these last months through the winter are once again spent standing back in quiet support of Louis, but the brief happiness of February turns into the anger of March. The Métis don’t want to accept as normal the manic ups and downs that the government forces them to go through. It’s becoming a sickening pattern. If Gabriel didn’t know better, he’d swear the politicians were doing this on purpose, setting up the people’s hopes just to gut them. Four days into March, the actual words of the telegram to Dewdney and his rewriting of it become public knowledge, and with it, the brutal truth of the matter: only a tiny percentage of Métis will be offered possible title to their land and only after government land agents give their permission. Something in Gabriel hardens forever with this news. He was willing to go the peaceful route of petition, but it has gotten the people nowhere.
Had Gabriel been able to see the bigger picture unfolding—an impossibility for most anyone who didn’t have access to all the facts and all the government insider plans in 1885—it might not have been that big of a stretch for him to believe that John A. was actively attempting to incite the Métis to open rebellion by his long stretches of silence followed by short, devastating bursts of antagonistic decision-making that seem to unfairly punish them. Historians such as D.N. Sprague as well as the brilliant comic strip author Chester Brown make a fascinating argument for why it would perfectly serve John A. to incite the Métis to rebellion. John A.’s obsession, after all (an obsession, keep in mind, that forced him to resign because of his direct involvement in a railroad bribery scandal twelve years before), is a railroad that runs from sea to shining sea. But the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1885 is in desperate straits and close to bankruptcy. With the economy in the midst of a depression, Canadians worry that the project has become a fiscal black hole. But what if? What if a rebellion flares up in the west? The insurrection of 1870 is not only still fresh in the minds of English Canadians, it has grown to bogeyman proportions, and anger over the execution of the Orangeman Thomas Scott has never gone away. Riel is back in Canada, fomenting anger in the Métis, and now reports from government spies—including, of all people, Father André and the bureaucrat Lawrence Clarke—claim Riel wishes to pursue his revolutionary agenda even through violent means. And so why not just lead the Métis to water? Why not deny them what they ask for? Get them to act out violently, and what God-fearing Canadian is going to say no to loosening the purse strings in order to get the railroad finished so that troops and supplies can be sent quickly to quash the heathen uprising? Canadians will finally see the railroad’s positive use, and John A. will cement his place in the history books.
While this might verge on conspiracy theory, the simple fact of the matter remains that, regardless of whether John A. diabolically planned it or not, the outcome of his poor decisions remains the same. On March 5, the very next day after the federal government’s hurtful answer to Métis petitions comes to light, eleven men secretly meet with Gabriel, including Louis Riel. Louis has written a simple oath for the other men that has them agreeing to continue to live in as holy a manner as possible, but it also mentions the taking up of arms if necessary in order to save Métis country from a “wicked” government. The Métis have had enough of being trampled upon, of having their lives dictated to in this wild country by men thousands of miles away. Clearly the time for petitions has passed, and more direct action approaches. Still, Louis himself chooses not to sign this oath—a secret one, of sorts—because he believes his inclusion in any pact beyond the role of a “spiritual leader” will only lead to more troubles for the other men.
Despite Louis’s
Had Gabriel been able to see the bigger picture unfolding—an impossibility for most anyone who didn’t have access to all the facts and all the government insider plans in 1885—it might not have been that big of a stretch for him to believe that John A. was actively attempting to incite the Métis to open rebellion by his long stretches of silence followed by short, devastating bursts of antagonistic decision-making that seem to unfairly punish them. Historians such as D.N. Sprague as well as the brilliant comic strip author Chester Brown make a fascinating argument for why it would perfectly serve John A. to incite the Métis to rebellion. John A.’s obsession, after all (an obsession, keep in mind, that forced him to resign because of his direct involvement in a railroad bribery scandal twelve years before), is a railroad that runs from sea to shining sea. But the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1885 is in desperate straits and close to bankruptcy. With the economy in the midst of a depression, Canadians worry that the project has become a fiscal black hole. But what if? What if a rebellion flares up in the west? The insurrection of 1870 is not only still fresh in the minds of English Canadians, it has grown to bogeyman proportions, and anger over the execution of the Orangeman Thomas Scott has never gone away. Riel is back in Canada, fomenting anger in the Métis, and now reports from government spies—including, of all people, Father André and the bureaucrat Lawrence Clarke—claim Riel wishes to pursue his revolutionary agenda even through violent means. And so why not just lead the Métis to water? Why not deny them what they ask for? Get them to act out violently, and what God-fearing Canadian is going to say no to loosening the purse strings in order to get the railroad finished so that troops and supplies can be sent quickly to quash the heathen uprising? Canadians will finally see the railroad’s positive use, and John A. will cement his place in the history books.
While this might verge on conspiracy theory, the simple fact of the matter remains that, regardless of whether John A. diabolically planned it or not, the outcome of his poor decisions remains the same. On March 5, the very next day after the federal government’s hurtful answer to Métis petitions comes to light, eleven men secretly meet with Gabriel, including Louis Riel. Louis has written a simple oath for the other men that has them agreeing to continue to live in as holy a manner as possible, but it also mentions the taking up of arms if necessary in order to save Métis country from a “wicked” government. The Métis have had enough of being trampled upon, of having their lives dictated to in this wild country by men thousands of miles away. Clearly the time for petitions has passed, and more direct action approaches. Still, Louis himself chooses not to sign this oath—a secret one, of sorts—because he believes his inclusion in any pact beyond the role of a “spiritual leader” will only lead to more troubles for the other men.
Despite Louis’s
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