Compte rendu : Voyage au Canada [...] L’imposture

Pierre Berthiaume, Voyage au Canada dans le nord de l’Amérique septentrionale fait depuis l’an 1751 à 1761 par J.C.B. : L’imposture, Québec, Septentrion, 2021. 116 p.

Il est difficile de faire une meilleure recension de ce livre que ce qui a déjà été fait par mon cher collègue Michel Thévenin, doctorant, sur son blogue Tranchées & Tricornes. Néanmoins, j’aimerais partager à mon tour mes propres impressions complémentaires de cette récente publication aux éditions du Septentrion (éditeur de mon premier livre, soit dit en passant par souci de transparence).

Sur une centaine de pages, Pierre Berthiaume analyse et évalue l’authenticité du journal de J.C.B., le seul témoignage publié d’un soldat en Nouvelle-France. Certes, il existe de nombreux mémoires d’officiers métropolitains de passage dans la colonie, mais ces écrits ne nous offrent qu’une perspective vue du « haut » de la hiérarchie militaire. L’importance du journal de J.C.B., publié à Québec en 1887 et édité par l’abbé Casgrain, est qu’il est notre plus important témoignage de l’autre extrémité de cette échelle.

Berthiaume, cependant, nous met en garde contre le texte. Avec raison, il soulève qu’il comporte de nombreux emprunts d’autres écrits contemporains. Plus problématique encore, le texte contient d’innombrables erreurs factuelles et chronologiques. Cependant, il n’y a rien de nouveau en soi dans l’avertissement de l’auteur : les historiens savent déjà que le livre est truffé d’erreurs. Comment s’étonner, alors que le manuscrit a très probablement été écrit trente ans après les faits, s’appuyant sur des notes incomplètes? Voilà donc aussi ce qui explique les nombreux emprunts d’autres ouvrages sur le Canada. Loin d’être un plagiat comme tel, c’est une pratique commune à l’époque à la fois dans les mémoires et les traités militaires.

L’innovation de Berthiaume est d’avoir cherché à pousser l’identification de ces emprunts et ces erreurs. Bien qu’il soit intéressant de lire les nombreuses pistes soulevées par l’auteur pour analyser le côté factuel du texte, l’argumentaire quant à lui est beaucoup moins étoffé et même très diffus, voire confus. Lui-même admet dans sa (trop brève) conclusion : « nous avons relevé nombre de faits qui mettent en jeu l’authenticité de “Voyage au Canada”, sans pour autant parvenir à démontrer hors de tout doute qu’il s’agit d’un faux. » (p. 105). Comment alors justifier le titre, elle-même une imposture alors? De plus, je ne peux m’empêcher de penser qu’en se concentrant sur les arguments plus concrets et moins circonstanciels, L’imposture aurait fait un meilleur article scientifique au lieu d’un livre.

De plus, la majorité des sources secondaires citées sont datées. Ce n’est pas un péché en soit (un vieux livre n’est pas nécessairement désuet), mais où sont les plus récentes études sur lesquelles s’appuyer et avoir une meilleure idée des dires de J.C.B.? Pour ne donner qu’un seul exemple, je ne comprends pas l’inclusion d’ouvrages de la première moitié du xix^e siècle pour aborder l’histoire de la vallée de l’Ohio, alors qu’il existe de nombreux incontournables plus récents comme les livres d’Eric Hinderaker.

Le problème central dans cette évaluation du texte de J.C.B. est que Berthiaume, comme l’explique sa notice biographique, est un « professeur émérite de l’université d’Ottawa et spécialiste de la littérature française du xviii^e siècle et des relations de voyage en Amérique du Nord », sans pour autant être spécialiste de la littérature militaire du xviii^e siècle. En effet, un coup d’œil rapide sur la liste de ses publications, aussi admirable soit-elle, confirme le fait. Il arrive donc qu’un spécialiste de la guerre de Sept Ans puisse avoir des impressions contraires à celles de Berthiaume. Par exemple, un tel spécialiste ne trouverait pas étrange de trouver autant d'emprunts intertextuels, discutés plus haut. Autre exemple, Berthiaume cite certains passages qu’il accuse de n’être que des « épisodes romanesques ». Pourtant, celles-ci font écho à d’autres anecdotes vérifiées dans les sources. Au contraire, il accorde plus d’importance à certains détails qu’un spécialiste militaire aurait traités comme étant banals (le chien de J.C.B, par exemple).

Je dois également souligner que dans sa liste d’éditions du mémoire de J.C.B., Berthiaume cite la traduction de 1941, mais pas la version de 1993 augmentée de notes et éditée par Andrew Gallup (Andrew Gallup, Memoir of a French and Indian War Soldier, Westminster MD, Heritage Books, 2007 (1993). 240 p.)

Au final, l’ouvrage n’est pas inintéressant en soi. Il a certainement son utilité pour quiconque s’intéresse davantage à J.C.B. de manière académique. Cependant, par les méandres qui tournent parfois en rond (sans être trop sévère : le défi que Berthiaume cherche à relever n’est pas facile, après tout), nous avons plus l’impression de lire une réflexion à voix haute qu’une analyse finale bien assise. Il est d’autant plus étrange que ce livre soit publié sous l’égide de la Collection V des éditions du Septentrion puisque celle-ci est composée justement d’éditions critiques de sources premières. Or, ce livre n’est pas une édition critique. Contrairement à son titre qui peut confondre, il ne s’agit que d’une critique, tout simplement, sans le texte analysé... L'exercice de Berthiaume est louable dans sa tentative, mais méritait une plus longue maturation du projet. Il aurait également été plus intéressant, par exemple, de pousser l’exploration du contexte historique entourant le récit de J.C.B. Pourtant, il n’y a aucune discussion sur les Troupes de la Marine ni de la guerre de Sept Ans au-delà de ce que soulève J.C.B. à la base.

