CHAPTER XVII
AMHERST
Once again we approach a district of memories—the seat of the long feud between French and English for the mastery of Acadia.
In the county of Cumberland, on the south-western side of the narrow isthmus severing the Bay of Fundy from Northumberland Straits, and on the edge of the Province, surrounded by marshes, is the small and flourishing town of Amherst. Flourishes indeed, blossoms all the year round with an unconquerable prosperity—-the very type of “hustling,” boosting, busy little town one sees in the West, resolved never to look backward, and Mark Tapley like, to be cheerful and smiling under any and all circumstances. Such is the little town on the little Amherst River, named after the victor of Montreal, to whom the French surrendered Canada. “Busy Amherst,” as it likes to proclaim itself, even on the sign at the railway station.
Amherst, I was told, “claimed a population of 8000.” The “claim” really turned out to be short of the truth, perhaps to the surprise of Moncton and Frederickton across the border. For after all, had it been an exaggeration, one sees it is only a cheerful symptom and aspiration of growth. Here you find growth must not be spiritual, or intellectual, or artistic, but material. For has not the great apostle of Imperialism in our time told Canada, “Get population and all these things will be added unto you.” Of what value are the doubters here? And with what perplexity would an Amherstian hearken to the plaint my ears have heard in many English towns and villages, “Alas, I fear the town is growing. It is no longer what it was.” The vain sighers after a London or a Bexborough, “small, white, and clean,” would meet with scant sympathy in Amherst. But Amherst is still only in the first stages of its journey, and it is still, with all its aspirations towards Pittsburg or Lowell, still a pleasant country town filled with a pleasant people intensely attached to Amherst. Even politics are not taken seriously, otherwise how account for that bewildering phenomenon which met my eyes on the second floor of a handsome building in the heart of the town. Can you conceive of Mr. Pott of the Eatanswill Gazette and the editor of the Independent of the same town, not merely dwelling in unity under the same roof, but holding forth in the same office, even going to the incredible extent of assisting one another in the stress of production! Yet this is the case of the editors of the Amherst News, a Liberal organ, and the Amherst Courier, a Conservative organ. What a lesson in professional amity! It is not as if party feeling did not run high in the press of Nova Scotia. Alas, it runs as high and as tempestuously as ever it did at Eatanswill, if one is to judge from the columns of the two rival Halifax papers. One can imagine the weary editor of the News saying one evening to the editor of the Courier, “My dear sir, would you mind finishing this editorial for me? I am sorry I must run away to keep an appointment. Just go on from this sentence:—‘Borden, the leader of a discredited, disheartened, and disorganised gang of Tory office-seekers, is endeavouring to fling his disgraceful wiles over the Western farmers, but....’” “I’ll do it with pleasure,” returns the editor of the Courier. “Leave it to me, I see the point,” and taking up a pen he continues tranquilly, “but as the News has long since pointed out in our merciless exposé of Tory methods and Tory prevarication, these tactics are only laughed at by the sturdy commonsense yeomen of Manitoba, Saskatchewan,” &c., &c. Or, if it is the other way about, the News man boldly (but merely professionally) declares in the columns of the Courier that “Laurier and his renegade troop may extract what satisfaction they like from the howls and cheers of their Yankee, Armenian, Hungarian, and Doukhobor supporters in the north-west who masquerade as loyal Britons and Free-traders, but who, as we have so often shown,” &c.
And upon reflection I am inclined to suspect that even at Halifax, in the very thick of the party heat and storm, the rival editors are not quite as truculent and vindictive as one might gather from their charges and imputations; although perhaps nothing short of necessity—such for example as a loaded pistol at his head—would induce the editor of the Chronicle to edit the Herald, or vice versa. But, you see, the Amherst editors are too busy booming their town to regard Dominion or Provincial politics as anything but an intellectual or social diversion. No one would credit the articles they write about Amherst—Amherst’s yesterday a good deal, Amherst’s to-day a great deal, Amherst’s to-morrow a very great deal, I assure you....
Among the chief establishments here are car works, engine and machine works, a large boot and shoe factory, woollen mills, a coffin factory (fancy anything so suggestive of mortality being associated with Amherst!), an iron foundry, planing-mills, and saw-mills. Amherst seems to have solved the problem of cheap power, being the first to prove the practicability of Edison’s notion of power supplied direct from the mine. An enterprising company here was the first on the Continent to fix a plant for the generation of electricity at the mouth of a coal-mine, for the purpose of distributing power to distant industries that require it, and it is to be hoped that Amherst will ultimately avail itself to the full of the advantages such enterprise offers. The great power plant is situated at the mouth of the Chignecto mines, about six miles from the town. Coal from the shovels of the miners is carried in cars to the surface and dumped into the screens, and the screenings, hitherto looked upon as almost waste, are carried in endless conveyors to immense bins, from whence they are fed through chutes to the furnaces. With fuel so close at hand, requiring no second handling, it is possible to generate power at a low cost and transmit it to a territory included in a radius of several square miles. The successful inauguration of this experiment elicited a prompt telegram of congratulation from the great Edison.
