Document text
ORIGINAL MSS. OR FIELD NOTES (Check one)
PUB. Living Lore in New En6land
(New Hampshire)
TITLE
Franco -American Grandmother
WRITER Victoria Langlois
DATE WDS.
PP. 11
CHECKER DATE
SOURCES GIVEN (T)
COMMENTS
Interview
PORTRAIT OF A F ICAN GRANDMOTHER
N.H. Federal Writers' Project Subject: Living Lore
in
#1801 New England
Mr. Manuel
PORTRAIT OF A FRANCO-AXEiICAN GRANDMOTHER
by
Victoria Langlois
I do not know Mrs. L. very well, but I have often
come in contact with one of her granddaughters, who
is married to my schoolmate's nephew. When this young
woman talked about her grandmother) she seemed ex-
tremely proud of her. I could feel that there was a
person who had deeply imprinted her ways of under-
standing life in the minds of those with whom she had
lived.
I was curious about her. As I knew that she had
come here when she was very young and that she is how
seventy years old/ I thught that she would have
something interesting to say about her first years in
this country.
T went to see her. When I arrived at her house, she
was all alone; she took me into her bedroom, where,
she said, she liked to sit in the afternoon watching
the sun go down.
On the small table in front of the window there are
several things: a large piece of pink knitting, an old
prayerbook, a rosary of blue beds on a gold chain,
and a big black book.
Mrs. L- is tall and thin, and she holds herself
quite straight; her face is pale and three or four
deep pock marks are visible on the dry skin of her
cheeks. Behind her glasses, her dark eyes are bright
and alert, as if they had kept some part of the great
vitality she must have posE,essed in her youth.
Her lips are thin and perhaps a little distended
by the artificial teeth, which seem to get on her
nerves at times; but, all in all, a face that you
like to watch as she listens to you, and then talks
slowly, quietly, giving you the impression that she
looks in a mirror which reproduces images invisible
to you
Tr'. have lived here a little more than fifty years,*
she says, answering my question. "Fifty years, it is
a long tile, and yet2 I remember what happened then
as if it was yesterday."
I would like you to tell me about it. Mrs. L-".
Well, a few days before we began the trip to the
Stales, I went to the village with my father. He had
to see about the tickets, the transportation of the
few things we were go-ng to take with us, the purchase
of new clothes for u E children, the payment of bills
etc..
We went to the general store, where we could find
everything we needed. I'll never forget this hour.
-3
When my father told Mr. B- the merchant, that he had
decided to leave his farm and go to the United States
to make money) by working in the cotton mills with his
two oldest daughters, and also the other children, as
soon as they would be old enough, Mr. B- seemed greatly
distressed.
L
"'Ohl no, no) don't do that, Joe.Ilhe said.
u L
wBut, Yr. B- I am a poor man; I have not enough
land to make a success of agriculture; I cadt buy enough
cows; in fact, I cannot "venir a bout de mes affaires"
(make both ends meet) if I stay here. My brother, who
has gone to the States writes us that he is making
money, he has four children working in the mills'.
'Yes, yes, working in the mills) sapriste t' in-
terrupted Yr. B-$ *But) my good Joseph, think of What
-jou will give, not only of what you will receive' You
are going to make your children into slaves) spending
their days behind thick, dirty walls, bound to some
looms in the terrific and incessant noise.
EFrom six o' clock in the morning until six o' clock
at night, they will be driven by some blind power, and
then, they will fall into their beds, in some crowded
rooms) in order to gather enough strength to begin
over again, the next day' i•
T know: I have seen these mills, when I went
for a business trip to Boston last year. I thought they
were something inhuman, almost infernal...You and yours
-4
do not belong there, Joe. We are a rural race; our
land is extra ordinarily fertile an. should be made
to produce enough for all; if the Americans want to
enlarLe their manufactaring industry, very well but
our people should not be ensnared by them.