Paradoxalement, c’est d’ailleurs là la plus grande faiblesse de l’ouvrage : Berthiaume passe souvent tellement de temps à citer les propos de J.C.B. pour les remettre en question qu’on se met à se demander pourquoi on n’est pas en train de lire l’original au lieu, tant qu’à faire. L’analyse aurait donc mieux servi en étant intégrée dans une édition critique de « Voyage au Canada ». Compte tenu de la juste remarque de Berthiaume que l’édition de 1887 de Casgrain comporte de nombreuses erreurs de transcription, pourquoi ne pas avoir justement repris le manuscrit disponible en ligne depuis 2019 et en faire une édition solidement éditée et commentée? Épaulé par un co-auteur spécialiste de la guerre de Sept Ans et des écrits militaires du xviii^e siècle, Berthiaume aurait eu un produit final plus intéressant et plus étoffé non seulement pour le monde académique, mais plus aussi pour le grand public en général. Pour terminer sur une note plus positive, L’imposture sera certainement un point d’ancrage important pour quiconque (Berthiaume lui-même?) se lancera dans la création de cette édition critique tant désirable.

Barkskins: Dud on Arrival

My reaction after watching.

This review has been a long time coming, and I must apologize to my readers who have been pushing me on this matter and I thank them for their patience. My summer has been a paradox of trying to relax after the arduous completion of my doctoral dissertation, all the while jumping right back into full time work (and then some) in the middle of a pandemic.

And so here we are. New France is the setting of National Geographic’s brand new series Barkskins. Released earlier this year, the story follows a handful of characters trying to get by and scrape a living in and around the fictional town of Wobik somewhere near late-17^th-century Québec (or Québec City, as they keep calling it anachronistically). The central plot revolves around political intrigue between French and British characters using murder and deceit—all the while roping in the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois)— to push their own gains.

The series is based off part of the novel by Annie Proulx, an American author whose most recognizable work is Brokeback Mountain. I’ll be honest: I’ve only read the first third of the book, being the only part taking place under the French Regime. From cringy writing to anachronisms aplenty, it was not a pleasant read. Once my curiosity was satisfied over seeing how New France was represented, I was happy to move on to something else. I had many issues both with the background and details of the setting, too numerous to detail here (and I especially don’t feel like spending more time double checking the many other details which raised serious doubts in me). To name only a few annoyances, the author mixes up Champlain with Cartier, constantly talks about Ville-Marie even though Montréal was the official name of the settlement by then, misspells the names of historical character that actually existed, and finally, keeps implementing the jarring and forceful use of French words (often misspelled at that: how many times can someone misspell Tabarnac differently with each use, really?). Her overarching theme also suffers from a lack of understanding of New France’s social and economic structure. Though the novel’s central theme is about deforestation and implied settler colonialism, the novel disregards the strict control of French immigration which, to Indigenous eyes, made the French far less of a threat than their British neighbours: at it’s height, New France never had more than the equivalent of 5% of the Thirteen British Colonies’ population, explaining much of why the French had such strong alliances with various First Nations. Such policy and cultural differences are also the reason why Settler Colonialism is not necessarily the best model to apply in understanding New France[1], but I digress. Also contradicting the novel is the reality that by the end of the French Regime, the French had not yet decimated the forests nearly as badly as Proulx makes them out to be. Not only that, but New France was a colony that was closely managed by the French crown under the principles of Colbertism; the mercantiliste nature of the colony stifled individual free enterprise. Indeed, her entrepreneur character would never have been allowed to jump willy-nilly between borders between competing colonial empires. Jumping around Canada, Maine and China (!), this character tries to create an international lumber market for his mills, even though lumber was tightly protected by the French crown and could only be used under strict conditions. All in all, Proulx's novel rests on an anachronistic and culturally swapped New France where French colonial society as depicted is closer to 19^th century capitalistic American society in the middle of Manifest destiny. In the end, the novel ends up giving the uninitiated reader a bizarro version of New France, one that never existed.

In turn, to be blunt, the majority of my issues with the series stems directly from Proulx’s story. To boot, additional plot points just keep adding to the mess. The entire plot of the series crumbles when one spends two seconds to wonder why in the world is the Hudson’s Bay Company operating out of Québec? This is as glaring a mistake as portraying the Kremlin openly operating a naval base on U.S. soil during the Cold War…

As a historian, I often evaluate historical fiction’s merit not so much on whether it is accurate, but rather whether it is at least authentic—the nuance being that before being accurate, it is important to convey to the audience the gist of the period. Considering the medium, one is often forced to bend the “accuracy” to best fit the time constraint of a movie or series, yet hopefully still leaving the audience with a better idea of the period. Hence the importance of “authenticity” over “accuracy”. Yet Barkskins fails at both.

In a nutshell, Barkskins is a myopic Americanized distillation of New France into a crude, uninteresting caricature. This particular historical setting brings nothing to the story that could not have been done elsewhere (one thinks of the mediocre Frontier by Discovery Channel, another waste of a good name as we shall see…). Even beyond the historical inaccuracies, the actual story line is a bore and only manages to pick up in episode 6… out of 8. Also, if you're going to write a historical fiction, you have to make sure your characters are more interesting than the contemporary people that actually existed in the same timeframe. From the first episode, all the characters are insufferable. If this wasn't a series on New France, I would have watched something else long ago. Also, the pursuit of drama for drama's sake is as ridiculous as portraying this colonial period through rose-coloured glasses: the resulting caricature cheapens and distorts the audience's perception of how this past really was. Frankly, I only recommend watching the entire thing if you’re a glutton for punishment.

