Travels with Eleanor Roosevelt #7: Mademoiselle - by Nan Brooks

Mademoiselle Marie Souvestre, beloved mentor

     When I began research for the script for Dear Mrs. Roosevelt, I knew the possibilities were overwhelming: the amount of material about her public life, the speculations about her private relationships, the facts as determined by the agenda of those who wrote about her.  I also knew that I had to rely on secondary resources because I could not afford to travel to do research. We produced the play on very slender shoestring tied into multiple knots. Not that traveling to the FDR Roosevelt Presidential Library at Hyde Park would have done me much good. That realization came later.

     Early on, I decided to rely upon what Eleanor said and wrote about her own life. I wasn’t interested in becoming embroiled in conflicts about what to reveal based upon anyone’s guesswork. I wasn’t going to insist, for instance, that Eleanor Roosevelt was a lesbian. She wrote her autobiography and expanded upon it as time went on and wrote multiple books on other subjects. She wrote a nationally-syndicated column for 26 years, gave interviews that were available on film. The library at Hyde Park and George Washington University have collection of her correspondence and papers. I began by reading published books and columns. In everything I read, however, I could see that there was plenty to find between the proverbial lines.

   

     During my research and well beyond, I was often struck by the neglect and deprivation the young Eleanor endured. The facts of her childhood. Her parents’ deaths, her father’s banishment because of his alcoholism, ER’s early understanding that she was ugly, her lonely years living with her austere grandmother were well-known facts. The details were what moved me. When she was about seven years old, one of her aunts realized that Eleanor had never learned to read simply because no one had noticed or thought to teach her. She could, however, speak French quite well because she had had a  French governess. It was her aunts, and especially her Auntie Bye, who would take an interest in the shy and lonely girl.

     The family names and relationships can be confusing.  Eleanor’s father, Elliott, was a brother of  Theodore Roosevelt. To make things a bit more confusing, she was named Anna Eleanor Roosevelt, Anna being her mother’s first name. So she was called Eleanor, though her mother  often made fun of her by calling her “Granny” because she was such a solemn child. It was another Anna Roosevelt, Theodore’s sister, who would make a big difference in Eleanor’s life.  When she married Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Eleanor became Anna Eleanor Roosevelt Roosevelt. They were fifth cousins once removed. His third-great grandfather was Eleanor’s fourth-great grandfather.

     Theodore had a remarkable sister, also named Anna and called Bamie by her siblings. To Eleanor she was Auntie Bye. This Anna Roosevelt Cowles lived in Washington D.C. with her husband, and became a trusted advisor to Theodore as he rose in prominence and through his presidency. She was brilliant, astute, and gregarious and opened their home to the movers and shakers of the city; some saw her as a power broker even long after Theodore’s death. In any case, she recognized her niece, Eleanor, as intelligent and neglected. She could also see that the nearly-six-foot tall girl had had few opportunities to meet other girls her age. 

     Auntie Bye insisted that the family send Eleanor off to school at Allenswood Boarding Academy near Wimbledon,  England.  The academy welcomed young women of high social standing from several countries in North America and Europe. Eleanor was delighted; It would be the only formal education she would receive and it lasted only two years. Allenswood was founded by Marie Souvestre and her partner Paolina Samaia, one of many lesbian couples who would become important to ER. At Allenswood, Eleanor would find herself. 

Eleanor with her classmates and teachers at Allenswood,
probably back row, second from right

     Mademoiselle Souvestre recognized Eleanor's intelligence and sensitivity and her eagerness to learn.  hen she realized that Eleanor’s wardrobe consisted of poorly fitting hand-me-downs from middle aged Roosevelt aunts, she provided her with a stylish dress for special occasions. She took Eleanor travelling through Europe during a school vacation when travel back to the States was out of the question. Eleanor remembered a moment on the train in Italy when Souvestre asked if she had ever seen Florence. Of course, she had not, so Souvestre insisted they disembark and stay in Florence, even sending the unchaperoned young woman off to see the city and museums alone. Eleanor was struck by the realization that Mademoiselle could do what she wanted to do without asking anyone's permission; her first understanding of what it meant to be an independent woman.

     It was Souvestre’s teaching that meant the most. She insisted that her students, all women of white privilege and wealth, were called upon to care for others who were “less fortunate” as the phrase went. Her progressive teaching went beyond nobless oblige, the practice of charity that did not require much personal involvement. Souvestre and the other teachers insisted that the women learn about how class and race affected people in their own countries. They learned what poverty meant and were strongly encouraged to make a difference.