PNothing hurts me more, nothing makes me sadder
or more utterly discoAraged for our future, than to
see a Canadian -a man whose ancestors have opened this
soil, have tilled it, have lived on it and now sleep
under it- admit that he is willing to see his children
spend their lives for the profit of these capitalists
who draw hard gold from sweat and blood.*
°You tell me that you are poor, Joe. No, you are
not poor. A man is not poor who has all the substan-
tial food he can eat, and all the wood he can burn.
That is not poverty. When.you open the door of your
little house every morning you put your foot Onto
I,
your own land. Ever think of that, Joe?
*Ohl you work hard, I know; your wife works hard
to; but do you iagine that you won't work just as
hard down there? Here you have space, air, and all
the essentials of life, a little more perhaps. Your
children are not dressed like city folks, but they
are kept warm in winter; they can laugh at our famous
North wind when they are wrapped up to ,,heir necks
in "bonne etoffe du pays" (cloth woven at home with
pure wool sheared from the owner's sheep), and above
all, they grow up with the sense of a simple but very
real dignity. They come from honest, decent stock
and every body knows it around here. The little lu-
xuries that they might get out of their earnings will
take away from them this so inpoctant feeling. They
will be driven like cat le; they will be "foreigners",
they will be "immigrants." As a rule, an immigrant is
a poor devil who leaves his country because he is sure
to suffer from hunger nd cold if he stays*.
St All the time he was speaking, Mr. B- was standin,_
in front of my father, who las listening'at the low
.but firm voice, absolutely unable to Live an answer
to this vehement surge of words.
You Canadian farmers, are not proud enough of
your profession. This goodly pride should be taught
in school°)mused Mr. B- after a mement of silence.
he signed deeply, then made a step forward and offer-
ed his hand to my father.
"All, goudbye and good luck to you, Joe... and
to you, Miss Marie -Anne,' said he, with a snile in
his fine, dark brown eyes. 'Come back soon and marry
an habitant".
"Really, this scene has stayed in my mind as one
of the most vital of all my life. Who knows? Per-
haps it is from that moment that the idea germinated
in me that it is of the greatest importance for a
human being to adapt himself so as to be an integral
part of the country where he lives his days'!..
"WellIncontinued Yrs. L -after a moment of si-
lence during which she had lo,ked at the sunset,
"we came ere and we worked in the mills. I be-
gan at eighteen, my sister at sixteen) then my two
brothers, when they were fifteen and thirteen, and
last; my younger sister at fifteen. It was then the
usual rule and nobody said anything against it. I
realize now tlat it was not right, for while my sister
and I were tali, had good strong bones, the three young-
er ones developed into puny-lookirg sickly adults.
They are all dead now. 17 the oldest) will be the
last one to go.
"Every summer when the mills were so hot that it
was almost impossible to breath -inside them (many
girls fainted every day), our parents sent my sisters
and me for a visit with our uncles and aunts in
Canada. I was interested in everything on the farm:
chickens, ducks, calves, cute little pigs were a
source of deep enjoyment for re. Ohl the thick, yellow
cream, the small, sweet strawberries of the fields)
the raspberries, blueberries we had therel
T used to tease and bother my eLtrate to teach
me how to "travailler au metier"(carpet weaving on
a handloom). I brought down a spinning wheel from the
attic and learned how to spin. I knitted stocking*,
and I wove flannel and linen; of course, lace -making with a
-7
crochet or needles) didn't keep any secret forme.
I am talking about 45 years ago. At that tine
there were no moving pictures; no theatres) except
once in a while, in fact, amusements were great events.
Every year, there was a bazaar in the parish; that was
our social event in the whole twelve months: That was
all the oat -of -the -house diversion we had: Even
the courting was done in the home under the jealous
eye of the girl's mother.
"When I was twenty-two) I was married. I had not
much liked to work in the mill, but I had not let my-
self dislike it either. Girls were meek and submissive
then; they did not have much to say about the arrange-
ment of their lives. I was glad to start doing the
real and only -so I have always believed job for a
woman; to be wife and mother."
1q-iad you learned to speak Englis4 during these
years, Mrs. L-7 I inquired.
