Appoline was born to Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet on Thursday, February 8th, 1742, and baptized the next day in the Catholic church in Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia, or in one of the local “Mass Houses,” possibly St. Laurent at BelleIsle.
Her name has been interpreted as both Appoline, Appollonie, and other slight variations.
Jean Doucet was probably Appoline’s uncle.
We don’t really know where Appoline was raised along the river, other than three of four of her grandparents, Marie Leveron, Rene Doucet, and Marie Anne Broussard, lived along the north side between what is today the area just west of Granville Ferry and the far side of BelleIsle.
We don’t know where the fourth grandparent, Jeane dit Tranchemontagne Garceau, lived, but I suspect it was along this same stretch of river, probably not far from his wife, Marie Leveron, and her parents, who lived near Granville Ferry.
Appoline’s oldest sibling, Marguerite, married Charles Lore/Lord, the brother of Appoline’s eventual husband, Honore Lore/Lord – so it’s safe to say Appoline’s family probably lived along this part of the river too. Proximity is key when courting.
Appoline’s second oldest sibling also married one of the Lore boys, Jean-Baptiste, but that was in New England after the deportation – so this confirms that the families were deported together or at least had contact.
Newlyweds often lived with one family or the other, generally building another small house and sharing in the communal farm work. This field along the river once held the Lore homesteads. The remains of one are hidden in the grass to the right, where the grass looks bumpy, and the sunshine meets the shadows.
The old rock-lined well that provided life, now filled in, is also found here. Acadians always helped their neighbors, who were often also their relatives, in countless ways, so Appoline assuredly visited the Lore homestead, probably making apple butter or weaving cloth or engaging in hundreds of other activities.
The Lore family worked a significant amount of land, and on this 1733 map, a little village is shown with several homes.
What was life like in Acadia?
In 1744, when Appoline was just two, the French priest, Le Loutre, led a band of Indians in an attack on British-held Fort Anne in the town of Annapolis Royal, just a couple miles downriver.
The peninsula where the town was located is on the far left of the map, on the south side of the river.
Assuredly, Appoline’s family could hear the ruckus and could probably see at least part of the activity. It must have been terrifying for a young child.
Perhaps her parents took her and the rest of their children into hiding up in the uninhabited hills behind their home, or maybe further upriver.
Lieutenant Governor Mascarene had several buildings in the town ripped down so that they could not provide shelter for the attackers.
Neither of the three sides involved, the English, the Indians, nor the French, knew what to expect from the Acadians under the circumstances. However, the Acadians truly did not want to fight and remained neutral, a stance that had served them well for a long time. Remaining neutral and refusing to fight, regardless of how they felt, had at least kept them alive.
A 1745 report from Port Royal says the homes were “wretched wooden boxes, without conveniences, and without ornaments, and scarcely containing the most necessary furniture …”, and a visitor in the 1750s said, “the houses of the village (Annapolis Royal) … are mean, and in general built of wood.” By the 1750,s though, the houses in Annapolis Royal were English, not Acadian. Acadians had been forbidden from living along the waterfront there since 1724. Acadians preferred living upriver, where the land was more fertile anyway.
Father Le Loutre had been encouraging Acadians to leave for either Chignecto (Fort Lawrence), Isle Saint-Jean or Ile-Royal for several years because they were in French hands – not the despised English.
Many Acadians did not want to leave the fertile fields that represented generations of labor and investment in diking the tidal marshes along the Annapolis River. Diking was necessary to drain the saltwater and prevent it from returning in order to claim the land for farming.
This 1751 painting by Samuel Scott of a humble Acadian homestead is the first known depiction of an Acadian farm.
In the 1740s and early 1750s, the Acadians were aware of brewing unrest, especially in Les Mines, Beaubassin, and Grand Pre.
Of course, Appoline had no way of knowing that she wouldn’t live her entire life in the fertile Annapolis River Valley, just like generations before her had done.
Her life, and those of her parents and siblings, would come entirely undone a few years later, in 1755, when the English issued deportation orders for all Acadians.
During Appoline’s lifetime, an uneasy peace had held in Acadia. For their own protection, the French refused to take a loyalty oath to the English monarch and tried to remain neutral in the conflicts between the French and English. The English had controlled Acadia since 1710, and the Acadians certainly didn’t consider themselves English, but they really didn’t consider themselves French either. Of course, they clearly sided with the French, privately, given what the English had done to them and to their beloved Acadia.
They were Acadians, though, a new and different culture altogether, formed along this river. None of them had ever seen France and neither had their parents.
Of course, Appoline was likely further protected from discussions about politics, which were probably relegated to the men, or late-night discussions between couples after the children were fast asleep.
The routines of springtime planting and fall harvesting, punctuated by births, weddings, deaths, and, of course, church services, led from one day to the next. Winds of change turned the calendar pages.
