the bush until Dearborn left. The second invasion lasted only a day without a shot being fired.

 

The War of 1812 continued – minus the lucky parolees of honor – and York returned to weightier prewar issues, like what to do about citizens who let their pigs run loose in the streets.