Madelaine Blanchard (c1643 – 1678/1683), Gone Too Soon – 52 Ancestors #466

Madelaine (also spelled Madeleine) Blanchard was born to Jean Blanchard and Radegonde Lambert about 1643, probably in Port Royal, Acadia.

Madelaine grew up right beside the fort, on the waterfront in Port Royal, at least for the first several years of her life. Her family’s home stood right about here, on the other side of the erosion-prevention boulders, back on higher ground out of the photo at right. Every Acadian had at least some access to the waterfront, and her family’s was here.

Madelaine would have scampered down to the river, perhaps searched for pretty rocks, taken off her shoes, and waded in the water.

How do we know where the Blanchard land was located?

Locating the Blanchard Land

When a new fort was being built in 1705, several lots were expropriated, including one owned by Jean Blanchard, which was located between Simon Pelletret and Guillaume Trahan, founding families of Acadia.

These families were among the earliest arrivals, establishing themselves in Port Royal when Charles d’Aulnay relocated the seat of Acadia from La Hève to Port Royal between 1636 and 1640. Their neighbor, Guillaume Trahan, arrived in Acadia in 1636, so it stands to reason that the men who received these fort-side premier real estate lots were the earliest arrivals and settlers in Port Royal.

Madelaine would have grown up playing along the Port Royal waterfront, as viewed here from across the river.

Born about 1643, Madeleine was an infant, or not yet born, during the Acadian Civil War from 1640-1645, but she would have been an eyewitness to the events of 1654.

The English Invasion

In July of 1654, when Madelaine was about 11, the English sailed up the river and anchored right in front of her home, in the part of the river shown above.

The Acadians had one day’s advance warning, because Emmanuel Le Borgne had been in the process of attacking the rival French fort of Saint John, across the bay, when the English arrived to do the same. French on French warfare was an ugly family feud, but the English attack was another matter altogether.

For better or worse, instead of staying to help defend Fort Saint John against the English, Le Borgne scooted back home to Port Royal.

After taking Fort Saint John, the English arrived in Port Royal to find French soldiers and Acadian men poised to ambush. The 130 men in Port Royal tried their best to fend off the British, but had absolutely no chance against more than 530 English soldiers. They quickly had to retreat into the fort, and the English laid Port Royal under siege.

We have no idea where the women and children were sheltering, although they may well have been inside the fort too, in the garrison. That’s the typical arrangement. There wasn’t much of anyplace else other than the woods and hills behind the town, or someplace upriver.

The English siege lasted approximately four weeks, from July 13th to August 8th, when Port Royal surrendered.

Given the circumstances, the capitulation terms were generous. The Acadians were to remain unharmed, could retain their property, including homes and livestock, and were permitted to continue worshiping as Catholics. The French soldiers and administrators would be sent back to France, and all property belonging to the French King would become the property of the English.

The English were now in command, but they had not planned ahead for how they would administer Port Royal. Major Robert Sedgwick had not originally planned to attack the French, but did so when the war with the Dutch was settled and New Netherlands became off limits. His warships were ready, and his men itching to go – so he headed for the French Acadian ports.

Sedgwick left a small contingent of Redcoat soldiers at the garrison in Port Royal, and an Acadian delegation in charge. Aside from the English coming and going from time to time, as far as a child like Madelaine was concerned, not much changed.

After the siege was over, Madelaine would have returned home from wherever she had taken shelter with her mother and siblings, but I’d wager that she was forever wary of English ships and English soldiers.

The English would rule Acadia for the next 16 years, but Madeleine was busy with other things.

Madeleine Marries

Madeleine was about 13 in 1656 when she married Michel Richard dit Sansoucy, who probably arrived as a soldier, either with Charles d’Aulnay before his 1650 death, or with Emmanuel Le Borgne, his successor, prior to the 1654 fall of Acadia.

While 13 sounds young today, it wasn’t uncommon for Acadian brides to marry early. There were probably few marriage candidates in Port Royal at the time, so one needed to strike while the iron was hot and a good candidate was available and interested.

Nicolas Denys, an English captive held at Port Royal, said that there were about 270 residents there, and that they were mostly families brought by de Razilly. That would include d’Aulnay who was Razilly’s right-hand-man in Acadia. D’Aulnay served as Governor after Razilly’s 1635 death, which is when he decided to move the seat of Acadia, along with the settlers, from rocky La Hève to fertile Port Royal.

A decade or so later, in 1653, Denys recorded that the Acadians had “multiplied much at Port Royal.” He also added that many had abandoned their houses in the town of Port Royal and settled along the river on farms, specifically around the BelleIsle Marsh. Maybe that’s where the women and children sheltered in 1654. Soldiers never braved the river’s boar tide and rocks beyond Hogg Island at Port Royal. Ocean-going ships could not navigate the river above Port Royal.

The small number of residents in 1654 likely amounted to approximately 30 families, or 60 parents, leaving about 210 children, or roughly 7 per family. Those children would range in age from newborn to approximately 20, implying that there were 10 people in each year age bracket from 0 to 20, with an average of 5 males and 5 females. Therefore, Madeleine either needed to marry a widower, or one of the older male candidates, who typically didn’t marry until they were 25ish.

Michel Richard would have had his choice of a widow or maybe a total of 10 females who were old enough to marry.

That’s not much selection.

We know very little about the earliest church in Port Royal, but the Acadian families knew each other quite well and would have either gathered together in the church, or in the priest’s home, to witness Madelaine and Michel’s marriage and celebrate the joining of their lives.

Weddings were probably social events as well.

1671 Census

In 1667, Acadia was returned to French control via treaty, although functionally that didn’t occur until 1670.

The first Acadian census was taken in 1671, where we obtain our first glimpse of Madelaine herself.

In her parents’ census entry, it’s noted that three of their children are married. Fortunately, French and Acadian women retained their birth surnames, so locating Madeleine in the census was easy.

Madeleine Blanchard, 28, is married to Michel Richard, a farmer, 41, and they have seven children. Rene is 14, so born about 1657, Pierre is 10, Catherine is 8, Martin is 6, Alexandre is 3, and Madeleine has just given birth to twin daughters, Anne and Magdeleine, who are five weeks old.

Madeleine and Michel have 15 cattle, 14 sheep, and farm 14 arpents of land.

It’s challenging to determine precisely where they are living because they are listed beside Abraham Dugas on one side, who we know is the armorer and lives beside the fort, and beside Charles Melanson on the other side, who lives across the river and is married to Abraham Dugas’s daughter. It’s likely that the census taker was canoeing back and forth across the river and not listing residents in house-to-house order.

What the Census Doesn’t Say

There’s a tale of heartbreak hidden in this census, told by blank spaces.

Madelaine would have given birth to another child who should have been 12 and one who should have been 4 – and that’s assuming that each of those children lived long enough to be weaned. Madelaine could have given birth to more children if the baby died shortly after birth, so she would have become pregnant quickly, leaving just a year between births.

There’s also room for a possible child who died in 1670.

By 1671, Madeleine had already buried at least two, if not three, children, the first one when she was only 16, the second at 24, the third one just the year before, when she was 27. I wonder if any of those births were twins, too. Twins are often born underweight.

Childbirth was dangerous for women and children alike, and only about half of the children born survived to marry.

The 1678 Census

The 1678 census is somewhat unusual for Michel Richard and Madeleine Blanchard. Based on the neighbors, they are almost assuredly living in the town of Port Royal.

  1. Their oldest daughter, Catherine Richard, has married Francois Broussard. The newlywed couple has five cattle, but no land, and are listed beside her parents, Michel Richard and Madeleine Blanchard. How do you graze five cows with no land?
  2. Michel Richard and Madeleine Blanchard are listed with no additional information – no children, no livestock, nothing. That’s very odd.
  3. Next, we find Germain Doucet and Marie Landry with a normal listing, including their children, livestock, and land.
  4. Then, the census shows Michel Richard without Madeleine’s name, but WITH four boys and five girls, plus 21 cattle on 10 arpents of land.
  5. Next is Michel Boudrot “at the brook”, who we know lives beside the fort and beside Abraham Dugas.

So, what exactly does this mean? No one else is listed twice, let alone once with and once without a spouse.

Madeleine Blanchard Dies

Based on the next census, taken in 1686, Michel Richard, now 56, has remarried to Jeanne Babin, who is 18. They have been married for at least three years because they have a child who is 2.

This tells us that Madelaine had died by 1683 when Michel remarried.

The strange 1678 census entry might indicate that Madelaine died sometime during the census. Or maybe not.

Michel Richard’s children in the 1686 census who would have been born to Madeleine Blanchard include: Martin, 19, Alexandre, 17, Marie, 12 (born 1674), Cecile, 10 (born 1676), and Marguerite, 7 (born 1679).

Madeleine’s youngest child, Marguerite, is shown as age 7 in 1686, so born in 1679, but in two later censuses, she is shown as born in 1677. This date, which is the most critical for determining Madelaine’s death year, is uncertain because it brackets 1678.

Can we determine anything more?

Unfortunately, the 1678 census only provides a count of children by sex. Let’s retrofit this information for Madelaine’s family.

We know that daughter, Catherine Richard, was married because she was living next door. This leaves a total of 5 girls in the household. Using the 1671 and 1678 censuses, we can account for all daughters, including the youngest, Marguerite. Therefore, we know Marguerite was NOT born in 1679, unless an unknown child was born in 1677 or 1678 and had died by 1686.

Madelaine’s children are as follows:

Child Birth – Death Marriage/Spouse # of Children
Rene Richard 1657 – before 1693 in Port Royal Married Magdelaine Landry about 1680 5 children
Unknown child 1659 – before 1671
Pierre Richard 1661 – after Jan. 1739 in Grand Pre Married Marguerite Landry about 1686 In Minas by 1693 – 10 children
Catherine Richard* 1663 – after 1714 in Port Royal Married Francois Broussard about 1678 11 children
Martin Richard 1665 – before Feb. 1748 in Beaubassin Married Marguerite Bourg about 1691 In Beaubassin by 1695 – 10 children
Unknown child 1667 – before 1671
Alexandre 1668 – October 1709 in Port Royal Married Isabelle Petitpas about 1690 9 children
Possible child 1670 – 1670
Twin, Anne Richard 1671 – 1745 in Grand Pre Married Germain Terriot about 1686 In Minas by 1693 – 11 children
Twin, Magdeleine Richard 1671 – after July 1729 in Grand Pre Married Charles Babin in 1686 In Grand Pre by 1688 – 12 children
Unknown child 1673
Marie-Joseph Richard 1674 – 1709 in Pisiquit Married Michel Vincent about 1689 In Pisiquit by 1690 – 8 children
Cecile Richard 1676 – after 1731 in Pisiquit Married Pierre Forest about 1692 in Pisiquit 9 children
Marguerite Richard 1678 – after June 1731 maybe in Minas Married Jean LeBlanc about 1698 In Grand Pre by 1699 – 10 children

*Catherine Richard’s first child born in 1678 or 1679 may have been born before Catherine’s mother, Madeleine, died. Sadly that child died soon after birth, as did Catherine’s second child born about 1680. Catherine’s first child that lived was born about 1681, although it’s very unlikely that her mother lived that long, given that Madelaine’s last known child that lived, Marguerite, had been born by the 1678 census.

In 1678, Madeleine Blanchard was 35 years old and had given birth recently, within the year, to Marguerite. She had nine children at home, and her oldest daughter had married and was living next door.

Madeleine may have died in 1678, or she may have died anytime between 1678 and 1683 when her husband remarried. Had she been alive during the intervening years, she would have been expected to have borne a child in both 1680 and 1682. For all we know, she did, and they died as well.

If Madeleine did not die in 1678, she would have buried her first grandchild, standing beside her distraught daughter, Catherine, who was only about 15. She may well have buried a second grandbaby too, a year or two later, if she lived long enough. Maybe Madeleine and Catherine bonded in an incredibly sad way – they may both have buried multiple children in a very short timeframe. First children for Catherine, the daughter, and last children for Madeleine, the mother.

One way or another, Catherine’s mother, Madelaine, was gone by 1683, joining several of her children and her first grandchildren, too.

Magdelaine’s Funeral

Michel and their children would have made their way to the church beside the fort, within sight of their home. The parish priest, probably Father Louis Petit, would have given Madeleine’s Requiem Mass, in Latin, of course, focusing on Christ’s resurrection and Madelaine’s soul. The service would have included scripture, hymns, communion, and prayers for the departed.

He would have offered the Holy Sacrifice of the Eucharist for the faithful, making Christ present with them on that day.

Then Madeleine’s sons would have lifted their mother’s coffin, lovingly carrying it into the churchyard, and lowering her mortal remains into the earth, where she rests today in an unmarked grave.

Tears watered the soil.

Catherine named her first surviving child, born about 1681, after her mother. If they were both exceedingly lucky, Magdelaine lived long enough to welcome that baby and enjoy her for at least a few months.

Catherine probably helped raise her remaining siblings left behind by their mother’s passing, especially given that her new stepmother was three years younger than Catherine, and Michel may not have remarried right away.

I feel like Madelaine’s life was somehow unfairly short-circuited. She endured a great deal of sorrow but was never able to enjoy grandchildren, which, in Acadia, were assuredly among the finer things in life.

Madelaine was simply gone much, much too soon, leaving a sorrowing family to carry on without her.

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Heavens Ablaze: The 1833 Leonid Meteor Storm and Your Ancestors

“The Falling Stars, Nov. 13, 1833.” Bible Readings for the Home Circle, p. 323. Review and Herald Publishing Association. 1914.

Every year during meteor showers, I think of my ancestors and wonder how they interpreted the 1833 Leonid meteor super-event and how it affected them. During the night of November 12th and the early morning of November 13th, 1833, the meteor shower turned into a storm, and was known as “the night of the falling stars,” and similar descriptions.

I began this article thinking about each of my ancestors who were alive then and, based on what I know about their lives, pondering what they might have thought and how they might have reacted. Where did they watch from? How much could they see? Did it affect their lives, and if so, how?

I had no idea I had 69 ancestors who were living in 1833, so I’ve narrowed the focuse of this article to the ancestors on my father’s side, in part because we actually have a local account.

The Night the Stars Fell

Beginning late on November 12, 1833, a Tuesday, and overnight, the heavens rained meteors at a rate of from 50,000 per hour to more than 240,000 per hour.

Most meteors are actually tiny fragments of rock the size of a pebble that burn up when entering the Earth’s atmosphere, emitting colors based on their chemical composition, sometimes resulting in vibrant streaks across the sky.

By Edmund Weiß – E. Weiß: “Bilderatlas der Sternenwelt”, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=562733

Fortunately, the 1833 storm is recorded in a number of drawings, paintings, newspaper articles, journals, and oral history.

Reports varied from around the world, but the event was described as a “rain of fire,” and a “tempest of falling stars.” With thousands every minute streaking across the night sky for hours on end, meteors were also described as “falling like snowflakes from the skies.”

The meteor shower began normally around midnight, but within a couple of hours, the sky was entirely filled with a display described in the New York Evening Post as “magnificent beyond conception.”

The Leonids are caused by the Earth passing through a cloud of space debris in the tail of Comet 55P/Temple-Tuttle, but people had no idea at the time. They thought the stars were literally falling out of the sky. Never before had there been a meteor shower of this magnitude, and it was frightening. Why was it happening?

Was it supernatural?

Was it God speaking?

Was it a prophecy?

Was it a warning?

Was it an answer?

Was the earth about to end?

Was Judgement Day here?

So many questions, with everyone left to decide the answers for themselves.

The most common reaction was fear and dread. Many people believed the end-times was approaching or had arrived, or the display was a sign of prophecy, as noted in this article by the Joseph Smith Foundation.

Some cultures measured time from that event of historic proportions.

For example, the Lakota marked time by the Leonids, but the 1833/1834 winter event was astounding, as detailed here. Battiste Good was the Lakota winter count-keeper, and recorded the meteor shower as the single event that would define that year in Lakota history.

The Library of Congress wrote an interesting blog article about the 1833 Leonid shower, or storm, that you can read, here.

Mary A. Hansard from Tazewell, Tennessee

Mary Hansard was born in 1825, died in 1899 in Claiborne County, Tennessee. She wrote a book, Old Time Tazewell, detailing local history. Cousin Travis Chumley extracted Mary’s entry about the Leonid meteor shower of 1833, and posted this excerpt in his historical Appalachian series.

In the year 1833 a most remarkable phenomenon occurred. I suppose that it is recorded in history. It was called the falling of the meteors. It happened in the night, and as I was only a small child, I was not an eyewitness to the awful scene. I heard my parents and others describe it next morning, as being the most awful sight that was ever looked upon with mortal eye. They said that the firmament on high was one solid glare of fire and light, and it looked as though every star in the sky was falling to the ground, and that they were certain the Day of Judgment was at hand. There were many wicked men on their knees that night praying to the Lord, and calling on others to pray for them, that had never been known to bow in prayer before. Such wild confusion had never been seen in Tazewell before. Next morning after all was over there seemed to be a solemn gloom resting on everyone’s countenance. It seemed that they were expecting more to occur. But everything moved on as usual. But I do not suppose that the scenes of that night were ever erased from the memory of those that were eye witnesses to the frightful event.

Where Were Our Ancestors?

I wondered where my ancestors lived in November of 1833. How old were they, and what did they think?

Were they frightened, as Mary Hansard reported, or perhaps enchanted?

My great-great-grandparents’ generation was living at the time, as were some of their parents, along with a few grandparents. In some cases, three generations were alive, and only three more would have brought the story to my father’s generation. How I wish they had kept a diary, but many couldn’t read or write. They probably told the story for a generation or two, until it was lost in time.

The Cumberland Gap Contingent

My father’s family was from the Cumberland Gap region, which includes families that lived in Claiborne County, Tennessee, Hancock County, Tennessee, which was formed from Claiborne in 1844, and Lee County, Virginia. Many lived in the Powell River Valley, shown above from the summit atop the Cumberland Gap.

  • John Y. Estes, Civil War Veteran, was born in 1818 in Halifax County, Virginia, to John R. Estes and Nancy Ann Moore, but had moved with his family to Claiborne County as a child. In 1833, he was 15 years old and living either in Estes Holler, near today’s Pleasant View Church, or across the Clinch River in Grainger County. There are no existing church records from nearby churches from this period, and there’s nothing to indicate that this family was particularly religious, so perhaps John was awakened and called outside by his parents to stare up at the sky in awe, side by side with his siblings.

  • John R. Estes, War of 1812 veteran, was born around 1787 in Halifax County, VA to George Estes and Mary Younger. He moved his family to the new frontier in Claiborne County, Tennessee about 1820. In 1826, he obtained land someplace close to the Indian Boundary line, but it’s unclear if he ever actually lived on that land. In 1833, a few years shy of 50 years old, he was probably living in Estes Holler, and would have witnessed the meteor shower in the skies between the mountain ridges, accompanies by his wife, Nancy Ann Moore, and their nine children. In Halifax County, John was probably a Methodist, since his father-in-law was a Methodist minister.

  • Nancy Ann Moore was born about 1785 in Virginia to the Reverend William Moore and Lucy, whose surname is unknown. Nancy Ann made the trek to Claiborne County with her husband and oldest five children around 1820. They settled someplace along Little Sycamore Road, probably in what would come to be known as Estes Holler, shown above. Did she gather her children close, fearing the worst? Her father was a Methodist minister, so she had assuredly grown up hearing the prophecies of Judgement Day.

Methodists, caught in the Second Great Awakening, interpreted the dramatic 1833 Leonid meteor shower as a powerful sign of Jesus’s Second Coming and the End Times, fulfilling Bible prophecies that stars would fall from heaven, sparking intense spiritual fervor, fear of judgment, and many conversions.

  • John Y. Estes’s wife, Martha “Ruthy” Dodson was born in 1820 in Alabama to Lazarus Dodson and Elizabeth Campbell. We believe that Ruthy’s mother died before 1830, when her father, Lazarus Dodson, brought his children back to Claiborne County, TN. In the 1830 census, Ruthy’s Campbell grandparents have four young children living with them. In 1833, Ruthy would have been 13 and would either have been terrified or fascinated by the night sky show. Did she equate the meteor shower with a message from her mother?

  • Lazarus Dodson (Jr.) was born around 1795 in Hawkins County, TN to Lazarus Dodson (Sr.) and Jane, whose surname is unknown. By 1833, he had returned from Alabama with his children after his wife, Elizabeth Campbell, died. By 1833, he would have been about 38 years old and was living just below Cumberland Gap on Gap Creek Road, now Tipprell Road. He was involved in the founding of Gap Creek Church, above. Interestingly, in 1833, he sold his land to David Cottrell and moved to Pulaski County, KY – although we don’t know when that move took place because those records are anything but clear. We will never know, of course, but I wonder what the meteor shower would have looked like from the Pinnacle of Cumberland Gap, directly above his land, some 2400 feet above sea level, and probably more than 1000 feet above his home. If I had been Lazarus, I would have ridden to the top to take a look for myself.

  • We know that Lazarus Dodson Jr’s father died in 1826, but his mother, Jane, whose surname is unknown, was born about 1760 and died sometime between 1830 and 1840, probably in McMinn County, TN. It’s unclear when Jane was living in Claiborne County, where she would have attended Gap Creek Church, just down the holler, or was living in McMinn County. In 1833, if she were living, she would have been in her 70s and most likely residing with one of her children. I wonder how she would have interpreted this heavenly spectacle from her view overlooking the road descending from Cumberland Gap. The Cottrell cemetrey above, now on LMU land, was once theirs. Were some people so fearful that they had heart attacks and died?

  • Elizabeth Campbell died before 1833, but her parents John Campbell and Jane “Jenny” Dobkins were still living. John Campbell was born about 1772 in Hawkins County, TN, moved to Claiborne County about 1802 and set up housekeeping on what is today Little Sycamore Road, right beside the Liberty Baptist Church. While Liberty had not yet been established at that time, there is a long-lost Baptist church back on Little Ridge, shown above, behind his house shown in the holler. Everyone in the neighborhood would have attended there. In 1833, John was about 50 and, like his neighbors, was a farmer. Was he wondering if the meteors were hitting the ground and damging his crops, or was he worrying about something different entirely?

