From Colony to Country: Michael Tracey

By Evelyn Dreiling

To everyone who has enjoyed my book, "A Rebellious Spirit: Daniel Tracey", I am introducing the sequel, "From Colony to Country: Michael Tracey" and covers the period 1840 to 1880.
Michael Tracey followed a different path from his father. He was less of a fighter and more of a thinker, and it served him well as he navigated the troubled political waters of Lower Canada in the 19th century. But he was prone to bouts of depression, and it weighed heavily on his loving family.
Learn about the Fenians, a rabble-rouser group of Irish-Canadian and American patriots who fought for freedom for their homeland in a most bizarre fashion, by taking on the British in the Canadas in the 1860s at the end of the American Civil War. Their exploits were doomed to failure, but their actions threatened the peace of the newly forming Canadian colony - they served to unite the colony - as the provinces joined together to fight a common foe. The Fathers of Confederation had tried for years to find compromises between the four provinces, Lower and Upper Canada, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, (as well as P.E.I. and Newfoundland), but it was the threat of the Fenians and the promise of a trans-continental railway that sealed the deal. Read about another stalwart Irish fighter, great orator, and brilliant statesman who played a pivotal role - Thomas D'Arcy McGee.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Dreiling
• Release date: Mar 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310363900

Evelyn Dreiling

Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling has recently retired from the Public Service where she worked at National Defence for 10 years. She has pursued a two-year program of Commercial Art at Concordia University, Montreal, Quebec and Nursing at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Montreal. She has taught watercolour courses and enjoys doing watercolor images for her book covers and other sketches. She spent many years travelling and living in parts of Canada and the United States. She now makes her home in North Vancouver, BC, where she lives near her two adult children and her daughter-in-law. She always had a great love of books, and is particularly interested in Canadian history, which she attempts to portray through the lives of ordinary people and their stories; she is an avid researcher and will no doubt will be working on another historical fiction novel soon.

Book preview

From Colony to Country: Michael Tracy

by Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling

Copyright by Evelyn Cohoon Dreiling - 2014

Smashwords Edition

The Sequel to: A Rebellious Spirit: Daniel Tracey

Cover: Illustration by Evelyn Dreiling. Watercolour painting suggesting the deep woods near St. Columban where the timber industry flourished. 2006

ISBN: 9781310363900

Dedication

To my children, Kimberley and Scott, who continue to be my inspiration; and to my brother, Robert, who is my favorite cheerleader

Registry Index

Daniel Tracey, the father of Michael Tracey, born 1786 in Tipperary, Ireland; died 1837 in Quebec (Lower Canada). Married Frances Manning (Mahning), born in Ireland. This is the available information obtained from the Tracey Clan website, as well as on the official record in the Catholic parish of St. Colomban, a small parish in northern Quebec, about 50 miles north of Montreal. The son of Daniel and Frances include Michael Tracey, born 1819, and Daniel, born 1834. Other children are not listed in that record:

Michael Tracey¹, Tipperary, Ireland, born 1819. Son of Daniel Tracey and Frances Manning. Married Mary McCarthy (born 1822) on November 7, 1843 in St. Colomban parish. They had several children. Date of death unknown: between 1877 and 1891. Note that the dates of birth given for the children may indicate the date of baptism:

(i) Daniel Tracey, (born July 27, 1844); died September 25, 1844) according to the records in the St. Colomban parish register;

(ii) John Tracey (born July 17, 1845); married, name unknown.

(iii) James Tracey (born March 4, 1847); married Christina.

(iv) Ellen Tracey (born December 6, 1848);

(v) Elizabeth Tracey (born April 23, 1851); married Joseph Trudeau, born in Montreal, Quebec on 26 March, 1857, son of Narcisse Trudeau, born in Quebec in 1820 and Marguerite Charron, born in Varennes, Quebec in 1830. Elizabeth and Joseph were married in Ste. Cunegonde, Quebec on 19 June, 1876. Elizabeth died in Lachine, Quebec, in 1895; Joseph Trudeau died in Lachine in 1919.

(vi) Martin Tracey (born May 19, 1854);

(vii) Michael Daniel Tracey (born July 25, 1856); died before 1862.

(viii) Margaret Tracey, (born June 4, 1858);

(ix) Patrick Tracey, (born March 16, 1860; died 19 days later);

(x) Michael Tracey, (born April 24, 1862).

Daniel Tracey², (born 1834 in St. Columban, Quebec, Canada), son of Daniel Tracey and Frances Manning, brother of Michael Tracey.

