The Women of Confederation

Canadian women from 1865-1900

Tag: history

Stepping Out

“Baby … dance with me tonight.”
Olly Murs

This blog post should perhaps have been my first one, because without the events on which it is based (and that lie just outside my timeframe of 1865-1900), Confederation would never have happened.

The conferences in Charlottetown in September and Quebec in October of 1864 paved the way for the constitution of Canada in 1867. And one woman recorded the behind-the-scenes socializing – and there was plenty of it – in her diary: Mercy Ann Coles, the twenty-six year-old daughter of George Coles, former premier of Prince Edward Island and leader of the Liberal opposition to Confederation (PEI did not enter Confederation until 1873 because it initially found the terms unfavourable). Mercy, the eldest of “several attractive daughters, well educated, well informed, and sharp as needles,” according to George Brown, owner of the Globe newspaper (qtd. in Dann), wrote about the dinners, balls, déjeuners, and outings that made up the social side of the conferences.

Mercy_Coles Mercy Coles during her visit to Quebec in 1864. (Source: McCord Museum.)

Without her diary, “Confederation history is incomplete,” Anne Macdonald has recently argued. Mercy’s record offers “an intimate view of Canada’s movers and shakers of the time. It includes places and events that made up Canada’s social and cultural history” (31).

Province_House_Ball_1864 Dusan Kadlec, Province House Ball, 1864. (Source: Parks Canada.)

Gossip Girl

Thanks to Mercy’s diary, we know that the Confederation conferences were not just, 24/7, about serious political maneuvering.

We know, for instance, that the daughters of William Steeves, conference delegate from New Brunswick, seemed “to be the possessors of the parlour downstairs [at Government House in Charlottetown]. I think they never leave it,” Mercy noted (perhaps with some indignation). “There is a Mr. Carver who seems to be the great attraction.”

Province House Province House, location of the 1864 Charlottetown conference. (Source: Parks Canada.)

And we know that Samuel Leonard Tilley, the premier of New Brunswick and a widowed father of seven, was a hot item among the unmarried ladies: “It is rather a joke,” wrote Mercy in the context of the first big event in Quebec, “he is the only beau of the party and with 5 single ladies he has something to do to keep them all in good humour.”

And we know that the would-be nation maker himself had, as usual, his game face on. Thus, Mercy wrote, “Mr. J. A. Macdonald dined with us last night. After dinner he entertained me with any amount of small talk.” Was Macdonald interested in her? Or was he wooing her father by paying attention to Mercy? Just a few days later she recorded, “I went to dinner in the evening. John A. sat along side of me. What an old Humbug he is. He brought me my dessert into the Drawing Room. The Conundrum.” Whatever the precise “conundrum” may have been that night, it is clear that John A. was fully aware of the stakes of the conferences and therefore was performing his public, political persona, even to a young single lady.

Shake That Booty

The festivities that took place at the Drawing Room in the Legislative Building in Quebec were the most sought after, and again Mercy recorded for posterity her impressions of the splendour:

“We all went down to the Drawing Room last night. Quite a crowd when we all got together. All the ladies looked very well and were quite a credit to the lower provinces. Pa, Ma, and I went together. A half dozen gentlemen wanted to take me into the room, but I preferred to go in with Papa. The Governor General stood in the middle of the room with his private secretary on his right hand. We did not require to have any [visiting] cards. The Aides announced us each time. … There were about 800 people presented.”

Spencerwood Spencer Wood, Quebec, residence of the Governor General at the time of the conferences, before the government’s move to Ottawa. (Source: Library and Archives Canada.)

Dancing figured prominently among the entertainments provided. “I went down to the Ball last night,” Mercy wrote about another evening’s fun, “such a splendid affair.” She delighted in being a desirable dancing partner: “Mr. Crowther danced with me the first quadrille. … I was engaged for every dance.”

