In 1946, the British government expropriated Vale House, Mazo’s home in England, and Mazo and Caroline sold Trail Cottage. In 1953 the family moved into 3 Ava Crescent in the posh Forest Hill district of Toronto. There Mazo and Caroline stayed until their deaths.
This last home in Forest Hill was as English as it could be. Large and rambling, with Tudor-style timbers, a panelled entrance, snug library, terrace, and deep fireplace, it had badly heated, undecorated servants’ quarters on the top floor.
Mazo de la Roche at about eighty.
12
Endings
This latest period of mine is mostly a record of books written, of seeing my children grow up, of seeing a different sort of world arise to my astonished view.
“Meals at certain times,” muttered Esmée. “Have lunch. Have tea… They read out loud to each other. They go for walks. You know what time it is when they call the dogs. They go to bed at the same time every day… Of course they have a cook and a maid, so naturally the meals have to be on time, but I wonder why they can’t have some freedom.
“Mazo writes from 10 until noon every day. She isn’t a flexible person. It was her upbringing. Her grandparents were staid. Everything she knows she was taught by her grandparents. She was terribly protected.
“She doesn’t know how to cope with the outside world. She has a few friends, but not so many I feel sorry for her. She’s missing a lot of what the world is about.”
During the final two decades of her life, Mazo experienced some personal troubles that marred her otherwise contented and productive life. Now and then Caroline was ill. Sometimes Mazo was ill: now the flu, now a kidney infection, eventually Parkinson’s disease and rheumatoid arthritis. Occasionally Mazo had troubles with servants. Sometimes she worried about René or clashed with Esmée.
After the family moved to Canada, Esmée and René both attended private boarding schools and summer camps, so they were never home for long. Both children married in 1953, and René was soon a father. Eventually he had three children.
René always felt close to Mazo. Yet, when he was a child he showed signs of being somewhat unhappy, for he was neither a good student nor a good mixer. And when he was a man he was rather unstable. For example, he married three times.
After René dropped out of university to get married for the first time, Mazo tried to help him find a good job. On René’s behalf, Mazo wrote to important men.
Mazo wrote to her friend and long-time editor Rache Lovat Dickson in 1954: “As for René, he is working with a Belgian engineer and a gang of French Canadians, making a road through a forest, eighty-five miles north of his home. It has been a wet cold summer and he is soaked through most of the time and is sleeping under canvas.”
Mazo asked in this letter whether Mr. Lovat Dickson, a director and the general editor of her British publisher, Macmillan, could give René a letter of introduction to take to author and scientist C.P Snow, a director of English Electric, who was visiting Canada on business. Mazo hoped Mr. Snow would give René a better job.
Mr. Snow met René. But Mr. Snow did not give René a job.
Eventually, through a contact at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, Mazo got René a job in a cement-making firm.
Meanwhile Esmée felt alienated from Mazo and Caroline. Esmée felt the women had discarded her like an unwanted toy when she ceased to be a cute child. She thought Mazo and Caroline were too old to understand her.
Although Mazo and Caroline were generous with their money in many ways, they made Esmée wear their hand-me-down clothing. The clothing had been made over for Esmée by a seamstress, but it still looked strange. She had to go to a high-school formal looking like a Kate Greenaway character! So Esmée felt.
Esmée also saw the women’s life as too regimented. She left home when she was eighteen. She didn’t see the family much after her marriage. At Christmastime she would put in an appearance.
Mazo also had some professional troubles. Or so she felt. She often complained that her work was dismissed by her fellow countrymen while it was praised abroad, especially in England. This had been true in the case of Delight in 1926, but it was not true after the third Jalna novel appeared. After the publication in 1931 of Finch’s Fortune, reviewers in Canada did not differ from reviewers in the United States and Britain. On both sides of the Atlantic, most reviewers doubted that the quality of the series could be maintained if there were too many sequels.
