three years ago, and were then found apparently as bright and strong as
if just placed there. They were covered with brush, but a foot or two
below the surface; and seem to have been hurriedly hidden by the exiles,
who, finding them too weighty for conveyance, secreted them, probably
with the hope of returning sometime.
What a study for an artist the group would have made, as they stood
examining the misty iron, and talking of the unhappy people so
ruthlessly sent into banishment! For background, the quaint, unpainted
house, black with age, the roof of the "lean-to" so steeply sloping that
the eave-trough was on a line Avith the heads of the group Beyond lay
the lovely valley, with the winding Équille on its serpentine way to
join the greater river; the whole picture framed in the long range of
wooded and rugged hills.
Higginson thinks there has been too much sentimentalizing over the fate
of the Acadians; and one member of our party so evidently considers that
our enthusiasm savors of the gushing school-girl, that we are cautious
in our remarks. But the old man's grandson, holding his pretty child on
his shoulder, and looking across the valley to his pleasant dwelling,
says, "Oh, it was cruel to send them away from their homes!" to which
all earnestly assent.
Clambering up the hill back of the old house, we come upon the site of
an ancient French church, and commend the taste of those who chose such
an admirable location. Here we find, to our delight, that local
tradition has buried two fine old bells. Bells! What a charm there is
about them! One of the earliest recollections of our childhood is of a
bell, which, being harsh and dissonant, so worked upon our youthful
sensibilities as to cause paroxysms of tears; and now in these later
years we are sure that should some genie set us down blindfolded in any
place where we had ever remained for a time the mere tones of the bells
would enlighten us as to our whereabouts.
"Those evening bells! Those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth and home and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime."
After the Port Royal settlement was broken up by Argall in 1613,
tradition says this church crumbled away into ruin, and, as the
supporting beams decayed, the bells sank to the ground, where, from
their own weight and the accumulations of Nature's _débris_ they became
more and more deeply embedded until lost to view. Silver bells, from
France, they say. Of course! Who ever heard of any ancient bells which
were not largely composed of that metal? It is a pretty myth, however,
which we adopt with pleasure; though common sense plainly says that
silver would soon wear away in such use; that the noble patrons of a
struggling colony in a wild country would not have been so extravagant
as that; and that bell metal is a composition of copper and tin which
has been in use from the time of Henry III.
The people of Antwerp have special affection for the "Carolus" of their
famous cathedral; and that bell is actually composed of copper, silver,
and gold; but it is now so much worn that they are not allowed the
privilege of hearing it more than once or twice a year "Kings and nobles
have stood beside these famous caldrons" (of the bell founders), "and
looked with reverence on the making of these old bells; nay, they have
brought gold and silver, and pronouncing the holy name of some saint or
apostle which the bell was hereafter to bear, they have flung in
precious metals, rings, bracelets, and even bullion."
Possibly these old bells of Annapolis, the secret of whose hiding place
Nature guards so well, were made by Van den Gheyn or Hemony of Belgium,
who from 1620 to 1650 were such famous founders that those of their
works still extant are worth their weight in gold, or priceless, and
are noted the world over for their wonderful melody. If so, when they
"Sprinkled with sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop
Sprinkles the congregation and scatters blessing among them,"
it was no doubt with silvery tone; and, as it is well known that bells
sound best when rung on a slope or in a valley where there is a lake or
river, doubtless this wide and lovely stream carried the music of the
mellow peal, and returning voyagers heard the welcome notes; as the
sailors of the North Sea, on entering the Scheldt, strain their ears to
catch the faint, far melody of the chimes of the belfry of Antwerp,
visible one hundred and fifty miles away.
Another day we make an expedition to see the Apostle Spoons, and are
received, as invariably everywhere, with cordial hospitality. These
spoons would, I fear, cause the eye of an antiquary to gleam covetously.
They have round, flat bowls about two and a half inches in diameter;
narrow, slender, and straight handles, terminating, the one with a
small turbaned head, the other with a full length figure about one inch
long; the entire length of the handles being about four and a half
inches.
