Donaville Broussard

 Donaville Broussard , a polished gentleman of his race, was the son of a mulatto slave of Emilier Caramouche . He was born in 1850, but appears vigorous. Light skinned, with blue eyes and a genial expression, he gave the story of his life in the French patois spoken by Louisiana French Negroes, which has been translated into English.

"My mama was daughter of one of the Carmouche boys. One of M'sieur Francois ' sons. She call herself Armance Carmouche . She was house servant for the family and I worked around the house. I remember my Madame brought me the little basket and it had a strap on it. I put the strap over the shoulder and went round with the sharp stick and picked up the leaves on the ground with the stick. "It was a great house with trees and flowers. Madams liked all clean and pretty. I never worked hard. The ladies and my mama, too, petted me as if I was the white child. "M'sieur had a widow sister. She made us learn the prayers. We were glad to go where she was for she always had something good in her bag for us. I never saw the baptizing. In those days all the slaves had the religion of the master and the Catholics didn't have no baptizing. They didn't have to half-drown when they got their religion. The church was 15 or 20 miles off. The priest came and held Mass for the white folks sometimes.  "I remember one wedding. My aunt got married. M'sieur Caramouche killed a big pig. The white folks ate in the house. The slaves sat under the trees and ate in the yard. At four o'clock the justice of the peace came. He was the friend of M'sieur Caramouchs . He made my aunt and the men hold hands and jump over the broom handle. When the priest come he made M'sieur sign some papers. "A slave always had to ask M'sieur to marry. He always let the women slaves marry who they wanted. He didn't loose by that. He was so good the man would come to his plantation. "We all wore the long chemise. Made out of heavy cloth. They made the cloth on the place and the women saved it up. We didn't wear the shoes. We didn't like them when we had them.  "Each slave could have the little garden. They raised vegetables and had a couple of beehives for the honey. "When the Yankees came they told us we could be free, but I don't know of any slaves that left. Old M'sieur died of the fever in the second year of the war. His wife died before he did. No children. They sold us, the house and everything. M'sieur Cyprien Arceneaux of Lafayette bought me and Madame Arvillian Bernard of St. Pierre bought the mama. They used to call it St. Pierre. They call it Carenero now. When war was finished I left M'sieur Arceneaux and lived with mama "A year and a half after that the mama married a black men and us three farmed the little farm. My step papa didn't like me. I was light. He and me couldn't get along. So when I had 20 years I left there and hired myself out. I saved till I bought a little piece of land for myself. Then I married and raised the family. Me and my wife and the children farmed that place up to ten years ago and then she died. My son farms the place now and I came to Beaumont. I live with my girl.

"I remember me in time of war we danced. Round dances. We sang and danced La Boulangere in time of war. De song go:

"'La Boulangere aint to victoire
Et nous, qui sont en guerre.
Voici le jour que je dois partir.
"'Mon cher ami, tu pars,
Tu me laiuses un enfant dans les bras et prend tes armes.
Et moi, je vais dans le moment verser des larmes.
"'Quand je serai en le guerre,
Tu se-ais de garnison.

Et tu m'oublirais moi.
Qui seral en les haillons.
"'J'entends le tambour out m'appelle A les points de jour.
Mon cher Amonde, si tu m'aimes
Tu penserais a not, tand tu serais, Dans tes plaisir.
Moi  que serai au bout du fusil!'

"I got one real scare. I was with M'sieur Arceneaur in Lafayette. There was the battle. Lots of fighting. Lots of killing. The Yankees came right inside the house. I stayed hid. "I don't know whether it's been better since the war. At all times one has his miseries. We managed to get along on the farm. But now I have nothing. Oh, I don't mean slavery was better than to be free. I mean times were better. "The reason I'm so light is, my mama was half-white. My papa was Neville Broussard and he was all white.

