Alida (Elida) Labbe Theroux 1832-1888

Seven Children, Two Countries, and One Name Nobody Can Agree On: The Story of Alida or Elida Labbé Theroux

Some ancestors announce themselves through newspaper headlines. Alida Labbé Theroux didn't. Her story survives in baptism entries, a few census pages, and the lives of the seven children she raised. Read together, they show a woman who crossed an international border, buried a husband's grief and her own, and kept a growing family together through 56 years. Start with her name. Her baptism says Alida, her death entry says Elida, and the family has gone back and forth on it ever since. In French, l'abbé means "the abbot."In French, l'abbé means "the abbot."

A girl from Yamaska

Alida was born on November 14, 1832, in Yamaska, Quebec, and baptized the same day. Her parents were François Michel L'Abbe and Dorothée Schmid. Her godparents were Denis Schmid and Mariane Catherine Labe. Her father was born in 1782 on the Île d'Orléans, near Quebec City, which means he was around 50 when she was born.

A Wedding and a Very Busy Decade

On January 25, 1853, Alida married Joseph Theroux, a neighbor two years her senior, at St. Michel, Yamaska. She was 20. Ten months later, on November 28, her first son, also named Joseph, was born.

Over the next 16 years she had seven children, five of them in Quebec:

• Joseph, born 1853
• Michel Alberic, born 1855
• Louis George, born 1858
• Charles Edward Henry, born 1861
• Marie Adeline, born 1864

Those are five children by the age of 32, with the youngest still a toddler when the family began the biggest decision of their lives.

Loss came along with the births. Her father died on January 4, 1860, at age 77, when she was 27. Her father-in-law, Theophile, died the following year, in 1861, the year Charles was born.

A Mother with a Lot to Celebrate

Alida lived to see five of her seven children marry:

• 1873: Joseph, the eldest, married Sophie Daniel in Hadley, Massachusetts.
• 1882: Three more sons married that year. Alberic married in April, Louis George in June, and Charles in September.
• August 1888: Marie Adeline married Joseph Albert Parent, just four months before Alida died.

Three weddings in six months in 1882 meant a busy household that year. Her four sons would grow up to be community leaders, and by 1891 they were prominent enough that their father's funeral drew 43 carriages. It's fair to say that much of the character shown at that funeral began with the woman who raised them. 

A Week in December 1888

Alida died on December 2, 1888, in Pawtucket, at age 56, and was buried two days later at Mount Saint Mary's Cemetery. The documents we have state she died of "disease of brain" which could mean multiple things at this time period of limited diagnostic tools (no imaging, no EEG, no reliable lab tests), so when the doctor didn't know or didn't want to specify. It was especially common as a gentler phrasing when the real cause carried stigma, such as syphillis, alcholish, or instanity. So it’s worth keeping in mind that the vagueness may be partly deliberate.

What happened afterward is striking. Six days after she died, her husband Joseph filed his petition for U.S. citizenship. Three days after that, sons Charles and Alberic were naturalized. In a single week, the family buried its mother and became American. We can't know whether the timing was planned or a coincidence, but it fits a family that was deciding to stay.

What her Story tells us

Alida left no diary, no letters, and no portrait. The portrait we have is of the people around her: five sons and daughters married in her lifetime, two more who married soon after, and a husband who went on to be mourned by hundreds. If you want to understand who she was, look at what she built.

Why her story matters to all of us

You don't have to be related to Alida to care about her, because her story answers questions most of us eventually ask: where did I come from, and what did it cost?

Ordinary lives are where history happens. Textbooks cover treaties and wars, but the move from Quebec to Rhode Island was made of people like Alida, packing a household with five children, learning a new place, and having two more babies there. Millions of families made similar journeys, and her story gives that big, abstract migration a face and a name.

You come from something. Nearly everything about her that survives is about other people: her children, her husband, the weddings she saw. Much of what shapes a person is quiet work that never gets credit, and her sons became community leaders partly because someone raised them.