  • Jane “Jenny” Dobkins was born around 1780 in Dunsmore County, VA to Jacob Dobkins and Dorcas Johnson. She married John Campbell around 1795 in Hawkins County, TN. As newlyweds, they moved to Claiborne County where, by 1833, at 53, she was raising her orphaned Dodson grandchildren in the log cabin portion of the home above, plus three of her own children who were still at home. What did Jenny tell her young grandchildren? Did she explain the phenomenon in terms of religion, or perhaps reassure them that their mother was looking over them?

  • Jacob Dobkins was a Revolutionary War Veteran who had been an Indian Scout on the frontier, barely escaping death. He was born about 1751 in Augusta County, VA, but was one of the first settlers in Claiborne County after the county was formed, obtaining prime farmland along the Powell River. In 1833, he would have been in his early 80s, maybe 82 or 83, and after what he had gone through in the war, I imagine nothing much phased him.

  • Dorcas Johnson was born around 1750, but much about her early life remains a mystery. She married Jacob Dobkins, setting out to homesteaded in the State of Franklin, then Jefferson County, TN, and then in a small log cabin, in Claiborne County around 1802. The cabin is shown above before it was dismantled. Dorcas was clearly one formidable woman. In March of 1833, at age 83ish, she was a sworn chain carrier for her grandson’s survey. After everything she had survived, she probably took a look at the meteors, thought, “Wow, those are cool,” peacefully enjoyed them for a while sitting on her porch in a rocking chair before going inside and back to bed. A few little meteors, or a lot, weren’t going to ruffle this woman’s feathers. Nosireee…

  • Joel Vannoy was born in 1813 in Claiborne County. He grew up in the portion that is now Hancock County, near the intersection of Little Sycamore and Mulberry Gap Roads, shown above. In 1833, Joel was 20 and still living at home, farming with his father, Elijah Vannoy on very steep, rocky terrain, on the side of Wallen Ridge. In his adult life, Joel struggled with mental health issues with symptoms that suggest paranoid schizophrenia. Given his challenges later in life, and that his diagnosis was “preachin’, swearin’ and threatenin’ to fight,” I can’t help but wonder how he interpreted the meteor sky show.

  • Elijah Vannoy was born about 1784 in Wilkes County, NC, married Lois McNiel, then moved across the mountains to Claiborne County, TN in about 1812. They settled on Mulberry Creek, with Elijah doing all of the normal pioneer things, like serving as a juror at court. However, beginning around 1820, Elijah began experiencing difficulties and lost his land entirely in 1834. So, in 1833, Elijah would have been struggling terribly and may have suffered from the same mental illness that his son would later exhibit. Elijah would have watched the meteors with Joel, and Lois if she was still living, along the rest of their nine children. He may well have believed the world was ending, because in a sense, his was. It’s beyond me how he managed to farm this incredibly steep land.

  • Phebe Crumley was born in 1818 in either Greene County or Claiborne County, TN to William Crumley the third and Lydia Brown. In 1833, she was 16 and living with her parents, either in Pulaski County, KY, or near Blackwater, on the Lee County/Claiborne County line. We have no records of the family’s involvement with a church, but many people joined churches in response to the meteors. Regardless, she would have told stories about that night into the late 1800s, before her death in 1900.

  • William Crumley the third, a War of 1812 veteran, was born in 1788 in Frederick County, VA, to William Crumley II and a woman whose name is unknown, but who had died by 1817 when his father remarried. William sold his land in Green County in 1822, was in Pulaski County, KY before 1830, and was living near Mulberry Gap Church, shown above, in Claiborne, now Hancock County, near or just over the Lee County, VA border, not long after.

  • William Crumley II was born about 1767 in Frederick County, VA, but had moved to the Territory South of the Ohio by about 1793, then to Greene County, TN by about 1795. He was probably raised as a Quaker, but as an adult, worshipped as a Methodist and helped establish Wesley’s Church in Greene County in 1797. His exact path to Lee County, Va, just across the border from Claiborne/Hancock County, TN is uncertain, mostly due to the fact that both he and his son had the same name. Regardless, it appears that in 1830, this William was living in Lee County, VA, near Blackwater, shown above. Would his religious leanings have influenced his interpretation of the meteor storm?

Some Quakers viewed the meteor shower as a Divine sign. Others encouraged scientific observation, and recognized it as a natural phenomenon, but still emphasized its spiritual meaning as an “inner light.”

  • Margaret Herrell was born about 1810 in Wilkes County, NC, to William Herrell and Mary McDowell. Her parents moved to the border region between Lee County, VA, and Claiborne County, TN on the Powell River by 1812. The Herrel land is shown above. In 1833, Margaret would have been 23 years old and had been married since about 1829. Her first child was born in early 1830, and her second known child arrived sometime in 1833. It’s quite interesting that on Sunday, December 1, 1833, Margaret was “received by experience,” into the Thompson Settlement Baptist Church. This means Margaret had undergone some sort of religious awakening, was baptized in the cold Powell river, and joined the church. Given that the sky rained stars just two and a half weeks earlier, I would be surprised if those two events weren’t connected. Margaret probably interpreted the meteor shower as a divine event, which convinced her to join the closest church, some 15 miles distant.

Baptists interpreted the brilliant meteor shower as awe-inspiring display by God that indicated fulfillment of the Biblical prophecy, specifically Matthew 24:29 and Revelation 6:13, signaling the imminent Second Coming of Christ and the End Times, which created a sense of urgency.

William Miller, who founded a sect called the Millerites, was a Baptist preacher who predicted that the end of the world would occur around 1843-1844. The “stars falling” became a key piece of evidence for his followers.

  • William Herrell, a War of 1812 veteran, was born around 1790 in Wilkes County, NC, and had moved his family to the northern-most portion of Claiborne County, TN before 1812. In 1833, William was about 43 years old and was living in a location on the Powell River known as Herrell’s Bend. One of the Herrell homes is shown above. William is quite the quandary, because while the meteor shower caused many people to reassess their lives, not so with William. In the 1830 census, William did not own any other humans, but William’s son, named Cannon, was born to an enslaved girl, Harriett, about November 1834, or perhaps somewhat earlier. William continued to have a “black wife” and a “white wife” for the rest of his life, living on opposite sides of his property and traveling back and forth between the two. Members of both families recount that he would live with one until she got mad at him, then go live with the other one until the same thing happened there too. However, there are no other known children borne by Harriett – so perhaps the meteor shower instilled at least a little fear of God in William. Or, maybe Harriett had children that died, or were sold.

  • Mary McDowell was born around 1785 in Wilkes County, NC, to Michael McDowell and Isabel, whose last name is not known. By 1833, Mary was living with her husband, William Herrell, five of her six known children ranging in age from 17 down to four, plus an enslaved girl, Harriett, also about 16 or 17, who gave birth to her husband’s child. There’s no possible way that either Mary or Harriett were happy with the situation, but neither of those women had any agency to do anything about it either. How did either, or both of them, interpret the meteor shower? Did that night sky display have anything to do with why William never fathered another child with Harriett, and perhaps why he built her a house? After Harriett’s death between 1840 and 1850, Mary raised Harriett’s son, Cannon, as her own, and as an adult, Cannon took care of Mary and his half-sister, who never married. The Herrell Cemetery, near their homes, with many unmarked graves, is shown above.

  • Michael McDowell was born about 1747, probably in Botetourt County, Virginia. After serving in the Revolutionary War, he settled in Wilkes County, NC, then, in 1809 or 1810, he forged on with the Herrell family to Claiborne County, TN. Michael settled on a peninsula of extremely rugged land in the Powell River aptly named Slanting Misery, shown above, looking towards the Claxton land across the Powell River. In 1832, when Michael applied for a Revolutionary War Pension, one of his witnesses was the Reverend James Gilbert of the Thompson Settlement Church, with whom Michael says he has a good relationship. By the time 1833 rolled around, Michael was 86 years old and still living on his relatively inaccessible, mountainous land. He was clearly thinking about the afterlife, though, because Michael deeded his land to two male McDowell men that year, “for love,” who are presumed to be sons or close family members. We don’t know whether the land transfer occurred before or after the meteor shower, because, of course, that deed book is missing. If Michael thought God was coming for him immediately upon seeing the stars falling, he was mistaken. He didn’t pass away until July of 1840 and may have been living with the Reverend Nathan S. McDowell at the time.

  • Isabel, spelled Isbell, whose surname we don’t know, was born around 1753, probably in Virginia. She and Michael McDowell settled for some time in Wilkes County, NC but Michael was a bit of a rabble-rouser, and by 1810 or so, they headed over the mountains to Claiborne County, TN. Isabel was about 60 by then, and in 1833, she would have been 80ish. In the 1830 census, a female, age 70-80 is living with Michael, and in 1840, it looks like Isabel is living with her daughter, Mary McDowell Herrell. Isabel’s children were all married by 1833 of course, except for her youngest daughter, Sally, born before 1790, who never married. No church records exist, but we do know that Nathan S. McDowell, her probable son or family member, was a minister in Claiborne County at the Big Springs Baptist Church, above, and was reported to have a “very crabbed disposition.” Closer to home, Isabel’s husband was close to the Reverend James Gilbert of the Thompson Settlement Church. I bet the discussions in November of 1833 were interesting in those mountains, especially if the interpretations of the two ministers didn’t quite align.

  • Samuel Claxton/Clarkson, a Civil War veteran, was born in 1827 in Claiborne County, TN, near the Harrells and McDowells, on Claxton Bend in the Powell River. In 1833, he would have been only 6 years old and may have stared at the Heavens in awe. He would have taken his cues in terms of “meaning” from his parents, Fairwick/Fairwix Claxton and Agnes Muncy, and the other adults around him. Samuel died a protracted, miserable death 43 years later as a result of his service in the war, and I hope that he was at least able to regale his children with stories about how the stars fell plum out of the sky one winter night a long time ago.

  • Fairwix Claxton was born around 1799 in Claxton Bend on the Powell River to James Lee Clarkson/Claxton and Sarah Cook. By 1833, he was married with five children. Fairwix and his siblings were trying to sort out his father’s land, above, on which his mother was still living. Estates can bring out the worst in people. Perhaps the meteor shower served as a stark reminder that Divinity is watching and was a wake-up call to whoever needed a rather remarkable reminder to be kind. Fairwick did not join a church until 1851.

  • Sarah Cook was born about 1775 in Russell County, VA where she met and married her husband, James Lee Clarkson/Claxton. They moved down the mountain range, settling along the Powell River, above, where she had eight children before James’s death in the War of 1812. Sarah never remarried and conducted business as any man of her time. By 1833, Sarah would have been about 58 years old, with two young adult children yet unmarried. She lived among and near the rest of her children and grandchildren on Claxton land. There is no evidence of a church affiliation. Sarah was very much a no-nonsense woman, so perhaps she thought that all of the superstition was bunk, and falling stars were simply that, stunningly beautiful, awe-inspiring, falling stars. The Claxton land looking across the Claxton Cemetery from the road, above.

  • Agnes Muncy was born in 1803, probably in Virginia to Samuel Muncy and Anne Nancy Workman. Agnes married Fairwick Claxton about 1819 or 1820 and they settled at Claxton Bend on the banks of the Powell River, near the Lee Co., VA, border with Claiborne County, TN. In her early life, Agnes probably attended the Thompson Settlement Church, as many of her neighbors and family members did. Something happened in September or October of 1833, perhaps a revival or “Camp Meeting”, although those were normally held in August, that caused a large number of people to join Thompson Settlement “by experience.” Perhaps, for these folks, the meteor shower was a “thank goodness” or maybe a confirmation of their choice. Later in life, Agnes was one of the founders of Rob Camp, a church located closer to where she lived.

  • Samuel Muncy was probably born around 1765, give or take a few years in either direction, in Montgomery County, VA. His twisty turny path would eventually take him to Lee County, and then by 1800 on the Powell River on the North side of Wallen’s Ridge, shown above. By 1833, Samuel, then 68 or 70, joined the Thompson Settlement Church on November 1st. This would have made more sense had it been December 1st. Obviously, Samuel had been thinking about the hereafter – and the meteor shower probably confirmed whatever spurred him to join the church.

  • Anne Nancy Workman was born between about 1761, probably in York Co., PA on Walker’s Creek. By 1788, she was marrying Samuel Muncy in Montgomery County, VA. Along with Samuel’s parents, the newlyweds hitched up the wagon, loaded with their possessions, and moved on down the Appalachian Range to Lee County, VA. We know the identity of three of Anne’s children, all of whom stayed in the Powell River/Wallen’s Ridge area of Lee County and Claiborne Co., TN. On September 1, 1833, Anne Workman was baptized in the Powell River, shown above, and joined Thompson Settlement “by experience,” a month before her husband joined, along with two of her three known children. A few weeks later, when the meteors appeared in the sky, they all probably heaved a sigh of relief because they knew that when the Rapture occurred, as the meteors were assuredly prophesying, they were saved.

  • Nicholas Speaks, a War of 1812 veteran, was born about 1782 in Charles County, MD. Ironically, he was born Catholic, although someplace along the way, he became a Methodist. He moved with his father to Rowan Co., NC, then Iredell County, where he was orphaned. Nicholas wound up in Washington County, VA where he met and married Sarah Faires. Two decades later, they made their way to Lee County, VA to establish a Methodist Church on Glade Branch, now Speaks Branch. By 1833, their older children had married, but other than their eldest, remained nearby. Their youngest child was seven. Given Nicholas’s unquestionable devotion, I would presume that he interpreted the meteor shower as a Biblical or Divine message and as the fulfillment of Biblical prophecy. Given his Catholic upbringing, I wonder if he automatically crossed himself occasionally, “just in case”, especially in times of intense emotion. Did he remember that ancient Catholic traditions link the August Perseids meteors, the Tears of St. Lawrence, to martyrdom? After the 1833 meteors made their appearance, Nicholas probably fervently prepared his parishioners in this beautiful little white church for the imminent arrival of Judgement Day. I would love to sit in those wooden pews to hear his message.

  • Sarah Faires was born about 1786 in Washington County, Virginia where she married Nicholas Speaks in 1804. In 1823, they packed a wagon and moved to the next frontier, where they built a one-room cabin, shown above in the 1970s before the wood was salvaged and incorporated into a newer cabin. By 1828, Nicholas had established what is now called the Speaks Chapel Methodist Church. When the meteor shower occurred in 1833, Nicholas had been preaching for at least five years, but probably closer to 13. Sarah may have felt that God was answering a prayer, but which prayer, for what, and in what way? Maybe she had prayed for her oldest son, Charles, to return home from Henry County, Indiana so he could be with the family when the end came – a prayer that was answered.

Henry County, Indiana

  • Elizabeth “Betty” Speaks, shown above with her husband, Samuel Claxton, was born in July of 1832, probably in Henry County, Indiana to Charles Speak/Speaks and Ann McKee. Elizabeth would only have been 16 months old when the meteor shower occurred, so probably slept through the entire thing.

  • Charles Speaks was born about 1804 in Washington County, VA to the Methodist minister, Nicholas Speak/Speaks and Sarah Faires. In 1823, when Charles was 19, his family made their way to Lee County, Virginia, and settled on Glade Branch where the family built what is today the Speak Chapel Methodist Church. Given that daughter, Elizabeth, is recorded as having been born in Indiana, and Charles is found in Henry County, Indiana in the 1830 census, it’s certainly possible that Charles and his family were not in Virginia in 1833. He had returned by 1839 when Nicholas Speak deeded the church’s land to the church’s trustees, and Charles is listed as one. Regardless of where Charles lived in 1833, given his religious convictions, the meteors probably moved him deeply. It may even have been what prompted Charles to pull up stakes and move his family back to Virginia where he spent the remainder of his days before joining other family members in the Speaks Cemetery, above.

  • Anne McKee was born about 1805 in Washington County, VA, to Andrew McKee and Elizabeth, whose surname is unknown, and was probably living in Henry County, in East-central Indiana, in 1833. Anne converted from Presbyterianism to Methodism when she married Charles Speak. At that time, the Presbyterians looked down on the Methodists for their “emotional exhorting,” which probably became even more pronounced in November of 1833. Anne had six children between the ages of 16 months and nine years. Her older children would have been quite curious about the stars falling from the sky, especially if they heard the accompanying cracks, pops, and whistles. Perhaps Anne explained that God was speaking to them.

The Virginia Contingent

  • George Estes, a three-time Revolutionary War veteran, was born in 1763 in Amelia County, VA, but had moved to Halifax County with his parents as a child. In 1833, he was 70 years old and must certainly have been in awe of the night sky. Never had he seen anything like this in his seven decades upon the earth. Several of George’s children lived on his or adjacent land, on what is now known as Estes Street in South Boston, Virginia, shown above, across from the Oak Ridge Cemetery which was originally part of his land. George’s daughter and her five children were probably living with him. Did they come and wake their grandfather, or did he learn about the celestial show the next morning and then watch on the following night to see if there was going to be a repeat performance?

  • Joseph Preston Bolton was born in 1816 in Giles County, VA to Henry Bolton and Nancy Mann. In 1833, he would have been 17, still living with his parents, and had not yet married. Joseph assuredly attended the local Baptist church that his father had helped found, and where his brother-in-law was the minister. What did Joseph think about the “falling stars”? Nestled between mountain ranges near Fincastle, VA, shown above, was he able to see the full display, or was some of it obscured by forest, mountains or clouds?

  • Henry Bolton was born in 1759 in London, England, became an indentured servant upon arrival in the colonies, and served in the Revolutionary War, reportedly caring for George Washington’s horse. By the 1830 census, he had moved from Botetourt County, VA a few miles away to Giles County, where he was living in 1833. We know Henry had a Bible, because he recorded genealogical events there. It was reported that Henry was a member and deacon of the Mill Creek Baptist Church, above, near Fincastle, VA, where his son-in-law was a minister. In 1833, Henry was 74 years old, but still had several children living at home. Did the entire family gather at the church during or after the meteor storm? Did they believe, as many did, that the End Times was approaching and the stars were omens?

  • Nancy Mann was born about 1780 and married the older Henry Bolton as his second wife in 1798 while living in Botetourt County. By 1833, they were living in Giles County on today’s heavily forested Stoney Creek Road. Nancy was 53, and her youngest of 14 children was 7 years old. Although meteors had been falling for time immemorial, nothing in recorded history, before or since, has rivaled the “night of the falling stars” that Nancy and her children would have witnessed.

  • Ann McKee’s mother, Elizabeth, whose surname we don’t know, was born about 1767, probably in Virginia. Based on the fact that Ann’s family was Presbyterian, her mother probably was as well. It would be very unusual for a mother to be a different religious denomination from the rest of her family. We know that Ann was living in 1830, but either deceased or living with one of her children by 1840. In 1833, she would have been about 60 and enjoying her grandchildren. Perhaps they all watched out the window of this old frontier “station” together and then later loved hearing their grandmother retell the story, over and over, of the night the stars fell from the sky.

Presbyterians, like other denominations, interpreted the incredibly rare and intense storm as the literal fulfillment of the Biblical prophecy of “stars falling from Heaven.” Many churches and groups of people held impromptu prayer meetings, believing they would not live to see morning.

In New Salem, Illinois, a devout Presbyterian deacon named Henry Onstot ran to alert his 24-year-old neighbor, pounded on his door, and urgently awakened him, declaring “Arise, Abraham – the day of judgment has come.”

Alarmed, Abraham lept out of bed and rushed to the window. Through the breath-taking meteor shower, he spotted the constellations, and realized that, indeed, the world was fine because the constellations were still in place.

Who was Abraham? Why, the future President, Abraham Lincoln, who concluded that the display was simply meteors. The spectacular event impressed Lincoln deeply though, because during the Civil War, he used the meteor shower as a metaphor for the Union itself, opining that beneath the chaos and falling fire of battle, the foundation remained solid and unchanged, and would endure.

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Mitochondrial DNA: How Do I Know if I’m a Candidate to Receive a New Haplogroup?

New haplogroups, which are phylogenetic tree branches, are formed with periodic updates to the Mitotree. In the November 2025 Mitotree release, 12,773 new branches were formed, and an amazing 67,000+ people received a new haplogroup. Haplogroups are relevant for both genealogy and more distant information about your direct matrilineal ancestor and their origins.

Are You a Candidate to Receive a New Haplogroup?

Lots of people have asked how one might know if they are a candidate to receive a new haplogroup, or tree branch, or why they didn’t, so let’s talk about the three ways your haplogroup could potentially change.

To follow along, if you have taken the full sequence mitochondrial DNA test, sign in to your FamilyTreeDNA account and click on Discover on the mtDNA Results and Tools page.

After clicking on Discover, you’ll see the mtDNA Discover sidebar menu on the left. Click on Scientific Details

You Have Private Variants

The first reason you might be a candidate to receive a new haplogroup is that you have private variants. Private variants are mutations that have not already been used to form a haplogroup, hence, they are still private to you.

To see if you have private variants, click on Scientific Details on the sidebar, then on the Variants Tab.

Click any image to enlarge

You’ll see a list of haplogroups under the Placement column header. Your assigned haplogroup is noted by the red square, J1c2f in this instance.

At the top is an “F” number, which is your Haplotype. Haplotype numbers are randomly assigned, and everyone with exactly the same mitochondrial sequence will have the same haplotype number.

You can see your haplogroup and haplotype matches on your match list. If you match both, both blue circles will be checked.

In this example, you can see that beside the haplotype number, which I’ve blurred, in the Name column, it says “No private variants.” This means that all of this person’s mutations have been used to assign them to haplogroup J1c2f and the haplogroups upstream of J1c2f.

This tester cannot match anyone any more closely than the exact same haplogroup, J1c2f, and the exact same Haplotype number, which means they match exactly and have no private variants. This means there’s no material available to form a new haplogroup.

I’ve written about mitochondrial haplogroups, haplotypes and haplotype clusters, in two articles.

Let’s look at an example of someone who does have Private Variants.

This tester, who is a member of haplogroup C4c1h has one private variant, T13879g. When another tester in haplogroup C3c1h also has this variant, or mutation, they are candidates to form a new branch in the next Mitotree release.

Keep in mind that not every private variant will become a haplogroup, based on several scientific factors.

