Marguerite de Forest (1748-1819), Refugee Acadian Grandmother of 99 – 52 Ancestors #405

Marguerite Forest, Foret, Deforest, Deforet, de Foret/Forest or La Foret/Forest was born on January 16, 1748 in Port Royal, Acadia, the 7th of 9 children, to Jacques Forest and Marie Josephe LePrince.

She was baptized the same day at St. John Baptiste Catholic Church in Port Royal which is now Annapolis Royal in Nova Scotia. Sponsors were Gregoire, with no surname listed, and Marguerite Forest, neither of whom were able to sign their names. I’m presuming here that Gregoire’s surname was also Forest, and they were somehow related to her father, Jacques.

Marguerite was probably born someplace in or near the Rene Forest village, off of present-day Brickyard Road in Nova Scotia. Rene Forest was her grandfather.

We know nothing about Marguerite’s family between the time of her birth and the beginning of the 1755 deportation except that two siblings were added to the family. Marguerite became a “big sister” on February 14, 1750 and again on June 9, 1753.

Le Grand Dérangement

For decades, tensions flared between the Acadians, who had clearly established their neutrality and were known as the French Neutrals, and the British. The Acadians did not want to become involved in the war between two superpowers. Accordingly, they repeatedly declined the request to sign an oath of allegiance to the British crown who held Acadia. The British required such, and when the Acadians continued to refuse, the British took sweeping action.

On August 11, 1755, the British Lieutenant Governor signed the order to remove more than 6000 Acadians, descendants of the original French settlers, taking possession of their land and other property. Some managed to hide with the Mi’kmaq or made their way to other parts of Canada, but most did not. The Acadians had thwarted attempts to displace them before, so if they were even aware of the order, they may have felt that once again, they would survive this attempt. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Le Grand Dérangement, known in English as the Great Upheaval, Great Expulsion, Great Deportation, or Acadian Removal are all terms for the same horrific event.

In the fall and early winter of 1755, Marguerite was 7, almost 8 years old. She was probably looking forward to Christmas, with its joyful hymns and pageantry. Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve was a big event for Acadian families. Various foods were, and still are, associated with Christmas. Naulet was a large cookie, shaped like a gingerbread man, given to children by their godparents and may have been their only gift. Christmas was a much simpler time. You can see an example here and read a description written by an Acadian historian.

That isn’t at all what happened in December of 1755. Instead, British soldiers arrived and herded the men together while the women and children were told to gather their things and prepare to leave their homes.

Marguerite’s oldest brother, Victor, was 20, and Joseph was 18, so they were probably held with the men. They were certainly old enough to know how to handle a gun and had assuredly been hunting for years.

Marguerite’s four other older siblings probably helped their mother and packed essentials as best they could, not really understanding what was about to happen. We don’t really know what instructions they were given, if any.

Marguerite’s younger siblings, Charles, who would have been five, and Michel, just two, would probably have been under the watchful eye of the older children while their mother, Marie Josephe, frantically scurried around.

No one had many clothes back then – maybe a change if they were lucky, but they probably tried to pack some kitchen items into a trunk. Maybe a Bible, too, and certainly their rosaries.

It’s certainly possible that Marguerite’s mother, just 40 years old, was pregnant again, and due for the next baby. If indeed she was, we have no idea what happened to that child.

Having said that, we don’t actually know what happened to any of Marguerite’s siblings, although we know at least “some” survived for at least a few years.

We know that Marguerite, along with her family, were deported –  because all Acadians who didn’t escape into the woods on the mainland were forcibly loaded onto ships and sent someplace else. The British wanted their land and farms, and simply took them.

Families were rounded up, livestock killed, and farms burned. A brutal message to the Acadians as they sailed away that there was nothing to return to, so don’t try.

The “lucky” families were deported together on the same ship – not separated. Some people never found their family members again. Ships sailed to various British colonies, as well as to the West Indies, England, and France. Some ships sank, some were turned away from their destination ports, and many passengers, living in squalid conditions below deck, died of disease onboard.

The Forest family wound up in Connecticut. As horrible as their fate was, Connecticut was as good as it got.

Researcher Tim Hebert wrote that a total of 731 Acadians were supposed to have been deported to Connecticut, but it’s unclear that all of them made it.

  • One ship with 280 people wound up in Massachusetts.
  • On December 8th, the ship Elizabeth sailed for New London and arrived on January 21, 1756 with 277 people aboard. Three had died on the way.
  • The next day, another 173 people arrived on another ship from Pisiquid, Grand Pre, and Mines. There’s no reason to believe the Forest family was on this ship, given that we know due to baptismal records that they were living in close proximity to Port Royal.
  • The Connecticut Gazette mentioned another ship that left Minas on November 30 and arrived in January with another 173 people.
  • On December 18, 1755, the Dove set sail with 114 Acadians who arrived on January 30, 1756.
  • Yet another group of 278 from Port Royal arrived in May. This group fared horribly, having encountered a violent storm that blew the ship off course, to Antiqua. Many died of smallpox, but the ship Edward eventually arrived in Connecticut on May 22nd with only 180 Acadians. After arrival, their meager belongings were burned so that smallpox wouldn’t spread. It’s doubtful that the Forest family was on this schooner, because in 1763, in the census of families in Connecticut wishing transportation to France, the Jacques Forest family is listed with ten people, which would mean Jacques Forest and Marie Joseph LePrince, plus eight children. We know that at least one of Marguerite’s older siblings is listed separately. If roughly half the people on that ill-fated ship died, and they had been on that ship, it’s unlikely that Marguerite’s family would still have that many members.

Connecticut was at least slightly prepared for the beleaguered refugees and treated the Acadians with respect, not the revulsion that greeted others elsewhere. Connecticut notified their citizens of the impending arrival of the “French People from Nova Scotia” and the legislature provided that the Acadians were “to be taken care of and supported” as though they were residing citizens.

Connecticut towns were designated to receive about 14 people per town and a reception committee was created. A list of towns receiving refugees can be seen here. One of these was assuredly the home of our Forest family.

Unfortunately, we don’t know where Marguerite’s family spent those years, but they were probably as comfortable as unexpectedly destitute refugees could be, given the circumstances.

The End of the War

In August 1763, after the Treaty of Paris was signed granting Great Britain possession of North America, 666 Connecticut Acadians petitioned to be sent to France. Their petition was denied, but some either migrated willingly or otherwise to Saint Domingue, where they were subjected to hard labor. Many died, but some of those settlers eventually made it to Louisiana, founding the Cajun families there. Several Foret/Forest family members are recorded in Acadians in Grey, here, although none appear to be Jacques’ children or descendants.

Marguerite’s Forest family also was not among the 240 people who chartered a boat in 1767 and sailed to the St. John River, nor did Marguerite remain permanently in Connecticut. Other family members may have.

I would wager a guess that the families who settled inland were less likely to have sailed for either St. Johns or Dominique.

Many kind-hearted Connecticut families financed the return journey of the Acadians to Quebec when that became an option after 1766. For example, the Hebert family who lived in Guilford, CT departed for Laprairie in 1771, funded by Guilford residents. The Acadian-Home website has a postcard showing the Acadian home in Guilford.

However, Marguerite and her family didn’t leave then. They remained wherever they were for another 15+ years.

Where did they go?

Quebec, Eventually

We know that on November 10, 1767, Marguerite married French sailor Francois Lafay in the colonies before a justice of the peace due to the lack of a priest. Francois was reported to have left his ship in Boston, but we actually don’t know where they were married, other than in the colonies. I strongly suspect they were in Connecticut based on the 1763 list of families requesting transport to France.

You can see that the route from Connecticut to L’Acadie was almost due north. From Albany, one could follow the rivers through Lake Champlain and then on up the Richelieu River.

The family arrived in L’Acadie, Quebec between 1786 when their last child was born in the colonies and July 1788 when their first children were baptized in L’Acadie.

They rented a farm that September.

Their marriage was rehabilitated in the same church, Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie on June 23, 1792.

Translation from Father John:

Marriage of François Lafay and Marguerite Foret , Ste Marguerite de Blairfindie, L’Acadie, St-Jean, Quebec

On the twenty-third of June, Seventeen Hundred Ninety Two, I, undersigned, received the mutual consent of François Lafay and of Marguerite Foret, who pledged their troth (promis ensemble) before a justice of the peace in the Colonies, for lack of a priest, on the year Seventeen Hundred Sixty Seven*, this in the presence and in the form prescribed by Our Holy Mother the Church of Rome.  The groom signed along with me; the bride declared that she was unable to sign.  /s/ N. J. Lancto, priest   /s/ François Lafay

*On the tenth of November of the said year.

Marguerite and Francois had most of their children in the colonies. Not only that, but they survived the Revolutionary War wherever they lived. Did they support the war in one way or another, harboring deep resentment towards the British and what they did to their family?

Is that why they stayed after 1775?

Why did they leave, probably in early 1788?

One hint was reported by Marguerite’s daughter, Marie Lafay or Lafaille.

Marie told Baptist Missionaries that her elderly grandmother, Marie Josèphe Le Prince, became upset in 1787 that her children were losing their Catholic religion and culture and made the decision to send the family back to Canada. This makes sense, given that her daughter, Marie, had been educated in Protestant schools and clearly was leaning towards the Protestant religion.

Catholicism could not be practiced in the colonies.

Assuming this information is accurate, this tells us that Marie Josèphe Le Prince was still alive in 1787. She would have been 77 years old. Why didn’t she accompany her daughter to Quebec? Did she die before she could?

The 1790 census might hold a few clues.

There are no Foret nor Forest, but there are some de Forest families in Connecticut, specifically in Huntington.

However, none of these names are represented in the Jacques Forest family, and the Dutch De Forest family of New England is well known. These De Forest men don’t appear to be remnants of the Acadian family, but part of the Dutch De Forest branch. Having said that, both lines originated with the same French Huguenot refugee family in the Netherlands. I have to wonder if they knew about each other. They would have been roughly second cousins. Would the Connecticut branch have helped their Acadian cousins?

What happened to Marguerite’s family, and where were they?

I wish we knew.

Life in Quebec

When Marguerite arrived in Quebec, she and Francois had been married for 21 years and she had birthed at least 10 children. Her last child would be born on January 11th, 1789 and baptized in L’Acadie.

Her oldest daughter, Marie Lafay, married Honore Lore on August 10, 1789. Marguerite attended that wedding carrying her youngest child, a babe in arms who was just 7 months old. Her first grandchild was born in March of 1790, just 14 months younger than her youngest child. Those two children, aunt and nephew, probably grew up close – closer than siblings perhaps.

When Francois rented the farm in 1788, he claimed that he was a farmer, so it’s likely they had been farming someplace in New England.

Marguerite’s entire life had consisted of going from one crisis to another. First the Expulsion when she was 7. Living in exile for the next decade. Her father petitioned for transport to France in 1763 when she was 15, which was denied. She married in 1767 when she was 19, then the Revolutionary War erupted when she was about 27 years old. Following the war, the economy collapsed in New England. Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?

By the time the family made their way to Quebec a decade later, they were probably hoping for a peaceful life among their Acadian kin, in a culturally French community, along with the ability to practice their Catholic religion.

After all, Catholicism had been a big part of what they had fought for, why they resisted the British so steadfastly, and their faith had sustained them during the darkest hours. Even after three decades in exile, they were still unquestionably Catholic.

Unfortunately, a few years later, the War of 1812 would intrude into that hoped-for peaceful existence. In fact, the troops marched right up the Richelieu River, through L’Acadie, on their way from Lake Champlain to Montreal.

Marguerite’s son, Francois Lafay, born in 1776 in the midst of the Revolutionary War, served as a Lieutenant in the War of 1812.

Conflict seemed never far away, and this family had seen far more than their fair share.

Children

Marguerite and Francois had at least 11 children and possibly more. The only children we know about are those who were either baptized in L’Acadie some years after their birth, whose marriage or death records we have or, in one case, who witnessed a marriage for their sibling. If children were born and died in Connecticut or wherever the family lived for 30+ years, we have no record other than a hint represented by a suspiciously long stretch between the births of known children. It would be very unusual for a couple not to lose a few children in that time and place.

  • Marie (Mary) Lafay was born in 1767 in New England, married Honore Lore (born 1768) on August 10, 1789, died August 9, 1836, and had 15 children, three of whom died before their grandmother, Marguerite.
  • Marguerite Lafay was born in 1769 in New England, married Joseph Duphaut, died May 10, 1824, and had 12 children, at least one of whom died before her grandmother.
  • Suzanne Lafay was born March 6, 1772 in New England, married Honore Lore (born 1742), died August 7, 1803, and had 7 children, two of whom died before their grandmother. The youngest child died a month after her birth and just a couple weeks before her mother, Suzanne.
  • Julie Lafay was born in 1774 in New England, married Ignace LaPorte Denis on February 9, 1801, died after 1813, and had 8 children, including twins on August 26, 1813, both of whom died before their grandmother. We don’t have Julie’s death record, but I’d wager that she died not long after the birth of her twins.
  • Francois Lafay was born on September 5, 1776 in New England, married Marie Mercier on February 10, 1800, died on September 5, 1849, and had 11 children, at least one of whom died before her grandmother.
  • Bridget Lafay was born in 1778 in New England, married Pierre Gamache on February 5, 1798, died after 1861, and had 12 children.
  • Angelique Lafay was born about 1780 in New England and signed her sister’s marriage record in 1798. We lose track of her after that.
  • Marie Anne Lafay was born about 1782 in New England, married Francois Lore on June 9, 1806, died on June 4, 1849, and had 7 children, two of whom died before their grandmother.
  • Antoine Hylaire Lafay was born about 1784 in New England, married on February 18, 1811 to Francoise Archange Moleur, and had 4 children, one of whom died before his grandmother.
  • Pierre Clement Lafay was born in 1786 in New England, was married on November 19, 1810 to Archange Tremblai, and had 13 children.
  • Francoise Lafay was born on January 11, 1789, married on October 25, 1813 to Pierre Granger, died December 15, 1829, and had 10 children, two of whom died before their grandmother.

Marguerite had a total of 99 grandchildren, 78 of whom were born before she passed away. I can’t help but wonder how she kept them all straight.

Total children Children born before 1819 Died before 1819 Unknown death date before 1819
Marie 15 15 2 1
Marguerite 12 12 1 6
Suzanne 7 7 2 0
Julie 8 8 2 0
Francois 11 6 1 1
Bridget 12 11 0 10
Angelique ?
Marie Ann 7 6 2 1
Antoine 4 3 1 0
Pierre Clement 13 7 0 3
Francoise 10 3 2 1
Totals 99 78 13 23

Marguerite stood at the side of small graves with their tiny wooden caskets and buried at least 13 grandbabies. I don’t have death dates for 23 grandchildren who were born before 1819, so I suspect that some of those also died before Marguerite.

Additionally, Marguerite lived to know 18 of her great-grandchildren as well, although I don’t have death dates for those children either.

If you total the births and deaths beginning with the first grandchild’s birth, Marguerite was in church for a baptism or a funeral of her adult child, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren about once every 7 weeks. That doesn’t include regular church services, marriages or similar events for friends or other family members. It would be safe to say that Marguerite probably attended church for one reason or another every day or two.

Marguerite’s Death

Marguerite died at 71 years of age on February 16, 1819 in L’Acadie and was buried two days later.

Translation by Father John:

Burial of Marguerite Laforet

On the eighteenth of February Eighteen Hundred Nineteen, I, priest undersigned, buried in the cemetery of this parish the body of Marguerite Laforet, who died two days ago (avant hier) at the age of seventy one years, having received the sacraments of the Church. Spouse of François Lafaille, Present were Eliz Caisse and Michel Tremblay, who declared they were unable to sign, upon inquiry.  /s/ B. Paquin, priest

Marguerite was interred in the cemetery beside the church she attended for 31 years. The church where she would have oh-so-gratefully fallen to her knees in 1788, thankful to be able to worship freely and receive the sacraments once again. She saw her children and grandchildren baptized and married there, and wept at many funerals.

Eventually, the funerals of her children and grandchildren were held inside the familiar sanctuary, and they would be buried in the churchyard, someplace near Marguerite.

_____________________________________________________________

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New Information About Philip Jacob Miller (c1726-1799) and Magdalena Possibly Rochette (c1730-1800/1808) – 52 Ancestors #404

I’ve written about Philip Jacob Miller and his wife, Magdalena, whose birth surname has been reported forever as Rochette.

One of the reasons I publish such extensive articles, including literally everything I know or can find about each ancestor, is to cast a trail of breadcrumbs. There’s always a chance that a future researcher will come across something new. I may or may not be here, but I really do want accurate information to outlive me.

Recently, that’s exactly what happened. Christine Berwanger, Ph. D., a descendant of Philip Jacob Miller and Magdalena through daughters Christena who married Henry Snell, and Hannah who married Arnold Snider, contacted me with information I did not previously have. I’m very grateful to both Christine and Doris Sullivan Bache, who Christine credits with doing a great deal of the original research back in the 1980s.

Doris, an avid researcher and descendant of Philip Jacob Miller and Magdalena through the Snider line passed away in 2009 and is memorialized here.

Thankfully, Doris shared with Christine, who shared with me and has graciously granted me permission to share with you.

Let’s start with Philip Jacob Miller’s estate packet.

Philip Jacob Miller’s Estate Packet

Christine said that Doris ordered Philip Jacob’s entire estate packet and sent her copies of receipts along with a letter in 1989.

From Christine’s May 2023 email to me:

An ancestor’s estate file provides perhaps the most complete picture we will have of his life. Hence, I include the transcribed inventory and settlement of Philip Jacob Miller’s worldly possessions, in addition to his generous bequeaths of land to his children and their families. Note the Bible. Also of interest, the descriptions of the animals, the smoothbore gun, and the coffee mill.

Note the large sum due from Col. Thomas Hart to the estate. Thomas Hart was a prominent merchant in Hagerstown, Maryland, and an associate of Daniel Boone, who removed to Lexington, Kentucky in 1794. He was the father-in-law of Henry Clay. Henry Snell purchased his Fleming County land from Hart[i] There was clearly a relationship with this prominent person and the Miller/Snell family.

Receipt No. 54, 22 Nov 1795[ii], includes payment for a trip to Annapolis, and a payment of 9.15.1 to Nathaniel Rochester – who was a close associate and partner of Col. Hart, Hagerstown Postmaster 1793-1803, Washington County Maryland Sheriff 1804-1806, the first president of the Hagerstown Bank founded in 1807, and founder of Rochester, New York.[iii]

Other prominent persons are named in the estate. Martin Baum, born in Hagerstown in 1765 and later mayor of Cincinnati, was a witness to:

Receipt No. 33, 20 Sep 1808[iv]

Received at Cincinnati Septr 20th 1808 of Abraham Miller one of the Administrators of Philip Jacob Millers Estate Twenty Dollars being part of my legacy of the said Estate In witness whereof I hereunto set my hand

                                               his

Martin Baum            Arnold      x    Snider

                                             Mark

The estate was a complex one: the inventory was conducted in Sep 1799, but the settlement was not completed until Sep 1808. Abraham, as Administrator, documented thirty-nine days travel back to Hagerstown, Maryland, three trips to Lexington, Kentucky, four days travel to Chillicothe, Ohio (state Capitol and location of a land office), four days to the Court in Newport, Kentucky, and four days showing the land to appraisers. He charged the estate $88.50 for travel and expenses. David Miller, as Administrator, spent eighteen days travelling to Lexington, eight days to Fleming County, fifteen days going to Court, two days to the Sheriff of Campbell County, recording a deed in Williamsburg, four days to Chillicothe, for expenses of $58.18 ¾. He also credited himself with $8 paid to his mother.[v] Abraham and David had families and farms and were active in their Brethren Church. These duties must have been onerous, yet they persisted.

Collecting debts owed to the estate involved several transactions. The estate paid Nicholas Rochester 5.7.6 for collecting $699 2/100. (The image clearly reads Nicholas; I have been unable to match a Nicholas Rochester. Nathaniel did not have a son or a brother by that name. If Nathaniel was meant, this is a different transaction than the one in 1795.) Surveyor General of the Virginia Military District and prominent landowner William Lytle signed a receipt pertaining to the debt owed the estate by Col Thomas Hart. Witness James Taylor was a prominent resident of Newport, Kentucky.

Receipt No. 55, 14 Apr 1800[vi]

Received of Daniel Miller by the hands of David Miller an order for Two hundred dollars on Colo Thomas Hart of Lexington Kentucky, which if accepted, is to be in full for the one hundred acres of land on which the said Daniel now lives as witness my hand this 14th of April 1800

Teste James Taylor                   Wm. Lytle

Summary, Life and Estate of Philip Jacob Miller:

Philip Jacob Miller was devoted to his family, his religion, his land, his community, and his country. He, in accordance with the principles of the German Baptist Brethren and other sects such as the Amish and Mennonites, chose to live a simple life. His estate inventory attests to that. Yet, he accrued wealth. He loaned money rather than spent it. He accrued enough to bequest each of his ten children 200 acres and further distributions from his estate.

He moved in the circles of the merchants and landowners of his time as well as the circles of his neighbors and co-religionists. His simple lifestyle did not mean he did not participate in the life of the broader community. Records attest that he did. We use our understanding of history to understand the context of the lives our ancestors lived; yet our ancestor’s lives influenced that history.

Mary Christine Berwanger

[1] Editor James F. Hopkins and Associate Editor Mary W. M. Hargreaves, editor, The Papers of Henry Clay. 2, The Rising statesman, 1815-1820 (Lexington, Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky, 1961).

2 Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller, Campbell County KY Estate Administration, Settlement Drawer 1817-1836, envelope 1828 (should be 1808), Alexandria, Kentucky. 22 Feb 1989, Doris S. Bache mailed to me a transcript of receipts No. 27 through No. 66, typed pages 7 through 13, mostly distributions from the estate to family beneficiaries. Pages 1 through 6 were not included, presumably because they did not pertain to family members. This was in the day of taking handwritten notes, typing them up, and going to the library to make copies to mail to other researchers.

3 Biography at Sheriff Nathaniel Rochester’s Records, Washington County, 1804-1806

http://www.whilbr.org/rochester/index.aspx

4 Receipt No. 33, Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller.

5 Receipt No. 66, Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller.

6 Receipt No. 55, Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller.

[i] Editor James F. Hopkins and Associate Editor Mary W. M. Hargreaves, editor, The Papers of Henry Clay. 2, The Rising statesman, 1815-1820 (Lexington, Kentucky: University Press of Kentucky, 1961).

[ii] Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller, Campbell County KY Estate Administration, Settlement Drawer 1817-1836, envelope 1828 (should be 1808), Alexandria, Kentucky. 22 Feb 1989, Doris S. Bache mailed to me a transcript of receipts No. 27 through No. 66, typed pages 7 through 13, mostly distributions from the estate to family beneficiaries. Pages 1 through 6 were not included, presumably because they did not pertain to family members. This was in the day of taking handwritten notes, typing them up, and going to the library to make copies to mail to other researchers.

[iii] Biography at Sheriff Nathaniel Rochester’s Records, Washington County, 1804-1806

http://www.whilbr.org/rochester/index.aspx

[iv] Receipt No. 33, Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller.

[v] Receipt No. 66, Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller.

[vi] Receipt No. 55, Receipts, Estate of Philip Jacob Miller.

Rochette

The source of Magdalena’s oft-reported surname as Rochette has baffled me and many other researchers for decades.

Christine, thanks to Doris, has been able to provide what is probably the original source for that surname. I’m saying it now, and I’ll say it again – this by no means proves that Magdalena’s surname was Rochette. It does, however, provide one more piece of evidence and an answer to the question of where that name came from.

From Christine:

Rochette – from a “loose paper in a family bible”

Click on the image to enlarge

This may be a copy of the “loose paper in a family bible.”

Doris S. Bache mentioned in her letter of 22 Feb 1989: “When I heard from Sharon Biggs in reference to the maiden name of Magdalena Miller, the name “Rochette” had come from a loose paper in a family bible. Author unknown, also. I am accepting the maiden name, but as you will note, most of the earlier information is incorrect, with the alternating of Phillip and Jacob in the generations before 1729. Of course, the name Morgan has been proven to be Maugens.” Doris is referring to the two pages above, taped together, which was included with her letter. She received this from Sharon Biggs.

Philip Jacob Miller married Magdalena Rochette, born in Sedan, France. Their children are listed (pencil checkmarks) with Abraham underlined. Both the name Rochette and the place Sedan, France are specific. If this is a copy of the loose paper from the bible, the (presumably) descendent who wrote it, knew the names of Philip and Magdalen’s children, so might indeed have known Magdalena’s surname and place of birth.

Sedan, France was a source of Huguenot refugees following the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685.

French Huguenots relocated throughout Europe and to the Americas. It is possible that Magdalen’s family fled to Germany or America.

Philip Jacob Miller and Magdalena Rochette are apparently the Miller ancestors of the author. Listed below their names are the Maugans / Morgan ancestors: Conrad Morgan, said to be born in Virginia, and wife. Listed are some of their known children, with Katherine underlined. The wife named, “Margaret Mynne or Marie” does not match other sources, who give his wife as Anna Rebecca Hoffman (1739–1810).

Next, Abraham Miller, son of Philip Jacob and Magdalena, married Katherine Morgan, daughter of Conrad and wife. Their son Matthias Miller is underlined. He married Elizabeth Gorman. Their daughter Emma Miller (1849-1925) is underlined. She married Elihu T. Hedrick.

The paper comprises a direct line Ahnentafel from Emma Miller to her great-grandparents. The author of the paper is likely Emma herself or one of her children. It is certainly possible for a person to know from family history the names and origins of his or her great-grandparents. It is also possible for confusion on the part of the person writing down notes from memory.

Abraham Miller’s entry gives his birthdate and place as 28 Apr 1764 in Frederick County, Maryland, which agrees with the entry in Philip Jacob Miller’s Bible: “My son Abraham was born April 28, 1764.” Katherine Morgan his wife, was born 16 Jul 1767 in Frederick County. The note further states, “Their children were born in Clermont Co. Ohio, on bounty land given to Abraham Miller’s father by King George 2.” This statement is a confusion of time and place, but as with most oral history, there is some truth in it.

Abraham’s father, Philip Jacob Miller, intended each of his children to have a 200-acre parcel. Sons Abraham and David, as administrators of his estate, purchased 2000 acres, most in Virginia Military Survey 3790. The Virginia Military District was established as bounty land for Virginia Revolutionary soldiers. Often, they did not occupy the land but sold it to someone else. “Survey 3790, for Taylor, James et. al for Jacob Miller, C. C. [chain carrier], Jacob Snyder, C. C. [chain carrier], and Abraham Miller, M [marker]. With William Lytle, D. S. [Deputy Surveyor], and dates February 20, 1880 and June 9, 1802. These survey crews were comprised of: The D. S. Deputy Surveyor, C. C. chain carriers, and M. marker. The crews were often early settlers in the area.”  Hence Survey of 3790, from which Philip Jacob’s estate subsequently purchased 2000 acres of William Lytle, was in the Virginia Military District, hence bounty land. Abraham sold his 200-acre lot from his father’s estate to William Spence for $400, 22 Apr 1805. He instead resided in Clermont County, but I have not tracked his deeds.

In 1808, Abraham and David surveyed part of the Virginia Military District in Goshen Township, Clermont County, Survey 5959. “Abraham Miller was marker, David Miller was Chain Carrier.”

Perhaps land that Philip Jacob Miller’s father Michael Miller bought in Pennsylvania was originally granted by George the Second. I have not seen his Chester County deeds. Stinchcomb’s deed was in 1725, sold to Michael Miller et al in 1744. George II reigned from 1727-1760.

Summary, Questions, and Coincidences: This document records family history, and most of the information is verified by other sources.

The name Rochette and origin in Sedan, France is too specific to disregard out of hand, especially since this document existed prior to the Internet, when one could search a name and connect it to a person with no other evidence than the surname.

Coincidence?

There was a French Huguenot Rochet family from Sedan, France, and daughter Suzanne was smuggled out, married, and settled in Virginia.

“The most interesting story relating to the Huguenots of Manakin Town [Virginia] is that of Suzanne Rochet. After Revocation of Edict of Nantes in 1658, the refugee daughters of Moses Rochet wrote from Amsterdam to their father in France to send them their youngest sister, Suzanne. Since the French government was keeping strict watch to prevent the escape of Huguenots from the country, the Rochets always referred to Suzanne as “the Little Nightcap.” After several unsuccessful attempts to send his daughter past the Guards, Rochet finally smuggled her out of the country to Holland with the aid of a friendly ship-captain. In the French Church Amsterdam, Suzanne married July 1692 Abraham Michaux, a Huguenot refugee from Sedan. By 1705 they and their children had joined the colony at Manakin Town” [Virginia].

Source: “The Little Nightcap” by the Rev. W. Twyman Williams recorded here.

“At the same time, her sisters in Holland became very much concerned about her. They had found refuge in Amsterdam and wished to have her in safety there with them. So they wrote to their father, but for fear that the letter might be read by spies and informers, they did not refer to Suzanne. Instead, they asked their father to make every effort to send them “the little nightcap” they had left behind when they made their escape. But how? At last, Jean Rochet hit upon a plan. He found a ship’s captain.” “This man, though not a Huguenot, was kindly enough disposed to help. So Jean Rochet had his daughter set into a hogshead marked “merchandise,” fastened down the head of the large barrel, and hauled it to the ship. The captain had it taken aboard and stowed away. The ship was searched, but the hidden girl was not discovered. As soon as the danger of further search was over, the captain let her out of her uncomfortable hiding place and got her safely to Holland.”

This paper says Conrad Maugans / Morgan was born in Virginia. Some ancestry trees claim Magdalena Rochette was his sister. Is there any evidence that the Maugans were Huguenot? Or that they were in Virginia?

The name Rochette is sometimes given as LaRoche, which broadens the search possibilities.

French Huguenots went to Germany, and went to Pennsylvania, where they married into German families. It is possible that Philip Jacob Miller married a French woman, known to the family in Germany or met in Pennsylvania. “The French Element among the Pennsylvania Germans” should be understood before concluding that Philip Jacob Miller did not marry a French woman.

There is a German site dedicated to Huguenot genealogy, which contains the name Rochette.

Sources:

Alma A. Smith, The Virginia Military Surveys of Clermont and Hamilton Counties, Ohio 1787-1849 (Cincinnati, Ohio: A.A. Smith, 1985), p. 141, 20 Feb 1800.

 Alma A. Smith, The Virginia Military Surveys of Clermont and Hamilton Counties, Ohio 1787-1849, p. 174, 19 May 1808.

Excellent description of the connections and intermarriages of the French and Germans. George G. Struble, “The French Element among the Pennsylvania Germans” Pennsylvania History: A Journal of Mid-Atlantic Studies, Vol 22 (July 1955)pp, 267–76,  https://journals.psu.edu/phj/article/view/22432/22201.

Deutsche Hugenotten-Gesellschaft e.V., https://www.hugenotten.de/genealogie/arbeitsgemeinschaft-datenbank.php

Click to access 2018-08-namensliste-pro-gen.pdf

My Analysis

I’m incredibly grateful to Christine, Doris, and Sharon Biggs. I’m especially impressed that Christine can actually find a letter from 1989!

Let’s take a look at this information.

The analysis of Philip Jacob Miller’s estate packet brings his life into perspective in a new and different light. The information I had previously was a list of inventory items and a list of bills. Doris clearly possessed the entire packet that included receipts with additional information, not to mention the additional research into the identities of the various people mentioned in the estate settlement.

It appears that Philip Jacob was quite well-off later in his life. I can’t help but wonder if the fact that he reluctantly served in the Revolutionary War may have opened doors that allowed him to purchase the 2000 acres, providing a 200-acre farm to each of his children.

Let’s look at the information in that unsourced but clearly authentic Bible record.

Philip Jacob’s birth location is likely incorrect. Philip Jacob Miller’s parents were living in Krotelbach, Germany, when they were married in 1714, with their first child baptized the following year. In April of 1719, another son was baptized in Kallstadt. A third son was born on the farm by the name of Weilach near Bad Durkheim in April of 1721. There is absolutely nothing to indicate that the family settled in the Netherlands before immigrating to the US. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely that Philip Jacob was born in the Netherlands between 1723 and 1727.

The second questionable item from that Bible record involves Conrad Maugans, sometimes referred to as Morgan. This man was born around 1735 and was clearly German. It’s unlikely, but not impossible, that he was born in Virginia. It’s also very unlikely that Magdalena was his sister. Three of her children married Conrad’s children. David Miller married Conrad’s daughter Magdalene Maugans.  Additionally, her son Abraham Miller married Catherine Maugans. A third child, Esther Miller, married Gabriel Maugans. First-cousin marriages did occur in Brethren families so that alone does not rule out Magdalena and Conrad being siblings. However, it is interesting that she has no child named Conrad, nor do her children who did not marry his children.

I have found no evidence whatsoever to indicate that Philip Jacob’s wife, Magdalena, was a Maugans. I’ve seen that rumor for years as well.

I strongly suspect the confusion arose because Conrad’s daughter, Magdalene married a Miller and was therefore Magdalene Miller. Conrad’s will was written in German, but has been translated by an anonymous researcher.

Next, let’s do some math. We know that Magdalena Miller was born sometime around 1730, and that she and Philip Jacob Miller likely married in York County, PA, around 1750 but no later than July of 1751 based on the birth date of their first child. It’s also possible that they married in Lancaster Co., PA or Frederick Co., MD. Unfortunately, Brethren did not register their marriages.

Philip Jacob was Brethren, so she would have to have been Brethren too, or converted, in order for them to be married and remain within the church. What I do know, absolutely, positively, is that there is no Rochette surname of any family in any of these three counties in a relevant timeframe. Women in that time and place did NOT travel around without their family. If Magdalena was a Rochette, then where was her father or other family members?

Furthermore, if Magdalena was indeed the Suzanne Rochet, Huguenot from Sedan, she was born sometime around 1658 and married Abraham Michaux in 1692, so she clearly is not the Magdalena born around 1730. The “little nightcap” story, however, is lovely and excellent history all by itself.

There is some discussion that the Magdalena in question is Suzanne’s daughter, but then her surname would be Michaux, not Rochette.

I’m highly skeptical based on that, in addition to the fact that the Magdalena who married Philip Jacob had to have been Brethren, either before or certainly at the time of their marriage.

I’d feel a lot better about the Rochette surname and the Sedan location if the rest of that Bible information was accurate. Doris mentioned that she had found additional discrepancies.

Having said that, the information is very specific, including the Sedan location. Perhaps this information is not entirely wrong, just a generation or two offset?

If Magdalena’s surname was Rochette or something similar, I would expect to have at least a few DNA matches. I have MANY Miller matches from Philip Jacob’s father, Michael Miller, through is other children.

However, I don’t have matches to someone with the surname of Rochette, or similar, with two exceptions.

Unfortunately, at Ancestry, I can’t search by ancestor, so while I do have matches to people with Rochette in their trees, the ones I reviewed are Magdalena listed as Rochette. What I really need to do is be able to filter by Rochette matches not=Magdalena Rochette who is married to Philip Jacob Miller.

