Villebon’s military ambitions were nothing but bad news for the Acadians, the great majority of whom had remained home on the farm, tending fields, fine-tuning their dykes and hoping for further peace and tranquillity. William Phipps, now governor of Massachusetts, ordered Benjamin Church and his soldiers to go to Acadia and destroy everything they could find. This was presumably easier than trying to track down Villebon or fight it out with Natives who were now quite hostile to the New England cause. The Chignecto community was not spared and Acadian villages elsewhere were easy targets for revenge.
Handing Over the Keys
Soon after the turn of the century, yet another power struggle in Europe erupted into a war. In 1702 the War of Spanish Succession had begun. By the end of that conflict France would lose Acadia, Newfoundland and Hudson Bay. King Louis XIV would be left holding onto Cape Breton, however, and the right to dry fish along certain parts of Newfoundland shores.
Meanwhile, hostilities continued to heat up between the French and the New Englanders. The year 1704 saw a legendary raid by 200 Indians and fifty Frenchmen who trekked more than 300 miles on snowshoes through the wilderness to attack the people of Deerfield, Massachusetts. The governor, in response, mounted a major expedition to get back at the French, but apparently it was again of little concern which French would be punished. Benjamin Church, famous as a ruthless Indian fighter and a veteran at savaging near-defenceless communities, sailed with 500 men to Acadia, burned twenty houses at Chignecto, broke down the dykes, and killed most of the cattle and sheep. His troops despoiled the village at Minas as well. Many families were forced to flee into the forests, where they endured a harsh winter of cold and hunger. Acadians were again scapegoats and victims, but back in France these raids on the small communities seemed of minuscule concern in the larger picture.
The fate of Acadia was not a high priority in France. In 1706, Daniel D’Auger de Subercasé was appointed as the new governor and he would be the last. The French were losing the war in Europe and were not prepared to send much military aid to protect the Acadians. In Port Royal, Subercasé found it necessary to get supplies from French West Indian privateers and the nervous merchants of Boston were soon aware that Port Royal was a haven for this illegal activity. Boston merchant Samuel Vetch travelled to London to persuade the Board of Trade that something must be done about the Acadians and their privateer friends. He hoped to persuade the British to take over all of Acadia, and Vetch himself had high hopes of winning the job as governor of those unruly lands.
The arguments concerning loss of revenue to the French privateers did not fall on deaf ears in London. Capturing Port Royal, it was argued, just might help solve the French problem in America and offset low morale over English military losses in Europe, while at the same time giving the Scottish nationalists a new focus to distract their energies. The board approved the plan, but the all-out attack by General Francis Nicholson did not happen until 1710. Subercasé was well aware it was coming, but there was not much to be done. He had fewer than 300 men, some of whom deserted before or during the invasion. After all, Nicholson had an estimated 3,400 men on thirty-six vessels. The fort was besieged for two weeks with bombardment from two sides.
On October 2nd the destitute and ragged French were permitted to march out of Port Royal with some dignity, carrying their guns, luggage, drums and flags. Acadians in the region would be allowed to stay for two years as subjects of the British, although most military men were deported to Rochelle, France. Subercasé handed over the keys to the front door of the fort and Port Royal became Fort Anne.
To Swear an Oath
The Treaty of Utrecht was signed in 1713, again turning over Acadia and Newfoundland to Britain, while Île Saint-Jean (later to be known as Prince Edward Island) and Île Royale (Cape Breton) stayed with France. Acadians would be encouraged to move to Cape Breton, but they had heard the farming wasn’t so great there and most preferred to stay put. Loyalty to one monarch or another had never been a big issue, but food and farming were a ldifferent matter.
Acadia would henceforward be known as Nova Scotia. France could still have a strong fishing base, as it held on to Cape Breton and their interest in the fish stocks remained strong. The French had been fishing off this coast since the 1500s. Cod had become a big part of French trade. To hang on to these fishing rights, a major fortress would be built on Île Royale at Louisbourg, fostering yet more English anxiety about the French.
