Over the Border: Acadia
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Eliza Chase >> Over the Border: Acadia
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OVER THE BORDER
ACADIA
THE HOME OF "EVANGELINE"
BY Eliza Chase
"Here lies the East...does not the day break here?"
JULIUS CAESAR, II
CONTENTS.
THE BAY OF FUNDY
THE BASIN OF MINAS
PORT ROYAL
ANNAPOLIS
DIGBY
HALIFAX
GRAND PRÉ
CLARE
L'ISLE DES MONTS DESERTS
CHRONOLOGY.
DATE
1604. De Monts' first landing on Eastern coast. (May 16)
1604. De Monts and suite arrive at Port Royal. (about June 1)
1606. De Monts returns from France with supplies for his colony.
1606. Port Royal abandoned.
1610. Return of De Poutrincourt.
1612. Jesuit priests sent oat from France. (Founding of St. Sauveur
colony at Mt Desert)
1613. Destruction of Port Royal by Argall. (after breaking up settlement
at Mt. Desert)
1628. Scotch colony broken up at Port Royal.
1634. Port Royal held by French under De Razilly.
1647. Feud between La Tour and D'Aulnay.
1654. Port Royal under Le Borgne yields to English.
1684. Incursions of pirates.
1690. Sir Wm. Phipps captures and pillages Port Royal.
1691. Port Royal held by French under De Villebon.
1707. Unsuccessfully besieged.
1710. Bombarded by seven English ships; the fort yields, name changed to
Annapolis Royal.
1713. Treaty of Utrecht, ceding Acadia to the English.
1727,1728. Oath of allegiance exempting French Acadians from taking arms
against France.
1744. Port Royal bombarded and besieged three months.
1745. De Ramezay's unsuccessful attack.
1755. Forts Beau-Séjour and Gaspereau taken by Moncton.
1755. Dispersion of the "Neutrals".
1763. Return of exiles, and founding of coast settlements. Treaty
between France and England
1781. Annapolis Royal surprised and taken by two war ships.
1850. Last occupation (by military force) of old fort at Annapolis.
INTRODUCTION
In the rooms of the Historical Society, in Boston, hangs a portrait of
a distinguished looking person in quaint but handsome costume of antique
style. The gold embroidered coat, long vest with large and numerous
buttons, elegant cocked hat under the arm, voluminous white scarf and
powdered peruke, combine to form picturesque attire which is most
becoming to the gentleman therein depicted, and attract attention to
the genial countenance, causing the visitor to wonder who this can be,
so elaborately presented to the gaze.
A physiognomist would not decide upon such representation as a
"counterfeit presentment" of the tyrannical leader of the expedition
which enforced the cruel edict of exile,--
"In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas; where
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand Pré
Lay in the fruitful valley."
Yet this is Lieutenant-Colonel John Winslow, great-grandson of one of
the founders of the Plymouth Settlement. Could _he_ forget that his
ancestors fled from persecution, and came to this country to find
peaceful homes?
It was not his place to make reply, or reason why when receiving orders,
however; and it seems that the task imposed was a distasteful one; as,
at the time of the banishment, he earnestly expressed the desire "to be
rid of the worst piece of service" he "ever was in."
He said also of the unhappy people at that time, "It hurts me to hear
their weeping and wailing." So we conclude that the pleasant face did
not belie the heart which it mirrored.
It is a singular coincidence that, for being hostile to their country
at the time of the Revolution, his own family were driven into exile
twenty years after the deportation of the unhappy French people.
Have not even the most prosaic among us some love of poesy, though
unacknowledged? And who, in romantic youth or sober age, has not been
touched by the tragic story of the dispersion of the people who
"dwelt together in love, those simple Acadian farmers,--
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics.
Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows,
But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of their owners;
There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance."
Of the name Acadia, Principal Dawson says in "Canadian Antiquities--,
that "it signifies primarily a place or region, and, in combination
with other words, a place of plenty or abundance; ..." a name most
applicable to a region which is richer in the 'chief things of the
ancient mountains, the precious things of the lasting hills, and the
precious things of the earth and of the deep that coucheth beneath',
than any other portion of America of similar dimensions."
