Bride of New France Page 7
The Superior raises an eyebrow and lets out a caustic laugh. “Yes, that is quite a good description of the place, wouldn’t you say?” She looks at Madame du Clos, who has taken a handkerchief from her sleeve and is dabbing her eyes with it.
The Superior then looks down at the package she is carrying and hands two letters to Laure. Laure recognizes Madame du Clos’ stamp and the workshop paper. It is the letter she wrote to the King. The other letter must be his response. “You can read this yourself, I suppose.”
Laure is disappointed to see that the response is not from the King at all. Rather, it was written by his minister, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, the same man who complained about the quality of the girls’ needlework. It reads:
Parlement de Paris, 1669
Nos chers et bien aimés directeurs et administrateurs de l’hopital général de nostre bonne ville de Paris,
The King sends his regards and is pleased with the great expansion plans underway at the Hôpital Général. It is particularly wonderful to have Messieurs le Vau and le Brun, architects to the King, replacing the Saint-Denis chapel with a magnificent church. We remain convinced that the founding of the General Hospital, the largest in all of Europe, is one of the great endeavours of our time.
The young female residents of the Salpêtrière must understand that the hospital provides an excellent opportunity to receive training. They must know that beyond the doors of the Salpêtrière in the alleys of Paris lies a far worse fate for them. I was disappointed to hear your report that the workshops are not producing well. I am sure you will find some way to encourage the women to be more industrious. It is important that we seize the opportunity in textiles. I hope that you will help us to surpass the Venetian production of lace with our new point de France. It has been making a sensation at the French court and is sure to do so abroad as well.
On the subject of industry, I would like to promote commerce in our colonies, particularly in Canada. However, because our colonists have been embroiled in wars with the Iroquois there, we have been unable to freely acquire the riches of that place.
There is a vast abundance of furs and wood for ship construction in that country. The main problem is that we do not have a settled population in Canada. There are few women in the colony other than some nuns. But it is not in the best interest of France, which has continental struggles to contend with, to empty its own land of people to fill a colony.
However, the project we agreed upon several years ago of sending to Canada a number of orphans and widows from the hospital has proven successful. The Intendant, Jean Talon, has reported to me that in recent years there have been considerably more marriages and births in Canada.
To this end, I would like to send another one hundred women from the Salpêtrière to Canada this spring. I leave it to your discretion to choose those who would be best suited for this new adventure, provided that they are not too unpleasant to look at.
Jean-Baptiste Colbert
Minister to the King
Laure is confused. There is no mention whatsoever in his response of her letter, and yet they must have read it, for it has ended up back at the Salpêtrière, in the hands of the Superior.
“You are a clever one, so you must have figured out that we have chosen you to be among the girls sent from this hospital to Canada this summer.” The Superior smiles, and there is a look of deep satisfaction in her eyes.
Madame du Clos gasps and clutches for her chest as if the Superior’s words have brought on some sort of fit. Laure feels as if the weight of the entire Salpêtrière building has just descended upon her body. She cannot go to Canada. Her life is here, at the hospital for now, and later she will be a seamstress. What will become of her if she is sent across the sea to a place worse than death, more frightening than hell itself ? What about Madeleine? How can Laure leave her behind? The King is a cruel, cruel man. Laure fills with hot rage, but it is of no use. The most powerful person Laure has on her side is Madame du Clos, and she is blubbering apologies and tears like a child. She is powerless to prevent the Superior from doing whatever she pleases.
In the days before her departure, Laure thinks about what it means to be going to Canada, how she will not become a seamstress in the Halles, and what a terrible outcome that is. Madame du Clos, who finally stopped crying at the news, tries to reassure her by saying that in New France, as Canada is also called, there are no women begging for their living on the street. In fact, there are hardly any women there at all, so Laure will have her choice of husbands and will live like a gentlewoman.
