The Boys of Grand Pré School / Illustrated

by James De Mille

These cellars were but a few out of hundreds which exist over the country, as sad memorials of those poor Acadians who were once so ruthlessly driven into exile. The beautiful story of Evangeline has made the sorrows of the Acadians familiar to all, and transformed Grand Pré into a place of pilgrimage, where the traveller may find on every side these sad vestiges of the former occupants. Into this beautiful land the French had come first; they had felled the forests, drained the marshes, and reared the dikes against the waters of the sea. Here they had increased and multiplied, and long after Acadie had been ceded to the British they lived here unmolested. They still cherished that patriotic love for France which was natural, and in the wars did not wish to fight against their own countrymen; but, on the other hand, they resisted the French agents who were sent among them to excite insurrection. A few acted against the British, but the majority were neutral. At length the British enlarged their operations in Acadie, sent out thousands of emigrants, and began to settle the province. Then came a life and death struggle between Englishmen and Frenchmen, which spread over all America, far along the Canadian frontier, and along the Ohio Valley, and southward to the Gulf of Mexico. The Frenchmen of Acadie were looked on with suspicion. An effort was soon to be made against Louisbourg and Quebec, by which it was hoped that the French power would be crushed into the dust. But the Acadians stood in the way. They were feared as being in league with the French and the Indians. Their pleasant lands, also, were eagerly desired for an English population. And so it was determined to banish them all, and in the most cruel way conceivable. Ordinary banishment would not do; for then they might wander to Canada, and add their help to their brethren: so it was determined to send them away, and scatter them over the coast of America. This plan was thoroughly carried out. From Grand Pré two thousand were taken away—men, women, and children; families were divided forever, the dearest friends were parted never to meet again. Their fields were laid waste; their houses, and barns, and churches, were given to the flames; and now the indelible traces of this great tragedy may be seen in the ruined cellars which far and wide mark the surface of the country. Far and wide also may be seen their trees,—the apple trees,—moss-grown, and worn out, and gnarled, and decaying; the broad-spreading willow, giving a grateful shade by the side of brooks; and the tall poplar, dear to the old Acadian, whose long rows may be seen from afar, rising like so many monuments over the graves of an extinct race.
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the wood lands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o’er the
ocean.
Nought but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand Pré.

Now, the idea of the boys was not by any means so absurd as may be supposed. It was within the bounds of possibility that a pot of money might be in a French cellar. These Acadians had some wealth; they had been in the habit of hoarding it by burying it in the earth, and the bottom of the cellar was by no means an unlikely place. So sudden had been their seizure, that none of them had any time whatever to exhume any of their buried treasure, so as to carry it away with him. All had been left behind—cattle, flocks, herds, grain, houses, furniture, clothes, and of course money. Vague tradition to this effect had long circulated about the country, and there was a general belief that money was buried in the ground, where it had been left by the Acadians. So, after all, the boys were only the exponents of a popular belief.

The cellar might have originally been five or six feet in depth, but the falling of the walls and the caving in of the earth had given it a shape like a basin; and the depth at the centre was not more than four feet below the surrounding level. Around the edge were some stones which marked the old foundation.

The boys came up to Captain Corbet, and watched him quietly, yet very curiously. As for the illustrious captain, he felt to the utmost the importance of the occasion. He was now no longer the captain of a gallant bark. He had become transformed into a species of necromancer. Instead of the familiar tiller, he held in his hand the rod of the magician. All the solemnity of such a position was expressed in his venerable features. After throwing a benignant smile upon the boys, his eyes reverted to the rod, which was still balanced on his finger, and he walked about, with a slow and solemn pace, to different parts of the cellar. First he went around the sides, stopping at every third step, and looking solemnly at the rod. But the rod preserved its balance, and made no deflection whatever towards any place.

“Go down to the middle, captain,” said Bart, who, in common with the other boys, had been watching these mysterious proceedings with intense curiosity.

Captain Corbet shook his head solemnly, and lifted up his unoccupied hand with a warning gesture.

“H-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-h!” said Tom; “don’t interrupt him, Bart.”

Captain Corbet moved slowly about a little longer, and then descended to the middle of the cavity. Here he planted himself, and his face assumed, if possible, an expression of still profounder solemnity.

And now a strange sight appeared. The rod began to move!

Slowly and gradually one end of it lowered, so slowly, indeed, that at first it was not noticed; but at last they all saw it plainly, for it went down lower, yet in that gradual fashion; and the boys, as they looked, became almost breathless in suspense.