Canada and the States

In Short

This memoir captures the mid-Victorian era of Canadian growth, documented through the eyes of a key British railway developer. Spanning 1851 to 1886, the narrative traces the frantic push to build telegraph lines and transcontinental railways, the complex diplomacy surrounding the American Civil War, and the political maneuvering required to forge a cohesive Canada. By alternating between official business records and personal letters, it provides a gritty, unvarnished look at the era’s "romance" of progress. It remains a essential document for those interested in the logistical and personal costs of nation-building during a time of immense geopolitical uncertainty.

The Story

The narrative begins in 1851, when the author travels to North America as a tourist seeking health, only to become deeply enmeshed in the business of the continent. Over the next thirty-five years, he returns repeatedly, transitioning from a mere observer to a central figure in the expansion of Canadian infrastructure. The primary arc of his career involves the "Hudson’s Bay project," an ambitious, high-stakes endeavor to reorganize the vast territories of the fur trade and integrate them into a modern, industrial framework. He recounts the immense difficulty of working with the Imperial government in London, which frequently refuses to subsidize these colonial projects, leaving the author to navigate personal financial risk and complex local politics in Canada.

As the narrative progresses, the shadow of the United States looms large. The author is obsessed with the potential for American expansionism, particularly during the Civil War, and argues that Canada must unite and build its own transport links to survive. He details the intense, often frustrating negotiations with British ministers like Lord Palmerston and the Duke of Newcastle, who prove difficult to convince of the "Imperial importance" of a land-based telegraph or a railway connecting the Atlantic to the Pacific.

The story reaches a climax in the mid-1860s, during the negotiations for the Confederation of the Canadian provinces. The author navigates the delicate egos of local leaders, such as George-Étienne Cartier, while contending with bizarre political slights and the constant threat of border disputes. He provides detailed accounts of how he helped reorganize the Hudson’s Bay Company, emphasizing that only by integrating the "fertile belt" through railways and wires could Canada hope to outpace its Republican neighbor.

As the work concludes, the perspective shifts from the boardroom to the landscape itself. The author describes his 1886 journey across the newly completed Canadian Pacific Railway, moving from the industrial ports of Quebec to the rugged terrain of the Rocky Mountains. He reflects on the finished Dominion, now free from the sectional squabbles of his youth. The book ends not with a victory lap, but with a weary, pragmatic assessment of a finished job, acknowledging the physical toll that these "missions of responsibility" exacted upon his own health, leaving him a "shaky and seedy" survivor of an era that fundamentally reshaped the northern half of the continent.

How It Unfolds

The initial health quest The author arrives in Canada in 1851 as a tourist, but he is quickly captivated by the potential for development across the continent. He describes the early, primitive state of transport, setting the stage for his lifelong project of modernization.

The mission of business By 1861, the author is deeply involved in the complex, often frustrating task of securing government support for an intercolonial railway. He provides a sharp, behind-the-scenes look at how private interests and official policy clashed in the halls of power in London and Quebec.

The telegraph and the wire The author argues that "the wire" is the essential "master’s eye" for managing vast, distant territories. He outlines the logistical nightmares of laying telegraph lines through untamed wilderness and the necessity of reforming the Hudson’s Bay Company to survive in a new, competitive age.

The looming shadow of the States A major beat involves the constant anxiety surrounding American expansion and the termination of the Reciprocity Treaty. The author uses these geopolitical threats to build the case for a unified, fortified Canadian Dominion.

The completion of the dream In the final chapters, the author traverses the completed transcontinental railway in 1886. He contrasts the new, daring engineering feats—such as timber trestle bridges and steel rails—with the difficult, slow-moving political negotiations of his younger years.

The People

The author, Sir E. W. Watkin, emerges as a man of tireless, almost frantic energy, driven by a Victorian sense of duty to expand the Empire. He is consistently frustrated by the "skinflint" attitudes of British politicians, yet he remains deeply optimistic about Canada’s future.

Lord Palmerston, the British Prime Minister, appears as a formidable, if detached, figure. The author portrays him as a man of immense experience who listens intently to arguments for the railway but is fundamentally constrained by his own Chancellor of the Exchequer.

George-Étienne Cartier, the Canadian statesman, is shown navigating the complicated, often petty world of colonial honors. His correspondence reveals a man deeply concerned with the nuances of reputation and the delicate balance of power between the colonies and the British throne.

The Duke of Newcastle serves as the author's primary contact within the Colonial Office. While sympathetic to the author’s vision, his refusal to provide financial guarantees represents the primary obstacle to the author’s plans, illustrating the gap between imperial policy and colonial reality.

Finally, the author’s wife, Lady Watkin, stands as a quiet but essential anchor. Though she only visits the continent once, her "good advice" and the personal sacrifice of enduring her husband’s "long absences" provide the emotional backbone for his career. She represents the home life that he constantly risks in pursuit of his grand continental ambitions.

In Its Own Voice

"The cure for this dangerous disease was to provide, for all, a bigger country--a country large enough to breed large ideas."

The author reflects on how the expansion of Canadian infrastructure was meant to foster a new, unified national identity.

"The Canadian Pacific Railway from Quebec to Port Moody is a mixture of the new and the old."

Describing his final journey in 1886, the author summarizes the transition from older, government-built lines to the daring new engineering of the west.

"The 'wire,' to my mind, was the best 'master's eye' under the circumstances."

The author explains the practical necessity of the telegraph in managing the vast, often lawless regions of the Hudson's Bay territory.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the necessity of infrastructure as the foundation of national sovereignty. The author contends that a country cannot truly exist as an "integral part of the Empire" unless it is physically stitched together by steel rails and telegraph wires. He frames the history of Canada not as a series of abstract political agreements, but as a hard-fought battle against geography and distance. By connecting the Atlantic to the Pacific, the author believes he is creating a "career open" for young Canadians, protecting them from the gravitational pull of their "Republican neighbours" to the south. The book is an inquiry into the cost of greatness, questioning whether a nation can be built solely on private enterprise, or if it requires the heavy hand of Imperial protection to succeed.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for those who want to understand the "bones" of modern Canada. Readers who enjoy the intersection of high-stakes business and geopolitical history will find the author’s accounts of boardrooms and cabinet meetings fascinating. It feels like a long, detailed conversation with a man who lived through an extraordinary period of growth, and his voice is remarkably candid—he does not shy away from his own failures, exhaustion, or the eccentricities of the figures he encountered.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the book's limitations. It is a long, dense work, and the author’s perspective is unapologetically imperialistic, reflecting the attitudes of his time. He is a man of his century, and his focus remains squarely on the administrative and political machinery of the elite. His technical descriptions of railway construction are thorough, though they might test the patience of those looking for a traditional narrative. Yet, for those interested in the "romance" of progress, there is a distinct pleasure in reading his matter-of-fact descriptions of the Rocky Mountains or the bustling ports of the 1880s. What stays with you is the sheer scale of the vision—the idea that a handful of men with desks and telegrams could conjure a nation across a wilderness. It is a stubborn, intelligent, and deeply personal account of how a continent was mapped, measured, and finally joined together.