1755
Appoline turned 13 on a freezing winter day in February of 1755.
During that summer, the Grande Derangement, or Great Expulsion, began in the northern regions of Acadia, along the Bay of Fundy.
Unease and fear among families was palpable and growing.
Acadian families along the Annapolis River all had relatives there, people who had left for a safer environment – but now look what was happening.
They must have been terrified as this tragedy unfolded, but also unable to do much of anything about their circumstances. Pockets of resistance did exist, but, ultimately, to little or no avail.
After all, the British soldiers were numerous, heavily armed, prepared with transport ships, and burned the Acadian homes after kidnapping the men to ensure compliance of the women and children.
After the horrific rounding up of most of the Acadians in Grand Pre and that region, the British arrived to evict the Acadians at Annapolis Royal, but the Acadians were anything but compliant. They had months for anger and indignation to seethe into fury, and it had.
The expulsion at Annapolis Royal didn’t go nearly as planned and took months, allowing time for some to escape.
Residents were rounded up, often without regard to families. People were herded onto ships like cattle with nothing more than what little they could carry. Sometimes, family members were separated in what turned out to be forever.
At Annapolis Royal, the ships laid anchor in the bay by the Queen’s Wharf, awaiting the captives who would soon be loaded, not as passengers, but as undignified “cargo” to be removed.
Leaves had turned their golden hues and cast themselves upon the ground. The first snow had fallen, and the winds blew bitterly cold.
The river was too shallow further upstream, so Acadians were escorted to the fort in Annapolis Royal, where they were forced to walk the wharf and then board the overcrowded ships. Those final footsteps in the snow would be the last time they touched Acadia.
That wharf still stands in silent testimony, today.
Sobs and screams were carried by the wind as smoke from their burning homes and farms wafted over the river.
Courtesy Charlie and Jennifer Thibodeau
A horrible situation was made worse by winter. On December 7th, 1755, Appoline’s feet walked this very wharf to board those ships under the guard of British soldiers, forcing the frightened Acadian families onward.
They settled in below deck, as best they could, and spent the cold night on the ship, rocking to and fro with the waves. I’d wager the men were discussing how to commandeer the ship, or at least try to.
Early in the morning, very early, hours before sunrise, the ship began to move.
The Acadians expected that they would all land someplace together – and that they would immediately set about making their way back home. The English tried to dissuade them of that idea by torching their farms and homes, flooding their fields by breaking the dikes, and killing their livestock in front of their very eyes. In other words, there was nothing awaiting them except ruin – and they knew it because they witnessed the destruction first-hand.
How horrific.
Still, I don’t think any of the Acadians had the concept of forever in mind. They had rebuilt before and were an incredibly resilient people.
Thirteen-year-old Appoline would have been frightened, or maybe terrified would be a more appropriate word. She probably clung tightly to her siblings’ hands so they would not become separated from their mother. Her oldest sister was married 11 months earlier and was probably pregnant or had a newborn baby. Her youngest brother was just three and would turn four just after the new year.
Unfortunately, no lists or rosters were kept, so we really don’t know who was on which ship. All we know, many times, is that there’s no death date in Annapolis Royal in the parish registers before deportation…and then…there’s nothing.
The ships were filled to capacity – then overfilled. Every Acadian that could be located was packed into every available inch. Some ships sank.
The ships that sailed from Annapolis Royal in October had an average of 167 people per transport, compared with 278 exiles on the December ships.
Departure
According to the journal of Captain John Knox, “Major Handfield, who was in charge of deporting those who were to be removed from Annapolis Valley, was ordered that the community was to be divided approximately as follows: 300 persons to Philadelphia, 200 persons to New York, 300 to Connecticut, 200 to Boston.”
And so it was. Except there were far more than 1000 Acadians.
Several ships were involved, and not all records agree.
The first group sailed in October.
Capt. Shirley sailed the Mermaid, perhaps the first deportation ship to leave Annapolis Royal, out of the harbour on October 13th and was supposed to be piloting her to Connecticut. Instead, the Mermaid arrived in Massachusetts on November 17th. I don’t know if it ever made it to Connecticut.
The York sailed from Annapolis Royal on October 13, 1755, and made it to Boston on November 17. Perhaps these two ships stayed within sight of each other.
Capt. Salt (yes, that was really his name) sailed the Hornet from Annapolis Royal on October 28, 1755. He, too, reached Boston on November 17 but continued on to Spithead, Maryland.
The expulsion proceeded slowly, giving some people a chance to leave and hide.
Finally, as winter descended upon the valley, on December 5th, 1755, the Acadians were rounded up and forced to board one of seven vessels waiting in the harbor.
As the ships were loaded, they moored by Goat Island in the river, sailing out together at 5 AM on December 8th “with a fair wind,” escorted by a man-o-war.
