After the tempest of the Manitoba schools question, Canadians welcomed the calm that marked Laurier’s first years in office. Most of them praised the prime minister’s efficient management of the nation’s business. Even the restless Conservative Opposition was unable to find flaws in his performance.
Then came the autumn of 1899. The problem began in South Africa. Since early spring, conflict had been building between Great Britain and the Boers, the inhabitants of two tiny African countries, Transvaal and the Orange Free State. Rumours of war spread, and Canadian imperialists began to drum up enthusiasm for Canadian support for the mother country. “It is our fight that is going to be fought by British troops,” the popular English-language newspaper, the Montreal Star, assured its readers.
Laurier was convinced that the British had a just case against the Boers, but he also believed that Canada should not get involved in a distant conflict that was none of its business. He sensed that some Canadians felt the same way, yet the majority wanted Canada to play some role. How could he find a middle way to satisfy both groups?
As tensions mounted in South Africa a newspaper reported that a Canadian military unit would be sent to aid Great Britain the moment war started. That same day, October 3, Laurier was in Toronto at the end of a speaking tour. With him was John Willison, the editor of the Toronto Globe.
“This is truly important news, Sir Wilfrid,” Willison said eagerly. “When was the decision made?”
“That story is fiction,” Laurier replied. “We have made no such offer to Great Britain. Parliament, and only Parliament has the right to make such a decision. And as you know, Parliament is not in session.”
Surprised, Willison pressed on. “But Sir Wilfrid, many Canadians do believe that your government has an obligation to help the mother country. Are you saying you aren’t ready to do so?”
“My dear Willison,” Laurier sighed, “I am saying only that though we may be willing to contribute troops, I do not see how we can do so.”
A political storm was about to break over Laurier’s head. Imperialists reacted angrily to his comments when the Globe published them the following day, yet he went to Chicago on October 7 for a series of meetings with the American and Mexican presidents. Four days later, war seemed imminent. Laurier cut short his visit, rushed back to Ottawa by train, and called his cabinet together. They had to decide whether Canada should take part in the expected war.
The cabinet was sharply divided. The majority favoured Canada’s sending troops to support Great Britain. Others wanted to move slowly. But one Quebec member, Israel Tarte, spoke out emotionally against Canadian involvement. “Not one man, not one cent for South Africa!” he exclaimed. “The people of Quebec will never allow their sons to die in a war that means absolutely nothing to them.”
Laurier and his cabinet argued bitterly for hours, but no decision was reached. At last, the prime minister, hoping tempers would cool by the following day, ended the meeting. Later that night, a group of Quebec MPs requested a meeting with him. One of them was young Henri Bourassa, who, at the age of twenty-eight, had just been elected in the 1896 election. Laurier was aware of Bourassa’s talents and viewed him as a possible future cabinet minister.
Laurier began the meeting by explaining why it was hard to reach a decision on the correct policy for Canada to follow. The moment he concluded, Bourassa spoke up. “In everything you have just said, I find nothing that can justify Canada’s sending troops to South Africa,” he said sharply The older MPs glanced at each other, surprised at his tone. “You have already said in public that troops could not be sent without the consent of Parliament,” Bourassa went on.
“No, Henri, I did not say that,” Laurier replied calmly. “What I did say was that I could not see how we would be able to send them. I do understand your concern,” he continued, “but you must agree that the circumstances are very difficult, and unless…”
Bourassa cut him off. “It is because the circumstances are difficult that I ask you to remain faithful to your word. To govern is to have enough heart, at a given moment, to risk power in order to save a principle.”
Laurier was shocked at his aggressive manner. For a moment, there was silence. Then, “My dear Henri,” Laurier quietly said, “you do not have a practical mind.”
Bourassa stiffened. “If you do decide on intervention,” he replied sharply, “you will at the same time decide the attitude you prefer me to adopt: to resign, or to speak and vote against the ministry.”
The following day, Laurier and his cabinet learned that the war had begun. Now they had to come up with a solution that would satisfy most Canadians. Laurier carefully fashioned a policy based on compromise. There would be no official Canadian troops sent to South Africa, but up to one thousand volunteers would be allowed to join the British forces. The government would pay for their equipment and transportation to South Africa.
