Jacques Forest aka Foret (born 1707), Life on Bloody Creek – 52 Ancestors #407

Jacques Foret, aka Forest, de Foret, de Forest, and similar spellings, was born on July 10, 1707, in Port Royal, Acadia, to  René Foret (Forest) and Françoise Dugas. He was officially baptized on July 19th in the St. John-Baptiste Catholic Church.

Click on any image to enlarge

This baptismal record is interesting because normally, children are baptized by the Catholic priest within a day or so of birth. Apparently, this wasn’t possible because Jacques was baptized the day after his birth “ondoye” by Emanuel Hebert. This is a provisional baptism given at home, “just in case.” Sometimes, it suggests that the child was weak or not expected to live, and sometimes, it just means that the priest wasn’t available, the parents didn’t live close to the church, or maybe bad weather interfered.

Snow wasn’t the culprit in July, so it had to be something else.

The priest who baptized Jacques officially on July 19th was “F. Justinien Durand missionnaire Recollet,” so perhaps he was traveling when the baby was born.

According to Stephen White, Jacques’ batismal sponsors are translated as “sieur de Teinville lieutenant de compagnie and Jeanne Dugas wife of La Forest.” The lieutenant is clearly associated with the fort, located beside the church, but I don’t know who Jeanne Dugas is or how she fits into the picture. She is clearly married to a La Forest man, but which one?

On this Early Acadian Settlements map based on the 1707 census, you can see that René Forest was located just around the bend in the Annapolis River from Emmanuel Hebert, probably his nearest neighbor – about half a mile away.

René probably jumped in his canoe and paddled to Emmanuel’s home, shouting, “Grab the Bible Emmanuel, we’ve got a baby to baptize!!!” Or maybe the message was more like, “Emmanuel, the baby isn’t doing so well. Can you please come and baptize him, just in case, of course?” Port Royal, where the church and priest were located, was downriver a good dozen miles, and that’s as the crow flies. The River was anything but straight, and roads were probably doubtful.

No need to risk that journey. Emmanual’s baptism would get baby Jacques into Heaven, should something bad happen. The priest would officially baptize him as soon as the child could make the trip eight days later.

The next actual record we have of Jacques is when he married in 1733 or 1734, but the intervening quarter century was anything but serene.

Acadia

The Acadians were chronically and constantly embroiled in warfare with the British. Sometimes France held what is present-day Nova Scotia, and sometimes, the British did. The Acadians tried to remain neutral. All they really wanted was to be left alone to raise their families, tend their farms, and practice their Catholic religion. That doesn’t seem like a lot to ask.

Jacques had never known anything else. His grandfather, Michel DeForest, was in Acadia by 1766 when he married Marie Hebert. These families had been closely allied for at least four decades by the time Jacques came along.

The Acadian families had been attempting to keep the peace with the British without capitulating to their every whim, which included provisions they found fundamentally unacceptable. In 1695, the Acadian men signed an oath to remain neutral, hoping to staunch the incessant requests to swear allegiance to the British monarch.

That didn’t work.

In 1696, the British attacked Acadia, again, burning homes and slaughtering animals. This had become a regular occurrence.

Acadia, essentially the peninsula of Nova Scotia, had about 2000 residents in 1700 and about 1700 residents in 1710.

Fortunately, a census was taken by the French periodically.

Skirmishes with the British occurred regularly, but by 1704, Acadia was under serious attack again. Families had clustered into settlements, and many settlements were burned. Churches were looted, and the dams holding back the sea so the salt wouldn’t poison the Acadian’s fields were “dug down” out of revenge, supposedly for Indian attacks in New England.

In 1706, a new French governor in Acadia encouraged Native Americans to raid English targets in New England. Furthermore, he befriended pirates, more gently known as “privateers,” and encouraged them to target English ships. They were all too glad to oblige and quickly reduced the English fishing fleet on the Grand Banks by 80%. The New England colonies were outraged!

In 1707, the year Jacques was born, a new French governor arrived with 160 soldiers, three-fourths of whom were reported to be directly “from the quays of Paris.” An attack by Massachusetts followed, unsuccessfully.

In 1708, Queen Anne’s War began, and the Acadians were preparing for conflict. Once again, the English and French were pitted against one another – not just in Acadia, but more broadly.

This map of the fort in Port Royal was drawn by a military engineer in 1702. In 1708, the fort’s store was added, and a new powder magazine and bombproof barracks were built. The riverbanks were cleared to remove cover for attackers.