So, while our haplogroup J1c2f tester is NOT a candidate to form a new haplogroup branch due to no private variants, our C4c1h person with one high-quality private variant is.

However, private variants are only one way in which a new haplogroup might form. There are others.

The Tree Splits Upstream

Sometimes the tree splits upstream.

Looking further upstream, or back in time from haplogroup J1c2f, we see that two of the foundation haplogroups that formed J1c2f are defined by more than one mutation.

Haplogroup J1 was formed using both C462T and G3010A, bracketed in red.

Haplogroup J was formed using seven different mutations, beginning with C295T and continuing to the bottom of the screen capture, bracketed in purple.

As more people test, eventually a new tester may have C462T, but NOT G3010A, AND their downstream mutations are different too. In other words, we’re not looking at a reversal for 3010, but at a completely different haplogroup with a split at C462T as its defining mutation.

In this case, the new branch would receive the new haplogroup name, and the existing branch would remain the same. But what if this scenario happened far up the tree and changed our understanding of this portion of the tree?

In that case it’s still very unlikely that your haplogroup would change, based on existing naming structures. FamilyTreeDNA makes every effort to NOT rename existing haplogroups when these types of branching situations occur.

The Branch is Renamed

Sometimes the existing tree structure is clarified, prompting branch renaming.

Let’s look at an earlier structure of this portion of haplogroup J1c2f.

In the earlier version of the Mitotree, shown above, you can see that two mutations define haplogroup J1c2, two mutations define J1c, and there’s a haplogroup called J1c’g that is constructed using a reversal at location 152.

In the November 2025 release of the Mitotree, this exact same portion of the tree looks different. The tester is still haplogroup J1c2f, but the upstream structure has changed.

  • J1c2 is now defined by only one mutation, A188G.
  • A new haplogroup has been formed: J1c2+16519. Notice the Weight column at far right. This mutation’s confidence weighting is very low, so this haplogroup is a good candidate for refinement in future trees.

Now look at J1c where we see the same thing occurring.

  • J1c is now comprised of just T14798C.
  • A new haplogroup, J1c+185 has formed. It has a weight of 17, still in the red zone, but more confident than J1c2+16519.

Looking further down the original placement table, we see J1c’g, which is a collapsed haplogroup based on a double reversal at C152T!!. It’s gone in the most current version of the tree. You can see that haplogroup J1c’g only had a weight of 1, so it was a good candidate to be refined, eliminated, or assigned elsewhere in the tree.

None of these changes affect haplogroup J1c2f itself, meaning the tester’s assigned haplogroup. Unless they actually look at their haplogroup mutations, they won’t see any difference. This person was and still is assigned to J1c2f.

However, if someone was assigned to J1 or J1c2 before, they might have a new haplogroup name. If they were assigned to J1c’g, they definitely have a new haplogroup name.

These scenarios are repeated throughout the tree, and may be exactly why you receive a new haplogroup, even without having any private variants.

Older Versus Newer

Haplogroups that form as a result of your private variants tend to be newer, or closer in time, but not always. You never know when just the right person will test to split an upstream branch!

Regardless, all new haplogroups help refine the tree, and all refinements are important. Branches that form in more recent generations are often the most useful for genealogy.

However, that’s not always the case. “Newer” versus “older” is sometimes relative (pardon the pun.) Let’s say that you are trying to figure out which of two sisters, or cousins, born in the 1600s, you descend from.

You may desperately need an “older” haplogroup that will divide the branches of the ancestral tree.

Or maybe you want to know whether your ancestor came from Scotland or Germany, so you may need an older haplogroup yet.

Want to know if they were Celtic or from a different culture? An older haplogroup fills in cultural and genealogical blanks that no other type of testing can reach. Haplogroups pierce the veil of time.

OK, So What Should I Check?

Even if you don’t receive a new haplogroup when a new Mitotree version is released, you’re certainly not out of luck.

Some of your matches may have received a new haplogroup, further refining the genetic tree, causing them to cluster together. This should correlate with the genealogical tree.

For example, I’m desperate to identify the wife of my ancestor, who has been known affectionately for years as H2a1. She is now haplogroup H2a1ay1, but I still don’t know her name.

The haplogroup formation date range extends back to around 1820, which is slightly late, but certainly not far off either. The dates for the genetic Time Tree, and the genealogical tree may not align exactly, but the date ranges generally do. Mutations don’t occur on an exact schedule.

However, matches for the tester who represents H2a1 (now H2a1ay1) have been nicely narrowed down to two other full sequence testers. Both have this exact same haplogroup, and one of them also has the exact same haplotype. The balance of her matches are now in a more distant haplogroup.

Now I can focus on the two matches with the same haplogroup.

Even though the trees of these three testers don’t seem to intersect, some genealogical sleuthing tells me a lot.

The ancestor of one of the haplogroup matches was born in 1741, a Quaker, in Chester, Pennsylvania, and died in 1818.

The ancestor of the haplogroup plus haplotype match lived in the same Virginia County as my ancestor, and they were both Quakers, whose families attended the same church.

So we have:

  • Haplogroup match – Born a Quaker in 1741 in Chester, PA.
  • Haplogroup AND haplotype match – Lived in Frederick Co., VA in the 1780s and attended same Quaker church as the tester’s ancestor

These new haplogroups, both of the tester’s haplogroup matches, and others whose new haplogroup shows they are more distant, are critical to refining my search.

I’m so close to identifying H2a1ay1 and her parents that I can smell it!

Any self-respecting genealogist would end this article right here and get busy!

I’m outta here!!!

Don’t stop with checking your own haplogroup. Review any changes to people on your match list and view the Match Time Tree, even if you didn’t receive a new haplogroup.

While receiving a new haplogroup is exciting, sometimes refinements among people around you can be equally, if not more, important and informative.

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Michel Richard dit Sansoucy (c1630 – 1686/1689), Carefree Acadian – 52 Ancestors #465

Michel Richard was born about 1630, according to the Acadian census. We know he was born in France, because the first French settlers had not arrived in Acadia by 1630.

What we don’t know is where, or the identity of his parents.

Bona Arsenault, in his 1978 edition of HISTOIRE ET GENEALOGIE DES ACADIENS; 1625-1810, quoted on WikiTree and by Karen Theriot Reader, states that:

Michel Richard dit Sansoucy, born in 1639, originally from the Saintonge [an old province in the west part of France, now largely Charente-Inferieure. Its capital was Saintes]. Michel arrived in Acadia with the expedition of Emmanuel Le Borgne and de Guilbault in 1652 or 1651; he was with sieur de Saint-Mas, representative of Le Borgne. (Footnote cites Bona Arsenault’s own Histoire des Acadiens; and Louis Richard, in the Memoires de la Société Généalogique Canadienne-Francoise, vol. VI, no 1 (Jan 1954).)

Unfortunately, no sources were provided, and we know that the 1639 birth year is incorrect. No evidence has surfaced to confirm this location information, so for now, it remains unproven. As more parish records are transcribed and translated, Michel’s family information may come to light, although Richard is not an uncommon surname in France.

Sansoucy

Michel’s dit name or nickname is interesting. Sansoucy, means carefree, or without cares. It does not seem to be a place name, so it would either be a military nickname or indicative of Michel’s personality.

I like to think of him in this light!

A Brother by the Same Name

Michel probably had a younger brother, by the same name, who also settled in Port Royal, marrying Francoise Boudrot about 1663, and having two children with her before passing away, probably about 1667. Francoise remarried to Etienne Robichaud about 1668.

Francoise’s two children by Richard, Madeleine Richard Robichaud, born about 1664, and Charles Richard dit Cadet Robichaud, born about 1667, were known by the surname of their step-father, Etienne Robichaud. However, Charles used the dit name of “Cadet” signifying “the younger” and Y-DNA testing of several descendants has confirmed that indeed, he is genetically descended from the Richard line, not the Robichaud line.

These Big Y-700 tests from the French Heritage DNA Project show that the Richard and Robichaud men from these genealogy lines descend from the same genetic lineage. The common haplogroup, R-FT137222, formed about 1637, with a range that extends in both directions.

Cadet would indicate that both Richard brothers had the same name – a situation not unheard of and found in other Acadian families too, especially if they are half-siblings. We find this same situation occurring in “our” Michel Richard “dit Sansoucy” line, with two sons being named Alexandre. The older Alexander Richard was born about 1668 to Madeleine (Madelaine) Blanchard, and the younger Alexandre Richard was born about 1686 to second wife, Jeanne Babin.

I think the phrase, “It’s complicated,” could sum up the Richard family.

Port Royal

In the 1671 census, Michel is enumerated with Abraham Dugas on one side, and Charles Melanson on the other. Those two men lived directly across the river from each other.

Here, I’m standing on or near the Melanson land, looking across the Riviere du Port Royal at the Dugas land, at left, which is just west of the fort.

Michel Richard was listed as a 41-year-old laborer, or ploughman, wife Madeleine Blanchard, 28, along with seven children, Rene, 14, Pierre, 10, Catherine, 8, Martin, 6, Alexandre, 3, and twins, Anne and Magdeleine, 5 weeks. They have 15 cattle, 14 sheep, and are farming 14 arpents of land.

Twins, especially twins who both lived, are rare.

The census suggests Michel’s birth in 1630, Madeleine’s in 1643, and their marriage about 1656, so after the initial fall of Acadia in 1654.

Taken together, this tells us that Michel Richard was in Acadia prior to the fall and would have been a witness to and participant in those events.

The 1654 Fall of Acadia

In 1654, Michel would have been about 24 years old. He probably arrived in Acadia as a laborer, craftsman, or perhaps even a soldier. If he arrived with his parents or other family members, other than “Cadet” Richard, there was no trace of them by 1671.

Tensions had been escalating in the North Atlantic between the French, English, and Dutch colonies as extensions of their home countries.

In the summer of 1654, Oliver Cromwell in England was outfitting the English colonists in Boston with ships and soldiers to attack the Dutch in New Netherlands, today’s New York.

By the time they were prepared to attack, Major Robert Sedgwick was informed that the war had been settled, and peace was at hand. The trouble was that Sedgwick was prepared for battle, and had been authorized to take other territories belonging to the French after attacking New Netherlands, if time permitted. Given that he could no longer attack New Netherlands, that’s all the encouragement he needed.

He set out to capture all three Acadian forts: Saint John, Port Royal (now Annapolis Royal, NS), and Pentagouet (now Castine, Maine).

On July 14th, after Fort Saint John surrendered, Sedgwick crossed the Baie Française, now the Bay of Fundy, and attacked Port Royal, which was under the control of Emmanuel Le Borgne. Le Borgne had been at Saint John the day before attacking rival Charles La Tour when Sedgwick arrived there. Le Borgne quickly retreated to Port Royal, which gave him a day to prepare for Sedgwick’s arrival. It wasn’t much time, but better than nothing.

Le Borgne’s men lay in wait and ambushed Sedgwick, killing one and wounding six more. The more experienced professional English soldiers quickly returned fire, ambushed the ambushers, giving them no time to reload, and killed five men. We don’t know if those five men were French soldiers or Acadians.

The French soldiers and Acadians retreated into the fort, where the English laid siege to Port Royal. Knowing that the combined forces of about 200 men in Port Royal stood no chance against the 750 English and colonial soldiers, they surrendered on August 8th.

Le Borgne obtained generous surrender terms, meaning that the Acadians were to remain unharmed, keep their homes and belongings, be allowed to continue to worshiping as Catholics, and the French soldiers were to be transported back to France. Nevertheless, the English captured 113 men, more than 23 cannons, 500 weapons, and more than 50 barrels of gunpowder. In violation of the agreement, the Sedgwick had the Acadians’ livestock slaughtered.

It’s unclear whether all 113 captives were French soldiers, or a mixture of soldiers and Acadians. It’s unlikely that Michel was a French soldier, or he would have been sent back to France at this time, so he must have arrived in a different capacity.

Le Borgne’s own ship had been captured too, laden with a valuable cargo of alcohol. The surrender terms allowed him to keep the ship, AND his alcohol. He, as a French administrator, returned to France, but his sons were allowed to remain in Acadian, and he was allowed to keep his property. These suspiciously generous terms for Le Borgne personally fueled accusations of treason. The fact that Le Borgne had somehow escaped on July 13th from Saint John when the English were attacking, instead of fighting to defend Fort Saint John, furthered those accusations.

Regardless, Acadia was now under English control and would remain so until it was returned to the French in 1667 under the Treaty of Ryswick. In 1670, the transfer was completed, and was followed by the 1671 Acadian census, which provides us with a glimpse of what happened in Acadia between 1654 and 1670.

The next census in Acadia took place seven years later, in 1678.

The 1678 Census

The 1678 census was much less specific than the earlier one. We have the name of the head of household, the wife, the number of children by sex, and how much livestock they owned.

Michel Richard’s neighbors, in order, are shown as:

  • Jean Labat and Renee Gautrot – Labat was a military engineer who was sent to oversee the reconstruction of the fort. He lived in Port Royal, on the waterfront.
  • Rene Landry and Perrine Bourg
  • E(tienne) Pellerin and Jeanne Savoye – the Pellerin family lived in Port Royal and eventually owned Hogg Island.
  • Francois Brossard and Catherine Richard – Michel Richard’s newly married daughter.
  • Michel Richard and Madeleine Blanchard (their names only)
  • Germain Doucet and Marie Landry – lived in Port Royal
  • Michel Richard (no wife’s name, but the balance of his family and livestock are listed). Four boys, five girls, living on 10 arpents of land with 21 cattle.
  • Michael Boudrot at the brook – Michael Boudrot was the neighbor of Abraham Dugas.

This strongly suggests that the couple lived in Port Royal, and not yet upriver.

Additionally, there’s a very interesting note that indicates that Michel had three separate plots of land:

  • Sans Soucy, 29, 1 arpent of high land, bordering at one end of the river, part the other end on the North wood on one side Anthoine Hebert, Denis Godet.
  • 6 arpents at Port Royal, Lyon Rampat? Bordering on Germain then on the meadow and the petite Riviere then on Renee Landry
  • 3 arpents at gros Cap on Claude Terriot, Barnabe Martin at the road then at the river, 260 frontage

What types of information can we extract from this?

  • Michel’s age is not 29, which would place his birth in 1649, an impossibility given his first child’s birth in 1657. He would have been 48 or maybe 49, not 29. Perhaps this was misread or misrecorded.
  • Anthoine Hebert lives upriver beside Daniel LeBlanc at BelleIsle and so does the Godet (Gaudet) family, on the North side of the river.
  • Gros cap, “large cape,” may be the town of Port Royal itself, or the point of land where it sits, given that the Chemin du Cap is the road leading to the south out of Port Royal.
  • Renee Landry lives beside Jean Labat in Port Royal.
  • Germain Doucet lives on the other side of Michel Richard in the 1678 census in Port Royal.
  • We know, based on Nicole Barrieau’s thesis, that Michel Richard’s land was not among that expropriated in 1705 in Port Royal when the new fort was built, so his land was either further east along the waterfront, on the south side of the main road, along the Cape Path, or had already been settled in another way by 1705.

In 1671 and through 1678, based on the neighbors in the census, and the 1678 census notes, we can determine that Michel lived someplace along the waterfront in Port Royal for most of his life. This makes sense, given that we know that he was in Acadia before it fell in 1654.

Acadians in Gray, authored by Steven Cormier, states, in part, that:

First came Michel Richard dit Sansoucy, a young soldier born in the Saintonge region of France in c1630. He appeared at Port-Royal in the early 1650s in the entourage of Emmanuel Le Borgne. When his term of service ended, he remained in the colony, took up farming, obtained two grants of land from Le Borgne “at some ten to fifteen miles from the fort” on the upper Rivière au Dauphin, now the Annapolis River.

I very much wish Mr. Cormier had provided sources for this information.

Researcher Paul LeBlanc, prior to his death, believed that Michel’s dit name was derived from the location of Saintonge, although a male from Saintonge would be known as a “Saintongese.”

One of the pieces of land referenced by Cormier may be the land where Michel Richard’s son, the younger Alexandre Richard, eventually lived, near Bridgetown. Alexandre married Marie Levron about 1711, whose parents lived directly across the River from Port Royal.

Port Royal in 1686

What was Port Royal like in 1686?

We are fortunate that Labat drew a map in 1686 to encourage investment and settlement in Port Royal.

The church and cemetery are shown in this drawing.

The church is shown with the number #2, and above the church, the cemetery is annotated with #4.

The fort where Michel Richard would have served, assuming he did arrive as a soldier with Le Bourg, is shown in ruins, labeled #3, on the water, by the boats.

If Michel lived upriver in 1686, instead of in Port Royal, they lived in the BelleIsle area where 1500 arpents of prime marshland was awarded by a succession of stakeholders over the years.

Madeleine Blanchard Dies

Based on the 1686 census, Madeleine Blanchard died between 1678 and 1683 when Michel Richard remarried to Jeanne Babin. Jeanne was 15 at the time, so born about 1667, and Michel was 52.

In 1667, Michel had 10 living children, ranging in age from 20 down to 3. He needed a wife, even if his new wife was younger than his four eldest children.

In the 1686 census, we find Michel Richard, age 56, Jeanne Babin, 18, with children: Martin, 19, Alexandre, 17, Marie, 12, Cecile, 10, Marguerite, 7, and Michel, 2. Five other children are married. Marguerite was the last child born to Madeleine Blanchard, and Michel, age 2, is Michel’s first child with Jeanne Babin.

In addition to the blended family, they have two guns, 16 cattle, 30 sheep, and eight hogs on 12 arpents of land.

Based on the neighbors, it appears that Michel is probably living upriver by 1686, but that’s anything but certain. The census taker may not have been recording in the order that people lived. He may also have been paddling back and forth across the river.

The 1693 Census

By the 1693 census, Jeanne Babin has remarried to Laurent Doucet, and they have a three-year-old child, suggesting that they married about 1689.

We know that Michel Richard and Jeanne’s second child, Alexandre Richard, was born about 1686, which places Michel’s death sometime between 1686 and 1689.

Michel’s Funeral

Michel died before the Catholic church, which stood beside the fort in Port Royal, was burned in 1690 during another attack by the English.

His funeral would have been held in the church with the priest saying mass. His coffin would have been carried outside, where he was laid to rest in the cemetery in the churchyard, surrounded by his family and fellow Acadians.

Lost beneath the ramparts of the reconstructed fort today, when Michel was buried, a simple little church and adjacent cemetery behind the ramparts served the Acadian population and the French soldiers, all of whom were Catholic.

Michel was laid to rest within view of the garrison where he may have served, and assuredly defended in 1654. All that’s left of his grave today is mist and memories.

Belle-Ile-en-Mer

After the Expulsion of the Acadians in 1755, a decade later, in 1765, a group of 78 refugee Acadian families made their way to the French Island of Belle-Île-en-Mer where each family gave depositions about the origins of their ancestors.

The French were trying to determine how to help settle the refugees and whether they were actually French descendants. Clearly, they were. The French King settled the Acadian families in four regions on the island, providing them with housing and livestock.

The resulting depositions provide a plethora of information about the earliest Acadian ancestors. Of course, a few generations removed, not everything was perfectly accurate.

According to Stephen A. White, Genealogist,Centre d’études acadiennes January 17, 2005:

In four separate depositions, Michel Richard is mentioned by his Sansoucy dit name. He married Madeleine Blanchard at Port Royal, according to Pierre Doucet, the husband of Michel’s great-granddaughter Marie-Blanche Richard. (Doc. inéd., Vol. III, pp. 53-54).

Pierre mistakenly called his wife’s great-grandmother Anne, instead of Madeleine, but the 1671 census shows her true given name (see DGFA-1, pp. 1373-1374).

Three other depositions confirm the French origin of Michel Richard dit Sansoucy, although two of these attribute the given names of René to him and Marie to his wife, one from his great-grandson Pierre Richard (Doc. inéd., Vol. II, p. 191) and the other from Joseph LeBlanc dit Le Maigre, on behalf of his son Joseph, whose wife Angélique Daigre was another great-grandchild of the ancestor (ibid., p. 178).

The last deposition, from Pierre Trahan, whose father-in-law’s first wife was Michel Richard’s daughter, provides no given name for the ancestor and does not mention his spouse at all (ibid., Vol. III, p. 111).

Michel Richard’s Land in Acadia

Alexander Richard, the youngest son of Michel Richard, lived on land upriver, near present-day Bridgetown in 1710, according to the Labat map. This is probably the land granted to his father, Michel, assuming that Steven Cormier is right about Michel being granted land about 15 miles, or so, upriver. It fits that description exactly.

Michel Richard had two sons named Alexandre, the older one by Madeleine Blanchard, and the younger one by Jeanne Babin.

For a long time, I mistakenly assumed that the Alexandre Richard who lived on this land was Michel’s eldest son, Alexandre (c1668-1709), not his youngest, born about 1686. His eldest died in 1709, so it clearly cannot be him living on that land in 1710.

On this reconstructed Acadian map from MapAnnapolis, Alexandre Richard is shown living near present-day Bridgetown. The Gaudet, Petitpas, and Bastarche familes also owned land nearby, settling near Bridgetown and intermarrying.

There’s another possibility to be considered, too.

Based on the 1671 census location of Antoine Babin, this could have been his land before his grandson, the younger Alexandre Richard, farmed it. Antoine died about 1687, leaving 11 children. It’s a stretch to think that his middle daughter, Jeanne, inherited his land, then passed it to her son nearly a quarter century later.

The proximity of the Richard and Babin land to each other is probably more a function of the fact that Michel Richard and Antoine Babin were both granted land, probably by Le Borgne, anout the same time, and may have selected it together. After all, Michel Richard married Antoine’s daughter not long before both men died. Antoine and Michel were about the same age.

Alexandre Richard would have inherited the land from someone. His mother, Jeanne Babin, would have held it after Michel’s death. Her older son, Michel Richard Jr., settled in Beaubassin, so it makes perfect sense for this land to descend to Jeanne Babin, then on to Alexandre, her other son by Michel Richard Sr.. Michel Sr. and Jeanne Babin only had two children.