In the bowl of one the letters P L I are rudely cut; and on both is
stamped something which, they say, under magnifying glass resembles a
King's head In the spring of 1874 or 1875 these were turned up by the
plough, in a field two miles beyond the town, the discovery being made
in the neighborhood of the supposed bite of an old French church. The
farmer's thrifty housewife was making soap at the time the spoons were
unearthed; and as they were much discolored, "the old lead things" were
tossed into the kettle of lye, from whence, to her amazement, they came
out gold, or, at least, silver washed with gold. These spoons, they say,
were used in the service of the church; but it is more likely that they
were the property of some family, and probable that they were dropped
by their owners--then living beyond the present site of Annapolis--when,
at the time of the banishment of the Acadians, they were hurried away to
the ships on the Basin of Minas.
An apostle spoon was often a treasured heirloom in families of the
better class, and at the advent of each scion of the family tree was
suspended about the neck of the infant at baptism, being supposed to
exert some beneficent influence. Especially in the East, about the
seventh century, we find that a small vessel, or spoon, sometimes of
gold, was used in the churches These were eucharistic utensils, by means
of which communicants conveyed the sacred elements to the mouth; but
this custom was forbidden and done away with, though probably the
tradition of such usage suggested the spoon, which became general in
Greek and most Oriental churches many years after. The supposition
is, that in those churches, after the wafer had been put into the wine
in the chalice, the spoon was used to dip out such portion as was to be
reserved for administering the last sacrament to the dying, or to those
who were too ill to attend the service in the church. In all churches
of the East, except the Armenian, the spoon is used in administering the
sacrament.
Curious customs also existed in ancient times in reference to baptism.
Honey mixed with milk or with wine was given to the one who had just
received this rite, to show that he who received it, being a, newly
born child spiritually, must not be fed with strong meat, but with milk.
This became a regular part of the ritual, and was closely adhered to.
The old customs of festivals of rejoicing, public thanksgivings, wearing
of garlands, singing of hymns, and giving presents, are well known and
familiarly associated with baptismal festivities. The presentation of
apostle spoons at christenings was a very ancient custom in England. A
wealthy sponsor or relative who could afford it, gave a complete set of
twelve, each with the figure of an apostle carved or chased on the end
of the handle; while sometimes a poor person presented only one, but on
that was the figure of the saint for whom the child was named. Sometimes
this rudely molded little figure represented the patron saint of the
sponsor or the donor. In 1666 the custom was on the decline.
An anecdote relating to this usage is told of Shakespeare. The latter
"stood godfather" to the child of a friend; and after the ceremonies of
the christening, as the poet seemed much absorbed and serious, the
father questioned him as to the cause of his melancholy. The sponsor
replied, that he was considering what would be the most suitable gift
for him to present to his god-child, and that he had finally decided.
"I'll give him," said he, "a dozen good latten spoons, and thou shalt
translate them." This was a play upon the word Latin. In the Middle Ages
a kind of bronze used for church and household utensils was known as
"latten"; and the same name was applied in Shakespeare's time to thin
iron plate coated with tin, of which domestic utensils and implements
were made.
In Johnson's "Bartholomew Fair" one of his characters says, "And all
this for the hope of a couple of apostle spoons, and a cup to eat caudle
in." In a work of Middleton, entitled "The Chaste Maid of Cheapside",
one of the characters inquires, "What has he given her?" to which
another replies, "A faire high standing cup, and two great 'postle
spoons, one of them gilt."
The hat, or flat covering on the head of the figure,--that which we call
a turban in one of these at Annapolis,--was a customary appendage and
usual in apostle spoons; the intention being thereby to protect the
features of the tiny heads from wear. Whatever the history of these at
Annapolis, there can be no doubt of their genuineness, and, in a perfect
state, they are extremely rare.
In our antiquarian researches we are naturally drawn to the old
cemetery, adjoining the fort grounds; but learn that the oldest graves
were marked by oaken slabs, which have all disappeared, as have also
many odd stone ones. But among those still standing one records that
some one "dyed 1729"; another states that the body below "is deposited
here until the last trump"; and one, which must be the veritable
original of the "affliction sore" rhyme, ends: "till death did seize
and God did please to ease me of my pain." Still another bears this
epitaph, _verbatim et literatim_--
"Stay friend stay nor let thy hart prophane
The humble Stone that tells you life is vain.
