Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

Gagnon looked around the table and said inFrench, “My English is not good enough to express what I have tosay today. Would Monsieur Edwards be kind enough to translate forme?”

Marc nodded, and as Gagnon spoke and pausedjudiciously, Marc translated his remarks for Hincks and Robert,even though they could understand quite a bit of French if it wasspoken slowly.

“Since Louis has lost favour with some of ourcomrades in Quebec, we decided we needed another spokesman, someonewith battlefield credentials and political weight. We identifiedHenri Thériault. He was wounded at the Battle of St. Eustache in‘thirty-seven, trying to prevent the English militia from blowingup the church. He escaped to Montreal, where he was successfullyhidden away from the troops in search of him. Before the rebellion,he was a member of the Assembly and a confederate of Nelson andPapineau. He now lives near Chateauguay on his family’s farm. Iwent to visit him last week. I laid before him our ambitious planto make the union and the new Parliament work in our favour. He hasgreat respect for Louis, but naturally hates the English. His ownfarm, near St. Eustache, was razed and his wife and childrenterrorized. But I put our case forcefully. I told him he did nothave to love the English, that Monsieur Baldwin was a man of greatcharacter and fortitude and would help us move towards a kind ofgovernment that would have to carry out the true wishes of thepeople, including those in Quebec. We talked of reparations andmoves to preserve the French language and education. He was quitetaken with the details of the alliance that I conveyed to him.”

“And he’s agreed to be our spokesman?” Hinckssaid in French.

Gagnon sighed. “Alas, no.”

“But we thought — ”

“All is not hopeless,” Gagnon said. “It’strue that Neilson had also been in touch with Thériault, trying,like us, to get him to come out of his isolation and fight forQuebec. Even the bleu had approached him. You see howvaluable he is thought to be as a spokesman for those who’vesuffered most from the failed rebellion. He is a charismaticspeaker when he puts his mind to it.”

“So he didn’t give you a flat ‘no’?” Robertsaid.

“He said he was intrigued by our plans. Butalso said he is seriously considering Neilson’s offer of contestinga safe seat in the April election. He’s going to make up his mindwhether to join him or us in the next week or so.”

“Well,” Hincks said, “that’s almost goodnews.”

“There’s more to come,” Louis said.

Gagnon smiled again. “We have, as you Englishsay, an ace up our sleeves. An ace that is right here inKingston.”

“What is that?” Robert said.

“It’s a who, not a what,” Louis said. “Gilleslearned by a lucky accident that there is in town a young man whohas come here from Toronto to help his fiancée arrange theirwedding in April. She’s a Kingston woman. His name is ChristopherPettigrew.”

“Oh,” Marc said. “I’ve already met him. He’sstaying here at this hotel, though he’s not here a lot. His fiancéetakes up most of his time. But I liked him very much. He’s also anardent supporter of the Reform party. We had a brief butinteresting talk about politics. I think he’d like to help us.”

“And we would like him to do just that,”Louis said. “You see, the person who hid out Henri Thériault whenhe was fleeing the English troops was none other than youngChristopher Pettigrew.”

There was amazement all around. Gilles Gagnontook up the tale. “I got this story from Thériault himself, whosaid there was only one Englishman he trusted — ChristopherPettigrew. Pettigrew was articling law in Montreal back in‘thirty-seven. One night, after the rebellion had started, he hearda knock on his front door and opened it to find a bleeding andsemi-conscious man on his doorstep. He helped the man inside andtended to his wounds as best he could, as Thériault ordered him notto fetch a doctor. Moments later, the redcoats arrived, butPettigrew was able to convince them that the escapee had been therebut had been turned away and fled farther into the city. Thériaultstayed safely at Pettigrew’s place for three weeks. Pettigrew wasbilingual and the men became friends. Pettigrew, as it turned out,was a Reform sympathizer and approved of the rebellion in bothprovinces.”

“And this Pettigrew is staying right here?”Hincks said, much excited.

“He is,” Marc said, “and wants to behelpful.”

“How do you see him helping?” Robert askedLouis.

“I’d like you people to make him familiarwith our plans, and then ask him if he would write a personalletter to Thériault, endorsing them. His opinion may carry moreweight than our own. We’ve got the man on the hook, now we need toreel him in. Certainly we don’t want him going over to theUltra-Nationalists. That would be disastrous.”

“Would you like me to approach Pettigrew?”Marc said.

“That would be great, Marc,” Robert said.“Would you approach him and ask him if he would be willing to meetwith us, say, tomorrow morning at this same hour?”

“I’ll get right on it,” Marc said.

Other routine business was then carried on,but the undercurrent of excitement roused by theThériault-Pettigrew link continued apace. A half-hour later themeeting broke up, and Marc went looking for ChristopherPettigrew.

***

Marc was told by the hotel manager that Mr.Pettigrew had gone to his fiancée’s home for the day and would notreturn until the supper hour. Marc thanked him and, having the restof the day to wait, decided to take up an offer that had been madeto him yesterday evening. Bert Campion, the architect who wassupervising the conversion of the hospital to a legislature, hadinvited him to go along and inspect the progress of the work.

At eleven o’clock the two men set out inCampion’s cutter. They drove to the western edge of the city, pastits cold, limestone façades, and entered the forested countryside.The hospital, which had nearly been completed before beingdesignated the site of the new Parliament, lay about a mile beyondthe town on several cleared acres. As they came up to it, Marc wasimpressed by its overall size, but not so impressed by the bleak,two-storey face it directed at the world.

“It’s what’s inside that counts,” Campionsaid amiably.

They entered a large foyer that had justrecently been finished.

“I did what I could with this,” Campion said.“Come on and I’ll show you the Assembly chamber. It’s almostcompleted.”

They swung to the left down a long corridor.From the right, Marc could hear hammers banging away and the whineof a saw.

“The men are in there working on theLegislative Council chamber,” Campion pointed out as they came to aset of double doors — in pristine oak.

“Through here.”

They entered the Assembly chamber. Marc drewin his breath. The room was like finding a jewel in a garbage heap.It was spacious, airy, and redolent with several types of hardwood- on its floors, its banisters, its elegant rows of green-leatheredchairs. Light flowed in from a set of high windows on thesouth-east wall.

“Those windows gave me the most trouble,”Campion said.

After the architect had finished pointing outa number of the chamber’s more august features — including anornate speaker’s chair — the two men went back along the halltowards the sound of the hammering. They stepped into a room muchsmaller than the Assembly chamber and decidedly unfinished. Theworkmen, five of them, were in the process of putting up the lathon the brick walls, preparatory to plastering them as soon as theweather became warm enough. They moved past several piles of lathsticks, towards one of the workmen.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” Campion said tohim. Then to Marc he said, “This is my foreman, Earl Dunham. Earl,this is Mr. Edwards.”