"A Mixed Marriage: Conflicts, observations, and curious ideas about the French Shore of Newfoundland"
• By Michael Wilkshire
• Boulder Books
• $24.95
• 296 pages
“The French presence in Newfoundland from the early 18th century to the early 20th is a story of a mixed marriage, or cohabitation,” writes Michael Wilkshire. “Sovereignty over the island belonged to the British, but France enjoyed the right to fish along an extensive part of the shoreline.
“As with many long-term relationships, this one was marked by a number of sharp differences from time to time, but also peaceful co-operation.”
The Treaty of Utrecht, 1713, allowed the French to catch and dry fish from Cape Bonavista to Point Riche, territory shifted in 1783 from Cape St. John to Cape Ray. During those 70 years, there was some British settlement on the French coastline, “especially in Bonavista Bay,” while British-French conflicts s
aw the French fishery stem and flow. The reconfiguration of 1783 sought to avoid local skirmishing “by moving the French to more remote parts of the island’s shoreline.”
The French did not overwinter. Instead, in the spring, tens of thousands arrived “to set up, fish for cod, and salt and dry it” before conveying it either back to French or an export market.
“The premises that they occupied were flimsy, and, once abandoned, quickly fell into disrepair, so that often little or no trace remains of this two-centuries old tradition. The memory of it, however, remains in texts such as those presented here.”
These include “J. A. Carpon, ‘Voyage to Newfoundland’ (1852),” divided into 10 chapters and the bulk of the book; “Account by Baron D. J. Larrey of his voyage to Newfoundland in 1788”; and three “report[s] on the season’s activities:
• by “Captain Venancourt, commodore of the French naval station in Newfoundland in 1821, to the minister for the navy’;”
• by “Captain Gautier, captain of the naval schooner La Gentille, based in St-Pierre, to the commandant of the islands of St-Pierre and Miquelon in 1846;”
• by “Captain Mer, commodore of the French naval station in Newfoundland in 1868, to the minister for the navy;”
Excluding the Larrey memoir, “all are here translated into English for the first time, and the Larrey translation is a new one.”
Carpon, Wilkshire explains, “was a ship’s surgeon with the French fishing fleet for many years and intimately acquainted with the French Newfoundland fishery and its traditions, as well as being a doctor for the crew.”
Surgeons could be fishermen with minimal or non-existent medical experience, but Carpon “was licenced to practice medicine on land and would have been the best-educated member of the crew.”
Ship’s surgeons were also consulted by the English inhabitants, “and represent the very earliest form of health care,” though a seasonal one.
“Carpon’s ‘Voyage to Newfoundland’ will be remembered chiefly as the most comprehensive recollection of the life of French fishermen on the shores of Newfoundland in the 19th century, for his detailed descriptions of the structures they used, the practices they followed, and their few festive moments, such as the feast held when the supply of salt has all been used and the return home is drawing near.”
Observant and learned, he records all he sees: icebergs, caribou hunting, caplin (“the pupil of this friendly little fish is dark blue, giving it an expression that is full of vivacity”).
By contrast, “Larrey is writing as a young man in the final stages of his medical studies who had just been appointed to a season on a naval frigate, the ‘Vigilante,’ overseeing the French fishery in Newfoundland in 1788. His account shows a man who is committed to his calling and who, when faced with potentially dangerous situations, proves to be both decisive and effective.”
It’s often dramatic: sighting evidence of a shipwreck, “I rushed to the survivors… We quickly took them down to the captain’s cabin and the main wardroom, where we had put mattresses and blankets for them to lie on. A few embrocations of cold brandy with camphor, bouillon made from stock cubes, and good wine with sugar revived them and brought them back to life.”
Unfortunately for this historical period, this was his only trip to Newfoundland, as terrible seasickness caused him to resign from the navy.
The trio of naval reports “provide useful information over a spread of close to 50 years and show the evolution of the advice that French authorities were receiving with regard to the Newfoundland fishery.”
In addition to bringing detail and character to this period, Wilkshire also contextualizes “the understanding of Indigenous peoples in these texts. It is seriously flawed.”
The widespread convention of referring to them as “savages” was “not just a question of vocabulary. It reflects an attitude prevalent at that time.”
The chapters are introduced with a precis of its contents, and the text is footnoted. There are some some drawings, tables, and black-and-white photos. The cover design, with its painterly text, palimpsest map, and red, white, and blue palette, is also quite pleasing.
Joan Sullivan is editor of Newfoundland Quarterly magazine. She reviews both fiction and non-fiction for The Telegram.