Yet some intelligent, well-read Canadians were still praising Mazo’s work. For example, in 1940 novelist and critic Robertson Davies wrote that Mazo was “that rare creature in the literary world, a born storyteller.”
When The Building of Jalna was published in 1944, one British book critic wrote: “It does not contain a single line or a single idea to prompt any serious thought.” Other British critics made similarly disparaging remarks.
After the Second World War, most Canadian reviewers saved their highest praise for the rising stars of Canadian literature. They lauded Hugh MacLennan, whose Two Solitudes won the Governor General’s Award in 1945. They raved about Gabrielle Roy, whose Tin Flute won the Governor General’s Award in 1947.
But in 1951 Mazo received a silver medal from the University of Alberta. Mazo was the first recipient of this national award, which was established to honour Canadians whose careers had contributed greatly to literature, painting, or music. Furthermore, in 1954 Mazo received an honorary degree from the University of Toronto.
Also, Mazo’s books continued to sell well in Canada and abroad. The critics might have mocked The Building of Jalna, but it was on the New York Times bestseller list.
And Mazo continued to enjoy a satisfying relationship with her innumerable readers. She received thousands of fan letters from all over the world in countless languages from individuals with all levels of education. And she replied to many of them herself. Indeed, her own need to keep telling the story of the Whiteoaks was inspired by her fans’ need to know more about them.
After the Second World War, in France, Mazo was the most widely read author of any nationality. In communist Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Hungary, pirated editions of her novels circulated widely. In Norway, houses, dogs, and even children were named after the house Jalna or individual members of the Whiteoak family. Indeed, there were houses called “Jalna” in Greece, Australia, Egypt, and the United States! In the U.S., one could buy “Jalna” sneakers. In Canada, streets, restaurants, and schools were named after Mazo and her Jalna books.
In international popularity Mazo was rivalled only by a few female writers of the next generation. One of these rivals was English writer Daphne du Maurier, who had been born in 1907. Du Maurier was the author of Jamaica Inn, Frenchman’s Creek, and Rebecca. Another rival was American writer Margaret Mitchell, born in 1900. Mitchell was the author of Gone with the Wind.
Actually, Mazo may have influenced Mitchell. In Jalna, a minor character named Miss Pink blushes and turns into “Miss Scarlet.” Miss Scarlett is the name of the main character of Gone with the Wind. In Jalna, Alayne Archer asks her beloved, Renny Whiteoak, whether the time since they last met seems long or short to him. Renny replies, “Gone like the wind.”
“Jalna, with its faded red brick, almost covered by vines, its stone porch, its five chimneys, rising from the sloping roof where pigeons eternally cooed and slid, where their droppings defaced the leaves of the Virginia creeper and the window sills, where smoke was always coming out of one or more of the chimneys and where the old wooden shingles so often managed to spring a leak.”
So the grand old home of the Whiteoak family is described in Centenary at Jalna. Published in 1958, Centenary was the fifteenth Jalna book that Mazo wrote. (The sixteenth Jalna novel and the last to be published was Morning at Jalna. It was not very good. ) Centenary at Jalna was set in 1953 and 1954.
Mazo wrote Centenary, the proper end of the Jalna series, when she was almost eighty years old. Centenary is the story of how the Whiteoaks celebrate
the one-hundredth anniversary of the building of their home. Mazo’s portrait of the family is sardonic and suggests that this aristocratic tribe is degenerating.
Renny, now past sixty but with few grey hairs, is still the head of the clan. Renny is scheming to celebrate the centennial by marrying his daughter Adeline to his nephew Philip, so the estate will stay in the family. Philips father Piers (Renny’s half-brother) agrees this is a good idea. But Philip’s mother, Pheasant, disagrees. So does Adeline’s mother, Alayne,
“Who do they think they are?” cries Pheasant. “Arranging other peoples lives. Pushing them about like pawns. Why – you’d think Jalna was a dukedom instead of just an Ontario farm!”
Alayne thinks a union between the first cousins would be bizarre and “dangerous.”