It is worthy of remark that there is no vertical shaft at Chignecto. The coal is hauled up a “slope,” in trucks containing 1500 lbs. each, by a cable. When the trucks reach the surface they continue the journey upon a similar slope in the open air (built like a toboggan slide), until they reach the top of the bank-head. Here an elaborate system of trucks and switches sends each truck exactly where it is wanted, and its contents are mechanically dumped into rockers and over screens, which accomplish marvels in the way of “natural selection” before the good coal reaches the railway cars below, waiting to receive it. The final process, however, is an expert system of hand-picking, by which slates and other impurities are removed without stopping the progress of the coal for an instant. The slack or culm is mechanically carried to holders in the boiler-room by endless conveyors, where it is conveyed by gravitation to mechanical stokers, thus obviating the necessity of the fuel being handled in any way by human labour.
More substantial new buildings, either of brick or freestone, are built every year in Amherst—the freestone here being much in demand for building in other and distant parts of Canada. I do not think the private residences exhibit a very high taste, but they compare favourably with those of other parts of the Province. Nova Scotia, as I have already more than hinted, is, with all its natural beauties, hardly an architectural paradise.
The country surrounding Amherst is flat and marshy, but interesting, both scenically and historically. A century and a half ago Amherst was the French Acadian settlement of Beaubassin, and who that has ever read Parkman’s narrative can forget Fort Lawrence and Beauséjour?
When Louisbourg and Cape Breton were restored to France by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, the British Government sought to offset this blunder by the English settlement of Nova Scotia. A proclamation was issued offering all officers and private men retired from the army or navy, and to many others, a free passage to Nova Scotia, besides supporting them for a year after landing, and giving them arms, ammunition, and a grant of land to build a dwelling. Parliament having voted £40,000, in the summer of 1749 more than 2500 settlers, with their families, arrived at Chebucto, forthwith rechristened in honour of the Earl of Halifax.
The commander of the expedition and the chief of the new colony was Colonel Edward Cornwallis, a man both able and lovable. One of Cornwallis’s first cares was this very Acadian district of Beaubassin.
Some 13,000 Frenchmen were at this time settled in some ten villages in Acadia. To the northward the French had built a fort of five bastions, which they called Beauséjour, and another one much similar at Baie Verte. Their idea was to keep up communication with Louisbourg until they could strike a blow against the English and get back Acadia again into their own hands.
Soon after Cornwallis’s arrival he issued a proclamation in French and English to the French Acadians calling upon them to assist his new settlers. He did not fail to remind them that while they had so long enjoyed possession of their lands and the free exercise of their religion, they had been secretly aiding King George’s enemies. But this would be condoned if they would at once take the oath of allegiance as British subjects.
It was at Fort Beauséjour that the priestly fanatic Le Loutre laboured to create dissatisfaction and sow the seeds of revolt amongst the thrifty, ignorant Acadians, who otherwise would have been happy and contented. Their minds filled with Le Loutre’s threats and promises, they refused to take the oath of allegiance, and even to supply the English settlers with labour, timber, or provisions, though good prices for these were offered. Cornwallis warned them. “You will allow yourselves,” he said, “to be led away by people who find it to their interest to lead you astray. It is only out of pity for your situation and your inexperience in the ways of government that we condescend to reason with you, otherwise the question would not be reasoning, but commanding and being obeyed.”
He told them that they had been for more than thirty-four years the subjects of the King of Great Britain. “Show now that you are grateful for his favours and ready to serve your King when your services are required. Manage to let me have here, in ten days, fifty of your people to assist the poor to build their houses to shelter them from the bad weather. They shall be paid in ready money and fed on the King’s provisions.”
Le Loutre, disregarding all this warning and exhortation, aroused the native Indians of the province, the Micmacs, against the English newcomers. He despatched them stealthily to slay and to destroy. Twenty Englishmen were surprised and captured at Canso while gathering hay. Eight Indians, pretending to barter furs, went on board two English ships and tried to surprise them. Several of the sailors were killed. A sawmill had been built near Halifax. Six unsuspecting men went out unarmed to hew some timber. Of these four were killed and scalped, and one was captured. So frequent became the Indian attacks that the men of Halifax formed themselves into a militia, and a sentry paced the streets every night. Cornwallis offered £100 for the head of Le Loutre. Ten guineas were offered for an Indian, living or dead, or for his scalp.
