1 THE WAR OF 1812 BEGAN DISASTROUSLY for the Royal Navy. During the first year it suffered a series of humiliating defeats to the United States; this included several single-ship engagements on roughly equal terms, which was almost unheard of in British history. Britain had been humbled by an upstart nation that barely had a navy. One man who wanted desperately to bring glory back to the service was Philip Broke, captain of HMS Shannon at Halifax. Writing to his wife in England, he passionately expressed his desire for a battle that would remind Americans of who really “commands the ocean.”1 For about a year, Broke cruised off New England hoping to engage one of the big American frigates. Then, seeing that USS Chesapeake was getting ready for sea on 1 June 1813, he lingered off Boston in plain sight, daring Captain James Lawrence of the Chesapeake to fight. In one of the most famous battles of the Age of Sail, the Shannon battered the Chesapeake with broadsides and boarded in the smoke. The action was over in less than 15 minutes. Broke had a serious head wound; although he recovered, his career in the navy was over. Lawrence died from his injuries but not before uttering the phrase “Don’t give up the ship,” which soon entered American folklore. Command fell to Provo Wallis, the Shannon’s second lieutenant and native of Halifax, who took charge of the two ships and began the slow journey back to his home port. When HM Brig Nova Scotia arrived at Plymouth with news of another “Glorious First of June” – the first having been a major British-French naval action in 1794 – patriotic Britons celebrated and breathed a collective sigh of relief. This victory restored confidence in the navy and symbolized a turning of the tide in the War of 1812. Broke was showered with honours and his surviving officers were all promoted, including Wallis. Celebratory songs and plays soon followed.2

2 The celebrations were most intense in Halifax, where the Shannon was based. The ships’ arrival sparked naval euphoria in the town and popular rejoicing in the streets. Throngs of residents lined the waterfront to cheer the Shannon and its prize. Lawrence’s funeral in Halifax, the day after the arrival of the ships, was a formal display of British militarism and pageantry. Halifax’s newspapers competed for the most comprehensive coverage, but editorials soon gave way to patriotic literature and songs that kept appearing for months, particularly by local authors and the growing arts community. Halifax was well acquainted with wartime celebrations, such as those for the conquest of Louisbourg in 1758 and Lord Nelson’s victories, but the Shannon-Chesapeake festivities were unprecedented in both scale and spontaneity.3 For a generation of Nova Scotians, many of whom were there that day or made the pilgrimage to Halifax to see the ships, this moment was long remembered. Thomas Chandler Haliburton, who visited the ships in Halifax harbour, never forgot the powerful and bloody scene. During the 19th century the battle remained at the forefront of public memory, generating scores of publications, folklore, physical symbols at St. Paul’s Church and the naval cemetery, and art and music. By the early 20th century, privateering increasingly overshadowed the Shannon in historical writing and memory of the War of 1812, but heritage groups such as the Nova Scotia Historical Society (NSHS) and the Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada (HSMBC) combined with the Canadian Navy to keep the Shannon-Chesapeake encounter alive in anniversary celebrations and memorials. Celebrated and commemorated for 200 years, it was one of the most important cultural events in Halifax’s history.

3 This article moves beyond the traditional parameters of naval history to explore the Shannon-Chesapeake battle through the lenses of social history, colonial studies, and historical memory. Led by Julian Gwyn, the historiography of the Royal Navy in Nova Scotia has focused on maritime defence, the Halifax naval yard, and civil- military tensions sparked by press gangs, desertion, and mutiny.4 The navy, however, was also a cultural institution in Halifax with deep roots in the social and economic life of the community, particularly through naval families and imperial sentiment. During the Napoleonic era the armed forces were interwoven into the cultural fabric of colonial life, with many residents using the navy to identify themselves as Britons and to connect with the larger empire. Historians such as Linda Colley, Timothy Jenks, and Isaac Land have been studying the links between military iconography, nationalism, and identity for years. But until now these themes have been largely ignored with regard to British North America, despite Canadian scholars’ contributions to Atlantic world historiography.5 Yet in both the celebrations and the literature, this event blurred boundaries between polite and popular society and stirred emotions far beyond the naval base in Halifax. It generated a level of patriotism that has never been associated with the Canadian colonies. The second half of this article examines the popular and historical memory of the battle. Beginning in the 1990s, scholarly interest in memory burgeoned in Canada. This stemmed from trends in other countries, especially influential works on invented traditions, imagined communities, and the heritage industry.6 The rise of public history and interdisciplinary studies, postmodernism and historical fiction, and First Nations politics all played a role, as did social historians’ abandonment of labour history in favour of cultural studies and broader analyses of the state. In Atlantic Canada, this has produced stimulating work on the Loyalist tradition in New Brunswick, the Acadians, Newfoundland nationalism, and the cult of the Scots. Much of this literature criticizes how governments and heritage organizations have used selective versions of the past for their own political and commercial purposes.7 Yves Pelletier, for example, has shown that the early HSMBC operated like a “Victorian gentlemen’s club,” imposing on Canadians its shared interest in the British imperial tradition with little debate or consultation.8 For Nova Scotia, Ian McKay and Robin Bates argue that cultural producers and the provincial government took advantage of an economic crisis in the mid-20th century to create an antimodern, racialized, and edited version of history that was mobilized in the service of the tourist economy.9 Although less attention has been paid to military history, Jonathan Vance has demonstrated that war is a potent force in collective memory and imagination.10 The Shannon-Chesapeake battle, and many other long- term commemorative efforts focusing on war and society, fit uneasily into this new tourism/heritage paradigm. Many of McKay’s and Bates’s criticisms are aimed at the Historic Sites and Advisory Council, a short-lived provincial body that was meant to complement the NSHS and HSMBC. The council did not commemorate the Shannon’s victory because its counterparts had already done so multiple times. Beginning with the popular celebrations in 1813, it had long been a hallmark of Halifax’s public memory and history.11

4 The Shannon-Chesapeake battle has interested many historians over the years. In the United States, giants of naval history such as Alfred T. Mahan and Theodore Roosevelt examined it while numerous books on the naval War of 1812 appeared for the bicentenary commemorations. British historian William James nearly had a front row seat for the engagement, while C.S. Forester and Peter Padfield covered the conflict in the 20th century. For readers of historical fiction, Broke and the Shannon come alive in the best-selling work of Patrick O’Brian. Chris Dickon wrote a cultural biography of the Chesapeake, and in 1958 the National Film Board of Canada produced a short animated film on the battle. Despite being a “sideshow” to Britain’s titanic clash with Napoleonic France, Andrew Lambert argues that Britain decisively won the maritime war against the United States, with Broke and his victory the focal point of his Atlantic narrative.12 Yet examination of the War of 1812 in Canada continues to be dominated by the frontier clashes in the Canadas, the naval war on the Great Lakes, and myths surrounding Isaac Brock, Laura Secord, and Tecumseh. In many surveys, the Atlantic theatre is omitted altogether. Alan Taylor’s provocative argument for a “civil war” along the northern borderlands, however, together with important new studies on historical memory and usable pasts by Cecilia Morgan, Phillip Buckner, and Michael Eamon, have finally dragged the War of 1812 out from under Pierre Berton’s long shadow.13 Halifax received surprisingly little attention in a recent collection of conference papers on Broke and the Shannon, but it is actually Halifax, where the fighting ended and the celebrations began, that is most in need of scholarly attention. Although local writers such as Archibald MacMechan and Hugh Pullen kept the Shannon’s memory alive, this article breaks new ground in passing over the battle to study its emotional impact and cultural significance in Halifax society.14