Laure is seventeen and doesn’t want a husband yet, even if it were an officer like Mireille’s, so this is of little comfort to her. She asks Madame du Clos if she can be a seamstress in New France. Surely the women there will want to dress well for all these men. Madame du Clos says that maybe Laure will be able to do that. The instructor pulls up the stool and takes down a heavy ream of blue cloth from high on the workshop shelf and cuts enough material from it to make a new dress. It is her parting gift to her most skilled Bijou. That night, Laure holds the material in her arms when she sleeps.
7
Laure has found it hard to work on her lace piece and the other sewing tasks assigned to her ever since she found out she was being sent to Canada. The careful attention she pays to her stitches and the pride she takes in completing the pieces have lost their meaning. There is no reputation to build for a career as a Parisian seamstress, no reason to work hard any more. Madame du Clos has permitted Laure, her best set of fingers, to languish behind the others.
Back in the dormitory after their day of work, Madame Gage leads them through the Miserere mei Deus, their usual nighttime prayer. When she has finished, she turns to Laure and asks her to be the one to recite the act of contrition to the group.
“This is the last time you will recite it for us.” The governess turns to the others and says, “Laure Beauséjour will be leaving on a ship for Canada next week.”
There is a gasp in the room from those who haven’t yet heard the rumour. In whispers, they ask what Laure has done to merit such a brutal punishment. Only girls from la Force or Pitié or the worst dormitories would be so condemned. The word they use to describe her departure is banishment. How wrong Laure had been to ever envy Mireille for having a husband in this terrifying place.
Laure waits for Madame Gage to correct the girls, to say something positive about the place she is going to. The governess could tell the other girls that Laure will soon be married, that she will live in her own house and have a seamstress shop across the sea in New France. But the governess only tells the girls to be quiet and looks at Laure to see if she has heard them denouncing her lot.
Laure swallows hard to begin the recitation: “Mon Dieu, j’ai un extrême regret de vous avoir offensé, parce que vous êtes infiniment bon, infiniment aimable, et que le péché vous déplaît …” It does feel as if she has greatly sinned. Why else would she be so unfortunate as to be among the women from viler dormitories being sent to Canada?
There is silence in the room when Laure finishes the prayer. She lowers her head and waits for Madame Gage to leave for the night. If only she could tell the other girls of Sainte-Claire that going to Canada is not so bad. After all, Mireille Langlois was supposed to go there. But everyone at the Salpêtrière knows that it is better to spend some days in solitary confinement in the basement cells, or even to die of scurvy within the confines of the hospital, than to be banished to Canada or the French Islands. For banishment across the sea is just like death, in that no woman has ever returned to the hospital to tell of her adventures there.
But Laure is wiser and knows more than these ignorant girls who have seen nothing of the world. There are people who call Canada the New World and who have posed their greatest dreams in the direction of that place. Could Laure not be one of these women as well? Probably not, as she has not heard of seamstresses or women in elegant gowns finding much of anything in Canada. But another idea comes t
o her. Suddenly, Canada may not be as bad as she had thought.
Laure can sense as the girls change from their day dresses into their nightgowns that they want to talk amongst themselves about her departure to Canada. She catches some of them looking at her and growing quiet when her eyes meet theirs. Madeleine hands Laure her nightgown and kneels beside the bed for her prayers.
That night, as they lie side by side on the cot, Madeleine takes Laure’s hand and tells her not to pay any attention to the girls. They do not know a thing about the outside world, she says. Nevertheless, Laure can feel Madeleine’s hand trembling a little.
It is usually during these brief moments, when all the work duties and prayers of the day have been completed and the girls lie exhausted in their cots, that Laure talks to Madeleine about the future she dreams of for them. Their future, if it is to be any good at all, will take place beyond the hospital’s courtyard, when they have been released from the Salpêtrière. Usually, Laure talks about how the two of them will become the best seamstresses in all of Paris and how they will have their own lace-production workshop with their very own apprentice girls and become as famous as the women of Alençon. After they have produced the finest, most expensive royal lace for some years, men from the court will come to seek their hands in marriage. With their new fortunes, they will then be able to afford silks and satins for their creations. Although after meeting the Duke in Tailleur Brissault’s workshop, Laure no longer mentions the part about the marriages. Besides, Madeleine has often told Laure that she never wants to get married.
