16271. (George Woodcock) Gabriel Dumont

Gabriel Dumon­t’s role in the North­west Rebel­lion of 1885 is well known to Métis Cana­di­ans, and many peo­ple in our three prairie provinces, but oth­er­wise he is over­shad­owed by the more roman­tic fig­ure of Louis Riel. Riel, after all, had reli­gious visions, under­went mar­tyr­dom, and left a writ­ten lega­cy. His insta­bil­i­ty is the stuff that attracts atten­tion, and he’s the one that’s been treat­ed in nov­els, plays, movies, songs, and even an opera. But in many ways, Dumont is a more inter­est­ing man, and deserves more respect than the dubi­ous­ly sane Riel. George Wood­cock, in this short biog­ra­phy, empha­sizes how much Dumont exem­pli­fied the most admirable aspects of Métis soci­ety.I should make the back­ground clear for non-Cana­di­ans, who know lit­tle of our his­to­ry. Dur­ing the course of the 18th cen­tu­ry, a new cul­ture appeared in the Cana­di­an west, which fused Euro­pean and Native Cana­di­an ele­ments into some­thing more than just a half-way sta­tus between the two. Métis soci­ety was mul­ti-lin­gual, though French was its most com­mon­ly used lan­guage. Native Cana­di­an lan­guages (pre­dom­i­nant­ly Cree) were also used by them, as well as Gael­ic, Eng­lish, and two new lan­guages, Michif and Bungee, which com­bined all of these ele­ments [see my dis­cus­sion of this a review of Li Paviyóñ di Michif]. Begin­ning as traders and guides employed by the North West Com­pa­ny and the Hud­son’s Bay Com­pa­ny, they fanned out into a huge area of the west­ern forests, park­lands, prairies, and moun­tains. When they out­grew and out-pop­u­lat­ed the dwin­dling fur trade, they hunt­ed buf­fa­lo on the plains. Grad­u­al­ly, dur­ing the course of the 19th cen­tu­ry, they turned to farm­ing, the run­ning of cart car­a­vans for bulk trans­port, inn-keep­ing, and store-keep­ing. While the Métis occa­sion­al­ly skir­mished with Sioux and Black­foot war par­ties, they gen­er­al­ly employed their gift for self-gov­ern­ment and diplo­ma­cy, com­bined with remark­able mil­i­tary skills, to keep the peace on the plains — a fac­tor ignored by most Cana­di­an historians.

As the prairies came under the nom­i­nal author­i­ty of Cana­da, and set­tlers from the east began to arrive, the Métis at first tried to get Cana­da to per­form the nec­es­sary func­tions of gov­ern­ment. When this met with lit­tle action, they sim­ply expand­ed their tra­di­tion­al forms of demo­c­ra­t­ic self-rule to fit the need. Lat­er, when it could see prof­its in the West, the Fed­er­al Gov­ern­ment pro­ceed­ed to ride roughshod over the Métis, ignor­ing their prop­er­ty rights and order­ly civ­il gov­ern­ment, and treat­ing them as if they did­n’t exist. Lands that had been pio­neered and farmed were sim­ply seized and hand­ed over to the rail­road and to east­ern spec­u­la­tion com­pa­nies. A long series of such out­rages cul­mi­nat­ed in the Red Riv­er Rebel­lion of 1869–70, led by Riel. Riel’s elect­ed Pro­vi­sion­al Gov­ern­ment nego­ti­at­ed with Cana­da to cre­ate the new province of Man­i­to­ba, but Riel him­self went into exile. By 1884, the same prob­lems came to a head fur­ther west, in what is now Saskatchewan. There, the pre­dom­i­nant­ly Métis com­mu­ni­ty had formed a well-func­tion­ing gov­ern­ment, with Dumont as Pres­i­dent. Long the leader and the orga­niz­er of the buf­fa­lo hunts, he had a nat­ur­al tal­ent for pol­i­tics, but, unlike the reli­gious­ly edu­cat­ed Riel, he remained illiterate.

