Studies on the History of Quebec/Études d'histoire du Québec – serie

Après avoir cofondé la première revue homosexuelle canadienne, la poète Elsa Gidlow, 21 ans, décide de quitter Montréal en 1920, déçue par le manque de possibilités amoureuses que lui offre alors la ville. Le réseau d'amis masculins homosexuels qu'elle a intégré au cours des années précédentes ne manque toutefois pas d'occasions de trouver des partenaires. En effet, même si l'homosexualité est considérée comme un crime depuis l'époque coloniale, une culture gaie masculine, qui était pratiquement inexistante avant 1880, s'est largement épanouie depuis le début du siècle. Grossières indécences retrace les origines de cette culture clandestine complexe et fascinante. Dominic Dagenais a consulté à rebours des archives produites en grande partie par la surveillance et la persécution, soit des dossiers judiciaires, des articles de journaux, de la correspondance, des archives personnelles, des publications médicales et des dossiers d'enquêtes publiques pour mettre au jour le contexte répressif dans lequel les identités homosexuelles contemporaines se sont construites et pour découvrir les espaces publics investis par le monde homosexuel montréalais au tournant du XXe siècle. Dans une ville marquée par le fleurissement des loisirs commerciaux et les trépidations de son quartier chaud, des hommes, mais aussi quelques femmes, ont déployé diverses stratégies pour se rencontrer et pour nouer des relations. Des rencontres risquées surviennent ainsi dans les rues, ruelles, magasins, parcs, théâtres et toilettes publiques de la ville. Un monde homosexuel riche et diversifié prend forme à Montréal au tournant du XXe siècle, en dépit d'une surveillance policière de plus en plus élaborée et des lourdes sanctions pénales auxquelles s'exposent les individus se livrant à des rapports homosexuels, considérés alors comme une grossière indécence et comme le pire des vices. Ce livre documente son histoire inédite.

Money, often portrayed as a straightforward representation of market value, is also a political force, a technology for remaking space and population. This was especially true in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Canada, where money - in many forms - provided an effective means of disseminating colonial social values, laying claim to national space, and disciplining colonized peoples. Colonialism's Currency analyzes the historical experiences and interactions of three distinct First Nations - the Wendat of Wendake, the Innu of Mashteuiatsh, and the Moose Factory Cree - with monetary forms and practices created by colonial powers. Whether treaty payments and welfare provisions such as the paper vouchers favoured by the Department of Indian Affairs, the Canadian Dominion's standardized paper notes, or the "made beaver" (the Hudson's Bay Company's money of account), each monetary form allowed the state to communicate and enforce political, economic, and cultural sovereignty over Indigenous peoples and their lands. Surveying a range of historical cases, Brian Gettler shows how currency simultaneously placed First Nations beyond the bounds of settler society while justifying colonial interventions in their communities. Testifying to the destructive and the legitimizing power of money, Colonialism's Currency is an intriguing exploration of the complex relationship between First Nations and the state.

The 1840s were a period of rapid growth and social conflict in Montreal. The city's public life was marked by a series of labour conflicts and bloody sectarian riots; at the same time, the ways that elites wielded power and ordinary people engaged in the political process were changing, particularly in public space. In Taking to the Streets Dan Horner examines how the urban environment became a vital and contentious political site during the tumultuous period from the end of the 1837-38 rebellions to the burning of Parliament in 1849. Employing a close reading of newspaper and judicial archives, he looks at a broad range of collective crowd experiences, including riots, labour demonstrations, religious processions, and parades. By examining how crowd events were used both to assert claims of political authority and to challenge their legitimacy, Horner charts the development of a contentious democratic political culture in British North America. Taking to the Streets is an important contribution to the political and urban history of pre-Confederation Canada and a timely reminder of how Montrealers from all walks of life have always used the streets to build community and make their voices heard.