The Congress Dances – and Advances

Mercy may well have wished to present herself as a statesman’s daughter “with imperial feminine virtues – conscious of the male gaze and playing the role of a young woman under its spell” (McDonald-Rissanen 201), but another observer, PEI delegate Edward Whelan, confirmed in his articles for the Examiner newspaper that dancing at the conferences was far from simple fun.

Calling the senior conference members “the most inveterate dancers I have ever seen,” Whelan also noted that “they are cunning fellows; and there’s no doubt that it is all done for a political purpose; they know if they can dance themselves into the affections of the wives and daughters of the country, the men will certainly become an easy conquest” (“The Life and Times”). Mercy accordingly notes in her diary after one event (that she had to sit out because of being ill), “Papa came home with every stitch of clothes wringing wet with perspiration,” having danced the night away.

Victorian_Dancing

Dancing, at those steamy conference balls, clearly meant putting one’s best foot forward in more than one sense.

Rather than taking the view, as male writers and critics have done in the past, that the feminine perspective offers “no great issues … to agitate the mind” (Sinclair quoted in Wright 8), Mercy’s diary demonstrates that, however civically-minded a nation, however engaged its leaders, without social energy the political apparatus might well get stuck for lack of lubrication.

P.S. Whatever Mercy may have hoped for from the conference social activities, she never married. She died in 1921 or 1922 in Charlottetown, having lived into her eighties.

 

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Works Cited

“The Life and Times of Confederation, 1864-1867.” https://archive.org/stream/lifeandtimesofco030808mbp/lifeandtimesofco030808mbp_djvu.txt, accessed November 16, 2014.

Coles, Mercy Ann. “Reminiscences of Canada in 1864.” LAC MG24-B66.

Dann, Moira. “Where were the Mothers of Confederation?” Globe and Mail, Aug. 28, 2009. http://www.theglobeandmail.com/globe-debate/where-were-the-mothers-of-confederation/article4284401/, accessed November 16, 2014.

McDonald-Rissanen, Mary. In the Interval of the Wave: Prince Edward Island Women’s Nineteenth and Early Twentieth-Century Life Writing. Montreal and Kingston, London, Ithaca: MQUP, 2014.

MacDonald, Anne. “Daughters of Confederation.” Canada’s History Aug.-Sep. 2014: 30-33.

Wright, Donald. “Introduction to the Wynford Edition” of The Elegant Canadians, by Luella Creighton. Don Mills, On.: Oxford UP, 2013. 1-8.

Diplomatic Lady

“She was a shy woman.”
Harold Nicholson about Lady Dufferin

In July 1872, a new wind began to blow in Ottawa that swept though all of Canada – which had grown to span the continent from coast to coast – and that emanated from Rideau Hall. Between 1867 and 1872, during the tenures of governors general Lords Monck and Lisgar, official Ottawa had been quite informal, according to contemporary sources (though Agnes Macdonald had found Lady Lisgar a bit chintzy). All that changed when the Dufferins arrived, who brought to Canada a grand social energy that bestowed a sparkle on the rough new Dominion it had not had before.

As the new governor general’s consort, Lady Dufferin – Hariot Georgina Rowan Hamilton – was not ‘Canadian’ but a diplomat’s wife, yet her interest and influence in Canada make her a Woman of Confederation. (Canadian citizenship, in any case, did not exist then; ‘Canadians,’ like the Dufferins, were British subject.)

Dufferin Source: New York City Public Library.

Falling in Love with Ottawa

Lady Dufferin, born in 1843 in a Norman castle in Northern Ireland and nurtured in grand estates, found that rough little Ottawa, and Canada, “agreed with her” (S. Gwyn, Private Capital 163). Following his stint in Ottawa, Lord Dufferin, with Hariot by his side, went on to a splendid career, serving as ambassador to St. Petersburg, Constantinople, Rome, and Paris, and as viceroy in India, the jewel in the imperial crown, yet of all these postings, it was Canada that captured Lady Dufferin’s heart.

