Acadia Part 18

Their usual clothing was in general the produce of their own flax, or the fleeces of their own sheep; with these they made common linens and coa.r.s.e cloths. If any of them had a desire for articles of greater luxury, they procured them from Annapolis or Louisburg, and gave in exchange corn, cattle or furs. The neutral French had nothing else to give their neighbors, and made still fewer exchanges among themselves; because each separate family was able, and had been accustomed to provide for its own wants. They therefore knew nothing of paper currency, which was so common throughout the rest of North America. Even the small quant.i.ty of gold and silver which had been introduced into the colony, did not inspire that activity in which consists its real value. Their manners were of course extremely simple. There was seldom a cause, either civil or criminal, of importance enough to be carried before the Court of Judication, established at Annapolis. Whatever little differences arose from time to time among them, were amicably adjusted by their elders. All their public acts were drawn by their pastors, who had likewise the keeping of their wills; for which, and their religious services, the inhabitants paid a twenty-seventh part of their harvest, which was always sufficient to afford more means than there were objects of generosity.

"Real misery was wholly unknown, and benevolence antic.i.p.ated the demands of poverty.[I] Every misfortune was relieved, as it were, before it could be felt, without ostentation on the one hand, and without meanness on the other. It was, in short, a society of brethren; every individual of which was equally ready to give, and to receive, what he thought the common right of mankind. So perfect a harmony naturally prevented all those connections of gallantry which are so often fatal to the peace of families. This evil was prevented by early marriages, for no one pa.s.sed his youth in a state of celibacy. As soon as a young man arrived to the proper age, the community built him a house, broke up the lands about it, and supplied him with all the necessaries of life for a twelvemonth. There he received the partner whom he had chosen, and who brought him her portion in flocks. This new family grew and prospered like the others. In 1755, all together made a population of eighteen thousand souls. Such is the picture of these people, as drawn by the Abbe Reynal. By many, it is thought to represent a state of social happiness totally inconsistent with the frailties and pa.s.sions of human nature, and that it is worthy rather of the poet than the historian. In describing a scene of rural felicity like this, it is not improbable that his narrative has partaken of the warmth of feeling for which he was remarkable; but it comes much nearer the truth than is generally imagined. Tradition is fresh and positive in the various parts of the United States where they were located respecting their guileless, peaceable, and scrupulous character; and the descendants of those, whose long cherished and endearing local attachment induced them to return to the land of their nativity, still deserve the name of a mild, frugal, and pious people."

[I] At the present moment, the poor in the Towns.h.i.+p of Clare are maintained by the inhabitants at large; and being members of one great family, spend the remainder of their days in visits from house to house.

An illegitimate child is almost unknown in the settlements.

As we rest here upon the summit of the Gasperau Mountain, and look down on yonder valley, we can readily imagine such a people. A pastoral people, rich in meadow-lands, secured by laborious d.y.k.es, and secluded from the struggling outside world. But we miss the thatch-roof cottages, by hundreds, which should be the prominent feature in the picture, the vast herds of cattle, the belfries of scattered village chapels, the murmur of evening fields,

"Where peace was tinkling in the shepherd's bell, And singing with the reapers."

These no longer exist:

"Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre."

I sank back in the stage as it rolled down the mountain-road, and fairly covered my eyes with my hands, as I repeated Webster's boast: "Thank G.o.d!

I too am an American." "But," said I, recovering, "thank G.o.d, I belong to a State that has never bragged much of its great moral antecedents!" and in that reflection I felt comforted, and the load on my back a little lightened.

A few weeping willows, the never-failing relics of an Acadian settlement, yet remain on the roadside; these, with the d.y.k.es and Great Prairie itself, are the only memorials of a once happy people. The sun was just sinking behind the Gasperau mountain as we entered the ancient village.

There was a smithy beside the stage-house, and we could see the dusky glow of the forge within, and the swart mechanic

"Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything, Nailing the shoe in its place."

But it was not Basil the Blacksmith, nor one of his descendants, that held the horse-hoof. The face of the smith was of the genuine New England type, and just such faces as I saw everywhere in the village. In the s.h.i.+fting panorama of the itinerary I suddenly found myself in a hundred-year-old colony of genuine Yankees, the real true blues of Connecticut, quilted in amidst the blue noses of Nova Scotia.

