Don Gutteridge: Unholy Alliance

Much relief followed upon this compellinginsight.

Hesitantly, James said, “But what if theGovernor was being wily with us as well? After all, he’s a Whig,not a Tory.”

After the merest pause, Maxwell said, “True.But he’s also a governor, a vice-regent with near-absolute power.And I’ve never seen any gentleman — Whig, Tory or otherwise — relinquish such power voluntarily. And certainly not to a polyglotcrew such as is likely to compose the new Assembly in Kingston orwherever.”

The murmurs of enthusiastic assent werestilled by Bishop Strachan raising his hand as if he were biddinghis congregation to prayer. “I believe you are right, Ignatius. Onthe other hand, we have no more guarantees offered us than therabble do. I fear we must scotch the serpent in its nest, not waitfor it to grow into some hydra-headed beast of the Apocalypse.Should Monsieur LaFontaine and Mr. Baldwin-Hincks find enoughcommon ground to dominate the new Legislative Assembly, it may wellprove to be a most unholy alliance.”

“What are you suggesting, John?” Maxwellsaid.

“I am proposing that we become acutelyvigilant, and that we do everything in our power to see that such aperverse and obscene coalition never sees the light of day.”

Maxwell stared at the storm pummelling thewindows even more fiercely than it had been doing earlier in theevening. “Then let us pray for more snow,” he said.

***

By an odd coincidence another political conversationwas in progress no more than a block and a half away in the libraryof Francis Hincks. And while there was also here a blazing hearthand snow-buffeted window-panes, the three gentlemen seated at anoak table strewn with important-looking papers had no recourse todry sherry or Cuban cigars to soothe their dialogue along. Nor hadthere been a sumptuous dinner beforehand. In fact, one of theirnumber, Marc Edwards, had just arrived, and was being brought up tospeed by his host.

“It’s all right there in LaFontaine’s letter,Marc,” Hincks was saying. “You can read it at leisure, but the gistof it is clear. LaFontaine has agreed to meet with us here inToronto — this month.”

Marc looked over at Robert Baldwin, hisfriend, mentor, and the man they all regarded as the one to leadthe soon-to-be-united provinces towards responsible, cabinetgovernment. “I must say that I’m astonished, Robert,” he said. “Itall seemed hopeless just a few weeks ago.”

“Francis deserves the credit,” Robert said.“His arguments were as irresistible as they were logical.”

“We’ve inundated LaFontaine with letters inboth tongues,” Hincks said, “though my French wouldn’t impress aschoolboy. And even though he’s agreed to come and talk with usface to face, that is only a first step. As you know, we haveenormous obstacles to overcome, on both sides.”

“Any meeting will have to be kept secret,won’t it?” Marc said, stating the obvious. “For the good of bothparties.”

“I think you’ll find the details we’ve workedout quite satisfactory,” Robert said, nodding at the most recentletter from Louis-Hippolyte LaFontaine.

Taking his cue, Hincks said, “The conferencewill take place out at Elmgrove, and will last for three days at aminimum. It will begin a week from next Wednesday. LaFontaine hasdecided to bring three associates with him, and they will beginarriving two days in advance of the conference.”

“ Begin arriving?” Marc said.

Robert smiled, as he usually did, with hiseyes only. “That’s part of our strategy to keep the conferencesecret. LaFontaine and one of his negotiators will travel togetherand incognito by private means, arriving on the outskirts of townsome time early Monday evening.”

Hincks — ever more excitable and voluble thanhis friend, next-door neighbour and political colleague — said indeliberately dramatic sotto voce , “They will cross the DonRiver at Scaddings Bridge and, quickly and unobserved — ”

“We trust,” Robert said.

“ — slide onto the old logger’s trail thatweaves its way through the bush and passes behind the Elmgroveestate.”

“Where our Garnet Macaulay will meet them andmake them comfortable in his fine country manor,” Robert said,unable to keep his own excitement in check.

“The same subterfuge will be played out onTuesday evening with the other pair from Quebec,” Hincks said.“After they’ve had a night and a morning to rest and acclimatize,we’ll be ready for our first formal meeting on Wednesdayafternoon.”

“Very impressive,” Marc said. “And you’rehoping that Elmgrove, out there on the edge of the city and tuckedaway in the middle of the bush, will suffice to keep any word ofthe negotiations from reaching the ears of those who do not wish uswell?”

“That’s the idea,” Hincks said. “Weconsidered Spadina, which we used last fall for the secret talkswith Governor Thomson over the Union Bill, but it’s on the otherside of the city and, we’re certain, is being closely watched bythe Tory faction.”

Spadina was the Baldwin family’s countryestate northwest of Toronto.

“And you want Garnet Macaulay in on thenegotiations?” Marc said, trying not to sound too surprised.

“We do,” Robert said, reaching absently for amacaroon and remembering too late that he was not in his chamberswhere the sweets-dish was ever to hand. “For two reasons. First ofall, unlike Francis or me, Garnet is a sitting member of thecurrent Assembly, lame as that body now is. And just asimportantly, he is a charming host with old-country manners, andthus a natural chairman for our deliberations.”

“You’ll want the numbers kept as small aspossible,” Marc said, “to facilitate discussion and consensus, andensure secrecy.”

“Especially secrecy,” Hincks said.“LaFontaine is under great pressure at home to have no truck withthe maudits anglais , and while he has shown an admirable andcourageous willingness to discuss a possible coalition with us, hefeels he must be certain — after meeting with us — that a viablecollaboration is achievable before returning to Quebec andattempting to sell it to his sceptical compatriots.”

“Any intimation of these negotiations inadvance will give LaFontaine’s political enemies time to prepare acounterattack,” Robert said.

“They’d poison the well,” Hincks added, “anddiscredit our man for good.”

“But surely the Tories here, even themoderate conservatives who’ve thrown their in lot with the unionproposal, will suspect the possibility of our attempting to co-optthe radicals in Quebec?” Marc said. “They may be stubborn andobtuse, but they’re not naïve.”

“I know for a fact that they do suspect,”Robert said. “Our exchange of letters with LaFontaine has not goneunremarked by their sympathizers in the post office. But Francisand I are routinely seen heading out to Elmgrove. And we plan toput out a story about our taking a business trip to Kingston — incase our absence is noticed.”

“Good, good,” Marc said. “And the servantsout there can be trusted?”

“Garnet assures us that they are long-timeemployees and intensely loyal to him and Elizabeth,” Robertsaid.

“As you may have heard,” Hincks added, “hisbutler and valet of many years died in November. But he hasreplaced him with a chap from England, who’s due to arrive in a fewdays. Whatever his politics, the fellow will be far too busylearning the ropes and trying to impress his master to worry aboutour French guests.”

“With any luck, or God’s blessing,” Robertsaid with a small smile, “this blizzard will continue apace andrender Elmgrove snowbound for the duration.”

“So it will be the four visitors from Quebecand three of us,” Marc said. “With the fate of our united provincesin the balance.”