Chapitre 107: The Orphan With Empty Eyes
Thank you Porthos10, Microraptor, ThisguyAEl, TheHumble_Dogge, Dekol347 and Mium for the support!
Enjoy the new chapter!
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In Louisbourg, several construction projects had been launched simultaneously, but the work had fallen behind due to the weather. Soon, everything would come to a halt because of winter.
As that gaunt-faced captain had said, the locals had built a proper prison large enough to house many inmates. It was a large square structure with small rectangular windows, enclosing a central courtyard.
This prison had been constructed in the southern part of the city, near the Queen's Bastion.
Although the town wasn't vast, there were still many small plots of land available for building. Houses were sparse and scattered across a remarkable grid of right-angled streets.
Seeing this, newcomers could be forgiven for wondering if nothing had been done since the fortress was first built. Indeed, Louisbourg appeared lacking in infrastructure.
For those who had just arrived, though, this was ideal, as they were free to settle wherever they wished. Naturally, they could decide what kind of trade they wanted to start. The only problem was that both homes and shops had to be constructed first.
Listening to conversations, Adam learned that there were also plans to build new barracks to house troops and their officers passing through the town.
Apparently, they also intended to construct a new hospital, as the old one, located in the heart of Louisbourg, had been deemed too small for the town's needs, especially during crises like an influx of wounded or an outbreak of disease.
Rumor had it that the many civilians arriving by ship from the Old Continent were just the first wave, and His Majesty Louis XV supposedly planned to send many more to populate New France.
The governor couldn't leave these poor people, already unhappy about being on this continent, exposed to the elements. They needed to be given shelter and soon after, work.
Both had been promised by the King's officers when they came to recruit them. They had even been assured that they would not have to pay any taxes for the first few years.
This generosity was the bare minimum since these people had lost everything in a very short amount of time.
Much was expected of the women in particular, as it was urgent to increase the birth rate in New France. With each passing year, the gap between the King's lands and the thirteen British colonies grew wider.
If nothing was done, it wasn't inconceivable that the British colonies might absorb French territories simply through demographic strength. They could raise armies of thousands by calling upon their provincials.
No local officer wanted to witness such a painful spectacle, which was why they kept writing to His Majesty.
Fortunately, he seemed to have decided to listen to them. It didn't matter if the women sent were of questionable virtue—as long as they could bear healthy children, anything seemed acceptable.
While wandering through the town, Adam quickly noticed that there were also many children.
They didn't appear any happier than the adults who had been dragged here, but their eyes betrayed a strong curiosity. Adam spotted a child walking past him, around eleven or twelve years old, with very wavy chestnut hair that fell in thin strands before his eyes.
The boy wasn't dressed well for the season. In fact, what he wore looked like old clothes hastily gathered and generously donated. It wasn't unlikely that his brown breeches, oversized shirt, and small brown vest had been through two or three other owners before ending up on him, as well as his little leather shoes.
The boy noticed he was being observed and turned toward Adam. Their eyes met, and Adam was shocked.
His eyes… My God, what's… Why are they so dark? It feels like staring into a bottomless pit!
Adam froze in the middle of the street, which caught the attention of his friends, who were ten meters ahead.
It's like looking at a dead person… How can a child have eyes like that?
Eventually, the boy turned away and continued on his path. Soon, he disappeared entirely into the crowd of soldiers, and Adam felt a lump form in his throat—something he recognized as regret.
I-I should have talked to him. Why didn't I do anything?
"Is something wrong?" Albert asked, approaching his friend with a concerned look.
"Huh? What?"
"Is something the matter? You stopped in the middle of the street like you'd seen a ghost."
"Oh, no, it's nothing. I just saw a kid and… forget it."
Albert looked around but saw nothing unusual.
"A kid? What was special about this kid?"
"It's just that… how can I put this? He had eyes that no child should have. It surprised me, that's all."
Albert frowned and shook his head.