But of the poor Acadians not one remains now in the ancient village. It is a solemn comment upon their peaceful and unrevengeful natures, that two hundred settlers from Hew England remained unmolested upon their lands, and that the descendants of those New England settlers now occupy them. A solemn comment upon our history, and the touching epitaph of an exterminated race.

Much as we may admire the various bays and lakes, the inlets, promontories, and straits, the mountains and woodlands of this rarely-visited corner of creation--and, compared with it, we can boast of no coast scenery so beautiful--the valley of Grand-Pre transcends all the rest in the Province. Only our valley of Wyoming, as an inland picture, may match it, both in beauty and tradition. One has had its Gertrude, the other its Evangeline. But Campbell never saw Wyoming, nor has Longfellow yet visited the sh.o.r.es of the Basin of Minas. And I may venture to say, neither poet has touched the key-note of divine anger which either story might have awakened.

But let us be thankful for those simple and beautiful idyls. After all, it is a question whether the greatest and n.o.blest impulses of man are not awakened rather by the sympathy we feel for the oppressed, than by the hatred engendered by the acts of the oppressor?

I wish I could shake off these useless reflections of a bygone period. But who can help it?

"This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe when it hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?

Where is the thatch-roof village, the home of Acadian farmers-- Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands?

Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!"

CHAPTER XX.

The Valley of Acadia--A Morning Ride to the d.y.k.es--An unexpected Wild-duck Chase--High Tides--The Gasperau--Sunset--The Lamp of History--Conclusion.

The eastern sun glittered on roof and window-pane next morning. Neat houses in the midst of trim gardens, rise tier above tier on the hill-slopes that overlook the prairie lands. A green expanse, several miles in width, extends to the edge of the d.y.k.es, and in the distance, upon its verge, here and there a farmhouse looms up in the warm haze of a summer morning. On the left hand the meadows roll away until they are merged in the bases of the cliffs that, stretching forth over the blue water of the Basin, end abruptly at Cape Blomidon. These cliffs are precise counterparts of our own Palisades, on the Hudson. Then to the right, again, the vision follows the hazy coast-line until it melts in the indistinct outline of wave and vapor, back of which rises the Gasperau mountain, that protects the valley on the east with corresponding barriers of rock and forest. Within this hemicycle lie the waters of Minas, bounded on the north by the horizon-line, the clouds and the sky.

Once happy Acadia nestled in this valley. Does it not seem incredible that even Puritan tyranny could have looked with hard and pitiless eyes upon such a scene, and invade with rapine, sword and fire, the peace and serenity of a land so fair?

A morning ride across the Grand-Pre convinced me that the natural opulence of the valley had not been exaggerated. These once desolate and bitter marshes, reclaimed from the sea by the patient labor of the French peasant, are about three miles broad by twenty miles long. The prairie gra.s.s, even at this time of year, is knee-deep, and, as I was informed, yields, without cultivation, from two to four tons to the acre. The fertility of the valley in other respects is equally great. The d.y.k.e lands are intersected by a network of white causeways, raised above the level of the meadows. We pa.s.sed over these to the outer edge of the d.y.k.es. "These lands," said my young companion, "are filled in this season with immense flocks of all kinds of feathered game." And I soon had reason to be convinced of the truth of it, for just then we started up what seemed to be a wounded wild-duck, upon which out leaped my companion from the wagon and gave chase. A bunch of tall gra.s.s, upon the edge of a little pool, lay between him and the game; he brushed hastily through this, and out of it poured a little feathered colony. As these young ones were not yet able to fly, they were soon captured--seven little black ducks safely nestled together under the seat of the wagon, and poor Niobe trailed her broken wing within a tempting distance in vain.

