by John English
After he lost the Rhodes competition, Pierre Trudeau decided to stay in Quebec and to study law at the Université de Montréal—with the intention of entering politics. He had consulted widely, asking even Henri Bourassa for direction. Edmond Montpetit, the most prominent Quebec economist, advised him to study law, followed by economics and the social sciences. Father Bernier was involved in the final decision, in mid-June 1940. Trudeau told him that he had considered a career in chemistry or in medicine, with a psychiatric speciality, or, alternatively, in “politics,” which he believed required a legal degree. When Pierre decided to rule out chemistry, on the grounds that it was “as good to govern men as atoms,” Bernier accepted his final decision in favour of politics, but insisted that his former student should always maintain his interest in the arts. He explained, as Pierre noted in his journal: “So many worthy men, like Papa, had been compelled to work to earn their living” that they were unable to enjoy the fruits of their earlier studies. They both agreed that a man of principle should “have a mystique,” and Pierre resolved to give fifteen to twenty minutes every day to “meditate on the goals of man, the Creator, the tasks to do, morality etc. and then conclude with a true prayer, a conversation with God.” They also concurred on the need to maintain an ascetic life. Pierre recorded but did not comment on Bernier’s advice that, in relationships with young women, one should not make “the least sensual concession.” However, he agreed that “it was bad to work too much,” no doubt recalling his father’s early death. He concluded his entry on their discussion with a pledge to read literature more widely and to continue to study theology.49
A few weeks earlier, Pierre had expressed the same sentiments to a Camp Ahmek friend, Hugh Kenner, who, later, became an eminent literary critic. As he prepared to leave Brébeuf, Trudeau told Kenner that it had been “such fun probing into the mysteries uncovered by the study of metaphysics and ethics … Personally,” he added, “it was with great awe that I came to the conclusion that space was only limited by God himself; that somewhere beyond our universe and all the universes, millions of light years away, out where matter ceased to be possible, there exists space conceivable, that is to say the Conceiver.” Cosmology, Trudeau declared, would become his second focus; the first, of course, remained literature. And, as for so many others, literature would play a major role in making Trudeau a revolutionary nationalist at this time.50
In June, the same month Trudeau graduated, France fell. Immediately, the call for conscription echoed throughout English Canada as the British, the Free French, and a few Canadians fled Dunkirk in the famous defeat that became “their finest hour.” In France itself many attributed the defeat to the secularism and socialism of the Republic and saw the creation of Vichy, the German puppet government under First World War hero Marshal Pétain, as a base from which to build a new France—one more Catholic and less corrupt than the previous regime. These views found strong support in conservative circles in Quebec, to the annoyance of many in Ottawa who were concentrating on the threat of invasion to Britain. Paul Gérin-Lajoie, the scion of one of Quebec’s leading families, Trudeau’s predecessor as editor of Brébeuf, and later an eminent public servant, wrote in the college newspaper in February 1941 that French democracy had been hopeless and that it must be replaced by a corporatist state based on the family—a system that recognized the French people’s obvious need for authority. Drawing on the papal encyclical Quadragesimo Anno and, in Quebec, on traditional nationalist distrust of the impact of modernization, corporatism was a rejection of capitalism, socialism, and liberalism in favour of a more Catholic, authoritarian, and self-sufficient state. Mussolini’s Italy, Salazar’s Portugal, and, after 1940, Pétain’s Vichy were sometimes cited as models of a corporatist state.* Trudeau came to share most of these views, and he kept Gérin-Lajoie’s article among his papers.
The historian Esther Delisle has argued that, as early as 1937, Trudeau was secretly an ardent nationalist dedicated to Quebec independence, and that, while still at Brébeuf, he became a member of Les Frères Chausseurs, or LX, a secret revolutionary cell plotting the overthrow of the existing government. Although evidence of his early nationalism and even his sympathies for independence began to emerge before Trudeau wrote his own memoirs, he never responded to this charge. In the memoirs, he portrays himself as an anti-nationalist throughout the earlier period and depicts the war as a mild deviation from that path, one caused by the wrongs of wartime. “The war,” he wrote, “was an undeniably important reality, but a very distant one. Moreover, it was part of current events, and, as I have explained, they did not interest me very much.”