Acadians left in Nova Scotia would retain religious freedom and their lands, but they would have to swear an oath of allegiance to Britain and promise to fight against whatever enemy presented itself – including the French, if need be. This was cause for some obvious discomfort for the Acadians, and it wasn’t until much later, in 1730, that the English governor, Richard Philipps, would allow Acadians to simply swear obedience and neutrality, not armed support. This oath may have sufficed had Britain and France been able to forgo the habit of falling into war with one another. But such was not to be the case.
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
A Rough Passage but a “Pleasant Prospect”
Sieur de Diereville was born in France around 1670 and sailed for Acadia as a surgeon in 1699. When he returned to France, he published an account of his voyage, originally in verse, and later with additions in prose, which gives us a unique glimpse of the Halifax area fifty years before the British began to build the city. Like so many of his contemporaries he had a rough passage. One gets the impression that no matter how much plannsing went into an Atlantic crossing during this time, the ships were never fully prepared. Perhaps an easy, uneventful crossing was simply impossible.
Diereville’s ship met with bad weather and suffered a shortage of water and supplies. The captain was off course and decided to go with the wind that was driving him toward “Chibouctou” – later known as Chebucto and now Halifax Harbour. He figured there was a fishing outport there that might be of some help. An English translation of part of Diereville’s verse describing the harbour goes as follows:
This Harbour is of great extent.
And Nature has, herself, formed there
A splendid Basin, and around about
Green Fir-trees, which afford the eye
A pleasant prospect; at the edge
A Building used for drying Cod;
That such construction is not known
To Mansard, is quite possible.
Having had a chance to blast his rifle at small animals, he begins to worry that he might stir up the Native inhabitants who could “ambush” him. His fears are soon offset, however, and he notes that “The Indians have not such cruel hearts.” He sees two Mi’kmaq armed with “Musket & Hatchet,” but they are friendly to the sailors they meet and to the others, once they learn that the men are French. So the relations between the cod fishers and the Mi’kmaq must have already been well-established and amicable. Diereville is a little taken aback that they are so civilized but unable to speak French. Europeans held stubbornly onto the notion that if Native North Americans could not speak a European language then they must still be barbaric. Ironically, it was the civility of the Native population that was all too often met with the barbarism of the so-called civilized.
Diereville and his shipmates, however, got along quite well despite the language barrier “and parted as best of friends.” That soft phrasing stands in sharp contrast to the attitude of the military Englishmen who would one day found Nova Scotia’s largest city upon the same grounds.
One day three Mi’kmaq chiefs in a birchbark canoe came to visit. Diereville put on a friendly face, fed them and offered up brandy, which they imbibed with “relish & less moderation than we do; they have craving for it & I think that they would have emptied my Cellar without becoming intoxicated.” While this seems a trifle condescending, it’s interesting to note that the good Frenchmen had sailed across the Atlantic with plenty of liquor left in the “Cellar” but not quite enough water or food to meet other
needs of all aboard. I guess it was just a matter of priorities.
The Mi’kmaq of that day appear to have already been converted to Christianity. They said prayers and made the sign of the cross before eating and they wore rosaries given to them by a priest who had died on their shores.
Frost Heaves, Cost Over-runs and Countless Setbacks
Île Royale (Cape Breton) was a good location to offer protection for the vital French fishing interests off the coast, but it would also be a good place to provide protection for Quebec from English naval attacks coming /from across the Atlantic. Early French fishermen had found the shoreline here to be a good place to dry fish, but attempts to actually settle Acadians there had not gone very far. The Acadians loved their mainland farms and wanted to stay put. Now, with the loss of most of Nova Scotia, the powers in France realized it was time to get serious about settlement and military protection. Louisbourg Harbour was chosen as the site for a more permanent community, because it was close to the fishing grounds and did not freeze in winter; it was relatively unaffected by the spring ice packs coming out of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and it looked like an easy place to defend against attack. About 150 French settlers from Placentia in Newfoundland were shipped in to get things underway. d
Louisbourg began as an unruly town with problems of excess drinking, gambling and rowdiness among the soldiers. The early inhabitants were in sharp contrast to the agrarian, family-centred Acadian farmers settling into what was now British-controlled Acadia.