About three hundred Acadians are reported to have escaped deportation.
A ship named the Two Sisters was supposed to take 280 Acadians to Connecticut but was replaced by the Elizabeth, which left Annapolis Royal that miserable December day. Three Acadians died en route and the ship finally arrived at New London on January 21, 1756, with 277 unwilling passengers.
The Pembroke, bound for North Carolina, was another matter. 232 people, consisting of 32 families, took matters into their own hands and seized control of the vessel. Two months later, by February 8, 1756, the Acadians had sailed up the Saint John River as far as possible. They disembarked and burned the ship. A group of Maliseet met them and directed them upstream, where they joined an expanding Acadian community. The Garceau family was not aboard this ship.
The sloop Edward left Annapolis Royal with 278 Acadians. A terrible storm blew it off course, and she eventually docked in Antigua. En route or while there, 98 people died of smallpox. Eventually, the Edward made it to Connecticut, months later, arriving on May 22, 1756, with only 180 passengers on board. Another source reported that 260 Acadians arrived, and yet another stated that almost 100 had died of malaria as opposed to smallpox. When they arrived in Connecticut, what few belongings they had were burned so that the disease, whatever it was, wouldn’t spread.
Those Acadians had just survived more than five months of utter Hell.
The brig Experiment sailed the same day on what should have been a 28-day trip. Like the Edward, the Experiment encountered the storm and reportedly also ended up in Antigua. It apparently departed with 250 Acadians, but docked in New York on May 6, 1756 with only 200 Acadians. Some may have disembarked, and some may have died en route. They lost fewer than the Edward. “Only” 20% of the passengers perished. Of all the ships, the Experiment is the most likely candidate for our family.
Some Acadian families who lived further up the Annapolis River fled into the forest on North Mountain near Morden, Nova Scotia, about halfway between Annapolis Royal and the Minas Basin. More than 400 died, starved, and froze during the winter that followed until a Mi’kmaw band helped survivors escape in the spring across the Bay of Fundy to Refugee Cove at Cape Chignecto and from there on into the interior of New Brunswick. The Garceau family, thankfully, wasn’t among that group either, or I probably wouldn’t be here today.
About 50 or 60 Acadians who escaped the initial deportation are reported to have made their way to the Cape Sable region in southwestern Nova Scotia. From there, they participated in numerous raids on Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.
Other sources said that about half the Port Royal inhabitants headed for Cape Sable and that many were captured or migrated elsewhere. Half would seem to have been a very high number, considering that in a typical family, two people were parents, and maybe as many as 10 (or more) were children. Escaping with small children, especially on foot through dense woodlands, is exceedingly difficult and would be a very slow journey. Wagons or canoes could have been utilized – but would have been much more obvious. Not to mention treacherous in the winter weather and snow.
A schooner (probably the Mary) captained by Andrew Durning carried 94 Acadians from Cape Sable to New York, arriving on April 28, 1756. Given the New York destination, it’s possible that our family was on this ship, but less likely since the origin was Cape Sable.
The sloop Baltimore set sail from Annapolis Royal for South Carolina. It escorted three snows, two ships, and a brigantine that carried over 1600 Acadians. Some Acadians had already arrived there on earlier ships.
These unfortunate people drew the short straw and were treated horrifically. Some were restricted to the ships for weeks while officials tried to decide what to do with them.
On Nov. 27, 1755, the South Carolina Gazette notes that the local officials still had not decided what to do with the 600 “neutral French” that had arrived earlier in the fall from Chignecto.
“The General Assembly of this Province have been sitting since Thursday last; but, we don’t hear, that they have yet determined, how the 600 Neutral French lately arrived here shall be disposed of. On Saturday last came in, His Majesty’s Ship Syven, commanded by the Hon Charles Proby, Esq; and is already sitting out for a Cruze. We hear, she has some Neutral French on board.”
The health conditions were so poor that they eventually unloaded onto the beaches. About half the people died.
The South Carolina Gazette noted on May 7, 1756, that “upwards of 80 Acadians went from hence in Canows (canoes), for the Northward: The Country Scout-Boats accompany them as far as Winyab. Yesterday upwards of 50 more of those People went for Virginia, in the Sloop Jacob Capt. Noel.”
These poor people were desperate and were trying to row home.
There were also Acadians held in Nova Scotia at Fort Edward (200-300; the number fluctuated), Fort Cumberland, and Annapolis Royal (91 in 1763). Many of these headed to Louisiana a decade later, in 1765.
Given where Daniel Garceau was found, along with some family members in 1763, it’s most likely that they wound up on one of the two ships destined for New York, one from Annapolis Royal and one from Cape Sable.
New York
After the ship Experiment was loaded with her human cargo, she anchored in the bay at Goat Island, within sight of the Melanson settlement and the entrance to the Atlantic.
