Grandmother Flint

Date: [unknown] [unknown]
Location: Nebraska, Michigan
Surname/tag: Flint, Finch, Driffill, Driffle, Suddaby

Grandmother Flint - Mary Elizabeth Driffill Flint

Memories documented by Helen Finch Kriewald, daughter of Maude Flint Finch, and granddaughter of E. R. and Mary Elizabeth Driffill Flint.

So many people have contributed to my life, some for a lifetime, some only as “ships that pass in the night”, but while not members of the immediate family, still played their roles in my life story and I want them to be remembered.

Perhaps, though, I should really go back to the beginnings in England, for what happened in my grandparents lives influenced mine also, on through the coming generations.

I will begin with my maternal grandmother. Mary Elizabeth Driffle, was, I believe the second daughter born to John and Ann (Hannah) Driffle. Her parents had been at one time quite well fixed, property wise and also fairly well educated for that time. She had kept a mathematic notebook which belonged to her grandfather ( I don’t know which one), which was a joy to behold because of the beautiful writings and the decorative capital letters. Pages were adorned with birds and flowers, pen and ink drawings and the problems were worked correctly and neatly. This notebook was given to me by my grandfather, but is now missing. Evidently someone else recognized its historical value, for it disappeared, after I allowed it to be put on display one Popcorn Day celebration. Those in charge of the exhibit disclaimed all knowledge of its whereabouts. I thought at the time that Aunt Emma might have taken it, as she claimed all family treasures must go to the oldest male, which was Uncle Albert’s son Robert Edward Flint.

The Driffle family came on hard times because John had co-signed a note for a friend who skipped out, leaving John responsible for the debt, which must have been quite large. Evidently they lost their small farm. John then became the village schoolmaster, which explains how Grandmother became better educated than most village girls. He must have taught the upper “forms” as she never spoke of him as her teacher. He probably taught his daughters at home.

The village was owned by Lord Robert Sheffield, so the school was also his property. An old lady and her spinster daughter were in charge. The children were required to work for the Sheffield household as part of a sort of tuition. Grandmother told of sewing by hand, making household linens, and later shirts for the men. The stitches must be perfect, if not, the girl would get a sharp crack on the hand with a thimbled finger, and must re-do the seam. She said her head was often sore, for the old lady was very particular and refused to accept shoddy work.

Evidently the children carried lunches from home, for she told of one boy who got the nickname “Tomato Preserves” because that was the main food he carried, along with unbuttered bread. He was an orphan, living with his grandmother. No ADC in those days. She also told of a retarded (half-wit) boy, named Bob, who when told by Lord Sheffield to open a gate to let horse and rider through just grinned and retorted ,“Do it yourself, Bob!” Fortunately their squire was an understanding, kindly person. Many would have punished the boy severely for such insolence.

As soon as she was old enough, twelve or fourteen, Grandmother “went out to service”. For one dollar (or its equivalent), plus food, lodging and “found” which meant adequate clothing. Shoes were a major problem. Fortunately her father was a capable cobbler, with his large family. She first lived with a widow in a small establishment, then with more experience went to a wealthier family, which kept at least four servants. She probably was a “tweeny”, a sort of maid of all work who helped the cook and upstairs maid.

She told of wash days: They rose at four o’clock, and started fires under big iron kettles in the brick-paved yard. Water had to be drawn from an open well. The yard was surrounded by a stone or brick wall, on which was espaliered pear trees and vines. It was a pleasant place to work and all four women took part in the daylong chores.

She liked the people, but all was not “beer and skittles” as she used to say. Trouble began when the four young sons of the couple found her attractive, and as the custom was in those days, “demanded their rights” which resulted in her becoming pregnant when she was fifteen or sixteen years old. All female help was considered fair prey for all males but the father evidently paid no attention to her and her own parents raised the baby girl, Rose. She never told me the story, and it was after her death that I finally had the story from my mother.

One rainy day, when the family lived on a farm near Cotesfield, Grandmother had gone to help a sick neighbor. Aunt Emma was working way from home, so Aunt Anna, Aunt Mae and Mother were home alone. They decided to find out for themselves just what some letters from England contained, that they should be kept in a locked lacquer box. They had seen their mother many times in tears as she read and re-read those letters but no amount of questioning brought replies. So they found the key, unlocked the box and for the first time learned that they had a sister in England. When the girls insisted on an answer she told them the story, pledging them to secrecy. As illegitimacy was considered a disgrace in America then, they quickly agreed. Never even told Emma. I remember that box, which was kept locked, on the chest of drawers in Grandma’s bedroom. Sometimes she would close the door and read the letters over again, silently crying. I learned never to ask questions and came to the conclusion that she was just homesick for England.

One morning, after breakfast, she was sitting at the table, and began to cry. When questioned, she said only that she was lonely for England. Grandfather put his hand on her shoulder, with a little pat (very unusual, as they were not demonstrative people) and said “Polly, would you have wanted your daughters to be raised in England?” She shook her head but did not answer. Probably I recall the incident because I had never before heard him address her as “Polly”. She was always “Ma” to the family and was “Pa.” Unless in private, no one ever said “Mary”, or “Edward”.

After Grandfather’s death in Kearney, Aunt Emma prowled through his possessions which were in Aunt Anna’s truck stored at Stude’s. She found the little black box, pried it open (the lock was broken) and destroyed some pictures and English letters. I found everything scattered around the bedroom which she had occupied during his stay at Stude’s, but the mysterious letters never showed up. I did find some letters from Uncle Fred written from Colorado and S. Dakota, and the letter my father had written asking permission to marry my mother. (It, too came up missing later.)

Some time later that summer, while attending college at Kearney, I boarded with Uncle Will’s ($6 per wk.) One day Uncle Will asked me to read a letter which he had just received from England, and which puzzled and disturbed him very much. The letter began, “Dear brother: I hope I may call you Brother, and was signed “your sister, Rose Suddaby”. He had never known of her existence so the secret had been well kept. She said she was now a widow managing (perhaps owning) Black Horse Inn, near London. She had one daughter, Daphne, who raised show dogs. A snapshot was enclosed. I told him what little I knew, leaving Aunt Ina in a regular dither - a family disgrace! Not to be mentioned - ever!

It seems Uncle Will had long corresponded with some English relatives and had kept quite a few letters, which he told me I should have, as I seemed to be the only family member interested. (He was wrong there. George Miller had also corresponded with Aunt Ellen Paget and later with Louisa Burley, his mother’s cousin.) After Uncle Will’s death, most of the English letters were never found. Elsie gathered up what remained (none from Aunt Rose) and gave them to me. I have them still.

In research on the Flint family, a newspaper picture was found showing D. Suddably and her prize winning dog. And in some letters brief mention was made of Rose. Of course war and the blitz may have wiped them out.