The authors of this article were part of the team that edited The Collected Writings of Louis Riel, published by the University of Alberta Press in 1985.[1] Since then we have tried to keep Riel’s story current by publishing and interpreting his writings that were discovered after 1985.[2] We do not have new documents to present here, but we weave into the story of Riel’s life some new information that has come to light about the women that he loved.[3] The explosion of genealogy on the Internet in the intervening years has allowed us to discover new information and make new inferences about the women that Riel hoped to marry, and about the influence they exerted on him. The result is a significant addition to the story of his life.
Pioneering Canadian historians such as George Stanley and W. L. Morton wrote about Riel as a political figure.[4] Gilles Martel and Tom Flanagan then explored Riel’s prophetic and messianic religiosity.[5] However, even prophets have to make a living,[6] and they also may desire love and marriage. We will show that the five women discussed here had a major impact on the trajectory of Riel’s life. Marie-Julie Guernon, Evelina Barnabé, Louise-Anne Marion, Marie-Rose Marion, and Marguerite Monet are not well known historical figures; but during a period of some twenty years, these women, one after the other, played an important role in the life of the Métis leader. We will illuminate these relationships primarily by presenting pertinent passages from Riel’s poetry, which often display his emotional life in a unique way.
Marie-Julie Guernon (1864–1866)
When he was 13 years of age, Louis Riel arrived at the College of Montreal to begin his studies with the Sulpician fathers. During school vacations, he often stayed with his aunt and uncle, Lucie and John Lee, at Mile End, St-Jean Baptiste Village, near Montreal. In the same village lived Joseph and Louise-Euphémie Guernon with their daughter Marie-Julie. City directories show several families named Guernon living in Mile End at the time. They appear to have been respectable tradesmen but not wealthy professionals or merchants. Joseph was a carter; other Guernon breadwinners included a butcher, shoemaker, and cabinetmaker.[7]
It was evidently during one of these sojourns at Mile-End that Louis made the acquaintance of Marie-Julie. In the months that followed, he fell in love with her. In a young man’s life, such an encounter would be the source of great joy. For Riel, however, this relationship triggered the beginning of a worrisome period, as we note in the poem, “Un jeune malade,” written most likely in 1864. In these verses, which are strongly influenced by 19th-century French Romanticism, the poet describes the feelings of a young man who undergoes the ebbing of his life forces and who succumbs to the sorrow that oppresses him, just as leaves expire in autumn’s bitter cold:
La nature est mourante
Quand viennent les frimas.
Et ma force expirante
Me parle du trépas!Nature dies
When wintry weather comes.
And my withering strength
Speaks to me of death![8]
Later, the lovesick young man begs his beloved to remember the tender moments spent together and the vows that they made to one another:
O toi que j’ai chérie,
Quand j’aurai clos mes yeux,
Fidèle et tendre amie!
Souviens-toi de nos voeux!Quelquefois sur ma cendre
Oubliant tes appas,
Viens te faire entendre
Et plaindre mon trépas!Oh you that I have cherished,
When I will have closed my eyes,
Faithful and tender friend!
Remember our vows!Sometimes on my ashes
Forgetting your charms,
Come and proclaim
Your pity for my demise.[9]
Is there an autobiographical prescience in these lines? Do they really allude to the imminent death of the young man, of our poet Riel? Was he in fact suffering from a serious illness for which there was no hope of recovery? In order to answer these questions and have a clearer understanding of the poem, we must remember that at this moment of his life, Riel was preparing himself for the priesthood. His family and the Bishop of Saint-Boniface, Alexander Taché, who had made the scholastic and financial arrangements for his period of study in Eastern Canada, were anticipating his return to Red River to become its first Métis priest. Falling in love with a young girl was not compatible with such a destiny. The inferred death is therefore not physical but rather spiritual, symbolizing the romantic dilemma of the young seminarian. Should he abandon his studies for the love of Marie-Julie? That is the anguished question that he poses. For the moment, at least, he decides to stay at the College.
During his early years in Montreal, Riel applied himself diligently to his studies. He usually ranked amongst the best students in his class.[10] In 1865, however, the situation had changed. The young collegian seems to have lost his desire to study. He frequently skipped classes; his marks showed this lack of interest. The following lines explain
why:
L’autre jour je dis à Marie:
Ah! Si vous vouliez mon bonheur!
Je serais pour toute la vie
Votre fidèle serviteur.
The other day I said to Marie:
Ah! If only you wanted my happiness
I would be for evermore
Your faithful servant.[11]
Riel’s love for Marie-Julie Guernon did not stop growing. In fact, as his poetry shows, Riel finally made up his mind to marry the young woman. In order to have enough money for their future needs, he began looking for work. That explains his frequent absences from his classes. But the administration could no longer overlook Riel’s disregard for rules of the College and found it necessary to expel him on 8 March 1865.[12] Farewell to the priesthood!
It would appear that Marie-Julie had responded favourably to Louis’s outpouring of love because on 12 June 1866, before Notary A.-C. Décary of Montreal, they signed, without Monsieur and Madame Guernon’s knowledge, a promissory contract of marriage and established the legalities of separation of property,[13] perhaps trying to assuage parental fears that the impoverished Riel would appropriate Guernon family property. But if everything was moving along smoothly between the young lovers, such was not the case for the parents. Madame Guernon tried to dissuade her daughter from marrying Riel:
Maman veut que je reste fille
Et que je vive sans amant.