It teaches how we know what we know. Was she Alida or Elida? Did she live in Montreal in 1861, or is that a different woman? Sorting that out is detective work, and it builds skills anyone can use: check sources, notice conflicts, and don't believe something just because it's written down.

It makes the 1880s feel close. She died at 56, and six days later her husband began the process of becoming an American citizen. That's not a distant "olden days" story. It's a family facing grief and big decisions at the same time, which people still do everyday.

In one sentence: she's why we're here, and she did it without ever knowing we'd ask.

Another 2nd Great GrandMother!

Joseph Theroux (1830-1891)

The Man Who Fell through a floor trap in a store, dying from those injuries, and the 43 Carriages That Followed His Body to the Cemetery!

Some people leave behind diaries or famous inventions. Joseph Theroux left something quieter: a paper trail of baptisms, marriages, census pages, and one very large funeral. Put together, it tells the story of a Quebec farm boy who became a Rhode Island mill-town citizen and raised sons who, by the time he died, were military officers.

A Quebec beginning

Joseph was born on November 26, 1830, in Yamaska, Quebec, and baptized the same day. His father, Theophile, was 33 and his mother, Julie Bernier, was 29. He grew up in the French-Canadian countryside along the Yamaska River, in the years around the Rebellions of 1837-38. He would have been a small boy when they broke out.

On January 25, 1853, he married Alida Labbé (some records say Elida) at St. Michel, Yamaska. She was 20, a neighbor born just two years after him, and the daughter of François Michel L'Abbe and Dorothée Schmid. The name confusion follows her through the records. Her baptism says Alida, her death entry says Elida, and the family still hasn't settled it.

A Family Built in Sixteen Years

Ten months after the wedding, their first son, Joseph, was born. Six more children followed:

•         Michel Alberic in 1855

•         Louis George in 1858

•         Charles Edward Henry in 1861

•         Marie Adeline in 1864

•         Clara in 1868

•         Rosanna in 1870

That makes seven children in about 16 years. Joseph's father, Theophile, died in March 1861, the same year Charles was born.

The Move South

Marie Adeline was born in Quebec in 1864, but Clara, four years later, was born in Rhode Island. So somewhere in those four years the family crossed the border. Records show the children's immigration as 1866, which fits. Like thousands of French Canadians in those years, they were likely heading for the textile mills of New England. That is my inference from the history, not something the documents say. The 1870 census finds the household in River Point, Warwick, a mill village, though the census taker, in the family's words, badly misspelled their names.

There's a small puzzle here. Joseph's Ancestry timeline lists an "arrival" in St. Albans, Vermont, in November 1876, ten years after the children came. Maybe he went back to Quebec for a visit and returned. The documents don't say.

Becoming an American

The most striking stretch of Joseph's life came in December 1888. His wife Alida died on December 2 and was buried in Pawtucket on the 4th. Four days later, on December 8, Joseph filed his petition for U.S. citizenship. Three days after that, sons Charles and Alberic were naturalized too, with Joseph and George serving as witnesses for one another.

We can't know what was in his heart. But after 35 years of marriage, in the same week he buried his wife, he made his commitment to his new country official.

A Sudden End

On October 7, 1891, at age 60, Joseph died after a falling through a trap door to the basement in Central Falls, Rhode Island. His death was covered in the Providence Evening Bulletin the next day.

His funeral is where the story gets remarkable. The Pawtucket Gazette and Chronicle reported that his four sons carried him and that he had belonged to the Lafayette Guards, a French-Canadian society. The service at St. John's Church drew hundreds of people, and many couldn't get in. The paper called it the largest funeral ever held among the city's French people, with 43 carriages in the procession. He was buried at Mount Saint Mary's Cemetery in Pawtucket.

A man who arrived as an immigrant laborer was mourned, by that account, by a good part of his community.

