Читать книгу Maurice Duplessis - Marguerite Paulin - Страница 14
ОглавлениеIn Trois-Rivières, the young neighbourhood lawyer is making a name for himself. For him, no case is too trivial. One day, a homeowner comes to see him:
“Sir, I mean Maître Duplessis! I knew your father well. Ah! what a great MLA he was! I need your help because I’m having problems with my new neighbour. He has built a fence on my land. It just happened and he thinks he can get away with it!”
In his office on Hart Street, a kindly, attentive Maurice Duplessis treats people like his friends. Well up on municipal, school, and parish affairs, he is the one whom people recommend to settle property disputes or wills, and quarrels over land or codicils. Are not his customers future voters? He is building a network of supporters. Their contributions will be useful; their vote will be his capital. For example, if an old parishioner comes complaining to him that somebody stole his chickens, Maître Duplessis receives him courteously. “Please be seated, Sir,” he’ll say pleasantly. “I will take them to court, those thieves. I promise you they will have to face justice.”
Maurice Duplessis becomes a lawyer and is admitted to the Bar on September 14, 1913.
People trust Maurice Duplessis because he is a winner. In court, he speaks loud and clear. His arguments are based on plain common sense. His waiting room soon fills up. The more impatient ones try to meet Maurice before he goes to his office. Every morning, around eight, he picks up his mail at the post office. Maurice speaks to everyone, he likes to joke, to laugh at life’s little problems. His reputation as the defender of the widow and the orphan grows. Those who have seen him plead say that his cases are like theatre. His defence is great oratory. Sometimes, he even has the judge in tears:
“Your Honour, look at this brave man, a farmer who has given his life to feed his family. Do you think for one moment that he would steal his grandfather’s inheritance?”
But, more often than not, lawyer Maurice Duplessis entertains the gallery with his puns and jests. The judges are fond of him. He is very talented. His theatrical arm-waving is well calculated to hold his audience in sway. He reserves the right word for his offensive, and then explodes with an irresistible witticism. He learns to dominate a crowd, to win over the undecided at the Bar, at the Court House. The courtroom is where he is sharpening his political skills.
Maurice Duplessis doesn’t only defend the man in the street. He also represents the corporations of the region, like the Shawinigan Water and Power Company. Over the years, he makes friends everywhere. His name is synonymous with success, especially in cases of civil law, which interests him passionately. When asked if he would eventually go in for criminal law, he answered that he would find it extremely disagreeable having to defend a murderer.
In the meantime, newspapers are having a field day with the trial of Télesphore Gagnon’s wife from Lotbinière. Marie-Anne Houde is accused of having brutalized her stepdaughter, poor little Aurore, who has died as a result of her injuries. The trial has sparked a great deal of curiosity verging onto voyeurism, and has turned into a veritable circus. The crowd is jostling to get a good look at the stepmother and to listen to the deliberations. Maurice Duplessis’s cases pale by comparison to this soap opera. And yet each victory in the court of law brings him closer to his ultimate goal: politics.
Since Msgr. Laflèche’s death in 1898, Jacques Bureau, a Liberal, is the new strongman in Trois-Rivières. He reigns over it as if it were his personal fiefdom. Appointed solicitor general by Wilfrid Laurier, he enjoys enormous prestige. It was he who gave the Rouges the seat everyone thought was painted blue forever. Maurice has not forgotten the time when his father was the Conservative deputy for the region. Maybe the time has come to get even and give Bureau’s gang a good lesson.
“The election is coming. Why not try our luck?” asks Arthur Sauvé, new head of Quebec’s Conservative Party. He is looking for good candidates for the February 5, 1923 election.
Maurice Duplessis’s qualifications are impeccable. He is young, dynamic, a brilliant lawyer whose good name is an added plus. Two years earlier, at the federal election, he had agreed to work for the Conservative candidate despite the anti-conscription attacks directed at the Bleus. So he also has courage. His political allegiances are well known. That is why Arthur Sauvé urges him to come to Montreal and meet him. Flattered, Duplessis doesn’t hesitate for very long. In Sauvé’s office, the two men have much to talk about.
“My dear Maurice, in Quebec, we are stagnating in the Opposition because of that old goat Taschereau who puts the good people of the province to sleep. I dream of the day when we can dislodge him. I feel that you have the potential to take on this Herculean task.”
“I don’t think I have any chance of winning. The people of Trois-Rivières are not yet ready to let go of Bureau, who strokes them the right way.”