Laurier hoped imperialists would praise the policy because it provided support for the British. Those who were against Canadian involvement should be pleased too because no one would be forced to go. Laurier made it clear that the policy was not a precedent. Helping the mother country this time did not mean that in the future, Canada must come running whenever Great Britain called. Also, the cost of paying for a force of this size was very little, he pointed out. Therefore, it was not necessary to call Parliament into special session.
Most Canadians agreed with Laurier’s approach, but militants on both sides continued to criticize him. When he called Parliament for the regular session in February 1900, the Conservative Opposition joined the attack. Laurier had claimed to be loyal to the mother country when he had attended the Jubilee, but now, when Great Britain was in trouble, they charged, he had turned his back.
And there was another foe, for Henri Bourassa had made his decision. He resigned his seat and left the Liberal party, then ran as an Independent in a by-election. Laurier generously gave orders that no Liberal candidate should oppose him, and Bourassa was duly elected. In the House of Commons he began his campaign against his former leader.
One of Bourassa’s speeches condemning Laurier’s compromise policy went on for three long hours. At last, Laurier rose to defend himself: “I put this question to my honourable friend. What would be the condition of this country today if we had refused to obey the voice of public opinion? It is only too true that if we had refused our imperative duty, the most dangerous agitation would have arisen, an agitation which, according to all human probability would have ended in a cleavage in the population of this country upon racial lines. A greater calamity could never take place in Canada. My honourable friend knows as well as any man in this House that if there is anything to which I have given my political life, it is to try to promote unity, harmony and amity between the diverse elements of this country.”
Laurier had had the last word that day, but he knew that Bourassa was expressing opinions shared by many Québécois. One of Bourassa’s points was neatly made by the Quebec newspaper La Presse : “We French-Canadians belong to one country, Canada; Canada is for us the whole world; but the English-Canadians have two countries, one here and one across the sea.” Laurier knew that by harping on that theme, Bourassa could become a serious threat in the future.
But for now, the storm had passed. In the autumn of 1900, after four years in office, Laurier called an election. It was his first test at the polls as prime minister, and the voters gave him and the Liberal party an increased majority in the House of Commons. He lost seats in Ontario because of his Boer War policy, but in his own province, Quebec, he gained seats. Bourassa had not hurt him. Not yet.
The beginning of the twentieth century on January 1, 1901 was celebrated across Canada with optimism and enthusiasm. However, three weeks later, the death of Queen Victoria was announced. Many Canadians mourned, and Laurier rose in the House to express to the Royal Family the condolences of the people of Canada. The following year, Laurier and Zoë went to London to attend the coronation of Victoria’s son and heir, King Edward VII.
Of course, there was also another colonial conference. Joseph Chamberlain had not given up trying to convince Laurier that the colonies and mother country should be more closely linked through a colonial council, military support, and increased trade. But Laurier was even less flexible than he had been five years before. His reply in each case was a polite but firm no. On the military question, he even suggested that Canada should build its own navy to defend its own shores.
After the coronation, the Lauriers went to France for a round of social and government activities, though Laurier was already exhausted by the heavy schedule in England. Feeling very ill, he had a series of medical consultations in Paris and was relieved to learn from the French doctors that his fear of cancer was groundless. The Lauriers then left for Switzerland and Italy, for several weeks’ rest. But Laurier fell ill again just as they were to travel home on October 7. He remained in bed during the entire voyage.
He had not been so sick for years. Now the old doubts and depression about his health returned. Would it be better, he wondered, to give up politics and return to a simpler life with less pressure? In November, his doctor urged him to rest in a warm climate, so he and Zoë headed south to Hot Springs, Virginia and later to St. Augustine, Florida for several weeks. When they returned at the beginning of the new year, Laurier’s health and optimism had rebounded. He was eager to return to his desk in Ottawa.
He would need all his renewed health and spirits, for an old unsolved problem had suddenly become a serious issue. The problem was the boundary between Alaska and Canada’s Yukon Territory. The United States had bought Alaska from Russia in 1867, but Canada and the United States had never agreed on where the boundary line should be drawn. It didn’t matter much until 1897, when gold was discovered in a stream running into the Yukon River. By 1898, thousands of men and women from all parts of the world had joined the Yukon Gold Rush.
