The Short Story of the Day

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An Alpine Divorce

by Robert Barr

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In "An Alpine Divorce" by Robert Barr, a seemingly cordial conversation during a mountain excursion in the Alps unfolds into a sharp, ironic tale about marriage, pride, and the unexpected consequences of prideful assumptions.

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In some natures there are no half-tones; nothing but raw primary colours. John Bodman was a man who was always at one extreme or the other. This probably would have mattered little had he not married a wife whose nature was an exact duplicate of his own.

Doubtless there exists in this world precisely the right woman for any given man to marry and vice versa; but when you consider that a human being has the opportunity of being acquainted with only a few hundred people, and out of the few hundred that there are but a dozen or less whom he knows intimately, and out of the dozen, one or two friends at most, it will easily be seen, when we remember the number of millions who inhabit this world, that probably, since the earth was created, the right man has never yet met the right woman. The mathematical chances are all against such a meeting, and this is the reason that divorce courts exist. Marriage at best is but a compromise, and if two people happen to be united who are of an uncompromising nature there is trouble.

In the lives of these two young people there was no middle distance. The result was bound to be either love or hate, and in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Bodman it was hate of the most bitter and arrogant kind.

In some parts of the world incompatibility of temper is considered a just cause for obtaining a divorce, but in England no such subtle distinction is made, and so until the wife became criminal, or the man became both criminal and cruel, these two were linked together by a bond that only death could sever. Nothing can be worse than this state of things, and the matter was only made the more hopeless by the fact that Mrs. Bodman lived a blameless life, and her husband was no worse, but rather better, than the majority of men. Perhaps, however, that statement held only up to a certain point, for John Bodman had reached a state of mind in which he resolved to get rid of his wife at all hazards. If he had been a poor man he would probably have deserted her, but he was rich, and a man cannot freely leave a prospering business because his domestic life happens not to be happy.

When a man's mind dwells too much on any one subject, no one can tell just how far he will go. The mind is a delicate instrument, and even the law recognises that it is easily thrown from its balance. Bodman's friends--for he had friends--claim that his mind was unhinged; but neither his friends nor his enemies suspected the truth of the episode, which turned out to be the most important, as it was the most ominous, event in his life.

Whether John Bodman was sane or insane at the time he made up his mind to murder his wife, will never be known, but there was certainly craftiness in the method he devised to make the crime appear the result of an accident. Nevertheless, cunning is often a quality in a mind that has gone wrong.

Mrs. Bodman well knew how much her presence afflicted her husband, but her nature was as relentless as his, and her hatred of him was, if possible, more bitter than his hatred of her. Wherever he went she accompanied him, and perhaps the idea of murder would never have occurred to him if she had not been so persistent in forcing her presence upon him at all times and on all occasions. So, when he announced to her that he intended to spend the month of July in Switzerland, she said nothing, but made her preparations for the journey. On this occasion he did not protest, as was usual with him, and so to Switzerland this silent couple departed.

There is an hotel near the mountain-tops which stands on a ledge over one of the great glaciers. It is a mile and a half above the level of the sea, and it stands alone, reached by a toilsome road that zigzags up the mountain for six miles. There is a wonderful view of snow-peaks and glaciers from the verandahs of this hotel, and in the neighbourhood are many picturesque walks to points more or less dangerous.

John Bodman knew the hotel well, and in happier days he had been intimately acquainted with the vicinity. Now that the thought of murder arose in his mind, a certain spot two miles distant from this inn continually haunted him. It was a point of view overlooking everything, and its extremity was protected by a low and crumbling wall. He arose one morning at four o'clock, slipped unnoticed out of the hotel, and went to this point, which was locally named the Hanging Outlook. His memory had served him well. It was exactly the spot, he said to himself. The mountain which rose up behind it was wild and precipitous. There were no inhabitants near to overlook the place. The distant hotel was hidden by a shoulder of rock. The mountains on the other side of the valley were too far away to make it possible for any casual tourist or native to see what was going on on the Hanging Outlook. Far down in the valley the only town in view seemed like a collection of little toy houses.

One glance over the crumbling wall at the edge was generally sufficient for a visitor of even the strongest nerves. There was a sheer drop of more than a mile straight down, and at the distant bottom were jagged rocks and stunted trees that looked, in the blue haze, like shrubbery.

"This is the spot," said the man to himself, "and to-morrow morning is the time."

John Bodman had planned his crime as grimly and relentlessly, and as coolly, as ever he had concocted a deal on the Stock Exchange. There was no thought in his mind of mercy for his unconscious victim. His hatred had carried him far.

The next morning after breakfast, he said to his wife: "I intend to take a walk in the mountains. Do you wish to come with me?"

"Yes," she answered briefly.

"Very well, then," he said; "I shall be ready at nine o'clock."

"I shall be ready at nine o'clock," she repeated after him.

At that hour they left the hotel together, to which he was shortly to return alone. They spoke no word to each other on their way to the Hanging Outlook. The path was practically level, skirting the mountains, for the Hanging Outlook was not much higher above the sea than the hotel.