What became of his children

His sons carried the same civic energy forward:

•  Joseph Theroux was millright for Crocker-McElwain Paper Company for     many years. He married twice and has two children and was settled in     Holyoke, Massachusetts.

•     Michel Alberic was a loom fixer at the Lorraine Mills for 23 years, and a skilled yachtsman. His granddaughter recalled that early in his marriage the couple lived aboard a friend's yacht, which he captained on Lake Champlain. He belonged to several French societies. He died in 1902 at 46, leaving a wife and eight children, and roughly 1,000 people attended his funeral. Newspapers and family accounts say he died of a stroke or paralysis, while another record says he was hit by a trolley.

•     Charles Edward Henry became a major in the Battalion of Jacques Cartier and later worked as a chauffeur, a very modern job for 1910.

•     Louis George was a major in the Guard of Honor of the Union St. Jean Baptiste, and lived to 1944.

•     Marie Adeline Theroux married in and settled in Smithfield Twp, Rhode Island and lived till 1926.

•     Clara worked as a spooler tender and weaver, and died in 1913.

•     Rosanna lived in Pawtucket into her 90th year, until 1960.

Why He Matters...

Joseph's story has no battles or fortunes. Its power is in what it adds up to: a move across a border, seven children raised in a new language, citizenship claimed in a week of grief, and sons who grew into community leaders. If you're a descendant, that's a lot to be proud of.

Another 2nd Grandfather!

Marceline Mace Audette dit LaPoint: 1830-1901

Introduction

Imagine leaving everything you know in rural Quebec to raise a massive family of up to eleven children in a bustling, smoke-filled Rhode Island mill town during the height of the Industrial Revolution. This was the lived reality of Marceline Audette dit LaPoint, whose life story mirrors the epic migration of hundreds of thousands of French Canadians to New England.

Reading through this will enlighten you on Marceline's life journey...

• Trace Marceline's journey from Saint-Mathias, Quebec, to Pawtucket, Rhode Island.
• Examine the socioeconomic factors that drove French-Canadian migration to New England.
• Learn to navigate common genealogical challenges, such as name variations and conflicting records.

Quebec Roots and Early Life

Marceline Massé (also spelled Macé or Massy) was born on October 2, 1830, in Saint-Mathias, Rouville, Quebec. Her parents, Joseph-Abraham Macé and Julie Breux, raised her in a predominantly agrarian society. During her childhood, French-Canadian culture thrived despite simmering tensions with British colonial rulers, which erupted in the Rebellions of 1837–1838.

At the age of 23, on January 16, 1854, Marceline married Magloire Michel Audette dit LaPoint. Magloire was a saddler and harness maker by trade. In French-Canadian culture, 'dit' names (like 'dit LaPoint') acted as custom nicknames or additional identifiers to distinguish branches of families sharing the same surname.

Did you know? The surname Macé is derived from the Latin name 'Matthaeus', which means 'gift of God'.

A Growing Family and the Great Migration

Marceline and Magloire quickly grew their family, welcoming their first children in Quebec. However, the mid-19th century brought severe economic challenges to rural Canada. Opportunities were shrinking, prompting a massive wave of French-Canadian migration to the United States.

Around 1864, Marceline and her family packed their belongings and crossed the border. Magloire's skills as a harness maker allowed him to find steady work. Raising a family of at least nine (and possibly up to eleven) children, Marceline had to navigate the immense challenge of adapting to a new country and language while keeping her family's cultural traditions alive.

Think about it: How difficult would it be to move to a country where you do not speak the primary language, all while caring for nearly a dozen young children?

Life in Pawtucket, Rhode Island

By 1880, Marceline and her family had settled in Pawtucket, Rhode Island. This city was rapidly industrializing, fueled by massive textile mills that eagerly hired immigrant labor.

Marceline's life in the United States was marked by both resilience and tragedy. In 1888, her daughter Azilda died of childbirth fever at age 31. Five years later, in 1893, her husband Magloire passed away from diarrhea.