“I want to renew my team,” says Sauvé. “In Montreal, I found Camillien Houde, an ex-bank employee and insurance salesman, a working-class man. The big city has had enough of Quebec potentates. I think that in your town, there is a similar undercurrent of dissatisfaction. I’m convinced that you could channel these feelings in your favour. Come on, jump into the fray. I have great confidence in you.”
Maurice Duplessis doesn’t need to be begged for long. He has considered his chances. Even though they are slight, he decides to take the leap. He is resigned to losing. So, on the evening of February 5, after Camillien Houde’s victory in Sainte-Marie is announced, the vote-counting is a simple formality. The outcome is as predicted. The Liberal opponent is re-elected deputy by a majority of two hundred votes.
It is Maurice Duplessis’s first electoral defeat. And his last as candidate for the riding of Trois-Rivières. Next time will be the right time, he tells himself. When he goes back to the electorate, it will be to keep them “in his pocket” for the next three decades.
Aéurea Cloutier has heard about a secretarial position in a lawyer’s office. Born in Iron Mountain, Michigan, she moved to Trois-Rivières with her parents when she was five. She speaks French and writes it almost perfectly. Wearing a pearl-grey suit, gloves, and a small felt hat, she presents herself at the Hart Street office.
“I’m almost thirty years old, and I wonder if I’m too old.”
Maurice Duplessis sizes her up. This young lady looks serious. Is she discreet? It is very important that she know how to keep secrets, that she be meticulous. A trustworthy, devoted secretary.
“Miss Auréa Cloutier, I’m hiring you. On a trial basis for one week. I will keep you on if I’m satisfied with your work. One of your jobs will be to cut out any newspaper articles about me. You will put them in this file, at the end of my desk.”
The pact is concluded: the two are united, more faithful than if they were married. Over time, Auréa Cloutier will go from being a legal secretary to his political attaché. She is the one who greets Maître Duplessis’s clients. Gradually she gets to know better than anyone else the friends of the Conservative Party. If Mr. So-and-So is more important, he is admitted before the one who is a Liberal. And does he contribute to the electoral kitty of the Bleus? Then she treats him like a prince. He is entitled to treatment commensurate with his generosity.
One day, Maurice Duplessis leaves a book that he has borrowed from the library on his secretary’s desk. “Miss Cloutier,” he says in a firm voice, “copy the passage on the Workers’ Compensation Act in Russia.”
Why all this zeal? Everything is useful to Duplessis if he wants to become MLA for Trois-Rivières. The day after his defeat in the election of 1923, Maurice starts to rally his supporters. He puts together a plan based on the needs of his riding. At the next election, in four years, he knows he will be ready to face any kind of adversary. To temper any outburst of impatience, he recalls a fable by La Fontaine, whose tales he often memorized when he was at the Collège Notre-Dame. The fable is The Lion and the Rat. And so, quite naturally, he thinks of the moral of the fable: “Patience and hard work do more than strength or rage.”
The two major political parties are playing musical chairs at the federal and provincial levels. Canadians go to the polls in 1925. The election campaign is a lacklustre one as Liberal William Lyon Mackenzie King hangs on to the power coveted by Conservative Arthur Meighen. Maurice Duplessis remains on the sidelines. He waits for his turn. He is helping out a friend in Berthier, but he doesn’t think it wise to throw himself into the fray just yet.
Surprisingly, what he waxes most enthusiastic about is a new machine that he has just bought: a wireless radio that he installs in the middle of his living room. On October 29, comfortably seated and surrounded by friends, he listens for the first time to the results of the election over the wireless. A technical revolution! Surrounded by friends, Maurice uses this opportunity to poke fun at the federal leader:
“Poor old Mackenzie King, he consults Mrs. Bleaney, his fortune teller, but he’s not able to win a convincing victory. You don’t need a crystal ball to see that Wilfrid Laurier’s successor hasn’t the stuff to be his heir!”
For Duplessis, the quarrels in Ottawa are like quarrels among distant cousins. He chooses to invest his energy into what is going on in Quebec. He follows the news avidly, reads several newspapers a day and listens faithfully to his wireless. He already appreciates that this medium can be a powerful ally if you know how to use it properly. Voters can be reached in their own homes. Yes, this is how the politician must appeal to the population and invite them to vote for him.
Talk, discuss, joke – who better than flamboyant lawyer Maurice Duplessis can do all this and seduce his listeners?
It is only a question of time. Soon, most Quebecers will turn on their radios and listen to the future MLA from Saint-Maurice convincing them to place their trust in him.
“Miss Cloutier, I’m off to New York for a few days. If you come across an article about Camillien Houde, put it in my files. And find out if there is any connection between the Taschereau family and the Banque canadienne nationale of Donnacona. And don’t forget to send a birthday card to Mrs. Crépeau. She is a good friend of the Conservatives.”