5 It took five long days for the Shannon and Chesapeake to reach Halifax. As the ships entered the Halifax approaches on Sunday, 6 June, the signal station atop Citadel Hill correctly identified them as the Shannon with an American prize. The Chesapeake arrived first but hove to for about an hour between McNabs Island and Georges Island to let the victorious Shannon lead it up the harbour. By this time the ships were clearly visible from shore and news of them spread rapidly through town. It was Whitsunday and the holiday service in St. Paul’s Church was already underway. At least one excited resident raced into the church, not caring about interrupting the midday sermon. Whispers passed from pew to pew, and soon the congregation joined the rest of the population in running down the hill and crowding the waterfront to welcome the Shannon home. Roof tops and windows were packed with people cheering and waving, sailors manned the rigging of warships and merchantmen in the harbour, a military band played nationalistic songs such as “Britons Strike Home,” and the Shannon and Chesapeake were met with roars of jubilation as they moved past the town. British seamen in the Chesapeake returned the cheers, but those onboard the Shannon were told to keep quiet, as Broke was recovering in his cabin. Iconic paintings of this scene, although produced 20 years later, show Halifax in a state of naval euphoria.15

6 Symbolizing their cultural significance, several eyewitness accounts of these patriotic celebrations have survived. That morning, when Lieutenant-Governor John and Lady Sherbrooke arrived at Government House, they found some of Halifax’s leading political and military figures already in the drawing room, “anxiously waiting for intelligence respecting the Shannon.” Within hours Lady Sherbrooke had learned enough to write a detailed summary of the battle. The Sherbrookes worried about Broke, receiving regular updates from military officers and servants who stopped by their Bedford residence.16 Lady Sherbrooke did not join the festivities on the waterfront, but many other women did. One witness, an unidentified Halifax woman whose letter describing the celebrations was printed in London with a woodcut carving, wrote that the town had never experienced such excitement and that “men, women, and children were so delighted.” The woodcut had an early image of the battle, perhaps the first one.17 A young Thomas Haliburton, later well known as a judge and writer, described the atmosphere as “electrical” and the residents as “elated.” Looking at the commotion in the streets, with people rushing to the harbour, his first impression was that there must have been a fire near St. Paul’s, where he was attending church. When he reached the waterfront, the ships were in plain view passing Georges Island. Reflecting on the scene many years later, he still remembered the jubilation: “Every housetop and every wharf was crowded with groups of excited people, and, as the ships successively passed, they were greeted with vociferous cheers.” The town had celebrated military victories before, “but nothing had ever excited the Haligonians like the arrival of these frigates.” The fact that Wallis commanded the ships “added to the enthusiasm of the citizens, for they felt that through him they had some share in the honour of the achievement.” Haliburton described how Halifax had been shocked by the US naval victories in the first year of the war, with a discernable “gloom” hanging over the town. Residents, “old and young,” women and men, were tense and saddened by the state of the war. The Shannon’s triumph allowed them to release that tension in a popular, patriotic, and unprecedented way.18

7 Haliburton was among many locals who visited the ships that day in pleasure boats. He and a friend were denied access to the Shannon, where Broke lay injured, but they did get aboard the Chesapeake. It looked normal from the outside, as if it had just returned from a cruise, but onboard they saw carnage that remained with them for the rest of their lives. “Altogether,” Haliburton recalled, “it was a scene of devastation as difficult to forget as to describe. It is one of the most painful reminiscences of my youth, for I was but seventeen years of age, and it made upon me a mournful impression that, even now, after a lapse of half a century, remains as vivid as ever.” He described the human wreckage: “The deck had not been cleaned . . . coils and folds of ropes were steeped in gore as if in a slaughter-house. . . . Pieces of skin, with pendant hair, were adhering to the sides of the ship; and in one place I noticed portions of fingers protruding, as if thrust through the outer wall of the frigate; while several of the sailors, to whom liquor had evidently been handed through the portholes by visitors in boats, were lying asleep on the bloody floor as if they had fallen in action and had expired where they lay.”19 Nathaniel White was also onboard the Chesapeake. Describing the scene for his brother Gideon, a prominent merchant at Shelburne, he wrote: “I was on board of the Chesapeake coming up the harbour, and such a horrid sight I never witnessed. Nothing but dead and dying strewed in every part of the ship. Among the wounded was a poor fellow that was in the class with me in College. He had just entered on board [the Chesapeake], and has come off with [only] one arm. He knew me instantly and appeared very much affected, he is in the hospital, but I am afraid he will not recover, as he has a very bad wound in the head.”20 White was shocked by the damage. “That such dreadful havoc should have been made in so short a time as 11 minutes,” he stated, “is almost incredible.” He described the Shannon’s triumph as “the greatest victory ever gained by a single ship” and felt that it was long overdue for the obnoxious Americans. Because the ships were anchored at the naval yard, Nova Scotians pursued this kind of naval tourism throughout the summer, but festivities quickly spilled over into the streets and taverns of the downtown core. That night the town was illuminated with fireworks and celebrations.

8 For several weeks after the battle, Halifax experienced the full display of British militarism and pageantry. For the unidentified Halifax woman, Lawrence’s funeral was the most “impressive scene” she had ever witnessed in the town.21 On Monday, a day after the ships arrived, crowds descended on the naval yard to catch a glimpse of his body, which was laid out in public view, dressed by his comrades and wrapped in the Chesapeake’s ensign. The captured flag, torn and bloodstained, illustrated the brutal reality of war on the high seas. The following day Lawrence was buried in St. Paul’s Cemetery (now known as the Old Burying Ground) with full military honours. His remains were rowed to the King’s Wharf, with no fewer than 24 boats from the British squadron as an escort, and carried through the streets in a long procession that included the crews of the Chesapeake and Shannon, senior officials of the navy and army, privateer captains, leading citizens, and 300 soldiers from the 64th Regiment. Six British naval captains served as Lawrence’s pallbearers. Some of the wounded Americans were reportedly in tears, as was the Halifax woman who described the scene. At St. Paul’s, a military band played music while the 64th Regiment fired salutes over the grave. The coffin was covered with one of the Chesapeake’s flags, and on top of it rested Lawrence’s sword. Two months later an American vessel arrived in Halifax under a flag of truce to exhume his remains and take them back to Salem, and eventually to their final resting place in New York City. Lawrence’s funeral, and the other military events surrounding this victory, served as a symbolic reminder of the battle and further embedded the Shannon and the War of 1812 in Halifax’s psyche. These celebrations, more generally, added a popular and perhaps even plebeian dynamic to the wartime capital, which throughout the Napoleonic period saw polite society and the armed forces engage in an endless series of balls, levees, royal holidays, and other social and imperial functions including many civil-military weddings.22

