Ambling through Acadia

“Across the harbor from Halifax is Dartmouth, where there are numerous rope-works and dry-docks – a purely commercial and practical district; and two miles out of Dartmouth, at Woodside, the Acadia Sugar Refining Plant has extensive works. Pretty names, these two towns possess, but perhaps they don’t live up to them. Just as Cow Bay, a stretch of shore where people sought pleasure in bathing and boating, certainly did not live down to its name. I was told an American made the remark that it was an outrage for such a beautiful place to bear so ugly a cognomen; and a prize was forthwith offered for a substitute. Now it is called Silver Sands. Can you see the psychology of the change? Far more people go there now, no doubt lured by the alliterative phrase.”

Towne, Charles Hanson, 1877-1949. Ambling Through Acadia. New York: Century co., 1923. https://hdl.handle.net/2027/uva.x000691985

Halifax Harbor

dartmouth aerial
dartmouth aerial
“Airscapes – Nova Scotia. Copied February 1927. Recopied 6 Sept. 1955, Halifax Harbor, Nova Scotia – Beyond the narrows stretches Bedford Basin where the greatest fleet can be hidden and sheltered from the Atlantic storms.”

Part of Dartmouth, from Wyse Road west and north, seen at right.

“Nova Scotia”, 1927. https://catalog.archives.gov/id/68155666

Fortifications (in Dartmouth)

Fort Duncan: Shown “dismantled” in Collyers military map of 1808. Commissioner Henry Duncan was at H.M Naval Yard in 1790 and 1793.

Blockhouse: 1750. Dartmouth picketed in, July 1751.

Gun: 1749.

Eastern Battery, Fort Clarence: 1754. Freestone tower there in Jan 1810 & in 1834. Tower removed about 1865, when new works were begun. Fort Clarence reconstructed 1865 to 1868 (Mil. recds). Site sold to Imperial Oil Co, 1927. Known as Eastern Battery in 1786.

“Halifax Fortifications”, 1928. https://archives.novascotia.ca/maps/archives/?ID=1443

Nova Scotia’s Charter

“In the Royal Charter granted in 1621 to Sir William Alexander lies the origin of Nova Scotia as a Province and of the name it bears. It is with the conditions leading up to this grant and consequent upon it, as well as with the Charter itself, that the present article is concerned.”

“The grant was to Sir William, his heirs, and assigns, or “to any other that will join with him in the whole or in any part thereof,” to be held of the crown as part of Scotland. The royal warrant was signed by the King at Windsor on the tenth of September, 1621, and was registered on the 29th of that month. The land thus conveyed was of large extent, though of course much smaller than the original grant to New England, of which it formed but a surrendered part.”

“The rights and privileges conferred on Sir William Alexander by the Charter have been, generally speaking, considered as almost unlimited. This, undoubtedly, is true, but if the usages of the time ·be taken into account the concessions will not appear excessive or exceptionally generous.”

“Among the rights conferred were:-all minerals, which (except a tenth royalty on gold and silver) were untaxable, the more easily to bear the large expense of operating and of reducing and refining the ores: forests without restrictions; the fisheries in fresh and salt waters, and pearls; the spoils of the chase, hunting etc. Any of these things that might be sold or inherited were granted with full powers, privileges and jurisdiction of free royalty for ever. There were also granted :-the patronage by which clergymen were appointed to churches; the offices of justiciary and admiralty; the authority to establish free ports, markets, and fairs, to regulate fees and trade revenues, to hold courts of justice, to represent the Crown on the coasts and within the bounds as hereditary Lieutenant -Governor of New Scotland …… and in that capacity to erect civil and municipal jurisdictions, to make ordinances for government and for administration of justice in civil and criminal cases. The laws and their interpretation were to be as consistent as possible with those of Scotland. In case of sedition or rebellion the Governor could invoke martial law as might be done by any other Lieutenant of the King in an overseas Dominion. To encourage settlement honours could be bestowed on deserving persons, power was given to enforce the fulfillment of contracts, to make grants of land, to use the necessary means for the protection of life and property, and to carry on overseas trade and commerce, on which after three years exemption the Crown became entitled to an impost of five per cent. Emigrants to New Scotland were required to take the oath of allegiance to the King before embarking; settlers, their children and posterity were entitled to enjoy all the liberties, rights and privileges of free and native subjects of Scotland, or of other English Dominions “as if they had been born there.” The power to regulate and coin money was granted in the interest of a free movement of; trade and commerce. These were the main points in the Charter from a business point of view.”

“For the purpose of taking possession of lands after the feudal fashion then prevailing, Nova Scotia was made a part of the county of Edinburgh, and at Edinburgh Castle the ceremony of Sasine was performed.”

See also:

Fraser, Alexander. "Nova Scotia's Charter" Dalhousie Review, Volume 01, Number 4, 1922 https://dalspace.library.dal.ca/bitstream/handle/10222/58070/dalrev_vol1_iss4_pp369_380.pdf

Thirty-eight years of Liberal government in Nova Scotia

“In order to be in a position to extend the advantage of expert advice to every part of the Province, the Government is endeavoring to secure the cooperation of the various municipal, city and town councils in the establishment of County Health Clinics, where persons suspected to be suffering from tuberculosis, expectant mothers, sick babies and others may go for expert advice and treatment. These clinics will be visited at regular intervals by officials of the Health Department. They will also be headquarters for the public health nurses, which will shortly be placed in the field to carry to the homes of our people the benefit of their skill and teaching in the conservation of health. The Red Cross Society is cooperating with the Department in this matter and a group of graduate nurses is now being trained at Dalhousie University for this special work – the officials of the department together with officials of the Massachusetts-Halifax Health Commission, members of the teaching staff at Dalhousie Medical College, of the Victorian Order of Nurses, of the medical inspection staff of Halifax and Dartmouth schools and others having undertaken to give the requisite instruction.”

Nova Scotia Liberal Association. “Thirty-eight years of Liberal government in Nova Scotia : general election, 1920, pointers for Liberal candidates, newspapers and platform speakers.” 1920 https://www.canadiana.ca/view/oocihm.76167/1?r=0&s=1

“A Clarion Call To Real Patriots The World Over”: The Curious Case of the Ku Klux Klan of Kanada in New Brunswick during the 1920s and 1930s

kkk kanada

The Ku Klux Klan (KKK) movement in New Brunswick during the 1920s and 1930s reflected a broader trend of anti-Catholic sentiment in the Northeast. Local Protestant groups, such as the Orange Order and Conservative politicians, were linked with the Klan, which aimed to preserve a Protestant British identity in Canada. The Klan promoted nativist ideals, rejecting bilingualism and Catholic participation in politics while emphasizing traditional Anglo-Saxon values and Protestant morality.

Operating under the banner of “Patriotic-Protestantism,” the Klan presented itself as a moral force for societal betterment, advocating for the protection of traditional values and the sanctity of the home. It also expressed a militaristic approach, conducting studies to impose its will over Canada in case of conflict. The Klan’s tactics included extralegal activities, such as violence and intimidation, to enforce its worldview. Its emergence coincided with the rise of other right-wing movements during the Great Depression, which blamed ethnic and racial minorities for societal woes. This ideological basis for paramilitarism parallels the operational tactics observed in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), suggesting a potential link between the two in the pursuit of a unified national identity.


kkk kanada

“The Ku Klux Klan movement in New Brunswick in the 1920s and 1930s was part of a wave of anti-Catholicism in the Northeast. The supposedly American organization’s connections with local Protestants, such as the Orange Order and Conservative politicians, coupled with New Brunswick’s long history of anti-Catholicism, indicate that the Klan’s nativism was not foreign to the province. Instead, it was part of a region-wide response to a thriving Catholic population that challenged the Protestant, anglophone milieu. The Klan’s transnational “Patriotic-Protestantism” rejected bilingualism and Catholic participation in the political sphere while promoting traditional Anglo-Saxon values and Protestant morality.”

