Eidolatry:
Criticism and Colonial Canadian Literature
Idolatry in whatever form (orthographical or
otherwise) should not of course either be counselled or countenanced in any critical
endeavour. And I do not so counsel or countenance. Nor, though I do believe
that we are insufficiently attentive to our literary avatars those eidolons whose
sweeping disregard I lamented in an earlier volume of this journal (No. 2, Spring/Summer,
1978, pp. 106-110) do I recommend an uncritical celebration of those ghostly
presences emanating from the literature of pre-Confederation Canada. Uncritical
attention is precisely what I do not want, and uncritical inattention is what I believe we
already have in too many respects.
I do not mean simply the
kind of inattention that can be statistically detailed: the comparative lack of primary
texts; of critical books, articles, notes; of works on intellectual, social and cultural
backgrounds and contexts. Though there have been over the last five years
significant achievements in each of these areas, comparative statistics of the sort which
I provided in my earlier article would indicate only marginal abatement of the Canadian
literary scholar's evident carelessness of the earlier stages of his country's literary
history. I hasten to excuse from these excoriations, to congratulate in fact, those
few scholars who do continue to labour in these publicly unrewarding, difficult, yet
privately satisfying areas. I applaud those scholars who, under the aegis of Mary
Jane Edwards and her Carleton University confrères, have satisfied what would otherwise
have been more immediately remunerative academic pursuits to provide us with indispensable
primary texts: critical editions of nineteenth century Canadian prose works. The
first published products of this undertaking are still anxiously awaited. On a
smaller, regional scale, but no less praiseworthy, have been the efforts of Douglas
Lochhead, Gwendolyn Davies, and their colleagues at Mount Allison's Centre for Canadian
Studies to produce texts for teaching purposes of otherwise inaccessible early Maritime
works such as Samuel Douglas Smith Huyghue's 1840's novel Argimou. A
Legend of the Micmac (reprinted 1977, 1979). Michael Gnarowski's Early Canadian
Poetry Series at Golden Dog Press continues though some of his contributors (I mean
myself) are not producing as expeditiously as they should. At his Loyal Colonies
Press in Kingston, and at the Royal Military College there, Thomas B. Vincent almost
single-handedly sustains an eighteenth-century Canadian literature industry through
reprints, contents reports and indexes, critical introductions, anthologies and annotated
chronologies. And finally, one should not overlook the occasional contributions made
to the provision of pre-Confederation texts in the "Documents" section of this
journal.
I
In the field of critical study, commentary on
fiction still vastly outweighs that on poetry, though in the activity of the writers
themselves, and in the hierarchy of literary genres of Colonial Canada, as in that of
Romantic and early Victorian Britain, poetry certainly took precedence over fiction.
By unconsciously and undeliberately allowing our critical commentary to suggest
otherwise (by, in short, indulging the values of our own fiction-dominated age), we
misrepresent that period of our literary history. It might be claimed, I suppose,
that the fiction is more accomplished than the poetry, or that it is of more
socio-historical or of more cultural interest and significance. I am not at all
certain by what criteria the questions of the relative socio-historical or cultural values
of different genres might be conclusively or convincingly resolved, but I am confident
that resolution would depend upon an equal confrontation with all the available evidence
and there is certainly no indication that we are as yet close to approaching such a stage
of investigation. But if critical attention were a trustworthy guide we should be
closer to this stage in the criticism of our fiction than in that of our poetry. The
greater activity is represented, not only in the editing efforts mentioned above, to which
might be added, albeit very modestly, Douglas Daymond and Leslie Monkman's Canadian
Novelists and the Novel (Ottawa: Borealis Press, 1981) which provides in the
historical sweep of its contents a selection of critical and theoretical comments by one
early critic (David Chisholme) and five Colonial writers of prose fiction (Hart, Galt,
Richardson, Haliburton, Moodie). It is also represented in the scholarly
inconsequential, literature-digested-for-the-masses Reader's Guide to the Canadian
Novel (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1981) by John Moss which contains
pocket-size analyses of thirteen pre-Confederation prose works. Of slightly greater
moment are one or two of the contributions (especially Germaine Warkentin's on David
Thompson of which more later) in Jeffrey M. Heath's Profiles in Canadian
Literature (Toronto: Dundern Press, 1980: vols. 1 and 2; 1982: vols. 3 and 4)
though these are designed as introductions for high school and university students rather
than as original contributions to critical knowledge (neither, of course, are Moss's, but
the fact that collections such as these merit notice in a discussion such as the present
one is indicative of the lack of criticism on Colonial Canadian literature).
