Political Life in Canada—Its Tragedies and Its
Pleasantries—The Great Outstanding Figures
of the Past—The Social Side of Parliament—Mixed
Metaphors and People
Who Were Not Good Mixers—A
Second Warwick—The Wrong Hat—And
Other Incidents.
Politics in Canada wax warm when the general elections are on, but the
average man is fairly sane the rest of the time. At Ottawa, however,
especially during the sessions of Parliament, the air fairly seethes
with party argumentation. There, of course, the raw material for the
next campaign is always being made. The two hundred and thirty-five
members of the House, with the ninety-six Senators, and the army of
officials, together with the correspondents in the Press Gallery, are
busy in the manufacture of issues for the people to quarrel about later
on. But while the work proceeds there are other things to sweeten life.
The five o’clocks, the dances and dinners, the bridge parties and the
generous hospitality of Rideau Hall combine to form an agreeable
diversion from the serious business of Parliament.
* * * * *
It so happened that I was sent down from Winnipeg to the Press Gallery
in 1886 and for several following years, and as a consequence I mixed a
great deal in politics and with politicians, without acquiring bad
habits. It is not my purpose to use this experience as a pretext for
writing a history of Canada, or for commenting upon political questions.
All I want to do is to speak of some happenings that interested me and
of some of the great men and personal friends with whom I came in
contact. One could not, of course, look down upon Parliament at that
time without recognizing the leadership of Sir John Macdonald and Edward
Blake, who were then the great combatants. The two statesmen contrasted
strangely with one another. Mr. Blake, at the opening of Parliament in a
slouch hat and a tweed suit that did not seem to be a very good fit, was
the very opposite of Sir John, who came in attired in his Windsor
uniform.
The Conservatives had a life-sized portrait of Sir John wearing this
uniform painted for their retiring room. The chieftain was fairly
gorgeous in gold braid, and the cocked hat he held in his hand was
suggestive of a Lord High Admiral. One day Clarke Wallace was admiring
it when in came Sir John. “Well, Clarke, how do you like it?” enquired
the chieftain.
“It’s all right,” responded Clarke, “but don’t you think you look sort
of stiff in it?”
“Do you know,” said Sir John, “the first time I wore that was when the
Prince of Wales came to this country. They told us from Downing street
that all the Ministers would have to get into uniform, and we did. The
morning we assembled, all decked up to receive the Prince, we looked a
set of guys.”
“Vankoughnet was there” (Mr. Vankoughnet was one of the
pre-Confederation ministers) “and I said to him: ‘Van, you don’t look
well in a cocked hat; a cocktail would suit us all better.’ ”
The cocktail, I understand, was a species of beverage obtainable at that
time, and much in demand by epicures.
Political Tragedies.
Edward Blake was a commanding figure, and a great master of detail. But
he did not pull with his entire party. Some thought he was not a good
enough mixer, and Sir Richard Cartwright who ought to have been his
right hand man was never one of his admirers. In a short time Mr. Blake
resigned the leadership. His departure was really tragic. After so many
years of labor it was universally thought to be a pity in view of what
he had done to pull the party together that he should pass out of
Canadian public life altogether. Alexander Mackenzie, who sat near him,
was another tragedy. Mr. Mackenzie had led the House. He had, indeed,
been the leading man of the country. His voice echoed through
Parliament, as in his hey-day he discussed public matters. Now he was
weak in voice and in body, and his comings and his goings were really
pathetic. He had sacrificed himself to the public service.
There were other tragedies. The party pot was boiling all the time, and
efforts were made to submerge public men in a torrent of scandal. When a
Government is old in office the opportunities for this style of warfare
are multiplied. The popular form of scandal at that time consisted of
the charge that the member had profited through the transactions in
public lands. Charlie Rykert, member for Lincoln, who was a fighter from
the word “go,” was the leading figure in one of these. Charlie kept a
scrap-book, and, with its aid, was able to prove his leading opponents
guilty of inconsistency on almost any question that might be under
discussion. In Parliament he irritated the Opposition beyond measure
and, as a consequence, was thoroughly hated by that section of the
House. It was, therefore, with considerable relish that Sir Richard
Cartwright made charges against him in the session of 1890. The
accusation was that in 1882 or thereabouts, he and another party secured
from the Government for a nominal sum a timber limit in the Cypress
Hills which was sold by them to an operator at a profit of $150,000,
Charlie getting half of the proceeds. As a matter of fact, the
transaction was fully in accordance with the law as it stood, and no
such profit as that reported was made. Indeed, it is to be doubted that
Charlie got enough to pay him for his trouble. However, the charge was
pressed and it ended Mr. Rykert’s political career, for he resigned his
seat before the session closed. While it was being debated in the House,
Charlie sat silent and alone in his room, into which I happened to
stray. He was particularly downcast and worried, for Sir John Thompson,
the then Minister of Justice, and some other members of the party were
assailing him. He asked me to keep him posted as to what they were
saying, and for some time I would run into the gallery, listen briefly
to the debate, and then report progress to him. I shall never forget his
agonized look as he cried, “And he,” (referring to some unfriendly
‘friend’) “he got his share of the campaign funds and wanted more.”
Whatever his faults may have been, he was a hard worker in the political
field, doing yeoman service, and the gratitude he looked for was wanting
when he needed it.
* * * * *
Another tragedy was that of Thomas McGreevy and Mike and Nick Connolly.
In this Sir Hector Langevin was mixed up. The Connolly Brothers were
contractors for the Quebec harbor works and the graving dock at
Esquimalt. Israel Tarte brought against them the accusation that they
had over-charged, and had contributed to the Quebec election funds, by
way of Thomas McGreevy, and with the consent of Sir Hector. This _cause
celebre_ drove Sir Hector out of the Cabinet, and Tom McGreevy out of
Parliament, while it sent the Connolly Brothers to jail. Of those who
may have benefited not one came to the assistance of the accused men.
Nobody turned a finger in their behalf in their time of trouble. Mike
and Nick Connolly went to jail rather than turn Queen’s evidence.
The way in which politicians may be misunderstood and suffer in
consequence is illustrated in the case of James Beaty, member for West
Toronto at this time. He was solicitor for men who were interested in a
western branch railway line. In a letter written by him, he was alleged
to have said that some proposition that was made was not acceptable
because “there is nothing in it for the boy.” The changes were rung in
on this. Mr. Beaty was pursued under the nick-name of “the boy,” and it
was inferred that “the boy” was looking for something for himself to
which he was not entitled. His explanation, as he gave it to me, was
that his written words were “There is nothing in it for the Co’y.” It
was of the company that he was speaking, and not of himself.