Growing up, Maurice Duplessis used to play in the parks of Trois-Rivières. He has turned into an ardent baseball fan. He can reel the statistics off by heart, and he knows the strengths and weaknesses of each player. When he attends the games, he can predict their strategy of attack and defence.
“Baseball is like the all-American dream,” he says to his friends. “The players are workers on a huge field. It is the only sport where statistics are averaged and the referees are so important.” The Yankees are Duplessis’s favourite team. When he can get tickets, he goes to New York to watch his hero play, the hero of a whole generation: George Herman “Babe” Ruth. The great Babe, with his Louisville Slugger, who hit sixty home runs in one year. Maurice sits in the bleachers of Yankee Stadium, “the House that Ruth built.” He follows the match closely, nothing escapes him. Go, Babe! Go! He’s a real man. A winner. He looks like a fat-cheeked baby, and yet what speed! Often, he steals bases. He’s funny. He’s a charmer. Maurice loves him for all these reasons. If the demon of politics had not possessed him, if he had not chosen law, if he had been born American, he would have liked to become a baseball player. Not just any player. No, a great one, a famous one, like the Babe.
This evening, the Yankees are giving the Red Sox a hard time. Maurice is with a friend, a member of the Conservative Party who wants to know how he intends to get elected on May 16, 1927.
“I’ve asked Robert René to organize my campaign,” says Maurice.
“René, the owner of the shoe store?”
“Yes. In addition to having money, the man has a lot of judgment. He gives good advice. In 1923, I made a few mistakes. The bourgeois in Trois-Rivières found me vulgar. I got the message. This time, I’m sure of beating Ludger-Philippe Mercier, Taschereau’s lackey. Even the Rouges don’t want him.”
“Your father would be so proud to see you now, Maurice. You are so much like him.”
“If I have any regrets, it is that Father died last year. He had suffered from diabetes for a long time. When he entered the Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, they amputated his leg. He was in a lot of pain… Mother also died of diabetes, almost six years ago.”
Maurice takes out a flask of whisky. A quick snort. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
“You drink too much, Maurice. In Trois-Rivières, your benders go unnoticed. But if you want to make a name for yourself in politics…”
“Stop lecturing me. That is my only weakness. Wow! Did you see that? The Babe just had a hit. I think it’s going to be a home run.”
The whole stadium is on its feet. Lights are flashing on the board. Maurice is also standing. As usual, he will party late into the night and will drink heavily. Tomorrow he’ll take the train back to Montreal, and then drive his car to Trois-Rivières. He has a lot to do. The election is in less than a month. Next week, he will campaign door to door. He has already prepared a long speech, which he will give on Monday.
His agenda is full. If he has allowed himself an evening out on the town, it is because he has nothing to worry about. Miss Cloutier looks after his appointments and his agenda.
Louis-Alexandre Taschereau is sixty years old at the time of the 1927 election. It is the second time that he asks Quebecers to vote for the Liberal Party. He stands an excellent chance of winning. As leader of the Opposition, Arthur Sauvé does not even come close. But this time the leader of the Conservatives has an advantage. Sauvé has people capable of changing the political order. Among them are the lawyer from Trois-Rivières, Maurice Duplessis, whose star is rising, and Camillien Houde, a colourful loudmouth who likes to boast that he represents the workers of Montreal.
On May 16, the Rouges win a landslide victory. The Liberals now occupy seventy-four seats at the Legislative Assembly. The Bleus take only ten. That same evening, after hearing confirmation of his defeat, Houde announces that he will contest the election results. The Conservatives are uneasy: who has won? Who are our Members? The city of Trois-Rivières is celebrating. Maurice, the son of Nérée, has won by a hair. His victory rests on a majority of only 126 votes. Maurice Duplessis is carried in triumph along Saint-Pierre Street. It is raining. Despite the downpour, the street is teeming with people gathered to see their new MLA. There are shouts of: “Put Maurice on the hood of Lugder Madore’s car! Speech! Speech!” His supporters are chanting from under their umbrellas: “He’s won his spurs, maluron, malurette!1 Vive Maurice!” The people celebrate and dance until late into the night.
This victory almost compensates for the Conservatives’ defeat across the province. However, questions are soon being raised about the party’s future: is Maurice Duplessis the Bleus’s last hope? Maybe it’s time for poor Arthur Sauvé to step aside for this emerging star?
Maurice hears the siren call that promises him the earth, but he is not in a hurry. First, he wants to familiarize himself with the legislature, to understand how it functions and not make mistakes. He is giving himself time. In 1928, at the opening of the session, a discreet and moderate Duplessis takes the floor to explain his party’s program. The government needs to grant subsidies to the municipalities. Farmland must be protected. The Lord’s Day Act must be respected.
