Awaiting the Millennium: The Children of Peace and the Village of Hope, 1812-1889 9781442671126

Table of contents :
Contents
List of Figures and Tables
Acknowledgments
Preface
Photographs
1. The Yonge Street Settlement
2. The Separation of the Children of Peace
3. Organization
4. At Home and Abroad
5. Market and Moral Economies
6. Ornamenting the Christian Church
7. The Millennial Kingdom
8. Upper Canadian Politics and the Rebellion of 1837
9. Aftermath
10. The Children of Peace in Theoretical and Historical Perspective
Appendixes
Notes
Bibliography
Name Index
Subject Index

Citation preview

Awaiting the Millennium: The Children of Peace and the Village of Hope, 1812-1889

In a small town north of Toronto there stands a beautiful and unusual church, well known locally as the Sharon Temple. It is the last remaining evidence of a nineteenth-century Quaker sect, the Children of Peace, one of the few examples of a millennarian movement in Canada. Albert Schrauwers explores the history of this intriguing group, which rebuilt Solomon's Temple and prophesied the coming of a Jewish Messiah who would abolish British colonial rule. Schrauwers discusses the social, political, economic, and theological context in which the Children of Peace were established and, for a time, flourished. He identifies three main periods in the development of the sect: their initial break with the Quakers during the War of 1812; their reorganization following completion of the temple in 1832; and their final reorganization following the Rebellion of 1837. Using assessment rolls and a careful analysis of relations of production, he shows how material factors influenced the political process by which the sect decided what was sacred and what was not. Ultimately he provides a detailed portrait of a remarkable group of people and the times in which they lived. ALBERT SCHRAUWERS is a graduate student in the doctoral program, Department of Anthropology, University of Toronto.

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AWAITING THE MILLENNIUM

The Children of Peace and the Village of Hope, 1812-1889

Albert Schrauwers

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

www.utppublishing.com University of Toronto Press Incorporated 1993 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada Paperback reprinted 2003 ISBN O-8O2O-5O2I-2 (cloth)

ISBN o-8o2o-6793-x (paper)

Printed on acid-free paper

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data Schrauwers, Albert. Awaiting the millennium ISBN 0-8020-5021-2 (bound). - ISBN o-8o2o-6793-x (pbk.) 1. Children of Peace - History. 2. Christian communities - Ontario - Sharon - History - 19th century, 3. Ontario - Church history - 19th century. 4. Millennialism - Ontario - History - 19th century. 1. Title. BX9999.S43S37 1993

289.9

C92-095021-3

Cover photo: © Mark Fram 1989. All rights reserved.

This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Social Science Federation of Canada, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Contents

List of Figures and Tables ix Acknowledgments xi Preface xiii Photographs xvii 1. The Yonge Street Settlement 3 The Society of Friends 4 Quakerism and the State 10 The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting 14 A Shared Culture? 22 2. The Separation of the Children of Peace 26 David Willson's Ministry 27 David Willson's Heresy 35 The Schism 41 Yonge Street 44 3. Organization 49 Egalitarianism, Honour, and Status 51 Crisis 53 The Pattern of Discontent 59 The New Discipline 63 4. At Home and Abroad 69 The Village of Hope 70 A Village Like Any Other? 78

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Contents An Itinerant Sect 82 5. Market and Moral Economies 87 The Annual Reproduction of the Household 90 The Cyclical Reproduction of Households 99 Strategizing Individuals in a Moral Economy 106 6. Ornamenting the Christian Church 108 Ornamenting the Church 109 'An Irreconcilable Difference' 114 The Basis for Consensus 125 7. The Millennial Kingdom 130 The Inner Light and Religious Authority 132 Church and State 143 The Millennial Kingdom 147 What Makes a Millenarian Movement? 154

8. Upper Canadian Politics and the Rebellion of 1837 156 Politics and Patronage 157 Evangelists or Politicians? 166 Rebellion? 168 9. Aftermath 179 'Bleeding with the Wounds' 181 Church and State 185 A Church Like Any Other 189

10. The Children of Peace in Theoretical and Historical Perspective 193 Theoretical Considerations 194 Awakenings and Conflict 201 Rural Millenarianism 203 Concluding Remarks 209

Contents Appendixes 1. Active Members of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting 211 2. Disownments from the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting 214 3. The 'Builders of the Temple' 216 Notes 253 Bibliography 263 Name Index 279 Subject Index 293

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Figures and Tables

Figures 1 Distribution of Quaker settlers, showing place of origin, for the Yonge Street, Queen Street, and Pine Orchard meetings 16 2 The Doan family settlement, 1812 18 3 Kinship ties between the Children of Peace 44 4 Geographic distribution of nominal Quakers and the Children of Peace on Yonge Street 47 5 Kinship ties between members of the Children of Peace, 1825 73 6 Comparison of farm size 95 7 Age vs. farm size 100 8 Land purchases of the Ebenezer Doan family 104 Tables 1 The committee participation of the ten most active Quakers in the Men's and Women's Business Meetings of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting 24 2 Income from wheat sales vs. land costs, 1828-1835 98 3 Comparison of acreage owned and farmed, and average age of head of household 127

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Acknowledgments

The material presented in this book has provided me the means by which to learn the craft of anthropology. Consequently, there are few faculty members or students in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Toronto who have not, at one time or another, been afflicted by my compulsive interest in the Children of Peace. To them both my thanks and my apologies. I owe a special debt of thanks to Professor Krystina Sieciechowicz, who was the faculty adviser for the MA thesis upon which this book is based. Without her support, this thesis would have remained an unrealized preoccupation. Also on that thesis committee were Professor Stuart Philpott, whose suggestions have immeasurably improved this book, and Professor Gavin Smith, who will recognize the intellectual debt this book represents. Professors Janice Boddy and Michael Lambek, who co-taught the graduate seminar 'Anthropological Approaches to Religion,' sharpened my understanding of current theory and listened to my first tentative analysis of the Children of Peace. Professor William Westfall of the Department of History at York University gave me valuable direction in working through the material on religion in Upper Canada. Professor Peter Carstens reviewed the completed manuscript and has continued to share his experience and advice throughout the publishing process. Friends and fellow graduate students in the department have been equally supportive and through numerous discussions, have helped refine many of the arguments presented here. This is especially true of Leslie Jermyn (for whom I hope I may someday return the favour) and Patrick Lawlor, my 'academic cohort,' and of Wanda Barrett, whose support has never flagged and whose advice is always valued. My understanding of the Children of Peace has also been immeas-

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Acknowledgments

urably improved by several others, in particular Jane Zavitz Bond, archivist for the Canadian Yearly Meeting of the Society of Friends, who not only shared her understanding of this sect, but also showed me Quakerism as a living faith. I also owe a debt of gratitude to the staff and volunteers of the Sharon Temple Museum, who were unstintingly supportive, freely providing of their own knowledge and experience and allowing me access to new material, even as it was discovered. My thanks go especially to Ruth Mahoney, director of the site; Beth and Don Jones, who have unselfishly given their time for years; 'Kitch' Hill, whose knowledge of Ebenezer Doan's work is second to none; Joy Davis, assistant curator; John Mclntyre, who shared some of his own research findings; and David and Jean McFall of the York Pioneer and Historical Society, who allowed me access to their private collection as well. Catherine Robson, who has shared too many hours with me on the GO train, whiled away the time correcting my 'atroshus speling' and grammar. A large number of genealogists have also shared their work over the years, their numbers making individual thanks difficult. I hope only that the finished product does justice to their input. Special thanks must also go to the two unnamed reviewers whose recommendations helped this manuscript make the difficult transition from thesis to book. I am also indebted to Virgil Duff of the University of Toronto Press who oversaw the whole process. I have saved the largest debt of all for last: that to my family, and especially my mother, whose faith and support have made my academic career possible.

Preface

There was a cold suspicious reserve in Mr. Willson's manner, which prevented me at first engaging him in conversation ... I had a publication in my pocket, entitled 'Canada as it is,' wherein he was mentioned; and on reading the particulars, he emphatically said, 'Part is true - but threefourths are lies.' (Shirreff 1835: 107-8)

During the course of his long life, David Willson, leader of the Children of Peace, was variously described as both 'prophet' and religious 'maniac,' a man who indulged his sexual appetite in his own 'nunnery.' He was, at once, a theologian, poet, hymnodist, minister, political reformer, carpenter, farmer, and teacher. Commanded by God to 'ornament the Christian Church with the glory of Israel,' the Children of Peace, the group he led, rebuilt Solomon's temple in their new Jerusalem, the village of Hope, where they worshipped 'Israelite fashion.' For seven long years, while struggling to carve homes and farms out of the wilderness of Upper Canada, they dedicated their lives and resources to the construction of this building, a symbol of their concern for the poor; when they met there on the last Saturday of the month, it was for the simple purpose of collecting alms. Anomalies such as this make interpretation of the Children of Peace problematical: Wouldn't the time, money, and effort dedicated to the building have been better spent on the poor themselves? How can any book hope to capture such basic contradictions without losing sight of the vision that pushed these men and women to sacrifice so much of their lives or dismissing them as religious fanatics bent on self-aggrandizement?

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Preface

The Children of Peace evoked strong reactions from all, and herein lies the difficulty. I, no less than the other countless visitors to their odd 'pyramidal built temple,' have been affected by David Willson's vision: I have seen the temple illuminated by candlelight on a late summer night; walked around the four supporting pillars, 'Faith,' 'Hope,' 'Love,' and 'Charity'; heard the deep tones well up from the barrel organ; and read the sermons delivered within its walls demanding equality for all. What I have experienced is but a shadow, a still-audible whisper that is fading with time. The Children of Peace ceased to exist in 1889. Whatever their battle, they lost to time. They cannot speak for themselves, and the few fragments that remain mean little to another age. In writing about the Children of Peace, I have tried to re-create the context of their own lives and, in doing so, have been very aware that Willson would probably have turned aside and muttered, 'Part is true - but threefourths are lies.' I cannot re-create the experience of the true believer; I can, however, explain. By contextualizing, theorizing, and translating that experience, I hope to lend it credibility, academic authority in the stead of religious authority. The Children of Peace dissented from the dominant culture of their time, a dominant culture we share with them. By legitimating their dissent, I hope to prevent it from being dismissed out of hand. Their criticisms are cogent; their moral arguments relevant. I am not, however, a latter-day apologist for the Children of Peace. In seeking to explain their eccentricities, I have not simply reproduced their own, often explicit, rationale; I have not smoothed over contradictions, or reduced all their behaviour to the level of 'belief.' By highlighting the basic contradictions in their behaviour, the cross purposes at which they often worked, I hope to show how their unique formulation of their ideals emerged out of the basic problems of everyday living. These were ordinary people driven to extraordinary lengths by a unique set of circumstances. Their 'beliefs' were not disembodied tenets of faith, but a central component of their way of life, as important to the way they farmed as to the way they prayed. As that way of life was threatened, these beliefs were repeatedly expressed with increasing tenacity and vehemence. It was out of that spirit of dogged determination that the Children of Peace sought to reform a fallen world and, in so doing, helped create the institutions that mould our own lives. That way of life is now history, and this book an attempt to record

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it. All we have left are dry manuscripts, a few curious artefacts, and a building of remarkable beauty. No book could replace the temple; it is only in walking through the temple that we can truly sense the visionary drive of this small group of three hundred, called to build a new Jerusalem in the wilderness. This now-empty building is no tomb for their dream, but continues to express in concrete symbols the values that underlay their way of life. We see, for example, four doors, one in each wall, representing the equality of all people coming from all directions; the four central pillars upon which the church rests, 'Faith,' 'Hope,' 'Love,' and 'Charity'; nestled between them, the ark of the covenant, containing a bible open to the Ten Commandments; and high above the village of Hope, between the lanterns representing the light of the gospel shining out to the world, hangs a golden globe inscribed with a simple aspiration, 'Peace.'

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1. The Yonge Street Meeting-House, built 1810 (Newmarket Historical Society Archives)

2. David Willson (artist unknown) (York Pioneer and Historical Society Archives)

OPPOSITE 3. Barrel organ, constructed by Richard Coates in 1820 (Sharon Temple) 4. The first meeting-house of the Children of Peace, completed in 1819 (Sharon Temple)

5. The Temple of Peace (c. 1865) (Newmarket Historical Society Archives)

6. The Ark (Sharon Temple)

7. The banner representing the True Church carrying two babes, the Old and New Testament Dispensations. Painting by Richard Coates (Sharon Temple)

8. Banner showing the two babes opening the seventh seal of Revelation.

Painting by Richard Coates (Sharon Temple)

9. The Second Meeting-House, completed between 1832 and 1842 (Sharon Temple)

10. David Willson's study, completed in 1829 (Sharon Temple)

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AWAITING THE M I L L E N N I U M

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CHAPTER ONE

The Yonge Street Settlement

In 1800, Timothy Rogers, a Quaker pioneer who by his own account had settled eight new farms and opened three new settlements, led some forty families from Vermont to a land grant at the northern end of Yonge Street in York County, Ontario (B ROG n.d.: 111). Roger's own incessant migration, from Connecticut to New York, to Vermont, and finally to Ontario, typified the westward movement of eastern farmers after the Revolutionary War. For Quakers, this migration was both a test of Friends' traditions as well as a paradoxical attempt to preserve them. The distinctive rural lifestyle of the Society of Friends was increasingly being threatened by the commercialization of agriculture in the settled northeast; high land costs made it difficult to establish maturing children on viable farms, and the newly opened, cheap lands to the west proved enticing. However, this large-scale migration decimated many Quaker meetings in the east, leaving only tattered remnants of once thriving older communities. In frontier regions, Friends, shorn of the close ties of neighbourliness and kinship that held older communities together, often strayed from the Society's testimonies and were lost to Quakerism. In order to respond to these changing needs the Society of Friends was forced to adapt its traditions, to reinterpret the demands it made upon its members. These demands did not fall with equal weight on all members, and many Quakers strove to lead the Society in new, and often contradictory directions. This chapter provides the background for one such acrimonious exchange among Friends; in doing so, it attempts to recount a dialogue between the frontier and the city, between the periphery and the centre, in the age of capitalist expansion.

4

Awaiting the Millennium The Society of Friends

The Society of Friends (or Quakers), a pacifist, quietest sect, was founded in seventeenth-century England by George Fox, a Yorkshire leather worker. The product of radical dissent during the English civil war, or Puritan Revolution, the Quakers, and related sects such as the Seekers, Levellers, and Baptists, sought to extend the goals of the then dominant Puritans; the monarchy temporarily disposed of, these radicals sought to eliminate the entrenched privileges of that other bastion of the old order, the Church of England. The Quaker prophetic tradition emerged as a protest against the formalism of the established churches; Fox minimized the importance of deadening ritual and emphasized the necessity that all believers directly experience God's grace, the 'Inward Light,' within their hearts. This 'experimental' apprehension of God within the soul eliminated the need for a mediating 'hireling clergy,' who, though schooled in the mysteries of Latin, had never heard the prophetic voice of the living God. Quaker theology thus sought to undermine the legitimacy of ministers within the Church of England, while radical action, such as the interruption of services and the refusal to pay tithes, directly challenged their privileges (Reay 1985; Bauman 1983). The radical action of the initial prophetic period was curbed during the Restoration, King Charles rightly recognizing this action as a direct threat to his continued reign. Quakerism thus moved from confrontation to a phase of accommodation - now referred to as the quietest period. During the Restoration, Quakers sought to carve out an enclave for themselves, an alternative culture that dissented from the newly resurrected dominant social mores, yet coexisted in uneasy acquiescence with the reality - living 'in the world,' rather than apart from it. The continental quietest movement, which also influenced a number of other religious denominations, led the Quakers to concentrate on inward experience; Meetings for Worship, which a few decades before had often been stormy events, now became silent affairs marked by a strictly enforced decorum as conducive to sleep as to prayer. As the Society's organizational structures evolved over the following two centuries, defining and modifying their 'Discipline,' or church order, the prophetic ^unlicensed ministry of the first Friends was transformed. No longer prophets in a spiritual wilderness, Quaker ministers were made answerable not only to God, but to their fellow Quakers. Despite changes in the character of worship services, the ideolog-

The Yonge Street Settlement

5

ical underpinnings of the Quaker movement remained consistent. Quakers have always rejected the notion that the age of revelation was over; they believe in the continued presence and action of the spirit of God within them. This shift in theological focus, from rite to experience, had two important ramifications for the form Quaker worship was to take. Rejecting all dependence on empty 'outward forms' of ritual or an ordained clergy, they chose instead to meet in silence and simplicity, awaiting the moment when some Friend, led by the Inner Light, would unburden himself or herself to the meeting. The Inner Light was available to all who would attend to its leadings - to men and women, to rich and poor, to the educated and illiterate - giving Quakerism, and the Quaker ministry, a decidedly egalitarian bias. This initial emphasis on individual revelation seemed to preclude the need for a formal statement of beliefs; Friends issued no creeds, claiming 'right knowledge' could be obtained only from the action of the spirit of God upon the soul. Since Friends' ministers received minimal formal training, and the Society demanded little in the way of theological rigour, Friends were known for their disciplined actions (i.e., 'plain' speech and dress and pacifism), rather than for the rigorous systemization of their beliefs. Although pacifism is the present hallmark of the sect, there is scant evidence that it was a matter of concern for the first 'publishers of truth'; the Society's pacifist stance emerged during the Restoration, as Friends sought to balance dissent from and accommodation to the state through neutrality - the refusal to bear arms either for or against the crown. Governments since have failed to see the distinction, and have consistently jailed or fined them, creating a great many martyrs in the process. Equally contentious in the initial years of the movement was its insistence on plainness in speech and dress. Plain speech refers to the practice of using 'thee, thou, thy' in the second-person singular. During the seventeenth century, the use of these forms was familiar; when speaking with one of higher status the plural form 'you' was required. Friends' use of the familiar form with social superiors, and their refusal to doff their hats to any but God, were direct social affronts to the established hierarchy. In turn, plain dress, little more than regular clothing bare of all accessories, minimized the visible differences between social classes. The egalitarian ideology of the Inner Light was thus concretely expressed at every moment of a Quaker's life, and served to set Friends apart as a 'peculiar' or separate people. The egalitarian ideology of the Inner Light embraced by the Friends

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Awaiting the Millennium

was never, however, consistently worked out in practice, as is evident in their view of ministry. Although the universal accessibility of the Inner Light was ideologically necessary in justification for their not having an ordained ministry, at no time in the movement's history1 did the Quakers fail to 'recognize' that some of their members had been granted greater insight into the workings of the Inner Light than had others: although the Society of Friends affirmed the universality of the priesthood of all believers, they retained the institutional role of minister. Thus, while Quaker ideology called for silent Meetings for Worship, interrupted only by the spontaneous ministry of those led to speak by the Inner Light, in practice the silence tended to be punctuated at frequent intervals by those recognized in the role of minister. The tendency to institutionalize that role was further reinforced by the later introduction of the minister's box, a row of benches at the front of the meeting-house facing the congregation, which was reserved for elders and recognized ministers. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Friends and Friends' ministers were subjected to an evolving hierarchy of business meetings - the Preparative Meeting, Monthly Meeting, Quarterly Meeting, Half Yearly and Yearly Meetings - that tested the individual minister's spiritual leadings against the Society's traditions as they were recorded in the Discipline (New York Yearly Meeting [hereafter NYYM] 1810). At the base of the hierarchy was the Meeting for Worship, the local congregation that held twice-weekly religious services. The Meeting for Worship also met once a month as a Preparative Meeting, leading to the Monthly Business Meeting. In the Preparative Meeting, nine 'Queries' were read regarding the degree of adherence to Quaker practice as outlined in the Discipline. These Queries have emphasized Quaker testimonies such as the refusal to bear arms or swear oaths, and the maintenance of the standards of plain speech and dress. The 'sense of the meeting,' a consensual judgment on the state of affairs within the Meeting for Worship, was then recorded by an appointed clerk, and at least two representatives were delegated to attend the Monthly Business Meeting with the recorded 'minute.' The nearly autonomous Monthly Business Meeting, ideally attended by all the members of its constituent Preparative Meetings, dealt with all the Society's business which so arose: the recognition of ministers, complaints regarding individual non-compliance with the Discipline, applications for membership or marriage, the supervision of Meetings for Worship, and the delegation of members to attend superior meet-

The Yonge Street Settlement

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ings or to oversee the Society's financial dealings. Although at least two members from each Preparative Meeting were assigned to attend, the Monthly Meeting was a plenary session at which all members were encouraged to be present. Ideally, the Monthly Meeting was the gathered body of the Society, seeking the will of God for those assembled. To ensure the full participation of women uninhibited by the presence of potentially domineering men, a parallel Women's Meeting with similar jurisdiction over the female members of the congregation was established. Decisions taken by one meeting required the concurrence of the other. The decision-making process within the Monthly Meeting, as in the Preparative Meeting, focused on discovering the 'sense of the meeting.' Since there is only one God, whose will all should seek to know and follow, the political process of a Quaker Business Meeting demanded unanimity and was one of slow reconciliation of often opposing opinions. A delegated clerk sought to establish the groundwork for compromise, to acquire some 'sense of the meeting,' some minimal common ground to which all could assent. Decision making was thus not democratic in the strict sense of the word. The non-democratic character of the Quaker polity requires repeated emphasis. Quaker ideology is intolerant of factionalism (Hoiden 1984:12). The decision-making process was directed towards the production of a minute, a written record of the discussions held and their resolution, binding on the meeting as a whole. The production of the minute was controlled by the clerk, an appointed functionary who set the agenda, coordinated discussion, and, most important, framed the draft minute embodying the consensus reached. Those who did not speak had no vote in the proceedings, though all were free to speak as they felt led by the spirit. Should no consensus arise from the discussion, the matter was deferred until the next meeting, for further reflection and discussion. Minutes thus tended to express only minimal areas of agreement2 and, in controversial cases, decisions were frequently deferred for lengthy periods (in spite of the often pressing need for an immediate resolution). Despite its allowing a degree of local autonomy, the Society of Friends maintained its cohesion through the Quarterly, Half Yearly, and Yearly meetings, which encompassed ever-larger geographic regions. There was, however, a price to be paid for this cohesion. Although the form of the 'superior' meetings did not differ substantially from that of the Monthly Meeting, their larger size minimized direct

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Awaiting the Millennium

participation by the majority of members. As a result, these sessions tended to be dominated by ministers and elders, whose views may not have been representative of those of the Society as a whole. The superior meetings did, none the less, provide a forum in which Friends could share concerns and test alternative solutions to common dilemmas. They also provided a court of last appeal for those who contested the decisions of their Monthly Meetings. The Monthly Meeting is clearly a political body, with its own rules of order legitimated by the ideology of the Inner Light. Like any political organization, it has an institutionalized means of reaching decisions on matters of common concern. On the one hand, the clerk and the plenary meeting formed one arena of authority within the Monthly Meeting, a 'community-in-council' with a 'wide sphere of competence - the total field of public or community activity' (Kuper 1971: 14). Included in the business of the Monthly Meeting were the items mentioned above, that is, the sanctioning of marriages, the overseeing of Meetings for Worship, the recognizing of ministers, and the consideration of members' 'concerns,' which could be presented at the meeting for its approbation and action. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the most noteworthy of these concerns included questions on the morality of keeping slaves and distilling liquor. These concerns were discussed at each level of the meeting hierarchy, until the Yearly Meeting incorporated its consensus in the Discipline (at which time the concern was referred to as a 'testimony'). It was at this level, in open debate, that the political system of the Society of Friends can be termed consensual. As has already been noted, however, this consensual process was often subordinated, in practice, to an oligarchy of more prominent Friends; over time, the dealings of this oligarchy were institutionalized in a second locus of authority with a more limited scope, the Select Meeting of Ministers and Elders, an 'elite council.' This special Preparative Meeting, with its own set of Queries, oversaw the ministry within the Monthly Meeting, recommending those it felt 'weighty' enough to be named elders, or sound enough to be recognized as ministers, to the plenary session. The authority of ministers and elders ultimately derived from the Monthly Meeting itself, which appointed these functionaries in plenary session. Elders were appointed for the span of their lives. They were chosen from among those 'weighty' Friends who were known to adhere closely to the Discipline but who had not turned to the ministry to a significant extent. Among other

The Yonge Street Settlement

9

duties, elders were enjoined to 'take suitable opportunities' with those who disturbed the Meeting for Worship with 'improper communications,' to note irregularities in ministry and behaviour, and to 'extend advice and counsel as may appear necessary' (NYYM 1810: 24). There is no indication that this intervention was a necessarily pleasant or reciprocal endeavour; indeed, Quaker historian Rufus M. Jones stressed the often autocratic conservatism of many elders: They seemed unmoved as the desert-sphinx while some minister was preaching and no change of facial muscle betrayed in the least their approval or disapproval, but if the minister made the slightest slip in quoting Scripture, or if he deviated from 'truth,' or if his garb or voice, or manner revealed that he was not 'seasoned' or 'savoury' or 'in the life,' he would know it himself before he got home, or in the very near future. They were persons of few words, epigrammatic, crisp, swift of judgment, and, in the main, with all their rigidity and conservatism, afraid of nothing on earth except disobedience to 'apprehended Light and Duty.' They were meek and gentle to look upon, but somehow they acquired an extraordinary mastery over the membership. They were guardians of custom and they used their position and authority to preserve the plain speech and type of garb which the fathers had honoured. They were weak in historical knowledge and in reflective judgment, but they were unerring in their sense of what was becoming for members of their beloved Society. (1921: 126-7)

Conflict within the plenary session of the Monthly Business Meeting was rare, discouraged by the tactful mediation of the clerk and tempered by the Meeting's desire for unity. Conflict with an elder was fundamentally different; such conflicts of interest initially occurred on an individual basis, and were thus always one-sided, with authority vested in the elder. Since the Society of Friends had traditionally rejected a fixed creed of beliefs, the sole doctrinal standard of the meeting remained its already recognized ministers and elders. Elders functioned as gatekeepers, as those who controlled access to the institutional role of minister. Elders measured the leadings of the spirit of those who ministered against the testimonies of the society (as each elder chose to interpret them). Should these budding ministers be found wanting, the elders encouraged them to recognize the error of their ways; elders would ultimately recommend disownmen* for those recalcitrant members who failed to heed the warning.

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Awaiting the Millennium

Throughout the eighteenth century, many attempts were made to standardize the individual decisions of local elders. By the turn of the nineteenth century, the Select Meetings assumed greater authority at the higher levels of the Society's structure, where their members met in a special session before the actual plenary business meetings. As the members of the Select Meetings assumed a greater role at each level of the meeting hierarchy, new theological concerns were introduced. It was not, however, until 1805 that an attempt was made by the Meeting for Sufferings^ of the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting to impose a 'uniform discipline' on all American Yearly Meetings.4 The uniform discipline included a doctrinal formulation that all Friends would have been required to profess and a statement of belief in the divinity of Jesus Christ. The uniform discipline was a controversial issue on which there was no consensus; its general implementation was deferred until after the Orthodox/Hicksite Separation of 1827, in which the opposing factions divided in an acrimonious schism that characterizes American Quakerism to this day. 5 Quakerism and the State As a dissenting church, 6 the Society of Friends challenged both the religious and the civil hegemony of the state. By the end of the eighteenth century, Friends' organization in monthly meetings provided them with an alternative political system that usurped many of the prerogatives of the state and its established church. Quaker testimonies on oaths and suing, for example, prevented Friends from suing in civil courts (except in exceptional cases) and set up an alternative mediational process for the settlement of disputes (NYYM 1810: 90). Friends' peace testimony, which prohibited them from participating in any way in any military conflict/ always remained a major source of contention between the Quakers and the Upper Canadian government, despite an initial guarantee that Friends would not be required to bear arms. The Monthly Meeting is an 'encapsulated political system,' a political structure partly independent of, and partly regulated by, a larger encapsulating state to which it stands opposed (Bailey 1969: 144-85). This Quaker 'polity' can be best looked at as a 'part culture' not unlike many contemporary peasantries (Redfield 1955). Though English-speaking dependants of the crown, Quakers adhered to distinctive patterns of speech and dress and maintained a clear cultural

The Yonge Street Settlement

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identity as a 'peculiar' (i.e., separate) people. Although they participated in the broader culture of the British North American colonies, with common interests in roads, taxes, and markets, they none the less sought autonomy from the political/administrative institutions and dominant values of that larger culture. This distinctive Quaker culture was created and enforced by the Monthly Meeting, which 'disciplined' and 'disowned' Friends who did not adhere to the testimonies of the Society. Friends were exceedingly zealous in upholding the standards of their faith and expelling those who failed to meet the mark, resulting in a high degree of conformity. The Church of England8 performed a similar cultural function for the elite who controlled the state in Upper Canada. It gave voice to a value system that legitimated the colonial government and its policies. The contrasting cultural systems of the Quakers and the state (as represented by its established church) can be characterized as that of a 'religion of experience' against that of a 'religion of order' (Westfall 1985; Lovejoy 1950). The Church of England, a religion of order, espoused a cosmology now known as the 'great chain of being,' which interpreted the universe as a well-ordered system, a watchwork, whose very perfection 'demonstrates the existence of a divine watchmaker, a higher intelligence who has ordered the universe' (Westfall 1985: 10). This rationalist theology was the product of a university-trained elite with a vested interest in maintaining the well-oiled equilibrium of the social watchwork. As is true of all precision instruments, it was argued, a single non-functioning part was sufficient to throw off the delicate balance of the whole. By discouraging change and positively reinforcing the place of each link in the great chain, the established church proved 'the best security that Government can have in its own internal preservation' (Simcoe, quoted in Craig 1963: 21). The mutual benefit derived from such a symbiotic relationship was most crudely expressed by the creation of the Clergy Reserves, in which one-seventh of all the lands of Upper Canada were held for the sole use of the 'Protestant clergy' but were quickly appropriated by the Church of England. Quakerism was a religion of experience rather than of order - 'personal and passionate; it was immediate; it could be felt. At the very centre of this pattern was an encounter with the spirit of God' (Westfall 1985:15). Although the religion of experience is best exemplified by the Methodist camp meeting, it is essential to distinguish the ide-

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Awaiting the Millennium

ology of 'experimental' religion from the emotionalism it invokes (Steere 1984 129). The Quakers, with their silent meetings, lay at the opposite emotional pole from the Methodists, yet had in common with them the central experience of a felt gift of grace. As dissenting churches, Quakerism and Methodism also shared a common political goal: the maintenance of alternative value systems and social organizations. By bringing God from the apex of the great chain of being into men's hearts, they sought to redefine the social compact between government and the Church of England. The political implications in Upper Canada of denominational membership should thus be readily apparent. The Quaker polity, the Monthly Meeting, was a virtually autonomous body with an alternative, dissenting value system that it sought to maintain through the political organization of the church. In its relations with the state, the meeting as a whole could only set standards, could only define its Discipline. Given the conflict that Quaker testimonies engendered with the state, the need for unanimity in the Quaker decision-making process becomes apparent. In turn, the elite of Upper Canada adhered to the Church of England. Through its privileged status, the Church of England played a part in elaborating an informal state ideology that provided its members with a clearly defined hierarchy within which they could find their proper place and, as an elite, define the proper place of non-members. Defections from the Quaker fold were frequent. As the incentives offered by the larger society increased in value, or as the penalties imposed against Friends were strengthened, many Quakers found themselves caught between the two polities, and were forced to declare their primary allegiance. Within the Yonge Street settlement, the disownment of Joseph Hill exemplifies the individual dilemma faced by some Friends. Hill was an ambitious miller from New Jersey who purchased every available mill site along the Holland River shortly after immigrating to the area. He finally settled at what is now the foot of Main Street in Newmarket, where he built a mill and store in 1801. Hill was trapped in a long-standing, simmering dispute with the local magistrate, an Anglican named Elisha Beman, who was also a miller and storekeeper.9 Beman had extensive ties with the colonial bureaucracy through his wife, Esther Robinson, the widow of Christopher Robinson, Deputy Surveyor General of Woods and Forests and a member of the Legislative Assembly. Beman first scouted the Yonge Street area in about 1799, and developed a grandiose scheme for

The Yonge Street Settlement

13

funnelling the fur trade between Georgian Bay and Lake Ontario through Lake Simcoe and along Yonge Street. This route had always been used as an alternative by the North West Company, but the overland journey along Yonge Street was more difficult than navigating the Great Lakes. Beman hoped that improvements to Yonge Street and his plan to operate a Lake Simcoe ferry would siphon off some of this trade to his own profit. Beman failed to act quickly, however, and it was 1803 before he moved to the Yonge Street settlement. It was in establishing footholds in the new Quaker settlement that the competition between the two men developed. When Beman arrived in 1803 he built a mill upstream from Hill's, only to find that Hill's millpond interfered with the operation of his own. Rather than smoothing relations between the two, Beman antagonized Hill by purchasing a Crown Reserve (lot 33, concession 2, Whitchurch Township) and evicting Hill from a tannery he had established there without first officially leasing the property, as he should have. Thus, when Beman sought to purchase Hill's mill, Hill drove a hard bargain. The purchase price was such that Beman later had difficulties meeting his financial obligations, many of them to Quakers such as Jonathan Gould, who had worked for Beman for two years to earn enough to move to Ohio (Higgins 1972: 25). Since Beman was unable to repay Gould in cash, he gave him 200 acres of virgin forest in distant Uxbridge Township. The failure to meet financial obligations through imprudent investments was an offence for which many Quakers were disowned; Beman's reputation in this predominantly Quaker community no doubt sank irredeemably at this point. Beman was saved from bankruptcy at the last minute by the ties of patronage he had established earlier with the colonial government through his public service in York, the capital; his Loyalist background; and his advantageous marriage to Esther Robinson. Beman was made a justice of the peace for the Home District (of which the Yonge Street settlement was a part) in 1806, and this appointment apparently put him on a much sounder financial footing. Despite his tenuous relations within the Quaker community, he possessed what they clearly lacked: a firm and unreserved commitment to the British crown and its local colonial appointees. By choosing Beman as a magistrate, a man whom many Quaker settlers considered a sharp dealer, the colonial government did little but confirm Quaker suspicions of the immorality of the state. Hill, meanwhile, had built a sawmill on the east branch of the

14

Awaiting the Millennium

Holland River and opened another store. In about 1810 he took Morris Samson, a non-Quaker New Yorker, into partnership. Samson had come to Ontario deeply in debt, and was soon pursued by his New York creditors, who then sued Hill for his partner's debts. Hill was faced with a dilemma. The Quaker testimony on oaths prevented Friends from testifying in court as an infraction of the commandment not to take the Lord's name in vain. Thus, when taken to court, Hill would be unable to take the stand and defend himself. If he defended his property in a court of law he would lose his membership in the Society of Friends. This was not a choice Hill made lightly; he took six months to decide on a course of action. During this time, the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting appointed a committee to investigate his financial dealings and recommend appropriate action.10 Unfortunately, Hill was unable to wait for their recommendations, he finally decided to swear the oath to defend his property.11 It was, however, too late, and he was forced into bankruptcy. Salt was rubbed in the wound when he was subsequently disowned by the Society of Friends. Bitterly proclaiming himself the victim of judicial robbery, he returned to Pennsylvania. At the sheriff's auction, all of his property was purchased by Peter Robinson, Beman's stepson. The case of Joseph Hill is a clear example of how, despite their desire to remain a 'peculiar' people, Friends were sometimes forced to make compromises with the world. In a colony where the elite exerted their dominance in both church and state, Friends' testimonies had undeniable political and economic repercussions for their members. It is for this reason that, even on theological issues, the Society of Friends cannot be examined in isolation from the larger society that encapsulated them. The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting The Yonge Street settlement was the third, and one of the largest, of the Quaker settlements formed in early nineteenth-century Ontario by American immigrants. It grew out of the 'concern' of Timothy Rogers, a Vermont Quaker, to foster a community midway between the existing Quaker settlements at West Lake and at Pelham (at opposite ends of Lake Ontario), and so 'be helpful to get Friends in Upper Canada united' (B ROG n.d.: 98). Rogers led some forty families to a land grant in the unsettled townships of King, Whitchurch, and

The Yonge Street Settlement

15

East Gwillimbury, at the northern end of Yonge Street (Trewhella n.d.: 14-23). While negotiating this land grant at York, Rogers met Samuel Lundy and Isaac Phillips, two Friends from Pennsylvania, who had arranged for a further twenty farms in Whitchurch. From 1801 until the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting was 'set off 12 from the Pelham Monthly Meeting in 1806, the majority of the Yonge Street Quakers originated in either the Muncy Monthly Meeting in Pennsylvania or the Monkton Monthly Meeting in Vermont. Because of the peculiarities of Upper Canadian land-granting policy and the desire of immigrating Friends to settle near kin and former neighbours, the Yonge Street settlement rapidly fragmented into a series of insular Meetings for Worship, loosely federated under the jurisdiction of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting (see photo i). The immigrating Quakers were scattered over five townships, isolated from each other by government reserve lands and a lack of roads. This geographic dispersal of Quaker settlers led to the creation of five Meetings for Worship, one each in King, Whitchurch, East Gwillimbury, Uxbridge, and Pickering townships, between 1806 and 1812. Lacking a single focal point of settlement, immigrants located near kin and former neighbours. Muncy Friends from Pennsylvania continued to concentrate in Whitchurch Township. Monkton Friends from Vermont tended to settle in Timothy Rogers's original grant in East Gwillimbury, or in Pickering Township. Friends from the Catawissa Monthly Meeting in Pennsylvania settled along lower Yonge Street and in Uxbridge. A small but important group from the Creek Monthly Meeting in New York settled in East Gwillimbury (see figure i). The relatively restricted range of home meetings from which the immigrants came reflects specific Quaker settlement concerns. Friends' meetings sought to preserve their Quaker communities in the face of the potentially disruptive migration of their members. Meetings urged their members not to leave 'in a disorderly manner' on their own, but to maintain ties with other Friends' meetings in frontier regions (MacMaster 1989: 3-17). The movement of Quakers to the frontier thus followed a pattern of chain migration in which pioneers induced family and former neighbours to follow them to newly opened lands to the north and west, creating daughter colonies of the original meeting. An excellent example of this type of chain migration can be seen in the land acquisitions of the Doan family of Bucks County, Pennsylvania, a substantial number of whom joined the Children of Peace.

i6

Awaiting the Millennium

Figure i Distribution of Quaker settlers, showing place of origin, for the Yonge Street, Queen Street, and Pine Orchard meetings

The Yonge Street Settlement

17

Ebenezer Doan, Sr, patriarch of the family, had eight children, most of whom settled in Solebury Township in Bucks County following the American Revolution. In 1785, Martha, Doan's eldest daughter, married Amos Armitage, a carpenter, and they moved to the newly opened settlement at Catawissa in Columbia County. Catawissa was first settled in 1775; it was then known as Hughesburg, after William Hughes who had laid out the original town site (Rhoads 1963). Catawissa and the neighbouring districts of Roaring Creek and Muncy expanded rapidly during the 17805 and 17905 as eastern Quakers migrated west to escape land shortages and rising land prices. Catawissa became an independent Monthly Meeting in 1796. The migrants appeared generally unhappy with Catawissa, and during the first decade of the nineteenth century most of the Friends in the area moved on once more; many, including members of the founding Hughes family, moved to the Yonge Street settlement in Upper Canada. Other Catawissa Friends moved west to the Short Creek settlement in Ohio. The exodus of Friends from the area was so extensive that the Catawissa Monthly Meeting was discontinued, or 'laid down,' in December 1808, a scant twelve years after it was created. Its remaining members affiliated with the neighbouring Roaring Creek Meeting. Armitage appears to have followed Muncy Friends to the Yonge Street Meeting in Upper Canada. In 1804, Amos Armitage and his wife, Martha Doan, purchased 100 acres of lot 92, concession i, Whitchurch Township (see figure 2). Impressed by what he saw, Armitage wrote to Charles Chapman, a Friend in Catawissa: 'I hope by this time thou hast got rid of thy property on that barren mountain and art making ready to come to a land as it were flowing with milk and honey.' He added that he had 'likewise sent a letter to [his] friends in Bucks County [presumably the Doans]' (Hill 1991: 32). Armitage's favourable reports induced the Doans, Charles Chapman, and several other families to join him in Upper Canada. The Doans, then living in Solebury Township, Bucks County, formed a compact family-centred settlement not unlike the one they were to form on Yonge Street.*3 In Solebury, Ebenezer, Sr, and sons Ebenezer, Jr, John, and Joseph owned contiguous farms, while brothers Mahlon and William farmed nearby. Ebenezer, Jr, owned the largest farm in the family, a mere 793/4 acres,*4 which he had purchased in 1801 for £957, with money earned as a carpenter in Georgia. Small holdings

Awaiting the Millennium

Figure 2 The Doan family settlement, 1812

and the high cost of land were thus two factors in the decision to migrate to Upper Canada. In 1807, Martha Doan Armitage's brothers, John and William Doan, purchased lots near Amos on concession i, King Township. *5 William then appears to have gone back to Pennsylvania with a report on local conditions, as he returned the next year with brothers Ebenezer, Jr, Mahlon, and Joseph,16 who purchased lots adjacent to those of Amos, John, and William.17 The end result of the chain migration of the Doan/Armitage family was a compact settlement of closely related farming households on Yonge Street. The same process tied Timothy Rogers's original settlers in East Gwillimbury together, as well as the Muncy Friends in Whitchurch. The Meetings for Worship that sprang up in each township were composed of members with multiple ties to each other. They were, in effect, old communities transplanted to the frontier through the process of chain migration. However, the ties between the five Meetings for Worship were weaker. The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting was relatively new, and communication between members from different Preparative Meetings was difficult. The business of the Monthly

The Yonge Street Settlement

19

Meeting - which, in practice, few members from distant meetings attended - was the predominant tie; there were few of the ties of kinship that might have led to more interaction between these isolated groups.18 The settlement pattern just described in effect perpetuated the weakness of the Monthly Meeting as an integrative body. The obvious preference of kin and former neighbours for settling near one another was not unique to the Quakers of Yonge Street, but reflected the common conditions of pioneer settlement: a subsistence economy, the general availability of land requiring extensive clearing, and a general shortage of wage labour. The overall lack of roads and undeveloped and remote markets made dependence on agricultural production for sale problematic. Produce was primarily grown for immediate household consumption with surpluses sold, when (and if) possible. Many typical farm tasks, such as clearing fields of stumps, harvesting, and raising farm buildings, could not be adequately performed with the labour available to a single household. Given the lack of markets, and hence a scarcity of cash, extrafamilial wage labour was hard to come by. The need for extra help was met with a 'work bee' - an unpaid reciprocal exchange of labour among a number of neighbouring households (Guillet 1979:119-40; Higgins 1972: 33-4). A rather idyllic description of pioneer cooperation in Uxbridge Township notes: Sparse and scattered as the settlers were, - some of them living at as great a distance as six or seven miles apart - they assisted one another in 'blazing' and 'brushing' roads and cutting pathways through the woods and swamps and over and around hills and at 'logging bees' and otherwise in exchanging work from one clearing to another. Their helpful sympathies were awakened towards each other, and Quakers, or Friends, as they mostly were, composed one little community, their offices of good neighbourhood were extended to each other in constant acts of brotherly kindness. (Higgins 1972: 26)

The work bee, as a form of labour exchange, depended upon relative proximity and trust. In a highly transient pioneer community, the risk of losing one's invested labour was lessened by settling near known quantities - next to kin and former neighbours who had already proved themselves trustworthy. For this reason the members of each Meeting for Worship sought lands adjacent to others from

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Awaiting the Millennium

their home meetings. They sought to perpetuate not only their individual households, but the ties of community that had typified the Quaker settlements of the east.19 These settlement patterns, the cooperative work bees, and the subsistence farming of the Yonge Street Quakers are common elements of the non-capitalist social relations of production typical of a peasantry.20 The Yonge Street Quakers were subsistence farmers whose production was primarily oriented towards meeting family consumption needs, not market demands. Decisions about what to grow, and in which amounts, had little to do with the crops' potential saleability. Because they owned their own farms (in many cases, granted free by the government) and produced enough to meet most of their own household consumption needs, they made economic choices with little regard for the demands of the market. These choices were made within an alternative value system, a 'moral economy.' As noted earlier, the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting was an encapsulated political system that sought to maintain a distinctive value system, a 'part culture.' This alternative value system, or moral economy, bound this peasant Quaker community together, defining it in relation to non-Quakers. Although each Quaker household sought to provide for itself, all were conscious of the fact that their survival depended upon their neighbours: their 'moral economy' functioned as a form of 'subsistence insurance' linking these households in a mutually supportive network (Scott 1976: 35-55). In times of need, these Quakers knew they could depend upon the 'offices of good neighbourhood' of Friends whose economic decisions would run counter to the 'rational' capitalist ethic of the market-place. For example, during the War of 1812, John Doan, who later joined the Children of Peace, was never known to sell a bushel of grain or produce of any kind at the high prices occasioned by the war, but always at the price-rate before the war commenced ... An English officer hearing that Mr Doan had a quantity of flour in store came to him and said, 'Mr Doan, I hear you have a quantity of flour for sale, if so, I will purchase all you have at the highest market price.' The reply was, 'Has thee got the money to pay for it?' 'Why certainly, or I would not have the face to make you an offer.' 'Well,' rejoined Mr Doan, 'If thee has got the money to pay for it, thee may go somewhere else to buy, I keep my flour to sell to them that cannot afford to pay war prices.' (Doane 1902: 229)

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21

The Quaker moral economy was based upon the ethic of reciprocity: 'Do unto others as thee would have them do unto thyself.' Reciprocal exchanges of labour and produce between neighbours and kin created a tight network of mutual obligations that precluded exploitation (for profit) in times of need. The work bee is one typical form of reciprocal exchange. Rather than atomizing this community into distinct household economies, each led by a maximizing entrepreneur, we should recognize that these households were linked by multiple ties of kinship and friendship; these ties are best characterized by 'gift giving' rather than by commercial exchange. This is not to say that those involved in these relationships were not acutely aware of the cost/benefit ratio of their relationships with kin and neighbours, but only that, as in the case of John Doan, they felt they had no choice but to respond in some measure to each other's expressed needs. They clearly recognized that they were dependent upon each other for their survival, and not on an undependable market, and acted accordingly. Most Friends owned their own farms, grew their own food, and made their own clothing. As owners of the means of production, they experienced capitalism only peripherally, through the occasional commercial exchange with merchants. Since they were subsistencerather than market-oriented farmers, they followed a different logic for determining an appropriate price in their market exchanges. David Willson, reiterating a Quaker testimony, urged Friends not to bargain at all; Friends should seek a fixed price representing their own needs, not the highest amount the market would bear: How think ye that religious people, even the spiritual name, spend their time, when they are contending with their neighbour, or brother about the price of things: why I should almost say that they loved the world and the love of God was not in them, elce we should be more in that disposition that was willing to do good to others as we have enough for ourselves ... That little time may be spent in selling and buying, I think it would be better for the religious people to give the seller his price, or not buy at all, and when we sell take up with what the buyer judgeth he can afford to give, or else not sell to him at all, which would always give peace and satisfaction in dealing, and would be a better standard than the market price. (OSHTX975.441.1: 172-3)

Economically, politically, and religiously, the Yonge Street Monthly

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Awaiting the Millennium

Meeting attempted to create a distinct and independent society, unbeholden to the ways of the world. The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting clearly emerges as a federation of five scattered peasant communities, each roughly homogeneous in locational origin and tightly knit by economic and kinship ties. However, we should not overgeneralize the importance of this homogeneity, since few of these same links existed between communities. Actual social ties, based on reciprocal exchanges among kin or neighbours, decreased with distance. Settlement patterns, the unsettled reserve lands, isolation, lack of roads - all limited the interaction of Friends with others who immigrated from different areas. Each of these five peasant communities was insular, turned inward out of necessity. It should thus be clear that the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting was only tenuously united, and that factional bickering between communities was always a danger. Factionalism was limited among these Friends only by a shared culture and a desire to discover the 'sense of the meeting.' A Shared Culture? The Quakers on Yonge Street were caught in a changing world, one that also threatened their way of life, their moral economy. As the case of Joseph Hill demonstrates, Friends burdened by the testimonies of the Society were handicapped in competing with an increasingly capitalist world. The dilemmas created by cases such as Joseph Hill's took up an inordinate amount of the Monthly Meeting's time, as it sought to arbitrate tradition in new circumstances. This example demonstrates the influence of non-religious factors, such as economics and politics, on the society's testimonies; although the Society of Friends is a religious body, the decisions reached by the Monthly Meeting as a political institution arbitrated all aspects of Friends' lives, from the ways in which they engaged in business to how they settled disputes. It would be unrealistic to expect that all Friends would choose to interpret their traditions in the same manner, given the diversity of their life histories, economic situations, and aspirations. Although the Monthly Meeting sought to legislate tradition, its decisions were always open to internal challenges, as some sought to create a more agreeable 'consensus' to suit their own situation. These challenges rarely took the form of outright confrontation; it was, rather, in the actual means by which the political process of the meeting was ma-

The Yonge Street Settlement

23

nipulated, in the ways through which kinship and settlement patterns affected leadership, that such 'consensus' was established. Although the Society emphasized the consensual nature of its decision-making process, these kinship and settlement patterns often worked against the creation of a true consensus, as various means were taken to silence dissidents. The process by which these differences were actually resolved, and hence 'consensus' created, warrants a closer look. The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting can be divided into three groups, depending upon Friends' levels of participation in meeting business (cf Forbes 1982: 53). The largest group was the 'general congregation,' those Friends who attended Meetings for Worship but took no active part in the governance of the meeting. A smaller percentage of Friends attended the meeting with some regularity, and were assigned to a number of the committees that carried out the Society's work (42 men, 36 women, out of approximately 100 families; see Appendix i). Committee participation reveals attendance at Monthly Meeting, an active rather than a passive role, the trust of others in that Friend's judgment, and a commitment to Quaker ideals; committee participation is thus taken as a measure of the 'weight' of a Friend within the meeting. A smaller number of these active Friends participated on an inordinately large number of committees. For instance, the ten most active men (24 per cent of the active men, and an even smaller percentage of all men in the general congregation) participated on 457 of the 829 (55 per cent) committee positions held by active men Friends (see table i). A similar situation can be seen in the Women's Meeting: the ten most active women (28 per cent of the active women) participated on 264 of the 416 (63 per cent) committee positions held by active women Friends. This small group of 'weighty' Friends had a disproportionate effect on the meeting and its decision making. They were its de facto leaders. If we examine this small group more carefully, a number of important points emerge that highlight the importance of kinship factors in determining the leadership of the meeting. For example, men or women who were among the most active of Friends tended to have spouses who were also active; the most active Friends in the meeting were actually two couples, Amos and Martha Armitage, and Isaac and Edith Phillips. By 1812, three of these four were officially appointed elders (and the fourth later became an elder). A related factor is that the children of active Friends also tended to become active. The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, as a new settlement, had a relatively

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Awaiting the Millennium TABLE 1 The committee participation of the ten most active Quakers in the Men's and Women's Business Meetings of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting

Men

No. of committees

' Amos Armitage - an elder Isaac Phillips - an elder * David Willson Thomas Linville * Charles Chapman, Sr ' John Doan Asa Rogers Isaac Wiggins - an elder (died 1813) * Samuel Hughes Nathaniel Pearson (died 1813)

71 66 54 49 39 37 36 34 33 32

Women * Martha Armitage - an elder Edith Phillips ' Elenor Hughes - an elder Phebe Winn * Mary Doan Sarah Lundy Mary Pearson Martha Widdifield - a minister Phebe Widdifield * Rachel Lundy

No. of committees 54 39 35 30 24 20 16 16 15 15(?)

Joined the Children of Peace

young membership, a fact that tends to obscure this generational factor. It becomes evident, however, when we look at sibling sets. For example, Levi, Amos, and Samuel Hughes and Rachel Hughes Lundy, the children of Elenor Hughes, an elder, were all active. So too were Martha Doan Armitage and John, Ebenezer, Mahlon, William, and Mary Doan. The men's and women's meetings differ in only one major respect: the ten most active men were married (usually to an active woman); but six of the ten most active women were either widowed or single. This would appear to indicate that, unless a married woman's husband was active, her own participation was somehow limited (hence the predominance of single women). Given the importance of kinship in settlement patterns, the role of kinship in determining the meeting's leadership is not surprising. Just as each Meeting for Worship was composed of a tightly knit group of related families who depended upon each other for their mutual well-being, so too they turned inward to one of their own for direction in interpreting the society's traditions. The politics of the meeting thus occur within a narrower area than the emphasis on consensus would lead us to expect. The meeting's response to crisis was decided upon by an elite who utilized their authority within their kinship networks to maintain 'discipline.'

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25

It should be evident that the Yonge Street settlement, despite its short history, was torn by powerful social forces pulling in different directions. Created by farmers intent on re-creating a way of life that was becoming increasingly untenable in the developing northeast, they sought to isolate themselves in the frontier. Yet, the very nature of their settlement made them increasingly susceptible to the internal divisions they had imported with them. With each Meeting for Worship turning inward, and with few ties of kinship or economy to link the members, the settlement as a whole was easily divided and susceptible to internal conflict. These ramifying factors can all be seen at work in the case of David Willson. Willson, a minister who proclaimed he was taking George Fox's doctrines to perfection, polarized the Monthly Meeting, leading to the creation of openly opposed factions and the creation of a new sect, the Children of Peace.

CHAPTER TWO

The Separation of the Children of Peace

In July 1812, David Willson, an aspiring minister in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, seceded with five or six other Friends to form a dissident sect, the Children of Peace. The ostensible cause of the schism was a doctrinal dispute. Willson's 'recognition' as a minister was blocked by an elder offended by Willson's assertion 'that the person of Jesus Christ was a man; that his spirit was, and is, God with us' (OSHT X986.3-2: i). Warned by this elder to remain silent during worship services, Willson 'refused controversy, fled from argument,' and opened his own home to meetings for worship (Willson 1860: 9). Drawn by Willson's charismatic ministry, one-quarter of the Quakers in the Yonge Street settlement joined the Children of Peace during the course of the War of 1812. North America was home to a number of similar doctrinal disputes and schisms during the same period. These schisms, the product of the 'New Light Stir,'1 post-Revolutionary political turmoil, and rapid economic change, spawned dozens of radical sects like the Children of Peace. Among the larger, and best known, were the Mormons, the Universalists, and the Shakers. Other smaller and less-well-known groups included the Pilgrims, the Dorrilites, and the Public Universal Friends. However, these same factors also had an effect on many older, more established denominations, such as the Society of Friends, which were torn by internal strife and irresolvable conflict. By 1827, these same issues had led to a more widespread schism of the 'Hicksites' from the 'Orthodox' within American Quakerism.2 The pattern of this broader schism within the Society was not unlike the more localized separation of the Children of Peace: Elias Hicks, nominal leader of the Hicksite faction, had called for unwavering obedience to the Inner Light, 'that of God in thee,' the traditional

The Separation of the Children of Peace

27

Quaker doctrine that emphasized the experience of the indwelling spirit of God rather than correctness in scriptural exegesis. Hicks was opposed by those Philadelphia elders who sought to reshape that doctrine within their own conceptions of orthodoxy. Philadelphia, as the capital of Pennsylvania, the 'Quaker' state, had assumed the position of primus inter pares among the American Yearly Meetings, hence Philadelphia's influence in defining the Society's 'orthodoxy.' Hicks, like Willson, rooted his theological framework in an Arcadian moral economy. Doctrinal orthodoxy, in contrast, best served those 'worldly' elders embroiled in the Atlantic trade. The stresses of the War of 1812 exacerbated opposition among the local members of these two theological factions in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting; hence this earlier manifestation of the emerging continent-wide conflict among Quakers. Yonge Street, the military road skirting the westerly edge of the Quaker settlement, proved to be a test of Friends' commitment to their distinctive testimonies. By refusing to join the militia in the defence of the province during the War of 1812, by refusing to swear oaths of allegiance to the crown, by being American immigrants in a Loyalist colony, the Quakers along Yonge Street found themselves threatened by a government they had taken great pains to placate within the bounds of conscience. Although opposition to the government's military demands was uniform within the Quaker settlement, those Friends living closest to Yonge Street, that is, those Friends who faced daily challenges to their faith and livelihood, were caught up in the enthusiasm of David Willson's ministry. Willson's reaffirmation of the traditional Quaker doctrine of the Inner Light attracted these Friends in a manner in which the Orthodox could not. The Orthodox had sought to narrow the gap between Quakers and a threatening world. Willson, in stressing the primacy of the Inner Light, provided the Yonge Street Quakers with an ideology by which they could maintain their status as a 'peculiar' people separate from wars not of their own making. David Willson's Ministry Little is known of David Willson's early life or the formative influences that affected his later ministry (see photo 2). He was born in 1778 of 'poor but pious presbyterian parents' (Willson 1860: 14), recent immigrants from Northern Ireland who settled in the Nine Partners' Tract of New York State (Willson 1986: 9). Willson's edu-

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cation was 'bounded by one year, and a considerable part of that time almost in [his] infancy' (Willson 1860: 14). Following the death of his father when David was about fourteen, Willson was apprenticed to a carpenter until 1798, when his elder brother moved the family to New York City and purchased a share in the sloop The Farmer, which made several runs to the West Indies (ibid: 10). At about this time Willson married Phebe Titus, the daughter of a Friends' minister. Phebe was then disowned by the Society, which disapproved of marriages to non-Friends. Willson's brother Hugh married Phebe's sister Mary. The migration of the Willson family to Upper Canada followed the general Quaker settlement pattern already discussed. In 1800, Hugh Willson, the eldest brother, sold his share in The Farmer and moved near Kingston, where he worked as a teacher in winter and as a farmhand in summer (Willson 1986: 10). David followed in 1801, obtaining a farm in the new Quaker settlement then being established in East Gwillimbury Township by Timothy Rogers. The decision to move so far from the settled areas of the province was no doubt influenced by the free government grants of 200 acres being given on the frontier; David received lot 10, concession 2, where he was joined by his younger brother John J. His sisters, Mary Willson Dunham and Anna Willson, and his cousins, William and Mary Willson Reid, settled nearby. The extended Willson family was eventually reunited in 1810 when Hugh left Wolfe Island and leased the lot opposite David's on concession 3. Willson's move to Upper Canada coincided with new feelings of religiosity (OSHT 990.1.2: i), which finally led him, in 1805, to seek 'admittance, according to [his] choice, into the society of people called Quakers, after many years of tribulation and a rising and falling of the mind' (Willson 1860: 8). Phebe Willson reapplied for membership at the same time, acknowledging her error in marrying a nonFriend. Willson proved to be an exemplary member, serving 'them according to their laws and discipline for seven years in all good faith and practice of the society, [yet] still retaining [his] secret impressions as sacred from the ears of all flesh' (OSHT 990.1.2: i). Between 1805 and 1812, Willson became one of the most active members of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting; he served on numerous committees and acted as an overseer, librarian, and keeper of the records. He donated the land for the Queen Street meeting-house, a Preparative Meeting of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting (see figure i). Despite

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29

all this activity in meetings for discipline, Willson did not share his 'inner leadings' in Meetings for Worship. Still struggling with doubts, and deep spiritual distress, he remained silent, unsure of the direction the Inner Light was leading him. In this formative period of his ministry, Willson carefully explored all of the religious traditions of Friends, both quietest (or experiential) and scriptural, in the hope of finding some relief from his 'trials of the mind,' before finally and firmly settling down in the Friends' quietest tradition. In 1807, he records that he was beset with the 'temptation ... for a false relief of my poor soul, which was, that I should search the scriptures and see if good men had suffered so before me, and if I could find that they had, then it would comfort me' (OSHT 990.1.2: 5). His search through the scriptures proved fruitless, 'a false relief: before I found any to compare with my state and condition, I heard the voice of the Lord saying, learn of me, [and] I obey'd his command and put up the book.' Willson soon emphasized that the scriptures 'had become as sealed books unto me,' 'that as the moon and the stars only give light by night, and receive their light from the Sun, the fountain of light - so doth all Books and Instruments borrow their light of God' (OSHT 990.1.2: 16). His descriptions of this period of his life mirror that of many other early Friends who emphasized the hollowness of man's knowledge in comparison to the Inner Light provided by God's will. It was only at this point that Willson came to wholly depend upon the direct inspiration of God upon his soul, the experience that was to form the root of his later ministry. My state had now come beyond the utterance of the tongue, or description of the pen, wormwood nor gall would scarcely with my soul compare, until I was sitting still one day before God, and my soul struggling for relief. I drew my breath short with pain and the sweat rolling from my face; then the power of God came over me and gave my body rest; And I immediately saw my soul like an hart (or an emblem of relief) leaping and skipping on the banks beyond Jordan for her mighty deliverance. And my joy that day exceeded all my pain; But let all that read, remember, once is not enough to pass through judgement, for I have passed through seven times, nay not seven times but seventy times seven; and yet must suffer. (OSHT 990.1.2: 6)3 In the years that followed, Willson carefully worked out the implications of his experience in the light of the Society's new concerns

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for doctrinal orthodoxy. His long silence no doubt reflected fears as to how his message would be received by increasingly vigilant Orthodox elders. His reticence and fears were only overcome through the intensity of his visionary experiences, which became more and more egocentric: His word came unto me saying, Arise, stand upright before me and uncover thy head. I obeyed his command and stood upright before him. Then he said unto me, thou shall be a minister of my power (or God's spirit) and that the greatest ministers in the earth shall come unto thee, and cast off their crown (or that all powers must be subject to the truth, or them that trust in God alone) and that principalities and powers, kingdoms and Nations should be subject unto thee. At another time he said unto me, that if I would stand up before him, and uncover my head, that he would anoint me with oil, and I should be as a king in Israel (or caretaker of his people). I stood up with a proud expectation that I should be some great things when I was anointed as king, and be some like the kings in the Earth. But he anointed me with humility and care, and I sat down like a beggar, and then went mourning on my way. (OSHT990.1.2: 11)

In August 1811, Willson at last began to share some of these 'secret impressions'; first, with Rachel Lundy, a neighbour who was also active in the Queen Street Preparative Meeting. Fully aware of the radical nature of his message he warned Rachel Lundy that his ministry presaged 'a new glorious Dispensation [which] was about to break forth in the world. And that it would be more bright than any had been since the days of Jesus Christ: And that it was a doubt with me, whether such as thou and I am, will be suffered to remain amongst the Quakers or not, for it is as much for Quakers to be convinced of this day, as it is for others to be convinced of their day, and dispensation' (OSHT 990.1.2: 15). Strengthened by her guarded acceptance of the ideas he had so long kept quiet, Willson first stood to speak in a Meeting for Worship on 15 September 1811. Willson's carefully thought-out message that day emphasized three points, all of which challenged the society's new concerns for doctrinal orthodoxy. In a direct attack on the theological thrust of the Uniform Discipline prepared by the Meeting for Sufferings of the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, he stated 'that 'it was a

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material point whome men do worship. That Jesus Christ was not God (As some believe him to be [because God is a spirit, not flesh]) But a man endued with divine power' (OSHT 990.1.2: 15).4 This heresy was followed by an attack on the underlying authority of the Uniform Discipline; Willson eschewed all books, including the Bible, as 'only usefull to those who are weak in faith, and remain in a measure of the Apostate' (OSHT 990.1.2: 16). He insisted that true faith could only originate in the direct experience of God's grace, 'that there was a day at the first, when there was no Scripture, no prophet, no Mediator between God and Man (before the fall in us all) and that the church must travel to that state again, from which she fell' (OSHT 990.1.2: 15). Lastly Willson sought to legitimize his own statements by cloaking himself in the Society's own sacred history and traditions: I also declared that as David laid a foundation [for patron] and Solomon built thereon, - so George Fox laid a foundation; and I would build thereon (or travel in spirit). And notwithstanding several ages have passed away since the days of George Fox, yet the Sons of God (or ofsprings or works of his spirit) shall take up the Testimony against War where he left it, and raise it higher as an Ensign to the Nations; And it should be raised so high, that all the Kingdoms of the Earth should see it, That its coulors should be pure white, Gold should be the gilding thereof, Glory and honor, and Eternal life, should be written thereon. (OSHT 990.1.2: 17)

As Willson expected, his first sermon was met with confusion, and some antagonism. Mary Pearson, clerk of the Women's Meeting, was the first to challenge Willson's attack on biblical inerrancy. 'Mary asked my wife if she had discovered anything of her husband's being out of his right mind' (OSHT 990.1.2: 18). She reminded the meeting of the recent disownment of Hannah Barnard, a minister from Hudson, New York (OSHT 990.1.2: 24). Barnard had questioned the literal interpretation of biblical accounts of Israelite battles; she argued these accounts were inconsistent with the will of God, as revealed through Friends' peace testimony (Maxey 1989: 61-86). Pearson had 'become exceeding watchful for evil and did write down such parts of [Willson's] testimony as she judged to be evil and erronious' (OSHT 990.1.2: 24). As the clerk of the Women's Meeting, and the wife of a well-

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respected and active Friend, Pearson expressed opposition that was sustained and substantial. Over the next six months, as Mary Pearson goaded other Friends, opposition to Willson's continuing ministry consolidated. Influential Friends 'began to bear public testimony' against him, as well as 'reporting lies and falsehoods, untill they got the greater part of the Society into confusion, And many of their neighbours, that did not belong to it. The common subject that they testified against, was Deism, and the denying of Jesus Christ, and the Scriptures; And some cryed out, that I was guilty of Blasphemy - untill the Elders Roard like Bulls and the Ministers Barked like Dogs (or in the spirit of Beasts)' (OSHT 990.1.2: 20). Willson was supported by a small, but equally influential group of Friends. He tended to overestimate their neutrality to the same degree he exaggerated the 'bestial' characteristics of his opposers. This 'small remnant' had become still, and said but little about the subject, one way or the other, but was much concernd, and troubled about the state of Society; but could not see any way for relief or satisfaction, for Death and darkness did so abound that when they did open their mouths in meetings of Discipline, in order that peace might take place and that the members might be reconciled, one to another, they were immediately storm'd at by a darkening crew, that had raised up and uttered forth false judgements almost continually, judging them to be affected with Deism and was taking part with me. (OSHT 990.1.2: 23-4)

At their quarterly Select Meeting in April 1812, a number of the male elders called on Willson to 'hear what I had to say for my self concerning the objections against me' (0511x990.1.2:25). The meeting was called to order by Isaac Wiggins, who said 'he had never met with such a subject in all his life, nor one that had such a tendency to divide and separate friends one from another.' Amos Armitage, a supporter, called on Willson to explain himself, which Willson initially would not do. Another Friend stood to defend Willson, but 'Isaac Wiggins grew very surly and condemned him for standing up and justifying such a cause.' Willson then retorted, 'By waiting we see what little does - then how would it be if we should say much.' He added that the debate about historical (i.e., biblical) events was 'not

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worthy to contend about.' Wiggins, who 'by then appeared cross,' seemed to agree, hence he 'told [Willson] it was his mind that [he] should not speak any more in the public meeting untill this was setled.' Amos Armitage, wishing to emphasize the primacy of the spirit over the decisions of men, then interrupted, saying 'he could have no hand in stopping [Willson] from speaking, but requested that [he] might be faithful to the witness of God within' (OSHT 990.1.2: 25-7). The meeting then broke up in disorder; the members lacking consensus among themselves, no account of the events was ever recorded in the Minute Book of the Select Meeting. Later, at the regular Meeting for Worship, Willson declared his 'apprenticeship [was] at an end, for [he] could not be subject unto them any longer; And [he] was willing to be numbered with the outcast of their house, for [he] was resolved to live in peace untill the day of [his] death' (OSHT 990.1.2: 27). Willson's insistence that he always 'fled controversy' ignores his frequent direct attacks on other Friends in sermons (OSHT 990.1.2: 23). It was only in Meetings for Discipline, such as the one a few days later, that he assumed a more peaceful demeanour, suffering fools gladly. He then laid the book of records that had been in his care on the clerk's table, and told the meeting: 'That as I had become a very burdensome member unto them, I would give up the book, with my right of membership, and all things that I had received of them, and quietly withdraw' (OSHT 990.1.2: 27). Willson's resignation was not initially accepted, nor was it recorded in the Minute Book. He continued to preach in the meeting-house near his home in East Gwillimbury. Indeed, his call to the ministry was constantly being reinforced, as, for example, by a vision on 21 June 1812, in which he saw a woman representing the church 'ready to bring forth children' and he was commanded to 'bow thy shoulders and wash her feet; set her feet upon thy shoulders, or bear her sorrows, and bear her away, and set her feet upon the waters or the wind, that the inhabitants of the earth may behold her beauty, and that she may bring forth her children in peace; that her mantle may be no more stained with blood, for beasts of prey cannot walk on the waters' (OSHT 990.1.2: 28). This vision occurred several weeks after the United States had declared war on Britain (and thus, Upper Canada). The imagery of blood and beasts of prey represents real fears for this pacifist Quaker, and is not just a further reference to bestial elders who 'barked like dogs.' As indicated by his initial sermon, Willson

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was especially moved by a desire to 'take up the Testimony against War where [George Fox] left it and raise it higher as an Ensign to the Nations' (OSHT 990.1.2: 17). Willson and his supporters, though much discouraged by the intransigent opposition to his ministry, continued to seek a resolution to the difficulty through the prescribed means laid out in the Society's Discipline. Willson approached one of the two elders who opposed him, Isaac Phillips, in the company of John Doan, a former clerk, and Amos Armitage, an elder (both of whom supported Willson), with the following proposal: Thou Isaac Phillips hast known me both before and ever since I was a member, until this day. And I have not been a disobedient child unto you. I have fulfill'd all my appointments and all things that you committed to my care. Neither have I transgress'd your discipline, until I appear'd in the ministry amongst you (which I thot would be my lot from the beginning). And I have suffered much reproach from you, and am a man that has suffered Banishment from your house in Spirit: I am therefore well acquainted with your infirmities and the more able to be helpful unto you, and if you will accept of me as a servant at God's comand I am willing to be your servant. (OSHT 990.1.2: 32)