John Bodman had formed no fixed plan for his procedure when the place was reached. He resolved to be guided by circumstances. Now and then a strange fear arose in his mind that she might cling to him and possibly drag him over the precipice with her. He found himself wondering whether she had any premonition of her fate, and one of his reasons for not speaking was the fear that a tremor in his voice might possibly arouse her suspicions. He resolved that his action should be sharp and sudden, that she might have no chance either to help herself or to drag him with her. Of her screams in that desolate region he had no fear. No one could reach the spot except from the hotel, and no one that morning had left the house, even for an expedition to the glacier--one of the easiest and most popular trips from the place.

Curiously enough, when they came within sight of the Hanging Outlook, Mrs. Bodman stopped and shuddered. Bodman looked at her through the narrow slits of his veiled eyes, and wondered again if she had any suspicion. No one can tell, when two people walk closely together, what unconscious communication one mind may have with another.

"What is the matter?" he asked gruffly. "Are you tired?"

"John," she cried, with a gasp in her voice, calling him by his Christian name for the first time in years, "don't you think that if you had been kinder to me at first, things might have been different?"

"It seems to me," he answered, not looking at her, "that it is rather late in the day for discussing that question."

"I have much to regret," she said quaveringly. "Have you nothing?"

"No," he answered.

"Very well," replied his wife, with the usual hardness returning to her voice. "I was merely giving you a chance. Remember that."

Her husband looked at her suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "giving me a chance? I want no chance nor anything else from you. A man accepts nothing from one he hates. My feeling towards you is, I imagine, no secret to you. We are tied together, and you have done your best to make the bondage insupportable."

"Yes," she answered, with her eyes on the ground, "we are tied together--we are tied together!"

She repeated these words under her breath as they walked the few remaining steps to the Outlook. Bodman sat down upon the crumbling wall. The woman dropped her alpenstock on the rock, and walked nervously to and fro, clasping and unclasping her hands. Her husband caught his breath as the terrible moment drew near.

"Why do you walk about like a wild animal?" he cried. "Come here and sit down beside me, and be still."

She faced him with a light he had never before seen in her eyes--a light of insanity and of hatred.

"I walk like a wild animal," she said, "because I am one. You spoke a moment ago of your hatred of me; but you are a man, and your hatred is nothing to mine. Bad as you are, much as you wish to break the bond which ties us together, there are still things which I know you would not stoop to. I know there is no thought of murder in your heart, but there is in mine. I will show you, John Bodman, how much I hate you."

The man nervously clutched the stone beside him, and gave a guilty start as she mentioned murder.

"Yes," she continued, "I have told all my friends in England that I believed you intended to murder me in Switzerland."

"Good God!" he cried. "How could you say such a thing?"

"I say it to show how much I hate you--how much I am prepared to give for revenge. I have warned the people at the hotel, and when we left two men followed us. The proprietor tried to persuade me not to accompany you. In a few moments those two men will come in sight of the Outlook. Tell them, if you think they will believe you, that it was an accident."

The mad woman tore from the front of her dress shreds of lace and scattered them around. Bodman started up to his feet, crying, "What are you about?" But before he could move toward her she precipitated herself over the wall, and went shrieking and whirling down the awful abyss.

The next moment two men came hurriedly round the edge of the rock, and found the man standing alone. Even in his bewilderment he realised that if he told the truth he would not be believed.

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Frequently Asked Questions

What is "An Alpine Divorce" by Robert Barr about?

An Alpine Divorce tells the story of John and Mrs. Bodman, a bitterly unhappy English couple whose mutual hatred has made their marriage unbearable. Unable to obtain a divorce under England's rigid laws, John devises a plan to murder his wife by pushing her off a precipice called the Hanging Outlook during a trip to the Swiss Alps. However, when the couple reaches the cliff's edge, Mrs. Bodman reveals that she has anticipated his plan all along. She has told friends, hotel staff, and arranged for witnesses to follow them — then throws herself over the wall, framing her husband for her own death. The story ends with John standing alone as two men arrive, realizing that the truth will never be believed.

Where does the term "alpine divorce" come from?

The term "alpine divorce" originates from this 1893 short story by Robert Barr. In the story, a husband plans to end his marriage by pushing his wife off a mountain cliff in the Swiss Alps — a literal "divorce" achieved through murder in an alpine setting. The phrase has since entered popular culture as shorthand for abandoning or harming a partner during a mountain excursion. It gained viral attention on social media in 2025, when users began sharing stories of being left behind on hikes and connecting them to the darker implications of the original tale.

What are the main themes of "An Alpine Divorce"?

The story explores several interconnected themes. The most prominent is the destructive power of hatred — both John and his wife are consumed by mutual loathing that escalates beyond reason. Robert Barr also examines the impossibility of the perfect marriage, opening with a philosophical meditation on how the mathematical odds of meeting the right partner are astronomically low. The story critiques rigid divorce laws that trap incompatible people together until the situation becomes deadly. Finally, there is a theme of revenge and sacrifice — Mrs. Bodman hates her husband so deeply that she is willing to die in order to destroy him, demonstrating that revenge can be more powerful than self-preservation.

