The Masques of Ottawa

In Short

This book offers a series of candid, observational portraits of Canadian political and business leaders in the years immediately following the First World War. Through sharp, impressionistic essays, it examines the machinery of government in Ottawa, the influence of industry, and the shifting social tides of a young nation. It is a work of political journalism that remains a valuable, if opinionated, window into the anxieties, aspirations, and personalities that shaped the early twentieth-century Canadian state, capturing a moment when the country was transitioning from a colonial past toward a more independent future.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book is defined not by a linear plot, but by the movement of a nation finding its footing after the trauma of the Great War. It opens with a critique of Ottawa itself—a "play-house" of politicians—and sets the stage for a drama where the actors are often less impressive than the landscape they inhabit. The book moves through a gallery of figures, starting with the establishment politicians who guided Canada through the war. Sir Robert Borden is depicted as a man of modest, honorable mediocrity whose dedication saw the country through its greatest crisis, while Sir Wilfrid Laurier is painted as a charismatic, almost mythical figure—a "human solar system" who charmed his way into the national consciousness.

As the text progresses, it pivots toward the new generation of leaders and the pressures of a changing economic landscape. Arthur Meighen appears as a man of formidable logic and cold efficiency, intent on steering a post-war country away from the "bitter experience" of radical experimentation. In contrast, Mackenzie King is portrayed as a man of intense, sometimes misaligned passion, whose political ascent remains somewhat mysterious. The narrative then expands to include the voices of the agrarian movement, embodied by figures like E.C. Drury and T.A. Crerar, who represent a challenge to the old guard. The author examines the "fence-corners" of political life, showing how the rise of labor unrest and the influence of powerful figures like Sir Thomas White and Sir Joseph Flavelle created a complex, often fractious environment.

The final act of the book serves as a diagnostic assessment of the nation’s condition. It reflects on the dangers of sectionalism, the tension between the Canadian identity and its American neighbor, and the desperate need for vision rather than "little ways" in leadership. It does not provide a neat resolution; instead, it leaves the reader with a sober reflection on the challenges of nation-building. The book concludes by arguing that if Canada is to become a true democracy rather than a "polyglot sandwich" between empires, it must move beyond economic classes and colonial habits to embrace a national identity rooted in poetry, faith, and a grander sense of purpose.

How It Unfolds

The play-house called Ottawa The book begins by framing the capital city as a stage for political performance, emphasizing the disconnect between the grandeur of the scenery and the pragmatic, sometimes mundane, actions of the politicians who work there.

The old guard and the new order The middle chapters contrast the waning influence of the war-time leaders—Borden and Laurier—with the rise of newer, more contentious figures like Meighen and King, who struggle to define the Liberal and Conservative paths.

The agrarian and industrial challenge The narrative shifts to the periphery, documenting the rise of the United Farmers and the concerns of the West, while simultaneously profiling the titans of industry and finance who operated behind the scenes of parliamentary power.

The search for national soul The final section moves away from individual character studies toward a broader philosophical debate about Canada’s future, urging the country to abandon its reliance on British traditions and American influence in favor of a homegrown, visionary democracy.

The People

The book is populated by men who embodied the tensions of the era. Sir Wilfrid Laurier serves as the romanticized, fading star, a man of charm whose influence on the national psyche is profound. Opposite him, Sir Robert Borden stands as the dutiful administrator, a man whose lack of natural genius is compensated for by hard, steady work. Arthur Meighen represents the cold, intellectual force of the Conservative party, driven by a fear of social revolution. Mackenzie King, meanwhile, is depicted as an enigma, a man of fervent humanitarian ideals whose lack of restraint frequently hampers his political judgment. The agrarian leaders like E.C. Drury and T.A. Crerar represent the rising tide of regional discontent, while industrialists like Sir Joseph Flavelle and railway magnates like E.W. Beatty and Lord Shaughnessy represent the powerful, often autocratic forces of Canadian finance that operated alongside, and sometimes above, the elected government.

In Its Own Voice

"Ottawa was built for convenience: for opportunity: for expediency."

The author describes the utilitarian origin of the nation’s capital, suggesting it lacked the grand design befitting a true center of power.

"The sad fact about Hughes is that he did not estimate what Canada did and did not in her first impact upon the war."

In a critique of the controversial Minister of Militia, the author argues that Sam Hughes’s ambition eventually overwhelmed his capacity for effective leadership.

"We talk about being a nation when we ignore the very disadvantages that militate against true nationalism."

The author concludes with a sharp observation about the hypocrisy of Canadian claims to nationhood while the country remained dependent on external powers.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the nature of political character and the difficulty of forging a unified national identity from a sprawling, diverse population. It argues that Canada’s biggest obstacle is not geography or resources, but a lack of political imagination. The author is preoccupied with the tension between "experience" and "experiment," constantly questioning whether the men in charge are capable of rising above their sectional interests to serve a larger, cohesive nation. It is a cynical yet hopeful analysis of democratic leadership, suggesting that a country can only grow as large as the minds of the people who lead it.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in Canadian history or the mechanics of political portraiture will find this book deeply engaging. It captures the spirit of an era when the "Old World" was receding and the "New World" was not yet fully formed. The prose is elegant, sharp, and occasionally biting—a style that rewards readers who appreciate careful observation over modern, fast-paced storytelling.

However, the reader must be prepared for the specific constraints of its time. The writing reflects the attitudes of 1921, including dated views on labor movements, class, and the role of the Church in Quebec, which may challenge contemporary sensibilities. The book is not a formal academic biography; it is a series of journalistic impressions that assume a working knowledge of the people and events of the period. For those willing to navigate the occasional dense reference or period-specific bias, the work offers a rare, intimate look at the "masques" of the Canadian establishment. It leaves the reader with a lingering sense of how fragile the project of a nation is, and how much it relies on the temperaments and visions of the flawed individuals who stand on the stage of history.