By late June, the fields of the Riel farm were hazed with the tender green of new grain. At least the seed from the famine relief committee meant they had a crop, Riel told himself as he gazed out over the family land. Now if only the rains would arrive - and the grasshoppers would not!
He stretched, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back. Nearly a year had passed since his return to Red River, and his work as a farmer showed. His skin was deeply tanned, and he had filled out. His city suit felt uncomfortably tight in the shoulders now, though he had few chances to wear it. And he did not expect to see a city any time soon. In March he had written to a merchant he knew in St. Paul, hoping for a job. But he had had no reply.
Even Louis Schmidt was doing better than he. “I’ve been paid a bit of money I was owed,” he told Louis. “I’ve bought some oxen and Red River carts. I’m going to freight goods to St. Paul. Why don’t you join me - come in as my partner?”
“Why not?” Louis had said. It would bring in some money, and be a change from farming. But in the end, he didn’t go. Something held him in Red River.
What he wanted, he knew, was to help his people as he and Schmidt had planned. The Hudson’s Bay Company was rumoured to have sold Rupert’s Land to the Dominion of Canada for £300,000. Now the Canadian government would appoint a lieutenant-governor and council to deal with its new territory. The people of Red River grumbled that they had been sold like a flock of sheep. But Louis was impatient with talk. He felt in his bones that the Metis must do something. But what?
Then events began to move. In late June, Charles Mair and John Snow, an Ontarian in charge of building a road to Canada, began pacing out lots on Métis land. Caught with a bundle of survey stakes, they were driven off the land by angry Métis. Louis was pleased when he heard of it. It was more than good, he told himself. It was hopeful. If the Canadians kept pushing, the Métis were bound to resist. And then…
On July 5, a meeting of Métis was called. In times of danger, it was their custom to elect captains to lead them. That day they chose two senior Métis to arrange patrols of the neighbourhood and keep strangers off Métis land. They did this just in time, for news soon arrived that English settlers had dug a well and were felling trees in one of the Métis parishes.
The Métis were now seriously worried. On July 29, a man named William Dease called a meeting of Métis and First Nations people at the courthouse. He gave a fiery speech, suggesting that the £300,000 to be paid by Canada to the Hudson’s Bay Company belonged by right to them.
“And,” he said, “why not take over the property of the Company in Red River by force until they pay us?”
An uneasy silence fell on the crowd. Then a Métis elder named John Bruce stood up to speak. “No, brothers,” he said. “That is not the right way to proceed.”
There was a storm of applause, and Riel, who was sitting nearby, sprang to his feet. “I support Monsieur Bruce,” he said, glancing around. Around him, heads nodded, approving his respect for the older man. They know whose son I am, Louis told himself as he sat down, and that I’m the best-educated Métis in Red River. Let them ponder that!
On a Sunday morning near the end of August, Riel stood on the steps of St. Boniface Cathedral. Around him was a crowd of worshippers who had just attended mass.
“Beware,” he told them. “Surveyors have arrived from Canada to steal your land.”
The crowd stirred uneasily. Everybody had heard about the survey party.
“They say” Louis went on, “they say that Métis land holdings are not in danger.” His tone gave the words a scornful twist. “If that is so, why does not the government of Canada send us guarantees?”
There was a mutter of agreement, for this was a sore point. Months had passed, and the Canadian government had not sent any guarantees that the lands of the Red River settlers would be respected after the takeover.
“Colonel Dennis is their leader,” Riel said, smiling now. “Who knows? He may be a splendid fellow. He certainly has splendid mutton-chop whiskers!”
Laughter swept the crowd.
Riel held up his hand. “But this same Colonel Dennis - where is he staying? With John Schultz, our sworn enemy! How can we trust such a man?” People nodded, and Louis knew he had them in the palm of his hand. “Let us wait, let us watch. But en garde, en garde!” he concluded.
Soon afterwards, the surveyors set to work near Métis land at Oak Point, and Louis chuckled when he heard that the Métis had sent them packing. Colonel Dennis then shifted the survey, and his men began working their way north from near the American border. But tensions simmered, as more and more English-speaking settlers arrived. And still the Canadian government sent no guarantees that existing land holdings would be honoured.
“Have you heard about our new lieutenant-governor?” Riel asked Father Ritchot. “He’s none other than the Honourable William McDougall. The former Canadian Minister of Public Works.”
Father Ritchot stroked his beard. “Ah. The very man who sent us Messieurs Mair, Snow, and Dennis,” he said mildly.
“The three plagues!” Louis snorted. “And he has already appointed three members to the new governing council - men of whom we know nothing!”
Riel was working hard to build up his influence among the Métis. He visited people on their farms and chatted on the road or over a fence at harvest time. His message was always the same. The Canadians were not to be trusted. The Métis must unite to protect their rights. Patrols were not enough - they needed a Métis central committee to keep an eye on things. During September, the Métis held secret meetings in Father Ritehot’s presbytery in St. Norbert. Two men were elected from each Métis parish to form a committee, and Riel acted as secretary.
The surveys were getting close to Red River again, so on October 1, Riel went to see Colonel Dennis. He squeezed into his city suit, but on his feet he wore moccasins. He liked to feel the ground under his feet.
“I have some little education,” Riel began modestly “So my brethren have asked me to inquire what is being done with the country. They are in a state of great excitement about the surveys.”