Note that two of the children of Daniel Tracey and Frances Manning are fictional characters - Maggie and Annie. Other characters are based on real persons.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter One - St. Columban, 1860s

Chapter Two - Michael and Mary

Chapter Three - Griffintown, 1844

Chapter Four - Michael Foley

Chapter Five - Montreal

Chapter Six - Maggie, 1860

Chapter Seven - Gorta Mor, 1847

Chapter Eight - Michael's Teaching

Chapter Nine - Back to Montreal

Chapter Ten - Thomas D'Arcy McGee

Chapter Eleven - The Fenians, 1860s

Chapter Twelve - Jean-Philippe Blondin

Chapter Thirteen - John Tracey

Chapter Fourteen - Confederation, 1860s

Chapter Fifteen - Michael, 1870s

Epilogue

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Introduction

As a continuation of the story of Daniel Tracey and his rebellious spiriti, we now begin the story of his son, Michael Tracey, who carried on as head of the family. Daniel and his wife, Fran, had been unwitting passengers aboard a fishing ship sailing to the New World around 1820. They had been transported to Newfoundland as a way for the wealthy Anglo-Irish families to be rid of their surplus population during the famine of the late 1810s. During his short life, he worked on behalf of his family and friends, many of whom were also immigrants from Ireland, to establish a settlement, and to preserve their rights and their culture as they settled in this new land.

Michael had spent the better part of his young life studying for the priesthood. During the early 19th century, he was a student at the St. Sulpician Seminary on Notre Dame St. in Montreal, a residence established for the early missionaries to New France. His father, Daniel Tracey, became embroiled in the political cause of the Patriotes, a populist movement led mainly by Louis-Joseph Papineau, a party leader in the Legislative Assembly in Quebec. Papineau was a brilliant orator fighting for the cause of representative government not only for French Canadians, but all people of Lower Canada, and he opposed the tight merchant circles (the Chateau Clique in Lower Canada and the Family Compact in Upper Canada) who owned and controlled local commerce and industry and whose influence was strongly felt by the powerful appointees of the Executive Council of the government of the colonies.

When the 1837 Rebellion broke out, both the Irish emigrants and the French Canadians fought side-by-side to bring about government reform. Unfortunately, the Patriotes were poorly organized and financed, and hopelessly overwhelmed by the British forces and hundreds of lives were lost; twelve of the Patriotes were hanged, and hundreds were deported to Australia and elsewhere. In spite of a few skirmishes which continued in 1838, the movement collapsed.

Michael's father, Daniel, was one of the victims who was killed at the Battle of St. Eustache in 1837. When Michael's mentor, Father Patrick Phelan, learned that Daniel was wanted by the government for treason, Michael endured a severe dressing down; he was terribly upset and finally denounced the Catholic church for siding with the oppressors and stormed out of the seminary for the last time.

Chapter One - St. Columban, 1860

St. Columban, 1860

Michael stood, leaning against the old timber-crossed wooden fence, and cast his eyes over his old homestead - what was left of it - which had served he and his family so well.

Michael was tall, broad-shouldered and thin, with reddish-blond wavy hair which he smoothed back from his strong forehead. He had refined features and grey-green eyes. He wore the simple homespun work clothes of the local farmers, and always kept his father's flat grey woolen cap in his back pocket, as a reminder of better times spent working the rough soil with his Da and struggling to bring in a harvest of potatoes, wheat, barley, oats and rye and raising some livestock. He regretted that he didn't spend more time with him, but he was preoccupied with his studies at the Seminary of the St. Sulpicians in Montreal; and his father was also very caught up with the politics of the day, especially with his direct involvement with the rebellious Patriot movement which had earned him few victories but instead ended up costing him his life. Indeed, he and his father were so different, and yet there were similarities insofar as their devotion to their particular calling.

And yet here was Michael now, without the black soutane which he wore frequently doing the years of hard work for preparation for the priesthood, cast aside in a fit of rage against his tutor. He found himself no longer responsible for the building up of the church and its new parish of St. Columban in the northern region of Lower Canada.

