Yet this was not wholly a change in policy. Brown had never dropped rep by pop earlier, but had rather included it in the Convention scheme of federation as the underlying principle of the new governments that were to be established. He did not drop the federal idea now, but rather appended it to rep by pop as a means by which special interests – that is, French Lower Canada’s – might henceforth be safeguarded. It was a change of emphasis and priority, more than of policy, in his continuing quest for justice in the Canadian union.
At the Convention of 1859, the sixth and last of the resolutions there adopted had stated that no federal government that was not based on the principle of representation by population would be acceptable to Upper Canada Reformers.10 Now, in 1861, the Globe declared that rep by pop was “the principle governing all their arrangements and a mighty weapon to secure the object they have in view”.11 But the final objective, it said, remained the same: a federal union of the two Canadas, with the North West added – and with the prospect that the Maritime Provinces might ultimately join, if poor communications and mutual lack of interest were one day overcome.12 In short, rep by pop was still conceived as linked with and leading to a scheme of federation.
Nevertheless, if this was only a change in priority, it undoubtedly put federation well into the background, since for all immediate purposes Brown and the Globe once more concentrated on winning representation by population within the existing Canadian union. Indeed, it seemed almost like old times in the United Province, as on the one side the demand for rep by pop went up again, and on the other the old cry of “maintain the union” was heard anew. The more sweeping proposals for constitutional reform were all in abeyance now. If Grit Liberals had laid aside dual federation, and dissolution was a static force among an unreconstructed radical rearguard, so the ministerial ranks were silent on the grand design for British North American confederation. During their recent western speaking tour, moreover, Macdonald and his colleagues had said little or nothing about a general federation. Instead they had harped stirringly on the preservation of the existing union against the disruption designed by Brown. And when that same autumn the Premier of New Brunswick, Leonard Tilley, had visited Canada to discuss the question of British North American union informally with the Canadian ministers, he found them too busy even to take up the subject of his visit. He had returned to Fredericton sharply noting that the experience had “not in any way strengthened my desire for union” – and that “there appears less prospect of arriving at a satisfactory solution of this than I formerly anticipated”.13 Politics in Canada were apparently back in their old groove. It might take strong pressure – perhaps something like the impact of the American war – to bring them out of it.
The census and rep by pop; rep by pop and the census: that was the programme Brown now set for his paper, whenever there was time to turn from the American crisis. “HAS A CENSUS PAPER BEEN LEFT AT YOUR HOUSE?” the Globe demanded in large black type, reminiscent of the style in which it so often urged Reform electors to go out and die voting.14 As the Upper Canada figures came in, it published them like so many triumphant election returns, noting jubilantly that in newer western counties the rate of increase since the last census had reached as high as 450 per cent, and, as well, that Lower Canadian papers were now falling silent on their earlier confident prophecies of parity with the West.15 It really did seem evident that the final population figures would give Upper Canada a commanding lead – nearly a million and a half to a little over a million.16 Although the completed census would probably not be published before the next session of parliament was over, it was equally probable that the proceedings of the session would be greatly affected by awareness of the coming results. The House would have to give full consideration to the question of representation by population. To prepare for that debate, and for the elections that must follow the session, was now Brown’s prime concern.
Or, rather, it should have been. It was announced late in February that parliament would meet on March 16. Brown should have used the remaining time to tighten the Liberal press and party organization behind the renewed demand for rep by pop. There should have been a string of powerful Globe editorials for reprinting throughout the satellite party papers, and more of his glowing speeches at Reform meetings to rouse the electors and keep their representatives in line. That, at least, had been the usual practice. But it was markedly absent this time. For the leader was seriously ill; he could not fulfil commitments. The Globe gradually lost way. George Brown’s health had finally collapsed from constant strain. He had gone down with pleurisy at the very moment when his leadership was most required.17
His health had been declining for some weeks, and still he forced himself to work at the Globe office. But, on March 2, he had to take to bed and admit to “severe indisposition” – which rapidly became far worse.18 “The disease,” he said later, “had fastened on me long before it became fully developed, and was undoubtedly caused by the great exertions I had to make to put my house in order – for there was no mercy.”19 He had had to strive so long and hard with financial problems, had never been really free of them since the onset of the depression in 1857. And, in the last year, there had been the costly outlay on the Globe, the mortgaging of Bothwell for the $20,000 loan, the slander that this had roused, and the further strain put on his credit and his feelings through the purposeful attacks on his business reputation.
Political troubles and his recent busy speaking tour had scarcely lightened George Brown’s load. Moreover, at the close of navigation the outlook for the Canadian lumber trade had been gloomy in the extreme, for the American market had seemed to freeze with panic in the mounting secession crisis – a matter of particular concern to the owner of the Bothwell mills. With the approach of spring, however, and gathering military preparations, trade had begun to come to life again; in fact, there would soon be a rising war-time market in the northern states. Furthermore, Brown’s expensive improvements in the Globe, by now seemed to be justifying themselves: at all events, by April of 1861 that paper was apologizing for temporary delays in delivery caused by a forty-per-cent increase in circulation.20 And so its proprietor shortly could give thanks “that I was not driven to my bed until the ship was safe inside the breakers in comparatively smoother waters than it has known for years”.21
But by that time all the damage had been done. Luther Holton put it simply: “You have spent so much of your apparently exhaustless energy that you have overwrought the machine.”22 At forty-two, Brown, worn out with business worry and with the outpouring of vitality on so many projects, had finally broken a constitution that had once seemed indestructible. Of course, he had been ill before. But never for so long, or with such lasting effect.
2
For two months and more he lay in the quiet house on Church Street, solicitously tended by his elderly parents, his sister Isabella, and sister-in-law Sarah, while physicians consulted over him and friends called by to learn of his condition. The actual peak of his illness passed fairly early, and when the severe inflammation had subsided Brown briefly felt that he would be up and doing in a few days. Yet this, he found, “was only the buoyancy of fever; as it lowered, my utter prostration soon appeared.”23 He was prescribed the proper nourishing foods, but could not digest them. He had to go on a debilitating Victorian regimen of “stimulants”, and continued terribly weak, subject to a racking cough that would not leave him. At length, by early May, the patient had improved enough to drive out in the carriage for an hour a day in the mild spring air. Still, his weakness was such that when after nine weeks he tried to put pen to paper, it was – he said – “like the scrawl of an old man of eighty”.24
Gradually strength returned, until he was able to bear the fatigue of a journey to Clifton Springs, a highly regarded health resort near Rochester, to take its water-cure and convalesce for a week or two further – though he would later claim that “fresh air, beefsteaks and London porter set me up”.25