I did find a Rochette match at MyHeritage, but the match to this person could be through a different line. Another French match that could be helpful has a private tree, so no cigar there, either.

At FamilyTreeDNA, my mother’s matches to Rochette are only trees reflecting Magdalena as a Rochette.

I checked Filae and found nothing for a Magdalena Rochette of the right age, but Christine jumped right into serious research.

Christine’s French Huguenot Research

From Christine:

Note: Madeleine or Magdeleine are French versions of Magdalena.

The Huguenots were Calvinist Protestants, and their Reformed Churches recorded sacramental records.

“On October 18, 1685, the Edict of Nantes was revoked and French Huguenots could either convert to Catholicism, face life in a prison or convent, or flee the country. At this time, there were about 800,000 Huguenots in France, and nearly one-fourth of them left the country.”

French Reformed sacramental records are available from Sedan, Ardennes, France, from the 1500s and 1600s, indexed on FamilySearch (link here) but not (on FamilySearch) after the Edict of Nantes when the French Reformed Churches were suppressed. The baptism records which documented “the Little Nightcap” family are amazingly easy to read.

From these records and online ancestry or FamilySearch trees, this Sedan Rochette family included men who did not marry or die in Sedan (from these records) who might have moved elsewhere to become the grand-father, father, uncle of Magdalena / Madeleine. [Chart below is incomplete, not verified with original sources.]

Little Night Cap had a daughter Anne Madeleine. [I did not record all her children. Daughter Olive Judith married an Anthony Morgan, who does not seem to be related to the Maugans/ Morgans of the Miller lines.]

Little Night Cap is not the only Rochette woman to come to the New World [see Susanna daughter of Isaac] and it is likely some of the Rochette men came also. Having their baptismal dates and relationships from the Sedan records makes it more likely to match them to other men of the same name and age.

Did Magdalena/Madeleine’s family also leave before 1685? Did the Huguenots who remained in France continue to record their sacramental records? If so, where might those be?

They migrated to Protestant Countries, so in those places their later sacraments would have been recorded, such as in the Netherlands (cited in Little Night Cap’s family), parts of Germany, etc., and their churches in the New World. They did end up assimilating.

Descendancy Narrative of Moses Thiery Rochet

From Christine:

Moses Thiery1 ROCHET was born in 1615. He married Suzanne RONDEAU on 7 Feb 1638 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.1 He died on 31 Dec 1649.

Jean2 ROCHET was born in 1641 at Sedan, Ardennes, France. He married Marie TRUFET on 21 Dec 1664 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.2

Susan3 “Little Night Cap” ROCHET. Her married name was MICHAUX. She was baptized on 13 Apr 1667 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.3 She married Abraham MICHAUX on 13 Jul 1692 at Amsterdam, Netherlands. She immigrated on 8 May 1701 to London, England. She died on 18 Dec 1744 at Virginia at age 77.4

      1. Olive Judi4 MICHAUX married Anthony MORGAN. Her married name was MORGAN. She was born in 1706 at Virginia.5 She died on 27 Oct 1760 at Virginiia.6
      2. Anne Madeline4 MICHAUX was born in 1706 at Virginia. She died in 1796 at Virginia.

Isaac3 ROCHET died in 1672. He was baptized on 30 Aug 1672 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.7

Louis3 ROCHET was baptized on 5 May 1676 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.8 He died on 1 Oct 1726 at age 50.9

Daniel3 ROCHET was baptized on 5 Jan 1679 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.10

Jacques2 ROCHET was born in 1642. He died in 1647.

Isaac2 ROCHET was also known as Isaac DE LA ROQUET. He was born in 1641 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.11 He was baptized on 10 Jan 1644 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.12 He married Jeanne DUFRAY on 16 May 1666 at Reformed Protestant Church, Sedan, Ardennes, France. He married Jeanne DUFRAY on 16 May 1666 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.2 He died in Nov 1695 at age 51.

    1. Susanna3 ROCHET. Her married name was GARRIGUES. She was born in 1686 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.13 She married Matthieu GARRIGUES on 28 May 1702 at Netherlands. She died on 30 Sep 1746 at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.14

Marie2 ROCHET was born on 22 Aug 1645.15 She died in 1763 at Sedan, Ardennes, France.

Vincent2 ROCHET was born on 18 Sep 1646.

Charles2 ROCHET was born on 29 Dec 1647.16 He died on 12 Jul 1670 at Sedan, Ardennes, France, at age 22.17

Printed on: 13 May 2023

Prepared by: Mary Christine Berwanger, Ph.D.

Endnotes:

  1. Ardennes: Sedan – Tables alphabétique des mariages, Ms 664/index, 1573-1682 family search.
  2. Ardennes: Sedan – Tables alphabétique des mariages, Ms 664/index, 1573-1682 familysearch.
  3. Name Susane Rochet
    Sex     Female
    Father’s Name     Jean Rochet
    Mother’s Name     Marie Trufet
    Event Baptism, 13 Apr 1667, Sedan, Ardennes, France
    “France, registres protestants, 1536-1897,” database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QVN3-4BVH : 19 February 2021), Susane Rochet, 13 Apr 1667; citing Baptism, Societe de L’histoire du Protestantisme Francais (Society of the History of French Protestantism), Paris.
  4. Suzanne Laroche ROCHETTE (1667–1744)
    Birth 13 APR 1667 • Sedan, Ardennes, Champagne-Ardenne, France
    Death 18 DEC 1744 • Manakin Sabot, Goochland, Virginia, USA.
  5. Olive Judi Morgan (1706–1760) Birth 1706 • Manakin, Goochland County, Virginia, USA.
  6. Death 27 OCTOBER 1760 • Cumberland County, Virginia, USA.
  7. Name Isaac Rochet
    Sex     Male
    Father’s Name     Jean Rochet
    Mother’s Name     Marie Trufet
    Event    Baptism, 30 Aug 1672, Sedan, Ardennes, France.
  8. Name Louis Rochet
    Sex     Male
    Father’s Name     Jean Rochet
    Mother’s Name     Marie Truffet
    Event  Baptism 05 May 1676, Sedan, Ardennes, France.
  9. 1 October 1726.
  10. Christening • 1 Source 5 January 1679Sedan, Ardennes, Champagne-Ardenne, France.
  11. Isaac De La Roquet (Rochet) (1641–1695)
    Birth 1641 • Sedan, Ardennes, Champagne-Ardenne, France
    Death NOV 1695.
  12. 10 January 1644, familysearch.
  13. Birth 1686 • Sedan, Ardennes, Champagne-Ardenne, France.
  14. Death 30 SEP 1746 • Christ Church, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Colonial America.
  15. Birth 22 August 1645 Sedan, Ardennes, Champagne-Ardenne, France
    Death 1763 Sedan, France.
  16. 29 December 1647.
  17. 12 July 1670 Sedan, Ardennes, Champagne-Ardenne, France.

Rochette, or Not?

Combining the information provided by Christine and Doris along with additional research provides additional information but no smoking gun. The jury is still out. However, we now have additional information, including the probable source of the surname, Rochette.

At this point, I’m no more convinced that her surname was Rochette than I was before. I am, however, very grateful to have solved the mystery of where the Rochette rumor originated.

I’m hoping that some of the Miller researchers will be able to provide additional information about the source of the Bible or maybe even more about the source of Rochette.

I’m also VERY hopeful that someone will discover information about Magdalena’s origins. Or, perhaps someone has additional Rochette information that might be helpful. I was unable to find Rochette information in the relevant counties, but maybe other researchers have or can.

Just putting this out there and hoping that this update finds its way to the right researcher and that one day, we can actually solve the mystery of Magdalena’s parents.

However, we do have another clue…

Can DNA Help?

We have the mitochondrial DNA of Magdalena. Mitochondrial DNA is inherited from your mother through a direct line of females – so her mother, and her mother, on up the tree.

We know that Magdalena’s mitochondrial DNA is an exact match with a descendant of Mary Myers born February 8, 1775, in Pennsylvania and who died on September 28, 1849, in Montgomery County, Ohio. Unfortunately, we don’t know who Mary Myer’s parents were. Maybe one of you descends from this line or has information about the Myers family. Also spelled Meyers, Moyers.

Of course, mitochondrial DNA can reach far back in time, but the migration path from Pennsylvania to Montgomery County, Ohio, is the path the Brethren took to settle that region, and is where Magdalena’s descendant lives who tested. Montgomery County was the dispersion point for the Brethren North into Indiana and westward as well.

Another mitochondrial match also connects to the Zircle/Meyer family in Rockingham/Augusta County, VA where several Brethren families settled about the time of the Revolutionary War. These families originated in the Lancaster/York County, PA region or the Frederick County, MD region.

Tracking a match back to the earliest ancestor, I found that Peter Zirkle (c1745-c1818)’s wife’s name was “Fanny” and she is reported to be Frene “Fannie” Meyer. I have found several attributions, but no place can I find how the Meyer surname was attributed to her, or who here parents were. Assuming Fanny was born about 1745 as well, Magdalena born about 1730 could have been her sister or maybe a cousin.

Meyer/Moyer is noted as one of the founding Brethren families in York County, PA where Philip Jacob Miller was living when he married. It’s VERY likely that he married within the Brethren families.

The History of York Co, PA, written in 1907 tells us that the first Brethren congregation in York (now Adams) County was the Conewago Church which was established in 1738, “20 miles west from the town of York, on the Little Conewago,” which was in the vicinity of Hanover.

Surnames of the families who were among the early church members were Eldrick, Dierdorff, Bigler, Gripe (Cripe), Studsman (Stutzman) and others.

Prominent members include Jacob Moyer, James Henrick, preachers; Hans Adam Snyder, George Wine, Daniel Woods, Henry Geing, Joseph Moyer, Nicholas Hostetter, Christian Hostetter, Rudy Brown, Dobis Brother, Jacob Miller, Michael Koutz, Stephen Peter, Henry Tanner, Michael Tanner, John Moyer, Jacob Souder, Henry Hoff, John Swartz.  The wives of these persons named were also members of the church.

Unmarried members were Barbara Snyder John Geing, Maud Bowser, George Peter, Hester Wise, Christian Etter, John Peter Weaver, Barbara Bear, Elizabeth Boering, Grace Hymen. Their first preacher was Daniel Leatherman, Sr, followed by Nicholas Martin, Jacob Moyer (Meyers) and James Hendrich (Henry.)

In 1741, a new church was founded “on the Great Conewago, about 14 miles west from the new town of York.”  Founding members there include John Neagley, Adam Sower, Jacob Sweigard, Peter Neiper and Joseph Latshaw. The first elder was George Adam Martin followed by Daniel Leatherman Jr. and Nicholas Martin. In 1770 members included George Brown, John Heiner, Peter Fox, Anthony Dierdorff, Nicholas Moyer, Manasseh Brough, Michael Bosserman, David Ehrhard, Daniel Baker, Abraham Stauffer, Henry Dierdorff, John Burkholder, Andrew Trimmer, Eastace Rensel, Peter Dierdorff, Barnett Augenbaugh, John Neagley, Michael Brissel, Welty Brissel, Matthias Bouser, Laurence Baker, Philip Snell, Nicholas Baker Jr., Adam Sower, Adam Dick, Henry Brissel, David Brissel, Henry Radibush, George Wagner and George Reeson.  Unmarried members were Peter Wertz, Ann Mummert, Christian Fray, Samuel Arnold, Mary Latshaw, Catharine Studabaker, Nicholas Baker, Marillas Baker, Sarah Brissel, Jacob Miller, Rudolph Brown.

Can anyone tell me what happened to the Moyer men listed above?

  • Jacob Moyer
  • Joseph Moyer
  • John Moyer
  • Nicholas Moyer

Are they related? Who is their father? Who were their wives?  And perhaps more importantly, did they have a sibling or child, Magdalena, born about 1730?

Does anyone know if any of these men wound up in Rockingham County, VA by 1773 or so?

Please reach out if you descend from these families, and especially if you descend from these families through all females to the current generation, which can be male or female. If you do, you carry the mitochondrial DNA of their wife and daughters. Please reach out to me.

Do You Descend from a Brethren Female Line?

Do you descend matrilineally from a Brethren female line, meaning through all females beginning with your mother? If so, your mitochondrial DNA descends from a Brethren family.

If you have already taken the mitochondrial DNA test at FamilyTreeDNA, please join the Miller-Brethren DNA project. If you have not tested, please order a mitochondrial DNA test, here, and join the Miller Brethren DNA Project.

Based on the Brethren cultural handicap of not registering marriages, mitochondrial DNA testing is critically important. It provides the tools to identify and place Brethren females with their families. DNA, in this case, promises to do what traditional genealogy cannot.

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François Lafaye or Lafaille (1744-1824), Literate French Sailor – 52 Ancestors #403

François Lafay, Lafaye or Lafaille is a mystery man.

Let’s start out with what we absolutely, positively know about his history, which isn’t much.

He was the father of my ancestor, Marie Lafay or Lafaille. Marie’s mother was Acadian, but from everything we find, including records we don’t find, François was not. He nor anyone by that surname, or even a similar surname, was listed on any of the Acadian census rolls or other resources from the time the Acadians spent in either Nova Scotia (Acadia) or in exile.

He did, however, meet Marie’s mother, Marie DeForest (Foret, Forest, LaForet, LaForest), in New England, someplace in the colonies, after the Acadians were abruptly expelled in 1755 from their maritime homes in Nova Scotia.

The Acadians spent about a decade in forced exile, but some remained longer in their new homeland. Of course, the problem is that we don’t know, except in generalities, where that homeland was. Nor did they consider it a homeland. They were a displaced people, forced into poverty and sometimes servitude, deported against their will by the English who forcibly took their lands. They were French, spoke French, and were Catholic. The English who rounded them up and herded them onto ships after burning their farms often irrecoverably split families. The Acadians did not settle in a single group. Different ships carrying heartbroken refugees arrived in different locations along the eastern seaboard and elsewhere. None of those places were welcoming, although some tried their best to accommodate the now-destitute families.

If François was French, and with a name like François, he most certainly was – it would have been natural for him to be drawn to other French-speaking people.

Is there anything else we can discern from his name?

Lafay

Per FamilySearch, LaFay is a French metonymic occupational name for someone who caught and sold quails, a variant of Caille with a fused feminine definite article la. So, in essence, his patronymic ancestor may have been a man involved with quails.

It can also be a topographic name for a person living on a patch of pebbly or stony soil,; or a habitational name from La Caille, the name of several places in various parts of France.

In the book, Les Canadiens-Français: origine des familles émigrées de France, d’Espagne, de Suisse, etc., pour venir se fixer au Canada, a book about the origins of French-Canadian families by specific names, La Faye is shown as a commune of Charente, arr. by Ruffec. It also states, translated, “Fay, bundled hoops or circles and faye, forest place, forest, ewe.”

Ruffec, Charente is a stopover town on the road from Paris to Spain (Route National 10) between Poitiers and Angouleme.

This was an interesting exercise but not much help.

Who He’s Not

Before going any further, I’d like to eliminate one erroneous identity.

There is one François Faille, born in November 1741, in LaPrairie, Quebec to François Faille and Marie Anne Brosseau. He married Marie Joillet in 1783, in LaPrairie, Quebec. This man and our François Lafay are two different people with similar names.

We know this because the marriage rehabilitation of our François states that he and Marie LeForest married in New England in 1767, and he had children contiguously with Marie before and after his arrival in L’Acadie, in Southern Quebec. He was married to her until her death in 1819, and we know that their children born prior to 1788 were born in the colonies. Therefore, this man born in 1741 in Quebec and who lived and married in 1783 there cannot be our François LaFay/LaFaye.

Another record sometimes confused with our François LaFay or Lafaille is this 1766 notarial record in Quebec.

This is possibly the François Faille who was married to Marie Anne Brosseau, or his son, François Faille who was born in November of 1741.

We know our François was in New England a year later, and he always signed his name LaFaye, never Lafaille, although later records in Quebec sometimes spelled it phonetically. It’s clear though, that this list was not made by the people involved, because the handwriting is all the same. So surnames could have been spelled any which way.

The Notarial Seigneur, Antoine Crispin Sr. served in Chateau-Richer, north of Quebec City.

French Sailor

One piece of information about our François is revealed through his daughter, Marie Lafay who, amid much conflict, converted to Protestantism late in life. Henrietta Feller was one of the missionaries who befriended Marie, also known as Mary.

In Henrietta Feller’s diary, quoted in A Lower Canada Baptist Beginning, she wrote about Marie/Mary Lafay/Lafaille Lord’s conversion to Protestantism saying that Marie’s father, François was a French sailor who settled in Boston.

Mary was reportedly born Marie Lafay to an Acadian mother and French father, although we don’t actually know if she was born in Boston or elsewhere. Her 1767 birth occurred at a time when many Massachusetts Acadians traveled to Boston to petition for transport to return to Canada.

Some Acadians, however, were considering staying in the colonies, taking into account:

…the dangers of sea travel, which included storms, sinking, contagions and even piracy, recently illustrated by the fate of 80 young Acadians taken and pressed into the service of privateers. They knew that they retained no place or residual rights in Nova Scotia. Moreover, old age, the very ache of their 50-year-old bones, reminded them how difficult it would be to scratch out a new place on leftover and, thus difficult, lands. Just perhaps, they still resisted taking an oath to the throne…Just possibly they and their children began to envision rural Massachusetts as home…children had no doubt learned English and accustomed themselves to the ways of these strangers. Time had not resulted in their isolation, and familiarity with Protestants and colonial law had not bred contempt.

Marie Lafay, according to various reports, had in fact, been exposed to Protestant teaching while in exile.

Perhaps Mary’s mother’s family had settled in and became somewhat established over the 11 years since the expulsion from Nova Scotia began. After their 1767 marriage, maybe there was no driving motivation for Mary’s parents to leave. By the time they did, nearly 20 years later, many children had been born, and others were nearly raised. Mary was educated in a Protestant school and learned to read the Bible there.

Was François Lafay Protestant, at least initially, and not Catholic?

According to what François’s daughter, Mary Lafay Lore, told the Baptist missionaries, her elderly maternal grandmother, Marie Josèphe Le Prince, became upset in 1787 that her children were losing their Catholic religion and culture and made the decision to send the family back to Canada.

Mary also revealed that she had encouraged her father, François Lafay, to make the 1788 trip to Canada after something she recalled as “a fearful disappointment.” Clearly, they were close.

I wonder if Mary’s disappointment was personal in nature, perhaps a suitor, or was it something more widespread? It is interesting to note that Pliny Moore, Mary’s close friend, was married in January of 1787 in Vermont. It may or may not be relevant, but it is a possibility.

We don’t know what Mary’s disappointment was, but according to historian Joseph Amato’s research into one Acadian family, Marie’s family’s experience may have been similar.

The Revolutionary War magnified federal and state debts, leaving the majority with useless currency and no means to repay debts, turning newly ordained national citizens into ordinary migrants and squatters. The battle raged between creditors and debtors. Between the financial and mercantile coast against the farmers of the inland countryside. Shay’s Rebellion, an intense revolt of the indebted in Massachusetts, resulted in a terrible shock to the new nation. It ended in 1787, having accomplished little. Many migrated back to the larger coastal cities where there was a chance to find work and make money or initiated the great trek inward toward the frontiers.

Regardless of what event or combination of events caused the Lafay/Lafaille family to join other Acadian families in Quebec, they made that journey by the summer of 1788.

Where Did François Come From?

What can we discover about François’s early years, if anything?

I found an undated paper written by Bernard H. Doray from Montreal, Canada, who, unfortunately, appears to be deceased. His paper titled “History of François Lafaye and Marguerite Foret” provides sourced information I have not found elsewhere, for which I’m extremely grateful.

Based on Henrietta Feller’s recollection of what Mary Lafay told her about François in Boston, Bernard questioned how a French man would be able to settle in Boston, given that England and France were at war until the Treaty of Paris in 1763, which ended the conflict between France and Great Britain over control of North America. I had wondered the same thing.

Bernard then states that his nephew discovered a muster roll of a warship, the Grand St-Jean-Baptiste, in the French Naval Archives.

The ship sailed on February 2, 1757, from Bordeaux with an apprentice sailor, “mousse” in French, François Lafaye, age 13, from Puy-Paulin, which is the name of both a Castle and Parish in Bordeaux, France.

François is listed at the bottom of the first column, with a reference number which is found on the following pages.

An age of 13 places this François’s birth in 1743 or 1744 which correlates with our François’s birth year based on his death entry in 1824 where he was stated to be 80 years old.

Click to enlarge images

François was paid 10 somethings, probably livres – the currency of the time. He and three other apprentices were the lowest paid on the ship. There is only one younger boy, age 12. All five of the mousses, apprentice sailors, were between the ages of 12 and 15 and paid either 10 or 12 of whatever.

I can’t help but wonder if these youngest boys were orphans. Most parents would be very reluctant to allow a boy of that age to go to sea, possibly never to return.

It’s worth noting that there is another Guillaume La Faye, a 35-year-old cooper, but he is not from the same location, or even close.

Guillaume was older, from Saint-Remy, finished the campaign, and was discharged at Port-Louis on April 29, 1758.

Saint Remy to Puy-Paulin is quite distant. The commonality is that they are both located very near to major coastal cities. Many men on the ship’s roster were from Bordeaux.

Puy-Paulin

Today, it’s difficult to find the Puy-Paulin castle, at least by that name.

Par Jefunky — Travail personnel, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=112192024

That’s because today, the castle has been converted into the Hotel de l’Intendance.

Here’s the fortified Chateau Puy-Paulin in the city of Bordeaux in 1550.

The view across the rooftops of one of three Roman castle towers in 1638.

In 1743, the castle consisted of several buildings from different periods, joined together in 1744 by a large carriage entrance flanked by two pavilions.

This 1755 map shows the concert hall at the top, which burned, the grove, and the French garden in the center, with the inner courtyard and porte-cochere, where coaches deposited their passengers, at the bottom.

In 1755 or 1756, a fire started from the rooftops. Much was destroyed, but the castle was eventually rebuilt.

I’m unclear whether there was one fire or two, with a second following in 1756. In 1755, François would have been 11, and 12 in 1756. A devastating fire would have affected many people, and François would have been a wide-eyed, possibly terrified, witness.

This 1705 map of Bordeaux shows the plan of the castles and suburbs with surrounding areas.

Assuming that this François Lafaye on the ship’s roster is our guy, this would have been his stomping ground, and he would have witnessed that fire. He may also have been orphaned by it.

This might have been why he signed on, or was signed on, to the ship as an apprentice sailor in 1757. Bordeaux’s bustling Port of The Moon was right there, and assuredly ships were always looking for crew.

In the 1700s, Bordeaux’s Port of the Moon was France’s busiest port, importing coffee, cocoa, sugar, cotton, and indigo, and the second busiest port in the world.

The Port of the Moon on the River Garonne in 1899 shows the “Old Town,” at right, along the river.

The Port of the Moon as seen from the top of the spire of the Saint-Michel church.

Escape!

But that’s not all. Back to Bernard’s article with images I’ve added.

On the same muster roll we read that François escapes from his ship on April 10, 1757, at Cap Français, St-Domingue which is now Cap-Haitien, Haiti.

Cap Francais, at that time a French trading stronghold for both agriculture and slaves, is nestled between the bay and the mountains.

By Andrew Wiseman – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27240803

Remnants of the French colonial architecture can still be seen today. Perhaps François passed by this very building.

The location in Haiti, today.

Bernard continues:

Why does François escape?

He was not alone. About a third of the crew escaped. The role of a young sailor was a dangerous one: they had to run down to the hold of the ship, carry bags of powder up to the cannons and fill them for the gunners to fire them, and to cool the cannons between the firings by the gunners. That was related by the historians at the Museum of Restigouche (a museum to show an excavated war ship sunk in 1760; officially called “Battle of the Restigouche National Historic Site of Canada” at Pointe-à-la-Croix QC). So, they employed young sailors instead of gunners for that dangerous work.

Possibly they sought young sailors with no families to miss them if they didn’t return from that dangerous mission. What happened to those other four young boys on the ship?

According to the roster:

  • The youngest, François Tourete, age 12, “passed on le Greenwich July 12, 1757,” which I presume means he died. He apparently chose not to escape in April. Maybe he should have. If he died on the Greenwich Meridian, it would have been on the return trip because the Greenwich Meridian is nowhere near the Caribbean or the Americas.
  • Jean Paillat, age 15, finished the campaign and was released on April 27, 1758, at Port-Louis.
  • Joseph Lierte, age 15, deserted on April 10, 1757, at Cap-Francais, the same day as François Lafaille and much of the rest of the crew.
  • The record for Andre Micouleau, age 15, says that he embarked at Bordeaux, but then that he never embarked.

Maybe that crossing where one of their young mates died, combined with the reality of warfare, made this less of an adventure and very real. Of the five apprentices, apparently one backed out before leaving, and only one completed the voyage.

Back to Bernard:

An unsettled problem: what happened to François after April 1757? Did he stay in Haiti or did he sail to Boston? How did he live? How did he move from Haiti to Boston?

Note that some Acadians, deported in 1755 from Acadia (Nova Scotia) to the British colonies as the Carolinas, were allowed to leave in 1763 and removed to Haiti.

Those Acadians settled at Mole St-Nicolas which is about 178 km by road from Cap-Haitien, or perhaps an easier journey by boat. Did François somehow meet them? Or, did he catch a ride back on the same ship headed back north?

Unfortunately, the Acadian settlement on Mole Saint-Nicholas was highly unsuccessful, and many of those who survived left with Joseph Broussard in January of 1765 when his ship stopped by on the way to Louisiana. IF, and it’s a big IF, François Lafaye who jumped ship in 1757 managed to make his way to Mole Saint-Nicolas, this might explain his arrival in Louisiana, but that’s not where he surfaced. This does nothing to explain his arrival in Boston or any location on the eastern seaboard.

There might be another explanation, however.

In 1763, Acadians began petitioning the Massachusetts General Court for permission to leave the province with the intention of either returning to Nova Scotia, going to France, St. Domingue (now Haiti,) or Quebec, areas with people who shared their language and culture. On November 28, 1764, the governor declined their petition, but it does show us that the people in Massachusetts were keenly aware of French-speaking Haiti.

With Cap-Francais being the center of Caribbean French maritime trade, it’s certainly within the realm of possibility that François signed on again as a crew member from Haiti to Boston, and remained in Boston, perhaps jumping ship again. Sailing was a dangerous profession, and every ship would have been seeking to replace crew who had died or failed to return to the ship during their most recent voyage.

In 1763, Françoise’s soon-to-be-wife’s family was in Connecticut, not Massachusetts.

Of course, just because Françoise arrived in Boston, assuming that is accurate, which it may not be, doesn’t mean he stayed in Boston. Connecticut has a long shoreline too, and by land, is only about 50 miles or so.

By 1763, François would have been 19 and clearly able to fend for himself. By this time, he had been on his own for six long years and was probably very street savvy.

Back to Bordeaux

Bernard was a persistent researcher and continued his story.

With information on the approximate year and place of birth and the wonderful help of Cercle de Genéalogie du Sud-Ouest (Bordeaux, France), I obtained François’ birth and baptism registration.

On this map, you can see the location of the castle, with the red pin, then the Sainte-Eulalie Catholic church, followed by the Pariosse Saint-Nicholas Catholic church at the bottom. Clearly all within walking distance.

François was born on January 7, 1744, and baptized the next day at St-Nicolas church in Bordeaux. It is not far from Puy-Paulin that he gives as his residence when he joined the navy in 1757. His father is Joseph Lafay, coachman .and his mother is Françoise Germon from Ste-Eulalie parish (next parish).

Sylvie Lord translates his baptism as:

On the 7th of June 1744, was born between 9 and 10 AM, a child of Joseph Lafaye, coachman and Françoise Germon, from Ste-Eulalie parish, was baptised on the 8th of the said month, given the name of François…

Note that St. Nicolas is a Catholic church, which tells us that François was indeed Catholic.

Joseph Lafay(e) and Françoise Germon were married at St. Nicolas on February 11, 1738, in Bordeaux, Gironde, France. The two churches are slightly over half a mile (900 meters) apart, but of course the families may have lived closer.

It’s difficult to get a good picture of this church today because the medieval street is quite narrow and the area densely built. This building, constructed between 1821-1823 is apparently not the original church at this location. I wonder if part of the original church remains within the current one.

The church is beautiful, although I wonder where the cemetery was located. It’s clearly gone today.

The cemetery assuredly existed adjacent to the church at some time. Perhaps beneath the school to the right, or within the walls of the Ministere des Armees to the left, above.

The lettering above the entry gate translates to ancient or old hospital of St. Nicolas which was or is a military hospital.

Is this the street where François lived? Education at that time was under the auspices of the church, so this must have been where he learned to read and write, at least well enough to sign his name, assuming he is our François.

La Rue St. Nicolas is quite narrow, testifying to its antiquity.

The François Lafaye onboard the ship was assuredly this boy who would have been baptized and worshipped in an earlier church in this location.

Did he say his last prayer here before climbing aboard the Grand St-Jean-Baptiste to sail away – a boy in a man’s war?

Was this church damaged or destroyed in the fires? Could he even have worshipped here then, if he had wanted? Or did he attend his maternal grandparent’s church, at least from time to time. Were any of his parents or grandparents still living in 1757?

Did he attend his parents’ funerals here before boarding the ship and embarking on the journey of a lifetime?

Is he “our” François Lafaye?

If so, his mother was probably baptized in the Saint-Eulalie Church just a few blocks away.

You can view several photos of St. Eulalie, one of the oldest churches in Bordeaux, both interior and exterior, here.

This church appears to have had several additions, but the original church was here when Francois’s mother lived.

Today, a tree blooms in the beautiful French springtime.

At some point, the cemetery would have been located beside or to the rear of this church, or perhaps both. Today, it’s gone, but perhaps a few graves remain, tucked into the cloistered arches visible from the side streets.

François’s mother’s ancestors are likely buried someplace here in unmarked graves.

Both churches are mapped in Bordeaux with the Puy-Paulin castle slightly to the north – all easily a 20-25 minute walk end to end. Young boys tend to run. One way or another, that young man’s childhood ended in the late winter or early spring of 1757 when he walked up the ramp to that ship with probably nothing more than a change of clothes – if that.

By Jefunky – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=84352874

Today, this entire area is protected as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Where Do We First Find Our Proven François Lafay?

François Lafay witnessed the marriage of Jean Dupuis and Marie Hébert in 1773 in New England and signed the registration, as stated in the validation of that marriage at St-Jacques – L’Achigan Quebec in 1775. This tells us that François lived in New England, probably in Connecticut, at least until 1773. I surely wish the priest had said where in New England.

Who were the parents of Jean Dupuis and Marie Hebert, and where were they living in 1773? I have been unable to find specific location information, so if anyone knows, please let me know. That would tell us where François was in 1773 too.

Jean-Marie Dupuis died on April 30, 1796, in L’Acadie and was buried at Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie. His parents were Germain Dupuis and Marie Angelique Leblanc. Marie Hebert died on March 12, 1798, and was buried two days later in the same place. Her parents were Joseph Hebert and Madeleine Dupuis.

Interestingly, François Lafay must have been close to this couple because they signed in 1788 as godparents for his son Antoine Hilarie Lafay, and in 1790 as witnesses at the marriage of his daughter, Suzanne Lafay and Honore Lord (the elder) in L’Acadie.

Jean-Marie’s father was Germain Dupuis, and the family was deported to Massachusetts. His father, also Germain, was present in the 1758 census in Nantucket, an island off the shore of Massachusetts. By 1776, they were in Quebec, but François Lafay and his family wouldn’t follow for another dozen years.

Marie Hebert’s father, Joseph Hebert, was found in the Connecticut census on August 14, 1763. This family was in Laprairie, Quebec by 1780.

Somehow, the children of these two families, Jean-Marie Dupuis and Marie Hebert were in the same location in order to court and marry by 1773.

Why did the François Lafay family wait another decade or two after many of the other Acadian families returned to Quebec, beginning in 1766 or so? Why did they return when they did? Marie told the missionary, Henrietta Feller, that her grandparents were upset that they were falling away from the Catholic faith.

Clearly, based on this 1773 marriage record, there was a cluster of Acadians living in close proximity someplace in New England, and François Lafay, with his family, was among them.

If we can find one of them, we find all of them.

Arrival in Quebec

François Lafay and Marguerite Forest’s first nine children were born “in the colonies,” as stated in their baptism records when they were baptized many years later at Sainte-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie.

Françoise, the youngest, was the only child born in the Province of Québec in 1789, and she was baptized the same day. This suggests that François and Marguerite emigrated to the province of Québec between 1786, the last birth in the colonies, and July 9, 1788, the first baptism in Quebec. I’d say it was probably in early 1788, simply because another child should have been born in early 1788, and there is no record of a baptism. Sadly, this suggests the child was born and died before they arrived in Quebec, with their next child, Françoise, being born on January 11, 1789.

They settled at Sainte-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie, where many Acadians found refuge upon return from exile.

The first actual record of François LaFay in Quebec is the baptism of three of his children on the same day, July 9, 1788 at the Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie church in L’Acadie.

His youngest child was Pierre Clement Lafay, age 2, so born before July 9th in 1786 or after that date in 1785.

He signed all three of his children’s baptisms as François Lafay.

Bernard reveals that the next record of François Lafay is on September 29, 1788 in the presence of Notaire Jean-Baptiste Grisé. François rented a farm in L’Acadie from James Waite and is described as a resident of L’Acadie, Quebec. Clearly they were setting up housekeeping.

I sure wish I knew where that farm was.

In 1789, three more of François’s older children were baptized. I wonder why those three weren’t baptized with the others in 1788. Was there a cost to the family or donation required for these baptisms?

On January sixth Seventeen Hundred Eighty Nine, I, priest undersigned, baptized conditionally Marie, age twenty-one, Marguerite, age nineteen, and Suzanne, age sixteen and ten months, daughters of François La Faye and of Marguerite Foret. The godfather and godmother of Marie were Laurent Roy and Isabelle Bro, his wife, undersigned. The godfather and godmother of Marguerite were Pierre Lavoie and Marie Anne Melanson, his wife. The godfather and godmother of Suzanne were Pierre Trahant and Euphrosine Leroux. [These last] godfathers and godmothers declared that they were unable to sign. The baptized girls signed with us.

/s Lamité, priest, Laurent Roy, Isabelle bro, Marie Lafay, Margit Lafay, Suzanne Lafay, Françoise Lafay.

Again, he signs as François Lafay. Based on their signatures, his daughters had been educated too.

On August 10th, 1789, Marie Lafay married Honore Lore, of the Acadian Lore/Lord family. Again, he signed as François Lafay. His son, also named Francois, then 13, signed with them and can be distinguished from his father because the F in François is fancy, and the signature is different. All of his children signed as Lafay.

The next record we have of François Lafay is his own marriage rehabilitation that occurred in Ste.-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie in Quebec in 1792. It’s like the family was catching up on all the loose ends from exile.

