The Quebec Anthology: 1830-1990

"Last Rites" 1960

Gerard Bessette Translated by WayneGrady LAST RITES Gerard Bessette was born on February 25, 1920, in SainteAnne -de-Sabrevois, Quebec. He attended the Universite de Montreal, receiving his master's degree in 1946 on the poems of Emile Nelligan, and a doctorate in 1950 on poetic imagery in Quebecois poetry. From 1946 to 1948 he taught at the University of Saskatchewan, and from 1951 to 1958 at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, Ohio. He accepted a post at the Royal Military College in Kingston, Ontario, in 1958, and from 1960 until his retirement in 1980 he taught in the French department at Queen's University. He was made a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada in 1966, won the Prix David in 1980, and has twice received the Governor-General's Award for literature. Bessette's first publication was a slim volume of poetry called Poemes temporels (1954), but since then he has published only fiction and criticism. His first novel, La Bagarre (1958), is about a man who turns his back on the common people. Le Libraire (1960; Notfor Every Eye, 1962) is also about the dangers of too narrow a world view. In 1960 he also published Les Images enpoesie canadiennefrangais , a book of literary criticism. LesPedagogues (1961) was his last stylistically "traditional" novel; with the publication of L'Incubation in 1965, Bessette adopted the form of the French "nouveau roman." L'Incubation, which earned Bessette his first Governor-General's Award,was followed by Le Cycle (1971), which won a second Governor-General's Award. His other novels include La Commensale (1975, but written before L'Incubation); LesAnthropoides (1977), and Le Semestre (1979). Bessette's only book of short stories, La GardenParty de Christopbine, was published in 1980 and has never been completely translated. It contains stories from many LAST RITES 219 periods in Bessette's development as a writer. "L'extremeonction " first appeared as "The Conversion" in Queen's Quarterly in 1960, translated by Glen Shortliffe; included here in a new translation by Wayne Grady as "Last Rites," it is a fine example of Bessette's early blending of traditional style and avant-garde ideas. Bessette's work hovers between the writers of the 1950s and the literature of the Quiet Revolution, which, in his second book of criticism, published in 1968, Bessette called "une litterature en ebullition" a literature in ferment. "Last Rites" is a translation of "L'extreme-onction" publishedin La Garden-Party de Christopbine: Nouvelles (Montreal: QuebecAmerique , 1980); first appeared in Liberte, 5, no. 3 (mai-juin 1963). 220 GERARD BESSETTE LI ast Monday at about eleven o'clock at night, just as I was getting ready for bed, I received a telephone call: my old friend Etienne Beaulieu had been struck down by a sudden attack of paralysis. I quickly got dressed again and, without even taking the time to put on my hat, hastened over to his house, which was only a few blocks from mine. I had known Etienne for a long time. We'd been to college together, and then to university, and after graduating with our law degrees we had set up a joint practice in an office down on St. James Street. And two years ago almost to the day of his attack, we had both retired. But we still got together regularly, two or three times a week, either to play bridge or chess, or sometimes just to talk. Emilie, Etienne's daughter, and her husband Julien— with whom Etienne had been living—met me at the door. They seemed frightened. The doctor had arrived a few minutes before me, and was already in with the patient in his room. He came out just as I entered the living room. "How is he?" I asked him. The doctor, who was also an old friend, shook his head sadly: "There's nothing we can do, I'm afraid," he said. "He only has a few hours left." The news brought a painful lump to my throat, and Emilie buried her face in her husband's arm, sobbing uncontrollably. But she soon rallied, and said with an air of decision: "We must call the priest." The doctor and I exchanged embarrassed looks. Although I had expected something of the sort, I could think of nothing to say. In fact, there didn't seem to be anything one could say. Emilie and her husband were devout Catholics...