Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

“I spent six months in a Montreal prison,” hecontinued. “My wife assumed I was dead. Men around me — ruined anddesperate farmers — were being tried by court martial and hanged. Iwas freed only when Lord Durham arrived in June and Mr. LaFontaineintervened on my behalf. I made my way back to my farm. There wasnothing left. Not a log unburned, not a stalk in the fields. Myfamily had fled to my cousin’s place farther up the river. There westayed, working with him to keep his farm alive. Somehow wemanaged. We stayed clear of politics. But the patriots came backthat fall in greater force. Again, they were met with an evengreater force and even greater brutality. General Colborne marchedthrough the Beauharnois and this time scorched the very earthbefore him. We were burned out a second time. We fled to the woodsand lived like primitives. Mr. LaFontaine began arranging smallloans for many of the dispossessed, and with his support, we havebegun yet again. But fancy words and political planks won’t help meraise a new barn or buy a cow so my youngsters can have milk. Itake full responsibility for my own treasonous acts. I wasimprisoned and released. Why should my wife and children be madebeggars and their land devastated for my actions? Is thisthe essence of British justice?”

LaFontaine, to whom everyone instinctivelyturned, made no attempt to curtail this diatribe or soften itsimpact upon the English delegates, who sat momentarily taken aback,chastened even. For the first time, at least as far as Marc hadobserved, pain and a deep, pervasive sadness were visible in theFrench leader’s face. Although LaFontaine had not taken up arms orbeen maimed, as Tremblay had, he had nonetheless been driven fromthe country (fleeing briefly to England and France), unjustlyarrested on his return, and publicly vilified. He knew firsthandwhat English justice could come to. Tremblay had been asked to jointhe Quebec delegation, Marc was sure now, because he representedthe vast constituency of the dispossessed and alienated in thelower province. These were the very people whose votes Lafontaineand the parti Rouge would have to seek and who would have tobe persuaded that an alliance with les maudits anglais ,however unholy, was in their best interest.

It was Robert who now took up this challenge.“Although not nearly on the scale of your people’s suffering, Mr.Tremblay, the reprisals and recriminations against the UpperCanadian rebels and any families who even appeared sympathetic werewidespread, and could by no means be termed just. In the yearfollowing our revolt, untold thousands of farmers abandoned theirland or sold it cheap in order to emigrate to the United States.”At this point Robert paused, waited until Marc had concluded histranslation, then nodded to him.

Marc looked at Tremblay and said, “Aneighbour of my wife, when she lived near Cobourg, became involvedin the early planning of the rebellion, saw the error of his ways,and withdrew. He took no part in the actual uprising. Afterwards hewas summarily denounced and a price put on his head. He and hisfamily, including his father-in-law and his family, fled all theway to Iowa. With them went my wife’s only brother. Their propertyhas been confiscated by the Crown. These people were good friendsof mine. Like so many others, here and in your province, I feelbereft, cheated, and not a little bewildered at the uncertainty ofBritish law and justice, which I have been trained to serve — andrevere. I too would like to see both justice and fair reparationsfor the victims of the rebellions.”

“What we are implying,” Robert continued, “isthat, although it will be difficult and will not likely happenright away, as Reformers we are committed to seeking suchreparations, in the sure knowledge that our own supporters amongthe electorate will expect it.”

“You are willing to guarantee this?”LaFontaine said, his face once again an unreadable mask.

“If we reach the point where we are able todraw up a written agreement,” Robert said, “the guarantee will bein writing.”

LaFontaine looked at Tremblay, who was stillshaking from his emotional outburst. Tremblay did not lookback.

“Well, gentlemen,” Macaulay said cheerfully,as if he were about to call for another hand of whist, “it is latein the afternoon and we have worked diligently at our mutual task.I propose that we adjourn until tomorrow.”

Noting the consensus in the room, hecontinued. “May I also propose that, in light of the substantialprogress we’ve made today, we alter our schedule for Thursday. Isuggest we meet here at eleven and work through until five, with ashort break for an informal luncheon.”

The gentlemen quickly agreed to this changeand the meeting was adjourned. Things seemed to be going well, but,as Marc knew, step one was child’s play compared with what layahead. It was all well and good to hammer out a common platform,but if the new Assembly appeared to the French to be a mererepetition of the old ineffectual one, there would be no ‘steptwo.’ What was self-evident at this stage was that Louis-HippolyteLaFontaine was a shrewd politician with a steady, almost inhuman,grip on his emotions.

Marc could hardly wait for the nextencounter.

Garner Macaulay had arranged the room assignments ofthe delegates so that the four Quebecers had spacious chambers onthe upper floor of the two-storey northwest wing of Elmgrove. Anornate, marble staircase, situated in a rotunda at the far end ofthe central hall, wound its way up to them. On the lower floor ofthis wing separate bedchambers were assigned to Robert, Marc andHincks. A fourth room, the master’s suite, was now occupied only byMacaulay, his wife Elizabeth and her maid having gone off toKingston for the month. Each floor had a water-closet at the end ofits hall, but a special feature of the manor was its bathroom,located next to the master bedroom and accessible from there ordirectly from the hallway.

Macaulay’s unique bathroom was celebrated(and envied) throughout the city and neighbouring townships.Inside, there stood a large, cast-iron stove, whose constant heatfed into an adjacent boiler, from which a pipe carried hot water toa gleaming copper tub. Here a spigot allowed a Macaulay maid or thebather himself to fill said tub to the luxurious brim. Fresh towelshung perpetually on a nearby rack, and a shelf, reachable from thetub, held a variety of oils, powders and perfumed soaps. The gueststhis day were encouraged to avail themselves of this modern marvel,either before the formal supper at seven-thirty or afterwards.Priscilla Finch was to be informed, and a time established for herto make the appropriate preparations and to alert Austin Bragg ofthe need to stoke the fire with fresh hardwood and top up theboiler from the cistern above it.

As Marc was heading to his room to freshen upand rest before supper, he noticed that the butler’s quarters wereon the main floor next to the entrance to the northeast wing, whichhoused the Elmgrove servants. This wing was a single storey and satfour feet below the grander wing opposite it. While it was unusualfor a butler’s quarters to be on the main floor, Marc rememberedthat the deceased Alfred Harkness had also been Macaulay’s valet,and so his rooms catty-corner from his master’s made sense.Although Marc and Beth could easily afford to build themselves agentrified house like this one, they were quite content to live inBriar Cottage and the extensive addition they were planning toaccommodate their expanding family. Still, he had to admit, as hewashed his face and hands in the warm basin of water promptlysupplied by one of the kitchen maids (Tillie, was it?), thatElmgrove was proving an ideal setting for the negotiations. Furtherthoughts of this nature were cut short when he fell asleep on thethick feather-comforter.