Of greater substance are
the essays by various hands on individual works and authors, both in critical anthologies
such as Moss's The Canadian Novel, Volume II: Beginnings. A
Critical Anthology. (Toronto: NC Press, 1980), and in our established critical
journals. Even here, the critics tend to be unadventurous, turning again and again
to the same handful of writers, and indeed, the same handful of texts: Brooke's Emily
Montague, Richardson's Wacousta, Haliburton's Clockmaker and Old
Judge, Moodie's Roughing It In the Bush, and, much less frequently,
McCulloch's Stepsure Letters. These authors and texts are approached from
different perspectives, of course, and the results vary substantially in quality. We
are given in Moss's Beginnings, for example, on the one hand the totally
unhelpful effusions of Thomas Raddall and Northrop Frye on Haliburton, a weak unfocussed
essay on the "misdirected perspicacity" of Brooke's Emily Montague, and
a piece on Moodie's Roughing It In the Bush which contends on the basis of a
series of assertions and a catalogue of superficial similarities that Moodie's book
belongs substantially within the tradition of the sentimental novel as practised by Ann
Radcliffe. The contention is intriguing, if not convincingly presented, and Marion
Fowler is also to be congratulated for attempting to see Moodie's writing in context.
But Moss's volume does present more creditable work. Mary Jane Edwards'
discussion of the conjunction of party and petticoat politics in Emily Montague is a
useful example of the virtues of combining biographical and socio-historical research with
textual analysis. And Robert Lecker's study of the "Patterns of Deception in Wacousta"
demonstrates some of the structural complexities and consequent aesthetic power which
reside in Richardson's novel, making it as Michael Hurley not too extravagantly claims in
his companion essay "Wacousta: The Borders of Nightmare" ". . . an
ancestral totem no contemporary writer or artist can afford to ignore." But
Hurley's essay is more helpful for reminding us that our analyses are as yet all too often
flawed by our reliance upon corrupt texts. In another critical venue, Studies in
Canadian Literature, we have Beverly Rasporich's partially feminist, and partially
successful, attempt (7, 2 [1982], 227-240) to delineate in McCulloch, Haliburton, and
Leacock not only a "paternal voice of conservative morality and intellectual
idealism" but also a predominantly masculine tradition of Canadian humour. We
have as well (7, 1 [1982], 127-138) the always energetic Robin Mathews bringing the
perspectives of comparative literature to bear upon McCulloch's Stepsure Letters to
suggest a Maritime Puritan anticipation of the later French-Catholic tradition of le
roman de la terre. This is certainly not unadventurous. Nor is David
Jackel's attempt to reverse the standard comparative evaluation of the work of the
Moodie-Traill sisters. He argues in The Compass (No. 6 [Spring 1979], 1-22)
that
. . . Moodie's reputation as a significant
Canadian prose writer is largely undeserved, particularly insofar as it has been gained at
Traill's expense. Mrs. Traill's Backwoods in Canada is a work of
intellectual substance written in a commendable style; Roughing It In the Bush has
some reasonable passages, but it is in general a pretentious, sentimental, self-indulgent,
unstructured and derivative book.
Jackel does convincingly counter some of the
claims of Traill's unfeelingness, but however intriguing some of his other claims on
behalf of Mrs. Traill such as that she belongs to the Jane Austen tradition
his spirited approach suffers from the same fault of which he indicts others: he tears
down one sister in order to build up the other.
