27. LETTER XXVII.[1]
CAPTAIN DOWNING IS IN A PECK OF TROUBLE ABOUT THE LEGISLATURE'S
SELLING MADAWASKA TO THE GENERAL GOVERNMENT, TO BE GIVEN
UP TO THE BRITISH, AND SITS DOWN AND FIGURES UP THE PRICE.
Madawaska, State of Maine, or else Great
Britain, I don't know which,
March 12, 1832.
To the Editor of the Portland Courier—this with care and speed:
My Dear Old Friend:—I cleared out from Augusta in such
a kind of a whirlwind that I hadn't time to write you a
single word before I left. And I feel so kind of crazy now, I
don't know hardly which end I stand upon. I've had a good
many head-flaws and worriments in my lifetime, and been in
a great many hobbles, but I never, in all my born days, met
with anything that puzzled me quite so bad as this ere selling
out down here. I fit in the Legislater as long as fighting
would do any good—that is, I mean in the caucus, for they
wouldn't let me go right into the Legislater in the day time
and talk to 'em there, because I was only a lobby member.
But jest let them know it, lobby members can do as much as
any of 'em on sich kind of business as this. I laid it down
to 'em in the caucus as well as I could. I asked 'em if they
didn't think I should look like a pretty fool, after marching
my company down there, and standing ready all winter to
flog the whole British nation the moment any of 'em stept a
foot on to our land, if I should now have to march back again
and give up the land, and all without flogging a single son-of-a-gun
of 'em. But they said it was no use—it couldn't be
helped; Mr. Netherlands had given the land away to the
British, and the President had agreed to do jest as Mr. Netherlands
said about it, and all we could do now was to get as
much pay for it as we could.
So I sot down and figured it up a little, to see how much it
would come to, for I used to cypher to the rule of three when
I went to school, and I found it would come to a pretty round
sum. There was, in the first place, about two millions of
acres of land. This, considerin' the timber there was on it,
would certainly be worth a dollar an acre, and that would be
two millions of dollars. Then there was two or three thousand
inhabitants, say twenty-five hundred; we must be paid
for them, too; and how much are they worth? I've read in
the newspapers that black slaves, at the South, sell for three
or four hundred dollars apiece. I should think, then, that
white ones ought to fetch eight hundred. This, according to
the rule of three, would be two hundred thousand dollars.
Then there's the pretty little town of Madawaska, that our
Legislater made last winter, already cut and dried, with town
officers all chosen, and everything ready for the British to use
without any more trouble. We ought to have pay for this,
too, and I should think it was worth ten thousand dollars.
And then the town of Madawaska has chosen Mr. Lizote to
be a representative in the Legislater, and as the British can
take him right into the Parliament, without choosing him over
again, they ought to pay us for that, too. Now, I have read
in the newspapers that it sometimes costs, in England, two
hundred thousand dollars to choose a representative to Parliament,
reckoning all the grog they drink and all the money
they pay for votes. But I wouldn't be screwing about it, so
I put Mr. Lizote down at one hundred thousand dollars.
And then I footed up, and found it to be:
| For land, including timber |
$2,000,000 |
| For inhabitants, including women and children |
200,000 |
| For the town of Madawaska, officers and all |
10,000 |
| For Mr. Lizote, all ready to go to Parliament |
100,000 |
| Total |
$2,310,000 |
This was a pretty round sum, and I begun to think, come
to divide it out, it would be a slice apiece worth having,
especially if we didn't give the Feds any of it; and I supposed
we shouldn't, as there wasn't any of 'em there in the
caucus to help see about it.
In this view of the subject, I almost made up my mind that
we ought to be patriotic enough to give it up, and help the
General Government out of the hobble they had got into.
And I was jest agoing to get up and make a speech, and tell
'em so, when Mr. McCrate, of Nobleborough, and Captain
Smith, of Westbrook, two of the best fellers in our party,
came along and see what I was figuring about, and says
they, “Captain Downing, are you going to sell your country?”
In a minute I felt something rise right up in my throat, that
felt as big as an ox-yoke. As soon as I got so I could speak,
says I, “No, never, while my name is Jack Downing, or my
old rifle can carry a bullet.” They declared, too, that they
wouldn't sell out to the General Government, nor the British,
nor nobody else. And we stuck it out most of the evening,
till we found out how it was going, and then we cleared out;
and as soon as the matter was fairly settled, I started off for
Madawaska, for I was afraid, if my company should hear of
it before I got there, it would make a blow up among 'em,
and I should have to court-martial 'em.
When I first told 'em how the jig was up with us, that the
British were going to have the land without fighting about it,
I never see fellows so mad before in my life, unless it was
Major Eaton, at Washington, when he sot out to flog Mr. Ingham.
They said, if they could only have had one good battle,
they wouldn't care a snap about it, but to be played tom-fool
with in this way, they wouldn't bear it. They were so mad
they hopped right up and down, and declared they never
would go back till they had been over to Fredericton and
pulled the jail down, or thrashed some of the New Brunswick
boys. But, after awhile, I pacified 'em by telling 'em if we
didn't get a chance to fight here, I rather thought we might
away off to Georgia, for there was something of a bobbery
kicking up; and if the President should want troops to go on
there, I was very sure my company would be one of the first
he would send for.
So here we are, lying upon our arms, not knowing what to
do. I have written to the President, and hope to hear from
him soon. If the land is to go, I want to know it in season
to get off before it's all over; for I'll be hanged if ever I'll
belong to the British.
Your distrest friend,
CAPTAIN JACK DOWNING.
[1]
Editorial Note.—Captain Downing went to Madawaska with his company
in November, 1831, and remained there till the Spring of 1832, when
he returned to Washington. He had visited the Legislature, at Augusta,
twice during the winter, and came about as near being lost among the cold,
snowy mountains around Moosehead Lake as Colonel Fremont did in crossing
the Rocky Mountains. He published, in the Portland Courier, some account
of these perilous journeys back and forth between Augusta and Madawaska,
and also various proceedings of the Legislature during the winter. While
taking an active part in the proceedings of the lobby, he learned that the
General Government had agreed with England to refer this question of disputed
territory to the King of the Netherlands, and to abide by his decision.
Instead of deciding that the disputed territory belonged to either party,
the King of the Netherlands concluded to split the difference, and run a new
boundary line. This would transfer to the British Provinces some two millions
of acres of land, that was resolutely claimed by the State of Maine.
The matter was warmly discussed in the Legislature, and a strong party was
violently opposed to giving up the territory—they would rather fight for it;
they contended that the General Government had no authority to cede away
the territory of a sovereign State. It was understood, however, that the
General Government would pay a fair indemnity for the land to Maine and
Massachusetts (for it was undivided land, belonging to the two States), and
this consideration finally reconciled a majority of the Legislature to the arrangement.
What Captain Jack Downing and his brave Downingville boys
thought of the matter will be learned from the accompanying letter, from the
Captain to the Portland Courier.
