The adage “if you play with dynamite, you’re bound to get blown up” resonates deeply within both my wife’s and my family histories, each marked by a harrowing tale of dynamite. The intriguing part? These incidents occurred within a few years and few miles from each other, despite my wife being a Southern Peach and me, a Yankee Towner.
In Bellows Falls, Vermont, a dam stretches across the Connecticut River. For about a century, this dam has been a vital source of power for both the state of VT and NH. On the morning of February 18, 1928, a tragic event unfolded at this site. Michael O’Brien, aged 67 and the great-great-grandfather of my wife, Kathy, was employed by Sherman’s Power Construction Company. His role? Keeper of the dynamite house. That fateful morning, at 8:15 AM, William and Fred Steele, two brothers, were dispatched to collect dynamite from Michael. Shortly after they entered the small building, a catastrophic explosion occurred. The company, in a bid for safety, stored only enough dynamite for a day’s work. Yet, on that chilly February day, this amounted to 250 pounds. The blast obliterated the wooden roof of the building, leaving the stone walls barely standing. The three men were tragically killed, and numerous others injured. The explosion was so intense that it resulted in Michael O’Brien receiving two death certificates, one from Vermont and another from New Hampshire. The reason? The remains of the three men were scattered across both sides of the river, covering a quarter-mile area along the Connecticut River.
Nearly eight years later, on February 6, 1936, a mere 16 miles away from the Bellows Falls dam, another dynamite-related incident shattered the peace of Vermont. At 9:30 AM, in a gravel pit at the intersection of French Meadow and Chester Roads in Springfield, Vermont, Harold Pelkey, an experienced powder man, sought refuge from the cold in Harry Stern’s truck cab. Harold, with five years of experience in handling dynamite, brought several fuses into the cab. As he unwrapped them, they detonated. The explosion sent the truck’s roof soaring 30 feet and Harold 10 feet into the air. The aftermath was gruesome: Harold lost his left arm, all but the pinkie on his right hand, was initially blinded in both eyes, but regained partial site in one, and suffered severe facial injuries. His brother, Alfred, the foreman, rushed him to the Springfield hospital. Miraculously, Harold survived, but his life was irrevocably altered.
Relationship between Dennis Partridge and Harold Pelkey
Harold’s connection to me is through a complex web of familial ties. His parents, John Pelkey and Ada Blanchard, had a son, Frank Clifford Pelkey, who married Thelma Illa Partridge, my half-great-aunt and granddaughter of Elnora Betsey Williams. Elnora, through a different marriage, is my second great-grandmother. Ada Blanchard, after marrying Arthur Cummings Partridge, my great-granduncle, became a stepmother to the Pelkey children. To add to the complexity, Elnora’s daughter through her first marriage, Nora Olive Rich, married Fred Partridge, my great-grandfather, and later Clarence Arthur Partridge, his brother, both younger brothers of Arthur Cummings Partridge. Thelma was born to Clarence and Nora. Confusing, isn’t it? Ancestry puts it this way, Harold Pelkey is the stepson of my great-granduncle, Arthur Cummings Partridge.
Proving a legend is a difficult task when so little facts are known. When time mangles memories, our minds try to fill in the gaps with something… anything. I find most family legends have a basic theme, but the actual facts may change depending on who you ask, and how much they embellish those missing gaps.
“Grandma’s Grandma was an Indian. Or was it Grandma’s Great-Grandma?” That is the legend that was passed down to me from my father, and to him by his mother. While the tribe and details changed depending on who I talked to in the family – some had grandma’s grandma as a full-blood, one cousin claimed we descended from Choctaw Indians – the general theme rang true, our recent family believed and passed down that an ancestor of Della Phyllis Grenier, my grandmother, was an Indian.
There is a great amount of circumstantial evidence surrounding our family legend. After all, many of our cousins are part of the Abenaki Nation of Missisquoi. This is a state recognized Nation in Swanton, Vermont. While based out of Swanton, the Nation claims many members from the area towns, including Highgate, the town directly north which shares the Missisquoi River. Highgate is where my grandmother, and her parents were born. A lot of the French-Canadian families which grew up in Swanton and Highgate have a similar legend, and that’s how the Abenaki Nation of Missisquoi came about in the 1960s-1970s. It took until 2012 before the state agreed to recognize the Nation. The Nation failed in their attempt to gain Federal recognition, and I doubt they could succeed. There are excessive gaps in their timeline, and the legend as it was being told to the federal government had gotten too embellished.
I had to go way, way back to prove my grandmother’s Native American heritage. That she has a Native American direct ancestor is undeniably true. It may even be true that there is a second direct line, if not Native American by blood, then Native American by adoption. Further, there is a prevalent theme in her genealogy, and that is the inter-marriage of my ancestors and their offspring with Indigenous women.
Marie Olivier Ouchistaouichkoue Manitouabeouich… that’s a mouthful. If I spell her Native name as the French did it would look something like 8chista8ichk8e Manit8abe8ich, that is because the French were unable to directly translate the guttural ou sound made, it coming closest to the French number 8, huit. Marie Olivier is the name the Superior Jesuit, Barthelemy Vimont, used in her marriage record. When looking at that marriage record, you will see that her father was clearly identified as Roch Manit8abe8ich Sauvage. Sauvage is the French term for an Indian at that time.
The marriage record never mentions the mother of Marie. Nor can I find a baptismal record for her. But on 18 May 1642, priest Joseph Duperon baptized an Indian child named Claire Aimikoue at the same parish. Godmother of the child was Marie Olivier Ouchistaouichkoue. Some genealogists believe that Ouchistaouichkoue is her mother’s name, and the name Marie went by. Most tribes identified through the female line. When a man and woman from different tribes married, the man usually assumed the wife’s clan and tribe as his own, their offspring did the same. Contemporary genealogists have identified the mother of Marie as Huron, the father Algonquian. I see no evidence which clearly states either, and many friendly tribes were often intermingled around the French villages. Without specific proof I remain skeptic on our ability to know which Nation she belonged to. Eventually, most of these tribes friendly to the French assimilated themselves into the Abenaki by the 1700s.