Here lyes a youth in moulding ruin lost
A blossom nipt by death's untimely frost
O then prepare to meet with him above
In realms of everlasting love."
The stone-cutter's hand must have been as weary when he blundered over
the word humble as the poet's brain evidently was when he reached the
line which limps so lamely to the conclusion. Near this recently stood
a stone,
"With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,"
on which the representation of Father Time was carved in such peculiar
manner that from pose and expression the figure might have passed for a
lively youth rather than the dread reaper, and was irreverently known
to the village youths as "Sarah's young man", a title suggested by a
popular song of the day.
In a remote corner we find the tomb of "Gregoria Remonia Antonia", "a
native of Spain"; and afterwards learn her story,--an episode in the
life of the Iron Duke which does not do him honor. Did _la grande dame_,
the Duchess, ever know of the fair foreigner who supplanted her, the
dame o' high degree, in her husband's affection? Did the beautiful
Spanish maiden dream, when the brilliant English General wooed her,
that he was doing her and another woman the greatest wrong? Little did
the fascinating Spaniard think that the so-called "nobleman" would
compel her to marry another; and that other a rough, illiterate man, who
would bring her to this wild, strange, far-away country, and that here
she should be laid to rest "after life's fitful fever." Is it to be
wondered at that her fiery Southern spirit rebelled, that her wrongs
embittered her, and that her life here was unhappy?
To add to the romance, one who attended her in her last illness tells
us that when the garrison gave a ball, the slender little Spanish lady
loaned or gave "pretty fixins" to the young girls to wear, and appeared
herself in rich silks and plumes; that she gave to her attendant in that
illness a wonderful box "all done off with,--well--this here plated
stuff, you know"; and that when the end was drawing near, the faint,
weak voice, with its broken English (at best so difficult to
understand), tried to make "Char-loet-tah" comprehend where she must
look for something hidden away which she wished her nurse to have in
recognition of her services. But alas! the hoarded treasure was not
found until months after the poor soul was gone, and then fell into the
very hands which the sad alien had most desired should not touch it.
The old adage about a sailor's right to have "a sweetheart in every
port" is still cited in these days of boasted advancement in culture,
religion, morals; and it is the same old world to-day as that which
lauded and bowed down to him whom it called "his Grace" (despite what we
consider his graceless actions); the same world, alas! ignoring the open
and evident fact when he steps aside from the narrow path of honor and
rectitude; while, should she swerve in the least, pouring out
mercilessly its harshest taunts, or overwhelming her with pitiless
scorn. This, because woman should hold an exalted position, and "be
above suspicion"? Then why do not the so-called "lords of creation", as
they might and ought, set an example of noble uprightness to "the weaker
vessel", guiding, guarding, upholding her through "the shards and thorns
of existence"?
The Spanish girl, left an orphan by the wars in which the dashing and
gallant English officer figured so proudly, fell to the care of two
aunts, who, belonging to that indolent, pleasure loving race of sunny
Spain, perhaps left the poor girl too much to her own devices, and thus
she may have been more easily beguiled.
"Look here, upon this picture, and on _this_": first, the gay little
senorita, holding daintily in her tapering fingers a cigarette, which
she occasionally raises to her "ripe red lips", afterwards languidly
following with her lustrous black eyes the blue wreaths of smoke as
they float above her head and vanish in the air; next, the withered
crone, with silver hair, wrinkled skin, and no trace of her early
beauty, sitting in the chimney corner, and still smoking, though now it
is a clay pipe,--to the amazement and disgust of the villagers. Yet
we, believing in the only correct interpretation of _noblesse oblige_,
and that he only is truly noble who acts nobly, have only pity for the
poor soul who here laid down life's weary burden twenty-two years ago at
the age of seventy-two, and scorn for him who rests in an honored grave,
and is idealized among the world's heroes.
