A family picture at the grave of my 3x-great-grandfather, Jean Dominique Marie Emeric de Nux.
I considered entitling this short reflection “Love Letter to a Lost Homeland”, but I debate the accuracy of describing the region of my ancestors and of my childhood and adult years as entirely “lost” to Americanization. There certainly is a looming possibility of total loss of our culture, our history, our music, and, most importantly, the practice of our Religion in south Louisiana, but that there is no need for me to specify that “Religion” (but merely to capitalize the first letter of the word) is perhaps a sign of hope.
“This Tremendous Weight” came forth from the depths of my recollection through the various bullet points in my memory as more apt given the existence of a precipice, the proximity of an abyss into which we have not fallen - yet.
First, let us address the glaring problem of the language in which I write to you (yes, to you, my dear fellow Louisianais). Despite most certainly being a sign of homogenization - and therefore lack of independence - and a loose thread in the seams of the fraternal relationships that make us who we are and made us who we were, let’s not fret the use we can make of the enemy’s own weapon. American English, here, can serve the purpose of the multitudinous languages in which the Holy Apostles preached at Pentecost.
The journey we have to take together will lead us back, as did that same evangelization when the Holy Spirit descended in flame, into a more ancient tongue that is indeed also inseparable from the Church, spoken as it was by her eldest daughter and her eldest sons.
My premier ancêtre to immigrate to Avoyelles Parish, Emeric de Nux (Jean Dominique Emeric Marie de Nux), wrote a somber ode to Tradition with the title “Rome ou Malte”. Published in Paris in 1866 by Charles Douniol, it describes the destruction of history, culture, justice, and Religion caused by the thoughtless brutality of the forces of revolution, and, in so doing, perhaps provides insight regarding his reasons for leaving France. Did he still recognize his homeland as one of the greatest incubators of civilization in all of Europe, or was he haunted by the same forces that pursue the supplantment of our own way of life today, here in the New-Old World that is (was?) New France?
The personal history of the de Nux family? We maintain records of our family from the 1500s onward, and we had an intimate brush with the Revolution of 1789 when armed thugs forced the family from its ancestral home near Pau and the new government’s gestapo-like police hunted for Dominique de Nux, compelling him to live in hiding.
The well-known seizures by the revolutionary government of the property of nobles and the Church is perhaps more thoroughly documented than the effects of these seizures on the people of France. One notable (and notably under-noted) example of the rapaciousness of the revolutionary powers in France was the genocide of Catholics that occurred in the Vendée by order of Robespierre after the final defeat of the counterrevolutionary forces of the Armée Catholique et Royale: nuns and priests bound together and cast into rivers to drown (i.e. the infamous “Republican weddings”), infants speared on bayonets, girls raped and hung from trees.
Immigration from France to Acadie occurred prior to these events in France, but, significantly, there are shared surnames between the Cajun families and those in the Vendée. Owls hoot on both sides of the Atlantic: “a l’ombre de nos halliers”, as goes the old march of the Vendéens, “Le Chant de Fidélité”.
Often overlooked is the reality that the invasion and subjugation of Acadie by Britain was not merely political, but religious. Could Acadians swear loyalty to a Protestant king? Did Britain have any great love for Catholics?
To preserve their patrimony, the Cajuns wandered through the wilderness of North America like the Israelites through the wilderness of Sin.
What will we do to preserve our patrimony as we sit aimless in the wilderness of post-industrial modernity?
From the song “Dégénérations” by Mes Aïeux:
Ton arrière-arrière-grand-père a vécu la grosse misère
Ton arrière-grand-père, il ramassait les cennes noères
Et pis ton grand-père, miracle, y est devenu millionnaire
Ton père en a hérité, il l'a toute mis dans ses REER
Firstly, we must address the generational failure-to-transmit. We can blame the illegitimate sale of the Louisiana territory by an illegitimate, tyrannical usurper. We can blame the edict of 1926 banning French in the schools. We can talk of modernization and commerce. We can blame this and that, de choses et d’autres. However, the primary responsibility for the transmission of culture to our children lies with us, their parents.
With what tenacity did the Vendéens hold onto Religion and their fiery love and fidelity to their king? With what all-enduring perseverance did the Acadians carry their way of life upon their backs all the way down to the rivers and bayous?
Are we willing to carry any burden at all? It is easy to say “I’m from Louisiana”, “I’m Cajun”, “I’m Creole”, but only a little less easy to say “Je viens de Louisiane”, “Je suis Cadien”, “Je suis Créole”.
It is easy to say “I’m Catholic”, but only a little less easy to faithfully attend La Sainte Messe le dimanche and on Holy Days of Obligation, make a good Confession at least once a year, receive Holy Communion during Easter, observe the prescribed days of fasting and abstinence, contribute to the support of the pastors of the Church, and “Not to marry persons who are not Catholics, or who are related to us within the third degree of kindred, nor privately without witness, nor to solemnize marriage at forbidden times”.