Isaac Phillips at first refused to give any comment, but came to Willson's house a week later with Isaac Wiggins, the other elder opposing him. Phillips then told Willson that his request had been unreasonable, and they could not accept him as a minister. Wiggins emphasized 'that Quakers told the people when they did first rise, that they had no new doctrine to preach, but that which had already been preached by Jesus Christ and his Disciples, and that their doctrine was sound, Orthodox and agreeable to scripture.' They demanded that he remain silent in Meetings for Worship. Willson, although dismissive of their claim that his sermons were contrary to scripture, was finally cornered, and forced to make a definitive choice as to his future course. He concluded he 'durst not come under any such engagements' (OSHT 990.1.2: 33). He again offered to resign his membership; this time, the elders accepted. At the next Meeting for Worship, Willson remained silent until its end. He then stood to announce his resignation, and that he was opening his home on first and fifth days for Meetings for Worship for 'any who have a mind to come and set down with me.' The following month Willson and five

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others were disowned for having established a non-sanctioned Meeting for Worship. David Willson's Heresy The nominal cause of the separation of the Children of Peace was a doctrinal dispute; Willson asserted that 'the person of Jesus Christ was a man; that his spirit was, and is, God with us' (OSHT 986.3.2: i). To understand the importance of this specific heresy and the heated emotions it evoked, it must be examined utilizing the related concepts of discourse, ideology, and orthodoxy (Zito 1983: 123-30). 'Discourse' refers to any collective activity ordered through language; ministry is one obvious example. 'Ideology' is a specific form of discourse that sets limits on ways of speaking 'truthfully' about the world. The doctrine of biblical inerrancy, based upon a literal interpretation of the Bible, forms the root of one such ideology. 'Orthodoxy,' in turn, is an institutionalized ideology; that is, it is an ideology that has been accepted by an institution as the rules of order for determining the truth or validity of a specific discourse. Before 1806, the ideology of the Society of Friends was uniformly rooted in the doctrine of the Inner Light, and its 'orthodox' position was defined in terms of the history of the society's traditions (i.e., the evolving Discipline). However, in 1806, the Philadelphia and Baltimore Yearly Meetings adopted the doctrinal standards of the Uniform Discipline (a creed emphasizing the primacy of scripture), thus shifting their institutional emphasis from the ideology of the Inner Light to that of biblical inerrancy. With a clear creedal formulation of a 'correct' reading of the scriptures, doctrinal heresies became increasingly probable in those Yearly Meetings. Willson's continued assertion in worship meetings that Christ had been a man was censured by Isaac Wiggins and Isaac Phillips for just that reason. Willson's cousin by marriage, William Reid, was disowned at the same time for a similar belief, he having 'denied the Divinity of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by declaring his belief that he was no more than the apostle Paul or any other inspired man' (CYMA 0-11-6, 16 July 1812). While this belief was heretical in the Philadelphia and Baltimore Yearly Meetings, it should be noted that the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting fell under the jurisdiction of the New York Yearly Meeting, which had not adopted the doctrinal standards of the Uniform Discipline. The New York Yearly Meeting had,

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however, upheld the disownment of Hannah Barnard for similar reasons. The situation in the Yonge Street Meeting was thus less than clear-cut; while the superior meetings of the Society leaned towards the new orthodoxy, no official position had yet been incorporated in the Discipline. A heresy is not simply 'wrong'; it is a threat to the institutional order that the ideology legitimates (Zito 1983:125). A heresy employs the same type of discourse as an orthodoxy, but reorders its underlying assumptions so that it is able to attack the orthodox monopoly on defining the truth. Thus, to understand the importance of Willson's heresy, we must examine what theological assumptions it undermined, and what the function of those assumptions was within the Society of Friends. We get a fuller picture of Willson's message from his theologically obtuse pamphlet The Rights of Christ (1815), and a number of unpublished manuscripts of the period that place this particular belief within a larger theological framework.5 The core of Willson's message was that heaven and hell are states of mind; his was a theology of individual experience. Satan was no more than the nature of man, opposed to the spirit of God. These two forces contended with each other on the battleground of each individual's mind. Since man had sinned in following his own nature rather than the will of God, he required a mediator, Jesus Christ, to help him regain the 'first state of Adam'; that is, man required the guidance of the Inner Light, the spirit of Jesus Christ, to once again come to a knowledge of God's will, which state represented heaven on earth. Thus, Willson interpreted the second coming of Christ as a personal apocalypse in which man discovers that of God within himself, rather than some future millenarian event (Willson 1815: 40-1). Christ was able to mediate between God and man because he was himself the second Adam, that is, a perfect (i.e., perfectly obedient to God) man. In response to the orthodox formulation that Christ was 'God and man,' Willson answered that Christ was 'God in man,' an event that had not occurred since the fall of the first Adam: '[Christ's] person was God's, because it never obeyed any other command; yet God is a spirit, and his person was flesh, in which God did abide; therefore, his person was an earthly tabernacle in which God did abide, while Christ was doing the will of his father: and Christ was God in man without sin, and the purpose of his creation in Adam' (Willson i8i6a: 17). Having lived a life agreeable to God's will, Christ's

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spirit was ideally suited to act as a mediator between a perfect God and sinning humanity. The spirit of Christ would lead sinners along the righteous path until they were pure enough that the spirit of God would enter their souls. Willson's emphasis on the inward experience of Christ's atonement was a reformulation of the standard Quaker doctrine of the Inner Light. However, this reformulation, and the manner of its delivery, betray the influence of late eighteenth-century revivalism, the 'New Light Stir.' At the same time as American Quakerism was moving to a more denominational pattern of organization and a conventional doctrinal orthodoxy, much of the hinterland of the New England states was being transformed by new 'religions of experience.' A profusion of new sects - Shakers, Free Will Baptists, and Universalists introduced a broad new range of theological concepts and forms of worship to Nova Scotia, Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, and upstate New York. The New Light Stir was the product of unsettled post-Revolutionary life. It 'introduced revivalism as a permanent element in the religious culture of the Northern frontier. It also provided a participatory mode of expression for Radical Evangelical dissent from dominant Revolutionary politics and ideology ... [They] utilized revival to articulate potential neutrality and solidarity with sacred rather than secular reality' (Marini 1982: 48).6 In this context, revivals and the religion of experience were an alternative to political involvement and the crisis at hand; they offered a means of distancing oneself from rapid and threatening change. It was in this theological environment that David Willson was raised. The influences of New Light theology on Willson are clearly evident. Willson was born and raised in the Nine Partners' Tract of upstate New York, approximately sixty miles from the Shaker colony at New Lebanon. The influence of the millenarian, communal Shakers is found in numerous theological similarities. For example, Mother Ann, the leader of the Shakers, had asserted: 'The resurrection ... was not a day of reckoning coming with catastrophic suddenness to all mankind. When one confessed his sins, then he was personally saved and resurrected; when he entered into the life of the spirit, then for him the "world" was at an end' (Andrews 1963: 18). However, the greatest influence of the revivalistic tradition on Willson was not so much in specific theological content, but in its very form, as would be expected with the religion of experience's em-

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phasis on felt grace rather than doctrine. This extempore style of preaching utilized the 'history of redemption' as a focal point for its message of sinfulness, contrition, and salvation. This oral tradition was pioneered by the great itinerant George Whitefield; it emphasized the more dramatic episodes of the gospel, the fall from grace and the atonement. Made popular by Jonathan Edwards's A History of the Work of Redemption (1782), the history of redemption organized the gospels into three periods or dispensations of grace: 'from the Fall to the Incarnation, from the Incarnation to the Resurrection, and from the Resurrection to the end of the world. Each dispensation carried with it a corresponding roster of doctrinal considerations. The first dispensation taught creation, fall and the Law; the second treated Christ's nature and atonement; the third dealt with regeneration, ecclesiology and eschatology' (Marini 1982: 139). The history of redemption provided the broad framework for most of Willson's work, and can be most clearly discerned in An Address to the Professors of Religion (1817), which is subtitled 'A path from the latter end of the Revelations, to the first of Genesis - and from thence to Paradise.'7 In that short work, Willson ties these three themes - the fall, Christ's atonement, and the second coming - to the individual sinner's experience of God's grace. It would be inappropriate, however, to emphasize the effect of the New Light Stir on Willson while ignoring its effect on Quakerism in general (and in New York and New England, in particular). The New Light Stir not only led to the creation of new radical sects, but also transformed elements of older denominations; Willson thus had noted predecessors in the Society of Friends, such as Job Scott, Hugh Judge, Hannah Barnard, and Elias Hicks. These ministers sought a 'reformation' in the Society, a return to the quietest era and the old standards that set the Quakers off as a 'peculiar' people. That they sought a 'reformation' in the Society is itself an indication that theirs was a rearguard action, an attempt to roll back the gains made by evangelical Friends in urban centres. The standards these reformers sought to rehabilitate were often expressed in the New Light idiom. For example, Job Scott, an influential post-Revolutionary Rhode Island minister, like Willson, was a quietest who championed the role of the Inner Light in an individual's salvation. He earned the nickname 'son of thunder' for his lengthy and 'un-Quakerly' sermons in which

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he 'pulled off his coat, unbuttoned his underjacket, tore off his neckpiece, and worked himself into such a state that "the Sweat Ran of him Like Walter"' (Moore, quoted in Ingle 1986: 7). Scott, like Willson, emphasized the regenerating power of the spirit of God: that, when man attended to the Inner Light, outward laws become redundant. Scott, and other reformers of the period, expressed similar concerns for the poor, and, not surprisingly, they found their most receptive audience among subsistence farmers and the new urban working poor (Doherty 1967). They attacked the worldliness of wealthy urban Friends, and the influence they had acquired in the Society. This attack was rooted in the Society's traditions, although the reformers' message, as much as that of their evangelical opponents, was a product of their time. The general context of this developing ideological dispute between the reformers and the orthodox can thus be clearly rooted in class interests; not all Friends saw themselves as a 'peculiar' people separate from the ways of the world. Some Friends had done exceedingly well for themselves in the eighteenth century. It was the Quaker merchants in Philadelphia and New York who had come to dominate the 'superior' meetings of the society. They came into increasing conflict with rural Friends whose outlook was rooted in the moral economy of the hinterland, with its web of reciprocal, non-exploitative relationships. Willson recognized that the two sides in the conflict were inherently unequal: 'the law is in your hands, so also is the lands, so also is the religion, and the order thereof, in your societies; which the poor cannot form, for want of property; being bound to your servants, to the support of the body, is without time thereunto. In short ye are the rulers in the earth, and the poor is your servants, and ye serve the Devil' (OSHTX975.441.1: 163). The egalitarianism of traditional rural American Quakerism had been eroded by the pursuit of wealth, which undermined the reciprocal exchanges of their non-capitalist moral economy. Prosperous Quakers found they had more in common with others of wealth than with their poorer brethren, such that they 'could not eat at one table with their servants, nor suffer them to be like themselves in any thing, save the Grace of God, which is out of the power of the rich, the wise or the great to obstruct' (05117x975.441.1: 160). These Quakers, who 'profess plainness and moderation, [but are] very particular in

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coular, price and quality' (osHTX975.441.1:158), were those weighty Friends most likely to be named elders. 'The poor, working for a little wages, which will not afford so good a living and fine clothing as your selves, therefore ... become unworthy of Church Offices' (OSHT X975.44i.li 162). These wealthy Friends came to form a new elite that dominated the superior meetings of the Society of Friends during the late eighteenth century (in particular, the increasingly important Meetings for Sufferings, which acted on behalf of the Society between Yearly Meetings) . More familiar with the ways of the world, these Quakers adopted an 'evangelical' stance, seeking always to lessen the differences between themselves and their 'church' neighbours, with whom they were in daily contact. As Willson noted, these Friends saw that they had more in common with others of wealth than with their poorer, rural brethren. With the evangelical desire for a less distinctive profile came new 'concerns' for doctrinal standards. The ideological dispute between these evangelicals and the rural reformers was thus the initial forum within which class conflict occurred within Quakerism. Reformers, emphasizing the Society's traditional dependence on the leadings of the Inner Light, utilized the ministry to attack the elite status of wealthy Friends. In so far as the elite were able to institutionalize their own ideological preoccupations (biblical inerrancy), such attacks on their elite status were construed to be heretical, a threat to the established (and sacred) order. By tightening the doctrinal reins on Friends, the orthodox elite simultaneously accomplished two goals. First, as noted above, a doctrinal standard eliminated the idiosyncratic theological diversity that set Friends apart from other denominations. Second, a doctrinal standard granted additional authority to elders and gave them a concrete means of measuring the prophetic (and uncontrolled) leadings of a ministry rooted entirely in the Inner Light (Ingle 1986: 12). Most of these elders were 'weighty' Friends who had not turned to the ministry; as Willson noted, they tended to be wealthy. The new concern for doctrinal orthodoxy was thus a means by which elders could curb antagonistic Friends, such as Willson, who directly attacked their elite status and ties with the world. By 1812, the central issues of this doctrinal conflict were well developed in the minds of the Yonge Street Quakers. Traditional subsistence-oriented Quaker farmers embedded in non-capitalist social

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relations of production came to see their egalitarian resistance to the state undermined by wealthy, capitalist Friends who embraced orthodoxy. Theology was one idiom through which class conflict was expressed. The Schism Great troubles arose between both in state and society for the [United] States some time in the sixth month declared war. And a number of Yonge Street Friends became so good and zealous in their own opinions that after telling their thoughts left our meeting and met at one David Willson's. (BROGn.d.: 103)

After his censure by Wiggins and Phillips, Willson opened his own home to meetings for worship in the Quaker manner (Willson 1860: 9). The record of his disownment does not cite his theological unsoundness; rather it lists his technical violations of the Society's Discipline, i.e., his having failed to stand when another Friend rose in prayer, and then establishing a non-sanctioned meeting for worship (CYMAO-ii-6: 13 August 1812). By leaving the Monthly Meeting, Willson created a second pole around which factional disputes could form. Given Quakerism's emphasis on unity and consensus, Willson's abandonment of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting would at first appear difficult to explain. His resolve to 'refuse controversy' is, of course, rooted in that tradition. The failure to arrive at a consensus is, rather, rooted in the basic contradiction in the role of the elder. Consensus was sought within the Monthly Business Meeting; but elders occupied roles that operated outside of that arena. As 'gatekeepers' to the ministry, they, as individuals, were vested with the authority to judge the budding minister's spiritual leadings, and need not consult the meeting as a whole. Indeed, as we have seen, there was also no consensus within the Select Meeting, with at least one elder, Amos Armitage, openly supporting Willson. Willson was immediately joined by a core following of five Friends (all neighbours and family) who chose to withdraw with him (CYMA 0-11-6; 13 August 1812). They formed the Children of Peace, which recognized Willson's ministry and granted him the divine sanction denied him by Phillips's objections. The creation of this alternative meeting created a dilemma for the remaining members of the Yonge

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Street Monthly Meeting. Willson's censure had been at the hands of a few individuals, not the Monthly Meeting as a whole. Many of the remaining members agreed with Willson, or at least disagreed with Wiggins and Phillips. These individuals were faced with two competing meetings, each claiming similar sacred sanctions. Their decision to join the one or the other meeting was influenced by a host of extratheological factors; we have already noted some of the social implications of specific theological points. Their choice was also affected by such factors as the War of 1812, kin ties, and settlement patterns. It must also be emphasized that the pattern of the schism was the product of 'elite politics,' the result of the actions of 'weighty' Friends who drew on their authority within the kin-based meetings for support in the often acrimonious exchanges. The War of 1812 proved pivotal in shaping the responses of these various kin-centred meetings for worship. The government's expropriations of goods and services in the war effort violated the Quaker peace testimony, thus highlighting the conflicting values of the state and the Quaker polity. The lack of uniformity in military expropriations, a geographically determined factor, exacerbated kin-based factional divisions within the Monthly Meeting. Expropriations and penalties most affected Friends on Yonge Street, the military road skirting the western edge of the settlement; faced with disproportionate exactions by the government, these Friends hardened in their dissent from state values and tended to side with David Willson and his reaffirmation of the Quaker moral economy. His emphasis on the Inner Light provided them with an ideology by which they could maintain their status as a 'peculiar' people separate from the wars of others. The five Friends who joined Willson adopted the name the Children of Peace 'because we were but young therein' (Willson 1815: 3). These first members included Willson's wife, Phebe, his brother John J., his cousin William Reid, and his neighbours Israel and Rachel Lundy. Willson had been the most prominent male member of the Queen Street Preparative Meeting; Rachel Lundy, the most prominent woman. The long-standing but problematic relationship between these two is left for later discussion. The centre of gravity for the Children of Peace soon shifted, however, to Yonge Street when Willson swayed a number of pivotal Friends to join him. Amos Armitage and John Doan had supported Wilson in

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Figure 3 Kinship ties between the Children of Peace

his clashes with the elders even before the Children of Peace had been established. John Doan, Samuel Hughes, and Amos Armitage, Jr, all of Yonge Street Preparative Meeting, were the first to cease attending Meeting for Worship there, going instead to Willson's house, six miles away. Encouraged by the response in September, Willson prevailed upon Amos Armitage for the use of his joiner's shop where he 'got a considerable number of the members together ... [who] without any persuasion or inviting ... confes'd they could not be satisfied to go to their meetings any longer' (OSHT 990.1.7: 39). Amos Armitage then 'told them that he was ready to open his shop for them, and that he had been waiting for the time to come for him to sit down with them.' Nine members came to the next meeting for worship there. These Friends drew on their kinship networks, encouraging other prominent Friends, such as Elenor Hughes, to join them. The kin ties between the dissenting members (see appendix 2) is shown in figure 3. Amos and Martha Armitage, Elenor Hughes, and John Doan were all weighty Friends; their defection was followed by the rapid enlistment of much of their extended kin group. Willson's following now included three of the Yonge Street Meeting's five elders, and two of its former clerks (one of whom, Amos Armitage, was also clerk of the Canada Half Years' Meeting). The Children of Peace quickly gained

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legitimacy despite being a non-sanctioned meeting. However, the pattern of defections never varied greatly from what leadership, kinship, and settlement patterns would lead us to expect. As these prominent Friends worked through kin ties in enlisting new members, the Monthly Meeting fractured on geographic lines, with a part of the Yonge Street Preparative Meeting seceding as if it had been 'set off as a new Monthly Meeting. It was only a year and a half later that a few Friends outside of the Yonge Street Preparative Meeting, in Uxbridge and Whitchurch, were finally induced to join the Children of Peace, and even these few were closely related to the Yonge Street group. The separation of the Children of Peace cannot, however, be reduced to the mechanical tracing of kinship ties. Although a knowledge of the relationships between the dissenters helps us understand the means by which they recruited new members, kinship in itself was not the source of the schism. The Children of Peace separated for doctrinal reasons; the question thus remains as to why this particular group of Friends rejected biblical inerrancy and felt so strongly about the doctrine of the Inner Light. Since most of these Friends lived on Yonge Street, its role in the schism requires further attention. Yonge Street As a military road, Yonge Street provided a number of difficulties for the pacifist Quakers who settled along it. Although the Quakers had originally been promised an exemption from bearing arms, later legislation imposed a fine in lieu of military service.8 Since this fine was in support of the military, Friends refused to pay, and often had their goods taken by distraint. Clayton Webb, one of the Yonge Street Quakers, left this account: Father was exempt by age, but brothers William and John were both drafted in the Militia. William, neither willing to fight nor to go to jail, took refuge, with some others, in the woods. There was often parties in search of him, but never caught him. The officers took Thomas prisoner, and took him before Colonel Graham, who sent him to jail, where he lay about 6 weeks, and by father interceding for him with Col. Graham, he at length gave an order for his release, and I think was not troubled any more ... In the year 1814 my brother-in-law Peter Wisner,

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45

having his team pressed to Fort George with government stores. He choose to go himself, rather than to trust his horses to strangers. He was about two weeks in winter, the roads bad and poor accommodations. He came home sick and died in about a week, leaving my sister [Phebe] a widow with one child to mourn her loss. While Thomas lay in jail, a young man, a Friend, Joseph Roberts died there, rather than violate his conscience. (Webb 1987: 13-14)9

Samuel Hughes and John Doan noted that they had been fined a total of $313 from 180710 1813 for refusing militia duty (OSHT 990.1.7: 81). The War of 1812 exacerbated this problem. Those who lived along Yonge Street were especially prone to this abuse. Even before the war, few chose lots along the road if it could be avoided because of the more onerous settlement duties associated with it (Johnson 1974: 34-6). Once the war had begun, with roads few and settlements scattered, passing troops simply requisitioned what they wanted; the most convenient source of supplies was the farmers along Yonge Street: 'In the latter part of November of that year [1813] two boats were brought up Yonge Street for the purpose of taking a large quantity of flour in bags and some clothing for the troops and others about the Sault Ste. Marie ... The flour etc., after being taken to where Barrie now stands, was taken on the backs of horses, to the head of Willow Creek, the eastern branch of the Nottawasaga River ... The horses that carried over the flour, etc., were taken from about Yonge Street, some 20 or more' (Willson 1986: 13). These military expropriations threatened the Yonge Street Quakers' basic subsistence as well as transgressing the peace testimony. The physical threat was greatest to those who lived along Yonge Street. Facing constant demands for services they could not provide, they were often jailed, harassed, or simply robbed. These threats could be met only by exploiting the reciprocal ties of their moral economy, as the example of John Doan cited earlier demonstrates, he keeping his 'flour to sell to them that cannot afford to pay war prices' (Doane 1902: 229). Government expropriations thus actively strengthened the non-market orientation of these Quakers. Actions such as these also highlighted the contrasting value systems of the Quakers and the state, strengthening the boundary between them. The Children of Peace, harassed on all sides, addressed the magistrates of the Home District early in 1813:

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for these things you say you have law ... These things have been subjects of serious reflection to us, and caused some conference thereon. And have come to a conclusion, to so far refrain from the custom of the law, as to not sue anymore at law, nor take an oath or affirmation; Because it is contrary to the commands of Jesus Christ, or serve in any office therein, save that of path master; nor contribute to the support of Government by paying taxes, while such practices remains in force ... Because by so doing, we have an active part against ourselves, and put forth a hand in our own suffering, by supporting that Government which worketh our distress. (OSHT 990.1.7: 81)

The Quakers along Yonge Street who were to join the Children of Peace reacted with a hardened emphasis on their religion of experience, and a rejection of the new orthodoxy that sought to lessen the differences between the Quakers and the world. Willson's ministry, which even before the war had begun had promised to raise the peace testimony high 'as an Ensign to the Nations,' handily summarized their religious experience in a traditional 'experimental' idiom and provided a legitimation for their increasingly vehement rejection of worldly values. By choosing Willson, the Yonge Street Quakers rejected the secular strife endangering their lives, and took refuge in Quakerism's traditional isolationism. Other Friends, in effect already isolated by distance and having few economic or kinship ties with the Yonge Street Quakers, faced none of the stresses that led the Children of Peace to so vehemently reject orthodoxy. The relationship between Willson's theological position and the stress of living on Yonge Street can be seen more clearly if we compare the highly committed Quakers on Yonge Street who joined Willson with the uncommitted Quakers who did not. To the immediate north of the Yonge Street meeting-house was a large group of 'nominal' Friends (see figure 4), Quakers (principally from Vermont) who had been disowned at some time in the past. Although many attended Meeting for Worship, they were not members of the Monthly Meeting. Most of these nominal Friends could have rejoined the Monthly Meeting by making a simple 'acknowledgment' of their past errors; that they did not do so demonstrates a lack of commitment to Quakerism. Because these Friends had already been disowned, they were under no pressure to adhere strictly to the Discipline, and hence the stress of living on Yonge Street was lessened; they faced none of the social pressures that active members of the meeting did. None of these

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Figure 4 Geographic distribution of nominal Quakers and the Children of Peace on Yonge Street

nominal Quakers joined the Children of Peace. This clearly demonstrates that the doctrinal dispute became an issue only for those Quakers caught between rival political systems, the Monthly Meeting and the state. In this situation, orthodoxy undermined the Yonge Street Quakers' status as a 'peculiar' people and thus was rejected. Willson's ministry and the separation of the Children of Peace convincingly demonstrate that we cannot rigorously isolate religious from political discourse, or religious institutions from political ones. Although we cannot directly account for the individual 'religious' or psychological functions of particular beliefs, we must acknowledge that, once those beliefs enter the public sphere, they have political and economic implications, whether recognized as such by the participants or not. Rather than treating theological discourse as a selfcontained system of thought rigidly insulated from social change by moribund tradition, we should view theology as yet another means of speaking about experience. Among the Yonge Street Quakers, who at that time had no set creed, theological discourse emerged out of conflicts between values and experience, between the peace testi-

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mony and the War of 1812. As those who shared similar beliefs underwent similar 'trials of the Lord,' their discussion of common problems and their preliminary attempts at explanation were cast in theological language. As the War of 1812 progressed and the Yonge Street Quakers hardened in their opposition, they discovered a common voice for their experience in the ministry of David Willson. When that voice was silenced by orthodox elders, these Friends seceded to form a new institution, the Children of Peace, which embodied and legitimated their dissent.

CHAPTER THREE

Organization

Although Willson was always cognizant of the risks he took in ministering as he did, there is little evidence that he sought to abandon Quakerism altogether; rather, he saw his role as part of the general reformation of the Society of Friends. This reformation was to absorb him for the rest of his life, and had the immediate consequence that, having left the Society, he now sought readmittance; he proceeded to appeal his disownment to the superior meetings of the New York Yearly Meeting, under whose jurisdiction they fell. The separation of the Children of Peace was not intended to effect a permanent schism but was simply one (admittedly lateral) step in circumventing the opposition against his ministry in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting. Willson rightly recognized that the separation was the product of a doctrinal dispute; yet only one member, William Reid, had been explicitly disowned for doctrinal reasons, he having *den[ied] the Divinity of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ' (CYMA 0-11-6: 16 July 1812). All other members of the Children of Peace, including Willson, were expelled for technical violations of the Discipline, for having attended an unsanctioned meeting for worship; hence, the validity of their theological position had never been tested in the superior meetings of the Society. It was thus upon Reid's appeal to the Canada Half Years' Meeting and the New York Yearly Meeting that the hopes of Willson and the Children of Peace depended. In informing the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of their intentions, Willson treated Reid's disownment as his own, and asked them 'to draw up a statement of the cause of their uneasiness with me, and cause why they had issued such judgments and reports against me and others as they had done. And state it to the yearly meeting for reconsideration, as they had it not on their meetings book' (OSHT

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990.1.8: 157-8). During the three years it took to resolve the appeal, the Children of Peace organized themselves as a Monthly Meeting. The separation within the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting produced a new monthly meeting in much the same manner as if it had been officially 'set off; that is, as the Society expanded westwards, distant new monthly preparative meetings were subordinated to well-established monthly meetings, and, only later, having gained strength, were they raised in status to independent monthly meetings, i.e., 'set off.' This was the process by which the Yonge Street Preparative Meeting, subject to the Pelham Monthly Meeting in the Niagara District, had become a monthly meeting in 1806. Because the bulk of the Children of Peace's membership was drawn from a single Preparative Meeting, Yonge Street, the product of the schism, was an independent Monthly Meeting, but with no formal ties to the system of superior meetings of the Society. As a newly established monthly meeting, the Children of Peace was organized largely according to the Quaker norm, taking the form of a Meeting for Worship, Business Meeting, Select Meeting of Elders, and, to fill the institutional gap, a Yearly Meeting as well. There were, of course, subtle organizational differences that point to the essential difficulty in rationalizing Willson's radical reaffirmation of the doctrine of the Inner Light with the institutional role of elder. One pointed difference was Willson's refusal to join the Select Meeting, stating that he 'was not willing to submit [his] judgment to any save God alone' (OSHT 990.1.7: 58). Willson's authority, based on a charismatic gift, was essentially incompatible with the traditional authority of elders appointed to judge the conduct of others. Later, when Reid's appeals to the Society's superior meetings were rebuffed, ending any hope of reconciliation with the Quakers, these latent structural tensions precipitated a period of turmoil in which David Willson's leadership was repeatedly challenged (OSHT X975441.1).1 A charge of adultery laid by Israel Lundy, another aspiring minister within the group, divided Willson's supporters. When Willson rejected the right of the Select Meeting to judge his behaviour, a number of these prominent Friends left the sect and rejoined the Quakers. Decimated in numbers, but still strong in faith, the remaining Children of Peace accepted Willson's antinomian emphasis on the primacy of the Inner Light. They steadfastly rejected any attempt to limit the expression of the Inner Light in the name of a 'dead sense of

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letters' (Willson i8i6b: i). In 1816, they issued A Testimony to the People called Quakers in which they declared they 'had forsaken all your traditions and customs' and that 'rounds of ceremonies of discipline amongst us have ceased.' They eliminated the Select Meeting, or 'offices of the Church, for this reason, that it sets the house in two parts, which in justice may be called inferiors and superiors' (ibid: 2). Under their new discipline, all decisions were reached by the consensus of any who cared to join them. By late 1816, the sect had ceased to be a corporate body exercising jural authority over its members. Held together only by the charismatic ministry of David Willson, this amorphous band started on a self-defined quest for 'perfection.' Egalitarianism, Honour, and Status As every class or society wishes their profession to be best thought of amongst men, therefore, when others are thought to be equal with ourselves, we can receive no honour from them, for what we think we know more than others. (Willson 1815: 4-5)

The ideology of the Inner Light was the doctrinal basis for the egalitarianism of the Society of Friends, expressed in the ideal of 'the priesthood of all believers.' In the North American variant of Quakerism, this egalitarianism was predicated upon the individual's control of the family farm within a subsistence economy. Their mutual dependence on one another precluded the development of one-sided power relationships. However, the Society of Friends had always recognized that some of its members had greater insight into the workings of the Inner Light than others. Reay (1985: 114) has noted, for example, that among the second generation of English Quakers, there already existed a 'ruling class' of Quaker bourgeoisie. We have already seen that, in the Yonge Street Montly Meeting, a relatively small number of 'weighty' Friends dominated the political processes of the meeting. The authority of these individuals appears to have been rooted in their activity in the service of the community and the kinship and settlement patterns that tied each Meeting for Worship together. This authority could be 'recognized,' or officially sanctioned, in two ways: by granting the title 'elder' to those who, through their activity in the business meeting, had proved their weight; or by granting the title 'minister' to those who regularly displayed evidence of a charismatic gift. Ministers and elders commanded respect and attention. However, it is easy to overestimate the power

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these individuals possessed; whether or not they were able to carry through on decisions depended less on their ability to command than on their ability to persuade. The tension between their vested authority and their egalitarian ideology generally ensured that at least minimal consensus was established. Although elders and ministers tended to lead through example, their status as models for the community was limited through several 'levelling mechanisms' that served to restrict any who leaned towards autocracy. Quakers remained thoroughly egalitarian in attitude, aided perhaps by the realistic recognition that all humanity sins. Like many other egalitarian societies, they treated status, or honour, as a 'limited good' (Foster 1967: 304-5); that is, honour was treated as if it were a tangible thing, a possession that defined one's position in society. Honour existed 'in a finite quantity and [was] always in short supply'; hence a great deal of attention was paid to maintaining one's store (one's reputation) through a life marked by moral rectitude. Likewise, since the supply of honour was limited, an individual could improve his status only at another's expense. Thus, the honour an elder or minister acquired was at the expense of fellow Friends: 'When others are thought to be equal with ourselves, we can receive no honour from them, for what we think we know more than others.' The egalitarianism of the Society of Friends could not be accomplished by ideological fiat. It was, rather, the product of this constant attention to relative status: to who was acquiring status, or honour, and at the expense of whom. The greater the individual's relative status, the greater the attention paid to his or her conduct. Gossip, for example, was one means by which the 'holier than thou' attitude of weighty Friends might be deflated. The Society's Discipline, however, discouraged 'tale-bearing,' and members were encouraged to bring their complaints directly to the Business Meeting, where their validity could be established. The behaviour of prominent Friends was a regular subject of discussion in the meeting, a means by which the group could assert its authority and balance such Friends' influence. Ministers, for example, who requested permission to preach in other Monthly Meetings, regularly had their ministry reviewed by a committee of their home meeting; and each Monthly Meeting the minister visited was required to forward a minute of concurrence that that minister's preaching and manner had been acceptable. Such questioning of an elder's behaviour was, however, limited by

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the very authority he or she possessed. Elders were granted the lifelong duty to act on complaints on behalf of the meeting; the elders thus served to limit others' status, while being relatively immune to criticism themselves. In other words, the elder served as a 'gatekeeper,' as one who actively judged the behaviour of Friends who had become too noticeable. That role is, however, clearly inconsistent with the egalitarianism inherent in the ideology of the Inner Light. As Willson noted, the appointment of elders 'sets the house in two parts, which in justice may be called inferiors and superiors' (Willson l8l6b: 2).

The only means by which an elder's status and authority could be undermined was through the ministry, and we have seen that, historically, both Willson and the Hicksite reformers utilized the ministry in just such a manner. The ministers' authority derived from their charismatic preaching under the leadings of the spirit. Ministers could turn to the Inner Light as a defence against the decisions of elders, proclaiming the equality of all men (including elders) before God. However, the very act of proclaiming this message was intended to protect their own authority and raise their status relative to other members. They, as much as elders, depended upon inequalities in status to lend weight to their leadership. There is no clear-cut means of balancing these two sources of authority within a single interpretation of the theology of the Inner Light. The charismatic authority of ministers always existed in tension with the traditional legalistic authority of elders. Without an overarching set of superior meetings to balance the needs of the sect as a whole, these latent tensions between individuals could not be definitively resolved by the Children of Peace. It is, thus, in terms of this structural imbalance between elders and ministers that we must examine the continuing evolution of the Children of Peace. Crisis Following their separation from the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, the Children of Peace were beset by a number of crises that tested their resolve and led many to rejoin the Quakers. Relations with the government continued to be strained, with members being fined for refusing militia duty (Willson 1815: 23). Willson was also threatened with arrest at the instigation of the Quakers (OSHT X975.441.1: 194): 'the intent of the spirit of the thing is to put me to flight ... or that

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I should be imprisoned' (Willson 1815: 27). However, two more serious problems created unrest among the members of the small group; in 1814, William Reid's appeal to the Canada Half Years' Meeting was rejected, a major set-back; and, shortly thereafter, Israel Lundy accused his wife, Rachel, and Willson of adultery. The minutes of the Canada Half Years' Meeting do not record the deliberations of the committee that considered Reid's case. Indeed, there is evidence to indicate that both the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting and the Half Years' Meeting resisted Willson's attempt to turn this into a test case, for example, by refusing to read Willson's submission (OSHT 990.1.7: 59, 60). Willson's appeals for support drew him to preach in all the centres of Quakerism in Upper Canada, despite the difficulties posed by the ongoing war (OSHT X975.441.1). In West Lake he preached in the homes of Stephen Bowerman (son-in-law of Elenor Hughes) and other influential Friends, such as Arthur Elsworth and Freeman Clark, although few attended. The general lack of popular support, and the rebuff by the Half Years' Meeting, were the first intimations the Children of Peace received that their break with the Society of Friends might be permanent. Although they immediately pressed ahead with an appeal to the New York Yearly Meeting, their last resort, at least some members appeared to be questioning their commitment to the new body (OSHT X975.441.1: 180). The trip to West Lake, and later New York, gave rise to a much more divisive issue, one that was far more concrete than the abstract theological dispute which formed the basis of their union. In early 1815, an accusation of adultery was laid against Willson and Rachel Lundy, based on their ambiguous relationship, which Willson characterized as spiritual communion. Willson, in answering the charge, wrote: 'Rachel Lundy hath appeared to be unto me a sure friend, in a time of trouble, through all that hath come in the way. [Israel Lundy,] the husband of Rachel Lundy, hath been with us from the begining in a meeting capasity in the world; and as he being the lawful husband to the woman so calld, was often present at conferences about the things of God, where he had no other business in my belief, than to see what passed between me and his wife, when the world first began to rage against us for our sentiments in religion' (OSHT X975.441.1: 174)Lundy's jealousy was compounded by the rejection of his own ministry by his wife and others: He does not like to confer about religion, save with these that thinks

Organization

55

well of him, and such as he thinks will believe in his revelation, of which he has in abundance, consisting of nothing but the works of other men ... but he cut such an odd figure in the ministry, that his friends and relations began to mourn about him, as they had expected better things ... He hated his wife and others that would not believe in him, till he profest no unity with any, save little children; thus he ran here and there, making game for the world and sorrow for his friends. (OSHT X975441.1: 176-7)

Willson was at first content to let Lundy minister without objection: he 'was pretty much at peace, while he [Lundy] was active, for in this he took away my shame in the world.' However, 'he [Lundy] continued for some short space of time, growing verry fast in his own imagination, till he thought there was none like himself for size of religion in all the earth ... During this time he saught many favours of me which I would not grant him any, as I hated his friendship, and did believe it was the art of his spirit to enter into friendship with me, as it proved unable to be my master in deceit' (OSHT X975.441.1: 177). The charge of adultery thus appears to have been closely related to the competition for status between the two men, with Rachel Lundy, the most prominent women Friend in the Queen Street Meeting for Worship, caught between them. Israel Lundy, however, received little of the recognition that Willson obtained; others 'began to tell him, they thought but verry little or nothing of his action ... [Lundy] at length got so confusd in the world, and in himself, that he came unto me [Willson], and begd that I would tell him whether he was right or rong, but I refused to give him any answer, because it was at his own request, least he should go of with honor, and say that I obeyed him at his command' (OSHT X975.441.1: 177-8). Willson later visited Lundy in the company of another member to inform Lundy he thought him 'a servant of the devil' and 'bid him stay at home and mind his own business.' Lundy, much put out, replied that he 'believed he must try his experience farther in the world.' Willson, his advice rejected, responded: 'I thought myself justifiable in not having any more religious community with him, in writing, or private conferences by the word of the mouth, therefore I took my leave of him and bid him farewell, testifying unto him, that we were both too great to be servants, and because we were not alike, could not be brethern' (OSHT X975441.1: 179). This should have ended the matter; however, with Rachel Lundy caught between them, the break could not be as clean as Willson

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might have wished. The whole issue was compounded when, following this exchange, Israel Lundy, Rachel Lundy, and Willson accompanied William Reid to West Lake, New York, and Philadelphia to aid Reid in his appeals.2 Israel Lundy and William Reid apparently returned after the Half Years' Meeting, leaving Rachel Lundy to continue on the journey with Willson. Because of the heated emotions the later charge of adultery was to evoke, Willson's description of what followed is instructive: I being at this time from home and my mind altogether deprived on worldly cares and altogether given up to the servis of God in a strange country, and haveing none of my former companions with me save Rachel Lundy and my mind was mutch given to know her strength of soul and what she was in body or parson that I had so mutch loved and shewin so many marks of love and tokens of friendship since my begining in action in the name of God in the world. And the eyes of my body was kept awake to watch the ways of my soul and see what I could see of the ways thereof and hear what I could hear of what it spake unto me, for the ways of the soul is manifest unto the body in them that watch. Therefore I watched two nights together to be satisfied in that which I was not satisfied - in prayer and suplication continualy to know the will of God in my soul, till towards the latter part of the second night when my soul began to hate my companion before God and wished her home and put far away from me for she was burdensome to my soul in the sight of God. Therefore I longd to be relevd of her and be alone in his sight. After which I hated her more and more till I loved her no more, for my soul began to be impatient in me for want of fruits to appear in her seeing I had nursed her so long for nothing and now she was but a fruitless body and would not even bring forth the fruits of love to my soul, becaus of wantonness of a name amongst men that she might secure honor of them as a whore secureth her wages for her pleasure in the sight of men. And I hated her before God unto death and saw her body begin to decay with all the beauty and pride thereof, till I saw it lay dead by the wayside and the flesh thereof depart from her bones, till they became naked and bearin in the sight of men, as the bones of a beast which is not worthy of being covered with the face of the earth and I saw them lie through rain and sunshine till they became bleacht, and became as white as snow in the sight of men till no one regarded or paid any attention to them anymore and I was left alone in the midst of the way where every thing doth pass, and I said unto my

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Lord, o God let me die also and become like my companion in the sight of all flesh. And my soul saith unto me where wouldest thou that thou should lie, and I said unto him on the left hand side of the way that my companion may lye on my right hand and be more honorable in death than I. And I immediately saw my body lie dead by the way side with my face towards the passing of the people in the highways. And neither time nor age had any affect on my body neither did the coulor of blood disappear in my face, nor storms nor times affect the garments which I wore. At length all became still and I was left by myself alone, after which a serpent came to me or my body and did gently glide over me and drew near my face and put his head into my mouth and did bite my toung to poison it unto death, and I arose at the sting thereof and put the poison out of my mouth on the back of the serpent, and he imediately turnd over on his back to hide his shame, and he appeared like a fool in the earth and perish'd on my left hand where I did lie, because he had not wisdom to travel nor decive anymore. The interpretation thereof is, that satan tryeth to destroy the words of the mouth of the servants of God, and it was the greatest wickedness that ever he had done in all his life, therefore God would not suffer his wisdom to live with men any more, but that he should reveal himself to all men by works, till none on earth should beliv in his name or serve him any more, after which he shal perish for want of food in the earth as I saw him lie dead before mine eyes. And I did stand in the midst of the way between the serpent and the bones of my companion and he was on my left hand and she was on my right. And I cryed with a loud voice arise from the dead and come forth in the resurection in Newness of life, and the dry white bones came together and became clothed with flesh, and my companion had a new body without pride and without sin, and came unto me and abode on my right hand fill'd with the power of the holy Ghost. After which she appeared in the ministry and became like me in all things and we became like children in the eyes of all the earth. (OSHT 990.1.6; emphasis added)

Willson's visionary (or reversionary?) description of the spiritual transformation of Rachel Lundy, and the character of the relationship between them (asexual children), was clearly intended to silence those who, like the serpent, 'tryeth to destroy the words of the mouth of the servants of God.' Israel Lundy, in particular, wounded by Willson's appraisal of his ministry and his abandonment by his wife, apparently 'ran to [Willson's] enemies for friendship when he could find

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none with [them] ... and set others against [them].' Members of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting 'pretended unity to his face, for what they could get out of him, to rejoice over us, and make themselves merry with our infirmities' (OSHT X975.441.1: 178). The charge of adultery laid by Lundy was taken up by the Quakers, who widely disseminated the rumours. For example, 'Philanthropy,' the clerk of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, issued a press release in 1817, desiring 'that the following may be inserted in all the new England newspapers viz that David Willson of Upper Canada is about to travel to the New England states laden with fabulous visions and prophecies. His garb and dialect will nearly bespeak a Quaker but the publick is hereby informed that he has been nearly five years disowned by that society. It is the same man that traveld to Philadephia two years ago in company with another man's wife' (CYMAD-2-i6). With their appeal to the New York Yearly Meeting rebuffed, Willson and Rachel Lundy returned to East Gwillimbury in the summer of 1815 to formally face the accusation. They answered the charge with a lengthy written defence in March 1816 addressed to the 'Celect Meeting of the Children of Peace.'3 In this document, Willson and Lundy explicitly denied any wrongdoing. Willson, however, went farther, and attacked the very right of the Select Meeting to judge his behaviour. Willson's defence rested on his denial of the right of men to judge the iniquities of other men. Willson had used a similar defence in justifying his ministry to the Quakers, arguing that, since no man (except Christ) had a complete understanding of God's will, none was capable of judging what God had chosen to reveal to him.4 To judge was to invite judgment: the pot must be wary of calling the kettle black. 'Christ came not to condemn the guilty but call sinners to repentance. Neither is it easy to make it appear that he accused any man in the sight of God' (Willson 1815: 7). This line of argument was rejected by a number of the Children of Peace, particularly those in the Select Meeting, whose role it was to discipline recalcitrant members. On discovering 'some facts proved against him [Willson] ... the better part of his society left him and return'd to Friends' (Ryan 1980: 41). Charles Chapman 'acknowledged his error' in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting in March 1816. Martha Armitage requested readmission in June, Elizabeth Chapman in July, and Amos Armitage in November (CYMA 0-11-6). A number of other members, such as Stephen Chapman and Enos Dennis, disowned

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for joining Willson, no longer appear in the Children of Peace records (although Dennis's wife and children do) (OSHT 986.3.2: 225-34). The Pattern of Discontent By 1814, the members of the Children of Peace were scattered among the Queen Street, Uxbridge, and Yonge Street settlements. The focal point for the sect had shifted from the Queen Street meeting, where the separation had begun, to Yonge Street, from which most of the later members had come. The shift in focus from Willson's home to Yonge Street was also indicative of a change in the political dynamics of the sect; Willson was no longer the centre of the movement, he now having to contend with the other 'weighty' Friends who had joined him - a situation that was, no doubt, difficult for the egocentric Willson to accept. The competition for leadership within the sect reflects both the structural tension between elders and ministers and the patterns of kinship and settlement that so influenced the original schism. Following Willson's disownment and Armitage's offer of his joiner's shop as a meeting-house, the Children of Peace had adopted a new church order clearly based on the Society of Friends (OSHT 990.1.2: 57ff). It established the pattern for Meetings for Worship, a Business Meeting, and a Select Meeting of Elders. The Select Meeting differed in the greatest degree, it being composed of six men and six women enjoined to 'set the discipline in order as occation may require, and become counsellors to the youth, and caretakers of all that might need their assistance, and Judge of all religious concerns that come to their notice' (ibid). The Select Meeting differed from the Quaker model in that it was not to contain ministers - a clear, functional distinction between ministers as the vessel of God's word and elders as custodians of the Discipline thus being maintained. The Children of Peace also established a Youth's Meeting, a monthly meeting in which non-members and children could be educated in the distinctive features of the sect before they applied for membership, and a Yearly Meeting in which they were to review and modify their Discipline. The pattern of leadership among the Children of Peace differed little from that of the Quakers, although a proportionately larger elite dominated the Business and Select meetings. As before, the members of each settlement were linked by ties of kinship and mutual de-

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pendence. Each settlement was dominated by a number of 'weighty' Friends who exploited those ties to gain influence within the meeting. Thus, the Queen Street Meeting was dominated by David Willson and Rachel Lundy; Yonge Street by Amos and Martha Armitage; and Uxbridge by Charles and Elizabeth Chapman. It was these 'weighty' Friends who contended for leadership in the new Business Meeting of the Children of Peace. As their appeals to the various superior meetings of the Society of Friends failed, the struggle for leadership within the sect grew acrimonious, especially between the two small peripheral meetings at Uxbridge and Queen Street. Charles Chapman and David Willson were frequently at loggerheads over when and how meetings were to be run. The conflict between them was cast, by Willson, as a contest between the 'lordship' of elders and the 'service' of ministers (OSHT 975.441.1: 188). Willson chastised Chapman for his intransigence: Thus ye have ruld, and thus I have servd, till I cannot serve no more, for this cause; ye are always willing that I should serve you, and be subject to your way; but ye are never willing to serve me, or be subject to mine, nor them that is with me in spirit ... ye are that in spirit that delights to have the dominion and the government resting on you; altho their should be no more than two or three of you together, the aged must have the rule, (ibid: 180-1)

By December 1814, shortly before leaving for New York, Willson 'disowned' the Chapmans in the same manner as he had Israel Lundy (ibid: 188). The question of leadership assumed crisis proportions in the year following Willson's return from his failed mission to the New York Yearly Meeting. This set-back, combined with the renewed accusations of improprieties with Rachel Lundy, led the Select Meeting (most of whose members came from Yonge Street) to demand an accounting. Willson, for his part, questioned the right of the Select Meeting to judge his behaviour, and again characterized the dispute in terms of elders assuming lordship over others. Their break with the Quakers now permanent, Willson seemed more ready to experiment with the sect's Discipline. In late 1815, Willson offered a new Discipline to the sect, one that emphasized the individual's responsibility to God alone: 'None amongst us shall compell another to

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fulfill any law or ordinance of which is in scripture or an other disciplins written' (OSHT 985.5.81). The elders did not appear satisfied by Willson's response, and they continued to press for the 'truth' of the matter. The basis of their own authority undermined, they seemed willing to accept gossip as a means of deflating Willson's 'holier than thou' attitude. In March 1816 Willson was finally forced to submit a written defence of his behaviour. He related how he had been drawn to Rachel Lundy 'in my solemn retired watch for God' (i.e., in prayer) for a full year before he approached her 'concerning the state of my mind in religion and towards her respecting her state and condition in the world' (OSHT 976.213.31: 7). Fearing the wrath of God for having disobeyed God's will, Willson at last responded to God's command and visited Rachel Lundy several times to share 'in his lonely retired watch befor God.' But Willson soon discovered that what God required of them was not mutual prayer, but that they 'be together in the sight of all men bearing the name of that we was not guilty of for the sak of them that sin and are troden under the feet of men.' While denying guilt, Willson acknowledged that the accusation had been necessary, a part of God's plan to give him a greater understanding of how sinners were treated 'as unworthy of repentance before God' (ibid: 8). For that reason, he shouldered their (the sinners') cause and sought to conquer the spirit of condemnation among men (and especially elders). For Amos and Martha Armitage, this rebuke appeared to be the last straw. Their case before the New York Yearly Meeting lost and their authority now attacked, they left the Children of Peace and rejoined the Sociey of Friends. It was not long before the Armitages were again recognized elders in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting. However, the remaining Children of Peace accepted Willson's injunction against judging others (OSHT 971.28.94);5 they adopted a new Discipline in which they rejected 'rounds of ceremonies of discipline,' arguing 'it is not good to cast away any from us, for this cause, that in so doing, we account them more unworthy than ourselves' (Willson, i8i6b: 2). This apparently cynical attempt to maintain face in the midst of scandal must, however, be placed in longer-term perspective. We have already noted that as early as January 1813 Willson had refused to submit to the dealings of the Select Meeting. He had always insisted on a separation of ministry from eldership and questioned the au-

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thority of the latter. He had always based his ministry on the primacy of the Inner Light, on attending to the leadings of God rather than of a sinning humanity. Rather than as an attempt to maintain status (or perhaps in addition to that goal), we must look upon Willson's rejection of the discipline and the Select Meeting as the final fulfilment of his initial intent to reform Quakerism. By eliminating contention about 'externals,' such obvious markers as plain speech and dress, the Children of Peace felt they could refocus their religious tradition on the Inner Light. They pleaded in A Testimony to the People called Quakers (1817) to 'come to an experimental knowledge of God in the soul - where but one God alone is known, and all contentions about externals cease' (Willson i8i6b: i). These external signs were accounted the source of discord within the Society of Friends: You have many rules amongst you, and they are too much contended for; yea, even to that degree, that your most precious talents are wrapped up in them as a napkin, and buried in the earth; and your best members, by whom the Church might have travelled, are not active amongst you, save in groaning and sorrowing in private places, with groans that cannot be easily described, about the state which your society is in. And a set of careless, uncircumcised people in heart are rabbling over your traditions, up and down in the earth, both in ministry and discipline of the Church, preaching scriptures without any right explanation of them, and traditions without any amendment of life, or travel of the Church, in the peaceable, meek and quiet wisdom of God. (Willson i8i6b: 4)

The inherent tension between elders and the free expression of the Inner Light was resolved by rejecting church offices: 'The appointment of men may be the only qualification that they are endued with to serve; and thereby they may run when the Lord our God hath not sent them; and by so doing, become like the hireling, that is endued with no other qualification than the laying on of men's hands and the dead sense of letters' (Willson i8i6b: 3). The elimination of the Select Meeting, as well as the process of disowning members, marked a radical new shift in the sect's direction. Willson's antinomian leanings led the Children of Peace to eliminate a relatively fixed tradition, a set of testimonies that defined the group's boundaries and the institutional means of maintaining those

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testimonies, and placed increased importance on the role of the minister. As one 'recognized' as having a special insight into the working of the Inner Light, the minister acquired an increased importance in the definition of the group through his interpretation of God's will. It is in this sense that we must examine Willson's claim to 'have taken the principle where George Fox left it, and [be] going on to perfection' (Ryan 1980: 41). The New Discipline The reorganization of the sect in 1816 marks its radical break with Quakerism. In rejecting the jural mechanisms by which the Society of Friends maintained its corporate existence and enforced its testimonies, the Children of Peace strayed farther and farther from the mainstream. Although the break was radical, we should not underestimate the continuities; although ceasing to disown members for non-compliance, these former Quakers still met for worship, conducted their business in a consensual manner, refused to swear oaths or sue at law, and continued to practise plain speech and dress. These markers became normative rather than obligatory practices for the sect, a visible sign of the indwelling spirit of Christ. The rejection of the disciplinary process of the Society of Friends had a number of consequences that, no doubt, caught the Children of Peace unawares. One can imagine their perplexity in coming to terms with the peace testimony, that initial focus of Willson's ministry. War, like all of humanity's actions, was now subject to God's call; participation in battle was a distinct possibility, should God's spirit so lead them, for the Children of Peace. One can, of course, rationalize that, while there is a possibility that God will call his believers to war, God himself is a pacifist, and would never do so: Of sin cometh laws, of laws cometh professions, of professions cometh wars and fighting, persecution and bloodshed, of persecution and bloodshed cometh ilwill towards each other. And for the sake of laws and kings was Jesus Christ put to death, with John the Baptist and his Disciples. But they themselves persecuted not, nor took the lives of any. But if you should call on David to justify you in war, the profession and works of Christ will condemn you; neither can you make it appear that David's wars come of Christ or else it will appear that Christ was not complete in the body, but left a part of his fathers will undone. But the

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way to make Christians warriors, is to make use of the Old Testament for war, and the New for religion which spirit never dwelt in Christ at one time, neither can it in you. Therefore ye cannot be warriors and persecutors of one another and be Christians. (OSHT 990.1.10: 298)

However, admitting the possibility that God might call them to battle left the Children of Peace with a number of unsettling pragmatic problems: were they to continue to refuse militia duty? or payment of taxes in support of war? Since they no longer recorded 'testimonies,' no record remains of their deliberations, or, for that matter, of their resolution. We are left to judge their actions through the often unsympathetic reports of outsiders such as John Casey, who had an admitted antipathy for the Children of Peace. Casey, a proponent of'Peace Societies,' compared the Children of Peace to the 'followers of the "FIFTH MONARCHY MEN" or John Buccolt of Ley den, and the deluded fanatics of Munster.' Casey records that Willson told him 'he believed the warriors in the field of battle were doing the will of God, as much as the peace-makers, and that they could not do otherwise, because every man on earth was acting in that way, and in that manner which God designed he should act, and for which he had given each individual ability so to act1 (Casey 1826: 52). This reported statement is not in complete accord with the basic tenets of Willson's theology; Willson, in particular, would never have denied humanity free will. From the gist of Casey's text, we can, however, deduce that Willson was no longer a strict pacifist. In explaining the sect's name, no mention was made of the peace testimony: 'we do not call ourselves the children of peace on account of renouncing national wars, because we consider them both just and necessary; but we gave ourselves that name because we believed all other churches to be equally good with our own, and therefore determined not to quarrel with any, but to be at peace with the whole, neither to say to any, stand by, for we are more holy than thou' (ibid: 53)Despite Casey's insistence that he was simply reporting Willson's own statements, we should not too quickly accept that Willson saw all 'national wars' as 'just and necessary'; there are too many inconsistencies to be explained away if we accept the statement at face value. For instance, while it was true that the Children of Peace trained with 'weapons of war, generally once a week during the summer season' (Casey 1826: 52), those who trained included women:

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'The virgins, amongst other manoeuvres, are taught some rudiments in martial exercise, and are able to fire a platoon of musketry with such steadiness and precision, as would do credit to a professed soldier of the American States' (Duncumb 1837: 275). Just as they believed women could be called to the ministry of God's word, so too, they believed women could be called to serve God in war, contrary to the prevailing mores of the dominant society. As we shall see with their addition of music to worship services, the Children of Peace often appeared to adopt the cultural forms of the larger world, only ultimately to invert their intent; by including women in their militia drills, the Children of Peace managed to simultaneously challenge (or mock?) the larger society's willingness to go to war (by presenting them with an unacceptable category of soldier) while still expressing their own firmly felt egalitarian ideal. This egalitarian approach to military training continued until about 1832, when 'one of their [the virgin's] muskets burst, after which accident they declined the practice' (Hume 1832: 124). It would seem clear that the Children of Peace, in accord with Willson's rejection of the Discipline, renounced the strict pacifist stance of the Quakers. It is equally clear that they trained with weapons. But what is not clear, however, is that they accepted the right of government to call them to war, this right belonging to God alone. This important distinction was to become apparent during the Rebellion of 1837. Another development that set them off from the Quakers was their gradual adoption of music in worship. This development also remains unexplained and undefended in Willson's writings, accepted as a given despite long-standing Quaker abhorrence of the practice. The Society of Friends had traditionally rejected the use of psalms and hymns as an empty 'form,' as the meaningless repetition of words not directly inspired by the leadings of God's spirit: 'The Almighty was not to be worshipped by the workmanship of man's hands' (Gray 1950: 20). Quaker ministry was distinctive in that it was spontaneous, directed only by the leadings of the spirit; they took seriously the biblical injunction 'take no thought beforehand what ye shall speak, neither do ye premeditate: but whatsoever shall be given you in that hour, that speak ye: for it is not ye that speak, but the Holy Ghost' (Mark 13: 11). Thus, what 'music' existed in Quakerism was closely associated with the style of ministry of some Irish, New England, and New York ministers who 'sang in the spirit' while preaching, a sort

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of sing-song delivery of their sermon (Carroll 1983: 11). An example of yet another form of 'singing in the ministry' was recorded by Willson, who reported that he closed a sermon in 1811 by singing the following short stanza: Lord thou art God of life and soul, Of heaven, of Earth and Sea. May thou, O God, my ways controul, And subject let me be. (OSHT 990.1.7: 19)

This musical ministry should not be confused with the congregational singing later advocated by Willson, although the underlying rationalizations are similar. Willson attempted to incorporate congregational singing as ministry, and hence as an expression of the Inner Light. He sought to preserve the spontaneous nature of this musical ministry by never repeating a hymn; he was to boast, 'I never repeat one communication twice over, nor sing one old hymn in worship: bread from heaven is our lot - descending mercies' (Willson i835a: 254). Willson wrote new words to a fixed set of melodies for each service: 'They compose all their own hymns and psalms to suit the occasion on which they were sung' (Colonial Advocate, 3 September 1829). At the beginning and end of each worship service, Willson would 'read out' the hymn line by line and each line would be sung back by a choir; later, the congregation would sing the entire hymn. These hymns, of necessity, were simple and repetitious to aid singers hearing the lyrics for the first time; stock phrases and images, well worn and comfortable, reinforced their simple message, as in this pastoral stanza, sung in November 1817: The lamb did rise in equal state With a great lion for his mate And peacefuly began to say That God above Was gentle love And they should not each other slay.

(OSHT 985.5.55: 26)

The results, depending upon the listener, were considered 'curious' (Fidler 1974: 326), a 'careless rant' (Wilkie 1837: 204), or 'faultless by the best judges of the art' (Colonial Advocate, 3 September 1829).

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The roots of this particular style of singing can be found among the same New Light congregations from which Willson derived his style of preaching. The 'lining' out of hymns had been the primary form of congregational singing in New England until 1720. These songs were usually sung a cappella, resulting in 'slow, improvised singing in which each singer was allowed to decorate the tunes as he or she saw fit' (Filshie 1985: 290). Unison singing was introduced only slowly, and resulted in controversies that paralleled the theological splitting of many North American denominations during the New Light Stir. It was among the New Lights, themselves utilizing a spontaneous ministry, that the old singing style with individual embellishments was retained. Willson's use of music in worship was thus consistent with both his New Light origins and his insistence on following the individual leadings of the spirit. Music came to play an increasingly important role in the rituals of the sect. In 1820, the Children of Peace commissioned a barrel organ from Richard Coates, a retired band master who had been with the British Army at the Battle of Waterloo (McArthur 1898: 2). This organ (see photo 3), the first ever built in Ontario, resembles a player piano; rather than a keyboard, it has a crank, which turns a barrel covered with raised pins. The pins, in turn, open the pipe valves in appropriate sequence, playing a tune. There were two barrels, each playing ten tunes, such as 'China,' 'Wells,' and 'Old Hundred,' all well-known hymns of the period. During the same year, Coates helped organize a brass band, and, by 1828, they had added a variety of stringed instruments as well. This ten- to thirteen-piece band accompanied a small choir of 'virgins,' first formed in 1819, which performed at the beginning and end of each service. In both of the cases outlined here, Quaker testimonies were reinterpreted to fit the Children of Peace's new emphasis on the unhindered expression of the leadings of the Inner Light. 'Singing in the spirit' and obeying all of God's calls (even to war) flowed from their rejection of the jural constraints of the Quaker Discipline. In placing their onus on individual leadings rather than group constraints, the Children of Peace reverted to the charismatic 'sectarian' type in Troeltsch's church/sect spectrum (Troeltsch 1931). Although loosely organized and purposively rejecting any authority other than the direct revelation of God, they none the less formed a homogeneous group, setting themselves off as a 'peculiar' people through their rejection of prevailing cultural standards. The sect can-

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not, however, be defined strictly in negative terms. They did not simply reject the prevailing mores of the broader society, but often mirrored them (as in 'singing in the spirit') with their own ritual order. Using familiar cultural building blocks, they rebuilt common traditions into a new ritual expression of the underlying value system that had led them to reject the Society of Friends, and, having done so, they followed the Inner Light on to 'perfection.'

CHAPTER FOUR

At Home and Abroad

The final abandonment of their fight to rejoin the Society of Friends and the subsequent reorganization of the Children of Peace were accompanied by the resettlement of their members. They consolidated around a new focal point: their first meeting-house, built in 1819 on land donated by Willson on lot 10, concession 2, East Gwillimbury Township. The resettlement of the Children of Peace and the formation of the village of Hope (now Sharon) around that meeting-house are consistent with their earlier settlement patterns in which subsistence farming and the proximity of kin underwrote a 'moral economy.' Contiguous settlement, religious homogeneity, and the relative absence of secular municipal organization gave the sect an opportunity to develop administrative institutions to suit its religious ideology. The consolidation of the sect in a single community did not, however, entail an inward-looking isolationism of the sort usually ascribed to Mennonites or the Amish, who also form localized communities and share a similar ethic of mutual aid. The formation of the village of Hope was accompanied by evangelical thrusts into the surrounding countryside; regular worship meetings were held in York Mills, Markham, and the city of York (Toronto). These forays down Yonge Street raised the profile of the sect significantly; the largely American settlers of the area were drawn by Willson's frequent attacks on the province's ruling Anglican elite (an extension of his earlier attacks on orthodoxy), and by the blossoming musical talents of the sect's band and choir. Willson's itinerant ministry and his frequent attacks on the Upper Canadian government are an indication that, despite the sect's consolidation in a single settlement, their evolving religious culture can-

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not be seen in isolation from the larger forces shaping the province. The Children of Peace remained a 'part culture,' a group seeking to maintain their alternative value system in the face of direct intervention from the state and its claims on their labour and production. Thus, in documenting the changes within the sect, we must also examine prevalent government policies and those who carried them out. The Village of Hope The defection of Amos Armitage to the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting deprived the Children of Peace of one of their regular places of worship. Scattered over five townships, their numbers small, the remaining Children of Peace no doubt felt the need to consolidate within a single settlement, and so consolidate their faith. In 1819, they finished their first meeting-house, built on land donated by Willson; just as he had become the focal point of leadership within the sect, so too were its members to be arrayed around him, his home, and his meeting-house. During the period from 1817 to 1825, the sect's members purchased the lands surrounding the meeting-house, eventually displacing so many Quakers that the Society of Friends abandoned its neighbouring Queen Street Meeting-House. This amorphous collection of farms, this community, they called Hope, a name as ambiguous as the village itself; was this village 'a' hope, a source of inspiration for its members; or, rather, caught between primeval forest and their half-finished farms, did they 'hope' for better things to come? The meeting-house was located on lot 10, concession 2, East Gwillimbury, a stone's throw from the Society of Friends' Queen Street Meeting-House, which had been built a decade earlier on land also donated by Willson. Though Willson still retained legal title to the land, the Society of Friends denied the Children of Peace the use of their meeting-house; rather than press the matter (and what alternative was available? a resort to law?), Willson simply allowed the Children of Peace to build a meeting-house sufficiently close to the Quakers that, in the silence of a Quaker Meeting for Worship, they could not fail to hear the rejected ministry of Willson being delivered in the more substantial building next door.1 This first meeting-house, later known as the Music Hall (see photo 4), differed strikingly from the construction common among the So-

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ciety of Friends (cf. photo i). Unlike the long, rectangular meetinghouses of the Quakers, theirs was forty feet square, with a door in each side. That they would choose a new distinctive design for the building is not difficult to understand, given their attempts to distance themselves from the Society of Friends; but it is important to stress that these changes were not haphazard. When values, such as equality before God, become a source of conflict within a religious organization, attempts may be made to alter received cultural forms to reflect these new concerns. Thus, squareness was used in a number of buildings of the Children of Peace, as a physical metaphor for dealing 'on the square with all people' (McArthur 1898: 6). The door in the centre of each wall was 'to let the people come in from the east and the west, the north and the south on equal and the same footing.' The change in the shape of their meeting-house thus reflects the sentiment that led to their rejection of 'church offices'; they sought to emphasize the equality of all worshippers before God. The building was sixteen feet high, with a low square cupola capping a hipped roof. The interior and exterior of the building were painted white and green, colours that would come to characterize all of the meeting-houses of the Children of Peace, as well as the costumes of the choir (OSHT 973-33-1: 16-17).2 Inside the meetinghouse, the first object which catches the eye is the organ. In the centre of the house a platform is raised about five feet high and is supported] by four simple columns. It is surrounded by a railing below and inside of this there are seats apparently designed for the musicians. The upper part of the platform also is surrounded with a rail - and on this rostrum the organ stands. It reaches nearly to the arched roof of the house. From each corner of the platform a short black staff projects 4 or 5 feet in a horizontal direction and from each of these a small black velvet flag with fringed edges is suspended. On each corner of the upper and lower railings there is placed a brass candle stick and on a table under the platform 4 of uniform appearance stand. Seats of a very simple description are placed around for the accommodation of the worshippers. The Bass Viol and a couple of German Flutes I also saw in the house.3 (Fraser 1930: 121)

Just as the building's squareness and its four doors were bound to be noticed when a worshipper approached it outside, the raised plat-

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form for the organ drew one's attention when inside. Raised on a five-foot-high podium, the organ became the physical centre of the meeting-house, the first thing seen no matter what door was entered, and hence a fitting symbol of the new importance of music in their Meetings for Worship. The meeting-house served as the focal point of settlement for the forty or fifty households that formed the sect's membership (Hume 1832: 121). By 1825, the sect had experienced a period of rapid growth as the children of the original thirty or so adult members matured, intermarried, and had families of their own. By 1825, the population of the village was estimated to be 180 to 200 people; by 1834, a consistent figure of approximately 300 is cited. Although Willson's itinerant ministry brought a number of new members to the village (in particular, the extended Brammer family), the majority of members were closely related former Quakers; and like the Quakers, the Children of Peace tended towards religious endogamy. The intermarriage of members compounded the family ties within the small group (see figure 5), hence kinship provided the principal framework for sect and village organization. It is important to emphasize these ties of family and religion since they provided the glue that held this amorphous settlement together as a community, that is, as an arena for social interaction, allowing for the development of a self-conscious identity that set them off from such other local communities as Newmarket, St Albans, and Bogarttown. It would be difficult to conceive of the 'village' at this point as a physical entity. It was, rather, a ten- by two-mile strip of countryside linked by a central cart path (Queen Street). There was no initial nucleus of houses, and several of the farm sites were separated by vast expanses of virgin forest. Meeting-house, schools, mill, and store were located roughly in the geographical centre of the settlement; yet the poor, uninitiated traveller who tried to get from one to the other was likely to get lost. This was less a physical community than a community of spirit. The distinctive identity of the Children of the Peace was fostered by their common activities, such as meeting for worship or business, school or band practice, family visits, or work exchanges, which drew them off their individual farms to interact in a common cause. Many of these activities were organized through the Monthly Business Meeting of the sect, and in that political forum kinship continued to play a role. The original seceders from the Society of Friends, the founders

Figure 5 Kinship ties between members of the Children of Peace, 1825 (as the Doan children matured and married after 1825, they also married into the family network shown above)

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of the community, claimed authority in village affairs, accorded them by their age and experience. As the village expanded, their children marrying and setting up their own households, the older members of the sect reminded them that 'the duty of a parent to a child is from the birth to the grave; death alone should separate them. As the parent is the first cause of human existence (God excepted) they are in duty bound to administer unto their children the whole necessities of a moral and religious life, for as long as the parent remains more wisely instructed by the experience of years. It is the duty of a child to respect the wisdom of a parent at all times' (Willson i836a: 5). It should be no surprise, then, that the operations of the consensual Business Meeting of the sect were slowly overlaid by an emerging gerontocracy, 'our twelve eldest brethren in years,' who supervised the activities of the sect as its organization became more complex. The antinomian tendencies of the sect were thus tempered over time, as the rounds of life increasingly buried past conflicts under the needs of the day. The paternalism of this gerontocracy was based on personal ties of dependence and subordination, a pattern clearly evident in one of the major means by which their sense of community was evidently fostered - through their schools. In a province where schools were rare and teachers hard to come by, the Children of Peace had not one, but two schools. The importance of schools in the maintenance of their alternative relations of production should not be underestimated; Willson adhered to the Old Testament view, 'train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it' (OSHT 985.5.113). The village of Hope was neither a compact nor a tightly administered settlement; Willson had called on his little group to reject coercive law. This individualistic ethic firmly placed the regulation of agriculture within the hands of the individual farmer; thus the group as a whole had few direct sanctions by which to prevent deviations from their ethic of mutual aid. Their moral economy depended, to a great extent, upon a means of perpetuating the shared set of cultural values they brought with them from the Society of Friends. This culture was partly transmitted and reinforced through the educational process. To ensure the uniformity of indoctrination, the sect subsidized the costs of the school for their poorer members (in itself a good example of the type of mutual aid typical of the sect). 4 The importance of this indoctrination is demonstrated by the pro-

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portion of their limited resources they dedicated to the task. Following their separation from the Quakers, the first building they constructed was not the new meeting-house, but a boarding-school. Students at this Yonge Street school were taught by William Reid, the member who had appealed his disownment to the New York Yearly Meeting (OSHT 985.5.113). Reid's obituary notes that 'he was a man of more than ordinary intellect' with 'an excellent English education' (Newmarket Era, 25 May 1855). It was for this school that Willson penned A Lesson of Instruction (i8i6a), a catechism of their distinctive beliefs intended to be used as a reader. The young scholars were well grounded in basic quietest doctrines through this catechism's question-and-answer format.5 The use of a catechism as a reader was not atypical of the period; the standard work used after the rudiments of spelling had been mastered was the Bible. Willson's catechism bears striking resemblance to Barclay's Catechism, a Quaker classic also frequently used in primary schools. These catechisms were intended to be used as an aid in interpreting the Bible, moulding the student's approach to the scriptures. Education, then, was nearly synonymous with religious education; the point of reading, the ability to interpret the Bible in the correct light. Children of all ages were expected to draw what they could out of abstract and often obscure primers of this sort. Ebenezer Doan, for example, made a present of An Apology for Silent Waiting upon God in Religious Assemblies by Thomas Colley (i8o5)6 to David, his ten-year-old son, inscribing the following short poem within its cover: David Doan his little book To read it thro he's undertook But he can neither spell nor read Therefore he makes but little speed.

