The Canadians of Old

The Canadians of Old is widely regarded as a keystone for Canadian literature, for it united French and English reading communities, at least in the commercial terms of the novel’s popularity. Early translations – the first appearing only a year after the novel’s original publication – were marred by overly melodramatic prose and textual exclusions. De Gaspé’s voluminous notes and explanations, for example, were usually excised from English editions. I myself would argue that the French and English texts served not to unify a culturally heterogeneous population, but rather to demonstrate the anxiety and tension of co-habitation. Perhaps more importantly, however, The Canadians of Old serves as a foundation for a new Canadian national literature because it is among the first texts to critically examine an important historical occurrence which was subsequently to define a national identity. It should be noted, however, that I wish to examine identity itself as in a sense a constellation of forms rather than a monolithic entity. For, as de Gaspé’s text demonstrates, the ambiguities, paradoxes, inaccuracies, and most importantly the exclusion and glossing of “otherness” themselves serve to reify and create the oscillating presence which is national identity.

So who were these Canadians of old? What defines them as a people, distinct from the English and the French, and of course, as I will later elucidate, the Aboriginal peoples? It is interesting to note that more information can be gleaned from the text as to what the Canadians are not, rather than what exactly they are. Putting aside Aboriginal claims to the title, it is clear that Canadians as defined by the text are for the most part French-speaking land owners and tenants. English speakers are exclusively British subjects, and of course one must remain aware of the publication date for de Gaspé’s text, which predates Confederation. Therefore we can understand that English speakers will remain tied to their empire, while French-speaking persons born in North America will become a unique nationality separate from the Imperial claims of France itself. De Gaspé remains clear as to the origin of this difference, as he repeatedly refers to “the indifferent Louis XV” (177) who ignored the plight of New France, especially during the Seven Years War. As an historical aside, such indifference can be best attributed to France’s continental obligations, as well as the vast superiority of the English naval fleet, rather than the callous disregard of the country’s monarchy. This sense of abandonment, of weakness, can be seen to inform de Gaspé’s valorization of Canadian fighters at the beginning of chapter twelve: “You have been misunderstood, my Canadian brothers of old! You have been falsely besmirched .... Shame on us who, instead of exploring the ancient chronicles of our race’s heroic deeds, we’re content to bow our heads beneath the humiliating reproach of being a conquered people .... Shame on us who are mortified to be Canadians!” (151). The rhetoric here phrased seems to be the manifestation of the famed inferiority complex of Canadian national (stereotyped) identity. Therefore, Canadians can be seen to be defined by their opposition, which would have been seen as insurmountable. It is here that de Gaspé distances the English-speakers from the French, for during the 1759 war, the repulsion of English forces by the Quebequois is described as a “Victory ... most dearly bought by the French and the Canadians” (180).

Perhaps even more importantly than their status as non-British, Canadian national identity, at least in cultural terms, is defined by de Gaspé along aristocratic lines. Such is to be expected perhaps, for the author was himself descended from New France’s aristocratic families. Yet the novel in its entirety suggests a nostalgic return to the ancien régime, with the subtext that the seigneurial system followed God’s will. In an ontologically prescient manner, the very landscape – its beauty, fertility, and economic potential – are linked a priori with aristocratic privilege. Jules, in conversation with Archibald, correlates the nostalgic sentimentality of his youth with his later ability to profit from the land of his birth: “I love everything about this place ... it never seems as beautiful anywhere else. I love this stream that I used to turn the little wheels I called my mills “94). Indeed, birth associated with privilege defines human potential and moral character: “In terms of character, Seigneur d’Haberville possessed all the qualities that distinguished the old Canadian noblesse” (95). It is within this space – the definition of aristocracy which subsequently implies a national identity – where several paradoxes emerge in de Gaspé’s thought. For while Canadians are themselves defined by their French heritage – Jules, for example, remarks that “if the French lose Canada, most of the Canadian noblesse will probably emigrate to France where they have friends and protection” (189), and of course with nobility goes culture – simultaneous to this French heritage is the recognition of a shared culture amongst the aristocracy regardless of their country of origin. Such can first be identified by de Gaspé’s epithets, many of which are from British authors, but more importantly they signify a universal reading culture to which members of the aristocracy have almost exclusive privilege. This shared, alomst contractual, culture is of course reified in the relationship between Jules and Archibald, who are depicted as brothers from childhood who attended school together.