Marceline lived as a widow for her remaining years, residing with her children. She passed away on March 31, 1901, at the age of 70, due to heart disease and dropsy. She was buried alongside her husband in St. Francis Cemetery in Pawtucket, leaving behind a legacy of immigrant determination.

Another 2nd Grandmother!

Magloire Michel Audette dit LaPointe 1832-1893

 

Magloire Michel Audette dit Lapointe: The Harness Maker Who Bridged Two Worlds

Imagine growing up in a French-speaking village in Quebec in the 1830s, learning a skilled trade with your hands, marrying young, raising a big family, and then packing up everything to chase steady work in the booming mill towns of Rhode Island. That’s the arc of Magloire Michel Audette (also known as Audette dit Lapointe or sometimes Odette). He wasn’t a celebrity. He was a working man, a father, and part of the huge wave of French Canadians who reshaped New England. And if you’re reading this, his choices are part of the reason you’re here.

Born in a Changing Quebec

Magloire was born on May 13, 1832, in Marieville, Rouville, Quebec (then Lower Canada). His parents were Laurent Audette and Sophie Bessette. He grew up with siblings including Domitille, Onésime, Timothée, and Angèle. The region still carried the echoes of the Rebellions of 1837–1838—years of political tension between French Canadians and British colonial authorities. Farms were crowded, opportunities limited, and many young people were already looking south for better chances.

By his late teens and early twenties Magloire was living in places like Chambly and St-Césaire. Records list him as a journalier (day laborer) at one point and later as a sellier—a saddler or harness maker. That skill would become central to his life.

Marriage, Children, and a Growing Household

On January 16, 1854, at age 21, Magloire married Marceline Macé (also recorded as Masse or Massy) in St. Mathias, Rouville. She had been born on October 2, 1830, in the same area. Together they had a large family. Sources differ slightly on the exact count (some list nine, others more), but the children included:

• Azilda Arsarine Eliza (1856–1888)
• Mary Louisa (born 1855)
• Victoria Philomène Elisa (1858)
• Henri Édouard Magloire (1859)
• Damase Arthur (1861–1938)
• Marie Anne (1863)
• Ephram (around 1866)
• Joseph (around 1868)
• Mary Louise / Marie Louise (1872)

Azilda is especially important to many descendants: she later married Antoine Cyrille Théodore Marotte (son of Isaïe-Gédéon Marotte). That marriage linked two French-Canadian families who had both made the journey into New England.

Raising that many children in the mid-1800s meant constant work, limited medical care, and the very real possibility of losing some along the way. Azilda herself died in 1888 in Pawtucket at only 31, from complications related to childbirth.

The Move South and Life as a Harness Maker

Like thousands of other French Canadians, Magloire and Marceline eventually headed to the industrial towns of New England. By the 1860s some of their children were being born in Massachusetts. By 1880 the family was firmly in Pawtucket, Providence County, Rhode Island—a fast-growing textile and manufacturing center.

Magloire worked as a harness maker (sometimes called a saddler). In an age when horses still powered much of daily life and industry, harnesses, saddles, and related leather goods were essential. It was skilled, practical work that required craftsmanship. City directories and census records consistently show him in that trade in Pawtucket into the 1890s. The family lived in the Woodlawn area (one address listed is 1 Carson Street).

Pawtucket at that time was full of mills, immigrant neighborhoods, and the mix of opportunity and hard conditions that defined industrial New England. French-Canadian families often clustered together, keeping their language, Catholic faith, and mutual support networks alive while taking the jobs the factories and related trades offered.

There’s also a community note: Magloire appears among the early supporters involved with the founding efforts of what became St. John the Baptist Church in Pawtucket—one of the original trustees helping secure a loan for a small wooden chapel. That detail shows he wasn’t just working; he was helping build the institutions that held the French-Canadian community together in a new place.