Premier Taschereau listens to him. This young man – he will be thirty-eight next April – is impressive. He is a remarkable orator, his arguments are convincing and incisive. He wears his hair like Rudolf Valentino, is always well dressed, wears fitted jackets. He looks like an Englishman conducting serious business. Little by little, this promising young bachelor is acquiring confidence.
“I would have liked to have him on our side,” muses Taschereau. During a reception at Spencer Wood, the lieutenant-governor’s residence, the premier even goes so far as to introduce Duplessis to his niece. But Maurice has no intention of changing his bachelor status. Love, engagement, marriage – nothing must distract him from politics. He discovers that there is not much difference between a court of law and the Legislative Assembly. As a lawyer, he pleaded a case; as an MLA, he defends ideas. The same strategies, the same vocal effects, the same pleasure trying to charm his rivals. He is in his element. Like a fish in water, he swims in happiness.
“Miss Cloutier, send a telegram congratulating Camillien Houde. He has just been elected mayor of Montreal. Add a few personal words and my best wishes.”
Maurice Duplessis sees the “little guy from Sainte-Marie” as a kind of clown who makes a lot of noise. He finds him disorganized, crafty, someone who likes to play to the gallery. “A man who does not take into account his failures is a bad politician. He exposes himself to blackmail,” confides Maurice to his friends.
Everyone knows that Camillien Houde, Montreal’s new mayor, has his eyes on the leadership of the Conservative Party. Arthur Sauvé can no longer hold onto his position. On the lookout for a good candidate, can the Bleus resign themselves to Houde as their leader? His win in an October by-election confirms his growing popularity. Camillien, who beat Médéric Martin at Montreal’s City Hall, is triumphant. As member for Sainte-Marie, he will be sitting in Quebec City. Maurice wishes him much success and, to avoid any misunderstanding, agrees to take on the sale of tickets for the big banquet in honour of Houde. On December 8, 1929, the Montreal Stadium, recently built for the baseball team, the Royals, can seat four thousand spectators. Maurice arrives by car, followed by some forty supporters, members of the Trois-Rivières delegation. In the bleachers, someone recognizes him and comes over to speak with him.
“Aren’t you somewhat nervous about seeing this clown arrive at the Legislative Assembly?”
“That small fry from Sainte-Marie? No, I think he has taken on too much… Let’s see how it goes,” says Duplessis.
“The Conservative Party will soon be holding a leadership convention. Sauvé can’t hold on. Rumour has it that he is going over to the federal side. Maurice, just think a moment. Camillien will replace Sauvé as the head of the Party, and suddenly he’ll become leader of the Opposition in the House. Can’t you just see Taschereau having fun with this oddball? And with us while he’s at it.”
“Camillien has more than one trick up his sleeve. You’re wrong to look down on him. As for me, I already have too much to do in my riding. My political preoccupations can be summed up in one sentence: Trois-Rivières first, Trois-Rivières always. Since the House only sits for two months of the year, I intend to concentrate the rest of my time in my constituency. In the meantime, my dear friend, let’s go toast the Bleus!”
Maurice receives his many clients and voters at his office on Hart Street. To the former, he is generous with his advice. To the latter, he promises to present their demands to the Legislative Assembly. When a good Conservative is looking for a job, Duplessis promises to find him one. People trust their MLA from Trois-Rivières, who doesn’t count the hours when he’s working to improve the lives of his fellow citizens. One day, Miss Cloutier asks him:
“You are free to answer or not, Mr. Duplessis, but I would like to know why I have to keep collecting all these death notices. These people don’t count anymore!”
“Miss Cloutier, this list is very important, possibly even more so than the list of the living because, at the next election, there will be no more telegrams, no more cheating. My opponent will no longer be able to make the dead people vote. I’ll know their names before he does!”
Duplessis leaves nothing to chance. His past mistakes have served as useful lessons. He has been in politics for almost ten years now. Nowadays, he can sense the slightest nuance. More seasoned than ever, Maurice starts off the year by steering clear of party squabbles. It is 1929. On the radio Albert Marier sings Votre avion va-t-il au paradis? [Is your airplane taking you to heaven?], a popular song by Roméo Beaudry, one of the rare French Canadians whose songs have made the hit parade. Everyone knows the refrain that pays tribute to Charles Lindbergh in a roundabout way. Yes, the Twenties are having a beautiful ending. After the disillusionments of the Great War, the Roaring Twenties have infused everyone with new confidence.