Wood­cock describes the orga­ni­za­tion of one of the great buf­fa­lo hunts of Dumon­t’s youth. 1,630 men, women and chil­dren par­tic­i­pat­ed, mov­ing across the plains on horse­back, accom­pa­nied by 1,210 bul­lock carts, nec­es­sary to car­ry the processed buf­fa­lo meat. They were most­ly Métis, but non-Métis of any ori­gin were wel­come to par­tic­i­pate if they had the incli­na­tion and the skill. By tra­di­tion, a coun­cil of ten chiefs of the hunt were elect­ed, among whom one was cho­sen as pri­mum inter pares. Each of these chose ten deputies. When the expe­di­tion was not in motion, that is, when it was camped at any place on the jour­ney, or dur­ing the hunt itself, these exer­cised the nec­es­sary plan­ning and author­i­ty. While they were in motion, how­ev­er, their author­i­ty gave way to the Guides. The ten guides worked on a rota­tion­al basis. The rais­ing of the Métis flag sig­nal the tran­si­tion from the Camp author­i­ty to the Guide’s author­i­ty, and each guide direct­ed the expe­di­tion’s trav­el for one day, when the flag descend­ed. The next day, anoth­er of the ten ful­filled the same role. It was this kind of sophis­ti­cat­ed demo­c­ra­t­ic expe­ri­ence that the Métis brought to their own self-gov­ern­ment when they set­tled down to farm, that they expect­ed from the Cana­di­an gov­ern­ment when it claimed juris­dic­tion over them, and which they employed in their two pro­vi­sion­al gov­ern­ments when they rebelled against Canada.

It is that tal­ent for self-gov­ern­ment that most inter­est­ed George Wood­cock, and Dumont exem­pli­fied it far more than Riel. When the Métis of the Q’ap­pelle Riv­er region reached a state of cri­sis, Dumont was appoint­ed to trav­el to Min­neso­ta and bring Riel back from exile. Riel had, of course, the charis­ma and the reli­gious streak that made him seem the appro­pri­ate leader. He was, after all, the clos­est thing that the Métis had to a lit­er­ate intel­lec­tu­al, and even in exile he had twice been elect­ed to the Cana­di­an Par­lia­ment. But when Prime Min­is­ter John A. Mac­Don­ald’s pig-head­ed poli­cies drove the Métis into armed rebel­lion, Riel was utter­ly depen­dent on Dumont to build a mili­tia and put it up against the Cana­di­an army. That army was quick to rec­og­nize Dumont as a bril­liant com­man­der and tac­ti­cian, as he con­sis­tent­ly defeat­ed larg­er and bet­ter armed forces. But Riel was deaf to Dumon­t’s plead­ing that gueril­la tac­tics aimed at dis­rupt­ing rail and teleg­ra­phy were nec­es­sary, and that a firm alliance with the Cree was a polit­i­cal neces­si­ty. Ulti­mate­ly, Riel’s mys­ti­cism and charis­ma led the rebel­lion to dis­as­ter. Dumont had peo­ple’s respect, but not that bizarre, dis­as­ter-mak­ing stuff that every­body seems to admire more than virtue, skill, or good sense.

Images:
above: Gabriel Dumont [source: Saskatchewan Archives / Ency­clo­pe­dia of Saskatchewan]
below: Bat­tle of Fish Creek, 24 April 1885. This print of the 24 April 1885 bat­tle of Fish Creek was based on sketch­es by a Toron­to mili­tia­man who was part of Gen­er­al Mid­dle­ton’s col­umn. 150 Métis and Teton Sioux led by Gabriel Dumont attempt­ed to ambush the 900 Cana­di­ans as they approached the deep ravine of Fish Creek. The inex­pe­ri­enced mili­tia spent the day try­ing to dri­ve Dumont from his posi­tion with­out suc­cess. Although the bat­tle itself was a stale­mate, the Cana­di­ans retreat­ed and halt­ed their advance towards Batoche for two weeks. The fig­ures in green are the 90th Win­nipeg Bat­tal­ion of Rifles, while those in red are the 10th Bat­tal­ion Roy­al Grenadiers (who did not real­ly take part in the fight­ing). [source: Gov­ern­ment of Cana­da: Cana­di­an Mil­i­tary Her­itage web resource]

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