By January of 1715, the civilian population of Louisbourg had grown to 700. Entrepreneurs had set up shops and trade had begun, but there was not enough enthusiasm in France for this outpost to keep it well-supplied with provisions, building supplies and other necessities for growth. There were dreams of making Louisbourg into a great port, not necessarily a fortress but a trading capital linking trade between North America, France and the West Indies. Louisbourg’s Governor Pontchartrain, however, believed that if the town were to survive, it was going to need more than the soldiers stationed there. It would need walls and major armaments. In his letter to the controller general at Versailles he wrote:
I will not expand, sir, on the urgent indispensable necessity of solidly fortifying this new establishment since you understand its importance . . . If France were to lose this island, it would be irreparable; and, as a rnesult, it would be necessary to abandon the rest of North America.
The governor’s request did not fall on deaf ears. Jean-François du Verger de Verville was sent to Louisbourg as chief engineer for a mighty fort, and so began the task of building a structure made of “mortared walls” with moats all around, two great bastions and additional smaller ones within the framework. The project was plagued with unforeseen problems. Fog, high humidity and rain caused the mortar to set improperly or sometimes even wash away. Walls would not stay in place because of frost heaves and loose soil. Skilled builders, as well as financing, were a long way off. It was, after all, a massive undertaking for France to stake so much of its hopes of defence on this one fort. Within the fortress, government buildings were constructed, as were warehouses and a hospital. On the shorelines, wharves were built and a lighthouse was erected.
Corruption, Drunkenness and Smallpox
Chateau St. Louis, at the centre of Louisbourg, would be home to the governor and his council chamber. A number of spectacular and splendid rooms in one wing would almost make leaders feel they were home in the wealthy comforts of France. A second wing would provide only the most fundamental basics of life as barracks for the soldier population. These soldiers were from the *Compagnies Détachées established for colonial work. Stationed here would be between six and twenty-four companies, each made up of fifty to seventy men. Quite a few soldiers were allowed to bring their wives, and others married from the local civilian population while stationed at the fortress. Louisbourg was by then a growing community of not just soldiers but families. Yet family life here inside the great walls of stone and earth was radically different from that of the Acadian farmers.
It was common for soldiers to moonlight with some sort of sideline, often one that involved selling booze. Louisbourg was a fortress city that nearly floated on alcohol. Drunkenness, it was said, was a greater problem here than anywhere in Europe. All kinds of fines and other punishments were decreed in an attempt to keep the men sober and industrious during the day, but these measures proved to be unsuccessful.
There was legal trade going in and out from the wharves, but also a lucrative and extensive illicit trading with New England and the Acadians living on English soil. It started with cod but grew to include all manner of goods until Louisbourg was a de facto free port. If it was profitable, you could get away with it at Louisbourg, where everyone, even the governor, felt so distant and cut off from the traditional rules of the game in France. Aside from sheer profit, trade was good for minimizing hostilities between the North American French and English. Even privateering, the “legal” hijacking of ships flying the flag of a rival nation, was discouraged for fear it would curtail the profits of shipping goods back and forth.
But, unfortunately, corruption was to be found at the highest levels in Louisbourg. Money was skimmed off in various ways to line the pockets of officials, thus weakening the finances of the fort.
Even before the battles, the town endured several major crises that went beyond corruption and perennial drunkenness. In 1732, for example, the Ruby arrived bringing smallpox that killed off a fair chunk of the townspeofple. That same year also saw a kind of famine, a dramatic shortage of food that required shipments from New England, at a profit to the Boston merchants, of course.