On December 8th, 1755, before dawn, she sailed out of the harbor and into the icy, treacherous Atlantic. The Experiment should have arrived in New York four weeks later. Some transports were taking six or seven weeks due to weather and overloading. We know the Atlantic was stormy because both the Experiment and the Edward encountered a severe storm that blew them off course, causing illness, shortage of rations, including water, and death.
Appoline “celebrated” her 14th birthday on February 9th, if the family even remembered or had a calendar, probably fearing for her life in the midst of a horrific storm. A few weeks later, she would land in a strange land, a mountainous tropical island. The Acadians were penniless refuges with no hope, except to live long enough for the ship to make it back to someplace in the colonies where they might escape.
Truth be told, the Acadians never stopped hoping to return to Acadia, and many tried. A few succeeded.
The Edward and the Experiment both ended up in Antigua. The Experiment had apparently departed Annapolis Royal with 250 Acadians and ended up docking in New York on May 6, 1756, with only 200 passengers. Some may have disembarked, and some may have died en route. They lost fewer than the Edward, where nearly half of the Acadian passengers perished. “Only” 20% of the passengers on the Experiment died. Of all the ships, this is the most likely candidate for our family, which means that Appoline got an unexpected and miserable trip to Antigua.
A different source provides slightly different information about the island.
In the New York Mercury newspaper on May 3, 1756, the headline read, “Extract of a Letter from Albany, Dated April 23, 1756,” and said, “Thursday last, a Brig with 200 Acadians arrived here from St. Kitts, being blown off our coast in the winter.”
St. Kitts is a neighboring island, about 50 miles west of Antigua, also torn between England and France.
Imagine the wonder of 14-year-old Appoline when she beheld the harbor, mountains, and palm trees, something she had never seen before.
It was also warm in the winter and there were beaches of sand. Where was the snow?
Acadian children wouldn’t have had any way of knowing that such a thing as the tropics existed, let alone be cast there…after being adrift…after being deported…after witnessing ship-board death.
Did the majority of the people die on board or here, on the island? Did they get to come ashore, or were they forced to remain on the beleaguered ship?
Did the Acadians pray and thank God for sparing them, or did they feel God had abandoned them? Certainly, everyone knew and was probably related to every person who died – 1 in 5 passengers.
The Experiment’s sister ship, the Edward wasn’t nearly as “fortunate.” She arrived in Connecticut more than 6 months after leaving Port Royal with roughly half of her passengers having perished.
I suspect that Daniel Garceau and his family were on the Experiment. The only other ship that discharged passengers in New York was an unnamed ship, probably the Mary, who sailed with 94 Acadians from Cape Sable.
New York
One way or another, Daniel Garceau, along with his wife and eight children wound up in New York, according to the 1763 “census” where Acadians requested transportation to France. That request was denied, but the request at least tells us where our family was living.
Piecing this family together from both directions, before deportation and after resettlement, we discover that Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet had:
- 11 children born in Acadia
- 8 of whom are reported in 1763, which means at least two have married or died. Marguerite married Charles Lord in early 1755 and is with him in New York.
- 10 children are later accounted for some 15+ years later in Quebec
At least Appoline wasn’t separated from her family. She was one of the “lucky” ones.
Daniel’s brother, Joseph Garceau, who had married Marie Philippe Lambert in Acadia was in New York as well, although he didn’t depart from Annapolis Royal.
Joseph made his way to Beaubassin by 1741, the year before Appoline was born, so he was not with Daniel living along the Annapolis River. Appoline had probably never met her uncle before their arrival in New York. Actually, we don’t know that Daniel and Joseph were actually in the same place in New York, so they might have never seen one another again, or not before their return to Quebec. Joseph Garceau’s death in 1789 was recorded across the river from St. Ours under the surname of Richard, that of his step-father.
In addition to Daniel Garceau, Charles Lord, wife, and a child were among the 1763 New York residents as well. Daniel’s oldest daughter, Marguerite, married Charles Lore/Lord in Acadia in January before they were deported. She would either have been pregnant, or perhaps cradled a newborn baby as she walked that wharf. Sadly, the fact that they only had one child in 1763 means that several children didn’t survive – including that child. They should have had at least five children, but only two, born later, are recorded later in Quebec.
There’s another possibility. Perhaps the Lord/Lore and Garceau families were separated. There’s a Charles Lord in Connecticut with 4 people, along with three additional Lord families. Jean Lord +7 people, Louis Lord +4 people, and Pierre Lord +3 people.
We know that somehow the Garceau and Lore/Lord families maintained contact, because the family members intermarried in New England.
Appoline Garceau married Honore Lore about 1767 in New England, but we don’t know where. He eventually served in Albany, New York, during the Revolutionary War, fighting for the citizens against the English. That comes as no surprise. Understandably, the Acadians hated the English.