This record states that they were married on November 10, 1767 in New England before a justice of the peace because of the lack of availability of a priest.

We know that Marie’s parents were in Connecticut in 1763, and there’s no evidence to suggest they were elsewhere four years later. There’s very little evidence from this time period for the Acadians.

Translation from Father John:

Marriage of François Lafay and Marguerite Foret , Ste Marguerite de Blairfindie, L’Acadie, St-Jean, Quebec

On the twenty-third of June, Seventeen Hundred Ninety Two, I, undersigned, received the mutual consent of François Lafay and of Marguerite Foret, who pledged their troth (promis ensemble) before a justice of the peace in the Colonies, for lack of a priest, on the year Seventeen Hundred Sixty Seven*, this in the presence and in the form prescribed by Our Holy Mother the Church of Rome.  The groom signed along with me; the bride declared that she was unable to sign.  /s/ N. J. Lancto, priest   /s/ François Lafay

*On the tenth of November of the said year.

We know that François was educated because he could sign his name and so could at least some of his children. They always signed Lafay. The name Lafaille appears in his 2nd marriage record in 1819, which he did not sign, and in subsequent notarial records, but not earlier records.

I take this as evidence, combined with the French records, assuming they are for him, that his surname really was Lafay, with Lafaille evolving later. I originally presumed that Lafay was anglicized, but I obviously assumed wrong.

Farmer

François was a farmer, as noted in several records, and a laborer, as noted in his daughter Julie’s 1801 marriage record.

However in his daughter Marie-Anne’s 1806 marriage record he was listed as a “huissier” which Bernard, a native French speaker, translated as a Captain and wonders if he was a Captain in the militia.

We know Françoise lived in L’Acadie along the Richelieu River for three+ decades beginning in 1788, based on what happened in 1819.

But first, he would witness and possibly participate in the War of 1812, at 68 years of age. If he was a captain, the only other option would have been the Revolutionary War, but he was not living in Canada then, and I find no records of any similar name at Fold3 for either war.

War of 1812

Bernard first reported that François Lafay or Lafaille might have been a Captain in the Militia based on his daughter’s 1806 marriage record. He states that conditions were deteriorating between Canada and USA, and the war would start in 1812. At Pierre-Clément’s wedding in 1810, the same priest officiating does not give that title to François. Another translator who was not a native French-speaker questioned whether huissier was actually “bailiff.” Google translate as well as DeepL says the same thing.

I’m not quite sure what a bailiff did in Quebec at that time.

At the outset of the War of 1812, Quebec City was fortified with 2,300 regulars. Engagements occurred elsewhere, much closer to home. In 1812, the war raged along the Niagara frontier, but by 1813, 5,000 men had gathered between Lake Champlain and Montreal, right in the L’Acadie region along the Richelieu River. This would certainly give François ample reason to be concerned and potentially involved.

At this time, remember that Great Britain held Canada and the US was fighting against the British.

A letter from a US Infantry Officer dated November 16, 1813, explains their battle plans:

This is perhaps the last time you will hear from me at this place, if ever. We are preparing for a march, which will take place in a few days. It is intended to make an attack on Lower Canada [Quebec] immediately. We march without baggage or tents, and everything we carry will be on our backs, and the Heavens and a blanket our only covering, till we take winter quarters by force of arms. Our force is very respectable, say 6 or 7 thousand, and all in high spirits. The fatigues we expect to undergo will be equal to those experienced by our revolutionary heroes, till we arrive at Montreal.

Several years ago, cousin Paul posted on RootsWeb about Bernard, as follows:

I was directed by Bernard Doray to the marriage record for Marie Anne Lafay who married François Lord, June 6, 1806, St. Marguerite de Blairfindie. In this record François Lafay is listed as an officer. I then found through a google book search a book that listed François Lafay as being an officer who served in the Canadian militia (at L’Acadie) for Britain in the war of 1812 (he would have been in his early 70’s). So two differnet sources refer to him being an officer.

This likely confirmed for me what Prof. Stephen White had written to me that François Lafay was most likely educated as François signed his name “François Lafay” as someone educated in English would have signed. If François was an officer, he most likely would have then been educated.

I’m still searching for more background on François Lafay. Quebec records indicate a Boston connection (area of Boston could mean the whole of New England). Prof. White suspects a Connecticut connection, as that was the location Marguerite and her family had been exiled in the deportation. I have tried searching various records here in Massachusetts and in Connecticut but have had no success.

If I have missed anything, please let me know,

Paul Drainville

I found the book, Officers of the British Forces in Canada During the War of 1812-1815 where François Lafay is in fact mentioned as a Lieutenant, not a Captain, in the L’Acadie Battalion.

While this certainly could be our François, it’s more likely to be his son, François, born in 1776. The younger man would be 36 years old, not 68, which would make much more sense, but is still inconclusive.

I was unable to find additional information about François Lafay and the War of 1812, but you can read more about what transpired in that area here and here.

Whether he fought or was a militia member, that warfare near his home and potentially on his land would have clearly affected him.

The American forces mustered in Lake Champlain and prepared for the Battle of Chateauguay, shown above. That battle was followed a few days later by the Battle of Crysler’s farm.

The American troops marched up the Richelieu River beginning on September 19th, 1813, right through L’Acadie at St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, headed for Montreal.

Soldiers marched by day and passed in boats by night, fully intending to take what they needed from any source they could find – striking terror into the hearts of the residents. François was 69 years old and had spent much of his life surrounded by one conflict or another.

We don’t know what happened to the family during this time, other than they survived. He dodged this bullet, but another one wasn’t too far in the future.

François Loses His Wife

Sadly, François’s wife, Marguerite passed away on February 16, 1819, at 71 years of age. They had been married more than 51 years and brought at least 11 and probably 13 children into the world together.

All of their children who survived to adulthood had married, except one. We don’t know what happened to Angelique who was born about 1789 after she signed as a witness to her sister Brigitte’s marriage in 1798. The other possibility is that Angelique was a middle name of a different child.

Marriage Times Two

Nine months later, on November 22nd, François married Madeleine Lépine, daughter of Adrien Legris Lépine and Marie Thibodeau and widow of Antoine Jacques Paquet. If this was like most farming communities, everyone involved had known each other “forever,” so there wasn’t much getting to know each other that needed to happen.

But this wasn’t destined to be just any plain vanilla wedding – but a very special one.

François’s granddaughter, Marie Elizabeth Lore, through daughter Marie Lafay who married Honore Lore, was married on the same day, in the same church, to Jean-Baptiste Leveque at the Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie church in L’Acadie.

This just couldn’t be any sweeter.

François was 75, and his bride, Madeleine, was 30 years younger.

His granddaughter, Marie Elizabeth Lore was 26 years old – almost half a century difference, yet marrying under the adoring eye of her grandfather, perhaps at the same altar.

Did grandfather and granddaughter have one ceremony, a double wedding, together, or did they have two separate weddings, one after the other?

I can close my eyes and see François walking his beaming granddaughter down the aisle towards the front of the church where they both stood beside their betrothed who would soon become their spouses.

The priest would then begin the Celebration of Matrimony.

Just look at this beautiful church where this family baptized their children, married, worshipped and yes, buried their dearly departed.

Generations of François’s extended family would probably have filled the entire sanctuary that glorious Monday.

November 22 of 1819 was certainly a day of celebration for four generations of the Lafaille family. If everyone was in attendance, François would have had more than 118 descendants wishing him well. Many of his grandchildren would have attended with babes in arms. Just four days later, his next great-grandchild would join the flock. I haven’t been able to trace all of his descendants, especially families who moved, so there could certainly have been even more, and that number of descendants swells significantly in the years to come, and in future generations.

Not bad for a man who arrived on these shores as a functional, if not an actual, orphan sometime in the late 1750s or early 1760s.

François Passes Over

François continued farming until his death on June 16, 1824

Father John’s translation:

Burial #44 François Lafaille

On the sixteenth of June, Eighteen Hundred Twenty Four, I, priest undersigned, buried in the cemetery of this parish the body of François Lafaille, farmer, who died the day before yesterday (avant hier) having received the sacraments of the Church. He was eighty years of age, the husband of Magdeleine Lépine. Present Jean Baptiste Dubé, and three others who declared that they were unable to sign, upon inquiry.

A. Brais, priest

Was Jean-Baptiste Dube perhaps the son of Jean-Baptiste Dupuis, François’s very long-time friend from back in the colonies?

Of course, the priests didn’t give the cause of death then, although how I wish they had. However, I wonder if something was going on in the Acadian community. François’ adult daughter Marguerite had died just a month earlier, on May 10th. Maybe cholera or dysentery, both of which are more pronounced in hot weather. Or perhaps his daughter’s untimely death just pushed him over the edge.

Inventory

François’s belongings were inventoried the following year, probably after the crops were in. I wonder why that process took so long – 14 months. His last crops would have been harvested in the fall of 1824.

Madeleine didn’t pass away until April 14, 1833. If she had an inventory, would it reflect his things?

This notarial record dated August 3, 1825, in Iberville, Quebec corresponds with the actual inventory, here.

I cannot translate this document, so if anyone else has a translated version, I’d be very grateful if you would post it in the comments or reach out, even if it’s in French. My issue is the script combined with a language I’m unfamiliar with. I can do a typed French to English translation.

Someone on WikiTree posted a brief summary:

On 3 August 1825, an inventory of the deceased’s property was drawn up by notary Laurent Archambault. His modest possessions included tools, books, a cow, and 28 sheep.

I can’t help but wonder which books François owned. Would I possibly be lucky to find an actual list? The fact that he owned books further confirms that he didn’t just learn to write his name, but was literate and read. What we read says so much about us.

The bottom of the third page of the inventory includes signatures.

These were difficult for me to decipher. I find it strange that all of his children and his wife signed with a mark. We know that at least some of them signed their names to earlier documents.

You can tell that the names are spelled phonetically too. Lafaille vs Lafay.

Column 1

  • François Lafaille
  • Antoine Hilaire Lafaille
  • Marie Anne Lafaille (who was married to François Lore who died on December 13, 1824)
  • Dufaula who is probably Joseph Duphaut who married daughter Marguerite Lafay who died May 11, 1824.

Column 2

  • Magdeleine LePine – his widow
  • Honore Lord – married to daughter Marie/Mary Lafay
  • Marie Lafaille – who is married to Honore Lord – but why did they both sign?

This begs the question of the rest of the children.

I’m not familiar with the legal requirements in Quebec at this time, but several questions come to mind.

  • Were all the heirs required to sign?
  • Were only the people inheriting something required to sign?
  • Why did Honore Lore/Lord and his wife, Marie Lafaille both sign when both people of other married couples didn’t sign? Does that tell us something important?
  • What does it tell us about the children or their spouses that didn’t sign?

What About the Others?

Three living children are missing from this document.

  • Bridget married Pierre Gamache, and by mid-1825, the family’s baptisms and marriages were being carried out at St-Cyprien-de-Lery in Napierville, Quebec. They moved sometime after 1822, but why didn’t they come back to sign this document? Is there something in this document, written in French, that addresses this question? Both Bridget and Pierre were both living in 1825.
  • We only find one record of Angelique as a witness on her sister Bridget’s 1798 marriage, so it’s possible that she had passed away or Angelique was actually someone else who used a middle or other name.
  • However, we know that the youngest child, Françoise Lafay married Pierre Granger and died in 1866. Both people were alive in 1825 and their children were being baptized at Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie, so they were clearly still in the area. Why didn’t they sign?

Two other children were missing. One had died, but it’s unknown if the second child was living. But both had living descendants. Would their descendants be entitled to anything and therefore need to sign?

Were the signers simply attesting to the accuracy of the inventory – or are they attesting to an inherited share of those assets?

  • Daughter Suzanne Lafay died in 1803, and her husband died in 1818. Were any of her five living children entitled to or received anything?
  • We don’t know if daughter Julie Lafay who married Ignace Laporte Denis was living or not, nor if he was. We do know that at least two of her daughters were living in 1825, because they married later, and one son was possibly living as well. What about those children?

In Summary

We do have some direct evidence of François’s life.

It appears certain, based on his own signature many times that his surname was originally Lafay or Lafaye, not Lafaille as it was later spelled in Quebec. I had assumed it was Lafaille, but I now believe it was Lafay based on François’s signatures.

He spelled his surname consistently throughout his life. It was only others, meaning various priests and the notarial record that spelled it Lafaille, although some descendants in later generations adopted that spelling.

We know that François married in the colonies in 1767, probably in Connecticut, where his wife’s family lived, and that he died in Quebec in 1824. Thanks to that record that says he was 80 years old, we know he was born in or at least about 1744. Given that he died in the middle of June, he would have been born either after June 14, 1743 or before June 14, 1744. That meshes perfectly with the January 7, 1744 birth in Bordeaux, France, of the child sailor François Lafaye.

We know that our François had arrived in Quebec by the summer of 1788, but probably not much earlier.

Most of his children were born in “New England,” and frustratingly, not one single record anyplace says WHERE in New England.

We have the information from missionary Henrietta Feller, who tells us François was a French sailor who somehow wound up in Boston. That’s a rather unusual story, so I’d tend to believe at least the sailor portion is accurate, and perhaps Boston as well. If he was a sailor, it’s likely he lived in relatively close proximity to the sea in France.

Thanks to Bernard’s work, we know there’s one François Lafay, spelled exactly the way François repeatedly signed his own name, who was born in Bordeaux on January 7, 1744. That young man’s father’s name was Joseph and his mother was Françoise. Our  François did have a daughter named François, but no son named Joseph, although that would have been one of the children that died in New England.

The François in Bordeaux signed onto a French ship as a young apprentice sailor in 1757, apparently only to discover that sailing life wasn’t for him. Of course, being the youngest with the least experience, he had the worst possible job combined with the lowest pay.

He deserted, or probably more aptly, ran away, in a French port in what is now Haiti as soon as the ship reached shore, along with about one-third of the rest of the crew. He very probably saved his own life.

If that young man is our François Lafay and somehow reached Boston, or someplace else along the eastern seaboard to find kinship with the Acadians is still a matter of conjecture.

We simply don’t know.

What we do know is the few facts we have do fit the profile for the young French sailor, but don’t constitute proof. Would there be church or notarial records in France that would shine light on that François Lafay? How would we go about finding those records?

There are other Lafaille or Lafay men in France, but none born in 1743 or 1744, and none in close proximity to a port. Of course, not all records are available online, and many were destroyed due to fires or war.

Clearly, there are blanks in our François’s life begging to be filled in, but we have nothing with which to patch those holes today.

Our best bet would be to have a Y-DNA match to a Lafay man, or even a man of any surname in Bordeaux.

Need Lafay or Lafaille Man for Y-DNA Test

For that to happen, I need a Lafay or Lafaille man who descends from François to take a Y-DNA test. François had three sons, two of whom had male descendants.

If that’s you, or one of your male relatives descends from François through an unbroken line of all males, I have a fully paid Y-DNA testing scholarship for you at FamilyTreeDNA. Please reach out, and maybe we can resolve another piece of François’s ancestry.

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Fixing the Tractor on Father’s Day – 52 Ancestors #402

The thunder is rumbling as I pen this, awash in memories, thinking of Dad and all those humid summer storms down on the farm. The liquid sunshine, as my Dad used to call rain, is running down the outside of my windows, and the skies are rumbling like Thor is arriving for a visit any moment.

BOOM!!!

The lights flicker off and on.

Back at home, on the farm, we’d lose power with storms often, and it might just stay off for days. That was just kind of normal.

We had the old hand pump outside for water for the house, and one at the barn, too, to water the livestock, plus the stream, of course.

We usually kept the lights off anyway because they generated heat, and Heaven knows, we certainly didn’t need any more of that.

By the time Father’s Day rolled around, we had celebrated our romance with the arrival of summer three weeks earlier, over Memorial Day, and it had probably been over 90 and maybe over 100 degrees at least once.

Worse yet, it had probably not dropped below 80 with someplace around 110% humidity for several nights in a row. You woke up sweating.

Yea, we were tired of the heat of summer already, and summer was just beginning. Actually, technically, it wasn’t even summer yet.

On Father’s Day morning, just like every other morning, Dad would get up at the crack of dawn – and I mean exactly that. The earlier you went out to do chores, the cooler it was, but you couldn’t do chores in the dark.

Every farmer wore overalls and muck boots, no matter how hot it was, along with a farm cap from the seed store or grain mill to keep the sweat from running into their eyes.

I’m sure air conditioning had been invented, but we didn’t know anyone who had AC. Our version of AC was going to the basement, barefoot, so your feet could touch the cool concrete.

Maybe we’d fill up the bucket with water from the pump that was cool coming out of the ground and stick our feet in there. That always felt good too. So did a cold shower or just a shower from the hose outside.

The guys always shaved their heads, and us females, we either had very short hair or hair long enough to pull up in a ponytail. I think my hair still has permanent rubber band lines.

Mom always tried to drag us to church on Father’s Day Sunday, but the only thing hotter than staying home was dressing up and going to church.

She’d always say that it was “cool enough” because we could roll the windows in the car down on the way home, but not on the way because you didn’t want to mess your hair up. We used to call that 455 air conditioning, a pun on a Chevy 455 engine. Roll all four windows down and drive 55. Mom just rolled her eyes at us.

Mom wasn’t terribly pleased that I loved to work on cars and, um, race them. Not pleased at all, actually. It wasn’t “ladylike.” Truth be told, I could outrun and outdrive my brother and pretty much anyone else too, but that’s a different story. My Dad, on the other hand, was always quite helpful and glad that at least ONE of his children was useful with tools. I loved working at the barn with my Dad on anything that needed fixing.

And that’s what saved us from those sweltering Sundays praying for church to be over because it was literally as hot as Hades in there with no windows open.

The church came equipped with those “funeral fans” as we called them.

We called them funeral fans because the funeral homes would print ads on one side about how lovingly they would treat your dearly departed family members, like anyone was going to say – “Hey someone, run up to the church and see whose ad is on the back of that fan.” I guess they hoped that if you waved it in front of your face for an hour every week, you might remember their name. Generally, the church required a religious picture on the other side and of course the funeral homes paid for the fans and all the printing for the privilege of placing them in the pews.

Truthfully, no one cared what was on them, on either side, and when it was hot, there were enough fans whirring to power a spaceship.

Dad hated to dress up, and so did I, but I think Mom thought we’d be eternally damned to Hell if we missed one Sunday. Occasionally though, the farm and earning a living took precedence. We’d just have to ask forgiveness.

You know, sometimes that pesky old, antiquated tractor we had broke on Father’s Day. Dad needed help fixing it. I know just how much Dad hated to miss church, and of course, being the good daughter that I was, I sacrificed and stayed home to help him.

Generally, after Mom left, we’d have a cup of coffee to prepare ourselves for the ordeal.

Well, officially, he had a cup of coffee because I was not supposed to have coffee. I wasn’t old enough. Mom’s rules. So my “coffee” was mostly milk and sugar – pretty much what we call a Latte today.

But you know, since it was Father’s Day and all, I couldn’t let Dad drink coffee alone😊

Mom was never as hot as we were either, so we’d adjust the fan and turn it on full speed if we stayed inside for our coffee.

Often, especially when it was really hot, we went outside and sat in the peaceful shade of the old tree on the glider and matching metal chair.

Well, if you count rust as a matching decorative element.

I think we communed more with God on the farm, under the tree, watching the corn, soybeans, ferns, and iris grow than we ever did in church, but that’s just me.

As the sun rose halfway up the sky, we’d comment about how hot it was getting to be. One of us would squint and try to see the thermometer nailed to the side of the house by the window. We’d wonder out loud if one or the other of us thought it was going to rain.

If so, it wouldn’t be in the morning and generally not at noon either.

We often had violent storms in the afternoon and evening. No weather forecasts back then. We just expected that it might happen.

Tornados. Those were nothing to mess with. I remember watching those wall clouds approach from the west and the worried look on Dad’s brow. Every now and again, he’d be staring at the west sky and quietly say, “Bobbi, get the dog,” and I knew EXACTLY what that meant. He didn’t want to panic Mom just yet, but we were preparing, just in case.

Farm families welcomed soft, gentle morning summertime rains. Those violent drenchers, not so much. They washed out seeds, ruined crops, sometimes laying them flat, and the hail associated with those storm cells stripped the leaves right off the plants.

Sometime around 10:30 or 11 on Father’s Day morning, Dad would say, “Well, Bobbi, let’s go work on that tractor.” We’d both grin at each other, then get up and wander down the path to the barn.

The tractor was wherever it broke, so Dad would get some tools out of his old toolbox that he made out of scrap lumber and a wrench or two, and we’d go out and pound and twist on some things. I’d climb up in the seat and pull on a couple of handles, one of which was the choke.

Sometimes the tractor needed a tune-up.

Dad would tell me to try to start it. Then he’d pound on something else, trying not to smash a finger.

“Try again,” he’d say.

Sometimes adding extra fuel helped too.

Eventually, we’d get old Bessie running again, and I’d drive that temperamental old red tractor with almost no paint into the barn. Dad had been making his own parts and patching that tractor together for so many years that it was old when I was young, and it was just as old after Dad passed away. It never seemed to get any older, nor did it ever really run right.

Dad never saw any benefit to buying a newfangled tractor because he knew how to fix the old one, and besides, he had me to help him.

After the tractor was fixed, Dad and I would head up to the house and start the charcoal grill. That’s back in the days when you had to light the charcoal and let it burn down for at least half an hour or 45 minutes. It was true charcoal, not propane, and you wanted it to be hot but not actually burning. Hot enough to have a grey ash coating.

We always asked Dad what he wanted for Father’s Day dinner, since he didn’t get to have any of whatever they were serving at church, and his answer was always the same.

Hamburgers.

And he meant on the grill. That was a given.

We grilled a lot in the summer to keep the kitchen cool. Hamburgers weren’t nearly as good in the winter.

So, Dad started the charcoal, and I went inside to wash up and make nice thick hamburger patties by rolling hamburger into balls, then smooshing it between the palms of my hands. I often chopped some onion first, and Dad would slice about a quarter inch of butter off the stick – we only ever had real butter back then – and stuck it inside the hamburger patty in the center.

“Don’t tell your Mom,” he’d say, and we’d chuckle. It was always our secret, even when Mom wondered aloud why his burgers were always better than hers. She wouldn’t have wanted the extra fat. The only time we ever had extra butter in our burgers was when the tractor broke on Sunday.

That’s why we always started dinner, as lunch was called on the farm, while she was at church on Sundays when that old tractor broke, needed fixing, and we had to work on it.

By the time Mom got home, the patties were prepared and ready to go on the grill, the fire was ready, and as soon as we heard the car slow down on the road and the crunch of gravel in the driveway, we’d start them grilling.

Mom would tell us how hot it was at church, and how miserable it had been, then go inside to change out of those sweaty clothes, including “nylons.” You never went to church back then without wearing a nice dress, makeup, and nylon stockings. Some Sundays you also wore white gloves but not in the summer because you were sweating too much to get them off and on.

Dad and I were still in our work clothes.

When Mom came out after changing clothes, she said she hoped it wasn’t too hot and miserable down in the barn where we had to work.

Nope, Mom, it was wonderful, actually.

Just the perfect Father’s Day, helping Dad on the farm.

We grilled the burgers, sliced fresh tomatoes from the garden, made iced tea, ate, and laughed together. Then we gave Dad his gifts which were usually handmade and sometimes humorous. He always told us we shouldn’t. We did anyway, of course.

Later, we made ice cream in the old crank ice-cream maker.

After dinner, Dad, the dog, and his rescued three-legged cat, Frosty, would take a nap while Mom and I redded up the dishes.

Sometimes, looking out the kitchen window over the fields as I methodically washed the dishes, my mind wandered, and I wondered what the future held. It never occurred to me, at least not yet, that my life would one day be very different someplace else, and very far away. I couldn’t imagine leaving Dad, the tractor, and the farm, but he could. He saw a horizon that I couldn’t see. He was preparing me, even though I didn’t realize it.

I knew how much I loved Dad – probably even extra because he was my stepfather and chose me as his daughter – but I didn’t understand the depths of his love for me.

On those Father’s Days, we honored and appreciated Dad, but not nearly enough. I wouldn’t realize quite how wise and wonderful he was until after those storm clouds had gathered, descended upon us, and whisked him away.

When you’re making memories, you often don’t realize it in the moment. You’re just doing what you’re doing. The memories make themselves.

The sweaty summer days fixing tractors and the mundane life of yesterday became the precious memories we long to touch just one more time.

Just one more Sunday.

One more Father’s Day.

One more broken tractor to fix.

One more cup of coffee.

One more smile, Dad.

Just one more.

Just a few more minutes.

I love and miss you, Dad.

I always will.

It was only decades later, with those early days having faded into long-ago misty memories, that I realized just how exquisitely perfect they were.

And that Dad got EXACTLY what he wanted for Father’s Day, which had absolutely nothing to do with a broken tractor.

Jullien Lor (c1752-1724); La Montagne, A Mountain of a Man – 52 Ancestors #401

Jullien signed his own name as Jullien Lor on a list of men taking a Loyalty oath in 1690. Interestingly, that given name is normally spelled Julien, with one l, but he signed his name with two. Spelling generally, including names, was not standardized at that time. I’ve normalized it to Julien for this article since that’s how you’ll see it spelled in most places.

In following generations, his surname is spelled Lord, among other ways, but there is no official parish record of the Lord surname at all in Port Royal, Acadia. The surname is found in various records for Julien and his sons as L’Or, Lor, Laure, Lore, and his dit name, La Montagne. L’or translates to “gold” in English.

Much about Julien’s life remains a mystery.

What Do We Actually Know About Julien Lor?

Julien was obviously literate, which means he had some level of education in France. He was not an impoverished street urchin and probably learned to read and write in a Catholic school instructed by priests.

According to the Encyclopedia Britannica:

In Catholic countries, such as France, the Roman church retained control of education. Indeed, as monarchy became more absolute, so largely did the authority of the church in matters of education. In France, practically all schools and universities were controlled by so-called teaching congregations or societies, the most famous and powerful of which during the first half of the 17th century was the Society of Jesus. By mid-century, the Jesuits had 14,000 pupils under instruction in Paris alone; their colleges (not including universities) all over the land numbered 612.

We don’t know where Julien was born, although his signature on the petition required of the French Acadians by the British strongly suggests that he is French. In fact, I’d go so far as to say we’ve confirms it.

Not only is his name spelled with the Aigu accent over the e, which is common in French names, but had he NOT been French, he would not have been required to sign that document.

He may well have been named after the Catholic Saint Julian the Hospitaller.

I checked Filae, a site that contains a plethora of French records. There are no Lor, L’or, Lore, or Laur, but there are Laurent and Laurens. Without a subscription, I can’t see more.

MyHeritage records reflect either trees or non-relevant records. Maybe someday!

We don’t know where Julien was from in France or exactly when he was born, but we do have some idea about his birth year.

Bless the Census Takers, For They Have Saved My Sanity

The first actual record we find that includes Julien is the Port Royal 1686 census which was recorded by “Monsieur De Meulles, Intendant of New France and All the People of Beaubassin, Rivière St-Jean, Port-Royal, Isle Persée and other Colonies of Acadia where he himself visited all of the Habitations at the beginning of the year 1686.”

In this census, Julien is shown as age 33, married to Charlotte Girouard, who is 26, with four children. Alexander is 10, Jacques 8, Pierre 5, and Marie, age 1.

This tells us that Julien was born about 1653. It also tells us that he was in Port Royal at least 11 years earlier, by 1675, because he has a 10-year-old son. Assuming that Charlotte’s age is accurate, that means either she was not his first wife, or she was 16 when Alexander was born. Charlotte Anne Girouard is listed as Anne, age 12, in the 1671 census with her family, so he did not marry her in France.

Unfortunately, Julien and Anne are missing from the 1678 census. They are not with her parents, nor are they listed separately. Some things never change about census takers.

When Did Julien Arrive?

That’s a great question.

On a website no longer available, but that I accessed using the Wayback Machine, here, auto-translated by Google from French, Julien Lord is listed by that author as a soldier in the Carnigan company of soldiers. He’s noted as being born in Normandy in 1652, probably based on the regiment’s history. The website states that they reconstructed Julien’s life using the census and his children’s records.

What they don’t say directly is whether they actually found something to suggest Julien was a soldier, or it’s presumed.

Based on a list of the San Sebastian’s crew in 1665, here, Julien is not listed, but there is one person listed under the nickname, La Montagne, that translates as “mountain.” The dit part of the name translates to “said.” In other words, that person is called “mountain.”

Julien and his sons are all listed by the name of “La Montagne” in the 1707 and 1714 censuses. In case there’s doubt about him actually being known by that name, his wife Anne Charlotte’s death record clears that up.

It’s still a leap of faith equating a man listed only as “La Montagne” on a roster as Julien, although it is possible, and he clearly was listed by that name, without a first name, at least twice in the census.

According to information cousin Mark unearthed, several different men over time have been listed by that dit nickname.

What does the website say about Julien?

He was born in Normandy in 1652; He married Anne-Charlotte Girouard (1660/1741) in 1675 in Port-Royal, Acadia, daughter of François Girouard, dit Lavaranne and Jeanne Aucoin. In 1686, he was on the land of François Girouard, his father-in-law. In August 1695, he was among the 47 heads of families of Port-Royal who took an oath of loyalty to William of Orange, King of England. In 1714, the home of Julien Lord was located very close to the fort. He died between February 17 and May 3, 1724. The act of burial remains unfinished.

They do note that Julien, at age 13, seems young for a soldier, but also state that a boy could marry at age 13, boys were found on board fishing and warships by age 9, and the English army included 12-year-olds.

If he actually was 13, he sailed away, never to see any of his family again. How heartbreaking for him.

Information provided about the ship, auto-translated to English:

Embarked on board the ship Le Saint-Sébastien from La Rochelle on May 24, 1665 Arrived in Quebec on September 12, 1665

(117 days of crossing, embarcation included)

According to a letter from Jean Talon au Roy, it would also seem that he made a stopover near Tadoussac and it was only from there that the disease would have fallen on the ship, there are up to 80 patients.

(Sources: Relationship, Talon, Register.)

Return of the Laubias company in 1670:

This company will return with new soldiers and a few old ones, some of whom will settle in New France. According to Colbert de Terron, the soldiers of Laubias’ company embarked on the ship Hirondelle around mid-April 1670 (letter from Colbert de Terron dated May 1, 1670). Moreover, according to the “Report of François Baudry, captain of the Hirondelle, belonging to the king, on fishing on Percée Island and Newfoundland”, p. 25, L’Hirondelle is said to have gone “fishing for dry fish on the isle percée in the new land and would have arrived there quite happily on the seventeenth of June.”

Moreover, Colbert de Terron (in this same letter dated May 1, 1670) affirms that the ship New France would have left towards the end of April (“two days ago” compared to the writing of his letter of May 1, 1670). Moreover, if I believe the “Report of Alain Durand, captain of New France, on his trip to Quebec”, p. 28, New France is said to have left at the end of April 1670 and “would have been to the island breakthrough by order of His Majesty to take soldiers who were there in the name of the island. of two hundred men to lead them to d. place of quebec where they would have arrived on xxj. July “.

After a quick analysis of these sources (attached), it seems to me that the company of Laubias would probably have embarked on the Hirondelle in mid-April 1670 bound for “Isle Percée” and would have docked there towards June 22, 1670. From there, the company of Laubias would have embarked on board New France in destination of Quebec and would have arrived there on July 20, 1670.

Laubias’ company would then have established itself in Nicolet. See Histoire de Nicolet, pp 35 to 50, from Abbé Bellemare:

Research by Mr. Martin L’Epine whom we thank.

Based on the other soldiers, specifically the soldiers who remained, they were in Three Rivers in Quebec, not in Port Royal. How would Julien have gotten to Port Royal?

From the book One Hundred French-Canadian Family Histories by Phillip James Moore, using Google Books, we find the following excerpt.

Moore suggests Julien may have arrived in 1668 when he was 14 or in 1670 when he would have been 18.

If he arrived with any of these groups, he would clearly have been a soldier at Fort Anne.

Seaward view from the ramparts of the Fort Anne National Historic site where Julien likely began life in Acadia.

Karen Theriot Reader weighs in as follows:

Could he be the Julien Lord la Montagne among the names of soldiers in the Carignan-Salieres Regiment? They served between 1665 and 1668. Did he come to Acadia after that?

Residences: While some soldiers and officers of the Carignan regiment did settle in Acadia, they are not included in the soldier-settler list, because little factual information is known about them or their descendants, for lack of records from this area at that time.

From cousin Mark regarding Julien arriving with Carignan:

The list Sylvain (another cousin) referenced and the source cited is the French website. Even if one accepts that a 13-year-old can be a soldier that traveled by ship to Quebec, there is no evidence nor any proffered detail that he later journeyed somehow to Port-Royal. Moreover, I still see no Julien Lord with any similar surname on any of the lists I’ve checked. This includes Peter Gagné’s list at La Société des Filles du roi et soldats du Carignan, as well as from Jack Verney’s book that I have, “The Good Regiment.” Verney lists a soldier identified only by the dit name Lamontagne as with the Loubias company. As Peter Gagné pointed out in his excellent master’s thesis on the Regiment, “Nicknames were not exclusive to one individual” and lists, among other dit names that of Lamontagne for six soldiers across different companies.

Where I think there exists some confusion between what Sylvain wrote and WikiTree, is that Le Saint-Sébastien was also the name of the ship, and possibly the same one from 1665, that carried Hector d’Andigné de Grandfontaine first to Boston and then to Pentagöuet, now Penobscot, Maine, to take possession of the forts the English had previously captured. He sent his second-in-command to Port Royal which surrendered on September 2, 1670. He had been appointed the new governor of Acadia, and there were soldiers onboard with him, possibly including Julien Lord. But again, from what I can determine, and otherwise it would have been of great news for Acadian genealogists, there was no roster or passenger list for that voyage. Sylvain wrote that he arrived with the ship on September 2, so it is this voyage that Sylvain refers to not that of the 1665 voyage of the Carignan Regiment to Québec. Maybe he was familiar with a roster I’m not aware of.

This, from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography on d’Andigné,

In addition to the soldiers and indentured employees who had arrived with the governor, the Oranger brought 60 passengers the following year, among them one woman and four girls, and the court paid 100 livres each for their passage and their setting-up. The soldiers seemed to like the country, for in the following years some 15 thought of settling there. It is impossible to determine exactly how many new settlers took up residence in Acadia at that time, but it was certainly the greatest number to arrive since the time of Razilly and d’Aulnay.

The 1671 Census of Acadia is incomplete as it only listed habitants, not others, including the soldiers stationed there. I do suspect Julien Lord may have been among them. An outstanding researcher of La Rochelle sailings to New France is Guy Perron who writes up his research in a blog that is a gold mine for this type of information.

I’ve quickly searched for the 1670 sailing of the Saint-Sébastien and did not find it, but will continue to look, through his 355 articles and elsewhere.

What Was Happening?