Final Years

Marceline outlived him. Magloire died on September 24, 1893, in Pawtucket at age 61. City directories still listed the family at the Carson Street address around that time. His widow continued to appear in local records into the early 1900s.

Why This Story Still Matters (Especially If You’re Young)

Magloire’s life is the classic second-generation immigrant story of the French-Canadian diaspora. He left rural Quebec, carried a trade that was useful in the industrial age, raised a large family under tough conditions, and helped plant roots in Rhode Island. His daughter Azilda’s marriage to Théodore Marotte means many of you carry both the Audette and Marotte lines.

For teenagers and young adults, a few things jump out:

• He adapted. He went from Quebec villages to a noisy American mill city and made a living with a skilled trade.
• Family was big and sometimes fragile. Losing a daughter in her early thirties was a real blow, yet the family continued.
• Community mattered. Supporting the local church wasn’t just religion—it was about creating a support system in a new country.
• The “dit Lapointe” part of his name is a classic French-Canadian dit name (a secondary surname). Those nicknames often stuck for generations and tell you something about how families identified themselves.

His story isn’t about fame. It’s about resilience, practical skill, and the quiet decisions that let a family put down roots on the other side of a border. Every time someone in the family looks at an old photo, a census record, or a church entry from Pawtucket, Magloire’s choices are still echoing.

That’s a solid legacy for a harness maker from Marieville.

This is another 2nd Great Grandfather!

PDF a link to his story...

Josephte "Bourgeois" Marotte's Life and Legacy 1824-1872

The Rebellion, the Twins, and the Road to Vermont: The Life of Josephte Bourgeois

Some ancestors leave behind a diary. Josephte Bourgeois left behind something rarer: a paper trail scattered across two countries, four states, and 150 years — baptismal records in French, a marriage certificate in Rhode Island, a death certificate in Vermont, and a scrawled priest's burial note translated from 1849 that still, somehow, has the power to break your heart. Piece it all together, and what emerges is the story of a woman who married at sixteen, buried four children before she turned 27, uprooted her family across an international border, and died at 47 — leaving behind a family that would go on to build lives across Vermont, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island for generations.

Born in the Shadow of a Rebellion

Josephte Bourgeois was born on September 12, 1824, in the parish of Saint-Denis-sur-Richelieu, in what was then called Lower Canada — French-speaking, Catholic, and still very much under British colonial rule. Her parents, Joseph Bourgeois and Marie Desanges Gauvin, gave her a name and a birthplace that turned out to sit right in the middle of one of the most important events in French-Canadian history.

In November 1837, when Josephte was thirteen, the town of Saint-Charles-sur-Richelieu — practically next door to where she'd later marry — became a flashpoint of the Lower Canada Rebellion, an uprising by French Canadians against British colonial rule and the political and economic system that favored English-speaking elites. The rebellion was crushed, but its aftershocks lasted for decades: waves of French Canadians began quietly slipping across the border into the United States, some intending to return, most never did. Josephte's own family would eventually become part of that story.

There's also a note, tucked into the family records, that Josephte was a descendant of the Acadians — the French settlers who were violently expelled from their homeland in Nova Scotia by the British in the 1750s, an event known as le Grand Dérangement. If true, it means Josephte's family carried the memory of displacement in their blood well before they ever crossed into Vermont themselves. 

Married at Sixteen

On February 16, 1841, Josephte married Isaïe-Gédéon Marotte, a young man from Saint-Charles, Richelieu, five years her senior. She was sixteen years old. Over the next 27 years, the couple would have nine children — and live through more heartbreak than most families see in several generations.

A Run of Devastating Losses

Their first daughter, Allemanda, was born around 1845. She died in January 1849, at just four years old. The burial record, written by the parish priest and preserved for 175 years, still survives:

"On the thirteenth of January, eighteen hundred forty-nine, we the undersigned priest buried Allemanda, daughter of Gédéon Marotte and of Marie Josephte Bourgeois... aged four years."