A lot more could be told of members being ostracised for exhibiting
independence, on either side of the House, or of members who have
labored for their party being deserted in the time of stress.
A Wit-Provoking Stairway.
But, _cui bono_? Let’s to more pleasant incidents. After the great
disallowance debate over that part of the C.P.R. contract which
prevented United States railways from entering the Northwest to tap the
business, Sir John A. Macdonald met W. B. Scarth, M.P. for Winnipeg,
with myself and several others, at the head of the stairs leading to the
restaurant. After a cheery salutation, Sir John remarked, “Well, boys,
don’t you think we have had enough of disallowance? Let’s go down and
take our allowance.” And we went.
The stairway to the restaurant seems to have been provocative of wit,
for, it is said, that on this very spot Sir John once met Bob Watson, as
strong a party man of the Liberal type as you could find, and asked him
what was going on in the House. “Why,” said Bob, “Cartwright is pitching
into Foster on the tariff.”
“Too bad, too bad, that they should be so partisan up there,” said Sir
John. “I tell you, Bob, if they were all as independent as you and I
are, this country would soon get some blankety fine legislation.”
Speaking of Sir John, I remember years ago, when he came from North
Ontario to Whitby during a campaign, and regaled himself, as was the
custom of those days, with a drink at the bar of Jake Bryan’s hotel. The
crowd naturally joined in the “refresher,” and as Sir John—(he was then
only John A.)—lifted his glass, a friend drew his attention to the fact
that there was a fly in his grog.
“That’s all right,” he quickly replied. “It’s meat as well as drink, and
I’m hungry.”
That caught the crowd, and the remark spread far and wide. The Tory
majority in Whitby was never so large as it was in that election.
The Old War Horse From Cumberland.
Sir Charles Tupper was really the fighting man of the Conservative party
in those days, and he dearly loved a scrap. His command of the English
language was complete, and his declamation was powerful. A good field
day by Sir Charles in the House gave you something to see and hear. He
was outspoken even to friends. When some Portage la Prairie supporters,
who were dissatisfied with something or other he had done, wired him
from Manitoba that they could not see their way to support him in this
particular measure, they received a curt message in reply which read:
“You had better vote Grit.”
The Portage people went home, but did not vote that way at the next
election. During the campaign of 1900, when Sir Charles had came over to
rehabilitate the disorganized Conservative party, I happened to be on
the C.P.R. train which was taking him to Nova Scotia. Visiting his
private car, I found him resting in bed. I remarked in course of
conversation, “I suppose you are going back to Cape Breton.” He was a
candidate there.
“No, no,” he said. “I am going to Western Nova Scotia to help our
friends there.” And then he told me he could be elected by acclamation
in Cape Breton if he would consent to let Alex Johnston, recently Deputy
Minister of Marine and Fisheries, and a strong Liberal, be his fellow
member. This was offered him by those who controlled the political
situation on the other side.
“But,” said Sir Charles, “I absolutely refused the offer, and told them
it would be either two Conservatives or two Liberals; besides, as leader
of my party, I could not show such an example to my loyal followers. We
must sink or swim together. If we win and I should lose in Cape Breton,
another seat can easily be found for me; if we are beaten, there are
others to take up the fight,” The old Cumberland war-horse was game to
the last.
Sir Hibbert Tupper, his son, was also a fighter of the first rank, but
when the Bowell Government was disrupted he was among the first to
return when peace was declared, and announced his entry into the Council
Chamber with, “The cat’s come back!” which was a slang phrase of those
days.
Sir John’s Trusted Lieutenant.
Sir John’s most trusted lieutenant for years was Hon. John Henry Pope,
of Compton, father of Senator Rufus Pope. “John Henry,” as he was
familiarly called, had all the shrewdness and foresight of the
statesman, and materially assisted in directing the policy of the party.
He was not a polished or verbose speaker, but when he spoke the few
words he uttered always meant something. Once when fiercely attacked by
Sir Richard Cartwright in the House, he made the shortest but most
effective speech ever delivered in the Green Chamber. When Sir Richard
had taken his seat amidst the loud applause of his followers, Mr. Pope
slowly rose and quaintly said: “Mr. Speaker, there ain’t nothin’ to it.”
The House cheered wildly, and Sir Richard warmly joined in the
expressions of admiration. That ended the discussion.
* * * * *
I recall that Bob White, one of the active members of the Parliamentary
Press Gallery, and one time member for Cardwell, got off a joke at Mr.
Pope’s expense about this time. In those days tolls were charged on the
St. Lawrence Canal System. A strong deputation came down from the
Niagara Peninsula in the month of October to ask that the Welland Canal
tolls be lifted for the balance of the season, but “John Henry” was
obdurate. There was to be no change in the Government’s policy so far as
he was concerned. Mr. White was present when the deputation was
presenting its case, and when they went away after receiving the
Minister’s answer, Bob, sitting in his place in the Press Gallery, sent
a note to the Minister of Railways and Canals to the following effect:—
“In connection with the Welland Canal deputation, how would it
do to remove the tolls from December to April?” (when the canal
is closed.)
The old man missed the point of the joke and solemnly wrote back to
Bob:—
“I see no reason to change the view which I expressed to the
deputation.”
Laurier’s Magnetic Personality.
Sir Wilfred, then Mr. Laurier, in his early fifties was one of the
outstanding figures of the House. His commanding presence, whether in
Parliament or in the lobbies, or on the streets of Ottawa, irresistibly
attracted the stranger. I well remember his great speech in the Riel
Debate of 1886. While I did not agree with Mr. Laurier’s views, yet on
re-reading that speech I am bound to say that I agree with what a
distinguished publicist has stated: that his address was one of the most
brilliant ever delivered in Canada’s legislative halls. As an example of
pure eloquence it cannot be excelled.
Two Tom Whites.