"Maybe he just arrived in New France. If that's the case, well, he's probably been through a lot."
Adam remained silent and nodded slowly.
Since being here, in this time, he had truly come to understand how modern children had it easy.
Having the right to play, to waste time watching TV or videos online, to go to school, to buy new clothes, or simply to think about what they wanted to be when they grew up.
Here, that wasn't the case, and it probably applied even to the children of nobles.
Children often died very young, and if they lived long enough, they helped their parents work. And since the French population was mostly rural, that almost certainly meant most children in France helped in the fields, from sunrise to sunset.
Their futures were, in a sense, already mapped out. Just as people seldom moved—often being born, marrying, having children, and dying in the same town or village—people of this era usually took up their father's profession.
François's father, for example, was a merchant, a butcher, just like his own father and his grandfather before him. If François hadn't joined the Picardie regiment, he would have married Agathe Desmoulins, become the son-in-law of one of the most prominent merchants in Corbie, and in turn become a merchant himself.
If he had children, they would undoubtedly have become merchants as well, and so on.
It was tragic but terribly common at the time. Of course, it wasn't a hard-and-fast rule. A pharmacist's son could pursue a military career, become an artist, or a skilled laborer, but changing one's destiny wasn't something everyone could achieve.
It all depended on the person's abilities, connections, financial means, and, of course, luck.
These children who were sent to New France were all unlucky to varying degrees. Most often, they were orphans. The cause didn't matter; it could be war or disease.
They could also be, and this happened more often than one might think, abandoned in a public place or left at the door of a religious institution.
"You know, François, many children don't have parents. If they're lucky, they grow up in good conditions in an orphanage or hospice. But even for them, life hasn't been easy. Thomas, for instance, grew up in a hospice. Well, from what he told me about his childhood, he might have been better off growing up on the streets."
Adam thought about Lieutenant Belmaison's well-sculpted body. He had seen it up close during their washing and shaving in Quebec.
He had indeed noticed many marks and scars but assumed they were from war.
"Adults can be cruel, but children can be just as cruel, if not more so. As soon as he was old enough, he enlisted—not for glory or money, but to escape that place. He almost never talks about it, not even with me, and we've known each other for almost fifteen years. That boy you saw has probably been through trials we can't even imagine. Maybe here, he'll be able to lead a peaceful life."
"I hope so," sighed Adam, turning one last time toward the place where the boy had disappeared.
"What do you think will become of him? And the other children?"
Albert shrugged.
"No idea. For now, they must be housed together. Maybe they'll be placed in foster homes. The best they can hope for, I think, is to be apprenticed. That way, they'll learn a trade and become independent in a few years. Then they can think about starting a family, here or in another New France town."
"Apprenticeship…" Adam mused, imagining himself in the place of those children, exploited by an adult and paid a pittance.
It's like becoming a slave, isn't it? Is that really the best they can hope for?
This old system might seem cruel, but it was indeed the best option for a young boy. Under the supervision of an artisan, he could learn all the tricks of a trade, even if, at first, he would only do the most menial tasks like cleaning and organizing.
This was the usual path for artisans, and not only in France.
For girls, it was more complicated because their destiny was to become competent wives and then caring mothers. They prepared for these roles from a young age, mainly with guidance from female figures in their lives.
This was naturally the case for orphaned girls as well, when they were placed under the care of nuns.
The best they could hope for was to become a servant in a good family. It was common in bourgeois households to see servants as young as fourteen. Sometimes even younger servants could be found.
Some of the prettier ones might hope to become the mistress of a wealthy businessman and be supported for life if they bore an illegitimate child. But again, there were no rules. Every case was unique.
In the worst cases, like the most unfortunate boys, these children would meet a premature end in a dark, dirty alley after being exploited to the bone and abused repeatedly.
For them too, coming to the New World represented a glimmer of hope. It was a chance to start over and possibly lead a good life.
Because these children had little to lose, they were the least resistant to the King's offer.
