All for the King

This great grandmother, Marie Jeanne Toussaint, blazed a new trail in the New World, and her name survived throughout the generations as one of the founding mothers of North America.

The last known member of her family line, this King’s Daughter, came to New France alone. Her origins, her parents, and even her exact age vanished from history. Still, this great grandmother, Marie Jeanne Toussaint, blazed a new trail in the New World, and her name survived throughout the generations as one of the founding mothers of North America.

While little information on this 9th great grandmother existed, her impact on North America could not be forgotten. My grandmother, along with around 800 “sisters,” traveled to the French colonies to help balance gender inequality. To enhance the population in New France, King Louis XIV sent the King’s Daughters, the Filles du Roi, to the wilderness frontier between 1663 and 1773.

Once they arrived, most married the French immigrants and helped settle the king’s lands. The king also gave the women a dowry and a trousseau to help them establish their homes. Once they landed, they were provided with housing until they married. During their stay at their temporary quarters, the nuns taught them the necessary skills required to face the challenges of this strange new world. Most were not prepared or suited for the demanding lifestyle that awaited them. Yet, they stayed, and boldly met the challenges set before them.

Many of the women married within a few months after a suitable marriage was arranged. Fulfilling the king’s hopes, a decade later, the French colonies doubled in size. These women helped populate North America, for their descendants spread across this continent, and currently, most French Canadians have descended from at least one of the King’s Daughters.

Historically, these voyages often took as long as two to three months, and the young women faced hardships while traveling across the Atlantic Ocean. Some perished on their journey, and others suffered from malnutrition and disease. Although some records were lost, Jeanne arrived in Quebec in 1670, and historians believed she was about eighteen years old. That year eighty-seven women immigrated to the continent.

Unlike many of her contemporaries, Jeanne did not marry right away. Instead, she contracted for one year of service with a native of Quebec, Madeleine de Chavigny, at Cap-de-la-Madeleine.

Jeanne’s future husband, Noel Carpentier, arrived in 1665 and worked as a servant for a time. On 22 Jun 1669, Noel accepted about 35 acres of land from Nicholas Crevier dit Belleviue, and a few years later, he decided to settle down and start a family.

About 1672, Noel Carpentier and Jeanne Toussaint married in Cap-de-la-Madeleine. While her paper trail grew cold, Jeanne helped her family thrive in the new land. While living in this town, the couple had two children, Marie Madeleine (1673), and Marie Jeanne (25 Nov 1676). Around 1678, the family moved to Quebec. Their son, Etienne was born in 1678.

Sometime after the birth of their son, the family moved again to Champlain. The family settled in this town and remained in this settlement. The couple had seven more children, Medard (2 Aug 1681), Marie Marguerite (4 Mar 1684), Marie Antoinette (11 Jan 1686), Marie Therese (3 Jul 1689), Marie Celeste Anne (18 Jun 1691), Jacques (14 Apr 1694), and Noel (5 Nov 1703).

According to the 1681 Census, the family was listed twice, in Cap-de-la-Madeleine and Champlain. Most genealogists and historians believed the couple owned land in both places. The information stated the couple held nine head of cattle and about 30 acres of land.

Tragedy did strike the family, for the census did not list Jacques, and many believed he died as a child. Years later, on the 5 Nov 1703, Noel and Jeanne lost their oldest daughter, Marie Madeleine, in Champlain. 

Five years later, on 11 Dec 1708, Jeanne’s last will and testament were notarized by Normandin. Five days later, she died, and on the 17 Dec 1708, she was buried in Champlain. She was about fifty-two years old.

Noel lived until he was eighty-five years old. He died 26 Jan 1728, and he was buried next to Jeanne. Four of their children settled at Ile-Dupas; two children moved to Becancour, one daughter, Marie Jeanne, became a nun at Notre Dame in Montreal. She took the name Sister Sainte-Genevieve. The rest of their children stayed in their original parish.  

Life as a King’s Daughter required strength and courage to survive the rugged wilderness of the French Colonies. These women not only coped with frontier life but also raised children amidst all their duties. They conquered their surroundings and left a legacy for their children and grandchildren. What a revelation and an honor to know that the women in my family were resilient, valiant, and capable, even when faced with enormous obstacles and reservations.

Painting by The Arrival of the French Girls at Quebec, 1667. Watercolour by Charles William Jefferys.