That account is disingenuous at best. The information about Trudeau’s involvement in a secret revolutionary cell came initially from two sources: from his contemporary François-Joseph Lessard, an important member of Les Frères Chausseurs, who claimed in a book published in 1979 that Hertel had introduced Trudeau to the group in 1937 as the Simón Bolívar of French Canada; and from François Hertel himself, who said in 1977 that Trudeau was a founder of the group and, at that time, an angry nationalist who had battled with the police in 1937–38 during the centennial celebrations of the earlier Rebellions.51 Trudeau did admit to interviewers that he was present at student protests against André Malraux and the representatives of the Spanish Republic, but he claimed it was the noise of the crowd that had attracted him to the event.52 His journal clearly refutes that explanation.
Without doubt, Trudeau would later deceive interviewers who asked him where he was and what he believed when the Second World War was fought. Surprisingly, much of the evidence was already in the public domain, though Delisle was the first to put it all together: the testimony of Hertel and Lessard; press clippings about a speech and a trial following an anti-Semitic riot; and articles in the Université de Montréal student newspaper, Le Quartier Latin, where Trudeau’s virulent opposition to the war was publicly expressed. There was even a question in the House of Commons from a Social Credit MP on April 5, 1977, when Trudeau seemed to admit that he had been a member of a “separatist” secret society. Yet before Delisle and, more recently, Max and Monique Nemni drew attention to this evidence, there was no public discussion about it, and, astonishingly, no journalist “followed up” on the question asked in the House.53
Based on Trudeau’s complete personal papers, the evidence is overwhelming that Trudeau did become a strong Quebec nationalist and that, during the war, he associated with supporters of “Laurentie,” who espoused an independent French Catholic state. How did the fan of American movies, the participant in Liberal rallies in the 1939 Quebec election, the student who was suspicious of “exalted patriots” and proud of both his “English” blood and his “Elliott” name so quickly become a revolutionary separatist? The path, as always with Trudeau, has unexpected turns.
Trudeau’s papers suggest that, in the pre-war years, because of his education and experience, Pierre was capable at certain moments of being strongly nationalist. Conversely, he reacted against that same nationalism when it touched on those of mixed English/French blood. He correctly told biographers that, at Brébeuf, he had shocked the priests and his classmates when he applauded Wolfe’s victory over Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham. At other times, he was a strong defender of nationalist positions—on one occasion burning the Union Jack with a bunch of Brébeuf boys. In his own mind, he had established a sense of balance that occasionally tilted when, on the one hand, he attended an English-Canadian camp or, on the other, when a student accused him of betraying the French “race.” Still, his heritage was primarily French and Catholic.
As France fell and the Canadian government introduced conscription for home defence, the Trudeau family was on its way to Old Orchard Beach. There they received a telegram from Grace’s brother, Gordon, who lived in France and now asked for money to help him flee from the Nazis. Pierre recorded this “bad news” but, by the next morning, paid little attention to the crisis in Europe and the anti-conscription
marches in Montreal as he slept in, did some oil painting, and remarked on the “perfect tranquility” with so few people on the beach. A few days later the full force of what was happening in Europe struck Pierre—perhaps because Camille was fiercely anti-Nazi and pro-Allies, even though she was an American. He wrote in his journal that the Germans were now in Paris. “Ah! the pigs,” he exclaimed. He saw a newsreel on the fall of Paris that infuriated him; it was, he wrote, the work of “the dirty Boche.” He decided he would join the Canadian Army to fight. In the meantime, he had to return for graduation.54
This evidence decisively disproves the claims made later by Hertel and some later historians that Trudeau had early antiwar or even pro-fascist sympathies. However, it is true that his attitude in June 1940 is surprising, given some of his notebook jottings on works by Alexis Carrel and others. Very simply, he is contradictory and conflicted.
