General Considerations—England and France.

It is painful to take leave of so worthy a man as Hopson, endowed with all the gifts that were called for by the perplexing condition of the province. He had governed it but one year and a quarter. In that short space, without violent orders, without threats, without apparent effort, by the mere persuasiveness of his kindly character and gentle ways, he had so far restored confidence as to induce the Acadians, of their own accord, to consider the question of an unrestricted oath. Had it not been for the dread of Indian hostility, the problem was in a fair way of solution. Those Acadians who had crossed the frontier, learning of the Governor's favorable dispositions, asked leave to return to their farms.

During these fifteen months, in spite of Indian hostility aroused by an untimely crime, for which the Governor was in no way responsible, the greatest tranquillity reigned in the Acadian settlements; no sign of discontent, no act of insubordination is mentioned anywhere. Is this not a fresh proof of the mild and peaceable character of the Acadians? A little kindness, some consideration for thelr difficult position, care not to alarm them by arbitrary or violent measures, which might make them fear interference with the free exercise of their religion: this was all, and yet this—if supplemented by protection against Indian attacks—was enough to win from the Acadians the desired consent.

This fact also proves to a demonstration that the heads of small absolute governments are alone responsible for the good or evil conduct of their subjects. Therefore it is strange that the majority of those who have written about this period of Acadian history have laid no stress at all on the respective characters of the various governors. Surely this point was here, more than in most countries, essential to a clear understanding of the facts. In a representative and responsible commonwealth it might have been overlooked as of slight importance; but here was ail absolute ruler, and what is more a soldier, whose will was law, whose wishes were commands. In such small despotic governments good rulers make good subjects. Let the governor be kind, humane, just, careful of the interests of all; peace and contentment will flow from him as naturally as water from a spring. Let him be haughty, arbitrary or cruel; mistrust, discord, uprisings perhaps, w ill be just as certain to follow. The mass of the people will have remained the same; the governors only have changed. So true is this that the Home Office might have said to each of these governors: “Your administration has been marked by much trouble and dissatisfaction; therefore you have ruled unwisely;” or, “During your governorship there have been no complaints, no unrest; therefore you have been a wise ruler.”

The first thing, then, is to study the character of the governors. When this has once been carefully done, it is easy to pass judgment ou the various events of their administration. Those who are unable or too careless to undertake this critical examination should refrain from writing history. Though sometimes difficult, and especially so here, this inquiry is, nevertheless, possible, even without any other assistance than that supplied in the official documents.

We cannot expect that an autocratic governor, when writing to his superiors, will make a clean breast of all he does and of all his plans. Far from it. He has every incentive to show himself in the best light, to omit facts that tell seriously against himself, to defend himself against allcomers, to throw the blame on all who thwart his designs or interfere with his tastes and caprices. And yet the attentive observer will almost always detect, either in the details or in the general tone of his correspondence, something that will reveal the undercurrent of his character and his secret motives.

Other historians of this period give us little or no insight into the character of the governors. They pass from Armstrong to Mascarene, from Mascarene to Cornwallis, from Cornwallis to Hopson, from Hopson to Lawrence, as if there had occurred no material change, as if they were talking of an impersonal being, devoid of passions, interests, caprices, prejudices and defects. Yet, what a fathomless abyss yawns between a restless, whimsical spirit, like that of the ill-balanced Armstrong, by turns benevolent and tyrannical, and Mascarene, the cultured quiet gentleman, too particular perhaps on occasion, but ever paternal, firm and kind! Again, what a striking contrast between Hopson, so upright, so conciliatory, so humane, and Lawrence so false, so despotic, so cruel!

After carefully weighing the whole matter, and without taking into account the possible adverse action of Hopson’s successors, I feel convinced that the latter, in a few years, thanks to his kindliness, would have obtained from the Acadians an unrestricted oath. Their attachment to France was no doubt great, but not great enough to have been the sole motive, as Parkman and other writers make it, of their refusal. Indeed, the Acadians did not object to remain British subjects. What is more, I do not hesitate to say that, if the restriction to the oath had been maintained, if further grants of land had been made to them in proportion to the growth of their population and to their needs, if they had had no cause to dread any interference with the free exercise of their religion, they would probably have preferred to see Acadia remain an English possession in order that they might enjoy their neutrality. So long as the restriction subsisted, they were under the protection of a contract that gave them the undoubted right to leave the province if the stipulations of that contract were violated. To take an unrestricted oath was to forfeit this right. This they must have realized.

To bear arms against the French was a thing they had a horror of. It seemed to them a monstrous crime against nature. Yet, such was their situation, so badly had they been treated by them, that they would perhaps, at this time, have sacrificed this question of sentiment, with the vague hope that they would never be actually called upon to fight the French. But, what they never would have sacrificed—and this was the most delicate question of all—was their religion, which they thought threatened and exposed to cureless ills by the rescinding of their neutrality contract, as it was indeed menaced by projects of which they had heard.

Never was a people in such a desperately critical situation. Both French and English were too busy with the coming conflict to take serious thought of Acadian sentiment or to pity the woes of Acadia. This people, with its spirit of obedience, had no shield but the might of right. They were clearly free either to go if they refused the proposals of England or to accept them and remain. They artlessly thought that justice would Anally prevail. The bold intriguer who succeeded Hopson was about cruelly to undeceive them.

As to the insurmountable horror the Acadians had of bearing arms against the French, we French Canadians and Acadians by descent can thoroughly understand it and speak of it knowingly; for we need only analyze our own feelings.

