In 1861 Laurier’s choice of law as a profession led him to Montreal and McGill University, the only institution where he could study both French and English law. To be truly successful, he had to know the two legal systems. And Laurier was determined to be successful. He would need all the ambition he could muster to adjust to such a dramatically different way of life. It was a huge leap from the tiny hamlet of Saint-Lin to Montreal, Canada’s largest city, with its population of 90,000. The hustle and bustle of the big city was far more exciting than anything Laurier had ever known.
Student life was also far different than at L’Assomption. At McGill there were no priests, no rigid regulations, and few classes. Every afternoon, Laurier hurried over to Burnside Hall, the building where between 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. he attended the daily lecture given by one of the law professors.
From 8:00 a.m. until 3:30 p.m., when he started the walk to Burnside Hall, Laurier worked in the law office of Rodolphe Laflamme. He had met Laflamme, a highly respected Montreal lawyer and a professor in the Faculty of Law, when he arrived at McGill. Impressed with Laurier, Laflamme offered the young man the chance of articling for him. By articling, Laurier would work every day in Laflamme’s office and gain practical experience. In return, Laflamme would pay Laurier’s tuition fees at McGill.
After the daily lecture, Laurier spent most evenings studying, or completing legal work he had taken home. Then he usually turned to books borrowed from the library. Never had he seen so many books! His introduction to English literature in New Glasgow, and French literature at L’Assomption had given him an appetite that he now joyfully indulged. His favourites were Shakespeare, Burns, Milton, and Macaulay. To increase his knowledge of French and English, he translated various passages in the books he was reading from one language into the other. To improve his English pronunciation, he often read aloud.
Debating took much of his time too. Building on his experience at L’Assomption, he grew more skilled. He learned how to sharpen his own arguments and improved his ability to detect flaws in those of his opponents. As a result, he became one of the most highly respected debaters in the university.
During his three years at McGill, Laurier also got involved in politics. This resulted, in part, from articling for Laflamme, who was an important member of the Rouge or Liberal party. His law office was a gathering place for leading party members. Laurier found he had much in common with the Rouges. Like them, he was convinced that progress could come about only by change. He too believed in freedom of thought and speech, of the press, and of worship. The Rouges, he also learned, deeply resented the habit of the Roman Catholic Church of telling its followers how to vote. The Church warned that liberals wanted to destroy Catholicism. Any Catholic who supported liberalism ran the risk of being excommunicated.
Many faithful Roman Catholics toed the line. They believed that the Church and its head, the Pope in Rome, should be more powerful than any elected government. These Catholics were called ultramontanes. They were willing to accept the Pope’s rulings on any subject, because they believed he spoke for God.
The threat of excommunication did not frighten Laurier, but he did begin to understand how influential the Roman Catholic Church was in politics. Before the end of his three years at McGill, he had come to be as passionate about politics as he was about the law. He revealed how he felt on the day he graduated from university.
Convocation Day at McGill was Wednesday May 4, 1864, a warm, sunny spring day. The graduation exercises were held in recently built Molson Hall, perched on the slopes of Mount Royal overlooking the city below. Parents and friends of the nearly two hundred graduates filled the auditorium. Among them was Wilfrid’s father, Carolus.
After the graduates received their diplomas, Laurier rose from his seat and stepped forward to the lectern. Though his classmates had chosen him as the valedictorian, he appeared less than impressive. Unable to afford more suitable clothing, he was dressed in an old coat and a badly creased pair of pants. Nervously he fingered his notes, coughed twice, and after a pause, began. Speaking in French, he focussed first on the meaning of justice and then on the responsibilities of a lawyer. Then he turned to politics. “It is to our glory,” he said, “that racial conflicts on our Canadian soil have ended. Now there is no other family but the human family. It is not important what language they speak or at what altars they kneel… There is glory in this brotherhood of which Canada can never be proud enough. Powerful nations might, indeed, come here to seek a lesson in justice and humanity… ”
“The mission of the man of law in Canada,” he continued, “embraces justice… patriotism… and the union between the peoples, the secret of the future.” Then, turning his gaze on his classmates, he concluded: “Now, gentlemen, we see the goal. It is up to us to make certain that our efforts are worthy of it.”