Marie married my 10th great-grandfather, Martin Prevost, on 03 Nov 1644 at Notre-Dame-de-Quebec. Witness to that marriage was another of my great grandfathers, Guillaume Couillard. Martin and Marie would have eight children, four of whom would eventually marry and have children of their own. Many of their children and grandchildren would maintain connections to the fur trade, generation after generation, trading with the various tribes both in Canada and United States. They often had a lifestyle of living as the Canadians did when with them, and living as the Natives did when with them. In America they would be called “half-bloods,” in Canada they were called Metis. Canada has officially recognized these Metis communities. The United States has not.
I don’t expect anything from my ancestry but the knowledge of it. I do find it interesting though, that I can document and prove my ancestry from a Native American, while most members of the Abenaki Nation of Missisquoi cannot.
Institut généalogique Drouin, Le LAFRANCE, acte 66353, citing image d1p_31410434.jpg and d1p_31410435.jpg; last accessed 18 Jan 2021. Marriage, 1644-11-03, Québec (Notre-Dame-de-Québec); Martin Prevost of Paroisse de Montreuil, Bois-de-Vincennes, single, and Marie Olivier, single, Sauvagesse; father of groom, Pierre Prevost; mother of groom, Charlotte Vien; father of bride, Roch Manitouabeouich, Indien; witnesses, Olivier Letardif and Guillaume Couillard; priest Barthelemy Vimont. https://www.genealogiequebec.com/Membership/LAFRANCE/acte/66353; database with images, Généalogie Québec (https://www.genealogiequebec.com/en/lafrance).
Louis Hébert monument. Photo by Jean Gagnon, CC BY-SA 3.0
In Quebec City, the Louis Hébert Monument stands in the corner of the garden of the Hôtel-de-Ville. The work of Canadian sculptor, Alfred Laliberté, the statue represents Louis Hébert, the first European settler of Canada, standing on the plinth, offering to God the first sheaf of wheat harvested on Canadian soil. At the base of the pedestal, on the right, is a group of children surrounding the courageous wife of Louis Hébert, Marie Rolet, considered the first teacher of the country; on the left, is represented full of nobility and pride, Louis Hébert’s son-in-law, Guillaume Couillard, the first to plow Canadian soil.
I descend from all three of the individuals depicted on this statue. Louis and Marie are my 12th Great-Grandparents. Their daughter, Marie Guillemette Hébert, married Guillaume Couillard, and they are my 11th great-grandparents. That means my ancestors were the first European settler, first European farmer, and first European teacher of Canada.
You would have to roll back the calendar to 1606 to discover when Louis Hébert first set foot on the new continent. He was an apothecary, which at that time meant he studied and cultivated plants for medicinal purposes. But on this new continent he also needed to study which European plants could be cultivated for food, and which new plants would he find for both food and medicinal purposes. It also helped that Louis was studied in what was considered medicine at the time and could substitute as a doctor. It is these reasons that he was engaged by the explorer Dugua on his voyage to the New World.
Like many at that time, Louis took on the same occupation as that of his father. But his father wasn’t an ordinary apothecary, he was the Queen’s (Catherine de’ Medici) apothecary and physician, and helped care for the gardens of the Louvre in Paris. He was also landlord for about 10 homes in Paris. Louis grew up just down the street from the Royal house, at 129 de la rue Saint-Honore. But the affluence of Louis childhood suddenly ended in 1580 when his mother fell victim to the plague. Louis mother dying while he was a child, it was his elder sister Charlotte, and her husband, who acted as guardians for Louis as late as 1602.
Louis was born abt 1575 to Nicolas Hébert and Jacqueline Pajot. His mother was on marriage two, having been widowed by Louis de Cueilly. This is where the affluence came from, as the homes managed by Nicolas actually came from his wife’s first husband’s first marriage. They were intended for his children, not subsequent children born to Nicolas and her. Added to that, France was in disarray. From 1588-1590 Paris was under siege due to the War of Religion occurring in France by King Henri III and his successor, Henri de Navarre. With Queen Catherine de’ Medici dying in 1589, it comes as no surprise that in 1596 we find Nicolas imprisoned two years for debts.
Like his father before him, Louis received an early education of Latin, grammar and humanities. After his education was complete Louis began study under the guidance of masters in apothecary. In 1600, at the end of his education Louis deigned himself a Parisian bourgeois, grocer, and apothecary merchant. His future plans, however, would be hard-pressed by his mounting debts. It is under the pressure of these debts that Louis saw the advantage of serving with Pierre Dugua de Monts at Port Royal for one year starting in March 1606. In September of 1606, Louis accompanied Dugua and Samuel de Champlain on a further exploratory excursion south along the Atlantic seacoast. On this excursion the party would stop at various points along the route and plant wheat and vines. On 2 October 1606 the party landed their boat at Port Fortuné which is now Stage Harbour in Massachusetts. That night, five of the party who stayed on shore were attacked by the Abenaki. Louis and another unnamed Frenchman who had stayed on the boat were alerted to the attack by shouts and came to the aid of those on shore. Unfortunately, while the two were able to fend off the assailants, only one of the men on shore survived. His hand partly blown off by the explosion of his own musket, Robert Gravé would be healed by Louis, and eventually founded the first European settlement in New Brunswick. Dugua lost his fur trading monopoly in 1607 and his excursion returned to France.