Mark’s comment about the 1671 census omitting soldiers at the Fort is quite important. Julien is NOT found in that census, nor the 1678 census, but we know he was already married by 1675 and had a son in 1676.

So, what was going on in Acadia, the land where Julien arrived, somehow, adopted as his own and lived the rest of his life?

We already know that Acadia was the land of a few French settlers and a few French soldiers, but not many. The British also wanted Acadia. Skirmishes and outright warfare regularly occurred on this maritime frontier, and control shifted back and forth for 150 years or so until the British deported the Acadian families a century later, in 1755.

In 1666, France reportedly stopped sending colonists to Canada, including Acadia, for fear of depopulating the mother country.

In 1667, France regained Acadia through treaty, but the English didn’t actually leave  until 1670 when the English forts at Port Royal and Jemseg surrendered. The French were finally back in control of Acadia.

By 1670, Acadia had about 400 people. That’s not very many. By comparison, Massachusetts had about 40,000.

When France regained control of Acadia, another 30 soldiers, and 60 settlers arrived. Their orders were to restore French authority and keep the pesky English out.

Caught in the middle between two powers, England and France, the Acadians were often subject to attack. It may be important to note that they maintained trading relations with people in New England, even though it was forbidden. A century later, long-established family relationships may have helped save their descendants when the English deported them in 1755.

Thankfully, in 1671, the new French governor requested a census that provides us with the first, even somewhat comprehensive, view of Acadia, although some inhabitants were missed.

The official census of 1671 recorded 392 people, mostly in Port Royal. Scholars estimate the real count was probably someplace around 500. That census did not include the soldiers at the fort. This is probably why Julien is not recorded in either 1671 when he was (probably) not yet married, or in 1678. By 1678, he was not only married, he had one child born in 1676, another in 1678 or 1679, and his wife was probably expecting another child. Julien had clearly settled in.

Reconstructing Julien’s Life

Fortunately, we can reconstruct part of Julien’s life through the census. Those records are particularly important prior to the church records that remain dating from May of 1702. Earlier records were destroyed in some warfare event.

The early census documents include the names and ages of children with their families.

I need to stress that I’m using transcribed records, mostly but not exclusively from acadian-home.org, not the originals that would have been recorded in French script. Some of these records are quite confusing, so I resorted to my old standby – a spreadsheet.

Based on that 1686 census, we know that Julien was married to Charlotte Anne or Anne Charlotte Girouard about 1675. While the ages of some people vary widely, her birth year universally resolves to 1660.

The church records don’t exist from the 1600s, so we don’t have their marriage record, nor do we know positively that she was Julien’s first wife. However, their second child, Jacques’s marriage record specifies that Anne Girouard is his mother. Jacques was born in 1678 or 1679.

Julien had at least nine known children and probably several more. I’ve attempted to reconstruct the family as follows, interweaving historical events for a peek into their lives.

  • Alexander Lore was born in 1676 and died on October 5, 1740. He married Marie Francoise Barrieau before May of 1702 when existing parish records begin, and probably before the 1701 census. His death record does not show his parents but states his age as 64, so confirms his birth in 1676 which is consistent with the census.
  • Possibly a child that died.
  • Jacques Lor was probably born in 1679 and died sometime after 1742. He married twice, first to Angelique Comeau on November 19, 1708, and secondly to Marie Charlotte Bonnevie on August 18, 1721.
  • Possibly a child that died.
  • Pierre Lore was born in 1681 or 1682 and died on January 17, 1738, in or near Port Royal. He married Jeanne Doucet on June 17, 1715.

In 1684, a new governor was appointed, which seemed to be a regular occurrence. He described the Acadians as living simply and pastorally. He claimed they lived better than Canadians, never lacking meat or bread, but weren’t as industrious. He said they never put anything away for a bad year and their dowries were small – a few francs and a cow in calf, a ewe and a sow. Some wealthy families had a feather bed.

This paints a picture of what Julien and Charlotte’s wedding might have been like. Starting life with a pregnant cow, a ewe and a sow. I’m sure the newlyweds didn’t care where they slept.

Another new governor in 1686 reported that the people had scattered and lived far from each other. The homes were built behind the marshes, which were along the river.

  • Marie Lore was probably born between 1684 and 1687. One Marie Lore witnesses a baptism record in 1733. We will discuss her records in the next section.
  • Probably a child that died.
  • Anne Lore was born in 1687 and died on May 21, 1770 in Trois Rivieres, Quebec. She married Mathieu Doucet on June 15, 1712.

A 1688 report states that there was a labor shortage and a shortage of manure necessary for developing the uplands. I never considered manure as a commodity in this way. The report also stated that there was a shortage of tidelands that would be easy to dyke. As a result, 25-30 (mostly) younger people had moved to Minas in the last six years.

The settlers were described as “scattered apart from each other in the space of six or seven leagues, above and below along the banks of the Port Royal river.”

  • Probably 2 children that died.

In 1689, Vincent de Saccard said that “there weren’t any settlers below Goat Island, but 29 on the shores of the basin above it. Each settler has frontage of about one and a half to two miles, but not much depth. The largest areas of marsh that could be dyked had more farms. Farms had maybe 100-200 acres.”

I suspect that these families would have been very vulnerable to attack. However, the Mi’kmaq were their friends and sometimes family, so the Acadians were certainly not as vulnerable as they would have been without that liaison.

Photos of repairing dykes at Grand Pre about 1900 can be viewed here, and the labor-intensive Acadian aboiteau dike and sluice gate system, here, including special shoes for horses to keep them from sinking.

Antoine Cadillac, who lived in Acadia in the 1680s as an explorer, trapper and trader wrote, “This place is surrounded by steep mountains, at the bottom of which there is a small valley one league wide and seven leagues long, where there are only prairies on each side of the river, which are flooded by the tides, the inhabitants have made levees, dykes and causeways, so that the dirty water cannot enter.”

Of course, this means that Julien would have known Cadillac who traded in both furs and liquor.

Click to enlarge

This is where Julien lived, at location #12, according to this 1733 survey.

The Fires

On May 9, 1690, Acadia was again attacked, plundered, and burned by the English out of Boston.

English forces under Sir William Phipps attacked Port Royal with a fleet of seven vessels and 700 men. French pirate Pierre Baptiste was among only 85 men defending the unfinished fortification at Port Royal.

After spending 12 days pillaging Port Royal, Phipps’ troops pillaged the rest of Acadia, including Castine, La Hève, Chedabucto, and the settlements at the head of the Bay of Fundy which would have included Julien’s home.

The church and 28 homes were burned, but not the mills and upriver farms. The English were now in charge. Baptiste was taken prisoner along with other Acadians whose names we don’t know, but shortly thereafter, escaped.

Julien clearly knew Baptiste and probably knew him well.

The Acadians in the fort at Port Royal swore an oath of allegiance, hoping to de-escalate the situation. Later, two English pirates, then called privateers, took advantage of the opportunity and burned homes again, killing people and slaughtering livestock. Some people just take pleasure in other people’s misery and being cruel.

A year later, Baptiste, our friendly French pirate who had attempted unsuccessfully to defend Port Royal in 1690, was successfully recruiting men in Acadia.

During this timeframe, Antoine de Lamothe Cadillac explored up the St. Lawrence River, through New France. He wrote about the Acadians, reporting that, “the creolles…travel most of the time by bark canoes. Their wives do the same, and are very bold on the water.” Another man stated that the Acadians used “bark canoes, like the savages, or other small canoes that they themselves make from a hollow tree hole.”

By Billy Hathorn – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34087679

A beautiful birchbark canoe from the Abbe Museum in Bar Harbour, Maine. The rivers were their roads, and Julien’s family lived on what was the Rivière du Dauphin, now renamed the Annapolis River.

In 1590, a century earlier, Theodore de Bry produced this engraving of a John White watercolor, stating this is how the Native people made their dugout canoes, by hollowing logs out using fire. The Acadians learned from the Mi’kmaq and probably did the same.

In 1690, when the houses were burned, Julien had a wife and at least five children to care for. Based on the documentation available, we know that he lived “above” the fort along the river.

The oath Julien signed in 1690 was forced upon the residents in May when the fort was captured. In his own words, the Massachusetts commander reported, “We cut down the cross, rifled the Church, pulled down the High-Altar, breaking their images”; and on 23 May, “kept gathering Plunder both by land and water, and also under ground in their Gardens.”

Julien would have been a strapping man of 38. And probably hellishly angry.

I would guess that Julien sent his wife and boys, ages 14, 11, and 9, and two daughters about 3 and 6, someplace into hiding, perhaps in the mountain range above their home, marked with the red star above. He may have needed to keep his wife’s elderly parents safe too. His father-in-law died sometime during this period.

Perhaps the nearby mountains had something to do with rekindling his nickname, La Montagne.

There would have been safety in the mountains among their allies, the Mi’kmaq people. Julien would have been one of those 85 men defending the fort.

After giving orders to his men to impose the loyalty oath to everyone they could locate, both French and Native, “and upon refusal hereof to burn, kill, and destroy them,” Phipps sailed back to Massachusetts.

No wonder Julien and the others signed.

There are gaps between the known children of Julien and Charlotte. Based on what we know, one child was probably born in 1690, possibly in the midst of the attack. So, Charlotte was either pregnant or had a baby with her during this time. That child died.

  • Magdelaine Lore was born in 1692 and married Francois Amiraut on January 16, 1714.

In the 1693 census, Julien is 41 years old, so born in 1652, and is listed with his wife, Charlotte, age 33, so born in 1660, living in the home of his mother-in-law, Jean Aucoin, age 60, widow of Francois Girouard. Julien’s children are Alexandre, 16, Jacques, 14, Pierre, 12, Marie, 6, and Magdeleine, 1, along with 20 cattle, 40 sheep, 10 hogs, 20 arpents (of land), and 2 guns. An arpent of land can either be about 192 linear feet or about .84 acres.

Julien seems to be providing well for his family with an abundance of livestock.

  • Probably a child that died, or the age of one of another child is recorded incorrectly.
  • Based on the various census records, Louis Lore and Jean-Baptiste Lore appear to be the same person who was born in 1695 and died sometime after 1714.
  • Probably a child that died.
  • Marguerite Lore was born in-between 1695 and 1698 and died before November 5, 1770. She married Joseph Amiraux on January 30, 1718.

For a relatively small area with few residents, Acadia was a lightning rod of conflict.

In 1696, the English attacked again. By this time, it was a common occurrence, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t devastating to the colonists who had to keep rebuilding over and over. Germain Bourgeois told the English that they had sworn loyalty to the English King. The English pretended it mattered, but it didn’t. Buildings were burned again, animals slaughtered, and apparently not just for food, but sport. This time, the dykes were ruined too, meaning it would be another three years before they could plant again.

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

The 1698 census provides additional information about the family, with the transcribed version recording Julien Lord as 46, so born in 1652, Charlotte as 38, born in 1660, Jacques as 20, Marie as 18 (born 1680), Pierre as 16, Anne as 11 (born 1687), Jean-Baptiste 3, 20 cattle, 20 sheep, 12 hogs, 21 arpents of land, 6 fruit trees and one gun. Location is given as Port Royal.

The fruit trees made me smile. Fruit, probably apples, must have been a wonderful treat. Only people with long-term aspirations and intentions plant trees.

I initially thought that daughters Marie and Anne were the same person called by different names, but on two different censuses, both are recorded, so clearly not one individual.

By 1700 when another census was taken, there were about 2000 Acadians, but they no longer considered themselves “Pure French.”

In the 1700 census, Julien was age 48, so born in 1652, and Charlotte, age 40, born in 1660, are living with her mother, Jeanne Aucoin, age 87 (which is probably actually 67.) Their children are Alexandre, 24, Jacques, 21, Pierre, 18, Marie, 13, Madelaine, 8, Louis, 5, and Marguerite, 2, plus 15 cattle, 34 sheep, 20 arpents of land, and 2 guns (Port Royal)

The 1701 census shows Julien Lord, 50, so born 1651, Anne Girouard (wife,) 41, so born 1660; Jacques, 23, Pierre, 20, Marie, 17, Anne, 14, Louis, 8, Marguerite, 6; 2 guns, 17 cattle, 15 sheep, 12 hogs, 10 arpents of land. (Port Royal). Why is Julien shown with less land?

  • Possibly a female child died after 1703
  • Possibly a male child born 1701/1702 and died before 1707
  • Charles Lore was born in 1703 or 1704 and died on November 21, 1775 in Varennes, Quebec. He married Marie-Josephte Doucet on February 19, 1726.
  • Possibly one final daughter according to the 1714 census

By 1702, both sides were preparing for conflict again. The Acadian governor had begun construction of a stone and earth fort the year before which was largely complete by 1704.

The 1703 census shows Julien Lors, wife, 4 boys and 4 girls. Alexander had married but is not listed separately. However, his wife is not listed here. The four boys would be Jacque, Pierre, Jean-Baptiste/Louis, and Charles if he was born by 1703. If Charles was not yet born by the 1703 census, Julien and Charlotte had a male child in 1701 or 1702 that died before 1707. The girls would be Marie, Anne, Magdaleine, and Marguerite.

Julien’s children are VERY difficult to unravel.

Sorting the Children

If Charlotte was born in 1660, she would have been 43 in 1703 when Charles was born, or 44 if he was born in 1704. It’s possible that she had another child or two. If she did, we don’t have any definitive records.

I created a spreadsheet attempting to correlate family information.

I compiled the children and their ages from each census. I calculated their birth year from their age.

In their cell, you’ll see something like 33-1653 which means that Julien was age 33 in 1686, which subtracts to a birth year of 1653.

Some years are confusing. For example, Alexander is missing in 1698 when he would have been about 22, but he’s present in 1700, then missing in 1701 and 1703. He’s enumerated separately in 1714. He clearly lived because we have his death record in 1740.

Click to enlarge

I’ve listed Jean-Baptiste and Louis, colored blue, separately, but if you look at the entries, it’s clear that’s actually one person.

The most confusing entries are for daughters Marie and Anne, colored yellow. I originally thought they were two names for the same person, but they aren’t. In both 1698 and 1701, both names are listed with different birth years. So, there are clearly two people. Sometimes when a child dies, the parents name another child with the same name. However, that’s not the case here either.

If I had the original census documents, I’d check the ages. There is probably one Marie, but the ages vary so widely that I listed them separately. I just don’t know. The last record we have for any Marie is a 1733 record where some Marie Lor is a witness for a baptism. Then, nothing.

Anne, on the other hand, is listed in 1698 but should have been listed in 1693 if she was born in 1687. She was also missing in 1700, but present with Marie in both 1698 and 1701.

Anne married in 1712, but in the 1714 census, her husband is not listed as a head of household.

The 1703, 1707, and 1714 censuses do not list the children by name or age. They list the head of household with the number of children.

In 1703, the number of arms bearers is listed too.

In 1703, Julien had 4 boys, 4 girls and 4 arms bearers. I’ve colored the boys blue and the girls apricot who can be reasonably identified in 1703, 1707, and 1714.

In 1703, by process of elimination, we know Julien was an arms bearer, and so was Jacques, who would have been 25, and Pierre, who would have been 22. Who was the fourth male that was an arms bearer? The youngest males would have been Jean-Baptists/Louis, who would have been 10 and Charles who was an infant. Both were too young to bear arms. Is the other male Alexandre? If so, then where is his wife? Was she not counted because she was an adult and not Julien’s child?

Julien has 4 girls. One would have been Marie, one Anne, one Magdeleine, and one Marguerite, so that works.

In 1707, Julien was listed simply as LaMoutagne (probably actually LaMontagne,) with his wife, 2 boys age 14 or older, 2 younger boys, 3 girls 12 or older, 1 younger girl, 6 arpents of land, 16 cattle, 28 sheep, 18 hogs, and 2 guns. His son, Alexandre, listed as Androu LaMoutagne, wife, 2 girls less than 12, 7 cattle, 15 sheep, 8 hogs and a gun. Notice that Julien now only has 6 arpents of land, and Alexandre has none. Alexandre is listed beside Julien, so they are clearly sharing one farm, so he’s probably the fourth arms-bearer in 1703.

The 1707 census was used to create this wonderful interactive map, here, which is also available in print at the O’Dell House Museum.

In 1714, seven years later, several of Julien’s children had married. Julien himself is again listed as LaMontagne with no first name. This is clearly what he was called. Beside him are both Alexandre LaMontagne and Jacques LaMontagne, both listed in their own households.

Julien is listed with 3 sons and 3 daughters. One son is Pierre who didn’t marry until the next year, and probably Jean-Baptiste/Louis, although we have no records of him beyond 1701. The third son would be Charles was born in 1703 or 1704.

Julien is also shown with 3 daughters. One definitely would be Marguerite. Either Marie, Anne, or Magdeleine could be the other daughters. Neither Anne nor Magdeleine’s husbands are listed as heads of household. It’s very unlikely that Charlotte had another child after 1707, but that’s not impossible either. I justs don’t know.

Lastly, in both 1693 and 1700, Julien and family are living with his mother-in-law, or she is living with them. They are shown with 20 arpents of land.  In 1686, Charlotte’s father was still living, but he died before the 1793 census.

So, what do we actually know about Julien’s children?

We know positively that Julien and Charlotte had nine children, assuming Marie is only one person. Seven married. Two disappeared entirely from the records. This could mean that there were either marriage or death records, and the records are missing, or that they never married and were deported in 1755. If so, they never emerged elsewhere, so probably died in exile.

We also know that Julien and Charlotte probably had between another 8 and 10 children that died young. Unfortunately, this occurred often in the 1600s, and the existing church records don’t begin until mid-1703 and are incomplete.

There are reports of two churches, but I’m unclear whether both parish church records survived. Perhaps both churches were actually served by the same Priest, and there was only one register. I don’t know, but I do know that some records are missing and others are incomplete.

More War

By 1704, Acadia was under attack again by the English. Settlements and one of two churches were looted, and the dams were “dug down” supposedly as revenge for Indian attacks in New England, instigated by the French.

When Daniel d’Auger de Subercase became governor of Acadia in 1706, he went on the offensive, encouraging native raids against English targets in New England. He also encouraged the corsairs of Port-Royal, including Baptiste, in their attacks against the English colonial ships. Privateers were very effective. The English fishing fleet on the Grand Banks was reduced by 80% between 1702 and 1707, and certain English coastal communities were attacked.

In 1707, a new French governor arrived with 160 soldiers, three-quarters of whom were young men from the “quays of Paris.”

The next attack, also in 1707, was led by Massachusetts and joined by men from Rhode Island and New Hampshire, but failed. Baptiste, the Acadian’s favorite pirate, fought valiantly alongside the Acadians, successfully foiling the English in their attempted Siege of Port Royal.

Hostilities were clearly still simmering and sometimes reached a boil.

In 1708, Queen Anne’s war began, and the temperature ramped up again between the English and French.

In 1708, Fort Anne’s store was built. Additionally, the Acadians were shoring up their defenses. A new powder magazine and bombproof barracks were built, and the riverbanks were cleared to remove cover for attackers. An additional ship was built, and relationships were established with privateers who welcomed the opportunity to take English ships.

Yea, the privateers loved the Acadians too. Symbiosis.

The Big Guns!

On September 24, 1710, Port Royal was attacked again by the English who had sent five ships carrying 3400 troops. This time, the English were well prepared. In addition to 400 marines from England, Massachusetts provided 900 soldiers, Connecticut 300, and New Hampshire 100. The Iroquois were recruited as scouts.

The Province Galley, above, was one of the vessels that attacked Port Royal.

A dispatch vessel, the Chester, carried deserters from the French garrison who reported that morale was extremely low.

I wonder if the Acadiana had some idea of what was coming.

The Acadians, with their 300 troops, many of whom were poorly trained recruits from France augmenting all local able-bodied men, stood absolutely no chance, although they did manage to hold the fort for ten days before the fort fell into English hands. The Mi’kmaq and Acadians attempted to defend the settlement by firing from homes and the woods, but they were simply outgunned by warships and massively outnumbered. The soldiers were allowed to exit the fort with their dignity and their life before the British celebrated their victory will full pomp and circumstance on October 16, 1710.

That must have been an incredibly humiliating and gut-wrenching day for the Acadians. They had no idea what they would be subjected to.

The episode became known as the Siege of Port Royal and the Conquest of Acadia.

The life story of Julien’s son, Jacques Lor holds a great deal of information about this time period and the life of Julien Lor after 1700.

Confusion Reigns

After the fort and this portion of Acadia fell to the English, again, confusion reigned during the next three or four years. At first, the British required the Acadians to leave, which would have included Julien’s family. Then, after the English realized that they needed the Acadian farmers to feed them, they refused to let them leave.

The Acadians were not only confused, they were furious and characteristically stubborn. I’m sure they also realized that while they “lost,” at some level, they still had some degree of residual power which must have galled the British immensely.

In 1714, the British, thankfully, ordered a census, probably for the purpose of taxation. However, the Acadians refused to pay taxes. Now that they couldn’t leave, they wanted to and had prepared accordingly, not planting their fields. Now what were they to do?

The 1714 census shows “La Montagne” with no first name, and wife, 3 sons and 3 daughters near Port Royal. Julien’s two oldest sons Alexandre and Jacques had married and are shown next to him with their first names and LaMontagne as a last name.

In 1714 Julien’s three sons at home were Pierre, Jean-Baptiste/Louis, and Charles. Magdelaine had married Francois Amiraut and Francois Tourangeau, which could be Amiraut, with a wife was listed beside the three Montagne listings. Julien’s three daughters would be Marie, Marguerite, and another. Perhaps Anne or Magdeleine whose husbands are not shown separately were included? Or had Charlotte borne one last child around 1707 at 47 years of age?

The British also decided that the 1690 loyalty oath was inadequate, but the Acadians refused to sign a new one.

Once again, relationships were deteriorating.

In 1715, the English closed the Fort gates and the Acadians were prevented from trading with the Fort as well as with the Indians. Now, the Acadians wanted to leave, but they couldn’t.

In 1717, Captain John Doucette became the Lieutenant Governor. Doucet is a French name, but Captain Doucette did not speak French and was a career military man from England.

By this time, some Acadians had decided to stay put on peaceful terms. When the Indians learned about this, they threatened the Acadians. Though they had always been friends and many were related, the Indians didn’t want the Acadians defecting to the English side.

Doucette demanded that the Acadians take a new loyalty oath, but they thought doing so would tie them down, and they still wanted to move. They said if they were to stay, they wanted protection from the Indians, and the oath would have to be constructed so that they would not be required to fight their own countrymen. But Doucette demanded an unconditional oath. The Acadians refused.

Julien, now 65 years old, must have been chronically exhausted by this continuous conflict. And it wasn’t going to get better anytime soon.

Playing Chess

General Phillips arrived in 1720 and issued a proclamation that the Acadians must take the loyalty oath unconditionally or leave the country in three months. He also said they couldn’t sell or take any of their property with them, thinking that would force the Acadians to sign the oath. But they still refused, saying that the Indians were threatening them. When the Acadians said, “let us harvest our crops and use vehicles to carry it,” Philipps figured they were planning to take their possessions with them and denied their request.

In response, the Acadians began creating a road northeast to Minas in order to escape by land, but the governor ordered the road stopped. He was convinced that the Acadians wanted to remove their cattle which the English needed. He may well have been right. Furthermore, if all the Acadians left and made their way to Beaubassin, then a fortified French possession, it would strengthen a French colony, giving them an advantage while at the same time stripping the English colony of needed resources.

Phillips said the Acadians were stubborn and ungovernable, directed by bigoted priests. This made me laugh because I suspect that’s exactly what the Acadians wanted. If they couldn’t leave, they would make themselves a HUGE thorn in his side.

The Abenaki and Mi’kmaq continued to defend Acadia, refusing to recognize the treaty with the British, essentially handing over their lands. In 1722, they became heavily involved when Governor Doucette took 22 Mi’kmaq hostage at Annapolis Royal to prevent the capital from being attacked. In July, the Abenaki and Mi’kmaq created a blockade with the intent of starving the British in the capital. They captured 18 fishing vessels and took prisoners. Shortly thereafter, the Governor of Massachusetts officially declared war, launching Father Rale’s War. Raids continued back and forth through 1723 and 1724, when in July, 60 Mi’kmaq and Maliseets raided Annapolis Royal.

Julien would not live to see that, though, or the resolution, such as it was, in 1725.

What Happened to Julien?

Worse yet, we don’t know what happened to Julien, but clearly, something did.

Based on this entry in the parish book, Julien died between February 17th and May 3rd, 1724. It’s confounding why he had no death entry other than his name scribed in the margin as recorded in the Nova Scotia Archive.

He would have been 72 years old. Certainly not aged by today’s standards, but without modern medicine, not to mention constant strife and warfare, 72 is rather remarkable. Having said that, his death entry is baffling.

Perhaps Julien drowned, or something befell him, and there was no body recovered, so no funeral and, of course, no burial. Was he caught up in the warfare?

Why was this entry never completed? Did he die someplace on the road to Minas, or someplace else? Was he attempting to remove his family? Or, did he die someplace in the woods, his body not found, which might be why there’s no death date?

If the entry above his was made on February 17th, and the one below was made on May 3rd, surely someone knew something. They clearly knew he was dead, or his name would not have been written in the margin before the following entry. Furthermore, there is adequate space left for his entry, like someone expected it to be completed.

Why didn’t the priest who made the May 3rd entry complete Julien’s death entry? The handwriting does appear to be different. Who wrote his name in the margin?

This is an assumption, but I’d wager that this means Julien didn’t have a proper Catholic funeral, and he was not buried in consecrated ground in the churchyard. If he had been, surely the priest who performed the service would have completed the entry.

Father’s Rale’s War was underway, but the spring campaigns were taking place in New England and in Minas. If Julien was in Minas, he might have died there. In July, sixty Mi’kmaw and Maliseets raided Annapolis Royal, killing, scalping, and terrorizing the population. Three houses were burned, but Julien had been gone for at least two months by this time.

Did Julien somehow get caught in the wake of the warfare? Or did he simply die in the woods hunting? Or disappear? If so, then how did they know he was dead to make an entry in the church book?

This skeletal entry leaves so many unanswered questions.

Julien’s Y-DNA

Two men from different sons of Julien Lor have taken the Big Y-500 and Big Y-700 tests, respectively.

At the Big Y-500 level, those men were assigned to Haplogroup R-BY93943, or rather, it was assigned to them as a result of testing.

One man has already upgraded to the Big Y-700, and a test has been ordered for the second man. They will probably receive a brand-spanking-new haplogroup when the second man receives his Big Y-700 results.

This haplogroup was born when the mutation R-BY93943 occurred about 1700 CE, which correlates nicely with given the birth years of Julien’s two sons in 1675 and 1678/1679.

The incredible thing is that this haplogroup, to date, is shared ONLY by the descendants of the sons of Julien Lore, so it could well be exclusive to Julien. I live for the day when a man with a similar surname from France tests and matches Julien’s descendants. That’s how we may be able to find Julien’s family in France. It may be the only way.

The next earlier haplogroup, upstream of R-BY93943, R-CTS9881, originated about 100 BCE. Generally, we find haplogroups between a more recent and a fairly distant haplogroup, but given the restrictions against DNA testing in France, I’m not surprised.

Legacy

We will never know when, how, or why Julien obtained the nickname of LaMontagne, the mountain. It could have been because of where he lived, beneath the mountain along the river. That’s certainly possible.

It could have reflected upon his character.

It could have been a commentary on his size, especially if he was a large soldier.

It could have been a family nickname reminiscent of his mother and carried on by his comrades on that tall ship that transported him to Acadia.

Or it could simply have been a nickname conferred by his military buddies – and he’s laughing now at all this speculation.

I admire Julien’s tenacity, audacity, and spunk. I’m incredibly grateful that he signed his name for us that single time in 1690, even if it was under duress. His signature, written by his own hand, is uniquely his, incredibly personal and remains today as the only tangible item of his from his journey upon this Earth. That, and his DNA, are gifts for his descendant in generations yet to come.

I will remember Julien not only as the founder of our Lore/Lord line in Acadia, Canada, and the United States, but also as a mountain of a man carving a life for his family out of a wild, marshy, and unforgiving maritime frontier, constantly under threat, along the banks of the Rivière du Dauphin.

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Cheryl Ferverda (1946-2023), HighwayWoman – 52 Ancestors #400

It was a stifling August day in 1994.

I was visiting the Allen County Public Library in Fort Wayne, Indiana to fulfill a promise – a contract actually – that the Embroiderers’ Guild Chapter in the city where I lived had signed with the library more than a year earlier.

As often happens in groups, the best intentions and commitments of others fell away, leaving almost no needleart pieces for the upcoming exhibit. What was I to do? As the Program Chair, I had been the one to initiate contact because the guild was looking for a display venue, and I knew that the (previous) library building had a wonderful display atrium.

I remember being quite salty and thinking to myself something about good deeds never going unpunished.

My life was literally falling apart around me. My relatively young husband had a massive stroke in June of 1993, and my step-father wasn’t doing well, but I’m a stickler about commitments, and I had given my word. Between that, working, and a family, including a disabled husband to care for, I far had less time that the other guild members who had petered out, but somehow, I had to make this work.

I called Richard, my contact at the library, and explained that the guild was unable to, ahem, participate (trying not to grit my teeth audibly,) but I had an idea.

As almost any genealogist reading this will know, the Allen County Public Library (ACPL) is one of the premier genealogy libraries in the country, the second largest, I believe.

While I had “only” been doing genealogy off and on for about 15 years, I had been visiting the library in Fort Wayne for much of that time – cranking on those microfilm machines. The library was about halfway between where I lived in Michigan and where my folks lived in Indiana.

My Mom grew up just half an hour or so outside of Fort Wayne and had a lot of history in Fort Wayne itself – having performed tap and ballet in the Masonic Theater in Fort Wayne before turning pro in the 1940s.

I talked to Mom, then called Richard.

I asked Richard what he thought of hosting an exhibit titled “Seven Generations of Hoosier Needlewomen”? If you counted my daughter, we had needlework of one form or another from a full seven generations, including quilts from a 1933 World’s Fair Winner (Nora Kirsch, my great-grandmother,) several Best of Shows from the Indiana State Fair for three family members over the years, and so forth.

Mom and I, between us, could fill in any cracks with our handiwork.

I would, of course, prepare the genealogy information to round out the exhibit.

Richard loved the idea of both the display and the tie to genealogy.

I spent several weeks compiling the information about each piece we would submit, taking measurements, preparing the quilts for hanging, and sending descriptions to Richard so he could make display cards and plan the exhibit space in advance.

At some point during our regular Sunday planning phone calls, Mom said she hoped that maybe we could see her cousin Cheryl who worked at the library.

“Cheryl. Cheryl who?”

I didn’t remember any cousin Cheryl in Fort Wayne.

“Cheryl Hackworth,” Mom replied.

“Who’s that?”

“Roscoe Ferverda’s daughter.”

Roscoe was my grandfather’s brother, making Cheryl my mother’s first cousin.

“Oh, Mom, you mean Cheryl Ferverda.”

“No, Cheryl Hackworth – she’s married.”

Me laughing, “Whatever, Mom.”

To a genealogist, she was Cheryl Ferverda or maybe Cheryl Ferverda Hackworth.

I knew of Cheryl but didn’t know Cheryl and didn’t realize she worked at the library.

Who’s That???

I arranged to meet Mother at the library that August day. She was bringing her own items and most of the pieces from the earlier generations. I had prepared the vintage quilts for hanging, so I brought those along with my own pieces and those of my daughter.

No, this isn’t about my quilts and needlework. That story will have to wait for another time.

When Mom arrived, carrying her pieces, I immediately knew something was very wrong. She was a nervous wreck.

Dad was in the hospital again. Visiting hours were pretty strict, and I think it did Mom good to be with me and my daughter that day. She would head home in time to see him in the evening.

The four of us, Richard, me, my daughter, and Mom were arranging the display items when someone walked across the open atrium. This was a public area, and people had been coming and going all day long, watching what we were doing as they passed by, so we didn’t really notice.

The footsteps stopped.

I can hear that throaty voice yet today.

“Who are you and what are you doing with my Aunt Edith’s things?”

Mom and I whipped around at the mention of Edith, my grandmother. Who could that possibly be?

Richard said, “Oh, hello Cheryl. Do you know Jean and Roberta?”

Cheryl’s frown turned into an immediate smile of recognition. “Why, Barbara Jean, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? This is BEAUTIFUL! Let me help!”

Mom was so glad to see Cheryl. They hugged like they had known each other forever, because they had.

I knew who Cheryl was; I had just never met her as an adult. I expected her to be older, like Mom’s age. Instead, she appeared to be just slightly older than me.

I immediately noticed that Cheryl, Mom, and I looked alike.

Cheryl’s Spirit Animal

If Cheryl had a spirit animal, it would be a Magpie, as in chattering. Cheryl never met a stranger and could talk to anyone – and did. Everyone was immediately at ease with Cheryl. Perfect strangers came up to her and began talking – about anything.

Cheryl was the Communications Director for the Allen County Public Library, and if anyone ever found the absolutely ideal career, it was Cheryl.

Cheryl was perfect. Well, maybe except for answering emails in a timely manner which is hugely ironic for a Communications Director.

I once sent this email to her, which caused us both to laugh. No malice meant. Just a little family shade.

To my dearest cousin Cheryl who may now be deceased or retired because I haven’t heard from her in months:) I’m hoping it’s just my e-mail acting up and that she hasn’t expired or isn’t unhappy with me for some reason:) Actually, I know you haven’t expired as I’ve been working with Curt Witcher on the May program and he says we’re going to work together on PR.

Part of the reason Cheryl got so behind on personal correspondence is that she had a difficult time saying no to requests. She thought everything sounded interesting and was doable, both at the library and her other volunteer activities. She always had time to fit “just one more thing” into her schedule for someone.

Cheryl was kind and generous, to a fault. Every single person Cheryl ever met is better for having known her.

And, now, Cheryl actually IS gone. She passed over to the ancestor realm unexpectedly last Sunday, May 20th, leaving me grief-stricken and ugly crying.

I want to share with you the Cheryl I knew. And you know the great thing – Cheryl can’t even argue with me about it now😉

We didn’t meet, officially, as adults until that August day in 1994, but it was like we had always and forever known each other. We just clicked, immediately. Fate had apparently been waiting for us to get our collective acts together and actually meet. I couldn’t believe how many times we had been in that library together and probably walked right past each other.

I can just see Fate shrugging and saying, “Dang, they did it AGAIN.”

That 1994 exhibit went from something I felt obligated to do and was quite irritated about – to something I was EXTREMELY grateful for.

Not only was I granted the opportunity by fate to be Cheryl’s cousin, we had many common interests, too – like genealogy, for one thing. And travel. And science. And animal rescue. And avidly, cats. And space exploration, particularly meteor showers, one of which we got to experience together overseas.

We discovered that our favorite colors were purple, blue and magenta and we both collected turtles. Her, at one time, and me still.

Oh, and chocolate. How could I forget that?

We wound up working on several professional events together too. Presentations, recording a series on the cable television channel, special events at Science Central, and other things.

