Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

Marc started to translate but was waved offby Robert.

“We French are being taken for fools oncemore! We will be used and tossed aside as callously as Colborne’ssoldiers burned my wheat and terrified my children.”

“I think you had better explain yourself,”Hincks said through gritted teeth.

LaFontaine looked slightly discomfited byTremblay’s outburst, but said nothing.

“We’ve heard a lot of talk here aboutavoiding the extremes, about doing everything within the letter ofthe law, a law written for us by foreigners,” Tremblay continuedwith no effort to conceal his contempt. “But we wouldn’t even be at this table now if enough of us had had the guts tostand up for our families and our religion, had had the courage tolook the English musketeers in the eye and dare them to kill thosemen who only wished to farm the land they inherited from theirfathers.”

No-one said a word. Tremblay, alone in thisroom of lawyers and businessmen, had put his life on theline for his beliefs. He continued his speech, somewhat moremoderately: “Let us grant Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Hincks their firststep. What happens when we all get together in the new Assembly?There has been much talk of the moderates among the Upper-Canadianconservatives, of how their fanatic Orangemen and High Tories arelosing their grip. Do you honestly believe that the EnglishReformers will not quickly realign themselves with the economicinterests of the moderate Tories? Will they not, as soon as weFrench have served our purpose, find themselves more at home withthose who share their moderate policies as well as their languageand religion? There will then be one large, middle-of-the-roadEnglish party surrounded by splinter groups of diehard English andFrench Tories and we poor, pathetic French nationalists.”

The logic of this impassioned address seemedto catch everyone off-guard, French and English alike.

But Tremblay was not quite through. He waitedfor Marc to finish, then said, “This whole business here is abouttrust. I have heard lots of high-sounding arguments so far, butnothing to make me want to trust people who did not have thecourage to take up arms when it mattered or offer public supportfor the uprising and its goals.”

The ensuing silence was more than awkward.LaFontaine, expressionless, stared hard at Robert Baldwin.

“Let me then give you such a reason,” Robertsaid slowly and quietly. “When the new Assembly meets, I hope thatMr. LaFontaine and I will find ourselves sitting side by side inthe House among those in the majority party. When we are invited tojoin the cabinet and constitute a true Reform administration, as wecertainly shall, its leader and first minister will beLouis-Hippolyte LaFontaine. If not, then I myself will notserve.”

This declaration took everyone by surprise,even Hincks and especially LaFontaine.

“You’re saying that the alliance will be ledby one of us?” Bérubé said, not sure whether he ought to be shockedor incredulous. “But you yourself are held to be the leader of theReform party, are said to be the only man in Upper Canada capableof uniting the scattered liberal elements. How could you think ofrelinquishing your leadership role — to a French-speakingQuebecer?”

It was a question Hincks might have asked — or Marc.

“I have become a politician by necessity,”Robert said solemnly, making eye contact with each delegate aroundthe table as he spoke, “not by instinct or inclination. I havenever wished to sit in parliament or stump the back roads preachingReform doctrines. I am not an orator like Francis here or Mr.Edwards. I am a widower with four youngsters to raise. I long for aquiet life in my chambers and my home. But circumstance has broughtme here, as it has each of you. I will serve as long as I amneeded. And serving beside Mr. LaFontaine, who is most qualified tolead our alliance, is the best thing for me and for our party. ALaFontaine-Baldwin administration will make a bold statement tothose who oppose responsible government. To them our alliance mayseem unholy, but it will be real. It will be here to stay.”

Maurice Tremblay knew that he was beaten. Hisshoulders slumped and he stared down at the table in a daze.

“What more is there to say?” LaFontaine said.“We have negotiated a set of common policies and laid out aprocedural strategy for next year. We are dealing here withhonourable men. We shall make formidable allies.”

Bérubé and Bergeron were all smiles. Itappeared as if the impossible had been achieved, a coalition ofancient (and recent) enemies — the English and the French.

“Should we formalize the main points of ouralliance, as agreed upon earlier?” Hincks said into the buzz ofexcitement.

“We could do that tomorrow morning,” Macaulaysuggested. “Perhaps Mr. LaFontaine and Mr. Baldwin, along with Mr.Edwards as translator, could work up a written document in bothlanguages.”

“That sounds great,” Hincks said, “though wemust have only one copy for each group. We don’t want any part ofthese deliberations made public except by us when we are ready andto those whom we choose. Secrecy is critical at this point,eh?”

No-one disagreed with this statement of theobvious.

“After a hearty luncheon tomorrow,” Macaulaysaid, beaming, “I’ll have the sleighs brought down here and ourguests can begin making their way home.”

Elaborate precautions had been takenregarding the arrival and departure of the French delegates. Thesleighs that had brought them to Elmgrove, on Monday and Tuesdayevening, had gone with their drivers up to a safe farm north of thecity. Young Cal Struthers would be dispatched to signal theirreturn. The Quebecers, in pairs, would be driven to Port Hope,where they would stay overnight with Reform families, and thencatch a regular stage, two by two, for Kingston and Montreal.

Garnet Macaulay, still beaming, adjourned themeeting.

In the hall outside the library, Hincks stoppedMacaulay for a moment and said, “Garnet, I have a frock coat thatcould use a good brushing sometime before supper. It’s in thewardrobe in my room.”

“I’ll have Chilton see to it, Francis,”Macaulay said, always pleased to be helpful, “the minute he getsback from his late-day constitutional.”

“Thanks,” Hincks said, and hurried towardsthe billiard-room to catch up to Bérubé.

Marc drew Macaulay back into the recessedentrance to the library. “Your butler keeps to a rigid schedule,”he said evenly.

Macaulay smiled. “Yes. An occupationalweakness of butlers everywhere. Since he came here a week ago, hehas gone for a fifteen-minute walk just before the rush and havocof our supper-hour. Can’t blame him, eh?”

Marc was not sure how to phrase the questionhe had in mind. “And you. . find you have, ah, completeconfidence in him?”

“My word, Marc, you don’t need to be socircumspect. We’re all concerned about security, aren’t we? Theanswer is that Graves Chilton has given me no cause to besuspicious in that regard. Besides, he’s only been on the continentfor a couple of weeks and he doesn’t speak French, as MonsieurTremblay has discovered to his chagrin.”

“I’m relieved to hear it. Everything is goingso well, I don’t want anything untoward happening now.”

“Relax. We’ve got supper and the evening tolook forward to.”

“I’ll try to,” Marc said.

Supper was served at seven-thirty. Before that, mostof the delegates spent time in their rooms, napping or makingnotes. The renowned bathtub was in constant use. Hincks and Bérubépassed a pleasant hour at the billiard-table, talking finance asbest they could. Marc expected the mood at supper to be relaxed andconvivial, but despite the excellence of the food and stimulus ofthe drink, the delegates were strangely subdued. In the place ofcasual chatter or more friendly and unguarded exchanges, there wasan excess of courtly manners and cliché. It was as if, havingsurprised themselves by reaching an historic agreement withunseemly haste, the participants felt they ought to have secondthoughts, that nothing so challenging could be achieved so readily- with only a single dissenting voice.