It so happened that I was sent down from Winnipeg to the Press Gallery in 1886 and for several following years, and as a consequence I mixed a great deal in politics and with politicians, without acquiring bad habits. It is not my purpose to use this experience as a pretext for writing a history of Canada, or for commenting upon political questions. All I want to do is to speak of some happenings that interested me and of some of the great men and personal friends with whom I came in contact. One could not, of course, look down upon Parliament at that time without recognizing the leadership of Sir John Macdonald and Edward Blake, who were then the great combatants. The two statesmen contrasted strangely with one another. Mr. Blake, at the opening of Parliament in a slouch hat and a tweed suit that did not seem to be a very good fit, was the very opposite of Sir John, who came in attired in his Windsor uniform.
The Conservatives had a life-sized portrait of Sir John wearing this uniform painted for their retiring room. The chieftain was fairly gorgeous in gold braid, and the cocked hat he held in his hand was suggestive of a Lord High Admiral. One day Clarke Wallace was admiring it when in came Sir John. “Well, Clarke, how do you like it?” enquired the chieftain.
“It’s all right,” responded Clarke, “but don’t you think you look sort of stiff in it?”
“Do you know,” said Sir John, “the first time I wore that was when the Prince of Wales came to this country. They told us from Downing street that all the Ministers would have to get into uniform, and we did. The morning we assembled, all decked up to receive the Prince, we looked a set of guys.”
“Vankoughnet was there” (Mr. Vankoughnet was one of the pre-Confederation ministers) “and I said to him: ‘Van, you don’t look well in a cocked hat; a cocktail would suit us all better.’ ”
The cocktail, I understand, was a species of beverage obtainable at that time, and much in demand by epicures.
Edward Blake was a commanding figure, and a great master of detail. But he did not pull with his entire party. Some thought he was not a good enough mixer, and Sir Richard Cartwright who ought to have been his right hand man was never one of his admirers. In a short time Mr. Blake resigned the leadership. His departure was really tragic. After so many years of labor it was universally thought to be a pity in view of what he had done to pull the party together that he should pass out of Canadian public life altogether. Alexander Mackenzie, who sat near him, was another tragedy. Mr. Mackenzie had led the House. He had, indeed, been the leading man of the country. His voice echoed through Parliament, as in his hey-day he discussed public matters. Now he was weak in voice and in body, and his comings and his goings were really pathetic. He had sacrificed himself to the public service.