Almost the only
commentator to have hitherto ventured beyond what seems to be congealing into the canon of
Colonial Canadian fiction has been Gwendolyn Davies whose address "Belles and
Backwoods: A Study of Fiction in Nineteenth Century Maritime Periodicals", printed in
The Marco Polo Papers. One. Atlantic Provinces
Literature (Saint John: Atlantic Canada Institute, 1977), provides us with the
salutary reminders that there was "a significant body of periodical readers in the
Maritimes in the mid-nineteenth century," that the periodicals provided this
readership with a body of literature significant to it, and that we ignore this body of
literature at our peril. The study of periodical literature should not at this point
in time, with much of the material long made accessible through the microfilming
activities of the CLA, be a relatively new field of critical activity, and yet for our
fiction scholars it apparently is. Scholars of Canadian poetry, as Tom Vincent among
others proves, have made greater progress in this particular area.
Scholars of prose are
opening up some new areas of investigation, however. T.D. MacLulich, in several essays in
various Canadian critical journals, has been examining the writings of our early
explorers: Mackenzie, Hearne, Thompson, Fraser et al, for elements of fictional
narrative strategy and structure. His results are mildly interesting but the
enterprise is as yet barely beyond the descriptive stage. The same might be said of
I. S. Maclaren's "Alexander Mackenzie and the Landscapes of Commerce," (Studies
in Canadian Literature 7, 2 [1982]). Of much greater interest and value is
Germaine Warkentin's brief essay on David Thompson in the Profiles in Canadian
Literature Series, volume 1. Warkentin carefully and convincingly locates
Thompson's work within the late eighteenth century-through-Victorian period traditions of
travel and of 'naturalist' literature. (That the latter is a tradition of great
consequence to Canadian literature is well documented by Carl Berger in his excellent 1982
Joanne Goodman Lectures printed as Science, God, and Nature in Victorian Canada by
the University of Toronto Press in 1983, and, with his own The Sense of Power,
and A.B. McKillop's A Disciplined Intelligence, and A Critical Spirit: The
Thought of William Dawson Le Sueur, one of the all-too-few undertakings to date into
the field of Canadian intellectual history.) Thompson, Warkentin claims, was "one of
the representative imaginations of early English-Canadian literature," whose
"greatest imaginative gift" was "to understand man and nature not only in
themselves, but in their relationships with each other." A daunting accomplishment
indeed, but despite this hyperbole, Warkentin does detail more fully and more soundly the
depth of "Thompson's vision and the metaphorical and structural power of his literary
expression.
Book length studies in
Canadian literature still tend to be thematic surveys rather than generic studies,
literary histories, textual analyses, or any of the number of other critical approaches
that could and should be adopted in a healthy and vital critical community. Of late
biographical and biocritical studies are becoming more popular and Lorraine McMullen
provides a good and useful such study in her critical biography of Frances Brooke, An
Odd Attempt in a Woman (University of British Columbia Press, 1983). The same,
unfortunately, cannot be claimed for Marian Fowler's lively but limited portraits of
"Five Gentlewomen in Early Canada," The Embroidered Tent (Toronto:
Anansi, 1982). Our understanding and appreciation of these five ladies, including
Moodie, Traill, and Jameson, is not extended or enriched in any important way. There
are better things to be said for Dennis Duffy's Gardens, Covenants, Exiles (Toronto,
1982). He does attempt to trace the development of a socio-historical, cultural, and
literary vision in a substantial and important body of Canadian literature from its
Colonial origins to its contemporary manifestations. The undertaking is considerable
and worthy, but it falls afoul through faulty research and questionable structure to rob
Duffy's conclusions of the cogency they might have had that is, of the cogency they
might have had if Duffy had expanded his research into the original Loyalist literature,
and depended less upon assumptions and assertions. It is difficult to be cogent
about the subsequent literary transformations of Loyalism in Upper Canada/Ontario if you
have insufficiently proven and developed its initial definitions and implications.
Duffy's study needs to be fuller, more carefully and extensively researched, and
given greater structural continuity. Robin Mathews Canadian Literature.
