Good morning. My name is Chris Champion. I'm a Canadian historian with a Ph.D. in Canadian history. I'm the founder and editor of the The Dorchester Review, which is an independent and relatively small circulation journal, but it's about 100 pages per issue. It's in the old style of those journals that John A. Macdonald and Wilfrid Laurier used to read in the library. It's a journal of history and also historical commentary, which is a little bit unique.
We are dedicated to the proposition that history is not for dummies. We have about a thousand readers, just under. They are spread across every province and territory. One of our newest subscribers is the Bibliothèque de l'Assemblée nationale du Québec, which subscribed yesterday. This, I must I say, shows the wit and wisdom of the librarians of the National Assembly.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
These are the words, the true words, of O Canada.
I am referring here to the version that begins with "O Canada! Our home and native land!"
Sir George-Étienne Cartier sang another O Canada,
that is entitled Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!
It's the one he wrote in 1834, during the Confederation meetings. The story is that with fellow delegates from Montreal and Quebec, he sang the words, the song drifting across the peaceful waters of Charlottetown Bay. It is said that he sang with tears in his eyes, for it was a moment of triumph as well as tragedy, death as well as new birth. Quebec could not be a free-standing country, but it would regain its own elected assembly, which had been lost as a consequence of the Rebellion of 1837. Cartier sang with tears because Quebec, the old British province created in 1763, was to be reborn as a nation in all but name, an old country within a new country.
You see, O Canada, both Cartier's and Routhier's later song of the same name, is their song. These are songs of the national survival of French Canadians, and they reach back to Champlain, Laval, Sister Mary the Incarnation, and Dollard des Ormeaux's Battle of Long Sault on the Ottawa River. That is where O Canada really comes from: 400 years of history.
Shakespeare said, “If music be the food of love, play on.” As well, the greatest music, John Senior wrote, is the music of words singing in our heart, that is, of poetry, literature, and history, Madam Chair.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
As English Canadians, we have to admit that it's not really our song. This is why historically French Canadian nationalists saw English Canadians, descendants of the old Ontario governing military and Protestant clerical elite, as more than a little crass and bumptious to be taking their song, tinkering with the words, and making it our national anthem. Didn't we have songs of our own? Couldn't we just sing The Maple Leaf Forever and leave their song alone?
I think we should try to remember this when we are talking about the English version of O Canada. Some people have said there was something, with all due respect, a little bit spurious about it all along.
There were many attempts to put O Canada into English, at least 18 translations before the First World War, full of patriotic and religious fervour. Many of those who tried were clergy of the Anglican or Methodist tradition, in which the country was totally steeped on the English Canadian side in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Robert Stanley Weir's was only one of these versions.
People back then knew full well that in English literature going back to Shakespeare and the authorized Bible, in the music of Handel, in the hymns that almost all English Canadians sang for almost 200 years, the word “sons” properly understood in context commonly did not refer only to men.
The first lines of Handel's great oratorio Joshua, for example, are these:
Ye sons of Israel, ev'ry tribe attend, Let grateful songs and hymns to Heav'n ascend!
This refers to all the people of Israel—mothers, fathers, daughters, sons—who Joshua led to the promised land in the story. Likewise in Malachi's prophecy that the Saviour will come, it reads, “For I am the LORD, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.”
“Ye sons of Jacob” refers to all the people waiting in hope, and previous generations of Canadians knew this because Canadians used to learn these stories in school. It was part of their cultural formation so they would know where our society came from; what it means to be a free people; what it means to have rights and responsibilities; what it means to be a Canadian citizen.
When these well-formed Canadian women and girls sang O Canada, they understood what the words meant. It seems that many people today do not understand, and because they don't understand, they seek to change. But St. Francis taught, seek first to understand. Some have pointed out that Weir originally wrote the line as “thou dost in us command”. True, “thou dost in us”, dust in us, dustiness; it's no wonder he changed it. It sounds like we need a vacuum cleaner.
Given the rich tradition that we come from, Madam Chair, the words “in us” sounded flat to Weir the poet, and they sound flat, in my view, today.
The “in all of us” is rather banal for a national anthem. As a friend of mine says, they are changing poetry into mere doggerel. It is inferior and insipid language. In fact, a quick quotation search turns up only one example of “in all of us”, and that is in the grunge singer Kurt Cobain's suicide note. Try it.
When Robert Weir fixed that line, being a good poet, he elevated the language and he improved the poem, and it has stood the test of time. One hundred years is not bad in modern English Canadian terms. Moreover, it is rooted in 3,000 years of tradition handed down from the Jews to our ancestors.