Unholy Alliance (2 page)

Ivor Winthrop smiled, something he normally
did only when all other responses failed him. “That is so, sir. I
have spent much time in that grim town in recent months pursuing
the fur business, and been appalled at the condition of some of its
roads and buildings. But from the point of view of any businessman
with an entrepreneurial spirit, it is a potential lodestone.”

“How so?” Michaels inquired.

“If no facilities now exist there to house a
legislature of a hundred and four members and provide them with
suitable living quarters and commercial shops appropriate to their
needs and station, then such facilities will have to be
constructed, furnished and serviced, will they not?”

The thought of such unbounded mercantile
possibility left the gathering without speech for some moments.

“I hesitate to toss a fly into the ointment,”
James said after a while, “but I would be remiss if I did not
relate to you the substance of a rumour making the rounds in our
circle.”

“About Hincks and some of the French rebels?”
Maxwell said.

James’s face fell, then he looked merely
relieved. “You mean there’s nothing to it?” he said hopefully.

“Oh, there’s something to it all right,”
Maxwell said. The others sat forward in their chairs, except for
the Bishop who, it seemed, knew exactly what was coming. “We know
that Hincks and Louis LaFontaine have been corresponding for
several months.”

Francis Hincks was a leading Reformer and
editor of the radical newspaper, the
Examiner.
Louis
LaFontaine had been a prominent MLA and a rebel supporter during
the revolt in Quebec in 1837. Since his release from prison by Lord
Durham following the failed uprising, he had become the leading
spokesman for the malcontents among the French populace.

“But Hincks and LaFontaine have little in
common,” James pointed out. “They may claim to be reformers, but
the reforms the French want are not those of the English. Are
they?”

The Bishop harrumphed. “Both the French
Rouge
party and our Reformers will do anything to embarrass
and disenfranchise established authority of any kind. That is their
raison d’être
. On many issues, should they ever agree to
cooperate in the new joint parliament, they could form a single
block and cause some disruption there. But from what we know so
far, they are a long way from any sort of
détente
.”

Receiver-General Maxwell took up the argument
from that point. “Remember, the French still feel victimized and
utterly defeated. The Union Bill itself is seen as a travesty by
them. They have no tradition of parliamentary procedure and
political negotiation. They have a religion to protect. And so
on.”

“So there is little chance that any coalition
of
Rouge
and Reform could result in their influencing the
direction in which the united provinces must develop?” Winthrop
said.

“Even with the remote possibility of their
controlling the Assembly at some distant time in the future,”
Maxwell said, “the appointed Council and the cabinet, along with
the governor’s prerogative, should act to keep matters in
perspective.”

“Still,” James said, “Poulett Thomson has
shown a predilection for choosing his Executive Councillors from
amongst the elected members of the current Assembly.”

“And there’s a possibility he’s coming to
Toronto to offer Robert Baldwin, the arch-Reformer, a cabinet
post,” Michaels said, alluding to yet another rumour circulating in
the capital.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Maxwell said, “calm
down. You’re beginning to talk as if the Governor favours
responsible government, but he has assured us over and over again
that he has no intention of having his cabinet answer directly to
the majority party in the Assembly. And that is that.”

Carson James went suddenly pale. “I - I’m not
so sure about that,” he said.

The Bishop glared at him, his eyebrows
alarmingly rigid. “Explain yourself, sir.”

Trembling at the Bishop’s response or the
implications of what he had to say to him, James replied: “My
wife’s niece is a maid out at Spadina, where Governor Thomson and
the Baldwins met in secret during the debate over the Union Bill
last fall. One day, she told me, she overheard Thomson tell Robert
Baldwin that he could not guarantee him responsible government in
the new order, but that he felt certain it would come about –
naturally and inevitably.”

“The blackguard!” Michaels cried, spilling
his third sherry.

Maxwell chuckled softly. “But he said that
merely to get Reform support for his bill, the wily old
bastard.”

Much relief followed upon this compelling
insight.

Hesitantly, James said, “But what if the
Governor 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 polyglot
crew such as is likely to compose the new Assembly in Kingston or
wherever.”

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

“What are you suggesting, John?” Maxwell
said.

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

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

***

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

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

Marc looked over at Robert Baldwin, his
friend, mentor, and the man they all regarded as the one to lead
the soon-to-be-united provinces towards responsible, cabinet
government. “I must say that I’m astonished, Robert,” he said. “It
all 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 in
both tongues,” Hincks said, “though my French wouldn’t impress a
schoolboy. And even though he’s agreed to come and talk with us
face to face, that is only a first step. As you know, we have
enormous 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 both
parties.”

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

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

“
Begin
arriving?” Marc said.

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

Hincks – ever more excitable and voluble than
his friend, next-door neighbour and political colleague – said in
deliberately dramatic
sotto voce
, “They will cross the Don
River at Scaddings Bridge and, quickly and unobserved – ”

“We trust,” Robert said.

“ – slide onto the old logger’s trail that
weaves its way through the bush and passes behind the Elmgrove
estate.”

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

“The same subterfuge will be played out on
Tuesday 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 Wednesday
afternoon.”

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

“That’s the idea,” Hincks said. “We
considered Spadina, which we used last fall for the secret talks
with Governor Thomson over the Union Bill, but it’s on the other
side of the city and, we’re certain, is being closely watched by
the Tory faction.”

Spadina was the Baldwin family’s country
estate northwest of Toronto.

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

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

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

“Especially secrecy,” Hincks said.
“LaFontaine is under great pressure at home to have no truck with
the
maudits anglais
, and while he has shown an admirable and
courageous willingness to discuss a possible coalition with us, he
feels he must be certain – after meeting with us – that a viable
collaboration is achievable before returning to Quebec and
attempting to sell it to his sceptical compatriots.”

“Any intimation of these negotiations in
advance will give LaFontaine’s political enemies time to prepare a
counterattack,” Robert said.

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

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

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

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

“Garnet assures us that they are long-time
employees and intensely loyal to him and Elizabeth,” Robert
said.

“As you may have heard,” Hincks added, “his
butler and valet of many years died in November. But he has
replaced him with a chap from England, who’s due to arrive in a few
days. Whatever his politics, the fellow will be far too busy
learning the ropes and trying to impress his master to worry about
our French guests.”

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

“So it will be the four visitors from Quebec
and three of us,” Marc said. “With the fate of our united provinces
in the balance.”

“
Four
of us actually,” Robert said,
waving at the absent sweets-dish.

“We’d like
you
to join us,” Hincks
said quietly.

“Me?”

“We know we’re asking a lot of you, Marc,”
Robert said, “with Beth so close to her term, but we really do need
you.”

For over a year Marc had been assisting
Robert and the Reform party by writing pamphlets and broadsides in
the cause of responsible government. Then in September when he had
passed his bar exams, he had further assisted Robert by helping his
law firm with several cases while Robert devoted all his energies
to politics, even though Marc had not yet decided to accept a
formal invitation to become part of the Baldwin and Sullivan
firm.

“But I don’t see that I could contribute
anything you two could not do better,” Marc protested. “I’m more
likely to clutter up the discussion.”

“In addition to your substantive
contributions,” Robert said, “we’d like you to act as our
translator.”

To Marc’s puzzled response, Hincks said,
“Robert and I both read French and I’ve become marginally adept at
writing it during my corresponding with Louis, but neither Robert
nor I can speak it beyond everyday polite conversation.”

“And LaFontaine himself reads English, but
claims to speak it only haltingly.”