All homes were close to the river, so each family would have been preparing.

Prisoners taken from English ships revealed that the English planned to attack in 1708 and 1709.

The residents must have constantly been on pins and needles. Jacque would have celebrated his first birthday under this shadow, then his second birthday, and finally, his third birthday, blissfully unaware.

That wouldn’t last.

On September 24, 1710, Port Royal was attacked again by the English who sent five ships and 3400 troops. This time, the English were well prepared. In addition to marines from England, Massachusetts provided 900 soldiers, Connecticut 300, and New Hampshire 100. Iroquois were recruited as scouts.

Yes, you read that right, 3400 troops. In the census, there were less than Acadian 2000 residents, in total, scattered across the peninsula, and most of them were women and children. The Acadians, with their 300 soldiers, which would have included all able-bodied men that could lift a gun, stood absolutely no chance, although they did manage to hold the fort for 19 days. The episode became known as the Siege of Port Royal or the Conquest of Acadia.

At least they were allowed to surrender in dignity and march out of the fort instead of being killed.

After 1710, the English soldiers were in charge of Port Royal and the fort.

Ambush

A critical historical event occurred on the river right in front of the Forest home in 1711.

Thirty soldiers, a major, and the fort engineer were ambushed and killed at “Bloody Creek, 12 miles east of Annapolis Royal.”

Where was Bloody Creek? So glad you asked.

The Nova Scotia archives show this historical map based on a 1733 survey.

You can see that Bloody Creek abutted René Forest’s land. The ambush occurred right in front of his house or village, literally. You know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was involved. I suspect I know how Bloody Creek got its name.

René successfully defended his wife and their nine children, including 4-year-old Jacques, against the soldiers who freely burned homesteads. I wonder if this might have been Jacques’ earliest memory.

Furthermore, the note at C on the map, at the mouth of Bloody Creek, states, “Captain and 16 men of the 43rd Regiment of Foot were killed in forcing the French from this pass on December 8, 1757. The Acadians were not going down without a fight, AND, they were willing to fight against all odds.

Depending on your perspective, these people were either extremely resilient and brave or incredibly stubborn. More than one governor said they were ungovernable.

Lastly, look who René Forest’s neighbor is. Jean Prince – Jacque’s future father-in-law. Jacques literally grew up and married the girl next door.

Despite the 1711 ambush, the Acadians were unquestionably outnumbered and outgunned, and on April 13, 1713, Acadia passed to England, with France ceding all of Acadia, the fort, the land, and her 1700 Acadian residents.

After this, many of the Acadians decided they would, in fact, leave, as the English had desired at one point, and relocate to friendlier regions of French-held Canada. But now, the English did not want them to remove because they became acutely aware of who was raising crops and feeding them. The English soldiers needed the Acadians, but they certainly didn’t want to need them.

I can imagine the heated discussions taking place at church and any other Acadian gathering about whether one should stay or go and under what circumstances.

By 1717, when Jacques was ten years old, the Acadians had tentatively decided to stay, except for several young couples who did not have land and struck out to begin their families.

By 1720, Port Royal had been renamed Annapolis Royal. The English had established an uneasy peace with the Acadians, offering them the ability to exercise their religion freely, along with other concessions. The Acadians could leave if they wanted, but they couldn’t take any possessions with them.

Jacques would have been 13 and was probably quite capable of using a firearm.

Then, a new ultimatum arrived with another new governor, Governor Phillips. The Acadians were required to take the dreaded oath of allegiance, or they HAD to leave with no possessions.

The situation escalated over the years, with new requirements and repeated refusals to comply.

The Oath

In 1725, when Jacques was 18, yet another new governor, Armstrong, arrived and offered to allow the Acadians to take the following oath: “I do sincerely promise and swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King George the Second, so help me God.”  This meant that the Acadians wouldn’t have to “take up arms” against the French or Indians, which had been one of their primary concerns, because the English refused to allow Catholics to serve in the military. With this new oath, they could leave whenever they wanted, and they had the freedom to have priests and to practice the Catholic religion.

Jacques, at 18, may have been required to sign this oath along with his father and older brothers.

But wait…there’s more.

The Neutral French

At this point, the Acadians began to be called the Neutral French. Everything was hunky-dory for a few years, until 1729 when the English decided that oath was too lenient and declared it null and void.

Jacques was now 22, and I’m sure he was fully capable of forming his own opinions. However, until he married, he would have lived with his father and helped with the farm. His future bride, living on the next farm, was seven years younger, so she would have been about 14.

