Now what did all of this mean for UpperCanada? It meant that fractious debate, of the kind heard here thisevening and earlier in the week, had split both parties severalways. Why should this be so? Because Lord Durham’s recommendationswere a mishmash of contradictory and self-cancelling proposals!Why, then, should a fledgling provincial legislature be saddledwith the responsibility of making sense out of nonsense – nonsensepenned by men whose probity itself was dubious? Surely whatesteemed members of this Assembly must do is cease and desist frombootless debate, especially those who valued tradition andauthority. Within months the Whig government in London must fall,and be replaced by a sane and just and loyal administration underthe stewardship of the great Robert Peel. Let that gentlemanand his cabinet propose a sensible solution to Canada’sproblems, using whatever aspects of the infamous DurhamReport they deemed practicable.
“Let each of us in this hallowed chamberunite in our determination to wait upon developments in the mothercountry, to wait upon proposals that are clear and unambiguous -whether they be favourable to one side or the other. Then, and onlythen, shall we be able to enter into a reasoned debate with anyhope of a just and durable outcome!”
My God, Marc thought, the fellow has done it!He’s articulated a strategy to hold the warring factions of hisgroup together until the Whigs reject the Report out ofexpediency or the British Tory party recovers the power it lost in1835! Robert and his fellow Reformers were going to have a toughrow to hoe, as were those who had agreed to write broadsides forthem.
The roar of approval that cascaded down uponthe desk-thumping members from the gallery above made it clear thatMowbray McDowell had struck the right chord. As McDowell stood upto acknowledge the cheers, Marc suddenly remembered that he had metthis man! It had been more than three years ago, in June or July of1835, just weeks after his arrival from England. He had been at asoiree at Government House, where Sir John Colborne had taken himaround and introduced him to half a dozen debutantes and as manygentlemen. One of them had been Mowbray McDowell, but the name -like so many others in those first hectic months in a new andstrange country – had not stuck.
Marc now turned to Dougherty for the firsttime since McDowell had entered the chamber and mesmerized allwithin it. “Well, Dick, what do you make of that?”
Dougherty’s eyes popped open. The pouchessurrounding them were puffed and red. “Has the wretched fellow gothere yet?” he muttered between blinks.
“You slept through the whole thing!”
“I must have. Everybody seems to be leaving,including the Speaker.”
Marc helped his sleepy friend to his feet.“McDowell may not have been Daniel Webster or Lord Wellington,Dick, but he was the next best thing.”
***
Marc guided Dougherty, still drowsy from hisforty-minute nap, up the four steps to the stairwell. Most of thegalleryites had preceded them, but one of them appeared to belingering near the stairs, awaiting their arrival. Marc recognizedthe man as Everett Stoneham, postmaster-general in the currentExecutive Council. The fellow was busy working himself into arage.
“You’ve got a hell of a nerve, Dougherty,showing your ugly face in the Queen’s parliament!” He stepped infront of Dick, blocking the stairwell.
Dougherty was unmoved, or merely sleepy.“I’ve been told this is a free country,” he said quietly. “Or usedto be.”
“You’d better save your clever lawyer’s talkfor your examination by the Benchers next week,” Stoneham seethed.“Though I’m here to guarantee you’ll never, never, beadmitted to the Bar in this province. The truth about you will comeout, and when it does, you won’t be able to find a hole deep enoughto hide in!”
“Are you forgetting, sir, that I currentlyhold a temporary license to practice here, signed by the presidentof the Law Society?”
“You may stick a shingle on that hovel ofyours, but do you really suppose any respectable citizen will comewithin thirty yards of that – that disgusting seraglio!”
“I’m sorry to inform you, sir, that abarrister rarely defends ‘respectable’ citizens.”
Stoneham’s retort sputtered and died,overtaken by the purpling contortions of his cheeks and chins.Finally, he managed to hiss: “You’ll practise law here over my deadbody!”
“And if I were a hundred pounds lighter, I’dgladly hop over it.”
Stoneham wheeled about and thundered down thestairs, frightening two respectable, female citizens.
“Dick, you really must curb your tongue,”Marc said as he took his friend’s arm.
“He’s not a Bencher, is he?”
“No, but he’s a personal favourite ofArchdeacon John Strachan. He graduated from Strachan’s academyyears ago, and now acts as his voice in the Executive Council, theonly group that Governor Arthur is listening to. And Strachan hasbeen the single most powerful Tory in the province for threedecades. I suspect that he could, by himself, turn the Benchersagainst you.”
Dougherty grunted, then wheezed. “Christ, I’mglad we’re going downhill.”
***
The foyer was still crowded. Few people wanted toleave, wishing not to lose the buzz of excitement that McDowell hadstirred up or the faint promise of hope he had held out. The MLAswere coming out of the members’ lounge and milling about with theirwell-wishers. Robert either had left or was still in the committeeroom – unaware of what had just been wrought in the House. As heand Dick were pushing their way towards the exit, Marc heard aburst of applause behind him. The wunderkind had just entered theroom. On an impulse, Marc said to Dougherty, “Wait for me here,will you? I’m going to go over and congratulate him.”
“Sense of fair play and all that?”
Marc smiled. “He might even remember me.”
Marc had taken three steps towards the scrumabout McDowell when it unexpectedly opened to give the great oratora clear view of Marc. A tentative smile flickered at the corners ofhis mouth as he stepped forward. Marc was about to put out his handwhen McDowell frowned, stood stock-still, and seemed to beappraising the figure before him. Then, as if he really did recallsomething of significance, he spun around and retreated – all theway to the members’ lounge.
“Well?” Dougherty said as Marc rejoined himat the door.
“You won’t believe this, but I’ve just beengiven the biggest snub of my life!”
“Sic transit gloria,” Dougherty said,alluding obliquely to Marc’s onetime status as the Hero of St.Denis.
“I suppose the fellow considers me a kind ofturncoat for resigning my commission and taking up the Reformcause,” Marc mused, though he found himself far from amused at theincident.
“After a while, you can get used to beingsnubbed,” Dougherty said with a grim little smile.
THREE
Outside, Marc was delighted to see Robert’s coachmanwaiting for them, with orders to drive Marc and Dick home. Now morepuzzled than smarting from the snub (the fellow had literallyrun from him), Marc settled beside Dougherty in theBaldwin’s brougham. As they moved east along Front Street, Marcgave Dougherty a summary of McDowell’s speech and its worrisomeimplications.
“Well, this business is a lot moreentertaining than I realized. Would it be presumptuous of a Yankeeto offer his services in the cause of liberation?”
“I’m sure Robert would be happy to have youaboard. But first you must concentrate on your admission to theBar. Even if you never practise, it puts a stamp of respectabilityon you that no rumour-mongering can stain.”