The John A. Macdonald Retrospective 2-Book Bundle. Ged Martin
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fall guy than as a friend. Yet Sir John A. still needed him. As he put it, “Confederation is only yet in the gristle, and it will require five years more before it hardens into bone.” To make that happen, both Macdonalds would have to win fresh terms of office in elections due by 1872.
The prime minister needed to spend 1871 strengthening his political base. Instead, he spent several months of that year in a triangular diplomatic struggle, defending Canada’s interests in Washington against the United States and Britain. During the 1861–65 Civil War, Britain’s aristocratic elite had openly sympathized with the South — even foolishly allowing the Confederates to build two warships in British shipyards. One of these, the Alabama, inflicted much damage on Northern commerce, and American politicians demanded reparations. Canada had its agenda too: compensation for the Fenian raids plus a trade pact to replace the Reciprocity Treaty that the United States had ended in 1866. That treaty had opened Canadian inshore waters to American fishermen, who continued to make incursions even after the agreement lapsed. Empire and Republic agreed to negotiate their differences, and London saw a simple solution: American grievances could be appeased by Canadian concessions. The British duly invited Canada’s prime minister to accept the unprecedented honour of inclusion in the imperial diplomatic mission.
Macdonald saw the trap: he would be outvoted in the negotiating team. He was also wary about leaving Ottawa while Parliament was sitting. “My experience has been that when the Directing mind is removed, things always go wrong.” But Canada’s prime minister could not refuse to protect Canada’s interests. Accompanied by Agnes, he spent almost three months in Washington. He complained that “the embarrassments & difficulties of my position were almost … beyond endurance.” The Americans refused to discuss the Fenians and offered no trade concessions. Relations with the British delegates were also tense, especially when Macdonald went over their heads to force London to agree that the Dominion Parliament must ratify Canadian concessions: “treachery” grumbled the head of the mission; “struggling in muddy water with sharks” was Macdonald’s description. Since the Dominion had no navy to enforce its rights, he had to accept a cash payment permitting Americans to access the fisheries. Disgusted with the terms, Macdonald considered refusing to sign the Treaty, but he realized this would have guaranteed its rejection in the U.S. Senate.
Even before he left Washington, Macdonald launched a two-pronged strategy to turn a dire situation around. In a remarkable piece of Dominion-wide news management, he persuaded pro-government papers not to comment on the agreement “until the Globe commits itself against the treaty.… if Brown finds I am opposed to the treaty, he may try to find reasons for supporting it.” Simultaneously, he pressured the British, demanding a “liberal offer” to persuade Canada’s Parliament to ratify. British politicians were outraged: this was ungentlemanly, it was blackmail — but, eventually, they agreed to guarantee a $2.5 million loan, money that Macdonald needed as a cash grant to launch the Pacific Railway. In an impressive marathon speech in May 1872, he persuaded Parliament to accept the Treaty “with all its imperfections … for the sake of peace,” as a patriotic sacrifice to “the great Empire of which we form a part.” He could now turn to the transcontinental railway. Two syndicates were bidding for the project — one based in Montreal and headed by Hugh Allan, the other from Toronto led by David Macpherson. Worryingly, Allan was also backed by American investors but Macdonald hoped to persuade him to drop them and form an all-Canadian company by merging with Macpherson. As he remarked, “I have always been able to look a little ahead.” Unfortunately, Allan and Macpherson squabbled and, facing into a general election, Macdonald lacked the time for delicate ego-management.
The Washington Treaty episode had undermined Macdonald in crucial respects. He had regarded it as “rather a dangerous experiment” to leave Ottawa while Parliament was sitting, and, subsequently, he felt that his hold over backbenchers had weakened. Absence also added to his admitted “neglect” of his own Kingston riding. But the biggest setback was the defeat of his allies in Ontario. Sir John A. Macdonald’s departure for Washington coincided with the start of the provincial election campaign. Sandfield’s ministry lost seats, some of which Macdonald believed would have been saved if he had campaigned himself. Sandfield was left leading a minority government but, in the eight months before the legislature met, he did little to strengthen his position. In December 1871, he was defeated, and the Reformers took over Ontario.