As the lengthening shadows spread across the rough rocky ground, he felt the warmth of the last rays of sun slowly disappearing behind the stark outline of the 'Two Mountain" peaks. He glanced over at the charred and gutted building, once a large log home that had originally started out as his wood shed. He saw his beloved St. Columban church, the back half of the building a mere shell and the remainder in ruins - and wondered how the local people, or whoever the culprits were, had so much hate in them to turn on the one central building which linked the tiny village together and provided comfort to them into a blackened ruin. He still felt the hurt deep inside, remembering how back in 1860, the alarm had gone up when the flames started shooting out the windows, and how the farmers and their children rushed out towards the church to form a bucket brigade from his little well - almost a wasted effort - he remembered the cries and screaming and then, the silence, as the villagers realized that the buildings could not be saved. All the time and hard work he and the villagers had put into erecting the little chapel back in the mid 1830s, all gone. It was too painful to think about it, and he tried vainly to push the thoughts from his mind.

He remembered his mother who had come running out to him as soon as she heard, her skirts flying around her plump figure as she bent forward, her dark hair mussed, the anguish on her face plainly visible.

Michael, oh Michael, are you alright ? she shouted.

It's alright Ma, I'm fine, and Mary is too, she is here with me. and he glanced over to Mary, still pretty in Michael's eyes as she had been as his new bride in 1843. She was still mourning the loss of her baby, Michael Daniel, who had lived a mere two months. She stood quietly alone, leaving Michael wondering what her thoughts were on this dreadful night.

And what about the children ? his mother asked.

They're with the McCarthy's, they're fine, I'm sure. he answered.

Oh Michael, wot 'appened ? she said.

I don't know Ma, all I know is that there was a loud noise like an explosion, then I ran out here and saw flames shooting out the back door. I don't know why that door was open ... I locked it ... then he buried his head in his hands and gasped and heaved a big sigh.

Fran put her arms around him briefly then turned to watch the last of the dying embers flickering out.

Michael's two oldest boys, John and James, aged eleven and nine, stood quietly off to the side, their sober faces glancing occasionally at their father too.

At least part of the building is saved. Fran tried to encourage him but it was to no avail.

Mary, his wife, started towards them, her head lowered and her arms tightly crossed across her chest.

And how is it that our old log house was destroyed too, when it was so far from the church ? It doesn't make sense, Michael she said, almost to herself.

It was hard to pretend that they weren't fully aware of the real circumstances of this suspicious fire. Ever since that day at the school, when Michael and the Priest of St. Canut's parish had had words over his treatment of three of his older pupils, people in the town were behaving in a restrained manner towards the Traceys. Michael found it hard to believe that people would go to such lengths to express their indignation towards them, but the evidence was staring him in the face.

Dis be the work of them Dionnes from St. Canut, I'm jes sure of it his mother said angrily. They've been givin' us a 'ard time ever since dey started at the St. Columban school, ye knows that full well, Michael she said bitterly.

Be careful, Ma, we best let the magistrates deal with this, or it could go harder on us. warned Michael.

How could it get any worse than this? she wailed. Och, it's alright Michael, I won't say anything. But you look around; do ye see any of dem Dionnes 'ere 'elpin' with the fire ? No. Dey's probably 'iding in the bushes on the other side of the North River, dey is.

Something happened, Ma. Something I don't understand he said in his slow, thoughtful way. We were always good friends and neighbours to the French who settled in this area. Da even fought side-by-side with them for a cause they all believed in, democracy. Now - I just don't understand where this animosity is coming from. Fran and Mary could only clutch his arms, trying to offer some consolation.

Chapter Two - Michael and Mary

St. Columban, Early Days

The little homestead village of St. Columban in the late 1830s comprised about fifty farms which had sprung up since the founding of the parish by the Catholic Sulpician order with the very able assistance of Father Patrick Phelan. Father Phelan was originally from Kilkenny, Ireland, and spent years ministering to the working class of fishermen and tradesmen who began to make a permanent settlement in Newfoundland during the early part of the 19th century. He then became a seminarian at the St. Sulpician seminary in Montreal, located alongside Place d'Armes, next to the imposing Notre Dame cathedral.

In its early days the Irish Catholic church in this French Canadian locale was a blessing to the large number of Irish settlers which had made their way across the sea to Canada; they tended to naturally group together around their church as the central core of their community, as they had in their many parishes dotting the villages, towns, and counties of Ireland for many, many years. The bonding formed by certain families in their old homeland tended to continue unbroken in Lower Canada. The only problem was that, for many years, almost all of the catholic churches around Quebec and Montreal conducted services in Latin and French, while the English churchgoers mostly attended the Protestant churches. There were no English-speaking catholic churches. And this is how St. Columban came into existence: Michael, who was studying for the priesthood at the Sulpician Seminary had been mentored by Father Phelan and the devoted Phelan worked to bring about the necessary funding, planning and infrastructure to set up a new parish in land situated forty miles north of Montreal, in a densely wooded area, on land owned by the seigneury of the St. Sulpice order, near the parish of Ste. Scholastique. Their efforts were welcomed, as the inhabitants of the tenement district of Griffintown in Montreal - one of the first ports-of-call for newly arrived Irish immigrants - had just about driven the Bishop at Notre Dame crazy with their numerous petitions to build an English Catholic Church. There were a few early arrivals, but the first group of St. Columban settlers began arriving in 1837, many of whom were drawn from the Montreal district of Griffintown by Father Phelan. The first arrivals were named Whelan, Murphy, Keyes, McCarthy and Meara among others.