We naturally infer that the name is French; but our researches prove
that it was originally the Indian _Aquoddie_, a pollock,--not a poetic
or romantic significance. This was corrupted by the French into
_Accadie, L'Acadie, Cadie_.
So little originality in nomenclature is shown in America, that we
could desire that Indian names should be retained; that is, when not too
long, or harsh in sound; yet in _this_ case we are inclined to rejoice
at the change from the aboriginal to the more musical modern title.
Though a vast extent of territory was once embraced under that name, it
is now merely a rather fanciful title for a small part of the Province
of Nova Scotia.
Acadia! The Bay of Fundy! There's magic even in the names; the very
sound of them calling up visions of romance, and causing anticipations
of amazing displays of Nature's wonders. Fundy! The marvel of our
childhood, filling the mind's eye in those early school days with that
astounding picture,--a glittering wall of green crystal, anywhere from
ten to one hundred feet in height, advancing on the land like the march
of a mighty phalanx, as if to overwhelm and carry all before it! Had it
not been our dream for years to go there, and prove to our everlasting
satisfaction whether childish credulity had been imposed upon?
Our proposed tourists, eight in number, being a company with a leaning
towards music, bound to be harmonious, desiring to study the Diet-tome
as illustrated by the effects of country fare and air, consolidate under
the title of the Octave. The chaperone, who we all know is a dear, is
naturally called "Do"(e); one, being under age, is dubbed the Minor
Third; while the exclamatory, irrepressible, and inexhaustible members
from the Hub are known as "La" and "Si."
Having decided upon our objective point, the next thing is to find out
how to reach it; and here, at the outset, we are surprised at the
comparative ignorance shown regarding a region which, though seemingly
distant, is in reality so accessible. We are soon inclined to quote
from an old song,--
"Thou art so near and yet so far,"
as our blundering investigations seem more likely to prove how not to
get anywhere!
But we set to work to accumulate railroad literature in the shape of
maps, schedules, excursion books; and these friendly little pamphlets
prove delightful pathfinders, convincing us how readily all tastes can
be suited; as some wish to go by water, some by land, and some by "a
little of both." Thus, those who are on good terms with old Neptune may
take a pleasant voyage of twenty-six hours direct from Boston to the
distant village of Annapolis, Nova Scotia, which is our prospective
abiding place; while those who prefer can have "all rail route," or, if
more variety is desired, may go by land to St. John, New Brunswick, and
thence by steamboat across the Bay of Fundy. At last the company departs
on its several ways, and in sections, that the dwellers in that remote
old town of historic interest may not be struck breathless by such an
invasion of foreigners.
The prime mover of the expedition, having already traveled as far east
as Bangor, commences the journey at night from that city. Strange to
say, no jar or unusual sensation is experienced when the iron horse
passes the boundary; nor is anything novel seen when the train known as
the "Flying Yankee" halts for a brief breathing spell at MacAdam
Station. A drowsy voice volunteers the information: "It is a forsaken
region here." Another of our travelers replies, "Appearances certainly
indicate that the Colossus of _Roads_ is absent, and it is to be hoped
that he is mending his ways elsewhere." Then the speakers, tipping their
reclining chairs to a more recumbent posture, drift off to the Land of
Nod.
With morning comes examination of travelers' possessions at the custom
house, with amusing exhibitions of peculiarly packed boxes and bags,
recalling funny episodes of foreign tours, while giving to this one a
novel character; then the train speeds on for seven hours more.
THE BAY OF FUNDY.
Ere long singular evidence of proximity to the wonderful tides of the
Bay of Fundy is seen, as all the streams show sloping banks,
stupendously muddy; mud reddish brown in color, smooth and oily looking,
gashed with seams, and with a lazily moving rivulet in the bed of the
stream from whence the retreating tide has sucked away the volume of
water.
"What a Paradise for bare-footed boys, and children with a predilection
for mud pies!" exclaims one of the tourists; while the other--the
practical, prosaic--remarks, "It looks like the chocolate frosting of
your cakes!" for which speech a shriveling look is received.
This great arm of the sea, reaching up so far into the land, and which
tried to convert Nova Scotia into an island (as man proposes to make
it, by channeling the isthmus), was known to early explorers as La Baie
Françoise, its present cognomen being a corruption of the French,
_Fond-de-la Baie_.