Perhaps Alexandre’s father, Michel Richard Sr., died before he was able to develop the land, but he was trying to leave something to one of his sons. Maybe specifically the youngest son, whom he knew he would never be able to raise. Michel was 56 when Alexandre was born. For all we know, Michel may have been ill and it’s possible that he died even before Alexandre’s birth.

Of course, the land needed to be dyked and drained for at least three years before it could be farmed, but that could wait until Alexandre was old enough.

I like to think of Michel walking here, selecting the land, imagining his grandchildren playing in the sunshine decades in the future.

This map may be slightly skewed. I used the 1710 original map and landmarks to attempt to locate Alexander’s property more precisely in preparation for a 2024 visit, so let’s see what we have.

Of course, it doesn’t help that some of the geography has been changed in the intervening three centuries. Roads have been laid, rivers have flooded, changing their courses, and, of course, those original maps weren’t 100% accurate.

It was easy to match up both the east bend in the river and the Bridgetown bend, although the Bridgetown bend has changed a bit. I should probably have turned one of these maps upsidedown.

Alexander Richard’s property was probably someplace near or between the two red stars.

Unfortunately, the view from the Harvest Highway and also from 201 is very obscured by trees.

Perhaps the best view of both sides is from the bridge itself.

This is looking south, but keeping in mind that the Acadians specialized in farming reclaimed marshland. The view looking north probably overlooks Alexandre’s fields.

Click to enlarge any image

You can see the river running beneath the bridge on the highway, where that first car is located, just before the sign. The fields between this bridge and the river would have been Alexandre’s.

Alexandre, and possibly Michel before him, would have worked these fields, as seen from the bridge over the Annapolis River.

The fields visible on both the left and right sides of the bridge, on the south side of the river, would probably have been his.

The location of the house and barn today, above the fields, is probably near the same place as it was then.

On the northeast side of the intersection of 101 and 201, there’s a small dirt road that serves one farm and also provides utility road access.

I drove up this road until I reached a fence with a warning sign, and the road began to deteriorate substantially.

This well-manicured field is still farmed.

I can see Alexandre tending the crops and farm animals, remembering his father fondly.

The father he never knew, who died when he was just a toddler.

The father who provided for him, even from the other side of death.

I returned to Highway 201, the road along the south side of the river, and turned towards the east bend.

Based on the river bends and the distance between easily identified landmarks, the Richard land may have been as far east as the red arrow.

These fields are hundreds of years old – drained by Alexander Richard and his neighbors and possibly begun by Michel.

Acadian men worked together on these tasks. Everyone helped everyone.

This model shows Acadian farmland. It takes at least three years after a salt marsh is dyked for the salt to wash out so it can be cultivated, and the dykes must be maintained to keep the fields salt-free.

Notice the stream, which is one of the cornerstone anchor landmarks I used to align this Google map with the 1710 map when searching for Alexandre’s land.

Michel Richard’s Legacy

I drove by, looking towards the river over the reclaimed marshland, thinking about Michel.

Did he ever dream that his descendant would return to find him, some three and a half centuries later? WikiTree, which doesn’t include all of his descendants, shows nearly 200,000. That’s ten times the size of the entire county where Annapolis Royal is located today, half the size of the Halifax, Nova Scotia, metropolitan region and one quarter of the population of all of Nova Scotia. That’s incredible for a humble Acadian farmer.

Everyone wants to leave a legacy. Sansoucy, carefree, is what pops into my mind when I soak in this sun-drenched summertime landscape, picturing Michel walking here.

Indeed, perhaps Michel Richard’s legacy of land enabled his son, Alexandre, to be Sansoucy too.

Perhaps a little of his Sansoucy has been passed down to all of us.

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Ancestry Reverts ThruLines to the Original View

Just a quick note to let everyone know that Ancestry has reverted ThruLines back to the original, legacy version, and has obsoleted the new pedigree view. I wrote about the new version in the article Ancestry’s ThruLines Has a New Pedigree View just three days ago.

  • If you didn’t yet have the new version of ThruLines, you won’t receive it because it has now been obsoleted.
  • If you DID have the new version, everyone has now been reverted back to the original or legacy version, including the important “Evaluate” feature that was missing in the new version

It’s always a good thing when vendors listen to their customers.

That said, I hope Ancestry is working on a new and truly “improved” version that combines the best features of both views, including Evaluate, as suggested by many customers and blog readers, and provides customers with the option to default to either view.

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Ancestry’s ThruLines Has a New Pedigree View

Update: Ancestry obsoleted this new feature on December 5, 2025.

Ancestry recently updated ThruLines and introduced a new pedigree view.

I’m not sure that everyone has the new view yet, so here’s what to expect.

If you do have the new feature, let’s take a look, because there’s new functionality you may not have discovered.

When I signed in and clicked on ThruLines on the DNA tab, the first thing I saw certainly looked different. Needless to say, I was surprised because I wasn’t expecting anything new.

Click on any image to enlarge

This doesn’t look anything like what we’re used to, but Ancestry provides navigation buttons.

One person mentioned that the new view was so small they couldn’t really see clearly, but by rolling your mouse button up or clicking on the little “+” button in the upper right-hand corner, it’s easy to enlarge.

That said, on this and especially on subsequent screens, I would very much like for there to be less white space at the top, or have a “full screen” option.

You can navigate up your tree by clicking on the little up arrows above the ancestors in the top row.

The Tile Display is Still There

But perhaps more importantly for people who prefer the previous display, it’s actually right there.

Click on the little tile button to switch from the pedigree to the traditional tile view.

It’s easy to toggle back and forth.

Take a look at the new ThruLines layout. If you don’t like it, select the tiled version

Why Do I Like the Pedigree View?

I like the pedigree view because it lets me easily see how people connect with each other. While I’m intimately familiar with the more recent generations, I don’t like the more distant ancestors all being smooshed together in the tile view.

In the pedigree view, I can see how many of my matches descend from each ancestor in the tree format.

Clicking on that number opens the dropdown showing the matches and how they descend from that ancestor.

In these expanded tree views, we really do need a full-screen option. It is challenging to see the entire sequence of descent.

My focus right now is on determining if anyone that I match carries the mitochondrial DNA of my paternal grandmother. On other ancestral lines, I have both the Y-DNA and mtDNA from generations back in time, but not my grandmother. I’m hoping to remedy that.

This layout makes it easy to see that there are many potential candidates for generations upstream. If I find the right person, descended from that ancestor through all females to the current generation, which can be male, I’ll be offering them a DNA testing scholarship for a mitochondrial DNA test at FamilyTreeDNA.

Suggestions for Improving the View

Perhaps Ancestry will provide the option of selecting a default view, so we can select our favorite – tile or pedigree – plus a full-screen option for pedigree view.

Another alternative would be for the pedigree view to be horizontal and extend left to right instead of top to bottom, the same as Ancestry’s traditional trees.

Truthfully, I really like the pedigree format and functionality of the new ThruLines pedigree view, but I greatly prefer the layout of this traditional tree. It’s much easier to see and is expandable without running off the top or bottom of the screen. Maybe Ancestry could combine the best features of both.

Update: A sharp-eyed reader caught that the “Evaluate” feature is now gone, which used to allow you to evaluate other people’s trees that suggested the ThruLines connection. This is really important, and I hope that Ancestry restores it. Genealogists must evaluate everything and weigh the evidence when determining if a connection is accurate.

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Catherine Richard (c1663 – after 1714), Mother of Beausoleil, Acadian Freedom Fighters – 52 Ancestors #464

Catherine Richard was born about 1663 in Port Royal, now Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia, to Michel Richard dit Sansoucy and Madeleine Blanchard. When Catherine was born, Acadia had been settled by the French but had fallen to the English in 1654. France could no longer send settlers, and neither did England. Until 1670, Acadia lived in limbo in terms of growth, with no new settlement.

We know that Catherine was born in Acadia because she was listed in the first Acadian census, in 1671, with her parents, who had to have been there before 1654.

Michel Richard, a farmer, age 41, is listed with his wife, Madeleine Blanchard, age 28, and their seven children: Rene, 14, Pierre, 10, Martin, 6, Alexandre, 3, Catherine, 8, twins Anne and Magdeleine, 5 weeks. In addition, the family had 15 cattle, 14 sheep, and was farming 14 arpents of land.

This tells us that Catherine was born about 1663.

The next census was taken in 1678. Catherine had recently married François Broussard. No church records exist from this timeframe, but two things indicate that they married in either 1677 or 1678.

First, Catherine would have been about 15, old enough to marry, but not old enough to have been married very long. The newlyweds lived beside her parents in or near Port Royal, with five cattle, probably helping farm her parents’ land.

Secondly, their first child had not yet arrived, strongly suggesting that the couple had been married for less than a year, and probably less than nine months. The census generally took place in the late fall or winter, so it’s likely that they married early in 1678, before the census, but not long enough to have welcomed their first baby.

The other sad possibility is that their first child had arrived, but died.

Their first child known to have lived was Madeleine Broussard, born about 1681 or 1682.

This tells an even sadder tale.

If Catherine gave birth to her first child in 1679, and the baby died immediately after birth, she could have had a second child in 1680 who perished before Madeleine arrived in 1681 or 1682.

It’s crushing to lose any child, but your first baby, perhaps even more so, especially for a young mother.

Thankfully, Catherine’s mother was close by when she had to bury her child in the cemetery by the Catholic church in Port Royal, now this green area sheltering unmarked graves. At least, I hope her mother was with her.

We don’t know when that first baby, or babies, died. Only that it was before the 1686 census.

We do know that Catherine’s mother died after the 1678 census, and before 1682 or 1683 when Michel Richard remarried.

In the 1686 census. Michel Richard, age 56, lived with his new wife, Jeanne Babin, 18, along with his five children from his first marriage. The youngest of those was Marguerite, age 7. His youngest child was Michel, age 2, which suggests that Michel Sr. married Jeanne Babin about 1683.

That tells us that Catherine’s mother, Magdeleine Blanchard, had died sometime between 1679 when her youngest child, Marguerite, was born, and 1682/1683 when Catherine’s father married Jeanne Babin, who would have been 15 or 16 at the time. Jeanne, her new step-mother, was around five years younger than Catherine. Catherine’s new half-sibling arrived in 1684.

This sequence of events makes me wonder if Catherine’s mother died in childbirth in about 1681, which meant that Catherine could well have buried her mother and one or two of her own children in short succession.

Catherine hadn’t even seen her 20th birthday when her mother joined her babies.

Graves too close together, and now disappeared into the mist of time.

Catherine was fortunate that both of her maternal grandparents, Jean Blanchard and Radegonde Lambert, lived beyond the 1686 census. Catherine would have known them well and perhaps took refuge there after her mother passed away. They died sometime between the 1686 and the 1693 censuses. They would have been aged, born about 1611 and 1621, respectively, but perhaps that meant they had available time to comfort a grieving granddaughter who needed her mother, who was gone too soon.

In 1686, Catherine Richard was listed as age 22, with husband François Broussard, 33, and two children, Magdelaine, age five, and Pierre, age three, along with an 11-day-old daughter who had not yet been baptized and was therefore not yet named.

Catherine’s half-brother, Michel Richard, named after their father, was about the same age as her son, Pierre Broussard.

Catherine and François Broussard were doing well with one gun, seven cattle, six sheep, and five hogs, but there’s no land attributed to them, which is rather odd. How do you keep livestock with no land? It was either unrecorded, or they lived on someone else’s land.

The “spaces” in this census, after Catherine’s 1678 marriage and before Madeleine’s 1681 birth, tell us that a child or perhaps two children were born during this time, but died before the 1686 census. It’s also possible that since her son, Pierre was three, that another child had been born in 1684 or 1685 and died, especially if the 1686 census was taken late in the year.

Catherine’s father, Michel Richard, was present in the 1686 census, but had died by 1689 when his second wife, Jean Babin, remarried. That’s both of Catherine’s parents gone within a decade, along with multiple children, both grandparents, and a sibling.

Catherine had a really rough decade.

Port Royal in 1686

We are fortunate that military engineer, Jean Labat drew a map of Port Royal in 1686 with the goal of encouraging investment and settlement in the town itself.

While we don’t know where Catherine lived growing up, then lived initially with her husband, based on the census, we know it was probably in one of these locations in the town of Port Royal.

The church where she worshiped, baptized her babies, and buried family members is shown near the ruined fort.

While things were going well for Catherine in 1686, her life was turned upside down in the late spring of 1690.

The 1690 Depredations

Spring would have sprung by May in Port Royal.

Birds were chirping, fresh green leaves unfurling on the trees, and apple blossoms bursting forth with their sweet fragrance and promise of fruit later in the year.

May 19th was a Friday in 1690. Catherine probably heard something as she went about her morning chores and looked up from what she was doing to see what the commotion was about.

Looking out over the river, from where the bastions stand today, she would have been met with a frightening sight.

The river was filled with English warships, with cannons mounted. Four, five, half a dozen – and more in the distance – it doesn’t matter. Too many.

Living beside the river, in the shadow of the ruined fort, Catherine would have known that she and her family were in jeopardy. If François were at home, she would have alerted him immediately, if he didn’t already know, and would have gathered her children and headed for safety – wherever that might have been.

In 1690, Catherine, only 26 years old, had at least three children, 9, 7 and 4. She would have borne another child in 1688, but we don’t know if that child lived to 1690. Perhaps more problematic is that Catherine gave birth to another child in 1690, but we don’t know when. Given the May arrival of the English, Catherine either had a newborn baby, or was pregnant, trying to shepherd her family away from the town and the remnants of the fort.

There were only 90 French soldiers lodged in the garrison, but the fort itself had been torn down to be rebuilt, and there were only 19 muskets among all the soldiers. Most of the Acadian men were gone, maybe fishing or hunting. Only 3 came when the cannon was sounded to summon help.

They would surely all die.

Governor Meneval knew this, so he and the priest negotiated the best surrender terms possible, on board the English warship, anchored in the river.

Two days later, terms were reached and agreed upon, surrendering and relinquishing the fort and town, but preserving the property of the Acadian residents and granting them the right to worship as Catholics.

However, as soon as the fort and Port Royal were surrendered, the English soldiers were turned loose on a plundering rampage, for 12 long days, desecrating the church and stealing most everything of value.

Just a few weeks later, in June, English pirates followed, at least once if not twice, and proceeded to pick the place clean of anything that was left, killed the livestock, burned homes and the church, and murdered people, including two families who were locked in their homes before they were set on fire.

The upriver homes were spared, but Catherine and her family didn’t live upriver, at least not yet. Their home was assuredly burned to the ground. I hope and pray that the child who would have been born in 1688 didn’t perish as a result of the 1690 depredations. I shudder to even think…

I don’t know if Catherine was a rock, or a wreck, or a rock, doing what needed to be done, then a wreck.

What she had endured by the age of 27 is unfathomable.

The Family Grows

The next census, in 1693, shows François Brosard (sic), 39, Catherine 29, Marie, 11, Pierre, 9, Marie, 7, Catherine-Josephe, 3, 15 cattle, 20 sheep, 16 hogs, and one gun, farming seven arpents of land. Was Catherine pregnant and ready to deliver, or had she had a baby in 1692 that died?

Shades of 1690

Another spring day in May. What is it about May?

The winter ice on the river was gone, and the Atlantic had calmed from its winter storms.

Catherine looked out at the river again. Ever since Acadia fell to the English three years ago, English ships appeared regularly in the river as they came to check on the Acadians.

This time was different. Catherine saw a group of frigates. English ships always made her nervous, but a group was a harbinger of nothing good.

Sure enough, the English had arrived to punish the Acadians for the transgression of living with a pirate in their midst. Pierre Maisonnat dit Baptiste, a French privateer who lived in Port Royal and was a royal pain in the side of the English. Not only had he been arming and employing the Acadians as his crew, he was preying on the English shipping lanes, brazenly, often within sight of Boston, capturing their ships and goods.

Privateer, or pirate, is a matter of perspective. The French governor of the rest of France’s North American colonies had commissioned Baptiste to protect the balance of Acadia and harass the English, so he was no pirate as far as the French were concerned.

Baptiste was an irreverent rascal, committing bigamy, among other vices, but the Acadians loved him anyway. At least most Acadians. A few were concerned that he would bring the wrath of the English down upon all of them.

And then there was the father of Madeleine Bourg, his 16-year-old bride that he wed while married to at least one other woman. Her father probably wasn’t the least bit happy with Baptiste either. After their marriage was annulled, after Madeleine had his baby, Baptiste brazenly brought his French wife to Acadia, too.

The Acadians overlooked a lot, a surprising amount actually, because Baptiste was a very beneficial friend. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Although, in all fairness, in addition to fighting alongside them in 1690, he was probably in no small part responsible for their survival. So no one complained too much and he wasn’t ostracized for bigamy as one would have expected.

Of course, the English despised Baptiste, and they had a score to settle with the Acadians who had the AUDACITY to provide cover for Baptiste and his escapades.

The English ransacked Port Royal again, killed livestock, burned a dozen homes and three barns full of grain.

The Acadians might have been unarmed in 1690 when the English took Acadia, but they were not in 1693. Baptiste, alone, had 15 guns, and he probably saw to it that every Acadian household had at least one.

Baptiste, brazenly, probably lived right in the heart of the business district, within sight of his ship in the river, engaging in trade and likely played an outsized role in keeping the Port Royal economy alive.

The English came to run him off.

They failed.

Baptiste wasn’t going anyplace, and he encouraged resistance among the Acadians, who didn’t need much encouragement.

Was Catherine’s home burned again in 1693? If a dozen homes were burned in Port Royal, it’s likely. Even if not, after three or four attacks in three years – it had become abundantly clear that anyone who didn’t absolutely NEED to live in the town of Port Royal was incurring a great deal of risk for no return.

The exodus upriver to safer lands continued.

In 1697, Acadia was returned to French control in the Treaty of Ryswick, and the next census occurred the following year, in 1698.

Beausoleil

We don’t know how or when Beausoleil got its name. It’s clearly a place, where Catherine Richard and her husband, François Broussard, moved to raise their family, upriver about 10 miles, just beyond BelleIsle, near Hebb’s Landing today.

Beausoleil also became part of the name of two of their sons, who then gave it to a location in New Brunswick, then another in Louisiana decades later. So, which came first, the name or the location, and why? We will never know.

François Broussard and Catherine Richard made the move to Beausoleil between the 1693 and the 1698 census.

In 1698, Françoise, age 45, and Catherine, age 35, have Madeleine, 18, Pierre, 15, Marie, 13, Catherine 7, Elisabeth 5, François, 3, and Claude, one-half. They have 15 cattle, 20 sheep, 14 hogs, on 16 arpents of land, with two fruit trees. Additionally, they have two guns and a servant, so all things considered, they are doing very well.

Catherine’s two fruit trees, now ancient, probably still stand someplace on this peninsula of land extending into the Annapolis River.

Hebb’s Landing Road is dirt and all but abandoned today – and would be were it not for a lonely farmhouse and Oxbow Dr., a private dirt road that stretches to the river.

This beautiful little freshwater brook, descending from the hills to the north, dissecting the marshlands as it flows lazily to the river, assuredly nourished Catherine and our family.

Port Royal was a rather compact space beside the fort, with limited room for farming and marshland. Based on both the number of arpents of land being farmed, and the neighbors, by 1698, Catherine and François were clearly living upriver, just beyond BelleIsle, at Beausoleil.

This placename would become part of the Broussard family.

Not only was there more land available, it was more productive, and a much safer location. Looking towards the river, their land is still being farmed today.

Looking back the other way, away from the river and towards the hills to the north, one can see an old farm facing this historic road, which the new road bypassed.

I can’t help but wonder if this is where or near where Catherine and François established their homestead, too. Homes tended to be built on the closest high ground above the marshes.

Port Royal, due to its location right beside the fort, was a bullseye for the English, or anyone else for that matter, who wished to attack the fort.

Catherine’s family had moved to the safety of the glorious blue river and the peaceful saltmarshes where you can hear birds sing, probably near her Blanchard grandparents.

How many attacks does it take to convince one to move? How many times being burned out?

By 1698, Catherine was living here, at Beausoleil, beneath the “beautiful sun.”

In the 1700 census, François (listed as Jean), is 46, Catherine is 36, Marie, 18, Pierre, 16, Marie-Anne, 14, Catherine, 10, François, 6, Claude, 5, Isabelle, 4, Françoise 3, and Alexandre, 1, with 24 cattle, 26 sheep, and one gun on 15 arpents of land.

Two different census transcriptions show a slightly different family structure. There is no further evidence of Isabelle, either earlier in 1698 when she would have been 2, or after 1701. She is listed in both 1700 and 1701, so unlikely to simply be an error. Perhaps Catherine was raising someone else’s child. After all, that’s the entire point of Godparents.

Sadly, Catherine’s daughter, Françoise, is gone, so she died between the 1700 and 1701 census. She could be buried at either the graveyard in Port Royal, or at St. Laurent in BelleIsle where many of the BelleIsle Acadians worshipped and were buried. My bet would be that little Françoise, just 6, was buried here, at St. Laurent.

About 1702, Catherine gave birth to her son, Joseph Broussard, here, near Hebb’s Landing.

The 1703 census only recorded the head of household, if he had a wife, and the number of male and female children, plus the number of arms-bearers.

François Brossard lived with his wife, five boys, three girls, with one arms-bearer in the home, which would have been him.

The family is not found on the 1707 census. Based on other information, we believe that Catherine and François went to Chipoudy to establish that village on the next frontier. Some of their children married and remained there, but Catherine and Françoise had returned by 1714.

It appears that they were absent for the 1707 English raid and burning of Port Royal, again.

The next trial for Acadia that would involve Catherine, one way or another, would be in 1710 in Port Royal.

Port Royal Falls

English ships had attacked Port Royal again in 1707, but failed to take the town. They inflicted a lot of damage, but ultimately retreated, burning many if not most homes in the town, and between the town and the mouth of the Riviere du Port Royal that opened into the sea a few miles downriver.

The English returned in October of 1710 and would not be foiled again. They simply overran Port Royal. With more than 35 warships carrying more than 2000 men, there were more than four times as many soldiers as the entire population of the Annapolis River Valley – including men, women, and children.

The 300 ill-prepared French soldiers at the fort stood absolutely no prayer of holding the fort or protecting the town. For eight days, they tried, but ultimately, a heartbreaking surrender was the only answer.