The Yonge Street Boarding School continued in operation until the winter of 1818 (McArthur 1898: 4), when it was moved to the village of Hope. At that time, it had approximately forty-four students (with an additional twenty students in the day-school) (OSHT 985.5.115). It no doubt served double duty as both school and church until the construction of the first meeting-house was completed the next year. The geographic consolidation of the sect's members after the construction of the meeting-house understandably altered the function

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of the boarding-school in later years. A day-school operated out of the first meeting-house for those members who lived within the village (OSHT 985.5.115; Fraser 1930: 121). This appears to have been a primary school for both boys and girls. However, the boarding-school, now known as their 'female institution,' was reserved for older girls over twelve years of age, who were instructed in 'knitting, sewing, spinning, making chip and straw hats and bonnets, spinning wool, and other useful accomplishments of a like description. There is a male and female superintendent resident in this latter school; the pupils cook, make their own clothes, keep the garden in order, receive lessons in reading, &c., and work at their various avocations. I counted nearly a dozen of large wool-wheels in one of the rooms. Among the pupils I saw either one or two girls from York, and they all seemed happy and contented' (Fairley 1960: 37). Boys of similar age appeared to have been apprenticed to individual tradesmen. The boarding-school grew rapidly in size. It soon abandoned the cramped log cabin in the village in which it had started and moved to a two-storey, thirty-foot-square building opposite the meeting-house known, appropriately, as the 'Square House' (Fairley 1960: 37). David Willson and his wife, Phebe, were the caretakers of the boardingschool, leading to reports that Willson kept a harem. [Hope] is celebrated from some motley sect having fixed themselves in it, headed by a David Willson, a sort of Mohammed - who, although possessing an extensive harem is not quite so jealous of its houris, as his illustrious predecessor in concupiscence, 'holding all things in common.' It is not a little singular that that demi-semi-any-thing-arian, W.L. Mackenzie, should discover in this ranting, ravaging sect every thing in accordance with his views of religion and morality. What with the influence of music, and the still softer attractions - the founder of this new sect had managed to induce many farmers to dispose of their farms, to take an acre lot in this new village of Priapus. Alas! how melancholy to contemplate a man forming a religion on the wreck of morality, and increasing the number of his votaries by holding them out to the unrestrained indulgence of their libidinous appetites. (Rolph 1836: 183-4)

Perhaps in response to these renewed allegations of his sexual appetite, the young students were dressed in white on special occasions (to symbolize their purity), where they provided the 'choir of virgins' that accompanied the band. The symbolism appears to have changed

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little other than the nature of the slander, since other references scoff at the school as David Willson's nunnery (Upper Canada Gazette/ Weekly Register 17 November 1825). The specific need for a girl's boarding-school is problematic, given the proximity of most families to the village. That the school continued to board students can be accounted for only if we take into consideration the importance of perpetuating a set of shared values and building a sense of community. The 'parents say they have sent them there because he [Willson] can bring them up better than they can' (Jacob Albertson, uncatalogued letter dated 20 October 1820, CYMA). Willson, as acknowledged leader of the sect, was always faced with the problem of establishing consensus; under his tutelage, communal institutions such as the school became a forum in which this consensus could be forged. These young women, set apart in their daily activities and on ritual occasions, became a bulwark for the sect: a cohesive group well versed in Willson's vision, who, through their ties of kinship, and eventually through marriage, served as one particularly strong bond that tied the community together. The sense of community that grew out of these overlapping ties of kinship, church, school, and work exchanges must be contrasted with the other kinds of communities within which the village was integrated. The village of Hope had no official status; not even a post office. Village members were, however, located within East Gwillimbury Township, the most basic unit of municipal government in Upper Canada, as well as the Home District, an intermediate level of administration. All male property-owning residents of the township were called together yearly to elect a number of minor officials: path master, tax assessor, and so on. However, of far greater importance in local administration was the Court of Quarter Sessions and its local magistrates. This court was charged with the government ('maintaining the peace') of a district composed of a number of townships. Decisions taken by that body were executed by individual magistrates in their townships; they also ensured that settlement duties had been complied with. Any two magistrates could form a Court of Requests, the lowest level of the court system. Magistrates, then, were powerful figures in local administration; the source of their authority was the province's lieutenant-governor, who appointed them, and to whom they were ultimately answerable. The district and township were top-down administrative units, which

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did little to foster a sense of community as outlined above for the village of Hope. Ties to the government were through occasional runins with authoritarian civil servants who never had to answer to the body of citizens whom they served. The citizens of a township or district rarely met together, nor did they engage in activities for a common cause, with the exception of their yearly militia musters and township elections. It should be evident, then, that local loyalties spun of ties of family and common culture tugged strongly against the grain of the central administration. A Village Like Any Other? The settlement of Hope was, in many ways, a farming community little different from those surrounding it; composed mainly of farmers and artisans, its most distinctive feature was its meeting-house. Its economic organization was, however, of sufficient difference to confuse many of the visitors attracted by Willson's ministry. These visitors often misinterpreted the sect's ethic of mutual aid, comparing it with the socialist experiments then in vogue in the United States, such as the Shaker colonies in New York and Robert Owen's New Harmony society in Indiana. However, the actual organization of production of the sect must be distinguished from those of both these socialist experiments, as well as from the 'typical' farming communities of Upper Canada. Hope was a farming community bound by ties of kinship and reciprocity, a 'moral economy.' However, by 1830, the social relations of production of most farm communities in the settled areas of the continent had followed a general trend away from the reciprocal labour exchanges typical of a moral economy towards the use of wage labour. Hence, certain aspects of the moral economy of the Children of Peace surprised visitors to the village of Hope. Despite the inaccurate comparisons with the various socialist experiments occurring in the United States, the Children of Peace were never communal.7 Willson admitted to having read some of Owen's earlier works, but had been ignorant of the New Harmony experiment. When a Scottish visitor informed him of it in 1832, and of its failure, 'he seemed pleased' (Shirreff 1835: 108). As one of the most astute observers of the sect noted: The principles of the Davidites [Children of Peace] appears to be a mu-

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tual assistance to each other. They are not absolutely embodied in one and same society, as is the case with Mr. Owen's establishments: but although living in one community, and having their own laws and regulations within themselves, yet as to personal property, each individual is distinct ... Each individual has his own immediate success at stake; which is a wholesome stimulus to every man's exertion; although the whole body have a corresponding feeling for the success and prosperity of each other; for they are aware, that although each distinct member depends on himself, yet, if the whole body be not prosperous, it must operate in some degree inimical to the interest of all. (Hume 1832: 124-5)

Hume's observations on the nature of their 'mutual assistance' .are confirmed by the tax assessment roll for East Gwillimbury Township, which lists the cultivated acreage of each individual member of the sect, including those farming land they did not own (PAO RG 21). There is some indication that the Children of Peace did market their surplus produce cooperatively, but they were communal only in the sense implied by the ethic 'do unto others as ye would have them do unto you'; that is, they recognized the claims of the needy on their surplus property. Farm land was never communally owned, but granted by the richer to the poorer through individual acts of charity. Willson, for example, encouraged the members of the sect to make the poor 'the heir of the best field; according to his necessity, according to the goodness of the Lord to his people in the land of Egypt in the time of their distress' (OSHT 986.3.2: 245). Charity, as an expression of this ethic of mutual aid, became of increasing ideological importance to the sect as it evolved. The role of wealth in the initial schism with the Society of Friends, and their attitude towards the morality of market exchanges, have already been extensively discussed; however, their concern for inequalities in wealth was never left as a simple ideological critique of the dominant society around them. They sought to act on their concerns. Within a year of having separated from the Society of Friends they had established a committee for the relief of the poor in the following manner viz: that three men and three women be set apart to receive property of all who may be willing to commit property to their care - Inspect the necessities of the poor and contribute to their relief, as they may be of ability so to do.

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And a regular book of accounts be kept of all that is received, and of all that is paid out, and to whome, for the satisfaction of them that may be disposed to contribute thereunto [or the repaying this dissatisfied]. But that nothing be received of any that are not of ability of property or mind, to pay their honest debts. (OSHT 990.1.7: 92)

In establishing this committee, the Children of Peace were following the Quaker model, the Discipline of the Society of Friends calling on each meeting to select 'a suitable number of judicious men and women Friends ... to inspect the necessities of the poor' (NYYM 1801: 81-2). Because these committees were enjoined to avoid carefully the disclosure of any names, individual acts of charity within the Children of Peace remain undocumented, revealed only by the occasional exhortation to be more diligent in aiding the poor within their midst. As a result, direct evidence of their charitable work is so fragmentary that the only sign of their 'poor house' on lot 11, concession 3, is a brief mention in the will of Amos Hughes, referring to 'that lot now fenced in and built upon by Joseph Terry, for the sole benefit of the poor belonging amongst the Children of Peace.'8 Despite the poor documentation, their reputation for taking care of their own was recognized by sympathizers and critics alike. And it was this concern for the well-being of the poor that was interpreted by visitors as 'communalism.' The emphasis on equality, the physical similarity of all the members in their 'plain dress,' and the ethic of mutual aid all led visitors to this erroneous conclusion. Charity, whether rendered as 'mutual assistance' or 'practical Christianity,' was more visible when it was extended to non-members of the sect. These highly public charitable gestures served a dual function: they were an expression of the Children of Peace's real concern for the poor, both within and outside of their own community, but the publicity that such acts elicited also served as a form of public criticism of perceived changes in dominant social mores. As ties of reciprocity became less important in the wider society, as wage labour replaced labour exchanges and protecting the bottom line became a way of life, the Children of Peace increasingly felt their own moral economy under attack. Since it was the larger society that endangered the reciprocal ties within the group, the sect often felt driven to demonstrate the importance of 'practical Christianity' to that larger society. For example, in 1832, a special collection for the widows and orphans created by the recent cholera epidemic in To-

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ronto was distributed (Colonial Advocate, 23 August 1832). In 1830, William Lyon Mackenzie, editor of the Colonial Advocate, found, in the house of Samuel Hughes, a member of this new society ... an undoubted evidence of practical Christianity. Three years ago, an old decrepit Negro, who had up to that time begged for a subsistence, was struck by the palsy in his body and one of his sides, and lost the use of his limbs and one arm. Mr Hughes took him in - had a chair with wheels made for him - and continues to wait upon him and assist the helpless object, who can do nothing for himself. Whether, he and his family do this altogether at their own expense, or whether they get some help from the society, I do not know; but their conduct might put to the blush many who make extraordinary professions of that meek faith. (Colonial Advocate, 29 July 1830) On 4 May 1837 Captain William Johnson of Pefferlaw, thirty miles to the north of Hope, lauded the sect in a letter to the editor of the Constitution: I had not long been in conversation with Mr. Wilson before he asked me if I could give away a barrel of flour in my neighbourhood? - Yes, was the immediate reply. As many families were then in distress for the want of bread, especially in the back townships, Mr Willson held a meeting for charitable purposes, when I attended to contribute my mite. There was a good collection. Shortly after my return home, to my great astonishment, instead of a barrel of flour, two sleigh loads of grain, flour, and some meat arrived under the charge of Mr. Samuel Hughes, whose instructions, as he left me, I cannot well forget; he said, in distributing this generous gift I was not to confine myself to Georgina, but its distribution was to extend to Thorah and Brock, or to any settlers who might be in want. (Constitution, 4 May 1837; cf 'Dairy of Capt. William Johnson, PAO, Ms 18, entry dated 4 March 1837) Charity was a part of the public persona of the sect, a sometimes blunt instrument used to chastise the wealthy and uncaring. As a 'part culture,' at once contained by a larger society, yet dissenting from it, the group used such practices as a platform for that dissent. Their public charity was simultaneously intended as a magnification of supposedly shared ideas and as a reproach on the Upper Canadian elite, an insult through cultural one-upmanship. Thus, in the relations be-

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tween the sect and the wider society, charity became the metaphor through which the Children of Peace expressed their distinctive identity, their own sense of community. An Itinerant Sect The growth of the closely knit village of Hope with its emphasis on mutual aid did not entail an inward-looking isolationism. The wider society of which they were a part regularly intruded, and threatened, the distinctive relations of production of the sect. Although the local community fostered and nurtured the villagers' distinctive ideas and forms of social organization, the village always remained subject to the colony's civil administration. The members' refusal to participate in the War of 1812 and the sect's theological innovations immediately alienated the Children of Peace from the sympathies of the province's political elite. Yet the threat to their moral economy was not simply a political one, but also the result of the village's inability to be economically self-sufficient; the social reproduction of the reciprocal relationships between villagers became increasingly dependent upon marketing wheat, yet the sale of wheat for profit imperilled their ability to engage in non-market exchanges. It is out of this contradiction, and the tensions it created among the Children of Peace, that their evangelical fervour arose. Unable to ignore a threatening world, they attempted to reform it. Yonge Street, the military road stretching from York to Lake Simcoe, provided their only line of communication with the larger colonial empire of which they were a part; it was along Yonge Street that they carted their produce to market, and it was along Yonge Street that the Children of Peace sought to evangelize and establish new Meetings for Worship. The earliest place of worship for which there remains a record is a small non-denominational chapel at York Mills (now St John's Anglican Church). In 1817, it was the only church north of York other than the Quaker meeting-house at Newmarket (Graham 1966: 25). It was built by the residents of York Mills 'as a place of worship to which preachers of various denominations of Christians would have access' (British Colonist, 24 April 1839). The use of the building by the Children of Peace was ensured by one of the building's trustees, John Willson, David Willson's stepfather. Willson's mother, Catherine, had married the unrelated John Willson, a justice of the peace and Loyalist, in 1805. Although the reference

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does not specify (there were three generations of John Willsons), this was probably the John Willson referred to by a visiting divinity student as 'a person of considerable reading and somewhat democratic ideas' (Graham 1966: 31). Willson's use of the building was apparently a contentious issue, since a church erected on the same pattern in Richmond Hill in 1821 was to be made available to 'all denominations except the Roman Catholics and the Children of Peace' (Berchem 1977:119). The source of the conflict resulted, in part, from Willson's frequent attacks on the Anglican church, its 'hireling clergy,' and its privileges; in his sermons, Willson 'commented upon the equality which prevailed in the New Testament church, and on the remark of our Saviour to his disciples, "Ye are my brethren," and condemned, in set terms, the unscriptural gradations of clerical rank in use in the established hierarchy ... and closed a lecture of about an hour during which he was listened to with great attention, by some very pithy and sarcastic denunciations of modern priestcraft' (Colonial Advocate, 3 September 1829). The Anglican rector at Thornhill, Isaac Fidler, noted that Willson 'never concludes a sermon in which bitter anathemas have not been fulminated against bishops and governors' (Fidler 1974: 326). Willson's attacks on these 'hireling clergy' derived, in part, from a long-standing Quaker tradition: the Quakers rooted ministerial authority in the leadings of the Inner Light, not educational qualifications, and hence regarded payment for preaching as an incentive to please men rather than God. This, however, is not enough to explain the particular antagonism Willson felt for the Anglican church; after all, most denominations other than the Quakers had a paid clergy, yet he did not attack them. The bitterness of Willson's remarks derived from the close association of this Anglican elite with the government, the so-called Family Compact that autocratically ruled the colony in the name of God and King. The complex association of wealth, and political and religious authority in the Anglican church, was perceived by Willson as of the same nature as the 'orthodoxy' of those elders who first silenced him in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting. The Anglicans and the Children of Peace were forced to share the chapel at York Mills. Anglican reluctance to share the building can be partly explained by local response to the two ministries. William Lyon Mackenzie estimated that two hundred to three hundred people attended Willson's service in the area in 1829 (Colonial Advocate, 3 September 1829). In contrast, the Reverend John Strachan, one of

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the most influential clergymen in the provincial government, wryly commented: 'a church has been built on Yonge Street where I preach once a month to their great annoyance' (Graham 1966: 30). The antagonism against the Anglicans worsened when, 'by some means or other which have not yet been satisfactorily explained, Dr. Strachan managed to secure the exclusive possession of the church for an Episcopal minister, contrary to the original design of the inhabitants of the place, who contributed towards its erection, and as we are informed without the sanction or knowledge of many of them' (British Colonist, 24 April 1839). Willson's use of the building was obviously dependent upon the influence of his stepfather, 'Gentleman Willson.' But John Willson died in July 1829, and the Anglicans quickly appropriated the church. By 2 September, it was noted, Willson was preaching in a 'temporary chapel' (Colonial Advocate, 3 September 1829). It was thus with some irony that the 'democratic' Mr Willson's last request was honoured, and his funeral oration performed by the Rev. Dr Strachan, 'in the chapel of the Children of Peace, in Hope' (Colonial Advocate, 16 July 1829). It becomes simpler to document the movements of this itinerant sect during the 18305, when they placed regular advertisements of worship services in local papers, such as the Colonial Advocate and the Constitution. These meetings were generally held in the fall, winter, and early spring, rotating between Hope, the village of Markham (Markham Township), Sheppard's Inn (York Township), and the city of York, although there was considerable variation over the years. Willson's meetings in York were held in a variety of locations. He began in the East York Common School House on Berkeley Street (Scadding 1873: 62; Colonial Advocate, 10 October 1830), and later moved to the Old Court House at Richmond and Queen streets. There he held meetings 'for the purpose of promoting civil and religious Government; to which Ministers of Law and Gospel are respectfully invited, with other civil inhabitants of York, for the solemn purpose of correcting errors, enlightening the minds, and giving speech to the dumb, with every good purpose that time and opportunity may afford' (Firth 1966: 221). We may safely assume that few 'Ministers of Law and Gospel' came to have their errors corrected; his usual audience was described as consisting of 'servant-girls, working-lads, and apprentice boys about town' (Wilkie 1837: 203). Willson began each meeting for worship in these outlying villages

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with a procession. In York, this procession left the inn at which they stayed, Lawrence's Hotel, an hour before the service at the Old Court House, and travelled down King Street before the wondering eyes of the inhabitants. The Rev. Isaac Fidler in Thornhill derisively describes the group as it passed through on its way to York: King David frequently goes to a great distance in order to edify the people of the other townships by his music and eloquence. I have often seen him passing along the road with two waggons in his train: he is proceeded in a third waggon. He never performs such religious errantry without being accompanied by his virgins, six in number, selected from among the females of his household for their superior voices. These virgins are conveyed in the same waggon as himself, over which there is an awning to shelter them from the inclemency of the weather and from sultry rays. In one of the other waggons follow as many youths, who form an accompaniment to the damsels, and swell the anthems and hosannahs by vocal and instrumental music. In the remaining waggon are transported from place to place their musical instruments and apparatus of various kinds. These last two waggons have no covering. He never fails to attract a large assemblage of people wherever his royal presence is announced. (Fidler 1974: 325-6)

Distinctive as these processions were, their purpose often varied, having a political rather than religious intent. It is the intimate connection between the Church of England and civil government that provides an understanding of why these same processions often accompanied political rallies for the reform party, although at this point it is only important to note the similarity of form of 'religious' and 'political' events. For example, William Lyon Mackenzie recorded their role in the 'General Convention of Delegates' of the reform party in February 1834. This convention was appointed in York for the purpose of nominating reform candidates for the four ridings of York in the upcoming provincial elections: The grand procession left the York Hotel [Lawrence's] for the old King's Bench Court House, the splendid band of Hope playing on the way the Jubilee Waltz, the Huntsman's Chorus, No. i Quadrille, Le Petit Tambour, and Basun aboon Traquair - The standard bearers carried two flags (by Scholefield) a black one with white border, and "the Constitution" inscribed in silver and a sky blue one, with an amber border, motto "Peace and Justice", in gold shaded.' After a song was sung in the

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Old Court House, 'Mr. Willson of Hope then addressed the meeting with great force and effect' {Colonial Advocate, 27 February 1834). The procession, the places, and the players all remained constant, as religious leadership was channelled for political ends. The sect's blurring of the lines between church and state, between religion and politics, is a theme to which we shall return. Here, we should simply note that the sect's public acts of charity, the processions, and the itinerant worship services were all a part of their public persona; they were the means by which the Children of Peace sought to control the forces that threatened them. We saw earlier that the initial doctrinal dispute with the Quakers had been the idiom through which they expressed their experience of this value conflict. The conditions underlying this value conflict were not resolved by the schism in 1812, and hence we should not be surprised that the issue of preserving their moral economy continued to dominate their evolving religious discourse. Although their conceptualization of the conflict was phrased in a theological idiom, the threat they sought to control was a threat to their very livelihood. We can hear the echoes of this threat in the elite's accusation that Willson lost 'sight of affairs of a spiritual nature and expatiated upon those of a worldly sort ... The burden of his discourse seemed to be the injustice practised towards the world by all those who possess an abundant share of the good things of life; that they are all usurpers and that all mankind are equal; and that it is the duty of the poor to pull down the rich' (Wilkie 1837: 205).

CHAPTER FIVE

Market and Moral Economies

A fundamental premise of the argument so far presented is that the religious life of the Children of Peace cannot be isolated from their economic organization, from their activities as 'subsistence-oriented' farmers. The precise meaning of the term, and the implications of its use, have been of recurrent interest to agricultural historians; they have, for the most part, hinged their arguments (and definitions) on market participation. It has been demonstrated that, in the 18308, all farmers in Ontario took part to some degree in market exchanges. From this, it has beeri inferred that the economic decisions of these farmers were therefore dictated by the market. However, participation in a market does not, in itself, dictate the logic of production under which independent farmers operate; feudal peasants, for example, participated in markets without behaving in an 'economically rational' (i.e., capitalist) way. So, too, we can argue that, although the Children of Peace sold in the market, this does not imply that they behaved in an 'economically rational' way; we have already seen evidence that they rejected the practice of seeking the highest market price. Thus, 'subsistence-oriented' can be usefully employed if it is defined, not in terms of market participation (which is unquestioned) , but in terms of the role the market plays in the social reproduction of relations of production. These relations of production have been characterized as a 'moral economy'; this moral economy was based upon the individual ownership and management of a family farm. How, then, did the farm of the subsistence-oriented farmer differ from that of the marketoriented farmer? The basic unit of production of both types of farm economy was the household, and they both utilized the same farming techniques and crops. The similarity of type results from the familial

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nature of the market farmer's enterprise; because his unit of production was the household, we cannot look upon it as a true capitalist enterprise, since the household is not only a unit of production, but also a unit of consumption. The market farmer's goal is not the constant expansion of production typical of a capitalist firm, but the simple reproduction (both biological and social) of his household (not the business) over time. The difference in relations of production between the subsistence-oriented farmer and his market-oriented neighbour thus lies in the specific ways each seeks to preserve the household as a unit of both production and consumption. The social reproduction of the family farm could be accomplished in two ways, one dependent upon the market, the other not: first, crops could be grown, sold in the market, and the proceeds used to purchase needed provisions; second, crops could be grown and directly consumed by the family itself. Both types of farms operate in a similar manner and both may sell in a market, but in only one case is the farmer dependent upon the market for the reproduction, over time, of his household. The first type of farmer should be distinguished from a true capitalist as a 'simple commodity producer' -,1 the second type of farmer is 'subsistence-oriented.' It should be recognized, however, that these 'ideal types' represent the two extremes of a farming spectrum, and that most farmers fall in the shadowy area in between. The social reproduction of a farm refers to the reproduction not only of the individual units of production (i.e., the family farm itself), but also of the wider ties that link these farms together as a community. In chapter i, the problematic nature of meeting basic subsistence needs was discussed; occasional crop failures and other factors made the need for 'subsistence insurance' pressing. Among subsistence-oriented Quakers this insurance was provided by kin and neighbours through extended ties of reciprocity; the pooling of resources typical within the household was extended to include those in need in other households. An analysis of the social reproduction of the moral economy of the Children of Peace thus requires that we look at the way in which this set of relations linking households was reproduced, and not just at the way each farm annually replenished itself. The reproduction of these wider ties of mutual assistance between households was often problematical in that individual farmers had to voluntarily re-create them themselves; since each farmer con-

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trolled the production process for his own farm, the only sanctions that could be brought to bear to ensure his continued participation in the moral economy of the sect were ideological. We have already noted the importance of the sect's schools in perpetuating the moral framework within which these actual relationships took place. The sect's schools and the examples of their elders served to normalize these relationships for the young farmers of the sect. The presence of a market is not incentive enough for them to abandon long-standing, emotion-laden ties of reciprocity and become dependent upon the whims of the market. Therefore, we must analyse this historical shift from subsistence to market production in terms of specific government policies that made the social reproduction of the farming household dependent upon the market. One of the most important of these policies involved the distribution and sale of land. In the early years of the province's history, land had been granted free by the state to all bona fide settlers (Johnson 1975: 34);2 the re-creation of households over time thus became dependent upon chain migration, in which 'colonies' of young families were established on 'free' grants of land. By 1819, land speculation in these 'free' grants had proved such a hindrance to settlement that the government imposed new fees and restrictions. While these regulations partially stemmed the problem of speculation, they also ended the era of free land grants for all but Loyalists 0ohnson 1975: 43). The government's actions, though praiseworthy, had little effect on lands already dispensed; Richards (1958: 195) notes that, of the 5,786,946 acres of non-fee lands granted before 1838, 3,200,000 acres went to Loyalists, and a further 1,276,526 acres to militiamen and discharged soldiers. Of the 77 per cent of land so granted, only onetenth, or about 450,000 acres, was actually occupied by settlers. Later criticisms that settlement was being hindered by the high cost of agricultural labour compounded the government's policy of raising land prices. By 1825 the government had embarked on policies specifically designed to create a landless labouring class (Johnson 1975: 50); the major practical means by which this was accomplished was, again, by raising the cost of crown land. It is ironic that Upper Canada, a sparsely populated, underdeveloped colony with little but virgin land, sought the path to development by withdrawing as much of that land as possible from those who sought to convert it into productive farms. As a result, during the late 18208, new farms could not be created

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without incurring large debts; the servicing of these debts (a part of the annual cycle of household reproduction) could be accomplished only through marketing crops, i.e., by engaging in simple commodity production. This debt came to play an increasingly important part in economic decision making since the agricultural market was unpredictable. The individual farmer's need to maximize his saleable crop contradicted efforts to reproduce the non-market ties between households. As a result, the Children of Peace were beset by internal divisions as elders sought to preserve these non-market ties, while younger members starting new farms were impelled to follow the lead of the market. The Annual Reproduction of the Household The sale of produce in the market was an undeniable fact of life in early Upper Canada. Notwithstanding this fact, it is possible to argue that the rural economy of the village of Hope was rooted in subsistence agriculture aimed at direct self-provisionment, with only surpluses sold, where possible. This subtle shift in emphasis from the mere fact of market participation to a study of the strategies by which farmers participated in the market avoids the implicit assumption that sale in the market is directly correlated to capitalist farming. Indeed, as we shall see, a variety of farming strategies were available to the individual farmer, strategies that utilized the same factors of production, land and wheat, but implied radically different social relations between producers, and between producers and merchants. The overwhelming fact of market participation is not difficult to establish with regard to the Children of Peace. Despite inevitable problems of interpretation, a reconstruction of the village economy using disparate sources (a comparison of the tax roll for 1834, and the list of 'Builders of the Temple' compiled shortly before that time) is possible, leading us to a rough estimate of forty-seven or fortyeight households in the village of Hope. Some ambiguity remains in that not all houses were assessed; fourteen households listed as 'Builders of the Temple' were judged to be living in unassessed log shanties (30 per cent of the total; roughly similar to the 23 percent estimated by the provincial assessors for the province as a whole). According to the 1834 Assessment Roll, the members of these households cultivated approximately 1,167 acres. Assuming one-third to two-fifths of this cultivated acreage was devoted to wheat produc-

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tion, the total wheat yield for the village would be approximately 9,625-11,675 bushels. Seed and subsistence needs must be deducted from the total yield. The village had a total population of approximately 265: 173 adults (over age sixteen) and 92 children. Assuming subsistence needs of 13 bushels per adult and 6.5 bushels per child per year, total subsistence needs would be 2,847 bushels. Seed would require a further 385-467 bushels, leaving a surplus of 6,393-8,361 bushels. Subsistence needs for the village as a whole equals 28-33 per cent of total production. This implies that 67-72 per cent of the wheat produced in the village was sold in the market. Market participation is an undeniable fact. What remains open to interpretation, however, is the role that market participation played in the household economy. We cannot assume that all farms were equally well equipped to produce for the market. Although on a gross scale we know that up to 72 per cent of the village's wheat production was potentially saleable, how was this surplus actually divided up among the forty-seven households involved? Did a few, larger farms produce the bulk of the surplus, or was the village composed of homogeneous smallholders? Further, market production, like subsistence production, was dependent upon a number of specific factors in the seasonal farm cycle, the annual rounds of ploughing, seeding, cropping, and threshing, which greatly determined the immediate success or failure of a homestead (O'Mara 1983: 106). Thus, an examination of the available resources and the variety of strategies adopted by different farmers to meet the demands of this farm cycle will be required to underscore the different 'logics of production' of subsistence-oriented and simple commodity producers. Any such examination of the logic of production of the Upper Canadian farmer must emphasize the importance of wheat, the key marketable commodity. Indeed, the well-known 'staple hypothesis' argues that Ontario's economy had two sectors: one a wheat-based export sector that paid for imported goods and led the economic development of the province, and the other a subsistence sector (McCalla 1985: 398). It should be noted, however, that the same crop, wheat, dominated both sectors of the economy; hence, such a handy division must be qualified. All commentators note wheat's importance as the primary commercial crop, despite the instability of the wheat market and its detrimental effects on soil fertility (Greer 1985; Guillet 1979; Jones 1977; Kelly 1971, 1973; McCalla 1986; Mclnnis

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1984; and O'Mara 1983). This predominance is more easily explained if we also consider wheat's role in the subsistence economy. Less well documented is the sale of other marketable commodities, such as pork and potatoes, which also contributed to household budgets. And, last, we must also consider a number of other household requirements, such as firewood, clothing, and shelter, almost all of which were provided from within the family farm itself in this period. Looking strictly at the level of self-provisionment, we can fairly say that, even though market participation is an undeniable fact for all households, these same farms produced the great bulk of their subsistence needs themselves, including those of farmers we have referred to as market oriented; that is, even those farmers who in some way were dependent upon the market were able to provide most of their basic food, clothing, and shelter requirements themselves. There was no equivalent to the modern farmer who sells his entire crop, using the money to buy the bulk of his food at the supermarket. Let us first, then, concentrate on this subsistence economy that all farmers shared, leaving consideration of the wheat-based export sector for later analysis. Studies of household consumption in Pennsylvania, Quebec, and Ontario consistently cite a figure of 10-13 bushels of wheat per adult per year as a reasonable average of consumption. O'Mara (1983: 10), working from the diaries and account-books of two Georgina3 'gentry' farm families, estimates annual adult food consumption of approximately 13 bushels of wheat, 120-160 pounds of pork, 60 pounds of beef, 30 pounds of lamb, and 30 bushels of potatoes. The importance of wheat in domestic production is reflected in the proportionately large acreage devoted to it. A common practice of the period was 'wheat mining,' the repeated sowing of wheat on the same plot of recently cleared land despite rapidly decreasing yields as a result of soil exhaustion (Jones 1977: 89-90). Crop rotation was infrequent, and little fertilizer was used. The technique was usually employed by poorer farmers attempting to accumulate capital; the exhausted land was then profitably sold to rich immigrants willing to pay for cleared land. The wheat miner dedicated about 50 per cent of his acreage to wheat; this practice was condemned as destructive by gentry farmers who dedicated approximately one-third of their acreage to this crop (Kelly 1971: 95-112). For example, the Sibbalds, gentry farmers in Georgina, devoted only one-third of their arable acreage to wheat,

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yet they derived one-half of their farm income from its sale (O'Mara 1983: 108). Other crops grown included peas, oats, buckwheat primarily for animal feed - and potatoes. Orchards and more than a dozen garden crops filled most of the families' other dietary needs. Several acres of every farm were set aside as a wood lot to provide reasonably accessible firewood. Given the extensive rather than intensive practices of Upper Canadian farmers, wheat yields were relatively low, especially on 'old' land; few farmers had a regular rotation of crops or could afford the labour for extensive manuring or fertilizing (Jones 1977: 93; Kelly 1971: 98-9). Soil exhaustion could be minimized by utilizing relatively large tracts of land. Wheat was grown, at most, only in alternate years in any field, with at least a one-year fallow in open till. 'Old' land in this sense produced significantly lower yields than did newly cleared lands. Amos Armitage boasted he harvested 300 bushels of wheat on 5 acres of newly cleared land in 1821 (60 bushels to the acre), surely a near record yield (Ryan 1980: 41). Estimates of yields from old land ranged between 20 and 29 bushels an acre. Given the low yields attributable to pests and disease reported in the mid-18305, an estimate of 25 bushels an acre would appear optimistic (Kelly 1971: 105). Wheat, as the principal marketable commodity, provided the Upper Canadian farmer with an essential dilemma in planning. Fluctuating harvests and erratic grain prices made it difficult for the farmer to estimate what acreage of wheat would be sufficient to meet both his subsistence and his cash needs. Given the length of the agricultural cycle and the slow return on yields, and with only minimal information on prices and markets, the simple commodity producer had little choice but to dedicate as much acreage to wheat as possible, balancing short-term cash needs against the long-term threat of soil exhaustion. His 'rational' response to an unstable market was to maximize his yields (for which he would have had to hire help), even if the price of wheat eventually made his crops 'unprofitable' or unsaleable. For the same reason, it was also to the farmer's advantage to increase his self-sufficiency. The lower his cash needs, the greater control he had in the disposition of his surpluses. Because wheat was both a subsistence and a marketable crop, there was no pressing reason for engaging in wheat marketing other than the repayment of debts. How, then, did all these factors affect the 'average' farmer typical

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Figure 6 Comparison of farm size

of the Children of Peace? Looking at this average farmer should give us a sense of what the key factors were that were forcing farmers to adopt the one or the other farming strategy. Farm sizes among the Children of Peace varied between i and 75 acres (figure 6), depending upon variables such as alternative means of support and length of occupation.4 This distribution is typical of East Gwillimbury as a whole and roughly similar to that found throughout the 'settled'5 areas of the province in that period (Russell 1984: 135). Almost 50 per cent of all farms are less than 30 acres in size. Fewer than 20 per cent are greater than 50 acres. The average farm size for the Children of Peace is 23 acres. A farm of 25 acres is probably the largest a single man could comfortably cultivate. The Children of Peace, given their consolidated settlement in Hope and their low transience rate, were not likely to have exploited their lands in the same manner as 'wheat miners,' who, it was emphasized, rapidly moved on to new unoccupied lands. They most likely cultivated their lands like the 'improving' gentry farmers of Georgina. More than one visitor noted that 'the surrounding lands were so prettily cleared, the fields being conveniently divided by snake fences; substantial and erected with the greatest ingenuity and regularity; with spacious green swarth roads; completely cleared of loose legs and old tree stumps; a scene very unusual on this continent' (Dun-

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cumb 1837: 273). Thus, given a 25-acre farm, roughly 8-10 acres (33 to 40 per cent) would have been dedicated to wheat cultivation. Approximately half of the farm would have lain in open fallow, with the rest dedicated to subsistence crops such as potatoes, orchards, and a garden plot. An average yield of 25 bushels an acre on 8-10 acres of land would produce only 200-250 bushels of wheat. From this, we must deduct the amount required for seed, approximately i bushel per acre,6 and the amount needed for subsistence. Although it is difficult to reconstruct household size given only genealogical data and an incomplete Assessment Roll, a rough estimate of household composition for the Children of Peace in 1834 is approximately 2 adults and 4 children per household (see appendix 3). This figure is roughly similar to Cooper's (1986: 39) estimate of 6.5 people per household for the sect based on the 1851 census. With each adult consuming 13 bushels of wheat per year, and each child about half that and reserving 10 bushels for seed, the total subsistence requirements for wheat would be 62 bushels (the produce from 2.5 acres of land, roughly the acreage estimated by Kelly [1971: 107] needed for subsistence by Simcoe County farmers). The subsistence needs of the household thus represent 25-31 per cent of the total wheat production. This figure is approximately equal to Mclnnis's (1984: 413) tabulations of marketable surpluses based on similar-sized farms in the 1861 census, which found that 23 per cent of wheat produced was consumed within the household. A 25-acre farm thus produced a 132-188 bushel marketable surplus of wheat, enough to feed another three families. Prices for wheat in the York markets fluctuated violently during the first half of the 18305, starting with a high of 55 6d Halifax currency? per bushel in 1830 to a low of is 6d by 1835.8 Transportation, including a toll on Yonge Street, added a further 7*/2d per bushel in production costs (Shirreff 1835: 117). The annual cash yield for wheat surpluses during the 18308 thus ranged between £5-15-6 and £45-16-6 (or approximately $30 and $230, compared to the 1860 yield of $41 and $116 for the same-sized farms [Mclnnis 1984: 411]). The 'profitability' of wheat cultivation must be measured against cash needs. Although the Legislature of Upper Canada reported that it was unprofitable to farm wheat if the price fell below 2s od a bushel (Jones 1977: 123), the farmer with fixed cash needs often had little choice but to sell at a loss. The Legislature's calculations are based

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on cash equivalents: the cost of hired labour, seed, transport, and so on. However, most of the family farmer's production 'costs,' such as those for labour, were drawn from within his own domestic economy, and although easily measured in cash equivalents, did not require cash payment. Further, Upper Canada was a cash-poor province, and few of those costs could ever, or would ever, be paid in cash (Acheson 1975: 139). The farmer's production costs cannot be measured directly in this way; drawing on domestic labour and the wider reciprocal labour exchanges of the village economy, the actual cash inputs in any crop would be minimal. 'Unprofitability' in the usual sense is not relevant. The farmer did, however, have fixed cash needs. Land costs, and those of other major purchases, such as livestock, were usually paid in cash, although long-term credit was available. The£6~46 the farmer earned from wheat sales must thus be measured against these longterm debts and the cost of necessary imports, such as iron implements. The cost of land was the single largest expense. By the 18305, uncleared land, depending upon location and quality, was selling of £2-4 an acre.9 A 25-acre farm with a lo-acre wood lot (a minimal holding, leaving no room for growth) would cost between £70 and £,140. A more reasonable sized farm of 80 acres (allowing for growth, wood lands, and unusable acreage) would cost between £160 and £.320.10 In a bad year, mortgage demands could easily exceed cash income. Additional cash requirements for livestock, implements, and taxes included £-15-17 for a horse, £15 for a yoke of oxen, £5 for a cow, £2-10-0 for a plough, and taxes of id per assessed£i of property. In the light of these fixed costs, cash cropping can be seen to be very undependable, despite potential windfalls, as is evident from the large number of 'failures' reported in immigrant guides. Many farmers attempted to reduce risk by maintaining secondary occupations, such as blacksmith, carpenter, or shoemaker. Hiram Willson, a nephew of David Willson, provides a fair example of the effects of these diverse factors on economic decision making. Willson was born in 1800, and married Caroline McLeod, another member of the sect, in 1823. By 1834, they had a family of four: two sons and two daughters, the eldest being ten years old (Mann n.p.). The Assessment Roll for 1834 shows them living on lot 9, concession 2, in the heart of the village of Hope. They resided in a one-storey frame house, had a horse and two cows, and cultivated 28 acres of land but owned none. In 1830 Hiram had gone into partnership with

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his brothers Richard, Harvey, and Alfred in 'the tanning and currying business, Harvey being of that trade.' In 1832, Harvey, who was not a member of the sect, was pressed for outstanding debts and fled to the United States, leaving the business with his inexperienced brothers. Alfred was left in charge of the business, and 'Hiram worked his trade (carpentering) and [Richard] went into public works' to earn money and keep the business afloat, 'as produce was very low in those times' (Willson 1986: 15). After the tannery was finally paid for, Hiram sold out to his brothers. He apparently used this money to purchase the farm he had been working in Hope. In 1835, he purchased 25 acres from Samuel Hughes, an elder of the Children of Peace (York Region Registry Office, Instrument no. EG 17647). The factors that pushed farmers to adopt one or the other agricultural strategy would thus appear limited, and are best explained in terms of debt load in proportion to available productive resources (i.e., land and labour). Looking at the range of these available resources within the community allows us to make the distinction between our hypothetical average farmer and the extremes of the farm spectrum, where the reasons for making these choices should be more starkly evident. Differentials in wealth did exist among the members of the sect, as is clearly reflected in the Tax Assessment Roll. The case of Hiram Willson demonstrated that it was often those with low cash incomes who had the greatest cash needs. This fact must be taken into consideration when we measure the fixed cash needs of the village against its total income. The cost of land was the greatest single expense for the farmer, yet it is the most problematic cash need to measure accurately. The Abstract Index to Deeds and registered memorials of land sales often do not note the terms of sale; in many cases these sales took the form of an unregistered long-term loan (one way of avoiding the constraints of a low legal rate of interest). The sale was registered only after the unregistered mortgage was paid. For example, Ebenezer Doan requested to purchase the east half of lot 15, concession 3, East Gwillimbury, a Clergy Reserve, in 1828 (this request is found in the Township Papers, not in the Registry Office records). The land was sold to him at 175 6d an acre (total £87-10-0), payable in ten yearly instalments. The Abstract Index to Deeds records the sale in 1838, but notes none of the details of the transaction. To further complicate the picture there is a promissory note dated 11 February 1832 in Ebenezer's personal papers (PAO, Ms 834, Reel 6, no. 6) showing that

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Awaiting the Millennium TABLE 2 Income from wheat sales vs. land costs 1828-1835

Cost of land Year Purchased

1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 a b c

$ 725+ $1,773 $3,480 $1,550+ $ 680 $3,765+ $2,700 $1,000

Sold $ 725+ $1,553 $1,730 $1,400 $2,000 $3,700 $ 700 $ 500

No. of Amount of land (acres) transNet cost actions Gained3 Exchanged15 Lostc $ 0 $ 220 $1,670 $ 150+ $1,320$ 65+ $2,000 $ 500

5 4 8 5 5 8 2 3

200 44 215 100 201 95 50

100 58 53 101 10 123 35 30

Tota]

income $4,395-5,750

?

$7,925-10,365

?

100

$6,195-8,100 $6,990-9,145 $4,995-6,530 $1,400-1,830

New lands acquired by members of the Children of Peace from non-members Land transfers within the sect Land sold by members to non-members

Ebenezer borrowed £400 from Orlin Williams, promising to repay him $50 (£10) a year for seven years.11 With the last payment on 11 February 1839, he gave Williams the deed for 50 acres of lot 15. In 1832, when Doan entered into the agreement, he did not yet have legal title to the lot, nor does the eventual transfer of the deed to Williams in 1839 mention this promissory note. Apparently simple sales recorded in the Abstract Index may thus often conceal far more complicated transactions covering a number of years. With this in mind, we must approach the figures presented in the Abstract Index to Deeds with caution. Table 2 gives the estimated income for the village in years for which a market price for wheat is available compared with yearly expenditures on land purchased. A number of anomalies require explanation: there were no land sales in 1832, the year the 'Rules and regulations for the settlement of the village of Hope' were in effect.12 The high expenditure seen in 1833 follows the sect's inability to elect their council to decide on land sales. Although it is difficult to give more than a rough estimate, since a number of figures are unknown, X 3 about one-third of the total yearly income of the village was devoted to the purchase of land. This estimate would appear to be conservative, given the stated inadequacies of the Abstract Index to Deeds, and does not include interest charges. When looking at the sizeable percentage of total income absorbed

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by the purchase of land, it must be kept in mind that only a minority of villagers were actually purchasing land; we saw that it was young farmers just starting their new households who had the largest need for land, and hence who acquired the largest debts. These purchasers had a disproportionately large and fixed percentage of their incomes reserved for these debts. The £6-46 the average villager (with a fully functioning farm) earned could easily be absorbed in mortgage payments. In the example cited above, Ebenezer Doan, an established farmer, was paying £10 a year in interest alone. For new farmers buying land, these costs could easily lead to bankruptcy in a bad year (such as 1835). Although we would expect that the largest long-term debts and the greatest cash needs would be those of couples just creating a new household, these were also the people who could least afford repayment. These factors, taken together, served to create a hidden dependence on the market; although all farm households produced most of their own subsistence needs, and sold their surplus in the market, these households (and only these households) were made dependent on the market by debt incurred in the cyclical reproduction of new farm households. The Cyclical Reproduction of Households Analysis of the seasonal cycle of the average farm household demonstrated that all farm households produced the bulk of their subsistence needs themselves, and that the production of marketable surpluses was directed at meeting specific cash needs, principally those related to the purchase of land. In the case of Hiram Willson, the pursuit of a secondary occupation, carpentering, appears to have ceased once his farm was paid for. At that point, he appears to have reoriented himself towards the moral economy of the village, practising subsistence agriculture and contributing labour, not cash, to the sect.14 The need for cash in a basically subsistence economy would thus appear greatest at one phase of the generational cycle of household creation: that point at which young couples matured, married, and set up on their own. If such is the case, then age should be a significant factor in market participation. Figure 7 shows the distribution of farm sizes among the Children of Peace in 1834; superimposed is a second graph showing the average age for each group. This clearly shows that farm size and age are

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Figure 7 Breakdown of age (in years) and size of farm cultivated

closely correlated. Young men, aged twenty-five, farmed the smallest plots, 1-9 acres. The largest group of farmers, aged about thirty-five, cultivated 20-29 acres, probably the maximum a single man could farm by himself. By age fifty, farmers with mature sons are able to farm almost double that, 40-49 acres. The small group of farmers of younger age cultivating more than 60 acres consists most likely of large-scale market-oriented farmers. These graphs, though a static picture of the sect in 1834, clearly show the dynamic cycle of generational succession - the life history, as it were, of a single farm over time. These data are consistent with two models of generational succession of farm holdings: the ladder model15 and the peasant model (Conzen 1985; Shanin 1973). The ladder model of farm acquisition developed out of studies of the American West, in which landless youth, roving in search of farm land, climbed the occupational ladder from wage worker to tenant, and finally to owner-operator (i.e., a simple commodity producer). Wage work and tenancy were seen as necessary prerequisites to farm acquisition, a period of time in which the young farmer accumulated enough knowledge and assets to op-

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erate a farm of his own successfully. This career path was made possible by the opening of new townships farther west, which provided a reservoir of cheap land. An essential part of this model is a high rate of transience, in which the young roving farmer in search of cheap land travelled farther west, and in so doing broke pre-existing corporate and kinship ties and created the individualistic farmer of American ideology (Faragher 1985: 234; for the Canadian context, see Cross 1970). Portions of the ladder model are certainly applicable to Upper Canada during the 18305, where settlements tended to hug the shores of the Great Lakes, and new townships were regularly opened in the interior. Immigrant guides waxed enthusiastic over the possibilities: 'The price of land, too, is still so low, and may yet be had on terms so easy that the poorest individual can here procure for himself and family a valuable tract; which, with a little labour, he can soon convert into a comfortable home, such as he could probably never attain in any other country - all his own!" (Russell 1984: 129). We should, however, carefully distinguish between the hype of the land huckster and the actual costs of settlement. Despite the initial relative cheapness of land in the province, land costs (especially for cleared land) were not negligible by the 18205 and 18305. We have already noted the policy changes adopted by the colonial government at York, which drove up land prices as a way of discouraging speculation and of creating a 'labouring class.' Estimates of the cost of starting a farm in the bush range between £100 and £200 plus the cost of land (Jones 1977: 67; Ankli and Duncan 1985: 48; Easterbrook and Aitken 1956: 275). This figure would hypothetically include 'twenty pounds to buy a yoke of oxen, a logging chain and a harrow, eight pounds for a milch cow and a couple of pigs, twenty-two pounds for a year's provisions, and fifty pounds for hiring labour to help in chopping and logging' (Ankli and Duncan 1985: 48). Acquiring this initial capital by working as a farm-hand was certainly feasible, but would have required a substantial period of time. During the 18305, farm-hands earned £2 a month in summer, £1 in winter, for a total annual income of £18 if employed year-round. Ten years of steady work would have been a minimum period in which to acquire this necessary capital. Once this capital had been acquired and a farm purchased, it generally took two to three years before a surplus could be produced for sale, and at least ten years before the farm was in full production. During the period of farm creation,

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improvements in buildings, tools, livestock, etc. would have been of the greatest priority, yet also the least affordable. The long-term debt for land and the debt acquired until the farm became productive made cash-cropping of wheat a necessary evil in the first years of building a farm (McCalla 1986: 189). This debt was cleared only as the farmer's cultivated acreage increased, until it reached approximately 25 acres in size. Although it was claimed that one man could clear an average of 4-7 acres of woodland a year, actual rates of clearing were much lower, averaging between 1.47 and 3.18 acres per year (Russell 1984: 136-7). These clearing rates are roughly similar to those calculated from figure 7 for the Children of Peace (assuming that the static representation given in the figure can be treated as a linear process in time). At this rate, it would take the average farmer a lifetime of work, thirty years, to clear a 50-acre farm. This larger farm would require additional labour; proponents of the ladder model would argue that this labour need was met by landless labourers who would hire themselves out to earn a cash stake, through which the cycle could be repeated. Once those labourers had acquired their stake they would buy farms farther west, being replaced by other hired help. The use of hired help by the established owner-operator is clearly indicative of commercial farming rather than subsistence agriculture, and is certainly the model of farming the colonial government was encouraging with its land policies. The simple commodity producer, or cash-crop farmer, is characterized in this model by his independence, isolation, and lack of corporate and kinship ties. This latter characterization presents difficulties of interpretation in the case of the Children of Peace. The group had a remarkably low transience rate, few of their children moving farther into the backwoods than concession 3, East Gwillimbury.16 The sect's members remained geographically centred around the meeting-houses on lot 10, concession 2. The sect also had a strong sense of continuing parental responsibility for adult children: 'At the age of twenty-one years, which is set for the time of youthful freedom, is only a time when the son should call on his own abilities to provide the necessities of life; but no time to declare himself independent of his father's love, or benign care over him; it is but the full time of his child-hood, and the beginning to be a man, when he needs the extension of parental abilities more than when he lay in his cradle or hung upon his mother's breast' (Willson i836a: 5).

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The Children of Peace, rather than stressing the independence and isolation of adult children, emphasized kinship and corporate ties within the community. While figure 7 may be interpreted in the context of the ladder model, the distinctive social relations of production of the sect must be taken into account. This approach is more in line with the 'peasant' model. Although the use of the term 'peasant' may seem jarring at first, its appropriateness, given the self-provisionment of most farm households in Upper Canada, should be readily accepted. The peasant cycle of generational succession was family centred, attempting to re-create not only the isolated and independent farm household, but also the wider social ties referred to as a moral economy. 'Under this general pattern, joint inheritances of the parental couple and the joint labour of parents and youngsters provided a stake in life for the children in the early phases of the family cycle. In the later phases, it facilitated the retirement of parents, which in turn provided the means and incentive for children to remain on the land, insuring that the bond of land, family and village would endure for another generation' (Conzen 1985: 265). The growth of the home farm was preparatory to the purchase and division of land among maturing sons, who, as they married, set up their own households. The large number of land transfers within the sect (see table 2) is a sign of this pattern of transmission of land. Unlike the traditional peasant model based on European patterns of land partitioning, the North American variant sought to enlarge holdings before partition so as to ensure a viable homestead for every child. The burden of land acquisition was thus shifted from the individual son to the extended family, working in turn to establish each member. This pattern of generational succession can best be seen through the example of Ebenezer Doan, one of the Doan clan discussed in chapter i (see figure 8). Doan married Elizabeth Paxson, his second wife, in 1801 in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. They immigrated to Yonge Street with the rest of the Doan family in 1808, joining Willson and the Children of Peace in 1813. In 1818, the family moved to East Gwillimbury, purchasing 200 acres, the west halves of lots 13 and 14, concession 3. Doan had five sons, Abraham, Elias, Oliver, Ira, and David, and two daughters, Hannah and Sarah. Abraham, the eldest son, was married at age twenty-five in 1827. The average age of males at marriage among the Children of Peace

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Figure 8 Land purchases of the Ebenezer Doan family Devolution 1 2 3 4 5

of Ebenezer's land to his sons: Abraham 69.5 acres Oliver 65.0 acres Ira 80.0 acres David 65.5 acres Elias (shoemaker)

was twenty-five; of females, nineteen.1? This six-year difference represents the time a father and his sons worked together to acquire a large-enough stake to establish each son on a farm. A letter dated 11 May 1830 from Oliver Doan to his cousin Howard Paxson in Pennsylvania notes: 'Ira had all the fallow ploughed and wheat sowed and

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harrowed when I got home. There is twenty five acres of it, five belongs to him and I.'18 Older sons were encouraged to cultivate their own acreage on their father's land as a means of learning farm techniques and earning a stake. If each son cultivated 2.5 acres of wheat for six years, they had potential earnings of between £28 and £103. In 1828, a year after he married, Abraham Doan purchased a 5o-acre plot on lot 12, concession 3 (next to his father's), from Amos Hughes, another member of the sect. Hughes, having sold his land, is listed as farming (but not owning) 45 acres of Ebenezer's farm on lot 13. The two men, in effect, swapped land to create a farm for Abraham next to his father's. It should be noted that Hughes had extensive land holdings of his own. At roughly the same time, Elias, the second son, purchased a quarteracre 'town' lot in the core of the village on lot 10, concession 2, from David Willson for $25. He married the following year, 1829, perhaps after having built a house on this lot. By 1834 the Tax Assessment Roll shows him cultivating 20 acres of land on lot 9, land apparently owned by his uncle, John Doan, who also had extensive land holdings. Elias was a shoemaker for most of his life; he never appears to have purchased a farm. In 1831, Ebenezer Doan began the task of acquiring more land on which to establish his three remaining unmarried sons. He purchased 100 acres on lot 18, concession 2, for £250. In 1833, his fourth son, Ira, aged twenty-three, married out of order (i.e., before third son, Oliver). The 1834 Tax Assessment Roll shows Ira on lot 18, cultivating 40 acres of land, a significantly larger acreage than the average, and far in excess of his subsistence needs. In 1836, Ira bought 80 acres of the lot from his father for £200. In 1834 Tax Assessment Roll shows that 140 acres of Ebenezer's 2OO-acre home farm were under cultivation. Ebenezer and his two remaining sons, Oliver and David, cultivated 45 of those 140 acres. A further 20 acres were cultivated by his son Abraham, this most likely being cleared land needed by Abraham to supplement his six-yearold neighbouring bush farm. Other members of the Children of Peace cultivated the remaining 75 acres. Oliver was finally married in 1837, and in 1842 he purchased 65 acres of his father's home farm on lot 13 for£250. Ebenezer continued to sell parcels of land from this lot over the following decade until his death in 1866. He left the home farm to his youngest son, David.

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Several factors distinguish the social relations of production of the Children of Peace, as illustrated by the example of the Doan family, from those typical of the agricultural ladder model. It is immediately apparent that adult sons were not hired hands, exploited by parents who extracted their surplus labour for profit. The surplus labour of sons was applied to their own crops grown on part of their father's land. By this means they could acquire a stake for later land acquisition. This relationship was continued even after the son set up an independent household; he often continued to farm his father's land after marriage. The creation of these new households inevitably involved other members of the community: in the case of the Doans, their father, their uncle John, and Amos Hughes. Ebenezer Doan played a similar role for Hiram Harrison and his son Joshua. These relations can be thought of as long-term loans of land until the newly created household had acquired the cash needed to buy the land. Thus, Ebenezer Doan's son Ira 'borrowed' his father's land on lot 18 for three years before he bought 80 acres of it. Ira paid the same amount for the land as his father had five years earlier. Profit was evidently not the motive for land purchases. Sons eventually repaid their fathers for the land they worked, thus recycling the initial cash outlay to buy more land for a yet unmarried brother, as well as 'facilitating] the retirement of the parents.' It is clear that land purchases took place within a non-commodicized domestic economy directed at ensuring the subsistence base of each child, not at profit. Strategizing Individuals in a Moral Economy Farmers in early-nineteenth-century Upper Canada utilized a number of strategies to meet their basic household economic needs. We have examined a number of these strategies, and the factors that influenced their adoption or rejection. The primary factor affecting the adoption of a particular farming strategy appeared to be the problem of creating new farms for children; unless children received help from their parents, these new households were caught in an initial period of indebtedness that necessitated the cash-cropping of wheat in ever larger amounts, regardless of market conditions, in the hope that earnings might outweigh debts. Lacking adult sons, the maximum a young farmer could farm alone was 25 acres. Within this limited acreage, the young farmer had to

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balance his debts against his need for subsistence insurance: cashcropping was an absolute and economically precarious necessity, but reduced the farmers' ability to participate in community activities that cemented the village's moral economy and provided a safety net in case of crop or market failures. Reciprocal labour exchanges, required for such essential tasks as harvesting, and donated labour on community projects such as the school, band, and meeting-house, reduced the time available to expand crop production. The only alternative, to hire labour to expand production, required cash, which many young farmers did not have or, given market conditions, were not sure of getting. Debt and participation in the village's moral economy could not be handled with a single consistent agricultural strategy without adaptations being made to that strategy (of the type outlined here). The young farmers' need to strategize was a potential source of conflict within the sect as they played their new-found (but precarious) independence against the demands of their parents and the community. This conflict could not help but be introduced into the political process of the sect, the Monthly Meeting, since the sect had, after all, issued the demands for labour the young heads of families were seeking to escape. The emphasis on maintaining consensus within the Monthly Meeting led to a host of adaptations that made the sect's moral economy the more palatable alternative. These adaptations are more fully discussed in the next chapter. The elders of the sect attempted to foster the subsistence-oriented farming strategy by treating debts to themselves as a part of their noncommodicized domestic economy; that is, they subsidized the initial period of farm creation by assuming the brunt of the capital costs themselves. The 'price' of this subsidy was a demand for full participation of the young heads of families in the normative relations of production of the sect. The elders' eventual accommodation to the new needs of their children was not, however, without conflict. We should not assume that because these decisions were reached consensually, they were arrived at without recriminations, personal disappointments, or broken relationships.