Being long, narrow, and running into the land like a tunnel, the tide
rises higher and higher as it ascends into the upper and narrowest
parts; thus in the eastern arm, the Basin of Minas, the tidal swell
rises forty feet, sometimes fifty or more in spring.
In Chignecto Bay, which extends in a more northerly direction from the
greater bay, the rise has been known to reach seventy feet in spring,
though it is usually between fifty and sixty at other times. Here, in
the estuary of the Petitcodiac, where the river meets the wave of the
tide, the volumes contending cause the Great Bore, as it is called; and
as in this region the swine wade out into the mud in search of shell
fish, they are sometimes swept away and drowned. The Amazon River also
has its Bore; the Indians, trying to imitate the sound of the roaring
water, call it "pororoca."
In the Hoogly it is shown; and in a river of China, the Teintang, it
advances up the stream at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour, causing
a rise of thirty feet. In some northern countries the Bore is called
the Eagre. Octavia says this must be because it screws its way so
_eagerly_ into the land, but is immediately suppressed, and informed
that the name is a corruption of Oegir, the Scandinavian god of the sea,
of whom we learn as follows:--
Odin, the father of the gods, creator of the world, possessing greatest
power and wisdom, holds the position in Scandinavian mythology that Zeus
does in the Greek. Like the Olympian Jupiter, he held the thunder bolts
in his hand; but differed from the more inert divinity of Greece in
that, arrayed in robes of cloud, he rode through the universe on his
marvelous steed, which had eight feet. This idea was characteristic of a
hardy race living a wild outdoor life in a rigorous climate. Oegir, the
god of the sea, was a jotun, but friendly to Odin. The jotuns were
giants, and generally exerted their powers to the injury of man, but,
not being gifted with full intelligence, could be conquered by men. The
first jotun, named Ymer, Odin subdued, and of his flesh formed the
earth, of his bones the mountains; the ocean was his blood, his brains
the clouds, while from his skull the arch of the heavens was made.
We resolved to witness the singular spectacle of the Oegir of Fundy;
but, not receiving answer to our application for accommodations at
Moncton, proceeded on our way, consoling ourselves with the thought that
we could see a bore any day, without taking any special pains or going
much out of our way.
The Basin of Minas! What a "flood of thoughts" rise at the name. Fancy
paints dreamy and fascinating pictures of the fruitful and verdant
meadow land, the hills, the woods, the simple hearted, childlike
peasants; upright, faithful, devout, leading blameless lives of placid
serenity:
"At peace with God and the world."
It seemed that there must be some means of crossing the beauteous Basin
whence the broken hearted exiles sailed away so sadly; and that any
tourist with a particle of romance or sentiment in his composition would
gladly make even a wide detour to visit it. Therefore we were surprised
to learn that railroad schedules said nothing of this route, and that
it seemed almost unknown to summer pleasure seekers. Not to be deterred,
however, what better can one do than write direct for information to
Parrsboro,--a pretty village, which is the nearest point to the Basin.
Thus we learn that a short railway, connecting with the Intercolonial,
will convey us thither, though not a road intended for passenger
service.
"It will only add to the novelty and interest of our tour," we say. We
rather hope it will prove a very peculiar road, and are prepared for
discomfort which we do not find; although, at Spring Hill, the point of
divergence from the main line, such a queer train is waiting, that one
exclaims, "Surely we have come into the backwoods at last!"
The car is divided in the middle, the forward part devoted to baggage,
while in the rear portion, on extremely low backed and cushion less
seats, beside tiny, shade less windows, sit the passengers. And such
passengers! We mentally ejaculate something about "Cruikshank's
caricatures come to life." With much preliminary clanking of chains, a
most dolorous groaning and creaking of the strange vehicle, a shudder
and jar, the train is in motion, and slowly proceeding through densely
wooded and wild country,--a coal and lumber district, where only an
occasional log house relieves the monotony of the scene,--log huts which
look as if they have strayed away from the far South and dropped down in
this wilderness. At intervals, with a convulsive jerk which brings to
their feet some new travelers on this peculiar line, the train halts to
take on lumber; and one of our tourists remarks, "This old thing starts
like an earthquake, and stops as if colliding with a stone wall;" and
continues: "Do you think the poet who longed for 'a lodge in some vast
wilderness', would have been satisfied with this?" Without waiting for
a reply, the next remark is: "We are looking for summer accommodations;
don't you think we could find board cheap here?" The prosaic one,
ignoring such an attempt at pleasantry, replies, "Five dollars per
thousand feet, I have been told."