To knock off just a few of my issues with the series, here is a short list (except for a few glaring mistakes, I will put asides the props and costumes because I am not a material culture specialist. I would love to hear my colleagues’ opinions on this matter, though.):

• The female characters smack of so many clichés, the series disregard the actual history of women in New France and denies their actual agency which was relatively important for the period.
• Frenglish (“Le Grand Inn”)
• Music: in a scene, a fiddler is seen playing the Maple Sugar reel. Slight problem: though most people associate this tune with French-Canadians, it was composed in the 1950s by Ward Allan of Ontario!
• The actors speak in “outrageous French accents” straight out of Monty Python, yet often so undecipherable that I had to watch with the subtitles on. And when they were not speaking with so thick an accent, I had trouble understanding at first who was French and who was British.
• The writing is awful, with lines like: "I keep my distance from Empire […] I serve the King" or "Let us finish our tea like good British subjects".
• Women walking around with their heads uncovered as usual, contrary to period fashion and etiquette.
• Beards. So many anachronistic beards. This series is so beardy, ZZ Top is guarding the gate and facial hair makes its way into the terrible dialogue with lines like “"My beard can sense another man's intentions, it has barbules that poke out into the minds of others.” (No, I’m not making this up).
• Nitpick: terrible cgi birds.
• The script really goes out of its way to portray every single character as terrible. Even children get stabby. Can we get over the “gritty realism” trend already where characters are nothing more than bland avatars of angst simply for drama’s sake? (aka everybody is insufferable and pissy... and the Wendat are literally pissy in episode 2!)
• Though some of the actors had genuine chemistry, the writing did not allow them to properly play off of each other because God forbid they might have fun together for a second.
• In the middle of the expansion of the French Atlantic Empire, Trépagny has nothing better to offer the Filles du Roi to demonstrate his social standing than a bag of sugar cubes and a couple of cinnamon sticks. Come on man, you can do better.
• The presence of the Troupes de la Marine is either too early, or the Filles du Roi are too late.
• I made the mistake of getting excited when Oscar co-winner Rémy Girard appeared on screen as the first and only actual French-Canadian actor who so far as I could tell was not an extra. My excitement was over when it turned out he plays “Intendant de Fer”. De Fer? Apparently no one could be bothered spending 15 seconds on Wikipedia for such basic information as the name of the Intendant that year instead of making one up.
• Manifest Destiny vibes keep being injected into the story with lines like "mothering this new land," etc. 
• The Indigenous people are merely props. We barely know any by name, no effort is put into explaining each nation's respective grievances, wants, and situations beyond quick, vague, and inaccurate lines. In fact, they have less agency than in Proulx’s novel. Mari’s character, for example, is merely defined by the men she's with and her need of Trépagny (Come on girl, move out. You're better than this.). Meanwhile the Haudenosaunee are constantly being labelled as merely useful tools of the British, disregarding the actual influence and agency of the Five-Nations. Speaking of misrepresented relations, in episode 7, Captain Bouchard strangely talks about sending the army against the Wendat.... Who not only are very close French allies, but refugees at Québec... Otherwise, by the time there’s a bit of added character building with the Indigenous characters in the last two episodes, it all feels too little too late in what should be a much richer, more complex political world of Indigenous-Colonialist relations all the while giving individuals proper voices.
• Stupid tropes about people being dirty in the past (ex: "Leave the dirt: it's what's going to make you heal".)
• Nuns in the woods to confront the Haudenosaunee. Whatever.

Things I loved:

• David Thewlis. Good God, David Thewlis: sure, his character would never have been a seigneur in real life because of his way-too-openness-to-talk-about-his-Protestantism-in-the-middle-of-a-staunchly-regulated-catholic-society (and not only a Protestant, but a Cathar to boot, 200 years after Cathars stopped being a thing…), but he is fascinating to watch. Thewlis plays his Trépagny like a character having gone mad from working on the set of The Island of Dr. Moreau (inside joke for your cinephiles. I swear Thewlis really is channeling is best exasperating Marlon Brando).
• Some welcome faces like actor Rykko Bellemare of Hochelaga: Terre des âmes (though I wonder if they dubbed over his lines to make him sound more “menacing” or if somehow the sound alignment was off on his lines for some reason…)
• I loved the recreation of Place Royale's water front on the actual location (even though the water line should have been much closer to the buildings). However, most locals will snicker at the odd direction the characters are going following the streets, teleporting from one end of a street and onto the other. Forgive me for enjoying myself being petty and pointing this out.
• The Huron-Wendat long houses are gorgeous.
• The cinematography is amazing. The Forest feels a whole lot more like a character in the series than in Proulx's writing.
• I will begrudgingly admit that the two final scenes in the last 4 minutes of the episode, though ending on a cliff-hanger (good God, enough...), are amazingly gorgeous.

All this said, my biggest issue with the series begins with the very first image following the title card in the very first episode: on the fictional Wobik’s waterfront, the camera pans to a large, dead tree covered with the corpses of Haudenosaunee warriors, both hanging and impaled. Explained away as being a “warning”, this gruesome display flies in the face of the historical record and of the political, cultural, and military context of the period. And just to be sure, I even felt obliged to consult a colleague specializing in 17^th century Franco-Indigenous relations to confirm my own knowledge on the matter: indeed, no such overt desecration of bodies in front of a settlement ever took place by French authorities. True, executed French criminals could be exhibited on a noose, and the French were indeed at war with the Five-Nations throughout much of the 17^th century. But such a display of barbarity on the scale illustrated in this episode is total nonsense. First of all, such a provocative act would have been incredibly counterproductive to the ongoing diplomatic negotiations for peace by scandalizing the Five-Nations and also insulting Haudenosaunee allies. Secondly, in a highly codified society, the French by the late 17^th century were sticklers for the proper conduct of war, tired of the last few centuries of mercenary warfare and open violence which often lead to escalation. Indeed, by this place in time, the driving ideals of late 17^th century French and European martial theory centered instead on controlling and limiting any and all types of violence to a regulated army that would “efficiently” wage war with as little casualties and collateral victims as possible. Desecrating enemy bodies was consequently obviously frowned upon. This said, violence against Indigenous people by individual colonists unsupervised by authorities was certainly a reality. As well, terrorism as a tactic in “la Petite guerre” was certainly in use, though most often reproducing Indigenous warfare tactics. Finally, state sanctioned violence in the 18^th century would indeed escalate against the Fox and Natchez. However, such an extreme and overt display of desecration as seen in Barkskins at this time and context would have never been condoned nor instructed by French officials, especially in a time where the French understood full well that the Five-Nations could eliminate them if they chose to. And yet, this gruesome fictional example is clearly shown as being sanctioned by the local officials of the town, giving the impression to the audience that the French acted in such a manner.