     When Eleanor’s grandmother insisted that she return to the States to make her society debut, Eleanor was reluctant at best. She and Souvestre corresponded often for the rest of Souvestre’s life and Eleanor kept all of her letters. When I visited the Roosevelt Museum at Hyde Park long after I’d begun touring, I saw the tiny austere room where Eleanor slept in the big main house. There beside her twin bed was a photograph of Mademoiselle.

     It must have been the next day when Jane Winslow and I toured  Eleanor’s home at Val Kill, near the big Hyde Park mansion. The house had been a retreat for Eleanor and her friends Nan Cook and Marion Dickerman. (More of that story next time.)  The private rooms were not open for viewing and we were walking through the cottage sitting room when I noticed the photograph of Madeoiselle among many others on the wall. I said quietly to Jane, “Look, they’ve moved Mademoiselle from Eleanor’s bedside table.”  At that moment, one of the park rangers tapped me on the shoulder and almost whispered, “Can you come with me?” We followed her onto a screened porch where, I soon realized, Geraldine hoped we would not be overheard.

     “Have you read the new book?” she said. She could only mean one book, Blanche Wiesen Cook’s Eleanor Roosevelt was just out and her feminist scholarship revealed startling insights into ER’s life. Most of those insights matched what I had seen between the lines. None of it shocked me, but it was clear from Geraldine’s whispered conversation that the powers at the FDR Library (and probably the Roosevelt family) did not want the museum guides to talk about it. This first volume, as well as the two that followed, made clear the influence ER’s women friends had on her education, and indeed on her life and wellbeing. It also made clear Eleanor's deep affection for her women friends, which some found alarming.

     I was enthralled at Val Kill just being in the rooms where Eleanor had found sanctuary. Her modest home was a contrast to the Hyde Park big house and I wanted to walk through her believed rose garden. But another ranger insisted we watch a film about Eleanor’s life and afterward told us a story, parts of which I hadn’t read about or heard. He recounted how Eleanor and Franklin met in adulthood. They had been only slightly acquainted as children and Eleanor remembered Franklin asking her to dance at a family holiday party. The dance was brief and that was the end of it.

After she returned from Allenswood, Eleanor took Mademoiselle’s teaching to heart and went to volunteer at a settlement house on Rivington Street in New York City.

     Settlement houses were one result of the work of Jane Adams and the women of Hull House in Chicago, the beginning of what we’ve come to know as social work. At these community centers the residents of the neighborhood, often recent immigrants and always in dire need, could come to learn English, how to navigate city life, get physical exercise, find child care, and much more. Eleanor was put to work teaching calisthenics and said she soon learned much more from the settlement house clients than she could ever teach them.

     To reach Rivington Street Eleanor took the train along the Hudson River from her grandmother’s house at Tivoli into the city. One day she looked up to see her cousin Franklin, who was on his way to work at a law firm. “They talked that day and every day after”, said the park ranger. Soon Franklin asked if he could meet her at the settlement house and walk her to the train at the end of the day. While she found Franklin dashing and handsome, Eleanor was bothered by remarks he made about the “lazy poor people” and how they were just looking for handouts. So, when Franklin came to meet Eleanor at the end of the day, she asked if they could stop to see one of her students on the way to the train depot.

     When they entered the tenement, Franklin was shocked. It was clear that the living conditions were terrible and that the residents had done everything they could to keep their rooms clean and homey. Eleanor explained the concept of the hot bed to her cousin. There weren’t enough beds or pallets on the floor for each family member who lived in the cramped tenement rooms, so they worked different shifts. One person would sleep while another would work, then they would trade off so that each had a bed to sleep in and the bed never cooled. She pointed out that everyone in the extended family worked, including the children. Those who weren’t physically strong enough to work in factories did hand work at home. As the park ranger told us, “Franklin Roosevelt’s attitude about poor people changed after that day. Imagine what the country would have been like after the depression if he hadn’t learned from Eleanor.

     I loved the story of the first time Eleanor educated Franklin and immediately worked it into the play script. Years later, I was invited to be the keynote speaker (as Eleanor) for a progressive organization in New York and I told that story. At the mention of the Rivington Street Settlement House, several people in audience gasped. I wondered if I had committed a gaffe but could only keep going. At a reception later, the women came to talk with me – or rather with Eleanor. “We work at the Rivington Street center,” said one woman, “and it is hard work most days. We get so discouraged. But now we know that you walked up and down those same stairs and we are encouraged to going.”

Next week:  The real education of Eleanor Roosevelt continues

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