Her stay in Ottawa started ominously. After landing in Quebec, and immediately being “charmed” by the city and everything else she saw en route to the capital (Dufferin 3), she found that the “first sight of Rideau Hall did lower our spirits.” The access road to the building was “rough and ugly” and the house itself “at the land’s end” and without a view (4). Not twelve hours later, however, Lady Dufferin had already cheered up: “I dare say that in winter this place looks lovely! Our house is, they say, very warm and comfortable, and the Houses of Parliament which, after all, I do see from my windows are very beautiful … so why did I grumble? We have driven in state through the town, and have visited the Government buildings. I was delighted with the Senate, and with the Library, a large, circular room. When the House is sitting I may come and listen to debates” (4).

Political Observer

And that is exactly what she did. Like Agnes Macdonald before her, Lady Dufferin was a regular visitor to the Ladies’ Gallery in the House, actively following Canadian politics and staying, if necessary, into the early hours of the morning. She gained a reputation for animatedly reporting the proceedings to her husband (who by law was prevented from attending the debates to ensure his non-partisanship), and even acting out the speeches and gestures of individual speakers.

DufferinsLord and Lady Dufferin.

She immersed herself in Canadian life, doing charitable work and organizing amateur theatre – she herself was an enthusiastic actress – that had a “galvanic effect” on Ottawa and “spread through the town like a wild-fire” (S. Gwyn, Private Capital 174). She also threw more parties and travelled further and wider in Canada than any woman in her position had done before, ever “impatient to see more of the country and the people” (8-9). She was the first Governor General’s consort to accompany her husband on his tours.

Travel, Travel, and More Travel

Looking back to the 1870s from our current perspective, one has to admire the stamina needed to undertake all those voyages at a time when travel was anything but fast and easy. In 1872, Lady Dufferin visited Quebec and Tadoussac (where the Dufferins chose to build a summer house) as well as Toronto and Hamilton. In 1873, while pregnant with their sixth child, she went to Montreal as well as, after the birth of a daughter in May, to the Maritimes, celebrating in Charlottetown Prince Edward Island’s entry into Confederation.

In 1874, while Lady Dufferin was pregnant again (with their seventh and last child), she toured Ontario, delighting in rustic accommodations and tents “spread with fir-boughs, which are laid down most carefully and scientifically by the men, and make a most delightful carpet and spring mattress” (168). In 1876, the Dufferins went to British Columbia, having to rely on American rail lines (Canada’s Pacific Railway was far from completed), and in 1877 they toured Manitoba, also accessible only by American rail (and boat). Before departing Canada in 1878, they squeezed in a trip to the Eastern Townships. Just about everywhere she went, Lady Dufferin enjoyed the beautiful scenery and pleasant, friendly people. The very air she found “delicious,” feeling overall “so well and cheerful!” (12).

The Joys of Winter

Even Ottawa’s cold climate, though warranting several entries in Lady Dufferin’s journal and thus apparently a matter of some concern, did not really put her off. On one occasion she wrote, “the thermometer was 10 below zero, but the day was bright, and we did not feel the cold at all” (49). One simply “wraps oneself up like a mummy,” she declared, “and drapes one’s face in an indispensable and most becoming cloud [a long wool scarf draped round and round], and thus defies the weather” (127). Her winter-hardiness alone should make us conclude that “Lady Dufferin is one of us” (Fowler 218).

Dufferin_cloud Lady Dufferin wearing a ‘cloud.’

In later life, she suffered a series of heavy blows. Her eldest son was killed in the Boer War, another in WWI, and her third son died in an accident in 1930; her husband died in 1902, having lost his entire fortune. She lived until 1936.

A Sense of Duty

The woman that emerges from Lady Dufferin’s Canadian Journal, though, is one that impresses through its enthusiasm, optimism, sheer physical health and vigor, vivacity, and the ability to have fun. That she was prepared to be such a public persona (not just accompanying her husband but occasionally also filling in for him) is all the more remarkable as she was, at heart, private. The mark she left on Canada – through involvement in politics, federal-provincial relations, social and creative activities – is a measure, therefore, not just of her lively interest in the Dominion, but also of her sense of responsibility and duty.