The French soldiers and administrators boarded the English ships that were supposed to return them to France, and the English left about 500 soldiers at the garrison in their place.

Winter was descending upon Acadia. The Acadians were unable to feed the English soldiers, and the English had brought no supplies or provisions.

Half of the English soldiers either died or deserted, and when Samuel Vetch, the British Commander, returned from Boston in early 1711, having gone to beg for food and supplies, he found only about 250 remaining men.

The order of these next events is unclear.

A group of five Acadian men from the “haute Riviere”, or upper river, were jailed by Vetch either before he left for Boston, or after his return, for capturing an English soldier.

Catherine’s husband was one of them. He was listed as “François Broussard of Chipoudy,” and was listed with Germain Bourgeois from Beaubassin and three men from Port Royal. One of those men was Pierre LeBlanc, their neighbor in the 1714 census, who lived at BelleIsle on the upper river.

We don’t know why François was identified as “of Chipoudy.” In other words, we don’t know if he was living there full-time with his wife and family, or if he was going back and forth, like many men did during this timeframe. We also don’t know if Catherine was in Chipoudy or upriver at Beausoleil.Given their absence in the 1707 census, I strongly suspect they were living there. Chipoudy was not included in that census.

What followed must have terrified Catherine and made her blood run cold.

The word “jailed” in this context meant something entirely different.

Germain Bourgeois was “jailed” too. Jail, in this case, was probably the old powder magazine in the fort, known ominously as “The Black Hole.”

Germain’s descendants carried the story that he was held here, where he was deprived of the most basic human necessities, including food. Germain died in this hellhole.

When the fort fell in 1710, the local priest was taken as hostage to Boston and did not return until the late fall of 1711.

On June 21, 1711, the Battle of Bloody Creek occurred when between 50 and 150 “Wabanaki warriors” ambushed a group of 70 English soldiers just a mile or so further upriver from Beausoleil, at the mouth of what would be named Bloody Creek. The farther the English soldiers ventured from the fort, the more jeopardy they were in.

I do not doubt for one minute that the Acadian men allowed the “warriors” to attack the English soldiers without joining in.

Sixteen soldiers were killed, nine were injured, and the rest were captured.

This is probably the incident that was referred to, resulting in those five men being jailed. I’m actually surprised it was only five.

The priest, after he returned in the late fall, penciled in the parish register that Germain Bourgeois died while he, the priest, was held captive in Boston.

If Germain died in the Black Hole, the other men must have been held there with him. Under the same horrific conditions.

Catherine must have been utterly terrified, even if she was still in Chipoudy. Word traveled fast.

This is the “newer” better powder magazine that, in 1708, replaced the older, abandoned “black hole” that was smaller, wet, and even more claustrophobic, if that was even possible.

Catherine must have known, every minute of every day and night, what was happening to those men in the black hole.

When Germain was brought out, dead, was there any news at all of the rest of the captives? Were they ill? Had they gone mad in the utter and complete darkness for weeks or months? Confined, starving, with a dying man.

We don’t know when, why or how those men were released. But we do know that François didn’t perish there.

The last and final Acadian census, taken in 1714 under English rule, shows “Broussard”, no first name, with a wife and five sons, who, based upon the neighbors, was clearly living upriver, beside Pierre LeBlanc, another of the five men who were jailed.

It may have been generally calmer upriver, but that clearly wasn’t universally the case.

In addition to this drama, in 1697, their neighbor, Pierre LeBlanc had married Marguerite Bourg, the wronged wife of Baptiste, the pirate. Her first marriage with Baptiste was annulled after his bigamy was revealed, BUT, in the 1700 census, Baptiste, with his earlier wife, was living right beside Pierre LeBlanc and Marguerite. The local grapevine must have been constantly abuzz.

And now I wonder, did Baptiste have anything to do with their arrest?

If François was already an angry Acadian, I can only imagine his frame of mind after the final fall of Acadia to the English in 1710, followed by his time in the Black Hole in 1711, and the horrific circumstances of Germaine’s death.

The brevity of François Broussard’s census entry, without even a first name, may reflect his justifiably uncooperative and rebellious attitude – the seeds of which he passed on to at least some of their children.

Catherine’s Children

Like most Acadian women, Catherine was probably defined by her roles as wife and mother. Part of a mother’s story is told through her children.

I’ve assembled a table to keep track of Catherine’s children over time. Their information is reflected below, beginning with the 1686 census where Catherine first appears with children.

Based on Catherine’s marriage in about 1678, as noted in that census where she and François had no children, we must infer that her first two children born in 1678 and 1680, plus a third who was born about 1684, perished before 1686.

Name Birth 1686 1693 1698 1700 1701 1703 1714 Died
Unknown 1678
Unknown 1680
Magdelaine, Madeleine 1681 5 Marie 11 18 18 20 M Jan 1704 Bef 1731
Pierre 1683 3 9 15 16 18 1B M Jan 1709 Aft 1746
Unknown 1684
Marie-Anne 1686 11 days 7 13 14 16 3G M 1703 Aft 1752
Unknown 1688
Catherine-Josephe 1690 3 7 10 10/11 2G M 1708 1730-1732
Unknown 1692
Elizabeth 1693 5 7 8 1G M Jan 1714 1718
François 1695 3 6 5 2B 5B 1717
Claude 1698 1/2 3 3 3B 4B Aft 1763
Isabelle 1696 4 7
Françoise 1698 2 gone
Alexandre 1699 1 2 4B 3B 1765
Unknown boy 1701
Joseph 1702 5B 2B 1765
Unknown 1704
Jean-Baptiste 1705 1B 1770
  • Catherine’s daughter, Magdelaine Broussard, married Pierre Landry in 1704, and the couple settled in Pisiquit. She died sometime before November 1731, when her son François married in Pisiguit. She would have been about 50.
  • Pierre Broussard married Marguerite Bourg in 1709 and lived in Port Royal through 1720. By 1722, he was living in Port Toulouse on Île Royale. He died sometime after June 1746, when he was mentioned in his son Charles’ marriage record in Grand Pre. He would have been about 63 at that time.
  • Marie Broussard married Rene Doucet in 1702 and lived her life across the river from Port Royal. In 1714, her brother, Pierre Broussard was her neighbor. She died after January 1752 when her daughter, Cecile, married in Port Royal. Marie may well have been caught up in the Expulsion in 1755 when she would have been 69 years old.
  • Catherine Josephe Broussard married Charles Landry in 1708. In the 1714 census, they are living beside the Widow Thibodeau, the widow of Pierre Thibodeau, the miller with whom François Broussard, Catherine Josephe’s father, established Chipoudy before both men returned to Port Royal. Catherine Josephe then remarried in Port Royal in February 1729, at age 39, to Jean Prejean, age 23, but only had one child with him. That baby was born in February 1730 in Port Royal. Jean Prejean remarried in August of 1732 in Grand Pre, so we know that Catherine Joseph died between February 1730 and August 1732, at about age 41, probably in Port Royal, where her children grew up and married.
  • Elizabeth Broussard married Pierre Bourg in January 1714 in Port Royal. In the 1714 census, they are living beside Abraham Bourg, in the Bourg village, near her sister Marie and brother Pierre. Their first child, born in March of 1715, had not yet arrived. Elizabeth gave birth to her third child on November 23, 1718, and was then buried on December 8, 1718, just 16 days later. She was only 25. Who raised her children? Her husband, Pierre Bourg, remarried in 1727 on Ile Royal, but Elizabeth’s children later married in Port Royal, so they did not go to live with him.
  • François Broussard never married and died in November 1717 in Port Royal. He was probably buried where his father was buried 11 months earlier. At 22 years of age, he was listed as a “young boy” in the parish register, which makes me wonder if he suffered from a developmental challenge.
  • Claude Broussard married Anne Babin in 1718 in Grand Pre, but their children were born in Port Royal, so they apparently moved back. He remarried to Marie Dugas in 1754 in Port Royal and is last found in Upper Marlboro, MD in July of 1763 when he was about 66. His children scattered to the winds: Maryland, Cape Breton, NS, Saint Malo, France, Bretagne, and Louisiana. Some simply disappeared. His younger children were living with his older sons and wound up in France.
  • In 1764, Alexandre Broussard, after fighting the Expulsion, then being held captive by the English, arrived with his family and his brother Joseph’s family on the island of Hispanola, where many Acadians perished due to tropical diseases. A few months later, in February 1765, they arrived in Louisiana. Alexandre was buried on September 18, 1765 in Louisiana, probably due to a yellow fever epidemic which took most of his family and many in the rest of the Acadian community in Attakapas – including his brother, Joseph. Alexandre was about 66 when he died.
  • Joseph Broussard dit Beausoleil, the legendary Acadian freedom fighter, married Agnes Thibodeau in 1725 in Port Royal, but settled in Chipoudy. He died in October 1765 in Attakapas, Louisiana, at age 63, very likely of the yellow-fever epidemic that took his brother and his brother’s wife. Both he and his brother had resisted the English until 1761, were hostages with their families until 1764 when they made their way to Santo Domingo, then to Louisiana.
  • Catherine’s youngest child, Jean-Baptiste Broussard, married about 1724 or 1725 to Cecile Babin. They lived in Port Royal. Of Catherine’s children, he also lived the longest. His wife died in 1747 in Port Royal, and he may have gone north to Pisiquid after that. He appeared to be in that area when the English began the Expulsions in 1755, because he evaded capture for some time, heading deeper into New Brunswick, then finally making his way to Camp d’Esperance in Miramichi. In 1763, Jean-Baptiste was able to return to the Annapolis Royal area, but some of his children were deceased. In 1766, he made his way to Quebec with two of his adult children and their families, where he died at Mascouche in July of 1770 at 65.

Of Catherine’s 10 known children, meaning those who did not die as children, and for whom we have names, the oldest three disappeared from the records around the time of the Expulsion, three died in Port Royal, one is last found in Maryland, one died in Quebec, and two founded the Cajun community in Louisiana.

Life before modern medicine was difficult, uncertain and often short. Based on the census, it looks like Catherine lost seven children.

Freedom Fighters

Two of Catherine’s sons became renowned Freedom Fighters and are still revered today.

Both Alexandre and Joseph Broussard, born about two years apart, both integrated the name “Beausoleil” as a dit name, and became resistance fighters.

Alexander may have settled on his father’s land in Chipoudy where he was living by about 1728.

By Darjeering 112 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31181484

By February 1741, Alexandre was living on the Petitcoudiac River, a tidal river above Shepody, in New Brunswick, where he is found in 1755, along with his brother, Joseph, and two of his sons.

What occurred during the Expulsion is best told by combining the information from both Alexandre and Joseph.

Alexandre was initially caught up in the 1755 deportations and was sent to South Carolina with his son, Victor. However, they both escaped, as told by Stephen A. White:

Regarding the escape of Alexandre and Victor Broussard from South Carolina, all that is quite true. Dr. Milling’s book quotes the announcement from the South Carolina Gazette of Feb. 19, 1756, that said Alexandre and Victor were missing and were being sought as fugitives. But Alexandre and Victor weren’t among the Acadians who came up the coast from Georgia. Instead, they went inland, through the river system, eventually reaching Québec and returning to Acadia from there. Alexandre’s route is confirmed by Gamaliel Smethurst’s journal, written in 1761, which was first published in 1774, and republished in the Collections of the New Brunswick Historical Society in 1906. Alexandre and his son Victor and their families were later among the Acadians who were held at Halifax, where they were all listed in 1763. From Halifax they went to the West Indies, and then on to Louisiana, where they arrived early in 1765.

It’s unclear whether Joseph was deported to South Carolina too, but he organized an armed resistance, fighting a guerrilla war.

Both families escaped deportation by hiding in the woods near the Petitcodiac River, although Joseph engaged in hand-to-hand combat at Fort Beausejour in June of 1755. It was at this time that Joseph earned recognition as one of the bravest and most enterprising of the Acadians.

They managed to escape notice for the next three years, until, in July of 1758, the English discovered their encampment.

The English burned their homes, but only took 24 women and four men prisoners. It’s unclear why they didn’t take the rest, but perhaps they thought that they would starve without food or shelter during the winter.

Joseph escaped, narrowly, but his son, Jean Gregoire, age 32, died on July 1st during the ambush. Around them, over the next year, pockets of Acadian resistance fell, one by one.

A year later, by September of 1759, with no food, crops, or essentials to see them through the upcoming winter, the two Broussard brothers, plus two other Acadian men, visited Fort Cumberland, the former Fort Beausejour, on November 16th  with a surrender petition. They represented about 700 Acadian refugees throughout the area who were facing famine.

Commander Joseph Frye said he could feed one-third of the 190 Petitcodiac Acadians represented by Beausoleil and that the rest would have to wait until spring to come into the fort.

Then, on November 3rd and 4th, a horrific storm, the most violent storm ever known, at least at that time, struck. Vast damage occurred, destroying shelters, fields, and killing people. The dykes were broken, the seawater flooded the fields, ruining them, and the floodwaters washed away what was left of homes.

Seeing the handwriting on the wall, all of the remaining Acadians now wanted to surrender, but couldn’t.

Some Acadians were taken into the fort, but others were promised assistance or passage if they swore an oath of allegiance to England. One way or another, most Acadians were taken into custody and held in Halifax as prisoners, which was a far better fate than what awaited them othewise.

Acadian prisoners in Halifax were utilized on work details and such, but Alexandre’s son, Jean-Baptiste, was still detained as a prisoner. It’s unclear why. Either he had refused to work for the English, or perhaps he was insubordinate.

Not all Acadian rebels had surrendered, and stragglers from the northern woods of New Brunswick continued to be brought to Halifax.

In July 1762, Joseph Broussard appeared as a prisoner being held at Fort Edward, Nova Scotia, and was moved to Halifax, while his wife and children remained at Fort Edward.

In August of 1763, Alexandre and his wife and four children were listed as prisoners of the English at Halifax. His son, Joseph Gregoire, was alive in 1755, but was deceased by August 12, 1763, when his wife was listed as a widow and prisoner. Alexandre’s daughter, Marguerite, died sometime during the same time period.

In 1763, the Acadians held in Halifax were released by the Treaty of Paris.

Joseph, dit Beausoleil, returned to the Pisiquid area in 1763 when he was found with “compromising documents” in his possession, in which the Acadians were invited to move to French territory. He was arrested immediately and taken to Halifax where he spent the following year in captivity.

In November of 1764, the English government encouraged the Acadians who wished to remain in Nova Scotia to swear an oath of allegiance to the British Crown, but many refused, hoping instead to settle in French-controlled territory.

At the end of November 1764, Beausoleil let that group of roughly 600 oath-refusing Acadians to either Saint-Dominique, the French side of the island of Hispanola, or Santo Domingo, the Spanish side of Hispanola, present-day Haiti. Many died from tropical diseases and the climate, so Beausoleil continued on, in February 1765, to New Orleans, which was, at that time, held by the Spanish.

At some point on this journey, Joseph’s wife died.

Now, he had lost his beloved Acadia, countless family members, and his wife.

Louisiana

They arrived in Louisiana by February 28, 1765, when a letter from Commissioner Nicolas Foucault of New Orleans was written to the French government stating that 193 Acadians had arrived from Santo Domingo.

If they started out as 600, only 32% survived at the end of three months. That’s brutal!

Alexandre and two of his sons are found on a list of Acadian men exchanging money in New Orleans.

Obtaining permission from the Spanish to settle in the Opelousas region, they would have arrived in early March and begun to unload the ship at Pointe Coupee, now New Roads, on the Mississippi River above Baton Rouge. We know for sure they were there, because one of Alexandre’s granddaughters was baptized there on April 24th, where they say they are passing through on their way to live in the new settlement at Attakapas.

On April 4, 1765, Alexandre, his sons, Victor and Jean-Baptiste, and his brother, Joseph “Beausoleil,” along with four other Acadian men, signed a contract agreeing to raise cattle in the Attakapas district. Each man received 8 cows and 1 bull, supplied by a retired French army officer whom they would repay at the end of six years, plus a portion of their profits.

Unfortunately, neither Joseph, Alexander, nor Victor lived to see that day.

Alexandre Broussard died on September 18th, 1765, following his wife’s death on September 4th. Most of the rest of his family died within a year from Yellow Fever.

  • Alexandre’s daughter, Madeleine, died on May 16, 1765, age 33, leaving three children and was probably pregnant for the fourth.
  • Alexandre’s daughter, Marie Theotiste, died on July 26, 1765, age 27.
  • Alexandre’s son, Anselme’s wife, Madeleine Marguerite Dugas was buried on October 6, 1765, and Anselme died not long after. Their only child had been born at sea on the way to Haiti, just a few months earlier.
  • Alexandre’s daughter-in-law, Ursule Trahan, widow of Joseph Gregoire Broussard, died October 19, 1765, and was buried the same day, along with her new husband.
  • Alexandre’s son, Victor, with whom he had survived so much, died sometime after his wife, Elizabeth LeBlanc, who was buried on October 29, 1765. His son, Jean Joseph, died on September 4th, and his daughter Agnes died before the next April when Victor appears on the census, with no wife and no children.

Joseph dit Beausoleil Broussard was buried on the 20th at Camp Beausoleil in the Attakapas District and is believed to be buried near Bayou Teche, likely in the general vicinity of Loreauville, Louisiana. The New Acadia Project seeks to locate the earliest settlements and burial sites.

  • Joseph’s son, Raphael, died sometime during this time, probably before August 14, 1765. His son, Joseph, died before May 1765, and a second child may have perished too.
  • Joseph’s daughter, Isabelle, lost her son sometime during the Expulsion and before arriving in Louisiana.
  • Joseph’s daughter, Marguerite, gave birth to son, Joseph Dugas, after arrival in Louisiana and buried him in October of 1765.

The Broussard brothers, in particular Beausoleil, had risked it all – repeatedly – and by the time they died, had lost most of their family.

Despite the personal cost incurred during the decade straight from Hell, they led the Acadians to a land of freedom, no longer hunted and hated by the English.

These brave sojourning Acadians had now arrived in a place called “home,” and were the founding Cajun families!

Catherine would have been so proud!!!

But back to Acadia. When did their mother, Catherine Richard, pass?

Catherine’s Passing

We know that Catherine was alive in the 1714 census.

Her husband, François Broussard, a decade her elder, was buried on the very last day of 1716. It’s certainly possible that he had not been well since the 1711 Black Hole incident. He certainly wasn’t elderly, about 58 when he was jailed in 1711, and about 63 in 1716 when he died.

The 1717 death entry for Catherine’s son says nothing about either parent, and neither does her daughter’s 1718 entry. That could mean both parents are deceased, or it could mean absolutely nothing.

Most, but not all, of the Port Royal parish registers are available after 1702. However, that’s not universal, and it’s certainly possible that Catherine died anytime after the 1714 census.

Many trees show her death in the vicinity of 1755 when the Expulsion occurred, but there are absolutely no sources anywhere for this information. I suspect that because her death entry was not found, someone speculated, “Oh, it must have been around the time of the Expulsion,” or, “She must have died during the Expulsion,” which may or may not be true.

If Catherine did live to 1755, she would have been 92 years old, or so. That’s not impossible, but it’s extremely unlikely.

It’s much more probable that Catherine died among her family and was buried where she lived, along the river, beside or at least near François Broussard and several of her children that she laid to rest. Probably here, at St. Laurent.

Given what happened to the Acadians in and after 1755, I certainly hope that Catherine ended her mortal journey on this earth surrounded by family, friends, and at least some modicum of peace.

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Mitotree Sprouts 12,773 NEW Branches and Includes Ancient DNA

FamilyTreeDNA has released the brand-new Mitotree, version 2025.10.24!

Mitotree has sprouted 12,773 new branches, a 30% increase in size in just seven months!

Chart courtesy of FamilyTreeDNA, click to enlarge

The new Mitotree has a total of 53,856 branches utilizing 342,000 full sequence samples from multiple sources:

  • 267,000 from FamilyTreeDNA full sequence tests
  • 50,000 from GenBank and other third-party sequences
  • 5,000 from the 1000 Genomes Project samples
  • 2,000 from miscellaneous academic studies

Care was taken to curate studies and samples from rare and underrepresented populations.

When the Mitotree is updated, new branches aren’t just tacked onto the ends of branches like leaves. That’s because new samples may split existing branches far upstream of the tips of the branches, so the entire branch may have shifted or been divided into two.

Therefore, with each new Mitotree version, the entire tree is rerun, which means a new branching structure, and the possibility of a new or refined haplogroup for every customer.

Sample Evaluation

The samples tested at FamilyTreeDNA conform to stringent quality control measures, but quality control and alignment for samples originating in other facilities are unknown.

Samples from third-party academic sources are reviewed by the R&D team for potential issues before inclusion.

Ancient Samples

The November 2025 Mitotree now incorporates more than 10,000 ancient DNA samples from archaeological sites around the world.

These samples are displayed on the mtDNA Discover Time Tree, shown above, with brown lines and little trowels.

Additionally, you’ll find ancient samples displayed on the following Discover pages:

  • Your individual Match Time Tree with your mitochondrial DNA matches when you click through to Discover from your account at FamilyTreeDNA
  • Migration Map
  • Ancient Connections
  • Classic Tree

Mouse over the sample names to read about each one.

Ancient DNA (aDNA) samples are uniquely important, because they allow us to put a stake in the ground (pardon the pun) at a specific place and time when and where that individual lived.

Ancient samples also pose unique challenges due to their age and DNA degradation. The resulting sequence may be incomplete due to lower coverage. The sequence may also contain post-mortem damage artifacts caused by a process known as deamination. On the other hand, these artifacts can also be valuable in authenticating the ancient origin of the DNA, and that the sequence is not a result of contemporary contamination.

FamilyTreeDNA cannot resequence the ancient sample itself, so must rely on the results produced by the institution that processed the ancient DNA sample.

Fortunately, the FamilyTreeDNA R&D team has developed methodologies to compensate for these issues, identify which samples can be used to construct the tree, and which samples can be reliably placed on the tree. Only the highest-quality ancient samples can be fully included in the tree construction, meaning they are allowed to split and form new branches.