Honore Lore is the son of Jacques Lore who was likely in this same location but is not listed in 1763, so may have already died. Appoline’s sister, Marie Joseph Garceau married Jean Baptiste Lore about 1765 or 1766, so the Daniel Garceau family had to live someplace close to the Jacques Lore/Lord family, or at least close enough to travel back and forth periodically.
Connecticut assigned Acadian families to 50 different host towns, each receiving an average of 50 refugees. This would have been four, five, or maybe six families.
New York Acadians lived in the New York City and Long Island region, along with both Orange and Suffolk. Many Acadians were treated as indentured servants, which meant they were trained and eventually could earn their freedom again.
New York and Connecticut share a north/south land border in addition to Long Island Sound, so clearly some communication was taking place between families, if not groups of families.
Onward to Quebec
The Massachusetts Legislature sent a delegation to Quebec in March 1766. The delegation obtained a permit from the English Governor Murray for the displaced Acadians to immigrate to Quebec Province, which they began to do immediately.
That must have been a time of great jubilation, because the Acadians wanted to gather together once again in a French-speaking Catholic region and create a new homeland.
Many families settled south of Montreal around LaPrairie and L’Acadie, as did Appoline and Honore eventually, but not initially. First, the family traveled to Becancour.
Why Becancour?
The Acadie website tells us:
The lord of Bécancour, Joseph-Michel Legardeur of Croisille and Montesson, invited the first Acadian families to take refuge on his seigneury. In the summer or fall of 1759, they settled at Lake Saint-Paul. At the same time, a second group of Acadian refugees, led by Michel Bergeron, settled on the site of the village of Sainte-Marguerite (now Saint-Grégoire) in the Godefroy seigneury, of which they were probably the first inhabitants. In the spring of the previous year, these Acadians had left their wood shack on the Saint-Jean River to undertake a long and challenging journey towards the St. Lawrence River. It was in September 1766, following the arrival of Acadians deported to Massachusetts, that many of them did settle in Sainte-Marguerite on the site of the present-day Acadian Boulevard.
Based on what we know about the Garceau and Lore/Lord families, Acadians from other colonies quickly heard about Quebec’s open arms, and they arrived, too.
The village of Becancour, which is actually an amalgamation of villages today, is across the St. Lawrence River from Trois-Rivieres, but the original Acadian settlement was in Saint Gregoire, then called Sainte-Marguerite, not in Becancour itself, which was upriver about six miles to the west.
It’s interesting that the St. Gregoire street names would bring Acadians comfort, such as Boulevard Port Royal, Rue Gaudet, Rue Girouard, and more – many more. The street names read like a veritable who’s who of Acadian families.
This St. Gregoire church was built about 1802, but the original church was probably located on this same site, or very close. The original cemetery is noted as being located here, and the later one is maybe half a mile down the road. The earliest church would have been adjacent to its cemetery.
The next sighting we have of Appoline is when she was 25 years old – on September 29, 1767, when her marriage to Honore Lor was validated by the priest in Becancour.
“In the year 1767, on the 29th of September, we, undersigned missionary priest of the Parish of the Nativite of Becancour, validated the marriage between Honore Lor and Appolline Garsau, both Acadians, who had been married by Francois Landry in Angleterre (translates to England)”.
We know that Appoline and her young husband stood in this church as they renewed their vows, accompanied by at least some of their family members.
A validation occurs when a couple is legally married, but not by a Catholic priest, so, as soon as possible, a priest validates the marriage.
Brother Bernard, now deceased, translated the marriage validation of Honorius Lord and Apolline Garceau in detail.
Validation at Becancour, Quebec, Parish of the Nativity, 1767, page 47.
“In the year 1767, on the 29th of September, we, undersigned missionary priest of the Parish of the Nativity of Becancour, validated the marriage between Honoré Lor and Apolline Garsau, both Acadians, who had been married by Francois Landry in England (New England was meant), no impediment having been discovered to said marriage, we gave them the nuptial benediction according to the form prescribed by our Mother the Holy Church, and this in presence of Fracous Lagrave and of Antoine Sabourin, who declared they know not how to sign this register, (Signed) F Louis Demers, Recollet Priest”
Given that the Father was a missionary priest, it’s possible that there wasn’t a physical church at that time, and they met in someone’s home.
This does tell us who married Appoline and Honore. Another Acadian, obviously, but someone I can’t find.
Locating Francois Landry might well tell us where they were married. The only Francois of the right age in the colonies is located in Oxford, Maryland, which is far from New York and even further from Connecticut.
Given that their first known child, Honore, was born in February, just five months after Appoline’s marriage was reconstituted, I would infer that they married in early 1767 or maybe late 1766.
