A few more Threads of History--Acadia again lost--The Oath of
Allegiance--Settlement of Halifax--The brave Three Hundred--Massacre at
Norridgewoack--Le Pere Ralle.
During the invasion of Col. Church, the inhabitants of Grand-Pre were
exposed to such treatment as may be conceived of. The smoke from the
borders of the five rivers, overlooked by Blomidon, rose in the stilly
air, and again the sea rolled past the broken dykes, which for nearly a
century had kept out its desolating waters between the Cape and the
Gasperau. Driven to despair, a few of the younger Acadians took up arms to
defend their hearthstones, but the great body of the people submitted
without resistance. A brief stand was made at Port Royal, but this last
outpost finally capitulated. By the terms of the articles agreed upon, the
inhabitants were to have the privilege of remaining upon their estates for
two years, upon taking an oath of allegiance to remain faithful to her
majesty, Queen Anne, during that period. Upon that consideration, those
who lived _within cannon-shot_ of the fort, were to be protected in their
rights and properties. This was but a piece of _finesse_ on the part of
the invaders, an entering wedge, as it were, of a novel kind of tyranny,
namely, that inasmuch as those within cannon-shot had taken the oath of
allegiance, those without the reach of artillery, at Port Royal, also,
were bound to do the same. And a strong detachment of New England troops,
under Captain Pigeon, was sent upon an expedition to enforce the arbitrary
oath. But Captain Pigeon, in the pursuit of his duty, fell in with an
enemy of a less gentle nature than the Acadians. A body of Abenaqui came
down upon him and his men, and smote them hip and thigh, even as the three
hundred warriors of Israel smote the Midianites in the valley of Moreh.
Then was there temporary relief in the land until the year 1713, when by a
treaty Acadia was formally surrendered to England. The weight of the oath
of allegiance now fell heavily upon the innocent colonists. We can
scarcely appreciate the abhorrence of a people, so conscientious as this,
to take an oath of fidelity to a race that had only been known to them by
its rapacity. But partly by persuasion, partly by menace, a majority of
the Acadians took the oath, which was as follows:
"_Je promets et jure sincerement, en foi de Chretien, que je serai
entierement fidele et obeirai vraiment sa Majeste le roi George, que je
reconnaias pour le Souverain seigneur de l'Acadie, ou Nouvelle Ecosse,
ainsi Dieu me soit en aide_."
Under the shadow of the protection derived from their acceptance of this
oath, the Acadians reposed a few years. It did not oblige them to bear
arms against their countrymen, nor did it compromise their religious
independence of faith. Again the dykes were built to resist the
encroachments of the sea; again village after village arose--at the mouth
of the Gasperau, on the shores of the Canard, beside the Strait of
Frontenac, at Le Have, and Rossignol, at Port Royal and Pisiquid. During
all these years no attempt had been made by the captors of this province,
to colonize the places baptized with the waters of Puritan progress.
Lunenburgh was settled with King William's Dutchmen; the walls of
Louisburgh were rising in one of the harbors of a neighboring island; but
in no instance had the filibusters projected a _colony_ on the soil which
had been wrested from its rightful owners. The only result of all their
bloody visitations upon a non-resisting people, had been to make
defenceless Acadia a neutral province. From this time until the close of
the drama, in all the wars between the Georges and the Louises, in both
hemispheres, the people of Acadia went by the name of "The Neutral
French."
Meantime the walls of Louisburgh were rising on the island of Cape Breton,
which, with Canada, still remained under the sovereign rule of the French.
The Acadians were invited to remove within the protection of this
formidable fortress, but they preferred remaining intrenched behind their
dykes, firmly believing that the only invader they had now to dread was
the sea, inasmuch as they had accepted the oath of fidelity, in which, and
in their inoffensive pursuits, they imagined themselves secure from
farther molestation. Some of their Indian neighbors, however, accepted the
invitation of the Cape Breton French, and removed thither. These simple
savages, notwithstanding the changes in the government, still regarded the
Acadians as friends, and the English as enemies. They could not comprehend
the nature of a treaty by which their own lands were ceded to a hostile
force; a treaty in which they were neither consulted nor considered.[E]
They had their own injuries to remember, which in no wise had been
balanced in the compact of the strangers. The rulers in New France (so
says the chronicler) "affected to consider the Indians as an independent
people." At Canseau, at Cape Sable, at Annapolis, and Passamaquoddy,
English forts, fishing stations, and vessels were attacked and destroyed
by the savages with all the circumstances that make up the hideous
features of barbaric reprisal. Unhappy Acadia came in for her share of
condemnation. Although her innocent people had no part in these
transactions, yet her missionaries had converted the Abenaqui to faith in
the symbol of the crucifixion, and it was currently reported and credited
in New England, that they had taught the savages to believe also the
English were the people who had crucified our Saviour. To complicate
matters again, the Chevalier de St. George (of whom there is no
recollection except that he was anonymous, both as a prince, and as a man)
sent his son, the fifth remove in stupidity, of the most stupid line of
monarchs (not even excepting the Georges) that ever wore crowns, to stir
up an insurrection among the most obtuse race of people that ever wore, or
went without, breeches. A war between France and England followed the
descent of the Pretender. A war naturally followed in the Colonies.