I hope all these children have an easier life in New France. Damn, what a shitty time to live in!
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Later that day, Adam found himself alone, away from the bustle caused by the presence of several thousand soldiers.
He needed some peace and quiet.
All this activity, this constant noise… Now I have a headache.
That was why he had moved away from the port and was walking alone through the clean, well-organized streets of Louisbourg.
He had wanted to go to a church, but surprisingly, there wasn't one in Louisbourg. That had deeply surprised him, as he had understood that religion played a significant role in society at the time. So, he had asked some locals about it.
It hadn't taken him long to get answers.
Just because they don't want to pay an additional tax, they gave up on building a church?! the young man silently fumed. Idiots! The residents can't afford to finance it—fine—but the local authorities… Ugh! It drives me mad! Why does it drive me mad?!
The residents he spoke to were genuinely sad about this deadlock, but listening to them, they seemed truly powerless, unable to pay more even though building this church was their most cherished wish.
Damn it! I'm sure there are people in Louisbourg who could afford to finance it! Stingy bastards! Because of you, the residents have to go to the King's bastion! Damn, that's a military zone! Are they really this stupid, or are they doing it on purpose?!
Adam couldn't understand the inaction of the local authorities. From his perspective, it was imperative to strictly separate civilian zones from military zones.
But for some strange reason, what shocked him most about this story was that a city of this size didn't have a church! It infuriated him, as if he were confronting human stupidity for the first time.
He wasn't certain, but he assumed this reaction was due to the lingering influence of François.
Such incomprehension couldn't come from him, because in 21st-century France, there were far more secular people than religious ones.
Before finding himself in this body, he had no religious convictions. He felt nothing but indifference toward those who, unlike him, had faith, no matter what kind.
Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Buddhist—he didn't care as long as it remained private. That, to him, was laïcité, and it suited him perfectly.
But here, it was the opposite. Religion was everywhere. He had even prayed several times outside of Mass, mainly hoping that some higher being would watch over him during battle.
It was only then that he realized this change.
Why am I getting so worked up? H-Have I become a believer?
Adam thought for a moment without reaching a conclusion and noticed he had arrived at the edge of the town, near one of the gates that crossed the rampart. This one was simply called the Queen's Gate.
Looking around, he spotted the young orphan with dark eyes. The boy was sitting on the damp, cool grass covering the high embankment behind the wall. His small legs were folded against his body, and he hugged them tightly, as if trying to form a ball.
His eyes, closer to a black hole than a simple well, seemed to gaze into nothingness.
It's the boy from earlier…
Adam scanned the surroundings and noticed that everyone nearby ignored or failed to notice the boy. It was as if he were invisible, but to Adam, he was the only thing visible.
He pressed his lips together slightly, hesitated, and decided to approach.
If the boy noticed him, he didn't show it and remained perfectly still. He barely moved when Adam stopped in front of him, slightly to the side so as not to block his view.
"Good evening! Uh, can I sit here?" Adam asked in a tone he tried to make friendly but found silly even to himself.
The boy vaguely glanced at Adam and at the hand pointing to the grass beside him but said nothing. Adam wasn't offended, expecting such a cold response, and settled in as comfortably as possible.
In summer, it would have been a great spot to rest. He would've even regretted that there weren't trees on the embankment to provide some shade.
"My name's François. What's yours?"
The boy remained silent for a moment, and just as Adam was about to carry the conversation on alone, he heard the boy's broken voice.
"Philippe."
"Nice to meet you, Philippe. Ah, it feels good to sit down for a bit. And the peace and quiet too. I just arrived in town. You got here two days ago, right?"
The boy didn't turn his head, but Adam felt his gaze on him. It was as if he were asking why Adam had come to talk to him.
"That must have been an exhausting journey. I heard you avoided a massive storm. You were lucky. We weren't so lucky. We were terrified that day. I thought we were going to sink and all die."