There have been two Thomas Whites in the House, and both of them
distinguished members. It is not of the later meteoric Sir Thomas White,
who did such great work in finance during the war that I am writing, but
Hon. Thomas White, of the Montreal _Gazette_, who represented, as later
did his son, Robert S., the Ontario constituency of Cardwell, now merged
into Dufferin. In 1885, he entered Sir John Macdonald’s Cabinet as
Minister of the Interior, and his excellent administration of the
affairs of that department brought him many friends among staunch
Liberals. He was frank and outspoken in his words, and while he
displeased many westerners by openly telling them that they were
spoon-fed, his honest and courageous course in dealing with intricate
western matters won their admiration. He was a pleasing and convincing
speaker and had always a full grasp of his subject. When he passed away,
Canada lost a great statesman.
It was in July, 1886, that he visited the Pacific Coast, and one day in
Vancouver, he accosted me with, “Oh, George, I am going over to Port
Moody (then the western terminus of the C.P.R.) to meet the mayor and
citizens. Come along.” When we reached Port Moody there was a
goodly-sized crowd who enthusiastically welcomed Mr. White. Mayor Scott,
togged out in his Sunday best, proceeded to read the usual address, and
when he had finished reading it, he turned to Mr. White and remarked,
“Mr. White, you will excuse this short but brief address.”
Of course a lot of us couldn’t help but snicker, but Mr. White, with a
suppressed smile on his beaming countenance, never blinked an eye-lash,
and made a happy reply, which was received with such loud applause that
he had time to laugh all by himself.
A Few Veterans.
Another veteran was Sir Mackenzie Bowell, that grand old man whom
everybody liked. He entered the House in 1867 and continuously sat for
Hastings until he was elevated to the Senate, became Premier, and was in
harness until called away by death at a ripe old age. He was genial and
kindly and had a host of friends, amongst whom he counted many Roman
Catholics, although at one time he was Grand Master of the Orange Lodge
of Canada.
Sir Mackenzie was publisher of the Belleville _Intelligencer_, now
successfully carried on by his son, Charlie. In the early ’90’s, he took
a trip over the Intercolonial in a private car, and I happened to meet
him at Truro, N.S. He complained of the lack of newspapers, and I asked
him if he would like a copy of the _Intelligencer_ of the previous day’s
date. He expressed his great delight at the possibility of getting a
real live newspaper, and with due gravity, I handed out a copy of the
“yesterday” _Intelligencer_—only it had been printed twenty odd years
before. I had found it amongst some old papers that had been sent me,
but Sir Mackenzie read it with great interest.
John McMillan, who represented South Huron for many years, was born in
Dumfriesshire, Scotland. Although he came to Canada as a lad the Doric
was always on his tongue, possibly due to the fact that he had settled
in the essentially Scotch section of Ontario. He was a first-class
farmer and stock raiser and attained affluence through his activity in
the export cattle industry, of which he was one of the pioneers.
Pressure of Parliamentary duties, and stalwart sons grown to manhood,
induced him to pass over the export cattle trade to the latter, with the
result that John did not make as frequent trips across the Atlantic as
in the earlier days of the industry. After a lapse of 15 years Mr.
McMillan made what proved to be his last journey to the Old Land, and
told the story of his visit to Dumfriesshire to Mrs. Sedgwick, wife of
Mr. Justice Sedgwick, the following session. This was the only social
call he made during the Parliamentary term. In Mrs. Sedgwick he found a
lady who sympathized with Scotland, which meant everything to John. In
her genial way over a cup of tea one afternoon, she asked Mr. McMillan
if he had found many changes in the Old Land on his recent visit. “Aye,”
he answered, “I foond that mony of my auld freends had passed awa’.”
“And those whom you met and told about Canada, what astonished them
most?”
“Aweel, Mistress Sedgwick, I am boond to say that they were vera mooch
surpreezed at mah Amurican occent.”
After John McMillan passed out of Parliament the recollection of his
genial presence and kindly nature lingered long with those who knew him.
The Jims.
As some dyed-in-the-wool Grits liked some double-dyed Tories, on the
other hand there were Opposition members who were liked personally by
their opponents. James Trow, of South Perth, was one of them. He could
have had a portfolio in Sir John’s Cabinet had he wished, and had there
been room. While he was a staunch Liberal he was moderate in his views,
and personally very agreeable. My old friend, Jim Trow, was one whom to
know was to honor and respect for his many kind qualities of head and
heart. Mr. Trow was a frequent visitor to the Northwest in the early
days, and he was the champion of that country on the Liberal side when
eastern men were cold and critical. The Opposition in Parliament at that
time was wonderfully well supplied with “Jims” of whom Mr. Trow was one.
In addition to Jim Trow, it could boast Jim Somerville, Jim Rowand, Jim
McMullen, Jim Lister, Jim O’Brien, Jim Armstrong, Jim Edgar, Jim
Livingston, Jim Innes, Jim Platt, Jim Yeo, and Jim Sutherland.
There was no better liked man in the House than the last of the “Jims” I
have mentioned—Jim Sutherland, of Woodstock, Ontario, the chief Liberal
whip and afterwards Minister of Public Works in the Laurier
administration. He was a Grit, first, last and all the time. But he had
lots of friends among the Tories, and I was one of them. To show his
kindness to me, he one day led me into his private office and told me he
wanted to enrich my library with one of the greatest volumes that had
ever been printed. Thereupon he ostentatiously presented me with that
beautiful little red covered book which contained the Liberal platform
of 1893, with a full and presumably accurate account of the proceedings
of the Liberal convention of that year. Gratitude was fully expressed by
me, and I treasured the valued volume. Later on, Ned Clarke, the member
for West Toronto, and ex-Mayor of the city, came to me and begged me to
give it to him. Imagining I could replace it I gave it to him. Several
months afterwards I met Jim and told him Ned Clarke had swiped my
precious present and asked for another copy. By this time, as many will
remember, the platform had been pretty well shot to pieces. Jim
expressed his deep regret at my loss of the pamphlet, and told me that
the party had a family gathering a few nights previously and had
celebrated the event with a bonfire for which the red covered books
furnished the fuel. It is impossible to beg, borrow or steal a copy of
his famous work that the unregenerate Tories declared rare fiction, and
that is why my library is not complete today. When the Liberal Committee
met in Ottawa in 1919 to make arrangements for their convention the only
copy available was one borrowed from a former Conservative newspaperman.
A Soured Senator
While in the House members on both sides were, as a rule, kindly
disposed toward their opponents, the same conditions were not general in
the Senate.