9 Predictably, the naval hierarchy was thrilled with the news. Thomas Capel, the senior officer at Halifax, called the victory a “gallant affair” and “most brilliant achievement.” He rejoiced with Britons everywhere.23 Receiving the news several weeks later, Admiral John Borlase Warren, the commander-in-chief of the navy in North America and the West Indies, praised the heroism, zeal, and loyalty of Broke and the Shannon’s crew.24 Nova Scotia’s authorities joined in the acclaim. Sherbrooke, reporting the triumph to the British government, called it a “brilliant affair,” crediting Broke’s skill and “conspicuous gallantry” as the main reason that the enemy had been “vanquished in so rapid a manner.”25 The Society of Merchants gave a public address to Broke, thanking him for his service in Nova Scotia, congratulating him on his victory, and presenting him with a piece of plate worth 100 guineas. Regarding the “late brilliant event,” the society wrote simply: “We will only point in silent admiration, well knowing that our feelings are in perfect unison with those of the nation at large.”26 The merchants also honoured the Shannon with a copper coin in 1814. On one side is Broke’s portrait, with his name written above, and on the other is the warlike figure of “Britannia,” trident in hand and watching over a single-ship action between two warships – likely the Shannon defeating the Chesapeake. Several related tokens or half pennies, featuring ships believed to be the Shannon, were produced in Halifax over the following two years. At a time when specie was rare in the colonies, especially metal coins, this token was used by local retailers and shopkeepers. Produced in Halifax, it is one of the earliest forms of domestic currency in British North America.27 The battle was also celebrated in other ways. Within months two privateers, named Broke and Shannon, were launched respectively in Annapolis Royal and Liverpool. Ship names were symbolic. Over the next few years, British and colonial merchantmen were also registered with those names.28

10 The battle also soon found artistic representation on both sides of the Atlantic. Late in 1813, a local theatre company advertised a new song, performed first at Covent Garden in London, entitled “Shannon and Chesapeake, Or the Rival Frigates!” It began with the line “The Trumpet Sounds a Victory,” accompanied by real trumpets, and was performed by a “gentleman” from the navy. The much- anticipated show took place at Mason’s Hall but nearly ended in disaster, with female audience members whisked away to safety. According to one witness, it began with a fine display of culture and music until descending into violence caused by naval personnel. Several British officers were in disguise for the “express purpose of kicking up a Row,” but worse was the conduct of American prisoners on parole from Melville Island or Dartmouth, “who are suffered to enjoy the same advantages of this town as a British subject.” This likely included officers from the Chesapeake. The show featured a “beautiful transparency” of the British capture of Martinique in 1809, in which then-lieutenant governor George Prevost was second in command. When the crowd began singing the “patriotic song of the Shannon” with the opening salvo – “Three cheers my brave fellows the proud Chesapeake has lowered her flag to the Shannon” – the prisoners retaliated by destroying the picture and interrupting the show. In addition, there were allegations that the Americans tried to sabotage the building’s foundation. If these reports are accurate, the Americans’ behaviour may have been caused by frustration at the delay and public war of words between the two countries regarding the treatment and exchange of prisoners of war in addition to the boastful celebrations in the theatre hall. Either way, it did not dampen local enthusiasm for the Shannon in 1813.29

11 Not much is known about the “Shannons” and how they responded to the victory. The mood for many was likely sombre, with crewmates dead and dying; but others took part in the festivities, some of them a little too much. Captain John Talbot of HMS Victorious complained to Wallis, the Shannon’s commanding officer, about their escapades on shore. He handed over two Shannons who had been detained (perhaps even jailed) for “very disrespectful and improper conduct.” Talbot warned that this behaviour threatened to subvert the good press that the navy had gained in Halifax recently from the “gallant action” against the Chesapeake. Favourable attention was highly coveted by the naval administration because of deteriorating civil-naval relations during the War of 1812, caused by impressment and naval violence and crime on shore.30 The Shannon’s books also reveal that more than a dozen men deserted in Halifax after the battle. Running away, despite prize money and shore leave, suggests that patriotism and money was not enough to change some negative opinions of the navy.31 When Broke’s condition improved, the Shannon finally set sail for England on 4 October, and the navy tried to ensure that it was a happy ship. Its purchase of the Chesapeake was finalized, giving officers and crew their first installment of prize money. In addition to the many honours awaiting captain and crew back home, Warren wanted Broke to maximize his impression on the government and wider British public. To that end, Broke carried home five enemy flags that had been recently captured by warships or raiding parties along the American seaboard.32

12 Halifax’s newspapers relentlessly covered the story of the Shannon’s victory for months, while readers serenaded Broke and the Shannon in the press with poems and ballads. Patriotic literature was not uncommon in Nova Scotia during the Napoleonic era, but Halifax’s close connection to the battle elevated it to an unprecedented level. All four papers featured lengthy editorials soon after the ships’ arrival, with detailed narratives of the battle and the casualties on both sides. Editors competed to interview Shannon veterans. The Halifax Journal, under the editorship of John Howe Jr., was the first off the press. “Ours is the pleasing task,” it declared, “the heart-enrapturing, animating task,”

Suggesting that the United States’ earlier naval victories had just been lucky, the paper reported that on Sunday afternoon Halifax was treated to the “gratifying sight” of the ships’ arrival in the harbour, when nearly the entire town came out to cheer “the gallant Heroes of the Shannon, with all the warmth of honest enthusiasm.” And Provo Wallis, “son of Mr. Wallis of the Navy Yard,” had conducted himself in a “very brave manner.”33

13 Many Nova Scotians were knowledgeable about British claims that US victories had been the result of unequal contests between so-called “super frigates” and more conventional British warships. They were also aware of American boasting that these were fair fights, which undermined Britain’s historic claim of ruling the waves. In less than 15 minutes, the editor of the Royal Gazette chided, Broke “decided the question of superiority, and put an end to all the vapouring, with which the American papers have of late been filled.”34 Similarly, the Weekly Chronicle focused on the “gallant” Broke and “terror-struck” Americans. The result of this engagement was anticipated by many in Halifax, it remarked, and yet the “lightning-like rapidity of the action (not exceeding 10 or 11 minutes) seems almost unparalleled, even in the annals of the British Navy.”35 And the newly established Acadian Recorder ran successive laudatory editorials on the Shannon’s triumph, concluding that there was “not on record any naval achievement in which the artillery has been directed with such effect” and so quickly.36 These editorials, in the spirit of the day, went beyond journalism to celebrate the victory and encourage expressions of British pride and patriotism, despite the fact that Nova Scotia’s population had deep American roots through earlier migrations of New England planters, Loyalists, and other settlers (including most of Halifax’s newspaper editors). American and foreign news percolated in the many taverns, inns, and coffee houses that flourished in wartime Halifax. These establishments functioned as hubs of sociability and gossip, where newspapers and periodicals from around the Atlantic world were readily available and widely circulated.37