CHAPTER SIX

Ornamenting the Christian Church

Shortly after the Children of Peace completed their first meetinghouse in 1819, they began to plan their next project: raising a temple to the greater glory of God (osHTX975.442.ioa).1 The temple's design was loosely based upon the description of Solomon's temple found in i Kings, chapter 6, and the new Jerusalem described in Revelation 21. The undertaking was legitimated by a vision in which Willson was called by God to 'ornament the Christian Church with all the glory of Israel.' A melange of Christian and Jewish symbols, juxtaposed in often antithetical ways, made the temple an unusual, yet remarkably beautiful hybrid. It dwarfed the first meeting-house and, because of its size and its commands on the material resources of the sect, it rightfully became the focal point of the sect's identity and activities. Today, its graceful lines and contrasting curves are a testament to the faith of its builders (photo 5). This attempt to build the New Jerusalem is itself indicative of the moral valuation they placed upon their community, the village of Hope. Already possessing a meeting-house, what could have led them to embark on a yet larger building project, other than the driving force of Willson's moral vision? Communal building projects such as these cemented the ties that held the community together in the face of a hostile environment, providing a forum of common action that pulled members away from their farms and moulded their sense of what kind of community they were. The temple was built to fulfil a single function: to raise alms for the poor. The growing ideological importance of charity for the sect has already been noted; the temple is yet another expression of that concern. Under Willson's direction, the Children of Peace came to interpret building the temple as a mandate for ritualizing the previously im-

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plicit values of their moral economy; equality and charity were made the symbolic focus of the temple, and the rituals performed within it. These values, once unstated and assumed, had to be concretely expressed as differences in wealth within the sect became more pronounced, and the pressures of the market led many to ignore their communal responsibilities. We have already seen that there were two types of farmers within the sect: subsistence-oriented farmers who were relatively independent of the market, and market-oriented farmers whose continued survival was dependent on producing marketable surpluses. It was more difficult for these market-oriented farmers, generally young and just starting out, to pull themselves away from their farms and revenuegenerating tasks, to work on this communal building project. Yet, it was those very same farmers who depended most on the ethic the temple came to symbolize; as young newly established farmers, their operations were the least developed and the most likely to fail. It was they who felt the greatest need for the subsistence insurance guaranteed by their moral economy. The value conflict they experienced was further heightened by the very scale of the demands building the temple placed upon the three hundred members of the sect. The paradox of the temple's mandate, whose function was as a place to collect alms for the poor, was that it was itself exceedingly expensive. This paradox should not be cynically written off as yet another demonstration of the hypocrisy or gullibility of religious fanatics. The moral economy of the Children of Peace was a source of internal conflict, as young farmers were forced to make hard choices between their values and survival. It was because these values were under attack that such priority was given to sacralizing them. In elevating them to an ideal plane, these values were placed beyond the conflicts that erupted in the Monthly Meeting. The degree of sacrifice made in aid of the construction of the temple was a declarative act, a profession of faith in the value system that the temple embodied; had that value system been uncontested, no such declaration would have been necessary. Ornamenting the Church Willson's moral vision was expressed in a theological idiom, a number of powerful biblical metaphors whose familiarity should not blind

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us to the innovative use to which he put them. These metaphors were used to express the ideals and experience of his small sect, whom he cast as God's chosen people, the new Jews, lost in the wilderness of Upper Canada. There, like the Jews of old, they were given a 'Hope' of things to come; they were called to construct a new Jerusalem, a symbol of God's future kingdom on earth. The symbolism of the new Jerusalem has a long history in Christian millennial eschatology, usually associated with radical groups seeking a break with the present order; transported to the Upper Canadian context, it flourished as this small group prepared for the millennium. The symbolism of the new Jerusalem had a number of universal facets that related the beliefs and experience of the Children of Peace to their perceived position in Upper Canadian society (cf. Smillie 1983: 1-11). The new Jerusalem represented, first, the created order given by God; its implicit harmony was not based on this world, but on another, making it a colony of heaven, so to say, in the mire of a sinning world. It is this aspect of their millennial dream which I have characterized as a moral economy writ large. The sacred element of this holy order only serves to highlight its implicit political nature; just as the first Jerusalem was the seat of King Solomon, the capital of a nation cobbled together from the twelve tribes of Israel, so the new Jerusalem was to weld together the many nations into the one body of Christ. Finally, the new Jerusalem represented a centre of worship; all the world was to make a pilgrimage to its doors, and bask there in the concentrated glory of the one true God. These universal themes Willson blended with his own personal vision of a rebuilt temple, with himself cast as the erstwhile King David. The temple provided the concrete realization of Willson's prophetic utterances. The master craftsman faced with the task of translating these visionary requirements into a building of enduring beauty and pragmatic proportions was Ebenezer Doan, Jr, a Pennsylvania Quaker who had learned his trade from his elder brother Jonathan, one of the most famous builders in the mid-Atlantic states. Ebenezer's skill and creativity as architect, engineer, foreman, and carpenter are in large part responsible for the fame that accrued to the Children of Peace. Preparations for the task of construction would, of necessity, have begun in 1822 (personal communication, E. Daniel Hill), with the actual raising of the structure taking place between 1825 and 1831. The physical structure of the temple, as designed by Doan, was draped

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in Jewish imagery, its having been built for the 'purpose of off ring to God, Israelite fashion' (OSHT 986.3.2: 222). However, the temple was no slavish imitation of Solomon's; it served, rather, as a link between the old and the new dispensations. Legitimated by a sacred past, it physically embodied a hoped-for future, a millennial kingdom characterized by equality and charity. The temple, an architectural gem, gracefully encased the contested values of the Children of Peace in glass and wood, carefully blending Quaker tradition with Old Testament symbolism, thus transforming the ideal into the concrete. Every structural element was drawn from a commonly known sacred history, or was made to symbolize some sacred value or ideal. For example, the temple (sixty square feet in area) is square like the new Jerusalem,2 signifying 'deal[ing] on the square with all people. The door in the centre of each of the four sides is to let the people come in from the east and the west, the north and the south on equal and the same footing.' It rises more than seventy feet in three diminishing storeys, a symbolic representation of the Trinity. At each corner of the roof on every storey is an ornate lantern, capped with four golden spires; these twelve lanterns, 'when illuminated,' are 'symbolical of the twelve apostles going out into the world to preach the salvation of Christ to the people' (Willson, quoted in McArthur 1898: 6). At the apex of the temple, suspended between the four lanterns, is a golden ball; on this, the highest point in the village of Hope, they inscribed their highest hope - peace to the world. The interior of the temple is washed in light from its 2,952 panes of glass, serving to reinforce Willson's emphasis on the Inner Light. The windows were evenly spaced on each side of the door, 'to let the light of the gospel be equally the same on all the people herein assembled' (Willson, quoted in McArthur 1898: 6). Light is also admitted through a central aperture that stretches from the third storey, a cupola, through the second- and first-storey roofs. This opening allowed the music of the sect's band to waft down from the second storey, the musicians' gallery, as music from on high. The second storey was reached by an elegantly curved staircase, a 'Jacob's ladder' that appears to cascade downwards from the roof high above. Also said to have stretched down from the third storey was a large chandelier, which hung suspended over the focal point of the temple: the ark of the covenant. The altar, or ark, the last part of the temple to be completed, was

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modelled on the ark of the Israelites that had stood at the centre of Solomon's temple (see photo 6). It took John Doan (brother of Ebenezer), a furniture maker in the sect, the symbolic seventh year of construction to complete. The altar was square like the temple, with an ornate lamp resting on each corner of its roof. A larger lamp rose from the centre peak of the ark, reaching up to the chandelier above. The original ark had contained the stone tablets on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed; this ark contained a Bible open to the Ten Commandments. The ark rested on twelve small, carved gilded feet, representing the twelve apostles, and stood in the centre of four larger structural pillars, which supported the second and third storeys of the temple. These four pillars were labelled 'Faith,' 'Hope,' 'Love,' and 'Charity' - 'the four cardinal virtues, which are the foundation, or in other words the principles on which it is built' (Willson, quoted in McArthur 1989: 6). At the foot of these pillars stood four alms tables on which money for the poor was collected. Around these four central pillars were ranged another twelve, representing the twelve apostles of Christ, standing in support of the four virtues. The temple, like Solomon's, was to take seven years to complete, and 'there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house while it was in building' (i Kings 6: 7; cf Upper Canada Gazette/Weekly Register, 17 November 1825). The chronology is, of course, fanciful, in that preparations had been made before construction was begun in 1825, and the temple itself was completed in six years, by 1831; the symbolic seventh year was taken up by the building of the ark. It is unknown how a wooden building (with easily visible nails) could be constructed without the sound of a hammer being heard in the building; although it was said it was to be 'prepared at a distance and brought and put together' (Upper Canada Gazette/ Weekly Register, 17 November 1825), a structural analysis of the framing of the building shows this to be impossible (personal communication, E. Daniel Hill). The finishing touch was an ornate white picket fence, which surrounded the temple, dividing the inner from the outer courts; between it and the temple they planted twelve maple trees (Fairley 1960: 38). None of these exterior details have survived. The temple was never intended to be used for regular Sunday worship services; those services continued to be held in the first meetinghouse. The temple was used only fifteen times a year: on the last Saturday (the Jewish Sabbath) of each month for an alms service, for

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two special feasts (the feast of the passover, and the feast of the first fruits),3 and for a special candle-lit 'Illumination' service on the Friday evening preceding the September feast. Between services, it was kept locked, despite considerable public interest in the structure, since 'a little dust on the floor from the feet, and a dry compliment for turning the key, will not pay the cost of leaving our labour - the work of our hands are for better purposes than these' (Murdoch McLeod et al, quoted in Shirreff 1835: 116). The temple service was hedged with numerous ritual prohibitions and prescriptions drawn from a close reading of the Old Testament (i.e., rather than from current Jewish practice). Sect members were admonished to fast from Friday evening to Saturday noon (only a halfday's fast because only half the Jewish dispensation had been granted them). At noon, they would be summoned to worship by the sound of a trumpet.4 They collected at their meeting-house, where they formed a procession; led by the band, the choir, and the sect's twelve eldest members, the rest of the congregation ranked themselves according to age (the symbolism is self-evident). They marched down Queen Street, and entered the temple's east door. Willson himself never entered the temple during a service, a direct consequence of God's command that he 'first ornament the Christian Church with all the glory of Israel and afterwards become nothing [himjself therein, but resign all of God's protection' (OSHT X975.434.1: i2ff). He also admonished them to admit no priests to the building, a clear statement of the Quaker ideal of 'the priesthood of all believers.' As if to reinforce this point, there was no pulpit. Once inside, the band climbed Jacob's ladder to the musicians' gallery, where they played a hymn while the congregation gathered below. The choir assembled around the ark, where they sang one of Willson's specially written 'Songs for the Altar.' The men and women of the congregation divided, sitting on opposite sides of the temple, as they also did in the meeting-house. After the hymn had been read out, and sung, the band descended, and they, and the choir, seated themselves for what was essentially a Quaker silent-worship service. They sat in silence awaiting the ministry of one led by the Inner Light. If, after a suitable period of time, no one rose to speak, one of the elders would rise and read a sermon prepared in advance by Willson. All of these hymns and sermons were later carefully inscribed in a 'Book of Sacred Record.' At the end of the period of worship, the eldest member of the

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congregation would stand and lead the rest of the congregation in a procession around the ark, moving from east to west. Each member placed his or her donation for the poor upon one of four tables draped in green cloth that stood by the four central pillars; the men deposited their money on their side, the women on theirs. The congregation then seated itself once more, and the money was publicly counted and the totals announced to forestall any accusations of wrongdoing. The collection completed, the congregation then stood and left, locking the door behind them. The money raised in the temple was kept in a special Charity Fund. These funds, the use of which has already been partially documented in chapter 4, were to be distributed by a committee of 'two men or more with the same number of women [who] shall frequently visit the houses affording suspicion of want and report the necessities to the Treasurer of our yearly income for such purposes as occasion may require. That such persons shall be secretly appointed by our elderly brethren and sisters, to secret the giving of alms as much as in us lies to preserve the feeling of our necesitous brethren and sisters' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 3). And, as has already been noted, so successful were they in 'secreting' alms and sparing the feelings of the recipients of their charity that few well-documented cases exist, despite the general approbation of their good works. The architectural symbolism of the temple and the use to which it was put were clearly an attempt to sanctify and legitimate formerly implicit values and behaviours, which were central to the smooth operation of their moral economy. As Mclntyre (1990) has noted, the temple itself became their creed, their statement of belief. Specific themes, such as equality before God and charity or 'mutual assistance,' were concatenated with sacred symbols, such as the apostles, the ark, and the temple itself. Other denominations could have inscribed these beliefs in a creed; the Children of Peace, trapped by Willson's antinomian leanings into rejecting all written creeds, inscribed their beliefs in wood and glass. 'An Irreconcilable Difference' The need to inscribe their beliefs in equality and mutual assistance in some form, to grant them some sort of sacred sanction, had been the root of Willson's ministry from its inception; the construction of the temple was, in many ways, a sign that his ministry was no longer,

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by itself, sufficient to bridge the growing gap between the members of the sect. Willson was always faced with the problem of forging consensus out of the often contradictory needs of his congregation. Community building projects, such as the schools and meeting-houses, were one means by which this consensus could be fashioned. Examining the process in detail gives us a sense of the dialectic between value conflict and its religious resolution. The construction of the temple was legitimated by a vision Willson reported in 1828, 'an evidence of confirmation to what I had already too feebly believed.' The vision requires little in the way of exegesis, and given its importance as a mythic charter for the sect, is quoted at length: I apprehended I was called to retire into secret from all men. Accordingly I obeyed the call and went forth by myself. It was expressly spoken to me that if I would go I should see the angel of God. Half believing that such a thing should be, and still fearing the event of not going, I obeyed the command. According to divine promise, I saw a beautiful young man clothed in a scarlet robe. My understanding was enlightened in a moment. This was the blood of Jesus Christ, and a mission for me, or rather an evidence of confirmation to what I had already too feebly believed. He stood at my left hand in reach of my person, and signified by motion this covering was for me. He gently stripped the garment from his own shoulders and laid it on mine, and told me that through the sorrows of sin I must minister to the Christian Church, and that this was redeeming blood that was laid upon me, which I must be baptised in. He disappeared from me naked and beautiful, and I saw him no more. I returned sincerely confirmed in the belief that I had received a holy mission from God. During the appearance of the solemn-countenanced angel I was accompanied with sorrow concerning the fall of Jewish glory once offered to God, and thought by this mantle I should have part in the restoration of the Christian Church only, and no part with the Jewish order in God's holy habitation. I will here note that I hitherto had received some hope in having part in the restoration of ancient glory, and therefore was the more grievously disappointed, as expecting by what I had received I should have part in the Christian Church only. But I sorrowed no longer than the dawning of the next morning light, when I received the same call and retired again, and I expressly saw the same person in another garment

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colored as the skies, ornamented with the lights of heaven wholly, and sparkling with unusual lustre, with a border of gold compassing the mantle round about. I then stood in difficulty in my situation to know what was to be done with it, for I knew as before at the appearance it was God's visitation of great mercy to the restoring of ancient glory which is long fallen. In an exceeding careful and gentle manner he lifted up the first covering and placed the other in like manner as he had done before, under it, and I saw that Jewish glory was nearest to my heart, and the last visitations of God to His people, and that He would come thereafter, and dwell with them Himself, and receive all glory; I now had received an assurance that I had part both in present and ancient order, but that / must first ornament the Christian Church with all the glory of Israel and afterwards become nothing myself therein, but resign all to God's protection, for He, after me, would take care of His own people. Of the spirit of Abraham a saviour will be born by whom God will redeem his people Israel. He will endue the sons of the wicked with precious gifts; he will cause them to rise and seek a home that shall be found. He will lead them by ways they know not of, neither hath it been known. He will put the spirit of his ancient servants into other bodies, he will purify them in sorrow, and make them as clean and acceptable vessels in his sight: then will he call the dead to rise, or these that sleep to wake, as with the sound of a mighty trumpet, louder than thunder from heaven will be the voice of the Lord; and the dead shall arise, and come forth to action: the enemies of Gods will on earth shall receive their full punishment and the sons of his glory their full joy. And God will inhabit the earth and dwell with all his people, this is the world that is to come when Abraham, Isaac and Jacob shall arise and their good spirit be multiplied in the earth; and Jacob shall rejoice in his children, for they shall keep the laws of the Lord; and dwell with him forever. (OSHT X975.434.1: i2ff; emphasis added) Willson's vision to ornament the church was utilized by him as a means of building a new consensus among the members of the sect. The temple was a tremendous drain on their resources; its size and complexity taxed their ingenuity, their time, and their purses. Many of the younger members had apparently begun to shirk the demands for labour the temple necessitated if the seven-year schedule Willson

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advocated was to be maintained: while some 'labor for weeks, months or years at the building ... others are improving their farms and shops' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 7). The construction of the temple thus became a focal point for the simmering conflict arising out of the younger farmers' dependence on the market. Willson's call to ornament the church must, therefore, be seen within the context of this conflict. The significance of ornamenting the temple was twofold; first, it was a call to sanctify that which was ornamented, to make it unquestionable. The vision, and the sacred tradition on which it drew, consecrated profane acts and elevated them to the ideal plane. Simple acts, like the giving of alms, were vested with inordinate ideological weight, as we saw in chapter 4; surrounded with the pomp and circumstance of the temple ceremony, the simple act of giving became a re-enactment of an earlier, archetypal 'Israelite' sacrifice. By re-enacting their sacrifice (alms giving) in a temple service that was simultaneously 'Quaker' (i.e., based upon the revelations of the Inner Light) and 'explicit' (i.e., which left no doubt as to what the Inner Light expected), messages incompatible with the external ornamentation became self-evidently incorrect (cf Bloch 1974). Second, by sanctifying these ideals, they were placed beyond the scope of the specific conflict in which members of the sect were then involved; rather than being something that could be argued about, these sanctified ideals became the normative measure against which actual behaviours could be measured. By participating in a rite, one publicly affirms one's complete acceptance of its declarative content (Rappaport 1982:194). Willson's call to ornament the church, and his ability to define what that ornamentation signified, were the means by which he altered the terms of the conflict with the younger members of the sect, in effect transforming an economic conflict about market participation into a religious conflict, to be settled in a much different forum (i.e., the Monthly Meeting). It might be argued that these 'Judaic' elements were superficial (as the general rubric 'ornamentation' might indicate), a matter of adornment to which only lip-service need be paid. It is more appropriate to see this adornment as a declarative act. The sect could, like the Quakers, have collected their alms by subscription; that they chose to build a costly structure for that purpose is an indication that the giving of alms was more than a simple functional act. By participating

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in a specific rite, they made a public affirmation of their allegiance to a specific value system; they made public their acceptance of its normative status, even if they could not live up to its demands. However, Willson's vision and subsequent call on the members of the Children of Peace to 'ornament' the church was not automatically accepted; it was, rather, one of the means by which he sought to build consensus within a divided Monthly Meeting. And as with all consensus, it involved trade-offs so that the needs of all could be met. In order to renew their vision of themselves as a 'peculiar' people set off by God from the world, the younger farmers of the sect, dependent on market relations with that world, had to be appeased. Unable to withdraw from their market activities, they had to be guaranteed new forms of subsidization of their farming activities so as to lessen their dependence on the sale of wheat. The elders, those who granted these new guarantees, simultaneously acquired new power in defining the sacred, a power they had previously rejected. They used this power to reinforce the ideals that had emerged in their struggles with the Quakers two decades earlier. The process by which this consensus was ultimately reached is so closely related to the actual construction of the temple, and the multiple political and economic processes already discussed, that only a careful step-bystep analysis can reveal how Willson's moral vision acquired its definitive shape. Despite Willson's claim that the Children of Peace had 'forsaken all [the Quaker's] traditions and former customs' (Willson i8i6b: 2), their organization as a Monthly Meeting remained roughly similar to the forms of the Society of Friends. Over a period of twenty years, their initial rejection of church officers was qualified by the emergence of a gerontocracy, 'our twelve eldest brethren in years,' who, like a Select Meeting, assumed the day-to-day responsibility of administering the dealings of the sect, and hence the village of Hope. The Monthly Meeting met on the last Saturday of the month, coincident with the monthly alms service in the temple.5 The scope of the meeting's decision-making power was limited by the members' rejection of 'rounds of ceremonies of discipline,' which compose the bulk of a Quaker Business Meeting. 'The children of Peace, like the Quakers, have no written creed; the church discipline being altered and amended if need be, on motion, by a vote of the majority of the congregation. As yet, however, every alteration of Church government

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has been carried without opposition' (MacKenzie, quoted in Fairley 1960:39). Although having 'their own laws and regulations among themselves,' adherence was voluntary and no members could be 'disowned' for failing to meet the requirements of the sect.6 Few of their 'minutes of meeting' survive; hence our knowledge of the exact bounds of the meeting's jurisdiction is limited to inference. Most of the extant minutes deal with disbursements from the Charity Fund. We may infer that the planning and building of the meeting-houses and the regulation of their schools, and of their work and feast days, were also subject to the approval of the meeting as a whole. This early diffuse form of organization required substantial alteration as the completion of the temple led to a renewed discussion as to how the group's boundaries were to be defined. The temple represented a substantial investment, and a mechanism for admitting new members was required. All who had participated in the construction of the temple came to be designated 'Builders of the Temple,' and their children were considered birthright members. Having initially rejected the notion of 'disowning' members, they were quite wary of those who 'professed unity' to obtain membership, and then 'promoted] sectarian principles ... setting neighbour against neighbour and friend against friend ... inspiring] to wrath and promoting] vain arguments among the people' (OSHT 986.3.2: 254). The matter was complicated by their professed lack of creedal beliefs; since the Children of Peace did not insist that all members toe a doctrinal line, most beliefs were acceptable, but not necessarily compatible. While the members of the sect shared a common background in Quakerism, which might limit contentiousness/ new members who had not been raised in that tradition could cause disruptions in the peaceful operation of the sect's business.8 Their initial resolution of the problem of membership was to attempt to maintain the religious homogeneity of the village. Membership in the sect was to remain open, but the sect's members would refuse to sell property to new applicants until after their sincerity had been tested. In September 1830, Willson idealistically proposed that 'if a stranger be poor, settle him at a distance by consent of the assembly; and let him be tried seven years to see if he shall be for or against the house of the Lord. After which if he shall prove thy brother in the house of the Lord thou shalt make him the heir of the

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best field; according to his necessity, according to the goodness of the Lord to his people in the land of Egypt in the time of their distress' (OSHT 986.3.2: 245). In April 1831, the members of the sect adopted a new set of regulations loosely based on Willson's proposal: 'No individual shall dispose of lands to kindred or friends, without the consent of the whole assembly, or our chosen council to sit in behalf thereof, as the case may require. If the case be doubtful, such requests or applications for land shall be first made to them, and by them laid before the whole congregation, to be decided by vote, and a majority shall carry, if not influenced before voting, by good or evil reports, save as a majority of our council shall agree to inform the whole assembly' (OSHT 986.3.2: 254). These 'Regulations adopted by the Children of Peace for settling the village of Hope' were a great departure from their usual pattern of consensual decision making. The council which decided upon the sales of land was to be composed of nine members, four of whom were selected by the applicant, and five of whom were elected by the meeting. Each sale was to be considered individually. If the applicant was accepted, he agreed that this same council would sit in judgment in all later disputes. This council could unilaterally 'disown' a member for non-compliance with the sect's discipline. 'If his morals shall appear beyond the limits of our mercy to forgive, in profaning the sabbath, disrespecting worship, and other evils incident to the age; he shall be requested to withdraw from our settlement, when due settlement is made according to justice, or the judgement of the nine persons thus chosen. If he refuses so to do, he shall be to us a stranger, whom we know not' (OSHT 986.3.2: 255). The chosen council was remarkably successful in limiting land sales within the village. In the same month as the regulations were adopted, one of the elders, John Doan, purchased a 2OO-acre government reserve lot in the centre of the village (lot 8, concession 3).9 Over the course of the year, Doan sold two 5o-acre lots to younger members of the sect. No other sales (other than a i-acre plot) took place within the village that year. Doan was a cabinet-maker of some renown who owned considerable acreage, but farmed none; he was evidently acting as a caretaker for the land on behalf of the chosen council (of which he, as an elder, was no doubt a member). During 1831-2, purchases of land by members of the sect dropped to half the value of purchases made in either 1830 or 1833. The purchase of lot 8, concession 3, and a similar purchase of lot 9, concession 2, by Samuel

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Hughes (another elder) in 1833, represent an attempt to concentrate ownership of unused lands in the vicinity of the village in the hands of the elders. These lands were then dispensed to other members of the sect, 'according to his necessity, according to the goodness of the Lord to his people in the land of Egypt in the time of their distress' (OSHT 986.3.2: 245). Despite the benevolent motives of the elders, within six months the 'chosen council's' decisions had come under frequent attack from younger and wealthier members.10 We have already seen that there existed a small minority of younger members who had obviously prospered, and were clearly market-oriented farmers utilizing largerthan-average acreages. These dissenting members, used to a consensual approach and unused to the exercise of heavy-handed authority, made frequent appeals to Willson to intervene in the process of dispute mediation. Willson rejected their complaints and emphasized the need for repentance, obedience, and the disavowal of the pursuit of wealth: Do not call me back any more to make me a judge or divider in these matters, but elders and counsellors hold the scale of justice upon an even balance ... See who is happy that has transgressed or who is just and breaks our laws. Is there any, no not one. It is then time to repent of extravagance and breaking the law of God for interest for our laws have the nearest connection with the son of God of any articles that are written ... Of a truth I am living amongst you without income for your example; and you are in some instances seeking double portions, your offrings to the house of God will not atone for these things ... When you sink a little lower in these practices you will find the furnace a little hotter. (OSHT 975.434.1: 416-17)

Willson's support of the council's decisions did not defuse the conflict. Between September and December 1831, the 'Builders' were unable or unwilling to 're-elect a council to decide matters of dispute' (OSHT 986.3.2: 260). This 'irreconcilable difference' was of such a serious nature that some members evidently feared another schism (ibid: 170). The dispute was now openly between the elders of the sect who had sat upon the council and some of their successors, the 'young heads of families' who had electioneered for a place on the council (ibid: 260). Faced with immediate conflict, and unable to elect a new council,

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the Children of Peace finally decided to abandon their first jural experiment. They abolished the council, and returned to their earlier pattern of consensual decision making: 'We submit all to God's righteous decrees and strive no more to put together that God hath put apart.' Those present (and apparently some had left in the interim) once again decided to reject their right to judge: 'We will not be for or against our enemies lest we be found fighting God.' They agreed, 'old and young, [to] assign our covenants together as one people to build up the house of the Lord and keep our laws afore written in the land' (OSHT 986.3.2: 270). The short-term political solution to the conflict (or rather, deferment of the problem) did not change the pattern of land ownership that had given the elders the initial power to enforce their decisions. Despite their abolishing the council and renewing their emphasis on consensus, the conflict did not resolve itself. The 'young heads of families' continued to press for a 'change in government' in the sect, and refused to submit, once again, to the dominance of the sect's twelve eldest brethren. Willson recognized that this dissent and the desire for change 'hath arose from the children of some being far exalted above others, which bespeaks prosperity in the earth. But every increase of interest is not an increase of wisdom nor understanding, when it promotes divisions in the house of the Lord' (OSHT 986.3.2: 285). It is important to note that Willson did not link their 'present trouble' to simple differentials in wealth; these differentials had always existed. Rather, he saw as the root of dissent individuals placing personal 'interest,' profits, before the group's communal good. Willson explicitly rejected the priority the young heads of families had given market activity. He argued that liberal donations to the Charity Fund, obtained through the sale of wheat in the market, but at the expense of the group as a whole, would only make 'the furnace a little hotter.' He objected to the priority given market activity, not to market relations themselves. The elders of the sect also sold wheat in the market, but they, in contrast to the younger farmers, were never dependent upon the market for the reproduction of their households. They thus had less difficulty in meeting the labour demands of the sect. For the young heads of families, who had no labour but their own to contribute, labour contributed to the moral economy was labour directly taken away from potentially profitable market activities, which were essential for the reproduction of their households.

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The cost of contributing labour to the moral economy (in terms of forgone income) was thus proportionately higher for the young heads of families. It was a greater risk for them to divert labour from their farms when they were unsure how much their surplus produce would earn in volatile grain markets, than for them to contribute a portion of their 'net profit' even if, in the end, that profit was exceedingly high. It was the volatility of the grain markets, however, which made the need for subsistence insurance equally pressing for these young farmers. Although cash needs were fixed, the price of grain oscillated wildly in response to British needs, British harvests, and British import policy, none of which remained consistent in the politically turbulent 18305. This pressing need for subsistence insurance in case of a market crash kept the younger farmers dependent upon the goodwill of their elders. It was by recognizing these conflicting needs that the Children of Peace were finally able to forge a new consensus. In August 1832, the elders assembled the congregation for a second attempt at establishing a jural organization for the sect: the 'Yearly Meeting of Committees' was created 'for the purpose of dividing the work amongst us' and 'repairing] the breaches of the House of the Lord' (OSHT 986.3.2: i). The renewed fervour with which they again approached the contentious issue of reorganization drew its momentum from two sources. First, the ark of the covenant was nearing completion, marking the end of the highly symbolic seventh year of building the temple. This occasion, a moment of triumph, took place against a background of internal dissension and a raging cholera epidemic. The connection between these events seemed grossly apparent to the sect's members, aided, no doubt, by the fire-and-brimstone sermons of Willson (OSHT 986.3.2: 328-9). The perceived crisis proved sufficiently pressing for one last effort at resolving their difficulties: Whereas the judgments of Almighty God are now in the earth, and such as has not been since the memory of the grey headed amongst us, and no remedy appears to satisfy his angry mind, and we beholding ourselves in sin and the bonds of an iniquity by neglecting solemn worship and the care of the vineyard or church committed to our trust, it seemeth good to unto us, and we hope acceptable to God, to call a solemn assembly this afternoon at three o'clock, to fast from the cares of this

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life for a moment, to repair the breaches in Israel, and gather the stones out of his vineyard, or as soon as may be remove these practices of life that we know to offend the Lord. (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: i)

Sufficiently cowed and repentant, with, perhaps, the more contentious members already having resigned, those who remained hammered out a new covenant for the sect; they decided, first, that 'the whole care of the House of the Lord ... be first committed to the elders of the congregation' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 3). All matters of concern were to be submitted first to the elders, who, after deliberation, placed their sense of the meeting before the assembly for their approval. By predefining the 'sense of the meeting,' the elders avoided major differences of opinion in the plenary session and ensured the assembly's 'unity' with the dominant values of the elders. By this means they could reinforce the primacy of their moral economy through regulations and rituals while remaining nominally consensual. It is ironic that, having seceded from the Society of Friends because it 'set the house in two parts, which in justice may be called inferiors and superiors' (Willson i8i6b: i), the elders of the sect, in turn, were forced to impose a more authoritarian 'select meeting' of their own. It is equally ironic that, although differing in the value systems they sought to enshrine, the elders of the Children of Peace, like the Quaker elders, exercised this control through their command of material resources. The economic needs of the young heads of families were answered by their more active participation in the daily management of the sect. Functions previously performed by the chosen council were now divided up among seven committees, composed of both elders and young heads of families. Committees were appointed to oversee the House of Public Entertainment, and the Female Institution (i.e., the girls' boarding-school); to arrange the biennial feasts, and funerals; to ensure the honesty of members' business dealings, and that servants were paid in 'due season'; and to 'remove such from our houses and land as corrupt the order of the House of the Lord' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 1-2). Two committees, that overseeing the business dealings of members and that ensuring that servants were paid in due season, were of particular concern to the young heads of families, whose preponderance in them ensured that the demands of the sect were more responsive to their needs in the market. Membership was now subject to the approval of the whole assem-

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bly. An initial membership fee of £1 for men, 10 shillings for women, and 5 shillings for each child was used to purchase a chair for the new member for use in the temple. All members were entered on the list of 'Builders of the Temple,' and could be disowned only by a unanimous vote of the twelve eldest brethren, or by a majority of the congregation. Disownment was called for 'any of our brethren or sisters [who] shall appear obstinate and abusive to the order above written or that which may be unanimously adopted hereafter, they may be denied the benefits of society in sickness or health, at home or abroad, and their names erased from our records according to fore written order, that is to say, as a body we will not be accountable for their misfortunes, not denying individual charity to any' (OSHT 986.3.2: 310). The introduction of the Yearly Meeting of Committees marked a new phase of organizational stability within the sect, lasting until 1843, when the same crisis repeated itself as a new generation matured. The Basis for Consensus The Yearly Meeting of Committees was the product of dissension and strife, a desperate attempt to save the sect from ultimate dissolution. The shaky consensus that emerged in 1832 was not without certain ironic contradictions, among them that the elders of the Children of Peace, who in their youth had rebelled against the authority of Quaker elders, were now faced with the need to assume those same powers; and that their children, rather than secede as their parents had done in 1812, chose to accept the new authority of their elders. As noted, these contradictions can be rationalized in terms of economic necessity. The compromise, however, involved more than just a new form of political organization; it also necessitated a new ritual order, as well as the reordering of the moral economy they had fought to preserve. We saw in chapter 5 that the generational reproduction of farm households within the moral economy of the Children of Peace was dependent upon the subsidization of newly created farms by established parental households. Following the crisis of 1832, the degree of this subsidization increased significantly, as the elders sought to lessen their children's dependence upon the market still further. The degree of this subsidization can be determined through a comparison

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of land registry records, which show land ownership, and the Tax Assessment Roll for 1834, which shows the amount and locations of cultivated acreage. A full 61 per cent of all land cultivated by members of the Children of Peace was not owned by the cultivator (i.e., was 'rented'); the corresponding figure for the township as a whole was 37 per cent. The difference between the two figures represents the degree of subsidization of new farms by the elders, in which rights in usufruct were granted with only minimal returns expected during the initial farm-building stage. It is important to clarify this point, since the disparity between cultivation and land ownership was large. The ownership of this land rested overwhelmingly in the hands of the elders. The six largest landowners in the village (all elders, of whom only three actually farmed)11 owned 53 per cent of all the land in the village, yet they farmed only 12 per cent of the cultivated acreage (and this with the assistance of unmarried sons). Two of these elders owned the local saw and grist mills. The elders were also the repositories of needed skills, such as carpentry and cabinet-making, which could be transferred only through paternalistic master craftsman/apprentice relations. Despite owning the vast majority of lands in the village, the elders were not maximizing entrepreneurs set on economically profiting from their control of a scarce resource. They appeared to take seriously Willson's injunction to make the poor 'the heir of the best field; according to the goodness of the Lord to his people.' The underlying importance of this pattern of generational succession is shown in the breakdown of acreages cultivated and land owned. There were forty-seven or forty-eight cultivators/households farming land in the village in 1834. The six largest landowners, owning 53 per cent of the village's land, farmed only 12 per cent of the total land cultivated. There were approximately seventeen other households who owned most of the remaining land, and who farmed 50 per cent of the total land cultivated; however, this figure is somewhat deceptive, in that many of these landowners owned only small parcels, and 'rented' much of their holdings (see the case of Elias Doan in chapter 5). Approximately twenty-seven households owned no land, yet farmed 38 per cent of the village's cultivated acreage. Only fifteen of these appeared to be farmers (i.e., had more than garden plots); of these fifteen households, twelve rented land from other members of the Children of Peace. There is thus clear evidence of a great degree

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TABLE 3 Comparison of acreage owned and farmed, and average age of head of household No. of households

Largest landowners

No. of households that farm

Average acreage

Acreage range

Average age (if known)

6

3

45

30-60

62

Owned some land

17

15

39

11-75

42.5

Landless households

27

15

30

12-45

34a

a

Includes those renting land from a member (N= 9), whose average age was 25, and those renting land from a non-member (N = 3), whose average age was 52

of differentiation in the control of resources within the sect, and this differentiation clearly correlates with members' age (see table 3). Most of these 'renting' land appeared to be young, and to be renting from immediate family. For example, the 'tenants' of the six male elders cultivated 26 per cent of the village total; three-quarters of these tenants were the elders' own children and the other quarter were other members of the sect. It is evident that the 'rental' of land within the moral economy of the sect was directed at ensuring the 'right of subsistence' of their children, and at limiting their direct dependence on the market. The sect also developed other means of assisting the farmers among them, including cooperative marketing and a 'credit union': 'David keeps the store: the general produce of the community is deposited with him, and is conveyed to York, for sale, regularly twice-a-week; and he accounts to the different members for the amount of produce sent to market' (Hume 1832: 122; cf Shirreff 1835: 108). The Charity Fund, swelled by regular monthly contributions, rapidly became a capital stock, which the assembly found 'obstructing to benevolence, and makes money useless like the miser's store, to the dissatisfaction of our brethren' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 7). They decided to lend the excess funds to members at low interest. By 1844, the earliest complete financial report available, the Charity

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Fund was worth £226/4/5V 2 , of which £132/12/11 was loaned out (PAO, Ms 733, Series B). Given the general scarcity of cash in the province, the Charity Fund was probably the biggest single factor guaranteeing the sect's members' livelihood in hard times. The elders proposed that, while all were expected to labour for free during their 'publick days, when all labor together,' those who worked on the communal buildings of the sect for extensive periods of time should be 'paid a small recompence for their labor, that equity and justice may abound through out the congregation' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 7). By paying those who worked on the meetinghouses, the elders removed the last stumbling-block preventing its members who were in debt from participating in the moral economy. All of these adaptations were made to ease the hardship created by the debt that accrued in the initial stage of creating a new farm. They provided these new households with subsistence insurance, so that they were no longer dependent upon the market, and hence could fully participate in the religious life of the village (which ritually emphasized their alternate relations of production, i.e., mutual aid). These adaptations were, however, a two-edged sword; the subsidies to these new farms made them a potentially formidable market force. The subsistence insurance provided by the elders could free these new farmers from the 'logic of the marketplace'; they could exploit the 'free' non-commodicized domestic labour of the sect's moral economy to vastly expand production and make large profits in the market (Smith 1985). They were prevented from doing so by a carrot and a stick. The elders of the sect had powerful economic sanctions to back their decisions. The elders had clearly used their position as major landowners to reinforce their decisions; this practice undermined the consensual approach of the Monthly Meeting, and defined them as firsts among equals, who, as a body, predefined the 'sense of the meeting.' They reinforced, where possible, the subsistence orientation of agriculture and the overriding imperatives of the moral economy. They sought to maintain their overall goals despite individual adaptations to the needs of the young heads of families. Those who abused the system were threatened with a form of shunning; they would, in effect, lose their subsidies and be forced to fend for themselves in the market. The use of these sanctions was carefully balanced with frequent reminders of the sanctity of their alternate relations of production.

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The temple ceremonies, in particular, highlighted the sacred character of the ideals that had guided the sect during its development. During the 18308, Willson continued to elaborate on these themes, providing a millennial vision of a perfect world best described as a moral economy writ large, of which the temple was the focal point; Willson and the elders, in a situation of conflict, sought to convince those who dissented from them of the righteousness of their cause. They not only demanded obedience, but asked that it be voluntarily offered. This is a complex issue, rooted in questions of religious authority, and cannot be tied to simple economic coercion. Willson's millennial vision attempted to do at the cultural level what the elders' material power did at the economic level. Thus, at this point, a discussion of this millennial vision, and the means by which the elders sought to sway their often doubtful fellow 'believers,' is necessary.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Millennial Kingdom

The temple was an attempt to encase contested values in glass and wood, to somehow arrest the changes that were beyond the elders' power to control. It was, for the most part, a rearguard action. By the time the temple was completed in 1832, the ideals of equality and charity the Children of Peace had preserved in architecture and ritual were an anachronism, no longer accurately reflecting the actual practices of the sect; elders had again 'set the house in two parts, which in justice may be called inferiors and superiors,' and the Charity Fund had become a bank. The rituals of the sect did serve, however, to remind, 'at least in symbol, [the village] of the underlying order that is supposed to guide their social activities. Ritual performances have this function for the participating group as a whole; they momentarily make explicit what is otherwise a. fiction' (Leach 1964: 16; emphasis added). It is important that we do not confuse the elaborate fiction produced by the sect (and, in particular, by the elders of the sect) with the actual set of social relations that integrated the community of Hope. The village, as we have seen, was integrated by relations of power based on the elders' control of the means of production; the rituals of the sect, in contradistinction, ignored these relations of power, and spoke only of authority1 rooted in the leadings of the spirit of God. The inconsistencies between their proclaimed ideals and the actuality did not escape the Children of Peace; the bitter recriminations surrounding their final (perhaps minimal) consensus in the Yearly Meeting of Committees ensured that all participants knew the political costs. The realities of power heightened the tenor of theological debate within the group; just as their experience during the War of 1812 had come to be expressed in a theological idiom, so now, twenty

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years later, they again sought to re-evaluate their sacred tradition in the light of these enduring conflicts. This tradition had simultaneously to legitimate present inequalities and to maintain the ideal of egalitarianism. This re-evaluation involved a subtle shift in emphasis, a transformation of their theology of egalitarianism into theology for egalitarianism; true equality for all members of the sect was delayed, to await a sudden cataclysmic transformation of the larger social order. After 1832, the sect became increasingly millenarian, as Willson prophesied of a coming Messiah who would pit God's (their) law and their ideal moral economy against the illegitimate rule of the state and the intrusion of market relations. Like all of the revelations that had guided this group on their way to 'perfection,' this millennial prophecy legitimized, and was legitimated by, the ideology of the Inner Light. The authority of the Inner Light was rooted in the lived experience of these quietists; that is, it was rooted in their commonsensical notions of how the world worked. This set of assumptions and practices has already been characterized as a 'religion of experience.' The millennial vision propagated by Willson was a product of these assumptions, and, in turn, sought to legitimate this source of sacred authority. Willson's constant production of sermons, tracts, and pamphlets provided his followers with an explicit religious psychology, a theory of the mind that helped them interpret the import of their emotional experience. Belief was thus predicated upon experience (one actually 'felt' the leadings of the spirit, once one learned to recognize them), yet was amenable to systematic interpretation in a political forum (the Monthly Meeting) that legitimated certain experiences and practices as ultimately sacred (as valid expressions of the Inner Light), and disciplined others as the work of the flesh. Despite Willson's emphasis on directly apprehending the effects of the spirit of God on the mind, we must ourselves realize that these experiences were mediated by social and cultural expectations; these expectations were shaped by the religious indoctrination of the Monthly Meeting through its Meetings for Worship and Meetings for Discipline, and through its schools. Willson, by providing his followers with a socially sanctioned means of interpreting their psychological states, gave them a definitive form. For example, that emotional state we interpret as 'severe depression' was for Willson a 'trial of the Lord,' the effect of an external agent, a spirit, seeking to punish an unrepentant sinner for having turned away from the will of God.

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Religious authority thus defined the character of experience, rather than the reverse (Willson 18353: 123). While Willson explicitly stated that he was nothing but the vessel through which God spoke, we must recognize that Willson's experience of God was shaped by the very cultural assumptions he was helping to refine. These cultural assumptions about the nature of God were shaped by the dialectic between the 'actual' character of the psychological experience he described and his continuing dialogue with the religion of order. Willson's emphasis on experiencing God's grace was a form of resistance against an established church that rooted its authority in the power of the state. Although both groups shared a common religious vocabulary, Willson's reformulation of such basic concepts as God, the Holy Ghost, and salvation was intended to negate the authority of the established church and legitimate his own. It is only when we recognize that Willson's model of religious experience emerged in direct opposition to the established church that we can come to understand the content of his prophecies; it is only when we see the religion of order's conception of the relationship of church and state that we can understand why Willson countered with a vision of a millennial Jewish kingdom. Willson's millennial vision is thus a complex response to a number of problems shaped within the constraints of a dominant culture; it was a creative attempt to resolve new issues of religious authority within the sect, as well as a response to a state encroaching on traditional forms of subsistence and organization. As a response to so many difficulties, it is no surprise that the initial formulations of these prophecies were tentative and contradictory. Yet, as the sense of crisis deepened throughout Upper Canada during the 18305, Willson found an increasingly receptive audience for his message outside of the sect, among the disaffected settlers around the provincial capital of York. As part of a larger 'Reform' movement, Willson's millennial vision provided an alternative conception of the state, one that emphasized equality and prosperity for all, values attractive to the largely American settlers discontented with colonial rule. The Inner Light and Religious Authority Willson was a prolific writer of hymns, sermons, pamphlets, and books, itself a sure sign of God's grace to the Children of Peace: 'bread from

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heaven is our lot - descending mercies' (Willson i835a: 254). This constant production of new material, much of which is tentative and poorly structured, gives the corpus of Willson's work a scope which makes a definitive interpretation difficult, as even his own followers sometimes noted: 'He never speaks of doctrine or discipline but something new appears, and we find ourselves at a distance from the things needful' (OSHT 986.3.2: 22 December 1831). Despite the often different conceptual frameworks through which Willson developed his arguments, there is a surprising consistency to his characterizations of the nature of God, man, and salvation. Although he often tentatively added to, and dropped, new ideas, these central concepts provided a stable core around which other, more prophetic utterances clustered. These central ideas drew on, and moulded, how this group experienced the action of God within their souls; Willson provided a religious model of the mind that led the repentant sinner through the redemptive process by which he or she could come to direct knowledge of God and his will. Willson's theology began with the common tripartite division of the individual into the body (or the flesh), the mind (or soul), and the spirit. Mankind was distinctive in that it alone participated in both an animal life (the flesh) and a life of the spirit (that is, the divine). These two spheres were mediated by the mind (or soul) of the individual, the arena within which action was first contemplated and then carried out. These deeds were instigated in the mind by 'acting principles,' motivations provided by both the flesh (those leading to sinful acts) and the spirit of God (those leading to redemption) . Willson's books and sermons focused on the phenomenological effects of these 'acting principles' on the mind; that is, he sought to describe the detectable 'impressions of the mind' that they produced, so that the individual could recognize and act on the correct motivations. In one of his most elaborate metaphorical constructions, he compared the mind of the individual to a country, and his own theology to a history of that country: A historian can give an account of a nation or country we never saw, why may not religious men reveal the things of God? The contents of the mind to them that never saw them? If a country affords an encouraging history, we will some times haste to remove there to better our con-

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dition of life, why not speak of the fertility of the mind, and induce wandering souls that are seeking for a residence of rest, to leave this world and its common course, and inherit the mind, improve it as a new country, and enter into rest, enjoy the fruit of our labour and be at peace; for this is where God hath ordained praise, and where he will satisfy the soul in itself, for a man is a kingdom of his own and he needeth not be as an alien in a far country, and a servant of men. (Willson 18353: 119).

Willson argued that our life is lived in the mind, not the world. Our experience of the world is not direct, but mediated by the senses. Furthermore, the mind is not limited to that which we have seen or heard. As imaginative creatures we can see countries where we have never been, and experience the grace of God, though we have sinned. Imagination, and revelation, free us from the tyranny of the flesh. The tyranny of the flesh is effected by the senses: 'Everything our eyes behold, clothes the mind, and all we hear affects the heart within us' (Willson 18353: 123). To conquer the flesh, and come again to a sense of God's will, sinners must learn to direct their attention elsewhere, to the impressions of spirits upon the mind. These spirits are of two sorts: the spirits of wickedness, which lead us to sin, and the spirit of God, which leads to righteousness: 'We cannot sin by doing the will of God, but by obeying the various passions of the mind. These are called satan, or fallen angels, when they lead us wrong and miserable are the events of our sins, for it leads our minds astray and our deeds to be out of order' (ibid: 132). The spirits of wickedness tempt us to disobey God, to sin. Although temptation may lead to sin, sin nevertheless has its place within God's scheme for redemption: 'The resistance thereof [to temptation] formeth [man's] labour in this world, and the resisting of nature [ie. evil, the impression of a natural spirit] and overcoming it, is the work by which man cometh to the experimental knowledge of God, and brings nature into its proper place, and fits the spirit thereof for the kingdom of peace' (Willson 1817: 4). The spirits of wickedness, by tempting us and leading us into sin, create within us a life of misery through which we can finally see the futility of resisting God's will. Should we then repent of these sins, we need only follow the spirit of God within our souls to redemption. If our mind is like a country, then the spirit of God is the sun that lights our way:

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The sun in the firmament is incomparable to that which enlightens the mind. There is a sufficiency of this internal illumination to light the whole heart. Its beginning may be compared to a light or lamp in darkness, but the increase hath no end to these that believe in its superior benefits to the world. Let a man possess what he will by nature, his heart remains as a field without cultivation without the direction of this light; it not only giveth intelligence of time past, but directs our way through hours to come. History is veiled with darkness except through the means of this light, but through this light history gives intelligence of the truth to the soul. It not only lights us in darkness as the lamp the dark habitation, but utters language to the mind. It is not only capable of language to the mind, but agitates our feelings, and sets all within in motion like a troubled ocean in the storm; and not only so, there is strong power in the truth to still the restless waves, and abate the beating of the storm. Truth only is light. Herein men are compared to light - and are the light, because their verbal and written testimonies are the truth. (Willson 18353: 127-8)

The Inner Light of the soul, like the spirits of wickedness, leaves an 'impression' upon the mind; it motivates the sinner to right action. Recognizing the impressions of the Inner Light on the mind is most difficult for the hardened sinner who has not yet come to experience the living grace of God. Willson believed that all humanity began in this unredeemed and sinful state, the product of Adam's original sin. This unredeemed state represented hell on earth. These sinners must repent of their sins and open their hearts to God before he enters their soul or mind. Those who open their hearts to God live in a state of peace on earth, or heaven. The character of the Inner Light within the soul varied, depending upon the level of spiritual purity of the believer. Following Adam's original sin, humanity was driven from the Garden of Eden, where they had spoken with God in the flesh. In this sinful state of rebellion against God, it is impossible for man to directly hear his will. Yet God, unwilling to abandon his creation, sought to lead the rebellious sinner back to the truth through his spirit. His punishments for sin remind man that there is no peace but in a life obedient to God. The example of Christ, God in man, provides a fleshly example of an obedient life for those who need to hear the word of God in the flesh. Christ's sacrifice, in obedience to God, makes his spirit, the Holy Ghost, a mediator between God and a still-sinning humanity. Ac-

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cepting this spirit, and living by its dictates, bring believers closer to God, where they may eventually be restored to Adam's original sinless state and commune directly with him, as the three natures of God are restored to their original one. It was this redemptive process by which the sinner came to a knowledge of God and finally acquired the true peace of mind that Willson sought to describe. As he noted when he first turned to the ministry, 'once is not enough to pass through judgement, for I have passed through seven times, nay not seven times but seventy times seven; and yet must suffer' (OSHT 990.1.7: 6). Each time man sins, straying from the path set out for him by God, he is punished by the absence of God's spirit within him, and inhabits a hell on earth. It is only through resignation to God's will, through abnegation of self and fleshly desires, that this punishment is lifted, and the 'soul, like an hart leap[s] and skip[s] on the banks beyond Jordan for her mighty deliverance' (ibid). Yet this deliverance is temporary, a fragile gift to an imperfect humanity that soon sins again. This cyclic movement from 'mourning' to 'joy' was most touchingly captured by Willson in a short description of his 'spiritual sensations' on the death of his daughter-in-law, Sarah Lundy, in childbirth. My spirit rent in twain, and I was but part, no Bride without the Bridegroom, nor Bridegroom without the Bride was like the mourning of my soul. I sought for rest and found none. I wept and knew not the cause. The pillow gave no rest to mine eyes, nor food contentment to my heart. I sought her spirit through all the watches of the night, and found her not. In vain I sought for her whom I would see. I mourned for a communication from her lips again. I mourned to know where she was, and what she had to communicate to me, for I could not live without her conversation. I drew near her bed, I thought I could discover a spark of life to move within her heart although her person was deceased. I put mine ear to her breast to know if I could discover any symptoms of life in her, whether spiritual or personal; I could discover nothing but the breaking of a bubble within her. In despair I left her and mourned again. Disconsolate, I returned to her person and thought I heard a language in her breast saying I will soon come to thee. (I had offered myself a sacrifice to death to be with her but unacceptable to God - I had to remain to weep). This was the production of the spark of life I had discovered within. Her language seemed comfortable and

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was the first relief I got after many hours of deep sorrow. I began to think that heaven had heard ray prayer, and that her spirit would give me satisfaction. I retired with hope and was in some measure comforted. I rested for a moment in one of my neighbor's Dwellings, and left her in the room with God alone until I heard her desires sound in mine ears that she now wanted me, as she often had done when she was sick. Without delay I obeyed the call and immediately came to her person hoping for an alteration to take place. I saw a language was in her lips and that she was ready to speak, but that I must retire and leave her alone as I had done before. I staid but a short time as I could not give up her person, still hoping that some singular instance would appear in her unwelcome death. I saw that she had communicated her sentence to the Lord, that life had gone out of her, and that she certainly was dead. I retired to get a little rest to my weeping eyes, with remembrance how I had in days past refused to be taught by the flesh of any person because my communion was so dear with the Lord. But at the opening of my eyes after a few moments of restless kind of sleep, truth presented itself before mine eyes, and discovered unto me that her desires was for my heart through life, and that we were reconciled together, and that God had given her spirit to me and was within me, and the heavenly vision gave me peace. (OSHT 971.28.32)

The immediacy and direct emotional impact of this passage make it atypical of Willson's writings; it none the less captures the same experience he sought to describe in his more stylized works, where he interpreted that experience through a heavy veil of biblical imagery. In an early pamphlet, An Address to the Professors of Religion, he presented this cycle of mourning and joy through the imagery of the book of Revelation. The subtitle, 'A path from the latter end of the Revelations, to the first of Genesis - and from thence to Paradise,' recapitulates this spiritual journey of inner discovery. A parallel was drawn between the opening of the seven seals of the book of life (in Revelation), the seven days of creation (in Genesis), and the seven steps by which the sinner 'learns right knowledge of himself (salvation in Christ). Needless to say scriptural exegesis was not Willson's primary intent in this work. The interpretation of scriptures by those with only a 'scripture knowledge of God' (Willson 1817: 6) leads to an understanding tainted by the desires of the flesh - in the case of

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the clergy, their desire to maintain their sinecures and their standard of living. As this pamphlet makes clear, it is only through the revelation of the living God within the soul that 'right knowledge' of the scriptures can be found. Drawing on the rich imagery of Revelation, Willson attempted to describe the path of self-knowledge through which God's will could be discovered. Pointing to the book sealed with seven seals in Revelation 5, Willson (1817: 9) wrote: 'the seals signifies to me, that man had lost the right knowledge of himself, or yet never had gained it: therefore his heart was unto him a sealed book, in which he could not read, until another, more mighty than himself, prevailed to loose the seals of a secret heart unto him.' This other, more mighty than humanity, is Jesus Christ, the 'Lamb' of God described in the same verse by John the Revelator: 'When the sealed heart is opened, the mission of Christ is done in the soul ... [and] the heart becomes an unsealed book of life, into which no dark thing can ever enter, because the high God, with the spirit of the Lamb, hath lighted it, and liveth, ruleth and abideth there' (ibid: 10). The breaking of each seal in the book of life reveals hidden aspects of the life of the soul that must be purged in the service of God. John the Revelator saw four beasts circling the throne of God, these beasts representing 'the external parts, natures, flesh, or powers of man. The spirit of these four beasts which John saw included in one body or spirit, is the serpent spoken of by Moses in Paradise, which in that day had never yet worshipped God; and by acting without light, fell into transgression' (Willson 1817: 33). The first seal of the book of life could not be broken until these four beasts, who had rejected God's sovereignty, came to worship him. 'By this I understand, that the flesh of John was delivered from all temptation, and changed from the desires that any thing should worship it, to worship all things that sits upon the throne of heaven' (ibid: 34). Christ's first coming, in the flesh, gave humanity the opportunity to redeem itself, to 'purge the nature of all transgression out of it' (Willson 1817: 39) and so make the mind as a 'sea of glass which is before the throne of God's power.' This state of mind can only be achieved through the second coming of Christ, in the spirit, through which he purifies the heart, 'purging the persons of men from the deeds of iniquity, at which purification the dark rewards thereof, departeth out of the soul, as having no more evil deeds to subsist

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upon, and sorrow for past transgressions purifies the heart.' It is upon this smooth sea of glass, the mind, that the revelations of God are made known; each of the seven seals of the book of life may now be broken, and their spiritual secrets made known, 'just as God moved on the great and mighty waters, or mind of man, in the beginning, when he first brought forth natural or external things' (ibid: 47). The opening of the seven seals of the book of life thus symbolically parallels the seven days of creation; Willson has come full circle, from Revelation to Genesis, to demonstrate how humanity may once again come to dwell in paradise. As the first seal was broken, John saw 'a white horse, or nature on which the soul of man doth ride, when he gains the victory over the beast or power of external nature' (Willson 1817: 48). The second seal revealed 'a red horse, or blood, the power of life, in which all the nations of the earth must be changed ... it describeth the inward baptism of the Son of God' (ibid: 49-50). When the third seal was broken, he saw 'a black horse come forth; which signifieth the death of human nature, as when visible lights pass away, it is dark with us ... he that sat upon the black horse had the just weights, and balances of all nature in his hand, by which he could weigh and balance all iniquity therein ... The same are the just works, or upright judgement of the Holy Ghost amongst men, that is able to speak to every one according to their condition, and testify unto them what their just rewards shall be' (ibid: 50-1). And as the fourth seal was opened, John saw a pale horse, 'and him that sat thereon was Death, and hell followed him, and the power was given them to kill over the fourth part of the earth, with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth' (Willson 1817: 51). This fourth seal symbolizes the death of the flesh: The same state saw Christ our Lord upon the cross. For as his nature did die on the tree, his agonies of soul increased, until he cried out, not knowing a cause why God his Father had forsaken him. But it was that he might know the pains of hell, in which God abideth not, by tasting which reward, he did not know how to warn all to flee from the wrath to come, and by putting all nature off, hath become, a high priest to us in the soul, and a prince ruling the outward part of man by divine revelation forever' (ibid: 52). It is only through the death of the flesh, and the experience of hell ('in which God abideth not'), that the soul can be led to depend only

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upon revelation: the Holy Ghost within the soul. This is made clear when the fifth seal is opened, to reveal 'the souls of these whose bodies had been slain for the testimony of Jesus Christ.' Those who had died were slain 'by the five senses of man, governed by a written Law ... choosing death [rather] than to resign or sell the power of revelation into the hands of outward rulers in the world as done Judas for money.' The reward for this new dependence on revelation is a white robe, symbolizing the second, redeemed state of man. When the sixth seal was opened, there was a great earthquake, and the beasts were seen nor heard no more: because five is their full number; all which nature, is contained in the five senses of the man. This is the great day of the soul; the sixth, in which man was created, the day or time when our Saviour died on the cross, and all nature departed out of the world or soul ... At which the veil of all nature rent... In that day saith John, all outward lights were darkened, and the stars from heaven fell, which are given to be a light unto man, until the great day of Judgement cometh, that a man shall come to a knowledge of his own soul. - In which day, the whole state of nature, moveth out of its former place. And the great men in the earth which are set up to rule with Kings and princes, with the face of all nature, cannot endure the light of the second coming, nor the powers thereof ... Therefore kings and priests with all their ruling power, shall not be able to endure the wrath of the lamb, in his second coming, neither shall they be able to escape the horrors of death. (Willson 1817: 53-4)

This passage is especially important in that here, using the combined imagery of Revelation, of Genesis, and of the atonement of Christ, Willson attempts to provide a portrait of the redeemed man, the man of God. The whole of the 'History of Redemption' - creation, atonement of Christ, and the second coming - has been collapsed and now represents a single experience in the mind of the repentant sinner, that moment in which, having rejected the flesh and accepted God's revelations as the sole guide to action, she or he simultaneously rejects the power and authority of kings and priests as synonymous with the flesh. The redeemed sinner may then re-enter paradise. When the seventh seal was broken, there was stillness in heaven, and a sabbath or rest appeared unto all flesh, for it was the great day of the most high God; and Christ had finished the six days work allotted man

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to do by the hand writing of Moses, because he was a Jew, and a solemn silence took place in heaven, before any thing worshipped any more. It is the state of mind in which the Son resigns up the kingdom, or heart, to the father, and henceforth He becomes all therein. It brings God and man face to face again, as Moses saw God on Mount Horeb. It brings man into that state of mind in which he knoweth the will of God without the medium of flesh and blood. (Willson 1817: 56)

This state of mind, this Inner Peace, is that 'heavenly vision' Willson recorded at the end of his 'spiritual sensations on the death of Sarah Lundy.' In 'spiritual sensations,' the emotions of anger and despair, followed by a final recognition of the fact of her death, result in Willson letting go of the flesh, and his turning to God, in whom he finds what he had sought, a vision of her spirit. It is only through a close reading of these 'spiritual sensations' that their apparent emotional immediacy reveals the same theological abstractions that order the Address to the Professors of Religion. Both express, albeit in different ways, the structure of experience Willson sought to inculcate in his followers: to lead them to recognize the actions of spirits within themselves; to reject the demands of the flesh, and aspire, rather, to serve the spirit of God within themselves; and, in following the spirit of God, to move from an emotional state of 'mourning,' or contrition for sin, to one of joy. Recognizing the common elements of these two works should not blind us to important differences in style. The 'spiritual sensations' record an experience; they are an example of how the theological concepts of a 'religion of experience' order, shape, and mould the emotions of a repentant sinner. The very universality of the experience is a central component: the grace of God is freely available to all; it is immediate, and can be felt. This is the essential difference between it and most of Willson's published work, which is abstract and highly symbolic. Pamphlets such as An Address to the Professors of Religion express this universal experience through a set of concepts and symbols that distance the experience, but legitimate it in terms of another external authority. The authority of Willson's pamphlet is not made to rest on a simple description of his experience (as in the 'spiritual sensations') but on his command of biblical imagery. The difference in style is, therefore, indicative of the difference between the experience of the believer and the description of that experience by a religious authority, a minister.

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Although Willson appeals to external sources of authority, the 'experience' of God's grace remains at the heart of his message. Willson's interpretation of scripture does not depend upon exegesis, the application of an esoteric body of scholarly knowledge, but upon the revelation of God; that is, the Bible is made directly accessible without the need for a specially trained 'hireling clergy.' And, indeed, Willson explicitly states that direct revelation frees the believer from all temporal power: 'kings and priests with all their ruling power, shall not be able to endure the wrath of the lamb, in his second coming, neither shall they be able to escape the horrors of death.' 'Revelation,' then, by being sanctified, became a new source of religious authority by which the state and its established church could be opposed. Willson's ideological emphasis on the individual experience of God's revelations should not blind us to a complementary aspect of Willson's formulation of the Inner Light; on the one hand, the Inner Light is an inspiration to all believers, freely available to all; on the other, the expression of this inspiration (i.e., the ministry) was disciplined, shaped, and moulded by the Monthly Meeting, and especially by the elders of the sect.2 Although the experience of God's grace was freely available to all, the manner in which this experience could be communicated required adopting a special speaking style and mannerisms in Meetings for Worship. The Monthly Meeting specified how this experience could be talked about, and in so doing gave it ultimate shape, for example, through the careful ornamentation of the temple, which functioned as the sect's creed by limiting the range of messages that could be preached. There is, then, a tension between the leadings of the spirit as experienced by individuals and the sect's definitive formulation of the sacred. We must keep in mind that the sect was controlled by its elders, and that the values they had sanctified in their rituals had been sanctified because they were in dispute. Willson's sermons are thus clearly intended to inculcate these disputed values in his followers; the leadings of the spirit ideally demand a reformation of the life of the sinner, a rejection of the flesh (which includes everything of this world), leading to a total dependence upon God, as he has been revealed through the experience of an acknowledged expert, that is, Willson. In contrast to the economic coercion of the elders, Willson's immense production of books, pamphlets, and sermons sought to create a willing believer; his theology of experience was an attempt to gain

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authority, to gain 'recognition' as a divinely appointed leader of a chosen people. This authority was dependent upon, first, a formal system of meanings, values, and beliefs (i.e., an ideology) sanctified by the Monthly Meeting; and, second, upon the internalization of that ideology in schools, meeting-houses, and temperance meetings, where ideology was transformed into the lived experience of believers. As lived experience, Willson's ideas assumed the naturalness of 'common sense' and, because they were matters of common sense, they were unquestionably believable. Church and State Willson's theology is clearly a heresy in the sense defined earlier;, that is, it is a discourse that reorders the assumptions of a dominant ideology so as to attack its monopoly on defining the truth. It posed a threat to the dominant institutional order of Upper Canada in that, although the Children of Peace were conscientious Christians, organized as a church, praying to a common God and using the same version of the Bible as their episcopal brethren, they did so in a manner which explicitly attacked the authority of Upper Canada's dominant religious tradition. This attack on the dominant order was not simply a matter of religious denominations jostling for members in a free 'religious market-place'; the province's dominant religious tradition remained dominant only because it was state supported. Thus Willson's heresy was an attack not only on the Church of England, but also on the political authority with which it was associated. The relationship between church and state is thus an essential part of the understanding of the religious culture of the Children of Peace as it was revealed, over time, through Willson's prophecies. Two concepts, in particular, are helpful in clarifying the relationship between church and state in Upper Canada: rule and hegemony. The state is most concerned with rule, 'expressed in directly political forms and in times of crisis by direct or effective coercion' (Williams 1977: 108). Direct rule of this sort by the colonial government of Upper Canada was through a civil bureaucracy, the Courts of Quarter Sessions, and its magistrates. This civil bureaucracy was answerable to a British appointed lieutenant-governor; democratic institutions such as the Legislative Assembly and Township Meetings were marginalized (Aitchison 1975: 86). Because of the dispersed nature of settlement, this type of direct rule was weak. In such circumstances,

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loyalty to the state becomes of greater importance in the maintenance of order than the coercive mechanisms available to its civil bureaucracy, although these coercive measures (including deportation) should not be ignored. Loyalty to the state cannot be obtained through coercion, i.e., political rule, but only through the voluntary recognition by all subjects of one class's legitimate right to rule; that is, loyalty to the state is the product of the assertion of hegemony, a cultural and social process that expresses and legitimates domination by a self-declared elite. Hegemony refers to the normal day-to-day cultural means by which elite control of the state is made to appear 'natural'; it involves the creation of 'culture,' an elite style possessed by a few, but recognized as 'superior' by the many. In a province such as Upper Canada, where direct rule was weak, the reassertion of British hegemony became of the utmost importance, especially since most of its new citizens came from the United States, a nation that had just rejected British rule. The new settlers of the province had to be convinced of the inherent superiority of the British forms of governance, and of their colonially appointed leaders. The Church of England was one of the primary institutional means by which they sought to do so; as LieutenantGovernor Simcoe had expressed it, the established church was 'the best security Government can have in its own internal preservation' (quoted in Craig 1963: 21). Thus the British sought to utilize the traditions of the Church of England in exactly the same manner in which Willson utilized the traditions of the Children of Peace: to make natural a cultural system that created a willing and submissive subject. The relationship between the Church of England and the colonial state remained problematic, however, since Upper Canada was not Britain, and there was no 'order' or 'establishment' for this religion of order to preserve. Unlike in England, the parish was not a unit of civil administration in the province (Dunham 1963: 86, 89), although the majority of the civil bureaucracy were drawn from among the established church's members (Craig 1963: no; Johnson 1989: 98). Magistrates in East Gwillimbury, for example, were almost uniformly Anglicans: the first justice of the peace in the area was Elisha Beman (see chapter i) and, after his death, Squires Thomas Henderson and William Laughton (Walton 1837: 33). 'Anglican' thus became synonymous with 'English'; the members of the dissenting churches, especially after the War of 1812, were treated as 'Americans' or

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'aliens,' a foreign influence often threatened with deportation (Craig 1963:114-23). This Anglican elite was drawn from among the United Empire Loyalists, those Americans who had fought on the side of the British in the revolution, supplemented by colonial appointees from England. The United Empire Loyalists and their descendants acquired special status and rights within the province, including free grants of land. Thus, although many United Empire Loyalists had never left North America, their special status as 'English' granted them effective control of much of the colonial apparatus. They came to define elite culture, and they differed considerably from their fellow citizens in terms of religious affiliation, farming techniques, sources of income, and political influence. Although the Church of England did not form a direct part of the civil bureaucracy of Upper Canada, it none the less received the support of the state, and many of its members formed a self-conscious ruling elite, which later came to be known as the 'Family Compact.' State support of the Churches of England and Scotland was demonstrated by grants of revenue from the Clergy Reserves, one-seventh of all the land in Upper Canada, and by the appointment of churchmen like John Strachan, archdeacon (later bishop) of Toronto, to the Executive and Legislative councils, which advised the lieutenant-governor on government policy, and had the power to veto legislation produced by the elected Legislative Assembly (Dunham 1963: 31). Indeed, Archdeacon Strachan was a pivotal figure in the formation of the Family Compact through his pastoral role in the capital city, and through his control of state-supported Upper Canada College, a secondary school through which most of the province's emerging elite passed. As his former students and parishioners assumed positions of power within the government bureaucracy, Strachan came to control an extensive patronage network that protected his church's special privileges. Despite state support, Strachan was placed in the unenviable position of having to defend his role as custodian of an establishment that, as yet, did not exist. Since the church was not a unit of administration, the imposition of Anglican notions of hierarchy could not be made to rest on its claims to be preserving the existing British form of government. As Westfall (1976: 35) points out, 'Strachan's attachment to social hierarchy, episcopacy and a religious establishment must not be interpreted simply as Canadian expressions of aristocratic conservatism. In early Upper Canada, there was little to

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conserve. For Strachan the present order of society was one of his worst enemies. He was surrounded by the wilderness of man's fallen nature. He had to be creative and build a social order before he could defend it.' Strachan could not point to the successful role the Church of England had played in the maintenance of social order, when, in fact, its privileges were resented and were a source of vitriolic public dispute. Hence, Strachan could only legitimate the church's present privileges in terms of their future utility; he cast his defence of present inequalities in terms of a religious ideal of a yet unformed future: 'The earthly kingdom that Strachan envisaged was indeed an ideal state. It was not a reproduction of even a purified British society. Social and religious restraints were necessary at the present time because many had not been saved. In the future however, these would not be necessary. As time progressed and man through grace overcame his sinful nature, new social relationships would emerge' (ibid: 46). Thus, although the Church of England was not a part of the civil administration of the colonial state, it none the less served as the custodian of elite values that legitimized British rule, and thus were pivotal for its continued existence. It should be no surprise that, given this close relationship between church and state, religious dissent would come to be defined as political dissent, a fact frequently voiced by Strachan: Political institutions, to the extent that they acted as a brake upon man's selfishness, served a clear religious purpose. Politics and religion were 'inseparable in the nature of man. Hence he that is loose in the one, will be loose in the other.' The fall bound the two. They reinforced one another against the anarchy of man's fallen nature. Those who did not obey the magistrate betray an irreligious character, and 'those who reject religion and a salutary obedience to her commands, can never be good subjects, good citizens, nor good members of society.' (Westfall 1976: 43)

The sectarian nature of much of the political dissent in Upper Canada is thus the product of the assertion of elite hegemony through the Church of England. As the state measured claims of political loyalty against membership in its church, and through adherence to its value system, members of the dissenting churches faced ideological (and oftentimes jural) pressures to conform. However, in asserting its hegemony through a church (especially a church to which

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the majority of Upper Canadians did not belong), the state in effect transformed existing religious dissenters into political dissenters and the dissenting churches became ready vehicles for the expression of this political dissent. Hence, political divisions within the Assembly, the only political arena within which dissent was possible, were drawn according to religious affiliations. Governmental supporters, the Tories, were primarily from the Anglican or Presbyterian churches, the two official established churches of Great Britain. The opposition drew primarily on Methodists, Quakers, and other dissenting churches for support (Saunders 1975: 134; Johnson 1989: 139). Because party affiliation drew, in part, on religious identity, the religious agendas of the churches often provided a model for political action in the wider society. The Millennial Kingdom The need to preserve their moral economy from intruding market relations was first met by the Children of Peace through the 'ornamentation' of the sect's meeting-houses; contested values were ritualized, and hence made explicit and sacred. The creation of these new rituals was accompanied by the centralization of authority in the hands of a council of elders that utilized its economic and ideological resources to subsidize the sect's moral economy. Though successful at preserving their moral economy, these new forms of jural organization ran counter to their egalitarian ideology; they set 'the house in two parts, which in justice may be called inferiors and superiors' (Willson i8i6b: 2). The reorganization of the sect in 1832 was thus matched by transformations in their ritual order: their theological model of egalitarianism was transformed into a social program for egalitarianism. During the 18305, Willson's prophecies of a millennial Jewish kingdom, like the ornamentation on the temple itself, provided an accurate reflection of the sect's normative social relations as well as a timetable for their ultimate adoption. Willson first began to prophesy the coming of the Messiah in 1828, at the same time as he received his call to 'ornament the Christian Church with all the glory of Israel.' Willson's prophecy was clearly directed at two distinct audiences. Within the sect, his promised millennial kingdom legitimated their moral economy. Like the temple, the prophecy made their values explicit and sanctified them; it proclaimed a coming golden age best described as a moral economy

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writ large. However, Willson's prophecy was also directed at the governing elite of the province. As a dissenting church, the Children of Peace formed a part culture in opposition to the state. Yet, their continued existence depended upon the state's recognition of their political loyalty; thus, Willson was forced to phrase his prophecies within the hegemonic discourse of the colonial government, in terms of a constitutional monarchy. In so doing, Willson twisted received cultural categories to undermine the authority of the state, and to shore up his own. Thus Willson's egalitarian prophecy was confusingly phrased in terms of a millennial kingdom. Willson most clearly elaborated on his vision of this millennial kingdom in two works, Letters to the Jews and A Friend to Britain,! both published in 1835. In these books, Willson argued that the Old Testament prophecy of a coming Prince of Peace had not been fulfilled: Isaiah hath said our Saviour should be called a Prince of Peace. Now query, if this prince hath ever had his reign in this world. When he taught his disciples to pray the kingdom of God should come, has an everlasting Father appeared to us? No, a day of universal peace hath never appeared, nor an everlasting Father, for our councils are changing, our priests, our rulers, and our kings; there is nothing more certain than this. There is a day to come, the likeness of which hath not been seen, save by the prophets that have foretold of the salvation of the world. (Willson 18353= 278)

Pointing to the sectarian violence that had marred the two millennia of Christianity's history, Willson stated that the Messiah, the Prince of Peace, was yet to come, and that, as the Old Testament predicted, he would come from among the Jews. It is important to emphasize that Willson was not denigrating the status of Jesus Christ, who, as the son of God, was the sole means of personal salvation; he was, rather, distinguishing the person of Christ from the Messiah to come. Just as Willson's conception of the Prince of Peace was highly idiosyncratic, so, too, was his conception of the Jews. Historically, the Jews were God's chosen people, the descendants of the twelve tribes of Israel, the progeny of Abraham. Yet Willson also argued that 'God is not a respecter of bloods'; the Jews were God's chosen people, that is, those who heeded his law and obeyed his will.

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I claim no kindred by the blood of Abram nor Ishmael - Esau nor Jacob; but I am the offspring of your [the Jew's] God, and my God, and of him that is the God of the whole earth. In him I claim a connexion and relations with you; I am of Adam and so are you: and this brings all people to be bone of bone and blood of blood. Righteousness does not consist of bloods or nations, for God hath divided your name with all the earth, and placed you in the midst of countries for the inhabitants of the land to look upon. I believe not that ye are exalted above other bloods, and that the respect God hath shewn to the blood of Abram, was for his righteousness. A Jew may become a Christian, or a Christian a Jew. (Willson i835b: 17)

Willson argued that the historical Jews were no longer spiritual Jews in this second sense. As Willson phrased it, the spiritual Jews of the present day are the descendants of Ishmael, the disowned son of Abraham, that is, that portion of Christianity who follow the leadings of God within their souls. The historical Jews had ceased to follow God's will, having rejected Jesus Christ and the second coming of his spirit within them: 'He, Jesus, was a true prophet, and the New Testament ought to be received by you [the Jews], as a book of prophets or prophesies of things that shall come to pass, for the words of this prophecy, the New Testament relates unto us, that another dispensation shall come upon the world, and this dispensation is the salvation of the Jews, the chosen of the Lord' (Willson i835b: 7). In punishment, God 'hath chastised [the Jews] because of love, and fitteth [them] to be redeemed through much sorrow of heart' (Willson i835b: 5). That is, the punishment of the Jews, the dispersal of their kingdom and their subjection to Christian rule, was a 'trial of the Lord' - a call to turn inwards, recognize their sin, and follow his will as manifested in the Inner Light. 'He hath made by you [the Jews], an example of his wrath unto all flesh, that the wages of sin may never be forgotten under heaven. But as your sorrows have been, so shall be your joys' (ibid). Letters to the Jews was not a call for the conversion of the Jews to Christianity: 'I am not minded to invite you to change your name, or nation, or mix your blood, till ye see the promises of God to your father fulfilled' (Willson i835b: 19). Rather, it was a call for the Jews to renew their covenant with God through the personal apocalypse promised by Jesus Christ. 'Neither Joshua nor Jesus was that prophet

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or lawgiver spoken of by Moses: Christ was a fulfiller of the law, and the book of prophesies, as far as related to his person, that was born of a woman in Bethlehem of Judah. His spirit is the saviour of the world, and will come unto you [the Jews] as the prophet hath said, and be unto you a father, and a "Prince of Peace"' (ibid: 8, emphasis added). Similarly, Willson called on the so-called Christians of his day to turn to Christ, to become 'Jews'; the very plurality of creeds and sects was a sure sign that the spirit of Christ did not move them. The Christian churches needed to follow the example of the ancient Jews; there had been but one Old Testament kingdom, one church, one God. Were all to turn to Christ within the soul, all 'will unite together, as limbs of one body, as members of one fold, as the flock of one shepherd' (Willson i835b: 8). The divisive doctrines of the Christian churches, as they existed, were 'built upon the name of the man Christ Jesus' and 'not written in the spirit of truth' (ibid: 47). 'When ye see increasing divisions, and sub-divisions in the earth; know thy [the Jews'] redemption draweth nigh; for these are as stones falling from the Christian church, and they will not find their rest again till it is found with thee oh Jacob! and a building stone in Israel - a Saviour in Judah, and a God in his tents' (ibid: 46). This union of Christian and Jewish dispensations was a theme underlying many of the symbolic artefacts by which the Children of Peace identified themselves. The temple itself is the most obvious example of how they sought to join the Old and the New Testament in worship. Other examples include a banner depicting a woman and two babes, which they carried in front of their processions in York (see photo 7). The woman, dressed in red, the blood of the martyrs, symbolizes the 'true church.' She carries two babes, each representing one of the two dispensations, as well as the banner of peace. Similar imagery can also be seen on a second surviving banner (see photo 8). There is thus little doubt that Willson conceived of his own little band of Israelites as forerunners of God's kingdom on earth. By attending directly to the leadings of the Inner Light, they had established a church like no other, a melding of both dispensations where they worshipped 'Israelite fashion.' Willson was to write of the Children of Peace: 'A few are with me, but far off - they cannot lend a hand to the infirm. They are weak in mind and young in faith; all they had was taken away when they were cast out from the Christian church to wander in the world. They have laid a stone with their

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hands, and it moveth not; the storm beateth and the breath of the highest in church discipline, creeds and faith have blown their breath upon it. It remaineth square, and the hand of God moveth not' (Willson i835b: 52). Willson's call for the renewal of the covenant between God and the Jews (both historic and spiritual) presaged the coming of the millennium, the coming of the Messiah, a just king, who shall rule over all the earth according to God's will. You see the necessity of the prince of nations ... You see the necessity of the great and noble profession of ONE GOD, and a universal Prince to the world. You see how the flocks are scattered, drinking of every dirty pool, in their thirst; and the shepherds baptizing in every unsanctified stream!! Unite with me and mourn ... the mother of the Christian Church is bringing forth her last born; and Israel will arise ... for unexpectedly to the world, to you the substance, as the sign, will be given, ie. the Saviour of the world. And he will gather the nations into 'one fold', or faith, and be their 'everlasting father': and all shall be the children of one peaceful Prince. (Willson i835b: 43-4)

When all attended to the spirit of God within, when they 'unite[d] together, as limbs of one body,' the state itself would be transformed; Willson's prophecy, of necessity, had political overtones. It called for a reconstruction of the state: the Jews, God's chosen people, were to become the established church, and the Messiah, their king, would be led by the spirit of God, ensuring peace and equality for all. Willson never specified who he thought the person of the Messiah* might be. However, the implications of his identification of the Children of Peace as Israel, and his constant references to 'King David,' did not escape the attention of many in his audience (Fidler 1974: 325). Yet, nowhere did Willson explicitly make the connection, letting allusions carry his message. In A Friend to Britain, he located the seat of his millennial kingdom in England. In an association that appears odd only if the political situation in Upper Canada is ignored, Willson clearly relates the Jews to the reform movement of England. Reform began in Abram, and succeeded through his generations till a Messiah was born, an evidence of the Prince of Peace, and the one universal Father of the whole inhabited earth. Reform has begun in Britain as in Abraham, and will spread through the whole earth. It is without a

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priest, but not without the Sprit of God, or his son Jesus Christ. Truth, justice, and mercy is in it; these are principles of peace, and will descend to the whole world. Britain is restoring the poor to their right, and pleading for a free circulation of just principles, and preaching of the Gospel on the principles it began in Israel and in Judah. (Willson 19353= 280-1)

The association is based less on any intrinsic religiosity on the part of the Reform movement, than on the shared principles underlying both their and Willson's political agendas. Both nominally accepted the basic principles of a constitutional monarchy, yet sought to purify it of its inequities: 'I love the order of a monarchial [sic] government, it is designed to the Son of God, and the throne of David for him to sit upon; he is a prince of mercy, and I trust he will arise from small things and ascend to the heart of our king, and that his judgement and justice will be seen to all, descending from our king and Britain's throne to all the world' (Willson i835a: 288). Willson compared the existing British throne with that of the Pharaoh, who in a time of need, denied the poor their bread. It was this lack of 'charity' on the part of the state that Willson sought most to reform: 'Equality is the principle of the greatest glory in the world; the proceeds are justice to the whole earth. I am content with a monarchical government, but not with unequal interests and power' (Willson 183^: 257). However, Willson differed radically from the British reformers in the ideal state that he proposed. Willson's millennial kingdom was no less than a theocracy, a melding of church and state in the body of Christ. 'Our Crowns and Congress, and their subordinate adherents, are the offspring of the churches - where the church is out of order, the government cannot be good. I acknowledge that priests ought to be at the helm of government, but not at the head of interest' (Willson i835a: 257). It was a non-paid clergy (like himself) who he felt should lead in government; they, after all, had the greatest insight into the workings of God's plans. Willson was not a democrat; he felt that 'Republicans are as far from the chambers of rest, as Israel from the promised land' (ibid: 279). Rather, as within the Monthly Meeting, all who sought the will of God would be led by one spirit, and so act in consensus: 'England has not to flee to republicanism to make herself happy, she has wisdom on her own shores, and it will shine to the western world when republicanism will tremble like a leaf.