Louis returned to Port Royal in 1611. While there his status at the struggling outpost grew and he eventually found himself the mediator between the young governor and the Jesuits. The Jesuits had asked for more assistance from the authorities and until they received it they deprived the colony of it’s religious ceremonies. Unable to come to terms, the Jesuits left Port Royal and settled further south. Two years later, in 1613, at a time of Governor Biencourt’s absence, Louis took temporary charge of Port Royal. Before the British invaded Port Royal in October 1613, though, Louis had returned home to France and his family.
In 1617, Louis divested himself of his holdings in France and took up employment with the Compagnie des Marchands de Rouen et de Saint-Malo. He desired to take his entire family with him to New France, and settle the new outpost at Quebec. His final agreement with the company was to work for two years at 200 livres per year, and afterward, he would need to be reliant on him own work. During that two year period, anything Louis cultivated would be given to the company for distribution amongst the community, and his medical work would be provided free of charge. On 6 March 1617 he signed the contract even though the company had at the last minute demanded it be changed to their benefit. Having divested his holdings, with no material possessions but the few bags they carried, he was in little position to change his mind so late in the process.
On 14 June 1617, Louis and family arrived at Tadoussac, and less than a month later traveled to Quebec, probably by canoe. Once there, with the help of the company he built a small wooden house. Within three years, he would build a stone house, and it would serve as the only private residence in Quebec into the 1630’s. In 1623 the Duc de Montmorency, viceroy of New France, recognized Louis’s ownership of his lands on the promontory. Champlain complained to the Company that only Louis was farming. At that time, along with the stone house, Louis had cleared the land and planted a plot of grain, vegetables, and various herbs. He also had grape vines, apple and plum trees. All other members of the company were active in the fur trade and reliant on Louis, the friendly Natives, and the Company for their sustenance.
Louis struggled with his contract. The de Caëns, a Protestant family which headed up the commercial interests of Quebec, consistently made things difficult for Louis. They rebuffed his requests for a plough and two hired men to assist with the gardening, and they rejected complaints of damage their pigs were doing to Louis garden. The community was split between the two factions, those aligned with the commercial interests of the de Caëns, and those aligned with the Héberts. Eventually the de Caëns settled with Louis, and agreed to pay him 100 livres annually in provisions. Through all of this, Louis continued to supply the struggling community with the produce it needed to survive.
In the winter of 1627 Louis died after a fall on the ice. His body was first buried in the Recollect cemetery, but was later transferred to a vault of the Recollect chapel and laid beside the body of Brother Pacifique Duplessis.
If I look at the life of Louis I see a man driven by his earnest attempt to provide for the needs of his family, his community, and his nation. It is an attribute all men should try to achieve in life.
Certified genealogist, Amy Johnson Crow, created a program by which she encourages genealogists to write about 52 ancestors each week over the whole year. She calls it, 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks. Since I was making a renewed effort to actually put down on paper all the stories my 40 years + research has accumulated, I thought in 2021 that I would take on her tasks as well. Why, since I was already planning to write anyway? I am hoping for ideas that trigger themes for me to adapt each week. That’s the point of her prompts. I, however, shall write many more than the 52 articles on 52 ancestors needed to complete the year. To keep these together I have listed them below as I complete them.
January 2021
Week 1 (Jan. 1-10): Beginnings
My choice this week is to continue my recent writings on the family of Mathurin Meunier and Françoise Fafard. They played an intricate role in the beginning history of Montreal, Canada. I also added an article about Louis Hebert, the first European settler in Canada.
Proving a legend is a difficult task when so little facts are known. When time mangles memories, our minds try to fill in the gaps with something… anything. I find most family legends have a basic theme, but the actual facts may change depending on who you ask, and how much they embellish those missing gaps.
On 3 November 1647, less than one month after Françoise Fafard arrived in Ville-Marie (Montreal) from France, she was married to Mathurin Meunier at the Basilique Notre Dame. To us, this probably sounds like a hurried marriage, and it was, but not for the reason you may think. In 1647, men outnumbered women 6 to 1 in New France (Quebec), and very few of those women were single. Seeing the need for marriageable ladies the leaders of Ville-Marie contracted women in France to travel to Ville-Marie for the purpose of becoming the wife of an eligible man. They are known as Filles à marier or “marriageable girl”. Françoise was part of the first small group who arrived in Oct 1647.
I have not located the notary record for Françoise engagement by the Société Notre-Dame de Montréal. Usually these records stipulated the amount of dowry the lady would receive upon her marriage to either a specific individual or any eligible man in Montreal, as well as the amount of clothes, if any, she would receive before her departure. The contract would also stipulate that the Société would pay for her travel to Ville-Marie and house and feed her while she was there, until her marriage. I’m not certain, then, that Françoise knew whom she would marry soon after her arrival. It is possible that Mathurin was aboard the same ship that arrived with Françoise; but he had signed his own contract three years earlier, and likely was already in Montreal working for the Société Notre-Dame de Montréal by assisting in building Ville-Marie. I do know from history, that the eligible lady had a choice when she arrived in New France. She could choose any man who showed interest, but choose she must.
Françoise wasn’t a young girl, she was at this time, 25 years of age. She came from the town and parish of D’Argence near Caen in France and was the daughter of Jean Fafard and Elisabeth Tibou. Do you wonder what she was thinking as she signed the contract in France? As she boarded the ship? As she exited the ship on a new continent, in a new town that was at that time merely a few buildings surrounded by a tall wall? Ville-Marie was hardly impressive. And yet, one could imagine that a person could see a future there, a new beginning. Perhaps a future that was not so bleak as what was left behind? Françoise mother had died when Françoise was a young girl, and her father soon remarried Antoinette Leverdier and had two children by her. Françoise and her siblings would be on the short stick of any inheritance left by her father.