In the current political and cultural reckoning sweeping the Western World over colonialism, French-Canadian society is also grappling with its colonial past, with the added complication of having being both the colonizer under the French Regime and the colonized under the British Regime. Accurately weighing and comparing the legacy of Franco-Indigenous relations—including determining exactly what violence was actually committed and in what context—is therefore important to understand those same relations today, especially as violence against Indigenous communities is still being committed as we speak and that denialism of this fact is rampant. However, fictional violence and misrepresentations of these early interactions with Indigenous peoples (manufactured by National Geographic no less) only ends up muddying the waters as we are having a hard enough time as it is parsing through how French Colonialism was different from British and Spanish colonialism, and how learning from this can help society deal with colonial wounds.

On one hand, a large part of the series’ promotional pitch was that producers had consulted Indigenous scholars, but on the other, this doesn’t mean squat. The producers had also consulted a bare minimum of New France specialists and yet, I can confirm after digging around, they barely took their suggestions into account. Saying you consulted with specialists is not the same as demonstrating that you actually listened to them. Once again: true, though Barkskins is problematic in and of itself merely on the basis of historical accuracy alone, the series could have been waved away as mere entertainment produced in a gauche manner. However, its attachment to what the general public still assumes is the good name of National Geographic is alarming in a post-truth world. If the medium is the message, people latch onto the name of National Geographic and immediately think what they are watching is accurate and truthful. The average audience member may not remember that in 2015, 21^st Century Fox obtained a 73% share of the National Geographic Society’s assets and in turn, shifted its philosophy[2]. Suffice to say, since this shift, the society’s good name is being used to sell doubtful narratives[3]. One only needs to think of National Geographic’s 2015 two-part miniseries Saints & Strangers, a dramatic telling of the first arrival of the Pilgrims. However, once again, the producers had stressed that they had approached Indigenous consultants, and yet again this did not prevent them from taking numerous liberties called out precisely by many of these very same consultants[4]. Barkskins is not only merely repeating this mistake, but compounding errors and historical misrepresentation by portraying New France not from the historical record, but from the mind of a novelist with no grasp of the subject matter at hand. We are already seeing the negative effect Barkskins is having on the popular perception of New France’s complex history just by reading audience reactions on Twitter.

Barkskins is definitely having an effect on how
people perceive New France.

Maybe I am an alarmist: after all, the popular reception of the series so far seems to have been lukewarm anyways. However, I do believe that Barkskins ends up being another cautionary tale about how cinema and television in the 21^st century can no longer half-ass their historical settings as audiences are becoming more sophisticated and more demanding of historical drama, but are also still trusting of certain brand names. Just as scientific literacy is gaining importance in popular media, so should this be with historical literacy[5].

---

[1] See the recent special issue of the William and Mary Quarterly on Settler Colonialism, Vol. 76, No. 3 (July 2019).

[2] Kendrick Frazier, “Whither National Geographic? SI Letter Protests Its Natural Healing Remedies Books,” Skeptical Enquirer, Vol. 44, No. 1 (Jan./Feb. 2020). https://skepticalinquirer.org/2020/01/whither-national-geographic-si-letter-protests-its-natural-healing-remedies-books/

[3] Joe Nickell, “National Geographic’s Name Used to Sell the Supernatural,” Skeptical Enquirer, Vol. 44, No. 3 (May/June 2020), p.57-58.

[4] Alys Landry, "How ‘Saints & Strangers’ Got It Wrong: A Wampanoag Primer," Indian Country Today, (Nov. 25, 2015). https://indiancountrytoday.com/archive/how-saints-strangers-got-it-wrong-a-wampanoag-primer-C7LQCZUvGU2TUqTdZHNFQg

[5] David R. Powell, “The Expanding Universe of Science Fiction, Science Fact, and Science Communication,” Skeptical Enquirer, Vol. 44, No. 3 (May/June 2020), p. 42-45

The Golden Dog by William Kirby

Back in August, I was perusing the shelves of one of my favourite used book stores in Québec when I came across a dark corner where stood the section with English books. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of proper lighting, my gaze fixed upon a glint of golden lettering stamped on a green spine. Before even reading the title of the book, I immediately recognized the tiny figure of a golden dog, gnawing on a bone. The original sign it is based on is a relic of New France, though the federal building on which it is fixed is not. Ever since I moved to Québec City nearly a dozen years ago, that very figure carved in stone greets me every time I walk down the Côte de la Montagne in the old walled city. The Golden Dog, as it's known, is infamous. And the book I was now holding in my hand is partly responsible for this reputation. Needless to say, after years of hearing and reading about this book, I just had to buy this copy and read it. And what better way to top off my series of Halloween blog posts than to review this Gothic novel? (Please be advised that what follows is off the cuff, without any in-depth analysis of the historical content--which would require a whole other post in and of itself).