In this version, more than 2,000 ancient samples were utilized for the tree, which resulted in over 500 new branches that would otherwise not have formed. In future versions, more ancient samples will be evaluated and added.

There are now more ancient samples available for mitochondrial DNA than for the Y-DNA tree. Both males and females have mitochondrial DNA, but only males have a Y chromosome. There are more ancient samples in the queue to be added to the next Mitotree version.

Innovation

Mitochondrial DNA, by its very nature, includes challenges not present in either autosomal or Y-DNA.

Innovative tree-building methodologies have been devised and implemented, including new methods for handling complex scenarios where multiple variants conflict with each other. In some cases, mutations that exhibit unstable behavior in a certain part of the tree are ignored when analyzing that portion of the tree. This, and much more, will be detailed in a future white paper.

One size does not fit all, and the team has been very focused on identifying the best fit for a variety of scenarios. These methodologies and refinements have enabled the formation of more than 4,000 branches by using previously excluded private variants.

How the New Mitotree Affects You

Watch your email for a new haplogroup notification!

Further refinement of the Mitotree, either for you or your matches, can provide you with new genealogical clues.

A new haplogroup may regroup your matches to be more genealogically relevant, and your TMRCA (Time to Most Recent Common Ancestor) estimates may have been refined.

Everyone who received their mtDNA Full Sequence test result before October 24, 2025, but whose Mitotree haplogroup was still analyzing should receive their new haplogroup within the next few days.

Many customers who have already received their Mitotree haplogroup will also receive an updated haplogroup due to changes in the tree structure.

Customers who get a Mitotree haplogroup for the first time and customers who receive an updated Mitotree haplogroup should receive automatic email notifications.

The excitement isn’t restricted only to people with new haplogroups.

Everyone should check their haplogroup results on mtDNA Discover to see whether they match any of the newly included ancient DNA samples, if their haplogroup age has changed, or if their matches on the Match Time Tree have been regrouped.

You just never know what, or who, might be waiting for you!

Great Time to Upgrade

If you or a family member took one of the earlier, partial (HVRI or HVRII only) mitochondrial DNA tests, or you’ve received a haplogroup estimate from an autosomal test at another company, now, with the holiday sales, is the perfect time to upgrade an earlier test or order a new one.

A full sequence mitochondrial DNA test is required for your most refined haplogroup, your closest matches, including ancient DNA, and the Match Time Tree, at mtDNA Discover.

If you’re taken a mitochondrial DNA test, but are uncertain about which level, sign on to your FamilyTreeDNA account and check your dashboard.

If you’ve taken the full sequence test, both the Plus and Full squares will be pink. If the Full square is grey, click on it to upgrade.

You can’t benefit from all of these new advances without a full sequence test, and you’ll match other full sequence testers who share the same ancestor at some point in time.

Mitochondrial DNA has the potential, due to tracking the direct matrilineal line, to break through brick walls that no other test can touch!

Do you have a brick wall that needs to fall?

_____________________________________________________________

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François Broussard (1653-1716), Intractable Acadian – 52 Ancestors #463

François Broussard was born about 1653, probably in France. If he was born in Acadia, neither of his parents nor any siblings survived to the first Acadian census in 1671. Neither is François present in that census, so there is speculation that he arrived in 1671 aboard the ship, L’Oranger, with about 60 other young colonists.

No French settlers arrived from 1654, when Acadia fell to the English, until 1670 when Acadia was returned to French control, so growth in Acadia during that time only occurred by virtue of marriage and children being born. After regaining control, the French wasted no time beginning to repopulate their colony, and new settlers were sent shortly thereafter.

L’Oranger was provisioned by Elie de Laussay in La Rochelle and sailed to Acadia, captained by Guillaume Herutain. We know the ship arrived and returned, but no crew or passenger list has ever surfaced.

Based on correspondence to Acadian Governor Hector d’Andigne de Grandfontaine, dated March 11, 1671, from Jean-Baptiste Colbert, France’s Minister of State (aka Prime Minister), Grandfontaine is informed that he will receive 30 young men and 30 young women of the same age in Acadia. A month earlier, in February, Colbert, in a letter to Jean Talon, the Intendant of New France, mentioned the “boys and girls who will pass this year to the country,” meaning Acadia.

While we have no factual information about François Broussard’s origins, it stands to reason that he originated in or near La Rochelle, like most of the other Acadians. Colbert’s letter indicates that François, about age 18, would have been a good fit for this group of setters. At that age, he would have been considered a young man, capable of hard work, but not yet of typical marriage age.

François is not recorded in the 1671 census. We don’t know when the census was taken, nor when L’Oranger arrived.

We do know that François was in Acadia in 1672, because he purchased clothing belonging to René Bonin. This suggests that he probably arrived with little and was doing well – at least well enough to buy clothes.

In June of 1673, the Acadians in Port Royal, now Annapolis Royal, gathered to plan the financing of a Catholic church. Five years later, on October 30, 1678, the parish of Saint John the Baptist was officially established.

Marriage to Catherine Richard

The church that was new in 1678 is marked by a small stone monument today, on top of the fort’s ramparts that were constructed above the burned church in 1701 during the fort’s expansion.

It would either have been here, in the new church, or maybe in the adjacent priest’s home, that François Broussard, about 25, and Catherine Richard, his 15-year-old bride, were married. Young marriages were not uncommon for Acadian daughters.

The 1678 Acadian census shows François Brossard and Catherine Richard, with no children, no land, and five cattle. They had clearly been married less than a year. One or more of those cows may well have been Catherine’s dowry.

Based on their neighbors in the census, it looks like the young couple was living in the town of Port Royal, because known residents, such as the Pellerins and military engineer, Jean Labat, are their neighbors.

Next door, we find Michel Richard and Madeleine Blanchard, Catherine Richard’s parents, but they aren’t listed with any family. Next to that entry, we find Germain Doucet and Marie Landry, and then, Michel Richard, without his wife’s name, but with Catherine’s siblings.

By the 1686 census, François Broussard and Catherine Richard were well established. François is listed as age 33, so born about 1653, and Catherine is 22. They have 3 children, Magdelaine 5, Pierre 3, and a baby girl who is only 11 days old and has not yet been baptized. They own 1 gun, 7 cattle, 6 sheep and 5 hogs. It’s quite unusual, but they don’t have any land shown.

They are listed next to Claude Dugas who lived southwest of Port Royal along the banks of the Riviere Du Port Royal. Based on others in the census, the census-taker may have been crossing back and forth across the river in his canoe.

In 1686, Labat, seeking to encourage settlement and development of the town of Port Royal, drew and submitted a map showing the waterfront homes, which were mostly merchants and administrators, and other homes along the “path to the cape.” Labat himself lived in town along the waterfront, as did Pellerin, so it’s probable that François Broussard lived here at this time, although we know he moved upriver later.

It’s important to note that the map’s legend states that the fort is “ruined.” The fort had fallen into nearly complete disrepair, with the walls down and the enceinte open. None of the fort’s 18 cannons were mounted. In other words, the fort was entirely vulnerable to attack and could neither defend itself nor protect Port Royal.

By 1688, France and England were at war again, fueling clashes and raids in the New England colonies, especially along and near the borders with French territory.

The 1690 Attacks

1690 in Acadia was a watershed year. François would have been about 37 years old, with a wife and several young children, when his world changed forever.

The English, of course, knew that Port Royal was essentially undefended.

Unfortunately, that was a colossal blunder for France.

As tensions escalated and raids increased in the colonies, Sir William Phips, a native of Maine, was commissioned to lead attacks against Acadia out of Boston. Phips, with seven ships and around 700 men, sailed towards Port Royal, which was defended by only between 70 and 90 men, all of whom were sharing just 19 muskets.

To say they were outnumbered is an understatement.

The Acadians were caught entirely off guard. Acadian Governor Meneval later reported that upon the English fleet being spotted in the river on May 19th, he sounded a cannon to summon Acadian men to report to the fort for help, but only three arrived. Forty-two were absent from the area, probably hunting or fishing, and the remaining men were either too far distant to hear the cannon, or chose not to respond.

Meneval made the only reasonable decision possible, under the circumstances. He chose to surrender, albeit with reasonable terms, because there was no chance of survival if they attempted to fight.

After obtaining Meneval’s surrender, and promising NOT to plunder the town, take or damage the property of the residents, the English went on a rampage for days – doing exactly what they swore not to do.

The English soldiers reportedly burned at least a dozen homes in Port Royal and possibly as many as 30 or 35. They did spare the mills and did not attack the upriver farms. While that sounds benevolent, it wasn’t. Their ships drafted too deeply to sail upriver, and exposing themselves in unfamiliar terrain would have been foolhardy, and assuredly, deadly.

Their treatment of the Catholic church, which stood beside the ruined fort in Port Royal must have both sickened and angered the Acadians. The English soldiers, according to their own documents, desecrated the church by cutting down the cross, rifling the building, and breaking religious images. They took the tabernacle, sacred vessels, and everything else they could find, including the clerical gowns.

The Acadian men were rounded up, brought to the church, and forced to sign a loyalty oath to the English King.

François was illiterate, as were most Acadian men, but having no choice, he signed his name with a mark. While most men signed with a simple “+”, François signed with something that looks like a cross on top of something else. I don’t know if he was “saying” something with the cross. Maybe he made a mistake and wrote over it, or perhaps this was his “normal” signature, or he was outright angry. His “cross” was made with multiple heavy marks and is more distinct and stands out more than any other signature mark on the document.

When the English finally left, they took the French soldiers from the garrison and the French administration with them, as had been agreed, although they were supposed to be transported back to France. In addition, they took both priests, Father Petit and Father Trouvé, as prisoners. The priests very likely took the signed oath document with them, secreted beneath their garb, as protection for the Acadians, proving that they had indeed signed and promised loyalty – even if it had been under duress and through gritted teeth. This would explain why the document was found in the Massachusetts Archives several years ago.

A year later, in 1691, the governor of French Canada was still trying unsuccessfully to negotiate the freedom of 60 French prisoners taken during the siege. It’s unclear if they were all soldiers, plus the priests and administrators, or if some Acadians were taken and held too.

The English had never intended to keep any of the promises made in the surrender terms. It’s no wonder that Phips refused to sign the document that he had negotiated and agreed to.

We don’t know what the Acadian church looked like, other than Labat’s map drawings, but there is a church in Montreal, the Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours, founded in 1675. The architecture may be similar since they were built about the same time.

Next, Pirates Arrive

A few weeks after the devastating attack in June of 1690, English “pirates” raided Port Royal, perhaps twice. Some reports indicated that the “pirates” were sent from Boston to check on the Acadians to see if they were complying. Regardless of why they arrived, they stole anything that was left, killed the livestock out of pure spite, burned nearly everything else, including the church, and killed some inhabitants. At least two men were hanged, their families locked in their homes, which were set afire, burning them to death.

The Acadians must have been terrified and constantly on guard. This wasn’t a military attack, directed at taking, then administering the land. This was an attack on the residents themselves, bent solely on destruction. Maybe it was a tongue-in-cheek warning to the Acadians. Behave, or else.

Needless to say, any prayer of a good, or even luke-warm trade relationship with the English was out of the question. All trust in their former trading partners had been destroyed permanently.

Ironically, the only reason they had begun trading with the English in the first place was because France had essentially abandoned its colonies.

Was François’s home burned in 1690? If he was living in the town of Port Royal, he almost assuredly lost his home, but he didn’t lose his life or family. François had probably sent his wife and children somewhere for safety – perhaps up in the hills, perhaps to BelleIsle or someplace else upriver.

1693 – The English Return

In the 1693 census, understanding the devastation that Port Royal experienced in 1690, I fully expected François Broussard to be living upriver, but he isn’t.

I don’t know if he’s stubborn, recalcitrant, or optimistic.

François is now 39, so born about 1654, wife Catherine, 29, Marie 11, Pierre, 9, Marie 7 (the newborn baby in 1686), and Catherine-Josephe 3, who would have been born in 1690. François is now farming 7 arpents of land and has 15 cattle, 20 sheep, 16 hogs, and 1 gun.

Surprisingly, François is still living in Port Royal, between Estienne Pellerin who owned Hogg Island, and Jean Labat.

The Acadians still weren’t safe from the English. Even though they were officially under English rule, the Acadians continued to engage with the French. Of course, that was broadly considered privateering by the English, not to mention that the notorious French pirate, Pierre Maisonnat dit Baptiste, had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the Acadians in 1690, and remained living at Port Royal, married to 16-year-old Magdeleine Bourg, in 1693.

The English got word of this ongoing “nefarious” activity and returned to Port Royal in May of 1693 to mete out punishment. Much like 1690, they raided the town, slaughtered livestock, burned homes and barns full of grain. They did not attack the fort itself, as the fort was now “English.” This attack was clearly punitive in nature, targeted at the Acadian citizens.

The English underestimated Acadian resolve.

Moving Up to the East Side

In 1697, Acadia was returned to French control through the Treaty of Ryswick.

In the 1698 census, François is 45, so born about 1653, Catherine is 35, and they now have seven children. Additionally, they have a servant whose name is not given, two guns, and they live on 16 arpents of cultivatable land with two fruit trees, 15 cattle, 20 sheep, and 14 hogs. The family is doing quite well and is farming about twice as much land as the normal Acadian family, and about twice what they had in previous years.

Sometime between 1693 and 1698, François and family moved upriver. We can tell, because, among other clues, they are living beside Françoise Goudet (Gaudet), the 80-year-old widow of Daniel LeBlanc, who lived just northeast of BelleIsle.

Land, and more importantly, saltmarsh to dyke, reclaim and farm, is much more plentiful upriver than in the town of Port Royal. François went from farming 7 arpents of land to 16

I can’t help but wonder if the 1690 depredations, followed by the 1693 attack, precipitated this move. I’d be amazed if it didn’t weigh into the decision to relocate.

The town of Port Royal, beside the fort, was an obvious target, but the tidal, winding river, full of rocks, protected the upriver residents from approach by the sea.

The 1698 census is confusing and may not have been recorded in procession order, because in 1700, they are right back between Jean Labat and Etienne Pellerin. It’s also possible that they had land in two places.

In the summer of 2024, I returned to Acadia and stood on the upriver land where François Broussard established his homestead that was named Beausoleil, or “beautiful sun”, in English..

Using the contemporaneous maps, I was able to approximate where François lived. Using Hebb’s landing and other landmarks, combined with aerial views, we know that François lived in this area.

François’s sons would have built homes on his land and helped their father farm, especially as François aged.

It’s often possible to discern archaeological sites and soil disruptions using aerial views. This area, with its unique coloration and shapes, is a candidate for François’s homestead and those of his children.

François’s land would have extended onto this peninsula stretching into the river bend, which probably explains why he had so much land.

Saltmarsh has to be dyked and drained for about three years to rid the land of salt before cultivating.

Reclaimed marshland is still some of the most productive in Atlantic Canada today.

Standing at Hebb’s Landing, looking upriver at the Broussard land, at left, the peninsula in the river bend is visible.

Looking across at the land on the far shore of the river from François’s land. In Acadia, the river was a road, not a barrier.

In the 1700 census, François, listed as Jean, is 46, so born about 1654, Catherine is 36, and they now have nine children, ages 2 to 16. They are farming 15 arpents of land, own a gun, 24 cattle, and 26 sheep. Their eldest child has married.

This name suggests that his baptismal name is probably Jean-François Broussard or Brossard.

Chipoudy

François collaborated with Pierre Thibodeau, a miller, who established the new Acadian settlement of Chipoudy between 1698 and 1700. François’s son, Pierre, went with Thibodeau to Chipoudy, scouted a lot for his father, and began clearing it for a settlement. François and his wife apparently visited, were delighted, but apparently never made the move.

Or did they?

François’s friend, Pierre, apparently returned from Chipoudy, or never actually settled there, because he is listed as living across the river from BelleIsle at Pre Ronde, today’s Round Hill.

Perhaps the men traveled to the new frontier, and their wives and children remained to keep the homefires burning in Port Royal.

Today, this marker and one of Pierre’s mill stones mark his mill’s location at Pre Ronde. François would have spent time here.

Beausoleil

In the 1701 Port Royal census, François Brousart (sic) is 48, so born about 1653, Catherine is 38, and they have eight children. Now they own 5 guns, quite an increase, live on 10 arpents of land with 10 cattle, 18 sheep, and 17 hogs. They are listed with neighbors of both Blanchard and Leblanc, indicating that they are living upriver at Beausoleil.

This map, taken at the LeBlanc family monument on LeBlanc land shows the location of the LeBlanc family village in the upper left corner, the St. Laurent Church, shown on early maps as the “Mass House”, Hebb’s Landing, and Jean Brussard’s land, at right.

The fields and mountains behind these Acadian homes are beautiful too.

Looking back, towards the hills from the LeBlanc village marker. This is the golden summertime view François would have witnessed. Beausoleil, indeed!

In the 1703 census, François has reached the half-century mark and is age 50, placing his birth in 1653. Catherine is now 40, and they have eight children at home. Only one arms-bearer is listed, presumably François. Their oldest son, Pierre, is now 20 and lives at home, so I’m surprised he isn’t listed as an arms-bearer as well. The family only has one gun, so perhaps that is why.

The English – Again, and Again

In the summer of 1707, the English blockaded Port Royal, twice. The first blockade occurred in June, followed by the second in late August. Both lasted a couple of weeks, then failed, but on June 7th, as the English were being expelled, they torched at least two dozen homes in Port Royal once again.

This time, Labatt drew a map, which is dated 1708, which details the locations of the homes in and just south of Port Royal on the cape. François Broussard is not among them, so the family clearly is not living in the town.

Where is François?

The Broussard family was apparently missed in the 1707 census, or was living elsewhere. Based on his absence at Port Royal, and the fact that he was farming 15 arpents of land by 1698, it’s safe to say they weren’t living in the town of Port Royal – but where were they?

Based on later information, I think François was in Chipoudy, present-day Shepody, NB, in 1707, which was not included in the census. Chipoudy wasn’t terribly far from Beaubassin, maybe 20 miles by water.

Acadia Falls Permanently

In October of 1710, when the English returned, yet again, François was about 56 years old. While the 1707 sieges had failed, this one would not. Upwards of 35 English warships carried more than 2000 men, including some professional soldiers, to face just 300, hungry, neglected, and ill-equipped Acadian and French soldiers, 20 unfortunate Quebecois who happened to be visiting, and a few Mi’kmaq warriors. The French soldiers hadn’t been paid in years, nor had the soldiers or Acadians been supplied.

Even if you add every Acadian man and boy above 15 to the mix, you’ve only added 100 to the defensive force. There were many times more English soldiers than the entire Acadian population, including women and children, which only totaled about 570 people.

The Acadians didn’t stand a chance.

After doing their best to defend the fort and town for eight days, facing impossible odds, the best the Acadians could do was to obtain reasonable surrender terms and save themselves from being slaughtered.

In addition to being allowed to march out of the fort, flags flying and drums beating, before handing the keys to the English, the soldiers and Acadians were not to be harmed.

The Acadians retained the right to worship as Catholics, their personal property, and those who lived within cannon-shot of the fort – about 3 miles – could stay for 2 years IF they signed an unconditional oath of allegiance. They had two years to remove their moveable items to another French-held location.

The 3-mile delineation covered about 481 Acadians. Three months later, by mid-January, only 57 had begrudgingly signed.

The terms left the Acadians beyond 3 miles, which included François Broussard, who lived about 10 miles distant from Port Royal, northeast of BelleIsle, in limbo.

Did that mean those Acadians didn’t have to take the oath, and didn’t have to remove? What did it mean, exactly?

Of course, knowing the Acadians, they did everything possible to skirt the requirement to move from the land they had developed for decades. Where would they go? How would they get there, and how would they support their families? Yet, they weren’t about to take that despised oath, potentially having to fight against their own countrymen, their allies, and family members in the Native community.

1711 – A Year of Darkness

Winter descended on Port Royal shortly after the English took possession. Food shortages developed for the English soldiers at the fort, and assuredly, the Acadians were in no mood to feed them.

Between death, disease and desertion, there were only about 250 English soldiers left at the garrison, and none of them wanted to be there.

Samuel Vetch, the British Commander, considered the Acadians intractable, because they were, and wore it like a badge of honor. Based on how François was treated, I would gather he was probably one of the leaders.

I admire his spunk and resolve!

In early 1711, François was one of several residents of the haute rivière, or upper river, who were jailed by Vetch. It’s unclear exactly when this happened, but Vetch returned to Boston in January to essentially beg for food and supplies for his 450 men stationed at the fort in Port Royal.

The Acadians and their allies, the Mi’kmaq, clearly understood the precarious position that the English found themselves in and were becoming openly hostile. Vetch was eventually able to obtain some supplies, but when he returned to Annapolis Royal, the now renamed Port Royal, sometime in the spring, he found that his legions had shrunk by more than half to just over 200 very discouraged soldiers.

Did Vetch jail François and the others either before he left for Boston, or after his return? Maybe Vetch decided that if the jailed Acadians weren’t being fed, it would encourage the Acadians to supply the English soldiers.

Is there more to this story?

Yes, indeed, there is!

In an act of defiance, the Acadians rebelled!

Who’s surprised? Not me!

Battle of Bloody Creek

François Broussard lived about a mile and a half downriver, toward the fort, from Bloody Creek, as the seagull flies.

Bloody Creek was so named after a battle on June 21, 1711 where between 50 and 150 “Wabanaki warriors” ambushed about 70 English soldiers as they traveled upriver, near the mouth of what would come to be called Bloody Creek. Sixteen soldiers were killed and nine injured. The rest were captured, and at least some had to pay ransom for their release.

This success greatly emboldened the Acadians and their Indian counterparts – fueling hope that they could reverse their losses.

Buoyed to about 600 Indian and Acadian men, they attempted to retake the fort.

Unfortunately, they had no heavy weapons and could not effectively launch an attack. The effort was abandoned when English reinforcements arrived.

The sequence of events is unclear, but about this time, several Acadians were arrested for capturing an English soldier. Those involved were:

  • Guillaume Bourgeois of Port Royal
  • Jean Comeau of Port Royal
  • Pierre LeBlanc of Port Royal
  • Germain Bourgeois of Beaubassin
  • François Broussard of Chipoudy

François Broussard was not known to be from Chipoudy, but he could well have gone there for some time, intending to develop land there, and stay.