“As an organization dedicated to the preservation of a Protestant British identity in Canada, the Klan in New Brunswick placed a great deal of interest in the display of the flag and the maintenance of a traditional, Protestant identity. The 1920s and 1930s were transitional decades for the shaping of Canadian identity, as Canada’s evolution towards independence continued and ideas of continentalism, which saw Canada’s future as deeply intertwined with the United States and the western hemisphere as opposed to with its imperial brethren, became even more prominent. The declining fortunes of the British Empire after the First World War, its military disengagement from North America, and growing Canadian autonomy on the international stage all led Canadians to reconsider the utility of their ancestral devotion to the British and motivated “Canadians to develop a strong, shared sense of national identity – one new and distinctive, not simply a local version of British identity.” The Klan and the Orange Order participated in the debates over Canadian identity, coming down hard on the side of renewed Britishness and the promotion of traditional Anglo-Canadian values. The Klan sought to preserve the traditional nationalistic imagery of British North America.”

“The Ku Klux Klan of Kanada, the New Brunswick Klan’s parent organization, explicitly described itself as a chivalric force for the moral betterment of Canadian society. The Provisional Constitution and Laws declared “this Order is an institution of Chivalry, Humanity, Justice, and Patriotism embodying in its genius and principles all that is chivalric in conduct, noble in sentiment, generous in manhood and patriotic in purpose.” To this end, the Klan’s “peculiar objects are: first to protect the weak, the innocent and the defenseless from the indignities, wrongs and outrages of the lawless, the violent and the brutal” – a bold claim coming from an organization most known in both the United States and Canada for pursuing terror campaigns against the weak, the innocent, and the defenseless. Nevertheless, this ideal colored their worldview. The Klan also declared that one of its primary objects was “to shield the sanctity of the home and the chastity of womanhood,” another attempt to revert society to a simpler, more traditional time before the rise of the liberated flapper in a jazz club. To this end, the Klan made “disrespect to virtuous womanhood” yet another major offense that could carry the punishment of banishment from the order.”

“In perhaps the most disturbing section about military matters, the Klan constitution describes the organization’s belief in the need for rationalistic, scientific studies of the Canadian population to facilitate its agenda to impose its will over the country in case of open military conflict, calling it “the duty of the military organization to make surveys of a social, educational, economic, religious and other conditions in the entire nation, to locate and determine the name, address, nationality, business relationships, political affiliations and activities, religious affiliations and activities and other general characteristics of each and every person in the entire nation.” The extreme readiness the Klan hoped to demonstrate in defense of “White, Gentile, Protestant civilization” portrays the movement less as a fraternal organization or nativist movement and more as a fascistic organization that deeply threatened both the rule of law and the monopoly of force held by the Canadian state. The Ku Klux Klan’s emergence in the 1920s and 1930s parallels the rise of fascism in Europe. Both the Klan and the European fascist parties saw themselves as forces meant to reshape the societies they saw around them. In his study on the rise of fascism as an ideological force across Europe, sociologist Michael Mann describes fascism as “the pursuit of a transcendent and cleansing nation-statism through paramilitarism.””

“In 1925 the Telegraph-Journal of Saint John reported that “the K.K.K. had a busy ‘week-end’ in Woodstock,” attacking more “houses, suspected of being disorderly, card rooms and illicit liquor joints.” This interest in the rougher side of society reflected the Klan’s self-image as a moral force and its willingness to engage in extralegal activities to demonstrate its worldview. The Klan made its presence known in New Brunswick during the conflict over Prohibition, and the police found that “in their fight against booze use and abuse, the forces of law and order had a powerful ally” that was willing to threaten, cajole, and make use of violence in its crusade against immorality and Catholicism. Violence and intimidation were means of cowing enemies and exciting allies, but more than that the Ku Klux Klan had tied these extralegal means of coercion, not so different than the random outbursts of hatred and violence endemic to human history, to a socio-political organization with an explicit vision for society. For the Klan as well as for fascists, “paramilitarism was violence, but it was always a great deal more than violence.””

““Patriotic-Protestantism” and the emergence of the Ku Klux Klan in New Brunswick and the rest of Canada also coincided with the rise of other right-wing movements across the country. During the calamitous Great Depression, many who were dispossessed by the collapsing economy were “drawn to the Fascist cause, an attraction reinforced by a willingness to blame certain ethnic or racial minorities for the people’s woes.” Jews were a major target of fascist attacks, as was the case in Europe, due in part to “the heightened social tensions wrought by economic crisis, and the widely broadcast histrionics of Adolf Hitler, which reinforced the image of Jews as permissible targets, [that] provided an opportunity, in the early depression years, for provocation and street action.” French-speaking Canada also faced the emergence of right-wing hate movements, as Quebec saw the rise of explicitly styled fascism led by Adrien Arcand. His fascist and nationalist parties and press organizations promoted the fear that “the twin processes of industrialization and urbanization had created large and telling strains on the province’s social and economic structures.” Arcand and others saw the need for “a national savior, a great leader at the helm of the right sort of party” – one who saw “the Jews, and the ‘Jewish problem,’ as the key to the mystery of the enslavement of not only his own noble and suffering people, but the world.””

Cline, T. “‘A Clarion Call To Real Patriots The World Over’: The Curious Case of the Ku Klux Klan of Kanada in New Brunswick During the 1920s and 1930s”. Acadiensis, vol. 48, no. 1, Mar. 2019, https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/Acadiensis/article/view/28985.

The Abolition of the Legislative Council of Nova Scotia, 1925-1928

The fascinating paper traces the constitutional evolution of Nova Scotia, particularly focusing on the role and eventual abolition of its Legislative Council. Established in 1719, the Council initially held executive, legislative, and judicial powers. However, reforms in 1838 separated it into Executive and Legislative Councils. Over time, the Legislative Council became viewed as antiquated, especially post-Confederation when its role diminished due to the Dominion Parliament’s authority over critical matters.

Unlike other provinces, Nova Scotia struggled to abolish its Legislative Council. Attempts were made between 1879 and 1928, led by both Conservatives and Liberals. Premier William Stevens Fielding even appealed to the Queen and Westminster for constitutional amendments. However, Westminster’s refusal and internal disputes prolonged the Council’s existence.

Scholarly research on the Legislative Council is limited, with primary sources such as Assembly and Council debates only available up to the mid-1920s. This lack of documentation complicates understanding the Council’s history. Additionally, crucial records from the Office of the Attorney General are missing, further hindering research efforts.

The Nova Scotian constitution relied heavily on royal prerogative, with the Legislative Council’s structure evolving over time through various commissions and instructions. Despite reforms, recruiting and retaining members remained challenging due to unpaid positions and vague tenure rules.

A significant reform occurred in 1925, limiting Councillors’ tenure and setting an age limit. Premier Armstrong’s bill aimed to modernize the Council, but it faced opposition from other parties, leading to heated debates.

The Supreme Court’s decision in 1926 regarding the Council’s constitution was inconclusive, prompting Premier Rhodes to appeal to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. The Privy Council’s ruling in 1927 validated the Lieutenant-Governor’s power to abolish the Council, ending its existence.

The text highlights the complexities of Nova Scotia’s constitutional history and the challenges in understanding and documenting its evolution. Premier Rhodes’s determined efforts ultimately led to the Legislative Council’s demise, challenging long-held constitutional conventions in the process.


“From the origins of British government in Nova Scotia, there had been a council. The first, established in 1719, combined the roles of cabinet, court of appeal, and upper house of the provincial Legislature. Known simply as the Council or the Council of Twelve (for the twelve members of which it was customarily composed), it came under increasing attack. In 1838, the British Government, finally giving in to popular demands for reform, split the Council of Twelve into separate Executive and Legislative Councils (the judicial functions having for the most part earlier been transferred to the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia). Although the Legislative Council was initially accepted as an integral component of Nova Scotia government, as decades passed it came to be seen as increasingly antiquated and unnecessary, especially after Confederation transferred many of the most important (and controversial) concerns to the Dominion Parliament. While an appointed upper house might have served an important role when the Nova Scotia Legislature had to face questions of international trade, national defence, criminal justice, and navigation, it seemed an extravagance when the Legislature’s jurisdiction had been circumscribed to matters such as education, public health, and management of public lands.”

