Acadia Part 16

CHAPTER XV.

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 Sparrowgra.s.ses, 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 ap.r.o.n, brings out to his thirsty travellers a brace of foaming, creamy gla.s.ses 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 s.p.a.cious 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 cl.u.s.tered 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.

CHAPTER XVI.

The Last Night--Farewell Hotel Waverley--Friends Old and New--What followed the Marriage of La Tour le Borgne--Invasion of Col. Church.

Faint nebulous spots in the air, little red disks in a halo of fog, acquaint us that there are gas-lights this night in the streets of Halifax. Something new, I take it, this illumination? Carbonated hydrogen is a novelty as yet in Chebucto. But in this soft and pleasant atmosphere, I cannot but feel some regret at leaving my old quarters in the Hotel Waverley. If I feel how much there is to welcome me elsewhere, yet I do not forsake this queer old city--these strange, dingy, weather-beaten streets, without reluctance; and chiefly I feel that now I must separate from some old friends, and from some new ones too, whom I can ill spare.

And if any of these should ever read this little book, I trust they will not think the less of me because of it. If the salient features of the province have sometimes appeared to me, a stranger, a trifle distorted, it may be that my own stand-point is defective. And so farewell! To-morrow I shall draw nearer homeward, by Windsor and the sh.o.r.es of the Gasperau, by Grand-Pre and the Basin of Minas. Candles, Henry! and books!

The marriage of La Tour to the widow of his deceased rival, for a time enabled that brave young adventurer to remain in quiet possession of the territory. But to the Catholic Court of France, a suspected although not an avowed Protestant, in commission, was an object of distrust. No matter what might have been his former services, indeed, his defence of Cape Sable had saved the French possessions from the encroachments of the Sterling patent, yet he was heretic to the true faith, and therefore defenceless in an important point against the attacks of an enemy. Such a one was La Tour le Borgne, who professed to be a creditor of D'Aulney, and pressing his suit with all the ardor of bigotry and rapacity, easily succeeded in "obtaining a decree by which he was authorized to enter upon the possessions of his _deceased debtor_!" But the adherents of Charles Etienne did not readily yield to the new adventurer. They had tasted the sweets of religious liberty, and were not disposed to come within the arbitrary yoke without a struggle. Disregarding the "decree," they stood out manfully against the forces of Le Borgne. Again were Catholic French and Protestant French cannon pointed against each other in unhappy Acadia.

But fort after fort fell beneath the new claimant's superior artillery, until La Tour le Borgne himself was met by a counter-force of bigotry, before which his own was as chaff to the fanning-mill. The man of England, Oliver Cromwell, had his little claim, too, in Acadia. Against his forces both the French commanders made but ineffectual resistance. Acadia for the third time fell into the hands of the English.

Now in the history of the world there is nothing more patent than this: that persecution in the name of religion, is only a ring of calamities, which ends sooner or later where it began. And this portion of its history can be cited as an example. Charles Etienne de la Tour, alienated by the unjust treatment of his countrymen, decided to accept the protection of his national enemy. As the heir of Sir Claude de la Tour, he laid claim to the Sterling grants (which it will be remembered had been ceded to his father by Sir William Alexander after the unsuccessful attack upon Cape Sable,) and in conjunction with two English Puritans obtained a new patent for Acadia from the Protector, under the great seal, with the t.i.tle of Sir Charles La Tour. Then Sir Thomas Temple (one of the partners in the Cromwell patent) purchased the interest of Charles Etienne in Acadia. Then came the restoration, and again Acadia was restored to France by Charles II. in 1668. But Sir Thomas having embarked all his fortune in the enterprise, was not disposed to submit to the arbitrary disposal of his property by this treaty; and therefore endeavored to evade its articles by making a distinction between such parts of the province as were supposed to const.i.tute Acadia proper, and the other portions of the territory comprehended under the t.i.tle of Nova Scotia. "This distinction being deemed frivolous," Sir Thomas was ordered to obey the letter of the treaty, and accordingly the _whole of Nova Scotia_ was delivered up to the Chevalier de Grande Fontaine. During twenty years succeeding this event, Acadia enjoyed comparative repose, subject only to occasional visits of filibusters. At the expiration of that time, a more serious invasion was meditated. Under the command of Sir William Phipps, a native of New England, three ships, with transports and soldiers, appeared before Port Royal, and demanded an unconditional surrender. Although the fort was poorly garrisoned, this was refused by Manivel, the French governor, but finally terms of capitulation were agreed upon: these were, that the French troops should be allowed to retain their arms and baggage, and be carried to Quebec; that the inhabitants should be maintained in the peaceable possession of their property, and in the exercise of their religion; and that the honor of the women should be observed. Sir William agreed to the conditions, but declined signing the articles, pompously intimating that the "word of a general was a better security than any doc.u.ment whatever." The French governor, deceived by this specious parade of language, took the New England filibuster at his word, and formally surrendered the keys of the fortress, according to the verbal contract.