14 The Weekly Chronicle got the Shannon-Chesapeake literature moving in Nova Scotia with “a whimsical little ditty,” which had first appeared in the British Naval Chronicle the previous year. Written under the pen name “Nauticus,” it actually predicted the famous battle off Boston Bay:

Nova Scotia-based writers then got into the act with triumphant poems such as “A Naval Tribute,” published in the Acadian Recorder:

A long poem, printed only days after the ships’ arrival and reportedly composed by Crofton Uniacke, a son of Nova Scotia’s attorney general, declared:

15 Literary tributes kept appearing in the press for more than a year, especially in the Acadian Recorder. From Cape Breton, “Anonymous” wrote a song, sung to the tune of “Rule Britannia,” that was dedicated to Broke, the “Gallant Defender of his Country.”41 In early 1814, a lengthy song by a “Nova-Scotia Farmer” compared Broke to other military heroes such as James Wolfe, Robert Barclay, Isaac Brock, and even Lord Nelson:

Inspired by this, “Acadian Cobbler” wrote a song to commemorate the British war effort generally in 1813, which once again singled out Broke:

This literature reveals an intense level of patriotism in Nova Scotia, which combined pride in Britishness with local concerns over the American maritime threat. It reached beyond the navy’s headquarters in Halifax to stir emotions across the colony. Overlooked by many literary scholars, war inspired some of the earliest original poetry and ballads in the Canadian colonies.44

16 The press was also an arena for verbal forays against the US. Reports from American papers, with accusations about British tactics and treatment of prisoners, received passionate and nationalistic responses in Nova Scotia. In the same issue that announced the Shannon’s victory, the Weekly Chronicle printed President James Madison’s speech to Congress on the “brilliant achievements of our infant navy.” The irony was not lost on local readers.45 When US writers sought to explain away the Chesapeake’s defeat, “Tom Shannon” used patriotic language to celebrate the victory and mock Yankee sour grapes.46 Another reader published a full broadside attack. He chastised the US for its newfound sense of superiority, as if British heroes such as Nelson had suddenly “dwindled into Pygmies before them.” Enumerating seven American “Lies” about the battle, he quipped that the only thing the British had not been accused of was witchcraft.47 Even Broke, while convalescing in the home of Philip Wodehouse, his friend and commissioner of the naval yard, could not believe the lies these “foolish Americans have been publishing.”48 Among the public critics of the US in Halifax was William James, a young lawyer who went on to become a famous historian of the Royal Navy. James arrived in late 1813, after escaping captivity in the United States. He remained in Halifax for three years. Writing under pseudonyms in the Acadian Recorder and Naval Chronicle, James attacked the United States with a vengeance. In 1816, he published his first small book at the Acadian Recorder’s office, entitled An Inquiry into the Merits of the Principal Naval Actions between Great Britain and the United States. In a highly partisan analysis, James contended that American victories had little to do with seamanship or gunnery, but rather that the enemy frigates were significantly larger and more powerful than their British counterparts. Dedicated to the “Loyal Inhabitants of His Majesty’s North-American Provinces,” he used this volume to launch a successful writing career in Britain. James published a second edition in 1817, and then spent years producing his multi-volume histories of the War of 1812 and the Napoleonic Wars. He corresponded extensively with Broke, who had retired to his English country estate at Broke Hall, to ensure that he got the Shannon- Chesapeake story right.49

17 During the 19th century recollections of the battle persisted in popular memory and folklore, including visual culture. Soon after the event Wallis’s portrait was painted by Robert Field, who usually worked only on Halifax’s elite. Dressed in his blue lieutenant’s uniform, Wallis looks like a confident officer on the rise.50 The battle also generated about 25 contemporary or near-contemporary paintings. At least two were available by August, just two months after the battle. In “The Brilliant Achievement of the Shannon,” William Elmes depicts the ships in close combat off Boston, with the Shannon’s boarding party raising the British flag atop the Chesapeake. Also in 1813, George Cruikshank released his cartoon “British Valour and Yankee Boasting, or Shannon versus Chesapeake.” In keeping with his body of work, this was a humorous and exaggerated caricature of the Shannon’s boarding party, complete with British tars storming the decks and cowardly Americans running away.51 These triumphant images sold well in both war and peacetime, culminating in 1830 with a four-painting collaboration between John Schetky and R.H. King, one of Broke’s lieutenants. Broke presented copies of these paintings to the Duke of Wellington, then Britain’s prime minister, who replied that there is “no event of the late war to which I have looked with more interest than that which these prints represent.”52 Even a century later, at the opening of the Capitol Theatre in Halifax in 1930, eight panels were hung in the balcony to mark the most significant events in the province’s history. One of them was Schetky’s painting of the Shannon leading its prize into the harbour.53

18 Beyond imagery, veterans and the dead from the Shannon and Chesapeake provided a human connection to this event. Although only two local sailors are known to have fought onboard the Shannon, other veterans settled in the colony after the war, including Thomas Ormiston – a rope maker who married a local woman later that summer. Broke helped several Shannons land jobs with the naval yard and provincial government.54 On its way to Boston in 1813 the Shannon recaptured the Duck, which had been en route to Newfoundland with Irish fishing servants. Broke pressed 20 landsmen, who then fought against the Chesapeake. While some stayed in Halifax after the battle, others went to Newfoundland, including Darby Murphy, who was fond of telling friends “how he captured the Yankee frigate.”55 More than 30 of the Shannon’s crew had died in the action. John Samwell and William Stevens were buried together in St. Paul’s Cemetery; the original headstone, damaged over time, now rests inside the church.56 A stone monument for five Shannons was erected in the naval cemetery, which reads “Sacred to the memory of the brave seamen who died at this hospital of the wounds they received on board H.M.S. Shannon in the glorious action in which she captured the United States Frigate Chesapeake, on 1st June, 1813.” Having fallen into disrepair, it was restored in 1868 by Vice-Admiral Rodney Mundy.57 Twelve “Chesapeakes” who died in the naval hospital are also believed to have been buried in this cemetery. The remaining American prisoners were transferred to Melville Island military prison, where they stayed for more than a year waiting to be exchanged; a number died and were buried on nearby Deadman’s Island. The Chesapeake’s officers were exchanged that summer, or allowed to live on parole. All of these sites continue to be of historical interest in the early 21st century. A major ceremony took place on Memorial Day in 2005 on Deadman’s Island to honour the prisoners buried there during the War of 1812, which was broadcast live on both American and Canadian television. A smaller ceremony now takes place on the island every Memorial Day. In 2011, the Canadian Navy announced plans to hire archaeologists to research the naval cemetery.58