“While other Canadian provinces had also had Legislative Councils, none found it as difficult to achieve abolition. New Brunswick’s Legislative Council was abolished within the ten years of the Andrew Blair administration (1882-1892) after Blair decided to delay any appointments to the Council until a majority of pro-abolition members could be named all at once. Prince Edward Island, which had experimented with an elective Legislative Council, merged the two houses of its legislature in 1893, with half elected as assemblymen (by the electorate at large) and half councillors (by landowners). Manitoba’s Legislative Council, which had existed for only a brief six years, was abolished in 1876 after the Dominion government refused to subsidize the province unless it cut expenditures, the majority of which were spent on maintaining the Legislature. The Legislative Council of Québec, which survived forty years longer than Nova Scotia’s, did not come under serious critique until the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s; although it initially refused to abolish itself and the provincial government petitioned Westminster to amend the British North America Act to remove the upper house, the Council ultimately agreed when the the Union Nationale government offered to pay annual pensions to the councillors. Other provinces lost their Legislative Councils at the same time as broader constitutional changes: the Colony of Vancouver Island lost its Council during its merger with mainland British Columbia; Ontario was created without a Council, though it had previously had one as part of the Province of Canada; and Newfoundland, which had a Council prior to the suspension of responsible government in 1933, lost it upon joining Canada in 1949. Nova Scotia, however, was different. For the better part of half a century, from 1879 to 1928, the Province sought to abolish its Legislative Council without success, with only a brief period of quiescence in the first decade of the Twentieth Century. Initially championed by Conservatives, Liberals soon jumped onto the abolition bandwagon, with Premier (and later federal Finance Minister) William Stevens Fielding submitting an address to the Queen asking for an amendment to the British North America Act to accomplish what was seen as otherwise impossible. It was only after Westminster refused to act that Nova Scotia’s political elite grudgingly accepted the Council’s continued existence. But even this temporary ceasefire would shatter with the passage of the imperial Parliament Act, 1911.”

“Very little scholarship relating to the Legislative Council exists from the period prior to abolition. The most significant was a presentation by constitutional scholar John George Bourinot during the 1896 annual meeting of the Royal Society of Canada. The presentation, entitled “Some Contributions to Canadian Constitutional History: The Constitution of the Legislative Council of Nova Scotia”, focused largely on the Commissions and Instructions of Nova Scotia’s colonial governors, but ultimately shifted to the effects of the 1845-46 correspondence between the Colonial Office and the Legislative Council. In Bourinot’s view, the 1845-46 correspondence was a moral contract between the sovereign and the Legislative Council, which had become a customary part of the Province’s constitution; but, while the changes wrought were as much a part of the constitution as the recognition of responsible government, Bourinot recognized they were just as unenforceable in court. Somewhat surprisingly given his stature in late Nineteenth- Century constitutional law, his article was not referenced directly in either of the court decisions concerning the Legislative Council’s constitution, nor in the 1926-1928 abolition debates; either his article had been forgotten in the intervening years or neither side in the debate viewed it as helping their cause significantly, as it argued the Councillors’ tenure was for life under constitutional convention, but that that convention could not be enforced in court.”

“Of much greater concern was the disappearance or non-existence of key primary sources. As my research was to focus largely on the arguments raised in the legislative debates, I naturally turned to the printed House of Assembly and Legislative Council debates. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that Nova Scotia had ceased publication of the Assembly debates after 1916 and the Council debates after 1922, with publication picking up only in the 1950s. There were thus no published legislative debates from which I could draw these competing discourses. Fortunately, the Halifax newspapers of the era were generally very good at covering any Assembly debates considered “important”; the abolition of the Legislative Council, a major change to the provincial constitution, was seen as important, and the debates were covered regularly and in fair depth. However, neither the Halifax Herald nor the Morning Chronicle (later the Halifax Chronicle) published anything that could be considered authoritative; both papers had strong partisan biases (the Herald being connected with the Conservative Party and the Chronicle with the Liberals), meaning information was emphasized or left out depending on how it fit the papers’ agendas. Moreover, if something else important was taking place, the papers would dedicate far less time to the Council question. (During the first World War, for instance, the debates on reforming the Legislative Council were barely covered by either paper, which instead focused almost exclusively on news from the front; there is thus almost no record of the 1917 constitutional crisis.) Thus while the Herald and Chronicle provided significant records of the abolition debates, they had to be considered in tandem in order to arrive at something approaching the real turn of events. In effect, I was forced to reconstruct the legislative debates from the incomplete reports of two biased newspapers. This reconstruction was made all the more difficult by the fact that neither paper is indexed or is available online; I have thus been required to review on microfilm the entire run of each paper during the months when the Nova Scotia Legislature was in session, looking for any article, editorial, or letter to the editor that might be related to the Legislative Council. (In the case of the Herald, I reviewed the entire run from January 1925 through March 1928.)

To make matters worse, very few documents relating to Legislative Council abolition have been maintained in archives or governmental files. Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management (NSARM, previously the Public Archives of Nova Scotia) was established by an act of the Legislature in 1929, the year after the Legislative Council was abolished. While NSARM holds a fairly comprehensive collection of Premier Edgar Nelson Rhodes’ papers from late 1927 on, there are substantial gaps in the earlier period of his premiership (beginning in mid-1925). As such, Rhodes’ papers provide fairly comprehensive coverage of the Legislative Council’s final days, after the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council decision, but there is very little regarding Rhodes’ decision to push for abolition, his negotiations with the Councillors in 1926-1927, his efforts to appoint in excess of twenty one Councillors in March 1926, or the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia decision and appeal to the Privy Council. While disappointing, these gaps in Rhodes’ files might not have been critical but for the disappearance of other materials, notably the records of the Office of the Attorney General. NSARM’s catalog lists among the Attorney Generals’ files a folder identified “Legislative Council: re: legal matters, appointments, 1926-40”. Unfortunately, when I requested this file, I was informed that it had been missing since at least 1982, when NSARM moved into its present location. While the archivists were kind enough to attempt to locate the folder in other areas (e.g., RG10 F44), it was not and may never be located. As such, what may have been the best compilation of materials relating to the Legislative Council litigation, carefully collected into a single location for future researchers, is lost and inaccessible. Other materials, while theoretically in existence, have proven inaccessible for other reasons.”

“Unlike the Canadian federal government or the governments of Ontario, Quebec, and other provinces created in or after 1867, there is no single document or set of documents to which one can look to ascertain the Nova Scotian constitution. While the British North America Act, 1867, included detailed constitutional provisions on the governments of Ontario and Quebec, the constitution of Nova Scotia continued as it existed prior to Confederation, except insofar as it was changed by the British North America Act itself:

“The Constitution of the Legislature of each of the Provinces of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick shall, subject to the Provisions of this Act, continue as it exists at the Union until altered under the Authority of this Act.”

Moreover, unlike many of the colonies of the First British Empire, Nova Scotia was not granted a colonial charter establishing the terms of its government. Instead, Nova Scotia’s constitution was based largely on royal prerogative, as expressed in the Commissions and Instructions presented to the Province’s pre-Confederation Governors. The British North America Act attempted to set into stone Nova Scotia’s prerogative constitution, as it existed at the time of Confederation. But, what did that mean? A prerogative constitution implied one that could be changed by the Sovereign, yet the British North America Act suggested the constitution was locked in place. Did the British North America Act remove prerogative—that is, eliminate the Sovereign’s ability to change the constitution of the Province at will—or did it merely state that the provincial constitution would continue to be built upon sand until affirmative action by the Nova Scotia Legislature? For almost sixty years after Confederation, the predominant view in Nova Scotia was that the British North America Act had, indeed, locked the Province’s constitution in place, so that it could no longer be changed by simple prerogative. Instead, the royal prerogative to amend the constitution had been delegated to the Nova Scotia Legislature. This view would only unravel slowly, as the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council recognized the continuing role of prerogative in the provincial constitutions. In order to understand these later debates, however, we must first examine the origins of Nova Scotia’s prerogative constitution, particularly those provisions relating to the Legislative Council.