When the conductor, in a huge straw hat and rough suit, sans collar or
cravat, comes to collect tickets, the satirical one asks, "Will he
punch them with his penknife, or clip them with a pair of old scissors?"
We have
"Heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,"
and conclude that the S. H. & P. R. R. resembles it somewhat; and that,
although there is a "general flavor of mild decay" about it in some
respects, it will not be in danger of wearing out from high rate of
speed; but who cares about _time_ when on a holiday?
At last, in the distance, a range of blue hills becomes visible, with a
faint, far gleam of water; and, as the blue line abruptly descends to
the glistening streak below, we know in an instant what that promontory
must be, and ecstatically quote with one voice,--
"Away to the northward Blomidon rose,"
regardless of geography, as that Cape happens, in this case, to be
south of us.
Having received information by mail that "hosses and carages" are to be
found at Parrsboro, and that the sailing of the steamer is "rooled by
the tide," eager looks are cast about on alighting at that charming
village, the natives of which, to our surprise, are not backwoodsmen or
rough countrymen. Mine host, genial and gentlemanly, becomes visible;
and we are soon bowling merrily along through the neat village, the
picturesque country beyond, and are set down at a refreshingly
old-timey inn directly on the shore of the Basin of Minas, which bursts
suddenly upon the view, amazing one by its extent and beauty. We exclaim
in surprise, "Why, it looked no larger than one's thumb nail on the
map!"
THE BASIN OF MINAS
A curving beach with rolling surf, a long and very high pier, showing
the great rise of the tide,--at this point sixty feet in the spring,--
and directly before one the peculiarly striking promontory of Blomidon,
with the red sandstone showing through the dark pines clothing his
sides, and at his feet a powerful "rip" tossing the water into chopped
seas; a current so strong that a six-knot breeze is necessary to carry
a vessel through the passage which here opens into the Bay of Fundy.
This is the place where schedules said nothing of a boat to convey the
tourist across the inland sea--of thirty miles' width--to the railroad
on its south shore,--the line which bears on its rolling stock the
ominous initials W. A. R, but passes through the most peaceful country
nevertheless. Yet our genial host's assurances that such a vessel will
come are not to be doubted; and, after a dainty repast, a group sits on
the pier, watching ghostly ships and smaller craft emerge from and
vanish into the mist. As the mists disperse and the moon comes out
clearly, it reveals the "Hiawatha" approaching,--a graceful propeller
of five hundred tons burden, and one hundred and some odd feet in
length.
Partridge Island, which is close at hand, commands exceptionally fine
views, as Blomidon does also; the famous Capes d'Or and Chignecto, seven
hundred and thirty to eight hundred feet high, with Advocate Harbor,
are within pleasant driving distance. There are twenty varieties of
minerals on Blomidon; as many more, with jaw-testing names, on Partridge
Island "and thereabout"; so in this locality a geologist would become
quite ecstatic. Some of the finest marine scenery of the Provinces, as
well as lovely inland views and the noted and singular Five Islands, can
be seen within a radius of twenty miles.
"No country is of much interest until legends and poetry have draped it
in hues that mere nature cannot produce," says a pleasant modern
writer.
Geologists believe that the range of hills known as the North Mountain
was once a long narrow island, and that a shoal gradually formed near
Blomidon, in time filling in until that headland became part of the
mainland.
This striking cape, five hundred and seventy feet high, one would
naturally expect to find associated with strange wild myths of the
aborigines; and
"Ye who love a nation's legends,
That like voices from afar off
Call to us to pause and listen,"
attend then!