Suddenly the boundary mattered a lot. Were the prospectors crossing Canadian or American soil? Which country had the right to police the gold route? To prevent conflict, Great Britain convinced the two parties to let a tribunal (court) decide the matter. Canada would name two members of the tribunal, Great Britain one, and the United States three, all of them guaranteed to be honest, open-minded judges.
This seemed fair to Laurier. He went to Washington in December to meet the American president, Theodore Roosevelt. At their meeting, they agreed to follow the British suggestion to settle the issue.
Laurier acted in good faith, but Great Britain and the United States did not. Roosevelt had no intention of giving in to Canada, and Great Britain, eager to win favour with the United States, was willing to sacrifice Canada’s interests.
As a result, the tribunal was biased in favour of the United States. The three men appointed by Roosevelt had already spoken out against the Canadian case. On the other side were two Canadians appointed by Laurier, and Lord Alverstone, the highest-ranking judge in Great Britain. When the vote was taken, Alverstone sided with the Americans.
The decision angered many Canadians. Clearly, the mother country did not always take care of its children. Laurier was deeply disappointed by the British action. “So long as Canada remains a dependency of the British Crown, the present powers we have are not sufficient for the maintenance of our rights,” he stated. Canada, he added, had to make decisions on her own. Now only the most militant imperialists could disagree that Canada should move toward independence from Great Britain.
But that was still in the future. Most Canadians were much more interested in economic good times than in dreams of independence. When Laurier came to power in 1896, Canada was just beginning to emerge from almost a generation of bad times – recurring years of depression followed by brief periods of painfully slow economic growth. Unable to find work at home, many Canadians headed south to the United States. Most never returned, except to visit family or friends.
By the mid-1890s, though, Canada’s rich natural resources of metals, minerals, and timber were being developed. Wheat production was up, and foreign demand for grain was rising. The result was an economic boom that would continue for many years.
Laurier was not responsible for the boom, but he was determined to maintain it. He saw the opportunity to make real the dream that had inspired the founders of Canada, to people the West, to turn the Prairies into the wheat basket of Canada. Clifford Sifton, his minister of the interior, began an ambitious campaign to attract immigrants. He had pamphlets distributed in the United States, Great Britain, and many European countries urging people to come to the “Last, Best West.” Each head of family would receive sixty-five hectares of farmland. As long as he worked the land for three years, it would be his.
Sifton’s campaign was a great success. The stream of immigrants became a river. Canada’s population mushroomed from just over five million to seven million in the first decade of the twentieth century, an increase of 35 per cent. By 1911, a daily average of 1100 immigrants, most of them arriving by ship from Europe, was setting foot on Canadian soil.
The sudden population growth put a great strain on the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR), the only railway line that could take people and goods across the country. Soon several business groups offered to build competing railway lines.
Laurier was eager to have a new railway built. He believed the expanding economy could use another line, and he knew it would provide many new jobs. He was also aware that most people in the West resented the fact that the CPR had a rail monopoly in Canada. A new railway would address all those concerns and might bring votes to him and the Liberal party. Yet no single company had the money needed to lay track from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Caught up in the enthusiasm of the boom, he was less cautious than he should have been. He decided to involve his government in the railway-building business.
Not everyone agreed with Laurier’s plan, including Andrew Blair, his minister of railways. When he could not change Laurier’s mind, Blair resigned from the cabinet. But growing opposition seemed to strengthen Laurier’s determination, and he pushed on wilfully. His eagerness spilled over when he introduced his railway bill in the House of Commons in July 1903. He told the House: “To those who urge upon us the policy of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow; to those who tell us wait, wait, wait; to those who advise us to pause, to consider, to reflect, to calculate and to inquire; our answer is no! This is not a time for deliberation; this is a time for action… We cannot wait, because time does not wait.”
The debate was long and emotional, but Laurier’s railway bill passed the House of Commons. He had won. Construction would soon begin on a second transcontinental railway. A short time later, another company found the money to begin its own railway. Now Canada would have three transcontinental lines. Three were too many, as the future would show, and if Laurier had been less headstrong, this mistake might have been avoided. But he believed passionately in his country and its future. “The nineteenth century,” he constantly reminded audiences, “was the century of the United States; the twentieth century will be the century of Canada.”
Sir Wilfrid and Lady Laurier on their way to a parliamentary luncheon at the Colonial Conference of 1907 in London, England. Zoë’s failing health made this the last time she would accompany Laurier abroad.