We esteem England and her institutions the blessings of which we enjoy; we admire her creative genius, her civilization, the wisdom of her statesmen, her far-seeing plans and the tenacity with which she carries them out. We have served her faithfully; we are willing to do so again. We have had more liberty than French rule would have granted us. We are satisfied; our lot is just about what we should have chosen ourselves. And yet, after 130 years of separation, we still love France as we did in 1763. Is ours an exceptional case, or would Englishmen feel as we do if they were in our place? Human nature is pretty nearly the same everywhere. But the question is not practical, since England —however the fact may be explained—has always managed to keep her conquests, and above all she has never been forced to abandon her children to the enemy.

Our love for France seems to surprise our English fellow-countrymen. They seem to think love of country was a chattel that can be transferred by order from place to place on a given date. Is this thoughtlessness or narrowness of mind? Does it arise from the fact that Englishmen have never had any personal experience of a situation like ours? Or are they less sensitive to the finer feelings?

Suppose, for a moment, that the Province of Quebec became once more a colony of France. Ask the English residing in Quebec if they would not feel scruples and an insurmountable horror at the thought of fighting for France against England, against Ontario, even after a century of allegiance to France with the greatest possible freedom. Their answer admits of no doubt; but, whatever it might be, this is our view: nothing could induce us to fight against France on foreign battlefields; and if the refusal to do so were to entail upon us what the Acadians suffered, our hesitancy would be short, with this difference, however, that we would meet force with force. Cold-blooded reasoning has no place here ; we are not free to change the feelings which are ingrained in our nature. Should Englishmen act differently in similar circumstances, the inference would be that their nature is diametrically opposed to ours.

It is a matter of common observation that a Frenchman is swayed more by sentiment than by self-interest; that an Englishman, on the contrary, places self-interest alongside, and sometimes above sentiment. Some think this distinction is merely a difference of degrees and shades, not of natures. But may not the divergence be radical?

When the United States revolted against the mother country, the Acadians, unable to understand such conduct, never called that struggle by any other name than the mad war. Still, the Americans, struggling for their money interests, were fighting for a principle; whereas the Acadians could have invoked no principle to justify their taking up arms against France.

An important distinction must be drawn between the immigrant and the man that claims the country he dwells in as the home of his forefathers. The immigrant’s object is business; unwittingly, perhaps, he has made up his mind beforehand to become, to all intents and purposes, a citizen of his new country. His children, if not himself, will claim hardly any other country than this new land of theirs. The native, on the other hand, is still more firmly rooted to the soil. His attitude towards the immigrant must be carefully considered. His traits of character, his customs, traditions, language, are all dear to him; he means to cling to them as long as possible, he hopes, forever. His eye is on the immigrant, who may easily excite his suspicions. If he finds out that the newcomer wants to dislodge him, he will never forget it; he will ever attribute to him the same purpose, even iu the latter’s most harmless behavior. If the natives constitute a. people, be it ever so small, they will close up their ranks and become more and more clannish; and, should they come of a strong and manly race, whose past history is glorious, there is no knowing what complications may ensue.

But if the incoming settler is prudent, gentle and generous; if he lets the native know that, far from having any designs upon the autonomy and maintenance of the native nationality, he is anxious to keep up all the dearly loved traditions of the country, then a few generations will suffice to win over the native element to the immigrant nation, fusion will take place without, friction, without hitch, without bitter regrets. A contrary course on the settler’s part would leave the various elements unharmonized after ten generations. The consequent need of prudence is especially great where the natives are French, because of the extreme delicacy of their feelings.

In colonies conquered by England, the English settlers have almost always striven to implant their language and religious beliefs by stratagem or by force. TJsey are striving to do so more or less even now. Their great object seems to be the formation of one solid, homogeneous, despairingly monotonous mass of human beings instinct with the same ideas, the same tastes, the same feelings, as if this objective were indispensable to the security and progress of the country. They seem to forget that such ill-concealed strivings produce an effect exactly contrary to that which was expected, and tend to weaken those bonds of sympathy which a kindly observance of the advice, “live and let live,” would have helped to strengthen. Agreement in essentials is quite enough; to aim at more is to secure less.

France, with all her faults, has ever adopted a very different line of conduct with much more satisfactory results. Her Brittany, after so many centuries, still speaks Breton, and is none the less very French. Alsace was German, spoke and still speaks German ; but, after two centuries of French rule, it groans in German under the German yoke, and sighs for return to France. Corsica, Nice, Savoy, treated as sisters, never uttered a murmur. The Arab, reconciled after a short resistance, dies for France on every field of battle, only too proud to be able to defend her flag. In spite of the errors and the levity of France, the nations she takes to her bosom become French in heart and mind.

While France was urged on by her feelings, England was stimulated by her interests. While the former aimed at assimilating her new subjects by respecting their customs and traditions, by making them sharers in the privileges and rights common to Frenchmen, by acts of kindness and urbanity, the latter strove to bring the colonists into line by sheer force or by craft. Had England added to her other gifts, so numerous and so imperial, the further gift of winsomeness, she would have been by this time doubly the mistress of the world; the whole of this continent would now be hex’s; Ireland would be to her a garland of honor instead of a thorn in her side. Alas! It is with nations’ as with individuals; there are virtues that exclude one another.

Throughout all her vicissitudes France always remained, politically and economically, one with her colonies. In war, in peace, in revolution; under king, emperor or republic; under Bourbons, Bonapartes or the Orleans citizen king; with one tariff or another, the colonies submitted to every change without complaint. Never could England achieve such a result. Self-interest bars the way.