Photo: Joseph Gagné, Oct. 2011

The author, William Kirby, was born in England in 1817. He moved to Canada in 1839, the same year he came across the mysterious stone sign bearing the phrase: "Je suis un chien qui ronge l'os/En le rongeant je prend mon repos/Un tems viendra qui nest pas venu/Que je morderay qui maura mordu" (“I am a dog that gnaws his bone/I couch and gnaw it all alone/A time will come, which is not yet,/When I'll bite him by whom I'm bit.”) After a long line of jobs and careers in what is now Ontario, Kirby spent a few weeks in Québec in 1865 where he rekindled his fascination for the strange sign. Twelve years later, he published his magnum opus, The Golden Dog. 

The novel begins by presenting New France as an idyllic land where the Habitants are happily governed by a just and honorable tandem of church and state. Though the war of Austrian Succession is currently taking place, the colonists seem to have only one main bother: the intendant François Bigot and his gang, busy bleeding the colony for profits through their mismanaging of the Grand Company of Traders, nicknamed the "Friponne" (the Swindle). Opposing them is the Bourgeois Philibert, the honorable owner of the Golden Dog, apparently the only rival store in Québec and the only thing preventing their complete monopoly on the sales of merchandise. 

It is in this setting that we meet Amélie de Repentigny and Angélique des Meloises, both the main focus of the story. Amélie secretly desires the love of Pierre Philibert, a colonel and honorable man like his father the Bourgeois. Angélique, however, has bigger ambitions: renown for her beauty she wields like a weapon to get anything she wants, she has set her eyes on obtaining the ultimate lavish life by marrying Bigot. Quite to her dismay, however, she discovers Bigot has a dark secret from his time spent in Acadia... Pressed by the Pompadour to marry someone else in France, he had been forced to rescind his promise to marry his fiancé, the naive but chaste Caroline de St. Castin. After Bigot's departure for Québec, Caroline ran away from her father to rejoin him. Embarrassed by the situation, the Intendant keeps her hidden away in his mansion, unable to bring himself to marry her and fearing the authorities will discover he is the reason she fled her family.

In the meantime, Angélique is being courted by Pierre Le Gardeur de Repentigny, Amélie's brother and best friend to Pierre Philibert. Though Angélique honestly loves him, her ambitions prevent her from accepting his affections. This quest for love isn't Le Gardeur's only problem: throughout the novel, Amélie and Philibert attempt to dissuade Le Gardeur from mingling with Bigot's gang. Indeed, ever the manipulator, Bigot entices Le Gardeur to remain in his inner circle through drinking and gambling.

The story reaches its climax when Angélique, desperate to secure her marriage to Bigot, hires the witch La Corriveau to poison her rival in love. Upon his discovery of Caroline's lifeless body, Bigot has no choice but to have the her buried secretly in his mansion. Following the murder, Angélique rebuffs Le Gardeur's love a final time, making it clear she is to marry Bigot. Ironically, the Intendant suspects her implication in his fiancé's death and resists her advances. In the meantime, Le Gardeur drowns his sorrows at the Friponne, drinking and gambling away his woes.

[Spoiler alert] Later, as Philibert and Amélie finally admit their love to each other and are set to be married, Le Gardeur, in a drunken tirade, accidentally stabs and kills the Bourgeois Philibert. Learning of the murder and remorseful for her brother's actions, Amélie flees to the Ursuline convent to spend the rest of her life as a nun repenting for him. Le Gardeur is sent to France by the governor to be judged by the king, only to be pardoned and left to live out his life as a model but passionless officer. Philibert, heartbroken, stops daily at the convent to beg Amélie to see him. After an unspecified amount of time goes by, she finally accepts, only to die in his arms still begging for the forgiveness he already gave years ago and kissing him one final time.

Elements of Gothic literature pervade throughout the book.
In this example, the beautiful Caroline is poisoned by
the witch La Corriveau.

The novel's bleak ending isn't the only element placing it firmly in the Gothic genre. The supernatural pervades its themes, from witches to werewolves, to many characters displaying the power of premonition. The settings themselves add to the atmosphere: mansions with hidden doors and passages, as well as dark forests and a witch's hovel. Yet, despite these literary motifs which should qualify this novel as an exciting read, the book is quite unfortunately a near absolute bore. Indeed, Kirby seems obsessed with reminding us how good or how evil each character is. More than once I caught myself screaming internally: "I know already. Get to the point!". The novel is easily twice as long as it needs to be. And that's saying something, considering this is the introduction of the edition I read(!):

In issuing a new edition of The Golden Dog it has been thought necessary to give the book thorough revision. Many errors [...] have been corrected. The author gathered together a vast amount of information bearing on the period of his story and of his characters. He saw fit, after the manner of Sir Walter Scott, to incorporate this into his novel. As a result, The Golden Dog, as originally published, contains patches of general and scientific information that mar the flow of the story and weary the reader. Much of this has been judiciously cut out, but nothing has been omitted that is essential to the narrative.

Is the book redeemable for the modern reader? Absolutely, if you're a glutton for punishment... On one hand I could be bored out of my mind by the narrative, on the other, I couldn't look away from the over the top melodrama. And despite the long dry stretches of the story, it is a fascinating excursion in the misogynist and racist mind of this author from Victorian Canada. Women are constantly woefully complaining about the weakness and faults of their gender, all wishing they were men, and the racism against Indigenous people gives us shocking--yet sometimes hilariously awful--lines like "I pray to the bon Dieu to strike you white" (p. 338).

I wish I could say the book is a product of its time, but strictly speaking about style, there's little wonder this book was apparently initially rejected many times before finally being published. Kirby is no Washington Irving or Bram Stoker. Gothic it may be, but Mary Shelley it ain't. Brevity would have served this novel to its advantage, in my opinion. The story in and of itself isn't bad, so much as it is continuously bogged down in superfluous lyrical meanderings.

