CANADA HISTORY - DOCUMENTS ARTS

1867 Letter on Our Literature by Octave Crémazie (1827-79) Jan. 29, 1867 to Rev. Henri-Raymond Casgrain (1891-1904)

Analysis of the Document - (The Document follows below the Analysis)

Octave Crémazie’s 1867 letter on Canadian literature to Rev. Henri-Raymond Casgrain stands as a foundational document in the intellectual and cultural history of Canada. Written during the critical year that saw the formation of the Dominion of Canada under Confederation, the letter reflects Crémazie’s deep concern with the role of literature in shaping the nascent identity of the new nation. Crémazie, a poet and bookseller, was one of the earliest proponents of a distinct Canadian literary tradition, and his correspondence with Casgrain, a leading figure in French Canadian intellectual life, underscores his belief that literature must be more than an artistic pursuit—it had to serve as a tool for nation-building. This letter is, in many ways, a call to arms for Canadian writers and thinkers, urging them to cultivate a cultural identity rooted in the land, the people, and the shared experiences of a newly forming Canada.Br>

In the letter, Crémazie expresses a deep commitment to the development of Canadian literature, which he saw as lagging behind the country’s political and economic progress. He lamented the absence of a robust literary tradition that could reflect the unique Canadian experience. For Crémazie, literature was the cornerstone of national identity, a means of preserving the history, values, and spirit of a people. The timing of the letter, just months before the formal birth of Canada, reveals Crémazie’s foresight—he understood that a unified country needed more than political structures. It needed a shared sense of culture and identity that only literature could fully express. The letter thus reflects the intellectual ferment of the era, when thinkers like Crémazie and Casgrain recognized the importance of cultural sovereignty alongside political sovereignty.

Crémazie’s letter to Casgrain also highlights the unique position of French Canadian writers within the larger Canadian context. While Confederation was primarily a political agreement among the British colonies, the French Canadians of Quebec faced a more complex reality. Their cultural survival was inextricably tied to the preservation of the French language and the Catholic faith, and literature was a key battleground in this struggle. In his letter, Crémazie implores Casgrain to lead the charge in fostering a distinctly French Canadian literary tradition that would not only reflect the values of Quebec’s people but also resist the anglicizing forces that threatened their cultural survival. This focus on literature as a bulwark against assimilation gives the letter a tone of urgency, reflecting the broader anxieties of French Canadians as they navigated their place within a predominantly English-speaking federation.

The implications of Crémazie’s letter for the development of Canadian literature are profound. In many ways, it anticipated the debates over cultural identity that would persist throughout Canada’s history. The tension between English and French Canada, between regionalism and national unity, and between indigenous and settler narratives, all find echoes in Crémazie’s appeal for a literature that could capture the complex reality of Canadian life. His letter can be seen as an early articulation of the idea that Canada’s national identity would not be singular or homogeneous but would instead be shaped by its diverse peoples and their varied experiences. This insight would resonate throughout the 20th century as Canadian writers grappled with the challenge of defining what it meant to be Canadian in a land marked by its vast geography, its dual colonial heritage, and its indigenous presence.

Moreover, Crémazie’s insistence on the importance of historical memory in literature has had a lasting influence on Canadian historiography. He argued that literature must serve as a repository of national memory, preserving the stories of the past so that future generations could understand the sacrifices and struggles that had shaped their country. This view would find expression in the works of later Canadian historians and writers who sought to document the country’s early history, including the fur trade, the battles between French and English forces, and the settlement of the western frontier. The letter can thus be seen as a precursor to the historical novels and historical poetry that would later emerge as key genres in Canadian literature, with writers such as Sir Charles G.D. Roberts and Gabrielle Roy drawing on the past to explore the meaning of Canada’s present and future.

Crémazie’s letter also speaks to the broader 19th-century Romantic ideals of literature as a force for national unity and moral improvement. In his vision, Canadian literature would not merely entertain or educate; it would elevate the spirit and foster a sense of collective purpose. This Romantic vision was deeply influenced by European literary movements, particularly in France, where writers such as Victor Hugo and Alphonse de Lamartine saw their works as a means of advancing political and social causes. Crémazie, similarly, believed that Canadian writers had a duty to their nation to create works that would inspire and uplift, forging a national character that could withstand the challenges of division and conquest. In this sense, the letter is a testament to Crémazie’s belief in the transformative power of the written word, a belief that would continue to inspire Canadian writers and intellectuals well into the 20th century.

Yet, despite Crémazie’s impassioned plea, the immediate impact of his letter on the broader Canadian literary landscape was limited. French Canadian literature continued to develop in isolation from its English counterpart, and it would take several decades before Canadian writers, both French and English, began to receive international recognition. However, the spirit of Crémazie’s letter endured, laying the groundwork for the later development of a distinctly Canadian literary canon. Writers such as Émile Nelligan, Hugh MacLennan, and Margaret Atwood would all, in their own ways, respond to Crémazie’s call for a literature that reflected the unique experience of living in Canada, a land defined by its harsh climate, its colonial history, and its multicultural population.