We were soon upon the d.y.k.es themselves, which are raised upon the edge of the meadows, and are quite insignificant in height, albeit of great extent otherwise. But from the bottom of the d.y.k.es to the edge of yonder sparkling water, there is a bare beach, full three miles in extent. What does this mean? What are these d.y.k.es for, if the enemy is so far off? The answer to this query discloses a remarkable phenomenon. The tide in this part of the world rises sixty or seventy feet every twelve hours. At present the beach is bare; the five rivers of the valley--the Gasperau, the Cornwallis, the Canard, the Habitant, the Perot--are empty. Betimes the tide will roll in in one broad unretreating wave, surging and shouldering its way over the expanse, filling all the rivers, and das.h.i.+ng against the protecting barriers under our feet; but before sunset the rivers will be emptied again, the bridges will uselessly hang in the air over the deserted channels, the beach will yawn wide and bare where a s.h.i.+p of the line might have anch.o.r.ed. Sometimes a stranger schooner from New England, secure in a safe distance from sh.o.r.e, drops down in six or seven fathom. Then, suddenly, the ebb sweeps off from the intruder, and leaves his two-master keeled over, with useless anchor and cable exposed, "to point a moral and adorn a tale." Sometimes a party will take boat for a row upon the placid bosom of this bay; but woe unto them if they consult not the almanac! A mistake may leave them high and dry on the beach, miles from the d.y.k.es, and as the tide comes in with a _bore_, a sudden influx, wave above wave, the risk is imminent.

I pa.s.sed two days in this happy valley, sometimes riding across to the d.y.k.es, sometimes visiting the neighboring villages, sometimes wandering on foot over the hills to the upper waters of the rivers. And the Gasperau in particular is an attractive little mountain sylph, as it comes skipping down the rocks, breaking here and there out in a broad cascade, or rippling and singing in the heart of the grand old forest. I think my friend Kensett might set his pallet here, and pitch a brief tent by Minas and the Gasperau to advantage. For my own part, I would that I had my trout-pole and a fly!

But now the sun sinks behind the cliffs of Blow-me-down. To-morrow I must take the steamer for home, "sweet home!" What shall I say in conclusion?

Shall I stop here and write _finis_, or once more trim the lamp of history? I feel as it were the whole wrongs of the French Province concentrated here, as in the last drop of its life blood, no tender dream of pastoral description, no clever veil of elaborate verse, can conceal the hideous features of this remorseless act, this wanton and useless deed of New England cruelty. Do not mistake me, my reader. Do not think that I am prejudiced against New England. But I hate tyranny--under whatever disguise, or in whatever shape--in an individual, or in a nation--in a state, or in a congregation of states; so do you; and of course you will agree with me, that so long as the maxim obtains, "that the object justifies the means," certain effects must follow, and this maxim was the guiding star of our forefathers when they marched into the French province.

The peculiar situation of the Acadians, embarra.s.sed the colonists of Ma.s.sachusetts. The French _neutrals_, had taken the oath of fidelity, but they refused to take the oath of allegiance which compelled them to bear arms against their countrymen, and the Indians, who from first to last had been their constant and devoted friends. The long course of persecution, for a century and a half, had struck but one spark of resistance from this people--the stand of the three hundred young warriors at Fort Sejour.

Upon this act followed the retaliation of the Pilgrim Fathers. They determined to remove and disperse the Acadians among the British colonies.

To carry out this edict, Colonel Winslow, with five transports and a sufficient force of New England troops, was dispatched to the Basin of Minas. At a consultation, held between Colonel Winslow and Captain Murray, it was agreed that a proclamation should be issued at the different settlements, requiring the attendance of the people at the respective posts on the same day; which proclamation would be so ambiguous in its nature, that the object for which they were to a.s.semble could not be discerned, and so peremptory in its terms, as to insure implicit obedience. This instrument having been drafted and approved, was distributed according to the original plan. That which was addressed to the people inhabiting the country now comprised within the limit of King's County, was as follows:

"'_To the inhabitants of the District of Grand-Pre, Minas, River Canard, etc.; as well ancient, as young men and lads_:

"'Whereas, his Excellency the Governor has instructed us of his late resolution, respecting the matter proposed to the inhabitants, and has ordered us to communicate the same in person, his Excellency, being desirous that each of them should be fully satisfied of his Majesty's intentions, which he has also ordered us to communicate to you, such as they have been given to him: We therefore order and strictly enjoin, by these presents, all of the inhabitants, as well of the above-named District, as of all the other Districts, both old men and young men, as well as all the lads of ten years of age, to attend at the church at Grand-Pre, on Friday the fifth instant, at three of the clock in the afternoon, that we may impart to them what we are ordered to communicate to them; declaring that no excuse will be admitted on any pretence whatever, on pain of forfeiting goods and chattels, in default of real estate.--Given at Grand-Pre, second September, 1755, and twenty-ninth year of his Majesty's reign.

