The Diary of Marie Landry: Acadian Exile

By Stacy Demoran Allbritton and Joyce Haynes

During the Great Upheaval of 1755, the British forced the Acadians to leave their homes in the Canadian Provinces. Fourteen-year-old Marie Landry and her family thought they had found a new home in Maryland, but ten years after the Great Upheaval, they must join a mass exodus to Louisiana where land awaits them. In this heartfelt collection of diary entries, Marie documents her journey.

Beginning with Marie's fourteenth birthday when she received the diary, eleven chapters of this historical fiction document her exile with the Acadians following their expulsion by the British. Marie reminisces about her family traditions in Maryland and recalls the illness she experienced while sailing aboard the Elizabeth in the Atlantic Ocean. After reaching the Mississippi River, Marie expresses the excitement she felt the first time she saw the waterway and tasted Creole food. Marie also conveys the feelings of joy and sadness that she experienced throughout the journey.

In addition to a historical note, the book provides an accurate description of Cajun culture and illustrations of Marie en route to Louisiana.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781455617081

Book preview

Diary of Marie Landry display type.jpgDiary of Marie Landry display type.jpgPELOGO.TIF

PELICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY

Gretna 2012

Copyright © 2012

By Stacy Demoran Allbritton

All rights reserved

The word Pelican and the depiction of a pelican are

trademarks of Pelican Publishing Company, Inc., and are

registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Allbritton, Stacy Demoran.

The diary of Marie Landry, Acadian exile / by Stacy Demoran Allbritton; illustrated by Joyce Haynes.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

Summary: Fourteen-year-old Marie records in her journal more than ten years of the travails of the Acadian people as they are exiled by the

British from what came to be called Nova Scotia, try to forge a new life

in Maryland, and finally move to Louisiana.

ISBN 978-1-58980-865-2 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Acadians–Juvenile

fiction. [1. Acadians--Fiction. 2. Moving, Household--Fiction. 3. Family

life--Nova Scotia--Fiction. 4. Family life--Maryland--Fiction. 5.

Persecution--Fiction. 6. Nova Scotia--History--1713-1763--Fiction. 7.

Maryland--History--Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775--Fiction. 8.

Canada--History--To 1763 (New France)--Fiction.] I. Haynes, Joyce, ill.

II. Title.

PZ7.A4142Di 2011

[Fic]--dc23

2011036808

Printed in the United States of America

Published by Pelican Publishing Company, Inc.

1000 Burmaster Street, Gretna, Louisiana 70053

To Jillian

ma Marie, ma bien-aimée

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Oxford, Talbot County, Maryland

Chapter Two: Tred Avon River

Chapter Three: Chesapeake Bay

Chapter Four: Atlantic Ocean

Chapter Five: Charles Towne Harbor, South Carolina

Chapter Six: Atlantic Ocean, Again

Chapter Seven: Gulf of Mexico

Chapter Eight: Mississippi River

Chapter Nine: New Orleans, Louisiana

Chapter Ten: Mississippi River, Again

Chapter Eleven: St. Jacques de Cabonnocé

Epilogue

A Brief History

Glossary of English Words

Glossary of French

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Oxford, Talbot County, Maryland

Thursday, 21 November 1765

Oxford, Talbot County, Maryland

Today is my favorite day of the year! Well, actually, it’s my second favorite—Christmas is absolutely the best day of the year because everyone receives a gift, not just I. But, today is the second-most wonderful day because it is my fourteenth birthday, and I received an unbelievably special birthday present from Madame Barnewold. She surprised me with this beautiful leather-bound journal.

This morning I picked up the day’s laundry from her, as usual, but as I began to sort the clothing for Maman, I heard something fall to the floor. I bent over and lifted this book, thinking that Madame Barnewold had inadvertently mixed it with the laundry. I caressed the soft, smooth cover, in awe of its beauty. Then I cautiously opened it, only to discover the lovely inscription, which read, To my darling Marie. May you record your life’s extraordinary journey so that you never forget the people, places, and adventures that Providence bestows upon you. Lovingly, Mrs. Barnewold.

01.tif

Marie discovers the journal hidden in the laundry.

01.tif

I squealed in delight (much to Maman’s chagrin) when I realized that this beautiful journal was my very own. I called to Maman that I would return in a moment, and then I dashed out the door and headed back to the inn to thank Madame Barnewold for her generous gift. I must have entered like a nor’easter because Madame Barnewold gasped and grabbed her chest when I stormed through the door. Then she grinned when she saw that it was I, clutching the journal close to my heart. I darted towards her and embraced her tightly. She hugged me back, holding my head on her shoulder, and told me frankly that I should begin to chronicle my life’s events for posterity as my family prepares to embark on yet another journey.

Thursday, 21 November 1765—Evening

Oxford, Talbot County, Maryland

I live in Oxford, Maryland, but I am not British. I am Acadian, from Acadie, which the British now call Nova Scotia. How I got to Maryland is actually the tale of the Great Upheaval—the removal of thousands of Acadians from our homeland—and I plan to write down our story in this lovely journal, just as Madame Barnewold advised me to do.

I look forward to rethinking the Acadians’ story: who we are, how we have come to be here, and where we will wind up in the future. Maman always tells me to listen when someone speaks to me. You might learn something because everyone has a story to tell, she often says. She is right about this. I know so many people, and each person is different but interesting. Thinking about other people and what they have said, what they have experienced in their lifetime, makes me believe Maman’s wise words. Everyone does, indeed, have a story to tell. This is my job: to tell their stories.

