The second part of episode 2 analyzes the lyrics of “Louisbourg’s Lament” in order to see how it holds up against the historical record of the fall of Louisbourg in 1745.

Note –  Since the publishing of this podcast, historian Éva Guillorel from the University of Rennes in France has done significant research into the origins of “La Complainte de Louisbourg.” She has uncovered evidence that this Acadian folksong is based on an older French song written about one of the sieges of Philippsburg. Her findings were published in the Spring 2022 edition of the journal Acadiensis and updates some of the information found in this episode.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

TRANSCRIPT

Welcome to part two of our podcast about Helen Creighton and the mystery of “Louisbourg’s Lament”, or more commonly known as “La Complainte de Louisbourg”. In the first part of this episode, we discussed folklorist Helen Creighton’s pivotal role in preserving  this unique Acadian folk song. In the second part, we will analyze the details included in this song to see if it holds up historically under scrutiny.

Unfortunately, as is the case with the vast majority of traditional songs, it’s difficult to know for certain the true origins of “Louisbourg’s Lament” – if they are ever uncovered at all. The oral tradition as opposed to that of pen and paper will inevitably degrade the original lyrics of a song over the course of time. It’s something that adds to the mystique of traditional songs, but will always leave a question mark where one might prefer something more tangible. Still, there is much to be said about the historical details that are contained within the verses of this centuries old ballad.

A few years after the initial recording made in 1944, Acadian folkorist Anselme Chaisson published the lyrics of this song in his book series, “chansons d’Acadie”. These lyrics differ from those sung by Tom Doucet and appear to point to the first siege of Louisbourg that took place during the spring and summer of 1745. Why can we say that? There’s a hint in the 4th stanza. It says that the garrison of Louisbourg “sort de leurs chaumieres, armes et tambours battant”, or in English, the garrison “[leaves their] dwellings with [their] side-arms – drums beating” at the surrender of the town. These were part of the Articles of Capitulation granted to the French garrison by the English after their surrender in 1745. It’s a different story at the surrender of Louisbourg in 1758, where the garrison left as prisoners of war. After identifying which siege this song is talking about, the rest of the details quickly fall into place.

The song opens with the words “C’Etait toi, mon empereur qui m’avait placé gouverneur de Louisbourg” or in English, “It was you, my emperor, that made me governor of Louisbourg”. Knowing now that we’re talking about the first siege of Louisbourg, it becomes clear that these words are spoken by Louis Du Pont Duchambon, the governor of Louisbourg during the first siege, and are addressed to none other than the King of France, Louis XV. Whether or not Duchambon ever received a meeting with Louis XV to explain the loss of the colony isn’t clear, although according to historians T.A. Crowley and Bernard Pothier,  he did travel to Versailles during the month of September 1745 on official business. The use of the word empereur to address the King of France during the 18th century is an anachronism, similar to how Shakespeare included a clock in the play Julius Caesar which is set some 1500 years before the invention of the clock. King Louis XV never did hold the title of “emperor”, and it’s highly unlikely that anyone would have used such a term even symbolically to speak about the King of France during the 18th century. Interestingly, his actual title was visible to the population of Louisbourg from a plaque found on the Frédéric Gate located at the quay – “King of France and Navarre”, albeit in Latin. The use of the word empereur to address a French ruler suggests a date after 1804, that being the year Napoleon crowned himself Emperor of the French. Worthy of note are the many songs about Napoleon that circulated through Acadian circles in the Maritimes during the first three decades of the 19th century, as noted in Conrad Laforte’s Catalogue de la chanson folklorique francaise, confirming that the Acadians were aware of what was transpiring across the Atlantic.

