Hon. Pamela Wallin: Honourable senators, on behalf of Senator Richards who could not be here today, these are his words of tribute to Viola Léger:

I saw her perform only one time — a number of years ago now — when I was artist-in-residence at St. Thomas University, and she came to the small, intimate stage, sitting on a chair under one light, dressed as La Sagouine, speaking — this time — in English. We surrounded her on three sides, mostly students but professors as well, and she spoke Antonine Maillet’s great monologues in a voice that was not only hers, not only Antonine’s and not just Acadian — though, of course, it was Acadian — but a voice that became, over the hour, ours as well. That is, I knew her as I knew my grandmother from Matapédia or my Acadian great-grandmother. Slowly, it became our voice too and, as the hour progressed, mesmerizing.

She was an old lady, a fisherwoman born of the bay, a scrubwoman far away in New Brunswick, a part of some rustic backwoods region — what could she ever have to offer sophisticated people? Well, you see, everything, everything in the world — whatever God intended us to know, understand or cherish.

She slowly filled that small stage — and that group that surrounded her on three sides — with charm, wit, laughter and, in the end, a deep understanding of both the great joy and great sorrow of our world. The audience of young boys and girls — boys and girls from another age — listened with reverence. She had the spirit of a woman who celebrated the spirit of all mankind — a joyful celebration that we, in fact, share far more in our common humanity than we could ever imagine.

Monologues were delivered with such impeccable understanding of “how” — that is how stories are related, and why they must be told the way they are; that is how human beings relate to one another and the world around them. Yes, this was the great Antonine Maillet’s writing, of course, but it was Ms. Léger’s delivery that brought it to life. In that moment, I suppose the two women were as one — the wonderful friendship between them that had started half of a century before were transformed by those words on that bare stage.

Though I had known Antonine Maillet for some time, and though Peg and I were invited to l’Université de Moncton for a celebration on the fortieth anniversary of La Sagouine, I never got to speak to or meet Ms. Léger. I wish I had. I always thought I would have a chance. Of course, as life would have it, I never did. Still, I will never forget that little washerwoman on stage for that one hour, surrounded by us all — with one light shining on a hunched and noble soul as she confided in us a gracious and eloquent wisdom. It was the wisdom that Tolstoy himself understood: There is no greatness without goodness, kindness and simplicity.

What might I have said if I had met her? I would have told her that her little washerwoman is universal, and like “The Song of Joy,” “Amazing Grace” or “Oh Danny Boy,” her monologues can be understood by anyone from any language — flying any flag over any country — and all one needs in order to understand such a grand old woman is love.