This also explains why he was missing in the 1707 census, and this information tells us he was still in Chipoudy in 1710 or 1711. He was probably going back and forth based on the fact that his children were marrying in Port Royal, but François was obviously considered at that time to be “of Chipoudy.”

  • In 1702 François Broussard, or at least his family, was in Port Royal, because his daughter Marie Broussard married Rene Doucet. They remained in Port Royal, but lived across the river from the fort.
  • In 1704, François was probably in Port Royal, because his eldest daughter, Madeleine Broussard, married Pierre Landry there, although they moved north, because several of their children were born in Pisiguit.
  • Missing in 1707 census in Port Royal area
  • In 1708, daughter Catherine Josephe Broussard married Charles Landry in Port Royal and lived their lives there in this area.
  • In 1709, his son, Pierre Broussard married Marguerite Bourg in Port Royal. Pierre remained at Port Royal until about 1720, when he relocated to Isle Royal, today’s Cape Breton.
  • François is found in the 1714 census in Port Royal.
  • In 1714, daughter Elisabeth Broussard married Pierre Bourg in Port Royal, and died in December of 1718 there.
  • François died in Port Royal.
  • François’ namesake child, François Broussard, born about 1695, died at Port Royal in November of 1717.
  • Claude Broussard married Anne Babin in 1718 in Grand Pre, although, based on the births of their children, and Claude’s later remarriage in Port Royal, they seemed to go back and forth.
  • Alexandre Broussard dit Beausoleil married Marguerite Thibodeau in 1724 in Port Royal, but their children beginning in 1728 were born in Chipoudy and Petitcoudiac.
  • Joseph Broussard dit Beausoleil married Agnes Thibodeau, sister of Marguerite, in 1725 in Port Royal. The following year, he was accused of fathering a child with another woman, a charge he denied. Nevertheless, he spent time in jail for refusing to provide support before settling, with his wife, at Chipoudy.
  • Jean-Baptiste Broussard married Cecile Babin about 1728, probably in Port Royal where they spent their lives.

The only other person that François Broussard, who was arrested in 1711 for capturing the English soldier, could have been was his son by the same name. However, the younger François Broussard was just a boy, born about 1695, and would not have been capturing a soldier and being arrested at age 15 or 16.

We don’t know how long François was held, or under what conditions.

Beaubassin where Germain Bourgeois lived, and Chipoudy, where François Broussard was from, aren’t far distant. They probably arrived back in Acadia on the same ship, although we don’t know when.

However, Germain never returned home.

According to the parish register, he died in Port Royal while the priest, Justin Durand, was held in captivity in Boston.

One of Germain’s descendants reported he was held in complete and absolute darkness in the old powder magazine at the fort, known as the Black Hole, and died as a result.

This is the face of the Black Hole, going down. This is what François would have seen, assuming he was jailed there.

Was Guillaime dead, and François mad, when he emerged? How long was he held there?

What a horrific form of torture.

Father Durand was exchanged for English prisoners and returned to Acadia at the end of 1711. Upon his return, he wrote in the parish register that Germain had died during his captivity in Boston.

We know nothing more about François Broussard until 1714.

In the 1714 census in Port Royal, François Broussard is only listed as “Broussard”, with a wife and 5 sons. Although it does not explicitly state his first name or his wife’s name, he is the only Broussard candidate who fits this description. He is enumerated beside a Richard family, and Pierre LeBlanc, one of the other men arrested in 1711 for capturing the British soldier, is his neighbor on the other side.

François died just two years later.

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree

Depiction of Joseph Broussard, Oil on canvas by Herb Roe  https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Joseph_Broussard_en_Acadia_HRoe_2009.jpg

All things considered, it’s not surprising that two of François’s sons, Alexandre Broussard dit Beausoleil, born about 1699, and more particularly, Joseph Broussard, dit Beausoleil, born about 1702 became legendary freedom fighters and Acadian folk heroes during the 1755 Expulsion.

Joseph Broussard, who died in 1765 in Louisiana, was recognized as one of the bravest and most enterprising Acadians and is still revered today. As children, these sons would have witnessed what happened to their father, and their people. Specifically, they would have been about 9 and 12 when their father was arrested and probably held in the Black Hole.

They tried, unsuccessfully, to prevent the Expulsion of the Acadians from their beloved Acadia in 1755. Fighting to the bitter end, Colonel William Foster wrote of Joseph, one of the last Acadians still resisting, “ These people are Spirited up in their obstinacy by one BeauSoleil . . .”

Even when reduced to famine in the winter of 1761, and having to surrender or die, Joseph Broussard continued to be sand in the cogs of the English gears whenever he could.

Altogether, he spent nearly a decade fighting a lost cause and surviving in the woods, protecting his family as best he could. Two of his adult children would not survive.

Eventually, in 1764, Joseph managed to charter a schooner to Hispanola, taking several other Acadian resisters with him. However, he was not prepared for the climate and tropical diseases that killed Acadians. Once again, Beausoleil, came to the rescue of his people, taking survivors to Louisiana in early 1765 aboard the ship, Santo Domingo.

They arrived on February 27th, and on April 8th, Joseph Broussard was appointed Captain of the Militia and Commandant of the Acadians in the Attackapas region. He saw at least 200 Acadians, future Cajuns, safely to Louisiana, but he died that September at Beausoleil, near present-day Broussard, LA, 49 years after his father died in Acadia when Joseph was 16 or 17 years old.

François would have been so proud of him!

François Broussard Dies

François Broussard was buried on the last day of December in 1716. He probably died either that day, during the night, or the day before. The priest, Justin Durand, knew him well, and the parish burial entry states that François was about 70 years old, which would have put his birth year at about 1646.

I would interpret this to mean “he was old,” but François was actually only about 63.

We know he had lived a difficult life.

The parish register does not say where he was buried, but we know unquestionably that there was a cemetery at the Mass House, and the Mass House was located between where François lived and Port Royal. Given that François died in the middle of winter, travel on the river would be treacherous, freezing cold, and the ground potentially frozen solid.

Furthermore, I doubt there was any way in Hell François was going to be buried at the English fort where the Acadian church used to be before the English burned it.

Within sight of the Black Hole.

Nope.

Nada.

That was never going to happen!

It would be much easier for his family members to attend if he were buried in the graveyard of the church where he worshipped, so I have absolutely no doubt that this is where François’s family gathered that New Year’s Eve to mourn his passing. I doubt that anyone felt like celebrating the following day.

François’ body would have been washed and dressed by Catherine and his family. The boys and neighbors probably quickly constructed a coffin, or perhaps they always had one ready in the neighborhood. Others would have dug the grave, or perhaps they dug several, just in case, before the ground froze in the fall.

The casket, carrying his earthly remains, would have been loaded onto a cart, similar to this one in Louisbourg, which would have been pulled by an ox to the church for François’ Requiem Mass.

The family would have walked the half mile or so to the church, meeting their neighbors along the way and at the church. The church was probably packed that day. François was assuredly an aged, beloved, community member who had tried, in vain, to save the Acadians from the English.

François’s oldest child was 26 and his youngest, just 12. His widow was 53 or 54 and would live the rest of her life without him, assuming the farm chores, at least until her sons were old enough to carry on.

Five of their children were already married, and two had removed to the Northern colonies.

Standing on François’s land, looking downriver, the Mass house would have been located on the land in the bend of the river, at right.

We can only approximate the church’s location from two 1700s maps today. The locations vary a bit.

The Mass House, aka St. Laurent Church, was located someplace very near this location, along with the cemetery, both now lost to time.

Still, François rests here.

Regardless of the exact location, this remains sacred Acadian ground, cradling the bones of our ancestors.

François Broussard’s grave may be lost to time, but his intractable, indomitable spirit still lives on his land near Hebb’s Landing, and in his descendants around the world.

A Possible Mother?

Several theories about François’s parents have been disproven, but one remains, based on a Catholic dispensation for consanguinity between Charles Broussard and Madeleine Leblanc. They were married in June of 1746 in Grand Pre.

According to the dispensation, they were third cousins on one side, and fourth cousins on the other, which means they shared great-grandparents on either the bride or groom’s side, and great-great-grandparents on the other person’s.

Charles is the grandson of François Broussard, which means François’s parents are Charles’s great-grandparents.

Broussard family researcher, Mitch Conover, postulated that François’s mother was a Doucet daughter who was unaccounted for. However, none are known.

His second possibility is that François’s mother was a daughter of Guillaume Trahan, who arrived with two children from France in 1636. Guillaume and his family first settled at La Hève, then moved on to Port Royal when d’Aulnay established his colony there, about that same time.

Daughter, Jeanne Trahan married Jacques Bourgeois. Guillaume Trahan’s other daughter was most likely married to Germain Doucet, the fort commander who returned to France in 1654 when Port Royal fell to the English. Evidence strongly suggests this marriage, but it is unproven.

No other daughters are known to have been born to Guillaume Trahan prior to his second marriage to Madeleine Brun about 1666, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t any. For François’s mother to have been Guillaume Trahan’s daughter, she would have had to have been born before 1638, given that François Broussard was born about 1653 or 1654.

Deceased Acadian historian, Stephen A. White, reduced the list of potential families to Gaudet, Bourgeois, Trahan, Comeau, and Bourg, then systematically eliminated several possibilities:

François Broussard could not have been the nephew of either Jacques Bourgeois or Pierre Comeau, the elder’s wife, Jeanne Bourg, because there were marriages without dispensations between Broussard’s children and close relatives of both of these individuals.

One may also exclude from consideration the Comeau family because Jeanne Bourg’s husband Pierre Comeau’s sisters were still too young, about 1653, the year of François Broussard’s birth, to have had a child.

The lack of a dispensation for kinship in the marriage record of François’s son Claude Broussard, when he married Jeanne Trahan’s granddaughter Marie Dugas (Rg PR 18 Nov 1754), takes away the possibility of a near link between François Broussard and Guillaume Trahan

It would thus appear that François Broussard’s mother could have been a sister of either Françoise Gaudet or Daniel LeBlanc, more likely of the former, because it is already known that there were other members of the Gaudet family in Acadia.

We know little about Daniel Leblanc’s origins, other than that he was in Acadia before d’Aulnay’s death in 1650. Daniel, born about 1626, married Françoise Gaudet about 1650. Her parents and at least three siblings settled in Acadia. There could easily have been an unknown daughter.

Let’s take a look at the ancestors of both the bride and groom using WikiTree’s Ancestors display. .

Madeleine LeBlanc has both Jean Gaudet and his unknown wife, and Guillaume Trahan and Françoise Corbineau in her tree as great-great-grandparents, consistent with a 4th degree dispensation.

Click any image to enlarge

However, when viewing the ancestors of Charles Broussard, we note that he, like his bride, shows Antoine Bourg and Antoinette Landry as ancestors. Madeleine shows them as great-great-grandparents, requiring a 4th degree dispensation, and Charles shows them as great-grandparents, requiring a 3rd degree dispensation.

These common ancestors for this couple would require a 3-4 dispensation, and that’s exactly what was given.

I have no idea how White missed these common ancestors between this couple.

Based on this evidence, there’s nothing to suggest the identity of the mother of François Broussard, unless Antoine Bourg and Antoinette Landry are incorrectly assigned in one of these trees. Otherwise, Antoine and Antoinette are reason that Michelle LeBlanc and Charles Broussard were given that dispensation.

We also have the issue of François Broussard’s absence in the 1671 census, although he could have been missed or living in someone’s household as a servant. It’s unclear whether single people were counted in any capacity. If 60 single people arrived in 1671 from France, it’s very unlikely that they had all married, and they are not listed in the census. Neither are 30 newlywed couples with no children. It’s possible that some debarked elsewhere in French Canada, or that the census was taken before the ship arrived.

So, François Broussard’s parents remain a mystery.

All things considered, I lean towards his birth in France and his arrival in Acadia as a young man in 1671. That said, he could still have descended from one of the Acadian families in France.

Perhaps more of his story is yet to be revealed.

_____________________________________________________________

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Marie Broussard (1686 – after 1752), Life Across the River from Port Royal – 52 Ancestors #462

Marie Broussard was 11 days old that cold January day when the 1686 Port Royal census was taken. She was born “upriver,” near BelleIsle, now part of the Annapolis River Valley in Nova Scotia, where the Broussard family lived.

It was here, on the banks of the river, that Marie’s storied life began.

Marie’s parents are listed in the census as Francois Broussard, 33, and Catherine Richard, 22. She had two older siblings, and her family owned seven cattle, five sheep, five hogs, and one gun.

1690

One of the defining events in Acadian history was the 1690 English attack. Marie was just four, but she may have had some memory, given how traumatic it was.

The attack was horrific, devastating the town of Port Royal itself. Homes and the church where Marie had been baptized were burned. Thankfully, most of the upriver farms, where Marie’s family lived, were spared.

Click to enlarge

That’s likely because the river beyond Port Royal, or upriver of Hogg Island, was essentially impassable to ocean-going vessels – not to mention that the river, then known as Riviere du Port Royal, is tidal. Water rushes in and out at various times of the day, threatening to slam unwary boats and ships against the rocks.

Gravely outnumbered, the Acadians surrendered to the English. The Acadian men were rounded up in the Catholic church and forced to sign a loyalty oath to the English crown. Marie’s father signed, because he had no other choice.

A few weeks later, pirates followed the English soldiers, plundering and burning much of what was left. Given where the Broussard family lived, comparatively far upriver, 9 or 10 miles, they likely escaped the pirates, too.

It was just too dangerous for pirates, and the English, to fight on unknown and unfamiliar terrain where they could not escape to their waiting ships. The narrowing, meandering, rocky, tidal river protected the Acadian families.

1693

The next Acadian census was taken three years later, in 1693, where Marie is listed as seven years old.

Marie now has three siblings, the two older siblings listed in 1686, but only one younger sibling, born about 1690. Clearly, at least two siblings had been born and died, one about 1688 and another about 1692.

In May of 1693, the English attacked Port Royal once again, burning at least a dozen and probably as many as 30 homes.

Marie’s parents probably tried to shield their young children from the worst of it – especially the part about families being locked in their homes and burned alive. That’s the stuff of nightmares.

Additionally, the English slaughtered the livestock – not for food, just because. Although with enough warning, the upriver families were probably able to turn their hogs and cattle loose and chase them into the woods in the hills that lined the valley, behind the farms.

After 1690, they assuredly would have had “attack plans” at the ready.

Marie was clearly old enough to remember the 1693 attack and would have grown up hearing about both 1690 attacks.

We think that the census was taken after the 1693 attack. The Broussard family was living on 7 arpents of land, had 15 cattle, 20 sheep, and 16 pigs – all of which were defended by one gun. The amount of livestock suggests they were spared the wrath of the English, or they successfully hid their animals.

I’d wager that the Acadian children learned to both fear and hate the English.

French Once Again

Since 1690, Acadia has been under English rule. In 1697, Port Royal was returned to the French through treaty. I think this was the first and only time in the history of Acadia that there was a transfer of power between the French and the English without conflict and bloodshed.

The following year, the 1698 census shows Marie, now 13, with her parents and six siblings. This year, surprisingly, they also had an unnamed servant, so they were clearly doing well. They owned 2 guns, had increased their land holding to 16 arpents, had two fruit trees, 15 cattle, 20 sheep, and 14 hogs.

BelleIsle and the area on the north side of the river is some of the most productive farmland in the valley.

Early 1700s Unrest

In 1700, the census lists Marie as 14. Her family now farms 14 arpents of land with 24 cattle and 26 sheep. No hogs this year, though, and no servant either, although servants weren’t always listed.

In 1701, Marie is 15, marriage age, and assuredly flirting with the local Acadian young men. She has 7 siblings now, the family is farming 10 arpents of land, owns five guns, 10 cattle, 18 sheep, and 17 hogs.

Marie’s family would have been attending church at the little Mass House at BelleIsle where you can see the Broussard family name just above and to the right of the building. The church at Port Royal had not been rebuilt, so the Acadians worshipped where they lived. They established a cemetery in that churchyard too.

Today, the Mass House and those graves are lost to time.

Marie Marries

Sure enough, Marie married Rene Doucet sometime after the 1701 census, but probably not long after, because in the 1703 census, the newlyweds have one child, and Rene is listed as an arms-bearer.

They are shown with a girl, but their oldest known child was actually Pierre, born on Christmas Eve in 1703. This tells us that their first child, a daughter, was probably born in early/mid 1702 and died as an infant.

Working 18-24 months back from Pierre’s birth places the daughter’s birth between December 1701-June 1702. Nine months before that places their marriage between March and September of 1701.

We don’t know what date the 1701 census was taken. We only know that Marie married Rene after the census was taken.

When Marie married Rene, they set up housekeeping across from Port Royal. Not long after, they would witness the 1704 blockade of Port Royal by the English.

Given the history of the relationship between the two nations, Marie was probably on constant alert, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or, in this case, listening for cannon fire.

English Major Benjamin Church had not been authorized to actually attack Port Royal, though, so he had to settle for a blockade. On July 2nd, he sailed two English warships and seven smaller ships up the river and anchored within sight of Port Royal.

On the way upriver, they captured the guard station across from Goat Island, in addition to four Acadians. I’m standing on the shore, right about where they would have come ashore to capture that guard station. You can see Goat Island in the river.

Taking an unknown family prisoner, they sent a woman from that family to the fort to demand surrender. We don’t know the identities of the four captured Acadians or the family, but other times, captives were often taken to Boston and held for more than a year – if they were ever released.

That 1704 hostage strategy didn’t work. The fort and town were not surrendered, and the blockade lasted 17 days.

For 17 long days and nights, the Acadians waited for what they felt sure was the inevitable attack, but Church tired of the wait and set off to raid Grand Pre, Pisiguit, and Chignecto instead. On his way back, he stopped by again and, after a brief exchange of gunfire, continued on to Boston.

Marie had a front-row seat.

1707 Was Hell!!!

The British tried to take Port Royal again in 1707, twice.

The first attack by Colonel John March of Massachusetts began on May 26th and ended on June 8th, after a failed assault the previous day. During their retreat on June 7th, the English burned many, if not most, of the homes near the fort.

The second 1707 assault began on August 20th and ended on September 1st. I’m guessing that the English thought that the Acadians would have been weakened after the assault just two months earlier, especially with so many homes burned, and only a total of 300 men to defend the fort.

During the second siege, the English landed on the same side of the river and established siege lines – but Mother Nature came to the aid of the Acadians, serving up bad weather which allowed Governor Subercase to successfully defend both the fort and town.

Subercases’ report to Versailles that October stated that the Acadian habitations had been “ravaged by fire” in June and that new fortifications and the rebuilding of the homes “in the banlieue” were underway.

Unfortunately, living directly across from the fort, Marie would have witnessed the horrors unfolding. Arguably, that was better than being in the midst of the inferno.

The siege was terrifying, and on June 7th, Marie watched Port Royal burn, right across the river. She would have smelled the smoke and probably heard the screams if she hadn’t already headed for safety.

The Labatt Map

Thanks to a map drawn the following year by the fort’s engineer, Labatt, we know what happened and whose homes were burned. You can view his original map, here.

On Labatt’s 1708 map, the names of the residents are noted by letter with their homes and adjacent fields. Rene Doucet is shown across from Port Royal, with Abraham Bourg and several Granger families as neighbors.

Labatt’s map reveals the level of devastation in Port Royal itself. The legend details landmark locations, such as the fort, in addition to the homes that were and weren’t burned. I asked ChatGPT to transcribe, then translate the legend.

The translated version:

Plan of the Suburbs of Fort Royal in Acadia and its Surroundings

June 7, 1707. Fort taken by the English and the houses burned.

A. the fort
B. houses and garden of the King
C. butcher’s shop belonging to Mr. du Labourage
D. King’s barn
E. houses and land of Mr. d’Inglisier
F. houses and land of Mr. d’Orantin
G. house of the widow of Dominique
H. house of Mr. St. Calbet
I. house of Mr. Poirier, chief surgeon
K. house of Lachausse, blacksmith
L. storehouse of Allain Bulger
M. Mr. Beaumont, blacksmith, burned
N. house of the master carpenter, same (burned)
O. house of Mr. Lognonnet, burned
P. house of Madame Fenonce
Q. house of the son of Brouillan, burned
R. house of Mr. Deslauriers, same (burned)
S. fields and woods behind
T. palisade burned
V. house of the farmer Poisson
X. house of Langouin, same (burned)
Y. house of François Coste, same (burned)
Z. dwelling of Jasquin, same (burned)

a. (looks like L) house of François Loiseau, burned
b. entrenchment made by the English in 1707

Note: not all of the marshlands are enclosed,
only those surrounded by the great tides.

c. house of André Lavingé, same (burned)
d. house of Joseph Brouin, burned
e. house of Denis
f. house of Lavergne, same (burned)
g. house of M. l’Abbadie
h. house of Boisbriand, burned
i. house of Prudent Robichaud, same (burned)
k. house of Pierre Landry, same (burned)
l.  house of Jean Arbin, same (burned)
m. house of Pierre Pellerin, same (burned)
n. house of Villiers, same (burned)
o. house of Claude Doucet, same (burned)
p. house of Bernard Doucet, same (burned)
q. house of Maillet, same (burned)
r. hill called in this country “Rançon,” or “Monsieur de Cours,”
where Mr. de Brouillan withdrew in the year 1707. Corrected to “mountain called Le Lion Rampant or was buried the ‘heart of Mr. de Brouillan.”

The site previously called “la petite rivière” has a mill.

t. land of Louis Allain, where he planted an orchard.
u. house of Joseph Brouillet
v. house of Charles Robichaud, same (burned)
w. mills of Landry
& c. surveys of the land given by Mr. de la Boularderie in 1708.

I corrected anything that was an obvious transcription error, but I’m not a native French-speaker.

Next, I correlated the names with the 1708 map locations.

Each of the stars represents a burned home. While not shown or mentioned, Father Justin Durand, the local priest, lived in the monastery adjacent to the original church that was destroyed in 1690. Since that time, services had been held in a makeshift structure. Both were destroyed in the 1707 attacks.