Do we not know our history? Do we not understand what relief and grace the refugees from Acadie must have experienced, when, at the end of their journey, they were received with the indescribable blessing of a priest, Father Jean Louis Civrey, sent to them by the acting French governor, Jean Jacques Blaise d'Abbadie? Do we underestimate the significance of the first great act of permanent settlement in St. Martinville by the Acadians - the building of the historic St. Martin of Tours Catholic Church?
A people of the Faith. A people of fidelity: “Fidèles à la vrai flamme, Fidèles à leurs enfants”.
I have witnessed all my life the incredible capacity of our people - including myself - in this age to take all of this for granted. We send our children to Catholic schools that are no longer Catholic. We don’t teach the Faith at home, but merely go to Mass on Sundays and expect catechesis to occur via osmosis - or we go only on Christmas and Easter in an attempt to give veracity to “I’m Catholic” (not a Catholic thing to do) … and many go not at all.
We boil crawfish once or twice a year. Sometimes we insult our ancestors by partying with feasts of fresh seafood on Fridays - even in Lent. We take pride in producing a decent gumbo or Jambalaya or dirty rice. These are paltry things to cling to, tattered finery, the mere trappings of a once-great tradition - and even then, bastardized and conformed to the spirit of the age: pleasure, convenience, ease, ceaseless partying … poor memorials for a culture built with self-denial, difficulty, hardship, penance.
It’s a simple and hard truth: If we lose our Faith (as we are now quite effectively doing), we will lose our ability to identify with the ancestors whose very Faith brought them here and whose very Faith inspired them to have many children, and so here you are. Here we are.
“Dégénérations” again:
Ton arrière-arrière-grand-mère, elle a eu quatorze enfants
Ton arrière-grand-mère en a eu quasiment autant
Et pis ta grand-mère en a eu trois, c'tait suffisant
Pis ta mère en voulait pas, toé t'étais un accident
If we do not know that Christ is both God and King, then we do not know what it means to be Francophone. “Vive Dieu, Vive Le Roi !” the Poitevins cried as they were slaughtered by the Bleus.
It is no wonder, then, that we are intent on losing our language in favor of “la langue de les conquis”, as Jourdan Thibodeaux sings avec beaucoup de force in his cri-de-coeur, “La Prière”. And what is the language of the conquered? Not just American English, but Americanism (the current face of revolution): life through a smartphone, life at the supermarket, life through online shopping, life through a car note, life through a mortgage, life through careerism, life through moving every 5 years for un travail stupide and therefore life without close family ties, life through money, life through consumption, life through mainstream music, life through hedonism, life without God, life unlived!
What is the cost? What is the weight?
What is your promise to me and to my children?
And what is my promise to you and to your children, mes chers Louisianais?
Je me souviendrai d'eux, mes ancêtres, et en particulier, et premièrement, de la Foi qu'ils m'ont donnée, and I will give the Faith to my children.
I will also continue to do, as I have done, my part for the culture. I will continue to teach my children la langue des vainqueurs. I will continue to give to Louisiana as it was given to me by the French, du foie gras. De temps en temps, a derivative culture can use an infusion from her motherland, et donc voilà.
You question me. You say, “but Catholicism has become bland and worldly and the priest talks about football from the pulpit”.
This is because you are not attending Mass as our ancestors did. You go to an English-language Mass - written by the self-same, wrecking-ball revolutionary spirit that we fought in 1789 - that will eventually be abrogated due to its all-too-striking similarities with Cranmer’s “Mass”. Worship God with all dignity and reverence as our ancestors worshiped Him: assist at the Traditional Latin Mass that has existed from time immemorial and which unites all the world in universal worship of the One, True God as He Himself has ordained. Attend but once and watch (do not attempt to understand) and allow yourself to be transported into the shoes of Claude de La Colombière or Marguerite-Marie Alacoque as she prayed for Louis XIV or St. Teresa of Ávila or St. Louis IX, King of France, before he left on Crusade … and see if you do not see your ancestors there beside you.
Will you be there, also, the ancestor beside your descendent, praying and asking God for the strength to bear this tremendous weight upon his shoulders?
More poignantly even: imagine you are Beausoleil Broussard overcome during that first mass at St. Martin of Tours in St. Martinville.
A word that the World hates: Crusade.
But we are on Crusade: “Défendons la tradition”. And on this Crusade we have a weapon: the language that bears our Faith and that bears our Culture. It has never been a better time to rehabilitate that fading, but most essential, part of our common patrimony. As Charles de Gaulle said, “How can you govern a country where there exist 258 varieties of cheese ?” I say, “How can you govern a country with thousands of varieties of jambalaya: your mother’s and everyone else’s?” Or rather: “Comment gouverner un pays où il existe mille variétés de jambalaya : celui de sa mère et celui des mères des autres ?”
I look forward to the day when you and I ensemble, mon louisianais bien-aimé, pouvons dire, dans la langue de notre pays, “Vive Dieu, Vive Le Roi, Vive La Culture, Vive La Religion, Vive La Louisiane !”
Lâche pas la patate (mais donnez-la à vos enfants !),
Ross
Our Lady of Prompt Succor, Hasten to Help Us!