* * * * *
Among the Senators was George Alexander from Western Ontario, an old
Conservative who left the party for some real or fancied grievance. He
had a special antipathy to Sir David Macpherson, who was at one time
Speaker of the Senate and at another a member of the Macdonald Cabinet.
In the corridors of the Senate Chamber were oil portraits of past
Speakers, some living, some no more, and all of a uniform cabinet size.
When Sir David Macpherson’s portrait was added to the collection it was
a full length picture and about twice the size of the others. Senator
Alexander, who everlastingly took me for T. P. Gorman, the _Globe_
correspondent, and was always giving me pointers which the _Globe_ did
not print, and giving Gorman fits because they were not printed by the
_Globe_, pointed out to me one day the traits and peculiarities of the
statesmen who had been reproduced in oil. All went well until we reached
the outstanding full-length portrait of Sir David. “That, that,” he
muttered in tones of disgust, “that—why you could cut that picture in
two and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference which half you took
away.” And the irate old gentleman snorted vindictively and went off as
mad as a wet hen.
Familiar Faces in the Old Days.
Among the leading men in the House was Sir George Kirkpatrick, an ideal
Speaker of the Commons. He was the son-in-law of Sir David Macpherson,
the _bete noir_ of Senator Alexander. In one of the earlier sessions Sir
George presided over the Commons while his father-in-law-to-be was
Speaker of the Senate.
* * * * *
A conspicuous figure was the energetic and much-loved member from
Hamilton, Adam Brown. Mr. Brown had been prominent in public affairs
before entering Parliament and was one of the many fathers of the N.P.
The members of the Press Gallery had no better friend. Mr. Brown is one
of the few survivors of that Parliamentary period, and was actively
serving as postmaster of Hamilton until recently, when he retired. Born
in 1826, he is now 95, and his friends are wishing him many more happy
years.
* * * * *
Dr. George Landerkin, of Grey, was one of the wits of the House. He had
many bouts with Nicholas Flood Davin, but Davin was the more expert in
the use of language. He was also quick at repartee; as for example, when
Jim McMullen, irritated by some of his remarks, interrupted him to say
that he had rooms to let in his upper story, he quietly replied, “So
have you; but mine are furnished.” Jim McMullen, a very hard-working
member, was known as the “Tall Sycamore from Mount Forest.” His
specialty was the scrutiny of the minor expenditures. His enemies used
to say that his visits to Rideau Hall were improved by a stocktaking of
the spoons with a view to discovering whether or not there was
extravagance in viceregal circles. But this was an unkind reflection
upon his public services which were useful in that they helped to keep
expenditures down. A member with whom he often came into conflict was
Samuel R. Hesson, from Perth. Mr. Hesson was very much in earnest as a
public man—not a bad fault—and was so demonstrative that he could not
refrain during the heated party debates from expressing his disapproval
with the aid of the lid of his desk, or his approval by loud shouts of
approval. A neighbor of Mr. Hesson’s was Jean Baptiste Morin, the short
and rotund French-Canadian from Dorchester, Que. Jean Baptiste was
always elected by large majorities, but he denied ever having purchased
a vote. He explained, however, that he always had a fine imported bull
on his farm, and when an election was expected he got another. It is
hardly necessary to say that his was a thoroughly agricultural
constituency.
* * * * *
One of the promising Liberal members was George Casey, from Elgin. It
was sometimes said that he spoke too frequently. But he was well
informed. His chief end in political life was to accomplish Civil
Service reform. Curiously enough, when his constituents listened to
other voices he reformed the Civil Service by entering it. He dearly
enjoyed a fight with Dr. Sproule of Grey. The Doctor was none too
mindful of the rules of debate, and was often called to order. For this
reason, his election to the office of Speaker, to enforce the rules of
order, when the Conservatives got back to power in 1911, was an unusual
example of the unexpected. But he was a good Speaker.
Then there was Sir George Foster, from Kings, N.B., who is still in
harness, and after nearly forty years’ service delivered a magnificent
speech in the House last year with all the vigor and eloquence of his
early days. By the way, Sir George, like a good old scout, has surprised
the boys by again jumping the broomstick—the bride being Miss Jessie
Allen, who is a lady of high attainments.
Others were J. G. H. Bergeron, the boy orator of Beauharnois, Sir John
Macdonald’s special pet, who died while postmaster of Montreal; Dalton
McCarthy, from Simcoe, who broke away from his party on the Manitoba
School question, an able lawyer, who was the father of the McCarthy
liquor license act, which was declared _ultra vires_ a week after it
came into operation; Hon. Edward Dewdney, a member of the Government,
who chose Pile-of-Bones Creek, on the wide, treeless prairie, as the
capital of the Northwest Territories, and named it Regina; Hon. Sidney
Fisher, from Brome, a gentleman farmer, who was Minister of Agriculture
in the Laurier Administration; Walter Shanly from Grenville, a great
engineer, who built in the wonderful Hoosac tunnel, and who was a warm
friend of my father and myself; Pat Purcell, from Glengarry, whose body
was stolen by ghouls from a vault east of Cornwall and was recovered
near Stanley Island, the grave robbers being sorely disappointed in not
securing the blackmail they expected for its return; Hon. J. C.
Patterson, who afterwards became Lieut-Governor of Manitoba; Harry Ward,
of Port Hope—“Handsome Harry,” he was called—one of the most popular
members of his time; Hon. Desire Girouard, of Jacques Cartier, who
defeated that strong fighting Liberal, Hon. R. Laflamme, and who retired
from politics to take a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court of
Canada. Mr. Justice Girouard was the author of a most interesting book,
“Lake St. Louis and the Parishes Around,” which is a historical work of
great value; “Bob” Watson, from Marquette, now Senator Watson, who had
the distinction for years of being the only Liberal from west of the
Great Lakes; Joe Kinney, who was the only Conservative elected in
Yarmouth in forty-four years; Hon. J. J. Curran, afterwards Judge
Curran, who could sit up later hours, sing “Old King Cole” more
acceptably, and be brighter next morning with nothing stronger than
ginger ale as a stimulant than any other person I ever knew; M. H. Gault
was also a distinguished member of the House; James Innis, from South
Wellington, one of the old stock, whose paper, the Guelph _Mercury_, is
still prospering under the guidance of his nephew, Innis McIntosh; John
Charlton, of North Norfolk, who was one of the big guns and most
effective speakers of the Liberal party; Capt. Walsh, from Prince Edward
Island, whose hospitality was unbounded, and who told the Minister of
Customs, whom he was entertaining at his residence with a lot of the
rest of us, that his liquor had never passed through the gauger’s hands.