But despite what I may think of it, one can't deny the novel's importance. It was deemed popular enough in the day to warrant a French translation by Pamphile Lemay, after all. And as Dennis Duffy reminds us:

The cultural and political significance of The Golden Dog far outweighs its minimal belletristic graces. The novel remains of interest to literary and intellectual historians because it marks the local discovery that the Matter of Canada was ripe for fictional exploitation. After Kirby’s achievement, it became clear that a romantically conceived early colonial Canada could furnish settings for one of the nineteenth century’s most popular (and enduring) forms, the historical novel.

I would also add that the novel had a great effect on popular memory since many of its historical misconceptions and legends, both original and perpetuated, persist to this day. This said, should anyone want to read the novel for its historical and literary importance, I suggest grabbing the most recent annotated copy (a hefty 1152 pages), edited by Mary Jane Edwards. I also suggest reading Marie-Françoise Michel and Jean-François Michel's Le Chien d'Or for the historical account of the Bourgeois Philibert's life and death (as I'm about to do after reading the fictional account). [Follow up: Thanks to Martin Dozois for reminding me there's a short history of the plaque over at the Encyclopedia of French Cultural Heritage in North America]

On that note, Happy Halloween everyone!

Sources

• Caron, Jean-François. "The Golden Dog", Encyclopedia of French Cultural Heritage in North America, 2017. http://www.ameriquefrancaise.org/en/article-590/The_Golden_Dog.html.
• Duffy, Dennis. Review of Le Chien d’or / The Golden Dog: A Legend of Quebec, by William Kirby. University of Toronto Quarterly, vol. 83 no. 2, 2014, p. 497-498. Project MUSE muse.jhu.edu/article/557178.
• Edwards, Mary Jane. “KIRBY, WILLIAM,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 13, University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003–, accessed October 30, 2019, http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/kirby_william_13E.html.
• Kirby, William. The Golden Dog. Toronto, The Musson Book Company Ltd., c1925 (1877). 580 p.
• Kirby, William (Edited by Mary Jane Edwards). Le Chien d'or/The Golden Dog, A Legend of Quebec. Critical Edition. Montréal, McGill-Queen's University Press, 1152 p. Coll. "Center for Editing Canadian Texts".
• Michel, Marie-Françoise and Jean-François Michel. Le Chien d'or. Nicolas Jacquin-Philibert (1702-1748). Heurts et malheurs d'un Lorrain à Québec. Québec, Septentrion, 2010. 200 p.

Colonial Horror Movies

Well before film, colonial horror was a
great setting in literature.

It’s that time of year again! The leaves are changing, the air is crisper, and my headphones are blaring the soundtrack to It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! Yes indeed, Halloween will soon be with us. Meaning that I have a lot of catching up to do watching spooky movies. There is, however, a genre of movies I feel is criminally underrated and not seen enough in theatres: colonial horror. It's barely surprising so few films belong to this genre: when thinking about period horror movies, Victorian Gothic horror is what comes to most people's minds (for example, who can forget Guillermo del Toro's haunting Crimson Peak?). Heck, we owe most of our classic movie monsters to Gothic horror: Dracula, Frankenstein's monster, etc. Yet, colonial horror can be just as captivating. There's just something that ads to the creepy atmosphere when a movie is set in the colonial period. After all, wasn’t H.P. Lovecraft himself one to constantly hark back to colonial days in his stories? (Speaking of literature, may I digress a moment and also suggest Graeme Davis’s anthology Colonial Horrors?)

After perusing my personal collection as well as the Internet Movie Database, here are all the colonial horror movies I could identify, in no particular order and with the exception of a handful of extra Salem and Sleepy Hollow movies. From the corny to the truly scary, I'm hoping this list is exhaustive. And of course, as is to be expected, historical accuracy is rarely a priority in these movies. Now, if you know of any titles I've missed, please let me know! That said, please note I might have expanded this list by a tiny bit to include a few movies I just couldn’t bear not to share.

Movies I've Watched:

Le Poil de la Bête (A Hair Raising Tale) (2010)

 

It's 1665 and criminal Joseph Côté, escaping from prison, stumbles on the corpse of a dead Jesuit. Disguising himself in the priest's clothing, he befriends a handful of settlers in some rural parish. Unbeknownst to him, werewolves are prowling about and his new friends look up to him for protection, believing him to be the famous werewolf-killer priest.

This movie is by far one of my favourite guilty pleasures: it isn't high art, some of the costumes look rented on a budget, the effects are sometimes laughably bad, and the origins of the werewolves are... questionable. Yet all the actors clearly know what movie they're in and they're obviously having a ball. And oh boy, if you're into terrible puns, this is the movie for you, doggone it! Considering the rarity  of movies set in New France (and quality--who can forget the mindbogglingly terrible Nouvelle-France?), this movie is a fun period monster movie that doesn't take itself seriously at all but delivers at being perfectly entertaining in the "so bad, it's good" department.

(IMDb link here).

Interview with the Vampire (1994)

This film is so well known, do I even need to explain the story at this point? Louis is a Creole plantation owner who has lost his lust for life after the death of his wife and child. One night, he is accosted by the vampire Lestat who offers him the choice to begin a new life as a vampire himself.

One if not the most well-known vampire movie, Interview is the piece that started the craze of making films from the blood-sucker's point of view. However, the first half of the movie always captivates me in how well it represents colonial Louisiana. Moody, dramatic, and beautifully shot, if you haven't seen this film yet, well, you suck (pun intended). 

(IMDb link here).

Sleepy Hollow(s) (1949, 2009 & 2013-2017)

Not strictly colonial per say, the story is nonetheless set in the early years of the United States and so it does carry over colonial vibes. And who doesn't like the story of Washington Irving's Headless Horseman? The two most well known cinematic versions of his book are the 1949 Disney animated feature and Tim Burton's 1999 total reimagining. 