[E] In the treaty of Utrecht, no mention was made either of the Indians
or of their lands.
Again the ring of fire and slaughter met and ended in a treaty; the treaty
of Aix la Chapelle, by which Cape Breton was ceded to France, and Nova
Scotia, or Acadia, to England. Up to this time no attempt at colonizing
the fertile valleys of Acadia, by its captors, had been attempted. At
last, under large and favorable grants from the Crown, a colony was
established by the Hon. Edward Cornwallis, at a place now known as
Halifax. No sooner was Halifax settled, than sundry tribes of red men made
predatory visits to the borders of the new colony. Reprisals followed
reprisals, and it is not easy to say on which side lay the largest amount
of savage fury. At the same time, the Acadians remained true to the spirit
and letter of the oath they had taken. "They had relapsed," says the
chronicler, "into a sort of sullen neutrality." This was considered just
cause of offence. The oath which had satisfied Governor Phipps, did not
satisfy George II. A new oath of allegiance was tendered, by which the
Acadians were required to become loyal subjects of the English Crown, to
bear arms against their countrymen, and the Indians to whom the poor
colonists were bound by so many ties of obligation and affection. The
consciences of these simple people revolted at a requisition "so repugnant
to the feelings of human nature." Three hundred of the younger and braver
Acadians took up arms against their oppressors. This overt act was just
what was desired by the wily Puritans. Acadia, with its twenty thousand
inhabitants, was placed under the ban of having violated the oath of
neutrality in the persons of the three hundred. In vain the great body of
the people protested that this act was contrary to their wishes, their
peaceful habits, and beyond their control. At the fort of Beau Sejour, the
brave three hundred made a gallant stand, but were defeated. Would there
had been a Leonidas among them! Would that the whole of their kinsmen had
erected forts instead of dykes, and dropped the plough-handles to press
the edge of the sabre against the grindstone! Sad indeed is the fate of
that people who make any terms with such an enemy, except such as may be
granted at the bayonet's point. Sad indeed is the condition of that people
who are wrapt in security when Persecution steals in upon them, hiding its
bloody hands under the garments of sanctity.
Among the many incidents of these cruel wars, the fate of a Jesuit priest
may stand as a type of the rest. Le Pere Ralle had been a missionary for
forty years among the various tribes of the Abenaqui. "His literary
attainments were of a high order;" his knowledge of modern languages
respectable; "his Latin," according to Haliburton, "was pure, classical
and elegant;" and he was master of several of the Abenaqui dialects;
indeed, a manuscript dictionary of the Abenaqui languages, in his
handwriting, is still preserved in the library of the Harvard University.
Of one of these tribes--the Norridgewoacks--Father Ralle was the pastor.
Its little village was on the banks of the Kennebeck; the roof of its tiny
chapel rose above the pointed wigwams of the savages; and a huge cross,
the emblem of peace, lifted itself above all, the conspicuous feature of
the settlement in the distance. By the tribe over which he had exercised
his gentle rule for so many years, Le Pere Ralle was regarded with
superstitious reverence and affection.
It does not appear that these people had been accused of any overt acts;
but, nevertheless, the village was marked out for destruction. Two hundred
and eight Massachusetts men were dispatched upon this errand. The
settlement was surprised at night, and a terrible scene of slaughter
ensued. Ralle came forth from his chapel to save, if possible, the lives
of his miserable parishioners. "As soon as he was seen," says the
chronicler,[F] "he was saluted with a great shout and a shower of bullets,
and fell, together with seven Indians, who had rushed out of their tents
to defend him with their bodies; and when the pursuit ceased, the Indians
who had fled, returned to weep over their beloved missionary, and found
him dead at the foot of the cross, his body perforated with balls, his
head scalped, his skull broken with blows of hatchets, his mouth and eyes
filled with mud, the bones of his legs broken, and his limbs dreadfully
mangled. After having bathed his remains with their tears, they buried him
on the site of the chapel, that had been hewn down with its crucifix, with
whatever else remained of the emblems of idolatry." Such was the merciless
character of the invasion of Acadia; such the looming phantom of the
greater crime which was so speedily to spread ruin over her fair valleys,
and scatter forever her pastoral people.
[F] Charlevoix.
The tranquillity of entire subjugation followed these events in the
province. The New Englander built his menacing forts along the rivers, and
pressed into his service the labors of the neutral French. "The
requisitions which were made of them were not calculated to conciliate
affection," says the chronicler; the poor Acadian peasant was informed, if
he did not supply the garrison fuel, his own house would be used for that
purpose, and that neglect to furnish timber for the repairs of a fort,
would be followed by drum-head courts martial, and "military execution."
To all these exactions, these unhappy people patiently submitted. But in
vain. The very existence of the subjugated race had become irksome to
their oppressors. A cruelty yet more intolerable to which the history of
the world affords no parallel, remained to be perpetrated.