Depending on how one views the issue, the Legislative Council dated back to 1719 (the first Council, which combined executive, legislative and judicial functions), 1838 (the split of the earlier Council of Twelve into separate Legislative and Executive Councils), or 1861 (the reformation of the Legislative Council in Governor-in-Chief Monck’s Commission of office). The original Council (generally known as the Council of Twelve) dates to 1719, when it was created pursuant to the Commission and Instructions given to Richard Philipps, third Governor of the newly-acquired Province of Nova Scotia. Philipps’ original Commission, dated July 1719, authorized him “to appoint such fitting and discreet persons as you shall either find there or carry along with you, not exceeding the number of twelve, to be our Council in the said province, till our further pleasure be known, any five whereof we do hereby appoint to be a quorum.” Upon arriving in Nova Scotia in April 1720, Philipps did just that, appointing a council “consisting of himself and eleven officers and townsmen.” This initial Council of Twelve consisted primarily of military officers, as there were as yet few British settlers and the Acadians were not seen as appropriate for appointment. For similar reasons, Philipps did not call an Assembly, though he had been instructed to do so in his Commission, and legislation for the Province was impossible in its absence. In the meantime, Philipps’ commission stated that he could refer to the Instructions to the governor of Virginia, which provided something of a framework for government in the absence of an Assembly or formal charter.”

“When the seat of government was moved from Annapolis Royal to Halifax under Governor Edward Cornwallis, the Council of Twelve was reconstituted with new membership and a slightly modified constitution. Cornwallis and his successors could now appoint provisionally up to nine Councillors.

In 1764, the Commission appointing Governor Montagu Wilmot would also limit the time Councillors could be out of the Province without the consent of the Governor or Sovereign to six months and one year, respectively. Neither reform, however, seems to have eliminated the problems with maintaining quorum. When the Council of Twelve did operate, it exercised executive, judicial, and (after 1758) legislative powers. In addition to acting as Nova Scotia’s cabinet (with members typically serving in such roles as Chief Justice, Provincial Secretary, Treasurer, Surveyor- General, or Attorney General), the Council also acted as the Province’s General Court, which had original jurisdiction in criminal cases and appellate jurisdiction in civil matters concerning a dispute over £300. This judicial function was reduced, but not wholly eliminated, upon the creation of the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia in 1754. Finally, after the first Assembly was finally called in 1758, the Council acted as the Upper House of the Legislature, and would frequently amend or refuse its assent to legislation with which the Councillors did not agree, especially any and all attempts to increase the powers of the Assembly at the expense of the Council.”

Although the 1837-38 reforms created a more modern Legislative Council, better positioned to act as an independent chamber of sober, second thought, it still proved difficult to recruit Councillors, especially from outside of Halifax. Members of the Council of Twelve had never been paid for their service as Councillors (though most held executive or judicial office that came with some manner of reimbursement); the tradition of an unpaid Council continued post-reform. As such, any potential members would have to be wealthy enough to afford to take off several weeks at a time for legislative sessions, and, if they lived outside of Halifax, pay for travel, room and board. Prospective Councillors were also turned off by the lack of secure tenure and the ill-defined nature of the Legislative Council’s constitution. In response to the perceived difficulty in recruiting and maintaining strong candidates, on March 18, 1845, the Council formed a committee of five members to consider the issue and report back with recommendations. On April 7, the committee proposed an address to Queen Victoria, to be delivered via Lieutenant-Governor Falkland and the Colonial Office, laying out the difficulty and requesting either that Councillors be compensated for their work or that the Council be given a defined constitution:

Seats in the Legislative Council are among the most honorable Colonial distinctions in the gift of Your Majesty, yet it is with difficulty that Gentlemen can be induced to accept them, or if they do, a speedy resignation or partial attendance exhibit the estimation in which the Body itself, and the Office of a Legislative Councillor are held. Whether these results may be ascribed to the want of a defined Constitution, or of a pecuniary provision for the expense of the attendance of the Country members at the Legislative Sessions, will be for Your Majesty’s gracious consideration. . . . In regard to a matter in which your personal wishes and feelings may influence their judgment, they [the Councillors] do not presume to suggest what steps should be taken, but humbly and earnestly pray that Your Majesty would adopt such measures as seem proper for establishing this Branch of the Legislature upon such a basis as may be compatible with the right, efficient, and independent discharge of its high and important duties.”

“Post-Confederation, there was only two significant amendments to the constitution of the Legislative Council. First, in 1872, the power to appoint Councillors was vested wholly in the Lieutenant-Governor in the name of the Crown. No longer would it be necessary to make “provisional appointments,” which would later be approved or denied by the Queen. In addition to greatly streamlining the appointment process and removing a step seen as wholly unnecessary in the new political context, the reform also removed any constitutional concerns about the Sovereign’s ability to act at all on a matter of provincial or Dominion concern post-Confederation.”

“The second major amendment to the Legislative Council’s constitution came in 1925, at the tail end of forty-three years of Liberal rule and four years of discussions between the Assembly and Council. After repeated efforts to abolish the Council had failed, Premier Armstrong and the Liberals instead proposed reforming it, and, surprisingly, the Council agreed. On April 6, 1925, Armstrong introduced his reform bill, which echoed the reforms of the Parliament Act, 1911, while also limiting the tenure of office of newly-appointed Councillors to ten years and establishing an upper age limit for members (75 for existing members and 70 for new members); until reaching the maximum age, however, Councillors could be reappointed when their terms expired. The Morning Chronicle largely praised the bill, though it did suggest removing the provision allowing for reappointment. In particular, the Chronicle lauded the reasonableness and non-radical nature of the reform, which changed the Council insofar as it was necessary. It does not propose to impair extensively or undesirably, much less to override, the essential present powers of the Council. It does not propose to alter, except by amendments, its membership. It is merely intended to provided that the fixed and determined will of the elected representatives of the people shall ultimately prevail over persistent opposition of the non-elective House, after due delay for reflection and re- consideration. The power of the Upper House to check and correct hasty legislation and enforce due discussion is to be left practically unimpaired, while a means to overcome factious or unwarranted opposition from the Council is to be provided. If anything, the Chronicle suggested the reform might be too radical, as the emasculated state of the House of Lords had been criticized in Britain. Other parties were less supportive of the reform proposals. The Farmer-Labor coalition, which had swept into the role of Opposition after the 1920 election, opposed reform on principle. D.G. McKenzie, Leader of the Opposition, for instance, condemned Armstrong’s bill, saying that the province needed “a responsible government” and that it would be better to abolish the Council or make it an elective body than to fill it with defeated Liberal candidates. The three Conservatives in the Assembly also opposed the bill despite party leader William Lorimer Hall (who did not hold a seat in the Assembly) having introduced a very similar bill in 1916.”

“The (Tenure of office) Bill inspired a Liberal uproar. The Morning Chronicle called it “the hand of Tammany,” referring to the still-powerful Tammany Hall political machine that dominated New York City politics from the 1850s through 1930s.”

“In reply to claims that the Council would protect the province from ill-drafted legislation, he cited an example from the 1922 Session in which two inconsistent acts were passed in regards to the rules of the road, without anyone in the Council having noticed (though, admittedly, the error was made by the Assembly); in order to rectify the error without calling a special session of the Legislature, the Liberal government petitioned Ottawa to disallow the statute. According to Rhodes, if the Council could not catch such an obvious error in legislation—“any child could have discovered the inconsistency”—then contrary to the Liberals’ claims, the Council did nothing to correct “hasty legislation.” Instead, having a second chamber encouraged the Assembly to be lazy in drafting legislation. After Chisholm compared the Council to the Canadian Senate, which the Fathers of Confederation had endorsed, Rhodes repeated his earlier defence of the Senate, emphasizing Nova Scotia’s disproportionate representation. But where the Senate dealt with important national issues, such as foreign relations and war, the Council faced no issues of such great importance. Indeed, most other provinces had found their upper houses unnecessary. Rhodes then audaciously expanded his argument into a belittling of Nova Scotian government, stating, “With a population less than Toronto we have trimmed ourselves with all the legislative attributes of a nation. I venture to say that the people of this province would be well advised if this chamber were reduced to 30 members instead of 43 as at present. To my mind there is no reason why this should not be brought about.” In Rhodes’ eye, the trappings of the Nova Scotia government, including the Legislative Council, were undeserved and unneeded.”