Donaville Broussard , a polished gentleman of his race, was the son of a mulatto slave of Emilier Caramouche. He was born in 1850, but appears reasonably vigorous. His tall form was clad in faded garments, but shoes are discarded in the heat of summer. His head is covered with gray hair and his cheeks and chin are covered with a close-cut beard. A gray mustache is on his upper lip. Light skinned, with blue eyes and a genial expression, he seated himself in the swing on his porch and gave the story of his life in the patois of the Louisiana French which, in translation, follows. "My mama she was de daughter of one of de Carmouche boys, one of Mr. Francois ' sons. Her, she call herse'f Armance Carmouche . She was a house servant for de fam'ly and I work 'roun' de house. I kin 'member when I was a li'l boy my mistus brung me a little basket. It had a strap on it and I put de strap over my shoulder and go 'roun' wid a sharp stick and pick up de leafs on de groun' wid de sharp p'int of de stick and put 'em in de basket. Dat was some of de fus' work I done, keepin' de yard clean."  "It was a big house wid lots of trees and flowers all 'roun'. My mistus she like eb'ryt'ing clean and pretty 'roun' de yard. I nebber did had to work hard. De ladies and my mama, too, dey spile and pet me lots of time. Dey pet me jes' like's if I been a white chile."  "My ol' marster he hab a widder sister. She uster git de slaves 'roun' her and mek 'em learn dey prayers. We uster pray eb'ry day. We was glad to go dere where she was for de prayers 'cuase she allus had sumpin' good in her bag for de chillen what could tell dere prayers 'thout makin' no mistakes. Iffen us said 'em eb'ry day den us didn' forgit when dey git back to us and our time come 'roun'." "I nebber see no baptizin'. In dem days all de slaves had de 'ligion of dey marsters and de Cath'lics didn' hafter half-drown when dey got dere 'ligion, but anyway de didn' hab no baptizin'. We didn' go to ch'ch. De chu'ch was far ways off mebby fifteen or twenty mile', but de pries' he come 'roun' sometimes and den dey hab mass in somebody' house for de white folks." "I 'member one weddin'. Dat was when my aunt git marry. My marster he kill a big pig and all de white folks dey come and eat in de house and de slaves dey all sit 'roun' under de trees, and dey eat out dere in de yard. 'Bout fo' o'clock in de afternoon de jestice of de peace, he was a good frien' of my marster, he come 'roun'. He mek my aunt and de man she gwine marry jine han's and jump over a broom handle, and dat mean dey was marry. Den when de pries' come he mek de marster sign some papers."  "A slave allus had to ax he marster iffen he could git marry. Sometimes a man on one plantation he marry a woman on anudder. Den sometime de marster of one he buy de other, and sometime he didn'. My marster allus let his wimmen go where dey want to, to marry, and he didn' loose nuffin' by it needer, 'cause he so good dat de men didn' had no trouble gittin' dey womans to come over on he plantation. You see de marsters would swap slave wimmen dat way."  "De slaves dey all wo' a long chemise. It was mek outen hebby cloth what de marster's carders and weavers mek. Dey hab dey own big loom to weave on. Den some of de slave wimmen would cut out de clothes and sew 'em up. My mama she uster sew de garments. We didn' wear no shoes in dem time'. We didn' like 'em when we had 'em." "De slaves had dey own li'l gardens and raise' veg'tables, but dey didn' plant much peas and co'n cause dey git all of dem dey want from ol' marster' co'nfiel'. Den mos' all de slaves hab a couple of bee hives, and dey had all de honey dey want "When de Yankees come in de war time dey tol' us dat we could run away and be jis's free as dey was, but I don' know of any of de slaves what lef'. Ol' marster he die of de fever in de secon' year of de war. His wife she done die befo' he did, and dey ain't had no chillun, so dey sol' us house and niggers and all. Mr. Cyprien Arceneaux of Lafayette he buy me and Missus Arvillien Bernard of St. Pierre buy my mama. Dey uster call it St. Pierre, but dey calls in Carenero now. When de war stop and freedom come I lef' ol' marster Arceneaux and go lib wid my mama on Mrs. Bernard ' place." "'Bout a year and a half atter de war my mama marry a black man and all us t'ree farm a little farm. But my step-daddy he didn' like me 'cause I was light. He say I too smart for my pants, and me and him jis' couldn' git 'long t'gedder. So when I 20 year ol' I lef' dere and go hire myself out. I kep' on workin' 'till I have 'nuff money to buy a li'l piece of lan' for myself. Den I git marry and us raise a fam'ly. Me and my wife, and de chillun when dey git big 'nuff, farm dat place up to ten year' ago, and den she die. Now my son he got de lan' and I come here to Beaumont to lib wid my daughter."  "Dey sho' uster like to play marbles in dem times. Eb'rybody play, young folks and ol' folks. De white folks uster git lot of fun outen comin' 'roun' on Sunday afternoon and watchin' de niggers play marbles. Dey uster like to dance too. Dey had 'roun' dances. Dey uster sing and dance "La Boulangere" in de time of de war. De song go:

'La Boulangere dans ta victoire Et nous qui sont en guerre, Voice le jour que je dois partir, Mon cher ami, tu pars.
Tu me laisses un enfant dans les bras et prends tes armes.
Et moi, je vais dans le moment, verser des larmes.'
'Quand je serai en guerre, toi tu serais de garnison
Et tu m'oubliri, moi qui sera en haillons.
J'entends le tombour qui m'appelle a les points du jour.
Mon cher armande si tu m'aime tu perserais a moi, quandTu serais dans tes plaisirs Moi qui serai au bout du fusil.'
A rough translation of the above is:

The baker woman is in her victory and we have to go to war.
This is the day that I must depart.
 You leave me with an infant in arms while you take arms (weapons) and I will be shedding tears at the moment.
 When you are following war and you are dressed in your finery you will forget me in rags.
 I hear the drum which calls me at the break of day.
 My dear if you love me you will think of me when you are following pleasure And I am following the butt of a gun.'
 
"When de slaves was sick dey was allus took good care of and iffen dey got real sick dey sen' for de doctor.""I heerd tell of some marsters what was mean to dere slaves, and treat' 'em cruel. I nebber see none of dat myself and I wouldn't like to hurt nobody, dead or alive, so I can't tell for sure dat dey was mean ."I hear tell dat Mr. Emile Mouton uster beat his slaves 'till de blood run, but Madam, I don' like you to write dat down 'cause I nebber see dat myself.""De only real scare I git durin' de war was when I was wid Mr. Arceneaux in LaFayette. Dey had a battle dere and dere was lots of fightin' and killin' and it sho' was bad wid de Yankee goin' right inside de houses. Dey didn' come to Mr. Arceneaux ' house but me, I stay hid anyhow.""I dunno if it was better for my people befo' de war dan now, 'cause at all times peoples has dere miseries but for myself, I allus had plenty to eat and nobody eber eben slap me and I didn' hafter work hard. Den when I got a place of my own us allus manage' to git along. But now I don' have nuttin'. De gov'ment sent me money for t'ree mont' but now dey don' sen' nuttin'. Oh, I don' mean dat slav'ry was bettern'n freedom. I menas times was better, or mebby we didn' mean so much." "My pa was Nerville Broussard and he was a white man. I was fifteen year' ol' when de war close. Dey was 'bout ten mens and wimmens on de place. De houses us lib in was mek outen logs. De flo's was dirt though.""Dat finish my story, dat's all I knows about dem days."