Appoline’s middle name is given as Hippolyte in many places and as Pauline in PRDH, even when I’m not viewing in English. I’m not sure where this comes from, as I’ve checked all of her children’s baptisms, marriages and deaths and don’t find any name in any record other than simply Appoline or derived spellings.
The only exception is this book.
Her name is given as Marie Hypolite instead of Appoline. I think the author simply made a mistake that carried over into a Quebec genealogy book as well, or vice versa.
After their marriage was rehabilitated, their children were baptized in various churches, creating a path through their lives for us.
The history of Yamachiche provides insight into how the Acadians came to settle here.
In July 1767, a schooner arrived at the mouth of the Yamachiche River carrying a large contingent of Acadians who were originally deported to Massachusetts. The Lesieur family, still the owner of the Grosbois-East seigneury, was ready to welcome them on a concession still to be cleared of trees.
Up to 42 Acadian families, or 192 individuals, settled on the Lesieur family’s concession. The French-Canadian villagers of St. Anne of Yamachiche parish, founded in 1722, gave them a warm welcome.
The parish priest, Jacques-Maxime Chef from the city of La Garenne, did hasten to validate the marriages and baptisms of all Acadians who could not officially take place in Massachusetts for lack of Catholic priests.
Perhaps Acadian families made their way to Massachusetts as the first stop on their pathway to Quebec.
- Appoline’s first child, Honore Lore was born and baptized in Yamachiche on February 28, 1768, about 10 miles from Becancour.
Appoline’s brother, Jean Joseph died here on May 8th, 1770, just 36 years old, followed by her father just two years later.
On August 28, 1772, Appoline’s father, Daniel Garceau, died and was buried in the cemetery at Ste. Anne Church at Yamachiche.
The original church is long gone, and in 1795, all of the burials in the cemetery adjacent to it were moved inland to the present-day village. This location was quite close to the river, and I’m willing to bet that it flooded, prompting the move inland. The original cemetery was somewhere in the meadow or woods, above, or perhaps both.
It’s very unlikely that Appoline was present when her father died and was buried. They had moved 37 miles on up the river some years before. Given that Appoline had an 11-month-old child, plus a two and four-year-old, I doubt that she stood at Daniel’s grave with her mother and siblings.
- On December 30, 1769, Appoline’s second child, Marie Anne Lore, was baptized in the church at Saint-Denis-sur-Richelieu, about another 100 miles upriver. Marie Anne married Antoine Brousseau.
The next three children were born in 1771, 1773, and 1775 and baptized at St. Ours in the church of the Immaculate Conception, about 10 miles from St. Denis.
- Francois Lore, born September 19, 1771, died December 13, 1824, in L’Acadie. He married Marie Anne Lafay in 1806.
- Marie Claire Lore was born May 12, 1773, died on January 15, 1775, and was buried in the church cemetery. Appoline was eight months pregnant for Joseph when Marie Claire passed away.
- Joseph Honore Lore was born March 5, 1775, and died sometime before 1787.
Appoline buried her daughter, just 20 months old, in the old St. Our Cemetery, which was closed a century later, in 1878.
That cemetery today may abut this newer cemetery, or perhaps it’s in the yard next to the church or across the street where the church’s school is located today.
No gravestones remain for this cemetery at FindaGrave, so I’m sure the cemetery has been destroyed and overbuilt. All perceptible traces are gone, but I’d wager that the locals know where it was located.
After spending several years at St. Ours, Honore and Appoline packed up and moved once again, sometime before the birth of their next child in October of 1777.
Two of Appoline’s children were baptized at Ste.-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie in L’Acadie, another 50 or 60 miles southwest.
Those children had been born in 1777 and 1779, but something strange was afoot because those children weren’t baptized until 1787. Furthermore, there’s no burial or marriage record for Joseph, who was born in 1775, so he died before the family reappeared in L’Acadie in 1787.
- Charlotte Marguerite (also called Marie Charlotte) Lord was born October 14, 1777, and baptized on July 1, 1787, at Ste.-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie in L’Acadie, Quebec.
- Jean-Baptiste Lore was born on February 1, 1779, and was baptized on July 1, 1787, in the same church in L’Acadie.
Those two baptisms in Ste. Marguerite on the same day were for children who had been born years earlier and had never been baptized in the Catholic church.
Why not?
What caused this family to move from Saint-Denis-sur-Richelieu to someplace that wasn’t Catholic, then back to the L’Acadie area surrounding Ste.-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie?
War Interferes
Another war – this time, the US Revolutionary War.
Say what?
They were living in Canada, not the colonies, so how did that war affect Appoline?
Her husband, Honore, served, as did two other Lore men: Charles, probably Honore’s brother who was married to Appoline’s sister, and Nathaniel Lord, whose identity we don’t know.
