Such were the political conditions:  a government in a position of growing doubtfulness and a combative and confident opposition—­when Canada found herself plunged over night into the Great War.  Under the high emotion of this venture into the unknown politics vanished for a brief moment from the land.  If that moment could have been seized for a sacred union of hearts dedicated to the great task of carrying on the war how different would the whole future of Canada have been!  In the fires of war our sectional and racial intractibilities might have been fused into an enduring alliance.  But Canadian statesmanship was not equal to the opportunity.  For this Sir Wilfrid has no accountability.  There is no question of the correctness and generosity of his attitude as revealed in the war session of August, 1914.  From a speech in the next session it might be inferred that he would have gone farther than he did if overtures had been made to him.

In Canada, as elsewhere, the war spelt opportunity for more than the patriot and the hero.  The schemer, resolute to make the war serve his ends, appeared everywhere.  From the morrow of those first days of high exaltation the two currents ran side by side in Canada:  the clear tide of valor and self-sacrifice, the muddy stream of cowardice and self-seeking.  There was an influential element in the dominant party which was determined to exploit the war to the limit for political and personal interests.  The war meant patronage; it must be placed where it would do the most party good.  It meant an opportunity for artificial and perfectly safe distinction; this must be employed for increasing the political availability of friends.  Political colonels began to adorn the landscape.  It meant a corking good issue upon which an election could be won; why not take advantage of it?  While the government officially was leading a united people into action, these scheming political profiteers were perfecting their plans for appealing to the people on the ground that the government—­a party government which had not invited any measure of close co-operation from the opposition—­must have a mandate to carry on the war.  There is a quite authentic story of a leading Canadian being cheered up on a train journey by assurances from a travelling companion, a friend holding high office, that events were shaping for certain victory; until he learned that the enemy about to be defeated was the “damn Grits.”  The battle of Ypres in April, 1915, saved Canada from an ignoble general election on the meanest of issues.  Though some of the conspirators still pressed for an election, it soon became apparent that the proposal was abhorrent to public opinion.  Canadians could not bring themselves to the point of fighting one another while their sons and brothers were dying side by side in the mud of Flanders.