The Disney animation is fairly faithful to the original tale of a schoolmaster frightened out of the town of Sleepy Hollow by his rival who, competing for the love of the daughter of a wealthy local, pranked him into believing the stories of a headless horseman. This adaptation gets bonus points for the narration by Bing Crosby. Also, be warned, if you're looking for the DVD, the feature is technically called The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad and features another animated short which, let's be honest, we all skip to get to the good stuff.

Burton's movie is a crazy blood-spattered ode to old Hammer films. That is, the story barely resembles the source material and revels in fun, over the top horror. In this version, Ichabod Crane is not a school teacher but rather a detective come to town to solve a series of murders. Little does he suspect that the supernatural is afoot...

Finally, the 2013 TV series has even less to do with the original tale, where Ichabod is an agent of the American Revolution who must travel to modern-day Sleepy Hollow to stop the Headless Horseman who happens to be... one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse! Say what you will about the changes, but seing the Headless Horseman wield a machine gun in the pilot episode was pretty badass. Beyond the overarching narrative of the race to stop the end of the world, the series often follows a monster-of-the-week format that should please anyone who is into supernatural creature-features. I've only seen the first season so far, and so far so good.

(IMDb link here, here and here.)

The Witch (2015)

In my entire list, this is my favourite movie. To quote my previous review of this film, "Directed by Robert Eggers, The VVitch takes place in the early 17th century in the vicinity of an unnamed English colony (Jamestown? Plymouth? Take your pick). The story centers on a puritan family that decides to leave their town to strike out on their own in the wilderness. Headed by patriarch William, they settle in, believing they are following God’s will. Soon, however, something seems amiss... the cumulating crop failures, hunting accidents, and strange goings-on lead them to believe they are cursed by God... or is it something more sinister? Indeed, as each family member starts believing a witch is the cause of their woes, accusations run amok..."

For anyone interested in reading my in-depth, spoiler-free review, you can find it here. For our purposes in this list, suffice to quote this passage: "What makes this movie a true gem however is the care invested in establishing the historical setting. I can never hope to do a better historical commentary on this movie than Alexandra Montgomery’s review, Discovering Witches, over at the Junto. But, I will repeat what is being said all over the media: the main strength of this film is the director’s obsession with historical accuracy. The viewer’s anxiety and dread, as well as the efficacy of the witch as a terrifying antagonist, all depend on this fact and its resulting atmosphere oozing with superstition, fear, loneliness, and the unknown."

(IMDb link here)

The Crucible (1996)

Based on the 1953 play by Arthur Miller, the movie is a highly fictionalized account of the Salem witch trials of 1692. The movie is less an exploration of the history of the event rather than an exploration of how paranoia can disintegrate communal ties.

Originally written as an allegory for McCarthyism, the movie still stands as proof that horror doesn't always require the supernatural... 

(IMDb link here)

Le pacte des loups (Brotherhood of the Wolf) (2001)

I love hating this movie just as much as I hate loving it. This film is a full-fledged tricorne-wearing fantastical romp in crazy land:

• Kung-fu wielding Iroquois? Check.
• Matrix-style slo-mo action? Check.
• A scantily-clad sexy Monica Bellucci? Check.
• An awesome soundtrack by Joseph LoDuca? Check.
• A crazy cool monster created by Jim Henson's creature shop? Double check.

The movie is (very) loosely based on the so-called Beast of Gévaudan's reign of terror between 1764-1767. The story follows Grégoire de Fronsac, the King's naturalist, recently back from New France. He is travelling with his Indigenous friend, Mani, to the French province of Gévaudan in hopes of solving the case of the mysterious savage killings of local peasants. The local authorities blame the deaths on a monstrous beast, meanwhile Fronsac, ever a man of the Enlightenment, is far from sharing their opinion...

I include this title in this list because of the loose (mostly factually incorrect) references to colonial history brought about by the two main characters. Speaking of which, the movie has no pretenses to accuracy whatsoever and 18th century stereotypes abound (so Historians be warned, please check your brains at the door). Nonetheless, the movie remains a fascinating mish-mash of so-bad-it's-good fun with honest, good film-making nonetheless sprinkled about. Think of it as an artsy, high-concept B-movie.

(IMDb link here)

Dark Shadows (2012)

Of course only Tim Burton could pull off having another movie on this list. For having spurned the love of witch Angélique Bouchard, Barnabas Collins is turned into a vampire and then buried alive. Centuries later, he is accidentally released in 1972 to discover his descendants are struggling with the family canning company. Despite being a vampire, Barnabas helps his dysfunctional family regain its former glory all the while running into a former foe...

Tenuously included in this list because the introduction is set in colonial Maine. Also, an extra point for Angélique Bouchard being, I presume, French-Canadian (a nice wink to neighbouring New France). More of a comedy and homage to the original TV series, the movie does suffer a lackluster second half that doesn't live up to the better crafted first half of the movie.

I give this movie 3 Johnny Depps out of 5.

(IMDb link here)

Hocus Pocus (1993)

In 1690s Salem, the Sanderson sisters are executed for using witchcraft to steal the youth from the village children. Three hundred years later, on Halloween night, Max Dennison unwittingly brings back the sisters from beyond the grave after lighting a magical candle. It's now up to Max, his little sister Dani, love-interest Allison, and talking black cat Thackary Binx to stop the Sanderson's sisters from putting a spell on the local children once more. 

This movie is my second guilty pleasure in this list. Yes, I know, I know, it's not "horror", per say, unless you count how obsessed this movie is with virginity. Infamously popular nowadays, it seems cliché to highlight just how much this movie is a delight. However, if you haven't seen this picture yet, let me share this anecdote: A few years ago, we were a few friends (historians, archaeologists, and history enthusiasts) gathered to watch the movie out of nostalgia. Obviously no one expected any historical accuracy from a Disney movie. Yet imagine our surprise when in the one scene where people would be expected to be wearing silly colonial costumes at a Halloween party, our jaws dropped to the floor over how perfect they were. Turns out, for the scene where Max and Dani meet up with Allison, the costumes were apparently recycled from 1988's Dangerous Liaisons. Shout out to Marie-Hélaine over at Mlle Canadienne for the trivia!