A blue flag off the mouth of Montague River showed an excellent fishing
spot, and by pulling up the flag up would come a keg of rare old
vintage. Dr. Jenkins was another Prince Edward Islander, whom it was a
delight to know, and who was a high class physician. At any rate he
cured a gnarled muscle in my left hand by giving it a quick, smashing
blow, the operation taking place on the front street of Charlottetown.
“Doc” Jenkins was a brawny athlete in his younger days. While in the
House he always captained the Parliamentary cricket team which annually
tried conclusions with the Press Gallery. I recall an amusing incident
which happened one Saturday just before the annual match commenced.
There was a great crowd of spectators and it was difficult to keep them
off the field of play. Mr. Kimber, the little gentleman usher of the
Black Rod, who thought he owned the Parliament buildings, strenuously
resented being ordered behind the ropes and the crowd of onlookers
greatly enjoyed the polite but forcible way in which Dr. Jenkins
enforced the rules against the irate little gentleman. Then there was S.
J. Dawson, “Smooth Bore” Dawson, they called him, for the quiet
slickness of his speech, who was the builder of the Dawson Road, which
first opened the way from the head of Lake Superior through hundreds of
miles of wilderness to the Red River. There was also J. Israel Tarte,
who, when a Conservative, was defeated in Quebec, if I remember aright,
by his Liberal opponents scattering thousands of his photographs with
him wearing a masonic apron. One of Mr. Tarte’s trite sayings was, when
accused of corrupting a constituency, “Elections are not won with
prayers.”
The Social Side of the House.
Parliament has its social side, and I found in the years I was at Ottawa
that friendships did not respect party lines there, as was commonly
supposed. The case of David Mills and Sir John Macdonald, already
mentioned, is on illustration. There we had a repetition of the story of
David and “John-A-than.” Sir John loved to hear David hold forth on
constitutional questions and would listen to him by the hour, although
he once called him “a mass of undigested information.” Often the two
would talk matters over sitting side by side in the House, and it was an
open secret that the Honorable David might have had a portfolio in Sir
John’s cabinet any time he desired.
One of the men who helped personal friendships in a very practical
manner was Alonzo Wright, known to the House, if not to the country, as
the “King of the Gatineau.” Alonzo was comfortably situated so far as
this world’s goods are concerned. He was descended from the first owner
of the site of the city of Hull, and he had married the granddaughter of
the first owner of the site of the city of Ottawa. At his fine estate at
Ironsides up the Gatineau River, he gathered every Saturday members of
Parliament from both sides of the House. He was a veritable John Bull in
personal appearance, and his hospitality was of the John Bull kind.
Party bitterness gave way in the presence of the “King of the Gatineau,”
and many a politician found that the member on the opposite side of whom
at first he did not think much was not such a bad fellow after all.
The rumor was current that it was here that Sir Adolphe Caron and Sir
William Mulock formed their interesting friendship. Sir Adolphe was
Minister of Militia, and Sir William was the Opposition critic of the
Militia Department. When the Militia vote was coming up in Supply,
Minister and critic would sometimes dine together before settling down
to the hard hitting. Sir John Macdonald, by the way, had a good opinion
of Sir William, and is credited with having said that if he were only
ten years younger he “would get Bill over to the Tory side.” This was
about the time when Mr. Mulock was restive under the interpretation put
upon the party policy of unrestricted reciprocity, and had moved his
resolution affirming the loyalty of the people of Canada to the Throne.
Sir John had his Saturday night dinners at which politicians of both
sides figured. These he held up to the day before the fatal stroke which
carried him off. It was at the last dinner he gave that he got off the
Chinaman’s description of the electric street car, to the discomfiture
of the ladies present. Everybody knows it—“got no horsee; got no
steamee; goes like hellee.” It must not be supposed from this that Sir
John indulged in extreme language. Far from it. If he made use of an
expression that was slightly out of the ordinary, it was in a tone of
humorous reluctance.
Within the precincts of the House the members were given to entertaining
one another. D. W. Davis from Stand Off in the wild and wooly west, was
especially valuable in this connection. When the Mounted Police in 1874
first arrived in the far west and expected to be met by a gang of
desperadoes, they found D. W., a trusted official of the big firm of I.
G. Baker & Co., behind the counter of the store in his shirt sleeves,
unconcernedly smoking a cigar and when they made known their mission,
pleasantly bid them search the place for liquor, which they unavailingly
did—but it was there all the same. Coming from the west he knew the
Indian down to the ground, and he used to delight the members at their
sing-songs with imitations of the Indian dance interlarded with
war-whoops that threatened to disturb the cogitations of the more sedate
statesmen who were arguing or sleeping in the Commons chamber.
Sleeping! Well, they were not likely to be sleeping if William Paterson,
of Brant, familiarly known as “Billy Paterson,” after the man who was
struck by some unknown person, had the floor. Mr. Paterson was the
possessor of the most thunderous voice in Parliament. It used to be said
that he could be heard away down in the Rideau Club. One of Dr.
Landerkin’s jokes at the expense of a new member was to arouse his
interest in Mr. Paterson’s eloquence, and then advise him to occupy the
seat immediately in front of Mr. Paterson, so that he could hear him
well because he had such a poor voice. The newcomer usually fell for
this, with the result that when Mr. Paterson was going under a full head
of steam, the new arrival had to slink away in order to protect his ear
drums. All the House watched the “freshie” as he selected his “good
seat” in front of the orator, and loud was the laughter when, after a
few vocal blasts from Billy Paterson, the astonished listener beat a
hasty retreat.
“Billy” after being a Minister for some years decided to give a dinner
to his Parliamentary friends of both Houses. The list was so lengthy
that instead of one function there had to be two. By the “old-timers”
they were acknowledged to have been the liveliest gatherings ever held
in the old Parliamentary restaurant presided over by Sam Barnett. Mr.