Point Saint-Charles, a historically white working-class neighbourhood with a strong Irish and French presence, and Little Burgundy, a multiracial neighbourhood that is home to the city’s English-speaking Black community, face each other across Montreal’s Lachine Canal, once an artery around which work and industry in Montreal were clustered and by which these two communities were formed and divided.Deindustrializing Montreal challenges the deepening divergence of class and race analysis by recognizing the intimate relationship between capitalism, class struggles, and racial inequality. Fundamentally, deindustrialization is a process of physical and social ruination as well as part of a wider political project that leaves working-class communities impoverished and demoralized. The structural violence of capitalism occurs gradually and out of sight, but it doesn’t play out the same for everyone. Point Saint-Charles was left to rot until it was revalorized by gentrification, whereas Little Burgundy was torn apart by urban renewal and highway construction. This historical divergence had profound consequences in how urban change has been experienced, understood, and remembered. Drawing extensive interviews, a massive and varied archive of imagery, and original photography by David Lewis into a complex chorus, Steven High brings these communities to life, tracing their history from their earliest years to their decline and their current reality. He extends the analysis of deindustrialization, often focused on single-industry towns, to cities that have seemingly made the post-industrial transition.The urban neighbourhood has never been a settled concept, and its apparent innocence masks considerable contestation, divergence, and change over time. Deindustrializing Montreal thinks critically about locality, revealing how heritage becomes an agent of gentrification, investigating how places like Little Burgundy and the Point acquire race and class identities, and questioning what is preserved and for whom.

Longtemps considérée comme une rébellion mineure, la tentative de révolution de 1837 a en réalité secoué l'ensemble de l'Amérique du Nord, menaçant de renvoyer le pouvoir britannique hors du continent, mais également d'inaugurer une expérience républicaine différente. La révolution a échoué, mais les idées qu'elle a véhiculées - tant progressistes qu'élitistes - résonnent encore aujourd'hui.L'auteur se penche sur les réseaux des patriotes canadiens en exil aux États-Unis en s'appuyant sur des sources canadiennes et étasuniennes. En sollicitant le soutien de leurs « frères » au sud de la frontière, les rebelles ont poussé les autorités des États-Unis à coopérer activement avec l'Empire britannique, dans un dénigrement surprenant de leurs racines révolutionnaires et antibritanniques. Initialement favorables à l'annexion des Canadas aux États-Unis, les patriotes ont dû repenser leur avenir en dehors d'une république qui affichait ses faiblesses. Ils ont envisagé de fonder leur propre république à « deux étoiles », avec l'espoir de régénérer la démocratisation en Amérique et de teinter la transition au capitalisme moderne de morale, de responsabilité sociale et de bienveillance envers les travailleurs manuels. Le livre explore cette guerre singulière en se penchant sur un large éventail d'acteurs, de faits et de questions historiques, comme le nationalisme, les rapports de force politiques ou encore les idéaux des « droits égaux » et du « laissez-nous faire ».En proposant un regard novateur et informé sur un évènement que nous pensions bien connaître, La guerre d'indépendance des Canadas suscitera la discussion pendant de nombreuses années.

In the decades following the Second World War, women from all walks of life became increasingly frustrated by the world around them. Drawing on long-standing political traditions, these women bound together to revolutionize social norms and contest gender inequality. In Montreal, women activists inspired by Red Power, Black Power, and Quebec liberation, among other social movements, mounted a multifront campaign against social injustice. Countercurrents looks beyond the defining waves metaphor to write a new history of feminism that incorporates parallel social movements into the overarching narrative of the women’s movement. Case studies compare and reflect on the histories of the Quebec Native Women’s Association, the Congress of Black Women, the Front de libération des femmes du Québec, various Haitian women’s organizations, and the Collectif des femmes immigrantes du Québec and the political work they did. Bringing to light previously overlooked archival and oral sources, Amanda Ricci introduces a new cast of characters to the history of feminism in Quebec. The book presents a unique portrait of the resurgence of feminist activism, demonstrating its deep roots in Indigenous and Black communities, its transnational scope, and its wide-ranging inspirations and preoccupations. Advancing cross‐cultural perspectives on women’s movements, Countercurrents looks to the history of women’s activism in Montreal and finds new ways of defining feminist priorities and imagining feminist futures.

