Burning Niagara

Unquestionably, the most devastating destruction of personal property during the war was not looting or ransacking of supplies but the complete burning of towns and villages throughout Niagara. While military officers, civilians, and the press on both sides of the conflict denounced the burning of government buildings at York, no private homes were destroyed during the brief occupation. The first case of intentional burning of homes occurred in December 1813 at the town of Newark after a lengthy occupation. Harassed throughout the summer by the British and steadily losing men through desertion or completion of their militia service, McClure became desperate when he learned that the British were advancing from Burlington Heights toward Newark. Rather than face defeat or surrender, McClure decided to retreat across the river and ensure that the British were “shut out from any hopes or means of wintering in the vicinity of Fort George.” To accomplish his goal, he ordered that the fort and town should be burned: “The village of Newark is now in flames; the few remaining inhabitants in it having been notified of our intention were enabled to remove their property.”¹⁷⁰ Given only a few hours’ notice, the inhabitants of Newark grabbed whatever possessions they could from their homes and then stood in the snow watching the town burn around them.

Local historian Janet Carnochan’s History of Niagara contains a compilation of stories about the burning of Newark, filled with shocking and emotional scenes that capture only glimpses of the tragic moment. She includes the experience of Charlotte Dickson, who was carried from her home and “lay on the snow watching the destruction of the house” and Mrs. McKee who, “to save her little girl from standing in the snow while watching the conflagration, placed her on a large tea tray; but in spite of all, her toes were partially frozen.”¹⁷¹ Because few men were left in the town, having retreated with the British army or been imprisoned and sent to the U.S., many of the inhabitants put out of their homes were women and children. Some of their experiences were later described in war loss claims, appealing to the commissioners’ pathos. During the occupation, Elizabeth Campbell “took protection in [William Dickson’s] House with her Family,” possibly to help support Charlotte Dickson while her husband was in prison in Greenbush, New York.¹⁷² Although Campbell moved some of her possessions to the Dickson’s, both houses were burned and nearly everything was lost. With nowhere to go, “she and her three young children without the possibility of saving their clothing, were exposed to the elements for three days.”¹⁷³

The burning of Newark and the Campbells’ subsequent exposure to winter conditions might also have played a part in the death of Elizabeth’s youngest child. The cause of death and name of the child are unknown, but according to Alexander Stewart, “after carrying [the infant] 4 miles for baptism [Campbell] had to dig its grave & cover its remains.”¹⁷⁴ Although the location of the burial plot is unknown, Campbell may have traveled to the house of Reverend Robert Addison, who lived three or four miles from Newark.¹⁷⁵ If she knew that her child was close to death, she may have been desperate for the minister to baptize the baby before it died. Addison had baptized each of Campbell’s three other children, so she might have felt strongly that he should also tend to her baby’s soul. Despite being left without shelter or provisions, Elizabeth Campbell set out on a difficult journey through the snow out of concern for her infant’s well-being even into the next life.

Although the burning of Newark prompted shock and outrage from civilians and public officials on both sides of the conflict, it was a decision that had precedence in previous wars, at least in practical if not official warfare. During the American Revolution, both British and American soldiers and militia looted and burned the homes of confirmed or suspected enemy sympathizers. In addition to these back-country raids, “The burning of towns was a common tactic in warfare, often acknowledged as a military necessity, although this tactic tended to prompt criticism from the opposing side as a violation of the laws of war.”¹⁷⁶ Setting fire to entire cities or towns was meant to deny the enemy army both shelter and supplies if defense of the town proved untenable. The fires that destroyed Norfolk and New York in 1776 were justified as necessary to prevent the British army from garrisoning troops in the cities and conducting operations from a position backed by the British navy. At Norfolk, the fires were blamed on British commander Lord Dunmore, who had ordered selective burning of warehouses from which the Americans were firing on his ships. In truth, the fires set by the British were mostly extinguished before being reignited and spread by soldiers from Virginia with the implicit consent or at least silence from their commanding officers, who had already determined that the city should be burned to prevent British occupation. Casting the British navy as the villains, “The burning of Norfolk became a Continental cause célèbre, as patriot leaders used the affair to turn the tide of sentiment against the British.”¹⁷⁷