The year 1929 is a carefree year despite the bad news that is going around. Here and there, economists are warning people: keep an eye on the stock market, stocks are fluctuating wildly. The impression of prosperity is only an illusion, be careful. While Herbert Hoover, president of the United States, talks about an era of abundance, in Canada, Mackenzie King is gearing up for the next election, which he might lose to the Conservative R.B. Bennett. In Quebec, Premier Taschereau appears secure. Who could possibly rob him of his crown?
Camillien Houde? After much hesitation, it seems that he will stand as candidate for the leadership of the Conservatives. Yes, Arthur Sauvé has finally yielded. At the upcoming convention to be held at the Château Frontenac, the only pretender to his succession will be the little guy from Sainte-Marie.
Maurice Duplessis chuckles under his breath.
At the beginning of July, 1200 delegates meet in Quebec City. Camillien Houde is seated on the VIP stand and is given an ovation. The member from Trois-Riviéres is greeted just as warmly. Many would like to see Duplessis change his mind and run against the mayor of Montreal. But there is no chance of that. “If my name is put forward, I will turn down the offer,” he informs the campaign organizers. The road is clear for Camillien. On July 20, 1929, the Bleus have a new leader: “He’s our Mussolini!” they cry while the band plays Vive la Canadienne1. At the time, the Italian leader is basking in the glow of admiration, so this comparison is very flattering. The easygoing Camillien comes forward amidst much applause. Maurice imagines the populist Houde confronting the distinguished Taschereau at the Legislative Assembly. It will be quite a show to see Camillien in the Opposition, he tells himself. When I go for the nomination, it will be as leader of the majority.
“When I’m leader of the Conservatives, it will be to be premier,” he mutters to himself.
October 24, 1929 falls on a Thursday. Black Thursday. A day of disaster. The Crash. The New York Stock Exchange spins out of control. Capitalism, the cherished ideal upon which Americans have built their dream of prosperity, is crumbling. Within a few weeks, thousands of workers are jobless. Unemployment is rampant.
The province of Quebec doesn’t escape the effects of the crisis. The poor are lining up for their meagre meal. Soup kitchens are set up to feed hungry families. It promises to be a harsh winter. How will people heat their homes? There is no money for coal or warm clothes. In Montreal, the Meurling Shelter is looking after more than seven hundred men. On Berri Street, men, women, and children in rags wait in line for food at the doors of the institute for deaf-mutes.
“It’s terrible to see, Miss Cloutier.”
Maurice has made a short stopover in the metropolis. Like many others, he compares the hardships suffered by the urban poor to those who are farming the land.
“The nuns give a sandwich to everyone: two slices of bread with lard, wrapped in newspaper. At least our farmers can eat from their gardens. Those who are leaving for the Saguenay and for Abitibi to homestead will have the greatest wealth there is – land to feed one’s family. Just like their predecessors did before them, the ones who listened to Curé Labelle1 and settled the Pays-d’en-Haut.”2
Duplessis is a friend of Ernest Laforce, the Canadian National Railway agent responsible for colonization who, like himself, is convinced that a return to the land would provide jobs for the unemployed, victims of the unbridled industrial development of the Twenties. Around this time Canon Lionel Groulx, whose idea of economic nationalism is quite narrow, is also appealing to “race,” that is, the French Canadians of Quebec. He reacts to the economic crisis by promoting a type of socio-economic nationalism. With six hundred dollars, impoverished Montrealers could rebuild their lives in the new territories that are opening up everywhere. Maurice finds himself singing the same tune. For his part, Father Albert Tessier, a friend and a powerful voice in his riding, convinces him to support a bona fide program of colonization at the Legislative Assembly:
“Quebec must be agricultural. You know it better than any other civil servant, Maurice. You have always lived in Trois-Rivières. You know how proud and independent the people are. They are to be admired for that.”
“Yes, agriculture is the cornerstone of our society. Our mission is to open up new territories and settle them like our ancestors did. When I see young French Canadians going to the Université de Montréal… there’s no future in that. People with bachelor’s degrees, poets? We don’t need that in the province.”
“I’m counting on you, Maurice, and the Conservative Party, to vote for increased subsidies to fund colonization. Camillien Houde, as mayor, will be spending a lot of time in Montreal, and anyhow I have no confidence in him. You know, don’t you, many still regret that you didn’t take over the leadership of the Bleus last July Perhaps one day… when you have completely recovered from your accident…”
“Ah, I’m feeling better, much better.”
For Maurice, this is a bad memory he wants to forget. It happened a few months ago, on September 26. He was on his way back from a meeting in Compton. Just before arriving at Notre-Dame-du-Bon Conseil… he took a sharp turn too fast, and rolled his car. He woke up next day at the Hôtel-Dieu Hospital in Montreal.