Meanwhile, the Trudeau family had decided to take a train and car trip across Canada and down the west coast of the United States. It began on June 26, and Pierre’s admiration for what he saw is clear in his notes. North of Superior, he wrote, “Quel pays admirable!” as he watched a splendid sunset. On arrival in Winnipeg, he described the city as “a drop of oil on the plains.” As he surveyed the vastness of the land, he again pondered whether law and politics was the right career choice: “Would I be capable of leading the people of Canada,” he asked, “or even the people of my own family?” In any event, he would follow where God led him, though, he added accurately, he would not be surprised if “the road has many forks, ditches and detours.”
He had vowed to keep a psychological journal during the trip, but the demands of daily travel were too much. Still, he thought about what fate had in store for him. He worried about his timidity with women, in particular, and humanity, in general, and resolved to look people directly in the eye—something he apparently had found difficult earlier. But he did not lack self-confidence:
I must become a great man. It’s amusing to say that! I’m often surprised to think, as I walk alone, do others not see the signs, don’t they sense that I bear within me, the makings of a future head of state or a well-known diplomat or an eminent lawyer? I am frankly astonished that those things do not shine through. And I have compassion for those who will not be able to boast in ten or twenty years of having seen me a single time.
He believed he had made the right career choice but recognized that he might change course. For a man, he noted, career is essential. “In a young woman you admire what she is; in the case of a young man, you admire what he will become.” He fretted about his strong attraction to women, although he admitted that the list of those he knew was “perplexingly short.” Camille came first, followed by “Micheline, Myrna, and Alice Ann.” Obviously, in his choice of women, Trudeau was—and remained—thoroughly multicultural. The danger, he warned himself, was that he would fall in love and marry before he completed his education. He concluded his self-assessment: “The moral of all this is that I must continually work for perfection and become likable, obliging, and gallant (what a word!).”
The trip continued, and, as he realized, it was as difficult to rule his family as Canada itself. In Edmonton they stayed at the grand Macdonald Hotel, where they met up with his Brébeuf friend Jean-Baptiste Boulanger and his family. The encounter was important because Jean-Baptiste, a Franco-Albertan, later became part of the secret society advocating a separatist state for Quebec. Together, they toured the cathedral at St. Albert, realizing, first hand, how far the French presence had extended. There was no talk of independence at that time, of course, and Trudeau passed on through the mountains at Jasper: “The first impression was profoundly moving,” he wrote. He remained deeply impressed after they unloaded Suzette’s Buick and drove through the Columbia Ice Fields to Lake Louise—where, on July 1, they celebrated Dominion Day.
There Suzette became sick, so Pierre had to drive through the mountains. It terrified him, not least because the car had faulty shock absorbers. Finally they reached Vancouver, where the natural setting impressed him but the university did not. Then, on July 9, they set off to drive down the Pacific Coast and have the car repaired. Pierre reflected upon the trip one day and pronounced it very worthwhile, especially from the point of view of the family. “We discussed a range of things,” he noted in his journal, “assayed our faults, and recalled old times.” He was more candid with Camille, telling her: “We are still having a riotous time, what with the scenery and the family arguments (some of them are honeys).” In his own case, he used the trip to develop “conversational arts,” which he believed he lacked. He deliberately tried to draw strangers into conversation with him and looked them in the eye as he had planned. It was, of course, all good training for politics.
Finally, on July 22, they reached Los Angeles. The family went to the Hollywood Bowl, where they saw Paul Robeson in an “unforgettable” performance. But that was the best of Los Angeles for Pierre, who betrayed his Brébeuf training in his assessment of the entertainment capital: “I can’t wait to escape this city,” he complained. “I’m sweltering.” There was no “ozone” in the air and too much carbon dioxide. “The people have the appearance of a dead fish,” while the women did not look natural—all of them seemed to be waiting for a director to pass by. At this point in the trip he was tired of writing, so he brought his account to an end. At least, he noted, he had served “the needs of my biographers.” Indeed, he had.
