In the cold gray dawn, nearly 250 years ago, the cook of Monsieur Etienne Verrier emerged from her tiny room just off the kitchen, stirred the coals in the fireplace and hung a kettle of well water above the red glow. Preparing meals for her employer and his frequent guests, preserving foods for the long, harsh winter and tending the vegetable garden would occupy her hours until, long after darkness had once more shadowed the corners of the room, she would retire to the straw mattress on the floor of her austere quarters.
The year was 1744 and the young servant had come from her native France to work at the French fortress of Louisbourg, on the southeastern shore of what is now Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.
Today, in a house precisely like the one that once stood on this spot, today`s version of M. Verrier`s scullery maid, clad in homespun dress and ruffled cap, sits at a roughly hewn table and chops parsley from an identical vegetable garden, occasionally rising to add another chunk of wood to the fire.
There are differences, however. This ”cook” doesn`t sleep on the damp stone floor. She arrives at her station at 9 a.m., faithfully follows the routine of her predecessor, and, no doubt, returns home at night to blue jeans, color TV and microwave oven.
She is part of a gigantic and tremendously successful effort by Parks Canada to depict the 18th-Century fortress during its short and turbulent history when trade was vigorous and the colonial town was prospering.
Louisbourg materialized as a result of the Treaty of 1713, when France relinquished its outposts in Newfoundland and the Bay of Fundy, reducing its coastal holdings to Prince Edward and Cape Breton Islands. The fear of future wars with Britain and a strong distrust of the New England colonies, coupled with a desire to establish a fishing port and trade center, convinced France it should build a new stronghold on her remaining property.
Times were good and Louisbourg flourished, until an attack by the British colonists in 1745 secured the settlement for England and forced the inhabitants to retreat to their native country. Four years later, the Anglo-French truce gave Cape Breton back to France and the exiles returned.
A furious onslaught by England in 1758 resulted in a final surrender, and in 1760, after Louisbourg`s citizens again had been banished to France, the British government ordered the fortress demolished.
Unlike ”living history museums” that portray a period of 50 to 100 years, reconstructed Louisbourg portrays only the summer of 1744, scarcely 10 months before the fortress was to suffer siege, bombardment and defeat. Life here seems so real, one nearly feels a compulsion to warn the townspeople of the coming danger.
The aim of Parks Canada is to present a ”moment in time” with meticulous authenticity. Rebuilding began in 1961 and every structure, street, yard and ”resident” is the result of painstaking research. Records, conscientiously kept by priests, architects and administrators, were carried to France by the deported officials and have been uncovered by dedicated specialists determined to conduct the restoration as accurately as possible. Archeologist-led excavations have produced more than one million artifacts.
Great care has been taken in the importation of antiques from France;
each member of the costumed staff plays the part of a person who lived in the town in 1744. The two inns serve food known to be available at that particular time, and it is prepared from recipes of that period.
Visitors leave their cars at the reception center five miles away and are bused to a point outside the walled fort where they are met by a peasant woman who confides that England and France are at war and, for this reason, it would be wise to approach the gate and the guards stationed there with caution.
”They are watching for British spies, and anyone not living within the walls or not known to the sentries is suspect,” she explains. ”Show them the document on the back of your visitor`s pass, say as little as possible and smile a lot!”
As the frowning guard inspects each entrance permit, he threatens, ”No one is allowed to carry firearms and all must leave before the drawbridge goes up at six this evening. Anyone found in the streets after that who does not have proper authorization will be arrested.”
A slightly timid voice asks anxiously, ”Will there be a warning before curfew begins?” The realism is beginning to take hold.
A gravel road leads from the gate, along the quay and to the town. The giant harbor to the left, where blue-black waves steadily slap against the concrete barrier, is the primary reason this site was chosen for the original fortress and community. Seldom ice-blocked, close to ample codfish banks and apparently defensible, it provided a safe port for fishing fleets, merchant ships and naval vessels.