Pourquoi des étudiants en médecine ont-ils enlevé des cadavres dans les lieux de sépulture durant près de six décennies (c. 1820-1883) au Québec ? Cette science nécessaire fait la lumière sur une histoire originale et méconnue, en nous plongeant dans l’univers macabre des étudiants en médecine du XIXe siècle.On y croise religieuses hospitalières, chiens protégeant les tombes, juges, patients d’institutions psychiatriques, policiers, évêques, ainsi qu’un grand nombre de médecins. Anglophones ou francophones, tous s’animent autour d’une même question : quels morts peut-on disséquer pour apprendre l’anatomie humaine et devenir un médecin compétent ? Écrit dans un style accessible, à partir de sources fascinantes et souvent inédites, Cette science nécessaire montre l’essor de la profession médicale au Québec en expliquant, par exemple, comment une émeute d’étudiants à coups de fémurs transforme la médecine canadienne, comment Trois-Rivières devient une plaque tournante du transport ferroviaire de cadavres, ou encore pourquoi les squelettes fument la pipe sur les images de salles de dissection de l’époque. Le rôle majeur des organisations catholiques et protestantes dans l’enseignement médical au Québec est mis en évidence : Montréal au XIXe siècle devient un environnement médical hybride où coexistent des établissements francophones et anglophones, ayant peu d’équivalents au monde.Cette science nécessaire est une lecture essentielle, tant pour mieux comprendre l’histoire de la formation médicale au Québec et dans le monde, que pour mettre en contexte les débats actuels sur le respect et la dignité dans les pratiques médicales et funéraires.

Pourquoi des étudiants en médecine ont-ils enlevé des cadavres dans les lieux de sépulture durant près de six décennies (c. 1820-1883) au Québec ? Cette science nécessaire fait la lumière sur une histoire originale et méconnue, en nous plongeant dans l'univers macabre des étudiants en médecine du XIXe siècle.On y croise religieuses hospitalières, chiens protégeant les tombes, juges, patients d'institutions psychiatriques, policiers, évêques, ainsi qu'un grand nombre de médecins. Anglophones ou francophones, tous s'animent autour d'une même question : quels morts peut-on disséquer pour apprendre l'anatomie humaine et devenir un médecin compétent ? Écrit dans un style accessible, à partir de sources fascinantes et souvent inédites, Cette science nécessaire montre l'essor de la profession médicale au Québec en expliquant, par exemple, comment une émeute d'étudiants à coups de fémurs transforme la médecine canadienne, comment Trois-Rivières devient une plaque tournante du transport ferroviaire de cadavres, ou encore pourquoi les squelettes fument la pipe sur les images de salles de dissection de l'époque. Le rôle majeur des organisations catholiques et protestantes dans l'enseignement médical au Québec est mis en évidence : Montréal au XIXe siècle devient un environnement médical hybride où coexistent des établissements francophones et anglophones, ayant peu d'équivalents au monde.Cette science nécessaire est une lecture essentielle, tant pour mieux comprendre l'histoire de la formation médicale au Québec et dans le monde, que pour mettre en contexte les débats actuels sur le respect et la dignité dans les pratiques médicales et funéraires.

Sex and jazz, liquor and gambling: Montreal in the early twentieth century was a city that offered an exceptional nighttime scene in North America. By mid-century that scene came under scrutiny, and Montreal's influential mayor Jean Drapeau would be elected for the first time on a reformist platform that promised to end corruption. Over more than three decades, Drapeau would endeavour to transform Montreal into a world-class global city by regulating its nightlife.Montreal After Dark chronicles the spaces where nighttime regulations were enforced and contested. City authorities understood the night as enabling disorder, and they reorganized policing and crafted bylaws to gain control over it. Police and politicians mutually reinforced each other's drive to morally cleanse the urban landscape, especially for international events like Expo 67 and the 1976 Olympics. But in an era of social unrest Drapeau's administration also found itself responding to the protective services' discontent. The political culture of the city was quickly transformed following terrifying nights without their services. Matthieu Caron shows how, in an effort to incorporate the night into the expansionary tendencies of consumer capitalism, municipal authorities took sides in a debate over who had the right to public space at night, what constituted acceptable behaviour or expression, whose sexual activity sustained the social order – and whose threatened to destroy it.In terms that are strikingly familiar today, Montreal After Dark elucidates how the desires of politicians would come to reorganize how consumption and leisure, labour and dissent, noise, sex, and art were lived in Montreal after the sun went down.