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Christ is appointed of God to be a prince and a shepherd in Israel, the just principles of his soul, may appear in the mind of a thousand kings, while he reigns on the throne of Judah in the heart or mind of his father David, from whence by birth he personally did arise' (ibid.: 284). The new social order would place increased emphasis on economic and social egalitarianism and on a just division of wealth, rather than on hierarchy and the accumulation of worldly goods, the basis of current government. Economic equality, like that fostered by the Charity Fund, was the basis from which all else would flow: '[God] sent his Son to preach salvation to the poor in temporal and spiritual things. If a man has two coats, and gives one to his naked brother, the two extremes have met - the mountain and the valley has become equal; and he that hath most, said John, "let him do likewise," loving our neighbours as ourselves, equalizes the world; and this is the prince that is wanting in England' (Willson i835a: 288). The gospel promises that this levelling is inevitable, and from it will emerge the triumph of reason over the dry and arid scholarship of an elite interested only in protecting their own privileges. The poor are rising and the mountains will do well to bend, or be assured they will be overthrown, not by revolt, but by the power of reason, the principles of truth and justice - the issues of an understanding mind. (Willson i835a: 290). The priest has been at the helm of Government - the shepherd of the British nation, and as Lord in the church; these have been the chosen and qualified souls in Britain. As they are but clay, why may not the lower orders of the people, the peasantry speak with them about the Deity, and the salvation of the mind? We are all created to be the servants of God, but not to remain in bonds or subjection one to another. We have read, it is the principles of the gospel, to 'set the captives free,' that one God may rule and govern all that hath the alone undoubted right to the souls and persons of men. Though we are not skilled in the dead languages, and can speak but a few sentences in the English tongue; yet God has given to every rational being a book of reason in his mind, some more, some less, as necessity may require, (ibid: 292) It should be quite obvious that the values of economic and social

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egalitarianism Willson ascribes to the millennial kingdom are those he had sought to protect within the sect with varying degrees of success. Like the temple, Willson's vision was a means by which he sought to legitimate disputed values; it was a moral economy writ large. It promised an eventual resolution to the obvious inequities within the sect, as well as a means by which that resolution could be accomplished, i.e., through the reformation of the self, the turning inward to the Inner Light and the following of its leadings. Willson's millennial kingdom, however, cannot be looked at in isolation from the larger dominant order that threatened those values. The form of Willson's prophecy, his characterization of God's Kingdom on earth, emerged out of the conflict between the aristocratic ideal state propounded by the established church and the oppositional values of this peasant community that rejected the economic and social relations being imposed upon it. Willson, forced to demonstrate his loyalty to a state he thought illegitimate, cast his loyalty to the form of governance, while undermining the very political authority of its incumbents. What Makes a Millenarian Movement? A number of important questions arise out this brief sketch of the millenarian culture of the Children of Peace. Of primary interest is why political and economic opposition to the state and its policies was expressed through religious institutions. How do we, in an age where the rift between religion and secular politics has never been larger, account for the particular character of their protest? How do we make sense of religious politics (or political religions)? A partial answer is found in the role of religious institutions within the community. The village of Hope was distinctive in its economic organization, a hold-over from an earlier era striving to maintain a 'moral economy' in the face of the capitalist penetration of the North American hinterland. The preservation of this moral economy was no accident, but the purposeful product of the sect as a political forum; this forum provided members with an opportunity to discuss and adapt to the larger changes in the world around them; and, in turn, this political forum instituted economic reforms that became absolutely essential for the continued well-being of the sect's members. The sect thus played a key role in the social reproduction of the distinctive relations of production of the village. This role was re-

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fleeted in the ministry of David Willson, whose sermons helped mould 'true believers' in their distinctive lifestyle. However, the Children of Peace did not exist in a vacuum; they were a 'part culture,' a distinctive group dominated by a larger state seeking to establish its hegemony through its established church. It was the policies of this state that endangered their moral economy. Because questions of political legitimacy were couched in terms of an elite culture fostered by the established church, opposition to the state, of necessity, meant an attack on its church. Since the Monthly Meeting of the Children of Peace was the political forum through which they adapted to the demands of the state, its opposition to the established church was essentially religious; theirs was not a secular critique of the association of church and state, but a sectarian alternative to a sectarian hegemony. This fusion of an oppositional religious culture with an oppositional political structure creates a unique form of dissent, a 'millenarian movement.' We must be careful to emphasize the opposition of millenarian movements as their defining feature; millenarian doctrines, that is, prophecies of the imminent second coming of Christ, do not in themselves make a millenarian movement. During the 18305 and 18405, all denominations, including the Anglicans, indulged in millennial arithmetic to various degrees. It is only when such prophecies are considered a heresy by the dominant religious order, when these prophecies express dissent from the dominant political order, that we can speak of a millenarian movement.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Upper Canadian Politics and the Rebellion of 1837

David Willson's prophecies provided a moral template for action for the members of the Children of Peace; the sanctified model of social relations it presented could be achieved only through the concerted efforts of God's chosen people, as they sought to reform a fallen world. Willson's prophecies, while legitimating the distinctive religious, economic, and political organization of the sect, were also an attack on the hierarchically ordered society around them. Willson led evangelical forays along Yonge Street, the road leading to the provincial capital, where he preached to other disaffected farmers and artisans. While the form that these processions down Yonge Street assumed remained fairly standard, with band, banners, and choir leading their carriages to the advertised meeting-house, the purpose of the meetings were often quite disparate. Willson's journeys to York were often for explicitly political, rather than religious meetings, although there is no indication he differentiated between the two in his style of delivery or in the content of his message. In his writings, Willson had associated the Jews with two groups: religious dissenters and the 'reformers,' a union that makes sense only within the broader cultural relationship between religion and politics in the province. In Upper Canada, the Reform movement was a loosely organized collective whose members shared only a common distaste for colonial government; they lacked formal organization, a platform, and leadership. Further, they were faced with the problem of politically mobilizing voters in an electoral system based more on patronage than on ideology (Noel 1990: 89-90). A relatively small electorate and open bribery (or explicit threats), combined with the absence of political parties and secret-balloting, personalized provincial politics, placing most of the burden of winning an election

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on the candidate who could best exploit his patronage network in the community. Lacking a coherent organizational framework and ideological focus, and faced with the difficulty of mobilizing voters in remote areas, Reform candidates opportunistically seized on the relationship between church and state as the single largest grievance in the religiously divided province. With most of the voters belonging to the dissenting churches, yet with the majority of the upper-level government patronage positions going to Anglicans, they were able to establish the widest possible constituency on the basis of religious affiliation. The Reformers, like the Children of Peace, attacked government policy on the Clergy Reserves, marriage law, and the provincial university, all of which were left in Anglican hands. The shared religious rhetoric of the reformers and the Children of Peace provided the basis for their interaction. They both worked to end Anglican hegemony, but for different reasons. Although their ultimate goals differed, this short-term priority proved of sufficient force to order the diffuse activities sanctioned by the movement. Politics and Patronage The use of terms such as 'Reform party' in the pre-Rebellion period masks the political reality of Upper Canada; although it was a nominal parliamentary democracy, Upper Canada had no political parties, in the present sense of the term. The House of Assembly was divided into fairly consistent factions, into a 'government' and an 'opposition' camp, but there were no party whips, party organizations, platform, or caucus or party discipline, nor was there a grass-roots membership. Individual members of the Assembly were elected through an often quixotic process in which they drew on personal ties of support within a riding. These Assemblymen depended upon political and economic patronage to forge these ties of support; he with the largest network of political clients was best able to garner votes. The means by which political patrons created these opportunistic ties thus forms the necessary background for any discussion of the elite politics taking place in the House of Assembly. The small group of candidates who ran for seats in the House of Assembly formed an elite who owed their local prominence to a number of factors that translated into the 'political capital' needed to win an election. Ties of political patronage were forged, in part,

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out of other ties of dependence; those who could mobilize capital (in the form of either government positions or merchant capital) could also mobilize votes. Control of political capital of this nature was, however, dependent upon a host of other factors, primarily religion, ethnicity, and 'respectability,' this last an amalgam of military background, family, occupation, and political leaning (Johnson 1989: 61-79). Government patronage (as distinct from the resources available to individual patrons) could be manipulated only within the narrow bounds of a political orthodoxy that grew out of the Loyalist tradition of the province's founders (Mills 1988: 12-33). Patrons of this sort sought to emulate the status distinctions of the United Kingdom, rather than the level plain of the republican south. Many of them were gentry farmers holding positions of local authority, such as magistrate (Kelly 1973: 215). Many were half-pay officers as well, retired military men demobilized after the Napoleonic wars. Gentry farmers of this type generally rejected North American agricultural techniques, with their emphasis on wheat production, for mixed farming and an emphasis on 'improved' livestock management. Although more diversified, mixed farming was more labour and capital intensive prohibitively so for the majority of farmers. Having an outside source of income, they were less interested in turning a profit than in recreating the hierarchical landscape of the British countryside: 'Mixed or improved farming was one part of a total life-style which some persons with the capital necessary for the initial heavy investments and a continuing income from non-agricultural sources attempted to plant in southern Ontario. As well as permitting them to practise improved farming and to develop a reasonably elegant life-style, their financial independence allowed them the leisure time necessary for them to act as "leaders" of their community and as agricultural experimenters and innovators' (ibid: 215). In linking this group explicitly to the state, we should not forget that these resources were often successfully manipulated for business ends, as positions or connections with the civil bureaucracy enabled it to establish effective monopolies in particular areas. The political faction that mobilized state patronage came to be known as the 'Family Compact,' the term reflecting the role a few prominent families played in the group's formation and continuity (Saunders 1975). Limiting our discussion to the northern end of Yonge Street, we would include: William B. Robinson, a magistrate, a mem-

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her of the elected Assembly, a mill owner, and brother of the province's attorney general; William Roe, postmaster of the neighbouring village of Newmarket (a patronage position), trustee for the Anglican church, and owner of the store that monopolized the southward flow of the fur trade through Lake Simcoe; Andrew Borland, Roe's partner (who operated a branch store in Orillia); and Captain William Laughton, who operated the schooner Peter Robinson* on Lake Simcoe, a monopoly granted by the Court of Quarter Sessions for the Home District, of which he, as a magistrate, was a member. Laughton was a cousin of Borland (Carter 1987: 32). This group, tied by business, kinship, and religious affiliation to the government bureaucracy, remained an informal clique, as indicated by the derisory title 'Family Compact.' Those excluded from this charmed circle lacked both organization and resources, no more forming a political party than did the Family Compact. In many respects, the two groups were quite similar; the excluded also were prominent businessmen and farmers committed to the economic and political development of Upper Canada. Yet, they were denied positions of real power in the civil bureaucracy (especially at the higher levels) by the network of 'Loyalists' who sought to set Upper Canada apart from the republican south; the rationale for this exclusion was couched in terms of their 'alien' citizenship, their religious background, or their lack of social standing, all markers of republicanism (Johnson 1990: 148). Silas Fletcher, a prominent farmer in East Gwillimbury, is a good example of this type of individual, who established a political constituency despite being excluded from positions of power. Fletcher cultivated over 150 acres of land, and his young sons, John and William, a further 130 acres, far above the township average of 23 acres (PAO RG 21, EG 1834). Whether inspired by the cooperative marketing of the Children of Peace or not, Fletcher was one of the founding directors of the Farmers Storehouse Company, a cooperative warehouse, wheat marketing company, and general store that served the whole of present-day York County (Barnett 1949: 10). The Farmers Storehouse Company provided farmers in the northern end of the Home District with many of the same welfare functions as the Charity Fund of the Children of Peace, such as short-term credit, without dependence on Newmarket's Anglican merchant elite. It was perhaps for that reason that the company was denied a provincial charter, despite repeated requests.

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The 'reformers,' excluded from the positions of power that tied the Family Compact together, lacked any kind of 'natural' cohesion. Theirs was an identity forged in sporadic elections for the (relatively powerless) House of Assembly. Other prominent members in this faction at the northern end of Yonge Street included Phillip Bogart, a Pennsylvania Dutchman, and owner of the mills at Bogarttown; Jesse Lloyd, a former Quaker and founder of Lloydtown in King Township; Eli Gorham, a woollen-mill owner in Newmarket; and Samuel Lount, a blacksmith, former Quaker, and one-time elected Assemblyman (Carter 1987: 9, 16, 22, 34). Bogart, Lloyd, and Lount, as 'plain folk,' and Gorham and Fletcher, as 'republicans,' were barred from any recognized governmental role, despite the high status they possessed in their own communities (which, in some cases, they had founded). The growth and institutionalization of the Reform movement was the product of the activity of men such as these in the Legislature, bolstered in the public imagination by such partisan newspapers as the Colonial Advocate. Their unity in the House was less the product of shared ideological orientation than of a shared common foe. Their organization outside of the House took even longer to develop, and remained dependent on personalized ties between a few prominent personages in each riding. Sporadic attempts at the organization of a party, particularly nomination meetings for reform candidates, occurred in some areas as early as 1827, yet a province-wide Reform association was not formed until 1834. The emergence of this shaky association, the Canadian Alliance Society, was intimately tied to William Lyon Mackenzie, the elected representative for the fourth riding of York (which included the village of Hope). Mackenzie, a puritanical Scot of no mean ambition or ability, was the publisher of a partisan newspaper, the Colonial Advocate, which regularly attacked the perceived and real inadequacies of government in the colony. His financial and political fortune had been made in 1826 when a group of Tory rowdies wrecked his printing press in an attempt to silence him. That incident left him with substantial damages rewarded by the court, and a sizeable political following whom he kept well informed through the resurrected Colonial Advocate, which had stood on the brink of bankruptcy. Often intemperate, Mackenzie continued to publish pointed attacks on those in the House who obstructed his plans for reform. Mackenzie first ran for office in the County of York in 1828, with a promise to oppose all 'ecclesiastical domination' {Colonial Ad-

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vacate, 3 January 1828). His election to the Assembly gave him a new forum in which to attack the inadequacies of the civil branch of the colonial government, whose administration lay primarily in the hands of the Family Compact. His more strident attacks were simultaneously published in the Colonial Advocate, including the frustrated charge that the Tory-dominated Assembly was a 'sycophantic office.' He was summarily expelled from the House for this libel on 12 December 1831; a mob of three hundred of his supporters then entered the Assembly and called on the lieutenant-governor to dissolve the House. This pattern of civil action and marches on the Legislature drew its inspiration from similar events taking place in Britain and laid the foundation for the rebellion six years later. Colborne, the lieutenant-governor, refused to dissolve the House and called a by-election instead; Mackenzie was re-elected 119 to i. He was again accompanied to the House, this time by a procession of 134 sleighs. Yet, by 7 January 1832 (five days after his re-election) he was again expelled, only to be re-elected yet again; he was expelled from his seat in the House five times between December 1831 and December 1833. His continued expulsions from the House by the Tory majority, despite the overwhelming support of his constituents, only served to underscore the powerlessness of the fragmented Reform movement. No short sketch of the political career of this man can capture the chaos that seemed to erupt in his wake. The petitions and riots, which led to a personal appeal made to the British Parliament, came to a head on 16 December 1833, after Mackenzie had been re-elected without opposition in the third by-election in the fourth riding of York in that session of the House. This time a mob of three hundred escorted him to the Assembly to take his rightful seat; they were dispersed after a violent confrontation (Dunham 1963: 135). Mackenzie was then expelled for the last time. This continued frustration over a period of years forced Mackenzie and other local reformers finally to take steps to organize the loose coalition of reformers inside the House into a party with a mass base.2 Five days after his expulsion, he printed the following letter from a Niagara Reformer in the Colonial Advocate (21 December 1833): there is a great errour [sic] committed every day by Reformers, every one is fighting upon his own hook - there is no general place of action, we have no rallying point, our forces are scattered, while those of the

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enemy present a uniform and unbroken front, always acting in concert ready upon every emergency to unite at any given point to beat down Reformers, and they will always succeed depend upon it, if we do not act more in concert in the great cause of freedom! I am ready to second any plan that will be likely to promise success. - A Grand Provincial Convention - I approve of it.

In response to this call, a 'General Convention of Delegates' was held in February 1834 as a forum for discussion. David Willson was the main speaker and 'he addressed the meeting with great force and effect' (Colonial Advocate, 27 February 1834). This group nominated four candidates for the ridings of the County of York, who were required to pledge in advance to fight for a Reform platform in the House. It was not until after the elections, however, on 9 December 1934, that Mackenzie helped establish the Toronto branch of the Canadian Alliance Society, the first true political party in the province. All members of the society were required to sign a declaration of agreement with the principles of the founders, all radical Reformers. The purpose of the organization was to establish branches across the province, and to coordinate these branches to help raise funds for, and elect, the Reform candidates chosen by the branches. Mackenzie had hoped to establish more than two hundred branches provincewide (Jackson 1975: 101). A little more than one hundred were actually organized, with the majority of these concentrated around Toronto. Because of its radical Reform platform, the Alliance never received the broad support of all Reformers in the province; it was little more than a splinter group centred around Mackenzie and a number of other radicals who drew their electoral support from the mainly post-Loyalist American immigrants of the Home District. The performance of the Alliance was never more than lacklustre; under the leadership of Dr W.W. Baldwin, a moderate Reformer, the party was reorganized as the Constitutional Reform Society of Upper Canada in May 1836, just before the June elections. However, it proved no more successful than its predecessor, and was superseded by the more loosely organized Political Union movement by October 1836 (ibid: 102-4). The failure of the successive incarnations of a reform political party reflects the disparate elements of its make-up; the group lacked any ideological unity other than a shared opposition to the existing system of colonial patronage, upon which they were equally dependent as

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candidates. This lack of clear identity hampered their electoral forays; defining themselves primarily in negatives, as a party of 'opposition,' their political strategy was to expose governmental abuses that could be resolved less through a new program requiring action in concert than through the simple removal of the 'abuse.' Such an issue was religion. As has already been noted, the most contentious political issues of the 18305 involved the relationship between church and state. Reformers opportunistically drew on the oppositional culture of the dissenting churches to define those issues that were of political importance. These churches, in turn, proved ready to legitimate many of the more moderate reforms demanded by the new party. Although neither religious affiliation nor the churches themselves could provide a unifying force for the Reformers, the rhetoric of the dissenting churches could and was used to express their opposition to the link between government patronage and the Anglicans. The churches, through ritual and education, provided their congregations with 'commonsensical notions about practical life and political relationships. This will be most apparent at the level of agenda setting, as cultural subsystems [like churches] suggest to their members what points of concern are worth addressing. An individual whose identity is in part defined by a cultural subsystem will, when acting as a member of that subsystem, see the special points of concern embedded in the subsystem as obviously important' (Laiten 1986: 180). The Reformers chose to appropriate the cultural and political agenda of the dissenting churches, utilizing their concerns to mobilize voters. We have already seen these larger forces at work on the Children of Peace, who were also actors in this wider social drama. The focus of much of this political rhetoric was the Clergy Reserves, the one-seventh of all the land in the province set aside for the support of a 'Protestant clergy.' The intent of the Constitution Act that established the reserves was clearly to give the Church of England preferred status in the colony (Talman 1975: 58). However, the Anglican church in Upper Canada was not established in the same way it had been in Britain. In England, the parish, with the established church at its core, was a unit of local government, the equivalent of the Upper Canadian township. The rector of the parish was legally entitled to a tithe, a set proportion of all produce grown in the parish. Oppositional cultures like the Quakers had initially defined their religious identity and practices in terms of parish organization. They objected to a 'hireling clergy' and its role in local government, and

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created an alternative political organization that usurped many of the parish's governmental responsibilities. The Anglican church in Upper Canada lacked the infrastructure it had in England, and, hence, oppositional cultures, like the Society of Friends, could not point to obvious abuses such as tithing as a sign of their religious (and civil) oppression. Since the dissenting churches were granted freedom of religious conscience, and the established church was relatively weak, with no compulsory tithes to be paid, we must ask why these religious issues became the focal point of the most acrimonious political debates of the period in this province, but not in England itself. The answer clearly lies in the need of the nascent Reform movement for political issues that could unite its disparate members in the absence of a strong ideological and organizational base. The Reformers drew on pre-existing religious divisions to express their discontent with the pattern of government patronage, which favoured the Anglicans, the Loyalist elite; the dissenting churches, though differing in their reasons for objecting to the Anglican monopoly on the revenue from the Clergy Reserves, could none the less band together to attack that privilege. The Quakers, for example, chose to interpret the Clergy Reserves as a form of indirect tithe, which they refused to pay as it supported a 'hireling clergy' (Borland 1968: 17). Other denominations, such as the Methodists, were less opposed to a 'hireling clergy' and more concerned to secure a portion of the revenues from the Reserves for themselves, although even that policy was not universally accepted at all levels of the church hierarchy (Dunham 1963: 144). The example of the Methodists, in particular, demonstrates the often cynical manipulation of church politics by political elites. During the first three decades of the nineteenth century, the Methodists of the province had been dominated by the American Episcopal Conference, which vehemently attacked the government's policy on the Clergy Reserves. The government, extremely 'wary' of their 'republican' preachers, sought to neutralize their corrosive influence; the government sought to instil a greater sense of legitimacy of the established church's hierarchy in the Methodist church's members. They thus chose to encourage the missionary endeavours of the British Wesleyan Methodists, whose ties with the Anglican church were much closer. In 1832, the government began direct financial support for the Wesleyan Conference and, in 1833, Egerton Ryerson, editor of the influential Christian Guardian, defected from the Reform to the

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government (Tory) camp. Ryerson organized a (short-lived) church union between the numerically dominant Episcopal Methodists and the wealthier British Wesleyans on the understanding that the Christian Guardian would abstain from politics (Dunham 1963: 98, 145). Government religious policy was clearly an attempt to muzzle the criticisms of the dissenting churches. The co-opting of the Methodist hierarchy by the government caused a great deal of dissension among the rank-and-file membership, who refused to be muzzled in the way the church hierarchy was. Most Methodist 'saddlebag preachers' itinerated over fairly extensive circuits and had few enduring ties with local congregations. These congregations were held together by local leaders, 'local preachers, exhorters, class leaders and stewards, all of whom were laymen,' not clergymen (French 1962: 20). These local leaders, many of whom were post-Loyalist American settlers, were also dominant in the Reform movement; 'there is not a radical meeting in the country at which some of the Methodist leaders and Local Preachers are not the most conspicuous characters' (ibid: 148). By March 1834 (a month after the General Convention of Delegates), a number of these radical Methodists seceded from the new Union, claiming that, by joining the Wesleyan Methodists, the Episcopal Methodist hierarchy had forfeited its disciplinary power over them (ibid). By June 1834, the Union had lost more than 1,109 members: the newly formed Methodist Episcopal Church of Upper Canada had 21 preachers and 1,243 members within its first year (ibid: 149). The Episcopal Methodists continued to attack the government on the Clergy Reserves, as well as on its cynical policy of supporting the Wesleyan Methodists. Church politics, having entered the 'secular' political arena, served to polarize the Methodists in much the same manner as it had the Yonge Street Quakers during the War of 1812; that is, theological and organizational issues within the church came to represent wider social issues not easily amenable to reconciliation. Local Methodist lay leaders, 'Americans' in the eyes of the Upper Canadian Loyalist elite, remained suspect whether they were members of the Wesleyan Conference or not. As a blunt instrument of social control, the attempted merger of the two Methodist churches simply served to polarize them politically into explicitly pro- and anti-government camps, such that religion became a marker of a host of other variables, the most important being political orientation (Romney 1990: 209, 213).

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The Children of Peace, like the Methodist church, had been mobilized by Reform candidates during the formative years of the movement's growth. Indeed, before the party's shaky bureaucracy was created in 1834, local church leaders and their congregations were often mobilized to fulfil many of its organizational functions. After 1834, a degree of institutional overlap ensured a continued close relationship between individual candidates and individual religious leaders and their congregations, as can be clearly seen in the means by which the Children of Peace were incorporated into the Reform movement and, in turn, exerted their own distinctive influence on the form it was to take. Willson's vision of the millennial kingdom was developed and proselytized during the same period as the Reform movement tried to organize itself. Willson's proselytizing along Yonge Street, in effect, helped to define the issues the Reformers seized upon to mobilize voters. Willson's attacks on the relationship of church and state could be easily appropriated and used to mobilize the group as a whole in Reform politics. The shared rhetoric, the seeming common goal, provided the initial impetus, the personal tie, linking Reformer and minister. We have already noted, for example, that Willson's proselytizing had recognizable political overtones such that their 'preacher soon lost sight of affairs of a spiritual nature and expatiated upon those of a worldly sort' (Wilkie 1837: 205). Willson had regular monthly worship services in Markham, York Mills, and Toronto, in which 'he never conclude[d] a sermon in which bitter anathemas [had] not been fulminated against bishops and governors' (Fidler 1974: 326). Similarly, William Lyon Mackenzie lauded a sermon that Willson ended with 'some very pithy and sarcastic denunciations of modern priestcraft' (Colonial Advocate, 3 September 1829) and prefaced his own fourparagraph description of the village of Hope with a three-paragraph denunciation of the established church (Colonial Advocate, 18 September 1828). Willson's itinerant ministry was as often placed in the service of Reform politics as it was for 'religious' services. Processions for Reform meetings held in the same building as their religious services in York were so common that, during the 1834 elections, the Tories produced a rather clever parody of a Reform election broadside proclaiming the itinerary of a typical Reform rally: "David Willson with

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his band and virgins will proceed towards Monis Lawrence tavern, down Parliament Street to Duke Street, and opposite the residence of/./?. Small, Esq. [a reform candidate], will play "see the conquering hero comes."' The broadside then proceeds to describe the selection of the meeting's chairman: Upon entering the hall, Murphy will propose David Wilson as chairman, which Jacob Latham will oppose and insist upon Malcolm McLellan the tailor, being chairman, because he McClellan was not allowed to officiate at Mackenzie's meeting in the Market Square - Turton will oppose this, and propose John Mclntosh, because he was never at a meeting at that place, when John was not chairman, and John he knew expected it. Beatty, the Shoemaker, being a "middle man,' and wishing to reconcile all parties, will propose, that 'as in the multitude of councilors there is wisdom,' if they will consent to add Paddy Handy and Murphy to those already named, he would be for having them all in the chair together. This idea will take with David Wilson, who is fond of things in common.^1

This parody also captures the evolving institutional overlap between the two groups. Reform party organization in East Gwillimbury, as it developed after 1834, was predicated upon that of the Monthly Meeting of the Children of Peace. Reform Party meetings, like the Monthly Meeting, emphasized consensus rather than a strict majority rule. An ad hoc clerk or chairman was decided upon, who set the agenda and coordinated discussion, the product of which was a 'resolution,' a consensual statement not unlike a 'minute' in the Quaker polity. In East Gwillimbury, many Reform meetings were held in the same building as the Children of Peace's Monthly Meeting, and its chair and officers were often members of the sect.4 The legitimacy of Reform candidate was thus predicated upon the utilization of the 'political process' of the church, and on their addressing 'religious' issues. Willson's identification of the Jews, God's chosen people, with the Reform movement in Britain should now be more obvious. Willson's apparently vague (and often contradictory) association of the Jews with the British Reform movement, the dissenting religions, and the Children of Peace only makes sense if we recognize that, in the context of Upper Canada, all three were perceived by him as part of a single millennial process that would transform an empire which tran-

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scended national boundaries. This millennial process sought to link all the dissenting religions (the limbs of Christ) in a unified (and non-sectarian) body that would herald the reign of the Prince of Peace on earth. Rebellion? These [electoral] ties are instrumental; they are used by the villagers to gain their ends in the village and by the elite to gain its ends in the elite arena ... the elite arena and the village arena are, for their respective protagonists, ways of life; the constituency is merely an instrument for the preservation of those ways of life. (Bailey 1963: 233-4)

The local elite of the Reform party, as well as their opponents in the Family Compact, were simple commodity producers. They were prominent businessmen, millers, and farmers with greater-thanaverage resources on which to draw for patronage. Although Reform candidates adopted the patterns of organization and rhetoric of the dissenting churches in an effort to create an electoral following, their goals were not necessarily identical to those of the individual churches from which they drew their electoral support. For example, the Children of Peace attacked the established church as a means of preserving their moral economy from the disruptions of the market. The Reform leaders, in contrast, utilized similar attacks in an effort to redistribute government patronage in support of their own market activity. Although the two groups shared the idiom of religious dissent, their underlying goals were incompatible. This distinction between the goals of the two groups, Reform leaders and Children of Peace, is essential in understanding the latter's participation in the Rebellion of 1837, which ultimately spelled an end to their moral economy. We cannot rationalize their participation in the Rebellion with reference to a unified set of causative factors. The decision to rebel was made by a small number of reformers, such as William Lyon Mackenzie, Samuel Lount, and Silas Fletcher (Staff 1987: 6). This decision was made in response to factors that had particular effect on these simple commodity producers: almost complete exclusion from the electoral process after their loss in the 1836 elections, a prolonged drop in market prices, and several years of crop failures (ibid: 3). The aim of the Rebellion was to establish a democratic republic free from the colonial interference the Reform-

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ers blamed for their electoral losses, and for depressed produce prices. These goals were not shared with the electorate on whom they drew for support. The Rebellion was presented as a Reform 'rally' much like that which had escorted Mackenzie to the Assembly after his numerous expulsions and re-elections, i.e., as a show of force to an unjust government. The participants were told that the march had the approval of many respected members of the civil bureaucracy, such as John Beverley Robinson, the solicitor general, who also objected to the interference of the royally appointed governor in provincial elections. It is this discrepancy in stated goals that accounts for the participation of some members of the Children of Peace. The extreme frustration experienced by the Reformers in 1837 had its roots in their initial broad electoral successes of 1834. The Reformdominated Assembly embarked on a legislative program aimed at loosening the Loyalist stranglehold on the civil bureaucracy, and providing an economic climate more favourable to rural simple commodity producers. Bills were passed to sell the Clergy Reserves, abolish primogeniture, secularize the charter for King's College (whose admissions were to be limited to Anglicans), end the fines in lieu of military service for Quakers and other pacifist sects, and impose tariffs on American produce entering the province duty free in transit to Great Britain (Dunham 1963: 148). By far the greatest accomplishment of the house in that session was the monumental Seventh Report on Grievances, a volume of 400 pages that detailed the complaints of the Reformers about the administration of the colony. Despite its impressive program of reform, little of lasting value was actually accomplished by the Assembly. Almost all of its legislation was vetoed by the appointed legislative council, dominated by the Family Compact. The Seventh Report, although printed, was never read to the House nor accepted. It did, however, indirectly lead to the resignation of the lieutenant-governor, Sir John Colborne. Colborne, extremely conservative, fell victim to a change in government in Britain; the new government seized upon the Seventh Report as an excuse for dismissing him (Dunham 1963: 149). The report was entrusted to a committee of the new British parliamentary Whig majority who vowed that they would address all real grievances. Colborne was advised on the same day that he would most likely be relieved of all his duties. Colborne, not waiting for the committee's report, resigned. Despite initial frustrations, the Reformers felt they had scored at

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least one triumph over the Family Compact and the legislative council. They had a responsive ear in the Colonial Office in England, and had been assured that Colborne's replacement, Sir Francis Bond Head, was a 'tried reformer' (Dunham 1963: 166). However, the appointment of Bond Head to the governorship of Upper Canada was far more problematical than the Reformers might have expected. Sir Francis had little prior political experience (he admitted he had never voted in his life) (ibid: 165). His only administrative experience had been a year and a half spent as an assistant Poor Law commissioner in Kent. He was also the province's first non-military governor. Head arrived in Upper Canada in January 1836, and his first act (for which he was later censured) was to publish his instructions. Head proclaimed this the most important era in the history of the province: all real grievances would be resolved. Head was instructed to approach the Assembly with the 'most studious attention and courtesy' (Dunham 1963: 165). Encouraged by this apparent transformation of colonial policy, the Reformers pressed for a radical change in the administration of the colony. Head's first task was to appoint a number of prominent men to the Executive Council, a consultative body that functioned much like the present Cabinet, which was to advise him on matters of administration. Head approached a number of moderate Reformers, among them Robert Baldwin, a Toronto lawyer. Baldwin was the chief exponent of the then little-known principle of 'responsible government,' in which the lieutenant-governor and his council would be made answerable to the elected Assembly. Head opposed these reforms as being incompatible with his responsibility to the British House of Commons: he could not serve two masters. Baldwin thus initially declined the appointment until late in February, when other Reformers pressed him to give the new governor a chance to become familiar with their policies before pushing him to enact radical changes in the administration. Yet, these first negotiations had already fixed Head's impressions of the Reformers. By the beginning of February, he was already convinced that the 'republican party was implacable, that no concessions would satisfy them, and that their self-interested object was to possess themselves of the government for the sake of lucre and emolument' (ibid: 167). Although Baldwin and several other Reformers accepted the positions on the Executive Council, Head, now convinced of their selfserving motives, chose not to consult with the council in the normal course of administration. The entire council (both Reformers and

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Tories) objected to this policy, arguing that, although the governor refused to consult them, the Assembly considered them responsible for his conduct. They turned to the Constitutional Act to show 'that the governor was bound to consult his council on every item of public business. Where expressly specified he was bound to act on its advice; otherwise, he could reject or ignore it at will, but when its advice was rejected the council could record its dissent if it should so desire. From a neglect to carry out this principle arose the chief ills of the provincial government' (Dunham 1963: 168). Head rejected the argument on the grounds he was responsible to Great Britain, not the Assembly, and hence the council's only duty was to serve him. If they could not accept this role they had no option but to resign, which they did. The debate was immediately taken up by the Reform-dominated Assembly, who demanded an explanation for the resignation, en masse, of the Executive Council. Debates in the House showed that the Reformers were united in demanding an Executive Council answerable to themselves. For the first time in the Assembly's history, the Reformers of the House voted to withhold supplies (tax revenue) from the administration (Dunham 1963: 171-2). The governor prorogued the House on 20 April, and dissolved it on 28 May, issuing a writ for a new election. Thus, in four short months the Reformers saw their initial hopes for real reform dashed by the 'tried reformer' Sir Francis Bond Head, who now appeared even more rabidly anti-democratic than Colborne. Head's response to the Assembly's challenge went beyond simply proroguing the House. The Assembly had withheld approximately £7,000 of tax revenue, used principally for the salaries of those in government office. But tax revenues represented only a fraction of the funds available to the governor, whose revenues from customs and crown reserves left him financially independent of the House. After the Assembly withheld its £7,000, Head withheld a further £162,000, money used for schools, roads, and public improvements (Dunham 1963: 172). Then, ignoring the usual injunction that the governor remain at arm's length plus an inch from the Assembly, Head plunged into the electoral fray, blaming the Reformers for the major dislocation in the provincial economy resulting from his actions. Head accused the Reformers of greed and proclaimed himself the people's champion, set to protect them from 'a few dark, designing men, who, with professions of loyalty and deep attachment to the mother country

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on their lips, hate in their hearts the British government, because they interestedly desire to reign in its stead' (ibid: 173). Bond Head's strategy was surprisingly successful among the backwoodsmen isolated from the factional bickering in the Assembly, the elite arena; the polls were flooded with a large number of recent British immigrants able to vote for the first time. In the June 1836 elections, the Reform party was reduced to an insignificant rump, with such well-known representatives as Mackenzie, Bidwell, and Perry losing their seats (Dunham 1963: 174). The Reformers could not explain what had happened, and the personal insult of the exclusion from office embittered them. The election was followed by charges of widespread fraud. In a lengthy letter to the Constitution (24 August 1836), Nelson Gorham, a Newmarket Reformer, presented a laundry list of complaints on the electoral improprieties that had occurred in the polling in the fourth riding of York, including vote buying, valid voters being turned away, and other unqualified voters being encouraged to vote: And while about a hundred of those who would have voted for Mr. M'Intosh [the Reform candidate] were by this measure prevented from doing so, I remember only two who offered to vote for Captain Macauley [the government candidate] that were turned away without being allowed to vote. The Returning-Officer has stated since the election to some of his friends, (who are Reformers) with a view of exculpating himself from the stigma of having adopted that partial decision, for the purpose of favouring the party to which he belongs that he acted in compliance with the instructions from the capital of the Province.

The first steps towards rebellion were taken by these embittered men, convinced of the illegitimacy of the government. Their anger at exclusion from the Assembly was compounded by the general economic depression that had begun in 1835. The drop in market prices in 1835 (resulting from changes in the British Corn Laws), followed by disastrously low crop yields in 1836 and 1837, placed many on the brink of financial ruin (Creighton 1980: 229). Necessity compounded the perceived injustice of their situation, leading to an emerging consensus that justice could not be achieved without a resort to violence. After this disastrous loss at the polls, Mackenzie attempted to rejuvenate the near-defunct Constitutional Reform Society of Upper

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Canada, now called the Political Union movement. The goals of the Political Unionists were twofold: to create 'a fund for the purpose of forwarding by all constienal [sic] and peaceable means, the great cause of Reform, by obtaining a responsible form of Government in this province as well as to "drag into day light" facts connected with the unconstitutional interference by the Executive in the exercise of the Elective Franchise at the late Elections' (Jackson 1975: 104). One branch of the union would be formed in each township, city, or town in the province. Each union would record the names of every person in its locality entitled to vote, with their property qualifications. They would also, in general, help reform candidates in elections. One member of each union would sit on a county committee, which received reports from local unions and passed information on to the Metropolitan Committee, which acted as a clearing-house for the information on electoral improprieties collected. The Political Union movement was no more successful than any of its predecessors. The lack of any visible progress gave rise to evermore militant proclamations, such as that made by Mackenzie in July 1837. He noted that the unions 'could be easily transferred without change of its structure to military purposes' {Constitution, 19 July 1837). Although he added that this was not the intended purpose of the unions, the idea appears to have stuck with him. In the early summer of 1837, Lord Russell issued his now notorious Ten Resolutions, which allowed for the continuation of government in Quebec without legislative approval. Mackenzie, fearing a similar fate for the Upper Canadian Assembly, began to emphasize the need to resist oppression in his editorials (Stagg 1987: 5). Mackenzie's first plan to organize a rebellion ignored the vast majority of the population, requiring only a small group to overthrow the government and proclaim a republic (Stagg 1987: 6). Bond Head had sent most of the troops in the province to Quebec in expectation of trouble there after Lord Russell's Ten Resolutions came into effect, refusing to believe that any unrest in Upper Canada was possible. Mackenzie thus sought to exploit his local political network and proposed using the employees of two Toronto manufacturing companies to seize the muskets stored in City Hall, march on the lieutenant-governor, and establish a provisional government, without bloodshed, in a matter of hours. Although this particular plan was never utilized, the essential pattern of the rebellion was set. The decision to rebel was taken by an

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elite; because of potential conflicting loyalties, they sought to involve as few participants as possible. The participants were told that the lower province had been taken by the French-speaking Patriots, and that a similar coup d'etat against the illegitimate government of Upper Canada was necessary to forestall martial law. They were assured that the march on the government was universally supported (by Tories as well as Reformers) and could be accomplished without bloodshed. As Stagg (1987: 7) points out: 'Such a movement would correspond to the armed demonstrations which had a half-dozen years earlier helped to force the government in Britain to accept the "Great Reform Bill". In other words, though such a movement as Mackenzie was suggesting was extra-legal, it did have a form of precedent in the Mother Country.' Mackenzie's rebellion was thus presented as a reform march not unlike the one that had escorted him to the Assembly after his expulsion and re-election in 1833. Even members of the Family Compact recognized the basic misrepresentation made to the 'rebels': 'Two or three hundred young ignorant men were suddenly called together ... under the most false and unfounded pretences. They were told that there would be no resistance, that Lower Canada was in the hands of the Patriots - that the principal functionaries of the Government in this province had joined the same cause. That all they had to do was to step forward and seize the country: that he who was foremost would be promoted and he who remained behind treated as an enemy' (Sullivan, quoted in Stagg 1987: 8). Mackenzie had two organizers in the East Gwillimbury area: Samuel Lount and Silas Fletcher. These men were among the half-dozen who had planned the Rebellion with Mackenzie from the beginning (Barnett 1949: 14). In the weeks before the Rebellion on 7 December 1837, they passed the plan on to the small groups of Reformers who had formed political unions. On 27 November, Samuel Lount approached some members of the Children of Peace, calling a meeting of the young men at the orphan House Chamber[.] [About] twenty Per[sons] assembled when Lount addressed them and said there was war in Lower Canada and there was reason to believe that Martial Law would be proclaimed in this Province, in order to prevent which it would be necessary to proceed to take the City, that a number of Influential persons would meet them at Montgomery's amongst them he mentioned the Receiver General Peter Robinson and the Chief Justice with

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Two hundred men, that four hundred were assembled there, from below the ridges and one hundred from Lloyd town, and they would come in by the hundreds and fifties from other different townships, he said he thought the City would be taken without firing a Gun, that he did not know the exact day the attack was to be made but he would let them know, the young men present said that if there was to be a general turn out they thoughft] they would join. Lount recommended us to take such guns as we had with us. (Doan, quoted in Read and Stagg 1985: 114)

The date for the march was originally set for 7 December but fears of betrayal resulted in the date being moved forward three days at the last moment. Not all participants were informed of the change in time. Lack of organization proved a major hindrance from that point on, and the march degenerated into a free-for-all that accomplished little except for a few acts of terrorism directed at those prominent members of the Family Compact who lived near the centre of rebel activity (Stagg 1987: 8). The elite decision to rebel is easily explained in the context of irregular electoral politics and economic stresses in Upper Canada. These factors were not, however, sufficient to produce a general uprising, a fact recognized by the organizers. Most subsistence-oriented farmers in Upper Canada, despite their alienation from the colonial administration, were isolated from the effects of the downturn in the market and thus had less incentive to rebel. They knew, too, that treason carried a high price. The elite decision to rebel thus had to be reformulated in terms that could mobilize their traditional supporters, members of the dissenting churches. We should not be surprised by Lount's open appeal to the Children of Peace to join the great 'reform march.' When one looks at overall patterns of participation in the Rebellion, the outstanding factor differentiating government loyalists from neutrals and rebels was religious affiliation: It would appear that the loyalists almost all belonged to denominations which were established churches in the British Isles or elsewhere, or which were strongly tied to the existing order. All took state aid and preached loyalty to the state. Although the conclusions regarding the neutrals are the most tentative, there is considerable evidence to suggest that they subscribed, in large measure, to voluntarist denominations which preached loyalty to established order and/or were pacifistic in

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outlook, or they were members of the same churches as the loyalists but had no clergyman available to guide them to loyalty. The rebels were drawn from four groups: voluntarist denominations whose clergy were antagonistic to the existing order, voluntarist denominations whose clergy preached acceptance of established authority but whose congregations were centred in areas of high rebel activity, those men who subscribed to no religion whatsoever and therefore had nothing to bind them to the established order, and members of congregations of established religions which were located in strongly rebellious areas or were (in the case of St. John's, York Mills) antagonistic to the social teachings of their clergy. (Stagg 1976: 423-4)

The links between the Reform Party and particular congregations formed during the acrimonious electoral campaigns of the 18305 thus held for the Rebellion. The Children of Peace match this general pattern of rebel activity; however, as not all members of the sect joined the Rebellion, religion, in itself, is not enough to explain participation. Among the Children of Peace, only twenty-seven of approximately eighty-one adult men responded to Lount's appeal for support (Stagg 1976: appendix). The characteristics of those who responded to Lount's appeal within the sect cast further light on the relationship among market forces, patronage, and political activity. Most of those who responded to Lount's call were young, although the ages range from twenty-two to seventy-two.5 While some might claim that it is always the young who are at the forefront of rebellions, this does not explain why only a portion of the young joined in this particular one. The relative youth of the rebels would lead us to expect that it was the young heads of families - the same men who had sought a 'change in government' within the sect -who were most actively involved in politics. They, like the simple commodity producers who organized the Rebellion, had the greatest dependence on the market because of their stage in the cycle of farm creation. Their inability to meet their economic needs because of depressed markets caused their greater distress, and hence greater political involvement. Only partial data exist by which this hypothesis can be tested, but those data do support the general thesis. William H. Willson, a member of the Children of Peace and himself a rebel, ran one of five stores in the township of East Gwillimbury. The daybook in which he recorded the daily transactions of this store

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still exists for the period from July to December 1837 (PAO, Ms 834, Reel 6) .6 From this account-book, it is possible to reconstruct patterns of debt. Conclusions based on these data must be qualified since the duration of the recorded transactions is short (covering only a portion of a single agricultural cycle); data from alternative sources of credit, such as the Charity Fund and other stores, are unavailable; and not all the rebels had accounts with Willson. Forty-one members of the Children of Peace had accounts at Willson's store, with twenty-two showing debts greater than £2 by the beginning of December 1837. Of these, nine were accounts of rebels. The age and length of marriage of seven of these nine rebels are known with reasonable accuracy. All of these men except one (a store owner, who, like Willson, was also in great debt) had been married for less than four years; that is, of those account holders showing a significant debt, those who were recently married tended to rebel. Those who were recently married generally had the highest debts and the least ability to finance them (since they cultivated the smallest acreages). They were most dependent on the market. Of the thirteen account holders in debt who did not rebel, the length of marriage is known for nine. Seven had been married for five years or more. These farmers would have had greater resources on which to draw, and their debts would have been of less significance to the annual reproduction of their households. While the data derived from Willson's daybook are suggestive, they are no means conclusive, and other factors also appear to have played a role. Most of the young farmers who joined the rebels had little familiarity with the Quaker peace testimony, which apparently caused some of the older members, such as David Willson himself, to hold back. Few of the rebels had even been born at the time of the separation from the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting. The rebels were thus the product of the sect's initial decision to reject the Quaker Discipline, and hence the peace testimony. The association of Willson's millennial kingdom with the Reform Movement, his general legitimation of the use of force in God's name, and the economic hardship resulting from the recession of 1837 were sufficient to draw the younger members of the sect to Mackenzie's reform march. Thus, 'at 9 oClock in the morning of Monday [December 4] [Samuel Lount] told us to put the arms in the waggon of John D Wilson my brother in law. we accordingly started at the time appointed, about 12 or 13 started at this time and J.D. Wilson started with the waggon containing

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the arms[.] Mr Lount went with us' (quoted in Read and Stagg 1985: 115). The rebels congregated at Montgomery's tavern, just north of Eglinton Avenue on Yonge Street. Because of the mix-up in dates (with most of the marchers expected on Thursday, 7 December), the initial turnout was poor, resulting in the postponement of the march on the city. Mackenzie himself assumed command, but had made no prior arrangements for provisions; nor did he have a plan of action. He led some of his more radical followers in a number of terrorist acts, such as setting fire to the home of William Jarvis, sheriff of the Home District. Unable to understand what these acts had to do with a peaceful demonstration, many of the participants returned home (Stage 1987: 7). 'During the day on Wednesday David Willson came down and took his son John David Wilson' (Doan, quoted in Read and Stagg 1985: 115). Thus, although some 1,000 to 1,200 men passed through the rebel camp, by 7 December, only 400 men remained, many of them being late arrivals. The delay in marching on the city gave the government three days' preparation time. The militia was raised within the city, and the arms that Mackenzie had hoped to seize were distributed to loyalists. The 400 rebels at Montgomery's on Thursday thus faced almost 1,500 armed militiamen. When no large body of reinforcements arrived on the original day set for the march, the rebels proceeded down Yonge Street. Only half of them were armed, some with muskets, some with fowling pieces, many with nothing but pikes or makeshift weapons (Stagg 1976: 258). The loyalists had proceeded northwards that same day, and established a camp approximately half a mile south of Montgomery's. The two forces met for a single clash that afternoon; one salvo from a pair of cannon was sufficient to dispirit the rebel troops, who broke rank and fled, pursued by the government troops. The Rebellion thus ended as it had begun, in confusion.

CHAPTER NINE

Aftermath

Despite the small number of participants, the Rebellion of 1837 proved to be a weather mark of the larger changes the province of Upper Canada was to undergo. The immediate repercussions gave no indication that a major change in the political order was in the offing; Conservatives were on the rise, continuing British immigration ensured strong ties to the motherland, and the depression in agricultural prices gave way to a period of prolonged economic growth. Thus, the changes thrust upon the province as a result of Lord Durham's report can be understood only in terms of Britain's colonial policy for the Canadas as a whole; just as Mackenzie's rebellion was a footnote to the Rebellion in Lower Canada, so, too, the political changes proposed to Upper Canada - the union of the Canadas - were directed at solving the problem of the 'French fact.' Upper Canada was treated as little but a means to the solution of that problem. The changes introduced spelled the end of the old order so cherished by the Loyalist elite. The Rebellion also had immediate and longer-lasting implications for the Children of Peace. Although relatively few members of the sect took part (held back by Willson's condemnation of the use of force), the government remained suspicious of the group's loyalty as a whole, just as it had following the War of 1812. That suspicion translated into a number of reprisals directed against the sect - from acts of vandalism to the arrest and imprisonment of its members placing severe constraints on their activities, yet nothing they had not weathered, and gained strength from, before. Of greater importance to the continued survival of the sect was the withdrawal of several elders, distressed by Willson's conciliatory attitude towards the rebels. These elders were among the largest landholders in the

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sect, and their withdrawal undermined the village's moral economy, and hence the power of the remaining elders. By 1845, the internal contradictions in their moral economy had ended the millennial dream of the Children of Peace. The government's reactions to the Rebellion were out of proportion to the innocuous intent of many of the so-called rebels who had joined Mackenzie's 'great Reform march.' The legal retribution dealt the rebels was often superseded by extra-legal actions aimed at settling old scores. Thus, shortly after the rebels had been dispersed, loyalist troops burned Montgomery's tavern, the rebel's rallying-point, and then converged on Hope, where 'it was only with difficulty that the militia could be restrained from destroying [the Children of Peace's] Temple' (Sibbald 1916-17: 32). The families of Samuel Lount and Joseph Brammer faced looting by a 'posse' of Loyalists, who ransacked their winter supplies, or threatened to burn their homes and barns (Carter 1987: 31, 40). The antagonisms created by the Rebellion and its aftermath lasted a lifetime, splitting families and continuing to have political ramifications during the 18405. At least two members of the sect, James Kavanagh and James Henderson, were killed in the uprising itself. Upwards of twenty members of the Children of Peace were jailed for up to seven months in Toronto and Kingston, and a larger number were arrested and released (Guillet 1968: appendix G). To avoid arrest, several young men, such as Jeremiah Graham and Alexander McLeod, fled to the United States, where they joined Mackenzie in making further raids from Navy Island, in the Niagara River. Later captured, Alexander McLeod was deported to a penal colony in Australia, and died shortly thereafter (Carter 1987: 19). Still others, like Murdoch Chapman, disturbed by the political implications of the retrenchment of the Family Compact, sold their farms and moved permanently to the United States. Conditions within overcrowded jails further demoralized the rebels, already disheartened by the hardships suffered by their families. The prisoners captured in the Newmarket area were jailed in the new Presbyterian Kirk, before being chained together and marched in freezing cold to the jail in Toronto, 60 kilometres away, where at one time five hundred were held, twenty-five to a room (Durand 1897: 316-20). There, isolated from family and friends, they whiled away the months, carving 'rebellion boxes' as keepsakes for family and friends, awaiting trial or pardon. And it was there that they watched

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as their neighbour and leader, Samuel Lount, was led to the gallows and hanged. The enforced calm of 1838 was thus the product of great personal suffering by the rebels and their families. In a plaintive letter, written 19 January 1838 by a pregnant Mary Doan to her husband, Charles, in prison in York, she expressed the hope: 'it will not be great while before your tryels will come'; it was not to be realized. She delivered her baby, David Willson Doan, just twelve days later (Schrauwers igS/a: 30), and Charles Doan did not see his child for another five months. A similar note was struck by Phoebe, wife of Hugh D. Willson, who appealed for assistance from Lord Durham, when Hugh was moved to Kingston Penitentiary after seven months in 'close confinement' in the Toronto jail: 'Consider me and my little ones - his affectionate father and mother weeping in there old age over the son of there bosom - and abate dear parent the tears of the afflicted - he is a dutiful son a loving Husband and tender father' (Read and Stagg 1985: 407). Hugh had been sentenced to 'transportation for life,' exile to Van Dieman's Land, a sentence later commuted (ibid: xcii). 'Bleeding with the Wounds' Beginning in July 1838, many of the prisoners were released, exchanging their jail cells for the limited freedom of Hope, where daily interaction with Loyalist neighbours served to remind them of their failure to reform the province, and of their political impotence. These Loyalists had been mobilized in well-equipped militia units in the winter of 1838 in preparation for an attack from the American sympathizers of Mackenzie that never took place. The Caroline affair, in which an American steamer carrying weapons and supplies for the rebels was sunk, served only to heighten tensions along the border and increase the watchfulness of such local paragons of Tory patronage as Richard Titus Willson, one of eighteen or twenty from Holland Landing and Hope who 'joined and formed a company for our mutual defense, in case of any difficulty arising out of the Navy Island affair or otherwise. When we went to Toronto on the "turnout" we drew 20 muskets and a quantity of ball cartridge, 20 blankets, several large kettles, etc. for a campaign' (Willson 1986: 23). Willson had been threatened with a rifle by his own sister-in-law during the early days of the Rebellion; families caught on opposite

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sides of the conflict suffered no illusions as to the implications of their actions in the days following, as retribution was meted out to foe and family alike. These mutual recriminations among neighbours, the catcalls, the epithets of 'rebel' and 'Tory,' not only divided the Children of Peace from their traditional political rivals, but also divided the sect itself. Only a minority of members, twenty-seven of eighty-one adult males in the Children of Peace, had participated in the Rebellion, but every family was touched by the repercussions. Eventually, the rancour turned against Willson himself, who strode into the fray as a peacemaker. The rebels rejected his efforts, and the 'appellation of Tory was flung in [his] teeth' (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2: 49); others appeared disturbed at Willson's failure to expel the rebels, and found his leadership onerous, lacking in the very virtues he had always proclaimed (OSHT 971.28.69 and 70). As feelings hardened under the daily chaffing of continued repression, these two groups rejected any simple compromise that might have settled their differences. Faced with mutual intransigence and wounded feelings, they began to drift away. The level of discord that followed the Rebellion can be measured by a single act: a number of pages, all dating from just after the Rebellion, were cut out of the usually complete and neatly transcribed books of manuscript hymns and sermons written by Willson and destroyed (OSHT 986.3.2: 534ff).1 None of Willson's often intemperate urgings for reform dating from before the Rebellion were touched. The members of the sect obviously wished to forget this period, writing mournfully: 'we have beaten one another with harsh words and [the church] is bleeding with the wounds' (OSHT 971.28.70). This purposeful amnesia must now be respected; we can do little but note the sad decline of the sect that resulted. The elders, most of them birthright Quakers raised with the Quaker peace testimony, appeared to have been greatly distressed by Willson's continued defence of the rebels. Willson was to complain in a letter to the congregation, dated 10 January 1839: 'If I have gone astray in your eyes, god is my Judge, it was after my brethren and my intentions were to heal that which was sore. My good have been turned into evil by the judges, and the people have rose up against me, and are destroying themselves ... a day of tryal come upon us from the Lord, and when trouble come we have beaten the afflicted

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with harsh language and a dividing tongue. And these in trouble whom we should have pitied, we have beaten and offended the Lord in so doing, and he Increaseth trouble upon us' (OSHT 971.28.70). One of the most uneasy of the elders had been Samuel Hughes, a minister second only to Willson; he joined the Hicksite Quakers in late 1838 and sold off his land in the village (PAO, Ms 759, letter dated 20 January 1839). The withdrawal of Ebenezer Doan, master builder of the Temple, followed in 1840 (PAO, Ms 834, Reel 6). Many of the young rebels appeared to have done likewise. They no doubt felt they had limited prospects in Upper Canada, with their hopes for social or political advancement blocked by the stigma of the Rebellion. It is somewhat ironic, then, that, as the Children of Peace completed their second, larger meeting-house in 1842, they had begun a long, slow hemorrhage of members. It would be difficult to blame the eventual collapse of the moral economy of the Children of Peace on the resignation of these two elders alone. That collapse should be taken, rather, as the product of the cumulative factors that had erupted in the Rebellion, including the sect's weak jural organization, their individual ownership of productive resources, and the resultant independence of individual producers. The attempt by the sect's older members to regulate the lives of its younger members had always been based on a combination of moral suasion and economic power. The resignation of Hughes and Doan seriously weakened the moral authority of the remaining elders; this assault was compounded by the elders' weakening economic control of the younger farmers in the sect. The sale of Hughes's land holdings in the area2 had the effect of increasing the number of commercial farmers within the group. Their earlier policies of subsidizing the land acquisitions of their children had been overwhelmingly successful, and as these young farmers turned to the market, they continued to benefit from the subsistence insurance provided by the Charity Fund. In the 1851 census, more than 80 per cent of the Children of Peace were landowners; 46 per cent had owned land in 1834. The mean assessed value of that land was £450, compared to a township mean of £305. Their personal property (assessed at 6 per cent of its value) averaged £45, compared to a township average of £37 (Cooper 1986: 40). By all measures, the Children of Peace were prosperous farmers, the ironic product of their attempt at withdrawing from the market. As a result, the hierarchical system of government

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within the sect, lacking in moral authority and having lost the source of its economic control, was increasingly attacked by those to whom it had originally granted that economic independence. Beginning in 1841 and continuing until 1845, the young heads of families again demanded a change in church government. Again, the completion of one of their major building projects sparked the demands; in June 1842, the Children of Peace completed a larger meeting-house for Sunday worship (photo 9).3 When it was completed, a new 'Sharon Association' was formed, composed of those who had contributed to its construction (some of whom had apparently already left the sect). Each of the members of the Sharon Association, including those who were no longer members of the sect, had a vote in the proceedings of the association (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. i). Despite a great deal of overlapping membership, this division of the business of the sect between the Sharon Association and the Monthly Meeting of the Children of Peace caused a great deal of strain. The association's very existence cast into doubt the real decision-making power of the council of elders. By December 1843, the elders appeared to have resigned, ending the two-tiered system of governance of the sect (ibid, Vol. 2, dated 8 December 1843). A period of disorganization and conflict resulted that was not resolved until 1845. Without the 'weighty' support of elders, Willson's leadership was often contested by the young heads of households. Willson, disturbed by the 'irreligion' that resulted, castigated the association, and demanded an accounting (PAO, Ms 733, Series A, Vol. 2, dated 22 July 1844). When no apparent change occurred, Wilson threatened to resign: 'I am led to believe it to be forbidden of God that I shall continue in the contentious system of doing business in a religious body' (osHT986.3.i: 4). The practice of voting in the association often made Willson, and his opinion, irrelevant to the final decisions of that body: The system and that we have been in of late, and for some time past, has a strong bearing on a legislative system, or the acts of a district council, for temporal purposes. This is fast working the ruin and downfall of our religious order, and will in haste destroy or worship. The confidence in me is lost for the order of a religious body, but one step more separates the people from my doctrine and religious opinions. I query, where can the difference be, between rejecting a mans discipline

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and doctrine, seeing all hath proceeded from one grace? I have but one offer to make to you for the reconciliation of existing oppinions that hath of late arisen; that is, build up your own house by your means, or quietly suffer me to build by mine. Without submission there is no peace, (ibid: 3-4)

On 31 May 1845, the sect accepted Willson's proposals on his own terms. The Monthly Meeting now became a general assembly called together at 'indefinite periods as occasion may require' for the transaction of business, with most business being farmed out to committees. This new meeting did not revert to the consensual practices Willson was advocating. It was, however, subordinated to a council of elders, who were granted a veto on all decisions first reached by majority vote (OSHT 986.3.1: 7): 'In so doing you honour fathers and mothers, lighten their burdens, and give them rest from their labours in their later days.' This reversion to the earlier pattern of governance within the sect spelled its ultimate demise. Elders, no longer able to force a 'consensus' on its younger members, were now reduced to vetoing the will of the 'majority.' On each occasion that they exercised this prerogative, they risked alienating those younger members whom they entreated to 'take upon them a proportion of the burdening cares' (OSHT 986.3.1: 16). Willson's always cogent critique, that a council of elders 'sets the house in two parts, which in justice may be called inferiors and superiors,' was never more true. Church and State The Monthly Meeting of the Children of Peace came to dominate the lives of its members through the role that it played in the reproduction of their individual farms, and of the ties that held them together as a community. The Monthly Meeting, in creating and administering the Charity Fund, in cooperatively marketing their produce, and in subsidizing their initial acquisition of land, played a key role in the economic lives of its members; however, it played the role so well that its members quickly prospered, to the point that they no longer needed immediate aid. This trend towards the fragmentation of community ties was compounded by political and economic changes in Upper Canada that integrated them more tightly in the emerging ad-

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ministrative network of the Canadian state, and provided alternative sources of credit. This trend, then, was the general one of 'secularization,' the partitioning of religion from politics and economy. This constellation of changes, viewed by many as inevitable, was given final shape in Upper Canada by Lord Durham's report, the British peer and Reformer's uneven response to the Rebellion (Craig 1963: 260-2). Durham's report, which advocated 'responsible government' (rule by a Cabinet responsible to the elected Legislative Assembly), was eventually adopted, and spelled the end to government patronage of the Church of England. Long-standing grievances, such as the Clergy Reserves, were ultimately resolved. Political parties, both Reform and Conservative, were organized, and their role in the elected legislature institutionalized. Local, elected, municipal institutions were finally granted real power. These alternative political arenas usurped many of the functions of the Children of Peace, such as providing schools and welfare. The social, political, and economic importance of the Monthly Meeting was thus increasingly marginalized. As the number of non-members of the Children of Peace rose proportionately in the total population of East Gwillimbury, the sect's effect on municipal politics was further limited. All of these factors, in combination, made the Monthly Meeting, as it had existed, redundant. As its 'business' dwindled, members met less frequently and increasingly left decisions to elders and trustees. Lord Durham's major concern had been the 'French fact.' The Rebellion in Upper Canada was of secondary concern; although he disapproved of the Family Compact and its oligarchic control of the province, the reforms he suggested were aimed at curbing the legislative power of the French by swamping them within a larger English majority. To that end, a union of 'Canada East' and 'Canada West' (Quebec and Ontario) took place in 1841, whose net effect was to end the autocratic rule of each of the provinces, and start them on the road to 'responsible government.' The riding of York North remained central to the continuing reform of the political landscape of the province. Durham's report sparked a renaissance for the Reform party, reorganized under the name 'Durham Clubs' in 1839. The resurgence of the Reformers was not without bloody conflict; it had not been so long ago that Mackenzie had attempted to raid the province from Navy Island in the Niagara River, and the provincial elite remained extremely wary of any form of dissent. Thus, one such Durham Meeting on Yonge Street, near New-

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market, on 15 October 1839 was broken up by club-wielding Tories from Toronto. In the melee that ensued, David Lepard, a nineteenyear-old member of the Children of Peace, was killed (OSHT 971.28.64). Lepard's death only strengthened the resolve of the Reformers. In the election of 1841, the voters of York North overwhelmingly returned Robert Baldwin, a Toronto lawyer and leader of the Reform party. Baldwin, however, had been returned in two ridings; when he opted to sit for the riding of Hastings, he encouraged the leader of the Quebec Reformers, Hippolyte LaFontaine, to run in York North. LaFontaine had lost his bid for a seat in Quebec, but won easily in York North. After the by-election, the two men became joint premiers of the united provinces. It was under their leadership that responsible government was finally granted to the province. The Reformers owed more than the legitimation of the Reform cause to Lord Durham's report; the report also gave them a new political agenda and a new ideological focus (Westfall 1989: io8ff). Whereas the key word for provincial politics in the pre-Rebellion era had been 'order,' after the Rebellion economic 'progress' became the watchword; that is, the Reform party ceased to justify its attacks on the existing order in terms of morality, and began to phrase that attack in terms of economic efficiency: 'In the new Canada, prosperity and progress would assure social stability and order; for Canada to remain British, Britain must allow Canada to follow the American economic example. Progress was to replace religion as the new opiate of the masses' (ibid: ill). As the Reformers carried through with their new political agenda, the relationship between church and state became increasingly tenuous. In 1839, the Family Compact had attempted to 'resolve' the Clergy Reserve problem once and for all by establishing a formula for sharing the revenues from them among a larger number of denominations; this would have still provided the Anglicans with some government funds. However, by the late 18405, the Anglicans found that the funds were too meagre to offset the burden of forming an 'established church' answerable to the demands of government. They, like other denominations, began to move towards a voluntarist position, whereby they would derive their funds from the donations of members and thus be free from the constricting demands of the state. Two events, the secularization of the provincial university in 1849 and the secularization of the revenues from the Clergy Reserves in 1854, mark the end of the alliance of church and state.