Michael and Mary, 1844

Michael had waited patiently for years for his intended, Mary McCarthy, to reach the age of majority so that she would be free to marry. Her father, James McCarthy, one of the first homesteaders in St. Columban, was accumulating farm land in the St. Columban area and was a highly respected person in the village. He was proud of his accomplishments and wanted the continued respect of the neighbouring farmers. He had been vehemently opposed to the union between Michael and his daughter since he became aware of the abortive change of Michael's plans to become a priest.

Michael had had a terrible blowup with his mentor, Father Phelan, while he was still at the Seminary in 1837, well on his way to becoming a priest. It occurred after the death of his father during the Battle of St. Eustache which occurred during the closing days of the unsuccessful 1837 Patriot Rebellion. He replayed the scenario in his mind for months after he had been summoned into Father Phelan's office that fateful day:

It was January, 1838, and Michael was called back to the Sulpician Seminary one day to discuss certain matters with Father Phelan. Michael was glad to get reacquainted with his old teacher and friend, and they had a lot of catching up to do. Then Father Phelan asked him about taking his vows, and when he might take the final exams. Michael explained that he had been quite busy with parish work, and quite preoccupied with all the events surrounding the rebellion in Lake of Two Mountains.

Of course, of course, Michael. We understand that. But what we don't understand is this ! and he held forth a wanted poster which showed that the leaders of the outlawed Patriotes who were still at large were wanted for questioning. On the list there appeared the name of his father: Daniel Tracey.

Father Phelan looked sternly at Michael, awaiting an explanation.

Michael could feel the blood rising in his neck. Why was Father Phelan so angry at him?

Yes, it's true, my Father was very proud of his involvement with the insurgents. My Mother and I did not fully support him, but ... and he was interrupted.

And you did nothing to stop him ? Your Father was in complete contravention of the law in Lower Canada. He could have been arrested. Father Phelan said angrily.

I don't understand said Michael. I couldn't very well force him to stay away from the Patriotes, he was fighting for something he believed in very strongly answered Michael, starting to get angry himself.

Think of it, Michael. You carry the name of Tracey, and if he had been arrested, this would have been attributed to you and the entire diocese. We could not have been associated with these degenerates. said Father Phelan.

Degenerates ? you are calling my Father a degenerate ? shouted Michael.

Lower your voice said Phelan, remember who you are speaking to. You know full well we were under the strict orders of Bishop Latrique and Bishop Signai to respect the authority of the government in power and stay within the confines of the law. This Patriote movement, it was completely insupportable. How would it look if the Mother Church was aligned with a gang of rebels ? stated Phelan.

Michael was so angry, he was afraid he might hit him. You don't understand, Father, these people were trying to right some terrible injustices, they were fighting for an end to corruption in government and the beginning of fair dealings for all citizens, just as the Americans who had fought for the same things fifty years ago. said Michael as he choked back tears.

How dare you suggest that we, as priests, could be aligned with rabble rousers, and then you try to justify it ? That is insolence, my son. he said haughtily.

Don't call me your son he answered defiantly. He couldn't take it anymore. He reached down, picked up his satchel with the title paperwork for the church, and laid it on Phelan's desk. Then he gathered up his belongings, and started to head for the door.

Don't you walk away from me. You will wait until I dismiss you. Come back here Phelan said, angrily.

I'm done here. he said. Don't expect me back. And he walked through the door, knowing he was making an irreversible decision.

Father Phelan followed him out to the hallway. Wait, at least tell me, ... what about your father ?

He wheeled around. My father is dead. Killed by your loyal British soldiers, the vanguards of your precious law and authority he answered spitefully. And he turned and kept on walking.

As he walked down the long hallway, he thought about the years he had spent studying and wondered how he could have allowed himself to be so indoctrinated. He undid the buttons of his soutane, and gradually