“Dr. Dufresne operated on me. Do you know Joseph-Arthur? We studied together at Trois-Rivières Seminary. He does good work. All that’s left is this scar.”
Father Tessier is amazed by the deep scar that goes from the left eye to the back of his head. Just like a scalping.
“I almost died. I’ll tell you a secret. I gave thirty dollars to Dr. Dufresne and asked him: ‘Go to the Precious Blood Monastery and light some candles in honour of St. Joseph.’ He’s the one who saved me. If I pray to St. Joseph, it is because of Brother André, whom I knew at Collége Notre-Dame. A real saint. I inherited my devotion from him. My great hope is that he will eventually get his oratory on Mount Royal in honour of St. Joseph.”
Maurice Duplessis’s convalescence after his car accident works to his advantage.
When Camillien Houde, the new head of the Opposition, makes his entrance into the Legislative Assembly, the enforced rest obliges Duplessis to stay away from the action. This does not, however, prevent him from following the debates to which the mayor of Montreal adds a certain flamboyance. Loud and brash, the ex-insurance salesman pays no attention to house rules. Premier Taschereau is incensed and demands his expulsion from the Assembly. Houde entertains the gallery with his antics. And yet strangely enough, the popularity of the Conservatives continues to grow.
But Camillien has a problem. He is, first and foremost, mayor of Montreal. But his position as leader of the Opposition is also time-consuming. At the St-Jean-Baptiste1 festivities, he parades around in coat and tails. Another day, he is present at the installation of a girder for the new Du Havre Bridge, which extends De Lorimier Avenue and is scheduled to open in 1931. When Maurice returns to the Assembly, it is obvious that Houde is often absent. Duplessis becomes the de facto leader of the Opposition. During the debates, the lawyer from Trois-Rivières shines. The Liberals come to appreciate him – he is an extraordinary speaker – in stark contrast to Houde’s awkward attitudes.
After four years of parliamentary work, another election is on the horizon. Maurice is not caught napping. For a long time now, he has observed what has been going on in his riding. With Miss Cloutier’s help, he answers every letter. One day, he sends five dollars to the Gaieté Crocquet Club, with the words: “Your game is very interesting.” His secretary asks him:
“Have you ever been to one of their tournaments?”
“No, but players are … voters!” answers the wily Duplessis.
Thérèse Casgrain is leading the movement to obtain the vote for women. One day, she calls upon Maurice. “You must promise to support our proposal and to vote for this law in the Legislative Assembly.” He doesn’t promise anything. He won’t commit himself, but he leaves the door open. In 1931, most members feel that Quebec is not ready for such an upset of traditional values. Duplessis is one of them. To win the election, he courts other pressure groups that are more powerful. Maurice is everyone’s friend, as long as no one questions the established order.
At his office on Hart Street, he works long hours so that requests for government jobs, letters of thanks to the press, all kinds of letters do not pile up. This evening, he remembers to send his condolences to Mr. Lefebvre who has just lost his mother-in-law, and his congratulations to the son of a Conservative member. “I admire your talent. What a marvellous game of bowling you played last Friday night!”
His work done, he takes a few moments to relax: a cigar and two glasses of gin. A grinding schedule. Maurice has to get up early the following day. Apparently, Taschereau intends to end the session one of these days and announce the date of the next election.
In the courtyard of the LaSalle Academy in Trois-Rivières, a dense crowd is gathered about the podium. Maurice Duplessis takes the floor and launches into a diatribe against the government of Louis-Alexandre Taschereau:
“A man with no heart! His family is beholden to the big trusts.”
His attacks are stark. They reach their mark.
“That old fool is a puppet. The Rouges are the servants of the monopolies. Look at what is going on with the feds. The Beauharnois scandal: Mackenzie King and his friends accepted favours. Taschereau is the same. His brother, his uncle, his son… everywhere, they reign over Quebec like monarchs. It’s time to send them packing. On August 24, vote Conservative. Vote for me, Maurice Duplessis… Maurice, one of your friends.”
Confident that he will be returned as member for Trois-Rivières, Maurice has his eye on power. He has already squeezed out Camillien Houde as leader of the Party. Let the mayor lead his St. Patrick’s Day parades in Montreal, but when it is time to vote laws or defend a program, he simply doesn’t measure up. In contrast, Duplessis is a fine parliamentarian and Premier Taschereau enjoys matching wits with him. The results of the 1931 election will determine the future of the Conservative Party.