[This argument, “with a population less than Toronto”, is still used today to push any number of unilateral constitutional changes to bring about “greater efficiency”, which is usually code for a dictatorial action to support a specific party or to install a mechanism used to sever an accountability framework (such as municipal amalgamations, dissolutions of grand juries and local courts, dissolution of elected school boards and local health boards, all achieved by fiat].

“Three months later, on October 23, 1926, the Court delivered its decision, such as it was. For all practical purposes, the Court was evenly divided, with Chief Justice Harris and Justice Chisholm holding that the Lieutenant-Governor could appoint in excess of twenty- one members to the Council, and that members held their positions during the pleasure of the Lieutenant-Governor. By contrast, Justices Carroll and Mellish held that the Council was capped at twenty-one, absent a formal amendment to the provincial constitution, and that tenure, if at pleasure, was at the pleasure of the Crown acting by and with the advice of the imperial cabinet (Carroll and Mellish disagreed on whether tenure was at pleasure (Carroll) or for life (Mellish)). Thus with only two exceptions, there could not be said to be a “decision” of the Court, as it was on most issues evenly divided.”

“Almost immediately after the decision was rendered, Premier Rhodes stated that he intended to appeal to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. In response, the Councillors, initially through the Morning Chronicle and later through legal counsel, argued that appeal was inappropriate, as the Supreme Court had not actually reached a decision. If there was no decision, asked the Morning Chronicle, how could there be an appeal to a higher court? While the Chronicle recognized there might be some technical way out, it argued that the better approach was to reargue the case in the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia before a panel of five or seven judges, in order to ensure a majority decision.”

“On October 18, 1927, the waiting finally came to an end, as the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council released its judgment. In a brief fifteen paragraphs, the Privy Council found for the Province on all four questions, finally opening the door for Rhodes to abolish the Legislative Council at the next session of the Legislature. It would be strange indeed for the Nova Scotian Fathers of Confederation to have intended to create a toothless Legislative Council that could be abolished or whose members could be dismissed at any time; if that had been the intent, why not simply abolish the Council as part of the British North America Act? Moreover, both the plan of Confederation and the 1873 Act were approved by the Legislative Council, which presumably would have rejected either if it believed it meant signing its own death warrant. The semi-anonymous author (“J.E.R.”) of a Canadian Bar Journal “Case and Comment” on the Privy Council decision agreed:

The theory [that all prerogative powers had been transferred to the Lieutenant-Governor] is in itself not free from difficulty. Its acceptance gives to the B.N.A. Act an effect that certainly would have shocked the ‘Fathers of Confederation.’ A persual of the various drafts of sections dealing with the constitutions of the legislatures of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick discloses a clear intention that the N. S. Legislature should retain its constitution with restricted legislative powers. If there had been any suggestion, that the result would have been a second chamber, completely dependant upon the House of Assembly, whose members would always be subject to the threat of dismissal if they dared to disagree with the views of the lower house, it is unlikely that the concurrence of the Nova Scotia Legislature would have been obtained. Their Lordships refer to the anomaly of appointments made in Halifax being revoked in London but there is no doubt that the so-called anomaly was the result actually contemplated.”

“Just six months after the Legislative Council disappeared forever, Nova Scotians returned to the polls. Though Rhodes had not thought it necessary to consult the electorate on changing the provincial constitution by abolishing the Council, he argued in September 1928 that the members of the Assembly should face the voters before making use of their substantial new powers. That is, changing the constitution did not require an election, but using the powers resulting from that changed constitution did.”

“This constitutional conundrum—the Legislative Council’s consent was required to abolish the Legislative Council—appeared for decades to be unresolvable. Successive governments sought to achieve abolition through some alternative means, whether it be an amendment to the British North America Act, requiring appointees to pledge themselves in favour of abolition, or offering substantial pensions, but none were successful. Eventually, the governing Liberals effectively gave up, embraced the Council, and sought reform instead of abolition. But decades of criticism left a Council bereft of popular support. When Edgar Nelson Rhodes took office, he recognized the Council as a vestige of the old regime, an independent source of authority that could block his legislative agenda (even if that authority was mostly unexercised). Rhodes thus launched a renewed battle against the Council, dedicated this time to destroy it once and for all. In doing so, Rhodes questioned decades-old assumptions about the nature of the provincial constitution and the role of the Council. When Lieutenant-Governor Tory and the Dominion Law Officers were unwilling to go through with his plans to pack the Council with Conservative appointees, he took the matter to court. Fortunately for Rhodes, the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council was unwilling to recognize the settled conventions on which so much of Nova Scotian practice was based. According to the Privy Council, the Legislative Council was built on a foundation of sand.”

“While the Privy Council’s decision verified that Lieutenant-Governor Tory had the ability to act, it in no way mandated his actions. Indeed, use of the prerogative powers of the Sovereign to dismiss Councillors or to appoint in excess of twenty-one members violated constitutional convention in place since at least 1846. True, these conventions did not have the binding force of law, but this did not make them any less a part of the constitutional structure of the Province.”

Hoffman, Charlotte, The Abolition of the Legislative Council of Nova Scotia, 1925-1928 (December 7, 2011). Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2273029 or http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2273029

Old Annapolis Road

old-annapolis-road2

After piecing together several Crown land grant maps, you can see the path of the Old Annapolis Road much more clearly. Open the image in a new tab, to see it in more detail.

Below you’ll find a few representations of the road as a contiguous route, as opposed to what is left recorded on the Crown Land Grant maps. (You can find find the individual Crown Land Grant maps here: https://novascotia.ca/natr/land/grantmap.asp)

One of the earliest road maps, from 1755, the Bay of Fundy still going by the name of Argal’s Bay. “A New map of Nova Scotia and Cape Britain”, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b53089581f

“Map of Nova Scotia, or Acadia, with the islands of Cape Breton and St. John’s, from actual surveys” https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b53209890m

Previous to the construction of the more direct route to Annapolis, this map from 1776 shows a road (from Dartmouth, certainly an error, likely from Fort Sackville at the head of the harbor) to Annapolis. “A general Map of the northern British Colonies in America which comprehends the province of Quebec, the government of Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, New England and New-York” https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b8443126p

One of the first representations of the Old Annapolis Road, “Road markt out by Gov. Parr’s orders in 1784”

nova scotia map Annapolis road

“A map of Nova Scotia showing the post roads”, 1787. https://collections.leventhalmap.org/search/commonwealth:hx11z4938

“A Map of the United States and Canada, New Scotland, New Brunswick and New Foundland”, 1806. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b53100560v

“Map of the Province of Nova Scotia Including Cape Breton, Prince Edwards Island and Part of New Brunswick”, 1819. https://nscc.cairnrepo.org/islandora/object/nscc%3A112, https://collections.leventhalmap.org/search/commonwealth:8049g892q

“Map of the Provinces Of New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia”, 1825. https://nscc.cairnrepo.org/islandora/object/nscc%3A715

annapolis road map 1827

“Map of the United States; and the Provinces of Upper & Lower Canada, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia”, 1827: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~4239~340032:Map-of-the-United-States-

“The Provinces of Lower & Upper Canada, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Newfoundland & Prince Edward Island with a large section of the United States”, 1831. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b530987207

“Maps of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge”, 1832: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~20966~530058:Nova-Scotia,-N-B-,-Lower-Canada

“North America : sheet I. Nova-Scotia with part of New Brunswick and Lower Canada”, 1832: https://digitalarchive.mcmaster.ca/islandora/object/macrepo%3A26988

“Nouvelle carte des Etats-Unis, du Haut et Bas-Canada : de la Nouv[el]le-Écosse, du Nouv[e]au-Brunswick, de Terre-Neuve”, 1832
https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b530354369

“Map of the United States; and the Provinces of Upper & Lower Canada, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia”, 1835: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~316476~90085094:Composite–Map-of-the-United-States

From: “The London atlas of universal geography”, 1837: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~33890~1170042:Lower-Canada

From: “British Possessions in North America, with part of the United States”, 1840: https://hdl.huntington.org/digital/collection/p15150coll4/id/9901