How amusing it is to hear the people speak of us invariably as
"Americans", as if we were from some far-away and foreign country, and
to hear them talk of England as "home"!
The hearty cordiality, natural manner, and pleasantly unworldly ways of
the people are most refreshing; in "a world of hollow shams", to find
persons who are so _genuine_ is delightful; and thus another charm is
added to give greater zest to our enjoyment.
One, half in jest, asks a Halifax gentleman how they would like to be
annexed to the United States, and is quite surprised at his ready and
earnest reply: "Annexed? Oh, yes, we'd be glad to be;... we wouldn't
come with empty hands; we have what you want,--fisheries, lumber,
minerals; we'd not come as paupers and mendicants.... It will come,
though it may not be in our day.... The United States would not wish to
purchase,--she has done enough of that: we would have to come of our
own free will; and we would, too!"
Then there is the elderly Scotch gentleman, who appropriately hails from
the place with the outlandish name of Musquodoboit. He tells us that
during the "airly pairt" of his residence in America he visited in the
States, and that he has seen "fower Preesidents" inaugurated.
Of his first attendance at such a ceremony he says: "An' whan I see thet
mon, in hes plain blek coat, coomin' out amang all o' thim people, an'
all the deegnetirries in their blek coats tu, an' not a uniforrum amoong
thim, I said, 'This is the coontry fur me,'--it suited my taste. An' how
deeferint it wud be in Yerrup, where there wud be tin thausind mooskits
aboot, to kep 'im from bein' shot."
On our way here we were told: "Oh, you'll find Annapolis hot!" It might
perhaps seem so to a Newfoundlander; but to us the climate is a daily
source of remark, of wonder and delight. It is balmy, yet bracing; and
though there may be times when at midday it is decidedly warm,--as
summer should be,--the nights are always cool, and we live in flannel
costumes and luxuriate.
Warner speaks of "these northeastern lands which the Gulf Stream pets
and tempers"; yet he passed through this dear old town without stopping,
remarking only that he could not be content for a week here, and felt no
interest in the place apart from its historic associations. Let him stop
next time and investigate. We flatter ourselves that we could enlighten
him somewhat.
Our friends at various shore and mountain resorts report constant fogs;
yet we can testify that in nearly seven weeks' residence here there were
but two mornings which were foggy, and on those days the gray screen was
rolled away at noon.
"aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended"
That singular feature spoken of in Longfellow's poem is shown here: the
mists rise from the Bay and rest lovingly, caressingly, on the crests of
the long range of mountains, giving them the appearance of comfortable
warmth under this downy coverlet on cool nights; but this fleece very
rarely descends to the valley.
Dr. O. W. Holmes must have had such a place as this in mind when he
said:--
"And silence like a poultice came
To heal the blows of sound,"
and surely tympanums most bruised by the world's clangor and jar could
not fail here be soothed and healed; and the writer of "Oh, where shall
rest be found?" would have received answer to his query here also. The
quiet is astonishing: there are no farm sounds even; and, though the
hours pass so pleasantly that we "take no note of time", we can tell
when Saturday comes, for then numbers of log-laden ox-carts plod slowly
into the village from the back country.
The bells on the animals' necks tinkle precisely like the sound of ice
when carried in a pitcher of water; and consequently do not jar upon
one's ear in this quietude as the clanking herd-bells which we hear in
some farming regions of the States.
At night the only break in the profound stillness is when the tide is
ebbing, and the Equille can be heard rushing under the bridge a quarter
of a mile away. We cannot discover the meaning of that word, and so
consult a foreign relative, who fells us that at Dinard, in France, they
catch the _équille_,--a small fish, also called a _lançon_, because it
darts in and out of the sand, and in its movements is something like an
eel.
That certainly describes this peculiar stream, for surely it would be
difficult to find one with a more circuitous course. It forms two
horseshoes and an ox-bow connected, as we see it from our windows; and
when the tide is out diminishes to a rivulet about two feet in width. At
flood it is more than twice the width of the Wissahickon, and when the
high tides of August come its magnitude is surprising.