On election day, Duplessis invites his organizers to spend the evening at his sister’s house. They are gathered around the wireless radio. The evening drags on for the Conservatives, who see their candidates go down one by one. Seventy-nine Liberals crush the eleven surviving Bleus. Camillien Houde, to avoid defeat, has run in two Montreal ridings. He is defeated in both Sainte-Marie and Saint-Jacques!
And Maurice? Up to the end, he waits and he hopes. After a recount, forty-one votes give him the victory. A close call. At his headquarters in Montreal, Camillien Houde is furious. Someone advises him to contest the vote. This would oblige the eleven Conservatives just elected to tender their resignations as a group. A member of the executive committee shows up in Trois-Rivières.
“What do you think, Maurice? We have proof that the polls were rigged, too many ballots. Eight thousand dead voted in Montreal; five thousand in Quebec. If you and the ten others refuse to sit, Taschereau will have to call another election.”
Polite but firm, Maurice Duplessis’s No is categorical. His majority is much too shaky to risk fighting another battle. Resign in order to allow Camillien to return to the provincial scene? Preposterous!
“Don’t rely on me to support your movement. I have work to do. I’m busy working on my own program before the session opens.”
Madame Bolduc1 is singing the R-100 song on CKAC Radio. Almost a year ago to the day, the big airship floating over Montreal was the talk of the town. Gliding over the rooftops, the dirigible with the magic number was making the children dizzy. They were running after it, twisting their necks to look up as it hung above the city. Mary Travers, alias la mère Bolduc, who regularly toured with her company, was inspired by the public’s infatuation to write a song about the R-100, and now it is on everybody’s lips.
Whenever he hears the song, Maurice thinks back to the past year and its difficult moments. After the car accident in 1929, he ended up in hospital again in March 1930. An emergency. He was suffering from a hernia. And he was in much pain for several months. This time, he thought he would die, despite his sisters’ encouraging words and Dr. Dufresne who came down from Montreal to look after him.
Camillien Houde’s fans were on the verge of rejoicing.
“Maurice has suffered complications: stomach hemorrhages, appendicitis, peritonitis. I think he is washed up. He’s going to die, for sure. Taschereau sent him a bouquet of red roses. He is as white as a sheet! He looks like a ghost.”
But you can’t take anything for granted. Today, bursting with health, he can look back and see himself in his white bed. And the many months he had to spend at home…
La Bolduc can be heard singing on the radio: “Va donc mettre ton prince albert, on s’en va à Saint-Hubert…” [Grab your coats and let’s be off to Saint-Hubert.] Maurice has made great strides in the past year. Yesterday, his detractors were burying him. Today, he has never been closer to his goal: to govern the province of Quebec.
The backbiting is fierce. Maurice Duplessis is accused of colluding with Taschereau ever since the premier wanted to dump Camillien Houde, who is nothing but a ranter. It’s an open secret: the Liberals much prefer the member from Trois-Rivières. Even if his puns can be irritating, at least he knows how to handle a debate.
“Have you heard the rumour?” Houde asks Duplessis.
The mayor of Montreal has just travelled to Trois-Rivières to call upon his lieutenant, who is growing more and more distant.
“J. H. Dillon wants to pass a law to prevent me from contesting my defeat in the election… And to think I went ahead and blew a $69,000 deposit…” says Houde, jokingly. “Anyhow, Taschereau’s gang are plotting to adopt a retroactive law that would prevent honest members like myself from contesting an election. If ever a vote is taken on the Dillon Law at the Assembly, I would like you to start a petition so that the lieutenant-governor will not be able to ratify it.”
Maurice doesn’t bat an eyelash. He has no intention of supporting his former leader. If Houde had worked harder at being elected in his own riding, he would not be standing there in front of him begging for allies.
And Duplessis has other things on his mind. The pot is reaching the boiling point in the province. The Liberals, feeling secure with their overwhelming majority, are not being prudent. “They’re heading for disaster.” Remembering his years at college when he was studying Latin, he parodies Cicero: “Quousque tandem abtere, Louis-Alexandre Taschereau, patienta nostra? [How long, Louis-Alexandre Taschereau, will you abuse our patience?] The debts are piling up and the revenues are not coming in. The Rouges, easygoing, presumptuous, are digging themselves into a hole. Convinced that they have Quebec all sewn up, they are not paying attention to their adversaries. They think that the worm of discord is in the Conservative Party’s apple. Camillien’s departure has reassured them.
They are wrong. Maurice Duplessis is still there.
