Sisters in the Wilderness - Charlotte Gray [67]
John Moodie was the first to find an escape route. He was under pressure from creditors in both Peterborough and Cobourg; if he could acquire a salary, he could finally pay off some debts. So when the government in Toronto announced the creation of several new regiments to defend the colony, Moodie immediately volunteered. His energetic cheeriness charmed the military authorities and wangled him a captain’s commission in the Queen’s Own Regiment. By late January 1838, he was back in Toronto, three days’ journey from Peterborough, sitting in the New British Coffee House on York Street, or strolling along King Street admiring the Georgian terraces and brick market buildings that had sprung up in the previous decade. It was a welcome change of circumstances, especially since, according to the Sturgeon Lake settler John Langton, military officers were “as thick as blackberries” on the streets of Toronto. A mood of carnival buoyancy prevailed; there was no end to the old friends to be discovered and toasts to be drunk.
A month later, Moodie was posted to the Niagara Region, even farther from his family. His regiment was positioned to repel incursions from rebels now based across the border. Mackenzie had assembled a small army in Buffalo of American sympathizers anxious to join Mac’s crusade to “free” Canada. The border raids of these wild-eyed Yankees were costing far more in casualties and damage than the original uprising had done.
With at least one hundred miles between them, John and Susanna had to rely on the mail service to maintain their intimacy, as they had in the months before their marriage. In the densely written lines of their letters, we can glimpse the strength of their love for each other, and their mutual dependence. “I have been so bothered and hurried about with parades, drills, and other duties,” John wrote to his “dearest Susie” from Toronto, “that I have not till this moment been able to settle myself sufficiently to write to you and our sweet babes. God bless you all. How I long to clasp you to my heart, my own good old wife, and to kiss my dear honest hearted Katie my light hearted Aggy, and sly Dunnie and my gentle generous Donald.” As the weeks of separation dragged on, even the delights of a regular income palled: “Do write me soon, my dearest Susie and tell me all about my dear children. I could not live long without seeing you all … I am tolerably sick of Militia Soldiering and shall be right glad to get back to my old woman and our dear brats again.” In every letter, John sent his wife as much money as he could afford. “Now my dear Susie do not stint yourself of comforts for I cannot bear to be pampered up while you are suffering any privation.”
Susanna was equally lonely: “I have shed more tears since you have been away than during the whole period of our marriage,” she wrote to her “dearest Moodie.” “I wish you were here.” A few months later, she confessed to John, “I long to be with you—to see, to speak to you, to hold you to my heart once more…. There are times when I almost wish I could love you less. This weary longing after you makes my life pass away like a dream.” She missed both John’s physical presence and his ability to lighten her mood: “I dreamt you returned last night and I was so glad, but you pushed me away, and said you had taken a vow of celibacy and meant to live alone, and I burst into such fits of laughing that I awoke.”
The passion of their marriage was undimmed, despite the hardships