Surrender or Revolution (Toronto: Steel Rail, 1982) is pervaded as always,
and unashamedly, by his passionate political convictions. His tone is sometimes
strident, his manner insistent, and his conclusions consistent. Mathews works
assiduously, some might say (probably do say) too assiduously, at the elaboration of a
revisionist Canadian literary history. He is easy to dismiss if you ignore the fact
that he does engage his texts closely and ingeniously. There is just enough
analytical substance in his discussions of John Richardson's socio-political ambivalence
and Susanna Moodie's "pink Toryism" to render his suggestions of the presence of
a communitarian tradition in Canadian literature difficult of easy, rational dismissal.
II
Full-length critical studies which include
significant and substantial reference to Colonial poetry are almost non-existent in
Canadian criticism. That is another of the virtues of Duffy's Gardens,
Couenants, Exiles; the discussion of Colonial poetry is minimal, summary mention of
several poems in one chapter and a bit more extensive analysis of William Kirby's U.
E. L. in another, but Colonial poetry is discussed. Tom Marshall too, in
his Harsh and Lovely Land (UBC Press, 1979) takes at least grudging notice of
Colonial poetry in a chapter tellingly entitled "Dear Bad Poets" which
conventionally, and rather condescendingly, dismisses these writers as
. . . competent drudges who prepared the way for
the more accomplished, more genuinely native poets who followed. If they are of
note, it is less for the quality of their work than for their brave pioneering and their
exemplification of the colonial poet's problems. Their failures and moderate
successes were instructive to their successors.
Leslie Monkman's A Native Heritage (University
of Toronto Press, 1981) treats Colonial poetry more seriously and in many respects more
fully, more analytically, even though his study of the native in Canadian literature does
not restrict itself to the consideration of any one genre.
The critical essays in
Colonial poetry that have appeared in our journals over the last five years or so have
been more varied in subject than those on the prose of the period, and at least as varied
in critical approach. Kenneth Hughes ("McLachlan's Style", Journal of
Canadian Poetry 1, 2 [Autumn 1978], 1-4) provides an example of pure "close
reading" analysis in his attempt to demonstrate through detailed examination of the
first twenty-four lines of "The Emigrant" that McLachlan was a careful and
complex poetic technician. D.M.R. Bentley subjects the famous "Lone
Shieling" stanza to similar close formal scrutiny in his effort (Essays on
Canadian Writing, 23 [Spring 1982], 163-167) to account for its memorability.
Susan Gingell-Beckmann's subject is larger in her study of Joseph Howe's Acadia
as a "document of a divided sensibility" (Canadian Poetry, 10
[Spring/Summer] 1982, 18-31), but textual analysis is still her primary critical medium,
as is S.G. Zenchuk's in her "Reading of Joseph Howe's Acadia" (Canadian
Poetry, 9 [Fall/Winter, 1981], 50-71). Gingell-Beckmann has some
interesting things to say about Howe's obvious stylistic and ideological inconsistencies,
but has apparently not entirely avoided their influence upon her own writing. Tracy
Ware widens the critical lens still further and with greater success in an essay detailing
George Longmore's acknowledged use of Byron's Beppo in The Charivari.
Ware convincingly argues in this clear-headed study of literary influence that
Longmore moved beyond "mere indebtedness" to "full assimilation" of
the Byronic model. Ware's is one form of the comparative critical perspective; Cyril
Byrne's "Notes on Some Early Newfoundland Poems" (The Marco Polo Papers,
24-39) is another. Byrne's comparisons, however, are more general and implicit than
specific and explicit as he concentrates primarily on the verse of Gaelic poets to remind
us that our Colonial experience, too, was multi-lingual and multi-cultural. And
Jamie S. Scott's essay on Henry Alline's Life and Journal (Journal of
Canadian Studies 18, 2 [Summer, 19831, 70-90) reminds us that there are prose
documents essential to our understanding of our verse-writers. His excursions in
this essay into recent critical theory on hermeneutics and on autobiographical poetics
remind us as well that there continue to be new, other, potentially fruitful critical
perspectives to be employedand perhaps, even to be inventedthough Scott's
particular use of his theory in this particular instance is rendered less effective by his
failure to interrelate fully the theoretical and analytical sections of his essay.