After Laure recounts each plan for their future, Madeleine replies in the same way. “That sounds like a wonderful life, Laure. If it is meant to be, God will grant us what we need.”
Laure can’t think of any reason why God wouldn’t want them to become renowned seamstresses. She really wishes that Madeleine could muster a little more enthusiasm about their futures. Instead she seems only to be interested in praying and in the banal routine of their paltry existence at the hospital. Perhaps it is because Madeleine has always lived under the strict rules of an institution and has not seen that it is possible to live another life, one that is not controlled each moment by religious superiors.
Still, Laure cannot imagine waking each day in the meagre light and fetid stench of the dormitory room without seeing the gentle face of her dearest friend. Leaving Madeleine is the hardest part of being banished to Canada by the Superior. Much of Laure’s thoughts in the past weeks have been preoccupied with how to get Madeleine to accompany her. She knows that somehow the trip, the banishment, will be less agonizing if her friend is with her. Tonight, while she was reciting the act of contrition to the others, it came to Laure how she would get Madeleine to come. She has decided to tell Madeleine the one story she knows about Canada.
Laure waits until most of the girls have stopped whispering and there is the sound in the dormitory of deep breaths. She then tells Madeleine that she has a very important story she would like to share with her, that it is a story written by a Queen. She heard it when she was a servant in Madame d’Aulnay’s house. Madeleine expresses the same peaceful indifference each time Laure mentions her years with Madame d’Aulnay. She feels no envy toward Laure for the enchanting life she had as a young girl living with a wealthy woman in the city while Madeleine was a poor inhabitant of a Sulpicien monastery in Aunis.
“What an exciting life you have already lived, Laure. Tell me about this Queen and her stories,” Madeleine says, accustomed to these late-night interruptions to her prayers and sleep.
Laure tells Madeleine that the story was from a book written by a French Queen, Marguerite de Navarre. One of Madame d’Aulnay’s afternoon visitors brought over the book, and the women sat together reading the stories. “Madame d’Aulnay said that the Queen of Navarre had been too clever for a woman. A monk who lived during her time thought that the Queen should be thrown into a sack and dropped into the Seine for writing such stories, but that never happened, because the Queen was too well loved.” Laure can feel her cheeks start to burn as she lays the foundation for what she really wants to express to her friend. Will Madeleine who is always so kind and gentle grow angry for once at being asked to go to Canada? Does she love Laure enough to make such a tremendous sacrifice?
“The story the Queen wrote was about a young woman named Marguerite who travelled to Canada. The Marguerite in the Queen’s story went to Canada a long time ago, before there were any towns or soldiers in that place. There weren’t any other women from France living there yet.”
“It must have been even more frightening in those times,” Madeleine says.
“Yes, there were no houses, no churches, only the Savages and the jungle. She travelled with the adventurer Jacques Cartier, who was seeking gold and a way to China. But you will see, she was a very brave woman.”
Laure pauses as she hears footsteps in the hallway outside the dormitory. It is probably Madame Gage or one of the officers coming to check that the girls are sleeping. In the distance, from another dormitory, Laure can make out the faint sound of a woman screaming. If one stops to listen, the muffled cries of the mad and infirm women of the other dormitories can be heard at intervals throughout the night as well as during the day.
“The Marguerite in the story had been a real woman who travelled with her husband on a ship to Canada. Not like the girls they are sending from here that don’t yet have husbands.”
Madeleine interrupts Laure to say that she never wants to get married like the girl Marguerite.
“The husband isn’t really the point of the story, except to show that women can be faithful both to men and to God.”