The original document that is left behind recording this momentous occasion is torn and worn. Thankfully, at some point in the past, seeing the deteriorating condition of the original register of Notre-Dame-de-Montreal a Jesuit priest rewrote the original in much clearer and neater writing… both the original and the copy are in Latin. This record of marriage provides us with the names of their parents, the towns they came from in France, as well as some of those who were present and witnessed the marriage. A rough English translation goes something like this:
“In the Year of our Lord 1647. On 3 November 3 bans having been published on three successive denunciations and no legitimate impediment disclosed, Georges d’Endemare of the Company Jesus Sacudor, married Mathurin le Monnier, son of Rene le Monnier and Marie le Roux, his parents residing in the parish and town of Clermont near Lafleche [France] to Françoise Faffart Daughter of Jean Faffart and Elizabeth Tibou residing in the district and parish of Argences near Caen, in France. In New France, at the Royal house in Ville-Marie we received their mutual consent and gave them the nuptial blessing in the presence of Maisonneufue [Chomedey sieur de Maisonneuve], Gilbert Barbier Nevers, Jean de St Pere Gastinons, + many others.”
#52ancestors
Original marriage record of Mathurin Lemonnier and Francoise Faffart
Institut généalogique Drouin, Le LAFRANCE, acte 47182, citing image d1p_11000103.jpg; last accessed 23 Nov 2020. Marriage, 1647-11-03, Montréal (Notre-Dame-de-Montréal), Mathurin Lemonnier, parish and town of Clermont near Lafleche, single, and Francoise Faffart, town and parish of D’Argence near Caen, single; father of groom, Rene Lemonnier; mother of groom, Marie Leroux; father of bride, Jean Faffart; mother of bride, Elisabeth Tibou; witnesses: Demaisonneufve, Gilbert Barbier Lenivernais, and Jean Destpere Legastinois; priest, Georges Dendemare. https://www.genealogiequebec.com/Membership/LAFRANCE/acte/47182; database with images, Généalogie Québec (https://www.genealogiequebec.com/en/lafrance).
Rewritten marriage record of Mathurin Lemonnier and Francoise Faffart
Ancestry.com, Quebec, Canada, Vital and Church Records (Drouin Collection), 1621-1968 (Provo, UT, USA, Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2008), Ancestry.com, M > Montréal > Basilique Notre-Dame (copie textuelle) > 1643-1680; 4 of 277 images, [stamped] 205-206; 1647 Mathruin Meusnier et Francois Fafart. https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/1091/images/d13p_1184c0520.
Since my 10th great-grandparents Mathurin Meunier and Françoise Fafard were the first European couple to have been married in Montreal, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they also had the first European child born and baptized in Montreal!
The birth of their first child, Barbe, must have brought great hope to the leaders of Ville-Marie (Montreal). Here was the beginning of colonializing they had hoped and prayed for. It wasn’t the plan for the Société Notre-Dame de Montréal to just supply men for the mission Ville-Marie – they also wanted to populate the area around it with families who would farm and be reliant on themselves, not the yearly supply shipments from France sent by the Société.
I know of Barbe’s birth from her baptismal record in the Parish of Notre-Dame-de-Montreal. The Priest Jean Dequen baptized her the same day she was born, 24 Nov 1648. Her Godfather was none other than Paul Chomeday, the Governor of Montreal. Her Godmother was Jeanne Mance, a nurse, who founded the Hôtel-Dieu de Montréal, the first hospital in Montreal, built in 1645 and the likely location of birth and baptism since the surgeon Jean Poppe was present at the baptism.
The baptism and birth occurring on the same day is often indicative that the health of the newborn was poor. They baptized them quickly back then when they believed there was a chance the newborn would die without a proper baptism. Barbe held on for 9 days, but on 3 December 1648, she passed away and was buried in the consecrated grounds of the parish church. This is also recorded in the register of Notre-Dame de Montréal. I’ve attached images of both records.
The life of Barbe Meunier was short, but not insignificant. No life ever is. Like the disappointment her parents felt from losing her, the community of Ville-Marie must have felt the same. What a blow to the gut this was for all. The mission and town of Montreal would grow, but it would be a tough row to hoe for many decades (actually there would be little hoeing – that is another story however). This setback was yet another in a long list that no prayer seemed to prevent. But the leaders of little Ville-Marie believed in hope and faith, in life and death. They believed that their mission in Montreal was to bring God to the Natives, and they believed it was a Divine mission. Surely God would provide in his own time.
Mathurin and Françoise obviously had other children, or I wouldn’t be here today writing this. Neither would some of you who are reading this. The couple would eventually bring nine children into the world, of which, only six would survive into adulthood. Those six though, would help fulfil the dreams and prayers of Société Notre-Dame de Montréal and the Meuniers. God does answer prayer!
In the autumn of 1651, after Mathurin LeMeunier had finished assisting Chomedey sieur de Maisonneuve in building the societies mission on the the Isle of Montreal, Sieur de Maisonneuve left for France to engage at least 100 new men to protect the colony and mission of Ville-Marie. This year in particular had seen an increase in attacks by the Iroquois on settlers who needed to venture outside the walls of the small hamlet. The Société Notre-Dame de Montréal would need to provide the funds necessary for this task, or give up Ville-Marie.
It would take Sieur de Maisonneuve two years to sign up a sufficient number of men. Faillon describes the men Maisonneuve sought as “young, robust and courageous men, every one well trained in the use of arms, each one proficient in some profession or trade necessary or useful to the new establishment, and all sincere Catholics. Moreover, he insisted that they should have good breeding and irreproachable morals for fear of corruption among the group.” Upon signing an obligation in front of Notary de Lafousse, the recruits became a part of La Campagnie de Montréal. Like the contracts signed by the engagés of 1644, these required the men to travel to Ville-Marie where they would be employed for a period of 5 years. The contract also required the La Campagnie de Montréal to provide transportation to Ville-Marie and maintain food and lodging for the men for the period of their contract. Any tools or items needed to complete a task assigned were also provided by the Company. Interestingly, Faillon notes in his treatise, that the total amount of wages per year would not amount to over £7,000 a year, but the total advance provided for 103 men, before embarking, to provide suitable “togs and objects” which could more easily be obtained in France, was £11,000.
