John A (29 page)

Then it all unravelled in Macdonald's hometown of Kingston. It was the most loyal town in the country, not only because of the Loyalists but even more because the Loyal Orange Order was so strong there. To greet their prince who had come over the water, Kingston's Orangemen built two large arches of firs, which they covered with their own regalia and symbols. Then they gathered en masse to await him. Premonitions of trouble came from complaints by Kingston's Catholics that the prince should not and could not be welcomed by a sectarian political organization that was banned in England itself. To stir things up, the
Globe
pointed out that when the prince began his tour in Quebec City, he had not only been greeted in French but visited Roman Catholic
institutions such as Laval University and the Ursuline Convent. To head off a confrontation, Macdonald met with the colonial secretary, the Duke of Newcastle, who was accompanying the prince.
^*83
Macdonald argued that Upper Canadians felt that the Catholics “had had it all their own way in Lower Canada” and that the same courtesy should be extended to Upper Canada's Protestants. Newcastle replied that there was no comparison between the Catholic artifacts in Quebec City, “which were emblematical of a faith,” and the paraphernalia of Orangemen, “which were those of a rancorous party.”

The prince's tour was a huge success, with one exception. In Kingston, the Orange Order massed to greet “their Prince.” Because the Lodge was banned in England, he refused to come ashore and walk beneath their triumphal arch.

On the afternoon of Tuesday, September 4, 1860, the prince entered Kingston Harbour aboard the steamer
Kingston.
It drew
close to the official landing place, where the Orangemen had massed—some fifteen thousand of them—in their costumes and with their banners. At the last minute, the ship changed course and moved off into mid-harbour. The standoff continued into the next day, with the Orangemen refusing to leave, but making no disturbances other than singing such songs as “Water, water, holy water. / Sprinkle the Catholics everyone. / We'll cut them asunder and make 'em lie under.” Late in the morning of the 5th, despite last-minute appeals by Macdonald, the
Kingston
weighed anchor and chugged off to the prince's next engagement in Belleville, and then on to Cobourg.

The incident earned Canada an international black eye, including the comment in the
New York Times
that nowhere in Canada could the prince find “a rational population before reaching the American frontier.” The
Globe
put it all down to Macdonald's hypocrisy and incompetence. In fact the blame rested principally with the Duke of Newcastle, who, concerned only with domestic British politics, ignored the fact that the Orange Order was a legal organization in Canada. In the United States, where he next went, the prince had no problems: newspapers pronounced him a “heart smasher,” and many of the young ladies at balls and receptions wrestled each other to get near to him. In Philadelphia, a production of
La Traviata
came to a halt because “the leading ladies on stage could not keep their eyes off the royal youth.”
^*84

To recover from this fiasco, which had left him furious with British officials at the same time as the Orangemen were angry with him, Macdonald resorted to a political innovation that served as a response to Brown's mass convention of the summer before, as well as a platform for him to tell his side of what the newspapers were calling “The Siege at Kingston.” He embarked on a cross-country speaking tour.

No one had done that before—except Americans. Stump speeches were exceedingly rare then, as Canadian politicians limited themselves to orations in the legislature, to church congregations and dinners organized by businessmen. Manifestos like Macdonald's
Address
were the standard way of spreading the word. In one critical respect, Macdonald was quite unlike most politicians of the time: he was entirely at ease with ordinary people. He dealt with people not by lecturing them or by orating at them but by talking colloquially with them, telling stories, exchanging repartee—all in everyday language.

Not for many decades would Canadians again encounter a politician so completely at ease with ordinary people. Once, after Macdonald had clambered onto a piece of farm machinery to better address a gathering, word was passed to him that he was actually standing on a manure spreader. His instant reply: “This is the first time I've stood on the Liberal platform.” When a passerby stopped him on Toronto's King Street to tell him that a friend had said Macdonald was “the biggest liar in all Canada,” he looked gravely at his interlocutor and answered, “I dare say it's true enough.” Mostly, people—even those intending to vote against him—clustered around Macdonald at his meetings for the uncomplicated reason that he was fun.

