Bedford Basin--Legend of the two French Admirals--An Invitation to the
Queen--Visit to the Prince's Lodge--A Touch of Old England--The Ruins.
The harbor of Chebucto, after stretching inland far enough to make a
commodious and beautiful site for the great city of Halifax, true to the
fine artistic taste peculiar to all bodies of water in the province,
penetrates still further in the landscape, and broadens out into a superb
land-locked lake, called Bedford Basin. The entrance to this basin is very
narrow, and it has no other outlet. Oral tradition maintains that about a
century ago a certain French fleet, lying in the harbor, surprised by the
approach of a superior body of English men-of-war in the offing, weighed
anchor and sailed up through this narrow estuary into the basin itself,
deceived by seeing so much water there, and believing it to be but a twin
harbor through which they could escape again to the open sea. And further,
that the French Admiral finding himself caught in this net with no chance
of escape, drew his sword, and placing the hilt upon the deck of his
vessel, fell upon the point of the weapon, and so died.
This tradition is based partly upon fact; its epoch is one of the most
interesting in the history of this province, and probably the turning
point in the affairs of the whole northern continent. The suicide was an
officer high in rank, the Duke d'Anville, who in 1746, after the first
capture of Louisburgh, sailed from Brest with the most formidable fleet
that had ever crossed the Atlantic, to re-take this famous fortress; then
to re-take Annapolis, next to destroy Boston, and finally to _visit_ the
West Indies. But his squadron being dispersed by tempestuous weather, he
arrived in Chebucto harbor with but a few ships, and not finding any of
the rest of his fleet there, was so affected by this and other disasters
on the voyage, that he destroyed himself. So says the _London Chronicle_
of August 24th, 1758, from which I take this account. The French say he
died of apoplexy, the English by poison. At all events, he was buried in a
little island in the harbor, after a defeat by the elements of as great an
armament as that of the Spanish Armada. Some idea of the disasters of this
voyage may be formed from one fact, that from the time of the sailing of
the expedition from Brest until its arrival at Chebucto, no less than
1,270 men died on the way from the plague. Many of the ships arriving
after this sad occurrence, Vice-Admiral Destournelle endeavored to fulfill
the object of the mission, and even with his crippled forces essay to
restore the glory of France in the western hemisphere. But he being
overruled by a council of war, plucked out his sword, and followed his
commander, the Duke d'Anville. What might have come of it, had either
admiral again planted the _fleur de lis_ upon the bastions of Louisburgh?
But to return to the to-day of to-day. Bedford Basin is now rapidly
growing in importance. The great Nova Scotia railway skirts the margin of
its storied waters, and already suburban villas for Haligonian
Sparrowgrasses, are being erected upon its banks.
I was much amused one morning, upon opening one of the Halifax papers, to
find in its columns a most warm and hearty invitation from the editor to
her majesty, Queen Victoria, soliciting her to visit the province, which,
according to the editorial phraseology, would be, no doubt, as interesting
as it was endeared to her, as the former residence of her gracious father,
the Duke of Kent.
In the year 1798, just twenty years before her present majesty was born,
the young Prince Edward was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the forces in
British North America. Loyalty, then as now, was rampant in Nova Scotia,
and upon the arrival of his Royal Highness, among other marks of
compliment, an adjacent island, that at present rejoices in a governor and
parliament of its own, was re-christened with the name it now bears,
namely--Prince Edward's Island. But I am afraid Prince Edward was a sad
reprobate in those days--at least, such is the record of tradition.
The article in the newspaper reminded me that somewhere upon Bedford Basin
were the remains of the "Prince's Lodge;" so one afternoon, accompanied by
a dear old friend, I paid this royal bower by Bendemeer's stream, a visit.
Rattling through the unpaved streets of Halifax in a one horse vehicle,
called, for obvious reasons, a "jumper," we were soon on the high-road
towards the basin. Water of the intensest blue--hill-slopes, now
cultivated, and anon patched with evergreens that look as black as squares
upon a chess board, between the open, broken grounds--a fine road--a
summer sky--an atmosphere spicy with whiffs of resinous odors, and no
fog,--these are the features of our ride. Yonder is a red building,
reflected in the water like the prison of Chillon, where some of our
citizens were imprisoned during the war of 1812--ship captives doubtless!
And here is the customary little English inn, where we stop our steed to
let him cool, while the stout landlord, girt with a clean white apron,
brings out to his thirsty travellers a brace of foaming, creamy glasses of
"right h'English h'ale." Then remounting the jumper, we skirt the edge of
the basin again, until a stately dome rises up before us on the road,
which, as we approach, we see is supported by columns, and based upon a
gentle promontory overhanging the water. This is the "Music House," where
the Prince's band were wont to play in days "lang syne." Here we stop, and
leaving our jumper in charge of a farmer, stroll over the grounds.
That peculiar arrangement of lofty trees, sweeping lawns, and graceful
management of water, which forms the prevailing feature of English
landscape gardening, was at once apparent. Although there were no trim
walks, green hedges, or beds of flowers; although the whole place was
ruined and neglected, yet the magic touch of art was not less visible to
the practised eye. The art that concealed art, seemed to lend a charm to
the sweet seclusion, without intruding upon or disturbing the intentions
of nature.
Proceeding up the gentle slope that led from the gate, a number of
columbines and rose-bushes scattered in wild profusion, indicated where
once had been the Prince's garden. These, although now in bloom and
teeming with flowers, have a vagrant, neglected air, like beauties that
had ran astray, never to be reclaimed. A little further we come upon the
ruins of a spacious mansion, and beyond these the remains of the library,
with its tumbled-down bricks and timbers, choking up the stream that wound
through the vice-regal domains: and here the bowling-green, yet fresh with
verdure; here the fishing pavilion, leaning over an artificial lake, with
an artificial island in the midst; and here are willows, and deciduous
trees, planted by the Prince; and other rose-bushes and columbines
scattered in wild profusion. I could not but admire the elegance and
grace, which, even now, were so apparent, amid the ruins of the lodge, nor
could I help recalling those earlier days, when the red-coats clustered
around the gates, and the grounds were sparkling with lamps at night; when
the band from the music-house woke the echoes with the clash of martial
instruments, and the young Prince, with his gay gallants, and his
powdered, patched, and painted Jezebels, held his brilliant court, with
banner, music, and flotilla; with the array of soldiery, and the pageantry
of ships-of-war, on Bedford Basin.
I stood by the ruins of a little stone bridge, which had once spanned the
sparkling brook, and led to the Prince's library; I saw, far and near, the
flaunting flowers of the now abandoned garden, and the distant columns of
the silent music house, and I felt sad amid the desolation, although I
knew not why. For wherefore should any one feel sad to see the temples of
dissipation laid in the dust? For my own part, I am a poor casuist, but
nevertheless, I do not think my conscience will suffer from this feeling.
There is a touch of humanity in it, and always some germ of sympathy will
bourgeon and bloom around the once populous abodes of men, whether they
were tenanted by the pure or by the impure.