"Death… isn't necessarily a bad thing," the boy whispered in a barely audible voice, lowering his head slightly so his dark eyes disappeared behind thick strands of hair.
"For some, I suppose. But you know what? I'm sure that among all those who think that, a lot change their minds at the last second when they realize they're at the end of their lives."
The boy lifted his head, revealing a scornful frown.
"I don't think so. Life is crap. It only brings suffering to those who already suffer. The more you fight, the worse the pain gets."
"Well, well, you're quite the pessimist!"
"Realist," the boy retorted coldly, his eyes darker than before.
"Hmm, you seem pretty set in your beliefs, Philippe."
"I've got experience."
Adam turned toward the boy and smiled sadly.
"We all do… Everyone has their struggles, but we all have to keep moving forward."
"What's the point if it just leads to more pain later?"
"A life isn't made up of only pain, you know? There's also joy."
"Not for everyone. And when it comes, it never lasts long."
"Does that make it any less important? Any less precious?" Adam asked, staring straight ahead. "It's because it doesn't last that we can truly appreciate it. And when it passes, it becomes something else."
"What?" the boy asked curiously.
"Memories. Precious memories that warm your heart when everything goes wrong."
The boy hesitated before nodding slowly. He hadn't had many good moments, but it was true that he cherished their memory.
"When you die," Adam continued, "everything disappears, doesn't it? You no longer think of the bad times; you forget them, but you also forget the good ones—the acts of kindness, the laughter shared with friends, the smiles. And if you're the one who ends your life, it's even sadder because you give up on moments you'll never know."
The boy clenched his fists on his knees and felt a tear run down his cheek. Yet Adam wasn't finished.
"The friends you'll never make because you gave up too soon, the conversations you'll never have… the love you'll never know. Losing your life for anything other than old age is tragic because you inevitably miss out on so many important moments. That's why I think that among all the people who choose death out of ease or cowardice, many regret it at the last moment when it's too late to turn back."
Philippe discreetly ran a hand over his wrist, gently tracing a long brown scar. He remained silent, though.
"What will my future look like if I stay here?" he asked after a long silence, his voice smaller than a mouse's squeak.
"I don't have magic powers, you know? I suppose your future is in your hands. It's up to you to decide who you want to become. You just have to make the right choices and do your best. I believe that here more than anywhere else, your efforts will be rewarded. Look at this town, for example. What do you think of it?"
"It's… small?"
"I'd say it's more underdeveloped. Have you seen big cities before? Well, the important people here want this place to look like them. So, there's a lot of work to do. Sounds like a good starting point, doesn't it?"
Adam noticed the boy's eyes had become a little less dark. He seemed to be deeply pondering as he looked at the houses and soldiers.
Seeing this, the young man smiled, stood up, and stretched thoroughly.
"Well, it's getting late, and I've got work to do too! Let's go! Philippe, it was nice talking with you. See you around!"
Philippe watched the strange soldier walk away and found himself smiling, something he hadn't done in years. He stood as well and headed toward a group of adults building a long structure to see if he could be of any help.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Super_nugget
Super_nugget Under the Ancien Régime, the distinction between orphans and abandoned children was very clear. A further contrast was made between children found in the streets and abandoned children placed in the "foundling wheels" of hospitals versus orphans. Almost nothing was known about the former, who were often considered illegitimate, whereas the origins and family ties of the latter, who were legitimate, were well-documented.
In 18th-century Paris, many organized forms of assistance were available to help these children. Orphanages were specialized institutions where families could entrust children who had lost both parents. These establishments emphasized the legitimacy of the children they housed, ensuring they were not mistaken for abandoned children, who were far more numerous and did not evoke the same level of compassion. As a result, orphans were treated, cared for, and fed much better.
This distinction began to diminish gradually after the French Revolution, with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, which proclaimed that "all men are born and remain free and equal in rights." (Yves Denéchère, Histoires croisées des orphelins et de l’adoption.)
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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