Sieur de Maisonneuve was extremely successful in his task. 118 men were signed up from la Fleche, another 36 came from the districts of Picardy, Champagne, Normandy, Isle de France, Touraine, Bourgogne, but principally from Maine and Anjou. Not all men set sail though. On 20 June 1653 on a ship named Saint-Nicolas-de-Nantes under the command of Captain de Besson, 122 passengers, mostly men comprising La Campagnie de Montréal, set sail from France and headed towards Ville-Marie. It was a journey immediately fraught with problems as the boat was rotted and taking on water. Even with all those men taking turns at the pumps 24 hours a day it became clear within 350 leagues at sea of the need to turn back. Sister Bourgeoys reports the incident:
“As we approached land, we would have perished, but, for the grace of God, the local people rescued us. I was very distressed during this time of peril; we were 120 passengers without a priest and our people were ill-prepared for death. Upon landing, M. de Maisonneuve restricted the soldiers to an island which was escape-proof, otherwise all would have vanished. In desperation some even tried to swim to main-land, they believed they were doomed and had become discouraged. It took a long time to find and outfit another boat as well as gather new provisions but finally we set sail again after attending Holy Mass, on July 20th, the feast day of Sainte-Marguerite”.
This new sailing was also riddled with problems. Sickness prevailed on the passage, and 8 men would lose their life. Failon instructs us:
“It was an occasion for Sister Bourgeoys to display great charity by providing all services she could manage and by helping them toward a saintly death. Day and night she remained at their side, she consoled them in their troubles and shared among them everything she received in generosity from M. de Maisonneuve and the Captain. She refused to eat at the Captain’s table, but accepted portions of food which could be conveniently distributed among the ailing, keeping a very modest ration for herself. The entire trip, for her, became a mission of mercy. She diligently instructed the sick and the soldiers, taught them catechism, recited the morning and evening prayers and often conducted spiritual readings and other religious services in spite of suffering the usual discomforts of a novice sea voyager.”
On St-Maurice day, 1653 [1]September 22nd, the ship was in sight of Quebec, when it struck an object that pierced the vessel so deeply that it could not be dislodged. The passengers and crew, though, arrived that day at Quebec and were greeted by the townspeople joyfully, as they too had been under recent harassments from the Iroquois. The ship would eventually be burned where it lay, completely loss for further usage. La Campagnie de Montréal still needed to travel from Quebec to Montreal. Unfortunately, the loss of their ship required the company to purchase smaller boats to finish their journey. The governor of Quebec, Monsieur Jean de Lauson had other ideas, however, and wished for the company to remain in Quebec. However, Sieur de Maisonneuve carried the King’s Orders which gave him complete control over Ville-Marie. Faillon explains the situation thusly:
“By the decree of 1648, the King had declared that a governor general would have a mandate of three years and could be re-appointed only once. Regardless M. de Maisonneuve had been governing the Isle of Montreal for almost twelve years. Consequently colleagues and associates fearing M. de Lauson would further embarrass M. de Maisonneuve by disputing the title of governor therefore obtained an order with the king’s seal, addressed directly to Y. de Maisonneuve before his departure from France. By this order, Louis XIV approved once again the decision of the Lords of Montreal to select their governor and gave him full charge of the colonization of Villemarie. The rivalry between the two leaders was truly manifested when M. de Maisonneuve required small boats to continue the journey, none were made available, and the enlisted men were obliged to spend considerable time at Quebec while de Maisonneuve looked for other transportation.”
Unable to secure smaller boats for his journey, Sieur de Maisonneuve marched his men from Quebec to Montreal, he always remaining in the rear to insure no man was left behind. The men were joyfully welcomed to Ville-Marie. But their joy was made even greater when Sieur de Maisonneuve enticed many of the men to stay in Montreal by offering to write off the amount of money which had been advanced to the men while still in France and since their arrival, also to donate to each a good piece of land for cultivation, as well as another acre at the proposed city site where homes were built. Moreover, he offered additional financial help with the understanding that this money be returned if the candidate chose to leave the Isle of Montreal and established his home elsewhere unless of course circumstances obliged the French to abandon the Isle completely.
It was in this manner that several of my ancestors found themselves in Montreal. Immediately following their agreement, they each acquired thirty acres of land, which was to be cultivated, situated mostly on the hill side of St Louis or in the region of St Joseph, and in addition an acre or half acre on the site chosen for the town, where, as I mentioned before, each farmer would build himself a residence.
New Settlers of Montreal in 1653
The list below comprises those 102 recruits known to have arrived as part of the Company. These were researched by Michel Langlois of the Société généalogique canadienne-française. Langlois’ research was based on and updated earlier research by R. J. Auger. Those names in bold or linked are related to me.