Paterson stipulated to “Jim” Sutherland, who was making the arrangements
for him, that the dinner should be conducted on strictly temperance
principles, but someone must have given Sam Barnett the wink. Scotch and
rye were supplied in ginger ale bottles and within an hour there was
more hilarity than one finds at ten ordinary banquets. Mr. Paterson was
greatly pleased at the success of the function and remarked to Sir
Richard Cartwright, who was sitting next to him at the first dinner:
“Cartwright, I have always said you could get as much, or more, fun out
of a temperance dinner than one where liquor is served; you have a
demonstration of it to-night.” Sir Richard, who was wise to what was
going on, smilingly acquiesced in the remark but refrained from
enlightening his host. To the day of his death, Mr. Paterson never knew
of the arrangements that Jim Sutherland and Bill Galliher had made to
make the banquets a howling success.
Not Good Mixers.
Two members of the House, Hon. Edward Blake and Sir Richard Cartwright,
were not “good mixers.” It is said of the former that when friend
remonstrated with him for his chilliness towards his supporters and
advised him to be more chummy with them, he asked what he was to do.
“Why, be more sociable and crack a joke or two with them.” “How do you
mean?” enquired Blake. “Well, for instance, it’s snowing out now, and if
someone should pass a remark on the weather, you say ‘Oh, it’s snow
matter.’ ” And sure enough a few days later a good Grit follower
overtaking the Honorable Edward on the broad walk remarked that it had
been snowing hard. Mr. Blake, suddenly remembering the pointer he had
received about cracking a joke, but having forgotten the cue, promptly
replied, “Oh, it’s quite immaterial.” Mr. Blake was a great lawyer—a
much greater lawyer than he was a politician.
When Hansard “Mixed” Metaphors.
Sir Richard was a past-master of the art of invective; a scholarly
speaker, his English was perfect, and he could flay a political opponent
in five minutes by the clock. He also had a grim sense of humor, and
when he spoke one day of “having dipped into the political Styx,” and it
appeared in the unrevised edition of _Hansard_ as “having dipped into
the political Stinks,” he laughed as immoderately as he did when in
another speech he referred to “the ancient Themistocles,” which
_Hansard_ transformed into “The ancient Peter Mitchell,” who had just
previously passed away. He was a Tory of the old school until Sir
Francis Hincks was appointed Finance Minister instead of another person
whom he thought was better qualified for the position. A scholarly
speaker and a deep thinker, his disposition was vitriolic. The second
volume of his _Memoirs_ was never printed for obvious reasons. Sir
Richard was a constant sufferer from rheumatism which doubtless warped
his disposition and made his utterances so bitter.
Some of the Other Good Fellows.
It is difficult to remember all the good fellows and their peculiarities
at this length of time but I can recall handsome Hon. J. D. Hazen, Mr.
C. N. Skinner, Major-General Hugh H. McLean and Hon. John Costigan from
New Brunswick, who were popular on both sides of the House. Sir Douglas
Hazen was afterwards premier of his native province, and now is
ornamenting the bench; Sir Clifford Sifton, who inaugurated the first
real immigration policy; Captain J. B. Labelle, from Richelieu,
commander of the R. & O. steamer, _Montreal_, was a social lion and one
of the best dressed men in the House. His son is General Labelle, of the
Montreal Harbor Commission. Sir Adolphe Chapleau ranked among the most
brilliant orators of that day, and Honorable C. C. Colby, of Stanstead,
was one of the ablest lawyers in the House and personally was very
popular, as was Donald MacMaster, now Sir Donald, a distinguished member
of the British House of Commons. Then there were good old Billy Smith
from South Ontario, still in the Parliamentary pink; George Guillet,
from Northumberland, Ontario; Peter Mitchell, from Northumberland, N.B.;
Colonel Tisdale, from South Norfolk; Dr. Ferguson, from Welland; Fred
Hale, from Carleton, N.B.; J. A. Mara, James Reid, Thomas Earle, E. Crow
Baker, who recently passed away, and the late E. G. Prior, recently
Lt.-Gov. of British Columbia, from which Province they all came; Mahlon
Cowan, the fighting man from Essex, Ont.; David Henderson of Halton; W.
C. Edwards, from Russell, the real old genuine free trader of the house;
Uriah Wilson, from Lennox, a member of high standing; Hon. John Haggart
and Dr. Montague, he of the silver tongue, who were bosom friends, the
latter coming to a tragic end in Winnipeg; George Taylor, the Tory whip
from Gananoque; Josiah Wood, from Westmoreland, who owns a railway, was
afterwards Lieutenant-Governor of New Brunswick and is father-in-law of
Eddie Nichols, the newspaperman, of Winnipeg. A. W. Ross, the real
estate boss, and W. F. McCreary from Manitoba; Hon. Tom Daly from
Brandon, who, like his father, was a broth of a boy; Senator J. B.
Plumb, from Niagara, a royal entertainer when Speaker of the Senate;
Hon. John Carling, whose election contests with his brother-in-law in
London were as fierce as any in the whole Dominion; big Duncan C.
Fraser, the giant from Nova Scotia, who like A. G. Jones, another Nova
Scotian member, who was charged with having said, “Haul down the flag”
at Confederation, filled the position of Lieutenant-Governor of that
Province; John V. Ellis from St. John, one of the ablest members of the
House, whose newspaper, the _Globe_, still flourishes under the
management of his son Frank; G. R. R. Cockburn, from Toronto, a fine
type of an Old Country gentleman; Hon. Mr. Prefontaine, mayor of
Montreal, who died in England; Jacques Bureau, whose life is devoted to
politics and mirth and Ernest Lapointe; Billy Northrup, of Hastings,
(now clerk of the House) a fighter from ’way back, like Billy Bennett of
Simcoe; H. H. Cook—“I bet you Cook”—who claimed a toll of $10,000 was
demanded of him to obtain a senatorship, which caused him to retire from
his party of which he had previously been a staunch supporter.
* * * * *
Who could ever forget Major Tom Beatty, of London, whose death left a
great blank that would be difficult to fill? Or Clarke Wallace, from
York, as genial a soul as ever lived, whose successor in the House was
his good-natured son, the late Capt. Tom? And there was Senator John
Yeo, from Prince Edward Island, who for sixty-two years continuously has
been a member either of the Legislature of the Island, or of the Commons
or Senate of Canada. Then there was Dr. Platt, of Kingston, who was
afterwards warden of the Portsmouth penitentiary, and declared that,
owing to his official duties, he was the “closest confined person in the
pen.” And Jim Metcalfe, who was a dead game sport of the political kind,
came from Kingston too; and what shall I say of Hon. W. S. Fielding, the
father of reciprocity, still an active member of the House? Or of Hon.