Mama wants me to remain single
And live without a lover.[14]
Monsieur and Madame Guernon refused their consent to the marriage, which explains the furtive way in which Marie-Julie and Louis signed their contract. What was the reason behind Madame Guernon’s displeasure? The following lines offer a possible explanation:
Ma fille est trop tranquille
Pour avoir un bandit
Elle est bien trop gentille
Pour vous, sans contredit.
My daughter is too discreet
To marry a rogue
She is much too refined…
Consider yourself barred.[15]
The Guernons’ refusal to let their daughter marry the young Riel was categorical. And it seems, by the use of the word “rogue” (bandit) that their refusal might have been influenced by racial prejudice. They probably thought that there would never be a place for the Red River outsider in the more genteel society of Montreal.
On 19 June 1866, broken-hearted, Riel left Montreal. In the poetry that he composed before his departure, he stated that he was happy to be able to soon see his family and his homeland that he had left eight years earlier, but at the same time, his despondency was very much in evidence. The unhappy ending of his relationship with Marie-Julie left him distressed and deeply melancholic:
Voici que bientôt je vous laisse;
Je vais partir pour mon pays.
Si mon coeur est plein d’allégresse
Croyez qu’aussi j’ai des ennuis…
Maintenant lorsque je m’éloigne
L’amitié m’arrache des pleurs.
J’aime; et mon âme le témoigne…
Adieu! Adieu! ma fiancée
O c’est en vain que tu m’attends.
Je meurs; je quitte ma pensée
Aux bords du fleuve St Laurent.
I will be leaving you soon;
Returning to my homeland.
If my heart is full of joy
Know that I also have worries…
Now as I move away
Friendship has me in tears.
I’m in love; and my soul acknowledges it …
Farewell! Farewell! My fiancée
Oh! You wait for me in vain.
I’m dying; I leave my soul
On the banks of the Saint Lawrence River.[16]
These lines come from two of Riel’s poems that, we believe, were written in June 1866 during his final days in Montreal. The last four lines come from a poem describing two lovers, Isaure and Izard, poetic counterparts of Louis and Marie-Julie, who are about to be separated. Although the origin of the name Izard remains elusive, Isaure was a Roman Catholic female saint whose feast day was 17 June.[17] In Riel’s verses, curiously, Isaure is the young man who is about to depart while his beloved Izard waits for him plaintively on the banks of the Saint Lawrence River.
There may, however, be more to the story. Members of the Guernon family with whom we have had long conversations and correspondence believe that Louis and Marie-Julie had a love child named Ernest.[18] Apparently, the baby was kept at home until the summer of 1868, when Marie-Julie’s father Joseph Guernon died. Young Ernest was then given to Marie-Julie’s brother Edouard to be raised. The only documentary evidence touching on the family’s story is an entry in the registry of the parish church of Saint-Enfant-Jésus de Mile End for 25 December 1868, recording the baptism of Léon-Noël-Ernest Guernon, son of Edouard Guernon and Amanda Lefebvre.[19] The date is a problem because we know that Louis left Montreal on 19 June 1866. If he had fathered a child by Marie-Julie, it would have been born in late 1866 or early 1867. However, people were more casual about dates in the mid-19th century than we are today, and it is also possible that a sympathetic priest could have entered the later date as part of a story designed to make Ernest look like the legitimate child of Edouard. In the absence of further documentary evidence, comparative DNA testing with known relatives of Louis Riel may someday shed more light on the question. According to historical records, there was no other woman in Riel’s life until 1874. We can conclude that the Red River uprising of 1869–1870 and its follow-up so occupied his time that the Métis leader had no time for romantic thoughts. As for Marie-Julie, Riel made no further reference to her in his poetry, but we know that in 1872 she married in Montreal one Jean Malboeuf who was listed as a bailiff in a Montreal directory for 1880–1881.[20]
Evelina Barnabé (1874–1878)
Riel once again displayed his sentimental side with the following love poem, dated 18 June 1874. It was addressed to Marie-Élisabeth Evelina Barnabé, sister of Fabien Barnabé (the exact name of the family was Martin-Barnabé), parish priest of Keeseville, New York. Louis had made the acquaintance of Father Barnabé during one of his visits to the eastern United States. Formerly from Québec, the priest had taken kindly to the exiled Riel and had invited him to visit Keeseville where he lived with his mother and sister Evelina. In the years that followed this first meeting, Riel often visited the Barnabé household, and it was not only Fabien’s friendship that attracted him there. In the following lines, where Riel is thanking Evelina for the gift of an inspirational book, we can detect the power of attraction of the young woman on him:
Plus d’une fois, je vous ai vue
Lire et prier, ce livre en main.
En vous voyant, mon âme émue
S’est dit: d’un grand amour divin
Ce beau petit livre s’inspire!
Autrement celle qui le lit
Pourrait-elle avoir le sourire
Dont Sa figure s’embellit.
More than once have I seen you
Read and pray, with this book in hand.
In seeing you, my soul, filled with emotion
Told itself: by a great divine love
Is this beautiful little book inspired!
Otherwise could she who reads it
Have the smile
That so embellishes Her face.[21]
Although Riel had given up the idea of becoming a priest, religious passions continued to dominate his mind, which explains why he was especially touched by Evelina’s piety. In this same composition, he speaks of her “pious heart” and of the “angelic and pure peace that shines in her.”