In the second stanza, Louisbourg is cryptically replaced with the word Philisbourg, and it is by far the most obscure reference in the entire song. Philisbourg was the French name for the fortress of Philippsburg located on the border of France and Germany, and in 1734 was the location of a major siege conducted by the French against the Austrians, culminating in Philippsburg surrender to the French. How could this place have found its way into a traditional Acadian song from Cape Breton? In compiling research for this topic, no direct link was found. It has been said that there exists a link to Philippsburg through Governor Duchambon, however the definitive biography of the entire Du Pont family, written by historian Ægidius Fauteux, fails to mention anything about this European fortress. A few similarities do exist between Louisbourg and Philippsburg however. Firstly, Philippsburg was known for its crumbling fortifications and second, its location was poorly chosen, much like Louisbourg. Interestingly, Poupet de la Boularderie, a prominent resident of Cape Breton Island during that time, was a veteran of the 1734 Siege of Philippsburg. He assisted Louisbourg in its preparations for the siege before being captured when the English landed not far from the Fortress walls. Perhaps this is the source of the comparison between Louisbourg and Philippsburg, but there is no evidence to suggest that this is the case. 

We find more rich, descriptive detail in stanzas 3 and 5. The English were “Nuit et jour dans leurs tranchées, creusions, écouler leurs eaux”, or “night and day in their trenches, digging, draining off the water,” a detail not included in many history books written about Louisbourg’s two sieges, but actually included in the Lettre d’un Habitant de Louisbourg, published not long after the siege by an eye-witness of the 1745 siege. The English are also “kept busy by the Dauphin”, or the Dauphin bastion, located on the landward side of the fortifications. This was the epicentre for the two opposing armies, and both the English and French kept up an almost constant barrage of artillery-fire throughout the duration of the siege. Then, the song provides us with  a  list of Louisbourg’s provisions left within the town after the French surrendered, specifically one thousand barrels of gunpowder. Near the end of the anonymous Lettre d’un habitant de Louisbourg, we take note of a fascinating observation about how many barrels they actually had left: “What, above all, caused our decision [to capitulate] was the small quantity of powder we still had. I am able to affirm that we had not enough left for three charges…upon this it is sought to deceive the public who are ill-informed; it is desired to convince them that twenty thousand pounds still remain. Signal falsehood!” So it is quite possible that the civilian population believed that they had an ample amount of gunpowder left at the time of the town’s surrender, possibly upwards of 1,000 barrels.

We find more rich, descriptive detail in stanzas 3 and 5. The English were “Nuit et jour dans leurs tranchées, creusions, écouler leurs eaux”, or “night and day in their trenches, digging, draining off the water,” a detail not included in many history books written about Louisbourg’s two sieges, but actually included in the Lettre d’un Habitant de Louisbourg, published not long after the siege by an eye-witness of the 1745 siege. The English are also “kept busy by the Dauphin”, or the Dauphin bastion, located on the landward side of the fortifications. This was the epicentre for the two opposing armies, and both the English and French kept up an almost constant barrage of artillery-fire throughout the duration of the siege. Then, the song provides us with  a  list of Louisbourg’s provisions left within the town after the French surrendered, specifically one thousand barrels of gunpowder. Near the end of the anonymous Lettre d’un habitant de Louisbourg, we take note of a fascinating observation about how many barrels they actually had left: “What, above all, caused our decision [to capitulate] was the small quantity of powder we still had. I am able to affirm that we had not enough left for three charges…upon this it is sought to deceive the public who are ill-informed; it is desired to convince them that twenty thousand pounds still remain. Signal falsehood!” So it is quite possible that the civilian population believed that they had an ample amount of gunpowder left at the time of the town’s surrender, possibly upwards of 1,000 barrels.

Historically, this version “Louisbourg’s Lament” holds up very well to what is known about the first siege of Louisbourg during the spring of 1745. Although likely composed or heavily altered during the early 19th century, it does seem likely that the information contained within this centuries old traditional Acadian ballad did indeed stem from someone who knew Louisbourg very, very well. 

In part three, we will study  the possibility of  how this information may have travelled to the quaint, idyllic region of Cheticamp, Nova Scotia. [END]