James Domville, a meteoric member, still in active life in the Senate;
of Kennedy Burns, of Gloucester, who owned the Caraquet Railway, that
runs from Bathurst to Shippegan; of Dr. Reid, from Grenville, now
Minister of Railways; of John F. Stairs and Thos. E. Kenny, of Halifax,
the latter a West Indian merchant; of Harry Corby, from Belleville, who
had no personal enemies; of Senator Billy Gibson from Lincoln; of poor
George Moffatt of Restigouche, who at a convivial banquet where
everything was Irish—tobacco, pipes, whiskey, potatoes and all—a
little affair given by A. W. Ross, M.P. for Selkirk—entrusted me with
an envelope to keep for him, in which was a draft for £5,000
sterling—George was always for “Safety first,” and he knew I would keep
sober if anybody could; of W. G. Perley, father of Sir George Perley,
Canada’s High Commissioner at London; of dear old Alex. McLaren, the
Cheese King, and Rufus Stephenson from Kent, of Sir Louis Davies, now
Chief Justice of Canada, who made rip-roaring speeches, and Al. Lefurgey
and Donald Nicholson and Mr. McLean, from “The Island”, of Col. Owney
Talbot from down Quebec way; of Alex. McKay, Adam Brown’s running mate
from Hamilton, and wee Johnny Small, Toronto’s pet; of George W. Ganong,
the Chocolate King from Charlotte, N.B., who was as sweet as his
chocolates; of Henry Cargill and John Tolmie, two dear old friends from
Bruce? And we all reverently doff our hats to that able statesman, Sir
John Thompson, the only Conservative ever elected in Antigonish, who
safely piloted the ship of state through troubled waters, and died a
tragic death at Windsor Castle; and to Hon. J. J. C. Abbott, who
controlled the destinies of Canada when rare statesmanship was needed.
Mr. Abbott was one of the ablest lawyers that ever sat in the House, and
to him was entrusted the preparation of the contract with the Canadian
Pacific Railway Co., the consummation of which has been of the greatest
value to the Dominion.
Memory also recalls the gallant Col. Williams, of Port Hope, who gave up
his life on the banks of the Saskatchewan from fever in 1885; Big Rory
Maclennan, the contractor, one of the world’s greatest athletes, Darby
Bergin of Cornwall, John Moncrieff, of Simcoe, J. D. Edgar, of Toronto,
Geo. H. Macdonnell, of Algoma, John White, of East Hastings, who, when
fiercely attacked by Edward Blake, floored that gentleman completely by
recalling how when the great Liberal leader had arrived at Quebec from
an ocean voyage so engrossed was he in his political affairs that he
left his poor wife to the tender mercies of his political opponent and
that he had to neglect his own business to look after her. He also
recalled a pathetic incident of the ocean trip when the Honorable Edward
was leaning heavily over the taffrail of the ship, paying his devotions
to Neptune, that he, John White, offered consolation and encouragement
by timely advising him: “Let her go, my boy, let her go, there’s lots of
room.” And base ingratitude was the return for his kindness.
Some Well-known Members.
Although I left the Press Gallery in the early 90’s my connection with
it did not entirely cease, and I was frequently a visitor within its
sacred precincts, and so, as new members came in, new friends were made.
To mention them all would be impossible, but I remember kindly Hon.
Rodolphe Lemieux, one of the best speakers on the Liberal side; Hon.
Hugh Clarke, the inimitable wit from Kincardine, whose Scotch humor was
infectious; Ed. Lewis, from Huron, who was eternally initiating new
legislation; Clarence Jameson, from Digby, who could imitate Sir Robert
Borden better than Sir Robert could himself; Billy Weichel from
Kitchener, who was afterwards defeated because he wasn’t German enough
for his constituents; A. C. Boyce, the bright boy from the Soo; Sir
George Perley, from Argenteuil, who did great service for Canada in
London during the war; J. G. Turriff, from Assiniboia, who afterwards
became a Senator; Dr. Cash, from Qu’Appelle; Lloyd Harris and W. F.
Cockshutt, from Brantford, two very prominent members; Col. Geo. H.
Baker, from Brome, who gave up his life in the Great War; John Tolmie,
from Bruce; Luggy McCarthy, R. B. Bennett and John Herron, amongst the
brightest from the west; John Stanfield, the Government whip from Truro,
and now a senator, and F. B. McCurdy, now a member of the Government;
Billy Sloan and Herb. Clements, two genial gentlemen from Comox,
Alberni; Speaker Rhodes and Hance Logan from Cumberland, N.S.; Theodore
Burrows, an old friend from Dauphin, Manitoba; Andy Broder, the David
Harum of the House from Dundas; A. B. Ingram and David Marshall from
East Elgin, and Tom Crothers, afterwards Minister of Labor, from West
Elgin; R. F. Sutherland, now Justice Sutherland, who is an ornament to
the bench, and my old friend, Wm. McGregor, both from South Essex; the
redoubtable Jim Conmee and his successor, J. J. Carrick, from Thunder
Bay; A. B. Crosby, the late Senator, from Halifax, as was the late
lamented Senator Dennis; Gus Porter from Hastings. Then there were my
old friends Senator John Fisher, who defeated Billy Paterson; Wm. Harty,
from Kingston; Fred Pardee, the genial Liberal whip from Lambton; Billy
Buchanan, of Lethbridge; Bob McPherson from Vancouver; R. L. Richardson,
of Lisgar, and Dr. Rutherford of Macdonald, Manitoba, who is efficient
as a railway commissioner and proficient in the art of anecdotal
side-splitters in the Scotch vernacular. There was also the fighting
Liberal trio from the Maritime Provinces—William Pugsley, Ed. Macdonald
and Frank Carvell. Then there was D. A. Macdowell and Tom Davis from
Saskatchewan, Walter Scott and W. D. Perley from Assiniboia; Simon Cimon
from Charlebois, and Hugh John Macdonald (now Sir Hugh), son of the
chieftain, was as popular a member as ever sat in the House.
And who can forget Sam Hughes (now Sir Sam, but the same old Sam) who
first came to the House in 1892? He was very vigorous and aggressive,
and abuse him as you will, everybody will acknowledge that his feat of
sending 33,000 well-equipped stalwart Canadian troops across the sea in
two months was something few men could accomplish—and none other did.
