-
"La Gothe and Her Husband" 1895
- University of Ottawa Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
Robertine Barry Translated by Patricia Sillers LA GOTHE AMD HER HUSBAND Robertine Barrywas born on Isle-Verte on February 28, 1863, and studied in Trois-Pistoles and Quebec City. A pioneering woman journalist, her work was championed by her contemporaries, including Louis Frechette. Under the pseudonym Frangoise, she published Fleurs champetres (Rural Flowers), her first collection of stories, in 1895. Light, semiinstructional tales written for Christmas, New Year's, and Easter, all but one of them had been serialized in the magazine La Patrie. A second, darker collection, Chroniques du lundi (Monday's Chronicles) appeared in 1900, the title story of which had appeared in La Patrie in 1893. Though still highly romantic and predominantly historical, the chronicles displayed more sinister undertones: one of them, forexample, was about a certain Madeleine de Repentigny who, in 1717, helped her young lover escape from prison and,when he was killed by a guard, entered the Ursuline convent. Another took place in a rather bizarre morgue in Montreal's Hotel-Dieu hospital, where the corpses seemed to howl and whisper to one another until it was discovered that one of the hospital's patients was a ventriloquist. "Le mari de la Gothe," translated here by Patricia Sillers as "La Gothe and Her Husband," first appearedin Fleurs champetres. Closer in character to the gothic tales of Barry's later period, the story obviously represents a transitional phase in her creative imagination. It is about two women, Louise Bresolles and Madeleine Renaud,who seek shelter from a storm in the house of Mere Madeloche, and whose servant La Gothe entertains them with an embittered account of the atrocities committed by her deceased husband. This is the one story from the collection Fleurs champetres that was not printed in La Patrie, and it was not published separately until 1916, sixyears after Barry's death, when it LA GOTHE ANDHER HUSBAND 53 appeared in Le Reveil under the title "Pages canadiennes oubliees." The fiercely independent, determinedly romantic Robertine Barryis believed to have inspired two poems by Emile Nelligan, "A une femme detestee" (To a Woman Scorned) and "Reve d'Artiste" (The Artist's Dream), and there is perhaps a glimpse of her in that troubled poet's longing, in the latter poem, for "a good and gentle sister" who would "softly teach me the secret / of how properly to pray, hope and wait." Barry died in Montreal's Hotel-Dieu hospital on November 17, 1910. "La Gothe and Her Husband" is reproduced from Storiesby Canadian Women (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1984) and was originally published under the title "Le mari de la Gothe" in Fleurs champetres (Montreal: La Cie d'imprimerie Desaulniers, 1895). 54 ROBERTINE BARRY [44.204.164.147] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 03:53 GMT) Many weddings have I seen; not one did I find tempting; Yet everywhere the human race seems bound to undertake The step that runs the greatest risk of ending in mistake: And everywhere the human race is also now repenting. Fable of La Fontaine V~ uch stifling weather! We're sure to have rain." ^^ "No sooner said than done. Agreat drop just fell onmy V x nose. Heaven knows how drenched we're going to be!" "Excellent reason to make haste and find shelter. This little path leads to the home of Mere Madeloche, the nearest neighbour. Follow me—if we go quickly we can be there before the storm." This was during one July hot spell. The sun's scorching rays had been beating down so intensely, it seemed like the days of Phaeton, when he grazed the earth, venturing to set it ablaze. Oppressive and suffocating, the atmosphere made breathing a laborious effort. The very ground was feverish, thirsting for water, for refreshment, for dew; the plants, thickly coated with dust, had lost the green of spring and seemed to be withering before their time. Suddenly the sky darkened and menacing clouds rose on the horizon. The cricket silenced his chirp in the grass, as did the bird his song in the wood. In the meadows the animals roused themselves from their torpor, and with their rough tongues lolling, panted—as if waiting anxiously for some strange occurrence. Out in the countryside, where the voices of animals are more commonly heard than the sounds of men, the hour before a storm is a solemn time. And when everything is hushed, insects, birds, when the breeze no longer murmurs in the leaves, a great silence falls, majestic and...