Plusieurs estiment que le développement problématique des villes durant les Trente Glorieuses fut le résultat des idées des urbanistes modernistes. Réinventer Montréal considère qu'il est temps de revoir ce récit historique qui dépeint les urbanistes du passé en vilains technocrates pro-croissance en revisitant l'héritage des plans modernistes d'après-guerre.Frédéric Mercure Jolette retrace les idées et les actions de trois urbanistes ayant œuvré à repenser le développement de Montréal dans les années 1960, soit Hans Blumenfeld, Jean-Claude La Haye et Claude Robillard. À partir d'un examen de leurs archives personnelles et des plans et des documents d'urbanisme qu'ils ont réalisés, l'ouvrage met en lumière la nature de l'expertise qu'ils prétendent construire et la manière dont ils s'en revendiquent. Réinventer Montréal reconstruit la logique interne, les projets, les hésitations, les contrariétés et les débats – notamment avec Jane Jacobs et les partisans du tournant participatif – qui ponctuent leur parcours intellectuel respectifs et, parallèlement, l'ouvrage forge une interprétation plus générale du destin de l'urbanisme moderniste.Contre l'interprétation dominante selon laquelle l'urbanisme des Trente Glorieuses serait démesurément technophile et ferait taire les débats, la croissance et le progrès technique se présentent dans Réinventer Montréal à la fois comme des menaces qui risquent de déstructurer la ville et comme des occasions permettant de mettre en place un réaménagement harmonieux, réaménagement qui ouvre à d'intarissables débats.

The town of Arvida provides a field on which we can observe in microcosm the birth of an industrial town and the development of the population's identity as a community. Using a wealth of quantitative and qualitative data, José Igartua examines what type of people chose to come, who decided to stay, how they lived, and how the demographic traits of the region shifted. He argues that even though a significant proportion of the population came from outside the region Arvida gradually acquired the character of a Saguenay town, where family, the Catholic Church, and French-Canadian culture were dominant. Igartua pays particular attention to the local labour movement, which culminated in the famous wildcat strike of 1941, revealing that the fight for collective action was the turning point in the development of a community consciousness.

Using a variety of documentary sources, including hundreds of petitions, letters, and reports to the government, Little traces the complex relationship between community life and government regulation. He reveals that at the same time development of responsible government was leading to increasingly centralized authority at the provincial level, a persistent sense of localism was forcing the state to decentralize its new institutions at the community level. The local population of this largely American-settled corner of Quebec, Little shows, clearly exerted an important influence on the evolution of the education, legal, social welfare, and municipal systems. State and Society in Transition makes a major contribution to the study of state formation in the recently unified province of Canada by taking into account not only the dialectical process between the centre and periphery but also the impact of institutional reform on social and economic development in general.

Les années soixante et soixante-dix ont été des décennies de changement social au Québec. C'était du spectacle! raconte l'histoire de la première génération de transsexuelles ayant subi une chirurgie d'inversion de sexe. Namaste examine les conditions de travail dans les cabarets, la prostitution, les abus de pouvoir des policiers à l'égard des transsexuelles, le rôle du crime organisé dans la vie nocturne de la ville et l'accès aux soins de la santé. C'était du spectacle! offre un rare survol de la culture urbaine de Montréal, présenté dans ses propres mots par l'une de ses plus importantes communautés artistiques.

