Among the strange objects left by our predecessors, the paper “little Chinese” are fascinating. In the souvenirs left by my father were some of these naive images of Asian children that could be bought at school for a few cents, payable in stamps or in hard cash. In doing so, it was a question of “saving their souls”. Nothing less.
This disturbing religious iconography refers to a society that is not so far away, ours. A society that has nevertheless become foreign to us. The world and times are changing. The boundaries by which we can situate ourselves are constantly shifting. It is not for nothing that we often have difficulty envisioning ourselves in the midst of our past.
Buying “little Chinese” will be the formula promoted by the Work of the Holy Childhood. Note the sequence of capital letters, testifying to the importance that this title gives itself. The affair finds its origins in 1843, under the impetus of a zealous ultra-Catholic of Olympic class: Mgr de Forbin-Janson. Its objective? The Catholic evangelization of children around the world thanks to children who already are. Eyes are first turned towards Asia. Soon, it will be Africa.
An eloquent tribune, master of oratorical effects, and fiercely opposed to the reason advocated by the French Revolution, Mgr Forbin-Janson was welcomed as a hero in Quebec, in the dark period that followed the crushing of the uprisings of 1837-1838. The religious fervor that grew at that time was not unrelated to the talents of this gentleman, a true horticulturist of souls. In the writings of the 19th centurye Canadian century, the name Forbin-Janson appears frequently, symbol of a world clearly in search of talismans capable of giving meaning to its existence.
From 1922 until the 1960s, the Work of the Holy Childhood continued the momentum of this predecessor by imposing it in schools. Children were invited to devote themselves to foreign missions, symbolically acquiring other children, in the form of cards similar to those that my father had.
Historian Catherine Larochelle has just published a short essay entitled Marie-Louise and the little Chinese of Africa. She rightly saw in this story the complex signs of a society both troubled by its own situation and in search of relationships with the world. To try to understand better, she delved into the archives in Rome, where letters from Quebec Catholics sent to the Oeuvre de la Sainte Enfance are kept. These are not privileged people who write. Between the lines of the words that struggle, these letters speak of a world of distress and despair. Here are the words of a woman writing from Beauce in 1935: ” Well dear little Chinese I am sending you some stamps, he has 100 stamps if you want to be good enough to compensate me a little ” Letters of this kind are numerous. We are clearly faced with a world which hopes, through modest sacrifices, for relief from its own suffering.
Through her considerations on “the little Chinese of Africa,” the historian opens up various paths for us to understand Franco-America differently, beyond the oft-repeated colonial narratives. To this end, she summons to her bedside authors she respects and who are indeed estimable, while weaving a reflection on exploitation and feminism. I am not sure I follow her on all the paths she explores, but that doesn’t matter. Like her, this story of ritualized purchases of “little Chinese” has fascinated me for a long time. Her colorful book is a great opportunity to reflect on it.
In French Canada, it was a popular saying, in a formula that sounded like a revolving door, that language was the guardian of faith and that faith watched over language. This principle, erected as a sort of identity totem, served as a balm that allowed people to believe that, whatever happened, this society would persist, true to itself, in the shadow of a tradition that, by dint of looking back, confused hope for the future with the blissful contemplation of a fabricated past. The idea that French Canada would remain unchanged, a formula repeated so often, actually bore witness to the first cracks in a world that had now shattered. And those who, in the name of religion, barricaded themselves most behind a vitrified past were no less affected by new times.
From the second half of the 19th centurye century, French Canadians were among the most Catholic people on the planet. In the name of a memorial community, a large portion of the population of Quebec was encouraged to fall back on a core of Catholic doctrine, as an act of resistance to the winds of change that at the same time demonstrated a terrible submission.
A society that wanted to be closed in on itself, but which, in the name of this closure, projected itself as far as China, is that not wonderfully paradoxical? The important thing seemed to be to agree on an image of the world that was sufficiently convenient to support our own. Catholicism, beyond the real faith of its followers, was undoubtedly a national defense mechanism, a way of tempering a difficult reality that had to be softened on a psychological level. Unsurprisingly, this religious passion vanished as soon as the political and material situation of the world changed. Without any need for any law to achieve this.