America was still neutral in the war, and the conflict seemed distant in Pierre’s account as June turned into July. Still, he remained strongly opposed to the fascists, writing on July 19 that Gordon Elliott had finally reached England as the war continued “its hideous advance.” Despite some later claims that Trudeau admired Hitler, he expressed loathing for him in his private journal. Hitler, he wrote, threatened to “exterminate the English,” who were nevertheless putting up a brave fight. He had heard little of what had happened in France. “What an affair! But good night: that’s my solution.” He learned that there would be a “mobilization” on August 23 and wondered whether it would “spoil our trip.”55
It did not spoil the trip, but Montreal was a changed city on his return. After the fall of France in June 1940 and the imposition of conscription for home defence, Camillien Houde, the Montreal mayor and his father’s old friend, was interned for the duration of the war under the Defence of Canada Regulations because he had called for resistance to conscription. Before Charles Trudeau’s death, when Houde, then the Quebec Conservative leader, had come to the Lac Tremblant cottage, Pierre would hear their loud voices complaining about the “Liberal machine.” According to an accountant who had worked for Charles, Houde would drive into one of the Trudeau gas stations and say he needed “oxygen.” The accountant would go to the safe and hand over one hundred dollars in cash.56 The arrest of Houde and others shocked Pierre and his friends, and the war that had been so distant while he was on the Pacific shores became much closer.
It was not a war they wanted to fight. Of his 1939–40 class at Brébeuf, only one out of forty entered the Canadian military, in comparison with three who entered the priesthood, six who studied law, and nine who went into medicine.57 At the Université de Montréal in March 1940, a poll showed that 900 opposed any form of conscription and only 35 approved; in the law school Trudeau entered that fall, the vote was 53 to 3. Daniel Johnson, a student leader (and future Quebec premier), had already declared in the student newspaper his strong opposition to a future war where Canada’s interests were not involved. Now, with the “phony war” ending and conscription for home defence near, a young law student, Jean Drapeau, the future mayor of Montreal, also wrote an article in which he warned that another fight against conscription must begin, and he issued a call for vigilance.58
Once the National Resources Mobilization Act was passed, Trudeau and his friends were compelled to enrol in the Canadian Officers Training Corps and to engage in regular drill and summer training. He had bee
n eager to join up as German tanks entered Paris, but things changed after he began law school. In the fall of 1940, when he entered the Université de Montréal, Trudeau immediately attended Abbé Groulx’s history lectures. Of course, he had read Groulx’s numerous books and articles, but his earlier comments did not suggest that the Abbé impressed him greatly. His decision to take this class reflected both his revived nationalism and the influence of Hertel, who was increasingly a guest at the family home. Trudeau never told interviewers later that he had studied with the Abbé, yet his detailed notes for the lectures exist among his papers. And, although his early encounter with Groulx had left him with the impression that the esteemed historian lacked oratorical skills, the content of the course intrigued him now. His notes indicate that Groulx was characteristically silent on questions such as separation and, seemingly, the war. Like any good historian, he provoked students to think about consequences—in his case, the consequences of the Conquest of New France. It was the will of God for the heirs of the defeated in 1760 to maintain French Catholic culture in North America.59
The Abbé left another clear mark on Trudeau: in his lectures, he emphasized the importance of the Statute of Westminster, giving it an exceptional constitutional significance in granting Canada freedom from the British Empire—an interpretation that went far beyond what the government of the day accepted. For many years afterwards, on December 11, Trudeau wrote “Statute of Westminster Day” on letters instead of the actual date. And, as he attended Groulx’s lectures, his life at school became associated with nationalist causes. For example, in the fall of 1940 he took part in a satirical farce at the university that ridiculed politicians and denounced conscription. Among the players were Jean Drapeau and Jean-Jacques Bertrand, who later became premier of Quebec while Trudeau was prime minister.