19 In living memory, the battle lingered for much of the 19th century. During the 1820s or 1830s, Colonel Charles Broke, the captain’s brother, hosted a dinner for ten or more Shannons still living in Halifax.59 In an open letter to the British colonial secretary in 1839, Joseph Howe highlighted his colony’s contribution to the British Empire: “The proudest naval trophy of the last American war was brought by a Nova Scotian into the harbour of his native town.”60 And sitting beside the Thames on 1 June 1864, the anniversary, Thomas Haliburton wrote to Broke’s son describing the scene in Halifax in 1813 as recalled from his “youthful imagination.”61 Two months later, he accompanied J.B. Brighton, Broke’s biographer, on a tour of Broke Hall. Brighton recorded the teary-eyed emotions of this “patriotic Briton” as he examined the Shannon’s figurehead, which he had first seen in a boat under the Shannon’s bow after the battle.62 Meanwhile, countless local articles were written about Broke and Wallis, “Nova Scotians and the British Navy,” the Broke token, the Shannon being broken up, and the subsequent deaths of Shannon veterans.63 When the Halifax Evening Express learned of the death of William Smith in 1862, a Haligonian and master’s mate who led a boarding party onto the Chesapeake, it published a lengthy tribute entitled “Death of a Naval Hero.”64 In 1883 the Halifax Morning Herald interviewed Phillip Brown, whose vivid memory included the arrival of the Shannon and Chesapeake.65 As late as in 1895, an article in Nova Scotia Illustrated magazine noted “Old men still creep among us who saw that day, though the actors have all gone.”66 Provo Wallis provided a personal connection to the Shannon. He commanded HMS Niemen at Halifax after the Napoleonic Wars, was praised for diplomacy in the Mediterranean, became an aide-de-camp to a young Queen Victoria, combated the slave trade off South America, and was promoted to the rank of admiral of the fleet in 1877.67 On at least two occasions, Wallis visited Boston and was surprisingly warmly received.68 In Halifax, even though he spent little time there, the press followed his career closely, marked his birthdays, and wrote about him regularly. On his 100th birthday in 1891 he received congratulations from Queen Victoria, the crew of the current Shannon, and Halifax’s mayor, and his death in the following year was marked prominently in Nova Scotia.69

20 In historical treatments, the Shannon’s victory likewise attained lasting recognition. In his histories during the 1820s, Haliburton noted the battle only in passing but did describe the “patriotic spirit” and carnival-like atmosphere that the War of 1812 brought to Halifax.70 Later historians told the story in greater detail, including Beamish Murdoch in 1867.71 A decade later, Duncan Campbell noted “Citizens are now living who well remember the occasion.”72 Peter Lynch glorified the battle in a lecture to the NSHS in 1890: “At once the whole community, old and young, rich and poor, were on the qui vive, the men to the wharves and the women and children to the citadel. Every face beamed with pleasure. Men who had been estranged for years, in hurrying past each other with faces radiant with delight and involuntary fits of laughter, shook hands with each other, and all were jubilant with joy.”73 In his History of Halifax City (1895), T.B. Akins, the first commissioner of public records in Nova Scotia, reflected on the life of A.H. Huxford, who suffered a serious head wound while piloting the Shannon in 1813, “from which he never fully recovered.” Afterwards “Crazy Huxford” became a pilot for the naval yard, but “when under the influence of liquor he became frantic and was continually shouting through the streets of the town without hat or coat.”74 These 19th-century histories combined naval analysis by James and others with popular memory, folklore, and myth. Narratives published in Great Britain and elsewhere in Canada were also available in Halifax, including Brighton’s biographies of Broke and Wallis. C.F. Fraser, editor of The Critic, praised the biography of that “centurion hero” and suggested that Halifax should honour “her distinguished son by securing a fair number of copies of his life.” The Acadian Recorder agreed, keeping one in its office for public viewing.75

21 In 1913 Archibald MacMechan, literary scholar and avocational historian at Dalhousie University, marked the centenary with “The Glory of the Shannon” in the Canadian Magazine.76 For him there was a direct link between this event and the Anglo-German naval race of his own day. “For those faint hearts,” he wrote, “who fear that Britain is doomed to speedy decline, no better tonic could be prescribed than reading the naval history” of the Napoleonic clashes against France and the United States. Combining primary research with an engaging narrative, MacMechan added several layers to the story. Twenty years earlier he had interviewed Susan Etter, a witness to the naval euphoria in 1813. Only 13 at the time, she recalled the first vessel to arrive was a “little dirty black ship,” the Shannon after cruising duty, followed by a “big fine ship,” the Chesapeake. Etter saw Broke on Halifax’s streets, distinguishable by the “white handkerchief he wore about his head.”77 MacMechan also recorded the banter that reportedly took place between Broke and William Minns, editor of the Weekly Chronicle, before the Shannon left for Boston. This “local tradition,” according to MacMechan, survived in the memory of an “old Haligonian,” who claimed to have witnessed the conversation. Broke walked into Minns’s bookshop and stated “Well, Minns, I am going to Boston” to challenge an American frigate. Minns thought the US ships were too powerful for the Shannon, but Broke insisted that he was going to close the distance quickly, board the enemy, and fight “yardarm to yardarm.” His 300 tars would “follow me to the death, and stand by me to the last.” In recounting popular traditions from the 19th century, MacMechan contributed significantly to the way in which this event was remembered, and his essay became the leading account of the battle for the subsequent 50 years. It was republished in his book Old Province Tales (1924), and remains available in local bookstores to this day. In 1927, he also published a booklet on the battle in his series of Nova Scotia chap-books.78

22 George Mullane, writing in his popular Saturday history column in the Acadian Recorder, told the Shannon-Chesapeake story many times over the years, notably in 1913.79 Effie May Ross, a prolific writer from Truro, wrote an informative essay for the Morning Chronicle in 1913 that was later reprinted several times. “There are more famous names than Philip Broke in the annals of British naval history,” she concluded, “but few are connected with more courageous deeds than the hero of the Shannon in the capture of the Chesapeake.”80 In 1914, the NSHS published an even more detailed account in its Collections by Halifax resident Charles Roche, which mixed eyewitness accounts with local tradition and folklore.81 At a meeting in 1918, its president read a letter from the captain of another HMS Shannon, a First World War cruiser, thanking the society for sending him its Collections with an account of the Shannon’s famous victory from the War of 1812.82 Not all of this attention stemmed from anniversaries. David Allison, a retired president of Mount Allison University, covered the story in his two-volume History of Nova Scotia (1916). Although he claimed to have personally “conversed with ladies and gentlemen who vividly remembered” the celebrations in 1813, Allison merely reprinted Murdoch’s take from 50 years earlier.83 C.H.J. Snider provided the most thorough narrative in The Glorious ‘Shannon’s’ Old Blue Duster and other Faded Flags of Fadeless Fame (1923), which made great use of anecdote and folklore including the Etter and Minns legends.84