Their second child, Cordelia, born in July 1846, died the following November at just over a year old.

Then came the hardest blow of all. On December 27, 1850, Josephte gave birth to twin girls — Marie Aurélie Malvina and Exilda. Twins were rare and precious in any 19th-century farming family. Within four months, both were gone: Marie Aurélie Malvina died on March 3, 1851, and her twin sister Exilda followed on March 27 — not even a month later. Two babies, born on the same day, dead within weeks of each other.

Of Josephte's first six children, only two — Amanda (b. 1849) and Joseph Victor Horace (b. 1852) — would survive childhood. It's a devastating ratio, but not an unusual one for the era: this was a time before germ theory, before antibiotics, when a fever that seems trivial today could sweep through a household and take every child in it.

Crossing the Border

Sometime in the 1850s, the Marotte family joined the great migration south. By 1860, they were living in Burlington, Vermont — part of a massive wave of French Canadians who left Québec for New England in search of factory work and, in many families' memories, freer air after the rebellion years. Isaïe-Gédéon found steady work as a plumber, a trade he'd hold for the rest of his working life.

It was in Burlington that Josephte gave birth to her final two children: Selena Genevieve in March 1860, and William in March 1868. By then Josephte was in her forties, having spent essentially her entire adult life pregnant, nursing, or grieving — sometimes all three at once.

Death in Burlington

Josephte Bourgeois died on June 7, 1872, in Burlington, Vermont, at the age of 47. She had crossed a border, survived the deaths of at least four of her own children, and built a new life in a new country — and then she was gone, a decade and a half before her husband, and years before she would ever see her surviving children's own families grow.

Isaïe-Gédéon outlived her by 17 years. He moved to Holyoke, Massachusetts, continued working as a plumber into his sixties, and died there on September 14, 1889, of stomach cancer. In a cruel echo, their youngest son William had died in that very same city just a year earlier, on July 18, 1888, at only 20 years old — of consumption, the 19th-century name for tuberculosis, a disease that stalked crowded industrial towns like Holyoke relentlessly.

The Children Who Carried the Family Forward

The three Marotte children who lived into adulthood scattered across New England, each building a full, documented American life:

• Amanda Marotte married Eusèbe Janot dit LaChapelle around 1870 and settled in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, living until 1922.
• Joseph Victor Horace Marotte married Elizabeth LeClair in Holyoke in 1875 and lived an extraordinarily long life for the era, dying in West Springfield, Massachusetts, in 1940 — at 87 years old, having outlived nearly his entire generation.
• Antoine Cyrille Théodore Marotte may be the most thoroughly documented of all of Josephte's children. Census and city directory records trace him from Burlington to Pawtucket, where he worked as a car builder, then to Central Falls, Rhode Island, where he became a house carpenter, and finally back to Burlington, Vermont, where he died in 1921. He was naturalized as a U.S. citizen in 1888, married twice — first to Azilda Audette, then, after her death, to Adeline Ratte — and worked steadily as a tradesman well into his sixties.
• Selena Genevieve Marotte, born the same year the family settled in Vermont, married Daniel LaBranche in Springfield, Massachusetts, in 1889 and lived until 1925, dying in Worcester, Massachusetts.

Why Her Story Matters

Josephte Bourgeois never held public office, never appeared in a newspaper, and left no photograph that has survived to us. What she left instead is something quieter and, in its own way, more remarkable: a bloodline that survived a rebellion, an international border crossing, a run of infant deaths that would break most modern hearts, and the grinding uncertainty of 19th-century industrial New England — and came out the other side, generation after generation, still standing.

If your family tree runs through Marotte, LaChapelle, LeClair, LaBranche, Ratte, or Audette in Vermont, Massachusetts, or Rhode Island, there's a very good chance the road leads back to a sixteen-year-old bride from Saint-Denis-sur-Richelieu, who buried more children than any parent should have to, and kept going anyway.

Another 2nd Great Grandmother!