In the late Victorian era, smoking was a male habit and tobacco was consumed mostly in pipes and cigars. By the mid-twentieth century, advertising and movies had not only made it acceptable for women to smoke but smoking had become a potent symbol of their emancipation. From mass cigarette production in 1888 to the first studies linking cigarettes to lung cancer in 1950, The Freedom to Smoke explores gender and other key issues related to smoking in Montreal, including the arrival of "big tobacco," first attempts to ban the cigarette, wartime tobacco funds, French Canadian smoking habits, rituals of manliness, and the growing respectability of women smokers - none of which have been examined by historians. Jarrett Rudy argues that while people smoked for highly personal reasons, their smoking rituals were embedded in social relations and shaped by dominant norms of taste and etiquette. The Freedom to Smoke examines the role of the tobacco industry, health experts, churches, farmers, newspapers, the military, the state, and smokers themselves. A pioneering city-based study, it weaves Western understandings of respectable smoking through Montreal's diverse social and cultural fabric. Rudy argues that etiquette gave smoking a political role, reflecting and serving to legitimize beliefs about inclusion, exclusion, and hierarchy that were at the core of a transforming liberal order.

Did slavery exist in Montreal, and if so what did it look like? Frank Mackey grapples with this question in Done with Slavery, a study of black Montrealers in the eighty years between the British Conquest and the union of Lower and Upper Canada.Through close examination of archival and contemporary sources, Mackey uncovers largely unknown aspects of the black transition from slavery to freedom. While he considers the changing legal status of slavery, much of the book provides a detailed and nuanced reconstruction of the circumstances of black Montrealers and their lived experience. The resulting picture is remarkably complex, showing the variety of occupations held by blacks, the relationships they had with those they served, their encounters with the judicial and political systems, and the racial mingling that came with intermarriage and apprenticeships. Done with Slavery casts the categories of blackness and slavery in a new light, showing that broad histories of the phenomenon must begin to take into account the specifics of the lives of "marginal" black populations.Done with Slavery is an invitation to look at a colonial society through the prism of documented black experience, revealing that the roots of the present are neither as wholesome as some would hope nor as bitter as others might suppose.

An argument for competing ideals of liberty as a motivation for the rebellions in Upper and Lower Canada

The construction in the 1940s of hydroelectric dams and reservoirs, Lakes Manouan and Passe Dangereuse, were enormous projects that had consequences not only on the environment but also on international affairs. Built by the Aluminium Company of Canada (Rio Tinto Alcan), the project helped meet the American and Allied Forces demand for electrical power and aluminium ingot during the Second World War but also forced Innu/Montagnais hunter-trappers from their ancestral lands. Examining sources as varied as the papers of the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and interviews with Montagnais elders, Quebec Hydropolitics presents a compelling synthesis of business and social history as well as wartime politics. David Massell reconstructs the story of a changing landscape through the perspectives of corporate executives, government officials, and Aboriginals to show the effect that war had on Canadian resource extraction and energy policy as well as its indigenous peoples. A narrative that flows from the Saguenay watershed to the centres of political power, Quebec Hydropolitics is an informative look at the costs and benefits of large-scale industrialization.

In 2006 fifteen suburban municipalities of Montreal partially regained the autonomy they lost during the 2002 mergers. The fact that most of these were affluent suburbs did not go unnoticed. Supporters of the "one island, one city" project saw the demerged municipalities as fiscal and linguistic enclaves refusing integration into the wider metropolitan community, but for merger opponents they represented the last political institutions of Quebec's anglophone community, with long-established local identities and distinct political cultures. Harold Bérubé studies three of these "distinct societies" - Westmount, Pointe-Claire, and Town of Mount Royal - between the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the Second World War, demonstrating that they were the stage for a distinctive form of suburban governance, rooted in the search for socioeconomic distinction in a quickly changing metropolitan environment. Through the use of local government, municipal politicians created a physical and social environment that clearly set them apart from the rest of the island and that conformed to a bourgeois suburban ideal. If they were indeed home to English-speaking majorities, what really defined their autonomy was affluence, an attention to town planning, and efficient governance - traits that became the foundations of strong local identities and that persist in the first decades of the twentieth century. An in-depth look into the roots of suburban democracy in Montreal, Des sociétés distinctes explores the desire to create and maintain distinct suburban communities as the surrounding expanding city encroached upon them and serves as an important historical backdrop to ideas about urban politics, collective identity, and municipal amalgamation.

