Sam Lount:
The March for Freedom

— by Peter Howden

On Thursday March 29, 1838, Samuel Lount of Holland Landing, a small settlement north of Toronto, stood before a supreme figure of political and judicial power in Upper Canada, Chief Justice J. Beverley Robinson. With him in the dock was his friend and co-accused, Peter Mathews. They had both pleaded guilty to treason for the part each played in leading troops of farmers against the existing government of Upper Canada in December,1837.

Their lawyer had read the extreme danger of their situation correctly. Robert Baldwin, a Reform lawyer and politician, had been respected enough by both sides that the government had asked him to take a final offer of truce to Mackenzie, the fiery Refom leader, two days before the rebellion in Upper Canada. Baldwin knew that the post-rebellion mindset was to execute one or two of the leaders.

Sam Lount and Peter Mathews stood in severe jeopardy of their lives. Baldwin’s advice was to make saving their lives the only issue: they should plead guilty as charged, make no trouble for the government, and put all the effort into a plea for clemency. The pair had questioned this assumption. They had only joined Mackenzie’s call for action on condition that no one would be killed; Sam was given that assurance. And Mathews pointed out that Sam had helped the wounded on both sides, including a wounded British officer who later died. He had killed no one.

Therefore, the pair felt that they should plead guilty only to conspiracy to overthrow the government, which is a sedition charge, not guilty to treason and force them to prove their case. This way, they figured with publicity, the Colonial Office would hear about the discontent with the Family Compact throughout Upper Canada and they would have a shot at getting a verdict to a lesser charge that allowed for a lower level of sentence, not hanging.

Baldwin poo-pooed that, arguing that they were the only two leaders arrested, and in government circles, he had heard unmistakably that capital punishment was to be asked for in these two cases only.

Nevertheless, after further discussion, the decision was made. The judge that day was Chief Justice J. Beverley Robinson, a Conservative member of the ruling Family Compact, when he received his present judicial appointment. He was government leader in the Legislative Assembly and its Speaker. After becoming Chief Justice, resignation from his political posts was discussed. He was permitted to keep his seat in the Legislative Assembly for legal advice; in future, no judge could hold political office. It would have been the honourable course for Robinson to resign from the Legislature or decline the judgeship, but he did neither.

Therefore, when Lount and Mathews came before him, he was a judge with a vested interest in the policies of government. It was hardly as a disinterested judge that Robinson was presiding that day.

The Conservative government had ruled Upper Canada from the time Britain created it in 1792. It was called the Family Compact because it was a tight clique of officials and businessmen who controlled all of the patronage in Upper Canada and the main lever of power, the land grants. The head of the Compact for years was Bishop John Strachan who, and this illustrates the incestuous nature of this clique, had been Robinson’s patron and teacher.

The Chief Justice let the pair know early on just how dangerous their situation had become. He said, in part,

You have been arraigned upon several indictments charging you with High Treason. In accordance with the humane provisions of our law…you were furnished with…lists of the witnesses…and of the jurors…Having had all these advantages…you have each of you upon your arraignment pleaded “guilty”…you have confessed that…you were in arms against your SOVEREIGN, and did traitorously levy arms in this Province…

Sam stood, somewhat stunned, thinking: Why is the judge talking of us opposing the king? All we ever wanted was a fair chance at government, we had nothing against the king, and  where he spoke of the humane law….I remember those early  days with my brother George cutting through forests and slogging through bogs to survey the large area north of Holland Landing through West Gwillimbury and Tecumseth and then north to and including Innisfil up to Lake Simcoe. We believed our survey was a first step towards a civilized society.

Thoughts flashed again through his mind, all in an instant: running his blacksmith business, then taking over the tavern with his wife Elizabeth. The forge was still busy. He was told again and again that his name had become a household word for a first-timer low on supplies. It was always Sam Lount’s name that a friend would give them and for every bag of flour each begged for, Sam was pleased to send them two…

Oh, when he had finally, after much persuading, run in Simcoe for a seat in the Legislative Assembly, the Tory candidate threw everything at him: that he was disloyal, that he would lose, that money would bury him, personal attacks because his father had first settled the family in New York state. But despite it all, he had won, and he worked during his two-year term for everyone in the riding who came to him for help. But it was then that Lount saw firsthand the overall picture: that this Family Compact had a stranglehold on power.

Times were desperate. The 1830s were years of economic depression and crop failures and the commitment of the Tory government was to continue its monopoly on political survival. Sam ran as a Reformer under Mackenzie and the Tories went after him, this time with money for bribes, and intimidation of settlers: vote Tory if you want a land grant and if you wanted a role in government, they controlled every appointment. The money paid out to oppose him seemed without limit. He lost.

More significantly, the Lieutenant Governor Sir Francis Bond Head actually had gone out day after day during the 1836 election campaign to openly assist the government. His predecessors had remained impartial. Bond Head even came to   West Gwillimbury one day to campaign against Lount.  His campaign theme was the rather bleak but partisan statement: “Loyalty to the Crown and bread and butter on the table.”

As the judge seemed to be nearing a conclusion, Sam’s memories continued, remembering how it all started. Mackenzie convinced them that they could march virtually unopposed to the legislative assembly building and take over the government. This was the only time it could work, now that the troops had all been transferred to Lower Canada. No one had wanted bloodshed, they had not figured on a small force that could be mustered fast in highly organized fashion against them, armed with rifles…

The Chief Justice was nearing to a conclusion of some sort…

……pray that you may be brought to a deep sense of the guilt of the crimes of which you are convicted, and that may be enabled to address yourselves in humble and earnest sincerity…

That is so wrong, thought Sam. Discontent with the governing compact had led them against the Family Compact. They were not acting against their king. The law even came after people like Lount’s father, who had moved to Upper Canada from the United States before the war of 1812.

Some were being denied their right to swear allegiance to the Crown and that disentitled them to any land grants at all. It was rank injustice. Mackenzie had convinced them that striking now was their one chance, and so they began their march down Yonge Street, believing they could simply walk into the executive offices of the province and the legislative assembly building and take over the government without a shot being fired.

Suddenly they had been confronted with a British force armed with rifles and some of them started shooting and a few of Sam’s group were armed and fired back and wounded a British officer. Then everyone panicked before this armed force and fled, and it was over.

All of this went through his mind as the Chief Justice was concluding:

        …and that you may be enabled to address yourselves in humble and earnest sincerity to the infinite mercy of the SAVIOUR whose divine commands you have transgressed…

They had not revolted against anything except the clique that controlled the government and the elections. And here I am, Sam mused, I’ve killed no one. I tried to help the wounded while others were running off, and all we can do now is plead for mercy. This Chief Justice is saying we have no hope, and he is in the government. Baldwin was wrong, we should have made a stand and led with the evidence of our limited intentions. At least we could have attracted attention from the press.

Now the Chief Justice was finished his oration. He had finally said something that commanded Sam’s full attention. He set April 12, 1838 as the date that Samuel Lount and Peter Mathews would be hanged. Lount knew that Elizabeth and their friends would be starting something to help them.

He was right. Elizabeth Lount, Sam’s wife, reacted with furious activity. They needed some way to show the British that people would not stand for this. They organized a petition to pardon Sam and Peter. They obtained the signatures of 8,000 citizens in just a few days, all asking for clemency. She then sought an appointment with the Lieutenant Governor, the representative of the one group that the Family Compact had to listen to, the British colonial office and the British government. A new Lieutenant Governor to replace the disgraced Bond Head was in place. His name was Sir George Arthur.

George Arthur was the latest in an undistinguished line of former British military officers looking for something to do after the glory days following the Battle of Waterloo and the defeat of Napoleon in 1815. Smith, Maitland, Colborne and then Bond Head. Sir Francis Bond Head, the most undistinguished of all, had written some travel books and he had been knighted, then appointed assistant commissioner for the Poor Law Commission in Kent. He received his knighthood in 1831 for his demonstration of the usefulness to the military of the lasso.

Bond Head was recalled from his post in Upper Canada in 1838, well before the next election. Sir George Arthur replaced him. Another military man looking for a position, Sir George had been lieutenant governor for Van Dieman’s Land (Tasmania), a penal colony. His conduct there became the source of severe criticism and forced his replacement. He was recalled to Britain, received a knighthood, then was sent to Upper Canada as Lieutenant Governor.

Elizabeth Lount was granted time with Sir George Arthur to present the petition with all 8,000 signatures on it. She proved herself to be a powerful spokesperson for her husband. Her initial plea did not seem to move him but the next one did. She lowered herself to the floor and on her knees, begged for a pardon. Sir George was moved enough to get out of his seat and assist her to a chair. But nothing was going to change the sentence.

Arthur, a courtly gentleman with neat whiskers, had developed a philosophy: lenience for the others, execution for Lount and Mathews. That would help him at the Colonial Office. Sir George’s rather narrow vision was not about to be enlightened by the liberal pleas of Mrs. Lount.

Lount could, of course, “rat on the other rebels”, but that was not about to happen. The petition with 8000 names certainly made Sir George pause but in the end, it may have sealed Lount’s fate, and the same for Mathews. Lount’s popularity strenghtened the case.

According to other prisoners, Sam Lount and Peter Mathews had been given the “darkest dirtiest cell in the Toronto jail.” They remained there in cells 5.5 feet wide and 4.4 feet long. They remained cheerful throughout the three months; Lount reportedly wished other prisoners well each day. He kept before them the future that they had fought for and that he had hopes for. He told them, “Canada will yet be free.” This came from a report by a prisoner in jail with Lount and Mathews.

April 12, 1838 dawned bright and cool. A cellmate of the two wrote of the attitude in the jail that day: “None of us could sleep and we were all early astir!”

That morning, Lount offered his usual greeting to other prisoners, inquiring as to their health and standing there to listen to the answer, “before he wished us all well.” The Orange militia were also up early, about to circle the gallows. The authorities feared an attempt by Lount or his many friends to help him escape.

The incessant pounding of the hammers all week, as men put together the platform and gallows where the hanging would occur, was no more. The construction of the gallows was accomplished without the group’s foreman. He was reported to have said, “I’ll not put a hand to it. Lount and Mathews have done nothing that I might not have done myself and I’ll never help to build the gallows to hang them.” 

The Orange militia were taking up their places, surrounding the gallows with their muskets. Surrounded by guards, Sam Lount and Peter Mathews came clanking up the stairs to say goodbye to fellow prisoners. Then Lount headed for the door. “We could not see him but there were sad hearts in that room as we heard Samuel Lount’s voice with not a quiver in it give us his last greeting:

Be of good courage, boys, I am not ashamed of anything I have done. l trust in God and I am going to die like a man.”

Lount and Mathews moved slowly to the ladder. On their way, those near Lount heard him say: “We die in a good cause— Canada will yet be free.” (He may have said ‘Upper Canada’ but, like the foreman’s statement which may have been much rougher, they read better this way). The pair mounted the eight steps.

Sam Lount slowly turned at the top and scanned the hundreds of heads looking from the prison windows. He and Mathews knelt in prayer. They looked up for a last glimpse of  blue sky, then they stood up, a prayer sounding from the priest behind them. Not once did they appear other than calm and self-controlled despite the chains around their ankles.

White hoods were placed over their heads. The chains were taken off. The nooses went around their necks, and one could see them tighten. There was total silence, a silence deeper than anyone there would hear again. All eyes fixed on them. Suddenly, a ‘whoosh’ sound and a loud slam, the trap door released, the two men plunged down, the ropes grabbed them, snapping their necks tight and it was over.

Fearing some sort of claims of martyrdom, demonstrations, and even resurrection, the government refused to turn over their bodies to the next of kin. Their bodies were buried in a graveyard for paupers called Potter’s Field, located in the northwest quadrant of Bloor and Yonge Streets. The inscription on the marker read only their names, four words.

Afterword: In 1859, the two sons of Sam and Elizabeth Lount, with the help of William Lyon Mackenzie, moved the remains of Samuel Lount and Peter Mathews from Potters’ Field to the Toronto Necropolis Cemetery. Mackenzie had succeeded in fleeing Canada and, a few years later, he returned without any attempt being made to indict him.