It was Laurier’s personal goal as well. In a later address to the Undergraduate Society of the McGill Faculty of Law, he made his intention plain when he stated: “I pledge my honour that I will give the whole of my life to the cause of conciliation, harmony and concord among the different elements of this country of ours.”
It was a pledge he never forgot.
Laurier’s immediate goal, though, was less noble but absolutely necessary. He had to earn a living as a lawyer. However, his career began badly; neither of the partnerships he entered during the first two years after graduation was successful. He worked long hours, began to lose weight, and grew weaker. Eventually his health broke down. In October 1866, after coughing uncontrollably until he began to spit up blood, he collapsed in his office. While he lay in bed under the care of a doctor, Antoine-Aimé Dorion, the leader of the Rouge party, approached him with a suggestion that he hoped might benefit both of them. He had met Laurier in Laflamme’s office. Until his recent death, Dorion’s brother had published a small newspaper, Le Défricheur, in the village of L’Avenir in the Eastern Townships. It was the only newspaper in the area and the party counted on it to carry the Rouge message to readers there.
Laurier was a Rouge; he knew the party program; he could write. Would he take over the paper? It was only a small weekly, and he could easily find time to start a law practice in the area. The slower pace of life and the unpolluted air of the countryside would be good for his lungs. Full of hope, Laurier accepted. In November 1866, he opened an office in the small town of L’Avenir.
Unfortunately, no one seemed interested in either his legal or his journalistic talents, and his health did not improve. Despite its name, he decided that L’Avenir held no future for him. After a month, he moved north to the village of Victoriaville.
Here things became much worse. Unknown to him, he was walking into a trap prepared by the ultramontane Monseigneur Laflèche, soon to become Bishop of Trois-Rivières. The moment Laurier arrived in Victoriaville at the beginning of January 1867, there was an all-out attack on Le Défricheur, and on him personally. Every priest in the region denounced him as a dangerous monster, a liberal, who was bent on destroying the Church and all the values that it taught. The campaign against Laurier continued without a break for three months. Every Sunday, from the pulpits in their churches, the priests warned the faithful that it was a mortal sin to buy Le Défricheur. Any Roman Catholic who read the paper might lose the chance of going to Heaven.
Laurier fought back in the pages of Le Défricheur. In issue after issue, he denied the charges of the Church and countered with his explanation of Rouge beliefs. These, he pointed out, did not include closing the churches and ending the worship of God.
It was an unequal fight. Frightened by the priests’ threats, many Roman Catholics feared the possibility of going to eternal damnation. Most stopped buying the paper. Sales declined and Laurier fell quickly into debt. In addition, the curse of liberalism damned Laurier, the lawyer, as well as Laurier the journalist. His law practice was a flop.
As had so often happened in the past when he had been working hard and was under pressure, his health suffered. Floundering in debt, physically weakened, and frustrated by his inability to cope with the enemy, Laurier had no choice. He declared bankruptcy and announced the end of Le Défricheur. The first battle of the war between the Roman Catholic Church and Wifrid Laurier came to an end.
His crushing defeat taught him a painful lesson. Until he could earn an income, he simply could not afford to take part in political campaigns. However, to achieve success as a lawyer, he had to find the right community. He liked the area around Victoriaville, and fortunately only a short distance away was the town of Arthabaska. Set in a pretty valley at the junction of two rivers, and close to the Allegheny Mountains, Arthabaska had a freshness that appealed to Laurier. It also was the site of the county court, a good place for a lawyer to be. Looking for somewhere to stay, he met Dr. Méderic Poisson and his wife, who had a room to rent. The bright, sunny, sitting room was large enough for the shelves he needed to hold his beloved books. And nearby was a vacant office. In September 1867 he moved to Arthabaska and started his fifth law practice.
Pictured here in her late thirties, Zoë spent much of her time in various Roman Catholic charitable and social organizations in Arthabaska.