In conclusion, Octave Crémazie’s 1867 letter on Canadian literature is more than just a piece of correspondence—it is a manifesto for the creation of a national identity through the power of words. Written at a time when Canada was on the verge of political union, the letter captures the urgency of the moment and the challenges faced by those who sought to define what it meant to be Canadian. Crémazie’s vision of literature as a force for unity, memory, and cultural preservation has had a lasting influence on Canadian thought, shaping the way Canadians see themselves and their country. His letter remains a touchstone for those who continue to grapple with the complexities of Canadian identity, offering a reminder that literature, at its best, is not only a reflection of a nation’s past but also a guide to its future

This is the way it has to be for the Canadian writer. After renouncing without regrets his beautiful dreams of resounding glory, he must then consider himself amply rewarded for his efforts if he can instruct and charm his compatriots, if he can assist in maintaining the old French nationality on the young soil of America... It must be said that when it comes to poetry in our country our taste is not very subtle. Rhyme gloire with victoire a few times, and then dieux with glorieux, and France with espérance, and mix these rhymes with a few sonorous words like notre religion, notre patrie, notre langue, nos lois, le sang de nos pères, simmer all these on the flames of patriotism, and serve them up hot. Everybody will say it is magnificent...

One does not base poems and certainly not legends on everyday events...

We have too many pagan authors forced down our throats when we are in college. Why do they only teach Greek mythology? The Scandinavian gods, and the dreaded Hindu trinity are, it seems to me, much more poetic and above all less immoral than this Olympus populated by thieves and harlots...

In my works I have never talked about myself, about my own joys and sorrows, and perhaps the little success I have achieved is due to this impersonal treatment...

I believe that literary taste in Canada would soon become more refined if readers could be nourished at those sources from which contemporary genius has found such inspiration. The novel, even as it aspires to be religious, is always a secondary genre. It is like the sugar word to coat pills, that is, it helps to get down a certain number of ideas, be they good or bad. But if ideas can endure the scrutiny of people of education and taste, why cover them with tinsel and affectation? It is in the nature of great artists to give their ideas a clarity and charm that enlightens a whole era, and genius does not need that gaudy outward appearance commonly produced by mediocre minds at any period of time. Do you not think that it would be better to withhold novels from your readers (I am talking about continental France because our own literature will by necessity impose the novel on you) and thus accustom them to accept ideas without the admixture of theatrics? I may be wrong, but I am convinced that the sooner we get rid of novels, even religious ones, the better it will be for everyone. But I realize that I am chattering on and on and that you are going to answer me: "What you are saying there is all well and good. but to take such a course in contemporary literature, one would first have to buy a number of works and then pay an editor to pick over the best of the harvest; but you know that we scarcely have enough money to pay a printer. Therefore please do not burden me with your lofty enterprises!"

Instead let us pretend that I did not say a word, and talk about other things.

The more I dwell on the future of Canadian literature the less I am inclined to believe that it will leave its mark in history. What is lacking in Canada is a language of its own. If we spoke Iroquois and Huron our literature would be alive. Unfortunately we speak and write the language of Bossuet and Racine, and really quite pitifully at that. Whatever we say and do, as far as literature is concerned we will always be a simple colony, and even if Canada were to become an independent nation and fly its flag among those of other nations, we would still remain simple literary colonials. Look at Belgium where the same language is spoken. Is there a Belgian literature? Unable to compete with France in beauty of style, Canada could have found its place in the literature of the Old World if it had counted among its children a writer who, in advance of Fenimore Cooper, had conveyed to Europe the grandeur of our forests and the legendary exploits of our trappers and voyageurs. If today there were to be found amongst us a talent as powerful as the author of The Last of the Mohicans, his work would not produce any reaction in Europe because he would have committed the unforgivable sin of being second, that is of being too late. I repeat: if we spoke Huron or Iroquois, the labour of our writers would attract the attention of the Old World.

These sensitive and yet masculine languages, born in the American forest, would have the naive poetic quality that so delights the foreigner. People would swoon before a novel or a poem translated from the Iroquois but they would not take the trouble to read a text written in French by a colonial from Quebec or Montreal.

For twenty years translations of Russian, Scandinavian, and Romanian novels have been published annually in France. Suppose these same books were written in French by their authors; they would not even find fifty readers. Translations have this advantage: if a work does not live up to its reputation, the reader always has the consolation of telling himself that it must be magnificent in the original language. But how important is it anyhow that works by Canadian authors are not destined to cross the Atlantic? Are we not a million Frenchmen on the banks of the St. Lawrence forgotten by the mother country? Is this not enough to encourage all those who hold a pen to know that this small population will grow and that it will always remember the name and memory of those who helped to preserve intact that most valuable of all treasures: the language of our ancestors?