To build a fort to counterbalance the Fort Beauséjour of the French was imperative. The latter was situated on the western bank of a little stream called the Missaguash, which the French claimed as the boundary between Canada and Acadia. Opposite, near Beaubassin, Colonel Lawrence was sent with 400 men to build the English fort. Le Loutre and his Acadians did their utmost to prevent the English landing and building the fort, which was christened Fort Lawrence. The commander of this post, Captain Howe, reasoned with the stubborn Acadians, many of whom perceived the good sense of his arguments and acknowledged his good influence. One bright autumn day a Frenchman in the dress of an officer advanced to the opposite side of the stream waving a white handkerchief. Howe, ever polite, advanced to meet him. As he did so, some Indians, who were in ambuscade pointed their guns at him and shot him dead. La Corne, the French commandant, was filled with shame and horror at this dastardly murder. He would like to have got rid of Le Loutre, but the priest was too strong for him. His influence with the Quebec authorities was great, and the Acadian people dreaded Le Loutre’s fierce anger.
Notwithstanding, there were a number of Acadians who consented to take the oath of allegiance to King George. When the French Governor at Quebec was apprised of this he issued a proclamation that all Acadians must either swear loyalty to France and be enrolled in the Canadian militia, or suffer the penalty of fire and sword. By way of rejoinder, the English Governor of Nova Scotia declared that if any Acadian taking the oath of allegiance to King George should afterwards be found fighting amongst the French soldiers, he would be shot. Thus were the unhappy Acadians between two fires. A considerable number removed their settlements to the Canadian side of the boundary. Some travelled even as far as Quebec. But the majority who remained continued to cause great anxiety to the English authorities in Nova Scotia.
In 1754 the French contemplated an invasion of Nova Scotia, much to the alarm of Halifax, knowing that in the absence of the English fleet Louisbourg could send a force in a few hours to overrun the country. Were not the Acadians there to furnish provisions to the French invaders, and in forty-eight hours 15,000 armed Acadians could be collected at Fort Beauséjour. The outlying English forts would be destroyed, and Halifax starved into surrender. With New Scotland reduced, New England would be the next victim. Lawrence and Governor Shirley of Massachusetts, taking counsel together, resolved to strike a blow instantly before troops from France or Quebec could arrive, and drive the French out of the isthmus. Two thousand men were raised, and the command given to an English officer, Colonel Monckton. On the 1st June 1755 the English war-party arrived here in Chignecto Bay.
As commandant at Fort Beauséjour one Vergor had succeeded La Corne. When he saw the English ships approach, Vergor issued a proclamation to the neighbouring Acadians to hasten to his defence. Fifteen hundred responded, and three hundred of these he took into the fort. The others he ordered to retire into the woods and stealthily harass the enemy.
When the bombardment was at its height, and Vergor was hourly expecting help from Louisbourg, a letter arrived to say that assistance could not come from that quarter. An English squadron was cruising in front of Louisbourg harbour, and the French frigates were thereby prevented from putting out to sea.
The Acadians became disheartened, and in spite of threats deserted by dozens. One morning at breakfast a shell from an English mortar crashed through the ceiling of a casemate, killing three French officers and an English captain who had been taken prisoner. Vergor saw that he had begun to strengthen his fort too late. There was now no hope—the guns of the English were too near. He despatched a flag of truce and surrendered Fort Beauséjour.
Having got Fort Beauséjour (renamed Fort Cumberland) into his hands, Monckton summoned another French stronghold at Baie Verte to surrender. The commandant complied, and the campaign was over. The danger to English settlers in Nova Scotia was removed for ever.
From the portals of the excellently appointed Marshland Club in Amherst I set out in a Canadian-built car with a friend, an ex-member of the Dominion Parliament, to pay a visit to Fort Lawrence and Fort Beauséjour—household words to a Canadian boy versed in even the rudiments of his country’s stirring history. We had some difficulty in finding the exact site of Colonel Lawrence’s fort, which has wholly disappeared.
Yet odd to relate, a prosperous farmer named Lawrence occupies the ground, and upon the site of the old commandant’s house his dwelling is built. At the time of my visit a youth was actively engaged with a scythe in a field where Lawrence’s artillery was placed, the breastworks having long been levelled. Bullets and other relics were occasionally picked up. A couple of the cannon I afterwards saw in use as gate-posts before a private house in Amherst. My friend deplored with me the indifference of the New Scotlanders, and especially the people of Amherst, to their historic shrines—the spots where the deeds in Canada’s story were wrought which make of the Canadian people a free people to-day. I was delighted to hear him say, “Every stone, every brick, belonging to our days of struggle should be a priceless memento—worth its weight in gold.” For I knew that when such sentiment finds utterance on the lips of one good man the root of the matter is there, the idea will flourish, and the fruit will in good season appear.