As if that wasn’t enough, Cheryl had a wicked, wicked sharp sense of humor. We laughed and laughed.

We had some strange other-worldly form of communication between us too.

Strange things would happen. One time I shared a photo of me standing in a particular place at Cambridge University, on a side street by the Cavendish lab, and she replied: “you’re not going to believe this, but I have a photo of me in EXACTLY THE SAME LOCATION.”

It had been taken years before. What are the chances?

My reply to her: “OMG – we really are geeky cousins of heart:) I could just hardly contain myself at the Cavendish lab.”

We often knew what each other was thinking, and all we had to do was look at each other. Sometimes that meant we’d bust out laughing. Generally, we knew NOT to look at each other if we sensed an inappropriate laugh was going to emerge.

Generally.

Sisters

When my brothers John and Dave passed away in the same year, I was crushed and out of siblings. I still have Cheryl’s lovely, loving note to me.

After reading your pieces about your brother, Dave, the long-haul trucker with millions of accident-free miles behind him, sopping up the tears with a Kleenex, I thought, Wow, much of that is Don and me!  We’re double the months apart you and your brother were, 14, but so much else the same. It made me experience, to a certain extent, what it might be like to not have Don around anymore, something we’ve had to face many, many times.

You really helped everyone connected to him, though, with your insight and thoughtful words, in spite of the hurt you were feeling yourself. It was a true “Bobbi thing” if ever I’ve heard of one. And of course, you know, your brother would be, and is, so proud of you and full of love for you for what you did for everybody else! The best part of all of this is you both really did get to know and love each other.

Thank you for letting me know about John and especially about Dave. You really must feel some solace for what you brought to his life. He was lucky to have ever known you, at all. Again, it was what you did to bring that about. You are a really good egg, as my dad would have said. You probably know you’re doing good things, but I bet you don’t get told enough that you are really appreciated and loved.

Just know that Don and I are your stand-in brother and sister now.

From your “Cuz” who appreciates and loves you!

You can see why I loved Cheryl. What a good heart she had.

Cheryl was already my “sister,” or “sisten” as my quilt-sister puts it, short for sister-cousin, by that time.

In the Doghouse

I want to share a short story that just sums Cheryl up to a T.

In Silver Lake, when Cheryl was 14 years old, a local boy went missing. The next morning, Cheryl decided to do something about it. I don’t know what the adults were doing, but Cheryl analyzed the situation, where he lived, was last seen, and then headed for that area which turned out to be someplace behind the Ferverda property.

She spotted an old doghouse in the woods, investigated, and sure enough, there he was. The boy had apparently crawled in the doghouse after being late getting home the evening before, figuring he would be in trouble. He decided to hide out in the doghouse, never thinking that once he got inside and slid the door shut, he might not be able to get out again without assistance.

So, that’s Cheryl in a nutshell, even at 14. Insanely logical, cool, calm and collected, and just fixing whatever problem presents itself while others are busy doing who-knows-what.

Quintessential Cheryl. She never changed.

The Family

Although they were first cousins, Mom was 23 when Cheryl was born, fairly late in her father, Roscoe Ferverda’s life.

John Ferverda was my mother’s father, and Roscoe and John were brothers.

Not only that, but John and Roscoe purchased houses literally right across the street from each other in tiny Silver Lake, Indiana, where they both lived for half a century, more or less. Nobody ever locked their doors in Silver Lake because how would your family and neighbors get in if they needed something if you locked the door? What a crazy idea.

Both John and Roscoe worked for the railroad, just another block or so down this road.

Cheryl said:

“Dad didn’t talk much about what went on at the depot before we were kids. He did talk about the time a train stopped for a potty break and he started to talk to this one guy who gave him some small bottles of an amber fluid he called battery oil he said he’d invented. Dad asked him his name………………Thomas Edison! I have two of those bottles and they have Edison’s name on them.”

John and Roscoe were very close their entire lives. Thick as thieves is how the family put it. They might or might not have gotten into some mischief together. What they both did, however, was marry non-Brethren women. They didn’t get thrown out of the family, but many disproving glances were aimed in their direction. Those rebels!

Given their proximity, Cheryl was quite familiar with her Aunt Edith and Uncle John’s things. She was in and out of their house, at left in the photo above, far more than I ever was. They died, respectively, when I was 4 and 6. Cheryl was in her early/mid-teens.

Cheryl knew my older brother, John, who lived with my grandparents well. She laughed and referred to him as a “pistol” and a “handful.” I think there might be stories she neglected to share with me😊

We didn’t see each other after my grandparents passed away except for an occasional chance meeting at a heavily-attended funeral. We didn’t live locally, and Cheryl moved on too.

After Cheryl graduated from high school, just 3 or 4 years after my grandparents died, she attended Manchester College, now Manchester University, obtaining her degree in education, followed later by a Master’s Degree.

I think Cheryl taught for a short while before joining the library staff. She spent the majority of her career at the Allen County Public Library, where she retired in 2016 with around 35 years of service.

Cheryl Ferverda, Tenet Collection, 2001

Cheryl’s considerable contribution to education would be through the library and expanding services to library patrons in both conventional brick-and-mortar ways along with outreach utilizing new electronic methodologies.

Cheryl was known to stir the pot a bit from time to time, dissatisfied with complacency and leaving the status quo in place simply because it was. She became a trailblazer, urging the organization forward.

While probably occasionally irritating to her colleagues, I viewed her actively questioning mind as one of her most endearing qualities. Cheryl moved things off dead-center and got things done.

I should have gifted her one of my “Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History” t-shirts. She earned it.

Professional Legacy

Cheryl was a history-lover and stickler for preserving history, especially through documents. She drove efforts to obtain rare books and manuscripts for the library, as well as spearheading the Library’s efforts to obtain Abraham Lincoln’s family belongings, manuscripts, books, and other memorabilia when the Lincoln Museum closed. Lincoln lived in Indiana for several years during his childhood.

Her years-long efforts were successful, culminating in the Allen County Public Library’s Lincoln Collection, which you can view here.

Not only was this a crowning professional achievement for Cheryl, it was also a personal statement about her respect for the man, the human, who freed the slaves. She felt it was an incredible honor to work with Lincoln’s artifacts and help preserve his life by making these resources available for scholars and the public alike.

Cheryl was also instrumental in the library’s program to record oral family stories and histories. However, like many carpenters whose children have no shoes, I know Cheryl always meant to record her own memories, but I don’t think she ever got it done after she retired.

Cheryl was also responsible for the library’s cable TV content. When genetic genealogy was in its infancy, Cheryl, a history, science, and genealogy lover wanted to know all about it, of course.

As genetic genealogy developed as a field, Cheryl worked collaboratively with the local science center, Science Central, and the Genealogy Department at the library to facilitate and promote topic-specific presentations.

Cheryl told me she was at a lunch meeting with Science Central personnel once, and someone said they wished they knew someone to do a series of presentations, including a reveal, about DNA. Cheryl wasted no time explaining that she knew the perfect resource, her cousin, and she would see about twisting my arm to make me available. She didn’t have to twist very hard. I was excited to collaborate with Cheryl, the library, and Science Central.

DNA Presentations

The first time I visited the library for a genetic genealogy presentation, Cheryl’s brother, Don, attended the presentation, as did my brother, John, and his wife. My brother’s health was deteriorating, and it would be the only presentation of mine that he would ever be able to attend.

Cheryl adored her slightly younger brother, Don. Don had always been willing to DNA test for us, but wasn’t personally interested in genealogy and was always busy. However, he loved his sister. Don was such a good sport, swabbing publicly for his Y-DNA to represent our Ferverda family line.

When we received the results of Don’s test, Cheryl sent this:

I know you doubted this would ever happen and it wouldn’t have if it weren’t for two fabulous women in that booger’s life, that would be you and me!

My reply:

Your brother is just a doll. What a sweetie he is. Not just because he swabbed either.

Don’s DNA wasn’t the only gift that occurred during that presentation.

At that time, I was still writing “Sunday Stories,” recording events and memories for my children. Here’s what I wrote the following Sunday.

There was a second gift for me. Cheryl’s neighbors came to the seminar, a very nice older couple. The lady came up between sessions to visit with Cheryl who was standing by me. She asked me if I was a Ferverda too. Cheryl explained that my grandfather and her father were brothers, so yes, I’m a Ferverda but that’s not my surname.

This lady said, “Barbara Jean Ferverda was my good friend.” I stood there speechless for a minute, looked at Cheryl who was looking at me, then we both looked back to the lady as she was by now looking a bit confused, so she added, “We used to dance together.”

I somehow found my voice and croaked out, “Barbara Jean Ferverda from Silver Lake?”, like there could be two, and she said “yes.” I found my voice again and said, “That’s my mother!!!”

This lady explained about dancing with Mom and then went on to say that she thinks she might have one of her costumes yet. She shared with me how my mother had made dance costumes for her when she couldn’t afford them, and how kind my mother had been to her. I had a really difficult time controlling the tears.

This lady still has a dance studio in Fort Wayne, and she is in her 80s, although you would never know it from looking at her. I was so thrilled to find this lady, and what are the chances??? Infinitesimal. Truly a gift from the other side. I wonder if Mom was watching. Surely, she might have been. Both of her children were there, in one place together, and so were her cousins and a friend.

The session went very well, although I felt somewhat jumbled by my unexpected gift. They taped the session for later playback on their cable access channel and their local PBS station. Hopefully I didn’t say anything stupid. Always a concern of speakers and tape just preserves whatever you say for posterity, bad or good.

All in all, a great weekend, both relative to DNA, presentations and spending some time with the family.

Over the years, I visited the library multiple times for extensive presentations, some of which were recorded in a series of PBS broadcasts provided to the community through Access Fort Wayne TV.

One time, my brother, who lived the next county over, was randomly flipping through channels when he suddenly saw his sister. My sister-in-law called me, laughing.

Curt Witcher, the library’s Genealogy Department Manager was involved with these programs, of course.

During one of those visits, Cheryl, me, Curt and my husband, Jim, were all enjoying a meal together. Cheryl and I were sitting side by side, with the men across from us on the other side of the table. Cheryl and I were rather engrossed in our own conversation, which I should probably be embarrassed about, when we suddenly realized that both Jim and Curt had stopped eating and were staring at us.

Cheryl and I, together, at exactly the same time, with identical inflection, looked at them quizzically and said, “What?” Curt said, “I can’t believe how much you two look alike.” Jim said, “I can’t believe how much you two act alike. You even hold your knife and fork that same way.” We all laughed. If I’m going to look and act like someone, let it be Cheryl.

Most people who saw the two of us together assumed we were siblings or close relatives and had been raised together, yet we didn’t know each other until we were well into adulthood.

Our DNA might have something to do with that.

Cheryl actually matches Mom in red, and me in blue, at a very high level for first cousins to my mother. Ranges vary, but they are in the high first cousin to low half-sibling range thanks to the random nature of recombination.

This might have something to do with our similarity, although I know lots of siblings who are more different than Cheryl and me.

Since we didn’t grow up together, we shared our childhood stories.

Since Cheryl didn’t record her stories for posterity, I’m going to share one of her favorite stories with you.

Cheryl’s Favorite Story

When my brother, Dave, passed away, I gave his eulogy, sharing a copy with Cheryl via email. She replied:

Thanks for sending this to me. It underscores what we often don’t think about until we’re “older,” the importance of sharing specific memories about specific people in our lives with our children in detail. Both of my sons have just recently begun to ask questions about my childhood and the various experiences and people that were of great importance. They do, however, know of how your grandfather saved my life. I’m not sure I ever told you about it.

When I was six or seven, I was a part of the neighborhood group of kids who went trick-or-treating together. In those times in Silver Lake kids didn’t do this only on Halloween, but for several days prior because it took so long to canvas the whole huge town of Silver Lake. Another difference in the customs of the time was that you didn’t just say, “Trick or treat!”, open your goodie bag, collect your loot and leave. Noooooo! You traipsed into the house and the occupants “guessed” who you were before handing you a homemade treat.

Our group consisting of three of the four Jagger kids, Mike Gaylo and Phil, and two Ferverdas, Don and me, visited Uncle John and Aunt Edith Ferverda’s house to take part in the ritual.

The oldest Jagger, Larry, felt he was too old to do that kid stuff anymore, he was going to soap windows instead.

We had to climb those steep steps up to the door of the screened-in porch and wait to be invited on into the living room. The five of us, dressed as farmers, bums, fancy ladies or whatever we could conjure up from clothes found at home, all lined up so that we could be identified. Once one of us was unmasked, the rest were really obvious and went quickly. We collected our treats and back out the front door we went. I was the first one down the steps into the dark where I was stopped by the sight of both barrels of a shot gun pointed directly at my face! I recognized the person aiming the gun at me, Uncle John’s next-door neighbor, Mildred Meredith!

Mildred wanted to know which one of us soaped her windows. “I didn’t do it, Larry did!” were the only words I could muster. Well, she wasn’t having any of that. She wanted her windows cleaned and NOW!  About that time we hear Uncle John’s voice calmly saying, “Mildred, what are you doing?, Put that gun down!” She told him we soaped her windows and were going to have to clean them right now. He told her we had been in his house, not out soaping anyone’s windows and that was that. He made her go back to her house. Thus, my life was saved!

It wasn’t until I was an adult that I found out about, as Paul Harvey would say, “the rest of the story.” At one of my high school class reunions while talking about the good ol’ days back in Silver Lake, I told this whole story. Upon finishing it and the laughter died down, classmate Larry Puls shook his head and said, “So that’s why Mildred came over to our house (located on the other side of Mildred’s house from the Ferverdas) and told my mom I’d soaped her windows!!! Larry’s mom made him clean them!

I had the pleasure of telling the culprit, Larry Jagger, the story this past summer.

If you’ve already heard that story, I’m sorry for repeating it, but it is one of my favorites.

Perhaps I should put my pen, or computer, where my mouth is and write some of these gems down. Ha!

Not only was Cheryl wonderful company, she was amazingly intelligent and told a wickedly good story.

2010 Ferverda Reunion

Cheryl emailed me in the summer of 2010 that she and Don were working on coordinating a Ferverda family reunion that would take place that fall in the social center of a local church.

While Cheryl didn’t actually want to research genealogy in the same way I do, she was incredibly interested from the historical and personal aspects. What was going on in the lives of our ancestors, where, and why.

One time in the early years when I visited her at the library, she took me back to the stacks and, without even having to look at the reference number, walked up and selected some random book she knew about that held the only known family picture of the Hiram Ferverda family. It included both of their sons, her father and my grandfather. I was thrilled and so impressed.

Cheryl would be responsible for unearthing even more photos a few years later.

What Bible?

Prior to the reunion, Cheryl and I were corresponding back and forth, and she mentioned that during one of her planning trips that:

Bob brought out the Ferverda Bible. I didn’t even know it existed!

My reply:

WHAT FERVERDA BIBLE??????  Whose Bible is it? I don’t mean the current owners, but whose was it originally and what records are in it?  If they are going to be there, I’ll bring my computer and scanner and we can scan away.

Hot diggity dog – what a wonderful discovery you have made cousin.

The gentleman kindly brought the Bible to the Ferverda reunion and allowed Cheryl to take the Bible to the library to have it both professionally scanned and repaired before returning it to him.

The Bible had belonged to Eva Miller, Cheryl’s grandmother, presented to her by husband, Hiram B. Ferverda in 1895.

Like many Bibles, the pages were chock full of genealogically relevant information. Photos, newspaper articles, and handwritten notes tucked between the pages provided information we knew absolutely nothing about.

I wrote about the Bible and its contents, here.

In retrospect, I was really mad at myself that I didn’t take more photos at that reunion.

Aside from the Bible and documents, which I was scrambling to photograph, I managed to take one photo of Cheryl above, and one photo of Don, below, talking across the table to each other.

This was before cameras in phones were popular, and before you could easily get photos off of phones. Let this be a lesson. Take lots of pictures and ask someone to take photos with your phone.

We actually put disposable cameras on the tables, but if anyone actually used and contributed them, I never saw the photos.

Today we have social media sharing of course, but not then.

Travel

Cheryl and I were both rebels in our own way. Both Indiana born and bred, but not confined there.

Case in point – we both “recovered” our birth surnames. So yes, her last name really was Ferverda. She said, “Once a Ferverda, always a Ferverda. That’s who I am.” Amazing for a woman raised in such a small, conservative community and graduating from a Brethren college.

My eyes were opened when I was a teenager living overseas. That experience revealed what could be and that the rest of the world was not the same as Indiana.

Europe was in many ways more progressive, especially where women’s rights and opportunities were concerned.

Cheryl experienced the same epiphany when traveling. She spent time driving the breadth and depth of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. She visited Greece, and perhaps her most memorable trip, at least before the Netherlands, was to China in 2011 on a sister-cities trip. Although I must say, some of those China tales were utterly hair-raising.

Cheryl felt travel and cultural experiences were quite important and, as long as she could, took her granddaughter, whom she completely adored, on driving trips across the US each summer.

I asked Cheryl how she would describe herself once. She paused briefly and said, “I’m curious and not intimidated by much.”

That’s so understated. I laughed right out loud!

This photo, in Belgium, represents Cheryl and the crowd. The crowd might be doing something, following along, and Cheryl would be standing apart, her quizzical mind trying to figure out how something worked.

I don’t think Cheryl ever declined a travel adventure. She loved new experiences and sought to understand different cultures and what drove and inspired people.

She fully believed that we are all related, are truly each other’s keepers, and should be kind to one another, and animals. She lived those words.

Soon, Cheryl and I began to travel together. Our children were grown, and Cheryl had amassed enough vacation time that she could take extended trips.

So, that’s exactly what we did.

The Netherlands Opportunity

In the fall of 2012, I began working with professional Dutch genealogist, Yvette Hoitink. I truly thought I was at a dead end on the Dutch Ferverda line, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

In 2013, Yvette sent this:

I was working on your Ferwerda line and just found something exciting: a photograph of your relative Salomon Ferwerda (1792-1863), the brother of your ancestor Hendrik Ferwerda. I found it at the website of Tresoar, in their photo collection. It is very unusual to find a photo that early in the Netherlands. Most people only started having their photo taken after 1900. To have a picture of somebody who died in 1863 is very extraordinary. Salomon was clerk/recorder at the provincial court, a well-respected occupation that probably earned him a nice paycheck as well. He must have been quite well-off to have his picture taken.

This photo was attached.

I don’t know if Salomon looked like his brother Hendrik Jan or not, but since we don’t have any photos of our immigrant ancestor, this is as close as we’ll get.

Salomon is Hendrik Jan Ferwerda’s brother, meaning Cheryl’s great-great-grandfather’s brother. We have a few photos of Hiram born in 1894, but none of Bauke who immigrated.

In May of 2013, Yvette was approached by the director of the Tresoar Archives while in the reading room working on our family history. They were inquiring whether or not we might be interested in working with them on a pilot project for genealogical tourism.

WERE WE INTERESTED???? Is the Pope Catholic?

Cheryl and I were beyond excited to discover what else might be held at Tresoar, the archives in Leeuwarden where the Ferwerda family originated. And, of course, for Cheryl, there was the added excitement of collaborating with another library.

This trip would take a year of planning, on our part, on Yvette’s part and with Tresoar’s staff. It was truly the opportunity of a lifetime and would take place in the spring of 2014.

We had won the genealogy lottery!

We made many discoveries before, during, and after this trip. Left to right, Yvette, Sietske, an archivist in Leeuwarden, me and Cheryl enjoying our discovery.

That original document still had its wax seal. Just amazing.

Here, Cheryl is showing Leeuwarden archivist Jelle where the Ferwerda family settled in Elkhart County, Indiana.

Our ancestors in the Netherlands were Mennonites. Jelle was kind enough to take us on Sunday to see the Menno Simons Memorial and historical museum.

This would turn out to be such a joyful trip.

Tulips and Windmills

Cheryl and I discussed the trip further and kicked around the option of also doing a Tulips and Windmills river cruise out of Amsterdam.

We figured this was our one and only opportunity, and we wanted to be sure that we included everything, maximizing every minute.

Jim, my husband, decided to take his life in his hands and join us.

Cheryl’s comments:

“Let’s do it!!!”

Jim’s going along, huh? Does he realize what he’s opting into?!?!?! It’s really fine with me, but he might want to have a physch eval before taking off with us. Ha!

This is going to be so amazing!  Woohoo!

Thank you for all you have already done and what else you’ll do to make this happen. And, most of all, for letting me come along!  A trip to the Netherlands, including visiting the hometown of our ancestors, has been a dream of mine forever! You are the best!

Jim fit right in, and had he not decided to be brave and join us, we would not have these amazing pictures of Cheryl and me together.

The Ferverda’s are practical jokers, and Jim was a willing participant.

We did embark upon the river cruise which, of course, included lovely meals. Cheryl loved dessert, especially anything chocolate – like any true Ferverda.

We might have picked on her at our table slightly by pushing all of the glasses from the mousses that had already been consumed to look like she ate them.

Of course, she played right along by asking our server for another mousse, then eating two at the same time, or pretending to.

Trust me, no mousse at our table went uneaten. No chocolate was wasted.

The next night the server remembered us. I can’t imagine why. Without asking, he brought Cheryl a tray of five mousses all of her own, packaged decoratively with cling wrap so she could take them to her cabin.

I’m not sure if the server realized that we had punked her the night before or not.

We offered to help Cheryl with her mousse overload problem, but she told us in no uncertain terms to keep our mitts off of her mousses, and took them to her room.

The next morning, she proudly set all five empty glasses outside as we all left for breakfast together. She just grinned at us, a Cheshire cat grin.

I quipped that I didn’t think they served mousse for breakfast, and we all cracked up.

Traveling with Cheryl was never, ever dull.

Our Dream Trip

This is so us – acting goofy. Cheryl grinning ear to ear, and my eyes closed. I can’t tell you how MANY photos I have just like this. Jim took 4 or 5, and every one of them is this bad or worse, with one or both of us looking ridiculous. We laughed about that too.

Two wind-blown Ferverda cousins in front of the tulip fields, having returned to the Netherlands to find our bulbs and watery roots.

Writing about this today makes me teary. Not only do I miss her agonizingly, but we had so much fun. I felt like our ancestors were both accompanying us and also having a bit of a chuckle, in a kindhearted way.

Solidifying our unusual connection, we had a strange situation occur on the way over. Cheryl’s flights got messed up somehow, and she wound up in an airport she didn’t expect her to be in, where we happened to be connecting.

I looked at the escalators, and there was Cheryl, standing at the top, across an open area. Was that really Cheryl, and if so, what the heck was she doing there?

I made my way over to her through the crowds. Thankfully, she stood still, because I might never have found her again.

Sure enough, it was her. I asked what she was doing, and she nonchalantly said, “waiting for you.” I asked how she could possibly have known, given that neither of us knew we were going to be there. She said she just knew. These things happened to her with me, her sons, and Don. She often “just knew.”

We spent time in the airport together, but we couldn’t get the same flights to Amsterdam, so we continued on separately, meeting up again in the airport there to begin our great adventure.

Windmills and Tulips

Much of the Netherlands is below sea level, so the Netherlands is a land of dikes, canals, water, and boats.

Windmills drain the land, both then and now, except many of today’s windmills are turbines that are also used for electricity generation.

At Kinderdijk, a UNESCO World Heritage site, we saw working, historic windmills. The ones that would have been draining the land when our ancestors lived there.

At Kinderkijk, we climbed the inside of the windmill, just like the family who lived there would have done.

Cheryl was gloriously happy.

We didn’t yet know that the archivists and Yvette had a wonderful surprise in store for us. They had discovered that one of our ancestors owned a windmill. Most of the historic mills are gone now, too expensive to maintain, their work performed by electric motors and pumps, but miraculously, not “our windmill.”

Our beautiful windmill near Huns. Cheryl and I were ecstatic.

If Cheryl was happy at Kinderdijk, she was over the moon here, standing on our ancestor’s land.

Courtesy Yvette Hoitink

They lived, worked, slept, and farmed here not so very long ago.

Yvette took this photo of Cheryl as we approached our windmill. She says it’s her favorite picture of Cheryl.

I don’t think the word gobsmacked appropriately describes our surprise. We were overjoyed to share this part of Dutch history in such a personal way.

Tulips

Of course, there were tulips too, everyplace.

We had timed our trip exactly right.

We saw strips of brightly colored tulips from the air as we were landing. They looked like a beautiful quilt. Take a look, here.

Brilliant patchwork tulip fields were everyplace.

The Keukenhof gardens were utterly stunning.

We enjoyed that garden tour immensely. Cheryl ordered some tulip bulbs to be shipped home. I hope her sons think to transplant them from her garden.

Of course, tulips and windmills aren’t the only things that the Netherlands (and Belgium) is famous for.

Chocolate

Our river cruise took us to Belgium. Cheryl and my mother LOVED chocolate, and I come in a close third to both of them.

The cases were full of beautiful, luscious chocolates. You could purchase pre-boxed chocolates or select your own.

Cheryl emerged from the chocolate shop with a small bag. We were each eating a chocolate. I said I liked mine. She said she really couldn’t taste the mint in hers.

None of the chocolates had English labels, so I asked how she knew it was supposed to be mint. She said from the picture on top, and showed me her chocolate.

I blurted out, “Cheryl, that’s not a mint.”

“What is it.”

“It’s marijuana, Cheryl.”

“Get out of here!!!”

“It is Cheryl. It’s legal over here.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I’ll go see.”

I had to go back inside the chocolate shop and take a picture to convince her.

Cheryl said that she didn’t taste anything, but it was strangely crunchy inside. She didn’t feel anything either.

She did go back inside and purchase a few more and she might or might not have shared one with me – and Jim.

Cheryl’s concern in the states with cannabis was legality, not morality. We told her that she had to be sure to eat them before returning so she didn’t get herself into hot water in customs.

I couldn’t help but think about what her Brethren grandparents would have thought. They wouldn’t have known what Cannabis was either, but they were assuredly opposed to drinking, so I’m sure their opposition would apply to any similar substance.

Cheryl loved anything chocolate, especially dark chocolate. We tried one of pretty much everything, visiting several chocolate shops.

Even white chocolate strawberries.

We had a picnic in the park with a small obligatory token sandwich accompanied by a chocolate smorgasbord on Easter Sunday.

Genealogy Tourists

While many places we visited were historic in nature, there was still a wink and a nod to tourism.

Cheryl left some mighty big shoes to fill.

Just hamming it up and laughing. We couldn’t both fit, but we tried.

After the cruise, one of the places that Yvette took us was Harlingen, where our ancestors had lived. I think there are more boats in the Netherlands than automobiles, and I know there are more bicycles.

We visited several churches in various villages. Our deJong ancestors are buried in this churchyard in Baerd, but their individual graves no longer remain. Burial plots in the Netherlands are reused due to a lack of available land.

Cheryl reading gravestones in the traditional genealogist posture.

Our ancestors sailed boats like this up and down the canals, which were the roads of the day.

One of our Ferverda ancestors, a teacher, even got trapped because there was too much ice to sail but not enough to skate, so he had to stay where he was until the canals froze.

Fog is common in the Netherlands, as is rain. You can always see the next village, identified by the church steeple above the trees in Huins, as viewed from our windmill. The churches were built on small mounds called terps, so the church and cemetery did not flood.

Our immigrant ancestor, Bauke Hendrik Ferwerda (1830-1911), served as an apprentice in a tiny village called Fiifhus – Five Houses.

Yes, it literally had/has five houses, one of which was the baker, who was his uncle.

We walked to the end of the bricked road, if you can call it that, to reach all five houses.

The canal paralleled the road, which would not have existed when Bauke lived there. The residents still use boats in the canal. Cheryl looks out over the canal and field to the next village, Wolsum, where Bauke would have delivered bread by boat each morning.

An Orange Holiday

We just happened to be there for the first-ever birthday of then recently installed King William.

Traditionally in the Netherlands, the monarch’s birthday is a holiday, widely celebrated with a nationwide party.

We were invited to participate, being Dutch descendants, so we did.

The monarchy descends from the House of Orange, so everything is orange for King’s Day. And I mean everything.

At first, I was unhappy that we lost a day of genealogy tourism, but I quickly changed my mind, realizing that this cultural experience was quite unique and something we had just accidentally stumbled into.

Orange everything was for sale, so we bought t-shirts and other paraphernalia and became honorary Dutch citizens for a day.

Cheryl and I prepared each other with our best cosmetologist attempt, then held Jim down while we prepared him. He took a little convincing but was a great sport about all of this, even the very happy drunk guy who ran up on the sidewalk and kissed him. I’m speculating there was a bet involved, and that guy won.

Jim was in shock, wondering what had just happened to him, and Cheryl and I were laughing so hard we were crying and trying to catch our breath. We quickly spirited Jim away from that rowdy bar, just in case anyone else cared to place a bet.

We had the best time, joining the Dutch citizens, eating and merry-making.

The residents of Leeuwarden participate in a form of busking on King’s Day, laying blankets out with things to sell. They have a massive, miles-long blanket sale along the canal that runs through the city center. Just Google “Netherlands King’s Day” and select images.

We were EXCEPTIONALLY refined by comparison and stone-cold sober, I swear.

The archives were closed of course, but we needed a souvenir photo of our magnificent day, dressed to the hilt in Dutch Orange, out front.

We managed to get ourselves in the local paper the following day, although by comparison we were very, very tame. The paper liked the idea that we had returned to visit the land of our ancestors and jumped right into the celebratory spirit, adopting a Dutch custom.  And yes, the reason they knew that is because one of our party talked to everyone – not naming names or anything:)

The Ferwerdas

Our genealogy adventures resumed the following day when we met a Ferwerda cousin.

Our family line emigrated, but most remained, and some still live in the area.

Our cousin had heard about the family members who had immigrated in the 1860s, although he couldn’t remember details.

He shared some of his family photos and stories with us through a translator. We were oh so grateful and truly felt connected.

Next, we visited where our ancestors had lived.

Land is at a premium, and many homes are only a few feet apart if not actually touching and connected. This alleyway led to our ancestor’s home and backyard. The current residents were exceptionally kind and invited us in to see the interior, part of which is unchanged from when our ancestors lived there.

Another ancestral location was Bolsward.

Photo courtesy of Yvette Hoitink.

Cheryl and me standing on the steps at the City Hall building in Bolsward where our ancestors lived.

I looked awfully serious, but Cheryl was smiling contentedly. While we both enjoyed this trip immensely, it gave us both a lot to consider. Our ancestors survived trials and tribulations that we knew nothing about, and some didn’t.

Early death was common. Our immigrant Ferverda ancestor’s first wife, our de Jong ancestor, died before immigrating, and he had remarried. Children died often.

What could be more Dutch than Delft? We visited the Delft factory.

We shopped for bulbs so that each spring, we would be reminded of our wonderful trip. We also shopped for Starbucks wherever we could find one. Coffee is a very Dutch thing.

We probably didn’t, but it felt like we walked hundreds of miles.

What we did do is eat our way across the Netherlands. Here, Cheryl is enjoying hot chocolate and a shared snack in an outdoor café. It was a mite chilly, but that didn’t matter. We had so much fun and immersed ourselves in Dutch everything.

It was downright cold on or near the water, but that didn’t matter either.

We followed our ancestors’ footsteps, or maybe their oar strokes, with a boat ride up the canal just as our ancestors would have done, beginning at Dokkum.

Being on the water provides a completely different perspective than today’s roads.

Photo courtesy of Yvette Hoitink.

Scrumptious Dutch treats, including stroopwafels, coffee, and tea accompanied our wonderful time on the water.

We sailed by the farms and homes where our ancestors would have lived. This was certainly their waterway home, to and from everyplace, just like our roads.

At the end of the day, we had dinner together with our friends from the archives in a traditional Dutch farmhouse turned exquisite restaurant.

We set out the next day for one last adventure.

It’s not historically relevant from a genealogy perspective, but it’s one of my favorite spontaneous escapades with Cheryl.

The Fountain

Jim did it.

He told us to behave because he wasn’t going to bail us out of Dutch jail.

Then, he had the bad judgement to leave us alone. I think he was lingering on the tour inside, and we got done ahead of him.

Our playful episode has to do with the fountain of Neptune. You can see us posing in front of it, below. I think this photo was taken on the way in. The way out was, well, a mite different.

We confided in another tour guest who was also finished and asked them to take pictures.

Our co-conspirator was all too glad to assist.

For some reason that I can’t now recall, it seemed like a really good idea to emulate the Neptune fish fountain with water from our water bottles.

We tried to synchronize, but every time one of us managed to get a representative stream going, the other was laughing uncontrollably.

Then we were both laughing uncontrollably. And so were other people around the fountain.

Ok, compose yourselves and try again.

Almost, but not quite.

Now, we’re getting wet.

We never did get our fountains synchronized. One of us, not saying who, ran out of water.

Then, we stood inside the fence, had our friend take our picture, and messaged Jim to come and bail us out.

Jim claimed he didn’t get the message, but when we showed him our photos, he said, “I can’t leave you guys together without supervision for one minute, can I?” We feigned innocence.

He said he knew we weren’t really in trouble because we were smiling.

Maybe he did get that message after all and decided to let us stew in our own juices for a bit😊

We were always smiling.

Returning Home

When we returned home, Cheryl and I resumed our jobs and regularly scheduled lives.

As we had always done, we kept in touch. I visited Fort Wayne from time to time.

Cheryl began to experience what I thought were minor health problems.

More concerning was the rapid deterioration of Don’s health.

I knew that Cheryl couldn’t consider another trip until Don either recovered or passed away, but he seemed to go from one crisis to the next like a roller-coaster.

At the end of 2016, Cheryl retired. Don needed more help, and all things considered, it seemed like it was time.

I decided to make Cheryl a retirement quilt.

While in the Netherlands, I purchased fabrics. Always a quilter at heart.

In July 2017, I planned a research trip to Fort Wayne and took Cheryl her retirement quilt. We visited our favorite restaurant, Casa, ordered our favorite foods, and I managed to surprise her with a gift bag. Surprising ever-vigilant Cheryl was no small feat.

Every single fabric in this quilt is either Dutch, from Holland, chocolate, or orange. I made myself a similar quilt with the same fabrics, as well as one for Yvette. The three Dutch musketeers.

Cheryl was thrilled and hugged me an extra long time, right before we left in a horrific storm and drenching rain that resulting in flooding. Good thing we had dinner when we did.

Cheryl later told me that her youngest son had looked the quilt over closely with her and asked about some funny-shaped leaves. He mentioned that they looked like “hemp leaves.” I explained to Cheryl how difficult it was to find fabric with those “hemp leaves” and that the entire local quilt shop was now talking about me.

Once again, we had a hearty laugh.

Laughing and smiling is how I’ll always remember Cheryl.

After my visit, I received this note:

It was so good seeing you again, and I’ve made up my mind not to let over a year pass without seeing you again!  Be warned!

I loved her for this, but when I saw her, I realized that her health had been deteriorating somewhat too.

Not much later, I called to ask if she wanted to take a trip overseas with me for a presentation, but she was in cardiac rehab.

