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Authors: Michael Ignatieff
Tags: History, Non-Fiction
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in May 1902, as the war dragged into its third year, he died in his sleep, at the age of sixty-seven.
3
AFTER THE SOMME
W illiam Grant was at his father’s bedside in those final days. He heard the old man whisper, “Give me a chance; Oh my God, give me a chance.” Then later, the son heard the father, his eyes shut, imploring, “Get it done, get it done quickly.” After days of growing weaker, he whispered “Jessie”—his wife’s name—and then slipped into unconsciousness.
On May 13, 1902, there was a funeral service at Convocation Hall at Queen’s, and afterward a procession of the coffin through the streets of Kingston. William followed the coffin to its final resting place, noting that the crowd lining the streets was as large as the one that had come out for the funeral of Kingston’s other favourite son, Sir John A. Macdonald. Late that afternoon, George Monro Grant was laid to rest in Cataraqui Cemetery, next to his wife and his son Geordie.
The death of parents always unleashes paradoxical emotions: grief, guilt, relief and liberation all at once. We can only infer which of these was strongest. The son could step out of his father’s shadow, yet the shadow had given his life shape and meaning. Moreover, he was now alone. He was a schoolmaster at Upper Canada College and, as he looked to the future, he saw before him a solitary life of teaching and scholarship. As for marriage, he did not think himself much of a catch: small in stature, wiry and balding, a sedentary and unadventurous bachelor approaching middle age. It is not that women had not caught his eye. From afar, he had admired Maude Parkin, the daughter of his principal at Upper Canada, George Parkin. In 1902 Parkin left for England to set up the Rhodes Scholarships and Maude left with her family. After the Parkins departed, William left UCC too, taking up another job as a schoolmaster at St. Andrew’s College near Toronto.
For the next two years, he wrote a scholarly biography of his father, Victorian in length and in piety.
Principal Grant
registers admiration, love and astonishment at the energy, briskness and drive of his father. He had truly been a “steam engine in trousers,” as one of the old man’s friends used to say. Poring over his father’s diaries and letters gave the son a last chance to stay close, but once the biography was published, we can imagine the silence that flowed into his life.
Fifteen years later, he admitted that he continued to see his father “so vividly that I am not yet fully sure in my own mind whether it was dream or vision, or resurrection if you call it so.”
His father was gone but his father’s causes remained his own. He believed his vocation now was to teach bright young men to lead lives devoted to public service in Canada and the empire. One of these young men at St. Andrew’s College was Vincent Massey, heir to the Massey-Harris tractor fortune. Truth was, Grant was soon restless at St. Andrew’s College, teaching worthy sentiments to the rich young sons of the Ontario business elite.
After his biography of his father appeared in 1904, he took himself off to France and lived in Paris for two years. There he researched and wrote the life of Samuel de Champlain, founder of Quebec and New France, and mastered French and took classes at the Sorbonne. He loved Paris and even a decade later could still remember the names of the tastiest dishes in his favourite
brasseries
. He remained a committed francophile for the rest of his life. Living in France seems to have changed his view of the country back home, for among historians of his generation, he was unusual in his interest in the contribution of France to the making of his country. He spent several years editing Lescarbot’s
Histoire de la Nouvelle France
for publication in English. When he wrote his
History of Canada
for the secondary schools of Ontario, many English-speakingCanadians found it strange
3
AFTER THE SOMME
W illiam Grant was at his father’s bedside in those final days. He heard the old man whisper, “Give me a chance; Oh my God, give me a chance.” Then later, the son heard the father, his eyes shut, imploring, “Get it done, get it done quickly.” After days of growing weaker, he whispered “Jessie”—his wife’s name—and then slipped into unconsciousness.
On May 13, 1902, there was a funeral service at Convocation Hall at Queen’s, and afterward a procession of the coffin through the streets of Kingston. William followed the coffin to its final resting place, noting that the crowd lining the streets was as large as the one that had come out for the funeral of Kingston’s other favourite son, Sir John A. Macdonald. Late that afternoon, George Monro Grant was laid to rest in Cataraqui Cemetery, next to his wife and his son Geordie.
The death of parents always unleashes paradoxical emotions: grief, guilt, relief and liberation all at once. We can only infer which of these was strongest. The son could step out of his father’s shadow, yet the shadow had given his life shape and meaning. Moreover, he was now alone. He was a schoolmaster at Upper Canada College and, as he looked to the future, he saw before him a solitary life of teaching and scholarship. As for marriage, he did not think himself much of a catch: small in stature, wiry and balding, a sedentary and unadventurous bachelor approaching middle age. It is not that women had not caught his eye. From afar, he had admired Maude Parkin, the daughter of his principal at Upper Canada, George Parkin. In 1902 Parkin left for England to set up the Rhodes Scholarships and Maude left with her family. After the Parkins departed, William left UCC too, taking up another job as a schoolmaster at St. Andrew’s College near Toronto.
For the next two years, he wrote a scholarly biography of his father, Victorian in length and in piety.
Principal Grant
registers admiration, love and astonishment at the energy, briskness and drive of his father. He had truly been a “steam engine in trousers,” as one of the old man’s friends used to say. Poring over his father’s diaries and letters gave the son a last chance to stay close, but once the biography was published, we can imagine the silence that flowed into his life.
Fifteen years later, he admitted that he continued to see his father “so vividly that I am not yet fully sure in my own mind whether it was dream or vision, or resurrection if you call it so.”
His father was gone but his father’s causes remained his own. He believed his vocation now was to teach bright young men to lead lives devoted to public service in Canada and the empire. One of these young men at St. Andrew’s College was Vincent Massey, heir to the Massey-Harris tractor fortune. Truth was, Grant was soon restless at St. Andrew’s College, teaching worthy sentiments to the rich young sons of the Ontario business elite.
After his biography of his father appeared in 1904, he took himself off to France and lived in Paris for two years. There he researched and wrote the life of Samuel de Champlain, founder of Quebec and New France, and mastered French and took classes at the Sorbonne. He loved Paris and even a decade later could still remember the names of the tastiest dishes in his favourite
brasseries
. He remained a committed francophile for the rest of his life. Living in France seems to have changed his view of the country back home, for among historians of his generation, he was unusual in his interest in the contribution of France to the making of his country. He spent several years editing Lescarbot’s
Histoire de la Nouvelle France
for publication in English. When he wrote his
History of Canada
for the secondary schools of Ontario, many English-speakingCanadians found it strange
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