Heedless of the mothers’ wise counsel, the fathers push ahead with their scheme and manage to interest young Adeline and Philip in it too. This stubborn stupidity on the part of Renny and Piers is matched by that of Finch, who is now also the father of a teenager. Finch habitually neglects and even rejects the son he had by Sarah Court, who has been dead for a number of years. This son, Dennis, now thirteen, has developed serious emotional problems that eventually lead to tragedy.
Mazo’s portrait of the disturbed Dennis is brilliant, but Centenary at Jalna is not all about the darkness of incest and madness. The novel is also about the light of intelligence and love, as well as humour. University student Archer Whiteoak, the younger child of Renny and Alayne, is cold but witty and well able to mock the strange notions of his elders and peers. Eight-year-old Mary Whiteoak, the youngest child of Piers and Pheasant, is well-balanced, charming, and kind. Noah Binns, the ignorant hired man who is always making gloomy predictions, provides comic relief.
By the end of Centenary at Jalna, the Whiteoaks seem to be on the verge of disaster, but in the final scene, some hope for the future emerges. Innocent little Mary Whiteoak coos lovingly over Finch’s second child, a baby boy whom Finch also neglects. “You’re prettier than a spider, sweeter than a rose,” sings Mary. This dear little girl will perhaps give new life to the dynasty engendered by her great-grandparents.
Mazo de la Roche died quietly in the early morning of July 12, 1961 at her home in Toronto, in bed in the presence of her family. She had been bedridden and in the care of nurses for several years, but she had been working on a seventeenth Jalna novel – never completed. After Mazo passed away, Caroline immediately went into her own room and closed the door. Later that day she sent a telegram to Mazo’s publisher: “MAZO LEFT US LAST NIGHT PLEASE TELL THE OTHERS.” She burned Mazo’s diaries.
Caroline overrode Mazo’s will, which said she should be buried in Toronto. Caroline directed that Mazo be buried in St. George’s churchyard beside Sibbald Point Provincial Park on the south shore of Lake Simcoe, near Sutton.
For eleven years Caroline lived on alone in the house on Ava Crescent in Toronto. Along with her fellow executors – René, Esmée, and lawyer Daniel Lang (later Senator Lang) – Caroline dealt with requests regarding Mazo’s literary legacy.
Caroline donated most of Mazo’s papers to the University of Toronto. Today these papers are stored in boxes in the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto. The boxes take up nine metres of shelf space. The papers include personal and business letters, first editions of her books, fan letters, and original manuscripts.
Caroline also gave interviews to Mazo’s first biographer, Ronald Hambleton. And she negotiated television rights for the Jalna series with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.
“They think I am just a stupid old woman,” said Caroline to the darkness. “No one cares about my opinion.”
Caroline was furious. The tiny, elderly woman of ninety-three lay awake in bed for hours on that hot July night in 1971, in her home in Toronto. She who had been the model for the beautiful young Alayne Archer had lived nearly as long as Gran Whiteoak! And now she would dearly like to thrash someone with her cane, like Gran used to do.
“How dare they?” Caroline muttered. “And now nothing can be done to stop them! It’s a good thing that Mazo is dead! She would have been terribly upset!”
Suddenly Caroline felt a presence in the room. She turned her head toward the presence. It was Gigi, the honey-coloured cat that had arrived on their doorstep as a kitten when Mazo was still alive.
“Those people from the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation were so underhanded,” Caroline said to Gigi. “They plied me with flowers, talking books, and music cassettes. They sent my favourite music to listen to during the long hours that I am alone. I shall never listen to anything produced by the CBC again!”
Gigi jumped up on the bed to be petted.
“I lie awake at night quite often, Gigi, and I can’t read any more because my eyesight is so poor,” said Caroline. “That’s why I listen to CBC Radio. I’m awfully lonely, Gigi. I do wish Mazo were still with us.”
Gigi purred.