Apparently, the family returned to someplace in the colonies, probably near Fort Albany, where we know Honore served, sometime after March 5, 1775, when Joseph Honore Lore was baptized at St. Ours, and October 14, 1777, when Charlotte Marguerite was born but not baptized.
Honore returned over the border into the colonies to aid the battle against Britain. There must be a backstory, one that we’ll never know. We can piece a few bits together, thanks to history.
Contrary to what we think about where that war was fought, the British marched straight up the Richelieu River, directly through L’Acadie. So Honore’s service might have been one of self-defense and protecting not only his family, but the Acadian community as well.
Appoline had small children at home and gave birth to her two youngest children during this time, while troops were marching through the countryside. The horrors of 1755 probably intruded into her thoughts regularly – this time as the frightened mother, not the frightened child. She, like her mother, tried to protect her children.
They stayed wherever they were until June of 1787, about a decade. That’s a long time if their only motivation was the war and protecting L’Acadie.
We know when they returned, because they baptized their two children born while they were “away” immediately, on July 1, 1787. This probably unburdened Appoline’s soul, as she knew now that they would not languish in Purgatory, or worse, when they died.
There are those unspoken children, too – the ones not baptized and who, like their son, Joseph, would not have been buried in consecrated ground. There should have been babies born in 1781, 1783, 1785, and perhaps, 1787. Maybe that final child’s burial in a cemetery filled with people not of their faith is what pushed Honore and Appoline over the edge. Maybe that day, as they cried over yet another tiny coffin lowered into the ground, with no Priest, no Catholic service, and no family in attendance, they decided to return to Quebec to rejoin the Acadian community.
Or, maybe they moved back because Appoline was sick and needed family members nearby to help. Maybe she wanted to be buried in consecrated ground herself. Maybe she wanted her children to be raised both Acadian and Catholic. Maybe she hoped that the woman who would raise her children as a stepmother, whoever she might someday be, would have some family or cultural connection to her.
They probably chose L’Acadie because so many Acadian families had settled there, and they assuredly had surviving family living there. The horrors of deportation and what they did to survive cemented an indelible bond.
Appoline Passes Away
Appoline passed away just ten months and two days after she had her youngest two children baptized.
Appoline died young, at least by today’s standards, just 46. She assuredly didn’t die of “old age.” Given her age, I can’t help but wonder if her life was taken by a late-in-life surprise pregnancy that didn’t go well.
Brother Bernard translated the burial record for Apolline Garceau.
L’Acadie, 4 May 1788
The 4th of May 1788, by I, the undersigned priest, was buried in the cemetery of this parish the body of Apoline Garceau, wife of Honore Lord, deceased yesterday, fortified by the Sacraments, at the age of about 40 years. Present Flavian Dupuis, Antoine Boudreau, and several others. (Signed) Lancto
I couldn’t help but notice that the priest clearly didn’t know Appoline’s age, or perhaps didn’t care. Or maybe birthdays weren’t significant then. Appoline was actually 46 years, 2 months, and 22 days old.
Appoline died on a spring day. It’s likely that even though her family was grieving terribly, the earth was erupting once again with new life. Perhaps the daffodils were blooming, and the first dandelions of the springtime were popping up their heads.
Spring rains may have shed their tears, along with the family at her graveside – her children holding hands, all in a row.
Appoline does not have a gravestone in the cemetery beside Ste.-Marguerit-de-Blairfindie church, but I’d wager that her family lovingly planted flowers in her memory.
This church was built in 1800 and1801, but the original stood in this location, right beside the cemetery.
After Appoline’s funeral, her grave would have been marked with a white wooden cross. Her family would have glanced over and acknowledged her life every time they walked into church, or attended a funeral where Appoline gained another Acadian relative in the churchyard.
Eventually, three of Appoline’s children kept her company in the cemetery.
At Appoline’s death, she left a handful of young children:
- Honore Lore was born August 14, 1768, in Yamachiche, so he was not quite 20 when Appoline died. He died in 1834 and is buried near his mother, as are eight of his children.
- Marie Anne Lore was born on December 30, 1769, so she was 18. Five of her children are buried here.
- Francois Lore was born on September 19, 1771, so he was 16. He died in 1824 and is buried near his mother as are at least three of his children.
- Marie Claire Lore was born in September of 1772 but died on January 15th of 1775, so she was waiting for her mother on the other side. Appoline was heavily pregnant at Marie’s death.
- Joseph Honore Lore was born on March 5, 1775, less than two months after Marie Claire was buried. We don’t have any more information about him, so he probably died while Appoline and Honore were living elsewhere, probably in the states. If he was alive, which was doubtful, he was 13 when his mother died.
- Charlotte Marguerite (also Marie Charlotte) Lore was born on October 24, 1777, someplace, and was baptized on July 1, 1787. She was 10 when Appoline perished. Her first child is buried here near her mother.