The dashed lines labeled “b” are the English entrenchments, and the properties surrounding those were all torched.

Of course, one wonders why all of the properties in Port Royal weren’t burned. Perhaps some of the residents were friendlier with the English than others.

Or, perhaps the group closest to the fort was the most well-protected, which might explain why most of those weren’t burned. The English must have taken special pains to burn the rectory since it was literally in the yard right beside the fort’s rampart.

It’s worth noting that of the 24 burned properties, only 11 of those residents appear in the 1707 census. What happened to the rest? Did some people die?

Pierre Pellerin probably died. We know who his parents were, and he is never found again after the 1707 burn list.

Did some go back to France? Did some head for Beaubassin or elsewhere? We don’t find them anyplace in Acadia in the 1707 census, which was clearly taken in the fall after the English depredations.

Cemeteries

We think of Port Royal as a small town, with maybe 500 people total, including the surrounding area. However, these attacks left a lot of people to be buried, many at the same time.

St. Jean-Baptiste parish records between 1702 and 1755 are incomplete, but more than 2500 baptisms took place, and 400+ burials were recorded.

We also know from the census records that a lot of babies and young children died – probably approaching half of those born. They too had to be buried, so the cemetery at the original church by the fort wouldn’t have been close to everyone, and it had to be getting full.

Plus, that church only existed for about four years before it was burned and never rebuilt – and the land was under English control.

Maybe the Acadians didn’t want to bury all of their deceased family members there, all things considered – not to mention that traveling to Port Royal from far upriver in the dead of winter would have been difficult, if not impossible. .

On Labatt’s map, it’s worth noting that there’s a cemetery south of the town, marked by the cross at the top of the map, along “Chemin du Cap,” or “Path to the Cape”.

Clearly, someone was being buried in this new cemetery. Perhaps many of the Acadians, especially those south of Port Royal who lived along the road are buried here. This cemetery is lost today.

It’s clear from Labatt’s map that reflects the residents in Port Royal in 1707, combined with the 1707 census, that people we don’t think of as Acadians resided in Port Royal from time to time, as did soldiers stationed at the fort’s garrison.

The church at the fort was burned in 1690 and not rebuilt. In fact, its stones were used in the later reconstruction of the fort.

We know that another church was in use at BelleIsle, called the Mass House, and residents who lived in that area were buried there as well.

Another church was referenced on the north side of the river, but we don’t know if it was the Mass House, or a church between today’s Granville Ferry and the Melanson village – near Marie’s home.

As for Marie’s family – they could have been buried either at Port Royal, which was just across the river after she married, or up at the BelleIsle Mass House, which is where her parents and siblings lived.

The Te Deum

Marie must have heaved a huge sigh of relief as the English ships weighed anchor and began to sail away in the early fall of 1707.

The Acadians believed they had been saved by God’s hand. When the English left, Subercase’s garrison of soldiers and the Acadians celebrated with a Te Deum in the church in Port Royal, such as it was. Subercase reported, “we sang the Te Deum in the church to thank God for our deliverance.”

A 1699 visitor to Port Royal remarked that the makeshift church resembled a barn more than a church, and in 1701, a nun noted that the church had a straw-covered roof, log walls, and paper windows. There was no church bell, and people were called to Mass by beating a drum.

Marie would never have known a different church in Port Royal.

The Te Deum reaches back to the fourth century when St. Ambroise baptized St. Augustine, and the hymn was reportedly first sung together. Te Deum, a Catholic hymn of thanksgiving, means “We praise Thee, O God” and would have been sung to celebrate either a military victory, or deliverance, or, in this case, both. The service would have been a community-wide celebratory event, a group exhale, at least for a little while.

Close your eyes and listen to this beautiful Gregorian chant of the Te Deum, here. Think about Marie and her family in the early fall of 1707, singing this very song, their voices mingling with those of their neighbors and the rich barritones of the soldiers stationed at the garrison.

Then, open your eyes and watch the video once again with the English subtitles. I promise, this will bring you peace and connect you with our Acadian ancestors.

The Acadians were grateful, but their deliverance wouldn’t last forever.

1707 Census

The 1707 census shows Marie and Rene with one boy less than 14, one girl less than 12, four arpents of land, 19 cattle, 17 sheep, 8 hogs, and one gun.

As indicated on the 1708 map, their neighbors in the census are Abraham Bourg, three Granger families, then on the other side, towards the east, Clement Vincent and Francois Levron, “Le Bonhomme Nantois.”

These families were all interrelated, or would be soon.

1710 – Acadia Falls

Ever since the foiled 1707 attacks, rumors swirled that the English were planning to attack Acadia again.

From across the river, Marie watched the fort being reconstructed and reinforced. One of the few remaining structures, the Powder Magazine, was being built.

The Powder Magazine not only kept the powder dry, it served as a bunker.

Prisoners rescued from English corsairs in 1708 and 1709 told the Acadians that an attack was coming, sooner rather than later.

Morale at Port Royal was at an all-time low. The French had consistently ignored pleas for help, reinforcements, and supplies, and now Acadia was attempting to reconstruct the fort on its own. Many French soldiers, who had gone years without pay, had run away and defected to the English and were now providing espionage information. This further weakened Port Royal and depleted the ranks. Worse yet, the defectors would soon accompany the English on the warships when they attacked Port Royal.

The Powder Magazine, also known as “The Black Hole”, was a subterranean structure designed to keep gunpowder dry and provide shelter to the women and children of Port Royal in the event of an attack. It also served as a defacto prison.

Unless Marie went upriver to BelleIsle, and then into the hills, she would have been exceedingly grateful for the new Powder Magazine on September 24, 1710.

The interior is small and claustrophobic, but barring English soldiers literally running down the steps and breaking the door open, it was safe – safer than any house in or within sight of Port Royal.

In 1710, when the English returned to Port Royal, they were more determined than ever. They intended to finish what they had started in 1707. With 36 ships and 2000 men pitted against a combined force of roughly 300 French soldiers and Acadian men, they would not fail.

Marie’s husband, Rene Doucet would be fighting. It was up to Marie to protect their children, 6, 3 and an 8-month-old baby.

A hand-drawn English map detailed their attack strategy, including where they would come ashore – right beside the Doucet homestead. One thing is certain – Marie had already vacated the premises – or I wouldn’t be writing about her as one of my ancestors.

Did Marie witness her home burn? Was everyone able to escape? What happened to Marie’s baby born in 1708? Where did she take her children and hide? Was she in the crowded Powder Magazine for ten days? Did she literally run the 10 miles upriver with her baby and small children to her parents’ home?

What I wouldn’t give for her diary.

The Acadians held out from September 24th to October 2nd, but defeat was inevitable – only a matter of time, and how. Would they fight to the bloody end, or would they surrender?

Surrender allows one to live and fight another day. The surrender terms provided that:

  • The Acadian soldiers could leave the fort, flags flying and drums beating. In other words, with some dignity.
  • The fort and everything belonging to “France,” meaning supplies, was handed over to the English.
  • The Acadian inhabitants within cannon-shot, 3 English miles, could remain for two years, which meant they had two years to move their “moveable items” to a French Territory, which was any of the rest of Acadia.
  • Those who stayed for the two years had to pledge an oath to the Queen.
  • The French soldiers and administrators would be transported back to France.

After the surrender terms were signed, the Acadians handed the fort keys over to the English and signed the despised oath.

As a woman, Marie didn’t need to sign, but her husband would have.

Many of the residents who lived even slightly beyond the 3-mile radius felt that the restrictions did not apply to them. Clearly, Marie and Rene did not fall into this category, but her parents did.

Soon, the town’s name would be officially changed from Port Royal to Annapolis Royal, and the river to the Annapolis River.

Never again would Marie live under French control.

Ever hopeful, the Acadians procrastinated.

The Acadians, en masse, planned to leave, so they did not plant crops in 1714. Then, they were unexpectedly forbidden from leaving, which meant they had no food during that winter.

Marie was pregnant again.

1714-1716

By 1714, when the final Acadian census was taken, Marie and Rene had 1 son and three daughters. They lived beside her brother, Pierre Broussard, but still in the same neighborhood. If their home had been burned, which is almost guaranteed, they had rebuilt and continued to farm the same land. Rebuilding after fire was a way of life in Acadia.

Initially, the Acadians were told they had to leave with only what they could carry, then when the English realized they needed the Acadians to farm in order to feed the English soldiers, the Acadians were forbidden from leaving.

The English “occupation” was anything but peaceful.

In 1715, the English tried to starve the Acadians into submission, shut the gates to the fort, and forbade trading with the Indians as well. The Acadians now desperately wanted to leave, and tried, by both land and sea.

Marie’s parents were aging, and her father, Francois Broussard, died on the last day of the year in 1716. The parish register notes that he was about 70 years old. Marie’s mother, Catherine Richard, was about a decade younger than her father. Catherine is shown in the 1714 census, but then nothing. It’s possible, but unlikely, that she survived to the 1755 Expulsion.

This was a brutal time in Acadia.

The 1720 Ultimatum

By 1720, tensions had risen again, with the English trying to force all of the Acadians to sign an unconditional oath of allegiance to England, which the Acadians had consistently refused to do. They were willing to sign a conditional oath, remaining neutral in the case of conflict between England and France. Their Native neighbors feared the same thing, because they did not want the Acadians fighting on the side of the English, against them. Everything was complex, and emotions ran high.

A new English governor, General Philips, proclaimed that all Acadians had to take the oath or leave within three months – with nothing. This caused quite the uproar, but the Acadians continued to refuse. Philips pronounced them ungovernable and stubborn, stating that they were being influenced and directed by bigoted priests.

I’m guessing that the Acadians probably took that as a compliment.

France began sending people to Louisbourg and encouraging the Acadians to come and settle there.

The English begrudgingly tolerated the situation at Port Royal, in part because they desperately needed the food supplies that Acadians raised, along with their knowledge of the land.

In 1725, a sort of truce was reached, and an oath was agreed upon – only to be declared too lenient in 1729.

If it feels like the Acadians were living in a constant state of churn, that’s because they were.

The 1730 Incredible Disappearing Oath

However, in 1730, a bit of subterfuge saved the day.

A new governor, Richard Philipps, who had served in Acadia earlier, returned, and reported that Acadians took this oath:

“I sincerely promise and swear, as a Christian, that I will be utterly faithful and will truly obey His Majesty King George the Second, whom I acknowledge as the sovereign Lord of Nova Scotia and Acadia. So help me God.”

The actual oath contained a second page:

“… that the inhabitants, when they have sworn hereto, will not be obliged to take up arms against France or against the Savages, and the said Inhabitants have further promised that they will not take up arms against the King of England or against its government.”

Everyone agreed upon this verbiage, and the Acadians signed. The priest and a notary signed as witnesses.

Philips only sent the first page back to England. The English monarch didn’t know about the second part, and the Acadians didn’t know that the second part wasn’t sent.

Everyone was satisfied because both parties believed they had gotten what they wanted – and things calmed down.

Finally, for the first time in all of Marie’s 44 years upon the earth, peace fell upon Acadia. For the first time ever, she could look across the river at Port Royal and the fort, renamed Fort Anne, that now housed English soldiers, without fear clutching her throat.

The Acadian population grew at a rapid clip during this time of peace and prosperity. Marie was focused on raising her family across the river from Annapolis Royal – the town that would always be Port Royal to the Acadians.

Children

Throughout her marriage, Marie continued to have children, despite what the English were or were not doing.

  1. Marie’s first child, a daughter, was born in 1702 and died before 1707. The parish registers are extant, dating back to sometime in 1702, although they are not complete.
  2. Pierre Doucet was a Christmas Eve baby, born December 24, 1703, with godparents Pierre Broussard, Marie’s brother, and Marguerite Bourg. He married Francoise Dugas on September 10, 1725, in Port Royal, and had 10 known children. During the 1755 Expulsion, he was sent to Connecticut, where he is shown in 1763, requesting passage to France, with a family of 8. Connecticut Acadians were not granted permission to relocate to France.
  3. A child was probably born in 1705 and died at or near birth.
  4. Anne Marie Doucet was born on November 24, 1706, in Port Royal. She married Pierre Landry two decades later, on June 3, 1726, in Port Royal. They had four known children who were deported, but she probably gave birth to at least 11. During the 1755 Expulsion, Pierre Landry is listed on board the ship, Ranger, bound for Oxford, in the colony of Maryland, where Anne Marie is found in 1763, listed as a widow.
  5. A child born in 1708 who died before the 1714 census.
  6. Agathe Doucet was born on January 19, 1710, in Port Royal, and baptized the day she was born, with Monsieur du Chambon, Lieutenant of a company, and Agathe de la Tour as her godparents. She was nine months old when Port Royal fell to the English. On February 4, 1727, she married Pierre Pitre and had about 13 children, six of whom are known to have lived. In 1752, they were living in Chipoudie with seven children, and again in 1755, just prior to the Expulsion, with the same number of children. Their fate is unknown, but one of their children died in Chateauguay, Canada, one in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and two in Opelousas, St. Landry Parish, Louisiana.
  7. A child was born about 1712 and died before the 1714 census.
  8. Anne Doucet was born on March 23, 1713, in Port Royal, and was provisionally baptized by Abraham Bourg, a neighbor who often baptized babies born in the neighborhood where Marie and Pierre lived. Anne’s official baptism by the priest took place on April 22, with Mathieu Doucet and Isabelle Broussard, Marie’s sister, serving as her godparents. She married Daniel Garceau around 1730 and had 13 or 14 children, 11 of whom survived. During the 1755 Expulsion, the family was sent to New York, where they appear on the 1763 census with eight children. They had resettled in Quebec by August 1767. Anne died in Sorel, Richelieu, Quebec, on April 14, 1791.
  9. Francois Doucet was born on May 1, 1715, in Port Royal, with Claude Broussard, Marie’s brother, and Renee Bourg standing as his godparents. He married Marguerite Petitot on January 15, 1742, in Port Royal, and they had nine or 10 children, nine of whom survived. During the 1755 Expulsion, they were deported to York County, Maine, where they are shown in 1756 with nine children, and again in 1764. However, in 1763, they are shown in Connecticut with five sons and four daughters. This is not necessarily conflicting information, but it does need additional research. Regardless of where they were during that time, in 1764, Acadians who took an oath of allegiance were allowed to return to an area of Nova Scotia that would be set aside for Acadians, in St. Mary’s Bay, near Digby. They returned about 1770. Several of their children died at Church Point and nearby in Nova Scotia. I wonder if they ever visited their parents’ and grandparents’ graves, if they knew where they had been buried, and if the graves were still there after more than a decade of English settlement.
  10. Catherine Josephe Doucet was born on April 19, 1718, in Port Royal, with Joseph Leblanc and Catherine Broussard, wife of Charles Landry and Marie’s sister, as her godparents. She was buried on October 4, 1719, in Port Royal.
  11. Marguerite Doucet was born February 5th, 1721, in Port Royal and was provisionally baptized by Abraham Bourg. Her official baptism took place on March 22nd, with Joseph Bourg and a Doucet as godparents. She married Charles Babineau on January 25, 1745, in Port Royal, and they brought forth at least five children and probably more. Their last known child was reportedly born on Ile St. Jean and baptized on September 12, 1756, noting that her mother was deceased. However, the father is listed as Jean Bario, so the identification of this child is questionable. Acadian historian and genealogist Stephen A. White states that Marguerite was listed as the widow, Marguerite Doucet, on the Connecticut 1763 census with six people, which, if correct, means that she and her family were deported from Port Royal, not Ile St. Jean, in 1755.
  12. Charles Doucet was born about 1723 in Port Royal and married Marguerite Prejean about 1746, probably in or near Chipoudie. They had four children before the Expulsion, and possibly more after. Two children are known to have survived. One died in Three Rivers, Canada, in 1832. Prior to the Expulsion, they were found on the 1755 census in Tintamarre, Acadia, with 2 boys and 2 girls. Following the 1755 Expulsion, Charles was deported to Georgia, but his wife was living in Massachusetts in 1763. We really don’t know how she got there since the Acadians from Chignecto were not sent to Massachusetts, but nothing was “normal” in that time and place. Charles was deceased before the 1763 census taken on August 5th, and his wife, Marguerite, died in May of 1777 in Trois-Rivieres, Quebec.
  13. Jean Doucet was born on August 20, 1725, in Port Royal and was baptized the next day, with Jean Granger, son of Claude Granger, and Agathe Doucet, his sister, as his godparents. He married Anne Bourg on January 20, 1749, with a 4th degree consanguinity granted because they shared great-great-grandparents. Witnesses were Francois Doucet, Joseph Doucet, Pierre Doucet, and Joseph Bourg. They had three children before the 1755 Expulsion. The fate of only one is known. Their firstborn, Anne, died in 1790 in L’Acadie, Quebec, a haven for so many. Tragically, Jean Doucet was on the ship, the Edward, struck by the horrific winter storm that blew it off course and to Antigua, arriving months later, in May of 1756. Doubly unlucky, many of the passengers on the Edward were infected with smallpox and died – Jean among them. His wife eventually made it to Connecticut, where she is shown in 1763 with her second husband, Joseph Hebert, and nine children.
  14. Cecile Doucet was born on July 20, 1728, in Port Royal, with Joseph Builbaut, son of Charles Builbaut, and her sister, Anne Doucet, standing as her godparents when she was baptized the following day. On January 22, 1752, she married Charles Bourg in Port Royal, and in April of 1753, they had a daughter who was baptized, but whose name was left blank. All we know about Cecile is that on August 14, 1763, her husband is listed in Connecticut alone – no wife or child – so Cecile and the daughter have both perished.

The story of Marie’s children is crushingly tragic.

Where was Marie?

Where was Marie during this time?

That’s a great question.

For the most part, Marie was doing what Acadian wives and mothers did prior to the Expulsion – interrupted from time to time by an attack or drama surrounding moving, taxes, and that dreaded oath of allegiance.

She cooked and baked, tended her gardens and the livestock, and reliably produced another child every 18 to 24 months. Obviously, Acadians loved their children, and their Catholic faith taught that the purpose of marriage was for the procreation and education of children, calling for them to “be fruitful and multiply.” (Genesis 1:28)

In Acadia, children meant hands to help with the incessant chores needing to be completed, from building and mending dykes to planting and harvesting produce. Of course, there was the ever-present need to defend Acadia, Port Royal, and their habitations, as their homes were called.

Marie must have learned to live with the persistent background hum of anxiety.

We don’t know when Marie’s husband, Rene Doucet, died – just that it was sometime after September 10, 1731. He was about eight years older than Marie.

The good news is that Marie was present to see every one of her children marry, less Charles who married around 1746, probably in Chipoudie where his bride was born.

Marie would have welcomed a good many grandchildren into the world as well. She had at least 55, and would have buried several more. Some were born after the 1755 Expulsion, and of course, she wouldn’t have known many, if any, that were born during or after 1755.

We know that Marie was still living on January 22, 1752, when her youngest child, Cecile, was married.

What we don’t know is what happened between January of 1752 and December of 1755 when the Acadians were rounded up like so many cattle and forced aboard various English ships waiting at anchor in the river.

There’s no record of Marie’s death prior to the Expulsion, but we also know the records aren’t complete.

The great irony is that Marie had spent her entire married life looking at the fort, the three chimneys of the garrison, and the Queen’s Wharf from her home across the river. This was her view every single day. The wharf, barely visible near the water, at left, is now inhabited mostly by the ghosts of deported Acadians.

The waterfront would have been bustling when Marie lived here.

If she survived to December of 1755, Marie would see that wharf in a way she could never have imagined. In the winter, in the snow, as a hostage in her own homeland. If she lived that long, there’s no question that she endured that unspeakable tragedy.

If Marie was forced upon one of those ships for the torturous journey, she probably had little or no choice about which ship, and with whom.

Marie may have been entirely separated from her family and forced to leave any possessions she might have been carrying on the dock. Four years later, when the new English settlers arrived, they reported finding belongings stacked on and along the wharf where the Acadians were forced to abandon whatever they were carrying before boarding the death ships.

Did Marie catch a final glimpse of her children, and grandchildren, being herded, pushed and shoved into the holds of those freezing ships, never to know what happened to them?

Then, as the ultimate cruel twist of fate, Marie had to, was forced to, view her home directly across from that wharf. The fields that she, Rene and her children had worked now covered with wind-blown icy snow. The ship would have departed from right here – right in front of her home – perhaps still smoldering, her animals, forcibly abandoned, begging to be fed.

My God, my God, the unspeakable agony.

I can only imagine her unanswered prayers.

Marie’s children unquestionably boarded ships at this wharf, looked one last time at their childhood home as they sailed into the horrors that lay beyond. They were deported, hopefully as families, to Maryland, New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Georgia, and Antigua. One child, Charles, was in Chipoudy before the Expulsion, but he wasn’t safe either.

In other words, Marie could have died between Cecile’s wedding in 1752 and the Grande Derangement in December of 1755, during the horrific winter conditions at sea, or somewhere in one of the colonies, or Antigua.

As another researcher pointed out, it’s possible, but not probable, that she was the Widow Doucet with six children on the 1763 census in Connecticut. Children might have been grandchildren. In 1755, she would have been one month shy of 70, and in 1763, she would have been 78, so I doubt the widow in Connecticut is our Marie. .

Standing on the rampart, above Queen’s Wharf, one can see Marie’s home in the clearing across the river. Marie and Rene drained those marshes, worked the land, and raised their children there.

When I placed roses here on the wharf last year, honoring my Acadian ancestors, I didn’t realize I was literally leaving roses directly across from Rene and Marie’s home – that clearing across the river. As I stood transfixed in the silence, transported to another time and place, I was staring at what was left of their life in Acadia.

I hope Marie died peacefully, in her own bed, in her sleep, beside the river, across from her beloved Port Royal. I hope she never lived to see her family ripped apart, sent in different directions as captives, never to see or know what had become of each other.

I pray she never stood on this very wharf, as those English ships waited to carry her away. I hope she didn’t have to endure the grief of witnessing the final destruction of her homeland, her beloved Acadia.

I hope the sun set on Marie’s earthly journey as beautifully as the sun sets today over her Acadian home, reflecting timeless beauty across the river that nourished her family.

Marie’s light lives on.

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