Finally, it would be remiss of me to conclude this not-at-all comprehensive, but I
hope representative, survey of journal articles on Canadian Colonial poetry without some
reference to more of the critical essays published in several periodicals over the last
few years by D.M.R. Bentley. (In Canadian Poetry, CVII, Essays
on Canadian Writing, Studies in Canadian Literature.) I mention these,
not because he is the editor of this journal, but because the essays to which I refer,
taken together, constitute a substantial portion of the critical work published in this
area (especially when page numbers or words are counted Bentley errs in the
direction of comprehensiveness), and constitutes as well the most considerable attempt of
late to render Canadian poetry susceptible to the potencies of a new critical perspective
and critical terminology (or, at least new to the criticism of Canadian poetry).
Whether or not Bentley's "ecology of Canadian poetry", or his
spatio-cultural orientation of poetry along a baseland-hinterland axis (shades of
Frederick Jackson Turner's now infamous frontier-metropolitan distinction) will eventually
enjoy currency beyond its present personal critical province is too soon to say. I
would not myself advocate its general use. But, to its credit, it has already been
the occasion, in Bentley's hands, of a good deal of serious critical analysis and
discussion of Colonial poets and poems which continue to be overlooked by other critics
with more conventional critical perspectives.
Outside of journal
publication, the most extensive body of critical commentary published on any area of
Colonial poetry has been that offered by way of preface and introduction in the several
volumes produced by Thomas B. Vincent at his Loyal Colonies Press in Kingston, Ontario.
Vincent's commentary has addressed itself almost exclusively to eighteenth-century
poetry and consequently, though not necessarily, to Maritime poetry. In a different
venue (The Marco Polo Papers), Vincent has declared that "the 18th-century
period saw the establishment [in Maritime Canada] of a strong and vital literary culture
with poetry playing a central if not dominant role." He goes on to address here
and in the afore-mentioned introductions (especially to his Narrative Verse Satire in
Maritime Canada 1779-1814, Ottawa: Tecumseh Press, 1978, and his Eighteenth-Century
Canadian Poetry. An Anthology, Kingston: Loyal Colonies Press, 1981),
the problems of an age (the present) which scorns the very notion of literary imitation,
attempting to appreciate the literature of an age (the eighteenth-century) in which
"artistic creativity was viewed as being fundamentally a mimetic process in both form
and idea," an age in which
Established forms were important . . . as
universal structures, developed and refined in the course of the cultural history of
Western civilization, structures through which they projected individual perception and
brought order to personal experience. Poetry was not an instrument of exploration
but of articulation, not a private perception but a public affirmation of recognized
universal values.
For the colonial poet, all this meant
. . . that his art was not isolative but
functional to link his world culturally and ideologically with the cultivated world of all
civilized men. At the same time, it meant that individual experience was placed in
its proper perspective against the universal context (social, cultural, moral and
religious) of all human life. His art moved not to exploit the particularities of
his colonial experience, but to show the points at which it entered the common experience
of mankind and embodied the values of Western civilization.
("Introduction," Eighteenth-Century Canadian Poetry)
Vincent needs to develop these ideas and their
implications at much greater length and with much greater proof and specificity than is
permitted by anthology introductions, but his emphasis on the fundamentally
social/universal character of an initial Colonial vision, if it could be reconciled with
Mathews' claims about basic and pervasive Canadian communitarianism, and even with Duffy's
depiction of the narrower but still social Loyalist vision, might contribute to an
awareness of a consistently developing Canadian tradition, character and vision in the
formation of which Canada's Colonial culture, experience, and literature were seminal and
positive. We might thereby begin more seriously, more eagerly, to appropriate our
own past, to give new form and new flesh to our eidolons, no longer to be the
"colonial readers" whom John Moss describes as persisting "in measuring all
things from the alien perspective of a dislocated Englishman or disassociated
American" ("Introduction", Beginnings). We might succeed, in
fact, as critics, in laying aside that pervasive and eidolatrous pejorative,
"colonial", in favour of the more value-neutral "Colonial," to
recognize, again with John Moss, but perhaps even more positively than he intended,
"when we were a colonial nation . . . that is not our shame but our history . . .
(Reader's Guide to the Canadian Novel).
Charles R. Steele |