JOHN WINSLOW.'

"In obedience to this summons, four hundred and eighteen able-bodied men a.s.sembled. These being shut into the church (for that too had become an a.r.s.enal), Colonel Winslow placed himself with his officers, in the centre, and addressed them thus:

"'GENTLEMEN: I have received from his Excellency, Governor Lawrence, the King's commission, which I have in my hand; and by his orders you are convened together, to manifest to you his Majesty's final resolution to the French inhabitants of this his province of Nova Scotia; who, for almost half a century, have had more indulgence granted them than any of his subjects in any part of his dominions; what use you have made of it you yourselves best know. The part of duty I am now upon, though necessary, is very disagreeable to my natural make and temper, as I know it must be grievous to you, who are of the same species; but it is not my business to animadvert, but to obey such orders as I receive, and therefore, without hesitation, shall deliver you his Majesty's orders and instructions, namely, that your lands and tenements, cattle of all kinds and live stock of all sorts, are forfeited to the Crown; with all other your effects, saving your money and household goods, and you yourselves to be removed from this his province.

"'Thus it is peremptorily his Majesty's orders, that the whole French inhabitants of these Districts be removed; and I am, through his Majesty's goodness, directed to allow you liberty to carry off your money and household goods, as many as you can without discommoding the vessels you go in. I shall do everything in my power that all those goods be secured to you, and that you are not molested in carrying them off; also that whole families shall go in the same vessel, and make this remove, which I am sensible must give you a great deal of trouble, as easy as his Majesty's service will admit: and hope that, in whatever part of the world you may fall, you may be faithful subjects, a peaceable and happy people.

I must also inform you that it is his Majesty's pleasure that you remain in security under the inspection and direction of the troops I have the honor to command.'

"The poor people, unconscious of any crime, and full of concern for having incurred his Majesty's displeasure, pet.i.tioned Colonel Winslow for leave to visit their families, and entreated him to detain a part only of the prisoners as hostages; urging with tears and prayers their intention to fulfill their promise of returning after taking leave of their kindred and consoling them in their distresses and misfortunes. The answer of Colonel Winslow to this pet.i.tion was to grant leave of absence to twenty only, for a single day. This sentence they bore with fort.i.tude and resignation, but when the hour of embarkation arrived, in which they were to part with their friends and relatives without a hope of ever seeing them again, and to be dispersed among strangers, whose language, customs, and religion, were opposed to their own, the weakness of human nature prevailed, and they were overpowered with the sense of their miseries. The young men were first ordered to go on board of one of the vessels. This they instantly and peremptorily refused to do, declaring that they would not leave their parents; but expressed a willingness to comply with the order, provided they were permitted to embark with their families. The request was rejected, and the troops were ordered to fix bayonets and advance toward the prisoners, a motion which had the effect of producing obedience on the part of the young men, who forthwith commenced their march. The road from the chapel to the sh.o.r.e--just one mile in length--was crowded with women and children; who, on their knees, greeted them as they pa.s.sed, with their tears and their blessings; while the prisoners advanced with slow and reluctant steps, weeping, praying, and singing hymns. This detachment was followed by the seniors, who pa.s.sed through the same scene of sorrow and distress. In this manner was the whole male part of the population of the District of Minas put on board the five transports stationed in the river Gasperau."

Now, my dear lady; you who have followed the fortunes of Evangeline, in Longfellow's beautiful poem, and haply wept over her weary pilgrimage, pray give a thought to the rest of the 18,000 sent into a similar exile!