History has often ignored the influence in modern Quebec of family dynasties, patriarchy, seigneurial land, and traditional institutions. Following the ascent of four generations from two families through eighteenth-century New France to the onset of the First World War, Patrician Families and the Making of Quebec compares the French Catholic Taschereaus and the Anglican and English-speaking McCords. Consulting private, institutional, and legal archives, Brian Young studies eight family patriarchs. Working as merchants or colonial administrators in the first generation, they became seigneurial proprietors, officeholders, and prelates. The heads of both families used marriage arrangements, land stewardship, and judgeships to position their heirs. Young shows how patriarchy was a central force in both domestic and public life, as well as the ways in which Taschereau and McCord family strategies extended into the marrow of Quebec society through moral authority, influence on national identities, and their positions within senior offices in religious, judicial, and university institutions. Through courthouses, cemeteries, belfries, and their own chapels and neoclassical estates, they created encompassing cultural landscapes. Later generations used museums, archives, historian collaborators, photography, and modern print to elevate family achievement to the status of heroic national narratives. Sagas of the monied and entrepreneurial, nationalist imperatives to protect a vulnerable people, and skepticism about the lasting power of great families and historical institutions have relegated the influence of the Taschereaus and McCords to obscurity. Patrician Families and the Making of Quebec resuscitates the central role these elite families played in English and French Quebec.

Early in the Great Depression, English and French business leaders in Montreal presided over the reorganization and rationalization of Catholic charities in their communities with the blessing, but not the active participation, of the Church. Thus started a decades-long transition from religious charity to public welfare, from largely volunteer work to professional social work, from charity provided by alms to private assistance financed by centralized, large-scale campaigns. Focusing on the Fédération des Œuvres de charité canadiennes-françaises and the Federation of Catholic Charities, Amélie Bourbeau analyzes organizational records, newspapers, government reports, and personal papers to provide new insights into the history of Catholic charities in Montreal. Far from experiencing a linear development, Bourbeau argues, both francophone and anglophone federations were sites of experimentation and innovation, but also conflict - between volunteers and professionals, laypeople and clergy, traditional charity and modern assistance, and sometimes between the communities and the federations themselves - as they evolved towards their current affiliation with state-run social work. From the Great Depression through to the Quiet Revolution, citizenship, the role of the state, and the meanings of religion and language were all subjects of dramatic debate and change in Quebec. By looking closely at the history of social assistance, Techniciens de l'organisation sociale provides a new vantage point from which to understand these transformations.

What is the relationship between migration and politics in Quebec? How did French Canadians' activities in the global south influence future debates about migration and Quebec society? How did migrants, in turn, shape debates about language, class, nationalism and sexuality? A Place in the Sun explores these questions through overlapping histories of Quebec and Haiti. From the 1930s to the 1950s, French-Canadian and Haitian cultural and political elites developed close intellectual bonds and large numbers of French-Canadian missionaries began working in the country. Through these encounters, French-Canadian intellectual and religious figures developed an image of Haiti that would circulate widely throughout Quebec and have ongoing cultural ramifications. After first exploring French-Canadian views of Haiti, Sean Mills reverses the perspective by looking at the many ways that Haitian migrants intervened in and shaped Quebec society. As the most significant group seen to integrate into francophone Quebec, Haitian migrants introduced new perspectives into a changing public sphere during decades of political turbulence. By turning his attention to the ideas and activities of Haitian taxi drivers, exiled priests, aspiring authors, dissident intellectuals, and feminist activists, Mills reconsiders the historical actors of Quebec intellectual and political life, and challenges the traditional tendency to view migrants as peripheral to Quebec history. Ranging from political economy to discussions about sexuality, A Place in the Sun demonstrates the ways in which Haitian migrants opened new debates, exposed new tensions, and forever altered Quebec society.