Characteristically, the prime minister pretended to regard the interlopers as a temporary nuisance whom he would soon dislodge. In fact, the Liberals (as they were increasingly called) would control Ontario until 1905. It was a sea change in Canadian politics, the replacement of Macdonald’s ideal of an Ottawa-Ontario partnership by institutionalized confrontation between Dominion and its largest province. Ontario now banned politicians from sitting in both parliaments: Oliver Mowat emerged as provincial premier, Alexander Mackenzie as opposition leader in Ottawa. One of the biggest challenges facing Sir John A. Macdonald fighting the 1872 Dominion election was the hostility of Canada’s strongest provincial government.
Macdonald started planning the campaign a year ahead. He claimed to be “in very good health” even though “the severe attack I had last year has left its mark on me for life.” He was determined “to complete the work of Confederation before I make my final bow,” and felt confident of winning a second term. Regarding Ontario as “the only difficulty,” he mounted a counter-attack against the Globe. Once before, in 1858, Macdonald had attempted to establish a rival newspaper in Toronto, but he learned from the rapid collapse of the Atlas that any such venture needed careful planning — and capital. The launch of the Toronto Mail was a major enterprise, requiring the backing of wealthy supporters on the eve of an expensive election campaign. A bumptious young Englishman, T.C. Patteson, was appointed editor, but Macdonald micro-managed the project from Ottawa. “The first number was a good one,” he congratulated Patteson, “for a first number.” No doubt the Mail had to “assume an appearance of dignity at the outset,” but it must “put on the war paint … scalps must be taken.” It would be some years before the Mail effectively challenged the Globe, but at least Macdonald now had a voice in the Ontario capital.
The 1872 election campaign was “hard and unpleasant.” In two months, he delivered one hundred speeches across Ontario: “I have never worked so hard before.” With voting spread out over several weeks, Macdonald planned (as in 1857) to start with his own triumphant return for Kingston, but the strategy came unstuck. Discovering that he was in trouble in the riding, Macdonald was forced to suspend his province-wide campaign to scramble for votes against John Carruthers, a respected local businessman. On the hustings, Macdonald charged his opponent with profiteering at the expense of Kingston consumers. When Carruthers indignantly denied the allegation, the prime minister of Canada slapped him in the face. Under pressure, Macdonald (“much excited,” as the journalistic code put it) was drinking again. He won, but only by 735 votes to 604. He owed his victory to Catholic voters, who backed him by 250 votes to 78. The Protestant powerbase that had elected him since 1844 had narrowly turned against him.
After securing Kingston, Macdonald then resumed campaigning across the province, “more or less under the influence of wine,” Campbell alleged. Every riding had to be fought in the “stern and up-hill battle” throughout Ontario. On the eve of the campaign, disgusted at the demands of Prince Edward County Conservative candidate J.S. McCuaig, he had written off the riding. “I would prefer losing the seat to being bullied by Master McCuaig.” But he spoke for his greedy standard-bearer, in a speech of two hours and twenty minutes at Picton, and offered him a $1,000 campaign contribution: “You had better spend it between nomination and polling.” McCuaig lost anyway. The Ontario government mobilized “its power, patronage and influence,” making the election campaign frighteningly expensive. Timber barons subscribed lavishly to Liberal funds to safeguard future logging concessions, and Macdonald resorted to desperate measures to match opposition financial firepower. Alexander Campbell was shocked to learn that his brother had done “a very foolish thing.” A Toronto businessman, Charles Campbell had been pressured into guaranteeing a $10,000 bank loan, his only security being Macdonald’s promise of repayment “as a member of the Government.” Naively, Charley wondered “how far such official promises are reliable.” Macdonald also solicited contributions from wealthy businessmen. Humiliatingly, he begged election funds from Hugh Allan, the banker who had called