And you, my dear friend, who have listened to the oracles of Plymouth pulpits, take a Sabbath afternoon, and calmly consider how far you may venture to place your faith upon it, whether you can subscribe to the idolatrous wors.h.i.+p of that boulder stone, and say--

"Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me to thy bosom flee;"

or whether you measure any other act between this present time and the past eighteen hundred years, except by the eternal principles of Righteousness and Truth?

Gentle reader, as we sit in this little inn-room, and see the ragged edge of the moon s.h.i.+mmering over the meadows of Grand-Pre, do we not feel a touch of the sin that soiled her garments a hundred years ago? Had we not better abstain from blowing our Puritan trumpets so loudly, and wreathe with c.r.a.pe our banners for a season? Let us rather date from more recent achievements. Let us take a fresh start in history and brag of nothing that antedates Bunker Hill. Here everybody has a hand to applaud. But for the age that preceded it, the least said about it the better! There, out lamp! and good night! to-morrow "Home, sweet Home!" But I love this province!

APPENDIX.

Peccavi! I hope the reader will forgive me for my luckless description of the procession to lay the corner stone of the Halifax Lunatic Asylum, in Chapter I. No person can trifle or jest with the _object_ of so n.o.ble a charity. But the procession itself was pretty much as I have described it; indeed, pretty much like all the civic processions I have ever witnessed in any country. The following account of the results of that good work may interest the reader:

"A visit to the LUNATIC ASYLUM building, on the eastern side of the harbor, furnishes some notes of interest. The walk from the ferry has very pleasing features of village, farming and woodland character. The building stands on a rising ground, which commands a n.o.ble view of the western bank of the harbor opposite; northward, of the Narrows and Basin; and southward, of the islands, headlands and ocean. The medical superintendent of the inst.i.tution is actively engaged carrying out plans toward the completion of the building, and gives very courteous facilities to visitors. The part of the Asylum which now appears of such respectable dimensions is just one-third part of the intended building. It is expected to accommodate ninety patients; the completed building, two hundred and fifty. The private and public rooms, cooking, serving, heating and other apartments appear to be very judiciously arranged, with an eye to good order, cheerfulness and thorough efficiency. The building is well drained, defective mason-work has been remedied, and all appears steadily advancing towards the consummation of wishes long entertained by its philanthropic projectors. The building is to be lighted with gas manufactured on the premises; all the apartments are to be heated by steam; and the water required for various purposes of the establishment, after being conveyed from the lakes, is to be raised to the loft immediately under the roof, and there held in tanks, ready for demand. The roofing we understand to be a model for lightness of material and firmness of construction. The heating apparatus occupies the underground floor. It consists of numerous coils of metal tubes, to which the steam is conveyed from an out-building, which contains the furnace and other apparatus. From the hot-air apartment the warm air is conveyed, by means of flues, to the various rooms of the building, each flue being under the immediate control of the officers of the inst.i.tution. Ventilation is obtained by flues communicating with the s.p.a.ce just below the roof; and the impure air is expected to pa.s.s off through openings in the cupola which rises above the roof ridges. By the heating apparatus the danger and trouble consequent on numerous fires are avoided, at about the same expense which the common mode would cause. Very judicious arrangements for drainage, laying off the grounds, etc., appear to have been adopted, and are in progress. The building is to be approached by a gracefully curved carriage road. The grounds are to be surrounded by a hawthorn fence, immediately within which will be a shaded, thoroughly drained path for walking. The slopes of the hill in front are in course of levelling, and will soon present a scene of lawn and grain field; while a southwest area is laid off as an extensive garden and nursery of trees and shrubs. This important appendage to such an inst.i.tution is charmingly situated, as regards scenery; and, with its terraces, plantation, vegetable and flower departments, etc., will soon be a very admirable place of resort for purposes of sanitary toil, or retirement and rest. We rejoice that, altogether, the establishment promises to be a very decided proof of provincial advance, and a credit to the country. After all the difficulties, delays and doubts that have occurred, this is a very gratifying result. The building is expected to be ready for reception of patients sometime in September, or the early part of October."--_Halifax Morning Sun_, _June 14, 1858_.

HALIFAX.--The following letter of a correspondent of the _New York Times_ may interest the reader. It is a very fair account of the aspect of the chief city of this Province: