“THE 1832 RIOT THAT NEVER HAPPENED — authorities overreacted” — The Montreal Gazette
“a fascinating new book…”
By John Kalbfleisch, The Gazette, May 24, 2010
“The Intention of the rioters may be ascertained by the cry which several gave of ‘Let us have their heart’s blood.’”
- Gazette, Thursday, May 24, 1832
Rioters? Most certainly not, according to a fascinating new book whose title could not be plainer: The Riot That Never Was.
Violence, culminating in the deaths of three bystanders, did occur that day 178 years ago. But as author James Jackson convincingly argues, it was chiefly the fault of panicked magistrates and the befuddled garrison commandant.
Large numbers of Montrealers milling about Place d’Armes, while spirited, were not the authors of their own misfortune but victims of incompetence, even malice. And to cap it all, Jackson writes, the whole sorry episode was eventually buried by an official cover-up.
The occasion was a by-election in the West Ward of Montreal to fill a vacant seat in Lower Canada’s Legislative Assembly. The candidates were Irishman Daniel Tracey, a doctor and newspaper editor standing for the Patriote party, and Stanley Bagg, a businessman of American origin, for the Tories.
Voters intermittently cast their ballots for nearly a month, mainly at a poll in Place d’Armes. As voting resumed on the fateful day, May 21, 1832, Tracey and Bagg stood dead even.
Disturbances outside the poll had marred the preceding weeks, but unusually the nervous, Bagg-leaning magistrates had asked the local garrison commandant, Col. Alexander Macintosh, to place his men at the ready.
That afternoon, as heavy rain fell, two opposing supporters struck each other with their umbrellas and scuffling ensued. Prompt action by the magistrates soon put an end to the trouble. However, one magistrate had already rushed off to summon the soldiers. By the time they arrived, all was essentially calm once more.
Nevertheless, Magistrate William Robertson apparently decided to read the Riot Act, requiring all those present to disperse within an hour or face the consequences: “apparently,” because it’s unclear that he actually did so, for no one obeyed the order. Macintosh merely ordered his men to form up in front of Notre Dame Church.
When the poll closed at 5 p.m. with Tracey holding a narrow lead, some of his supporters began to celebrate prematurely, only to be set upon by some special constables on the scene. The main body of Tracey’s partisans was already a block or two away on St. James St. but some returned to rescue their comrades and threw stones at the attackers.
Noise of the confrontation frightened Robinson into ordering Macintosh to intervene. But by the time the soldiers emerged into Place d’Armes, the ruckus had ended. Literally, they didn’t know which way to turn. They headed for St. James St. only when they observed magistrates and constables in hot pursuit of Tracey’s supporters, by then well on their way to the Haymarket (today’s Victoria Square). In the street, some of the stragglers threw stones toward the soldiers but caused few if any injuries.
Macintosh claimed he ordered the stone throwers to disperse before commanding his men to open fire. He could have chosen a warning volley into the air, but didn’t. Casimir Chauvin, François Languedoc, and Pierre Billet, outsiders who had simply happened on the scene at the wrong moment, fell dead some considerable distance away.
A coroner’s inquest failed to establish whether a crime had been committed, and a grand jury later that year absolved Macintosh and his men of blame. But that didn’t satisfy the Legislative Assembly, which held its own hearings into the tragedy.
Unaccountably in Jackson’s view, no historian has hitherto made use of the vast number of first-hand accounts from soldiers, magistrates, constables, and other eyewitnesses, which were presented at the inquiry. In mining this and other evidence, the author is able to paint a new and persuasive picture of what happened that day and subsequently.
His conclusions are stark. The weekend before May 21, it was Bagg who had spread rumours that Tracey’s camp planned to riot and commit arson; facing defeat, Bagg had hoped the soldiers’ intimidating presence would turn things around for him. Whatever erupted that afternoon was scuffling, perhaps even brawling, but not a riot. It was nothing to justify reading the Riot Act, and Robertson probably never did so. Nor was it anything to justify Macintosh giving the order to fire.
The coroner’s jury was obtuse. The grand jury was packed with Bagg sympathizers. The governor, Lord Aylmer, threw up roadblocks to the Assembly’s inquiry. The evidence strongly suggested the soldiers had acted illegally, but no one was ever punished.
The fix, Jackson makes clear, was in – and rebellion in 1837 more likely.
lisnaskea@xplornet.com