23 In the first decades of the 20th century, privateering gradually replaced the Shannon-Chesapeake battle as the dominant theme in Nova Scotia’s historical memory and writing on the War of 1812. MacMechan, Mullane, and Snider, as well as Frederick William Wallace and Thomas H. Raddall, formed a prominent group of popular historians who focused on maritime themes such as “Wooden Ships and Iron Men” and the “Golden Age of Sail.” Their interest in sailing vessels reflected nostalgia for a way of life that had declined in eastern Canada, eclipsed by steamships and industrialization, but this does not fully explain the new emphasis on privateering. It would have been natural for the Shannon to fade in memory. By this time no citizens or veterans were left with personal connections to the battle and the British Navy had been replaced by a Canadian fleet that saw its first active service during the First World War. As the narratives of Canadian and British history diverged, these writers may have combined nostalgia for the Age of Sail with an interest in highlighting “Canadian” military exploits such as the community-based privateers of Nova Scotia – with their local ships and crews – not unlike the Loyalist and militia myths in Upper Canada in this same period.85 This shift was also evident in Nova Scotia’s school system. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries the Shannon was prominent in history textbooks; but by the 1950s it had completely disappeared. References to the War of 1812 now focused on the Liverpool Packet and other privateering stories, with the navy relegated to the Great Lakes. This reflected a move from early readers produced in Halifax to Canadian texts published in Toronto, and has held true ever since. Today, tavern music, historical tourism, and tall ships festivals all claim that privateering was the most important activity in Nova Scotia during the War of 1812.86

24 Although the Shannon-Chesapeake battle faded in memory by the mid-20th century, some writers kept it alive. Their interest stemmed partly from war in their own day, as in the case of Raddall’s history of Halifax, Warden of the North (1948). Raddall only expended a couple of pages on the battle, but he viewed the city’s history through the prism of military conflict and thought it a seminal event. C.E. Thomas of the Nova Scotia Archives wrote an engaging article for the Mail-Star in 1962, while Dorothy Evans published an article in 1963 that focused on Wallis and his long career in the Royal Navy. Evans’s essay was well researched, with new insights on Wallis’s connection to Halifax and his family’s property at Hammonds Plains, including the establishment of the Provo Wallis chapter of the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire (IODE) there in the 20th century.87 However, it was Rear- Admiral Hugh Pullen who brought the battle fully back to public attention. Pullen had been interested in this topic for years, but with his retirement from the Canadian Navy he researched it tirelessly during the 1960s. He was often discouraged, once describing his book project as “nothing but a series of frustrations.”88The Shannon and the Chesapeake was finally published in 1969, with a high-profile launch at Government House. J.L. Bennett, writing in the Dalhousie Review, noted that it compared favourably with previous treatments, especially in its rigorous analysis and surprising lack of British bias. Pullen’s book remains the standard reference, in part because it is beautifully illustrated but also because of its coverage of the victory celebrations as well as the battle.89

25 In 19th-century Nova Scotia, the battle also thrived in literature. It is referenced briefly in the Sam Slick novels published by Haliburton during the 1830s and 1840s. Slick, a brash Yankee clock trader, rationalized that he had not been overly depressed when the Shannon “whipped” the Chesapeake because the United States could “spare” to lose one ship to the British, and it knocked his countrymen’s egos back down to size.90 Although it is surprising that Haliburton did not write more about the battle in his novels and histories, especially because he took part in the celebrations in 1813, the carnage he witnessed may have hit too close to home. As he explained to Broke’s son in 1864, the scene onboard the Chesapeake stayed with him for decades. In 1849, John S. Cummins published Altham: A Tale of the Sea. Born in Ireland, Cummins moved to the Canadas in the 1830s; but his novel is based on the Napoleonic Wars, with young James Annesley (“Jemmy”) as the main character. With the outbreak of the War of 1812, Jemmy becomes a midshipman on the Shannon, just in time for its famous clash with the Chesapeake. A significant portion of the novel takes place aboard the Shannon or at Halifax after the battle, where Jemmy and the rest of the Shannons are welcomed as conquering heroes. “Halifax is proverbially gay and hospitable at all times,” Cummins wrote, “but never was it more remarkably so than on the Shannon’s arrival.” These “ever loyal Novascotians” reveled in the celebrations and in “feting Captain Brooke and his officers.” Although published in London, Altham received positive reviews and was available in Halifax.91

26 The Shannon continued to be remembered vividly in poetry, music, and Nova Scotia’s folk culture. After Confederation, the War of 1812 became a popular subject for a new generation of Canadian writers such as the New Brunswick poet Charles G.D. Roberts. Much of this group’s writing on the war focused on the Great Lakes region, but Roberts’s poem, entitled “The Shannon and the Chesapeake,” begins with the opening stanza:

It is probable that far more sea shanties and ballads on this theme circulated orally in the 19th-century Atlantic world than were ever written down. Thanks to early folklorists such as W. Roy Mackenzie and Helen Creighton, some of those that were still current at the turn of the 20th century were recorded. One such song, “The Chesapeake and the Shannon,” concluded:

Creighton noted that by the 1940s Mrs. Catherine Gallagher of Chebucto Head, near Halifax, was the only person who still remembered another version of “The Chesapeake and the Shannon.” Creighton wrote down the lyrics as Gallagher sang them aloud to her. Beginning with the phrase, “‘Twas on the glorious fourth of June,” it declares:

Although the day of the battle is confused, this song, set to a traditional tune, was typical of its genre in glorifying British bravery. Ironically, the lyrics and music from some of these ballads were based on Yankee songs from the War of 1812 that celebrated American victories over the British. Writing in the mid-20th century, Creighton noted how even then the battle lived on in regional memory – particularly the death and destruction that so many Nova Scotians had witnessed on the ships in 1813: “People living along the coast tell me that their fathers seldom sang or talked of this engagement because of the sights they had witnessed.”95

27 The battle’s 50th anniversary in 1863 passed with relatively little attention, despite the presence of Rear-Admiral Alexander Milne and the North American squadron. There were no public commemorations. Milne was sensitive to diplomatic tensions between Britain and the United States caused by the American Civil War, and he may have discouraged a patriotic ceremony that would insult US officials. Most of Halifax’s newspapers let the milestone pass with little remark. The Acadian Recorder stated simply that 1 June was the anniversary of the “memorable battle,” and that on 6 June the “Shannon, with her prize, came up Halifax harbor half a century ago to-day, and the excitement created among the peaceful inhabitants of our city may be better imagined than described.”96 The Morning Chronicle offered the only editorial. It summarized the battle and noted “there are yet among us several venerable old gentlemen who distinctly remember seeing these two engines of war steering up the harbor on a Sunday, half a century ago.”97 For the 75th anniversary of the battle in 1888, The Critic noted that Halifax had seen its share of excitement over the years, including royal visits, “but it may be safely assumed that no subsequent excitement can ever have equaled that which she experienced when the Shannon glided up her noble harbor in company with her prize the Chesapeake.”98