Men who arrived in 1653:
Family names, pseudonyms, and first names / Place of origin: village or city (current French department) / Trade
AUDRU, Jacques – Paris (Seine) – Land-clearer
AUGER dit LE BARON, Jean – Chemiré-en-Charnie (Sarthe) – Land-clearer
AVERTY dit LÉGER, Maurice – La Flèche (Sarthe) – Land-clearer
BAREAU dit LAGOGUE, Pierre – La Flèche (Sarthe) – Land-clearer
BASTARD, Yves -? – Land-clearer
BAUDREAU dit GRAVELINE, Urbain – Clermont-Créans (Sarthe) – Land-clearer
BAUDRY dit L’ÉPINETTE, Antoine – Chemiré-en-Charnie (Sarthe) – Land-clearer and nail-maker
ROINAY, François – Sablé-sur-Sarthe (Sarthe) – Land-clearer
TAVERNIER dit LAFORÊT, Jean – Roëzé-sur-Sarthe (Sarthe) – Land-clearer and weapon maker
THÉODORE dit GILLES, Michel – Tours (Indre-et-Loire) – Land-clearer and digger
VACHER dit ST-JULIEN, Sylvestre – St-Julien-sur-Cher (Loire-et-Cher) – Carpenter
VALLETS (or VALLAYS), Jean – Teillé (Sarthe) – Land-clearer
VALIQUET dit LAVERDURE, Jean – Le Lude (Sarthe) – Land-clearer and locksmith
Women who arrived in 1653:
A few women also boarded the Saint-Nicolas-de-Nantes and sailed to New France. As you may recall, the massive arrival of the King’s Wards only started in 1663. In 1653, the major concern was to bring men over to defend New France. R. J. Auger recorded the names of fifteen female passengers. Recent research conducted by the Société de généalogie canadienne-française indicates that there were actually fourteen women. Here are the names and the cities or villages they came from:
ARTUS, Michelle – Noyen-sur-Sarthe (Sarthe / Pays de la Loire)
My 9th Great Grandparents were Philip Durrell and his unknown wife
This is their Life Story
Cape Porpoise, Kennebunk hand painted photograph by Charles Henry Sawyer
Cape Porpoise was named by Captain John Smith of the famed Pocahontas legend. On a trading mission in 1614, Smith visited the cape and likely seeing the large number of porpoises that resided there, named it Porkpiscis. This name was given to the fish due to their similarity to hogs, porpoises being often called sea-hogs at that time. Gradually the orthography of the word changed to Porpus, by which the town was incorporated in 1653, and then to Porpoise in 1672. The cape itself was likely “settled” by 1620 as a summer home for fisherman who would return to Europe during the winter. It is believed that the first permanent settlement started around 1630. From its onset, the settlement was sparsely populated and a consistent target of French and Native American hostilities. Porpoise town later became known as Arundel, and then Kennebunkport, Maine. [1]The area now known as Arundel, while sometimes referred to by that name, was a part of Kennebunkport until 1915, at which point it was set off and … Continue reading
Philip Durrell, the progenitor of the Durrell family of Maine and New Hampshire, immigrated from Guernsey, according to family tradition, and first appears in New England records on 20 Feb 1689/90, when his mark was affixed to a New Hampshire province petition. While his original settlement was in Exeter, Philip would remove to Porpoise cape in 1700. Philip remained but a short time at Cape Porpoise. The French and their Native allies attacked the settlements of present day Maine over a six day period starting on August 10, 1703. “Cape Porpoise, being inhabitated by a few unshielded fisherman, was wholly laid desolate.” [2]Samuel Penhallow. Penhallow’s Indian wars; a facsimile reprint of the first edition, printed in Boston in 1726, with the notes of earlier … Continue reading
Unfortunately, for the Durrell family and a few others, the toll was much worse than their homes and crops being laid desolate. Stephen Harding, residing across the Kennebunk River from Porpoise town, first heard the shots in the direction of Wells. He, his wife, and young child, barely escaping the coming attack, sought shelter the following day at the garrison house in Wells. [3]You can read more about the attack on Stephen Harding and his family and their daring escape in Charles Bradburys, History of Kennebunk Port, … Continue reading After discovering that the Harding’s had eluded them, the force headed across the river, and attacked the family of William Larribee. William was at work near the marsh. Seeing two Indians approach, William hid until they gave up looking for him. Returning to his house immediately after, he found other Indians sharing the provisions of his home – his wife and three children lying dead on the ground nearby. Seeing no survivors, William also headed to the garrison house in Wells. From there, this band of warriors headed further upriver until they reached the home of Philip Durrell. Philip was also absent from home. The Indians carried off Mrs. Durrell, her two younger sons, Benjamin and Philip, and their two daughters, Susan and Rachel. The Indians carried their prisoners as far as Paywacket (Fryeburg), when Mrs. Durrell “pursuaded” them to let her return with her infant, Philip. One of the Indians carried her child for her to the stone fort at Saco, from which place she returned home.
The other children remained with their captors. The two daughters are reported to have been taken to New France, where they adopted the Catholic faith, and married two Frenchmen. The son, Benjamin, is said to have died in a canoe accident on Saco River. None of this can be confirmed with existing records. That all three of the children appear in lists of captives developed by New England towns in 1710, and submitted to the English and French governments, is ascertained. That they never returned home is also true.
The family unit at this time comprised of Philip, Mrs. Durrell, Joseph, and little Philip, Jr. Where Joseph, the eldest son, was at the time of the attack is never mentioned. Obviously, he was not at home.
After the 1703 attack, the French drew off a great number of Indian families from the Penobscot, Norridgewock, Saco, and Pequaket tribes, and settled them at St. Francis, in Canada, as a protection against the Iroquois Confederacy. These were called the St. Francis Indians.
Their home and crops destroyed, the Durrells soon returned to their land in Exeter, New Hampshire, that Philip had not yet sold. The Durrell’s Exeter land was eventually incorporated into the formation of Durham, New Hampshire, and this land is where their son, Joseph, remained the rest of his life.
In Exeter, the Durrells continued to propogate, and fill their home with additional children (all dates are approximate): Sarah, in 1705; Elizabeth, in 1707; Benjamin (2), in 1711; Lydia, in 1712; and John, in 1714. Mrs. Durrell would bear at least eleven children in her marriage with Philip.