Not surprisingly, the thing she found the most difficult about retirement was the isolation. She went from talking to people every day, all day long, to dealing with medical staff and her volunteer work. She had begun volunteering where her son is an Eagle rehabilitator, but her health issues interfered.

What none of us knew is that we were headed into Covid.

Cheryl knew that with her accumulating health challenges that she had to be especially careful. Nothing she had was terminal, but Covid certainly could be. She also didn’t want to expose Don.

Don worsened, and Cheryl moved temporarily to Silver Lake to help care for him. After a long illness, he passed away in the spring of 2021, exactly two years and one day before Cheryl. His illness and death had taken a lot out of her. They were a tightly bonded pair.

About that time, Cheryl told me that she had begun having kidney dialysis. I had no idea her condition had become so severe. She was not a candidate for a kidney transplant, so we knew at that point that she was done traveling.

Cheryl decided to move to an assisted living facility, primarily because she was no longer able to drive.

Also, about that same time, Jim and I made the decision to move to a distant state. No more driving to the Fort Wayne library. I needed to see Cheryl before we left and I’m so incredibly glad I did.

I made Cheryl a smaller quilt, just the right size to take to dialysis with her. Her son picked her up faithfully, three times a week, and dropped her off. I guess I should also mention that he also picked her up from dialysis and took her home😊

In preparation for our visit, Cheryl and I both isolated as best we could, masked always, and took Covid tests before we saw each other. We were so incredibly glad to be in each other’s company again. It had been two years, thanks to Covid.

I picked her up, and we went to our favorite restaurant which was nearly vacant, thankfully. We had chosen to go in the middle of the afternoon and sat in a corner, away from everyone.

I could tell she didn’t feel well and tired easily, but she still had her sense of humor, and we so enjoyed our visit.

I gave her the Dutch tulip quilt that reminded me so of the Keukenhof Gardens which is why I selected those fabrics. I told her it was the perfect size for dialysis.

We lingered over our meal, never wanting it to end. We talked and laughed, just like old times, except this time, we knew it wasn’t.

I drove her home, something I had never done before because she had always driven. I could tell that losing her independence bothered her. Always the optimist, she told me how grateful she was for her two sons and their unwavering loyalty.

We sat in her driveway and talked for a few more minutes, not wanting our visit to end. Then silence fell. We both knew she had to get out of the car, and I had to leave.

I was struggling mightily not to cry because I knew that if I cried, she would know that I knew how bad her health really was. Then she would cry. Then we would both be a crying mess. We needed to maintain the illusion of normalcy. We didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the car. Plus, I know we both wanted to be wrong.

I told her I hoped to return the following year, depending on Covid. I actually wanted to return that fall, but that wasn’t to be.

Cheryl climbed out of the car and walked slowly towards the house. No spring in her step anymore.

I backed up and out into the street, then put the car in drive.

I pulled ahead a few feet, then, for some reason, stopped and looked at her.

She had turned around and was watching me, standing in the middle of the driveway, hugging her quilt to her chest, both arms wrapped around it, and smiling. Not a huge laughing smile, but a contented, loving, accepting smile.

It both warmed and broke my heart.

We both knew in that moment that we would never see each other again in this lifetime.

I didn’t want to believe that, though. We both needed hope. Neither of us was ready. I’m still not.

A few days later, her son texted me this picture of Cheryl holding her quilt when he picked her up for dialysis.

She told me that she loved her quilt because it was a conversation starter. People asked her about it, and she told them the whole story. As bad as Covid had been due to isolation for a woman who loved to talk to people, dialysis was good for her in more than one way.

I was so glad I had given her this gift of love, warmth, and human interaction.

The Final Days

Cheryl had what she expected to be an outpatient medical procedure on Friday, but wound up having to be admitted. Her son who picked her up and took her to the hospital that morning told me she was waiting and covered with her quilt when he arrived.

Once again, it both warmed and broke my heart. I am so very glad she used it and knew how much I loved her when she did.

A couple of weeks earlier, on Mother’s Day, I had texted this picture to Cheryl and her sons.

It had popped up in my Facebook memories, and I figured it would make her smile, if she could see it.

I seldom heard from her because she could no longer see well, plus, as ironic as it seems, personal communication wasn’t her strong suit. Unfortunately, she never signed up for Facebook, which I think would have gone a long way, especially during Covid, toward helping her feel less isolated. For all its faults, Facebook helps us stay connected to those we love.

On Sunday, one of her sons messaged me and said he had somehow missed this photo on his phone on Mother’s Day. He told me that Cheryl was hospitalized and not doing well.

I didn’t even see that message initially and probably wouldn’t have grasped the gravity of what “Not doing well” meant, but I would surely have asked.

Then, the next message arrived. I saw that one immediately, meaning I saw both of them at the same time.

Cheryl was gone. Closed her eyes and slipped away. I was utterly dumbstruck. And so crushed that I had missed one final opportunity to talk to her on the phone. That four-hour window. Maybe she preferred it that way.

Her son thanked me for giving her a final laugh before she passed over.

I was so glad I could do that but felt just gutted at the same time. I still do.

Like she and Don, we were a bonded pair. The wind had been jerked right out of my sails.

How could Cheryl, the woman who could handle anything, be gone?

Left Unsaid

I’ve left a few things, like names, left unsaid in order to protect the privacy of her sons and granddaughter whom she loved more than life itself.

Cheryl was incredibly proud of her children. Her son who was interested in sustainable farming, her son who served in the military and now in law enforcement, her son who rehabilitates raptors, her son who creates marvelous meals and cooks for holidays, her son who has a special talent for finding travel deals, her son who raised a wonderful daughter, her son who cared for his ill father, her son who took her, and picked her up from dialysis, and so forth. And no, she doesn’t have that many sons. They just have multiple endearing qualities.

She sent this a few years ago:

On Sunday, I’ll be travelling with my son to Shipshewana, Indiana, so that the adult female eagle he’s been rehabbing can be released back out into the wild! It’s such a breath-taking experience to see one of these giant birds take wing. He’s the main handler of this eagle so he’s really proud of her progress. I already have goosebumps!

I’m so lucky they both live close by and get to see them often. They love family gatherings and lots of talking!

She also told me one time in great detail how much she respected and admired her sons for how they cared for their disabled father before his death.

She hoped to join her son in a specialized farming endeavor and was so proud of his education.

She was extremely grateful, as well, that her son that blessed her with a granddaughter made sure she got to spend quality time with that child.

She said her granddaughter chattered a lot. Geeze, I wonder where she got that. I bet they were quite a pair on their cross-country journeys.

I hope that Cheryl had the opportunity to express whatever she felt she needed or wanted to say to her sons and granddaughter before she literally flew the coop.

In case she didn’t, I’m telling them that she said they had turned out to be “fine men,” men she was immensely proud of having as her sons.

Flying Free

Cheryl and I talked about pretty much everything.

We both believe that the body is but a temporary vessel for the spirit, however you define that.

The connection and love we feel are not disconnected because the vessel was broken and no longer served the spirit.

Her spirit flew free, no longer hampered and confined by her broken body.

That’s incredibly, indescribably difficult to remember in the midst of agonizing grief for those who she left behind. But she reminds us.

She is still here.

Love is eternal.

An hour or so after she passed, I was simply sitting, stunned, crying, when I noticed a tiny hummingbird fly up to the bottom corner of my window. No flowers, nothing there to attract it. It fluttered for a long minute or so, looking in directly at me, then turned and flew away. I have never had that happen before.

Cheryl is here in the wind that lifts the Eagle’s wings.

In the joyful laughter of those she loved.

In our very breath.

When my sister died unexpectedly in 1990, I felt this same level of grief. The poem we read at her service ended with:

Your soul in everlasting life has found a better way,

But you will always be, for me,

A little step away.

A day or so after Cheryl’s passing, my friend sent me this YouTube link to the Highwayman. I needed to hear this.

Indeed, Cheryl is a HighwayWoman,

HighwayWoman

Off on another amazing adventure

In another dimension

Yet still here.

Here in the vibrant colors of the spring.

In the tulips.

Here as an inspiration from afar.

Ever vigilant.

Watching over us.

Her loving spirit lives on.

And on.

And on.

And on.

Until all of those she loves

Escape our Earthly bonds

Rising on the wings of eagles

And join her

Flying free.

Save a place for me.

See you when I catch up, Cheryl.

I love you.

Jacques Lor (c1679), Arms-Bearer Raised on the Banks of the Rivière du Dauphin in Nova Scotia – 52 Ancestors #399

Jacques Lor (also L’Or, Laure, Lore, and Lord) was born just a few kilometers from Port-Royal, Acadia, the second oldest of 10 children born to Julien Lor and Anne Charlotte Girouard.

In case you’re wondering about the spelling of his surname, today, it’s often spelled Lord, and sometimes Lore, but the original church records in Port Royal spell it L’Or, Lor, Laure, and Lore, but never, not one time is it spelled Lord until in later generations after the 1755 deportation.

Jacques is listed as eight years old on the 1686 Acadian census and 14 in 1693. In 1698, he is listed as age 20, 21 in 1700, and 23 in 1701, so he was probably born in 1679.

In 1703, he is listed with his parents who have four girls and four boys, of whom there are four arms-bearers in the family.

By 53zodiac – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=130120364

Jacques would have been one of those arms-bearers with a gun that probably looked something like this French Telle smooth flintlock musket or Fusil de chasse, “gun of the hunt,” commonly in use at that time.   

This Iroquois hunter is carrying this same French trade gun.

French soldiers were issued this gun, so it’s likely the armament the French Acadian men would have been carrying as well.

Jacques, his parents, and siblings would have hunted and fished for their meals and probably dressed more like the Iroquois than the European French, wearing homespun woolen clothing, probably in addition to leather made from the skins of the animals they harvested for food. The bounty of the forest and waterways would have sustained them, along with any fruits and vegetables they could have raised.

Jacques grew up on the banks of the tidal Rivière du Dauphin, now renamed the Annapolis River. He probably fished for mackerel, bass, trout, and smelt then as the fishermen do now.

Beyond the estuary, above, looking towards the Lor family’s land, which is out of sight behind the bend on the left, the river empties into the Bay of Fundy near the Melanson settlement.

The Annapolis River Valley beneath the surrounding mountains is some of the most productive agricultural land in the province and enjoys a mild micro-climate produced by the mountains.

Perhaps Jacques’s father, Julien, had planted apple trees that grow in abundance in this region.

Jacques married Angélique Comeau, literally the girl from across the river. Her father, Pierre Comeau, lived about a mile and a half, by water, of course, from Jacques’s father, Julien Lor. Jacques would have rowed his birch-bark canoe to court the lovely Angélique.

They married on Monday, November 19, 1708, in Port-Royal

Well, we don’t actually know where they married, but it was recorded in the church books in Port Royal.

They may have been basking in honeymoon bliss, but around them, Queen Anne’s War began with hostilities between the English and French ramping up.

Jacques and Angélique had two children:

  • Jacques Laure, named after his father, was born October 12 and baptized October 13, 1709, in Port-Royal, Acadia. Godparents were Maurice Vignot and Catherine Comeau. He died on Saturday, October 28, 1786, in Nicolet, Quebec.
  • Angelique Laure was born on September 22, 1711, and baptized by Sieur de Pobomkou Lejeune. Godparents were Claude Tibaudeau and Magdelaine Laure, Jacques’s sister. The baptism wasn’t recorded until February 11, 1712. She died sometime after 1730.

Something went wrong, though, and Angelique died sometime after her daughter’s birth in September and before the end of the year.

There may be more to the story of Angelique’s death.

All Hell Broke Loose

Never a peaceful place, the local priest, Justinien Durant, had been kidnapped and taken to Boston in January of 1711 and wasn’t returned until year-end. The baby’s baptism was delayed, as was the recording of Angelique Comeau’s burial.

Angelique’s death would have left Jacques with a two-year-old and a newborn. It would make sense for him to remarry quickly, but that may not be what happened, given what else was transpiring. The Acadians had been preparing for war for the past three years.

In 1708, the store at Fort Anne was built. Additionally, the Acadians were shoring up their defenses. A new powder magazine and bombproof barracks were built, and the riverbanks were cleared to remove cover for attackers. This would have included the land where Jacques and Julien Lor lived along the Dauphin River. Each man was responsible for protecting his homestead and family. Those arms-bearers were for more than just procuring food now.

An additional ship was built, and relationships were established with privateers who welcomed the opportunity to take English ships.

Prisoners taken from English corsairs reported that the English were planning attacks in 1708 and 1709. Everyone in the Acadian settlements was on high alert.

Port Royal was a market area. Soldiers paid a set price that was below market price. The church was miles away.

The Fort was established in 1630 near the River Alain, with the lower town along the main river by the fort. The upper town ran along Riviere Alain.

Farms ran along the basin and river from Goat Island 5 leagues above the fort as early as 1720. Settlements were in groups of 5-10 families. The largest group of 30 families (150-200 people) was around Belle Isle Marsh, 6-8 miles above the fort.

This map shows the region, along with the settlement areas, one of which is labeled Montagne Ville, upstream from the fort, on the north side of the River.

This original map from the Nova Scotia Archives shows this entire region. I’d wager that the reason that both Julien and Jacques Lor obtained the dit name of La Montagne can be found on this map.

This 1722 map of the entire River Basin, plus the fort and the nearby farms includes both the Lor, labeled La Montagne, and Comeau homesteads, labeled L’Esturgeon.

The LaMontagne homestead is designated at #12 and Comeau across the river at #43.

Here’s another view showing the mountains between the river and the bay. This mountain range would, in time, become known as “North Mountain.”

One Capt. Morris writes of how the channel south of Goat Island was shallow and rocky.  Where the Lor family lived, east of Goat Island, it was wide and deep, but there was a strong ebb and flow of the tides. It was hard to control ships without a good wind.

The five miles from Goat Island to the Fort had water, even in low tides. Small vessels could travel as far as 18 miles above the fort, near present-day Bridgetown. Large boats could go 9 miles further to “the falls” on the tide if they could stand being beached at low tide. But the bottom was “intolerably rocky and foul.”

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 400 marines from England, Massachusetts provided 900 soldiers, Connecticut 300, and New Hampshire 100. Iroquois were recruited as scouts.

It was ugly.

Par Charny — Travail personnel, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17854799

In preparation for conflict, the Governor of Acadia had begun construction of a stone and earthen fort in 1701 which was largely completed by 1704, six years before they desperately needed it.

The Acadians, with their 300 soldiers, stood absolutely no chance, although they did manage to hold the fort for 19 days that October of 1710. The episode became known as the Siege of Port Royal, or the Conquest of Acadia. Jacques, age 31, his father, Julien, age 57, and two of his brothers, Alexander, age 35, and Pierre, about 29, would have been involved. Every male old enough to handle a gun and not endanger themselves or someone else would have been holding that fort.

Here is what we know about the battle:

As the fleet sails north, it is joined by a dispatch ship sent by Thomas Matthews, captain of the Chester; it was carrying deserters from the French garrison, who reported that the morale of the French troops was extremely low . Nicholson sends the ship ahead with one of the transports; as they entered Digby Gully , they received fire from groups of Micmacs on the coast. The ships retaliate with their guns, with neither side taking any casualties. On October 5, the main British fleet arrived at Goat Island, about 10 kilometers (6.2 mi) south of Port-Royal 23 . That afternoon, the Caesar transport runs aground while attempting to enter Annapolis and is eventually swept away by the rocks. Her captain, part of her crew and 23 soldiers died, while a company commander and some 25 other people fought ashore.

The following day, October 6, British marines began landing north and south of the fortress and town. The northern force was joined by four New England regiments under the command of Colonel Vetch, while Nicholson led the remaining New England troops as part of the southern force. The landings were uneventful, with fire from the fort being countered by one of Fleet’s long-range bombers 24. Although later accounts of the siege state that Vetch’s detachment was part of a strategic plan to encircle the fort, contemporary accounts report that Vetch wanted to have command somewhat independent of Nicholson. These same accounts state that Vetch never came within range of the fort’s guns before the end of the siege; his attempts to erect a battery of mortars in a muddy area opposite the fort, across Allain Creek were repulsed by the fire of 25 , 24 cannon. The southern force encountered guerrilla-type resistance outside the fort, with Acadian and native defenders firing small arms from houses and wooded areas, in addition to taking fire from the fort. This fire caused three deaths among the British, but the defenders could not prevent the British on the south side from establishing a camp about 400 meters from the fort.

Over the next four days the British landed their guns and brought them to camp. Fire from the fort and its supporters outside continued, and British bombers wreaked havoc inside the fort with their fire each night. With the imminent opening of new British batteries, Subercase sent an officer with a flag of parliament on 10 October. The negotiations started badly, because the officer was not announced correctly by a beater. Each side ended up taking an officer from the other, mainly for reasons of military etiquette, and the British continued their siege work.

On October 12, the forward siege trenches and guns within 91 m (300 ft) of the fort opened fire. Nicholson sends Subercase a demand for surrender, and negotiations resume. At the end of the day, the parties reach an agreement on the terms of surrender, which is formally signed the next day 29 . The garrison is permitted to leave the fort with all the honors of war, “their arms and baggage, drums beating and flags flying” 27. The British must transport the garrison to France, and the capitulation carries specific protections to protect the inhabitants. These conditions provide that “inhabitants of the cannon firing range of the fort” may remain on their properties for up to two years if they wish, provided they are prepared to take the oath to the British Crown.

Ironically, one of the terms of surrender stated that inhabitants within cannon-shot, three English miles, could stay for two years, meaning they had two years to transport their “moveable items” to a French territory which was any of the rest of Acadia, at least until the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713. Of course, that meant abandoning their farms and decades of invested work. This edict would have applied to the Lor family including Jacques, his parents, and oldest sibling, Alexander who had married in 1703.

481 Acadians are reported to have pledged allegiance to the Queen of England, but I have been unable to find a list of the signatories. Then the French troops left Port Royal, now renamed by the English to Annapolis Royal. 

450 English soldiers remained, but they clearly didn’t want to be there. By June of 1711, only 100 were left – the rest having either deserted or died. Acadians Guillaume Bourgeois, Jean Comeau, and Pierre LeBlanc of Annapolis; and Germain Bourgeois of Beaubassin and Francois Brassard of Chipody (who were passing through Annapolis) were arrested, but we don’t know the outcome.

Native Americans were involved on both sides and the “peace” was tense, at best.

Grand Pre

In Grand Pre, the English arrived under the premise of peace but were there to take the property of the Acadians. Peter Melanson, Alexander Bourg, Anthony LeBlanc, John & Peter Landry were chosen to be deputies to bring the word to the Acadians who hadn’t heard that their property was now the government’s.

The Grand Pre Acadians were asked to pay 6000 livres ($1200) in money or in poultry, plus 20 pistoles ($80) every month to maintain the governor’s table. This, in addition to a tax to pay the troops that would allow them to travel to and trade with Port Royal.

A document was composed on November 16th saying that the deputies were granted the power to collect the money. Samuel Vetch, the Governor who took command immediately after the 1710 capture, wanted to extract as much money from the Acadians as possible. Six months of sickness and under-supply had reduced his forces to 100 men, and he couldn’t reasonably expect to impose the tax forcibly.

The Acadians weren’t used to being taxed and found every excuse possible not to pay or to pay as little as possible. When the Acadians were asked to help by working on fortifications, any number of excuses were offered up…horses were too thin, the Indians might attack, there was ice on the river, etc. This uncooperative attitude became a signature of the Acadians toward the British through the years. The Grand Pre residents flat refused to take that oath, stating that France and England were still arguing over boundaries, so they weren’t taking any oath until that was settled.

Uneasy Times

In 1711, a detachment of British soldiers from Fort Anne went upriver and was ambushed by a band of Indians. Thirty soldiers, a major, and the fort engineer were killed at Bloody Creek, 12 miles east of Annapolis Royal.

On April 13, 1713, Acadia officially passed to England, with France ceding all of Nova Scotia or Acadia with its 2000 residents. One author reported that in the past century, France had sent less than 200 colonists to Acadia and, at this point, focused on Louisiana. Port Royal was renamed Annapolis Royal and the Rivière du Dauphin was renamed the Annapolis River. I’d bet that the Acadians continued to refer to both with their original French names for the duration of their lives.

The British wanted to deport the Acadians at that time, but they realized that they needed the Acadians to feed them. The Acadians knew the land and how to make it produce.

Vetch wrote to his superiors in London on November 24, 1714:

“One hundred of the Acadians (who) were born upon this continent and are perfectly at home in the woods, (and) can march upon snowshoes and understand the use of birch canoes, are of more value and service than five times their number of raw men newly arrived from Europe. So their skill in the fishery, as well as the cultivating of the soil must make at once Cape Breton the most powerful colony the French have in America, and to the greatest danger and damage to all the British colonies as well as the universal trade of Great Britain.”

He also wrote to the Board of Trade in London:

“The removal of (the Acadians) and their cattle to Cape Breton would be a great addition to that new colony, so it would wholly ruin Nova Scotia unless supplied by a British colony, which could not be done in several years, so that the Acadians with their stocks of cattle remaining here is very much for the advantage of the Crown.”

In other words, if the Acadians removed to another French area, it would simultaneously strengthen that colony while devastating Nova Scotia.

Reportedly, another 36 Acadians signed a provisional oath on January 13, 1716, to “be faithful and maintain true allegiance to His Majesty King George, as long as I shall be in Acadia or Nova Scotia and that I shall be permitted to withdraw where so ever I shall think fit with all my moveable goods and effects when I shall think fit without any one…to hinder me.”

We will see.

The 1714 Census

Jacque was married for the first time in 1708, so the first and only census where he would be found as a head of household is in 1714, where he is listed as “Jacques La Montagne and wife, one son and one daughter,” who was living near the fort at Port Royal. This census was taken by the British.

This is confusing since Jacques’s wife died in 1711, and he didn’t remarry, at least not that we know of, until 1721. It would be very unusual for Jacques to remain unmarried for a decade, especially with two very young children, so it’s entirely possible that he had a second wife between Angelique and Marie Charlotte that we know nothing about.

Did Jacques remarry during the time in 1711 while the priest was gone? Did something transpire during the war years? Or is the census incorrect? He only has two children, presumably those born to Angelique, in the census.

I checked every church record by any similar name from 1712 through 1720 to see if Jacques is listed as either a groom or a father in a baptismal record, and he is not.

If Jacques remarried, there would surely have been children and either the marriage or his wife’s death would have been recorded. Apparently, the census was wrong about his wife, or the presumed wife was a female caring for those two children. Someone had to help as he could not take care of young children and work the fields, on the dykes, and hunt simultaneously – not to mention the ongoing warfare in the region. My original guess was that one of either his or Angelique’s siblings took those children during this time, perhaps their godparents. If that was the case, then they would not have been listed with Jacques in the census, along with a wife.

The only other possibility that I can think of, and it’s remote, is that either Jacques married or employed a Native non-Catholic woman during this decade. We know Native people were living near Port Royal because they are shown with the Acadians in the 1708 census. The Native people were heavily intermarried with the Acadians. Records of Native families, unless they were converted Catholics, would not be found in the church records. However, given the Lor family’s commitment to Catholicism, I think this scenario unlikely, so please do not put this in any trees. I’m dying to know who that 1714 mystery woman is though. It’s possible she may be one of Jacques’s older nieces who stepped up to help out. The British census-taker probably presumed wife. Language would have been a barrier.

A Lose-Lose Situation

The area was still in upheaval. By now, the Acadians were willing to leave and settle elsewhere in French Canada, but in a twist of jaw-dropping irony, the British wouldn’t let them. In Vetch’s 1714 letter to London, he said that except for two families from New England, everyone else wanted to move to Isle Royal. He states that it would empty the area of inhabitants. Even the Indians (with whom the French intermarried and shared their religion) would take their trade to Isle Royale to follow the Acadians. This would make Isle Royale a much larger colony and put Nova Scotia in danger.

He also mentioned that some families, those with few belongings, had already moved, but the rest planned on doing so the next summer after the harvest is in, taking their 5000 cattle, sheep, and hogs with them. This tells us that each of the approximately 500 families each had about ten head of cattle. Vetch said that their removal would revert the colony to a primitive state, requiring a long time and lots of money to obtain that much livestock to import from New England.

Suddenly, the Acadians were valuable.

Some Acadians tried to leave in homemade boats but were caught and returned. Many didn’t plant their fields because they thought they were leaving. Now, they were essentially being held hostage in their own lands that they thought they were being forced to lose, but now can’t depart, and there are no crops to harvest.

What a mess.

In 1715, the Fort gates were shut, and the Acadians were prevented from trading with the Fort and also with the Indians. The Acadians were ready to leave, but they couldn’t.

The situation dragged on.

In 1717, Captain Doucette became the Lieutenant Governor. By this time, some Acadians had decided to stay, on peaceful terms. When the Indians learned about this, they threatened the Acadians. Though they had always been friends and many were relatives, the Indians didn’t want the Acadians to defect to the English side. Doucette demanded that all Acadians take the oath, but they thought that by doing so, it would tie them down … and they still wanted to move. The Acadians said if they were to stay, they wanted protection from the Indians, and the oath would have to be stated in a manner such that they would not have to fight their own countrymen. However, Doucette wanted an unconditional oath, and nothing happened due to the impasse.

1720

On May 9, 1720, those who had become British subjects were offered free exercise of their religion, a guarantee to their property and their civil rights. Official notices were translated into French to be distributed, a policy that continued from 1720 to 1755.  An offer was made that they could leave but not take any of their possessions with them.

They answered that they feared the Indians if they took the oath and promised to be faithful and peaceful. They explained that they couldn’t leave in the year (allotted by the treaty) because no one would buy their land. The French government wanted them to move, but the land they had to offer in exchange was poor, and the English government was underhandedly making them stay. The English didn’t want to lose their source of supplies. The British complained that the Acadians were hard to control…the Minas Acadians even more so than the Port Royal Acadians.

I suspect that “hard to control” is an understatement! The Acadians were furious and, furthermore, understood that the English needed them, and hated that they did.

Those poor Acadians. This is the drama that never ends.

Plot Twist, Or Two

General Phillips arrived later in 1720 and issued a proclamation that they must take the oath unconditionally or leave the country in three months. He also said they couldn’t sell or take any of their property with them, thinking that would surely force the Acadians to take the oath. They still refused, saying that the Indians were threatening them. When the Acadians proposed, “let us harvest our crops and use vehicles to carry it,” Philipps figured that they were planning on taking their possessions with them and denied their request.

The Acadians felt that their only route of “escape” was by land, so they began to make a road from Minas to Port Royal, about 70 miles.

The governor issued an order that no one should move without his permission and sent an order to Minas to stop work on the road.

The English stated that the Acadians desired to take the Port Royal cattle to Beaubassin, about 300 miles today by road but not nearly as far by water. Beaubassin was a fortified French possession.

Removing a food source was the last thing the English wanted.

Philipps pronounced the Acadians ungovernable, stubborn, and that they were directed by bigoted priests. He went on to say that the Acadians couldn’t be allowed to go because it would strengthen the population of their French neighbors. The Acadians were also needed to build fortifications and to produce supplies for the forts. He stated that they couldn’t leave until there were enough British subjects to be settled in their place. He hoped that plans were being made to bring in British subjects. He expected problems from the Indians, who didn’t want the Acadians to move.

Instead, France began sending people to Ile Royal. The fort at Louisbourg was begun in 1720. Other settlements in the region included St. Pierre near the Straight of Canso, which had slate mines, and Niganiche, further north on the Gulf of St. Lawrence, a fishing port.

Life Went On

Among this drama that had continued for more than a decade, family life went on, despite everything. People got married, babies were born and baptized, people died and were buried. The Priests did their jobs, and the Acadian families supported each other. Their religious ceremonies and services, along with the seasonal activities, gave their lives some semblance of rythym and normalcy.

I can only imagine the heated discussions surrounding those requested and then required oaths though. Gatherings must have been interesting.

I’m sure that everyone was anxious and afraid, constantly under threat of losing everything up to and including their loved ones and their lives.

A Wedding

It was under this cloud that Jacques married secondly to Charlotte Bonnevie on Monday August 18, 1721, in Port-Royal, err, I mean Annapolis Royal. Perhaps, at least for a few days, the newlyweds didn’t notice anything else.

Jacques is recorded as Angelique’s widower, not as the widower of anyone else. Of course, if the church didn’t recognize a marriage, they wouldn’t have recognized him as a widower either.

Jacques and Charlotte Bonnevie had eight children.

  • Charles L’or was born on November 23 and baptized on November 24, 1722, in Port-Royal, Acadia. Godparents were Charles Thibaudaut and Francoise Bonnevie. He married Marguerite Garceau, daughter of Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet, on Monday January 20, 1755, in Port-Royal, Acadia. Witnesses were Claude Landry, Jean-Baptiste Poirier, Charles Melancon, Jean Granger.
  • Joseph L’Or or Lor was born and baptized on February 19, 1725, in Port-Royal, Acadia. Godparents were Joseph Amiraut and Jean Doucet, wife of Pierre L’Or. He married Marie-Josephe Garceau, daughter of Pierre Garceaux and Agnes Doucet, on Tuesday February 3, 1750, in Port-Royal. Witnesses were Pierre Lore, Charles Lore, Pierre Garceaux, and Laurent Doucet.

French Neutrals

In 1725, it seemed that a solution might have been reached regarding that oath of allegiance after ill-tempered Governor Armstrong arrived. Despite his disposition and violent temper, he realized he needed the Acadians and convinced the Port Royal Acadians, representing about one-fourth of the Acadian population, to take the oath by reminding them that England would not allow Catholics to serve in the Army. Their concern was having to fight against their countrymen and family members. Encouraged by his success, he tried the same thing in Minas, but it failed.

Then he offered to allow them 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 they wouldn’t have to “take up arms” against the French or Indians, they could leave whenever they wanted, and they had the freedom to have priests and to practice the Catholic religion.

At this point, they began to be known as the “Neutral French” or French Neutrals. This seems like a much better environment in which to build a family. Jacques’s next child arrived in 1728.

  • Pierre Benjamin Lor was born on January 25, 1728, and baptized the next day in Port-Royal, Acadia. Godparents were Pierre Olivier, resident of Beaubassin, and Marie Doucet, wife of Charles Lor. He married Marie Blanchard in May 1762 in exile and had his marriage validated in Kamouraska, Quebec, on August 10, 1764.

That Oath – AGAIN

In 1729, that 1725 oath was considered too lenient and declared null and void. Everyone was unhappy, but the Acadians were unwavering in their insistence on a conditional oath, which they took in 1730.

This is where it gets interesting.

Phillips, the old commander that was sent to replace Armstrong, 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 back to London, 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, in essence buying peace with this move.

For the next 15 or 20 years, the Acadians were left alone, and their population grew rapidly. However, those additional people strained the seams of the Acadian settlements and the Acadians were not free to colonize additional areas. England banned Acadian development of new land, but they did expand gradually into areas adjacent to their settlements. The Acadians were hard-working, skilled at their tasks, traded well, and had high moral standards. They built dykes so that all of the land was available for farming. Farms were divided within families since new land was reserved for Protestants. Catholicism was prohibited, but the English turned an intentional blind eye, and the Acadians worshiped without interference.

Ironically, the British continued to try to tax the Acadians, who continued to refuse and evade their efforts. The Acadians had come masters of excuses.

Based on all of this, we know that the Jacques Lore family was living near the fort, along the Annapolis River on family land, as had his father, Julien, who died in 1724.

The Family Grows

Jacques and Charlotte added five more children to their family.

  • Jean Lor was born August 9th and baptized August 13, 1730, in Port Royal. Godparents were Rene Petito and Angelique Lor, daughter of Jacques Lor. He married Marie Garceau, daughter of Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet, around 1765, probably in New York. The marriage was revalidated in Bécancour on September 28, 1767.
  • Paul Lore was born and baptized on December 21, 1733. Godparents were Jacques Bonnevie and Marie Lore, Jacques’s sister.
  • Claude Poncy Lore was born on September 21, 1736, and the baptism was registered on August 12, 1737. Godparents were Pierre Lanoue and Marguerite Beliveau.
  • François Lore was born on August 10, 1739, and was baptized the same day. Godparents were Joseph Lore and Francoise Lore.
  • Honoré Laure was born on June 17, 1742, and baptized by Abraham Bourg. The baptism was registered on June 24, 1742. Godparents were Francois Miraut and Marie Joseph Laure. He married Appoline Garceau, daughter of Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet, around 1765, probably in New York. The marriage was rehabilitated in Bécancour on September 28, 1767.

Charlotte Bonnevie is widely reported to have died in 1758 when a ship sank, but I question this narrative. I’ll discuss this further in her article.

Something Happened in 1742

One thing that makes me suspicious is that their last baptized child was Honoré, born in 1742 when Charlotte was only 36 years old. It would be very unusual for her not to have given birth to at least two if not three or four additional children.

Jacques’ mother lived until January of 1742. He probably helped her on the home place, if he didn’t live there with her. It’s also possible that the reason there were no more children after 1742 was that Jacques died too.

A 1745 report from Port Royal said the Acadian homes were “wretched wooden boxes, without conveniences, and without ornaments, and scarcely containing the most necessary furniture …” A visitor in the 1750s stated that “the houses of the village (Annapolis Royal) … are mean, and in general built of wood.”

The situation deteriorated significantly under Governor Charles Lawrence, who wanted to get rid of the Acadians. He used acts of individuals to make charges against the whole population. He revoked the former governor’s orders not to use military force if the Acadians refused to comply. One example was that if an Acadian was ordered to get firewood, and he didn’t do it promptly … his house would be used for fuel.

Brutal.

The Expulsion Begins

In 1742, Abraham Bourg who baptized Honoré also lived near the Fort, so it makes sense that Jacques’s family was still living in that vicinity in 1755 when the Expulsion began. They hadn’t been free to go anyplace else.

On July 28, 1755, Governor Lawrence and the Nova Scotia Council decided to deport the Acadians. The horrific campaign began on August 11th. Many Acadians, especially outside of the Annapolis Royal area took to the woods and, in essence, disappeared into the Micmac population.

The Acadians and their Native allies and family members provided much more resistance than the British expected. They spent years clearing and chasing the Acadians, never completely eradicating them.

Stephen White estimated that there were a total of about 14,100 Acadians, with about 11,500 being deported and at least 5,000 of those perishing of disease, starvation, and shipwrecks. Another estimate suggests that half of the Acadians “disappeared” into remote areas, or maybe disappeared altogether. We’ll never know or account for everybody. We do know that some Acadian families escaped to Camp d”Esperance.

The British had difficulty rounding up the Acadians in the Port Royal area, which took them from August until December 1755. The Acadians were not going to relent and “go quietly into the night” without resistance.

According to Acadian.org:

“The Acadians at Annapolis Royal were then shipped off from Goat Island at 5:00 o’clock in the morning on Monday, December 8, 1755. Lawrence specifically instructed that the sloop Dove be sent to Annapolis to take the inhabitants to Connecticut “to which the vessel belongs.” Many died upon this ship as it was blown off course for months. It left with 278 exiles and arrived in Connecticut almost six months later with only 180.