In this ambitious and pioneering work, Catherine Foisy puts the experiences of Quebec missionaries into perspective, describing the ways in which they interweave with the socio-ecclesiastical transformations peculiar to Quebec and with those of Catholicism in mission countries. This tapestry, extending to the four corners of the world, gives the reader a view of missionary work as a site of intercultural encounter and conversion, as revealed through the voices of its actors. These accounts offer an opportunity to gauge the extent to which twentieth-century missionary work provided fertile ground for the emergence, deployment, and transfer of socio-ecclesiastical innovations that would prove decisive for the future of global Christianity. On the strength of its multidisciplinary approach and transnational analysis, this book documents various aspects of the Quebec missionary experience as it successively prospered, reached a zenith, and went into decline. By revisiting Lionel Groulx's 1962 work on the Quebec missionary experience from the standpoint of those who actually took part in it, this book gives readers a new vantage on a whole area of Quebec history even as it sheds light on a rich religious heritage, both tangible and intangible. Finally, this book is an opportunity for readers to reacquaint themselves with certain characteristics of societies within larger societies that enable them to foster the emergence of intercultural encounters and dialogue in a globalized context.

Belles résidences, domestiques, voyages… la vie des dames de la bourgeoisie, au début du 20e siècle, n'avait rien à voir avec le quotidien des ménagères de milieu populaire. Ces femmes n'étaient pas totalement à l'abri, néanmoins. Dans Genre, patrimoine et droit civil, Thierry Nootens examine les épreuves traversées par plusieurs dizaines d'entre elles. Faillites, malversations du mari ou ruptures pouvaient menacer leur aisance. Quelle a été la réponse des tribunaux de la province de Québec aux difficultés financières et aux disputes domestiques auxquelles elles durent faire face? De quels savoirs juridiques et pratiques disposaient-elles au moment de se défendre, de faire valoir leurs droits, leurs besoins et ceux de leurs enfants? L'analyse combinée de rapports de jurisprudence et de dossiers judiciaires originaux met en lumière la profonde vulnérabilité de ces épouses pourtant protégées, en théorie, par un contrat de mariage avantageux et par leur appartenance aux classes possédantes. Cette forme particulière de fragilité - fragilité sociale et genrée - n'avait pas encore été explorée systématiquement en histoire canadienne, tout comme la manière dont les juges régulaient les obligations, émotions et rapports de domination au cœur de l'existence des ménages bourgeois. Pour l'appareil judiciaire, il ne s'agissait pas seulement d'affaires privées. La morale du mariage, socle de l'ordre social dans la province de Québec, était en jeu. Épouses oublieuses de leurs devoirs, maris escrocs ou indignes ont donc vu s'abattre sur eux le courroux de la magistrature.

Tourism promoters strive to brand their destinations in anticipation of what they think travellers hope to experience. In turn, travel writers react in part to destinations in line with their expectations. While several scholars have documented such patterns elsewhere, these have remained understudied in the case of Quebec despite the frequency with which the province was branded and rebranded and its status as a major North American travel destination in the decades leading up to Expo 67. The first comprehensive history of Quebec tourism promotion and travel writing, From Old Quebec to La Belle Province details changing marketing strategies and shows how these efforts consistently mirrored and strengthened French Quebec's evolving national identity. Nicole Neatby also takes into account the contentious role of English-speaking promoters in Montreal, belying the view that Quebec was unvaryingly represented and appreciated for being "old." Taking a comparative approach, Neatby draws on books and a wide array of newspapers, popular and specialized magazines, and written and visual sources from outside the tourist genre to reveal how the distinct national and cultural identities of English Canadians, Americans, and French Quebecers profoundly shaped their expectations and reactions to the province. From Old Quebec to La Belle Province traces and explains shifting promotional priorities for tourism and travel writers' varying reactions over the course of four decades, and how these attitudes harmonized with evolving national identities.