From: “Nelson’s new map of the British provinces in North America”, 1840–1849: https://collections.leventhalmap.org/search/commonwealth:0z709278h

From: “Lower Canada, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edwards Id. Newfoundland, and a large portion of the United States”, 1846. https://digitalarchive.mcmaster.ca/islandora/object/macrepo%3A31427

“Map of the provinces of Canada, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Prince Edward Island”, 1846. https://digitalarchive.mcmaster.ca/islandora/object/macrepo%3A81413

“Lower Canada, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edwards Id. Newfoundland, and a large portion of the United States.”, 1853. https://hdl.huntington.org/digital/collection/p15150coll4/id/100

“Belcher’s map of the Province of Nova Scotia”, 1855: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~3016~290077:Belcher-s-map-of-the-Province-of-

“Map of the British Province of New Brunswick”, 1858: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~325278~90094243:Map-of-the-British-Province-of-New-

“The royal atlas of modern geography”, 1861: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/workspace/handleMediaPlayer?qvq=&trs=&mi=&lunaMediaId=RUMSEY~8~1~21338~620038

“Mackinlay’s map of the Province of Nova Scotia, including the island of Cape Breton”, 1862: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~2372~220044:Mackinlay-s-map-of-the-Province-of-

The portion of the Annapolis road that traverses Halifax County, as seen in the “Topographical township map of Halifax County” from A.F. Church and Co, 1864. https://collections.lib.uwm.edu/digital/collection/agdm/id/14722/rec/1

“Mackinlay’s map of the Province of Nova Scotia”, 1865: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~2374~220046:Mackinlay-s-map-of-the-Province-of-

“Colton’s… Nova Scotia”, 1865: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~208606~5003402:New-Brunswick,-Nova-Scotia–Prince-

“Colton’s Dominion of Canada”, 1869: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~208947~5003938:Dominion-of-Canada–Provinces-of-Ne

Annapolis Road seen here at Stoddards as it made its way through to what is now Dalhousie East. “Annapolis County part of A.F. Church Map”, 1876. https://archives.novascotia.ca/maps/archives/?ID=942

Annapolis Road pieced together from several pages of the “Atlas of the Maritime Provinces of the Dominion of Canada”, Roe Brothers, St. John, NB 1878. https://www.islandimagined.ca/roe_atlas

“Statistical & general map of Canada”, 1883: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~31463~1150419:Canada-1-

“Canada : the provinces of Quebec, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland”, 1886. https://digitalarchive.mcmaster.ca/islandora/object/macrepo%3A27057

“Mackinlay’s map of the Province of Nova Scotia”, 1890: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~3012~220131:Mackinlay-s-map-of-the-Province-of-

“Stanford’s London atlas of universal geography”, 1904: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~314730~90083550:Quebec,-New-Brunswick,-Nova-Scotia

“Dominion of Canada : E. Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Id. and Newfoundland”, 1910. https://collections.library.yale.edu/catalog/15827305

One of the last representations of the Old Annapolis Road:

Mackinlay’s map of the Province of Nova Scotia Compiled from Actual & Recent Surveys, 1912: https://nscc.cairnrepo.org/islandora/object/nscc%3A534

Fifteen years later, by 1927, the Old Annapolis Road disappears from the maps. Perhaps it wasn’t fit for automobile travel, though it’s hard not to notice the change (back?) to “Annapolis Royal” from “Annapolis” occurred at the same time.

From: “Rand McNally auto road atlas of the United States and Ontario, Quebec, and the Maritime Provinces of Canada”, 1927: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~33775~1171491:Maritime-Provinces-

Much of the road is now incorporated into other routes. It’s the #8 from Annapolis through Lequille, it’s the West Dalhousie Road through to Lake La Rose and from West Dalhousie to Albany Cross on to Stoddard’s where it once continued straight at what is now a turn (see above at 1876). It then crossed over the brook that empties into Upper Thirty Lake, from there it continued across another bridge, this time over the LaHave River to connect to what is now Camel Hill Road. The route proceeded to where it now meets Cherryfield Road and becomes Dalhousie Road, and on eastwards from there, through to Franey Corner and on to New Ross. At this point the route seems to have been reclaimed by the woods somewhat but it continued south and east near Sherwood, and then north of Canaan and Timber Lake, to the south of Panuke Lake (once called “Carrying Place”, see above at 1864) near Simms Settlement, through the country between Sandy and Rafter lake then terminating at Pockwock Road, north of Wrights Lake in Upper Hammonds Plains.

From: “Halifax & Dartmouth City & Maritimes map”, 1976. https://archives.novascotia.ca/maps/archives/?ID=948&Page=202012493

See also:

Howe (1835), Dixon (1920) and McLachlan (1923): Comparative Perspectives on the Legal History of Sedition

Joseph howe province house

This paper recounts three trials for seditious libel in Nova Scotia, drawing parallels between Joseph Howe’s trial in 1835, F.J. Dixon’s trial in 1920, and J.B. McLachlan’s trial in 1923. Howe’s trial, though acquitted, established him as a folk hero due to his successful self-defense. Dixon, emulating Howe’s defense, was also acquitted, while McLachlan’s trial, marked by government manipulation and interference, resulted in his conviction and imprisonment.

McLachlan’s case, unlike Howe and Dixon’s, exemplifies a miscarriage of justice, orchestrated to suppress the working-class. Despite legal efforts inspired by Howe’s defense, McLachlan’s trial failed to challenge the unjust system. The analysis emphasizes the significance of these trials in Nova Scotia’s legal and political history, showcasing struggles against state oppression and the impact of legal and political maneuvering on outcomes.


“Then there is Howe, who was prosecuted by the corrupt magistrates whom he exposed in his day. By the way, he successfully defended himself, and I hope to perhaps follow his glorious example. He is now proclaimed as Nova Scotia’s noblest son.” — FJ. Dixon, 1920

“When they tried Joseph Howe for sedition, they erected a monument to him in the shadow of the County jail [sic: Province House yard].” — J.B. McLachlan, 1924

“I am not a prophet, nor the son of a prophet, but I tell you that what happened to Howe will happen to McLachlan.” — J.S. Woodsworth, 1924

In Halifax, in 1835, Joseph Howe, a newspaper proprietor and editor, was tried for seditious libel for publishing the second of two pseudonymous letters critical of local government. In Winnipeg, in 1920, F J. (Fred) Dixon, an independent labour member of the Legislative Assembly of Manitoba, was tried for seditious libel for publishing in the strike bulletin which he briefly edited during the General Strike of 1919, articles critical of the strike’s suppression. In Halifax, in 1923, J.B. McLachlan, communist secretary of United Mine Workers of America District, was tried for seditious libel for having written an official letter critical of the violent actions of the provincial police in Sydney. These three “state trials” document the important historical conflicts out of which they arose, reflect the politico-legal contexts in which they occurred and illustrate the meaning of the “misrule of law” as it developed through the repressive exercise of state power during both the colonial and the national periods.”

“Ironically, the industrial action which led to the prosecution of McLachlan did not originate with the Cape Breton coalminers. In June 1923, Sydney steelworkers struck again for recognition of their union. When mounted provincial police, who had been summoned at the behest of the British Empire Steel Corporation (Besco), made a bloody charge against the Sunday evening crowd on Victoria Road in Sydney on July 1, McLachlan, in his capacity as secretary of District 26, authorized a wildcat strike. “This was a fateful decision,” writes David Frank, quoting McLachlan’s official letter (sea Appendix 1), one that brought down the wrath first of the provincial government and then of the international union. For his call to arms McLachlan was charged with seditious libel and subsequently sentenced to two years in jail. For his violation of international union polity in calling the sympathetic strike he was removed from office by John L. Lewis [president] of the United Mine Workers. McLachlan was prosecuted because he was the leader of an illegal sympathetic strike. The seditious libel for which he was convicted was an official letter signed and ordered circulated by McLachlan in his capacity as secretary of District 26 of the UMWA.”