I wish I could say that the whole family remained in Durham and lived out a more peaceful existence. But the draw of beautiful Arundel, and the bountiful sea, once again drew the Durrells to their holdings there. Once peace returned to New England, Philip picked up his remaining family, and removed to what was then known as Arundel. On 30 May 1720, his old rights were recognized by the new town vote:
At a Leagal Town meeting at Arundel May the 30th, 1720, then Given & Granted unto Philip Dorriel Senr. All the Right the Town have to the land he lives now on, and in possession of
Attest Thomas Perkins, Town Clerk
It was not long before the peace of the quiet Maine seashore towns were shattered again. Soon after Philip’s re-settlement at Arundel, new New England towns began to appear on land which both the Wabanakis and French asserted were sovereign lands of the French. Spurned on by Father Rale of the French and royal Governor Shute of Massachusetts and New Hampshire province, an undeclared war began in January of 1722. By June of 1722, an all out war between New France and the northern portions of New England started in earnest. Arundel was continually harrassed by bands of Indians, especially when residents left their homes to work. The Durrell’s had a garrison house built next to their home, where they and area residents could retreat if needed. A peace treaty, ending what is known as “Dummer’s War,” was signed in December 1725. Encouraged by hopes of lasting peace, residents began to more boldly leave their garrisons again.
The sagamores of the local tribes were generally satisfied with the treaty, and on 6 August 1726, met at Falmouth and ratified it. The French, however, were not satisfied, and induced several parties to cause mischief.
On the 28th of October 1726, a couple of hours after sunrise, Philip Durrell left his house in Arundel to head to work; along with him was his son (son-in-law), John Baxter. They returned home a little before sunset, finding all of Philip’s and John’s family gone, Philip’s house set on fire, chests split open, and clothing gone. [4]Massachusetts Historical Society Collection, vol. vi. p. 103 as sourced by Charles Bradbury in his History of Kennebunk Port, from its First … Continue reading Quickly searching the nearby woods, they were unable to find any person killed. Raising an alarm, some townfolks joined the men in pursuit of the attacking force, but no such force was found.
John Wheelwrights letter, written the day after the tragedy, and sent to Boston from Wells, is referenced in the council records of November first. [5]John was the grandson of Rev. John Wheelwright of early Puritan Massachusetts. Rev. Wheelwright was a controversial reverend, who had sided with his … Continue reading After describing the assault on the Durrell and Baxter family he says three suspected Indians had been seized and secured in Fort Mary, the same stone fort at Saco that Mrs. Durrell had been brought to by her first captives. These Indians were taken to Boston, where they were interrogated. Claiming they knew nothing of the attack, or the whereabouts of the captives, they promised, if allowed to leave on probation, they would learn of the “author of mischief” and to have the captives restored. The council agreed, allowing two of the three to leave, but retained control of the son of one, to insure they returned. A reward was offered if they succeeded.
In December, 1726, Philip petitioned for financial relief from the Massachusetts and New Hampshire house stating that he had “all imaginable Reason” to believe that his home had been beset by Indians, “who not only took away all the Household Goods, and what else was Valuable in the House, but carried away Captive his Wife and Daughter and a Child of his Daughters” and also his Son. Those “carried away” were his wife Mrs. Durrell, their son John Durrell, their daughter Sarah (Durrell) Baxter, and her child, John Baxter.
In July of 1727, a conference was held by Dummer and the Indians at Falmouth. An accounting of captives were demanded. A chief replied with a short list of five captives, none of which described the Durrell boy. Pressed on the issue if the boy from Kennebunk was one of the five, the chief replied, no, he is among the French.
Finally, arriving late to the conference were the two Indians who were sent to retrieve the captives, or information about them. One of the Indians had wounded his leg, and that had hindered a quicker return. One of the Indians stated: “I heard When the Indians took that family, the English pursued them very quick, and the Indians were afraid of being Discovered and so they kill’d three of the English and the Boy they carried away.”
The Indians belonged to St. Francis, the Nowenicks and Scatacooks.
Philip sent another letter to the council at Boston, praying for some consideration: “on the Account of his Son John Dorrels being carried away Captive by the St Francois Indians, who at the same time carried away his Wife, Daughter & her Child, & destroyed much of his Substance, his son now being returned from Captivity almost naked.” This consideration was answered on 5 June 1729, with 10 pounds being allowed to clothe John.
John Durrell remained with his Indian captives for two to three years. He was a boy of 12 when he left his home, but came back a man of 15. In his captivity he had grown fond of the Indian lifestyle and preferred their mode of living over that of the Colonial lifestyle, for the rest of his life.
When the St. Francis Indians fled from the Durrell residence, in 1726, they spent the night camped in the woods. When they left that camping area they left behind the family Bible of the Baxters. This Bible was found in the woods the next spring. The family took the leaves out of it, dried them off, and had it rebound. To my understanding, it still exists today.
My Thoughts
I tried as I wove this article to leave my thoughts out of it, and just tell it like it’s known, dangling threads and all. But, I believe some of those dangling threads can be snipped to provide a better explanation of events. I will try to do that here.
What is the given name of Mrs. Durrell?
The name of Mrs. Durrell is never given in any records, she always being referred as Mrs. Durrell. There is a line, however, in the Arundel Town Records which may provide a clue to her identity. On 12 May 1720 Joshua Purington of Hampton Falls, NH, had laid out to him “one hundred accers of Land as he is Executor to his fathers Estate Deceased, only a highway excepted for Rode between his lot and his brother Dorriels lot.” The word “brother” in Puritan New England could refer to a real brother, half-brother, step-brother, or a brother-in-law. All of those possible options would have to be researched further. Looks like I have a fun job to do!
Why was Mrs. Durrell released after the first capture?
Before removing from Cape Porpoise (or soon after) in 1703, Philip and his wife welcomed another child into their home, Mary. I believe Mary is the reason Mrs. Durrell was freed by her captives the first time, she likely being pregnant, and the child Philip still nursing. But there is no mention of such in the records, other than the likely birth in 1703 of Mary at Cape Porpoise. [6]Possibly taken from the Baxter Family Bible. More on that Bible can be found later in this article. Perhaps, when the marauding Indians returned to their own town, another Indian took sympathy on Mrs. Durrell.