Perhaps they had begun courting, or maybe he hadn’t really “noticed” her yet. Maybe they were still just giving a friendly wave across the field.

Governor Phillips was sent back to replace the new governor, and he reached a clandestine compromise in 1730.

Phillips reported that the 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.”

That’s what Phillips reported, but the actual oath continued, as follows: “… 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.”

The priest and a notary signed as witnesses, but Phillips only sent the first part back to England, securing peace. No one on either side of the Atlantic knew.

Everyone in Acadia must have heaved a sigh of relief. For the first time in memorable history, in more than three decades, everyone was relatively happy.

For the next 15 or 20 years, the Acadians were left alone, and life seemed peaceful as they tended their land and animals.

Marriage

Since Jacques Forest no longer had to focus on warfare and whether his family was going to be evicted, burned out, decide to leave with nothing, or stay and fight – his mind turned to something else – romance.

By 1730, Jacques was 23, and Marie Joseph Le Prince was about 15 years old. He would have known her well and probably helped her father with farm chores. Her brothers were probably his best friends. She might have woven, sewn, and quilted alongside his mother and sisters.

They assuredly saw each other regularly at church. They had always known each other.

At some point, Jacques woke up and realized that she was no longer a little girl but had blossomed into a lovely young woman. Perhaps another suitor took interest, and Jacques realized he had better get in line, or another beau would marry lovely Marie-Josephe – and soon. Whatever he did worked.

On January 25, 1734, at age 25, in the same church where he had been baptized, in the town that had been renamed Annapolis Royal, he married 18-year-old Marie-Josephe LePrince, the daughter of Jean LePrince and Jeanne Blanchard.

The priest wrote “dispense 3-3 consanguinity” and noted the signatures of Claude Granger, Pierre Lanoue, and René Forest. Additionally, both Antoine Belivenu and Pierre Granger signed with their marks.

Clearly, several people were present at their wedding. Probably most of the community, or at least the people who lived nearest to their farms. Given the size of their families, they were probably related in one way or another to almost everyone.

Their signatures are shown on the second page, including that of Jacques’ father, René de Forest.

Note that FamilySearch lists their marriage date as January 31, 1733, instead of 1734. I noticed that 1734 is penciled in on the page later, like someone was trying to figure out which year pertained to the entry. Their first child was born in April of 1735.

I suspect 1733 is the correct year. Jacques was born in July of 1707, and he would turn 26 in July of 1734, so in January, when they were married, he was 25, the age recorded by the priest. Conversely, she would have turned 18 a few months later in November, so the year is uncertain.

The dispensation for third-degree consanguinity is quite interesting, telling us that they share great-grandparents as common ancestors.

That’s accurate because they share Etienne Hebert and Marie Gaudet as great-grandparents. Those families had been allied for generations by this point.

We don’t know exactly where they settled after their marriage, but rest assured, it was probably between their parents on the Annapolis River. Acadian families remained close in order to share the burden of work and support each other.

It was there, along the river at the mouth of Bloody Creek that their first nine children were born.

Their life would have been happy and mundane – raising crops and children, interacting with generations of family, attending church, sharing meals. This painting of Acadians depicted their life in 1751.

Jacques would have worked alongside his brothers and father, farming, hunting and fishing to provide for the members of the Forest village.

Jacques’ father, René, was becoming quite elderly, so the boys, who weren’t really boys anymore, probably handled the majority of the work.

René passed away on April 20th of 1751, at roughly 80 years of age. The following day, his sons, daughters, and grandchildren would have made their way to the Catholic church in Annapolis Royal, where his funeral mass was held before he was laid to rest in the churchyard, his grave marked by a white wooden cross.

Jacques’ last child, or at least the last one we know about, arrived on June 5th, 1753.

Marie was 38 years old. If she became pregnant again, which was certainly possible, that child would likely have been born either during or after the horrific removal in 1755.

The 1755 Removal, Known as The Great Upheaval

The twenty-year peaceful reprieve that the Acadians enjoyed ended in about 1750.

Once again, as the situation escalated, another oath was requested, then demanded, and was just as quickly declined.

One demand followed another, and the situation spiraled out of control.

By mid-July of 1755, the British wanted the Acadians gone and sent troops to accomplish their goal, imprisoning the men as hostages to ensure the good behavior and compliance of the women and children.

The Acadians were still reported as being optimistic. After all, they had weathered these storms so many times before. Plus, they felt that God was on their side.

The English ordered transport ships. This time was not the same.