28 The centenary in 1913 received significantly more attention. The NSHS had been planning to celebrate it for over a year and, as part of its historic sites program, it unveiled two tablets in 1913. The first, honouring Wallis, was revealed on 29 May in a public ceremony at the dockyard, where Wallis had been born and raised. This “Father of the British Fleet,” the tablet reads, spent almost 90 years in the navy but “first won fame on board the Shannon in her famous action with the Chesapeake.” A sizeable gathering assembled for the occasion. They included not only the president of the NSHS, but also a young Prince Albert of Britain – the future George VI but at the time a naval cadet – along with the captains and crews of British and Canadian warships and local heritage representatives. Captain Edward Martin, head of the dockyard, related how, as a midshipman in a later and steam-powered version of HMS Shannon, Wallis had presented its gun room with a snuff box as a memento from the ill-fated American frigate of the War of 1812. Wallis stated that gunnery was the key to victory: “If you have the guns use them, and use them properly.” Seamen and soldiers of 1913 formed a square around the tablet, while bands from HMS Cumberland and the Royal Canadian Regiment played “Rule Britannia” and “O Canada.”99

29 This ceremony was covered widely in the press. The Evening Mail ran the headline, “Naval Hero Whom Halifax Well Delights to Honor.”100 Rain fell in “torrents” but apparently did not dampen the festivities. The Acadian Recorder prophesied that the Shannon’s triumph “will adorn the annals of the naval history of the empire as one of the finest single ship actions ever fought and is the last link which connects us with the glorious days of Nelson and Collingwood.”101 Later in the year, the NSHS unveiled the second tablet at Province House in Halifax to honour a cannon outside of that building which, according to tradition, had been used on the Shannon in its “historic” fight against the Chesapeake. The tablet’s inscription stated that it then had been used as the day and evening gun at Halifax Citadel between 1882 and 1905.102 At the turn of the 21st century, a second cannon, reported to be from the Chesapeake, was retrieved from storage, refurbished, and placed on the opposite side of Province House, where both remain on public display and serve as symbolic reminders of the War of 1812.103

30 In 1919 the Canadian government created the HSMBC to designate sites of national historic significance. During its first generation, the board operated in a closed setting with minimal academic debate or public consultation. Although many sites were of historical significance, those chosen were often selected because of the personal research and community interests of local board members who included amateur historians such as Brigadier-General George Cruikshank on the War of 1812 in Upper Canada.104 Nominated in 1924, the Shannon-Chesapeake battle was championed by three board members: Cruikshank, the HSMBC chair; John Clarence Webster of New Brunswick; and Judge Walter Crowe from Sydney. Admiralty House was chosen as the site, but initially the board had misgivings, preferring Point Pleasant Park or St. Paul’s churchyard because they offered greater public exposure. The board worked closely with the NSHS, whose point man, Major J. Plimsoll Edwards, favoured the naval dockyard, fearing that in a public park the monument could be “smashed some night by a Yankee vandal.” It was a team effort from the board in creating a patriotic message for what it considered one of the Royal Navy’s only bright spots during the War of 1812.105 Unveiled on 15 October 1927, the memorial consisted of a stone monument with the standard bronze HSMBC plaque: “Shannon and Chesapeake. In Honour of Captain Philip V. Broke, officers and crew of H.M.S. Shannon, who gained a glorious victory over the United States frigate Chesapeake off Boston Harbour, 1st June 1813. The Shannon brought her prize into Halifax Harbour on 6th June.” Webster took charge of the proceedings with assistance from the NSHS and Harry Piers, curator of the Nova Scotia Museum. Webster even arranged for Broke’s great-grandson, Captain James St. Vincent Broke Saumarez, to come over from England.106

31 On the day of the ceremony, Webster presided over a lunch at the genteel Halifax Club in Saumarez’s honour, at which MacMechan distributed copies of his chapbook Shannon and Chesapeake. At Admiralty House Saumarez unveiled the plaque, and wreaths were laid on behalf of the British and Canadian fleets, the recently established HMS Shannon chapter of the IODE in Dartmouth, and the absent Agnes Mary Oliphant (Broke’s step-granddaughter). Commander V.G. Brodeur accepted custody of the memorial on behalf of the Canadian Navy and the Department of National Defence.107 Lieutenant-Governor J.C. Tory came armed with a notebook on the War of 1812, gleaned mostly from MacMechan’s and Snider’s writings. He hoped that the “spirit of the ceremony was not one of glorification of War, but rather one of respect for the noble traditions of the Anglo- Saxon race that we share with the Americans.”108 Saumarez related how touched Broke had been in 1813 when every British seaman in Halifax donated two days’ pay for the widows and orphans of men killed in the battle.109 The Evening Mail noted how shades of the Shannon and Chesapeake now once again “rose and sailed the Harbour,” while the Halifax Chronicle argued that even though “every schoolboy knows the story of the Shannon and the Chesapeake” it was always worth telling.110 Piers explained how the NSHS’s heritage efforts added “distinctly to the interest of the place to tourists” and reminded “our own citizens of the prominent events and persons connected with the growth of Halifax.”111 Webster had anticipated that this would be the largest and most important HSMBC event in the Maritimes to date, and afterwards confirmed that it was a “great success” in a “picturesque setting.”112 Even so, the HSMBC was not yet finished with the Shannon. At the behest of D.C. Harvey, provincial archivist and Nova Scotia’s representative on the board, it designated Wallis a nationally historic person in 1945. This stemmed from Harvey’s own research, particularly his 1942 article “Nova Scotia and the Canadian Naval Tradition,” in the Canadian Historical Review. At a small ceremony in 1949, with naval and civil representatives on hand, plaques honouring Wallis and four other Haligonians who became admirals in the Royal Navy were unveiled at the maritime museum in the dockyard, the predecessor of the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic.113

32 During the 1950s and 1960s, Admiral Pullen was the driving force behind most events devoted to the Shannon-Chesapeake battle. These usually took the form of anniversary services on 1 June at the Shannon monument in the naval cemetery or at St. Paul’s, and often coincided with “Navy Week” celebrations. As public memory of the battle had faded over time, such activities were organized increasingly by heritage professionals in Halifax and connected directly to the promotion of the Canadian Navy. In addition, whereas early commemorations originated as a celebration of the British Empire with an anti-American undertone (particularly before the Second World War), they changed into a statement about Canadian- American friendship and joint participation in Navy Week from which the Royal Navy was gradually excluded. In 1952, for the 139th anniversary, Pullen laid a wreath in the naval cemetery, and for the 150th anniversary in 1963 Halifax welcomed ten American warships led by aircraft carrier USS Essex and the British Sixth Submarine Division.114 At St. Paul’s in 1963, the senior chaplain in the US fleet assisted in conducting the service while Captain J.M. West of the Essex read the first scriptural lesson, followed by British Commander Kenneth Vause. These biblical messages struck a peaceful chord. With “The Mountain of the Lord,” the Americans proclaimed that “Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore,” while the British verse, entitled “Submission to Governing Authorities,” preached peace and respect and concluded with “Love your neighbor as yourself.” As the Crowsnest, the Canadian Navy’s magazine, stated: “Commemoration of this particular engagement was considered appropriate since it has a prominent place in the history of Halifax and of St. Paul’s.”115