Dennis stroked his magnificent whiskers. “But my dear fellow,” he blustered, “our survey will not affect Métis land at all! Why, the Canadian government plans to grant free titles to all existing landholders. And of course it will pay to extinguish Indian claims on the land as well.”
Riel raised his eyebrows. “I’m delighted to hear that the government’s intentions are so just and so liberal,” he said. “I will certainly make this known among my people.”
The Colonel bowed him out, pleased to have poured oil on troubled waters.
But Riel was not convinced. On October 6 he penned a letter to Le Courrier de Saint-Hyacinthe, a Quebec newspaper edited by an old college friend of his. The Métis of Red River, he assured the readers, were loyal subjects of the Queen. So they had the same rights as settlers in other British colonies. But their rights were being endangered by a survey conducted by an alien power - Canada - without their consent. Louis hoped this letter would spark sympathy in Quebec for the Métis cause.
On October 11, 1869, Dennis’s survey team had completed its work south of Red River. It went on to survey a baseline near the settlement. And that line ran right through the “hay privilege” ofÉdouard Marion. The hay privilege was the rear half of each narrow riverfront farm that was left in prairie grass and used as common grazing land. It was to defend this land right that Riel and the other Métis set their feet upon the survey chain and forced the surveyors to retreat.
“Don’t they know about the hay privilege?” one Métis asked as the survey wagons rolled away.
“They know now!” said Louis.
The next day, Riel was sent for by William Mactavish, who governed the settlement for the Hudson’s Bay Company. The Governor had warned Dennis that the survey would cause problems. Deathly ill with tuberculosis, Mactavish did not want trouble.
“Dennis tells me you and some others stopped his survey crew yesterday. Why?” the shrewd old Scotsman demanded.
Riel’s eyes flashed. “The Canadian government has no right to make surveys on the territory without the express permission of the people of the settlement,” he replied. That was his opinion, and he stuck to it.
The confrontation boosted Riel’s popularity among the Métis. And now he had new sources of support. Métis voyageurs had returned to the settlement for the winter from the far West. The Métis who manned the Company boats between Fort Garry and York Factory and the Saskatchewan were back too. Louis knew these men were daredevils, ready for anything. They would be the muscle behind his resistance movement. He could now act, despite the doubts of cautious Métis who feared confronting the Canadian government.
On October 16, Riel called a mass meeting at St. Norbert. Delegates were elected to a new organization called the National Committee. John Bruce was elected president, and Louis once more became secretary. The Committee quickly passed a resolution to create a military force with captains and soldiers. Within days, four hundred men had been recruited. Many were armed with muskets, revolvers, or hunting knives.
Riel knew that the new lieutenant-governor was on his way to Red River by way of the United States. The latest rumour said he was bringing three hundred rifles with him. So, on October 17, the National Committee sent forty horsemen to barricade the only road that led to Red River from the south, at a point where it crossed the Riviére Sale. The three-foot-high roadblock was built of fence timber, with a gate in the middle. Two sentries armed with muskets stood on duty on either side of it. The rest of the horsemen camped nearby. On October 21, the Committee sent the following letter to await McDougall at Pembina, just south of the border:
Sir,
The National Committee of the Métis of Red
River orders William McDougall not to enter
the Territory of the North-West without special
permission of the above-mentioned committee.
By the order of the President, John Bruce.
Louis Riel, Secretary.
Again, Riel addressed the Sunday crowd outside the cathedral.
“Would it be easier to let McDougall into Red River?” he demanded. “Yes! But then we will lose our political rights.”
His eyes searched their faces. “We must stop him!” he cried, his excitement kindling. “And if a Métis should be killed in the conflict, we will dip a handkerchief in his blood and make it our national flag!”
There were cheers, but some people shook their heads. Young Riel sounded as radical as his father.
On October 25, Riel and Bruce were summoned before the Council of Assiniboia, the governing body of Red River.
“Your roadblock is illegal,” the head of the council told them. You must take it down.”
Louis was defiant. “We will not!” he shot back. “We Métis object to any government coming from Canada without our being consulted in the matter.”
“But why?”
“Why?” echoed Riel. “Because many of my people are uneducated and only half civilized. They fear that if a large immigration takes place they will be crowded out of a country which they claim as their own!”
There were angry protests from members of the council.
“No, no, that’s wrong!”
“If you keep McDougall out the consequences may be disastrous for all of us!”
Louis held his ground, scowling. “Well,” he conceded at last, “I will tell my supporters what you have said. That is all.”
Riel knew very well that the council had no military force to back up its decisions. And if it called out volunteers to stop the Métis there would be civil war in Red River. He was gambling that this would not happen. In the end, the council sent a message to Pembina warning McDougall that for his own good he should not cross the border.
Governor Mactavish made one last effort. He sent for Riel on October 28. Too ill to get out of bed, he lay struggling to breathe, his face as white as his pillows.
“Your father was a man who knew how to serve this settlement,” he began.
“I, too, hope to serve my country,” Louis replied proudly.
“Then why not give the Canadian government a chance, lad?” pleaded Mactavish.
Louis shook his head. “It is only prudence to prevent the wolf’s entry into the sheep-pen. It looks to us as if it would be easier to keep the wolf outside in the first place than to have to throw it out later.”
“What is this talk of wolves?” Mactavish demanded.
“To us the Canadian Government is a wolf” retorted Riel. “We are determined to prevent its entry into our country, where it has no right. We remain loyal subjects of Her Majesty, but we refuse point-blank to recognize the authority of Canada until after it treats with us!”