Another ship departed from Port Royal on December 15th for Connecticut with 114 unwilling passengers, and at least one more vessel left with 280 in January 1756.

The Brigge Experiment also departed for New York on December 8th with 250 aboard One report states that it too was also blown off course, arriving in May, but another states that it arrived on January 30, 1756.

A second ship left for New York as well from Cape Sable which is on the far southwest tip of Nova Scotia, so unlikely to have carried Jacques’s family.

Other ships were also destined for Pennsylvania and Maryland, but it does not appear that Jacques’s family was on board those, assuming, which is always a bad idea, that they had all managed to board the same ship.

Jacques’ family would have been herded into some ship that set sail with its unwilling hostages, landing a few weeks or months later with nothing except each other and the clothes they were wearing. The lucky ones hadn’t lost family members in the process.

What Happened to Jacques?

Here’s the challenge. We don’t know if Jacques or his wife, either one, was alive in 1755.

One researcher reported that after the exile, Jacques returned to Canada with his son Pierre-Benjamin and they settled in Kamouraska where Jacques died. That’s accurate for Pierre, but I have found no evidence that Jacque either arrived or died there. He should have a burial record. They also reported that Jacque and Angelique’s three children produced no heirs. I’m not sure quite how they arrived at this conclusion, but Jacques and Angelique only had two children. The third child attributed to them by this researcher actually belonged to Jacques’s brother.

I checked PRDH and found no indication in the church records that Jacques ever made it to Quebec. The earliest Quebec records for a Jacques Lord/Laure or any other spelling are in Kamouraska in 1764 when the first Acadians began arriving from afar. In 1764, Jacques would have been 86 years old. It’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely that he lived that long.

The Jacques that witnessed this marriage might be one source of the confusion. This Jacques is probably Jacques’s son who died in Quebec in 1786.

It’s possible that both Jacques and his wife were both deceased prior 1755, meaning that his children boarded those ships as orphans. It’s almost certain that one of them had died by 1743 when Charlotte would have become pregnant with the next child.

In 1742, Jacques would have been 53 years old.

He would have been 66 in 1755 with children ranging in age from 13 to 46, beginning with his eldest surviving child, Jacques. We know the bolded individuals survived until at least shortly before the exile began.

  • Jacques – age 46 – apparently never married. Died in Quebec in 1786 after the exile.

This Jacques has been confused with his father who was born in 1679 and would have been 97 years old in 1786, not 79.

  • Angelique – age 43 if she survived. We have no marriage or death record for her although we know she was alive in 1730 when she witnessed a baptism.
  • Charles – age 33 – married in 1755 just a few months before the deportation began.
  • Joseph – age 30 – married in 1750.
  • Pierre Benjamin – age 27 – married Marie Joseph Blanchard in 1763 in Exile and died in Quebec.
  • Jean – age 25 – married in exile and later died in Quebec
  • Paul – age 22 if he survived. Nothing after his baptism.
  • Claude Poncy – age 19 if he survived. Nothing after his baptism.
  • Francois – age 16 if he survived. Nothing after his baptism
  • Honore – age 13 – married in exile and settled in Quebec at the end of the exile.

We know of ten children who might have been living, and that six were living in 1755. We only know of four that survived the exile, although it’s possible that there were more. Not everyone may have moved to Quebec.

The Garceau Alliance

What we do know, positively, is that three of Jacques’s children, Charles, Jean and Honore, all married daughters of Daniel Garceau; Charles in January 1755 just before the exile began, and Jean and Honore during exile. A fourth son, Joseph, married Daniel Garceau’s brother’s daughter in 1750. Those families were located in close proximity before the deportation when Charles and Joseph married, as well as later, someplace in exile, when Honore and Jean married Garceau sisters.

Daniel Garceau is found in New York which tells me that Jacques Lore’s family and Daniel’s were both on the Brigge Experiment.

On the 1763 list of Acadians in New York, we find Daniel Garceau with his wife and children, plus Charles Lord (seigneur), his wife and a child. Charles Laure married Marguerite, Daniel Garceau’s daughter. We also find Pierre Lort (probably Lore/Lord) with a wife and four children.

Additionally, we find two of Alexander Lore’s daughters and their husbands on this list. Alexander was Jacques’s brother.

This strongly suggests that Jacques’s family was upon the Brigge Experiment, along with Daniel Garceau, especially given that Jacques’s sons, Honore and Jean both married Daniel’s daughter in exile.

Not all of Jacques’s children may have wound up in the same location. It’s well known that the British were ruthless in terms of separating families, even children, from their parents. Clearly, some of Jacques’s nieces and nephews and perhaps his siblings could and did end up in other locations.

In Connecticut, we find Charles, Jean, Louis, and Pierre Lord, along with several married females. None appear to be Jacques’s children. Identification is difficult due to same-name practices.

Jacques’s sister, Anne, who married Mathieu Doucet was shipped to Massachusetts where they are found in Newbury in 1760, then in Connecticut in the 1763 census.

Jacques’s Legacy

Almost all of our information about Jacques is inferred from his marriages and his children’s baptisms. We interweave those events with the known and documented history of the Acadians, particularly in Nova Scotia.

We know where Jacques lived, almost exactly, and we can infer that he defended his homeland in 1711.

We know that his surname wasn’t Lord at all and was pronounced Lor, L’Or or Lore based on how the various priests entered his family surname into Port Royal church records.

We probably found the answer to how he obtained his “dit” name of LaMontagne, the mountain, in Frence.

He may well have died in 1742, given that we have absolutely no record of him after his son Honore’s birth. We don’t know if he lived to see his family forced into exile in 1755. The only reason we know where at least some of his children were during that time is their association with the Daniel Garceau family. You can’t marry who you don’t see.

Jacques was the first generation Lor ancestor who was born in Acadia and may have died and been buried in that soil too. If so, he was the only Lor ancestor to live his entire life in beautiful but perilous Nova Scotia. Either way, his entire life would have been spent with some non-trivial level of anxiety. It’s horrible when unsafe is simply normal.

Given the history unfolding around him, it’s not surprising that it appears that Jacques could neither read nor write. Neither could his children. No time for education when simply surviving takes every waking minute.

Perhaps his legacy can be summed up in one word – survival.

What he survived, assuming he did, was genocide.

The first burning that Jacques would have remembered was the 1690 torching of the church and 28 homes by the English out of Boston. Apparently, the upriver farms were spared, which, hopefully, included his home. He was only 11, and even if their home was not burned, they would have had no assurance that it wouldn’t be. The terror would have been palpable as the family watched the orange, smoke-filled sky and waited. I’d wager his parents took the children into hiding in some location, probably up in the mountains. Or maybe his mother gathered the children to safety, and his father stayed to fight.

Jacques had to wonder if he’d ever see his father, or home, again. Maybe he begged to stay and fight with his father and probably his older brother. Perhaps they let him.

The next burning by the English occurred six years later, in 1696, and included slaughtering livestock and ruining the Acadian’s dykes for spite. I’d wager that Jacques grew up both fearing and despising the English. Attacks like this were a repeated occurrence throughout Jacques’s life along the Rivière du Dauphin.

England and France were engaged in perpetual conflict, culminating, of course, with the 1755 Grande Derangement, as the Deportation and exile became known to the Acadians.

If Jacques survived that long, the last scene he would have seen of his homeland as they sailed away was…you guessed it…burning. What a horrific memory. Adding insult to injury, they were being sent to live in the British colonies where no one wanted them as paupers – and they assuredly didn’t want to be. Either paupers, living among the British in the colonies, or refugees.

The fact that Jacques managed to survive at all and protect his family is nothing short of a miracle. The Acadians were incredibly resourceful, resilient, and tenacious people. They may have been defeated at that point in time, but they were not destroyed.

Their lifeblood runs in an estimated three million descendants worldwide today. Whether he knew them or not, Jacque had at least 27 grandchildren through his five children known to have married and produced offspring. There were probably at least five more, born during the exile, who may or may not have survived.

Jacque lives on.

_____________________________________________________________

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Honoré Lore (1742-1818), Father of 27 & Acadian Revolutionary War Veteran – 52 Ancestors #398

Honoré Lor was born on June 17, 1742, in Port Royal, Acadia, to Jacques Lord and Marie Charlotte Bonnevie near what is today Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia.

Fellow Acadian Abraham Bourg baptized Honoré, and his baptism was then registered by the priest, Father Desenclaves, a week later, on June 24th. Researcher Mark indicated that the priest had not yet arrived at his post on the 17th, which explains why Bourg performed the baptism a week earlier.

Honoré’s last name is spelled Laure in this record. The godparents were Francois Miraut and Marie Joseph Laure, according to FamilySearch and the Nova Scotia Archives.

Three very kind and generous people, Karen, Elizabeth, and Mark translated his baptism entry for me. I’ve combined them. Thank you so very much!

“The twenty-fourth of June, one thousand seven hundred and forty two, I have supplied the ceremony of baptism to Honoré, baptized in the home of his father by Abraham Bourg, born the seventeenth of the same month, legitimate son of Jacques Laure and Marie de Bonnevie, his wife. The godfather has been Francois Miraut and the godmother Marie Joseph Laure, who have not signed. [Signed] Desenclaves priest.”

His baptism was unusual, both in that a non-priest performed the original baptism and that it was registered a week later without rebaptism. It’s possible that Honoré was unhealthy, and his parents were concerned that he might not live – hence the emergency baptism.

After I wrote the above paragraph, Karen Theriot Reader provided additional information about Catholic baptisms of infants, as follows:

In the Catholic Church, baptisms are never performed twice. The word for a private (usually emergency) baptism is “ondoyé” and is sufficient for a proper baptism. Ceremonies are sometimes performed later, but just for show, really. Unlike marriages, which had a need to be “rehabilitated,” even a private baptism was considered valid.

In this record the translated words “supplied the ceremonies of baptism” indicates NOT a repeat of the rites, but a mere ceremony performed for the sake of the family. So to be more accurate, omit the word “rite,” and substitute “ceremony.”

Of course, this could be reflective of the fact that the family lived across the Annapolis River, just above where it connects with the Bay of Fundy, a few miles upstream from Port Royal, so they would have needed to get the baby to the church for baptism.

Today Google Maps shows roads, but then, the river was the road. It’s a good thing Honoré was born in June, or his baptism might not have been recorded for months if he had been born in the forbidding winter.

Honoré Lord was born just 13 years before the Acadian Expulsion which began in August of 1755. The Acadian people were rounded up, stripped of their belongings, their farms burned, loaded into ships like cattle, and forcibly removed from the homesteads they had carved out of the Nova Scotia coastline for over a century.

The Acadian history in Nova Scotia began in the early 1600s and continued until it didn’t any longer. The English finally “won” the conflict in which the Acadians had intentionally remained neutral. Winning meant expelling the Acadians with no warning and without mercy. Many died. We will never know for sure who left, where they went, what happened to them, and who among them perished, either immediately or consequentially.

All of Honoré’s source records are listed under the name of Honoré Laure or Lor in Port Royal, and Lore, Laure, Lor and Lord in Quebec. He is Honoré Laure in his Baptismal record, his first marriage record, and his burial record. He is Honoré Lord in his second marriage record and Honoré Lor [Lord] in his third marriage record. He is listed in a number of his children’s records as Honoré Lord, which is the last name many also were known by. Essentially, there was no standardized spelling.

He is not listed as Honoré Lord dit Lamontagne on any record. The dit name seems to have ended in his father’s generation.

The Family

Honoré was the youngest of 10 children born to his father Jacques Lord, of which eight were born to his mother, Marie Charlotte Bonnevie.

  • One of his siblings and one of his half-siblings died shortly after birth.
  • His oldest sibling, half-brother Jacques, born in 1709, was already 33 years old when Honoré was born in 1742. We have no marriage or death record for Jacques, so we have to assume that he was alive in 1755 when the deportation occurred.

Since we also have no death information elsewhere, we will also have to presume that he either had gone to live, or hide, in the backcountry, died during the removal, or in the subsequent years, someplace. It’s anyone’s guess.

  • Honoré’s brother Charles was born in November of 1722. Charles Thiboneau and Francoise Bonnevie, his mother’s sister, were his sponsors. Charles was a newlywed during the deportation, having married Marguerite Garceau on January 20, 1755. His wife was very probably pregnant in August. If they were lucky, they somehow managed to make it onto the same ship with both his parents and her parents, Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet.

In 1763, Charles was found in New York, New York, in the census, with a wife and one child. One child meant that at least three children had died. If the families were deported together, then it’s likely that Jacques and the rest of the family were also in New York. In 1797, Charles died in Trois Rivieres, St Maurice, Quebec.

  • Honoré’s next younger brother, Joseph, was born in February of 1725 with Joseph Amireau and Jeanne Doucet as sponsors. Joseph married on February 3, 1750, to Marie Joseph Garceau. We know they had two children by 1755, but we know nothing more about anyone in this family.

Lots of Acadian families literally disappear without a trace. I wonder if Honoré knew what happened to his brother.

  • Honoré’s next younger brother, Pierre Benjamin, was born in January 1728. Sponsors were Pierre Olivier, a resident of Beaubassin, and Marie Doucet, spouse of his brother, Charles Lord. He was found in the 1763 census in Riviere St. Jean in what is now New Brunswick, then Acadia, so he was not deported in 1755. He married in May of 1763 to Marie Josephe Blanchard and had his marriage rehabilitated in 1764 in Kamouraska, Quebec. This tells us that he made his way down the St. Lawrence. Pierre died in 1813 in Nicolet, Quebec, another 180 miles upriver and halfway between Quebec City and Montreal. I hope Honoré found him and was able to reconnect.
  • Honoré’s next youngest sibling, Jean, was born in August 1730 in Port Royal and was baptized four days later with sponsors Denis Petitot and Angelique Lord. We know he married Marie Josephe Garceau about 1765, someplace in New England, the daughter of Daniel Garceau and Anne Doucet. Their marriage was rehabilitated at Becancour, Quebec in September 1767. He died in 1809 in St-Ours, Quebec.

This confirms that indeed, the Daniel Garceau and Jacques Lord families were in exile, someplace, together.

  • Honoré’s next younger brother, Paul, was born four days before Christmas in 1733 in Port Royal, and was baptized the same day. His sponsors were Jacques Bonnevie, probably his uncle, and Marie Lord.

There is no death record in Port Royal, so he likely was deported with his family, but probably died either on the way or in New England. We find no further records.

  • Honoré’s next youngest brother, Claude Poncy, was born in September 1736 and was baptized in August 1737. Sponsors were Pierre Lanoue and Marguerite Belliveau. Nothing more is known about Claude, but it’s likely that he, too, was deported and died in exile.
  • Honoré’s closest sibling in age was Francois, born in August 1739 in Port Royal and was baptized the same day with Joseph Lord and Francoise Lord, his uncles, as sponsors. There’s no death record for Francois, so he was likely boarded onto that ship with hundreds of terrified people in 1755, never to be heard from again. He was 16 years old, and his brother Honoré was probably staying very close to him and to their parents. Assuming that was possible. We know that the deportation process often separated families indiscriminately.

Exile

Honoré’s father, Jacques, was reportedly in exile in New York, then returned to Canada with his son Pierre-Benjamin and settled in Kamouraska. Jacques reportedly had no heir through his children with his first wife, although I have no confirmation of that.

I have never found a death entry for Jacques.

Given that Honoré Lore (by whatever spelling) and two of his siblings married children of Daniel Garceau, those families were clearly located together both before and after the deportation. Honoré’s older brother Charles married Marguerite Garceau in January 1755, just months before the deportation, and his younger brother Jean married Marie Josephe Garceau someplace in exile around 1765. This was roughly the same time that Honoré married Appoline Garceau. We know that Daniel Garceau is found among the Acadians deported to New York because he is found on a 1763 list there.

Two ships carried deported Acadians to New York. On December 8, 1755, the Brigantine Experiment departed from Annapolis Royal and arrived someplace in New York on January 30, 1756, in the dead of winter, with 250 Acadians on board. Another schooner left Cape Sable and arrived in New York on April 28, 1756, with 94 Acadians. Given that the Lord/Lore family lived very near Annapolis Royal and Cape Sable is on the southwest corner of Nova Scotia, it’s most likely that Honoré, his family, and the Garceau family were on the Experiment.

Based on those marriages, we know that Honoré, his parents, and the Daniel Garceau family were exiled to the same location in New York.

However, because nothing is ever easy with this family, there’s also a smidgen of conflicting evidence. According to their marriage rehabilitation in Canada in 1767, Honorius Lord and Apolline Garceau were married in exile in New England around 1765 by Francois Landry. I found one Francois Landry in Massachusetts, but it’s possible that this is the wrong person. Both the names Francois and Landry, individually, were common among the Acadians.

Unfortunately, we know almost nothing about Honoré during the period of exile between late 1755 and his re-emergence as an adult in Quebec in 1767 – except for one thing.

He got married.

Exile Ends

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.

Honoré Lord and Apolline Garceau were married in exile in New England, probably around 1765 or 1766. The marriage was validated in Canada on September 29, 1767, because the couple had not been properly married by a priest during their exile in the colonies.

Many Acadians, along with this couple, settled south of Montreal around LaPraire and L’Acadie. Honoré’s family was in Yamachiche, below, in 1767 and 1768, in St-Denis and St-Ours in Quebec in 1775.

The family gradually moved westward along the St. Lawrence and then up the Richelieu River.

We don’t find Honoré and family again until 1787 in L’Acadie,

This raises the question of where some of Honoré’s children were born. Suggesting New England is the fact that Brother Bernard found conditional baptismal records at l’Acadie, Quebec for two children in July of 1787. Their actual birth dates were given in the baptismal record, but not the locations.

Some baptismal records, marriage and burial records were found and transcribed by Brother Bernard for Honoré’s children by Susanne Lafaille and Marguerite Babin. PRDH provided more, as do the genealogical records of Karen Theriot Reader combined with my own research.

Brother Bernard translated an extract from a letter by Rev Elisee Choquet, Pastor of Delson, Laprairie, Quebec.

“In reference to the marriage Lafay-Foret, before a Justice of the Peace, in the colonies, for lack of priests, there is evidently question of an Acadian marriage, and there are many such examples at Chambly, Nicolet, Sorel, and especially at LaPrairie. This is understandable. The unfortunate Acadians, dispersed in 1755, received an amnesty from Governor Murray, in the spring of 1766, and as the news reached them, they undertook to return to Canada. Between 1765 to 1780 the road to Montreal was filled with them.”

They could travel from the Hudson River all the way to the St Lawrence by way of Lake Champlain.

By Champlainmap.png: Kmusser / derivative work: Pierre cb – Champlainmap.png, CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17800787

Then from Lake Champlain, following the waterway right up the Richelieu River.

Back to Rev. Choquet’s letter:

“But from 1755 to their return, they had to live, and their children marry. A few of the older ones (we know of three) received from the Grand Vicar of Acadia the power to receive the consent of marriage while in exile. But they were dispersed and many of them died. The young folks’ only recourse then was to marry before a Justice of the Peace, as they refused to be married by Protestant ministers. On their return to Canada, Bishop Briand ordered such marriages to be renewed or validated, but without reflecting the correctness of the original.”

That’s exactly what they did.

Marriage

On September 29, 1767, Honoré and his wife, Appoline Garceau, had their marriage validated. We don’t know exactly when they were originally married, but their first known child was baptized in February 1768. There has been a debate about whether or not that child was born while in exile, but if so, why wasn’t he baptized at the same time that their marriage was validated?

The original church at Becancour, where Honoré’s marriage was validated, was built in 1722 and burned in December of 2000.

Brother Bernard’s translation.

“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”

One Francois Landry was found in Massachusetts, specifically in Ipswich, in 1760 when he petitioned, asking for maintenance for himself and his wife. He claims they are both old and their children have been “put out to service,” and it pains him greatly and “occasions grief to them.”

Francois’s location, assuming it’s the same man, may be an important clue as to where Honoré Lore and Appoline Garceau were as well. Unfortunately, it does not mesh with Daniel Garceau, Appoline’s father being in New York in 1763, which would be stronger evidence.

After their marriage was validated, Honoré and Appoline slowly migrated on up the St. Lawrence River.

Upriver

We know they were still in Yamachiche in February of 1768, at St-Denis-sur-Richelieu in December of 1769, and in St-Ours in 1771, 1773, and in 1775 when their child, Joseph, was baptized.

Then we lose the trail of our family for a dozen years. No baptisms, nothing.

Their children born in 1777 and 1779 were not baptized until 1787 in L’Acadie.

Why not?

Where were they?

Sit down and buckle up for this one!

The Revolutionary War

There’s something VERY interesting and unique about Honoré Lore. He served in the Revolutionary War – in the Colonies, and more specifically, in a New York battalion.

What? Acadians didn’t do that!

This was the very last thing I would have expected to find, but here we are.

According to this muster Roll, he was at the garrison at Albany from April 1 through May 12th of 1777.

Artificers in Col. Moses Hazen’s 2nd Canadian Regiment list include Nathaniel Lord and Charles Lord. Charles may have been Honoré’s brother, but there’s no way of knowing without additional information.

Honoré’s card number.

What? How is this possible? He’s Canadian and just LEFT the colonies. Why would he EVER go back?

By 1777 Honor Lord, was listed on the muster roll of George Chardin Nicholson’s detachment of French Cadets in the service of the United States of America in Garrison at Albany on May 12, 1777. The muster list is dated April 1-May 12, 1777.

Was he only enlisted for six weeks? That would be very unusual.

Does this mean that Honoré Lord, and perhaps his family, might have been living in or near the garrison at Albany, New York during the Revolutionary War? Is that why we can’t find them during that time?

The Colonies reached out to the Canadians for assistance with unharnessing themselves from the English. It made sense to them that the Canadians would fully understand and be sympathetic, given that England had also captured Canada. Perhaps both nations could free themselves from the clutches of the British by assisting each other.

Honoré Lord might have been part of the “first canadian regiment” a.k.a. Congress Own Regiment. He may have joined with 200 men in 1775 when Colonel James Livingston who lived in Chambly, Quebec recruited nearby men to help guard the southern shore of the Saint Lawrence River.

That December, Livingston and his men led the charge for the Battle of Quebec from the fort at Crown Point, New York, on the western shore of Lake Champlain, sustaining heavy loses.

By Mwanner – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7627736

The ruins of the barracks at Crown Point still stand today.

We’ve confirmed that Honoré’s name is on the 1777 muster roll, but it appears that there’s much more to this story. He probably served for at least two years.

I asked a friend who was going to NARA recently to see if Honoré Lore, aka Honor Lord has a military folder or file. She was told there was nothing and was asked to wait for an expert, but by the end of the second day, no subject expert had appeared and her time was up. She will try again soon unless one of you with far more Acadian experience than me has something to offer. I have already tried the SAR and DAR indexes with no results.

I don’t know if Honoré would have been eligible for anything, pension or bounty land, given that he was not a US citizen and lived in Quebec beginning in 1787. Come to think of it, I’m not sure exactly what country he was a citizen of, given that he was born when Nova Scotia was under French control, exiled to the colonies, back to Quebec under British rule, fought for US sovereignty, apparently lived back in (probably) New York again, then lived back in Quebec when it was under British control. I think this means he was a refugee at least four times.

We know for sure that the family was absent from Quebec for several years and also that Lake Champlain, into the Richelieu River, was the direct access route from the US to the St. Lawrence.

Honoré’s Unit

The First Canadian Regiment was raised in September 1775 by James Livingston to support the Colonies’ independence efforts in the war and saw service primarily in New York and Quebec. You can read more about troop movements and battles that Honoré’s unit, and therefore Honoré, was likely involved with here, here, and here.

Honoré’s regiment saw action in Montreal, Trois Rivieres, New York, the Saratoga campaign, including the relief of the siege of Fort Stanwix in August 1777, both Battles of Saratoga, and the Battle of Rhode Island. The unit was disbanded on January 1, 1781 at King’s Ferry, New York. I’d love to know if he served for the entire time.

Honoré’s service makes perfect sense, looking at where these battles were fought.

On this map detailing the movements and battles of Canadian regiments, we see New York, where his family was likely in exile, Albany, where we know he was garrisoned, and St.-Jean-sur-Richelieu and the exact area where he was living in 1775, along the Richelieu River. The Canadians, especially in this area, had a vested interest in the outcome of the war. In fact. Canada was referred to as the 14th Colony.

The war came to Honoré, just as another war had come to him once before.

More particularly, the path to Montreal and sites along the St. Lawrence where battles were fought took the soldiers right through St.-Jean-sur-Richelieu, just a stone’s throw from L’Acadie where the Lore family lived, or would come to live by 1787. Sorel and Trois Rivieres were northwest of Montreal.

It appears that Honoré didn’t so much decide to go to war, but war arrived on his doorstep, and his only viable option was to step up and defend the region where he lived. It’s possible that his family evacuated, all things considered.

I’m sure, given the family’s history with the British that Honoré and the rest of the Acadians despised them and would have welcomed the opportunity to break their stranglehold.

What we do know, for sure, is that Honoré was with Appoline, someplace, in July of 1776 and in May of 1778 in order for their children born in 1777 and 1779 to be conceived, so he wasn’t “gone” the entire time.

By StefKiro – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=121498754

Honoré may well have served or even joined here at Fort St. Jean, located within walking distance of L’Acadie, in St-Jean-sur-Richelieu. This fort played a crucial role in the defense of Quebec.

Honoré was almost assuredly involved in the 1775 Siege of Fort St. Jean. Montgomery’s troops were pushing for Montreal, then Quebec City, to liberate Quebec, which had been captured.

They laid siege to the Fort on September 17th, and on November 3rd, the British capitulated. Montgomery’s men did take Montreal on November 13th, with no battle, but the British General Carlton had escaped upriver to Quebec City to prepare to defend Quebec there.

A plaque erected at Fort Saint Johns reads:

“Constructed in 1743 by M. de Léry under orders from Governor la Galissonnière. This post was for all the military expeditions towards Lake Champlain. In August 31, 1760, Commandant de Roquemaure had it blown up in accordance with orders from the Governor de Vaudreuil in order to prevent its falling into the hands of the English. Rebuilt by Governor Carleton, in 1773. During the same year, under the command of Major Charles Preston of the 26th Regiment, it succumbed to a 45-day siege by the American troops commanded by General Montgomery.”

Fort St. Jean today.

Fort Frederick in Albany

The garrison at Albany is the one location we know positively that Honoré was during April and May of 1777.

From 1775 through 1781, Albany was a Patriot stronghold. Fort Frederick was built atop State Street Hill in 1676. You can see it all the way to the rear on the map above from 1758.

The city was fortified with a stockade in 1695, with Fort Frederick located at the highest point, overlooking the fledgling city and guarding the approach to the west.

By the early 1700s, Fort Frederick had 21 guns, and its stockade surrounded the entire village of Albany.

Today, you can see Pearl Street, and I’ve marked the church that sits in the location of the former fort.

This drawing of Fort Frederick, depicting it in the 1700s after it had been updated, shows the gate where Honoré would have entered and exited. He would have stood guard on those rampart walls.

After the French and Indian War ended, the fort fell into disrepair and disuse. In the 1760s, the residents began to salvage stone and wood from the fort for their own use. In 1765, the barracks, hospital, and fort were purchased by the city from the provincial government.

During the Revolutionary War, the fort, or what remained of it, was used to jail those loyal to the British. Many Tory refugees made their way to Canada, or tried to. Was Honoré guarding British sympathizers in Albany?

In 1789, the fort, by then in the way of progress, was finally dismantled with the land deeded to St. Peter’s Episcopal Church.

The church as it appeared in 1803, on the site where the fort stood when Honoré was stationed there.

The bell tower is built on the northeastern bastion of the fort.

At one time, the Fort dominated the landscape, but today, you can barely see the church tucked behind the Hilton Albany.

You can see the church a little better looking east.

Of course, today, Albany is a thriving metropolis, the Capital of the State of New York, stretching for miles. Old Fort Frederick is someplace near the tail of the Y in Albany. Honoré would never recognize anything, here or in New York City, and he would probably be utterly terrified at the specter of even one automobile, let alone traffic.

Service Confirmed

These documents clearly confirm that Honoré was a United States Revolutionary War veteran, even though he wasn’t a citizen and maybe not even a resident. He certainly was not a resident from 1767 to 1775 nor a willing resident from 1755 through 1766.

In fact, Honoré had been exiled in 1755 to the Colonies and simply wanted to return to Canada where he could resume his French/Catholic Acadian cultural life. Unfortunately, the British captured Quebec in 1759, so Honoré literally could not get away from the British. I’m sure, given what that family had been through, Honoré never felt safe. Not one minute of his life.

It’s ironic that from their earliest settlement in Nova Scotia into the 1800s, the peaceful Acadians, who even called themselves the French Neutrals, simply wanted to be left alone but instead were embroiled in one conflict after another. For two hundred years, they tried to stay out of conflicts that they were dragged, kicking and screaming, into.

All things considered, Revolutionary War military service was not something I had ever remotely considered for my Acadian ancestors. Not only did Honoré serve, he volunteered.

A few of Honoré’s grandchildren, including Antoine born in 1805 would move to Vermont, New York and Pennsylvania. Some of his descendants would become US citizens. His service was certainly not in vain.

The Catholic Church

I don’t know why Honoré and family didn’t return immediately after the war, but I have a guess. Canada was in British hands, and Honoré had fought against the British. However, he wanted to practice the Catholic faith, have his children baptized by a priest, and God-forbid, be buried in sacred ground. His desire to be reunited with his fellow Acadians and family members was stronger than anything else.

Upon his return to Quebec from wherever the family sought refuge, they settled in L’Acadie, a settlement of other Acadian families. Honoré had his children baptized at Ste. Marguerite de Blairfindie until St. Luc opened in July of 1801. He began attending St. Luc, even though his son, Honoré, continued to attend Ste. Marguerite. This suggests to me that Honoré Sr. probably lived closer to St. Luc. The church was served by missionaries during Honoré’s lifetime.

There might have been another reason why Honoré moved his family back.

Apoline Dies

The second record we have of this family back in Quebec is Apoline’s death and burial. The first record is the baptism in July of 1787 of two of their children who were born earlier, elsewhere. Less than a year later, Apoline herself passed away.

Apoline Garceau died on May 3, 1788, and was probably the first family member to be buried in the cemetery at Ste. Marguerite de Blairfindie. At least she could be afforded a proper Catholic burial.

Honoré and Appoline’s Children

Honoré Lore/Lord and Appoline had at least seven children and probably more like eleven:

  • Honoré Lord was born on February 28, 1768, and baptized in Yamachiche, Quebec. He died on April 5, 1834, in L’Acadie, Quebec, and married Marie LaFaille in August 1789 at Ste. Marguerite de Blairfindie. This means that he spent many of his formative years, between 1775 and 1787, someplace in the States, probably in New York.
  • Marie Anne Lord was born on December 30, 1769, and baptized in Saint-Denis, Quebec. She married Antoine Brousseau in 1788 in L’Acadie and died on February 17, 1852.
  • Francois Lord was born on September 19, 1771, and baptized at St-Ours in Quebec the next day. He married Marie Anne Lafaille, the sister of his brother, Honoré’s wife, who was also the sister of his father’s second wife (but not his mother), on June 9, 1806. He died on December 13, 1824, in L’Acadie.
  • Claire Lord was born in September of 1773 in St-Ours, Quebec, and died 16 months later on January 15, 1775.
  • Joseph Honoré Lore was born on March 5, 1775, and was baptized at St-Ours. Since we have no further information, and the family was missing from the area beginning about this time, he likely died wherever the family was located between March 1775 and October 1777 through mid-1787.
  • Charlotte Marguerite (also called Marie Charlotte) Lord was born October 14, 1777, and baptized on July 1, 1787, in L’Acadie, Quebec. She married Pierre-Victor Dussault on February 20, 1797, at St-Ours and died on March 18, 1833, in Henryville, Quebec.
  • Jean-Baptiste Lore was born on February 1, 1779, and was baptized on July 1, 1787, in L’Acadie. He married Marie Madeleine Ligny on August 18, 1806, died on March 25, 1828, in L’Acadie, and is noted as a farmer.

This record reflects the dual baptisms of both Marie Charlotte and Jean-Baptiste at Ste.-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie in 1787.

It would be critically important to discover where these two children were born to unseal the secret of where Honoré lived from 1775-1787. I suspect it was in New York since that’s where his regiment was located. Had the family been in Canada, there would have been Catholic baptismal records someplace. Even if the baptism occurred, but the records are missing today, their children would not have needed to be baptized in 1787. This tells us they weren’t baptized, which also tells us they weren’t in Canada when they were born.

I cannot read this document to translate it, but I wonder if there is any clue – even the names of witnesses might be helpful. I also wonder if there were other Acadian families with Honoré’s family during the time of their absence. Canadian census records don’t appear to give places of birth until after these two children are already deceased.

We have no records for the family from 1775 through their children’s baptisms in July of 1787, but they likely had additional children in 1781, 1783, 1785, and probably 1787. That would be the natural birth order if every child lived. If children died as infants, the births would have been closer together, and more children could have been born.

This strongly suggests that Appoline and Honoré lost at least four children, if not more, during this timeframe. If the children had lived, they would have been baptized with their siblings in July of 1787.

In August of 1789, Honoré’s oldest child, Honoré (Jr.), married Marie Lafaille/Lafay. Hold that thought for a minute.

Remarriage to Suzanne Lafaille.

Following Apoline’s death in May of 1788, 20 months later, Honoré (Sr.) remarried in January 1790 to Suzanne Lafaille, the younger sister of his son, Honoré Jr.’s wife, Marie Lafaille.

Yes, I know this is confusing.

Honoré Sr. married his son’s sister-in-law, who was five years younger than Honoré Jr.’s wife, Marie LaFaille.

Then, in 1806, Honoré Sr.’s son, Francois (born in 1771) from Honoré Sr.’s first marriage, married Marie Anne Lafaille, the sister of the other two Lafaille sisters who were married to Honoré Lore Sr. and Jr., respectively. So yes, three Lafaille sisters married the father and two Lore sons.

My head was spinning with all this, just in case you were wondering.

Ok, now for Honoré Sr.’s marriage record.

I’m not quite sure why there was a notarial record in addition to the church record, but the notarial record is much easier to read.

Brother Bernard’s translation of the second marriage for Honoré Lord with Suzanne Lafaille.

“The eleventh of January 1790, after the publication of 3 banns of matrimony at our parochial Masses on two Sundays and one intervening holyday between Honoré Lord, widower of Apolline Garseaut, of this parish, of the first part; and Suzanne Lafay, daughter of Francois Lafay and of Marguerite Foret, her parents also of this parish, of the second part; no impediment having been discovered to said marriage, we undersigned priest received their mutual consent and gave them the nuptial benediction according to the form prescribed by our Mother the Holy Roman Church, and this in the presence of Joseph Michell, Victor Girouard, Joseph Commeaux cousin, Honoré and Francois Lord sons, Andre Lancieau, Antoine Grousseau, Francois Brousseau friends of the groom, and of Francois Lafay, Pierre Trahan, Kean Dupuy, Marie Hebert friends, Marguerite and Julienne Lafaye sisters of the bride, several of whom signed with us after this was read.  (Signed)  Marie Lore  Honoré Lore  Marguerite Lafay  francois Lafay Jean Dup  Drosseau  Lancto priest”

This signature appears to be Honoré the son, not Honoré the father.