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The change in the ideological focus of the Reform party and in the relationship between church and state did not lessen the political activity of the Children of Peace or David Willson. Indeed, as the lengthy correspondence between Willson and Baldwin demonstrates, Willson, if anything, became more involved than ever in reform politics.4 He served as a political adviser for Baldwin and a local party organizer, and he continued to extend the use of the sect's buildings and bands to the Reform cause. Baldwin reciprocated with patronage positions for members of the sect, such as the job of coroner for John D. Willson.5 Baldwin even offered Willson a position as magistrate, which he declined; the job went to William Reid. However, under Baldwin, further changes were made in the system of local government; these changes usurped many of the 'welfare functions' previously performed by the sect, and thus helped marginalize its Business Meetings. In 1835, under the Reformers, the Town Meeting had gained marginal new responsibilities; three commissioners for each township were to be elected to administer the business of the township. In 1837, these commissioners became wardens. It was not until 1841, however, that the Reform government passed the District Council Act, which radically altered the old system of municipal government; each township was now entitled to elect one or two councillors to a district (county) council. This council replaced the appointed Court of Quarter Sessions, the meeting of magistrates that had formerly controlled most local government. In 1849, the district councils became county councils, and townships became corporate entities, with five elected councillors. The new townships were vested with local authority for levying taxes, maintaining roads, and establishing schools. This Township Council thus assumed a greater share of the burden of educating the young and caring for the poor. It was at about this time that the girls' school operated by the Children of Peace closed. Although the Charity Fund was still used for charitable purposes, the shrinking membership of the Children of Peace meant that its funds slowly dwindled over time. The waning resources of the sect were made up by the township, which was increasingly called upon to provide assistance to the needy. The township papers of East Gwillimbury contain numerous petitions from distressed citizens, for whom 'humanity demands that something be done' (Lewis 1987: 62-6). It is clear, then, that, following the Rebellion, a clearer distinction was made between civil administration and church, between politics

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and religion. Many of the activities the Children of Peace had performed in the service of their members were slowly taken up by local government. As the sect became less involved in all aspects of its members' lives, it ceased to be the forum through which they sought to adapt to a changing world. They, like their neighbours, sought to address change through involvement in politics at all levels of government; their attention drawn outwards, they were slowly incorporated in the institutions of the developing Canadian state. Their own reorganization reflected these larger changes; after 1845, they became a 'church' like any other. A Church Like Any Other The initial importance of the Children of Peace as a religious body to its members lay in its ability to help those members perpetuate an increasingly untenable way of life in the changed circumstances of a market economy. In this, it ultimately failed, as the larger political and economic processes at work in Upper Canada undermined their resistance and offered alternative institutional means of accomplishing the same ends. All of these factors drove the Children of Peace to become a church like any other. In so doing, the inherent weaknesses of the group became evident in the developing religious market-place; after 1850, the Children of Peace remained a geographically bounded sect whose ideology was not easily understood by mainstream Christians, and whose founder and only minister was ageing, with no heir apparent. Since the deep roots in all aspects of its members' lives the sect had had in the 18305 were now lacking, these weaknesses led to the sect's ultimate demise. Perhaps nothing is more indicative of the changes transforming the Children of Peace than the abandonment of the name 'Hope' for their village in East Gwillimbury. In 1841, after a ten-year fight, a post office was granted on the condition the village's name was changed, to prevent confusion with Hope Township. Adopting a new name, Sharon, seemed to symbolize their new outlook, their new integration in the emerging Canadian state. They adopted new forms of music in worship, published several hymn books, and came to depend more and more on David Willson to serve as their 'minister.' These changes moved the Children of Peace into greater conformity with their Protestant brethren; as they were no longer eager to proclaim the 'priesthood of all believers, the ideology of the Inner Light came to

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legitimate nothing more than the ministry of Willson alone. When he died, so too did the inspiration of the sect. After their reorganization in 1845, the first subsequent change was to abandon the unique form of musical 'ministry' Willson had first introduced in 1817. The hymns Willson had written for religious services were intended to be used once only, and hence were 'lined out' by either Willson or the choir during the service itself. This constant production of new hymns had been a sign of the continuing action of the spirit of God within the soul; it was a form of Quaker ministry set to music. However, with the new changes in the sect's organization, the stress on the Inner Light and its direct inspiration was lessened. At the prodding of the band, which desired 'to make the performance of musick on our feast days, and on other public occasions, more respectable and sublime' (PAO, Ms 733, Vol. i: 20), the sect adopted the style of unison singing typical of most churches. In pursuit of the 'respectable and sublime,' the band first requested money for the purchase of new instruments in 1844. In 1846, they hired Daniel Cory, a music teacher from Boston, who for two years gave them 'systematic training in all the rudiments of singing' (McArthur 1898: 3). It was Cory who taught them the unison singing of the Protestant mainstream, and, for that purpose, the sect published its first of many hymn books in 1846, Hymns and Prayers for the Children of Sharon: To Be Sung in Worship on Sabbath Days. This was followed by Hymns and Prayers Adapted to the Worship of God in Sharon in 1849, and Hymns of Praise, containing doctrine and prayer adapted to the worship of God in Sharon in 1853. Although Willson continued to write all their hymns, this change in the style of singing is a sign of the congregation's new indifference to the ideology of the Inner Light. Other signs are also evident. Following the Rebellion, Willson began to preach in the temple, something he had proclaimed forbidden to him during its construction. He also ceased to hold Meetings for Worship outside of Sharon. The resignation of Samuel Hughes had placed an increased ministerial burden on Willson; although proclaiming the 'priesthood of all believers,' Willson was now the Children of Peace's only minister. No one else in the sect was of the same stature, or could match him for breadth of vision or depth of experience. As the patriarch of the community, and one with a firm vision, his very presence dampened the spontaneous ministry of others. His long life only compounded the problem. Willson continued to preach

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until just before his death, at the age of eighty-seven, on 19 January 1866. As he aged, his original vigour was dampened; as he sickened, the sect sickened. In 1851, the sect had 305 members, of whom 187 (58 per cent) were under the age of twenty. By 1861, the sect had only 178 members; 81 of the 187 members under age twenty in 1851 had left East Gwillimbury. This general exodus of the young can be tied to the rapid urbanization of Ontario, as well as to the now limited prospects for young farmers in the already settled areas of the province. The youth of the sect were abandoning Sharon for the city and for the hinterland, their parents unable to subsidize them as they themselves had been subsidized during the 18305. Willson's death in 1866 marked the end of an era. By 1868, there was a Methodist church in Sharon, and, in 1869, an Anglican church. By 1871, there were only 91 members of the Children of Peace left (Diceman 1984: 9-16). Following Willson's death, the slow changes that had taken place in the 18405,18505, and 18605 were institutionalized. John D. Willson, David's son, assumed his father's role as 'minister' in the sect. John was himself seventy years of age at the time. Overshadowed by his father, John often did little more then read his father's sermons (Kavanagh 1957: 5). If we recognize that these sermons strived to emphasize the role of the Inner Light, we can see the extent to which this 'Quaker' sect had been transformed. As John aged, he was often unable to serve in Sunday services. Other members, such as Amos Hughes, were then called upon to read the founder's sermons. As often as not, no sermon at all was read; by 1880 sermons were being given on a regular basis by visiting clergymen from other denominations (McFall 1973: 26ff). The distinctive, millennial theological features of the sect developed by Willson in his youth were now forgotten, left unread on bookshelves as mainstream Protestant thought infused the village. The death of every member meant the loss of yet another link with that distinctive past, as difference were slowly washed away, leaving nothing but empty buildings, beautiful but mute. The institutional decline of the sect is already well documented (McFall 1973: 26ff). In 1876, the Children of Peace were officially incorporated as a charitable society with a board of trustees. In early 1881, the incapacity of John D. Willson and the increasing use of visiting ministers led the board of trustees to investigate the means by which the Children of Peace might join the Presbyterian church.

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John D. Willson and his brother Hugh, shocked by this affront to the memory of their father, locked the meeting-house. The matter went to court and was eventually settled in favour of the 'heirs.' Although John and Hugh continued to hold services, the congregation dwindled to a few of David Willson's descendants, as faithful as circumstances permitted to his original vision. John Willson died on 14 March 1887. Hugh continued for another two years, but, in 1889, emigrated to California, most likely to live with one of his children. By November 1889, after seventy-seven years of tumultuous change, the Children of Peace ceased to exist.

CHAPTER TEN

The Children of Peace in Theoretical and Historical Perspective

When placed within the material, cultural, and political context within which they were developed, the seemingly idiosyncratic beliefs and practices of the Children of Peace appear less alien; the case-study approach adopted in this book attempted just that. The apparent idiosyncratic nature of those beliefs and practices is also diminished when they are placed within the larger context of early nineteenth-century sectarian activity, a comparative analysis attempted here. The Children of Peace were but one of numerous radical sects that emerged throughout the northeastern states, especially the 'burned-over district' of upstate New York, following the American Revolution. Each of these sects awaited a momentous change in the social order: Mormons, Millerites, Universalists, Perfectionists, and a host of lesserknown groups proclaimed their revelations to an eager and receptive audience. These new millenarian sects were but the most visible sign of a broader religious tumult, an 'awakening,' that transformed the religious landscape of North America, split denominations and reformed them, changing their character as they spread across the new frontier. An 'awakening' is a phenomenon distinct from the more familiar 'revival.' The term 'awakening' refers to a chaotic period of diffuse and contradictory activity signalling a general crisis in, and a profound reorientation of, the religious beliefs and values a community shares (McLoughlin 1978: 7). Theorists have long emphasized the functional role of religion in maintaining a common set of values among members of a moral community, a set of values that provides individuals with the motivation to uphold their particular cultural and social order. McLoughlin, for example, asserted that America possessed a 'civil religion,' a set of common religious values derived

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from the founding fathers, immigrants from the fringe of European Protestantism, including Quakers, German Anabaptists, Congregationalists, and Presbyterians (1978: 4-23). These shared beliefs and values focus on Americans as a chosen people with a manifest destiny to re-form a fallen world. An awakening, then, is a period in which core values such as these are shaken, re-evaluated, and re-presented in altered circumstances. The Second Great Awakening overtook North America following the Revolutionary War, leading many denominations to question the meaning of these key values. Unlike McLoughlin, I would argue that it is an error to assume that Americans possessed a single set of shared values; McLoughlin states that, during an awakening, altered circumstances threaten the moral order, but that the community as a whole then re-evaluates and 'revitalizes' the now defunct tradition (1978: 12). We must, however, keep in mind that 'revitalization' is a political process we cannot treat as morally neutral, somehow democratic, and consensual that recognizes social change, but not conflict. Given the political importance of the common values being re-evaluated, is it not more reasonable to view the awakening as the product of a conflict in which opposing factions attempt to impose new values and beliefs on their resisting adversaries? It is in this light that we examined the effects of the Second Great Awakening upon Quakerism. Two broad sets of conflicting values were easily discernible in this schismatic period. One broad movement, referred to as 'Quaker Orthodoxy,' was tied to an emerging urban capitalist class located in the eastern coastal ports. A second, opposed value system was defended by a number of rural Quaker sects, such as the Hicksite Quakers, the Shakers, the Universal Friends, and the Children of Peace, who all demonstrate striking similarities in development. Each of these sects played out the drama of rural resistance to encroaching market relations. They all ritualized contested values in an attempt to maintain moral economies. The most radical, the communal Shakers, were also the most authoritarian. This process, affecting not only Quakers but numerous other denominations as well, will be referred to as 'rural millenarianism.' Theoretical Considerations An awakening poses a unique problem for anthropological and sociological models of religion. These models have generally defined

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religions in terms of the maintenance of the common values necessary for the continuation of a particular social and political order. Even where such theorists recognize conflict, it is deemed to be individualistic rather than a matter of fundamental social change, a conflict between particular aims rather than basic values.1 The underlying assumption, that a culture can be defined in terms of a common set of values, is static and totalizing (Sider 1980: 2). Awakenings provide evidence that those who participate in religious rituals need not share a common set of values. By rejecting that premise, we come to see that the system of meanings and symbols of a religion is not an 'unmoved mover,' a monolith that unilaterally influences believers without ever being affected by the conditions within which believers find themselves. We need to emphasize that values are not disembodied absolutes; they are rooted in everyday experience where they are subjected to constant testing and re-evaluation as they are enacted. Anthropological theory tends to focus upon how the function of maintaining a set of values is effected. Religion is conceptualized as either a system of meanings (a cosmology) or a set of rituals that serve to perpetuate social order as already constituted, a cynical view of religion not far from that expressed by Lieutenant-Governor Simcoe, who saw the church as little but the ideological buttress of the colonial state. A number of common assumptions underlie these approaches to religion: one, that culture can be defined in terms of a common set of values, has just been mentioned. Of equal importance is the common assumption that religion can be treated as a communicative system. Leach (1965: 10-11), for example, emphasized that ritual 'serves to express the individual's status as a social person in the structural system in which he finds himself for the time being' (emphasis added). Leach's work repudiates Durkheim's absolute distinction between religious rites, which are sacred, and technical acts, which are profane. Magic is but one category of action that seems to bridge this simple dichotomy. Rather than distinguishing between absolute categories of sacred and profane behaviours, Leach argued that the sacred was an aspect, a characteristic, of any type of action: ritual or 'customary procedure' is interlaced with 'all kinds of technically superfluous frills and decorations ... there is always the element which is functionally essential and another element which is simply the local custom, an aesthetic frill ... logically, aesthetics and ethics are identical' (ibid: 12). Ritual, then, becomes synonymous with all custom, an aesthetic frill to technical action that serves a

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communicative function, the placement of participants within an ethical order. However, in maintaining the distinction between technical act and aesthetic/ethical frill, religion as a field of study is reduced to an analysis of a 'total system of meanings' that communicates an ethical system, but doesn't itself actually do anything (the 'doing' is, after all, being accomplished by the technical action). Later theorists have found this dichotomy as unworkable as Durkheim's; drawing on linguistic theory, they have demonstrated that many communicative acts are not only perlocutionary, but also illocutionary (Rappaport 1982: 178). A marriage ceremony does not simply 'communicate' the changed status of the newlyweds, it creates that new state. Hence, these theorists have been concerned to show that religion serves not only to communicate an ethical order, but to perpetuate it. Geertz's work is indicative of the essential problems this communicative model faces in meeting these new demands. Geertz's definition of religion has found widespread acceptance among scholars from a number of fields for its emphasis on symbol and meaning. Geertz (1973:90) defines religion as: 'i) a system which acts to 2) establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by 3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and 4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that 5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic.' Geertz writes well, but the delicacy by which he creates distinctions tends to hide the mundane thrust of this argument. The crux of this argument is that religion is a means of making moral injunctions seem commonsensical (and hence a template for action) by placing them within a generally accepted cosmology. Geertz insists that the system of symbols that make up a religion exists outside the minds of believers; this is essential if anthropologists are to avoid 'a mentalistic world of introspective psychology' (Geertz 1973: 91), and if they are to treat these symbols as 'extrinsic sources of information' (ibid: 92). These conditions are necessary if a religion's system of symbols is to be treated specifically as a communicative system, as a language of sorts. Religious symbols, like words, must mediate between the cognition of individuals and the social interaction that cannot occur without them; they are thus cultural, not mental constructs. Geertz, however, is quick to add that religious symbols to not simply represent things, but also do things. Symbols induce within the worshipper 'a certain distinctive set of

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

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dispositions ... which lend a chronic character to the flow of his activity and the quality of his experience' (ibid: 95); that is, the symbol system, as an extrinsic cultural source of information, acts to creates moods and motivations within the believer, a tendency to experience reality and to act in certain ways in certain circumstances. This 'ethos,' or 'distinctive set of dispositions,' is made to appear uniquely realistic by being placed within an accepted cosmology in rituals; the common-sense world grants an air of believability to the ethos since the same symbol system is used to express both: 'By inducing a set of moods and motivations - an ethos - and defining an image of cosmic order - a world view - by means of a single set of symbols, the performance [of a ritual] makes the model for [i.e., the ideal] and the model o/[i.e., the reality] aspects of religious belief mere transportations of one another' (Geertz 1973: 115). The temple rituals of the Children of Peace provide one such relevant example. Their millennial model of an ideal world was expressed through the same set of symbols by which they ordered their everyday perceptions of how the world worked, i.e., through the symbols of 'God's leadings,' the 'Inner Light,' and so on. Their everyday experience of 'God's grace' granted a naturalness to the prophecies of the coming Messiah and Willson's conception of an ideal kingdom. Yet, there is a basic logical inconsistency in this formulation. Religious symbols are said to gain their believability from the fact that they are the same symbols used to describe a group's already believed world view, or common-sense perceptions of the world. Since the effectiveness of the ritual is dependent upon prior belief in that symbol system, ritual cannot be construed as the arena in which religious symbols do something - create 'religious faith' - but is, rather, the arena within which that faith 'is (literally) played out and confirmed1 (Asad 1982: 249). Geertz has swerved from this initial desire to avoid a 'mentalistic world of introspective psychology' by rooting the effective action of ritual in belief; as Rappaport (1979: 194-5) has pointed out, participation in a ritual is a public statement of acceptance of its declarative content, but acceptance is not synonymous with belief: Acceptance not only is not belief. It does not even imply belief. The private processes of individuals may often be persuaded by their ritual participation to come into conformity with their public acts, but this is not always the case ... We all know that a man may participate in a lit-

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Awaiting the Millennium

urgy in which commandments against adultery and thieving are pronounced, then pilfer from the poor box on his way out of the church, or depart from communion to tryst with his neighbour's wife. But such behavior does not render his acceptance meaningless or empty. It is an entailment of liturgical performances to establish conventional understandings, rules, and norms in accordance with which everyday behavior is supposed to proceed, not to control that behavior directly.

Religious symbols do not create a 'distinctive set of dispositions,' nor do they act on perfectly passive individuals to create faith; these symbols are public expressions utilized in ritual settings to express an acknowledgment of authority. Both Rappaport (1982) and Bloch (1974) emphasize that ritual is simply an authoritative means of establishing which values are to be judged 'normative,' whether or not, in actuality, those 'norms' are adhered to in practice by the majority of those who participate (as, for example, in the case of Catholicism and birth control). Both Rappaport and Bloch root the authority of ritual in the formal features of liturgy; that is, rather than tie the believability of an ethical system to the believability of a common-sense world-view (a problematic proposition), they note how the very structure of ritual itself makes its message intrinsically authoritative. Bloch, for example, states that, as a communicative system, ritual utilizes distinctive media of communication: song and dance. He also points out that, in ordinary discursive language, almost any argument can be articulated, but that language, as utilized in ritual, is stylized, formalized so as to reduce the range of propositions it can conceivably make (cf Rappaport 1982: 203). The language of ritual, for example, is often archaic and limited to a restricted body of suitable illustrations, such as the scriptures, for the points it is trying to make. Similarly, the range of responses to these points is also limited, such that, for example, the only response to a call to prayer is to bow one's head and accept the authority of the minister to speak on behalf of the congregation. The extreme of ritual formality is song and dance. As Bloch (1974: 71) puts it: 'In a song ... no argument or reasoning can be communicated, no adaptation to the situation is possible. You cannot argue with a song ... It is therefore misguided to argue, as so many anthropologists have done, that religion is an explanation.' By participating in a ritual one automatically affirms one's acceptance of its authoritative statements; to participate is to suspend judgment.

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

199

This argument helps to explain Willson's use of music in worship following the separation from the Quakers. Willson sought to defend certain core values that had come under attack from orthodox elders. Yet, Quaker worship is exceedingly pliable, and many of the formalized elements of ritual discussed by Bloch are absent. It was possible for explicit disagreements to be expressed in worship, and Willson's interpretations could always be open to challenge. Willson had the problem of defending a particular set of values while being prevented from creating any kind of creedal orthodoxy by his own antinomian doctrines. However, by utilizing the formal aspects of ritual itself, he could accomplish the same ends. Singing in the spirit, as it was developed by Willson, was considered a valid expression of the Inner Light. Unlike other expressions of the Inner Light, produced by a single individual and delivered to others, singing in the spirit required the group to repeat the leadings of one member, Willson; the ability of other participants to make substantive contributions was limited as their only option was stylistic embellishment. By singing these hymns together as a group, the members explicitly accepted the normative nature of their content, since they accepted the authoritative process by which they were created and were repeating it themselves: 'You cannot argue with a song.' The temple served a similar function; the symbolic aspects of its architecture provided clear limits on what could be said within it. For all their value as critics of Geertz's own foray into cognitive functionalism, Bloch and Rappaport leave unanswered two central questions. First, if values do not originate in rituals, but are simply 'expressed' through ritual, what is the ultimate source of an individual's values? Rappaport (1982: 185) makes clear that participation in a ritual does not entail belief in the values or norms the ritual incorporates, merely public acceptance that may be privately discarded. Is, then, that individual valueless? We should be careful not to answer that question only from the perspective of the dominant set of ideal values encoded in ritual, a set of values theorists too often confuse and reify as 'society's values.' Thus, if we grant our sinner morality, even if only that of 'honour among thieves,' what is the source of these values? Second, an understanding of the formal means by which ritual makes one particular set of values authoritative does not explain how these particular values came to be ritualized in the first place. If we reject the notion that all members of a society share a common set of values, by what means is one set selected as an

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Awaiting the Millennium

'ideal' to be ritualized, granted normative status, and publicly accepted by all? In this book I have attempted consistently to tie the notion of values to experience; religion, I argued, was as important to the way the Children of Peace farmed as it was to the way they prayed. The sect played a special role in perpetuating a way of life, a non-marketbased 'moral economy.' This moral economy consisted of specific relations of production, that is, specific ways farming households interacted socially and economically to reproduce their farms and ensure their viability. A precondition of engaging in these relations of production was an acceptance of the general practical and ethical principles by which it operated. To accept the set of values attendant on a particular production regime is not to grant them normative status but to accept a pragmatic necessity; as we have seen, granting normative status to a set of values is the product of sacralizing them in ritual. We have noted that the farmers of Upper Canada were faced with two different production regimes with two attendant sets of values, one based upon a nonmarket subsistence strategy, the other market oriented. We have also detailed the process by which the sect ritualized only one set of values, and took institutional steps to perpetuate the economic conditions necessary to sustain that production regime. I believe, then, the answer to the question of how a particular set of values comes to be ritualized can be determined only by examining the process of conflict between production regimes, as individuals are forced to make pragmatic concessions that run counter to prior expectations and experience. It is important to remember that not all values are codified in religious rituals; for example, these farmers' valuation of wheat versus corn farming never attained sanctified status. The Children of Peace show us that only socially contested values must be sanctified and hence made normative (i.e., specifically 'religious'). When faced with two incompatible production regimes, a basic value conflict was created that could not be resolved at the level of values alone. This issue was pragmatic, and entailed the adoption of one or the other economic strategy. In such an either/or situation where one's livelihood itself is at stake, political elites within a religious body attempt to ritualize the value system (and the production regime it sustains) upon which their authority rests. Thus the elders of the Children of Peace, despite their quietist background, ritualized the plain worship

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

201

of the Quakers. Through the addition of music and the symbol-laden architecture of the temple, they sanctified the ideals of equality and charity in spite of the fact that institutional changes had to be made that often ran counter to the ideals expressed in their ritual order. The sacralization of threatened values was, however, but one-half of the adaptive response; economic and political measures were also introduced that served to lessen the source of value conflict and provide pragmatic incentives for remaining within the moral community. The ritualization of one set of values was but part and parcel of a larger 'disciplinary order' (Asad 1982). A disciplinary order is a complex of institutions that attempt to define and mould a virtuous individual, the individual who fulfils the ethical responsibilities entailed in a ritual order. It includes not only the rituals that defined values but the committees and political structure of the sect that monitored compliance and expedited the land transactions upon which the value system had come to depend. We are thus less concerned with religious systems of meanings, the theologies per se, than with how these theologies are intended to be acted out, and what political pressures exist by which such a virtuous individual could be trained. By examining religious movements in terms of their disciplinary efforts to create a virtuous individual, we are asking the question: 'How does power create religion?' (Asad 1982: 252). In attempting to answer this question I have focused on political and economic processes and have discussed Willson's theology (chapter 7) in the broader context of internal politics within the sect, production regimes, and the politics of the larger polity of which the Children of Peace were a part. Awakenings and Conflict An awakening is a chaotic period of religious activity produced by a general crisis in, and reorientation of, religious beliefs and values. These beliefs and values are tied to specific production regimes, where they form a precondition for the social reproduction of that regime. Ethics, in effect, provide for the continuity in individual behaviours by which a social system becomes, in fact, a system. An awakening is thus an indication of a breakdown in a system - in this case, a moral economy. Individuals must increasingly be forced to ignore the values necessary for one form of production by the pragmatic necessities of another, in this case capitalist farming. Thus,

2O2

Awaiting the Millennium

rather than emphasize the 'general' nature of the crisis in values that is indicative of an awakening, we should attempt to link specific conflicts in values to specific forms of production in specific places at specific times. The second great awakening did not uniformly affect all of North America; the slave-based plantation economy of the South and the feudal seigneurial regime in Quebec, insulated from the changes affecting middle-eastern North America, were generally outside the scope of the awakening. The areas affected by the Second Great Awakening have one common feature: they were all characterized by general freehold land tenure of land by smallholder agriculturalists. It was in these areas that the development of capitalism as a new social force was occurring at the greatest pace (Cross 1982: 56). In these areas, because of its nature, 'capitalist farming' (i.e., simple commodity production) is almost indistinguishable from the subsistence-oriented production regime that preceded it. The difference between subsistence-oriented production, a moral economy, and capitalist farming cannot be measured strictly by market participation, the benchmark of the majority of studies to date (see Lemon 1967; McCalla 1985; Mclnnis 1984).2 However, communities of similar-sized farms growing similar crops, selling in the market, can none the less be differentiated based on the role that the market plays in the reproduction of the household economy, the creation of new households, and the reproduction of the social ties linking a farming community, such as Hope, together. Capitalist farms are dependent upon the mechanism of the market to reproduce all of these relations of production in ways that subsistence-oriented farmers are not. The capitalist farmer must produce a crop from which he can draw a profit to pay for the factors of production: land, labour, and seed. The subsistence-oriented farmer need not calculate for profit, but must only meet specific cash needs, which need not be met through the market. The market also played a different role in the ethical systems upon which each production regime was based. The moral economy of the subsistence-oriented farmer did not exclude the sale of goods in the market, but did, for example, preclude the taking of profits from those in need.3 Prices, Willson argued, should not fluctuate with the market, but should be set by what the buyer could afford to pay. The capitalist farmer, in contrast, must maximize his gains. From the perspective of the subsistence-oriented farmer, he is often guilty of ex-

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

203

ploiting those who can least afford to be exploited. The virtues of the one value system make for the sins of the other. We have already examined the pragmatic issues that led farmers to adopt one or the other economic strategy. In the case of the Children of Peace, the initial cost of creating a new farm was the single biggest factor inducing young farmers to engage in capitalist farming. But these young farmers had been raised within a pre-existing network of social relations predicated upon a moral economy. Their failure to engage in these traditionally expected social relationships, their failure to become 'virtuous individuals,' created a conflict within the community, a conflict in values that could be resolved only through the implementation of religious, political, and economic reforms enacted by the sect. This process was also taking place in other denominations, dependent always upon the interaction of local conditions and the broader policy decisions of the states of which they were a part. Rural Millenarianism During the Second Great Awakening, the churches of North America were torn by ceaseless doctrinal disputes. These specific theological issues came to represent larger value conflicts, reflecting the emerging differences between rural and urban areas, between rural moral economies and urban merchant capital. Rural Hicksites seceded from urban Orthodox Quakers, rural Congregationalists separated from urban Unitarians, Old Light from New Light Presbyterians, Free Will Baptists from regular Baptists. The period also saw the rise of a number of new, predominantly rural denominations, such as the Mormons, the Christians, the Millerites (Seventh-Day Adventists), the Universalists, and the Shakers. Only a few of these denominations were explicitly millenarian. I will, however, refer to the entire group as the product of rural millenarianism because they share a common value orientation rooted in rural moral economies. They fall along a spectrum, from sects simply seeking to isolate themselves from the larger world around them, to sects explicitly seeking to transform that threatening world. This spectrum is the product of a single political process involving isolationism, ritualization, communalism, and the increasing centralization of authority. The economic changes being introduced into the rural middle east

204

Awaiting the Millennium

of North America gave rise to value conflicts within communities of hard-pressed farmers attempting to keep their heads above water. Their response was initially conservative. In an attempt to preserve threatened patterns of behaviour, they sought to isolate themselves from those whom they came to perceive as innovators (urban merchants) . Theological issues came to represent the wider social divide between urban and rural churchgoers. The conservative emphasis on traditional doctrines legitimates their resistance by making them the bearers of the 'true' church. It simultaneously tars the urban church with the same brush. Pressed to extremes, this isolation takes the form of denominational schism. When schism and attempts to isolate themselves from market forces fail, these rural denominations found it necessary to sanctify formerly implicit economic systems. New rituals were introduced that elevated moral economies to the sacred; new theologies painted pictures of moral economies writ large. At this point, these denominations usually became explicitly millenarian, calling for an abrupt end to a sinning world. Rituals and doctrines, however, cannot in themselves alter economic practices. Although rituals convey sacred status to some relationships, they are not coercive; the problem of 'lip service' remains (Rappaport 1982). Hence, for groups who perceive themselves in immediate danger, the simple ritualization of contested value systems is an insufficient form of protection. The adoption of new ritual orders is thus often accompanied by the institution of new forms of authority. These jural mechanisms provide sanctions for the church's new normative economic relations. Last, the intolerance of the larger society to the theological, political, and economic isolationism of these sects may lead to direct attacks upon them, with a resulting heightening of these tendencies. The sects become yet more authoritarian in an effort to curb deviation from sect norms, and the 'community of goods' may be imposed to remove control of economic decision making from the individual, to the sect as a whole or, more specifically, its political elite. The entire process can be seen more clearly through the analysis of Quaker sectarianism. Sects such as the Universal Friends, the Children of Peace, the Shakers, and the Hicksite Quakers share common origins in the institutional forms and doctrines of the Society of Friends. The Universal Friends, the Children of Peace, and the Shakers were relatively small sects that coalesced around charismatic leaders who were disowned, 'excommunicated' Quakers. The Hicksite Quakers

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

205

were the product of a more general urban/rural schism. Each sect evolved independently during the Second Great Awakening, moving through one or more stages of this millenarian process. By looking at these sects as a group we can obtain a clearer picture of the general underlying circumstances affecting all denominations. The Hicksite Quakers represent the broadest and most basic response to the intrusion of capitalist relations in a rural moral economy (Doherty 1967: 77) .4 Although named after Elias Hicks, a prominent minister, their leadership was predominantly local, with Hicks serving only as a symbolic figurehead of the conservative 'reformation' they sought to achieve (Ingle 1986: 42). The schism can be examined at two levels. Theologically, rural Friends objected to the new 'orthodoxy' being promulgated by wealthy urban Friends occupying positions of power within the Society. This 'orthodoxy' sought to mitigate the distinctive features of traditional Quakerism. Economically, the Hicksites were suspicious of urban motives and practices. Hicks, himself a Long Island farmer, thought a simple life of careful cultivation of the soil to meet simple needs was an ideal to be emulated, not disparaged. His cousin, Edward, also an influential minister, attacked profit seekers, referring to banks, for example, as an 'anti-Christian nursery of usury' (ibid: 46). Both Hickses called for the maintenance of the traditional markers by which Friends were recognized, such as plain speech and plain dress. The movement was essentially isolationist, emphasizing those aspects of Quaker culture that set Friends apart as a 'peculiar' people. An extensive study by Robert Doherty (1967) clearly links theological stance to economic orientation in the schism, which was roughly an urban/rural split. Rural Friends, increasingly subordinated to urban Quakers in New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore, reasserted their traditional forms of economic and religious organization. In rural areas where the Hicksites predominated, the separation itself was sufficient to isolate them, and ease the tensions built up by the demands of the urban orthodox Friends. Of special interest, however, are those rural Friends who joined the urban Orthodox Quakers. Few in number, they tended to be farmers tightly integrated in the market, i.e., simple commodity producers. Doherty found that these rural orthodox Friends were commercial farmers with 'an unconscious need ... for a religion which would be congenial with their participation in commercial agriculture. Orthodoxy certainly was. Hicks' ideas were not' (p. 64). It might also be noted that the Hicksite Quakers were

2o6

Awaiting the Millennium

far more likely to join the many communal experiments which emerged during the period (Bassett 1954: 96). The Universal Friends and the Children of Peace represent more radical attempts to preserve this distinctive form of economic organization. The Universal Friends were followers of Jemima Wilkinson, a disowned Quaker. In October 1776, after a near-death experience in which 'Jemima Wilkinson' died and the 'Public Universal Friend'5 was born, she began to preach throughout New England (Wisbey 1964). In 1778, fleeing Revolutionary turmoil and persecution, Wilkinson led some three hundred members to a 'New Jerusalem' in the then unsettled Genesee country of upstate New York; this initial retreat from secular strife was not unlike the initial response of the Children of Peace during the War of 1812. The members of the sect attempted to buy a large tract of land for contiguous settlement, with each member receiving land in proportion to his or her financial contribution (Wisbey 1964: 100-5). After several years of pioneering efforts, a boundary dispute between the states of New York and Massachusetts reduced their land holdings to a fraction of their previous size. Most of the remaining land was appropriated by the richer members of the sect who had owned the majority of the land shares. The sudden grab for a greatly reduced store of wealth by some of the richer members resulted in bitter disputes that almost destroyed the sect. Wilkinson, siding with the poorer members of the congregation, led a second move to Jerusalem Township, Yates County, New York. In the new settlement, 1,200 acres of land were deeded to Wilkinson. On this land, she and her followers constructed a communal living house for herself, her retainers (approximately fifteen women), and visiting guests (ibid: 125). Poorer members of the sect who could not afford to buy land cleared patches of this communal land for themselves to farm. This communal living and meeting-house became the focal point of the sect, functioning much like the Children of Peace's temple as a visible symbol of 'mutual aid.' The similarities between the two groups are strikingly evident; both subsidized the subsistence efforts of poorer members while simultaneously trying to isolate themselves from outside influences. The second move of the Universal Friends was certainly more successful in accomplishing this goal. As the pioneering group in Jerusalem Township, shorn of their richer members, they formed a compact and

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

207

egalitarian society free of the stresses that continued to plague the Children of Peace. Thus, while neither the Universal Friends nor the Children of Peace were communal in the sense that the Shakers were, they did institutionalize the mechanisms of their moral economies and grant them a religious sanction, as a form of protection against the intrusion of a market morality. The millenarianism of the Children of Peace served as an ideological adjunct to these new institutions; it served to legitimate these institutions within the sect while simultaneously devaluing the activities of worldly urbanites. This millenarian process was taken one step further by the Shakers, the most persecuted of the four groups. The 'Shaking Quakers' were a small British Quaker sect that emigrated to New York State just before the American Revolution. The name 'Shakers' referred to the group's early forms of worship, which included speaking in tongues and spontaneous 'agitations of head and limbs' (Andrews 1963: 6). The sect was led by 'Mother' Ann Lee, who was eventually recognized as the second incarnation of Christ. Mother Ann, like the Public Universal Friend, preached throughout New York and New England during the War of Independence, offering converts a religious means of escaping civil unrest; the pacifism of the sect and its increasing isolationism (in response to intense persecution) offered these converts a 'participatory mode of expressions for Radical Evangelical dissent from dominant Revolutionary politics and ideology' (Marini 1982: 52). In 1783 the sect temporarily ended its mission work and consolidated its membership in a number of communal 'colonies,' the primary one being in New Lebanon, New York (Andrews 1963: 52). Mother Ann died a year later, in 1784. After a number of short-lived intermediate leaders, Joseph Meachem, one of the first American converts, was recognized by the sect as 'the anointed of God to lead his people' (Andrews 1963: 55). 'Father' Joseph set about developing an administrative order (the 'gospel order'), which involved transforming previously ecstatic gifts, such as twirling and speaking in tongues, into hymns and dances performed in unison in newly constructed meeting-houses. The rationalization of these charismatic gifts mirrored the imposition of new positions of authority and new forms of discipline. Colonies were divided into 'families,'6 each of which was subordinated to 'elders' who, in turn, were subordinated to bishops and the central ministry in the New Lebanon colony. Each 'family' lived communally, with all facets of life regulated by the sect's 'gos-

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pel order' and the elders (ibid: 54-69). Economic decision making was at this time removed from the hands of individuals and placed with the elders. The Shakers' organization in communal colonies represents the extreme to which rural millenarianism led. As stresses mounted on the Shakers' distinctive relations of production, authority was centralized, granting elders the power they required to protect and enforce their normative moral economy. The colony attempted to maintain its self-sufficiency and in so doing isolated its members from the effects of the market. The elders, through the 'gospel order,' regulated the members' every waking moment, thus reinforcing the primacy of the communal ideal over self-interest. As in the case of the Children of Peace, millenarian doctrines legitimated the imposition of new forms of church discipline while simultaneously undermining the dominant ideology of the wider society. We should be careful not to delimit the study of rural millenarianism to the United States alone, as the model can be usefully applied to Canada and Europe as well, the example of the Children of Peace being the most relevant. Other examples of rural millennialism can be found in the Netherlands and the German states. In 1828, the state (Hervormd) church of the Netherlands suffered a separation of its more conservative members, who withdrew to form the Gereformeerd (Reformed) church. This largely rural group fits this model of rural millennialism, being composed of small farmers resisting the new religious and economic order introduced by the Napoleonic rationalization of the Dutch state (Becker 1976: 119-42). A millenarian communal sect, the Zwijndrecht's Nieuw Lichters (the New Lights of Zwijndrecht), developed during the same period (ibid: 73-106; de Groot 1986). The New Lights formed two colonies; the one, at Mijdrecht, was more loosely organized, seeking to maintain its 'moral economy' through isolation; the other, near Zwijndrecht, bears a striking resemblance to a Shaker colony. Under the direction of a charismatic woman leader, Maria Leer, the Zwijndrecht colony instituted a 'community of goods,' including 'community of wives.' Following the Napoleonic Wars, they actively resisted incorporation in the reconstituted Dutch state, and became increasingly millenarian as they faced heightened persecution as a result. Similarly, one can point to the emergence of numerous pietist sects in the German states as yet another indication of the same process. Many of these sects, like the Rappites (the Harmonic Society), the

Theoretical and Historical Perspective

209

Zoarites (the Society of Separatists of Zoar), and the Ebenezers (the Society of True Inspiration), later moved to the United States, where they created communal villages that served as successful models for many of the later American experiments in religious communism, such as the Perfections at Oneida (Bestor 1970). All of these cases are consistent with the model of millenarianism presented; rural denominations seeking to defend alternative value systems and their attendant production regimes underwent a similar political evolution involving isolationism, ritualization, communalism, and the increasing centralization of authority. None of these movements can be understood without placing them within the wider society and the specific social changes to which they were reacting. The awakening also demonstrates, at a more basic level, that churches are necessarily political organizations, and that it is political elites who determine the 'normative' values encoded in the denomination's rituals'; we can only surmise that these are values which the participants, for whatever reason (whether pragmatic necessity or a more abstract faith), are willing to publicly acknowledge. Individual values, in turn, vary considerably, and their interplay with material conditions and the disciplinary order of the church create the internal struggles that lead to the political process described above. The Children of Peace, although unique in many ways, provide us with a template through which we can profitably examine the 'chaotic period of diffuse and contradictory activity' that composed the Second Great Awakening. Concluding Remarks I would like to return to the epigraph with which this book began, with my acknowledgment that Willson, on reading this book, would probably turn his head to mutter 'part is true - but three-quarters are lies.' Willson's disagreement would stem from the different ends we hold. Willson was attempting to shape and mould a 'true believer,' a virtuous individual, and in so doing he based his authority on sacred sanctions, the very Word of God. I make no such claim. Willson's theology grew out of an attempt to protect a particular value system, and in so doing he made some rather cogent critiques of a world we now call our own. It is that critique I have presented here, seeking always to contextualize and explain, so that the critique assumed a certain degree of naturalness and believability. Whereas

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Awaiting the Millennium

Willson sought to wrap his arguments in sacred authority, I am doing the same with academic authority. This book is but one possible interpretation among many. The truth or falsity of moral critiques, however, does not stand or fall on empirical facts. A reader of this book must take that critique seriously. The practical solutions to the problems of the Children of Peace outlined here may ultimately have failed, but Willson's ideas and actions push us to examine our own values, our own surety. We, no less than Willson, are awaiting the millennium.

APPENDIX 1

Active Members of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting

The members of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting listed here served on one or more committees, at least one of them within the year preceding the separation of the Children of Peace. Also listed are their Preparative Meeting (or Meeting for Worship), the number of committees to which they had been appointed, and other offices in which they might have served. Those whose names are preceded by an asterisk joined the Children of Peace. For married couples, the surname and meeting are listed once. Name

Meeting

'Armitage, Amos *- Martha Bonnell, Margaret Brown, Nicholas Burr, Reubin "Chapman, Charles *- Elizabeth Collins, Elijah Collins, Joseph - Amy 'Dennis, Enos *- Sarah1 *Doan, Ebenezer, Jr * - Elizabeth2 *Doan, John '- Elizabeth 'Doan, Mahlon

Yonge St unknown Pickering Whitchurch Uxbridge

No. of committees 71 54 6

elder, clerk overseer, elder

2 24

39 12

Uxbridge Uxbridge

Offices ever held

overseer, clerk

2

3

overseer

2

Yonge St

1O

asst clerk

15

Yonge St Yonge St Yonge St

6 4 37 4 9

asst clerk overseer asst clerk clerk

212

Appendix 1

Name

Meeting

No. of committees

Offices ever held

Doan, William *Doan, Mary Dunham, John - Phebe Dunham, Patience Griffin, Obadiah Hambleton, Abigail Hazard, Lydia Hilborn, Thomas Hollingshead, Isaac 'Hughes, Amos '- Rebecca "Hughes, Elenor Hughes, James Hughes, Levi 'Hughes, Samuel Linville, Thomas

Yonge St. Yonge St Queen St.

27 24 9

overseer overseer overseer

- Martha 'Lundy, Israel •- RacheP Lundy, Samuel - Sarah Lundy, William - Agness 'McLeod, Murdoch Pearson, Nathaniel - Ann Pearson, Mary Pearson, Susannah Penrose, Isaac - Rachel Penrose, Rachel (wife of Robert) Phillips, Isaac - Edith Phillips, Elizabeth

12

Queen St Yonge St unknown unknown Uxbridge Yonge St Yonge St Yonge St Uxbridge Queen St. Yonge St Yonge St Queen St. Whitchurch

4 6 6 i 4 14 19 8 35 5 5 33 49 4 24 15

Yonge St unknown unknown unknown Yonge St Yonge St Yonge St Yonge St

clerk, asst clerk, treasurer overseer overseer

21 2O

Whitchurch

overseer clerk elder, treasurer overseer

3 4 M 32 10 3 16 5 7

overseer overseer clerk, asst clerk clerk, asst clerk clerk, asst clerk treasurer

2

66 39 i

overseer, elder overseer

213

Active Members Name

Meeting

No. of committees

Playter, Watson Powell, Lewis •Reid, William Rogers, Asa Rogers, Timothy Starr, James - Sarah Tool, Aaron - Rachel Tool, Ann Varney, James Vernon, Gideon - Phebe Wasley, Francis Webb, Isaac Webster, Joseph - Martha Widdifield, Henry - Phebe Widdifield, Martha Wiggins, Isaac 'Willson, David *- Phebe Willson, Christiana Winn, Jacob, Jr - Ruth Winn, Phebe

Whitchurch Whitchurch Queen St Yonge St Pickering Whitchurch

5 14 14 36 9 30 13

Whitchurch

Offices ever held

overseer overseer

2 2

Whitchurch Whitchurch Whitchurch

1 11 2 14

Whitchurch Yonge St Whitchurch Whitchurch Whitchurch unknown Queen St unknown Yonge St

11 15 10

4 16 15 16 34 54 14 i

overseer overseer overseer overseer minister elder overseer overseer

2 2

overseer, elder, clerk 1 There are two Sarah Dennises listed in the minutes: one the mother of Enos, the other his wife. The total number of committees the two were assigned was 15. Here these are assigned, perhaps in error, to Enos's wife, since after her disownment, 'Sarah Dennis' participated in few other committees. 2 There are two Elizabeth Doans - one the wife of Ebenezer Doan, the other the wife of John Doan - who participated in a total of 4 committees. Both Elizabeth Doans were disowned for joining the Children of Peace. 3 There are two Rachel Lundys - one in Whitchurch and one in Queen Street - who participated in a total of 17 committees. Most of the business related to Queen Street, and hence committee participation was assigned here to the latter Rachel Lundy. The number is probably too high. Yonge St

30

APPENDIX 2

Disownments from the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting

Listed here are the dates on which each member of the Children of Peace was initially 'disciplined' for having joined Willson (usually several months after the fact) and then 'disowned.' Also included is the date of readmission for those Children of Peace who later rejoined the Quakers. Data were compiled from CYMA 0-11-6. Name

Disciplined

Disowned

William Reid David Willson John J. Willson Israel Lundy Phebe Willson Rachel Lundy John Doan Amos Armitage, Jr Samuel Hughes Murdoch McLeod Amos Armitage, Sr Amos Hughes Enos Dennis Elenor Hughes Mary Doan Martha Armitage Ebenezer Doan Jr Rebecca Hughes Elizabeth Doan (wife of John)

16/7/1812 13/8/1812 13/8/1812 13/8/1812 13/8/1812 13/8/1812

12/11/1812 15/10/1812 15/10/1812 15/10/1812 12/11/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812

15/10/1812 15/10/1812 15/10/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812 17/12/1812

18/2/1813 18/2/1813 18/2/1813

18/2/1812 18/3/1813

Readmitted

12/12/1816

15/4/1813 15/4/1813 15/4/1813

18/2/1813 18/3/1813 13/5/1813 13/5/1813 13/5/1813

13/6/1816

215

Disownments Name

Disciplined

Disowned

Sarah Dennis Mahlon Doan Mary Reid Sarah Hughes Elizabeth Doan (wife of Ebenezer) Mary Armitage Stephen Chapman Charles Chapman Sr Elizabeth Chapmen Susanah Haines Rebecca Doan Grace Chapman Eleanor Armitage George Hollingshead1 Charles Chapman Jr William Webster Merium Webster

18/2/1813 15/4/1813 13/5/1813 15/7/1813 15/7/1813

13/5/1813 17/6/1813 12/8/1813 16/9/1813 16/9/1813

15/7/1813 12/8/1813 16/12/1813 16/12/1813 16/12/1813 17/2/1814 17/2/1814 17/2/1814 16/6/1814 14/7/1814 16/1/1817 17/4/1817

14/10/1813 14/10/1813 17/2/1814 16/6/1814 16/6/1814 12/5/1814 12/5/1814 16/6/1814 14/7/1814 15/9/1814 17/4/1817 15/5/1817

Readmitted

17/10/1816 18/7/1816

i George Hollingshead was not disowned for having joined the Children of Peace, but for similar theological reasons. His name later appears in the list of 'Builders of the Temple.'

APPENDIX 3

The 'Builders of the Temple'

This appendix provides genealogical information about those members of the Children of Peace who contributed time or money to the construction of the temple. These members, named in one of the few membership lists produced by the sect, are listed in the following pages with their names in bold type. Several other conventions are used throughout this appendix. It is arranged in five sections, one for each of the major family groups that made up the membership of the sect - the Doans, the Willsons, the Hughes/Chapmans - and one for related families and another for those about whom little is known. Each of the first three sections begins with a family tree showing the genealogical relationships between the families discussed therein. Heads of families (as defined by the context of this work) are accorded roman numerals. Their children are listed chronologically (with arabic numerals), by birth, as are their grandchildren (with letter designations). The large amount of genealogical information condensed in these pages was derived from published (and unpublished) genealogies, cemetery records, the records of the Society of Friends (kept at Pickering College, Newmarket), as well as the records of the Children of Peace themselves. The sources are too numerous to cite here. Every attempt has been made to ensure the accuracy of the information provided; however, errors of transcription may have crept in, and it must also be noted that, in some cases, data provided in either published or unpublished genealogies could not be independently verified.

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217

The Doan Family Ebenezer Doan, Sr = Anna Savilla Sloy Martha = Amos Armitage

John = Elizabeth Stockdale

Mahlon = Rebecca Hartley

Ebenezer Jr = Elizabeth Paxson

1 Mary

Martha Doan and Amos Armitage were members of the Children of Peace for a short time (1812-16), but had returned to the Society of Friends by the time the temple was constructed. Mary Doan married Samuel Hughes (see below) shortly before her death. i John Doan was born in Bucks County, Pa., 3 Oct. 1768, son of Ebenezer Doan, Sr, and Anna Savilla Sloy (Quakers). John's eldest brother, Jonathan, was one of the most famous brothers in the mid-Atlantic states, and both John and his younger brother, Ebenezer, served a seven-year apprenticeship under him. John married 15 Oct. 1794, in the Buckingham Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends (Quakers), in Bucks County, Elizabeth Stockdale, b. 18 July 1773, daughter of Joseph and Elizabeth (Smith) Stockdale. They emigrated to Yonge Street (lot 94, concession i, King Township) in 1807, where John took an important role in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, becoming first an overseer, then the clerk of the meeting. John helped supervise the construction of the Yonge Street MeetingHouse (which still stands, almost unaltered) in 1810. He later restricted himself primarily to cabinet-making; it was he who completed the 'ark' that stands in the centre of the Sharon Temple. They joined the Children of Peace in 1812, and moved to Sharon (lot 9, concession 3, East Gwillimbury) in 1818. Elizabeth died in 1843. J°hn died, in Sharon, 18 Nov. 1852. Children: 1 Sarah, b. 19 Mar. 1797, d. i Aug. 1798 2 Joseph, b. 10 Aug. 1799, d. 9 Aug. 1851. Married, in Sharon, 8 Apr. 1827 Susannah King, b. 1810, d. 1894 (see below). Susannah then married William Pegg Phillips, b. 1819, d. 1908. Children. a Eli, b. 4 May 1828. Married Josephine Reid, daughter of John and Sarah Willson Reid (see below). He died in San Joaquin, Cal. b Jane, b. 9 Apr. 1830, d. 18 July 1859 c Paulina, b. 15 May 1832. Married? Proctor after 1851 d Elizabeth, b. 11 Jan. 1834. Married Jacob Atkinson. Child: Susannah, b. 1853, d - ! Mar- l854 e Isabella, b. 13 Jan. 1837. Married Eli Armitage

218

Appendix 3

3 John, b. 11 Jan. 1802, d. 5 May 1862 in Sharon; unmarried 4 Anna Sevilla, b. 26 Jan 1806 in Bucks County, Pa. Married 8 Apr. 1827 Benjamin Dunham, b. 22 Aug. 1802 in East Gwillimbury of William and Mary Willson Dunham (see below, under Willson). They lived on lot 8, concession 2, East Gwillimbury. He died 4 Dec. 1883, Anna 4 June 1894, in Sharon. Anna was one of the last members of the Children of Peace when it ceased to exist in 1889. Child: a Emily, b. 28 May 1837. Married 20 Sept. 1855 Charles McArthur, who operated a marble- and stone-cutting business in Sharon. Emily wrote a short history of the Children of Peace. Children-. Annie, b. 1857, d. 22 Jan. 1876; William Benjamin, d. 2 Sept. 1865; Charles, b. June 1864, d. 14 Sept. 1869 5 Charles, b. 6 Nov. 1808 on lot 94, King Township, Yonge Street; d. 18 June 1895, in Aurora. Married 24 Oct. 1831, in Sharon, Mary Willson, youngest daughter of David and Phoebe Titus Willson (see below), b. 24 Oct. 1814, d. 6 Sept. 1848, in childbirth. Charles was a shopkeeper in Sharon and later Aurora, where he eventually became postmaster. After the death of Mary Willson, David (her father) felt God had called him to raise her last child as his own, a move resented by Charles Doan, who then moved to Aurora. David then married Catherine Eliza Willson, b. 3 Nov. 1809 in East Gwillimbury, daughter of John J. (David Willson's brother) and Mary Willson of Poughkeepsie, NY. Children (of Mary): a David Willson, b. 18 Apr. 1836, d. 18 Aug. 1837 b David Willson, b. 31 Jan. 1838, d. 25 May 1892. Married 23 Apr. 1858 Emily Babcock, and had four children: Sarah Emily, Mary Eliza, Florence Emily, and Clara Lilian. Emily died Oct. 1872. He then married 16 July 1875 Sarah Hammill, of Nevada. Children by this marriage were Charles Clare and Ethel Winifred (twins), and Mary Grace Lenora. D.W. Doan operated a grocery and drug store in Aurora until 1879, when he sold the drug store. He was appointed postmaster of Aurora in 1882. c Eliza Terry, b. 19 Sept. 1839, d. 11 Feb. 1861. Never married d Mary Elizabeth, b. 14 Sept. 1843, d. 9 Oct. 1869. She married 7 Sept. 1867 Dr Harry Edward Vaux e Charles Henry, b. 18 Apr. 1846, d. 16 Apr. 1887, in Kansas City. Married Jesse Boyd f John J. Willson, b. 17 Aug. 1848, d. 26 Sept. 1849 6 Elizabeth, b. 30 Oct. 1811, d. 25 Nov. 1866. Married William Graham of Sharon, b. 1808, d. 16 Apr. 1888, son of William and Hester Reid Graham (see below) 7 Jesse, b. 15 Sept. 1814 on Yonge Street. Married 31 Dec. 1834 Wait Ann

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219

Brooks, b. 1818, d. 27 Feb. 1878. They lived on lot 9, concession 3. For thirty years he was leader of the Sharon Band. He served as deputy reeve of East Gwillimbury in 1863, and was elected reeve in 1868. Jesse d. 23 Dec. 1868. Children: a Sarah Ann, b. 15 Nov. 1835. Married Rowland Willson, son of John H. and Rebecca Burr Willson (see below), b. 1829, d. 28 June 1863. Then married 27 Oct. 1869 E. Lewis b Anna Sevilla, b. 30 Aug. 1838. Married 22 Aug. 1864 J.H. Johnson c George Monroe, b. 18 May 1839. Married i Jan. 1862 Charlotte Willson, daughter of John H. and Rebecca Burr Willson (see below). They moved to Stoney Beach, Sask. Their child, George R., married 24 Nov. 1888 Honora Elizabeth Kavanagh, daughter of John H. and Elizabeth Ryan Kavanagh (see below). They also moved to Stoney Beach, d Mary, b. 10 Dec. 1842. Married 22 Jan. 1862 Ebenezer Doan Haines, b. 4 May 1840, son of Israel and Sarah Elizabeth Doan Haines (see below) e Elizabeth, b. 12 Dec. 1849. Married 9 May 1867 J. Wayling f Jerusha, b. 22 May 1851. Married 9 Oct. 1872 David W. Hughes, son of Job and Elizabeth Thorpe (see below) g Jesse, b. 24 Dec. 1853. Married 15 Oct. 1873 C.E. Roadhouse. He took over the store of David Hughes (his brother-in-law) in Sharon in the late 18705. h Paulina, b. 20 Dec. 1857. Married 20 Oct. 1875 A.A. Evans ii Mahlon Doan was born in Bucks County Pa., 20 Aug. 1770, son of Ebenezer Doan, Sr, and Anna Savilla Sloy. He married 10 June 1795 Rebecca Hartley, daughter of Roger and Rebecca Aspden Hartley of Buckingham. She was born 13 Aug. 1773. Mahlon apprenticed for seven years in the trade of carriage making. They emigrated to Yonge Street in 1808 with his brothers and sisters. They joined the Children of Peace in 1813 and settled in Sharon on lot 11, concession 2. Many of Mahlon's children appeared to have left the Children of Peace at an early date, moving to Bond Head and becoming Anglicans. Mahlon Doan died 20 Feb. 1852. Rebecca Hartley Doan died 5 Sept. 1852. Children-. 1 Anna Savilla, b. 4 Feb 1796. Married William Phillips, b. 20 Mar. 1791 of Phillip and Rachel Pegg Phillips (Yonge Street Quakers). Anna was disowned by the Quakers 15 July 1813 for this marriage. William died 1863; Anna died 1883. Both are buried in the King City Cemetery. They were not members of the sect. 2 James Hartley, b. 3 Oct 1797 in Bucks County. Married Susannah Kinsey, b. 2 Feb. 1804 of James and Mary Hunt Kinsey (Yonge Street Quakers).

220

3

4

5

6 7

8

Appendix 3

She was disowned 15 May 1823 for marrying out of the Society of Friends. James died 18 Dec. 1841, and is buried in Christ Church Anglican Cemetery near Bradford. They were not members of the Children of Peace. They had ten children, only one of whom - Mary, b. 1834, d. 7 Nov. 1910 - married within the sect, 9 Jan. 1856 Lambert Willson, son of Hiram and Caroline McLeod Willson (see below). Children-. Norman, Susan, Eileen, Hubert Agnes, b. 6 Oct. 1799, was disowned by the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends 18 Apr. 1818 for marrying ? Haight. They were not members of the Children of Peace. Jonathan, b. 7 Sept. 1801 in Solebury, Pa. Married Matilda Hartley, a first cousin, born c. 1804, and moved to Bond Head, lot 3, concession 7, West Gwillinbury until 1837. He then moved to lot 21, concession 3, East Gwillimbury, 'Castle Hill.' He died 6 Apr. 1871. Matilda died in 1863. They were not members of the Children of Peace. Both are buried in the Queensville Cemetery. They had seven children. Rebecca, b. 3 June 1804, d. 1874. She married John V. Willson, son of William W. and Hannah Vernon Willson, b. 1800, d. 24 July 1864 (see below). He was a skilled tinsmith. They remained members of the Children of Peace until after 1851. Children-. a Sally, b. 1840 b. Elizabeth, b. 1843 c Amelia, b. 1844 d Janet Rebecca, b. 1846, d. 11 Sept. 1910. Married 1865 Samuel E. Home, publisher of the Aurora Banner, later of the Markbam Economist. He was born 1838 and died 7 Feb. 1904. Elizabeth Baldwin, b. 19 July 1806 Enos, married Harriet Chapman, daughter of Stephen and Grace Chapman about 1834 (see below). He died in Stevens Point, Wise., 9 Nov. 1888. Children. a Alsalm b Seth Chapman, b. Sharon 31 Aug. 1842. He married Hannah C. Hurst, born Collingwood, Ont., in Crookston, Minn., 8 Mar. 1884. c Edward, moved to Benton Harbor, Mich. Married ? McDermott d Elizabeth e Judah, b. 1845, d. 3 Mar. 1854 Martha, b. 23 May 1809, Yonge Street. She married William McLeod, son of Murdoch and Rachel Terry McLeod (see below). Although William inherited a farm from his father - lot 11, concession 2, East Gwillimbury - he sold out and moved to the United States after 1851.

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221

Children: a Elizabeth, b. c. 1836 b Hugh, b. c. 1837 c Isabella, b. c. 1839 d Catherine, b. c. 1841 e Donald, b. 1842, d. 11 Dec. 1849 f Murdoch, b. c. 1846 g Alexander William, b. c. 1848 9 Mahlon, b. 29 May 1811, d. 28 July 1811 10 Judah, b. 1814, d. 1872 on a visit to Onawa City, la., during a visit to his daughter Isabella (he is buried in the Newmarket Cemetery). He married Joanna Belfry, b. 1813, d. 19 Aug. 1896. They lived on lot 11, concession 2. They remained Children of Peace until after 1851, when they became Wesleyan Methodists. Children. a Isabella, b. 18 May 1844, d. 19 July 1919. Married a Mr Anderson of Iowa, but returned to Canada before her death b James Hartley, b. 10 Nov. 1845, in Sharon; d. 14 Feb. 1877 and is buried in Newmarket Cemetery. Married 15 Mar. 1872 Rachel Willis, b. 14 Nov. 1849 in Toronto, d. 26 Feb. 1893. Children-. Freemont Walton, b. 1874; Cora Maud, b. 1872; James Melville, b. 1876 c Thomas, b. 1848, d. 6 Nov. 1919. Married Rebecca Graham, daughter of Jeremiah and Jane Burr Graham (see below), b. 1850 on lot 15, concession 2, East Gwillimbury. They then farmed lot 16, concession 3. Children. Seymour, b. 1873; Milton Everest, b. 1891 d Agnes e Martha f Joanna HI Ebenezer Doan, Jr, was born 9 Sept. 1772 in Bucks County, Pa. As noted above, he and his brother John apprenticed with their older brother Jonathan to become master builders. Ebenezer first moved to Georgia to make money to buy a farm. There he met and married Sabra Frey, daughter of John Newton and Catherine Frey, i July 1795, in Savannah. She died 11 July 1796. He then married Elizabeth Paxson, born 10 Oct. 1783 Solebury, Bucks County, daughter of Abraham and Elizabeth Brown Paxson. They moved to Yonge Street in 1808, and joined the Children of Peace in 1813. In 1818 they moved to lot 13, concession 3, East Gwillimbury, where they remained for the rest of their lives. Ebenezer was the master builder of the Sharon Temple, and probably the second meeting-house as well. Ebenezer (but not the rest of the family) resigned from the Children

222

Appendix 3

of Peace on 25 Apr. 1840, and is later listed in the census as a Quaker. Elizabeth also became a Quaker sometime between 1851 and 1861. Ebenezer died 3 Feb. 1866. Elizabeth Doan died 19 Feb. 1874 in tne home of her son Abraham. See chapters i and 5 for more extensive information on this family. Children-. 1 Abraham, b. 9 Nov. 1802, in Bucks County, Pa.; d. 20 Dec. 1892 in Queensville. He was a farmer, lot 14, concession 3. He married 12 July 1827 Elizabeth Reid, daughter of William and Mary Willson Reid, b. 1808, d. 1893 (see below). By 1881, they had become Presbyterians. Children. a Lemuel, b. 12 Aug. 1828. Never married. He was a tanner, later a farmer. b Charlotte, b. 5 Feb. 1831, d. 1911. It was probably she who married Ephraim Traviss, b. c. 1830, a Christian. She remained a member of the Children of Peace until after 1861. He worked as a farmer until 1879, when he became a well-digger and pump maker. They moved to Orillia after 1882, although their son George remained in Holt, working as a carpenter. Children: George A., b. c. 1859; Mariah, b. c. 1860; Maria Jane, b. c. 1862; Frederick W., b. c. 1866; Edward S., b. c. 1871 c Henry Carver, b. 26 July 1834. Married Caroline Rout. Both died in a cholera epidemic in Queensville in the early 18705. d Albert Charles, b. 13 Mar. 1837. A carpenter, he emigrated to California after 1861. He was a Presbyterian by that time. e Martha, b. 14 Jan. 1845 f William Alexander, b. 22 Feb. 1853, d. 5 May 1922. He married Maria J. Crittenden, b. 1851, d. 21 Feb. 1946. 2 Elias, b. 6 May 1805, in Bucks County, Pa.; d. 30 Oct. 1885. He married in 1829 Waite Ann Willson, daughter of Hugh L. and Mary Titus Willson, b. 1811, d. 3 Sept. 1898 (see below). At one time or another, he was a farmer, merchant, tanner, and shoemaker. Elias was a well-known member of the Children of Peace Band. The entire family quit the Children of Peace after 1851; Elias became a Quaker, Waite Ann a Christian, and their children joined the Church of England. Both parents are buried in the Newmarket Cemetery. Children-. a Esther Ann, b. 4 Sept. 1830, d. 2 Feb. 1905; unmarried b Austin Titus, b. 4 May 1833, d. 20 Oct. 1906. In 1855, he moved (with Eli Doan and Rodney Willson) to California, but he returned to Sharon in 1868. He practised as a dentist until 1888. He married 20 Oct. 1868 Louise A. McCarty, daughter of Ransalar McCarty of East Gwillimbury. She died 21 Aug. 1871. He then married Maria McCarter,

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223

sister of Louise, on 9 Oct 1872; she died 21 Oct. 1894. He died 20 Jan. 1906 in Sharon. Austin farmed on his father's homestead, lot 12, concession 3, East Gwillimbury. c Frances Phillips, b. 30 Nov. 1836, d. 3 June 1897; unmarried d Caroline, b. i Nov. 1839, d. 17 Aug. 1880. Married 16 Aug. 1865 Thomas S. Moore, in Niagara Falls. He was born 15 Sept. 1838, died 9 Mar. 1916 e Mary Elizabeth, b. i Feb. 1843 f Sarah Haines, b. 7 Jan. 1844 g Daniel Moore, b. 20 Oct. 1846, d. 22 Oct. 1880. He married Anne Hefferman, b. in Boston 28 July 1856, d. 29 Oct. 1831. Daniel emigrated to San Joaquin, Cal., at age eighteen, h Lena Maria, b. 10 Feb. 1850 Mary Elizabeth, Sarah Haines, and Lena Maria are recorded (in the obituary of Austin) as Mrs Patterson of Bruce County, Mrs Woodstock of Mt Albert, and Mrs Thompson of Port Arthur, although it is not known which is which. 3 Oliver, b. 20 July 1897, in Bucks County, Pa.; d. 18 Nov. 1880 in Sharon. Married 1837 Ann Coburn Birmingham, b. 1818, d. 27 June 1870. They farmed lot 13, concession 3. Children. a Hannah Lundy, b. 3 July 1838. Married Calvin Moore. They lived in St Lewis, Mich. b Edward B., b. 21 Jan. 1840. Moved to California c Howard P., b. 18 May 1841, d. 7 Nov. 1924 in Stockton, Cal. d Ebenezer D., b. 22 Oct. 1842. Moved to California e Margaret B., b. 15 July 1844. Married ? Ritcher and moved to Michigan f Mary (Sabrey?) Eliza, b. 18 May 1846 g Elizabeth P., b. 31 Dec. 1850. Married Edward Hammond and lived in California h Olive Ann, b. 29 Feb. 1852. Married Harry Wood and moved to Winnipeg 4 Ira, b. 23 Jan. 1810, on Yonge Street. He married in Sharon 1833 Elizabeth Haines, daughter of Samuel and Susannah Chapman Haines (see below), b. 15 Oct. 1812. They farmed lot 14, concession 2. Ira died 11 Mar. 1872. Elizabeth died 8 Apr. 1898. Children-. a Ezra Haines, b. 31 Jan. 1835, d. 3 Mar. 1872. Married 15 Sept. 1858 Rachel L. Hughes, daughter of Job and Elizabeth Hughes, b. 27 Oct. 1838, d. 25 Jan. 1923 (see below). See the 'Diary of Ezra Doan, 1871,' The York Pioneer, 1966. Children-. Ellen Elizabeth; Florence Mary; Rachel R.; Emma; Ezra J., b. 2 July 1869, a bookkeeper in Toledo

224

Appendix 3

b Robert Willson, b. 14 July 1839, d. 8 July 1926. Married 3 Aug. 1865 Elizabeth Evans, b. 15 June 1845 in East Gwillimbury of David and Jane Arbuthnott Evans. She died 21 Sept. 1932. Robert worked as a schoolteacher in East Gwillimbury until 1869, when he moved to Toronto, where he eventually became a principal. Children. Ira Ross, b. 7 June 1866, d. 13 Mar. 1873; Robert Arthur, b. 13 Dec. 1873, d. 11 Dec. 1877; Jeannie Arbuthnott, b. 3 Aug. 1879 5 Hannah b. 18 Apr. 1812, Yonge Street. She married 28 Dec. 1833 Jacob Lundy, son of Israel and Rachel Hughes Lundy (see below), b. 24 Feb. 1809. Jacob took part in the first skirmish in the Rebellion of 1837, and was taken prisoner at the Gallows Hill ambush. He was later reprieved by the lieutenant-governor. He died 5 June 1878 in Sharon. Hannah died 6 Feb. 1901 in Sharon, twenty-eight years after having been struck by rheumatic fever; she was unable to walk. Children-. a Oliver, b. 15 Nov. 1834, d. 1877. Married 3 Oct. 1857 Mary Susannah Haines, daughter of Aaron and Honor Woodman Haines (see below), d. 1888. They became members of the Christian Church by 1871. Children. George Woodman, b. 19 Oct. 1858; Robert Doane, b. 27 Sept. 1861; Olive Mary, b. 14 May 1886; Ira Doane, b. 8 Aug. 1867, d. 1958; Frederick Charles, b. i Nov. 1868; Aaron Linton, b. 10 Jan. 1869; Jacob Ellis, b. 6 Apr. 1871 b Elizabeth Paxson, b. i July 1837. Married 24 Sept. 1868 Henry G. Thorpe, b. 15 Aug. 1833 of George and Margaret Selby Thorpe, d. 7 Apr. 1880. They had two children: Evangeline, b. 6 Oct. 1869; Jacob Albert, b. 7 Oct. 1874. c Rachel, b. 7 May 1842, d. 18 Jan. 1922; unmarried d Charles Ezra, b. 11 July 1846, d. 3 Jan. 1919. He was a county councillor, and had played in the Sharon Band. Married 12 Sept. 1877 Martha C. Kelley, born in Peel County 1857, d. 29 Dec. 1918. He was still a member of the Children of Peace in 1881, although his wife is recorded as a Quaker. They moved to Newmarket in 1908. Children. Clara Seville, b. 14 Oct. 1878; Charles Jacob, b. 20 June 1881; Laura Estelle, b. 11 Jan. 1884; Annie Alice, b. 30 Jan. 1886; Frances Winn, b. 22 July 1888; Mary Dorothy, b. 9 Feb. 1894. e Sarah Doane, b. 20 June 1850. Married 26 May 1876 William Henry Daly, son of Luke Maxwell and Margaret J. Hall Daly. They lived in Holland Landing, and had six children. 6 Sarah, b. 10 Sept. 1815, Yonge Street; d. 6 Feb. 1903, in Aurora. She married 12 Mar. 1836 Israel Haines, son of Samuel and Susannah

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225

Chapman Haines (see below). He was born 20 July 1815 in Uxbridge, died 25 Oct. 1891 in Sharon. They lived on lot 4, concession 2, East Gwillimbury. By 1861, they had joined the Christian Church, although Israel became a Quaker for a short time. Children-. a Sabrey, b. 19 Dec. 1837, d. 4 Jan. 1859. Married James Lundy, son of Reuben and Mary Ann Armstrong Lundy (see below), b. 19 Dec. 1837, d. 10 Sept. 1864. Child: Joseph, b. c. 1860 b Hannah (twin sister), b. 19 Dec. 1837. Married Adam Borngasser, a pedlar. They remained members of the Children of Peace. She died 24 Apr. 1867. He then moved to Vancouver, BC c Ebenezer Doan, b. 4 May 1840. Married Mary Doan, daughter of Jesse and Wait Ann Brookes Doan (see above). They became Quakers, living on lot 9, concession 3. Children-. Jesse, b. c. 1863; Florence, b. c. 1865; Hannah O., b. c. 1868; MaryJ., b. c. 1870 d Jesse, b. 19 Nov. 1842, d. 17 Dec. 1843 e Aaron Bruce, b. 27 Sept. 1846, d. 1933. Married Eliza Usherwood f Sarah Elizabeth, b. 9 May 1848. Married Nessfield Thirsk g Charles Henry, b. 29 July 1851, d. 9 Dec. 1929 in Sharon. Married 5 Jan. 1876 Mercy Jane Willson, b. 8 Apr. 1852 in Pickering, d. 9 June 1925 in Sharon. Child: Walter, b. c. 1880, d. 1967 h Austin D., b. 19 June 1855, d. 1930. Married Edith Campbell, and had two sons: William, b. c. 1878, and Herbert, b. c. 1880. He then married Myra Fitz, and, lastly, Edith Taylor. 7 David, b. 30 Sept. 1820, in East Gwillimbury. He married i Sept. 1860 Sarah Quibell, who died 1874. He appears to have left the Children of Peace after his marriage. She was a member of the Church of England. By 1881, he had married Jane Anderson, b. c. 1839, d. 1900. She was a Presbyterian. In his later years, David alternated membership in the Children of Peace and the Quakers. He remained on his father's farm until his death, 5 Feb. 1899. Children. a Lucy Ann, b. 13 Mar. 1863, d. 1921 b William E., 16 Jan. 1866, d. 1952 c Edwin, b. 7 Oct. 1868 d Chauncey, b. 12 Feb. 1871, d. 1949

226

Appendix 3

The Willson Family Hugh Willson Linen Merchant County of Antrim Ireland Hugh Wfflson Mary William Bdd

Hugh L • Mary Titus

John - Catherine

Lady Sarah Savage

William H. Hannah Vernon

David Phebe Titus

Elizabeth John Mortis

John J. ?

