The Canadian Character: The Quiet Strength of a Resilient Spirit

The Canadian character, as portrayed by noted historian Pierre Berton in Klondike: The Last Great Gold Rush, 1896–1899, is not defined by conquest, but by endurance; instead of heroic individualism, Canada’s national identity is shaped by quiet solidarity. Miners in the gold rush flocked to the Yukon in the last decade of the 19th century, enduring harsh realities, “hiking over country no one traversed again” (Berton 410). They were steadfast. The gold rush, Berton argued, was not primarily about stories of riches, but of struggle which shaped thousands of hopefuls who chased a dream of fortune that, for most, never materialized.

Decades after the northern gold rush, my maternal grandfather, Joseph arrived in Flin Flon, Manitoba, from Poland, drawn to steady wages in the Canadian mines. The air was thick with dust, the tunnels were precarious, and disaster was always near. One day, during an excavation, the blast from a sudden explosion left my grandfather with a ringing in his ears for the rest of his life, a constant reminder of the cost of survival.

My grandfather never struck gold. Not in the way some prospectors hoped to in the Yukon during the 1890s by kneeling in a cold river, swirling sand in a pan and finding a glimmer of fortune. But he did strike “gold” in a surprising way. In the 1950s, Joseph left Flin Flon with my Ukrainian grandmother, Eudokia, not in search of wealth, but for music. Their elder daughter, Josephine, was a gifted pianist. Enamoured with a toy piano as a child, she was given music lessons, and by the age of six, she was playing on the radio in Manitoba. Hoping that a larger city would offer greater musical opportunities, they moved to Toronto and enrolled Josephine in lessons with the well-regarded piano instructor, Mona Bates. In the old Massey family house on Jarvis Street, Josephine refined her technique and was accepted at The Juilliard School in New York City, where she specialized in Chopin. 

The dream of a music career was not my aunt’s alone. The Ukrainian community in Toronto rallied together and gathered donations to further fund Josephine’s musical training. After her studies at Juilliard, with the financial support of her community, Josephine travelled to Switzerland where she studied under the mentorship of the distinguished pedagogue, Józef Turczyński.

Berton spoke of Canada as a nation of collective strength – where people help one another rather than focusing mainly on individual ambitions. But he also wrote of illusion and reality. The Klondike rush was built on the myth of opportunity, but for most, fortune remained out of reach. My aunt’s musical career had much promise, but the reality was different. While abroad, an illness cut Josephine's trip short. She returned to Canada and her musical career, which once had so much potential, was now over. 

It was the end of a dream, but Josephine continued to play the piano at home. My grandfather became a carpenter and helped build a subdivision in North York, where they lived for the rest of their lives. Josephine was given the master bedroom in their house to accommodate her grand piano. When she played, the house was filled with Chopin — no longer as practice for the concert halls, but simply for the joy of the music itself. To some, this may have seemed like a failure, just as one might judge the men who returned from the Klondike without gold. But must success only be measured in fame and fortune, or can it also be found in the quiet joy of a well-lived life?  

Berton said “in one sense, every man who reached the Klondike was a sort of hero … to tempt the swift river and its rapids … to build log cabins capable of withstanding temperatures of sixty below zero” (Berton 411) was a success in and of itself.  As Berton saw it, the Klondike experience had taught these adventurers that they were “capable of a kind of achievement they had never dreamed possible” (Berton 413). The miners were resilient and carried on despite the disappointment of never striking gold. In the end, people on the Klondike trail defined themselves by their journey, not the rewards. Berton said that even those who returned home poorer than when they set out, said that they would not have changed a thing (Berton 407). 

My grandparents, along with all the people who immigrated to Canada in the decades following Canadian Confederation, helped to define the character of our country. They were also, in turn, shaped by their experiences: by the rugged terrain and cold temperatures of Manitoba and in the bustling metropolis of Toronto. They did not aim to “strike it rich”, but instead had a pragmatic work ethic which focused on surviving, adapting, and carrying on. Berton said that “the real legacy of the stampede is less tangible, however, for it has to do with the shaping of human character” (Berton 413). Babusia and Dziadziu (grandmother and grandfather, as we called them in Polish) were full of love, humility, and kindness. Their home, in which I grew up, was always filled with music and love. Their character brought me peace, stability, and joy. I think about them every day with love and gratitude. In the end, they embodied what it means to be Canadian and their memory lives on in my heart. I think this is worth its weight in gold.

Works Cited

Berton, Pierre. Klondike: The Last Great Gold Rush, 1896–1899. Revised edition, Anchor Canada, 2001.

(From left to right: my grandmother Eudokia with my mother Irene, my aunt Josephine and my grandfather Joseph, in Flin Flon, Manitoba in 1943)

(From left to right: My grandmother Eudokia, my mother Irene (bottom-centre), my aunt Josephine (top-centre), and my grandfather Joseph, in Toronto, Ontario in 1950)