It seems that this was the favorite resort of Glooscap, the Indian
giant, who, like "Kwasind the Strong Man," in "Hiawatha," entered into
a fierce combat here with the Great Beaver (Ahmeek, King of the Beavers,
is spoken of in that same poem), and contended with the gigantic
creature in similar manner, throwing huge masses of rock, which, falling
in the water, became, in this case, the Five Islands. The Indian legend
says that at this point a stupendous dam was built by the Great Beaver;
and because this was flooding the Cornwallis valley, Glooscap, whose
supernatural power was unlimited, broke and bent it into its present
shape, forming Cape Blomidon, afterwards strewing the promontory with
gems, some of which he carried away to adorn "his mysterious female
companion." Here also he held a wonderful feast with another giant; and,
ordinary fish not sufficing to satisfy their enormous appetites, the two
embarked in a stone canoe, sailed out into the Great Lake of Uniras, as
they called the Basin, and there speared a whale, which they brought
to the shore and devoured at short notice. The approach of the white man
causing the Indian giant to desert his old haunts, he sailed out on the
great water and vanished from sight; but some day, when men and animals
live together in peace and friendship, he will return and resume his
royal sway on the Basin of Minas. Before his departure he gave a
farewell feast to all the animals, who swarmed from all over the
country, turned his dogs into stone, and left his kettle overturned in
the shape of an island near Cape Spencer, across Minas Channel. Since
that time the loons, who were his hunters, wander sadly about the
wildest lakes and rivers, searching for their master, uttering their
dolorous cries; and the owls keep up their part of the lament, crying
"Koo koo skoos," which, being Indian language, they evidently learned
from the giant, and, being interpreted, signified "I am sorry."
The crown of France is adorned with a fine amethyst from Blomidon; and
those early explorers, De Monts and Co., "found in the neighborhood" (of
Parrsboro) "crystals and blue stones of a shining colour, similar in
appearance to those known by the name of Turkeese." One of the company,
"having found a beautiful specimen of this kind, broke it into two
pieces, and gave one to De Monts, and the other to Poutrincourt, who,
on their return to Paris, had them handsomely set by a jeweler, and
presented them to the King and Queen."
At the base of Cape d'Or there is a very powerful current with great
maelstroms; this is known as the Styx, and through these terrible
whirlpools two fishermen were carried this season (1883), one losing his
life; while the other, an expert swimmer and athlete, was saved by less
than a hair's breadth, and afterwards described most thrillingly his
sensations on being drawn into and ejected from the frightful vortices.
Just at daybreak, when Blomidon looks out all glowing from the gauzy
veil of mist, as the lazy zephyr wafts it aside, and the placid water
repeats the glorious tints of radiant clouds, we regretfully take our
departure. Cape Sharp and Cape Split, bold promontories which stand like
mighty sentinels guarding the entrance to the Bay of Fundy, appear in
clearest azure and violet; while the mountains of the north shore are
sharply defined in pure indigo against the brilliant sky, as the
propeller steams away. The sail across, two hours and a half in length,
is a vision of ideal and poetic beauty, all too brief; and as we step
ashore we feel tempted to quote, "Take, oh boatman, thrice thy fee!"
At this point (Hantsport) we take the W. and A. R. R, and in a few hours
are set down at the place which we have been so long planning to reach;
the place of which our host, who is probably not familiar with the
history of St. Augustine, Florida, wrote proudly as "the oldest town in
North America."
It certainly is one of the oldest settlements in North America, having
been founded in 1604, and, until 1750, it was the capital of the whole
peninsula of Nova Scotia: Annapolis,--the old Port Royal, the historical
town which has been the scene of so many struggles and bitter
contentions; but is now the very picture of peace and utterly restful
quiet.
Here the Eight settle down for a long sojourn; basking in the delicious
atmosphere, devoting themselves to searching out the most picturesque
views, in a series of rambles, drives, and excursions, and visiting all
points for miles around, to which history and romance have added charms
almost as great as those of river and mountain which they always
possessed.
Those of our party who hail from the city of Brotherly Love naturally
feel a special interest in Acadia and the sad story of Longfellow's
heroine; as a patent for the principality of Acadia, which included the
whole American coast from Philadelphia to Montreal, was given by the
"impulsive and warmhearted monarch," Henry IV. of France, to Pierre du
Guast, the Sieur de Monts, constituting him governor of that country,
and giving him the trade and revenues of the region.
Consequently some of the ancestors of our Philadelphia friends were
Acadians, though not French peasantry. There also:--
"In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters,
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle,
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty,
And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest,
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country."
In that sedate and sober city was--
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