The King’s Daughters

Sources

  • Gagné Peter J. King’s Daughters and Founding Mothers: the Filles Du Roi, 1663-1673. Quintin.
  • Gale Research. U.S. and Canada, Passenger and Immigration Lists Index, 1500s-1900s, Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2010, search.ancestry.com/search/db.aspx?dbid=7486.
  • Genealogical Research Library, Ontario, Canada. U.S., Department of Veterans Affairs BIRLS Death File, 1850-2010, Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2005, search.ancestry.com/search/db.aspx?dbid=7920.
  • Laforest, Thomas John., and Jeffrey M. LaRochelle. Our French-Canadian Ancestors. LISI Press, 1989.
  • PRDH, Drouin Institute, http://www.prdh-igd.com.
  • “Quebec, Genealogical Dictionary of Canadian Families (Tanguay Collection), 1608-1890.” 1920 Census | 1920 US Federal Census Records | Ancestry.com, Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2011, search.ancestry.com/search/db.aspx?dbid=2177.
  • Quebec, Canada, Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1968. Online Publication – Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2008.Original Data – Gabriel Drouin, Comp. Drouin Collection. Montreal, Quebec, Canada: Institut Généalogique Drouin.Original Data: Gabriel Drouin, Comp. Drouin Collection. Montreal, Quebec, search.ancestry.com/search/db.aspx?dbid=1091.

Stop the Press!

In order to hereunto, the Publisher will take what pains he can to obtain a Faithful Relation of all such things: and will particularly make himself beholden to such Persons in Boston whom he knows to have been for their own use the diligent Observers of such matters.

Benjamin Harris

Home

Home for me has several implications. It is doused in memories of the people and places that offer sweet memories of the past, joy in the moment, and all the promises for the future.  Life was not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination.  It was sometimes uneasy, and painful and raw; still, love found its way into my life and tangled my heart with many that I hold so dear.  Deep within, I know I have been blessed with the love and companionship of family and friends.  I have cherished them all.

Continue reading “Home”

The Piggy Bank

Screen Shot 2018-10-15 at 11.59.22 AMWhen I was a little girl, I lived in my mama’s hometown, Hotchkiss, Colorado.  On my first birthday, I celebrated the day at my grandparent’s house, a small cabin situated on Roger’s Mesa.  One of my gifts from my grandparents was a little piggy bank.  It was a pig in a barrel.  I still have that little bank, and it means the world to me.  According to my mom, my grandparents fussed over this gift before they decided on this little guy.  Sweet memories. Continue reading “The Piggy Bank”

The Gift of the Magpie

This adventure actually took place when my mom was about six or seven years old.

The early morning air still carried the coolness of night, but as the sun climbed higher, the promise of another scorching day on the dusty mesa became undeniable. Across the meadow, sheep quietly grazed in the pasture, while playful lambs jumped, kicked, and butted heads, their high-pitched bleats breaking the stillness of the morning. Nearby, the cows, freshly milked, wandered contentedly, flicking their tails against the rising swarm of flies. The golden glow of the morning sun cast soft light along the rugged peak of Mount Lamborn, painting a breathtaking view of the North Fork Valley.

A wisp of smoke curled from the chimney of a small cabin perched on Roger’s Mesa. Inside, the warmth of a crackling wood stove filled the kitchen as the family wrapped up breakfast and settled into their daily routines. The man of the house had already left for town, leaving the mother and her daughters to finish the morning chores. The rhythmic clatter of dishes filled the cabin as Elva set a pot of water to boil, preparing for the task of washing up.

As conversation flowed between the women, young Dotty, the littlest of the bunch, fidgeted in her chair. She had something on her mind—something important.

“Mama,” she started, her eyes wide with excitement, “can I go catch a magpie today? I really want to take care of it and train it. Please, Mama?”

The family had recently lost their last pet magpie when it took flight and never returned, and Dotty was eager to replace it. More than that, she wanted to be the one to find the bird herself.

Her mother smiled at her youngest daughter’s adventurous spirit.

“Yes, you can find a bird,” she agreed, “but only after you finish your morning chores.”

That was all Dotty needed to hear. With a burst of energy, she bolted out the door, eager to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. However, in her excitement, she forgot one crucial thing—the egg basket. Realizing her mistake, she dashed back to the house but froze before opening the door.

Voices carried from inside.

Curious, Dotty pressed her ear to the wooden frame, listening to her sister, Barb, who clearly thought her little sister was out of earshot.

“But, Mama, I want to get the bird. I’m the oldest! I should be the one to find it,” Barb insisted.

Their mother’s response was gentle but firm. “Now, your little sister won’t be able to catch a magpie. She’s just too little.”

Dotty’s heart sank. Too little?