Again was poor Acadia the victim of her perfidious enemy. Sir William, disregarding the terms of the capitulation, and the "word of a general,"

violated the articles he had pledged his honor to maintain, disarmed and imprisoned the soldiers, sacked the churches, and gave the place up to all the ruthless cruelties and violences of a general pillage. Not only this, the too credulous Governor, Manivel, was himself imprisoned, plundered of money and clothes, and carried off on board the conqueror's frigate, with many of his unfortunate companions, to view the further spoliations of his countrymen. Many a peaceful Acadian village expired in flames during that coasting expedition, and to add to the miseries of the defenceless Acadians, two _piratical_ vessels followed in the wake of the pious Sir William, and set fire to the houses, slaughtered the cattle, hanged the inhabitants, and deliberately burned up one whole family, whom they had shut in a dwelling-house for that purpose.

Soon after this, Sir William was rewarded with the governorship of New England, as Argall had been with that of Virginia, nearly a century before.

Now let it be remembered that in these expeditions, very little, if any, attempt was made by the invaders to colonize or reside on the lands they were so ready to lay waste and destroy. The mind of the species "Puritan,"

by rigid discipline hardened against all frivolous amus.e.m.e.nts, and insensible to the charms of the drama, and the splendors of the mimic spectacle, with its hollow shows of buckram, tinsel, and pasteboard, seems to have been peculiarly fitted to enjoy these more substantial enterprises, which, owing to the defenceless condition of the French province, must have appeared to the rigid Dudleys and Endicotts merely as a series of light and elegant pastimes.

Scarcely had Sir William Phipps returned to Boston, when the Chevalier Villabon came from France with troops and implements of war. On his arrival, he found the British flag flying at Port Royal, unsupported by an English garrison. It was immediately lowered from the flag-staff, the white flag of Louis subst.i.tuted, and once more Acadia was under the dominion of her parental government.

Villabon, in a series of petty skirmishes, soon recovered the rest of the territory, which was only occupied at a few points by feeble New England garrisons, and, in conjunction with a force of Abenaqui Indians, laid siege to the fort at Pemaquid, on the Pen.o.bscot, and captured it. In this affair, as we have seen, the famous Baron Castine was engaged.

The capture of the fort at Pemaquid, led to a train of reprisals, conspicuous in which was an actor in the theatre of events who heretofore had not appeared upon the Acadian stage. This was Col. Church, a celebrated bushwhacker and Indian-fighter, of memorable account in the King Philip war.

In order to estimate truly the condition of the respective parties, we must remember the severe iron and gunpowder nature of the Puritan of New England, his prejudices, his dyspepsia; his high-peaked hat and ruff; his troublesome conscience and catarrh; his natural antipathies to Papists and Indians, from having been scalped by one, and roasted by both; his English insolence; and his religious bias, at once tyrannic and territorial.

Then, on the other, we must call to view the simple Acadian peasant, Papist or Protestant, just as it happened; ignorant of the great events of the world; a mere offshoot of rural Normandy; without a thought of other possessions than those he might reclaim from the sea by his d.y.k.es; credulous, pure-minded, patient of injuries; that like the swallow in the spring, thrice built the nest, and when again it was destroyed,

----"found the ruin wrought, But, not cast down, forth from the place it flew, And with its mate fresh earth and gra.s.ses brought, And built the nest anew."