Bonus: Doug Jones delights in one of his earlier roles as zombie Billy Butcherson.

Double bonus: As soon as I see a leaf turn colour in late August, the soundtrack is my work jam.

(IMDb link here)

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

Do I even bother explaining the plot? Pirates are hunting for treasure. In a twist, they're returning the treasure where they found it. Second twist: they're undead. Nuff said. 

Why the heck am I including this blockbuster in this list? Well, come on: Undead. Freaking. Pirates. Even though the franchise has overstayed its welcome long ago, we must still admire how unlikely it is that a movie like this was ever made in the first place. By the way, if you have 20 minutes to spare, swing over to Lindsay Ellis' channel and check out her amazing exploration of this very question. We also tend to forget how this movie was an amazing blend of swashbuckling action and spooky ghost story. To this day, I still get chills from Geoffrey Rush's telling of his captain's plight.

I give this movie 5 Johnny Depps out of 5.

(IMDb link here)

Ravenous (1999)

Second Lieutenant John Boyd is sent to winter in a remote outpost of the American army at the foot of the Sierra Nevada mountains. A veteran of the Mexican-American War, Boyd is struggling with... something... inside him. Barely arrived among the handful of other military rejects, he must join a rescue party to save what is left of a group of settlers possibly cannibalizing each other. Little does Boyd know he'll soon have more than his inner demons to fight with...

I'm sneaking this movie into the "colonial horror" genre because though technically taking place in the 19th century, the story's setting is when the United States were colonizing the west. I'm also using the shoe-horn argument that I can't think of any movie taking place during the Mexican-American War (1846-1848), a period that also deserves a bit more love. And, final argument, this movie has a special place in my heart and I try to promote it anytime I can. The first time I've ever watched this movie, my girlfriend bluntly said during the credits: "What the hell was that, and why did I love it?". Indeed, the movie defies classification: Is it horror or is it comedy? Is it action or is it drama? Is it a weird allegory where cannibalism stands in for Manifest Destiny? Who knows. This movie tightropes over so many genres that it doesn't fit anywhere and yet fits everywhere. Though it flopped at the box office, it's gained a cult following, even being recently released on Blu-ray. People who love this movie love it a lot. This must be gratifying for the crew considering the hell they went through filming this movie in Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and Mexico. Production was so troubled by studio meddling that director Antonia Bird was technically the third director hired on this movie! Yet, despite the hang-ups during filming and bad reception, we end up with a terrific, strange little gem of a movie. I didn't want to spoil much of the plot, suffice to say it is also infused with the legend of the Windigo, a figure of Algonquian oral culture. Cinema has since dragged the Windigo too far from its original roots in the fear of cannibalism and has turned it into a generic movie monster. [Edit: coincidentally, a few days after writing this review, I stumbled on this amazing breakdown of the Windigo legend.] Asides that, Guy Pierce is terrific as the cowardly Boyd, and Robert Carlyle is mesmerizing as Colqhoun. On a final note, the soundtrack by Michael Nyman and Damon Albarn is like nothing you've ever heard. Give this one a good watch, and hopefully you'll be hungry for more...

(IMDb link here)

Prey (2022)

Northern great plains, September 1719. A young Comanche woman and mean French fur traders squares off against Hollywood's favourite crab-faced alien big game hunter. I've recently reviewed this colonial-era monster movie here.

Easily the best addition to the Predator franchise since the original.

(IMDB link here)

Movies I Haven't Seen Yet

Lost Colony: The Legend of Roanoke/Wraiths of Roanoke (2007)

Quoting IMDB: "In the 1580's English colonists arrive in what was to become North Carolina and find supernatural terror."

You know your movie is top notch quality when you can't even settle on a title *sarcasm*. I'm dying to see how bad this movie is (no pun intended). But based on the trailer, it doesn't bode well... Here's to hoping it's in the so-bad-it's-good category.

(IMDb link here)

Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning (2004)

The Fitzgerald sisters arrive at a remote trading post run by the Hudson's Bay, besieged by werewolves.

This is the second movie on this list to feature werewolves. A sequel to the original 2000 Ginger Snaps, the movie inexplicably has the same main characters but in a colonial setting. Can't wait to get my claws on this one and see how bad/good it is.

(IMDb link here)

Eyes of fire (1983)

Quoting IMDb once more: "A preacher is accused of adultery, and he and his followers are chased out of town. They become stranded in an isolated forest, which is haunted by the spirits of long dead Native Americans."

Can't say I've ever heard of this movie. But watching the trailer, it looks hilariously bad. And I would be remiss if I didn't point out that this movie seems to inject steroids into the Indian burial ground trope common in the 1980s.

UPDATE: I watched it and wrote a review! Read it here.

Bonus

Just like after a hefty meal, perhaps you need a little something sweet after all these movies. I present to you 1985's Garfield's Halloween Adventure, where Garfield faces off against ghost pirates. Folks, my love for Halloween movies would not exist without this gem from my childhood. To this day, I'm convinced I don't simply have a nostalgic sweet spot for this special but that's it's honestly the next best cartoon Halloween special after It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! The music is great, the jokes actually hit the mark, and dare I say, those pirates actually are creepier than many horror movies today, thanks in large part to C. Lindsay Workman's vocal performance as the Old Man. Truth be told, the only movie this short reminds me of is John Carpenter's The Fog, both sharing a maritime ghost story vibe. On that note, Happy Halloween to you all!