Consequently, de Gaspé’s depiction of the English is fraught with paradoxical relations. For while they are numerously depicted as brutish and uncompassionate, particularly during the destruction of Saint-Jean-Port-Joli in chapter twelve – Major Montgomerie in particular is portrayed as unmerciful and violent – simultaneously British rule was, in a sense very real to de Gaspé, a blessing in disguise, for as on page 151: “we may have benefited from the cessation of Canada, for the Revolution of ‘93 with all its horrors barely touched this fortunate colony, then under British flag”. The horros to which he refers are of course the plebeian rejection of the of the aristocratic system in France, during which many nobles lost their property, if not indeed their lives. Within this context, we can determine de Gaspé’s valuation of proper national existence. Order is maintained within the post-feudal system of the seigneuries, where the privilege of the aristocracy is granted in lieu of a contract to protect those whom they oversee. Like a father sheltering his children, the seigneurs must protect those under their guard, for as the narrator says on page 203, “It is the privilege of well-born persons to treat their inferiors with unfailing respect”. The d’Habervilles maintained this civil order, and consequently they “experienced fewer hardships than many in their position, for they were loved and respected by the censitaires, and had never suffered the humiliations that the common people are want to heap upon their superiors in distress” (203). The habitants give their labour wholeheartedly to the task of rebuilding the estate and their homes. They are themselves a superstitious group which lacks the insights gained by civility and are thus contented with a simple existence: “Our habitants aren’t so fussy as we are, nor are their palates so jaded. I’m sure their meals, washed down with a few shots of brandy, leave them nothing to wish for” (103). It is their duty to sublimate themselves to the seigneurial order. Indeed, duty is all important for de Gaspé, as it provides the moral imperative for the hierarchization of the populace. Simultaneously, however, he is not uncritical of the performance of duty which is blindly executed, as Archie’s actions demonstrate: “my life was poisoned by remorse since that fatal day when the inescapable duty of a junior officer forced me to carry out heart-sickening acts of vandalism” (205). Yet captain d’Haberville comes to understand this impulse, and soon forgives Archiibald of his transgression.

The institution of the monarchy holds such a (ir)rationally stratified body politic together, and consequently the d’Habervilles pledge their allegiance to the English king. Says captain d’Haberville, “Serve your new sovereign as loyally as I have served the king of France” (248) Notably, this phrase is uttered before the passing of the old guard, the ancien régime, which the captain represents. That the English retained their monarchy while the French king was beheaded in the Revolution speaks to de Gaspé’s allegiances. French Canada, and by extension the Canadians, will likely prosper under British rule if they accomodate themselves, much as within the Scottish had, in opposition to the economic and social ruin which the Irish experienced by resisting Britain. It is likely that de Gaspé’s desire to accede to the British monarchy allowed the proliferation of the English translation of his novel. Indeed, by the end of the text, Jules has himself married an Englishwoman, and rightly enters into peaceful cohabitation with the English aristocracy. De Gaspé resists simple objections that the Canadiens – the French – are a defeated people by suggesting that they willingly returned to the feudal order under British rule. For example, Jules’s statement on page 239 that “our habitants have traded their muskets for the plough. They’re opening up new land – and in a few years this seigneurie will be bringing in a healthy return. With the help of my modest legacy, we’ll soon be as rich as we were before the conquest”. Additionally, the process of imperial conquest does contain a reciprocity, as earlier noted. Within the narrative, this is achieved primarily through Archibald, who aids the d’Habervilles on numerous occasions, namely by convincing the English governor to grant the family a reprieve from expulsion to France. Less dramatically however, Archie’s love of Jules momentarily unites the French and the English during the war. The French and Canadian soldiers “were so moved at seeing the Englishman tend their young officer that they never even thought of harming him” (181). It is Archie’s aristocratic nature – his bravery, strength, and determined initiative – which here transcends nationality. The true connection of l’Anglais and the French is young Archibald d’Haberville, who, reflecting Archie’s earlier statement that childhood is “the time when true wisdom is known” (214), sees the entirety of the narrative (the text as work) as well as the history of his family within the dancing embers of the fireplace: “a small group of men, women, and children walking, dancing, jumping, rising and falling – and now suddenly everything’s disappeared” (252). Here we can see de Gaspé’s greatest paradox, for while his novel posits the successful integration of the French into the English empire, in his old age it seems that he believes that the Canadian spirit itself, once tied to strict religious custom – Catholicism – has weakened over time: “Some of our nineteenth-century Christians appear embarrassed by a religious act performed in public. At the very least, this shows either a narrow or cowardly mind” (22-3). Certainly these are not aristocratic virtues, which explains de Gaspé’s nostalgic attempts at reverie in the Canadians of his fictionalized history.