At the corner where rue Toulouse meets the quay, the Hotel de la Marine offers light meals and brew. A workingman`s tavern, it was the hangout of laborers, sailors and soldiers. You may order soup or chowder, sausage, bread and cheese, but you will be given only a spoon to eat with because customers at the tavern carried their own pocket knives. The proprietor, Pierre Lorant, serves no alcohol during mass and no meat on Fridays and Saturdays, according to town law.
Next door, at L`Epee Royale, where wealthy merchants and ship captains dined and entertained their guests, the decor is more extensive and so is the menu. Soup, entree, dessert and wine are available, plus a full set of cutlery.
A few steps up rue Royale, a small wooden gate leads to the courtyard of M. Verrier, chief engineer, who waits inside his stately house anticipating your arrival and eager for conversation. This is one of the most elaborate homes in Louisbourg, with imported carpets, thick draperies and heavy, carved furniture. It is masculine in character, perhaps because most of Verrier`s 20 years here were spent alone or in the company of his two sons. Except for a brief visit, his wife and daughter remained in France, where the social atmosphere and living conditions were more to their liking. Be sure to visit Verrier`s kitchen, where his cook welcomes the chance to recount the latest gossip as she goes about her chores.
No directions are needed to find the King`s Bakery. Bread is baked every day and the aroma wafts through the narrow streets, making it hard to resist. The loaves, 80 percent wheat and 20 rye, are for sale, and although one villager insists they are a cross between rye bread and lead, the crusty treat does make a fine snack.
In 1744, 500 of Louisbourg`s approximately 2,000 citizens were members of the French army. To experience the life of the common soldier, enter the massive citadel and the barracks within. Dimly lit by too few windows and only an occasional candle, the damp, musty room is lined with bunks made of planks and covered with straw-filled mattresses. There was no running water, so bathing was difficult; more than one bath a year was considered a luxury.
Seated on the edge of his bed, an off-duty sentry reveals the miserable life he shares with 15 comrades in this room. ”We cook our meals over the fireplace, eat, play cards, gamble and sleep in this dormitory,” he says.
”There are no recreation areas and no mess halls in the King`s bastion. The cost of our food rations, primarily bread, dried vegetables and salt pork, is deducted from our pay, leaving little money for spending or saving. Most of us were given terms of six years, but if we fall in debt to the army, we must stay until we no longer owe. Some men remain here indefinitely.
”There is much unrest and sometimes whispers of mutiny are overheard,”
he says.
And what if a man wants to marry? ”He must prove that he can support a wife and family, which, of course, is nearly impossible. He may look for a widow with property, but most likely he is just out of luck,” the recruit replies sadly.
Unmarried officers had separate quarters and, compared with the soldiers` barracks, they lived in another world. They were issued basic furnishings, but were allowed to complete their rooms in any manner they could afford. Four-poster beds, leather-bound books and fine china were common.
The wing at the far end of the citadel houses the governor`s apartment, a lavishly decorated, castle-like suite. Exquisite crystal, silver, porcelain and pewter grace the tables, and a heavy scarlet serge adorns his canopy bed. Furniture from four important periods–Louis XIII, Louis XIV, Regency and Louis XV–crowd his many rooms.
The citadel`s chapel was used for worship by Louisbourg`s citizens as well as by the military, and under its floor, several senior officers and two governors lie buried.
The Fortress of Louisbourg provides a full day`s entertainment, and the wise visitor should plan to stay no fewer than four hours.
On a sunny summer day, it is particularly pleasant to roam the dirt streets, sit for a while in someone`s courtyard, smell bread baking and listen to the quiet, broken only by the cry of sea gulls and the murmur of honey bees.
And yet, when a heavy fog rolls in off the choppy water and a fine mist shines the stone and chills the walls, perhaps it is then that one obtains a truer glimpse of Louisbourg, its isolation, hardships and loneliness.
For more information: Nova Scotia Tourism, P.O. Box 456, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada B3J 2R5; 902-424-5000.
