In our research of the French Daubards, we'd been confused by a variety of similar place terms: Baronnet, Barronais, Baron, etc. Come to find out, all were references to a small area called Le Baronnet (or Le Petit Baronnet) near the village of Martigny-le-Comte. We left the church in the village and drove northward into the countryside, where we passed this sign on the way to the ancestral home of Millien Daubard (born 1712 in Martigny-le-Comte), the Frenchman who emigrated to the Louisiana Territory with his family about 1750.
This is a cadastral (tax) map showing Martigny-le-Comte in 1828. The town is in the center of the map. The Daubard farm is near the top. (Click on the maps to enlarge.)
Bernard verified the location of the ancestral homes by overlaying a modern map on an old one. The maps indicated two houses on the land, both of which still exist.
It isn't known which house was used by Millien and his family. The farm is now owned by a distant Daubard relation, Jean Amour, and his wife. In his research, Bernard found that Simon Daubard (Millien's 1st cousin twice removed) married Catherine Amour, which helped to confirm the credibility of the house's ownership.
The second house can be seen in the background.
Here is a closer view of the second house and out buildings. Jean's father lives there.
Bernard brought flowers for Jean and his wife, in thanks for permitting our visit.
Jean Paul Daubard (on the right) came out to the homeplace with us. Bernard met him for the first time this day.
The farm buildings were well kept.
Lloyd was impressed by the farm's Charolais bull. The bull, not so much.
It was with great sadness that we left the homeplace in the hamlet of Le Petit Baronnet near Martigny-le-Comte. Bernard and Fabienne, who must have been exhausted from organizing and executing the weekend's activities, accompanied us to our hotel in Montceau-les-Mines. They still had to drive home to near Lyons, about a 2-hour drive. We look forward to returning their hospitality when they come to New Orleans with Elsa and Bernard's son, Romain.
The Hotel L'Iroko was more like a hostel than a hotel. There was no one on duty at the reception on Sunday evening. I'd had instructions to phone the hotel in the morning for the electronic door code and our room number. The room was spartan, but there was a bath with shower and a comfortable bed, which is all we needed. There was a restaurant, but it was not open. There was a nice breakfast buffet in the morning. The hotel is on a canal, which we could see out our window. Our intrepid Peugot was in the hotel carpark, ready for the trip back to Charles de Gaulle Airport in the morning.
The next morning we drove back toward Paris, but kept to the surface roads, avoiding the highways and tollways, so enjoyed more of the provincial ambiance. We spent the night at an airport hotel with a direct, free, electric train connection to the airport.
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