Mr. O'Donell, Sir!

Your pusillanimous letter has arrived on the New York packet and I hasten to reply - in a forlorn attempt to bring you to your senses.

What! No brilliant volume of personal reminiscence from the man closest to the events to enlighten the reading public in Britain as well as in Canada about those colourful days leading to the Rebellions of 1837 - '38? Fie, Sir! Would you discredit me in the eyes of my friends? I promised them the first clear, unjaundiced account of an episode which still induces puz zlement among political men? Will you leave the field to Messers L.-O. David, T.-P. Bédard, M. Bibaud, B. Sulte, and F.-X. Garneau for the French side and the no less biassed and unreasonable English writers such as Christie (the best of them I grant) Bonnycastle, Kingsford, and Bell?

No, seriously, Niall, I did not mean you to take my few remarks so to to heart. Put what you will in, for God's sake, but do go ahead with the project. Don't give up now after two years of work. I have a publisher here in Dublin waiting for the manuscript and friends all prepared to purchase it. I have been anticipating basking in your reflected glory, even as I remain convinced you owe it to your country to provide its citizens with an understanding of those fiery, cloudy years. Do reconsider!

As to other matters, my health remains passable. The political situation here is almost uniformly gloomy. Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee festivities are well over and the Unionist Government under Lord Salisbury has turned its attention again to enlarging the Empire with disastrous results. You have read, I am sure, of the unavenged murder of Gordon in the Sudan. An expedition under Sir Herbert Kitchener is being organized in Egypt to take Khartoum with who knows what result. Rhodes and Jameson are in disgrace following that ill-considered in vasion of the Transvaal and it is clear that trouble is brewing with the Dutch of Cape Colony. Most people expect we will have to go to war to establish our authority there.

But enough of this! I do not wish to chatter on about events which you can read for yourself. I want this letter to convey only my disappointment - nay dismay - at your abdication of your sacred duty. Do, please reconsider, my dear fellow - and soon. I may not be spared too much longer to be of help - and I am consumed with a desire to read your account.

Your impatient friend and servitor,
Sydney Bellingham

Arrow Lake
Feb.2, 1898

Sydney's letter arrived today, an unwelcome birthday present. How can I respond? For the past months I have closed my desk, put pen and paper away, keeping my thoughts on the present - Christmas and the New Year, family gatherings.

My health is good. Rheumatism of course. But here I am, 84 today, my mind still clear, my memory too vivid for comfort, though I find myself getting vaguer about recent events - less interested too.

When I let my mind dwell again on the early years - and who can control one's mind in the grey hours of a wakeful dawn? - my vision lights on that young Julie, so torn by her sense of loss over the death of baby Luce, unable to escape a feeling of guilt, railing against God for His injustice and yet determined to become a nun and a nurse. I feel even now such desolation, such a sense of having failed her, that I am glad when the sun rises high enough for the day to start. It is easier to live with my present advanced age and all its inconveniences than to stir up again those early miseries.

No Sydney, I will not write for publication - but yes, I will continue. I was a writer after all for all those years. Surprising how it comes back - after a half century in the Laurentians, watching the wilderness open into farming communities. And now for the past few years writ ing again - too old to keep up the farming routine, relieved to turn it over to my sons, Hugh and James. I am proud of my children: Sophie, married now to John Evans, and their two little girls, Dr. Charles in nearby Waterford, married these 12 years to Amélie Bergeron - what a scandal that was in its day - and now three grandchildren. And then there's Sarah - on her own, a newspaperwoman in Ottawa, refusing to settle down, the most like me in many ways - I must answer Sydney - and get back to my task

(draft) Arrow Lake
February 2, 1898

Dear Sydney,

Your letter of January has reached me. I regret your understandable - and flattering - annoyance with me, but I am adamant.

I recognize your claim on these memoirs. It was you, after all, who - more than two years ago now - spurred me on to begin them. The writing of them has, on the whole, been cathartic; I have become addicted, almost like de Quincy to his poppies. You must believe me when I tell you of the soul-searching I have done, but no! it is not possible. I cannot do it. I cannot untwist the secret recesses of my life from my account of the events of those days - or at least I cannot do it now. Just let me complete this account, get it out of the way, then I promise you, old friend, I will try to meet your request - though I know time is running out for both of us.

The news of the Empire is grim. There is talk here too of a war against the Boers. I hope nothing will come of it. If we were to send troops, it would be sure to excite reaction in this province.

Here in Canada, the new province of Manitoba keeps us all stirred up. The school compromise seems more and more unworkable as emigrants pour in from every corner of the world. There are as many Ukrainians and Germans as French there now and all are clamouring for bilingual education in their own tongue. The Catholic Bishops brought it on themselves, I fear. In this province Riel lives on in spirit and stirs the political stew.

I am back to work on my second volume. How long ago it all seems - until I get caught up in it and the present disappears. I left off in the late months of 1832, just as the Parliamentary Session was about to begin, the Session which saw the growing bitterness against Great Britain and her emissaries, the Governors and Bureaucrats, which led finally to the Rebellions. Sad years, but exciting ones too, for me and many others.

Do forgive me my decision. I shall certainly carefully preserve these accounts for my children and their children. I find the process clarifies my thinking. Who knows but in the end I shall write a serious analysis of the period. You shall be the first to read it!

With my regards, &c

Writing to Sydney has, as usual, poked me out of my lethargy. I have the bit between my teeth again and shall continue these memoirs as I began, as full of my personal life as they are an account of the times. Now that Sydney's importunings are done with, finally faced, I feel free. This book is mine to put into it what I will. To you, my descendants who peruse these pages, it is as honest an account as I could write. I am willing to be judged by you once I have passed on.

Read...Book One Introduction

Read...Book One Chapter One Book One

Read...Book Three Chapter Thirteen Book Three

Read...Author's Notes and About the Author

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