The Acadians in various locations would fight and did win a few battles, but they would lose the war.

In August, Lt. Colonel John Winslow arrived in Grand Pre with 315 troops, taking up residence in the church – and the imprisonments began.

By October, the transports were ready for their human cargo.

The capture of Acadians and burning of their farms and belongings commenced in the more distant villages. The English knew that without communications between the settlements, time was on their side, and they could clear out Annapolis Royal after they removed the residents from the remote settlements.

It was fall. The Acadians were busy harvesting crops from the fields when the soldiers arrived, summoned them into the church in Grand Pre, and read the deportation order in English, a language they did not understand.

418 men attended, and 418 men were trapped.

September 5, 1755

After the men entered, Winslow stood by a table set up in the middle of the church. Flanked by soldiers, he read the following:

Gentlemen, I have received from his Excellency, Governor Lawrence, the King’s Commission which I have in my hand, and by whose orders you are conveyed together, to Manifest to you His Majesty’s final resolution to the French inhabitants of this his Province of Nova Scotia, who for almost half a century have had more Indulgence Granted them than any of his Subjects in any part of his Dominions. What use you have made of them you yourself Best Know.

The Part of Duty I am now upon is what thoh Necessary is Very Disagreeable to my natural make and temper, as I Know it Must be Grievous to you who are of the Same Speciea.

But it is not my business to annimadvert, but to obey Such orders as I receive, and therefore without Hesitation Shall Deliver you his Majesty’s orders and Instructions, Vist:

That your Land & Tennements, Cattle of all Kinds and Livestocks of all Sorts are forfeited to the Crown with all other your effects Savings your money and Household Goods, and you yourselves to be removed form this Province.

Thus it is Preremtorily his Majesty’s orders That the whole French Inhabitants of these Districts be removed, and I am Throh his Majesty’s Goodness Directed to allow you Liberty to Carry of your money and Household Goods as Many as you Can without Discommoding the Vessels you Go in. I shall do Every thing in my Power that all those Goods be Secured to you and that you are Not Molested in Carrying of them of, and also that whole Family Shall go in the Same Vessel, and make this remove, which I am Sensable must give you a great Deal of Trouble, as Easey as his Majesty’s Service will admit, and hope that in what Ever part of the world you may Fall you may be Faithful Subjects, a Peasable & Happy People.

I Must also Inform you That it is his Majesty’s Pleasure that you remain in Security under the Inspection and Direction of the Troops that I have the Honr. to Command.

This edict essentially said, “you are prisoners, you are being removed, and your belongings are now ours.”

Winslow then went to the priest’s house. Some of the older Acadians followed and begged him to consider their families who had no idea what was happening.

Winslow allowed 20 men, ten on each side of the Cornwallis, to go back and inform the women and children that they wouldn’t be harmed. They were also to bring back any men who hadn’t shown up, with the men still in captivity held responsible for the others. In other words, there was an implied threat – or maybe it wasn’t just implied.

The families of those imprisoned had to provide their food. The prisoners could move about the enclosure, but couldn’t go beyond the officers’ quarters.

The deportation began five days later and progressed very quickly. It must have been mind-numbing, surreal, and head-spinning for the Acadians.

An Acadian woman who survived the ordeal told her story of the deportation. You can read a portion here on Lucie LeBlanc Consentino’s website. The full version is much more gut-wrenching, for lack of a better description, and I can’t even read it again. It gave me nightmares, and I’m not doing that to you. Just trust me that this unquestionably falls into the war crimes category.

As the Acadians were herded onto the ships and departed, their homes and barns were burned, and much of their livestock was killed after great suffering.

The last thing they saw on the horizon, the last of their homes and homeland, was smoke. How they must have despised the British.

Annapolis Royal

The scene was essentially repeated in Annapolis Royal, although the Acadians from this region proved exceedingly difficult to subdue and were apparently not trapped in the church.

On August 31st, a transport ship arrived in Annapolis Royal, and the following day, Winslow was informed that the Acadians had fled into the forest with their belongings. An order was previously given to burn any means of subsistence for any Acadian escaping. The ship was sent elsewhere, and the destruction of their property began.

On September 4th, the Acadians returned from the forest, stating that they would listen to the order of the King.

The expulsion had begun.

On October 27th, the first ship full of destitute, heartbroken Acadians left Annapolis Royal for Massachusetts. I can only imagine the grief, knowing they would probably never see those left behind again. Those left behind would be loaded up and shipped out in the following days – destination uncertain.