Suzanne and Honoré had seven children.

  • Henri Lord was born March 23, 1791, in L’Acadie and was baptized at Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie.

Henri’s baptism was witnessed by both Francois Lafay and Marguerite Lafaye. Francois is almost assuredly Suzanne’s father, but it’s unclear whether Marguerite is her mother or her sibling by the same name. I suspect her sibling since women were normally listed by their birth surname.

Henri married Louise Lebert on January 13, 1812, Suzanne Comeau on June 14, 1819, and Marie Babin on November 23, 1841. He died after the 1861 census. He is noted as a carpenter and farmer.

  • Louise Lord was born on February 27, 1793, in L’Acadie and married Pierre Babin at St-Luc on May 4, 1812.
  • Julien Lord, named after Honoré’s grandfather, was born on March 29, 1795, married Marie-Louise Brosseau at St-Luc on February 14, 1820, died on December 8, 1872, and was buried in the St. Luc cemetery.
  • Suzanne Lord was born on March 24, 1797, in L’Acadie, and married Charles Ficiault at St-Luc on November 21, 1814.
  • Jacques Lord, named after Honoré’s father, was born on July 16, 1799, in L’Acadie and married Marie Desnoyer on August 7, 1820, in Ste-Marie de Monnoir.

The baptisms above were all at Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie. From this point on, baptisms took place at St-Luc after it opened in 1801.

  • Marie Phebee Lord was born on March 13, 1802, and baptized on the 14th at St-Luc. She died on June 9th of the same year and was buried two days later.
  • Hippolyte Lord was born June 17, 1803, and baptized the next day at St. Luc. The baby died a month later, on July 17th, and was buried the following day.

Even though Suzanne was thirty years younger than Honoré Lord Sr., he outlived her.. The first five of their seven children lived to marry, but the daughter born in 1802 died three months later, and the child born on June 17th, 1803, died on July 17th. Suzanne died on August 9th, less than a month later. I can’t help but wonder if those deaths were connected.

Suzanne died on August 7, 1803, in L’Acadie and was buried at St-Luc, probably beside her two children. She was only 32 years old.

Honoré remarries to Marguerite Babin

Honoré, now 61 years old, had small children to raise. Three of his older children had married, but the rest were still at home. He wasted no time in marrying 18-year-old Marguerite Babin, 43 years his junior, on February 13, 1804. Honoré was two years younger than Marguerite’s father and 16 years older than her mother.

Brother Bernard’s translation of the third marriage of Honorius Lord with Marguerite Babin.

“February 13th, 1804, after publication of 3 banns of matrimony at our parochial Masses on 3 consecutive Sundays between Honoré Lord, farmer and widower of Susanne Lafay, his second wife, and living at St Luc, of the first part; and Marguerite Babin call LaCroix, minor daughter of Louis Babin called LaCroix and of Marie Jeanne Laporte, her parents consenting to said marriage and living with their said daughter in this parish, of the second part; no impediment having been discovered to said marriage, we undersigned received their mutual consent and gave them the nuptial benediction according to the form prescribed by our Mother the Holy Roman Church, and this in the presence of Antoine Brosseau son in law, Victor Girouard friend of the groom and Pierre Babin paternal uncle, and Charles Fisesset friend of the bride, who all declared that they could not sign.  (Signed)  R P Lancto”

Oh, how I wish Honoré had signed.

I can’t help but wonder if Marguerite got to vote or if this was an arranged marriage. All of Honoré’s children from his first marriage were older than Marguerite, and many from his second marriage were just a few years younger than she was.

Honoré and Marguerite had eight children.

  • Marie Rose Lord was born November 22, 1804, and was baptized the following day at St-Luc. She married Andre Comeau on November 6, 1820. She died on September 10, 1887, and was buried two days later.
  • Augustin Lord was born on February 26, 1806, and was baptized the next day at St-Luc, but nothing more is known.
  • Clare Lord was born on January 8, 1808, and was baptized at St. Luc. She married Paul Dupuis at St-Philippe on February 3, 1834, and Edouard Peladeau on November 29, 1855. She died on February 24th, 1899, and was buried on the 27th.
  • Edouard Lord was born on June 9, 1809, baptized the next day at St-Luc, and died just two months before his fourth birthday on April 26th, 1813. He was buried the following day.
  • Moise Lord was born on October 27, 1810, and was baptized at St-Luc. He married Marie-Anne Sanders in St-Paul on October 3, 1842. Marie-Anne was the granddaughter of Tse-Tse, an Iroquois, and his wife, Marie.
  • Catherine Lord was born on June 5, 1812, and was baptized the following day. She was buried on August 21, 1831, in LaPrairie.
  • Pierre-Noel Lord was born and baptized on Christmas Day in 1814 at St-Luc, died a few days before his nine months birthday, on September 19, 1815, and was buried two days later.
  • Modeste Lore was born on May 1, 1816, and was baptized the following day at St-Luc. He died on November 25, 1820, and was buried on the 28th. In his baptism record, Honoré is still listed as a “laboureur” which translates to plowman, or farmer.

Catherine, born in 1812, probably had vague memories of her father, but Modeste would have had no memory of him at all.

When Honoré welcomed his last child, he was a month shy of 74 years old and apparently still farming. Marguerite was 31.

When Marguerite married Honoré, she had to have known that one day she would be raising their children without him. She could have born children for another decade. Had he lived, he would have been 84 at that time, and had he lived to raise those children to age 20, he would have been 104.

I can’t help but wonder how a farmer in his 60s and 70s provided for an ever-growing family.

Of course, his older children were grown and married with children older than his younger children, so perhaps everyone helped. If Honoré had an estate, it would be interesting to see what it held. His widow, Marguerite, remarried in 1820 to Francois Giroux. I don’t know how spousal inheritance worked in Quebec, nor inheritance involving underage children, nor children from earlier marriages.

Honoré’s oldest son, Honoré, married in 1789 and had his first child in 1790. Father Honoré and son Honoré were having simultaneous children from 1790 through 1810 when son Honoré Jr.’s wife, Marie Lafaille, was 43 years old. However, Honoré Sr. continued having children with his third wife. Honoré Sr.’s childbearing years were greatly extended by having three wives, with the second two being significantly younger than him.

It’s rather remarkable that Honoré had children from 1768 (some accounts claim 1766) through 1816, nearly half a century.

When Honoré died, he had 16 or 17 living children, seven of whom were under the age of 20.

His eldest living child was age 50 and had adult children, yet his second to the youngest child died in 1815, and his youngest would perish in 1820, not even five years old.

Altogether, Honoré had 23 known children, plus probably at least four children born between 1777 and 1787, totaling at least 27 children.

It’s also interesting to note that Honoré had one set of twins, his son Honoré had two sets of twins, and four more of his children had a set of twins.

Christmas 1815

If Honoré’s family was like most Catholic families, they attended a beautiful midnight Mass celebrating the birth of Christ and the beginning of Christmastide.

However, this Christmas was probably different.

Honoré’s daughter Marie Anne, had a daughter, Marie Anne Brosseau, who was born in April of 1792. However, the child died on Christmas Day in 1815, just 23 years old. She was obviously very ill in the days leading up to Christmas.

To make matters worse, Honoré’s son, Pierre Noel, who had been born on Christmas Day in 1814, had died in September of 1815.

I’m sure the families were used to some amount of death, often in babies, but to happen on Christmas and to an older child must have taken the wind out of everyone’s sails, turning a day of celebration into a time of deep mourning. They had loved Marie Anne for 23 years, and now she was gone. The following day, they buried her. I’m sure the family never celebrated Christmas again without the tinge of grief.

Honoré’s Death

Honoré Lord, Lor, Lore, or Laure died in 1818 at the age of 76 years. He had quite some life. Chocked full of adventures he didn’t sign up for.

Brother Bernard translated the burial record of Honorius Lord.

“On May 22nd 1818, by us undersigned Priest, was buried in the cemetery of this place, after a funeral High Mass, the body of Honoré Laure, farmer, who died yesterday in said locality at the age of 76 years, fortified by the Sacraments of the Church, the husband of Marguerite Babin of this parish. At the burial were present Etienne Martin and Alexis Cartier, who said that they could not sign, (Signed) C Martin Priest”

Honoré’s two younger children with Suzanne Lafaille and all of his children with Mauguerite Babin were baptized at St. Luc. His four and possibly five children who died after St. Luc opened in 1801 and before his death in 1818, along with his second wife, were buried at St. Luc.

The long cemetery behind the church is where Honoré is buried, along with several of his children and wives, Suzanne and Marguerite.

The Saint-Jean-L’Evangeliste St-Luc church is not large, but probably larger than the original. This is the third church to be built in this location, the first burning in 1875. Honoré’s funeral was held in the church before he was buried in the churchyard, probably close to the rear door where there are many early, unmarked graves.

It’s possible that when the church was expanded and rebuilt, Honoré wound up under the rear portion of the church.

I realized that my mother’s great-grandfather, Antoine Lore, who would have been 13 in 1818, sat in a pew in this church as the Priest spoke in Latin during his grandfather’s service. Antoine would have walked with Honoré’s casket out the back of the church into the graveyard, listened as the Priest performed the Rite of Committal, recited the Catholic version of the Lord’s Prayer, then heard the clods of dirt hollowly hitting the casket lid.

This family probably knew the words to everything in this service by heart, even the Latin words they didn’t understand.

I would love to have heard Honoré’s funeral Mass, even though I can’t understand Latin. You can observe a contemporary High Mass funeral in Latin here. Regardless of the language, the ritual would have comforted his family, and the service would have been well attended. Extremely well attended. His immediate family may have filled the entire church. Given that he died in May, I hope his grandchildren gathered beautiful wildflowers and decorated the church and his casket.

By J.A.Bergeijk at Dutch Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3256309

High Mass would have been an honor and performed by either a Bishop or other prelate allowed to wear Pontifical liturgical vestments. You can learn about Catholic funerals here.

This beautiful stained-glass window in the Canterbury Cathedral shows a funeral procession. I can imagine that Honoré’s looked something like this. His sons probably were pallbearers, carrying Honoré on his final journey.

Honoré and his family certainly paid a high price to remain Catholic, so a beautiful funeral was well-deserved.

Honoré’s Legacy

Honoré has the distinction of having the most children of any of my known ancestors.

He had 23 known children and probably at least 27, based on the “holes” that are unaccounted for during the time he was (probably) in New York in the 1770s and 1780s. One of his known children disappeared during that time too, and likely died and was buried wherever they were living. For a Catholic, burying children without the benefit of a Catholic baptism and in unconsecrated ground would have been painful indeed. Maybe that’s part of what sparked their decision to return to Quebec, even though it was still officially held by the British. At least they could practice the Catholic faith freely in Quebec.

Honoré never knew that several of his grandchildren would be the first converts in Quebec to the Methodist faith less than two decades later, in the 1830s. He might just have turned over in his grave a few times since the entire Acadian experience had been one long battle to retain their ability to be “French” and, in that spirit, devoutly Catholic.

Not all of Honoré’s children survived to adulthood, of course, but 13, about half, did. I find nothing more for Joseph, born in 1775, so he likely died in New York, and I found the birth and baptism for Augustin in 1806, but nothing more. Honoré’s children from his third marriage tended to be more scattered than the older children who settled in L’Acadie.

I don’t know if Honoré left an estate and, if so, how it was divided, but that too could have made a difference in terms of who stayed and who left. His third wife remarried, and many of those children either didn’t know him well or at all. They would have established relationships and roots elsewhere.

Honoré might have spent more time in church than any other ancestor, too, by virtue of all of those baptisms, marriages, and, sadly, burials. I literally had to make a spreadsheet to figure out where he was, and when. You can see that as he aged and his children married and blessed him with more grandchildren, he attended church outside of regular services more and more frequently. Lots of baptizing going on.

I do not have the actual church records for all of the baptisms, but it appears that Honoré may not have been able to write. I never find his signature anyplace. Sometimes witnesses signed, so there is still hope.

Honoré’s Child’s Name Spouse Honoré‘s Grandchild Great-Grandchild Event Date
Appoline Garceau Marriage validation 9-28-1767 Becancoeur, Yamachiche
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Baptism 2-28-1768 Yamachiche
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Baptism 12-31-1769 St Denis
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Baptism 9-20-1771 St Ours
Marie Claire Lore 1773-1773 Baptism 5-13-1773 St Ours
Marie Claire Lore 1773-1773 Burial 1-16-1775 St Ours
Joseph Honoré Lore 1775 – ? Baptism 3-5-1775 St Ours
Joseph Honoré Lore 1775 – ? Burial 1775-1787 New York?
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Baptism 7-1-1787 Ste Marguerite
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Baptism 7-1-1787 Ste Marguerite
Appoline Garceau Burial 5-4-1788 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marriage 11-10-1788 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Antoine Brousseau Baptism 9-2-1789 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Antoine Brousseau Burial 9-4-1789 Ste Marguerite
Suzanne Lafaille Marriage 1-11-1790 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Joseph Lore 1790-1835 Baptism 3-9-1790 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Antoine Brousseau Baptism 2-5-1791 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Antoine Brousseau Burial 2-23-1791 Ste Marguerite
Henri Lore 1791-aft 1836 Baptism 3-23-1791 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Samuel Lore 1791-1821 Baptism 9-4-1791 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Ann Brousseau Baptism 4-8-1792 Ste Marguerite
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Baptism 2-27-1793 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 (Isabelle) Marie Elisabeth Lore 1793-1857 Baptism 3-1-1793 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Pierre Broussard Baptism 2-13-1794 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Marie Josephte Lore 1794-aft 1871 Baptism 12-19-1794 Ste Marguerite
Julien Lore 1795-1872 m 1820 Baptism 3-29-1795 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marguerite Broussard Baptism 1-27-1796 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Hyppolyte Lore 1796 Baptism 7-17-1796 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Marie Victoire Lore 1796-1831 Baptism 7-17-1796 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Hyppolyte Lore 1796 Burial 7-20-1796 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Marriage 2-20-1797 St Ours
Suzanne Lore 1797-1833 Baptism 5-25-1797 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Antoine Brousseau Baptism 7-24-1797 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Pierre Lore 1798-1799 Baptism 3-24-1798 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Alexis Lore 1798-1875 Baptism 3-24-1798 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Victor Dussault Baptism 9-2-1798 Contrecoueur
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Louise Brousseau Baptism 2-19-1799 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Pierre Lore 1798-1799 Burial 7-4-1799 Ste Marguerite
Jacques Lore 1799-aft 1831 m 1820 Baptism 7-16-1799 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Louise Brousseau Burial 7-22-1799 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Marriage 8-10-1789 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Benoni Lore 1800-1888 Baptism 2-6-1800 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Unnamed Dussault Birth 5-11-1800 Contrecoueur
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Unnamed Dussault Burial 5-13-1800 Contrecoueur
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Phebee Brousseau Baptism 8-14-1800 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Marguerite Dussault Baptism 4-3-1801 Contrecoueur
Marie Phebee Lore 1802 Baptism 3-14-1802 St Luc
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Honoré Lore 1802-1882 Baptism 3-22-1802 Ste Marguerite
Marie Phebee Lore 1802 Burial 6-11-1802 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Joseph Brousseau Baptism 10-10-1802 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Marie Marguerite Dussault Baptism 2-2-1803 Contrecoueur
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Marie Marguerite Dussault Burial 2-25-1803 Contrecoueur
Hippolite Lore 1803 Baptism 6-17-1803 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Celeste Brousseau Baptism 7-8-1803 St Luc
Hippolite Lore 1803 Burial 7-18-1803 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Celeste Brousseau Burial 7-21-1803 St Luc
Suzanne Lafaille Burial 8-9-1803 St Luc
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Rene Zephyrin Lore 1803-1877 Baptism 8-26-1803 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Genevieve Dussault Baptism 12-5-1803 Contrecoueur
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Genevieve Dussault Burial 8-25-1804 Contrecoueur
Marie Rose Lore 1804-1887 m 1820 Baptism 11-23-1804 St Luc
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Antoine Lore 1805 to US Baptism 3-25-1805 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Celeste Brousseau Baptism 4-30-1805 St Luc
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Francois Dussault Birth 6-13-1805 Contrecoueur
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Francois Dussault Burial 6-15-1805 Contrecoueur
Augustin Lore 1806-? Baptism 2-27-1806 St Luc
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Marriage 6-9-1806 Ste Marguerite
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Adelaide Brousseau Baptism 6-30-1806 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Justine Brousseau Baptism 6-30-1806 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Adelaide Brousseau Burial 7-14-1806 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Justine Brousseau Burial 7-15-1806 St Luc
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Marriage 8-18-1806 La Prairie
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Celeste Lore b 1806 Baptism 9-15-1806 Ste Marguerite
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Edouard Lore Baptism 3-3-1807 St Luc
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Hilaire Lore Baptism 5-19-1807 Ste Marguerite
Claire Lore 1808-1899 m 1834 Baptism 1-8-1808 St Luc
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Emelie Lore Baptism 3-13-1808 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Pierre Lore 1808-1814 Baptism 3-17-1808 Ste Marguerite
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Marie Olive Lore Baptism 9-6-1808 Ste Marguerite
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Marie Pelagie Dussault Baptism 10-6-1808 St Denis
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Aubin Lore Baptism 3-30-1809 Ste Marguerite
Medard Lore 1809 Birth 6-9-1809 St Luc
Medard Lore 1809 Death 6-10-1809 St Luc
Edouard 1809-1813 Baptism 6-10-1809 St Luc
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Marguerite Lore 1810-1855 Baptism 4-25-1810 Ste Marguerite
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Domitille Lore Baptism 6-1-1810 Ste Marguerite
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Domitille Lore Burial 6-13-1810 Ste Marguerite
Moise Lore 1810-1908 m 1842 Baptism 10-27-1810 St Luc
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Francois Dussault Baptism 4-12-1811 St Luc
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Rene Lore Baptism 6-20-1811 Ste Marguerite
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Rene Lore Burial 7-25-1811 Ste Marguerite
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 David Lore Baptism 10-8-1811 Ste Marguerite
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Pierre Babin Marriage 5-4-1812 St Luc
Catherine Lore 1812-1831 Baptism 6-6-1812 St Luc
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Marie Julienne Lore Baptism 6-8-1812 Ste Marguerite
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Pierre Babin Unnamed Babin Birth 1-27-1813 St Luc
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Pierre Babin Unnamed Babin Burial 1-30-1813 St Luc
Edouard 1809-1813 Burial 4-27-1813 St Luc
Charlotte Marguerite Lore 1777-1833 Pierre Victor Dussault 1778-aft 1835 Augustin Dussault Baptism 8-28-1813 Ste Marguerite
Henri Lore 1791-aft 1836 Louise Lebert Julie Lore Baptism 11-30-1813 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Pierre Broussard Marriage 1-31-1814 Ste Marguerite
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Henry Lore Baptism 5-26-1814 Ste Marguerite
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Henriette Lore Baptism 5-26-1814 Ste Marguerite
Jean Baptiste Lore 1779-1828 Marie Madeleine Ligny 1786-1857 Henriette Lore Burial 7-12-1814 Ste Marguerite
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Pierre Lore 1808-1814 Burial 9-5-1814 Ste Marguerite
Francois Lore 1771- Dec 13 1824 Marie Anne Lafaille 1782-1849 Joseph Lore Baptism 9-14-1814 Ste Marguerite
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Pierre Babin Pierre Babin Baptism 9-16-1814 Marieville
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Samuel Lore 1791-1821 Marriage 11-7-1814 Ste Marguerite
Suzanne Lore 1797-1833 Charles Ficault Marriage 11-21-1814 St Luc
Pierre Noel Lore 1814-1815 Baptism 12-25-1814 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Pierre Broussard Pierre Broussard Baptism 3-12-1815 St Luc
Pierre Noel Lore 1814-1815 Burial 9-21-1815 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Ann Brousseau Burial 12-26-1815 St Luc
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Marie Ann Brousseau Death 12-25-1815 St Luc
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Samuel Lore 1791-1821 Marie Elmire Lore Baptism 2-3-1816 Ste Marguerite
Modeste Lore 1816-1820 Baptism 5-2-1816 St Luc
Honoré Lore 1768-1834 Marie Lafaille 1767-1836 Joseph Lore 1790-1835 Marriage 5-6-1816 St Luc
Henri Lore 1791-aft 1836 Louise Lebert died 1816 Burial 6-12-1816 St Luc
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Pierre Babin Pierre Babin Burial 7-26-1816 Marieville
Marie Anne Lore 1769-1852 Antoine Brouseau 1760-1845 Pierre Broussard Moise Broussard Baptism 12-2-1816 St Luc
Louise Marie 1793-1834 Pierre Babin Marie Louise Babin Baptism 12-3-1817 Marieville
Death 5-21-1818 Honoré ‘s death
Burial 5-22-1818 Honoré ‘s burial

Honoré died in 1818, long before his younger children married.

His children from his second and third marriages grew up playing with his grandchildren from his first marriage. Honoré had three great-grandchildren who would have attended his funeral, the eldest being three years old. Honoré’s last child, born in 1816, was younger than his two eldest great-grandchildren, and two more followed in 1818, shortly after his death.

So that means his great-grandchildren were playmates with his youngest children. No wonder my tree looks like an insane vine!

There were probably over 100 people wedged into the pews at Honoré’s funeral, and that’s without counting his siblings and their families or his wives’ families. Several babies would have been crying, but they would have been among good company as the rest of his family would all have been shedding tears at his departure. One thing is for sure, Honoré lived a long and full life.

I began to lose track of Honoré’s descendants quickly, but in the next three generations, I found eight different children named Honoré, clearly honoring him. That tells you something about him. No one names a child after someone they don’t like.

  • Honoré’s son born in 1768
  • Grandson Honore was born in 1802 through son Honoré
  • Grandson Honoré born in 1821, died in 1821 through son Henry
  • Grandson Honoré Fissiau/Ficialut born in 1826, died in 1829 through daughter Suzanne
  • Grandson Honoré born and died in 1825 through son Jacques
  • Grandson Honoré DuPuis was born in 1834 through daughter Claire
  • Great-grandson Pierre Honoré Boudreau was born in 1833 through son Francois and his daughter, Marie Olive
  • Great-grandson Honore was born in 1826 through son Joseph, then his son Joseph

There may well have been more.

I used various sources to assemble Honoré’s family, including PRDH as well as family records. Unfortunately, PRDH does not include the Grande Ligne Protestant baptismal records. I don’t have copies of everything, and I’m unsure where to look for his estate records.

Honoré’s grandchildren began venturing to newer frontiers. One to Vermont, then on to New York and Pennsylvania, one to New York, and another to Oregon. There were probably many more that left, spreading our Acadian seeds near and far. Every time I see the surname Lore, Lord, or even Laure, I wonder if that is one of the descendants of Honoré.

Honoré began life in the Acadian homelands, then spent many years in forced exile. We know the family lost everything, and we don’t know how they survived or where. Given those beleaguered beginnings, with warfare constantly haunting the family like a predator, no one would have dared to predict that Honoré’s life would end as a humble farmer in the pastoral green countryside of L’Acadie in Quebec, rebuilding his life and that of his family among other Acadian families.

This landscape evokes peace and tranquility, which is what I’m sure Honoré desired perhaps more than anything else.

Honoré was truly a devout Catholic. He made his way to church on the day of each new baby’s arrival for an immediate baptism, no matter the weather, just in case. The mother wouldn’t have been able to travel right after giving birth, but the child needed to be baptized.

We don’t know exactly where Honoré lived, but it had to be someplace between the Ste-Marguerite and St-Luc churches.

Maybe someplace halfway in between.

Regardless, Honoré spent an inordinate amount of time in both Ste-Marguerite-de-Blairfindie and St-Luc.

Honoré had wives, children and grandchildren buried in both locations, all in unmarked graves. At the time, they were probably marked with wooden crosses.

After the Acadian families were incredibly scattered to the wind and endured such horrific circumstances in his early life, the fact that Honoré managed to settle and keep his family intact in one place is rather remarkable. I’d love to know how he did it and the location of his exact land. How did he purchase it? What happened to it after his death? Can it be located today?

His sixteen or seventeen living children, ages two to 50, assembled one last time to honor the patriarch of the family, Honoré. I hope it was a joyful celebration and recollection of his amazing life, with grieving, yes, but also laughter and storytelling.

Rest in Peace, Honoré.

_____________________________________________________________

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Mother’s Day Visitation Two Decades Out

I hope that you are enjoying Mother’s Day, whether you’re the Mom being honored, you’re honoring your mother, or you’re one of the millions who “mother” and love others, one way or another.

I didn’t have time to complete my normal article for today, but I certainly didn’t want to let Mother’s Day pass without acknowledgment.

I didn’t get my article finished because, let’s just say, I’ve been extremely busy with something VERY interesting.

I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you a little!

Just a couple of days ago, I was able to visit Mom once again in the freezer at FamilyTreeDNA.

Mom’s DNA has been housed there since 2003, when she swabbed for her first DNA test. It’s so hard to believe that was two decades ago. So much has changed.

That stored DNA sample allowed me to upgrade Mom to the Family Finder test in 2012, six years after she passed away.

In 2013, I visited Mom at FamilyTreeDNA in the freezer and realized, as I looked in that little window, that there was more of my mother in that freezer than anywhere else on earth. My DNA is in there too, with her, just sayin’. I won’t be buried beside her in the soil, but I am near her in that freezer every day. Somebody has to keep an eye on her!

In intervening years, FamilyTreeDNA purchased a larger freezer and moved Mom from the earlier location across the room to the larger cryo-preservation cemetery – I mean freezer.

Now, Mom, with a few million of her friends and several thousand of our relatives, is partying it up in there when no one is looking.

Time Capsule

Every time I stare through that window, it’s like peering backward into a time capsule. I wonder, if all the Y-DNA was processed at the Big Y-700 level, how much of the entire Y-DNA phylogenetic tree would we be able to reconstruct?

People often skip testing mitochondrial DNA, passed from mothers to all their children, thinking it won’t be genealogically useful. I assure you, that’s not always the case. Furthermore, if you don’t test, DNA can never be useful. Every single person has mitochondrial DNA, so just imagine how much of the mitochondrial tree would be created if every one of those samples was tested at or upgraded to the full sequence level.

How many dead ends are in that freezer, meaning no living people carry that line anymore? I’m one of those people because I have no grandchildren through my daughter. Mom’s, her mother’s, and my mitochondrial DNA dies with my generation.

Based on my mitochondrial DNA sequence, meaning my mutations, I’ll VERY likely have a new haplogroup when the Million Mito Project rolls out, and even more likely that it will be at least three branches down the tree, closer in time.

What pieces of our human history will be lost if the people in that freezer don’t test their mitochondrial DNA at the full sequence level? The full sequence is needed to construct the mitochondrial tree of all humanity.

How many more matches would we have if everyone in that freezer had a Family Finder test? How many brick walls would fall? How many mysteries would be solved? Would we be able to reconstruct the DNA of our ancestors from their descendants?

What happens if we never open that time capsule, individually and collectively?

“Just Do It”

I had to pinch myself, though. As I stood in that lab, viewing through that window what I considered a sacred and hallowed space for Mom and humanity as well, I was reminded of what Mom said to me not long before she died. In fact, I can hear her frail voice.

“You need to do that.” 

What was “that”?

“That” was transforming her DNA results into a story – her story, her history and genealogy – and how she connected with the story of all humankind. Her “story” revealed her history, our history, even before genealogy, connecting with her soul. She could touch people whose names she would never know, but who contributed their mitochondrial DNA to her. It brought them alive.

I had an entire litany of sensible, level-headed reasons why I could never “do that,” beginning with the fact that I already had a career and owned a business. I had a family, children, and responsibilities – nope – no can do, Mom.

Not to be deterred, Mom gently stopped me in the process of listing all the perfectly logical and valid reasons why that would never work and told me that all of that was just preparing me for what I was “supposed to do,” and I needed to “just do it.” This was nothing like the mother I knew, always conservative in her advice and never wanting me to step out, even a little bit, onto an unstable limb. Let alone leap off the cliff of uncertainty with absolutely no safety net.

What had happened to my mother?

I simply couldn’t make her understand – all those years ago.

Then, my gaze drifts back to the present, and I remember that I’m staring into a freezer, not a time machine. Mom has already had all the tests available today. But many of her frozen neighbors have not.

As I stood, looking into that window, into the past, and perhaps into the future, I was afraid to turn around.

People were standing behind me, filming. I didn’t want anyone to see those tears slipping down my cheeks. After all, I had simply been looking at a window, right? Just a window. Not a cemetery. Not a portal. Not a time machine, no reason for tears – unless you understand the magnitude of what the freezer holds.

I so hoped that those hot tears didn’t entirely ruin my makeup, or that I could at least escape to the restroom to fix it without being noticed.

The Greatest Journey

On the way to the restroom, I saw this framed magazine, a wink and a nod from Mom, I’m sure. Indeed, our DNA is the greatest journey ever told, ever embarked upon, and the story is not yet entirely written. Mom said DNA would change the world as we know it, and she was right.

Mom, I found a way – or maybe fate found me back in 2004. That fateful fork in the road, although I’m not sure I even realized I had slipped onto that road untaken until it was too late to turn back.

Maybe Mom pushed those buttons from the other side, because I’ve been passionately “doing that” one way or another now for almost two decades. And finally, finally, we are going to be able to tell a larger story.

You and me, Mom. Hand in hand with our cousins. All of them – on every continent around the world.

Making history is on the horizon. DNA rocks. Here’s to all the mothers!!!

Thank You

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love and miss you oh so much. And, while I wasn’t at the time, I’m – ahem – so incredibly grateful for the swift kick in the behind called encouragement.

But then, isn’t that the age-old story of motherhood?

Until next time Mom, you behave in there!

_____________________________________________________________

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Hiram Ferverda and Eva Miller Brought Back to Life – 52 Ancestors #397

Hiram Bauke Ferverda (1854-1925) immigrated from the Netherlands as a boy with his father, step-mother, and family in 1868. I wrote about Hiram here, here, and here.

They sailed in October, the month after Hiram’s 14th birthday. His mother, Geertje Harmens DeJong had died in 1860 when Hiram was six years old. His only surviving full sibling, Hendrik, who came to be known as Henry, was just two days shy of his third birthday when his mother passed away. Their baby sister, only eight months old, had perished three months before their mother.

1860 was filled with tragedy for this family, leaving Hiram’s remaining parent, a school teacher, with two young boys to raise.

In 1863, his father, Bauke Hendrick Ferwerda (1830-1911,) with a surname that morphed to both Ferverda and Fervida in Indiana, remarried Minke “Minnie” Gerb ens Van der Koo. Their first two children were twin girls born a day apart, which probably means just a few minutes before and after midnight, in August of 1864. They were joined by another sister in May of 1867.

When they sailed for America in 1868, the family consisted of Hiram’s father, step-mother, brother Hendrik “Henry” who would have just turned nine, half-siblings Melvinda who was four, her twin Lysbeth who died during the voyage and was buried at sea, and Geertje, who was just 17 months old.

We have only six photos of Hiram Ferveda, even though he lived until 1925. Half of those photos are very distant. There’s only one of his brother, Henry, who led an incredibly sad, short life.

The photos I have of Hiram are second-hand copies from a booklet, so they are very poor quality. I reached out to a photo restoration group on Facebook, and VERY KIND volunteers worked on restoring the Ferverda boy’s faces, along with that of Hiram’s wife, Eva Miller (1857-1939), who I wrote about here and here. Unfortunately, to date, no photos of Hiram’s father have been located, although I still have my fingers crossed given that he lived until 1911.

Hiram (Harmen Bauke) Ferverda (Ferwerda) at left, Henry (Hendrik) Ferverda at right, assuming the Ferverda booklet is labeled correctly.

Here’s the original photo of brothers Hiram and Henry.

I didn’t think there was much hope for restoration, as I had already tried, without much success. Fortunately, other people knew what they were doing.

A very nice man named Ray improved the photo, as did several others.

Then, a photo image genius who I’ll call Angel (a pseudonym, because Angel does not want to have photographic restorations requested) worked on the faces and literally brought them back to life.

I was dumbstruck.

Hiram’s brother, Henry, above.

Hiram Ferverda. Notice his left eye.

I think of Hiram as a dignified silver-haired man in photos with his adult family, not as a youth.

A few days later, I asked for assistance again. Requesters are not allowed to tag a particular volunteer, but I was extremely fortunate that Angel saw my request and once again, very graciously, worked their magic.

In 1876, Hiram married Eva Miller. They obviously went to a portrait studio for the photo above, which is recorded as either being a wedding photo, or near that time. She was 18, soon to be 19, and he was on the cusp of 22. That seems awfully young to marry today but was the norm back then.

Once again, I was incredibly amazed.

But Angel wasn’t finished.

Hiram’s stunning portrait.

I had to sit down and catch my breath. What an incredible gift.

Notice Hiram’s eye again. Whatever condition he had, it’s genetic, because my grandfather, his son, had the same “droopy” left eye, which has continued in some people in the following generations, but not as pronounced.

Here’s Eva Miller as a young woman, remarkably, without her Brethren prayer bonnet. Her hair is drawn back, but not put up on her head. I’d bet her family was very unhappy about this picture. Perhaps Eva was a bit rebellious, at least for a young Brethren woman.

I have to smile, thinking about this chapter in Eva’s life. She did not marry outside the faith, but her sons would unapologetically serve in the military and her husband was a Marshall in Leesburg, so this entire family was a bit renegade. Always Brethren though.

This restored portrait of Eva is so very real and literally made me cry. I can see my mother in her face, almost 150 years after this photo was taken. I wish I could show Mom. I can see myself and my daughter in Eva’s face too, especially when we were younger.

Mom told me that Eva came and cared for her when she was ten years old and terribly ill with rheumatic fever. They forged a special bond. Mom remembered her kindness, and her white prayer bonnet.

The only other photos we have of Eva are poor quality and when she is either older or elderly, with her adult children.

The best one is a chalk drawing. She doesn’t look very happy. I actually wonder if this is Eva or her mother, Margaret Elizabeth Lentz (1822-1903.) The family member who gave it to me identified it as Eva.

Regardless, that’s how I think of Eva – matronly and reserved, wearing her prayer bonnet, with her hair twisted into a bun on her head, not as an incredibly beautiful young woman. I much prefer to think of her as a lovely bride, sitting for her wedding portrait, despite what anyone thought, excited to set up housekeeping with her handsome groom. I’m so very glad that arranged this photo session, because, without that one remaining poor photograph, we would have had no prayer of recovering these wonderful ones.

I’m incredibly grateful to Angel, of course, for bringing my great-grandparents back to life through these stunning portraits as well as for the gift of literally being able to view them as vibrant young people.

_____________________________________________________________

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