For over half-a-century, the Parliament of the Dominion of Canada has
existed. It will continue indefinitely, and while there may be carping
criticism and factious condemnation of the powers that be, the average
thoughtful citizen will credit the great majority of its members with
being honestly endeavoring to legislate in what they conscientiously
believe to be the best interests of the whole country.
Appointing a Governor.
If Warwick was a King Maker, I couldn’t say that while I didn’t aspire
to be his rival, I wasn’t in his class. At any rate, I was the humble
means of aiding in appointing Senator John Schultz to the
Lieutenant-Governorship of Manitoba. I was in the Ottawa Press Gallery
at the time, and in the course of my reportorial duties frequently met
the Senator. One day, the question of the Governorship of Manitoba
incidentally came up between us. This position had always been held by
an eastern man, and of all the names mentioned as a possible appointee,
none could be proved to be acceptable to the Manitobans, and this phase
of the question arose.
“Why don’t you take it yourself, Senator?” I suggested.
“Haven’t a chance,” he replied.
“Not now, perhaps, but if you’ll accept it, wait till to-morrow.”
I knew that the Governorship was the Senator’s ambition, so when I
reached the Press Gallery I told the boys that “Senator Schultz’s
appointment to the Manitoba governorship was being favorably
considered.” This was sent off to the different newspapers with a little
stronger one to the Winnipeg _Free Press_, which had all along been
antagonistic to the Senator, and it came out with a corking editorial in
his favor. That settled it. The Conservative Government feared the
Liberal _Free Press_ more than any other western paper and the
appointment was shortly afterwards made.
It was nothing but the solemn truth I told the press boys about the
Senator’s elevation to the Governorship being favourably considered.
Both he and I were favourably considering it, weren’t we?
“Some One Blundered.”
Apropos of the unrestricted reciprocity proposal introduced by Sir
Richard Cartwright in 1888 it is interesting to recall the fact that
reply to Sir Richard—the first speech in criticism of the reciprocity
project—was delivered by Robert S. White, then, as now, editor in chief
of the Montreal _Gazette_. “Bob” White was but a lad in those days, and
had just succeeded his father as member for Cardwell. His speech, coming
immediately after Sir Richard had concluded, was brimful of information
regarding the trade of the country, and became the basis of the
anti-reciprocity argument of later days.
While personal friendship refused to observe party lines, personal
dislike often manifested itself among men who on the surface were
political friends. Edward Blake and Sir Richard Cartwright, for
instance, as has already been mentioned, were not at all friendly. Mr.
Blake did not like Sir Richard’s unrestricted reciprocity proposition,
and Sir Richard thought Mr. Blake overdid it when he made his great
attack upon the Orange Bill on March 17. This Orange question, by the
way, was a thorn in the side to more persons than one. Mr. McMullen
found it to be such in his case during a bye-election in Wellington. On
his way to the village in which he was to speak, a scoundrel told him he
was going into quite a Catholic settlement. So he thought he would
improve the opportunity thus presented to him to win a few votes by
dwelling upon the attitude of the party towards the Orangemen. He had
not gone far when he experienced a decided coolness on the part of the
audience, following which there was an uproar which convinced him that
“some one had blundered.”
On the Government side also there were divisions which threatened the
party. Dalton McCarthy was forming his group which developed into the
element that made it impossible for Sir Charles Tupper to go on with the
Manitoba School bill in 1896. It was thought at the time that McCarthy
was disgruntled because Sir John Thompson had been brought in over his
head as Minister of Justice. That is merely what Dame Rumor said. Then,
while the English-speaking section of the Conservative party was up
against a possible division, the French section was not happy. The
Chapleau wing was dissatisfied with the leadership of Sir Hector
Langevin, and the long reign of that statesman was coming to an end.
Everything seemed to be moving in the last session I was at Ottawa
towards readjustment. And within a year the readjustment came. Sir John
Macdonald died, in the middle of the following session, and Sir Hector
went out as a result of a scandal.
The Wrong Hat.
Two bosom friends were Messrs. H. McMillan, of Vaudreuil, and J. C.
Wilson, the paper manufacturer, who represented Argenteuil. They were a
second edition of Damon and Pythias, the only difference being that
these Canadians always wore shiny plug hats and D. and P. didn’t. But
one day, at the Russell House, when Mac didn’t arrive by the usual
train, his room was temporarily given to Mr. Wilson, who retired, and
was enjoying a snooze when his colleague came on the scene, a little
annoyed at not being able to procure a room, and specially this
particular room of his. So he awoke Mr. Wilson, and told him to get out,
and at once threw his valise out through the doorway into the corridor,
which was followed by his umbrella and his cane and finally by a plug
hat which was smashed beyond repair by its contact with the opposite
wall. Mr. Wilson laughed heartily, and quickly grabbed the other plug.
When Mac wanted to know “what in thunder” was the cause of so much
hilarity he was blandly informed that in his anger he had, in mistake,
thrown out his own hat, whereupon they adjourned to the Russell bar and
hostilities ceased.
A Telephone for Each Language.
Hon. Joseph Royal, a brilliant politician, sat in the House at the time
I am writing of, and was afterwards elevated to the Lieut.-Governorship
of the Northwest Territories, as was Charlie McIntosh, the urbane editor
of the Ottawa _Citizen_, who was one of the cleverest writers on the
Canadian press. Hon. A. A. C. Larvière, afterwards a senator, also came
from Manitoba, where, in the local legislature, he had been a Cabinet
Minister. He once nearly had to defend himself against the very grave
charge of having two telephones in his office, but he was saved the
trouble by Kenneth Mackenzie, an out-and-out Grit, who came to his
rescue and claimed the minister was perfectly justified in having two
telephones—one to talk through in English and the other in French—and
this convinced the House.
Old-timers often compare present day members with those of Parliament
when there were notable outstanding figures like Macdonald, George
Brown, Tilley, Tupper, Mowat, Howe, Cartwright, Chapleau—and wonder
whether their successors are of lighter calibre, or if the people have
grown up nearer to their standard. If I were asked my own opinion, I
would truthfully say, I really don’t know. But Parliament during the
time I was at Ottawa and was able to take observations was composed of
great men—the pick of the intelligence and progressiveness of the
Dominion—men of whom any country might be justly proud. Most of them
have gone; but their work, the completed Canada, remains, and is their
best monument.