“free from fear, that reigns with the tyrant, or envy, the vice of republics,” were not applicable to the condition of affairs at Grand Pré in 1755, nor at any time.
The poem follows with fidelity the outlines of the scenes of the expulsion. Heart-rending indeed is the scene, as described even by those who were agents in its execution. The poet gives almost verbatim the address of Col. John Winslow in the chapel. Nevertheless one important clause is omitted. Barbarous as were the orders of Gov. Lawrence, he was not absolutely devoid of humanity. Some attempt was made to lessen the pangs of separation from their country by the issuing of orders to the military commanders that “whole families should go together on the same transport.” These orders were communicated with the others to the inhabitants by Col. Winslow, and it appears, they were faithfully executed as far as the haste of embarkation would permit. But as the young men marched separately to the ships, and some of them escaped for a time into the woods, there was nothing to prevent such an incident occurring as the separation of Evangeline and Gabriel.
About seven thousand (7,000) Acadians, according to Gov. Lawrence’s letter to Col. Winslow, were transported from their homes. The total number of these unfortunate people in the province at that time has been estimated at eighteen thousand. The destruction was more complete at Grand Pré than elsewhere, that being the oldest settlement, with the exception of Annapolis, and the most prosperous and thickly settled. A few years later another attempt was made to transfer the remainder of the Acadian population to New England; but the transports were not permitted to land them at Boston, as they were completely destitute, and the New England commonwealths petitioned against being made responsible for their support. The Acadian exiles were scattered over Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Georgia. About four hundred and fifty were landed at Philadelphia.
“In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware’s waters,
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn, the apostle,
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.
…
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.”
A few months ago I visited the Quaker City. There, where Evangeline ended her long pilgrimage, I took up the thread of that story the early scenes of which had been so familiar to me. How different those around me! Gone were the balsamic odors of the pines and the salt spray of the ocean. One can conceive how the hearts of the poor Acadian exiles must have trembled. I sought out the old “Swedish church at Wicaco,” whence the “sounds of psalms