Finally, beginning at 5 in the morning on December 8th, the transport ships set sail from Goat Island, carrying most of the Port Royal area Acadians. A total of 8 ships were destined for Connecticut, North Carolina, New York, and South Carolina.

About 300 people living upstream escaped by fleeing into the woods and then to the St. John River across the Bay of Fundy, then into the mainland near the border of New Brunswick and Maine.

In a small victory, the passengers on the ship bound for North Carolina somehow wrested control of the ship away from the British and sailed it to the St. John River. Yay Acadians!!! They were reported to have decided to go or attempt to go to Quebec.

The British did their level best to round up every last one of the Acadians like so many cattle being sent off to slaughter. Some escaped to the mainland, some joined their Native families and disappeared, and a few secretly remained near Annapolis Royal. Exactly two years later, to the very day, December 8, 1757, Acadians killed 19 British soldiers in an ambush, once again at Bloody Creek. I wonder if they realized the significance of the date.

Jacques Forest, Marie-Josephe LePrince, and their children, including my ancestor, Marguerite de Forest, were among the families deported from Annapolis Royal, apparently to Connecticut where they were found a decade later.

Deportation

On Tim Hebert’s site, the history of the ships involved provides us with some hints.

The ship Mermaid left Annapolis Royal on October 13th, destined for Connecticut, but arrived in Massachusetts on November 17th.

The ship Elizabeth left on December 8th with 280 precious people on board. Three died en route, but the ship arrived in New London, Connecticut, on January 21, 1756.

The sloop Dove left Boudrot Point in Minas on December 18th but was also sent to Annapolis to take additional inhabitants on board. A total of 111 arrived on January 30th.

Let’s hope our family was on one of those ships, instead of the Edward, which left Annapolis Royal on December 8th with 278 Acadians on board. That ship encountered a severe storm that blew them off course, and they docked in Antiqua in the Caribbean. Several died there of smallpox, but it’s unclear whether they were infected on the ship or in Antigua. Finally, On May 22, 1756, the ship arrived in Connecticut with only 180 people. Another source says that almost 100 had died of Malaria.

Regardless of what they had, the death toll and suffering were brutal. Whatever possessions the passengers had left when they arrived were burned to prevent the spread of whatever disease they carried. Those poor people.

I rather doubt that Jacques and family were on this ship, because given the number of children listed for him in 1763, unless he had remarried to a younger wife, his children were accounted for. Surely, had they been unlucky enough to be forced upon this vessel, his family would have been smaller. Roughly one-third of the people on board died, which would equate to at least three family members.

The trip, though only a few hundred miles for some, was horrific. The Acadians were packed in like sardines and were required to remain below deck. Only six at a time were allowed to go up on deck for about 90 minutes each. The weather at the time of the deportation was reported to have been especially severe and even included an earthquake.

Arrival

The ships that arrived in Connecticut docked in New London, which looked like this 55 years later. It probably hadn’t changed much, and regardless of which ship Jacques Forest was forced onto, his future came into view from this bay.

Fortunately, Connecticut had been preparing to welcome and help the Acadians.

1763 to 1766

The New England Historical Society tells us that:

Under the Treaty of Paris of 1763, the Acadian exiles had 19 months to leave the British North American colonies for any French colony. They began petitioning to go home to Nova Scotia, to Quebec, to France, or to the French West Indies, specifically Saint-Domingue (Haiti).

However, they had to pay for their own transport.

In 1766, 900 Acadian exiles in Massachusetts gathered in Boston and decided to return to their native land. They marched 400 miles through the wilderness. Many died along the way. Then in Acadia they found the English had taken over their farms. They found new homes in the counties of Digby and Yarmouth.

Of course, our Jacques Forest family was in Connecticut, and we have proof based on the petition they signed.

On Lucie’s website, the Connecticut list of people desiring to go to France that was gathered between 1763 and 1766 (I cannot find an actual petition date) shows the family of Jacque Fourest consisting of ten persons. Beneath Jacque is Mathieu Forest with six persons.

Cousin Sylvie Lord posted this list of petitioners from a 1911 book in her Ancestry tree.

The surname is also spelled Fouret, Forest, Fourest, and occasionally Forais. Sometimes, it also has a preceding “le,” meaning “the,” or “de,” or “du,” meaning “of.”.

Listed on the petition, we also find a Victor Forest with five persons, and he is listed beside a Benoist (Benoit) Forest, also with five persons. Victor is the name of Jacques’ eldest child, born in 1735, so certainly old enough to have a wife and three children by 1763.