Then we understand why the hay-ricks (which we wickedly tell our friends
from the "Hub" resemble gigantic loaves of Boston brown bread) are on
stilts, for, regardless of dikes or boundaries, this tortuous creek
spreads over its whole valley, as if in emulation of the greater river
of which it is a tributary. Haliburton says that for a time this was
called Allan's River, and the greater one was named the Dauphin; but we
are glad that the old French name was restored to the serpentine creek,
as it is so much better suited to its peculiar character.
The great event of the week is the arrival of the Boston steamer, when
all the town turns out and wends its way to the wharves.
The peculiar rise of the tide (thirty feet) is here plainly shown, as
one week the passengers step off from the very roof of the saloon, and
next time she comes in they disembark from the lowest gangway possible
and climb the long ascent of slippery planks to the level above.
The river shows curious currents and counter-currents, as bits of
_débris_ are hurrying upward in the middle of the stream, while similar
flotsam and jetsam rush away as rapidly down stream along both shores.
The queer old tub of a ferry boat, with its triangular wings spreading
at the sides,--used as guards and "gang planks",--is a curiosity, as it
zigzags across the powerful current to the village on the opposite
shore.
But "the ferryman's slim, the ferryman's young, and he's just a soft
twang in the turn of his tongue"; and in our frequent trips across he
probably makes a mental note when he hears us lamenting that we cannot
get lobsters, for one day he sends to our abiding place four fine large
ones, and will not receive a cent in remuneration.
Another time, when waiting for the farmer's you to guide us to the "ice
mine",--a ravine in the mountains where ice remains through the summer,
--a delicious lunch, consisting of fresh bread, sweet milk, and cake,
is unexpectedly set before us, and the generous farmer's wife will not
listen to recompense.
A modern writer says: "A great part of the enjoyment of life is in the
knowledge that there are people living in a worse place than that you
inhabit;" but it does not add to our happiness to think of those who
could not come to this lovely spot; and we commiserate the Can't-get-
away Club of the cities.
We would not change places with any of the dwellers at the fashionable
resorts at springs, sea, or mountains,--no, indeed! though they no doubt
would elevate their noses, and set this place down at once as "deadly
dull", or "two awfully slow for anything"!
Doubtless those also of our friends to whom we tell the plain,
unvarnished truth, if they come here will be disappointed, as they will
not see with our eyes. One cannot expect the luxuries of palatial
hotels at five dollars per day; such would be out of place here.
At our abiding place, which looks like a gentleman's residence, and is,
as one of the Halifax guests says, "not a bit like an 'otel", there is
an extensive garden, from which we are regaled with choice fresh
vegetables daily; and we have _such_ home-made butter (The bill of fare
"to be issued in our next"). A Frenchman might think that "we return to
our muttons" frequently; still, as that viand suggests at least the
famous English Southdown in excellence, we are resigned.
A noted wit has said: "Doubtless God might have made a better berry than
the strawberry, but doubtless God never did;" and if one is so fortunate
as to come to this country in proper season he can feast on that
delectable fruit in its perfection,--that is, the wild fruit, so much
more delicious and delicate in flavor than after its boasted
"improvement" by cultivation. If one arrives before the close of the
fisheries, salmon, fit for a royal banquet, graces the table; while
even in July and August he may enjoy shad; and strange enough it seems
to Philadelphians to be eating that fish at such time of year.
There are in the town a number of inns, and summer guests are also made
welcome and comfortable in many of the private residences. In one of
the latter--a large old-fashioned house, with antique furniture--three
sisters reside, who possess the quiet dignity and manner of the old
school; and here one would feel as if visiting at one's grandfather's,
and be made pleasantly "at home".
We are surprised to find that this old town has generally such modern
and New Englandish aspect; and are told that it has twice been nearly
destroyed by fire, even in modern times; therefore but few of the quaint
buildings remain. Some of these are picturesque and interesting, the one
combining jail and court house being a feature of the main street. The
window of one of the cells faces the street; and the prisoner's friends
sit on the steps without, whiling away the tedium of incarceration with
their converse.