"I had learned very little English. But I had
alwa:s liked books, and had been quite *appliquee"
in my school -work at the convent, in Canada. My
young cousin was going to school here and2 curiosity
guiding me) I think) I learned to read in English
from her. But I never could find time or I was too
Lired to read anything; in one word, I lived the life
of a mlegume,' (vegtable) for almost five years.
"The first year of my married life was like a
-8
beautiful and serene recess after a hard day's work.
I learned to cook and to "sew" a fine seam. I knitted
and crocheted to my hearts content. As I was not as
yell as I should have beers my good husband made what
he called a "big sacrifice" and sent me to Canada for
a rest...but I did not rest very much, for during that
urcetr4--
month, I waa*ed some fifty yards of colorful "catalogne*
which was cut to fit the length of the room) then sewed
together (just like the old-fashioned carpeting); it
covered entirely and very nicely the floor of what we
were pleased to call "le salon" (parlor). I was proud
of myself!.!
4,111m0A'd6-4'
"When I came back -I suppose that I had been lonesome
A
there or that I had hated to admit my ignorance when
one :f my relatives would ask curiously: 'How do you
say this and that in English?' I decided to learn to
speak English. I began to read the local English news-
paper, then some reviews and magazines. One Saturday
evening, I remember it was a soft -spring night, I
ventured to go to the Public Library. You may believe it
was quite difficult at first; I had to resort often to
the French -English dictionary. After a while, it becalm
clearer, easier; and that a great feeling it was to under-
stand what people were saying, in the streets, in the
stores, everywhere:"
"Then my first child was born. I awake to many new
and unknown feelings, and I felt myself literally'takirAg
root' here, if I may say so.
"Some time before, I had read in the dictionary this
definition: 'Longue maternelle, langue du pays ou l'on
est ne'(Maternal language, tongue of the country where one
is born...) I resolved that my children would know primarily
the language of this country -their own. These children
born and brought up in an English-speaking country must
speak English correctly and without any accent; they must
be permitted and not reprimanded for speaking English at
home, not only with their playmates; they must be given
good English books to read, so that their vocabulary will
be constantly enlarged, so that they can'penetrate the
soul and know the works of the greatest Americans, who
have made this country the greatest of all the world.
"From now on, I looked forward; I was always proud
of my French ancestry, but I 'acclimated myselfv.artifi-
cially'. I did not wish them to live in the past;
you cannot go very far nor advance very fast if you look
behind you.
"Your parents never regretted Canada, Mrs. IJ-7
"I don't know...there are things that you never know;
my father never said that he was sorry. He had a few
thousand dollars when he died. He probably would have
had as much -not in money) but in property if he had
worked as constantly and as hard on his farm in Canada.
And the feeling of loneliness) of being a stranger, of
being nothing but an obscure cog in a gigantic machine,
must have put a bitter taste in his mouth.
-10
"You know how Canadians love politics; some say
they play politics *du ;lour de l' an a la St Sylvestre'
(from the first of January to the 31st of December) well,
he was never naturalized. My husband was one of the first
to obtain the right to vote.
"I think my mother was awfully lonely here. She never
complained but...she lived her life watching for the
postman.
1...I think sometimes that I would have had quite a
different life, not better, not happier but quite different,
if I had married a Canadian 'habitant' (farmer). But
there must be a meaning to it; there is i meaning to every
thing that ha2nens in life; only we don't always under-
stand
Krs. L- did not say any more; she looked tired and though
she had been speaking in a low, calm voice, she was a little
out of breath.
She touched the things on the table, put the black book,
farther away, drew the rosary nearer.
She smiled at me and said:
"Now, I know I have been talking too much. You'll
have to excuse me; You sees old folks have a way of think-
ing aloud; you come to see me and I give you a page of my
history.
"That was very interesting M. L. and I cannot thank
you enough"...
She laughed.
"I Should be the one to say "Thank you, I think.
-11
We who are almost out of the p icture are some times
pleased to realize that we are still in the back-
ground...."
"Please come again; I'll be glad to answer you
questions if you think that what I have seen may be
of any use to you..."
To be continued.