 

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Works Cited

Dufferin and Ava, The Marchioness of. My Canadian Journal. London: John Murray, 1891.

Fowler, Marian. The Embroidered Tent: Five Gentlewomen in Early Canada. Toronto: Anansi, 1982.

Gwyn, Sandra. The Private Capital: Ambition and Love in the Age of Macdonald and Laurier. Toronto: Harper and Collins, 1984. Print.

Other Histories, Separate Stories

“I told you the truth,” I say yet again,
“Memory’s truth, because memory has its own special kind.

It selects, eliminates, alters, exaggerates, minimizes, glorifies and vilifies also;
but in the end it creates its own reality.”

Salman Rushdie, Midnight’s Children

 

What makes people and events memorable?

Memorability is a big concept these days – figuring out ways to make a product (and most everything today is a commodity) stick in consumers’ minds by focusing on select characteristics – but evidently the story of the past, whether that story is one person’s or that of a group, also is a selective account, hinging on the memorability of experience.

Both ‘remembering’ and ‘recollecting’ suggest an “assembling, a bringing together of things in relation to one another” (McDermott 391), but how these things are brought together is far from a foregone conclusion. Recollection is based on social significance, which means that to become history (i.e., to be found memorable), events must be registered as significant already at the time of their occurrence. But what if that is not the case, because significance, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder?

In fact, nothing about what, how, why, and for whom we remember is straightforward and simple, and the recent boom in the field of “memory studies” bears evidence to that. The activity of remembering is one big puzzle. That may sound a bit strange: don’t we just remember (if we are lucky) what’s noteworthy and consequential? And as a group, don’t we just commemorate what there is to commemorate?

Not quite.

Memory_cartoon

The Past is a Foreign Country

Because memory is such a complex subject, I want to linger a bit – before delving into the stories of the women of Confederation, as my blog title announces – on the difficulty and deliberate effort involved in remembering those stories. And to be sure, difficult and involved it is, because significance has been assigned (and continues to be assigned) elsewhere.

To talk about memory in the context of national remembrance, such as the anniversary of Confederation (or of international occasions, such as the World War I centenary), is to talk about ‘collective,’ ‘public,’ ‘social,’ or ‘cultural’ memory, not the individual kind. (The profusion of terms is a further indicator of the memory industry that has sprung up.) Clearly, since few of us were alive in 1867 and the years after that significant date, we have to rely, for what we remember and commemorate, on “exposure to a common reservoir of products, including photographs and documentaries, museums, … histories and novels” (Erll and Rigney 111).

And that’s just it: how is this “reservoir” produced? Who makes or selects these products? Whose images are included? Whose stories? Whose truth? Whose memories do we rely on for our selection? Even if we make use of ‘first person’ accounts by those who lived through the historic events, we have to accept those individual memories, those subjective understandings as true. ‘Eye witness’ testimony in police investigations is notoriously unreliable. Not just that, but memory is also changeable and interacts with its contemporary context – altered to fit certain circumstances – making it rather ephemeral, a palimpsest that is overwritten in consecutive recollections. And that uncertainty extends to recording events ‘in the moment’ – how often does that actually happen? And even if it did, the people recording still have to make a selection of what (they are prepared) to tell.

Individual memories of the past are then exchanged with popular ones and “established and confirmed through dialogue with others” (Glassberg 10). The resulting prevailing images – what makes them prevailing? – make up public history in the form of museums, monuments, memorials, and commemorations. This is what we remember, and this is what we assemble – or are the images perhaps imposed? – into the common history that holds us together in an “imagined community,” in Benedict Anderson’s terms, of the present and future, rooted in the foreign country of the past.