Madeleine nods and goes on listening.
“So this Marguerite follows her husband, who was an artisan, probably a shoe cobbler because Madame du Clos has told me that this is a necessary trade in new lands where people must first do much walking in order to finally settle somewhere. So Marguerite follows her husband the shoe cobbler onto a ship. Onboard the ship, the husband gets into trouble, for it is the nature of men to get into trouble when they travel to foreign places.”
Madeleine asks Laure what kind of trouble the husband gets into.
Laure says she isn’t sure exactly except that the cobbler had betrayed his master in some way that involved the native Savages. “I cannot imagine what sort of betrayal except it would surely have been bad to trust those people as they do not speak French nor are they Catholic.”
“Are the Savages of Canada Protestants? In La Rochelle, there are many Protestants,” Madeleine says.
“The Savages of Canada are not even Protestants but something far worse, closer to country witches with incantations and potions of mysterious poisons,” Laure explains. “The captain of the ship, Roberval, discovered the cobbler’s betrayal of his master and decided to hang him. But his wife, Marguerite, pleaded instead that her husband be allowed to live and that the two of them be dropped from the ship onto an uninhabited island of Canada.”
“It is natural that a woman should try to keep her husband from hanging, even though he has been disloyal,” Madeleine says.
Laure then tells Madeleine that the wife asked the captain, before he dropped them on the island, to give them only the subsistence they would need: some wine, bread, maybe some seeds for the next growing season, and the Bible. Her husband also wanted to take his arquebus with him.
“But what would she do with a Bible if there was no priest there to read it for her?” Madeleine asks.
“This woman could read the Bible on her own,” Laure says. “And so the couple was dropped, by the Sieur de Roberval, onto the island in Canada. They set about right away to build some sort of a hut in the jungle.”
“But I thought Canada is a cold place and not a jungle,” Madeleine says.
“The Queen didn’t know that when she wrote the story, as she had never been to Canada herself. When the lions and other beasts come for the couple, they fight them off, the man with his arqueb
us and the woman with her stones. They even kill a few of the creatures to eat. At night by the light of their fire, the woman reads the Bible to her husband. But he grows weaker on their diet of meat and on the putrid water of Canada. He eventually bloats up and dies. Marguerite buries him as best she can, but the wretched island beasts dig up his body. They drag it past her in their fierce mouths trying to shake her faith now that she is alone, but for the comfort of her Bible.
“But Marguerite persevered with her prayers and songs in exaltation of God. She fed her body meagre portions of whatever roots and fruits she found on the island, and her spirit drank in the results of her prayers. In the spring a ship came for her. She was brought back to France and introduced to the Queen.”
Laure takes Madeleine’s hand in hers. “The girl in the story is like you. She was brave and loyal and believed above all else that God would look after the couple in their time of need.”
By the time Laure finishes telling Madeleine the story, there is only silence around them in the hospital. The madwomen have been calmed for the night, the officers and governesses retired to their rooms. A few minutes later, when Laure thinks that she is the only one left awake in the room, Madeleine takes her hand and whispers in her ear.
“I will join you in your banishment. Tomorrow, let’s talk to Madame du Clos and Madame Gage to see if I can come with you to Canada.”
8
The sixty or so girls leaving Paris for Canada hear Mass in the chapel of the Salpêtrière at three o’clock on the morning of their departure. Laure and Madeleine are the only girls leaving from the Sainte-Claire dormitory. Madame Gage came to get them from their bed and whispered for them to follow her out to the main hallway where the other girls were gathered. Dozens of others have been recruited from the less reputable dormitories. None of the women look much older than thirty, although most seem older than Laure and Madeleine. Some of their faces are meek and dull as if they are still asleep, while others are filled with the wide-eyed rage of the slightly mad. Laure and Madeleine try to avoid meeting their eyes. All share a fear of the tremendous journey that lies ahead.