When did Philip know his wife, daughter and grand-daughter were killed?
The hardest thing I found proving was exactly when Philip knew that three of the four taken in the 1726 raid were killed. Since the Baxter Bible was recovered in the Spring of 1727 at the camp where the three were killed, we can reasonably assume that they found their remains at that time. This would also explain why in July 1727 Dummer questioned about the boy, but not the remainder of the family.
How were the three killed in 1726?
I have intentionally left out the details of how Mrs. Durrell and Mrs. Baxter were killed by the Indians, most especially how the baby was killed. In all three cases their deaths were similar in manner to how others were dispatched by the Natives in similar circumstances, and the deaths were both horrible and cruel. The actual manner in how they were killed was relayed by Wahwa, chief of the Eastern Wabanaki, to Mr. Baxter – but it serves no purpose to repeat here.
What happened to Philip Durrell after the death of his wife?
Philip would remain in Arundel for the remainder of his life. While the attackers succeeded in setting fire to his cabin they did not succeed in burning it down. By 1727, Philip and his son Philip, Jr., purchased additional acreage. In the 1730s Philip began to divest his properties to his sons. In 1743 a petition was written for the establishment of a meeting house nearer to Arundel which bore the signature of Philip, Jr. A petition of 1749, however, bears the sons signature without the Jr. It is likely that Philip Sr. died between those two dates.
Tragedies brings victims closer to each other
As happens often in tragedies, those involved become closer to other families who suffered through the same. After William Larrabee lost his first wife and three children in the 1703 attack, he remarried to Catherine Ford and had five more children with her. One of those children, Stephen, born abt 1707, married Lydia Durrell, daughter of Philip Durrell. Stephen became known as Sergeant Larrabee and was a well-known Indian fighter on the Maine frontier. See also Joseph Durrell below.
Joseph Durrells wife and family
My 8th great grandfather, Joseph Durrell, the eldest child of Philip, married abt 1710 Rebecca Adams. Rebecca was the daughter of Charles Adams, Jr. and Temperance Benmore, and granddaughter of Charles Adams, Sr. On 19 Jun 1694 in Durham, New Hampshire, Charles Adams, Sr. house was burned and he and 14 others were killed by Indians at the Oyster River Massacre. That story, however, will have to be saved for another day.
The area now known as Arundel, while sometimes referred to by that name, was a part of Kennebunkport until 1915, at which point it was set off and named North Kennebunkport. In 1957, following the publication of the Chronicles of Arundel by Kenneth Roberts, the town was renamed Arundel by the state legislature.
Samuel Penhallow. Penhallow’s Indian wars; a facsimile reprint of the first edition, printed in Boston in 1726, with the notes of earlier editors and additions from the original manuscript, p. 5. Boston, 1924.
You can read more about the attack on Stephen Harding and his family and their daring escape in Charles Bradburys, History of Kennebunk Port, from its First Discovery by Bartholomew Gosnold, p. 53-55. Kennebunk: James K. Remich, 1837.
Massachusetts Historical Society Collection, vol. vi. p. 103 as sourced by Charles Bradbury in his History of Kennebunk Port, from its First Discovery by Bartholomew Gosnold, p. 120. Kennebunk: James K. Remich, 1837.
John was the grandson of Rev. John Wheelwright of early Puritan Massachusetts. Rev. Wheelwright was a controversial reverend, who had sided with his sister-in-law, Mrs. Anne Hutchison in the Antinomian Controversy of 1636-7. When both were banished from Massachusetts Bay Colony, the Hutchison’s headed south of Boston with some of their friends to found Rhode Island, and Wheelwright headed to the province of New Hampshire and helped found the town of Essex. Unfortunately, a couple of years later, Massachusetts Bay Colony founded the town of Hampton on land which was part of Wheelwright’s claim, thereby landing him in Massachusetts Bay Colony, where he was forbidden to preach. He then headed northeast and purchased land in what would become Wells, at a time when Thomas Gorges ruled the area as deputy governor of Maine. Therefore, by 1642, John Wheelwright would become the pastor of the church at Wells Maine, across the river from Porpus. In 1644, the Massachusetts Bay Colony lifted the banishment order for Rev. John Wheelwright.
I came across an old photograph in my mother’s album of old family photographs which depicted my great-grandfather, Valentin Brönner, and several of his fellow soldiers posed in a unusual manner. Considering the time frame that this occurred (1918) and the fact that Germany would shortly surrender, moral should have been low on the German side, yet it was good to see grown men, in the hardest of times, improvising for the camera lens in a comedic fashion.
Much to my chagrin, however, on the family photograph my mother had written in ink a big X on Valentin to let me know that was him… so I posted a digital image of the photograph to the Genealogist Photo Restoration Group on Facebook and asked if somebody could rid the photograph of it’s small imperfections and my mothers markings. The Genealogist Photo Restoration Group is made up of a group of people who have a talent and zeal for restoring photographs, and they volunteer their time and effort for free, restoring other people’s heirlooms. The quality of the restoration always varies, and while some volunteers are just beginning, others are extremely talented and capable. While I had never posted to the group before, I thought that the topic of this photograph would catch people’s attention – and it did! Within minutes people began commenting and sharing their changes to the photograph I had posted. About an hour later, Ketan, a person I had never met, and who lived across the world from me, took to not only cleaning up the photograph, but accurately coloring it… The resulting image floored me and a lot of the other group members for the clarity and professionalism he applied to the coloring.
I’ve included Ketan’s adaption of our family heirloom in this post. I’m still amazed to see the generosity of time complete strangers will donate to help others in their family research… and I’m always amazed at the amount of volunteer groups that have popped up on Facebook over the past couple of years. Whether you specialize, or are just beginning to blossom your talents, participating in these types of groups can help you give forward to the genealogy community online.
P.S. My great-grandfather is the one holding the pitchfork!