Most of us feel quite comfortable in that country, foreign though it may be. We’ve learned about it. We know what we know. We are familiar with the “national narratives that tell us what to remember.” We tend to repeat the same myths that creep up at every opportunity. Our memories are learned. Particularly during times of crisis – a war – or celebration – an anniversary, those narratives have “little competition” (Hampson).

Is that enough?

The Dismemberment of Women

Memory and history have dismembered, rather than remembered, women because female experience is too often discounted as insignificant. Their stories are not passed on and other narratives move into the foreground. Two forms of forgetting are involved in this process, it seems to me: a kind of “structural amnesia” that regards male endeavour as far more memorable than the female type, and an “annulment” that “flows from a surfeit of information” (Connerton 64). In other words, forgetting is a case both of disinterest and of ‘too many books (and websites!) and too little time.’

Such systemic and systematic forgetting raises the question, who remembers? Who is authorized to remember? Who gives value to memory? Remembrance always gives prominence to certain narratives, and the authors of public memory invite the community to identify with their version of the past. The stories told thus function as reinforcements of the narrators’ claims of authorship: we who have done, tell. Women’s stories are “muted” in comparison to dominant expressions of experience and therefore less readily than men’s absorbed into and circulated in “popular or collective memory” (Summerfield 28). The result might well be perceived as an unbalanced or distorted image, and public memory therefore as “a series of distorting mirrors” (Lourie, Stanton, and Vicinus 5).

Extending the Map of Memory

Including women’s stories means constructing a national narrative that’s more representative of Canadians. But in order to have women enter the scene of Confederation – and thereby to focus on the less public parts of the story – we’ll have to expand, figuratively, the map a bit (here, of Canada in the year of Confederation, 1867).

Canada1867

(I stretched it. Even so, notice the enormous areas that are not part of the new Dominion.)

Extending the map of memory means acknowledging that women, like the ‘great men’ in our national narratives, act as “prisms of history,” in Barbara Tuchman’s apt phrase. If we’d like to think of the story of Canada as a narrative of progress – even one with the moral lesson attached that hard work, determination, honor, and so on, pay off in building a fine nation – then surely that also means recognizing that that narrative is not “a single line leading from then to now” (McDermott 405). Instead, we should think of it as multiple threads of experience, linked, but also separate and different. And we should engage with the difference of the past, and make room for women’s role in it, to better understand who we are.

There is value in knowing women’s individual and separate stories and the counter-histories they weave. And really, a “greater recognition of the complexities and contradictions of our past” (Strong-Boag 8) strikes me as a rather useful way of “ensuring that we remember where we came from, that we remember who we are” (Birthing), as we have been asked to do in preparation for our big national anniversary. Re-membering many different stories, many different women, helps build a connection to the lives that went before us, lives that have given us life and that still hold us up. It gives us empathy for the past, and the present, and the understanding we need to face the future.

 

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Sources and further reading

Connerton, Paul. “Seven Types of Forgetting.” Memory Studies 1.1 (2008): 59-71.

Erll, Astrid and Ann Rigney. “Literature and the Production of Cultural Memory: Introduction.” European Journal of English Studies 10.2 (August 2006): 111-115.

Glassberg, David. “Public History and the Study of Memory.” The Public Historian 18.2 (Spring 1996): 7-23.

Hampson, Sarah. “First World War: How do we remember it meaningfully, a century later.” Globe and Mail August 1, 2014. http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/first-world-war-how-do-we-remember-it-meaningfully-a-century-later/article19888613/, accessed September 19, 2014.

Lourie, Margaret A., Domna C. Stanton, and Martha Vicinus. “Women and Memory: Introduction.” Michigan Quarterly Review 26.1 (1987): 1-8.

McDermott, Sinead. “Memory, Nostalgia, and Gender in A Thousand Acres.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 28.2 (Autumn 2002): 389-407.