My story—the Acadians’ story—began ten years ago, in the summer of 1755 near the town of Grand Pré. A few days after my baby brother Paul was christened, the English captured Fort Beauséjour, and my father and other Acadian deputies were forced under penalty of execution to swear allegiance to the British Crown. This they did, but still the British were not satisfied. No, they wanted more than Acadian fealty: they wanted our land as well, but we did not discover this until it was too late.

The Great Upheaval happened about the time Baby Paul learned to roll from his stomach to his back when Maman would lay him on the floor. Even though I was only four years of age and the youngest daughter, I was required to contribute to the management of the household. I was in charge of watching and entertaining my infant brother while Maman taught my eight-year-old sister Angèle to spin the yarn into wool. Every morning I gathered the chickens’ eggs and kindling for the fire, and at night I fanned the flame to keep it going so that my oldest sisters Marguerite and Berthe could do stitchery by the fire’s dancing light. My sisters also helped Maman tend to the vegetable garden; cook; and make candles, cheese, clothing, and various other household necessities. My big brother Normand helped Papa hunt, trap, and cultivate and harvest the crops in the fields. Though my three-year-old brother Henri was too little to help out, he still did his best to imitate Papa and Normand when they were doing the men’s work.

That was how we spent our days—doing routines to pass the time and to survive. Every day our community and our family grew stronger, which turned out to be our downfall. The British wanted our land, and they thought that we were becoming too much of a threat to them as we grew in number. So, they forced us to leave.

The story of how we were exiled and how I came to Maryland must wait a little while longer. Maman is calling me, for it’s time to run the laundry back to Madame Barnewold.

Friday, 22 November 1765

Oxford, Talbot County, Maryland

I learned to read and write English at Oxford School. Maman and Papa never learned to read or write because it was not necessary in Acadie. There was too much to do on the farm, and reading and writing did not put food on the table. Only Père LaLoutre was literate in our little Acadian village.

Now, times are different. Madame Barnewold insisted that Henri and I attend school in Oxford ever since we were old enough to do so. She wanted my family to adapt to the British world, and this we have done, even though it was not our choice.

I hope I do not sound ungrateful, for I am far from it. My family and I owe our very survival to Madame Barnewold’s generosity. However, Oxford is not Grand Pré; it is not home, even though we have been here ten years—longer than I ever lived in Acadie.

Everything about Maryland is different from Acadie. For instance, many more of the buildings here are made of clapboards or bricks than were in Acadie, and they seem very austere and cold to me, even in the heat of summer. There is little space between one’s home and that of another, and there are so many rooms—a different one for every activity, it seems. Here in Oxford, my ears are constantly assaulted by the cacophony of city life.

Our home in Grand Pré was made of logs and thatch and always had a warm feeling to it. There was one big room downstairs where we ate, worked, and laughed together as a family. Only when it was time for bed did the family separate: we older children slept in the loft, while Henri and Paul still slept downstairs with Maman and Papa. Their room was so close to ours that the comforting sound of Papa’s snoring gently coaxed me to sleep every night; I was never frightened with Maman and Papa so near. Our quaint little house was situated on our own land on the expanse of our own quiet prairies. Our closest neighbors, the LaBiche family, were several minutes away, even when we ran all the way to their house.

Oh, and the English language—how harsh it sounds to my French ears, even after years of hearing it spoken! We children have learned to speak English, and Henri and I can read and write it well, but it still gives Maman difficulty. She lets us do most of the talking.

I miss our home in Grand Pré. Will we ever find a place to call home?

Sunday, 24 November 1765

Oxford, Talbot County, Maryland

I was very busy yesterday helping Maman with preparations for our next journey: the trip to Louisiana. We have been getting ready for a long time—for many months, in fact. Most of our belongings have been packed, and what we cannot take with us we have sold or will do so very soon. All summer long Maman, Marguerite, Berthe, and I have been drying meat and fruit to sustain our family. We girls have made quilts from fabric scraps, and sweaters and clothing from wool. Our older brother Normand has sold most of our livestock to citizens from Oxford all the way to Snow Hill in the next county, and Maman has sold nearly all of our furniture.

We started all of these preparations after René LeBlanc held a meeting for the Acadians who wanted to leave Maryland to embark on a journey to Louisiana. (Maman did not attend, but sent Normand in her stead.) Monsieur LeBlanc plans to charter an English merchant ship to take us along the eastern coast of the American colonies, around the tip of Florida, and up the Mississippi River to New Orleans. If everything goes according to Monsieur LeBlanc’s calculations, we should leave after the first of the year in order to arrive in Louisiana early next spring.

Acadian resistance fighter Beausoleil, now a leader of the Acadian exodus, has assured Monsieur LeBlanc that we will be accepted as equals in a francophone community and no longer humiliated simply for being Acadian; Louisiana is a French-Catholic colony where we will be able to establish ourselves as a free people, where we will be able to openly practice our faith once more. Monsieur LeBlanc closed the meeting with an entreaty to each family to prepare wisely and to finish packing forthwith so that we can depart in January.

Winter is ordinarily my favorite season of the year: I love Christmas and snow and a lull in the activity of summer. However, it seems like a bleak and forlorn time of the year during