“The parallels to Howe rest with Fred Dixon, who was acquitted after defending himself in a great forensic address purposely modelled on Howe’s. McLachlan, on the other hand, was dissuaded from defending himself, did not testify on his own behalf and was perfunctorily convicted. “[C]ivil libertarians, then and since,” according to Howe’s biographer, Murray Beck, “have excoriated the [McLachlan] trial for its alleged unfairness.” Yet, Beck too refuses to acknowledge any parallels between Howe and McLachlan. He forbears describing Howe as “seditious libel,” a technical term he uses in relation to McLachlan, and does not confront the suspicion that chief counsel for the defence, Gordon Sidney Harrington K.C., (in David Frank’s words) “deliberately exploited the case to promote the fortunes of the Conservative Party and prove the iniquity of the Liberal government.” Beck also fails to identify “McLachlan’s lawyers” as two politically ambitious Conservative barristers — the other was Halifax labour lawyer, John Archibald Walker — both of whom were elected to the Assembly in the Conservative sweep of 1925 and appointed to the cabinet. Harrington, a former mayor of Glace Bay, which was also home town to McLachlan and headquarters of District 26 of the UMWA, was counsel to the union.”

“McLachlan — unlike Howe and Dixon — was a gross miscarriage of justice, in which the accused was “framed”, charged, tried, convicted and imprisoned for having published a seditious libel when in neither the legal nor the ordinary sense of the word had he published anything at all. Before the “fixed” publication, the Crown did not have even a prima facie case against the accused. The obvious motive for the government’s conniving at newspaper publication was not only to lay the basis for the charge of seditious libel, but also to give some reason for McLachlan’s incarceration and transportation to Halifax, which Attorney-General O’Hearn was later to characterize as “a neutral [safe?] county.” The very possibility of contesting the legal repression – by achieving a counter-hegemonic success à la Howe and Dixon — was precluded by the careful manner in which the government stage-managed the proceedings against McLachlan from beginning to end. Circumstantial evidence suggests that the McLachlan prosecution was the result of a conspiracy involving the Red-baiting provincial Liberal government, the management of Besco and the proprietor of the Morning Chronicle — the only Halifax newspaper in which McLachlan’s official letter was published. The District circular appeared verbatim on the front page of the edition of 6 July 1923 — a mere two days after it was issued — under the incendiary sub-headline, “McLachlan’s War Whoop.” Publication in Halifax had been arranged by Andrew Merkel, Maritime superintendent of The Canadian Press, whose vice-president, George Frederick Pearson, was also hereditary president of the Chronicle Publishing Company Limited. A lawyer and highly influential political insider — Beck describes him as “long a mastermind of the Liberal Party” — G. Fred Pearson was also Besco’s solicitor. Though McLachlan’s conviction for publication in Halifax was eventually struck down on appeal, at the time of the trial even the strongest legal defence would have been ineffectual against a government partial to Besco, a mass-circulation morning newspaper complicitously toeing the government’s line, an “anti-Bolshevik” Attorney-General prosecuting in person, a manipulable jury altogether unacquainted with labour-management relations in industrial Cape Breton, and an highly interested judge. Presiding over McLachlan was Justice Humphrey Mellish, a corporate lawyer and former solicitor for the Dominion Coal Company — who was elevated to the bench in 1918, so that he could more effectively protect the interests of his former corporate clients. The fact that Mellish’s law firm, Mclnnes Jenks Lovett & Macdonald [now Mclnnes Cooper & Robertson], was in Besco’s pocket — the senior partner, Hector Mclnnes, was a director of the corporation — was sharply emphasized by J.S. Woodsworth MP in House of Commons debate in March 1924, following the announcement of the government’s decision to parole McLachlan. Woodsworth, who toured Nova Scotia in January 1924 at the invitation of the Nova Scotia Workers Defence Committee, enquired “concerning the judges of the supreme court, and… was told that the corporation influence on the bench was so strong that the court is looked upon by labour as a company department.” Charges of seditious libel against Woodsworth, a former editor of Winnipeg’s Strike Bulletin, were indefinitely stayed when Fred Dixon was acquitted of the same charge. Woodsworth read into Hansard the words uttered by Joseph Howe before the jury while introducing his discussion of The Libel Act 1792: It is ninety years since in Nova Scotia a man was tried for sedition. Then a man was haled before the courts and accused of being “a wicked seditious and ill-disposed person, a person of most wicked and malicious temper and disposition.” That man is now regarded as one of Canada’s greatest sons, Joseph Howe. But he was able to say at that time, in connection with his trial: “And here I may be permitted to thank heaven and our ancestors, that I do not stand before a corrupt and venal court and a packed and predetermined jury.’,

Joseph Howe’s trial for seditious libel, eighty-eight years before McLachlan’s, has never been excoriated for unfairness by civil libertarians or anyone else, because Howe was tried by an impartial, disinterested judge — Chief Justice Brenton Halliburton — and acquitted by an enlightened jury. Indeed the canonical, politico-biographical interpretation of Howe does not consider the possibility that this too was a trial for sedition, lest it be compared with the trial of the politically persona non grata working-class radical, J.B. McLachlan. Repeated ad nauseam is the canard that Howe was tried for “criminal” libel, suggesting that the dual character of defamation as crime and tort could disprove the self-evident truth that Howe too was tried for seditious libel. Indeed the very success of Howe’s self-defence accounts for this misunderstanding of his trial, which resulted in an acquittal despite the fact that the truth of a libel was not pleadable except as a defence to an action, and that neither truth nor public benefit could be pleaded in justification of a seditious libel.”

“Joseph Howe — it needs to be said — was neither arrested nor jailed, though he expected to be and arranged for bail to be posted by his friends, while McLachlan and Livingstone were not only arrested, transported to Halifax and imprisoned, but were initially denied bail at the instance of the Crown. Nor was Howe’s venue changed from Halifax to Sydney, to be tried by a jury of coalminers, who had as little understanding of abuses in the administration of local government in the District of Halifax as the jury of Halifax petit-bourgeois who convicted McLachlan had of labour relations in industrial Cape Breton. The Crown failed to make its case in Howe and Dixon and would have failed to do so in McLachlan had he too been tried by a jury of his peers. Howe — tried and acquitted by sympathetic friends and neighbours and readers of his reformist newspaper, the Novascotian — was thought by the Halifax bar, who to a man refused his retainer, to be foredoomed. Conversely, McLachlan’s lawyer, seeing in his client a latter-day Howe, was overconfident of victory.”

“In preparing his defence of McLachlan, Harrington, like Dixon, availed himself of The Speeches and Public Letters of Joseph Howe, a new and complete edition of which had been produced in 1909 in a commendably bipartisan manner. The publisher was the Halifax Chronicle, the Liberal Party organ founded in 1844 and once edited by Joseph Howe, while the reviser was the prominent Conservative lawyer and municipal politician, Joseph Andrew Chisholm K.C. Chisholm, who in 1916 acceded to a puisne judgeship, played a significant collateral role in the proceedings against McLachlan. In June 1923, he presided at the criminal assizes in Sydney, when, according to Attorney-General O’Hearn, “in the neighbourhood of twenty-odd bills of indictment against strikers for their criminal activities in February 1923, were thrown out” by the grand jury for lack of witnesses willing to testify. Chisholm was also, according to J.S. Woodsworth, one of only two of seven judges of the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia who had had no “known relations” with Besco or its constituent operating companies.”

“What mattered were the changes in Canada between 1919 and 1923. By the latter date, sedition law was being used systematically against working-class radicals in general and strike leaders in particular, regardless of their lack of socialist credentials — a tendency strikingly illustrated by the prosecution of Fred Dixon MLA. Not only had new repressive state security laws been introduced, but also the state’s determination to repress working-class radicalism had been renewed since 1919 and the range of potential uses of existing sedition law accordingly broadened. If the significance of Howe for McLachlan relates more to the forensic use of history than to the forensic use of law, then McLachlan is an object lesson in the failure of legal history as legal argument. It is not a question of the uses or sources of law, however, because Howe, as a jury trial resulting in an acquittal did not form a legal precedent. Howe in relation to McLachlan concerns the historical uses of law versus the juridical uses of history, and in either respect depends upon a mutually agreed, authoritative and analytically sound reconstruction of the leading case. When the Crown denied the existence of any previous trials for sedition in Nova Scotia, the defence attempted unsuccessfully to adduce Howe as a precedent.”