A similar deception surrounded the burning of New York later in 1776, with blame being shifted away from American sympathizers to suggest instead that the British or an accident had caused the destruction of 400-600 buildings, nearly a quarter of the city. As the British invasion force loomed, American military officers and politicians debated over the future of the city. Concerned that their position could not be defended, “The best American military minds knew it would be better to destroy New York.”¹⁷⁸ Despite an official resolution in Congress that the city should not be burned, the fire that swept through on September 21 was likely the result of deliberate arson and sabotage of firefighting equipment. If a secret order to burn the city had been given, the Americans could never admit to it without inviting “public condemnation for having flouted the conventions of warfare.”¹⁷⁹ While the practice of setting fire to public buildings and private homes was widespread and understood to be part of war in the eighteenth century, official responsibility for such acts was rarely claimed.

The decision to burn Newark took place in an entirely different context than Norfolk or New York but was also shaped by official policy that seemed to allow—at least to McClure—the abandonment of the accepted conventions of warfare that had caused so much concern and animosity during the Revolution. In correspondence about the defense of Fort George, Secretary of War Armstrong issued the following order:

Understanding that the defence of the post committed to your charge may render it proper to destroy the town of Newark, you are hereby directed to apprise its inhabitants of this circumstance and to invite them to remove themselves and their effects to some place of greater safety.¹⁸⁰

Unfortunately for the residents of Newark, McClure interpreted this order as justification for the burning of the town even though he was planning to abandon Fort George and retreat across the river to Fort Niagara. News of the event traveled quickly throughout the American and British lines. McClure defended his decision in private correspondence and to the public by claiming that he had authorization for the destruction of Newark. Armstrong was incensed that blame landed at his feet. “My orders were to burn it if necessary to the defence of Fort George, not otherwise,” he wrote, “Relieve this man.”¹⁸¹ McClure’s admission that he had official orders to burn the town under any circumstances undermined the narrative of Americans behaving respectably in warfare. Unlike the burnings of Norfolk and New York, where the involvement of Americans was covered up or denied for decades, McClure exposed the contradiction between accepted conventions and necessary practice that lay just below the surface of warfare in the colonial era. His actions and subsequent arguments about responsibility opened a new chapter of the war in which fiery vengeance swept both sides of the Niagara River.

The British commander Sir George Prevost was not satisfied with McClure’s explanation of his decision nor Armstrong’s qualification of his orders and decided that Newark must be avenged. His hope was that burning towns on the American side of the Niagara River would “teach the enemy to respect in future the laws of war.”¹⁸² Within days of the burning of Newark, the British army advanced, regained control of the Niagara District, and began planning their revenge. On December 19th, British troops and native allies crossed the river and without a single casualty captured Fort Niagara, which they held until the end of the war. They also marched to the village of Lewiston, looting and burning public and private property alike. One officer described the campaign in a letter to a friend, writing, “We shall not stop until we have cleared the whole frontier. The Indians are retaliating for the conflagration of Newark. Not a house within my sight but is in flames. This is a melancholy but just retaliation.”¹⁸³ The destruction of Lewiston, however, was not sufficient to appease the incensed British soldiers and native allies.

The American military, government, and public were aware that the burning of Newark had started a process that would inevitably bring similar destruction to their own side. New York Governor Tompkins wrote to McClure that if he had been told about the plan to burn Newark, he would have ordered out a larger force “to guard against the consequences of the irritation and disposition to retaliate which the burning of Newark would naturally excite on the west side of the Niagara river.”¹⁸⁴ When Tompkins wrote that letter, his fears had already been confirmed by the capture of Fort Niagara and burning of Lewiston. One resident of the Niagara region in New York expressed similar concern that the British would continue to retaliate for McClure’s “wanton and abominable act,” which gave “a new aspect to the war, which will no doubt be carried on after this more to satiate the revengeful feelings of commanders and individuals than to obtain any great national benefit from it.”¹⁸⁵ Any positive views of the war based on the successful invasion of Niagara in 1813 were now replaced with shocked realization of how vulnerable the New York frontier was when the tide turned.