Mary William Dunham

Anne Robert Briggs

i Hugh L. Willson was born 1768 in County Down, Ireland, son of John Willson and his first wife (who died shortly after his birth). Between 1768 and 1775 John Willson emigrated to America, and Hugh was left in the care of his uncle Hugh Willson until the entire family left for America in 1775. On the death of John Willson (1794/5?), Hugh L. Willson took over the rented family farm near Poughkeepsie, NY. In 1790 he married Mary Titus, eldest daughter of Israel Titus, a Quaker minister and blacksmith, and Waite Giddley, a 'Dutch' woman. In 1798 Hugh moved to New York City, where he purchased a share in the sloop The Farmer, which ran between New York and the West Indies, 'where he had been several times before while on the farm, as it was a good market for much of their produce, such as flour, pork, horses &c.' In the spring of 1800, he sold his share in The Farmer, and moved to Upper Canada, first settling about four miles from Kingston, where he 'worked on Mr. Ferris's farm for two summers and taught school in the neighbourhood in the winters. In the spring of 1803, we moved upon Wolfe Island.' In 1810, the family again moved, this time to East Gwillimbury, 'leas[ing] the farm opposite the Temple in Sharon.' In 1815, the family moved to 'the farm on the east side of Yonge Street known as No. i opposite Montgomery's Tavern' (in Toronto), no doubt to be closer to Hugh Willson's stepmother, Catherine, who had remarried to the unrelated Squire John Willson of Thornhill. They remained there three to four years before returning to East Gwillimbury, where

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Hugh died 3 Jan. 1828. Mary Titus Willson lived until 3 June 1857. They are both buried in the Sharon Cemetery. (For more details, see Reminiscences of Richard Titus Willson, Newmarket Historical Society Occasional Papers, Vol. i, no. i.) Children. 1 John Hugh, b. 10 July 1791, d. 29 Dec. 1863. He married Dec. 1821 Rebecca Burr, daughter of Reuben and Elizabeth Cleaver Burr (Quakers), b. 3 Aug. 1802, d. 5 March 1874. They were members of the Children of Peace for only a short time, although two of their children married into the sect. Children-. Jane, b. 1825; Rowland, b. 1829, d. 28 June 1863, who married Sarah Ann Doan, daughter of Jesse and Wait Ann Brooks Doan (see above); May, b. 1831; Rodney, b. 1833, married ? McCarty; Reuben, b. 1835; Franklin, b. 16 June 1837, d. 5 July 1839; Charlotte, b. 1838, who married George M. Doan, son of Jesse Doan and Wait Ann Brooks (see above), and moved west; Stephen, b. 1842; John Albert, b. 1844 2 Richard Titus, b. 5 Apr. 1793, d. 18 Apr. 1878. Married Aug. 1814 Eleanor Ernes, daughter of Calvin and Martha Drury Ernes of Georgina Township. See the Reminiscences noted above for further details. He was a member of the Children of Peace for only a short time. They had thirteen children. 3 James Harvey married a sister of the Hon. Benjamin Seymour of Kingston. They moved to the United States in 1832. Never a member of the Children of Peace 4 Catherine, b. 1795. Married a Mr Phelps. Never a member of the Children of Peace 5 Alfred, b. 1810. Never a member of the Children of Peace 6 Hiram R., b. Jan. 1800, d. 30 Aug. 1876. He married in 1823 Caroline P. McLeod, daughter of Murdoch and Rachel Terry McLeod (see below), b. 13 Feb. 1803, d. 1884. She was disowned by the Quakers 12 Feb. 1824 for marrying outside of the Society of Friends. Both are buried in St Peter's Anglican Cemetery, Churchill, Ont. Children-. a James Wellington, b. 27 Oct. 1824, d. 8 July 1917. Married 28 Feb. 1849 Johanna Gleason, daughter of Ira and Joanne Hill Gleason, b. 7 Oct. 1830, d. 24 Feb. 1916 b Lambert, b. 17 Apr. 1828, d. 24 Apr. 1902. Married Mary Doan, daughter of James H. and Susannah Kinsey Doan (see above) c Louisa, b. 8 Nov. 1831. Married Daniel Ambrose Lundy, b. 1827, son of Enos and Margaret Bostwick Lundy d Martha, b. 1835. Married James Clement of Churchill, b. 25 June 1830, d. 27 Aug. 1894

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e Mary Catherine, b. 1839, d. 20 July 1924. Married 19 Dec. 1866 Richard Rogerson of Simcoe County, b. 1838, 15 July 1927 f Franklin, d. in infancy g Isabella, d. in infancy 7 Waite, Ann, b. 1811, d. 3 Sept. 1898. Married Elias Doan, son of Ebenezer and Elizabeth Paxson Doan (see above) 8 Hugh Henry, b. 1803, d. 22 Aug. 1871. Married Sarah Ann Willson, d. 1887, daughter of James Willson. He later became a minister of the Canada Christian Conference. They remained members of the Children of Peace for only a short period. Children. John, Leonard, Hannah, Charlotte, and Chatherine. 9 Louisa, married Elias Jones. Never a member of the Children of Peace ii David Willson was born in 7 June 1778 in the Nine Partners' Grant, Dutchess County, NY, approximately twelve miles east of Poughkeepsie. He was the second son of John Willson and the first of his second wife, Catherine, 'poor but pious Presbyterians.' Left fatherless at age fourteen, he remained on the family farm, perhaps apprenticed to a carpenter, as he was 'inclined to mechanical business in joining timber one part unto another.' Sometime before 1797 he married Phebe Titus, daughter of Israel Titus; her sister had married David's brother Hugh L. Willson (see above). Phebe was born 18 Oct. 1777, a birthright member of the Society of Friends, and was disowned by the Creek Monthly Meeting 17 Sept. 1794 for 'going out from plainess and keeping company with one not of our society,' presumably Willson. In 1798, David appears to have joined his brothers in purchasing shares in the sloop The Farmer, which sailed out of New York harbour for the West Indies. In the spring of 1800 Hugh sold his share in the ship and emigrated to Upper Canada (Ontario), to be followed the next year by David and the rest of the Willson family. David Willson acquired a crown grant in East Gwillimbury, lot 10, concession 2, in 1801, and remained on his farm there until his death in 1866. He joined the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends in 1805, and became increasingly active over the following seven years. In 1811, he began to preach, only to have his ministry rejected by an elder in the Yonge Street Meeting. 'Fleeing controversy,' he opened his own home to Meetings for Worship in 1812, and founded a group that eventually took the name the Children of Peace. They founded the village of Hope (now Sharon). Willson remained the principal minister of the sect until his death 19 Jan. 1866. Phebe Willson died 14 Jan. 1866. They are both buried in the Sharon Cemetery. Children-.

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1 John David, b. 28 Aug. 1797 in New York State. His life was marked by a number of tragedies, including the death of his first two wives in childbirth. On 21 Nov. 1825 he married Sarah Lundy, daughter of Israel and Rachel Hughes Lundy (see below), b. 30 July 1804 in East Gwillimbury, d. 2 Nov. 1826. John then married Hannah Dennis, daughter of Enos and Sarah Hughes Dennis, on 7 Feb. 1830 (see below). Hannah was born in 1810, and died 22 Nov. 1830. Lastly, John married Maria Thorpe, daughter of John Thorpe, Sr, on 27 Mar. 1841. She was born in 1819, and died in 1894. Her sister Elizabeth was married to Job Hughes (see below). John is recorded in the Assessment Rolls as both a farmer and the coroner (after 1841). John played a prominent part in the activities of the Children of Peace Band. In 1845, he is listed as the 'Clerk' of the Monthly Meeting of the Children of Peace, and after the death of his father, John acted as the sect's minister, reading his father's old sermons until his own death on 14 Mar. 1887. He is buried in the Sharon Cemetery. Children. a Job, b. 1829/30. Married 21 Nov. 1858 Maria Graham, daughter of William and Elizabeth Doan Graham, b. 20 Mar. 1834 (see below). They moved to California, where he became a noted (and wealthy) doctor. Children: Mary, b. 22 Dec. 1854, d. 21 Jan. 1862; William, b. 21 July 1864, d. 12 Oct. 1865 b Hannah, b. 5 July 1843, d. 11 Apr. 1907. Married 20 Sept. 1866 Israel Lundy, son of Reuben and Mary Ann Armstrong Lundy (see below) c Phoebe, b. 1845, d. 15 Apr. 1868. Married Charles Graham, son of William (see below). Child: John Herbert d Elizabeth, b. 22 Nov. 1846, d. 2 Oct. 1915. Married John D. Graham (brother of Charles), b. 11 Jan. 1846, d. Oct. 1923 e Absalom, b. 24 Apr. 1849, d. 1939. Married Harriet Stokes, daughter of John T. Stokes (a noted architect), b. 11 June 1852. Absolom inherited the David Willson farm and the Sharon Temple after the Children of Peace ceased to exist; he was one of the last members. His wife and children were members of the Church of England. Children: Emily b. c. 1874; Frank R., b. c. 1876; Georgina, b. c. 1878 2 Israel, b. 5 Dec. 1799 in New York. An oft-repeated myth states that, when David Willson and his family were moving to Ontario, they were shipwrecked during a violent storm on the voyage across Lake Ontario. The Willson family survived only by lashing the two children to their spinning-wheel, which David managed to drag ashore. Israel married Mary Hughes 21 July 1827 in Sharon. Mary was the daughter of Amos

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and Rebecca Chapman Hughes, b. 28 Feb. 1809, d. 6 Aug. 1876. Israel died in 1883. They were members of the Children of Peace until 1871, when they are listed in the census as Quakers. By 1881, a widowed Israel is again listed as a member of the Children of Peace. Children-. a Rebecca, b. 27 Nov. 1829, d. 1889. Married William Malloy, b. c. 1822, d. 1894. The family remained members of the Children of Peace until after 1871. William was a farmer and shoemaker until 1867, when he became a bailiff. The family disappears from township records in 1879. Children-. Mary, b. c. 1849; Israel, b. c. 1851, married Alice ?; Ellen, b. c. 1853; William, b. c. 1857, d. 1896; Catherine C., b. c. 1863 b Amos Hughes, b. 13 May 1835, d. 29 Aug. 1912. He married 16 Oct. 1856 Mary Ann Graham, daughter of William and Elizabeth Doan Graham (see below). He was a 'tobacco pedlar' who later turned to farming. He owned 437 acres of land in the township, c Catherine, b. 8 Apr. 1841, d. Aug. 1935. Married William Dodds d David Lee, b. 1848, d. 1886. Married Eliza Jane Stokes, daughter of John T. Stokes, b. c. 1850. By 1871, he is listed in the census as a Quaker, she as a member of the Church of England. They later became Presbyterians. Children-. Henry T., b. c. 1870; Eva, b. c. 1873; Mary, b. c. 1875; Russell, b. c. 1877 3 Hugh David was said to be the first white child born in East Gwillimbury. He was born 22 Aug. 1802. He married Phebe Willson (his cousin) , daughter of William W. and Hannah Vernon Willson (see below). Hugh played trombone in the Children of Peace Band. For a short time, he was a shopkeeper in Sharon, in partnership with Charles Doan, his brother-in-law, but later took up farming. Hugh and his brother John both participated in the ill-fated Rebellion of 1837 led by William Lyon Mackenzie. As a result, both brothers were jailed for six months. Hugh was township clerk of East Gwillimbury 1845-56. By 1860, the family had moved to Toronto, where Hugh worked as a 'landing waiter,' 'tide waiter,' or 'exciseman.' He retired and returned to Sharon in 1875, where he remained until moving to California in 1889. Children-. a Clinger, b. 1823. Married 15 Feb. 1847 Angelina Harold, b. c. 1828, daughter of Samuel Harold and ? Barber of Newmarket. By 1861, he had moved to Ontario County, but still remained a member of the Children of Peace. Child. Satira, b. c. 1847 b Phebe Ann, b. 1826. Married Robert Brodie, b. c. 1825. He was a Presbyterian, although Phebe and her children remained members of the Children of Peace according to the 1851 census. He is listed in the census as, alternately, an architect, carpenter, and joiner. They

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lived on lot 9, concession 3, but had moved by 1861. Children. Elizabeth C. and Mary c David, b. and d. 1827 d Isabella, d. 22 Sept. 1833 e Ellen f Helen Reid, b. 1830, d. 1881. Married Henry Chaplin Mosier, b. c. 1825. He and his children were members of the Church of England in 1871, although his wife remained a member of the Children of Peace until some time before 1881, when they all became Quakers. They owned 300 acres of wood land on concession 5, where Henry operated a water-powered sawmill. By 1875, they had added a gristmill as well. The mills were sold in 1880. Children-. Hugh Willson, b. c. 1852 (he was the only member of the family that remained with the Children of Peace in 1881); William H., b. c. 1857; Josephine, b. c. 1861; Charles H., b. c. 1862 g Sarah, b. Dec. 1834, d. 10 Mar. 1865. Married Moses C. Bell. Child: Sarah W., b. 1865, d. 1874 h William, b. 1840 i Mary Harriet, b. 1843 j Robert 4 Sarah, b. 5 Apr. 1804 in East Gwillimbury, d. 18 Apr. 1853. Married John Reid (see below) 5 Mary b. 24 Oct. 1814 in East Gwillimbury. She married Charles Doan (see above), and died 6 Sept. 1848 in childbirth. HI Anna Willson Briggs was born 1786 in Dutchess County, NY, daughter of John and Catherine Willson. She died 24 Dec. 1824, in Sharon. A widow with two sons, Hugh and James, she married Robert C. Briggs, b. 1779, d. 15 Jan. 1834 in Sharon. He also had two sons, Caleb and Jonathan. Children. i Anna Maria, b. 28 Apr. 1813, d. 29 May 1899. Married 25 Nov. 1832 Elijah Dunham, b. 24 Apr. 1810, son of Thomas and Elizabeth Traviss Dunham. Although they are not listed as 'Builders of the Temple,' they are included in an 1845 membership list. They farmed lot 28, concession 5, East Gwillimbury, until 1848, when they moved to Peel Township. They spent a year in Iowa in 1866, but finally settled down in Warford, in Lambton County, in 1870. Elijah died 19 July 1893. Children. a Elizabeth Ann, b. 6 Sept. 1833, d- 14 Aug. 1862 b Thomas, b. 16 Feb. 1836, d. in the i86os, lost at sea c Robert, b. 19 Feb. 1838, d. 28 Sept. 1917 in Arkona d William Henry, b. 30 July 1840, d. 6 May 1905

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e Jonathan, b. 12 Aug. 1843, d. 10 July 1925, in Orillia f Walter Gage, b. 26 Dec. 1845, d. 10 Jan. 1860 g John Wilmot, b. 30 Aug. 1848, d. 9 Sept. 1934 h Martha Willson, b. 30 June 1856, d. 7 Mar. 1926 at Queensville 2 Jonathan, b. 1816, d. 20 May 1886 in Queensville. He married Eliza (Sackett?), b. c. 1827, d. 1908. Children-. a Amy, b. 19 May, 1850, d. 27 Feb. 1939. Married Robert Briggs, son of Caleb and Mary Briggs (see below) b Caroline, b. 1854, d. 10 Jan. 1859, in Sharon c Orville Sackett, b. 4 Jan. 1855, d. 24 Jan. 1946. Never married d Abigail, b. 4 Sept. 1857, d. 14 Feb. 1944. Never married. Abigail and her brother Orville lived in a house across from the temple, where they remained until they died. 3 Caleb, b. 1819, d. 1901. He married Mary, daughter of Martha Reid (see below). They lived on lots 13 and 14, concession 4. Children-. a David Willson b Robert, b. 11 Nov. 1840, d. 7 Dec. 1931. Married his cousin Amy (see above) c Anna, b. 1842 d William Henry, d. 1845 Caleb then married Jane McShane, b. 1835, d. 1911. They remained members of the Children of Peace until after 1871, when they became Quakers. Children-. e Mary, b. 1856, d. 1869 f William Edward, b. 1859, d. i Feb. 1862 g Henry, b. Sept., d. 6 Nov. 1861 rv Mary Willson Dunham was born 1792 in Dutchess County, NY, of John and Catherine Willson. She married William Dunham, b. 1781, d. 25 Feb. 1844, in Sharon. Mary died 22 June 1858. Child. i Benjamin, b. 22 Aug. 1802 in East Gwillimbury, d. 4 Dec. 1883. Married Anna Sevilla Doan, daughter of John and Elizabeth Stockdale Doan (see above). v William Reid was born 17 Feb. 1765 in Banffshire, Scotland. He was said to have been a 'man of more than ordinary intellect' with 'an excellent English education.' The date of his immigration to America is not known, but by 1794 he had joined the Creek Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends in the Nine Partners' Grant of New York. At that time he appears to have been married to Mary Willson, b. 25 Jan. 1768, daughter of Hugh and Lady Sarah Savage Willson. In 1798 he moved to New York

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City, perhaps with the rest of the Willson clan involved in the schooner The Farmer. He was in financial difficulties at the time, and the Creek Monthly Meeting investigated a complaint that he 'left the meeting without satisfying his creditors.' In 1809 Reid emigrated to Upper Canada, purchasing 80 acres of lot 8, concession 2, East Gwillimbury (two lots south of David Willson's). On that land transaction his occupation is listed as saddler. He was also a teacher. On 12 July 1810, Mary Reid was accepted as a member of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends. Her membership was short-lived. In 1812, William and Mary Reid were disowned for having joined the Children of Peace. Mary Willson Reid died 15 Aug. 1833. Reid is said to have been the oldest participant in the Rebellion of 1837. He is recorded as a justice of the peace for East Gwillimbury in 1846. He died 25 May 1855 and is buried in the Sharon Cemetery. Children: 1 Pamela Rebecca, b. 31 Oct. 1789 2 Alexander, b. 8 Sept 1791. Disowned from the Yonge Street Meeting for 'taking spirituous liquors to excess and absenting himself from his partents,' 18 Apr. 1811. He is recorded as living on lot 10, concession 3, in 1836, but does not appear in the Children of Peace membership lists. 3 Martha, b. 18 Dec. 1794, d. 24 Dec. 1843, in Sharon. Child. a Mary, b. 1819, d. 8 Feb. 1853. Married Caleb Briggs, son of Robert and Anne Willson Briggs (see above) 4 John, b. 25 July 1798, d. i Aug. 1864. Married 6 May 1821 Sarah Willson, daughter of David and Phebe Willson (see above). John and Sarah ran a shop in what is now Queensville in 1837, and later opened an inn (the Mansion House) opposite the temple in Sharon. He abandoned this to become an 'Inspector' after 1854. He then married Ellen Hughes Henderson, widow of James Henderson (killed in the Rebellion of 1837) and daughter of Amos and Rebecca Chapman Hughes (see below). Ellen ran a school for girls in Sharon, 'renowned' for the needlework taught. John quit the Children of Peace after 1845 and becamse a Quaker, although his wife and children remained members. By 1861, he had rejoined the sect. John Reid died i Aug. 1864. Children. a Mary Ann, b. c. 1824, married John Elder, a Presbyterian, born c. 1825. He later became a member of the Free Church. Children-. Mary b. c. 1852; David, b. c. 1853; Robert, b. c. 1856; William, b. c. 1857; Calvin b. c. 1859 b Abner Nelson, b. about 1825, d. 11 May 1880. With his brothers, Calvin and David, he started a marble business. He married Mary Jane ?. They were members of the Church of England by 1861. c Calvin Pomeroy, b. 1829. Married 24 Jan. 1862 Eliza A. Harold,

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6

7

8 9

Appendix 3

daughter of Samuel Harold and ? Barber of Newmarket. He helped begin a monument business in Sharon, then moved to Toronto in 1857 to form a successful wine, liquor, and cigar store. By 1877, ne was the only successful cigar manufacturer in Canada. By 1887 they were living in New York. d Josephine, b. c. 1832. Married Eli Doan, son of John and Elizabeth Stockdale Doan (see above). They moved from East Gwillimbury after 1851. He died in San Joaquin, Cal. e David Willson, b. 1833, d. 15 Sept. 1887, of cholera f Robert B., b. 1836, d. 12 Sept. 1857 aboard the steamship Central America, which sank in the Gulf of Mexico, returning from California g William John, b. 1844. It was probably he who was serving as a deputy reeve for East Gwillimbury 1869-75. BY 1887 he was living in California. h Pamalia Sarah T., married Joseph Terry. In the will of Amos Hughes (below), it states that, in 1834, Joseph was residing in a house built by the Children of Peace for the poor. Little else is known of this family. They are not included in the 1845 membership list. Children. a David b Eltna, b. 1827, d. 19 Sept. 1841 c Mary d Anne R., b. 1831, d. 22 Dec. 1834 e Rachel, b. 1833, d. 30 Mar. 1838 f Anne W., b. 4 Aug., d. 25 Aug. 1838 Ann, b. 1803, d. 29 Oct. 1833; unmarried. In a memorial recorded in Impressions of the Mind, Willson wrote: 'She often said it was her place to serve the congregation, and nurse the records of the Church, rather than to raise up children in a troubled world.' William, Jr, b. 1806, d. i Feb. 1860. He married in May 1831 Mary Hill, daughter of George and Lucy Hill. He was a bailiff by occupation. An extensive anecdote of a misadventure he suffered in the pursuit of his duties is recorded in Higgins (1972: 48). Children-. a Simpson, b. June 1832, d. 15 Nov. 1832 b Anna, b. c. 1837 Elizabeth, b. 1808, d. 1893. Married 21 July 1827 Abraham Doan, son of Ebenezer and Elizabeth Paxson Doan (see above) Willson, b. 1810, d. 19 June 1885. He married Hannah Gray, b. 1810, d. 30 Oct. 1886, Toronto. He worked as a tanner and farmer. Willson Reid served as a deputy reeve for East Gwillimbury in 1879 and 1880. He and his family had become members of the Church of England by 1861.

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Children. a Stephen Henry, b. c. 1840 b Elizabeth Ann, b. c. 1842. Married Richard Henry Howard c Mary Louise, b. c. 1844. Married a Mr Smith d Julia Ann, b. c. 1846 vi William W. Willson was a son of Hugh Willson and Lady Sarah Savage. He married Hannah Vernon, no doubt a relation of the Yonge Street Quaker Vernons. She was born in 1775, and died 3 Aug. 1854 in Sharon. Children: 1 John V., b. 1800, d. 21 July 1864 in Aurora. Married Rebecca Doan, daughter of Mahlon and Rebecca Hartley Doan (see above) 2 William Henry, b. c. 1803, d. 1882. Married Sarah Harrison, b. c. 1804, d. 1863. He remained a member of the Children of Peace until after 1871. Children-. a Charles, b. c. 1825, d. 1863. Married Elizabeth ?, b. c. 1825. Child: Joseph W., b. c. 1849. They ceased to be members after 1851. b Juliett, b. 1833, d. 3 Mar. 1879. Married Silas Lepard, son of Peter and Elizabeth Phillips Lepard (see below). They remained members of the Children of Peace until after 1861, when they joined the Christian Church. They lived on lot 8, concession 3. Children: Peter; William, d. 1857; Sarah Jane, b. c. 1854; Elizabeth A., b. c. 1856; Julia M., b. c. 1860; Emma A., b. c. 1861 c Jane, b. c. 1835 d Priscilla, b. c. 1839 e Mary, b. c. 1848 3 Phoebe H., b. 1805, d. 1887. Married Hugh D. Willson, son of David and Phebe Titus Willson (see above) vii Elizabeth Willson Morris, b. c. 1811, was said to be the daughter (more likely granddaughter) of Hugh Willson and Lady Sarah Savage. She married 4 Nov. 1832 John Morris in the meeting-house of the Children of Peace. He was born c. 1805. They lived on lot 9, concession 3. John was a tinsmith. Little is known of this family, although they remained members until after 1871. Children-. 1 Isabella 2 Harriet, d. 1837 3 Hugh, D., d. 1839 4 Jane 5 Hannah 6 John Witman, b. c. 1845

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Appendix 3 The Hughes and Chapman Families Job Hughes - Eleanor Lee

Rachel Sarah Samuel -Israel -Enos -Mary Lundy Dennis Doan

Charles Chapman - Elizabeth IJnton

Amos-Rebecca Susannah Chapman -Samuel Halnes

Stephen Elisabeth -Grace -Benjamin McLeod Kester

For details about Job Hughes, a Quaker minister from Catawissa, Pa., see the serial by Ethel Willson Trewhella in the Newmarket Era, May 1949. He died 26 Apr. 1807 while on a religious visit to Fishing Creek, Pa. Eleanor Lee Hughes, an elder in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, joined the Children of Peace in 1812, and died 9 Mar. 1825 in Sharon. Charles Chapman, Sr, and Elizabeth Linton Chapman, of Uxbridge, were members of the Children of Peace for a short time, between 1813 and 1816. They rejoined the Society of Friends. i Rachel Hughes was born 15 Feb. 1777 in Pennsylvania, daughter of Job Hughes and Elenor Lee. She married Israel Lundy, son of Reuben and Estor Greenwood Lundy, b. 23 June 1779 in Northumberland County, Pa. They married 23 Feb. 1802 in Muncy, Pa., and moved to Upper Canada about 1805, settling on lot 8, concession 2, East Gwillimbury, where they established a gristmill. Rachel Hughes Lundy was the first of David Willson's followers and, with William Reid, joined him on visits to New York and Philadelphia to appeal their disownments from the Society of Friends in 1815. They remained stalwart members of the Children of Peace until they died, Rachel on 5 Jan. 1844, Israel on 2 Aug. 1846. Children: 1 Ellen, b. 16 Sept. 1803, d. 14 Feb. 1886. Married 18 Feb. 1833, in Hope, Joseph Brammer (see below) 2 Sarah, b. 30 July 1804, d. 2 Nov. 1826. Married 21 Nov. 1825, in Hope, John D. Willson, son of David and Phebe Titus Willson (see above) 3 Reuben, b. 15 May 1807 in East Gwillimbury. He married 30 May 1835, in Hope, Mary Ann Armstrong, b. c. 1812. He ran the family gristmill just west of Sharon, on lot 7, concession 2. It had two runs of stones and could grind 60 bushels a day. He also farmed on the 160 acres adjacent to the mill. By 1871, he was operating a steam mill as well. In 1875, the mill went bankrupt, and Reuben and family moved to Michigan, where he died in Lexington, 9 Oct. 1889. Mary Ann died 5 Oct. 1881. Children-. a Sarah, b. c. 1836 b James, b. 19 Dec. 1837, d. 10 Sept. 1864. Married Sabrey Haines,

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daughter of Israel and Sarah Doan Haines (see above, under Sarah Doan) c Israel, b. c. 1839, d. 1885. Married Hannah Willson, daughter of John D. and Maria Thorpe Willson (see above). He worked as a miller in his father's mill. Child. Phoebe L., b. c. 1870, d. 1896 d Catherine, b. c. 1843 e Esther, b. c. 1845 f Mary, b. c. 1849 g James, b. 1857 4 Jacob, b. 24 Feb. 1809 in East Gwillimbury, d. 5 June 1878. Married 28 Dec. 1833, in Hope, Hannah Doan, daughter of Ebenezer and Elizabeth Paxson Doan (see above) 5 Esther, b. 12 Feb. 1811 in East Gwillimbury, d. 1881 in Sharon. Married, first, Jonathan Doane, second, Hugh W. Willson (son of Ann Willson Brigss?) 6 Judah, b. Mar. 1813 in East Gwillimbury, d. 20 Oct. 1897 in Sharon. Married 25 Jan. 1840, in Hope, Elizabeth Lepard, daughter of Peter and Elizabeth Phillips Lepard, b. 9 Aug. 1822, d. 1904. They joined the New Connexion Methodists some time before 1871. Children-. a David Willson Lundy, b. 10 Mar. 1842 in Hope. He was a doctor, practising in Sharon and Newmarket before moving to the United States. He married Sarah Slaymaker in Albany, 111., and died there 21 Apr. 1881 (see Memorial in Sharon Temple Collection 971.28.8). b Eleanor, b. c. 1844 c Amos, b. c. 1846, d. 1890. Married Martha Stokes, daughter of John T. Stokes (Sharon architect) and Martha Roberts. She was born in Portsmouth, England, c. 1848. They left the Children of Peace before 1871. d Sarah Elizabeth, b. c. 1848 e Judah Peter, b. 1849, d. 15 Apr. 1850 f Rachel N., b. c. 1850, d. 1931 ii Sarah Hughes, daughter of Job and Elenor Lee Hughes, was born 6 Oct. 1778 in Catawissa, Pa. She emigrated with her Quaker minister father to Yonge Street about 1804. She married 19 Mar. 1807, in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends, Enos Dennis, son of Levi and Sarah Dennis. He was born 10 Jan. 1781 (probably in Catawissa). Enos Dennis served as clerk of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting in 1808. They were both disowned by the Quakers in 1812-13 for joining the Children of Peace, but Enos's name does not appear in the list of 'Builders of the Temple.' Enos was a miller, first in partnership with Amos Hughes at what is now Glenville Pond, and later near Holland Landing. William Lyon Mac-

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kenzie wrote in his newspaper, the Colonial Advocate, on 18 Sept. 1828, that he 'stayed two nights in the house of Mr. Enos Dennis, an old settler from Pennsylvania, a part of whose family belong to the Children of Peace. Mr. Dennis is at once a millwright, wheelwright, blacksmith, cabinetmaker, and cart and plough maker, and displays considerable ingenuity as a workman.' Although Enos never appeared on any membership list of the Children of Peace, both he and Sarah are listed as members in the 1851 census. Enos Dennis died May 1857, aged seventy-six. Sarah Hughes Dennis died Apr. 1865. They are both buried in the Sharon Cemetery. Children: 1 Job, b. 17 Nov. 1807 2 Ellen, b. 22 Feb. 1809 3 Hannah, b. 1811, d. 1830. Buried in Sharon Cemetery. 4 Esther 5 Abigail, married 1833 Seba Wiggins, a carpenter, son of Isaac and Phebe Blaker Wiggins. Abigail and Seba lived on a 5o-acre farm on lot 105, concession i, East Gwillimbury. They appear to have moved from East Gwillimbury after 1851. Children-. a Isaac, b. c. 1833 b Hannah, b. c. 1838 c Enoch, b. c. 1842 in Amos Hughes was born on 11 Sept. 1782 in Catawissa, Pa., son of Job and Elenor Lee Hughes. He moved with his parents to Upper Canada in 1804; it was said that he was sent ahead to scout out a route, and was badly injured along the way. Amos settled first on Yonge Street, and later moved to Sharon (lot 13, concession 3). Amos Hughes and Enos Dennis operated a sawmill on the east branch of the Holland River (near Glenville Pond) on their first arrival, but Amos later turned to farming. Amos married Rebecca Chapman, daughter of Charles Chapman, Sr, and Elizabeth Linton Chapman on 25 Feb. 1808 in the Yonge Street Meeting-House of the Society of Friends. She was born 11 Jan. 1780, and died 22 Aug. 1830 in Hope. Amos died 6 June 1834, also in Hope. Children-. 1 Mary, b. 28 Feb. 1809, d. 8 Aug. 1876. Married 21 July 1827, in Hope, Israel Willson son of David and Phebe Titus Willson (see above) 2 Job, b. 11 June 1810, d. 2 Aug. 1875. Married Elizabeth Thorpe, daughter of John Thorpe, Sr, b. 1815, d. 30 Jan. 1882. He farmed lot 11, concession 3. Children-. a Rachel, b. c. 1837, d. 1923. Married Ezra Doan, son of Ira and Elizabeth Haines Doan (see above)

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b Amos, b. c. 1840. Married Martha Phillips, b. c. 1845, d. 1931. She was a Quaker, and later became a Presbyterian. He remained a member of the Children of Peace until after 1881. Children-. Job, b. c. 1867; Ada, b. c. 1868 c James Henderson, b. c. 1843, d. 1892. Married Hannah Gurnett d John, b. c. 1845. He was a telegraph operator in Sharon in 1871. e David, b. c. 1848 (see 'Diary of David Hughes, Teenager, 1867,' The York Pioneer, 1967, pp 76-104). Married 9 Oct. 1872 Jerusha Doan, daughter of Jesse and Wait Ann Brooks Doan. He was a storekeeper in Sharon in 1870, moved to Bolton in the late 18705, and ended up as a wool dealer in Yorkville, where he died in 1945. 3 Rachel, b. 2 June 1812, d. 4 May 1903. She was the second wife of William Graham (who had previously married Elizabeth Doan, daughter of John and Elizabeth Doan, see above). For more than fifty years she served as caretaker of the meeting-house and temple, as well as managing the feasts and Christman dinner. 4 Ellen, b. 28 June 1815 in East Gwillimbury, d. 27 Feb. 1905. Married, first, James Henderson, 25 Mar. 1837, in Hope. He was a casualty in the Rebellion of 1837. She then married John Reid (see above). iv Samuel Hughes was born 4 Feb. 1785 in Catawissa, Pa., son of Job and Elenor Lee Hughes. He married in June 1811 Sarah Webster, daughter of Abram and Anna Lundy Webster, born 4 Oct. 1786 in Sussex County, NJ. She died 24 Dec. 1815 (Samuel Hughes's memorial to her was reprinted in the Newmarket Era and Express, 21 Feb. 1952, 5). Hughes then moved from his farm on lots 91 and 92, East Yonge Street (near the Quaker meeting-house) to Sharon. He then married Mary Doan, daughter of Ebenezer, Sr, and Anna Savilla Sloy Doan (see above), b. 7 Dec. 1762, d. 5 April 1827. On 21 June 1829 he married Anna Armitage, daughter of Amos and Martha Doan Armitage, widow of Isaac Wiggins (brother of Seba [see above], and son of Isaac [the Yonge Street Quaker elder who had first silenced Willson] and Phebe Blaker Wiggins) in the meeting-house of the Children of Peace. Anna Armitage Wiggins was born 26 Sept. 1787 in Bucks County, Pa., died 29 Dec. 1865, and is buried in the Hicksite Cemetery, Newmarket. Next to David Willson, Hughes was the most influential minister in the Children of Peace. Like Willson, he also published several pamphlets, including a series of temperance lectures, and A Vision Concerning the Desolation of Zion. He was actively involved in provincial politics for the Reform Party, but refused to take part in the Rebellion of 1837. After the Rebellion, Samuel left the sect and rejoined the Hicksite Quak-

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ers. He was soon recognized as a minister by them, and frequently travelled in the ministry. He died 11 Dec. 1856. Child (of Isaac Wiggins and Anna Armitage): i Martha Wiggins b. 1811, d. 1835. Married Charles Haines, son of Samuel and Susannah Chapman Haines (see below) v Miriam Webster, born Miriam Shotwell in 1791, married William Webster, son of Abraham and Ann Lundy Webster (Yonge Street Quakers), sometime before 12 Sept. 1811. He was disciplined at that time for marrying outside of the Society of Friends. William's sister, Sarah, was married to Samuel Hughes (see above). William was disowned 17 Apr. 1817, and Miriam 15 May 1817, for joining the Children of Peace. He appears to have died soon after. Miriam died 22 Nov. 1868. Child: i Mary vi Susannah Chapman was born 14 Sept. 1777 near Wrightstown, Bucks County, Pa., eldest daughter of Charles Chapman, Sr, and Elisabeth Linton. She married Samuel Haines, a blacksmith, born 13 Dec. 1783 in Burlington Co., NJ. He was disowned from the Burlington Monthly Meeting in 1803 and moved to Canada in 1806, when he purchased 500 acres of land in Uxbridge. Sometime in 1807 they entered into an 'irregular marriage,' for which the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends disciplined Susannah. In Samuel's Affirmation of Alligiance, he is described as 'One of the People Called Quakers, Grey Eyes brown Hair five feet Eight Inches high twenty Two Years Old having taken the Affirmation ... at York the eighth Day of July 1806.' They initially lived in Uxbridge. She joined the Children of Peace in 1813 (Samuel was never a member). Trewhella notes that 'Samuel Haines exchanged a valuable farm at Quaker Hill, Uxbridge, for a yoke of white oxen in order that his wife Susannah might the more easily attend the meetings of the Children of Peace at Sharon.' They moved to East Gwillimbury about 1816, returned to Uxbridge in 1822, and then moved to lot 8, concession 2, East Gwillimbury, in 1829. Susannah died 9 Sept. 1858, Samuel 17 Dec. 1873. Children-. i Charles, b. 1809, d. 22 June 1890. Married Martha Wiggins, daughter of Isaac and Anna Armitage Wiggins (see above, under Samuel Hughes), and, then, Anna Kester. By 1861, they had become Quakers, later switching to the Wesleyan Methodists. At that time, they were also caring for Rachel and Esther Kester, daughters of George Kester (Anna's brother?). Charles ran a shoe shop during the winter, and spent summers working a 53-acre farm. Child (by Martha):

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a Elizabeth, b. c. 1832, d. 31 May 1881. Child: Mary, b. c. 1866 Child (by Anna): b Martha, b. c. 1836 2 Aaron, b. 4 Nov. 1810. Married Honor Fraud Woodman, of Cornwall, England, b. 1806, d. 1836, and then Eliza Sparling. He left the sect after the Rebellion. Child (by Honor): a Mary Susannah, d. 1888. Married Oliver Lundy, son of Jacob and Hannah Doan Lundy (see above) 3 Israel, b. 20 July 1815, d. 25 Oct. 1891 in Sharon. Married 12 March 1836, in Hope, Sarah Doan, daughter of Ebenezer and Elizabeth Paxson Doan (see above) 4 Elizabeth, b. 15 Oct. 1812 in Uxbridge Township. Married 1833 Ira Doan, son of Ebenezer and Elizabeth Paxson Doan (see above) vii Stephen Chapman was born 16 Sept. 1781, son of Charles Chapman, Sr, and Elisabeth Linton, most likely in Bucks County, Pa. He emigrated to Upper Canada with his parents in 1805, and settled on Yonge Street. He married 24 Mar. 1808, in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends, Grace McLeod, daughter of Murdoch and Rachel Terry McLeod, b. 18 Oct. 1790. Although they joined the Children of Peace in 1813, they are not listed among the 'Builders of the Temple.' They were living on lot 5, concession 3, in 1837. Children-. 1 Elisabeth, b. 4 Jan. 1809 2 Murdoch, b. 23 Aug. 1810. Married Susannah ?. Had a farm on lot 6, concession 2, but left for the United States shortly after the Rebellion of 1837. Child. a Angelina 3 Harriet, married Enos Doan, son of Mahlon and Rebecca Hartley Doan (see above) vin Elisabeth Chapman, daughter of Charles Chapman, Sr, and Elisabeth Linton, was born 26 May 1783, in Bucks County, Pa. She married 19 Mar. 1807, in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends, Benjamin Kester, b. 10 July 1783, son of Paul and Anna Kester of Northumberland County, Pa. He died during the War of 1812 (approx. 1815). She died 7 Nov. 1817. Most of their children then appear to have been placed with family in Pickering Township. Only George, and perhaps a sister, Anna (see above, Charles Haines), became members of the Children of Peace. Little else is known of this family. Children. i Susannah, b. 3 June 1808. Married 19 Nov. 1829 Moses Bonnel

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2 Arnold, b. 6 Aug. 1809. Living in Whitby in 1837 3 Mercy, b. 26 Nov. 1810. Married, in Uxbridge, 22 Nov. 1832, Samuel Widdifield 4 Isaiah, b. 25 Jan. 1812. Living in Whitby in 1837 5 George, b. 17 May 1813, d. 1882. He was a shoemaker in Sharon most of his life. He married an Irish immigrant, Martha ?. She was a well-known midwife/nurse. By 1861, they were members of the Church of England; by 1871, the Christian Church. Children. a Arnold, b. c. 1837 b Ellen, b. c. 1838 c Rachel, b. c. 1840 d Anna Jane, b. c. 1842, d. 1859 e John, b. c. 1846 f Ester, b. c. 1849 g William, b. c. 1858 h George, b. c. 1859, d. 1881

Related Families i Edward Brammer (or Brammar) was born in 1811 in Rotherham, Yorkshire, England. He emigrated to Sharon with his wife, Hannah Scales, born 1805. Edward was a blacksmith. They remained members until after the Rebellion. He died Oct. 1872. Hannah died 1882. Children-. 1 Robert 2 Catherine Elizabeth, b. 1833, d. 1835 3 Edward, married Emily Agar, daughter of Henry. Also a blacksmith until 1882, when he became a merchant in Sharon 4 George, b. 1845, d. 1848 H George Brammer and Ellen (or Helen) R. Willson married 4 Nov. 1832 in the meeting-house of the Children of Peace. George was born c. 1810, Ellen c. 1809. They lived on lot 15, concession 3, East Gwillimbury. Following the Rebellion, George left the sect, although he is still recorded as a member in the 1851 census. By the 1861 census, he is listed as a member of the Church of England. His wife and children remained members until 1871, after which only Ellen is recorded in the census as a member. George died in 1875. Children-. 1 Anne, b. c. 1833 2 William, b. c. 1834

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3 Hannah, b. c. 1835 4 John, b. c. 1838, d. 1919 5 Phebe, b. c. 1840 6 Mary, b. c. 1844 7 George, b. c. 1845 8 Hellen M., b. c. 1847 9 Alice H., b. c. 1851 10 Julia, b. c. 1857 in Joseph Brammer, son of John and Ann Brammer, was born 15 July 1809 in Yorkshire, England. He emigrated to Upper Canada as a young man, and worked as a wheelwright in Hogg's Hollow. He married 18 Feb. 1833, in Hope, Ellen Lundy, daughter of Israel and Rachel Hughes Lundy (see above), b. 16 Feb. 1803, d. 14 Feb. 1886. He took part in the Rebellion of 1837, fighting at Montgomery's tavern. He was captured several days later, and jailed in the Old Kirk in Newmarket, before being sent on to Toronto. When he was arraigned, and asked to plead, Brammer said: 'Your Lordship, I am an Englishman. I have a heart as true and loyal to the Queen and to Britain as any British subject in the country; but if you mean disloyal to the Family Compact and the men who are robbinvg this country, I am guilty.' He was never tried; several days after, when his fellow inmates were being released, he simply walked out with them, fleeing to Buffalo, where he stayed until it was safe to return to Sharon. Although his wife and female children remained members of the Children of Peace, Joseph quit the sect sometime before 1845. While he was primarily a farmer, he also had a sawmill on lot 9, concession 2, capable of sawing 1,000 board-feet a day. By 1871, the mill operated for only two months a year. Joseph died in 1900. Children-. 1 Hugh Willson, d. 1837 2 Esther 3 Rachel, b. 1836, d. 6 Oct. 1863. Married George Traviss 4 Sarah Catherine, b. 1839, d. 1848 5 Alfred, b. c. 1840, d. 1893. Married Eliza?, b. 1839, d. 1922. He farmed his father's property until they sold the farm in 1889. Children-. Ada, b. c. 1869; Mary, b. c. 1870; Edgar, b. c. 1872; Rachel, b. c. 1875, Edith, b. c. 1878 6 Joanna, b. c. 1845 7 Israel John, b. 1842, d. 1848 8 Sarah Catherine, b. c. 1848

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iv William Graham, Sr, and his wife, Hester Reid (related to William Reid?), were never members of the Children of Peace, although many of their children were. They were married in Ireland and emigrated to New York State, settling finally in East Gwillimbury in 1811. They had four sons and four daughters: 1 William, b. c. 1806, in New York State, near the Mohawk River. Married 27 April 1833, in the meeting-house of the Children of Peace, Elizabeth Doan, b. 30 Oct. 1811, d. 25 Nov. 1866, daughter of John and Elizabeth Stockdale Doan (see above). He then married Rachel Hughes, daughter of Amos and Rebecca Chapman Hughes (see above). His farm was on lots 15 and 16, concession 2. After 1871, they became Presbyterians. He died in 1888. Rachel died in 1903. Children-. a Maria, b. 20 Mar. 1834. Married Job Willson, son of John D. and Maria Thorpe Willson, 21 Nov. 1858 (see above) b Polly B. c Mary Ann, b. 18 June 1836, d. 1923. Married 16 Oct. 1856 Amos Hughes Willson, son of Israel and Mary Hughes Willson (see above). They remained members of the Children of Peace until after 1871, when they joined the Quakers. Children. Robert Reid, b. c. 1857, d. 1883; William Graham, b. 1859, d. 23 Dec. 1861 d Charles, b. 17 Mar. 1839. Married 21 May 1863 Phoebe Willson, daughter of John D. and Maria Thorpe Willson (see above). He was a dentist. After 1872, he disappeared from township records. A child, Elizabeth, b. c. 1868, appears to have been raised by her grandparents, John and Maria Willson. e Hannah, b. 10 Oct. 1841. Married S.B. Turney 21 Mar. 1881 f John Doan, b. 11 Jan. 1846. Married Elizabeth Willson, daughter of John D. and Maria Thorpe Willson (see above), 20 Oct. 1869. John became leader of the Sharon Band after the retirement of Jesse Doan. Although a farmer in his early life, by 1871, he was working as a musician, music teacher, and piano tuner. He was said to make frequent fall trips to Boston to learn new music. He died in 1923. Children. Mark, b. c. 1872; Gertrude, b. c. 1873, d. 1895; Elizabeth, married Jeremiah Graham of Sutton 2 John. Little is known of John Graham other than that he participated in the Rebellion of 1837. A Rebellion box made by John for his sister Hester is on display at the temple. Letters from his brother William, sisterin-law Elizabeth, and mother, Hester, addressed to him while he was in prison were published in the 1987 issue of the York Pioneer. He appears to have left the sect after the Rebellion. 3 Richard. Never a member of the Children of Peace

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4 Jeremiah, b. 1801. Married Jane Burr, b. 21 Aug. 1806 of Reuben and Elizabeth Cleaver Burr (Yonge Street Quakers). She was disowned by the Yonge Street Meeting 13 Sept. 1827 for marrying a non-Quaker. Jeremiah was a member for only a short period. He later became a minister. Jane died in 1886; Jeremiah in 1891. Both are buried in the Queensville Cemetery. Children: a David (see his manuscript recollections of East Gwillimbury in the Temple Papers Collection). Settled on a farm on lot 20, concession 7, of North Gwillimbury. Married Susan Wardel, daughter of Paul and Susan Draper Wardel b William c John. Owned a farm south of Baldwin d Nancy, married Jesse Tatton, minister in Christian Church in Toronto e Hester, married William Percy, also a minister in Stouffville f Rebecca, b. 1850 on lot 15, concession 2, East Gwillimbury, d. Mar. 1919. Married Thomas Belfry Doan, son of Judah and Joanna Belfry Doan (see above) 5 Hester v Joshua Harrison, b. c. 1808, son of Hiram and Elizabeth Harrison (see below). He married Sarah ?, b. c. 1813. Joshua and his sons Robert and Nelson were listed in the census, over time, as architects, carpenters, and joiners. They also operated a sawmill on their 5o-acre farm on lot 16, concession 4. Joshua was elected reeve of East Gwillimbury Township in 1851, and again in 1853. He died 6 June 1862. The rest of the family then seems to have left the Children of Peace. Children. 1 Robert, b. c. 1835, married Lucretia ?. Children-. George, b. c. 1856; Martha, b. c. 1857; John C., b. c. 1860 2 Nelson, b. c. 1835, married ? (he was a widower by 1871). He lived in Holland Landing 1869. Children-. Josephine, b. c. 1861; Mary, b. c. 1863; John, b. c. 1865; Minnie, b. c. 1868. 3 Rosanna, b. c. 1838 4 Seton, b. c. 1840 5 Juletta, b. c. 1842 6 Mary, b. c. 1846 7 Sarah E., b. c. 1849 vi George Hill was a tanner with a farm on lot 6, concession 3, in 1834. He was probably the son of Joseph Hill, a Quaker miller from New Jersey who established the first mill and tannery in Newmarket (see chapter i). Ethel Willson Trewhella, in her history of Newmarket, records that George

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ran Joseph's tannery for him. Little is known of this family, or the identity of his wife, Lucy, who died 28 May 1830, aged forty-one. George died 10 Jan. 1863. Children: 1 Simpson, b. 1810, d. 10 Feb. 1832 2 William, lived in Queenville 3 Moses, lived in Sutton 4 Mary, married William Reid, Jr (see above) 5 ?, became Mrs John D. Phillips vii George Hollingshead was born 12 July 1791 of Isaac and Mary Hill Hollingshead. He became a member of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends (with his parents) on 16 Aug. 1804. He was disowned by the Quakers on 14 July 1814 for holding erroneous doctrinal principles, and then appears to have joined the Children of Peace. He married Jane Kinsey, daughter of James and Mary Hunt Kinsey, b. 11 Aug. 1793. She was disowned 10 May 1815 for marrying a non-Quaker. George was at one time listed as an elder of the Children of Peace. Jane died in 1863; George in 1866. Both are buried in the Orthodox Quaker Cemetery in Newmarket. vin James Kavanagh was born in 1793 in St Mary's Parish, Wexford, Ireland. By age eighteen he was a shoemaker, a trade he was to continue in Canada. On 11 Dec. 1811 he enlisted in the 99th Regiment of the British Army, and in 1818 he was discharged in Quebec when the regiment disbanded. By 1827 he was a shoemaker in Sharon. At about this time he married Elizabeth Darling, also born in Ireland. Kavanagh was a casualty in the Rebellion of 1837, having been wounded on 5 Dec. 1837 (the day before the battle on Yonge Street) and dying later in hospital. By 1860, Elizabeth, Sr, had joined her daughter, Elizabeth, in Rochester, NY, where she died 13 Apr. 1875. Children. 1 Elizabeth, b. c. 1828 in East Gwillimbury. By 1850 she had married Charles Bentley, shoemaker, in Rochester, NY. Her younger brother William was also living with them at the time. Elizabeth later adopted William John, son of her brother John Hiram (see below). 2 James, b. 27 June 1830. Married Maria Barker, born c. 1833. They remained members until after the Rebellion. James was a butcher and charter member of the Masonic Lodge in East Gwillimbury. Maria died 25 Nov. 1911. Children: Mary Elizabeth, b. March 1858, d. 11 June 1858; Ambrose, b. May 1864, d. 3 Nov. 1866; Julia, b. July 1868, d. 23 Dec. 1869; Frank, b. 31 Oct. 1870, d. 22 Nov. 1926; Sarah L., b. 20 Apr. 1874,

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d. 24 May 1957, married Seth Thomas; Minnie K., married Eugene Cane i Nov. 1882 3 John Hiram, b. 10 Nov. 1833, was a carpenter and joiner. According to the 1851 census, he was boarding with Eli Doan and wife on lot 9, concession 2/3. On 7 Dec. 1863 he enlisted in Company D of the New York Calvary at Rochester, NY. After the Civil War, he returned to Sharon, where he became postmaster and a merchant. He died in Toronto 10 July 1908. The name of his first wife (if married) is unknown, but his son William John (later Bentley) was born 20 Sept. 1858 in Sharon. As an infant, he was adopted by John's sister Elizabeth and her husband, Charles Bentley, in Rochester. John then married 9 Dec. 1860 Elizabeth Ryan, daugher of William and Anna Ryan, born c. 1837 or 1839 in Tipperary, Ireland. He is listed in the census as an architect, carpenter, and joiner. They moved to Toronto in 1903, where Elizabeth died 8 Aug. 1916. Children: a (Honora) Elizabeth, b. 30 Apr. 1866 in Queensville. Married 24 Nov. 1888 George R. Doan, son of George Monroe and Wait Ann Brooks Doan (see above) b Mary Katherine, b. 11 May 1869 c James Edward, b. 14 Mar. 1891, d. 12 Dec. 1957. Married 22 Dec. 1898 Edith Shortly of Peterborough. See his recollections of Sharon in the York Pioneer, 1958. d Adelena, b. 25 Apr. 1873 4 William, b. c. 1836. He was living with his sister Elizabeth in Rochester by 1850. He returned to East Gwillimbury as an adult, marrying Sarah E. Osman, daughter of Conrad Osman, 31 Dec. 1844. He was active in the Presbyterian Church in Queensville. Child: Thomas C.,b. 1859, d. 15 Nov. 1895, married Catherine ? ix Jacob Lepard was born 1774, and died 24 Oct. 1850. He married Mary Terry, born 1786, died 31 Mar. 1853. Children: i Jacob b. c. 1818, d. 1905. Married Mary ?. They lived on lot 12, concession 3/4, East Gwillimbury. By 1871, Mary had joined the Church of England. By 1881, they had all become Quakers. Children: a Alvaretta, b. 1858, d. 21 Sept. 1860 b Sanford, b. c. 1861 c Cordelia, b. c. 1864 d Arillia, b. c. 1865 e Joseph, b. 1868, d. 28 Mar. 1869 f Walter, b. c. 1869

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g Alunda (?), b. c. 1872 h Aaron, b. c. 1874 i Fred, b. and d. Aug. 1877 2 Levina, b. c. 1817 3 Almira 4 Emerilla, b. c. 1828 x Peter Lepard was born 1779, and died 16 Mar. 1867. He married Elizabeth Phillips, born 1791, died 14 Nov. 1857. They lived on lot 8, concession 3. Elizabeth was the widow of Peter Richard Rowen, born in Amsterdam 1790, who emigrated to New York and then Markham Township. It was in Markham that Rowen married Elizabeth, whose family had emigrated there in 1776. After the marriage, they moved to concession 4, East Gwillimbury, where Peter Rowen died May 1815. Peter Lepard was a cooper. Children (by Peter Rowen): 1 Peter b. Dec. 1812, d. 1875. He was a farmer, blacksmith, wheelwright, and painter. Married Deborah Kitely, b. c. 1812, d. 1885. He was said to have made some of the pikes used by the rebels in the Rebellion of 1837, for which he was imprisoned. He remained a member of the Children of Peace for his whole life. His wife and children became members of the Christian Church after 1861. Children: a Richard, b. c. 1836, d. 1912. Lived in Holt b William H., b. c. 1838, d. 1887. A wheelwright, wagon maker, and reeve of East Gwillimbury. He became a Unitarian, c Hannah, b. c. 1840, d. 1896. Married Christopher Oxtoby d Catherine, b. c. 1842 e Daniel, b. c. 1844. A farmer, moved to Detroit f Maria, b. c. 1847 2 Daniel, b. Apr. 1815. He was a carpenter, moved to the United States, and died of cholera in Illinois, 21 July 1854, aged thirty-nine. Children (by Peter Lepard): 3 Benjamin, b. c. 1817. Married Norrah ?, b. c. 1822; then, Maria ?, b. c. 1822, d. before 1881. They lived on lots 7 and 8, concession 3. By 1871, they had become members of the New Connexion Methodist Church. Children. a Hannah Willson, b. c. 1841 b Phebe, b. c. 1843 c Elizabeth, b. c. 1845 d David, b. c. 1846, d. 1922

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4 David, murdered at a Durham meeting (a political rally) 15 Oct. 1839, aged nineteen, by a group of Tory thugs 5 William, b. c. 1824. Married Esther ?, b. c. 1834. By 1871, William had become a Quaker, and the rest of the family Christians. Children-. a Ellen, b. c. 1863 b Judah, b. c. 1859. Married Lydia ? c Benjamin, b. c. 1864 d Almedia, b. c. 1871 e Persilla, adopted, b. c. 1864 6 Silas, b. 1829, d. 20 Sept. 1906. Married Juliett Willson, daughter of William H. and Sarah Harrison Willson (see above) 7 Elizabeth, married Judah Lundy (see above) xi Murdoch McLeod was born 6 Oct. 1765 in Scotland of Daniel and Cathar McLeod. He married Rachel Terry, born 1769, daughter of David and Grace Terry. They became convinced Quakers in the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting in 1808. In 1812 they joined the Children of Peace, and moved to East Gwillimbury, where they settled on lot 11, concession 2. Murdoch McLeod was said to have ministered in the Meetings for Worship of the Children of Peace. He died 28 June 1847. Rachel Terry McLeod died 3 Dec. 1848. Children: 1 Grace, b. 18 Oct. 1790. Married Stephen Chapman, son of Charles and Elizabeth Linton Chapman of Uxbridge (see above) 2 Elizabeth, b. 2 Sept. 1792. She was disowned by the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends on 18 Aug. 1814 for marrying a non-Quaker, Joseph Cody, born 1788 of Joseph and Sarah Payne Cody. He died during the War of 1812. 3 Catherine, b. 22 June 1794, d. 22 Sept. 1795 4 Susannah, b. 8 Feb. 1796. Married c. May 1816 William Lloyd, b. c. 1790, son of Thomas and Charity Vanhorn Lloyd. Susannah died in 1848, and is buried in the Hicksite Quaker Cemetery. William died in 1887, and is buried in the Orthodox Quaker Cemetery. 5 Daniel, b. 22 Nov. 1798 6 Jonathan, b. 25 Jan 1800, d. 18 Feb. 1800 7 Levinia, b. 8 Jan. 1801. She was disowned 18 Feb. 1823 from the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting for marrying David G. Walton, a man who was the 'husband of another woman.' He died 1848; she died 1878. They are both buried in the Hicksite Quaker Cemetery.

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8 Caroline, b. 13 Feb. 1803. Married Hiram R. Willson, son of Hugh L. and Mary Titus Willson (see above) 9 Murdoch, Jr, b. 20 Aug. 1804 10 Rachel, b. 8 Nov. 1806. Married a Mr Barber of Aurora 11 Alexandria, b. 24 June 1808 12 Ellen b. 6 Dec. 1810. Married a Mr Southard of Newmarket 13 William, married Martha Doan, daughter of Mahlon and Rebecca Hartley Doan (see above) xii David Terry and Anne. Little is known of them. Their family farm was on lot 6, concession 3. Child: i John b. c. 1814, d. 16 Feb. 1871. Married Sarah Ann ?, b. c. 1814, d. 1876. They became Wesleyan Methodists after 1851. John operated a tannery just north of his home according to the 1851 census, but, by 1854, he had turned completely to farming. In 1869 he was made a justice of the peace. Children-. a Lydia, b. c. 1835 b Elizabeth, b. c. 1837 c Rachel R., b. c. 1839 d David, P., b. c. 1843, d. 1859 e Stephen D., b. c. 1850 f Henry, b. c. 1860 xni Elizabeth Terry was born c. 1790, and died 20 Nov. 1871. She married Benjamin Terry, b. 1783, d. 30 Nov. 1838 (he was not a member). Female children: 1 Grace 2 Elizabeth 3 Amanda

Individuals and Families about Whom Little Is Known - Polly Boynton - Cornelius Dunham - Hiram and Elizabeth Harrison raised a large family, but as a result of a family disagreement, Hiram and two sons, Joseph and John, went to the United States, where John was murdered. Their son Joshua is listed above. Of the other children, Sally married William Willson, Nancy married Isaac Rose (they were members for only a short time before

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the completion of the temple), Lucy married Hiram Morre, and Mary married Robert Tomlinson. - Aaron and Elizabeth King; children Seth and Susan Jane - James and Elizabeth King were said to have moved to Ohio after the Rebellion. Children: George, Alexander, James, Henry, David, Joel, William, Mary Ann, and Martha - William Mainprize emigrated to Canada in 1830 from Gembling, Yorkshire, England, settling on lot 6, concession 8, East Gwillimbury. He was a member of the sect for only a short time. He had twelve children. - Solomon and Mary Stogdill; children-. Cecilia-Ann, Seymour. The Stogdills were members of the sect for only a short period. They were said to have been the founders of the Christian Church in Canada. They moved to North Gwillimbury after the Rebellion. See the history of the Christian Baptist Church of Newmarket. - William Richard Thornhill - George and Elizabeth Wright; their son William Edward (b. c. 1823) married Mary J. ?. He was a tailor. Children. George, William, Matilda, Matthew, George, Stephen, Mary, and Rachel.

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Notes

Chapter i 1 This statement is not entirely true. For example, although the Canada Yearly Meeting still retains the procedural means to 'recognize' ministers in its Discipline, it has, in fact, not recognized any new ministers in almost forty years. 2 It is for this reason that the minutes of the Monthly Meeting are often a very poor source of information. The Yonge Street Minute Book, for example, records little of the conflict between the Quakers and the Children of Peace other than a constant stream of disownments for 'attending the meetings of those that have separated from us.' 3 The Meeting of Sufferings acted on behalf of the Yearly Meeting between its yearly sessions. It was composed of prominent Friends (usually ministers and elders) selected by the Yearly Meeting, and thus may be likened to the 'Select Meeting.' 4 Only the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting and the Baltimore Yearly Meeting adopted the doctrinal standard of the Uniform Discipline in 1806. Isaac Wiggins, the elder who cautioned Willson to remain silent, was originally a member of the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting. This is also true, however, of most of the Quakers who joined Willson. 5 The various branches of Canadian Quakerism reunited in the Canadian Yearly Meeting in 1955. 6 Because the established church was an integrated part of English government, membership in any non-sanctioned church during the seventeenth century implied not only religious but jural dissent, hence the name 'Dissenting Church.' In the nineteenth century this term encompassed all non-established churches (e.g., the Quakers and Methodists, but not the Presbyterians).

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Notes to pages 10-17

7 The difficulties Friends faced in maintaining their pacifist beliefs while remaining 'in the world' can be sensed in the wording of their petition to Lieutenant-Governor Francis Gore, on his arrival in Upper Canada in 1806: 'The Society of the people called Quakers, to Francis Gore, Governor of Upper Canada, sendeth greeting. Notwithstanding, we are a people, who hold forth to the world a principle which in many respects differs from the greater part of mankind, yet we believe in our reasonable duty as saith the Apostles: "Submit yourselves unto every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake, whether it be the king as supreme, or unto governors as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evil doers and for the praise of them that do well"; in this we hope to be his humble and peaceful subjects. Although we cannot for conscience sake join with many of our fellow mortals in complementary customs of man, neither in taking up the sword to shed human blood, for the Scriptures saith that "it is righteousness that exalteth a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people," we feel concerned for the welfare and prosperity of the province, hoping thy administration may be such a terror to the evil-minded and a pleasure to them that do well, then will thy province flourish and prosper under thy direction, which is the earnest desire and prayer of thy sincere friends. Read and approved in Yonge Street Monthly Meeting of Friends, i8th, Ninth Month, 1806': Upper Canada Gazette, 4 Oct. 1806. 8 The terms 'Church of England,' 'Episcopal Church,' 'Anglican Church,' and 'established church' are used interchangeably here. It should be noted that the Church of England was never established in Upper Canada in the same manner as it was in England. 9 For the broad (if somewhat inaccurate) details of the dispute, see Trewhella, n.d. 10 See the Minute Book of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, Canadian Yearly Meeting Archives (hereafter CYMA), 0-11-6, entries dated 18 Apr. 1811 to 14 May 1812. 11 Court of King's Bench Term Book, PAO, RG 22, Series 127, vol. 1/2, pp. 9, 20, 21, 34, 35, 36, 53 and 54. 12 Each Preparative Meeting is a potential Monthly Meeting. When a local meeting gains sufficient size, and distance makes communication with the Monthly Meeting difficult, that meeting is 'set off and recognized as an independent Monthly Meeting. 13 Office of the Recorder of Deeds, Doylestown, Bucks County

Notes to pages 17-26

255

14 James T. Lemon (1967: 68) argues that a 75-acre farm in nearby Lancaster County was the minimum needed for subsistence farming. 15 York Region Registry Office, deeds to King Township, Instrument nos. 894 and 895 16 Minute Book of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, 14 July 1808, CYMA 0-11-6 17 York Region Registry Office, deeds to King Township, Instrument nos. 1140 and 1141; deeds to Whitchurch Township, Instrument no. 1517 18 There were some notable exceptions: Friends from Vermont were split between the Yonge Street and Pickering meetings, and Friends from Catawissa between the Yonge Street and Uxbridge meetings. The ties between Yonge Street and Pickering were weakened, however, when an epidemic decimated the Vermont Friends there in 1809; Timothy Rogers, then living in Pickering, lost seven of his adult children living on Yonge Street. 19 See chapter 5 for a fuller discussion. 20 The idiosyncratic use of the term 'peasantry' in this book is meant to distinguish market-oriented farmers (cf simple commodity producers [Friedmann 1980]) from subsistence-oriented farmers whose social relations are not predicated upon capitalist wage relations or profit motives. In this, I follow Wolf (1966: 2): 'The peasant does not operate an enterprise in the economic sense; he runs a household, not a business concern'; the farmer, in contrast, runs 'a business enterprise, combining factors of production purchased in a market to obtain profit by selling advantageously in a products market.' See chapter 5 for a fuller discussion. No comparison with the feudal exactions of the seigneurial regime of Quebec (Greer 1985) is intended. Chapter 2 1 The phrase 'New Light Stir' refers to the 'Second Great Awakening' that swept the continent between 1800 and 1830 (Marini 1982). See McLoughlin (1978) for a fuller discussion of the chronology of these periodic religious revivals. 2 The term 'orthodox Quaker' does not refer to an earlier Quaker doctrinal orthodoxy. In the eighteenth century, Quakers had been noncreedal. At this time, references to an 'orthodox' Quaker doctrine are an anachronism. Doctrines generally professed by all Quakers during

256

3 4 5 6

7 8 9

Notes to pages 27-68

the eighteenth century are referred to as 'traditional beliefs.' See Doherty (1967) and Ingle (1986) for a fuller discussion of the emergence of Quaker orthodoxy and the resultant Hicksite Separation. The phrases in parentheses are marginal notes. Here, Willson is drawing on the theology of Robert Barclay, whose catechism was widely read by Quakers of all persuasions. See, for example, OSHTX975.441.1, 'Various Manuscripts by David Willson,' and OSHT 990.1.7. See also chapter 7 for a fuller discussion of the same issues. Note that Marini uses the term 'evangelical' in a different sense than that meant here in describing 'evangelical' Quakers. Marini uses the word in the sense of proselytizing; the Quakers used it to describe a theological stance based on biblical inerrancy. See chapter 7 for a fuller discussion of this work. Beginning in 1808, Friends were subject to an annual £1 fine in peacetime, and £5 in war, with a one-month jail term for refusal to pay (Martin and Bearinger 1941: 1-2). Only Joseph Roberts is mentioned in any of Willson's papers, he being present at an interchange between Willson and Mary Pearson. Willson, who found Pearson nursing 'one of her children which had been blind for some time,' told her that 'altho' she had opposed me and been a nurser of the blind (or justifier of darkness) and God had given her the blind to nurse, that the God in whom I did trust was able to open that child's eyes, and turn her opposition into friendship and love.' Roberts followed Willson from the house 'and railed on [him] in an angry manner for what [he] had said to the woman; he died in prison a short time after' (OSHT 990.1.7: 63). Pearson continued to oppose him, and Willson notes that the blind child also died within a few weeks. Chapter 3

1 See also Manuscript i cited in 'Reconstructed Manuscripts of the Children of Peace,' Albert Schrauwers, Sharon Temple Museum. 2 This is inferred from the preface of Hughes (1835) and the press release quoted below. 3 See Manuscript i, 'Reconstructed Manuscripts.' 4 Ibid 5 An undated fragment signed by John Doan on behalf of the assembly

Notes to pages 69-88

257

Chapter 4 1 The Quakers continued to use this meeting-house until 1825, when they returned it to Willson after most of their members had moved away and they laid down the Queen Street Meeting for Worship. 2 The Second Meeting-House was actually painted a pale yellow and green. 3 The organ referred to was built by Richard Coates in 1820. 4 In a petition to the provincial legislature asking for the remission of fines for refusing militia duty, the sect asked that this money be used, instead, in support of their schools; they noted that in the previous four years they had raised #334 for the support of poor students alone (OSHT 985.5.115).