He watches the members of the majority party and how they act. The solid front has developed cracks. The wear and tear of power has exposed rivalries. Outside the House, the Opposition is muttering quietly. A name is on people’s tongues – that of Paul Gouin. The youngest son of former Premier Sir Lomer Gouin, and a lawyer, he is also the grandson of Honoré Mercier. There is talk that a group of dissatisfied Liberal members sometimes gathers at his home in Montreal.
Miss Cloutier receives a phone call from Mr. Duplessis.
“Can you get me the names of the young members of the Reform Club? And also the names of those who meet at the École sociale populaire? Apparently, young Gouin met with several of them last week.”
It is 1932, and summer is almost over. The newspapers are full of the eclipse of the sun slated to take place on August 31. Maurice pokes fun at all this. An upheaval far greater than that is in the offing. Since eclipse is on everyone’s lips, Maurice thinks that the Rouges had better be wary of the true meaning of the word.
Quebec is celebrating. On March 16, 1933, Archbishop Jean-Marie Rodrigue Villeneuve is appointed cardinal. No wonder the flags are flying in the provincial capital. Many ecclesiastics from Montreal, including Msgr. Paul Bruchési, had been coveting this appointment to the Sacred College. From now on His Eminence, Cardinal Villeneuve, elector of, and advisor to, the Pope, is like a monarch. He is wearing a pallium – a white woollen stole with black crosses. Dressed in his scarlet robes, the Prince of the Church blesses the faithful. A reception is being held in his honour following the investiture. All the members of the Legislature turn out to pay him tribute.
Among them, Maurice Duplessis bends to kiss the Cardinal’s ring. A practising Catholic, he goes to Mass every Wednesday morning. He believes in God, and he believes in the power of the Church. This sacred institution has always been a benefactor of the French Canadians and has acted as a bulwark for their survival. When Taschereau’s Liberals passed a law on public assistance, Duplessis sided with the Church’s condemnation of this law and with the State’s meddling in community affairs. How dare the State take responsibility for Christian charity. It is the duty of the Church to take care of the poor, the alcoholics, the unmarried mothers, the orphans. His Eminence Cardinal Rodrigue Villeneuve likes to hear this kind of talk. He and Duplessis are on the same wavelength for many things. He finds the interim head of the Conservative Party sympathique.
“How do you like your new title, Mr. Duplessis?”
“My dear friend, you know that I am only replacing Camillien Houde at the Assembly. My party has not elected me. Our leadership convention will be held in a few months. Camillien doesn’t stand a chance. He goes from defeat to defeat. He can no longer sit in Quebec City, and Montreal prefers Fernand Rinfret to him. But do you want my opinion? Houde still has a trick or two up his sleeve. He will come back, either as mayor of Montreal or to sit in the Assembly or go to Ottawa. He is indefatigable… like myself. You’ll see, Your Eminence, in less than a year, you will be speaking to the premier of Quebec!”
And what if an adversary were found to prevent Maurice Duplessis from being acclaimed leader of the Conservative Party? Camillien Houde’s friends have no intention of being derailed, of not throwing a monkey wrench into the works. Their plan: convince Onésime Gagnon, a backbencher, to present himself at the leadership convention in the autumn. Who – Duplessis or Gagnon – will replace Houde?
The leadership convention is being held in Sherbrooke. Delegates from all over Quebec arrive in cars decked out in ribbons and streamers. Onésime’s supporters are meeting at the New Sherbrooke Hotel. Maurice has installed his headquarters at the Magog Hotel. Primed for a fight, the member from Trois-Rivières has brought with him a group of faithful supporters whose energy is infectious. The undecided ones will soon know for whom to cast their vote.
At the convention, Duplessis rises to speak. He is calling for a program to electrify the rural areas. He wants a law to allow victims of an accident to choose their own doctor. His speech is a success. In his speech, Onésime Gagnon tries to undermine his adversary’s credibility but to no avail. On October 5, 1933, Maurice Duplessis is elected leader of the Conservative Party.
He is forty-three years old and does not intend to remain long on the benches of the Opposition facing Louis-Alexandre Taschereau. The provincial election takes place in less than two years. Is he being presumptuous? Too sure of himself? Maurice has a taste for power. Working in the Opposition is clipping his wings. He wants to soar, like an eagle.
1 Quebec folksong.
1. National hymn sung in Quebec before O Canada became popular.
1. An important historical figure and a priest who promoted colonization and founded villages.
2. About 200 square kilometres around the town of Saint-Jérôme, north of Montreal.
1. June 24 – originally a holiday honouring St. John the Baptist, St-Jean-Baptiste Day eventually became officially Quebec’s Fête national, sometimes known as la St-Jean.
1. Nicknamed La Bolduc, (1894–1941) composer/singer/musician, she performed widely and recorded ninety-four songs.