A storm of frustration bubbled inside her. She clenched her fists, stomping her foot silently in defiance. I’ll show them! she thought.

Determined, she turned on her heel and marched back to the chicken coop. She would finish her chores—quickly—but she would catch a magpie today.

The Journey Begins

After gathering the eggs, she carefully lifted the hem of her dress, tucking them into the soft folds of fabric to keep them from breaking. Moving slowly, she carried them back to the house, all the while thinking through her plan.

What do I need?

A sack to hold the bird. Food for the magpie. Lunch for herself.

She had it all worked out.

Once inside, she carefully placed the eggs in a woven basket before filling a bowl with water and gently scrubbing them clean. With the final task complete, she turned to her mother, practically bouncing on her heels.

“All done! Can I use a gunny sack and take some hamburger for my magpie? And a sandwich for me?”

Her mother chuckled at her eagerness and began gathering the necessary items. Dotty wrapped the hamburger in a clean cloth, tying the ends securely, then ran to the barn to grab an empty gunny sack. By the time she returned, her mother had packed her a small brown bag with two peach preserve sandwiches, an apple, and a mason jar of water.

Armed with her provisions, Dotty gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek and bolted out the door, her excitement nearly lifting her off the ground.

Then, she skidded to a stop.

Now what?

In her haste, she hadn’t actually considered where to find a magpie. She couldn’t go back inside to ask—that might make her mother second-guess letting her go in the first place.

So she did the only thing she could think of—she followed the lamb.

Dotty headed toward Mount Lamborn, where a natural rock formation in the mountain resembled a standing lamb. The local sheep ranchers considered it a fortunate omen, and today, she needed all the luck she could get.

After reaching the flatland, she spotted a few towering pine trees in the distance. Birds live in trees, she reasoned. The bigger the tree, the better the bird!

A Hard Lesson in Bird Catching

The midday heat bore down on her as she trudged through the dusty fields. When thirst got the best of her, she pulled out her mason jar, taking a long sip—only to grimace at the lukewarm water. It didn’t help much.

Eventually, she reached the cluster of pines and collapsed into the shade, catching her breath. She peered up into the branches, searching for nests, but saw nothing. Frustration began to creep in.

Her stomach rumbled.

Pulling out a sandwich, she bit into the sticky sweetness of peach preserves. No one made jam like her mama. The taste was comforting, and soon, between the heat and her full belly, sleep overtook her.

By the time she woke, the sun was higher, the air hotter, and her throat drier than ever. She had half a mind to give up and go home, but then—

A sharp squawk split the air.

Dotty froze.

Another squawk.

Heart pounding, she followed the sound to a grove of cottonwood trees. There, hidden in the crook of a thick branch, was a messy mud-and-stick nest—and baby magpies!

She had found them!

Determined, she tucked the gunny sack under her dress and started climbing.

Halfway up, her dress snagged on a jagged limb. Tugging it free, she heard an unmistakable rip!

“Momma won’t be happy about that,” she muttered.

And then—

SWOOSH!

A full-grown magpie dive-bombed her.

She shrieked, clutching the tree trunk as the angry parent bird flapped and squawked in fury. It took several swoops before it finally retreated, leaving Dotty shaken but resolute.

I didn’t come all this way for nothing!

At last, she reached the nest, peering in at the seven squirming babies. Carefully, she unwrapped the hamburger, offering them a bite. They gobbled it up eagerly. After inspecting the brood, she finally chose a chubby little bird with dark wings that shimmered blue in the sunlight.

“Come here, Maggie,” she whispered, gently placing it in the sack.

The bird fussed but quickly settled once she secured the bundle inside her dress.

Mission Accomplished

The trek home felt triumphant.

When she reached the ranch, her mother spotted her from a distance, waving her over.

Elva’s smile quickly faded when she saw the state of her daughter—dirty, scratched, and sporting a torn dress.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concern in her voice.

Before she could answer, Dotty thrust out the sack, beaming. “I did it!”

Her mother peeked inside, astonished. “You really found one?”

Dotty nodded proudly.

“What will you name it?”

“Maggie.”

Her mother laughed. “What if it’s a boy?”

“Then it’s short for Magpie.”

Elva pulled her daughter into a hug, relieved she was safe. As they walked to the barn together, Dotty prattled on about her adventure. She had proven she wasn’t too little after all.

And as her mother listened, she realized something—Dotty may have caught a magpie, but the real gift that day was her daughter’s unshakable spirit.

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Photo by Jongsun Lee on Unsplash