Strong-Boag, Veronica. “Contested Space: The Politics of Canadian Memory.” Journal of the CHA (1994): 3-17.

Summerfield, Penny. Reconstructing Women’s Wartime Lives: Discourse and Subjectivity in Oral Histories of the Second World War. Manchester and New York: Manchester UP, 1998.

 

Birthing a Dominion

“[Confederation …] will make us historical.”
John A. Macdonald
“History is not the province of the ladies.”
John Adams

 

Did Canada’s Confederation women give birth to the new dominion in 1867?

Sir John A. didn’t have women in mind when he made his statement (above) about entering history. He was mainly referring to himself.

And yet, when one thinks about the homeland (patria, female), it is often as a female figure – the mother country - and the nation itself (la nation in French and gendered female also in many other languages) is delivered by someone (also female?) capable of giving birth. So presumably women have a role to play.

And yet,…

Canada is counting down now to a big anniversary, the country’s 150th birthday, fast approaching on July 1, 2017.

Flag

Whom and what will we remember as we commemorate and celebrate this anniversary? That’s what the government, too, has been asking. Following consultations and parliamentary heritage committee meetings, recommendations have been issued. The Department of Canadian Heritage is positioned to guide the official festivities. Its website features a timeline to the big event – pithily titled Canada 150. Other “key milestones” along the way – most notably the bicentennial of first Prime Minister John A. Macdonald’s birth next year – will undoubtedly set the stage. Naturally, remembrance of the “nation-maker” himself and the other “fathers of confederation” will feature prominently.

SirJohnAcartoon2“Confederation! The much-fathered youngster.” (Left to right: George Brown, Sir Francis Hincks, William McDougall, and Sir John A. Macdonald. Library and Archives Canada)

That said, the heritage committee’s public consultations have churned up a whole range of ideas, covering everything from Aboriginal participation in the celebrations, to the building and renovation of legacy venues (such as cultural buildings, museums), to digital projects, and to giving prominence to sports as an important aspect of Canada’s national identity. In her speech to launch the consultations, Heritage Minister Shelly Glover called upon all Canadians to, “work together to make these celebrations the best they can be.” She also said, “Let’s work together to ensure that we remember where we came from, that we remember who we are as Canadians, and that we provide a bright future for many, many Canadians to come.”

Bravo! Sounds like a good plan to me.

Something’s missing

There’s always a ‘but’ though. While reading the government’s program something struck me. An absence. Something was missing. Or rather, someone was missing. A whole lot of someones, actually. All the speeches and pages of reports don’t mention the word “women” or “woman” a single time. Where were the women?

Remembering “where we came from,” remembering “who we are”

I don’t mean to pick on Minister Glover (or on the parliamentary committee, for that matter), but doesn’t ensuring “where we came from” have something to do with the women who, ahem, have something to do with the existence of generations and generations of Canadians? And who, even if they are not mothers in the biological sense, still contribute to the weave (to use a feminine metaphor) of Canadian life?

So, where are the women?

Perhaps the rationale for – shall I use the ugly word? – excluding women is that women have now reached the equality that makes it unnecessary to include them explicitly.

EmancipatedW

I am certainly not the first, nor will I likely be the last person to observe that such equality still eludes us. In some respects, second-wave feminism might even be considered a failure, if for no other reason than that women now feel they have to do absolutely everything whereas before they were ‘just’ in the home. Whatever one thinks about our current status, though, gender equality is absent from history, which really is much more “his” story than “hers.” Perhaps history repeats itself – and that’s not generally thought to be a good thing – because of the prevalence of some stories and some ways of storytelling over others.

In any event, we should be clear that we choose to remember certain things while overlooking – or forgetting – others (a fascinating topic, and the subject of one of my next blog posts). Collective memory is actively produced through acts of remembrance, and, until recently, the public history-making that is made up of such acts of remembrance has not had much time (pun!) to linger on the ‘marginal’ outliers (as Aboriginals were and women still are) in the narratives of eras and events. (These days, by contrast, we seem to focus primarily on the outliers, which is also a distortion – but more about that, too, in a later blog.) So much for ‘objectivity’ and ‘reliability.’