Against such people, the expedition of Col. Church, fresh from the slaughter of Pequod wars, bent its merciless energies. Regardless of the facts that the people were non-resistants; that the expeditions of the French had been only feeble retaliations of great injuries; and always by levies from the mother country, and not from the colonists; that Villabon, at the capture of Pemaquid, had generously saved the lives of the soldiers in the garrison from the fury of the Mic-Macs, who had just grounds of retribution for the ma.s.sacres which had marked the former inroads of these ruthless invaders; the wrath of the Pilgrim Fathers fell upon the unfortunate Acadians as though they had been a nation of Sepoys.[D]

[D] One incident will suffice to show the character of these forays. A small island on Pa.s.samaquoddy Bay was invaded by the forces under Col.

Church, at night. The inhabitants made no resistance. All gave up; "but," says Church in his dispatch to the governor, "looking over a little run, I saw something look black just by me: stopped and heard a talking; stepped over and saw a little hut, or wigwam, with a crowd of people round about it, which was contrary to my former directions. I asked them what they were doing? They replied, 'there were some of the enemy in a house, and would not come out.' I asked what house? They said, 'a bark house' I hastily bid them pull it down, _and knock them on the head, never asking whether they were French or Indians, they being all enemies alike to me_." Such was the merciless character of these early expeditions to peaceful Acadia.

"Herod of Galilee's babe-butchering deed Lives not on history's blushing page alone; Our skies, it seems, have seen like victims bleed, And our own Ramahs echoed groan for groan; The fiends of France, whose cruelties decreed Those dexterous drownings in the Loire and Rhone, Were, at their worst, but copyists, second-hand, Of our shrined, sainted sires, the Plymouth Pilgrim band."

One of the severest cruelties practised upon these inoffensive people, was that of requiring them to betray their friends, the Indians, under the heaviest penalties. In Acadia, the red and the white man were as brothers; no treachery, no broken faith, no over-reaching policy had severed the slightest fibre of good fellowship on either side. But the Abenaqui race was a warlike people. At the first invasion, under Argall, the red man had seen with surprise a mere handful of white men disputing for a territory to which neither could offer a claim; so vast as to make either occupation or control by the adventurers ridiculous; and therefore, with good-natured zeal, he had hastened to put an end to the quarrel, as though the white people had only been fractious but not irreconcilable kinsmen. But as the power of New England advanced more and more in Acadia, the first generous desire of the red man had merged into suspicion, and finally hatred of the peaked hat and ruff of Plymouth. In all his dealings with the Acadians, the Indian had found only unimpeachable faith and honor; but with the colonist of Ma.s.sachusetts, there had been nothing but over-reaching and treachery: intercourse with the first had not led to a scratch, or a single drop of blood; while on the other hand a bounty of "one hundred pounds was offered for each male of their tribe if over twelve years of age, if scalped; one hundred and five pounds if taken prisoner; fifty pounds for each _woman and child scalped_, and fifty pounds when brought in alive."

The Abenaqui tribes therefore, first, to avenge the injuries of their unresisting friends, the Acadians, and after to avenge their own, waged war upon the invaders with all the severities of an aggrieved and barbarous people. And, as I have said before, the severest cruelty inflicted upon the Acadian colonist, was to oblige him to betray his best friend and protector, the painted heathen, with whom he struck hands and plighted faith. To the honor of these colonists, be it said, that although they saw their long years' labor of d.y.k.es broken down, the sea sweeping over their farms, the fire rolling about their homesteads, their cattle and sheep destroyed, their effects plundered, and wanton and nameless outrages committed by the English and Yankee soldiery, yet in no instance did they purchase indemnity from these, by betraying a single Indian.

CHAPTER XVII.

A few more Threads of History--Acadia again lost--The Oath of Allegiance--Settlement of Halifax--The brave Three Hundred--Ma.s.sacre 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 d.y.k.es, 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 d.y.k.es were built to resist the encroachments of the sea; again village after village arose--at the mouth of the Gasperau, on the sh.o.r.es 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 d.y.k.es, 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 Pa.s.samaquoddy, English forts, fishing stations, and vessels were attacked and destroyed by the savages with all the circ.u.mstances 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 d.y.k.es, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y hands under the garments of sanct.i.ty.

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, cla.s.sical and elegant;" and he was master of several of the Abenaqui dialects; indeed, a ma.n.u.script 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.