“G.S. Harrington, who had never practised in Halifax and was far from being the “noted barrister” of John Mellor’s rose-coloured romance, was facing one of the leading criminal counsel of the Halifax bar in Attorney-General O’Hearn. Harrington nevertheless aimed to achieve, without any help from his client, whom he did not call to testify in his own defence, what Howe and Dixon had achieved by unassisted advocateship. The upshot was that Howe immediately became a “folk hero,” and ultimately a figure of Olympian myth. His trial became the defining moment in the political history of the province. Dixon was overwhelmingly re-elected to the Manitoba legislature in the general election held four months after his acquittal. McLachlan, however, remained a working-class anti-hero, whose trial and unsuccessful appeal, in David Frank’s words, “passed on into the untapped obscurity of legal history.” Scholars of Howe have failed to acknowledge the resemblance of the McLachlan sedition trial to the Howe sedition trial. They seem unaware that seditious libel at common law is sedition not libel, and that Howe was not on trial for defamation, but for a crime against the state. The politically and socially dangerous implication for the historiography is that Howe, the petit-bourgeois “conservative reformer,” would be coloured by association with McLachlan, the working-class radical and Bolshevik pariah. Yet, at the time of his own sedition trial Howe did not consider himself, nor did his friends or enemies consider him to be conservative in any sense of the word. That Howe stood four-square in the English radical whig tradition is clear from a close, impartial reading of the stenographic report of his courtroom address in his own defence.”

“In that sense, J.B. McLachlan no less than Fred Dixon was a legatee of Joseph Howe, as well as the provider of a legacy of working-class political radicalism — and his forerunners were the radical reformers of a century earlier. Excepting only McLachlan, the study of sedition in Nova Scotia has been obfuscated by the “criminal libel” misnomer such that the seditious libel prosecutions of William Wilkie in 1820 and Joseph Howe in 1835 are not seen for what they undoubtedly were: show trials staged by the ruling class to counter the perceived threat to the established order posed by ancillary crimes against the state. Just as Howe implicitly compared himself to the English radicals of the period of extreme Tory reaction in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries — many of whom were tried and convicted of seditious libel — so the comparison with Howe was advocated by McLachlan’s senior counsel, the Conservative lawyer-politician Harrington. If the radical pamphleteer William Wilkie — tried and convicted of seditious libel in 1820 after an unsuccessful self-defence conducted along the same lines as Howe’s fifteen years later — was a forerunner of Joseph Howe, then Howe was a forerunner of J.B. McLachlan, who assumes a place of honour within the century-old tradition of political protest and trials for sedition in Nova Scotia. McLachlan, writes David Frank, “was a political trial, part of a Canadian tradition we have found it all too easy to forget. These kinds of trials, such as Joseph Howe’s in 1835, had long pitted the forces of change against the forces of continuity.””

“Clearly a line of defence which did not result in a verdict of not guilty was “an ineffectual one”; however, to criticize it as incoherent, as David Frank does, is ex post facto rationalization. Just as scholars of Howe have disposed of some archetypal myths — such as that the verdict established freedom of the press — only to replace them with others, so students of McLachlan fail to recognize that one of the lessons of that case is that criminal law and criminal justice history are not necessarily combinable in the context of legal proceedings. Political trials, however significant they may be in other respects, are not necessarily significant sources of law. Frank, for example, argues that counsel for the defence in McLachlan “probably unreasonably, accepted the argument that truth was no defence in a case of seditious libel.” Harrington’s acceptance of what had long been a settled principle of the common law can hardly be considered unreasonable for a lawyer pleading in a criminal court. Moreover, Harrington’s failure to recognize that one of the lessons of Howe was that the restriction on truth as a defence “could be easily evaded in the process of clarifying the defendant’s intentions” is fully consistent with his argument on appeal that seditious libel law was unaffected by the passage of The Libel Act 1792. There the jury’s right to “find” intention as a matter of fact was explicitly affirmed. The problem with Harrington’s defence was not incoherence but error of law. The Libel Act 1792 was the very statute which enabled Howe to evade this common law restriction on defence pleading in the course of clarifying his innocent intentions.

As John Mellor correctly states, Harrington “had based his whole case on the famous Joseph Howe and his acquittal on a similar charge of seditious libel.” Harrington either did not understand or failed to elucidate the legal justification for Howe’s acquittal. He not only misunderstood the implications of The Libel Act 1792 for sedition law, but also mistook the legal heart of Howe’s defence. Harrington nevertheless believed that he could defend McLachlan in the same manner and with the same success as Howe had defended himself. Despite the fact that McLachlan was not defending himself, and that Howe had called no witnesses, there seemed to Harrington little point in putting the accused in the witness-box, to be exposed to a withering, ideologically perverse cross-examination by the Attorney-General. “It was generally believed,” according to Mellor’s hearsay: that if Harrington had arranged for defence witnesses to give evidence for McLachlan at the trial, he could quite possibly have won an acquittal, but instead, Harrington had based his whole defence on drawing an analogy between the famous Joseph Howe case, which had ended in acquittal, and the McLachlan case with its communist overtones. This is an aspect in which McLachlan and Dixon differ; Dixon was a non-socialist, while McLachlan was a revolutionary socialist who could scarcely have been permitted to speak candidly in his own defence in open court.”

Just as the legal argument from analogy failed to obtain an acquittal for McLachlan, so the argument from legal history has failed to obtain recognition of McLachlan as a case which merits judicial reconsideration. As recently as 1990, the authors of an essay on the historiography and sources for the study of Russell could claim that “[t]he legal history of the Winnipeg General Strike trials has yet to be written.” The same may be said for the legal history of working-class radicalism in Nova Scotia.”

Cahill, Barry. “Howe (1835), Dixon (1920) and McLachlan (1923): Comparative perspectives on the legal history of sedition.” University of New Brunswick Law Journal, vol. 45, 1996, journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/unblj/article/view/29601

Municipal Taxation in Nova Scotia

“PRACTICALLY, the General Property Tax as actually administered is beyond all doubt one of the worst taxes known in the civilized world. Because of its attempt to tax intangible as well as tangible things it sins against the cardinal rules of uniformity, of equality, and of universality of taxation. It puts a premium on dishonesty and debauches the public conscience; it reduces deception to a system, and makes a science of knavery; it presses hardest on those least able to pay; it imposes double taxation on one man and grants entire immunity to the next. In short, the General Property Tax is so flagrantly inequitable that its retention can be explained only through ignorance or inertia. It is the cause of such crying injustice that its alteration or its abolition must become the battle cry of every statesman and reformer.” I. Seligman, Essays on Taxation, p. 61.

A quarter of a century has passed since Professor Seligman of Columbia University, probably the greatest living authority on municipal taxation, wrote the tremendous indictment of the General Property Tax which is placed at the head of this article. Twenty years before that the Assessor of New York used respecting the same tax the following language:

“The General Property Tax is a reproach to the state, an outrage upon the people, a disgrace to the civilization of the nineteenth century, and worthy only of an age of mental and moral darkness and degradation, when the ‘only equal rights were those of the equal robber.’ ” Seligman, p. 36.”

“A municipality has little or no means of ascertaining incomes or anticipating them at their source, as is done in England and now in Canada by intercepting the dividends of companies or profits of partnerships before reaching their participants. In practice, I understand, these difficulties are met by the usual Nova Scotian way of dealing with a troublesome law, namely by not enforcing it or doing so only perfunctorily. The only incomes actually reached are those that are fairly thrust under the noses of the assessor-such as salaries of clerks and other officials whose incomes are known or can be ascertained by enquiry. All other persons either escape entirely or are left to make such return as their consciences prompt them. In one town (Dartmouth) the results of attempting to collect the tax were so meagre, unsatisfactory, and unjust, that a special act was obtained dispensing with the tax there.”

Bell, F.H. “Municipal Taxation in Nova Scotia” Dalhousie Review, Volume 01, Number 3, 1921 https://dalspace.library.dal.ca/bitstream/handle/10222/58050/dalrev_vol1_iss3_pp264_280.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y

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