Let me be clear: I do not believe, nor do I wish to pretend, that women in 1867 steered the course of Confederation (or the course of history, in general terms) in exactly the same, or even in similar ways, as men. Of course women weren’t the politicians who negotiated the treaties and signed the official documents. How could they have been? It’s a bit difficult to lead the nation if one is not meant or expected to be, nor by conventional standards thought to be suited for, the public sphere.

The “distaff dimension,” again

Even so, Confederation is a big topic in Canada, and others before me have noted that there were indeed women around then too, and they might just possibly have had something to do with the building of the nation, if not the signing of the treaties. Just imagine! Certainly, at the latest after Moira Dann’s article some years ago in The Globe and Mailnot an obscure academic journal or book that no one reads – entitled “Where were the Mothers of Confederation?”, I had hoped that what Dann calls the “distaff dimension” of Canada’s Confederation would also be of interest (along with the female side of the rest of history, in the most sweeping way), not just the male aspect.

My mistake, apparently.

Can we really fully reflect “on what we have achieved” as a country, “promote a strong sense of pride and belonging for all Canadians,” and “move forward” as a nation, as the parliamentary report announces, if women are not part – explicitly – first, of national remembrance related to Confederation, and, second, of a future-oriented national dialogue? How are we “getting the story right,” in the report’s lingo, if we fail to ensure that women are included?

More colour, more light

We should envision the story of young Canada as quite a bit more colourful and varied than the serious visages of the “fathers of Confederation” would have us believe it was.

FatherConfederation“The Fathers of Confederation.” (Library and Archives of Canada)

That room needs to be injected with Technicolor and light! Goethe’s last words purportedly were “more light, more light,” a statement that I have always found affecting because it so perfectly captures the essence of life. Similarly, the various shades of grey our early statesmen seem both to represent and be associated with – all those black-and-white photos – also cry out for more life. So let’s bring it on!

By this I don’t mean that women are (or were, at any time) nothing but delightful birds of paradise; all the somber colours alone worn in the Victorian period would make that unlikely. What I mean is that leaving out the female perspective – especially in an era when the domestic, with which women were so closely associated, took up so much time and effort – is a bit like looking at a grainy image that lacks depth, richness, and, well, colour. Instilling those things is easy, once we look for and at the (not so elusive) “distaff dimension.” And while individual figures and aspects of that dimension have been looked at before, that hasn’t been done, as far as I know, in this medium. Let’s face it – we rely on the Internet for fast and easily accessible information these days; few of us regularly head to the library. There is justification, therefore, even in some repetition.

So, let’s find a way to unbury individual and collective experiences of Confederation womanhood and integrate them into the national historical narrative. And let’s give Canada’s Women of Confederation an on-line presence – alongside all those “fathers.”

Stay tuned for more soon.

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Sources and further reading

“Canada’s 150th anniversary in 2017.” Parliament of Canada. http://www.parl.gc.ca/HousePublications/Publication.aspx?DocId=5614610&File=84, accessed August 14, 2014.

“Road to 2017.” Government of Canada. http://canada150.gc.ca/eng/1344275520795/1344275731901, accessed August 14, 2014.

“Take a Walk in Sir John A’s Footsteps.” SirJohnA2015.ca http://www.sirjohna2015.ca, accessed August 14, 2014.

“Transcription of a Speech By The Honourable Shelly Glover, Minister of Canadian Heritage and Official Languages on the occasion of the Launch of Public Consultations on Celebrations of the 150th Anniversary of Confederation in 2017.” Governemnt of Canada Canadian Heritage http://pch.gc.ca/eng/1392834216513, accessed August 14, 2014.

Dann, Moira. “Where were the Mothers of Confederation?” The Globe and Mail. August 28, 2009.