5 The book also explained the rationale for the belief for which Reid had been disowned. Although taken out of context, this excerpt should be enough to give the reader the flavour of the text, as well as a sense of the difficulties young students faced in approaching these doctrinal issues for the first time. Q-. Was not [Christ's] person God? A: His person was God's, because it never obeyed any other command; yet God is a spirit, and his person was flesh, in which God did abide; therefore his person was an earthly tabernacle in which God did abide, while Christ was doing the will of the father: and Christ was God in man without sin, and the purpose of his creation in Adam. 6 The pamphlet was an explanation of Quaker silent-worship services. Doan's copy has been microfilmed as part of the Sharon Temple collection; see PAO, Ms 834, Reel i. 7 For a similar analysis, see Cooper (1987). 8 York Region Registry Office, Probated Will of Amos Hughes, Instrument no. EG 10998, dated 5 August 1834. This is probably the building referred to by Charles Doan as the 'Orphan House' (Read 1985: 114). Chapter 5 i The distinction between simple commodity producer and capitalist is not meant to imply that the simple commodity producer is not operating within a capitalist framework, just that the farm of a simple commodity producer is not only a unit of production, but also a unit of consumption. The logic of their activity is thus slightly altered from

258

2 3 4 5 6 7

8

9 10 1i 12 13

14

Notes to pages 89-99

that of the maximalizing capitalist. See Friedmann (1980) and Smith (1985). 'Free' land grants, it should be noted, were subject to a number of registration fees that often prevented settlers from obtaining full title to their land. Georgina Township is immediately northeast of East Gwillimbury. All data on farm size were derived from the Tax Assessment Roll for East Gwillimbury Township for 1834, PAO, RG 21. Defined as having about or over 2,000 in population with 5,000 acres or more in cultivation See the estimates presented in response to Gourley's 1817 questionnaire (1974, 130, 133, 135, etc). There were three forms of currency in use in Upper Canada in the early nineteenth century: New York currency (in dollars), provincial currency (£ sterling, £i=$4 NYC), and Halifax currency (£ sterling, £i=$5 NYC). All prices are calculated in Halifax currency and quoted in January of each year. All figures are drawn from the market quotations of the Colonial Advocate with the exception of the 1835 figure, which is from Jones (1977: 123): 1828, 2s 9d; 1830, 55 6d; 1832, 45 6s; 1833, 55 od; 1834, 35 gd; and 1835, is 6d. All data derived from the Abstract Index to Deeds for East Gwillimbury Township, York Region Registry Office. Only sales of land greater than i acre were considered. See, for example, the 8o-acre farm bought by Ira Doan from his father, Ebenezer (cited below), for £200. We might guess that this money was required to help pay for his purchase of 100 acres on lot 18, concession 2, the year before, as well as the yearly instalment of this clergy reserve. See the discussion in chapter 6. For example, the figure for land bought in 1828 is '$725+,' indicating that it includes approximately 50 acres purchased whose price is not known. If purchased at market rates, this figure would more likely be between $1,225 and * 1,725. There is no direct measure of Hiram's income or subsistence strategy. However, the Children of Peace records do list his voluntary contributions to the construction of their Second Meeting-House; this probably indicates his income. In 1832, Hiram contributed 145 7V2 cash to the construction fund. From 1832 to 1835, we know that Hiram was working to pay for the tannery; there were no contributions in 1833 and

Notes to pages 99-119

15 16

17 18

259

1834 (which no doubt irked the elders of the sect - see the discussion in chapter 6). In 1835 and 1836, however, after he had purchased his farm with his earnings from the tannery, he again began to contribute to the fund, but this time in work. One interpretation of the data is that as a subsistence-oriented farmer integrated in the moral economy of the sect, and thus devoting his time to their communal projects, he had less time to invest in farming, thus reducing his wheat surplus and cash income. Cash would not have been as critical at this point since he had already purchased his farm; hence, his production could aim at meeting subsistence needs. For an application of the model in the Canadian setting, see Marr (1985). This settlement pattern may have been accentuated by the colonial government's land policy. The policy effectively reduced the incentive to move by raising the costs of wild lands to almost equal those of a settled township such as East Gwillimbury. Calculated from genealogical information in combination with marriage dates given in OSHT X986.3.2 Bucks County Historical Society, Bucks County, Pennsylvania Chapter 6

1 The first mention of the temple is in a poem, entitled 'The Lord's Celebration,' written in 1822, but not printed until the 18505. 2 All references to the new Jerusalem find their source in Revelations 21. All references to Solomon's temple are derived from i Kings 6. 3 The Feast of Passover was held on the first Saturday in June, 'at first in honour of David Willson's birthday, afterwards instituted as the "passover" ' (McArthur 1898: 6). The Feast of the First Fruits was held on the first Saturday in September. 4 This description is based upon the order of worship found in OSHT 986.3.2: 22iff, dated 6 May 1831. 5 Calculated from the extant minutes of the Monthly Meeting, PAO, Ms 188, Series A 6 Thus, the Children of Peace continued to use plain speech and dress, and to refuse to swear oaths or make recourse to courts of law. 7 We must, however, keep in mind the fractious disputes that erupted over Willson's ministry, as well as those which gave way to Hicksite Separation in 1827. 8 See, for example, the case of Francis Hamilton reported in the Cana-

260

Notes to pages 119-55

dian Correspondent, 17 May 1834. Hamilton had been a teacher in the village whose 'principles and spirit did not altogether agree with [the Children of Peace] in all things; we unfortunately fell a war, and the breach remains to be healed or adjusted to public satisfaction.' Hamilton had charged Willson and a number of other members of the sect, including William Reid, Samuel and Amos Hughes, and Murdoch McLeod, with Assault and Battery (see the minutes of the Court of Quarter Sessions of York, typescript in the Baldwin Room, Metro Toronto Reference Library, May 1834). The charges were dropped on payment of costs. In their letter to the Canadian Correspondent (17 May 1834), the members of the sect added: 'We have suffered much by taking in strangers whose morals and principles were not known to us. We are still at peace, and can bear this happy testimony, that the remnant of many classes agree with us, we having Catholic members with us of respectability, and others without any discord about the tenets of Religion.' 9 York Regional Registry Office, Patent to lot 8, concession 3, East Gwillimbury. The successive sales made in 1831 are registered under Instrument nos. EG 9185 and EG 9186. 10 Obscure references to the dispute are scattered throughout OSHT 986.3.2: 260-75. 11 In 1834, Ebenezer Doan owned 400 acres; John Doan, 269; Samuel Hughes, 225; Israel Lundy, 207; David Willson, 119; and Murdoch McLeod, 100. Chapter 7 1 In the standard Weberian definitions, power is the ability to command with the probability of being obeyed, and authority is the means by which commands or acts may be legitimated. Power is a fact; authority represents a right. Weber distinguished three kinds of authority: charismatic, traditional, and legal-rational. Chapters 6 and 7 document the shift in the sect's basis for authority from charismatic leadership to a legal-rational, or jural system. 2 For a more concrete example, see the description of the temple ritual, chapter 6. 3 A Friend to Britain is bound together with Impressions of the Mind, and The Acting Principles of Life. Each work has a distinctive focus. 4 In spirit, the Messiah would be Jesus Christ; the body of Christ, however, would not be resurrected until the Day of Judgment.

Notes to pages 156-95

261

Chapter 8 1 The ship was named after Peter, the brother of William B. Robinson, and John B. Robinson, attorney general of the province. 2 Other prominent reformers, such as John Rolph, Dr Baldwin, and M.S. Bidwell, refused to participate in any organization in which Mackenzie played such a leading role, as they were fearful of his intemperance (Craig 1963: 219). 3 Poster, 'Reform Meeting!,' dated 1834, in the Baldwin Room, Metropolitan Toronto Reference Library 4 See, for example, Colonial Advocate, 19 January 1832, as well as the Correspondent and Advocate, 15 January 1835. 5 All data are derived from a comparison of the names provided by Stagg with the genealogical data presented in appendix 3. 6 This account-book was mistakenly attributed to David Doan in Finding Aid and Accession List. Chapter 9 1 Approximately twenty-five pages were destroyed. 2 In particular, lot 9, concession 2, in the heart of the village of Hope. Between 1839 and 1846, twenty transactions took place on this one lot. 3 This meeting-house resembled the much smaller study built for Willson in 1829 (photo 10). Both meeting-houses of the Children of Peace were demolished. The study and the temple have been preserved on the temple site. 4 See the Willson file in the Baldwin Papers, Baldwin Room, MetroToronto Reference Library. 5 Ibid, letters dated 12 and 22 July 1843 Chapter 10 1 See, for example, Turner (1957), who argues that, while common values may be accepted, private interests may clash as individuals attempt to manipulate ethical ideals to their own advantage. These values are removed from the immediacy of dispute by being expressed in religious terms. When a community's solidarity is threatened, cathartic religious ceremonies are performed that reaffirm the values and make possible the restoration of harmony. However, the subjective removal of hostility does not remove the root causes of conflict; hence, these

262

2

3 4 5 6

Notes to pages 196-210

tensions build up once more, requiring the repeated performance of the ritual. The problem of utilizing the degree of market participation (as opposed to its role in the reproduction of the production regime) as the defining feature of the production regime is demonstrated by the following example, based on this principle. Let us say that, in 1830, the market value of wheat was $1.00. Let us also agree that $1.00 is the normative 'fair' price. In 1830, Farmer A, short of wheat at the end of the season, receives i bushel from Farmer B for $1.00. In 1831, the market price for wheat falls to $0.50. Farmer B, now in need of wheat, purchases a bushel from Farmer A for $1.00. Depending upon the way in which it is analysed, this exchange can be seen as a simple reciprocal exchange between two subsistence farmers in a moral economy, or Farmer A can be viewed as a rapacious capitalist farmer who has made a profit of $0.50 from Farmer B. Which is the correct interpretation? See 'The Yonge Street Monthly Meeting,' in chapter i. For a similar analysis of the Presbyterian church, see Doherty (1968). 'Public Friend' was a Quaker term for a minister. The artificial nature of these 'families' should be stressed. The Shakers were celibate, and all relations between men and women were closely monitored.

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Worsley, Peter. 1978. The Trumpet Shall Sound: A Study of 'Cargo' Cults in Melanesia, 2d ed. New York: Schocken Books Zito, George V. 1983. 'Toward a Sociology of Heresy,' Sociological Analysis 44/2: 123-30 Newspaper Reports British Colonist: 24 Apr. 1839 Canadian Correspondent: 17 May, 27 Sept., 4 Oct. 1834 Colonial Advocate: 3 Jan., 18 Sept. 1828; 16 July, 3 Sept. 1829; 29 July, 30 Sept., 7 Oct., 10 Oct. 1830; 27 Jan., 14 July, 21 July, 25 Aug., i Sept., 8 Sept., 15 Sept., 22 Sept., 29 Sept., 6 Oct. 1831; 19 Jan., 23 Aug. 1832; 21 Dec. 1833; 20 Feb., 27 Feb., 13 Mar 1834 The Constitution: lojuly, 19 July, 27 July, 24 Aug., 21 Sept. 1836; 18 Jan. 15 May., 22 Mar., 4 May, 17 May, 14 June, 28 June, 19 July, 9 Aug., 8 Nov. 1837 Correspondent and Advocate: 15 Jan., 22 Jan. 1835 Newmarket Era: 25 May 1855 Upper Canada Gazette/Weekly Register: 17 Nov. 1825; 3 Jan. 1828; 16 July, 3 Sept. 1829 Manuscript Sources The single largest source of manuscript material related to the Children of Peace has been collected by the York Pioneer and Historical Society (OSHT) , and is now held by the Sharon Temple Museum Society. Most of this material, and some other manuscripts borrowed for the occasion, were microfilmed by the Archives of Ontario (PAO, Ms 834). Composed of six reels of microfilm, the material is organized by accession number. To aid in utilizing the material, Finding Aid and Accession List was prepared by Albert Schrauwers and Leon Warmsky. The most important accessions within this material are: 971.28.32 971.28.64 971.28.69

'Spiritual sensations on the death of Sarah Lundy' (manuscript) '15 Oct. 1839 To the memory of David Lepard son of Peter and Elizabeth Lepard who was killed at the Durham Meeting on Yonge Street' (broadsheet) '9 Jan. 1839 I have given you a true representation of our condition ...' (letter)

276

Bibliography

971.28.70 X975441.2

'10 Jan. 1839 An epistle to my friends' (letter) 'Various manuscripts by David Willson,' covering the years 1814-15. This manuscript is incomplete. It has been extended by collating other single-sheet manuscripts: see Albert Schrauwers, 'Manuscript Reconstruction,' Sharon Temple Museum Archives, which covers the years 1815 to 1817. 'Book of Sacred Record,' containing hymns and serX975-434-1 mons, 1828-32 X975.442.ioa 'The Lord's Celebration' (broadsheet) 976.213.31 'The following is the substance of that which is above written' (manuscript) 985.5.81 'No. 37 As God in divine goodness and tender mercy hath assembled us together this day ..." (manuscript) 985.5.113 'Rules and Regulations of Yonge Street School' (manuscript) 985.5.115 'To the Parliament of this province now sitting' (petition) 11986.3.1 A ledger containing 'A Short Account of the Origin and Principles of the People that constitute the worship of God, and alms giving in Sharon' with Charity Fund receipts X986.3-2 Book of hymns, sermons, covenants between members of the sect, marriages 1831-7 X986.15.1 William H. Willson Day Book, 1837 990.1.2, 6, 7, 8, 10 'The Ark papers' (manuscript), a manuscript history of the original schism from the Society of Friends, discovered in a secret compartment of the ark (not yet microfilmed) The Archives of Ontario also possesses some Minutes of Meeting, a list of contributors to the Second Meeting-House (Ms 733), and Tax Assessment Rolls (PAO, RG 21). The Canadian Yearly Meeting Archives (CYMA) at Pickering College, Newmarket, contains the minute books, disciplines, and a number of personal manuscripts related to the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting. Much of this material is available on microfilm at the Provincial Archives of Ontario, (Ms 303). See, especially,

Bibliography

277

CYMAD-2-i6 Phoebe Winn's'Diary' (manuscript) 0-11-6 Minute Book of the Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, 1806-18 B ROG, n.d. The 'Journal' of Timothy Rogers (typescript) See also Carolyn Mann's unpublished Willson genealogy, in the Newmarket Historical Society Archives.

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Name Index

Agar, Emily, 242 Anderson, ?, 221 Anderson, Jane, 225 Arbuthnott, Jane, 244 Armitage, Amos: aids Willson, 32-3, 34, 41; farm, 17, 93; genealogical information, 217, 239; joins Children of Peace, 42-3, 214; leadership of, 23-4, 60, 2ii; rejoins Quakers, 58, 61, 70 Armitage, Amos, Jr, 43, 214 Armitage, Anna, 239, 240 Armitage, Eleanor, 215 Armitage, Eli, 217 Armitage, Martha: and Doan family, 17-18; genealogical information, 217, 239; leadership of, 23-4, 60, 211; joins Children of Peace, 43, 214; rejoins Quakers, 58, 61 Armitage, Mary, 215 Armstrong, Mary Ann, 225, 229, 236 Aspden, Rebecca, 219 Atkinson, Jacob, 217 Atkinson, Susannah, 217 Babcock, Emily, 218 Baldwin, Robert, 170, 187, 188 Baldwin, DrW.W., 162 Barber, ?, 230, 234, 250 Barker, Maria, 246 Barnard, Hannah, 31, 36, 38

Belfry, Joanna, 221, 245 Bell, Moses C., 231 Bell, Sarah W., 231 Beman, Elisha, 12-14, *44 Bentley, Charles, 246, 247 Birmingham, Ann Coburn, 223 Bloch, Maurice, 198-9 Bogart, Phillip, 160 Bonnell, Margaret, 211 Borland, Andrew, 159 Borngasser, Adam, 225 Bostwick, Margaret, 227 Bowerman, Stephen, 54 Boyd, Jesse, 218 Boynton, Polly, 250 Brammer, Ada, 243 Brammer, Alfred, 243 Brammer, Alice, 243 Brammer, Anne, 242 Brammer, Catherine E., 242 Brammer, Edgar, 243 Brammer, Edith, 243 Brammer, Edward (father), 242 Brammer, Edward (son), 242 Brammer, Esther, 243 Brammer, George (father/uncle), 242 Brammer, George (nephew), 242 Brammer, George (son), 243 Brammer, Hannah, 243 Brammer, Hellen M., 243

280

Name Index

Brammer, Hugh Willson, 243 Brammer, Israel John, 243 Brammer, Joanna, 243 Brammer, John, 243 Brammer, Joseph, 180, 236, 243 Brammer, Julia, 243 Brammer, Mary, 243 Brammer, Phebe, 243 Brammer, Rachel, 243 Brammer, Robert, 242 Brammer, Sarah Catherine, 243 Brammer, William, 242 Briggs, Abigail, 232 Briggs, Amy, 232 Briggs, Anna, 232 Briggs, Anna Maria, 231 Briggs, Caleb, 231, 232, 233 Briggs, Caroline, 232 Briggs, David Willson, 232 Briggs, Henry, 232 Briggs, Jonathan, 231, 232 Briggs, Mary, 232 Briggs, Orville Sackett, 232 Briggs, Robert, 232, 233 Briggs, Robert C., 231 Briggs, William Edward, 232 Briggs, William Henry, 232 Brodie, Elizabeth C., 231 Brodie, Mary, 231 Brodie, Robert, 230-1 Brooks, Wait Ann, 218-19, 225, 227, 239, 247 Brown, Elizabeth, 221 Brown, Nicolas, 211 Burr, Jane, 221, 245 Burr, Rebecca, 219, 227 Burr, Reuben, 211, 227, 245 Campbell, Edith, 225 Cane, Eugene, 247 Casey, John, 64 Chapman, Angelina, 241 Chapman, Charles, Sr: genealogical information, 236, 239, 240, 241,

249; joins Children of Peace, 215; leadership of, 24, 60, 211; migration, 17; rejoins Quakers, 58 Chapman, Elisabeth (daughter of Stephen), 241 Chapman, Elisabeth (daughter of Charles), 241-2 Chapman, Elizabeth (wife of Charles): genealogical information, 236, 238, 240, 241, 249; joins Children of Peace, 215; leadership of, 60, 211; rejoins Quakers, 58 Chapman, Grace, 215 Chapman, Harriet, 220, 241 Chapman, Murdoch, 180, 241 Chapman, Rebecca, 230, 233, 238-9, 244 Chapman, Stephen, 58, 215, 220, 241, 249 Clark, Freeman, 54 Cleaver, Elizabeth, 227, 245 Clement, David, 227 Coates, Richard, 67 Cody, Joseph, 249 Colborne, Sir John, 161, 169, 171 Colley, Thomas, 75 Collins, Amy, 211 Collins, Elijah, 211 Collins, Joseph, 211 Cory, Daniel, 190 Crittenden, Maria J., 222 Daly, Luke Maxwell, 224 Daly, William Henry, 224 Darling, Elizabeth, 246 Dennis, Abigail, 238 Dennis, Ellen, 238 Dennis, Enos, 58, 211, 214, 229, 237-8 Dennis, Esther, 238 Dennis, Hannah, 229, 238 Dennis, Job, 238 Dennis, Levi, 237

Name Index Dennis, Sarah, 211, 215, 237 Doan, Abraham, 103-6, 222, 234 Doan, Agnes (daughter of Judah), 221

Doan, Agnes (daughter of Mahlon), 220

Doan, Albert Charles, 222 Doan, Alsalm, 220 Doan, Anna Savilla (daughter of Jesse), 219 Doan, Anna Savilla (daughter of John), 218, 232 Doan, Anna Savilla (daughter of Mahlon), 219 Doan, Austin Titus, 222 Doan, Caroline, 223 Doan, Charles, 181, 218, 230, 231 Doan, Charles Clare, 218 Doan, Charles Henry, 218 Doan, Charlotte, 222 Doan, Chauncey, 225 Doan, Clara Lillian, 218 Doan, Cora Maud, 221 Doan, Daniel Moore, 223 Doan, David, 75, 103-6, 225 Doan, David Willson, 181, 218 Doan, Ebenezer, Jr: leadership of, 24, 211; joins Children of Peace, 214; farm of, 17-18, 97-8, 99, 103-6; genealogical information, 217, 221, 228, 234, 237, 241; master builder, 75, no; resigns, 183 Doan, Ebenezer, Sr, 17-18, 217, 219, 239 Doan, Ebenezer D., 223 Doan, Edward (son of Enos), 220 Doan, Edward (son of Oliver), 223 Doan, Edwin, 225 Doan, Elieen, 220 Doan, Eli, 217, 222, 234, 247 Doan, Elias, 103-6, 222, 228 Doan, Eliza Terry, 218 Doan, Elizabeth (daughter of Enos), 220

281

Doan, Elizabeth (daughter of Jesse), 219 Doan, Elizabeth (daughter of John), 218, 229, 230, 239, 244 Doan, Elizabeth (daughter of Joseph), 217 Doan, Elizabeth (wife of Ebenezer): leadership of, 211; joins Children of Peace, 215; farm of, 103-6; genealogical information, 217, 221, 228, 234, 237, 241 Doan, Elizabeth (wife of John), 211, 214, 217, 232, 234, 244 Doan, Elizabeth Baldwin, 220 Doan, Elizabeth P., 223 Doan, Ellen Elizabeth, 223 Doan, Emma, 223 Doan, Enos, 220, 241 Doan, Esther Ann, 222 Doan, Ethel Winifred, 218 Doan, Ezra Haines, 223, 238 Doan, EzraJ., 223 Doan, Florence Emily, 218 Doan, Florence Mary, 223 Doan, Frances Phillips, 223 Doan, Freemont Walton, 221 Doan, George Munroe, 219, 227, 247 Doan, George R., 219, 247 Doan, Hannah, 103, 224, 237, 241 Doan, Hannah Lundy, 223 Doan, Henry Carver, 222 Doan, Howard, 223 Doan, Hubert, 220 Doan, Ira, 103-6, 223, 241 Doan, Ira Ross, 224 Doan, Isabella (daughter of Joseph), 217 Doan, Isabella (daughter of Judah), 221

Doan, James Hartley (son of Judah), 221

Doan, James Hartley (son of Mahlon), 219, 227

282

Name Index

Doan, James Melville, 221 Doan, Jane, 217 Doan, Jeannie Arbuthnott, 224 Doan, Jerusha, 219, 239 Doan, Jesse (father), 218, 225, 227, 239, 244 Doan, Jesse (son), 219 Doan, Joanna, 221 Doan, John (father): and ark, 112; and farming, 20, 105, 106, 120; genealogical information, 217, 232, 234, 244; joins Children of Peace, 34, 42-3, 214; leadership of, 24, 2ii; migration, 17-18 Doan, John (son), 218 Doan, John J. Willson, 218 Doan, Jonathan, no, 217, 221 Doan, Jonathan (son of Mahlon), 220 Doan, Joseph (uncle), 17-18 Doan, Joseph (nephew), 217 Doan, Judah (son of Enos), 220 Doan, Judah (son of Mahlon), 221, 245 Doan, Lemuel, 222 Doan, Lena Maria, 223 Doan, Lucy Ann, 225 Doan, Mahlon, Jr, 221 Doan, Mahlon, Sr, 17-18, 24, 211, 215; genealogical information, 219, 235, 241, 250 Doan, Margaret B., 223 Doan, Martha. See Armitage, Martha Doan, Martha (daughter of Abraham), 222 Doan, Martha (daughter of Judah), 221

Doan, Martha (daughter of Mahlon), 220, 250

Doan, Mary (daughter of Ebenezer, Sr), 24, 212, 214, 217, 239 Doan, Mary (daughter of James), 220, 227

Doan, Mary (daughter of Jesse), 219, 225 Doan, Mary (Sabrey?) Eliza, 223 Doan, Mary (wife of Charles). See Willson, Mary Doan, Mary Eliza, 218 Doan, Mary Elizabeth (daughter of Charles), 218 Doan, Mary Elizabeth (daughter of Elias), 223 Doan, Mary Grace Lenora, 218 Doan, Milton Everest, 221 Doan, Norman, 220 Doan, Olive Ann, 223 Doan, Oliver, 103-6, 223 Doan, Paulina (daughter of Jesse), 219 Doan, Paulina (daughter of Joseph), 217 Doan, Rachel R., 223 Doan, Rebecca, 215, 220, 235 Doan, Robert Arthur, 224 Doan, Robert Willson, 224 Doan, Sarah (daughter of Ebenezer), 103, 224-5, 237, 241 Doan, Sarah (daughter of John), 217 Doan, Sarah Ann, 219, 227 Doan, Sarah Elizabeth, 219 Doan, Sarah Emily, 218 Doan, Sarah Haines, 223 Doan, Seth Chapman, 220 Doan, Seymour, 221 Doan, Susan, 220 Doan, Thomas, 221 Doan, Thomas Belfry, 245 Doan, William, 17-18, 24, 212 Doan, William Alexander, 222 Doan, William E., 225 Doane, Jonathan, 237 Dodds, William, 230 Draper, Susan, 245 Drury, Martha, 227 Dunham, Annie, 218

Name Index Dunham, Benjamin, 218, 232 Dunham, Charles, 218 Dunham, Cornelius, 250 Dunham, Elijah, 231 Dunham, Elizabeth Ann, 231 Dunham, Emily, 218 Dunham, John, 212 Dunham, John Wilmot, 232 Dunham, Jonathan, 232 Dunham, Martha Willson, 232 Dunham, Patience, 212 Dunham, Phebe, 212 Dunham, Robert, 231 Dunham, Thomas, 231 Dunham, Walter Gage, 232 Dunham, William, 218, 232 Dunham, William Benjamin, 218 Dunham, William Henry, 231 Durham, Lord, 179, 181, 186, 187 Durkheim, Emile, 195-6 Elder, Calvin, 233 Elder, David, 233 Elder, John, 233 Elder, Mary, 233 Elder, Robert, 233 Elder, William, 233 Elsworth, Arthur, 54 Ernes, Calvin, 227 Ernes, Eleanor, 227 Evans, A.A., 219 Evans, David, 224 Evans, Elizabeth, 224 Fidler, Rev. Isaac, 83, 85 Fitz, Myra, 225 Fletcher, Silas, 159, 168, 174 Fox, George, 4, 25, 34, 63 Frey, Catherine, 221 Frey, John Newton, 221 Frey, Sabrey, 221 Geertz, Clifford, 196-7, 199

283

Gleason, Ira, 227 Gleason, Joanne, 227 Gleason, Johanna, 227 Gorham, Eli, 160 Gorham, Nelson, 172 Graham, Charles, 229, 244 Graham, David, 245 Graham, Elizabeth, 244 Graham, Gertrude, 244 Graham, Hannah, 244 Graham, Hester, 244, 245 Graham, Jeremiah, 180, 221, 245 Graham, Jeremiah (of Sutton), 244 Graham, John, 244, 245 Graham, John Doan, 229, 244 Graham, John Herbert, 229 Graham, Maria, 229, 244 Graham, Mark, 244 Graham, Mary Ann, 230, 244 Graham, Nancy, 245 Graham, Polly B., 244 Graham, Rebecca, 221, 245 Graham, Richard, 244 Graham, William (father), 218, 244 Graham, William (son), 218, 229, 230, 239, 244 Gray, Hannah, 234-5 Greenwood, Estor, 236 Griffin, Obadiah, 212 Gurnett, Hannah, 239 Haight, ?, 220 Haines, Aaron, 224, 241 Haines, Aaron Bruce, 225 Haines, Austin D., 225 Haines, Charles, 240 Haines, Charles Henry, 225 Haines, Ebenezer Doan, 219, 225 Haines, Elizabeth (daughter of Charles), 241 Haines, Elizabeth (daughter of Samuel), 223, 241 Haines, Hannah, 225

284

Name Index

Haines, Hannah O., 225 Haines, Herbert, 225 Haines, Israel, 219, 224, 237, 241 Haines, Jesse, 225 Haines, Martha, 241 Haines, Mary, 241 Haines, MaryJ., 225 Haines, Mary Susannah, 224, 241 Haines, Sabrey, 225, 236 Haines, Samuel, 223, 224, 240 Haines, Sarah Elizabeth, 225 Haines, Susanah, 215, 223, 224, 240 Haines, Walter, 225 Haines, William, 225 Hall, Margaret J., 224 Hambleton, Abigail, 212 Hammill, Sarah, 218 Hammond, Edward, 223 Harold, Angelina, 230 Harold, Eliza A., 233-4 Harold, Samuel, 230, 234 Harrison, Elizabeth, 245, 250 Harrison, George, 245 Harrison, Hiram, 106, 245, 250 Harrison, John, 245, 250 Harrison, John C., 245 Harrison, Joseph, 250 Harrison, Josephine, 245 Harrison, Joshua, 106, 245 Harrison, Juletta, 245 Harrison, Lucy, 251 Harrison, Martha, 245 Harrison, Mary, 245, 250 Harrison, Minnie, 245 Harrison, Nancy, 250 Harrison, Nelson, 245 Harrison, Robert, 245 Harrison, Rosanna, 245 Harrison, Sally, 250 Harrison, Sarah, 235, 249 Harrison, Sarah E., 245 Harrison, Seton, 245 Hartley, Matilda, 220

Hartley, Rebecca, 219, 235, 241, 250 Hartley, Roger, 219 Hazard, Lydia, 212 Head, Sir Francis Bond, 170-1, 172, 173 Hefferman, Anne, 223 Henderson, James, 180, 233, 239 Henderson, Squire Thomas, 144 Hicks, Edward, 205 Hicks, Elias, 26, 38, 205 Hilborn, Thomas, 212 Hill, George, 234, 245-6 Hill, Joseph, 12-14, 22, 245 Hill, Lucy, 234, 246 Hill, Mary, 234, 246 Hill, Moses, 246 Hill, Simpson, 246 Hill, William, 246 Hollingshead, George, 215, 246 Hollingshead, Isaac, 212, 246 Home, Samuel E., 220 Howard, Richard Henry, 235 Hughes family, 12 Hughes, Ada, 239 Hughes, Amos (grandfather), 24, 80, 105-6, 212, 214; genealogical information, 229-30, 233, 234, 237, 238, 244 Hughes, Amos (grandson), 191, 239 Hughes, David W., 219, 239 Hughes, Elenor, 24, 43, 54, 212, 214; genealogical information, 236, 238, 239 Hughes, Elizabeth, 58 Hughes, Ellen, 233, 239 Hughes, James, 212 Hughes, James Henderson, 239 Hughes, Job (grandfather), 236, 238, 239 Hughes, Job (grandson), 219, 223, 229, 238-9 Hughes, John, 239

Name Index Hughes, Levi, 24, 212 Hughes, Mary, 229-30, 238, 244 Hughes, Rachel. See Lundy, Rachel Hughes, Rachel L., 223 Hughes, Rebecca, 212, 214 Hughes, Samuel: and charity, 81; genealogical information, 217, 239-40; joins Children of Peace, 43, 214; land sales of, 97, 120-1, 183; leadership of, 24, 190, 212, 239; resigns, 183 Hughes, Sarah, 215, 229, 237-8 Hunt, Mary, 219, 246 Hurst, Hannah C., 220 Jarvis, William, 178 Johnson, J.H., 219 Johnson, Capt. William, 81 Jones, Elias, 228 Judge, Hugh, 38 Kavanagh, Adelina, 247 Kavanagh, Ambrose, 246 Kavanagh, Elizabeth, 246 Kavanagh, Frank, 246 Kavanagh, Honora Elizabeth, 219, 247 Kavanagh, James, 180, 246 Kavanagh, James Edward, 247 Kavanagh, John Hiram, 219, 246, 2 47 Kavanagh, Julia, 246 Kavanagh, Mary Elizabeth, 246 Kavanagh, Mary Katherine, 247 Kavanagh, Minnie K., 247 Kavanagh, Sarah L., 246 Kavanagh, Thomas C., 247 Kavanagh, William, 246, 247 Kavanagh, William John, 246, 247 Kelley, Martha C., 224 Kester, Anna (daughter), 240 Kester, Anna (mother), 241 Kester, Anna Jane, 242

285

Kester, Arnold, 242 Kester, Benjamin, 241 Kester, Ellen, 242 Kester, Esther, 240, 242 Kester, George (father), 240, 242 Kester, George (son), 242 Kester, Isaiah, 242 Kester, John, 242 Kester, Mercy, 242 Kester, Paul, 241 Kester, Rachel, 240, 242 Kester, Susannah, 241 Kester, William, 242 King, Aaron, 251 King, Alexander, 251 King, David, 251 King, Elizabeth, 251 King, George, 251 King, Henry, 251 King, James, 251 King, Joel, 251 King, Martha, 251 King, Mary Ann, 251 King, Seth, 251 King, Susan Jane, 251 King, Susannah, 217 King, William, 251 Kinsey, James, 219, 246 Kinsey, Jane, 246 Kinsey, Susannah, 219, 227 Kitely, Deborah, 248 Lafontaine, Hippolyte, 187 Laughton, Squire William, 144, 159 Leach, Edmund, 195 Lee, 'Mother' Ann, 207, 208 Lee, Elenor. See Hughes, Elenor Leer, Maria, 208 Lepard, Aaron, 248 Lepard, Almedia, 249 Lepard, Almira, 248 Lepard, Alunda, 248 Lepard, Alvaretta, 247

286

Name Index

Lepard, Arillia, 247 Lepard, Benjamin, 248, 249 Lepard, Cordelia, 247 Lepard, David, 187, 248, 249 Lepard, Elizabeth (daughter of Benjamin), 248 Lepard, Elizabeth (daughter of Peter), 237, 249 Lepard, Elizabeth A., 235 Lepard, Ellen, 249 Lepard, Emerilla, 248 Lepard, Emma A., 235 Lepard, Fred, 248 Lepard, Hannah Willson, 248 Lepard, Jacob, 247 Lepard, Joseph, 247 Lepard, Judah, 249 Lepard, Julia M., 235 Lepard, Levina, 248 Lepard, Persilla, 249 Lepard, Peter, 235, 237, 248 Lepard, Phebe, 248 Lepard, Sanford, 247 Lepard, Sarah Jane, 235 Lepard, Silas, 235, 249 Lepard, Walter, 247 Lepard, William (son of Peter), 249 Lepard, William (son of Silas), 235 Lewis, E., 219 Linville, Martha, 212 Linville, Thomas, 24, 212 Lloyd, Jesse, 160 Lloyd, William, 249 Lount, Samuel, 160, 168, 174, 177-8, 180, 181 Lundy, Aaron Linton, 224 Lundy, Agness, 212 Lundy, Amos, 237 Lundy, Anna, 239, 240 Lundy, Annie Alice, 224 Lundy, Catherine, 237 Lundy, Charles Ezra, 224 Lundy, Charles Jacob, 224

Lundy, Clara Seville, 224 Lundy, Daniel Ambrose, 227 Lundy, David Willson, 237 Lundy, Eleanor, 237 Lundy, Elizabeth Paxson, 224 Lundy, Ellen, 236, 243 Lundy, Enos, 227 Lundy, Esther, 237 Lundy, Frances Winn, 224 Lundy, Frederick Charles, 224 Lundy, George Woodman, 224 Lundy, Ira Doane, 224 Lundy, Israel: charge of adultery, 50, 54-9; genealogical information, 224, 229, 236, 243; joins Children of Peace, 42, 214; leadership of, 54-5, 212 Lundy, Israel (son of Reuben), 229, 237 Lundy, Jacob, 224, 237, 241 Lundy, Jacob Ellis, 224 Lundy, James (father), 225, 236 Lundy, James (son), 237 Lundy, Joseph, 225 Lundy, Judah, 237 Lundy, Judah Peter, 237 Lundy, Laura Estelle, 224 Lundy, Mary, 237 Lundy, Mary Dorothy, 224 Lundy, Olive Mary, 224 Lundy, Oliver, 224, 241 Lundy, Phoebe L., 237 Lundy, Rachel: charge of adultery, 54-61; genealogical information, 224, 229, 236, 239, 243, 244; joins Children of Peace, 30, 42, 214; leadership of, 24, 212 Lundy, Rachel (daughter of Jacob), 224 Lundy, Rachel N., 237 Lundy, Reuben (grandfather), 236 Lundy, Reuben (grandson), 225, 229, 236

Name Index Lundy, Robert Doane, 224 Lundy, Samuel, 15, 212 Lundy, Sarah, 24, 212 Lundy, Sarah (daughter of Israel), 136-7, 141, 229, 236 Lundy, Sarah (daughter of Reuben), 236 Lundy, Sarah Doane, 224 Lundy, Sarah Elizabeth, 237 Lundy, William, 212 McArthur, Charles, 218 McCarty, ?, 227 McCarty, Louise A., 222 McCarty, Maria, 222 McCarty, Ransalar, 222 McDermott, ?, 220 Mackenzie, William Lyon: and formation of Reform party, 160-2; and Rebellion, 168, 172-8, 180, 181; reports on Children of Peace, 76, 81, 83, 85, 166 McLeod, Alexander William, 180, 221

McLeod, Alexandria, 250 McLeod, Caroline P., 96-7, 220, 227, 250 McLeod, Catherine, 221, 249 McLeod, Daniel, 249 McLeod, Donald, 221 McLeod, Elizabeth, 221, 249 McLeod, Ellen, 250 McLeod, Grace, 220, 241, 249 McLeod, Hugh, 221 McLeod, Isabella, 221 McLeod, Jonathan, 249 McLeod, Levinia, 249 McLeod, Murdoch (son of William), 221

McLeod, Murdoch, Jr, 250 McLeod, Murdoch, Sr, 212, 214, 220, 227, 241, 249

McLeod, Rachel, 250

McLeod, Susannah, 249 McLeod, William, 220, 250 McShane, Jane, 232 Mainprize, William, 251 Malloy, Catherine C., 230 Malloy, Ellen, 230 Malloy, Israel, 230 Malloy, Mary, 230 Malloy, William (father), 230 Malloy, William (son), 230 Meachem, Joseph, 207 Moore, Calvin, 223 Moore, Hiram, 251 Moore, Thomas S., 223 Morris, Hannah, 235 Morris, Harriet, 235 Morris, Hugh D., 235 Morris, Isabella, 235 Morris, Jane, 235 Morris, John, 235 Morris, John Witman, 235 Mosier, Charles H., 231 Mosier, Henry Chaplin, 231 Mosier, Hugh Willson, 231 Mosier, Josephine, 231 Mosier, William H., 231 Osman, Sarah E., 247 Oxtoby, Christopher, 248 Owen, Robert, 78 Paxson, Abraham, 221 Paxson, Howard, 104 Pearson, Ann, 212 Pearson, Mary, 24, 31-2, 212 Pearson, Nathaniel, 24, 212 Pearson, Susannah, 212 Pegg, Rachel, 219 Penrose, Isaac, 212 Penrose, Rachel, 212 Percy, William, 245 Phelps, ?, 227 Phillips, Edith, 23, 24, 212

287

288

Name Index

Phillips, Elizabeth, 212, 235, 237, 248 Phillips, Issac: leadership of, 23, 24, 212; migration, 15; role in schism, 34, 35, 41 Phillips, John D., 246 Phillips, Martha, 239 Phillips, Phillip, 219 Phillips, William, 219 Phillips, William Pegg, 217 Playter, Watson, 213 Powell, Lewis, 213 Proctor, ?, 217 Quibell, Sarah, 225 Rappaport, Roy, 197-9 Reid, Abner Nelson, 233 Reid, Alexander, 233 Reid, Ann, 234 Reid, Anna, 234 Reid, Calvin Pomeroy, 233-4 Reid, David Willson, 234 Reid, Elizabeth, 222, 234 Reid, Elizabeth Ann, 235 Reid, Hester, 218, 244 Reid, John, 217, 231, 233, 239 Reid, Josephine, 217, 234 Reid, Julia Ann, 235 Reid, Martha, 232, 233 Reid, Mary, 215, 232, 233 Reid, Mary Ann, 233 Reid, Mary Louise, 235 Reid, Pamalia, 234 Reid, Pamela Rebecca, 233 Reid, Robert B., 234 Reid, Sarah T., 234 Reid, Sarah Willson, 217 Reid, Simpson, 234 Reid, Stephen Henry, 235 Reid, William, Jr, 234, 246 Reid, William, Sr: 188, 212; appeals, 49/ 54' 56/ 75; genealogical infor-

mation, 222, 232-3, 236; role in schism, 35, 42, 214 Reid, William John, 234 Reid, Willson, 234-5 Ritcher, ?, 223 Roadhouse, C.E., 219 Roberts, Joseph, 45 Roberts, Martha, 237 Robinson, Esther, 12 Robinson, John Beverley, 169 Robinson, Peter, 14, 159, 174 Robinson, William, B., 158-9 Roe, William, 159 Rogers, Asa, 24, 212 Rogers, Timothy, 3, 14, 28, 212 Rogerson, Richard, 228 Rose, Isaac, 250 Rout, Caroline, 222 Rowen, Catherine, 248 Rowen, Daniel, 248 Rowen, Hannah, 248 Rowen, Maria, 248 Rowen, Peter, 248 Rowen, Peter Richard, 248 Rowen, Richard, 248 Rowen, William H., 248 Ryan, Elizabeth, 219, 247 Ryerson, Egerton, 164-5 Samson, Morris, 14 Savage, Lady Sarah, 232, 235 Scales, Hannah, 242 Scott, Job, 38-9 Selby, Margaret, 224 Seymour, ?, 227 Shortly, Edith, 247 Slaymaker, Sarah, 237 Sloy, Anna Savilla, 217, 219, 239 Southard, ?, 250 Sparling, Eliza, 241 Starr, James, 213 Starr, Sarah, 213 Stockdale, Elizabeth Smith, 217

Name Index Stockdale, Joseph, 217 Stogdill, Cecilia-Ann, 251 Stogdill, Mary, 251 Stogdill, Seymour, 251 Stogdill, Solomon, 251 Stokes, Eliza Jane, 230 Stokes, Harriet, 229 Stokes, John T., 229, 230, 237 Stokes, Martha, 237 Strachan, Rev. John, 83-4, 145; theology of, 145-7 Tatton, Jesse, 245 Taylor, Edith, 225 Terry, Amanda, 250 Terry, Anne R., 234 Terry, Anne W., 234 Terry, Benjamin, 250 Terry, David, 234, 250 Terry, Elizabeth, 250 Terry, Elma, 234 Terry, Grace, 250 Terry, Henry, 250 Terry, John, 250 Terry, Joseph, 80, 234 Terry, Lydia, 250 Terry, Mary (daughter of Joseph), 234 Terry, Mary (wife of Jacob Lepard), 247 Terry, Rachel (daughter of John), 250 Terry, Rachel (daughter of Joseph), 234 Terry, Rachel (wife of Murdoch McLeod), 221, 227, 241, 249 Terry, Stephen D., 250 Thirsk, Nessfield, 225 Thomas, Seth, 247 Thompson, Mrs, 223 Thornhill, William R., 251 Thorpe, Elizabeth, 219, 223, 229, 238

289

Thorpe, Evangeline, 224 Thorpe, George, 224 Thorpe, Henry G., 224 Thorpe, Jacob Albert, 224 Thorpe, John, Sr, 229, 238 Thorpe, Maria, 229, 237, 244 Titus, Israel, 226, 228 Titus, Mary, 28, 222, 226, 250 Titus, Phebe, 28, 42, 213, 214; genealogical information, 218, 228, 233, 235, 236, 238 Tomlinson, Robert, 251 Tool, Aaron, 213 Tool, Ann, 213 Traviss, Edward S., 222 Traviss, Elizabeth, 231 Traviss, Ephraim, 222 Traviss, Frederick W., 222 Traviss, George, 243 Traviss, George A., 222 Traviss, Maria Jane, 222 Traviss, Mariah, 222 Turney, S.B., 244 Usherwood, Eliza, 225 Varney, James, 213 Vaux, Dr Harry Edward, 218 Vernon, Gideon, 213 Vernon, Hannah, 220, 230, 235 Vernon, Phebe, 213 Walton, David G., 249 Wardel, Paul, 245 Wardel, Susan, 245 Wasley, Francis, 213 Wayling, J., 219 Webb, Clayton, 44 Webster, Abraham, 239, 240 Webster, Joseph, 213 Webster, Martha, 213 Webster, Mary, 240 Webster, Miriam, 215, 240

290

Name Index

Webster, Sarah, 239, 240 Webster, William, 240 Widdifield, Henry, 213 Widdifield, Martha, 24, 213 Widdifield, Phebe, 24, 213 Widdifield, Samuel, 242 Wiggins, Enoch, 238 Wiggins, Hannah, 238 Wiggins, Isaac (grandfather): 24, 213; genealogical information, 238, 239; role in schism, 32, 33, 34, 35, 41 Wiggins, Isaac (father), 238 Wiggins, Isaac (son), 239, 240 Wiggins, Martha, 240 Wiggins, Seba, 238 Wilkinson, Jemima, 206 Williams, Orlin, 98 Willis, Rachel, 221 Willson, Absalom, 229 Willson, Alfred, 97, 227 Willson, Amelia, 220 Willson, Amos Hughes, 230, 244 Willson, Anna, 28, 231, 237 Willson, Catherine (daughter of Hugh H.), 228 Willson Catherine (daughter of Hugh L.), 227 Willson, Catherine (daughter of Israel), 230 Willson, Catherine (mother of David), 82, 226, 228, 232 Willson, Catherine Eliza, 218 Willson, Charles, 235 Willson, Charlotte (daughter of Hugh H.), 228 Willson, Charlotte (daughter of John H.), 219, 227 Willson, Christiana, 213 Willson, Clinger, 230 Willson, David: appeals to superior meetings, 49-50, 54; charges of sexual misconduct, 50, 54-9, 76-7; death, 191; early life, 27-9;

establishes Children of Peace, 25, 41-2, 46-8, 214; genealogical information, 96, 218, 228, 233, 235, 236, 238; leadership, 24, 60, 182-5, 189-90, 213; musical ministry, 66, 190; rejection of ministry, 26, 31-5; and Reform party, 85-6, 166-8, 188; and settlement of Hope, 69-70; and temple, 108-11, 114-25; theology of, 30-1, 36-41, 64-5, 109-10, 130-55; and Rebellion, 177, 179 Willson, David (son of Hugh D.), 231 Willson, David Lee, 230 Willson, Elizabeth (daughter of Charles), 244 Willson, Elizabeth (daughter of Hugh), 235 Willson, Elizabeth (daughter of John D.), 229, 244 Willson, Elizabeth (daughter of John V.), 220 Willson, Ellen, 231 Willson, Ellen R., 242 Willson, Emily, 229 Willson, Eva, 230 Willson, Frank R., 229 Willson, Franklin, 227, 228 Willson, Georgina, 229 Willson, Hannah (daughter of Hugh H.), 228 Willson, Hannah (daughter of John D.), 229, 237 Willson, Harvey, 97 Willson, Helen Reid, 231 Willson, Henry T., 230 Willson, Hiram, 96-7, 99, 220 Willson, Hiram R., 227, 250 Willson, Hubert, 226 Willson, Hugh, 232, 235 Willson, Hugh David, 181, 192, 230, 235 Willson, Hugh Henry, 228

Name Index Willson, Hugh L., 28, 222, 226, 228, 250 Willson, Hugh W., 231, 237 Willson, Isabella (daughter of Hiram R.), 228 Willson, Isabella (daughter of Hugh D.), 231 Willson, Israel, 229-30, 238, 244 Willson, James, 228 Willson, James Harvey, 227 Willson, James Wellington, 227 Willson, Jane (daughter of John HO, 227 Willson, Jane (daughter of William

wo, 235

Willson, Janet Rebecca, 220 Willson, Job, 229, 244 Willson, Squire John, 82-3, 84, 226 Willson, John (father of David), 226, 228, 232 Willson, John (son of Hugh HO, 228 Willson, John Albert, 227 Willson, John David, 177-8, 188, 191-2; genealogical information, 229, 230, 237, 244 Willson, John Hugh, 219, 227 Willson, John J., 28, 42, 214, 218 Willson, John V., 220, 235 Willson, Joseph W., 235 Willson, Juliett, 235 Willson, Lambert, 220, 227 Willson, Leonard, 228 Willson, Louisa, 227, 228 Willson, Martha, 227 Willson, Mary (daughter of David), 181, 218, 231 Willson, Mary (daughter of David LO, 230 Willson, Mary (daughter of Job), 229 Willson, Mary (daughter of William

wo, 235

Willson, Mary (wife of John JO, 218

291

Willson, Mary (wife of William Dunham), 28, 218, 232 Willson, Mary (wife of William Reid), 28, 222, 232-3 Willson, Mary Catherine, 228 Willson, Mary Harriet, 231 Willson, May, 227 Willson, Mercy Jane, 225 Willson, Phebe. See Titus, Phebe Willson, Phoebe (daughter of John DO, 229, 244 Willson, Phoebe Ann, 230 Willson, Phoebe H., 181, 230, 235 Willson, Priscilla, 235 Willson, Rebecca, 230 Willson, Reuben, 227 Willson, Richard Titus, 97, 181, 227 Willson, Robert, 231 Willson, Robert Reid, 244 Willson, Rodney, 222, 227 Willson, Rowland, 219, 227 Willson, Russell, 230 Willson, Sally, 220 Willson, Sarah. See Reid, Sarah Willson Willson, Sarah (daughter of David), 231, 233 Willson, Sarah (daughter of Hugh DO, 231 Willson, Sarah Ann, 228 Willson, Satira, 230 Willson, Stephen, 227 Willson, Waite Ann, 222, 228 Willson, William (son of Hugh D.), 231 Willson, William (son of Job), 229, 250 Willson, William Graham, 244 Willson, William Henry, 176-7, 235, 249 Willson, William W., 220, 230, 235 Winn, Jacob, Jr, 213 Winn, Phebe, 24, 213 Winn, Ruth, 213

292

Wood, Harry, 223 Woodman, Honor Fraud, 224, 241 Wright, Edward, 251 Wright, Elizabeth, 251 Wright, George, 251

Name Index Wright, Wright, Wright, Wright, Wright, Wright,

Mary, 251 Matilda, 251 Matthew, 251 Rachel, 251 Stephen, 251 William, 251

Subject Index

Address to the Professors of Religion, 38, 137-41 adultery, 50, 54-9 antinomianism, 50, 58, 60—1, 62, 67, 114, 199 apostles, 111, 112 appeals, 49, 54 ark, 111-12, 123 authority: centralization of, 147, 203-4, 207-8; charismatic, 50, 51-3, 130; of David Willson, 141-3, 148, 154; of elders of Children of Peace, 74, 120-1, 122, 124-5, 129; and Inner Light, 131-2, 133-43, 189-90, 191; and ritual, 198; traditional, 50, 52-3 Awakening, Second Great, 26, 37-40, 67, 193-4, 201, 203

Baltimore Yearly Meeting, 35, 205 band, 67, 71, 107, 190; and processions, 85, 156; and temple, 113 bank. See Charity Fund banners, 150, 156 belief, 47, 197-8 Bible. See Scriptures bibilical inerrancy. See orthodoxy Builders of the Temple, 90, 119, 121, 125, Appendix 3

Canada Half Years' Meeting, 43, 54, 56 Canadian Alliance Society, 160, 162. See also Reform party cash cropping. See simple commodity production Catawissa Monthly Meeting, Pa., 15, 16-17 capitalism: and farming, 87-8, 106, 202; and Quakers, 12-14, 39-40. See also class conflict; simple commodity production chain migration, 15-18, 28-9, 89. See also settlement patterns charity: alms giving, 80-1, 114, 119, 122, 188; committee on, 79-80, 114; as communalism, 80; ideological importance of, 79-82, 86, 108-9, 1:t4/ 1:L7' *52-3/ 201; anc* Quakers, 80 Charity Fund, as credit union, 127-8, 130, 159, 177 Children of Peace: dissolution of, 189-92; evangelism of, 69, 82-6, 156; as Israelites, no, 113, 147, 150-1; membership rules of, 119, 124-5; origin of name, 42, 64; and Rebellion, 174-83; and reform politics, 163, 166-8, 188; relations with Church of England, 69, 83-4, 143-7, 157, 166, 168; re-

294

Subject Index

lations with government, 45-8, 64-5, 69-70, 82, 140, 143-7, 151-5, 166, 179; separation from Quakers, 41-8 choir of virgins, 67, 71, 76; and processions, 85, 156; and temple, 113 Church of England: and Children of Peace, 69, 82-4, 143-7, *57/ 191; and Clergy Reserves, 11, 163; as established church, 4, 11, 12, 132, 143-5, 163-4, 187; and government patronage, 144-5, 157> 186; theology of, 11, 145-7, *54 Christ, Jesus: divinity of, 30-1, 35, 36; as legitimating symbol, 115; and peace testimony, 63—4; political role of, no, 140-1; and salvation, 58, 137-41, 148, 149-50; second coming of, 36, 38, 138-41, 149 class conflict, 39-40, 86, 194, 202 Clergy Reserves, 169; revenues from, 11, 145, 163, 187; as political grievance, 157, 164-5, 186, 187 clerk, 7, 31, 34, 43, 58 Colonial Advocate, 84, 160 communalism, religious, 78, 203-4, 206, 207-9 community, 72, 74, 77-8, 108 cooperative marketing, 79, 127, 159 concerns, 8, 14, 15, 40 consensus building: among Children of Peace, 51, 63, 107, 119, 122, 124, 184-5; among Quakers, 7, 8, 9, 12, 22-4, 41; among reformers, 167; Willson's attempts at, 34, 77, 115-18 Conservative party, 186. See also Family Compact Constitutional Reform Society, 162, 172. See also Reform party

Court House, King's Bench, 84-5 Court of Quarter Sessions, 77-8, 143, 159, 188 creeds, 5, 114, 118-19. See also Uniform Discipline Creek Monthly Meeting, NY, 15 Davidites. See Children of Peace debt, 90, 99, 102, 106, 128; and Rebellion, 177 demographics, of Children of Peace, 91, 94, 103-4, i77> i83~4/ 191. See also kinship disciplinary order, 131, 201, 204, 209 Discipline: of Children of Peace, 51, 59, 60-1, 63; Quaker book of, 6/ 8, 35-6; rules of, 46, 49, 52, 67, 80 discourse, 35, 47, 86 disownment, 9, n, 28, 41; by Children of Peace, 62, 63 dissenting churches, 147, 157, 163-5, 167, 175-6 Dorrilites, 26 Durham clubs, 186-7. $ee also Reform party East Gwillimbury Township, 15, 18, 58, 77, 79, 186, 191 Ebenezers (Society of True Inspiration), 209 economic rationality, 20-1, 87, 93, 95-6. See also subsistence economy; peasant; simple commodity production egalitarianism, 207; of Children of Peace, 71, 109; and gender, 5, 65; and Quakers, 5-6, 39; and temple, 109, in, 201; theological basis of, 5-6, 51-3, 131, 147-8, 153-4 elders: authority of, 51-2, 60, 118,

Subject Index 124-5, 142, 200; disciplinary role of, 8-10, 41, 74; economic power Of, 107, 122, 124, 125-8, 179-80;

and opposition to Willson, 32, 34, 43; and orthodoxy, 40, 199; and Select Meeting, 8, 10, 50, 59, 120-2, 124, 184-5, 2°°; withdrawal of from Children of Peace, 58-9, 179, 182-3 elections, 77-8, 85, 156-8, 161, 162, 166, 171-2, 186-7; held by Children of Peace, 120-2, 184 England, Willson's attitude towards, 148, 151-3 established church. See Church of England Executive Council, 145, 170-1 factionalism: among Children of Peace, 55, 59-62, 119-25, 182-5; in Yonge Street Settlement, 22, 41-8 fall of man, 36, 38, 135-6 Family Compact: and Church of England, 83, 145; as a political party, 158-9, 161; and Rebellion, 170, 174, 175, 180 farm, family: annual rounds of, 91-3; economic strategies of, 87-90, 91, 93, 97, 99, 106-7; generational succession of, 99-106; gentry, 92-3, 94, 158; start-up costs, 96, 101 Farmers Storehouse Company, 159 feasts, 113, 124 flesh, 36, 131, 133-6, 138-41, 142 Friend to Britain, 148-54 God, spirit of, 30, 36, 63, 133; and Willson's theodicy, 132, 133-41 gossip, 52, 61 heaven, 36, 135, 137, 141

295

hegemony, 144, 146-7, 148, 155, 157 hell, 36, 135, 136, 139-40 heresy: Willson's, 35-40, 143; defined, 36 Hicksites, 10, 26-7, 194, 203, 204-6 history of redemption, 38, 140 Holy Ghost, 132 honour. See status Hope, 108, 180, 181, 189; settlement of, 69-74, 77-8, 120-2; subsistence economy of, 78-82, 87-107 ideology, defined, 35. See also Society of Friends, theology of; Willson, David, theology of illumination, 113 Inner Light: and attempts to limit, 26-7, 32-3, 40, 50-1, 62; and authority, 6, 83, 131-2, 133-43, 189-90, 191; and Christ, 37, 149; and egalitarianism, 4-6, 51-3; and music, 65-6; and salvation, 29, 38, 154; and schism, 35, 42, 44; and temple, 111. See also quietism; Society of Friends; theology isolationism, 204, 206-7; °f Children of Peace, 67-8, 82; of Society of Friends, 5, 10-11, 14, 21-2, 27, 46 Jacob's Ladder, 111, 113 Jews: defined, 148-51; and reform movement, 148-52, 156, 167-8 Judaic symbolism: and temple, 108, 109-11, 115-16, 117; and millennium, 132, 147 justice of the peace, 13, 77, 143, 144, 158 King Township, 14, 15, 18 kingship: in Children of Peace,

296

Subject Index

59-60, 69, 72-4, 102-3; and labour exchanges, 19-20; and leadership, 23-5, 51-2; and schism, 42, 43-4; and settlement patterns, 15-19, 69, 103-7 labour exchanges, 19-20, 107, 128 ladder model, 100-1, 102, 103, 106 land: costs of, 96, 97-9; cultivation of, 90-1, 99-100, 102, 126-7; ownership of by Children of Peace, 79, 97-9, 119-22, 126-8, 191; ownership of in Upper Canada, 89 Legislative Assembly of Upper Canada, 12, 95, 143, 145, 147; political parties in, 157, 186; reformers and, 160, 169, 171-2, 173, 174 legislative council, 145, 169, 170 Lesson of Instructions, 75 Letters to the Jews, 148-54 lieutenant-governor: 145; role of, 77, 170. See also Colborne, Sir John; Head, Sir Francis Bond Loyalists: and Anglicans, 145, 164; and government, 13, 27, 158, 159, 169; privileges of, 89, 145; and Rebellion, 178, 180, 181 magistrate. See justice of the peace market: participation in, 87, 121-3, 128, 202; and Rebellion, 168, 172; Willson's attitude towards, 21, 121-2, 207

Markham, 69, 84, 166 Methodism, 11-12, 164-5, 191 meeting-house: architectural symbolism of, 71; first, of Children of Peace, 69, 71-2, 75-6, 84, 107, 108, ii2; second, of Children of Peace, 183, 184-5; Yonge Street, 15, 7i Mennonites, 69

Messiah, 131, 147, 148, 151-2, 168. See also Christ, Jesus militia duty: and Children of Peace, 53, 64, 78; and Quakers, 10, 45 millenarian movement, 154-5, 204-9 millennial kingdom, 131, 132, 147-54, *66, 177. See also New Jerusalem millennium, no, 116 mind, Willson's theology of, 131, 133-43 ministry: call to, 26, 30-1, 54-5; conflicts with elders, 38, 40, 53, 60; hireling, 4, 62, 113, 137-8, 142, 153, 163, 164; itinerant, 69, 82-6, 166-7, 19°; and leadership, 8, 48, 51-3; musical, 65-6, 190, 198-9; and politics, 85-6, 145, 153, 164-5, 166-8, 175-6; recognition of, 6, 8-9; spontaneous, 4-5, 65, 67 mob violence, 160, 161, 174, 177-8 Monkton Monthly Meeting, Vt, 15 Monthly Business Meeting: business of, 6-7, 118-19; changes to, 50, 59, 185; and consensus, 6-7, 118-19, *67; as a disciplinary body, 11, 131, 142; as a political forum, 8, 22, 72, 107, 109, 117, 155, 167, 185, 186 moral economy. See subsistence economy Mormons, 26, 193, 203 Muncy Monthly Meeting, Pa, 15, 17 music: in meetings for worship, 72, 113, 189-90, 207; and ministry, 65-7, 189-90, 198-9; and temple, in, 113, 201. See also band; choir; organ music hall. See meeting-house: first, of Children of Peace mutual aid. See labour exchange

Subject Index Navy Island, 180, 196 New Harmony, Ind., 78 New Jerusalem, 108, no, in, 206. See also millennial kingdom New Lebanon, 207 New Light Stir. See Awakening, Second Great Newmarket, 12, 72, 159, 180 New York Yearly Meeting: appeals to, 49, 54, 56, 58, 60, 75; theological position of, 35-6, 205 Nine Partners Tract, NY, 27, 37 oaths, 14, 27, 63 organ, barrel, 67, 71-2 orthodoxy: and Church of England, 83; defined, 35; Uniform Discipline and, 30, 31, 35-7; elder and, 34, 40; Orthodox/Hicksite schism, 10, 26-7, 194, 203, 205 pacifism; and Children of Peace, 31, 33-4, 63-5, 111, 177, 182-3; and Quakers, 5, 7, 42, 44-6, 169; role in schism, 42, 44-7; and War of 1812, 27, 33-4 part cultures, 10-11, 20, 148, 155 patronage, political, 145, 156, 157-9, 162-4, *68, 188 peasant: defined, 20; model of farm transmission, 100, 102-6. See also part cultures; subsistence economy Pelham Monthly Meeting, 14, 15 Perfectionists (Oneida), 193, 209 Phildelphia, 56, 58, 205; Yearly Meeting at, 27, 30, 35 Pickering Township, 15 plain speech and dress: of Children of Peace, 62, 63, 80; of Quakers, 5, 39/ 205 Political Union movement, 162, 173. See also Reform party

297

poor, 39-40, 80, 108, 174 power, 51-2, 122, 130, 132 Presbyterian church, 145, 147, 180, 191, 194, 203 processions, 85, 113, 166. See also band Quakers. See Society of Friends Quebec, 173-4, 179> J86, 187, 202 Queen Street Preparative Meeting, 28, 33, 42, 59, 60, 70 queries, 6, 8 quietism, 4, 29, 75. See also Inner Light Rappites (Harmonic Society), 208-9 Rebellion of 1837, 161, 168-78, 179 reciprocity, 21, 79. See also labour exchanges Reform party: of Britain, 151-2, 161, 169-70, 174; and Children of Peace, 163, 166-8, 188; and Methodism, 164-5; organization of, 156-65, 167, 176, 186; rallies, 85, 160, 161, 169; of Upper Canada, 132, 169-73 relations of production, 19-22, 40, 87, 2O1-2; of Children of Peace, 103, 105-6, 147, 154, 200 religion, anthropological theories of, 195-201 Religion of Experience, 11-12, 36, 37-40, 131, 141. See also Inner Light; quietism Religion of Order, 11-12, 132. See also Church of England Republicanism, 152, 159, 168-9, 173 responsible government, 170, 186, 187 Revelation, book of, 108, 137-41 ritualization of values in conflict: political process of, 124, 200-1,

298

Subject Index

204; and Children of Peace, 108-9, 117-18, 124, 147-54 rituals, function of, 130, 195-7 Roaring Creek Monthly Meeting, Pa, 17 rule, 143-4 rural millenarianism, 194, 203-9 St John's Anglican Church, 82-3 sanctification. See ritualization salvation, 38, 132, 133, 135-6, 137-41, 148, 149-50 Satan, 36, 57, 134-5, !38 schools: 186; girl's boarding, 75-7, 124, 188; role in sect, 77, 89, 107; Yonge St, 74-5 Scriptures: interpretation of, 29, 75, 112, 137-8, 198; and orthodoxy, 35 secularization, 186, 188-9 Select Meeting of Ministers and Elders: of Children of Peace, 50-1, 58-62, Il8, 120-1, 124-5, 130,

184-5, 2O°; °f Quakers, 8, 10,

32-3

Sense of the Meeting, 6, 7 senses. See flesh separation: of Children of Peace, 2 7/ 35/ 41-8; Hicksite/Orthodox, 10, 26-7, 194, 203, 205 settlement patterns: of Children of Peace, 69-74, 98, 102, 119-22, 126-8; of Quakers, 3, 15-18, 51; role in schism, 42 Shakers, 26, 37, 78, 194, 203, 204, 207-9 Sharon, 189, 191 Sharon Association, 184-5 Shepherd's Inn, 84 Simple commodity producers, in Children of Peace. See young heads of families simple commodity production: age and, 99-100, 203; defined, 88;

shift to, 89-90, 96, 99, 202-3, 205; wage workers and, 102, 106-7; and reform politics, 168, 169, 176-7 sin, 36, 134-5, M9 social reproduction: of family farm, 88, 90-107; of village economy, 88-9, 154 Society of Friends: autocracy in, 8-9, 22-5, 41, 51-3; committees, 23; economic relations among, 12-14, 20-1; egalitarianism of, 5, 39, 51-3; Discipline of, 6, 8, 12, 35; isolationism of, 5, 10-11, 14, 21-2, 27, 46, 205; Meetings for Worship, 4-6; migration patterns of, 3, 15-18; ministry of, 4-6, 35, 51; and New Light Stir, 38-40; as nominal Quakers, 46-7, origins, 4-6, 194; oaths, 14, 27; Orthodox/Hicksite schism, 10, 26-7, 204-7; pacifism of, 5, 7, 42, 44-6, 169; plain speech and dress of, 5, 39, 62, 205; reformation of, 30, 38-40, 49, 62; relations of with Church of England, 4, 11-12; relations of with government, 4, 10-14, 40-1 / 45-6, 163-4; theology of, 5, 9, 10, 26-7, 29, 35, 205-6; women's role in, 7, 23-4 Solebury, Bucks County, Pa, 15, 16, 17 soul. See mind Square House. See schools, girls' boarding status: as a limited good, 52; competition for, 55, 60-1 subsidization of new farmers, 107, 118, 125-8, 206 subsistence economy: of Children of Peace, 74, 78-82, 87-107, 122-3, 125-8, 180, 183-4; ethic of mutual aid, 74, 77, 202; sanctification of, 117-18, 147, 153-5,

Subject Index 194, 200; and theological orientation, 39-40, 51, 131, 194, 201-3, 205-6; and War of 1812, 20, 45; of Yonge Street Quakers, 19, 20, 21. See also charity; labour exchanges; peasant subsistence insurance, 20, 88, 106-7, 109, 123/ 127 symbols, religious, 196-8 temple, 180; aim's service in, 112-14; architectural symbolism of, 108, 110-14, 150, 154, 199, 201, 206; construction of, no, ii2; purpose, 108; as source of conflict, 108-9, 1:19 Testimony to the People called Quakers, 50-1, 62 township administration, 77-8, 143, 188 tradition: role of Monthly Meeting in defining, 8, 22, 47; use of, in legitimating ministry, 31, 39, 40; revaluation of dominant, 65, 67-8, 148 trinity, in Uniform Discipline, 10, 30-1, 35 Universal Friends, 26, 194, 204, 206 Universalists, 26, 37, 193 Upper Canada: changes in government of, 179, 187-9; College, 145; and farming policy, 89, 95-6, 101, 102; politics and religion in, 143-7, 151-5/ 186, 187. See also Court of Quarter Sessions; justice of the peace; Legislative Assembly of Upper Canada; legislative council; executive council; township administration Uxbridge Township, 15, 19, 43, 59, 60 value conflict: among Children of

299

Peace, 71, 82, 86, 109, 114, 117, 121-3, 13°-2/ !42; process of settling, 8-10, 118-25, 194; among Quakers, 27, 40-1, 47-8; in Second Great Awakening, 200, 201-3; with state, 10, 42, 45, 80-1. See also ritualization of values in conflict values, normative, 118, 147, 193-4, 195, 198-200, 209 visions, 30, 33, 56, 136-7; and Jews, 115-16, 132 wage, workers, 102, 106-7; wages, 101, 124. See also simple commodity production War of 1812, 20, 26, 33, 130, 144; role in schism, 42, 45-7, 179 welfare, 186, 188. See also charity West Lake Monthly Meeting, 14, 54, 56 wheat: consumption, 92, 94-5; mining, 92; role in market, 91, 93, 106, 123; role in subsistence agriculture, 82, 91-2; yields, 93, 95 Whitchurch Township, 14-15, 18, 43 women: autonomy of, 7; Business Meeting of, 7, 23-4, 31; education of, 75-7; and leadership, 23-4; and militia, 64-5; in ministry, 5; role of in Children of Peace, 64-5, 113, 114 work bee. See labour exchange Yearly Meeting, of Children of Peace, 50, 59, 123-5 Yonge Street, 27, 95, 178; and evangelism of Children of Peace, 69, 82-6, 156; role in schism, 42, 44-8; and settlement duties, 45 Yonge Street Monthly Meeting, 28,

300

Subject Index

49' 53' 58; founding of, 14-15; fragmentation of, 18-19, 21-2, 41-2, 44; leadership in, 23-5, 51; Meetings for Worship, 15; and superior meetings, 35 Yonge Street Preparative Meeting, 43' 50 Yonge Street settlement: economic competition in, 12-14; Quaker settlers of, 14-19; Children of Peace in, 42, 46-7, 59, 60 York, 15, 69, 76, 132; markets, 95,

127; meeting-places of Children of Peace, 84-5, 166; prison at, 180, 181 York County, 159; elections in, 161, 162, 172, 186-7 York Mills, 69, 82, 83-4, 166 young heads of families, 100, 121, 122,

124

Youths' Meeting, 59 Zoarites, 209 Zwijndrecht's Nieuw Lichters, 208