“But I didn’t go to the screening tonight!” exclaimed Caroline. “And I told the children and all of our friends not to go either. The CBC types thought I’d be flattered to be invited to the screening, but I wasn’t fooled this time. I told them I didn’t want to see their stupid pilot episode,’ or whatever it is called. There is to be hardly a thing from our Jalna books, Gigi.
“They didn’t tell me until after I’d signed the contract that they were going to invent new material for the Jalna television shows. They said they wanted to bring the Whiteoaks ‘up to date!’ Mazo always disliked and distrusted television, and she was right. It’s all about American commercialism. Oh, I am so angry!”
Beyond the grey stone crosses, side by side, green leaves rustle and yellow sunlight sparkles on gentle blue waves. On a summer’s day the graveyard is lovely. On Mazo’s Celtic cross is the traditional French motto of the ancient de la Roche family: “Mon dieu est ma roche.” This means “My God is my rock.” There is also another sentence: “Death interrupts all that is mortal.”
When Caroline died on August 3, 1972, Esmée and René buried her beside Mazo. On Caroline’s plain cross is the sentence: “Hand in hand we kept the faith.”
Mazo and Caroline rest beside their beloved Lake Simcoe. They are on the southeast side of the lake, as far as possible from where Caroline’s family was so unhappy in Orillia. They are near where they vacationed so often – even in old age. They are not far from where their ancestors pioneered. They are in the centre of where it all happened. In all directions of the compass took place the real and imagined events that, with Caroline s help, Mazo made into wonderful stories.
“My books are transmuted reminiscences,” Mazo said once. “Whatever I am I have put into my books.”
Gravestones of Mazo de la Roche and Caroline Clement.
Epilogue
For many decades many Canadian academics have been saying that the Jalna novels are flawed because the Whiteoaks and their way of life are not realistic.
“Mazo de la Roche is a romantic artist. It is her romanticism, I believe, that has made her such an embarrassment to Canadian critics,” said one professor, Desmond Pacey.
Mazo created “larger-than-life characters with exaggerated passions,” said another professor, George Hendrick.
Mazo created a “myth of a humane, harmless gentry – living in the Canadian Great Good Place,” said a third professor, Dennis Duffy.
Yet the Jalna novels have always had defenders among educated people.
“The creation of the Jalna books is the most protracted single feat of literary invention in the brief history of Canada’s literature,” said literary critic and novelist, Robertson Davies.
The Jalna series covered with “comprehensive detail” a century of enormous change in this country, said a biographer and broadcaster, Ronald Hambleton. The series documented “the decline of an era.”
De la Roche’s work “forms the transition” between the generation of Margaret Atwood and Margaret Laurence and their “n
ineteenth-century foremothers,” Susanna Moodie and Catharine Parr Traill, said another biographer, Professor Joan Givner.
“The world of Jalna is an integral part of the roots of Canada,” said novelist Scott Symons. “To lose it would leave us groping for an abandoned identity.”
Academics, literary critics, and creative writers may continue to debate the value of Mazo’s work for many more decades, but no one can deny that she was once popular.
By the time Mazo died in 1961, the Jalna series had sold eleven million copies in 193 English-language editions and 92 foreign-language editions.
And today, Mazo is still popular in France. In 1994, France 2, a Paris-based private television station with public-broadcast responsibilities, aired Jalna, a TV mini-series based on Mazo’s novels. The station spent sixteen million dollars producing the series.
The only other female writer of Mazo’s time who lived in Canada and who ultimately enjoyed comparable success to Mazo was Lucy Maud Montgomery, the author of Anne of Green Gables and its sequels. Montgomery, born in Prince Edward Island, wrote for children, not adults: a traditional area of strength for women with literary ambitions. Mazo wrote for adults, and she was far more successful in this than most of her male colleagues.
The only male writer of Mazo’s time who lived in Canada and who ultimately enjoyed comparable success to Mazo was Stephen Butler Leacock. Leacock, who was born in England, was the author of Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town. He was another rich and famous Canadian writer who wrote too much too quickly but whose best work is of outstanding literary merit.
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 550