Throughout the final year of the war, inhabitants on both sides of the border suffered loss and displacement as the series of conflagrations continued to sweep across the region. In December 1813, British forces crossed the Niagara River to capture the villages of Buffalo and Black Rock. The officers had orders “to burn the town of Buffalo in retaliation for the burning of Newark.”¹⁸⁶ After driving the American defenders into retreat, the British set fire to over “334 buildings, including houses, barns, sheds, and stores worth an estimated $350,000.”¹⁸⁷ The British commanders considered this act of vengeance justified but also adequate to demonstrate the limits of acceptable warfare. Lieutenant-General Drummond reported to Prevost that he had issued orders to refrain from “further example in retaliation than what had already been inflicted so severely but so justly on the Niagara frontier.”¹⁸⁸ Public opinion on both sides of the conflict made it clear that the destruction of Newark, Lewiston, Buffalo, and Black Rock was unacceptable, and the British officers hoped that their retaliation would serve as a caution against further atrocities.

The problem with vengeance, however, is that neither side can unilaterally decide when justice has been fully served. After the British retreated, the American army returned to the frontier and began planning the next invasion. Drummond feared that while many American inhabitants were anxious for peace, about a third of them “declare their determination to cross again into Canada and burn and destroy everything within reach.”¹⁸⁹ His concern was warranted, as the internal conflicts in the American forces that had resulted in plundering and burning in 1813 were still present. While the American commander, Major-General Jacob Brown, issued orders that plundering and burning private property was unacceptable, he also had to contend with “the burning zeal of the volunteers” who wanted revenge for the destruction of villages in Niagara.¹⁹⁰ Raiding and foraging parties often carried out their own brand of justice in contradiction of Brown’s orders.

The inhabitants of Upper Canada, particularly those in the Niagara, London, and Western Districts, suffered the consequences of personal agendas and vengeance while rogue officers and soldiers faced few consequences. Amelia Ryerse was present when an American fleet landed at Port Dover on the shore of Lake Erie and proceeded from one settlement to the next, looting and burning every building they found. When the soldiers reached Ryerse Mills, Amelia and her mother watched their village burn: “Very soon we saw [a] column of dark smoke arise from every Building and what at early morn had been a prosperous homestead, at noon there remained only smouldering ruins.”¹⁹¹ Another eyewitness reported that the unopposed force “destroyed altogether twenty dwelling houses, three flour mills, three saw mills, three distilleries, twelve barns and a number of other buildings.”¹⁹² He also reported that the commander, Colonel John Campbell, justified his actions as retaliation for the burning of American villages. In a letter to a British officer, Campbell admitted, “What was done at that place and its vicinity proceeded from my orders. The whole business was planned by myself and executed upon my own responsibility.”¹⁹³ Major-General Brown ordered a court of enquiry into Campbell’s actions, which determined that he was justified in burning mills but erred in burning private property. Despite the court’s verdict, Campbell remained in the army and received no punishment for his actions.

After yet another invasion of the Niagara District in 1814, the inhabitants of Niagara showed even more resilience than during previous invasions, taking stands against the roving volunteer units that continued to ignore Brown’s orders about protecting private property. Major MacFarland of the 23rd U.S. Infantry wrote to his wife, “The whole population is against us; not a foraging party but is fired on, and not unfrequently returns with missing numbers.”¹⁹⁴ MacFarland recognized that the American militia volunteers were enraging the local population by plundering and burning indiscriminately. One British officer reported that the enemy “burnt the whole of the houses between Queenston and the Falls.”¹⁹⁵ Across the entire district from Fort Erie to Queenston, inhabitants who had survived the invasion and occupation in 1813 were determined to resist further deprivations.

The conflict between inhabitants and invaders led to another scene of burning and destruction at the village of St. David’s near Queenston that would mark the end of the fiery campaign of vengeance. Hoping to find local militia who had been ambushing American supply lines, a troop of mounted volunteers rode to the village, engaged in a brief skirmish with the inhabitants, and then looted and burned 30 to 40 houses. Major David Secord, a resident of St. David’s, testified that the soldiers “said it was their avowed intention to burn, plunder, and destroy that Tory village.”¹⁹⁶ Secord later provided sworn statements in support of claims for war losses submitted by Hannah Secord and Catherine Lowell, who both lost their homes and many other possessions to looting and burning. While both women would have to wait a decade for compensation of their losses, the American officer who led the attack, Colonel Isaac Stone, was merely discharged from the army for disobeying Brown’s orders. At St. David’s, like elsewhere, civilians suffered the consequences of looting and burning that swept the region on both sides of the border while the perpetrators went unpunished or unharmed.