What is the twist ending of "An Alpine Divorce"?

The twist is a masterful reversal of expectations. Throughout the story, the reader follows John Bodman's meticulous murder plot, believing he is the predator and his wife the unsuspecting victim. But at the Hanging Outlook, Mrs. Bodman reveals that she knew about his intentions all along. She has already told friends in England that she believed her husband planned to murder her, warned the hotel staff, and arranged for two men to follow them as witnesses. She then tears her lace dress to create signs of a struggle and throws herself over the cliff — ensuring her husband will be convicted of a murder he planned but never committed. The final line captures his horror: "Even in his bewilderment he realised that if he told the truth he would not be believed."

What literary devices does Robert Barr use in "An Alpine Divorce"?

Robert Barr employs several literary devices to build suspense and deliver his dark message. Dramatic irony is central — the reader knows John's murderous intent, but the true irony is that his wife knows it too and has outmaneuvered him. Foreshadowing appears throughout: Mrs. Bodman's persistent presence, her shudder at the sight of the Outlook, and her cryptic remark "I was merely giving you a chance. Remember that" all hint at her counterplan. Barr uses dark satire to critique marriage and divorce laws, opening with a wryly philosophical passage about mathematical probability and love. The symbolism of the Alpine setting — its beauty concealing deadly drops — mirrors how a respectable marriage can mask lethal resentment. Finally, Barr's use of an unreliable perspective keeps readers aligned with John's point of view, making the wife's revelation all the more shocking.

What does the Hanging Outlook symbolize in "An Alpine Divorce"?

The Hanging Outlook — the precipice where the story's climax unfolds — serves as a powerful symbol on multiple levels. Its name evokes both a literal overhang and the sense of something suspended, unresolved, and precarious, much like the Bodmans' marriage. The crumbling wall at its edge represents the fragile boundary between civilization and violence, between the appearance of a respectable marriage and the murderous hatred beneath it. The sheer mile-long drop mirrors the irreversible consequences of the couple's choices. The isolation of the spot, hidden from the hotel and too distant for anyone in the valley to observe, reflects how domestic cruelty often goes unseen by the outside world — until it is too late.

Who wrote "An Alpine Divorce" and when was it published?

An Alpine Divorce was written by Robert Barr (1849–1912), a Scottish-Canadian journalist, novelist, and short story writer. The story was published in 1893 and appeared in his collection Revenge!, which gathered tales centered on vengeance, betrayal, and moral ambiguity. Barr was a prolific writer best known for his detective fiction and satirical stories. He co-founded The Idler magazine with Jerome K. Jerome and created the detective character Eugène Valmont, who is considered an influence on Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot. Despite his considerable output, An Alpine Divorce remains one of his most widely read works.

How does "An Alpine Divorce" critique 19th-century English divorce laws?

Barr makes his critique explicit in the story's opening paragraphs. He writes that "in England no such subtle distinction is made" for incompatibility of temper as grounds for divorce, meaning the Bodmans are "linked together by a bond that only death could sever." This legal trap is presented as the root cause of the tragedy: because neither spouse has committed an offense recognized by English law — Mrs. Bodman lives "a blameless life" and her husband is "no worse than the majority of men" — they have no legal escape from their misery. The story suggests that inflexible divorce laws do not preserve marriages but instead breed desperation and violence. By making murder the only perceived exit, Barr satirizes a legal system that values the institution of marriage over the wellbeing of the people trapped inside it.

Is "An Alpine Divorce" based on a true story?

An Alpine Divorce is a work of fiction, not based on a specific real event. However, Robert Barr was writing during a period when spousal murder was a genuine social concern in Victorian England — limited divorce options and rigid social expectations created situations where desperate spouses saw no legal way out. The story's premise of staging a death as a mountain accident would have resonated with contemporary anxieties about crimes disguised as Alpine mishaps, as mountaineering tourism was booming in the late 19th century. The term "alpine divorce" has recently resurfaced in popular culture, sometimes applied to real incidents where a partner is abandoned or harmed during mountain excursions, though these modern uses extend well beyond the story's original meaning.

Why does Mrs. Bodman jump off the cliff in "An Alpine Divorce"?

Mrs. Bodman's decision to leap from the Hanging Outlook is an act of ultimate revenge, not despair. She tells her husband plainly: "I will show you, John Bodman, how much I hate you." Her suicide is carefully calculated to destroy him — she has told friends in England that she believed he intended to murder her, warned the hotel proprietor, and arranged for two witnesses to follow them. By tearing her dress and throwing herself over the cliff just as the witnesses arrive, she ensures that every piece of evidence points to murder. Her hatred is so consuming that she considers her own death a worthwhile price for his ruin. It is a chilling inversion of the story's setup: the would-be murderer becomes the victim, framed for a crime he imagined but never committed.