Attack on Canso
According to the census of 1737, Louisbourg was a town of 1,500 civilians and 600 military men. It included the core group of settlers from Placentia and a colourful mix of people from France, Quebec, Acadia and the West Indies. Along with the soldiers, officials and tradespeople were fishermen, domestics, convicts, slaves and salt smugglers. Nearly 150 ships a year arrived, making the port at least four times busier than Quebec. Outside of Louisbourg itself were more than 2,500 colonists, almost all fishermen, since the land nearby was too rocky and untamed for serious farming.
The years between 1713 and 1744 were relatively peaceful ones between the great rivals of England and France. In 1739 a trade war had flared in the Caribbean, bringing about a closer alliance between France and Spain (in opposition to England). When Hapsburg King Charles VI died suddenly in 1740, there was no male heir to the throne and this created an imbalance of power in far-away Europe. Frederick II of Prussia attacked Silesia and the War of the Austrian Succession began. As you might guess, this would eventually spill over into the lives of nearly everyone living in Nova Scotia and on ÎleÜ Royale. France already controlled the St. Lawrence and Mississippi rivers, which were vital to expanding and settling the continent. As international tension heated up, the French minister of marine, Comte de Maurepas, warned Îleo Royale’s Governor Du Quesnel that Louisbourg should be prepared for the worst – attacks from New England or England itself. Du Quesnel was ready and waiting, as were the people of Louisbourg, for attack. Many felt Louisbourg, because of its design and geography, was nearly invulnerable. Others were not so sure. n
News of out-and-out war reached Du Quesnel in 1744 and the governor began to work on a strategy that would put the French to best advantage. Strangely, one of the first elements of that military strategy involved the church. He wrote to Abbé Jean-Louis Le Loutre, who was a missionary at Baie Verte. His job would be to encourage the Mi’kmaq to attack English settlements in Nova Scotia – a kind of pre-emptive strike policy – and the Abbé was to accompany such raids as chaplain. It would be okay to kill with God on your side.
Du Quesnel also ordered several companies of soldiers under Joseph Du Vivier to storm and occupy the fishing village of Canso, one of the closest major English settlements on the mainland of Nova Scotia. If Canso could be captured, then the Engl
ish would have no easy port from which to mount attacks upon Louisbourg. Three hundred and fifty soldiers in seventeen fishing vessels set off under Du Vivier to do their damage. As it turned out, the French must have had the advantage of better communication with Europe, because when the ships arrived in Canso, the troops stationed there had not heard the news that another war had broken out. They were unprepared and Canso was taken easily. The French confiscated what was of value to them and torched the tiny town that has had such a hard-luck existence from the beginning.
English soldiers were taken back to Louisbourg but were generally considered a nuisance, consuming food supplies which were already limited and taking up space. They were later set free, or traded for French prisoners, sand were able to report back to the English about the structure of the fort from the inside and tell of the low morale among French troops and the general lack of discipline.
Undoubtedly encouraged by such easy success at Canso, Du Quesnel sent a second expedition under Du Vivier to recapture old Port Royal. Du Vivier set off with a mere thirty men and along the way enlisted a couple of hundtred Mi’kmaq to help out. When they arrived at the renamed Fort Anne, the Native people were instructed to “harass” the garrison, while the French sent back for reinforcements. It doesn’t sound like such a smart military maneuver and one wonders how it could have been so poorly planned. Incorrectly anticipating that French ships would soon arrive to bolster his assault team, Du Vivier jumped the gun and asked the British soldier in charge, Paul Mascarene, to surrender. Mascarene refused, not at all certain what he was up against, and perhaps concluding that Du Vivier was merely posturing. Du Vivier and his Native allies kept up the harassment, while back in Louisbourg the ships were detained as they prepared for the assault. Three vessels finally arrived in October but Du Vivier and his men were nowhere to be found. Another French officer had appeared on the scene and ordered the men on elsewhere. Mascarene had toughed out the ill-prepared attack and called Du Vivier’s bluff. The French ships simply turned around and headed back to Louisbourg without a fight.
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