33 On 1 October 1966, the Canadian Navy and NSHS unveiled the “Chesapeake Memorial” in the naval cemetery. Placed near the Shannon monument, the memorial, consisting of a granite boulder and plaque, was a tombstone for 12 of the Chesapeake’s men who were believed to be buried there in unmarked graves. The aircraft carrier USS Wasp and other warships were on hand, as were the Canadian Forces band in Halifax, a United States marine guard, the American and Canadian admirals, and Premier Robert Stanfield. US Consul General Robert Black gave a prayer and address while C. Bruce Fergusson, provincial archivist and HSMBC representative, spoke about the “mystical chords of memory” that old sea fights stirred up, with none “more epic than the engagement of the Shannon and the Chesapeake in 1813.”116 However, like the speakers at St. Paul’s three years earlier, Fergusson focused on friendship: “We are met here today to pay a tribute to the heroism of men in days of yore. We boast about thousands of miles of undefended border between Canada and the United States and about more than a century and a half of peace. May the people of the United States and Canada, together with the people of Great Britain, continue forever in perfect amity in the cause of justice.”117 Once again, Pullen was active behind the scenes – he had, in fact, been researching the Chesapeake graves since the early 1960s, after his retirement from the navy. In correspondence with Earnest M. Eller, a retired captain and director of naval history in Washington, Pullen stated how he hoped this “modest effort will complete the story at Halifax” of the Shannon-Chesapeake encounter. Eller regretted that he could not attend, but noted that the “families of those of the Chesapeake who died of their wounds at Halifax and all other Americans will be grateful to you for the Memorial Bronz[e] Plaque which [has] resulted from your efforts.”118

34 For greater public exposure, in 1969 the HSMBC moved the Shannon- Chesapeake memorial from the dockyard to Point Pleasant Park. That August, the Mail-Star explained that more tourists and citizens would now be able to view the plaque. While phrases such as “glorious victory” were “rather blunt” by modern standards, it was confident that “our friends” from the United States would not be offended as there were “many memorials in the U.S.A. to local victories over the British in the War of 1812.” If so, an exception was Rudolph Kales, an American tourist who wrote to the editor that he could not understand why Canada would wish to celebrate a victory by the tyrannical British Navy against a young country fighting for its freedom. What was glorious about illegally pressing American sailors and sending captives to Dartmoor Prison? “My suggestion for your plaque,” Kales wrote, “would be to send it plunging into the deepest part of Halifax Harbor or, as you spell it, Harbour.”119 But this kind of criticism made little impression. Earlier that summer the Mail-Star had commented on Lunenburg’s construction of replicas of historic British warships such as HMS Bounty. “Why Not One for Halifax?” it asked, pointing to the Shannon. Like replicas in Britain and the United States, it could generate interest in Halifax and “stimulate its tourist trade while also serving as a restaurant, youth hostel or in some other capacity.”120 No such replica was ever built, and many years later, in 1998, the HSMBC turned around the Shannon-Chesapeake plaque to the weather side of its cairn to make room for a memorial on Atlantic defences during the Second World War. While the Shannon’s plaque now faces the harbour, beside the same stretch of water the ships sailed past in 1813, most visitors, ironically, have no idea that it is even there.121

35 In 2011, Prime Minister Stephen Harper announced an allocation of $11.5 million to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. That amount subsequently grew to nearly $30 million. According to the government, the war was a “seminal event in the making of our great country.”122 In this narrative, by repelling an American invasion, the volunteer militias, Aboriginal warriors, and British regiments paved the way to Confederation in 1867 and ensured that Canada remained an independent country, even if Canada did not exist at that time. To mark the occasion, projects were funded across the country, especially museum exhibits, battle re-enactments, and community festivals. The critics were vocal. Journalists not only questioned the importance of the war, which was not a formative part of Canadian public memory, but also the government’s sudden infatuation with the military as an icon of Canadianness. At a time of economic uncertainty – which included deep cuts to federal programs – they wondered if this money was being well spent.123 Academics and heritage professionals pointed to the contradiction of the government celebrating the War of 1812 while at the same time implementing drastic cuts to Parks Canada and Library and Archives Canada – basically, undermining the people, resources, and institutions that preserved Canadian history in the first place.124 Historians on the left have made their own call to arms, warning that part of the government’s hidden agenda in reshaping the country is rewriting the past.125 While most of the federal money went to southern Ontario, two events highlighted the Shannon-Chesapeake battle as a major event in the Atlantic region. Defence Minister Peter MacKay announced the bicentennial plans in front of the Point Pleasant memorial. After confidence in the navy had been shaken, he stated, the Shannon’s “classic” victory turned the War of 1812 around. During the summer of 2013, the 200th anniversary of the “Battle of Boston Harbor” was commemorated by Parks Canada at the boardwalk, the Old Burying Ground, and St. Paul’s as well as by the Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo and other heritage organizations. Meanwhile the Royal Canadian Mint unveiled a set of five coins on the War of 1812, with the HMS Shannon “Toonie” the only one featuring an Atlantic Canadian theme. This coin hearkens back to the token that Halifax merchants minted in 1814 to honour Broke’s emotional victory.126

36 When budding naval historian William James arrived in Halifax in 1813, he claimed to have been insulted by local newspaper editors. When they apparently refused to publish his anti-American diatribes, he called them “notorious” Bostonians and “rank republicans at heart.” He claimed that the “greater proportion of the community was under the political thralldom of this American junto.”127 However, James was badly mistaken. These editors, respected residents such as John Howe and William Minns, were loyalists who rejected the republic during the American Revolution and chose the British Empire. Their response to the Shannon’s victory in 1813 was celebratory and nationalistic, as in Halifax generally. As Thomas Haliburton explained years later, on the battle’s anniversary, the Shannon’s triumph released tension caused by the shock of American naval victories that had been building up for over a year. When the men-of-war arrived in Halifax, residents expressed their relief in a popular, patriotic, and spontaneous way. Unprecedented in the British North American context, this outpouring of Britishness made the Shannon-Chesapeake battle one of the most important cultural events in the city’s history. For a generation of Nova Scotians, who were there that day or experienced the celebrations in some other way, the battle was much more than just a military event from the War of 1812. It lived on in public memory, history, and literature throughout the 19th century. Memory of the battle remained strong because it was a local event, with strong local connections to the city and in the collective imagination. People remembered it decades later, more so than almost any other public event. On 6 August 1914, only two days after Britain declared war on Germany, the luxury liner Mauretania was chased into Halifax harbour by German cruisers. The Morning Chronicle declared that “not since HMS Shannon towed the American frigate Chesapeake in here one hundred and one years before has there been such excitement.”128 By the early 20th century, however, personal memories of the Shannon were gone, the British Navy had withdrawn from Halifax in 1905, and privateering eclipsed the battle as Nova Scotia’s dominant theme from the War of 1812. To keep the legacy alive for future generations, local writers such Archibald MacMechan, D.C. Harvey, and Hugh Pullen, with important ties to historic sites programs at the NSHS and HSMBC, combined with the Canadian Navy to organize anniversary celebrations and commemorations. These symbols remain a fixture of the city’s public art and historical consciousness. Although this famous frigate action from the Age of Sail had little to do with the politics of selection or the state’s commodification of history and tourism, it continues to be recognized as a defining feature of Halifax’s cultural and military heritage.