Benoit is unknown to us.

Jacques’ brother, Jean-Pierre Forest, who married Anne Richard is on this list as well. They had several children baptized in Annapolis Royal before deportation.

Mathieu Forest may also be Mathieu- René Foret, Jacques’ other brother who married Marie-Madeleine Guilbault and had several children prior to deportation.

All of these people were denied transport to France, and we know little of what happened to Jacques’ children, except for my ancestor, Marguerite Forest (DeForest), who married Francois Lafay (Lafay, Lafaille) someplace in New England on November 10, 1767. Around 1787, Marguerite and Francois migrated to Quebec and settled in L’Acadie near other Acadian refugees. Actually, I should say twice refugees.

It’s possible that Jacques’ younger child, Charles Tranquille DeForest, who was born on February 15, 1750, in Annapolis Royal, died in St. Genevieve, near Montreal, on August 7, 1770. It’s noted that this person was about 20, but his parents are not listed. Witnesses were Joseph Lefebre and Joseph Hetier.

Tim Hebert notes that some of the 666 Acadians who were denied passage to France wound up in Santa Domingo, facing hard labor on coffee and sugar plantations along with brutally hot tropical weather. Some of those families and others made their way to Louisiana to become Cajuns.

The following year, in 1767, other Acadians chartered a boat and sailed north to the St. John River Valley.

And of course, we know that some Acadians remained in Connecticut because Jacques’ daughter, Marguerite de Forest, then 18 years old, married in New England in November of 1767 to Francois Lafay (Lafaille.) They did not migrate to Quebec for two more decades. Their daughter, Mary (Marie) Lafay, reported that one of the reasons they settled in L’Acadie, in Quebec, was that her grandmother, back wherever they lived in New England, was concerned that her grandchildren were losing their Catholic religion.

What Happened to Jacques Forest?

How I wish I knew what happened to either Jacques or his family.

The colonies weren’t peaceful either. The Revolutionary War was fought from 1776 to about 1780, although the Acadians certainly would have understood about wanting to extract oneself from the clutches of the British.

The first census in the US wasn’t taken until 1790, and with the surname variations, someone from this family could have been listed by various name spellings.

It’s also possible that Jacques and most of his male children had died. If his female children survived, and it certainly appears that they did until 1763-1766, they would have married unidentified men.

Furthermore, by the first census, it had been a quarter century since that removal petition in Connecticut. It seems likely that Jacques was deceased by 1790, especially given that his granddaughter when asked about why they moved to Quebec, referred only to her elderly grandmother. If Marie-Josephe was still alive, she would have been 75 and probably living with a family member. I didn’t find a census candidate for her.

In 1766, when he signed the petition requesting to go to France, Jacques would have been 59 years old, and that’s 59 extremely hard years. The Acadians in the colonies were mostly poor laborers, working on farms for others, although they fared better in Connecticut than most other locations.

By 1786, Jacques would have been 79 and likely deceased. His wife apparently was not, but perhaps she encouraged Marguerite and her family to relocate to Canada because she knew her time was limited. It’s also possible that she left with them or another child.

We do find people with the Foret or Forest or similar surnames in other locations, but of course, the family had lived in Acadia for three generations, and each of those ancestral families had many children. We may be scattered to the wind, but many descendants exist today.

Perhaps, eventually, enough Forest men will purchase or upgrade to the Big Y DNA test that we will be able to piece the Forest, Foret, de Forest family line back together again. If we are really, REALLY lucky, we’ll match a Forest man, by whatever spelling, from France, leading us back to our French origins.

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5 thoughts on “Jacques Forest aka Foret (born 1707), Life on Bloody Creek – 52 Ancestors #407

  1. Since you’re all knowing and amazing, I love when our ancestry collides!
    I have some copies from Louisiana records if you’d like any of them, or ever want to send me on a mission I will gladly indulge!

      • I’ve reviewed Steven A. Cormier’s massive and comprehensive website, Acadians in Gray, http://www.acadiansingray.com/, and while many Forets journeyed to Louisiana after the deportations, he found none of René Forest’s eight sons did so, noting that Jacques and several others were deported to Connecticut, with François moving to Canada in the 1760s. However, Cormier also identifies over a dozen Forets found in Louisiana whose parentage are unknown, so it is possible that some descendants of René made it there without recordation.

        • His website is amazing. Jacques was the third generation, so those people in Louisiana could have been his cousins as well. Plus there’s that huge gap during the exile years. Thank you for looking.

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