So off he went on his speaking tour, travelling from town to town—first in Brantford, and then in a succession of meetings, from Toronto to Hamilton to St. Catharines, from St. Thomas to
London to Guelph, from Belleville to Simcoe to Kingston. At times, the crowds topped eight hundred listeners. Usually there was a dinner or lunch, typically of six or more courses. There were speeches and toasts, jokes and stories, and more speeches—typically eight or ten speakers. Macdonald frequently was funny, but in a way that got across a message. He referred to the “some joint authority” resolution passed at the Reform convention and asked, “Is it a legislature, or is it a bench of bishops?” He set out his case: “I am a sincere Unionist. I nail my colours to the mast on that great principle.” He used the flag to salute two masters at the same time: “I say that next to the Union with Great Britain, next to having our Queen as ruler, I look to the Union of the two Canadas as most essential.” He turned maudlin: “Whatever may have been the antecedents of any man in Canada, whether he has acted with me or against me, if he becomes a disunionist, I disown him; and I don't care what may have been the antecedents of another, though he may have struggled fiercely against me, if he enters himself as a supporter of the union with England…and of the union of the two Canadas, I hail him as a brother. God and nature have joined the two Canadas, and no factious politician should be allowed to sever them.” The argument didn't make much sense, but it abundantly served its purpose: Macdonald had put Brown and the Reformers on the defensive as would-be dividers of the nation and of the Empire, and he had positioned himself as the protector of the nation and, better yet by far, of the Queen.

As for the recent royal tour, Macdonald took credit for its overall success: “It had called the attention of the world to the position and prospects of Canada.” He admitted that although the prince's visit “had been a source of great pleasure to the people, it had been accompanied in some respects with disappointments, in some degree with heart burnings, in some degree with
mistakes.” The fault lay with the Duke of Newcastle for interfering in a way that upset Canada's careful balance between French and English, Catholics and Protestants. It was an adroit defence, and a courageous one, given that he was directly criticizing no less a power than the colonial secretary.

Macdonald delivered his most important speech in Caledonia. There he addressed directly the central issue of the coming election and of the Canadian political system. “It has been said that I and my Upper Canadian colleagues sacrificed the interests of Upper Canada to Lower Canada; and that we hold to our Lower Canadian colleagues simply for the sake of office. They say we are traitors to our race; that we knuckle to the Frenchmen; that we are faithless to our religion; and that we are under Roman Catholic influences.” Then he offered his reply. He and Cartier had attempted, “in our humble way, to advise the head of the Government for the good of the whole country and the equal interest of all.” In itself, his argument was unremarkable. What was remarkable was that Macdonald, in the heartland of English-speaking Protestantism, could tell his audience that much of what they were thinking was wrong in itself and, equally, wrong for the country.

Afterwards, Macdonald told a friend that he had found this pre-campaign swing “wearisome beyond description.” But not so wearisome that he didn't add jauntily, “I never took to the stump before, & find that I get on capitally.” Macdonald's legend as a man of the people had begun to take root.

Impending elections focus the minds of politicians as, to all others, the prospect of being hanged is said to do. Any frustration felt by Macdonald or any intimation of attenuated accomplish
ment immediately vanished. From early 1861 on, he became a whirlwind of energy. He bombarded Hamilton businessman Isaac Buchanan with arguments why he shouldn't step down as a member (Buchanan stayed on). He dispatched confidential letters to candidates tipping them off to the date of the election. He encouraged (successfully) Sidney Smith, a friend, to remain as a Reformer, so that a shred of substance would adhere to the label Liberal-Conservative. And he wrote to Egerton Ryerson—“No time must be lost in calling on the Wesleyan Methodists in every constituency”—to try to swing those of his faith to come over (quite a few did).

The results of all this activity could not have been better. Through the summer of 1861—elections were then held over several months—Macdonald won his first ever (and only ever) Conservative majority in Upper Canada. The simultaneous loss of a few seats by Cartier's
bleus
was, by comparison, a minor setback. Most admirable of all, Brown lost in his own riding.

In fact the election result changed nothing. The Rep by Pop challenge still remained to be dealt with. The double-majority convention still stalled national action. No sooner was the election over than Macdonald was complaining in a letter to a supporter about “violent Tories who are fools enough to think that a purely Conservative Gov-t can be formed. Now I am not such a fool as to destroy all that I have been doing for the last 7 years.”

In fact, Macdonald's world, as well as Canada's, had already changed beyond recall.