- Jean Baptiste Lore was born on February 1, 1779, and was baptized on July 1, 1787, making him 9 when he lost his mother. He died in 1828 and is buried near his mother, as are at least three of his children.
As best I can reconstruct their families, five of Appoline’s children grew to adulthood, married,, and gave her 51 grandchildren. Of course, they would only have known of Appoline’s stamina and survival in the face of incredible odds through stories told around the fireplace and at Christmas time—stories that, with retelling, probably grew into legends.
The comparatively tranquil years along the Annapolis River, Appoline’s bravery during the deportation, the horrific storm followed by beaches and palm trees, the dozen years in exile someplace in New York, her marriage in the colonies, their triumphant return to French Quebec in 1767, the Revolutionary War years that again transported her back to the colonies, then a final return to establish permanent roots in L’Acadie.
It’s so unfair that Appoline managed to survive all of that, only to rest in the cemetery instead of enjoying peace of a different kind, rocking grandchildren on the porch in the golden summer sunshine, regaling them stories about her long-ago life in beautiful Acadia, and maybe a few palm trees.
She would have said:
C’est vrai, c’est vrai, mes petits. J’ai ouvert les yeux et il y avait des palmiers qui poussaient sur les plages de sable!
Except – Appoline’s voice was silent!
What an amazing life and incredibly strong women Appoline must have been. It’s hard to believe she packed all that into just 46 years on this earth.
Acadian Memorial Unveiling – Honoring the Acadians
Finally, the memory and sacrifices of Appoline and the rest of our Acadian forebearers are being honored in Port Royal, now Annapolis Royal, where it all began.
On December 8, 2024, in the wind and snow, at Fort Anne in Annapolis Royal, adjacent to where the Catholic Church stood before it was burned, and where the remains of the Acadian cemetery blend into frozen blades of grass, the Acadians were honored.
A monument was placed to pay tribute to the approximately 1664 Acadians deported and exiled from this location. Exactly 269 years to the day after they were forced upon those waiting ships, unwillingly walking the Queen’s Wharf – much as the plank of destiny – in the snow one final time.
Courtesy Charlie and Jennifer Thibodeau
Those nameless 251 men, 263 women, 539 boys, and 611 girls suffered horrifically.
Their lives were ruined.
All of them.
Many died.
This was cultural genocide at its worst. Those who escaped, men, women, and children alike, were hunted, literally, with scalp bounties placed upon their heads.
These brave Acadians finally received recognition, even if not individually – at least as a family, a culture, a people.
And as our ancestors.
Nothing can ever right this wrong, but at least there’s a bit of satisfaction by the acknowledgment and perhaps a modicum of contrition, knowing that the truth has been recognized, even if justice remains forever out of reach.
Charlie and Jennifer Thibodeau of the BelleIsle Hall Acadian Cultural Centre provided wonderful photos and a video of the unveiling, here.
Jennifer said:
I kept thinking throughout the ceremony of what a terrible day it was for them and the journey they were beginning then. On Sunday, it was cold standing there and the rain. Snow mix was falling on us, and the wind blowing. I felt like crying when I thought of them and looking down at that wharf. I am glad we could attend such a special event to honor the Acadian ancestors.
It was an emotional day, for sure. Hard to explain how it makes you feel. Especially when you think of how many of them were children.
Charlie and Jennifer gave me permission to share their photography of this historical event at Fort Anne with you. Another attendee provided additional photos, here.
The heartache of our Acadian ancestors can still be felt permeating this land, 269 years and some ten generations later.
Courtesy Charlie and Jennifer Thibodeau
A small crowd gathered on this cold, blustery, grey, snowy day on the banks of the Annapolis River. In the misty distance, the Melanson Settlement across the river, and to the left, nearly obscured by fog, Goat Island, where the ships anchored after they were loaded with their human cargo, awaiting the signal to depart.
Did the Acadians, at least a few of them, stand at the railing and watch as the inky, darkened shore slipped past? Many of the men were experienced pilots and would have known when they exited the sheltered harbor into the angry Atlantic.
Courtesy Charlie and Jennifer Thibodeau
The monument, wrapped in the Acadian flag, waiting for the dignitaries, some of whom, including Jennifer and Charlie, are descendants.
Courtesy Charlie and Jennifer Thibodeau
The monument, unveiled, its writing fittingly obscured by snow, features a cross, so important to Acadians. In many ways, their religion is what they both lived and died for.
This monument stands ready to welcome descendants back home. The wharf which bore silent witness to the final footsteps of our ancestors in Acadia is seen at right, with the Acadian homesteads across the river in the distance.
They are still there. Still vigilant. Ever watching.
Thank you, Jennifer and Charlie, for continuing to remember and support our Acadian ancestors, their land, and their descendants who find their way back home!
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