CHAPTER 6
1700-1710. 

THE OLD RÉGIME IN ACADIA. 
THE FISHERY QUESTION,  PRIVATEERS AND PIRATES,  PORT ROYAL,  OFFICIAL GOSSIP,  ABUSE OF BROUILLAN,  COMPLAINTS OF DE GOUTIN,  SUBERCASE AND HIS OFFICERS,  CHURCH AND STATE,  PATERNAL GOVERNMENT. 

The French province of Acadia, answering to the present Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, was a government separate from Canada and subordinate to it.  Jacques François de Brouillan, appointed to command it, landed at Chibucto, the site of Halifax, in 1702, and crossed by hills and forests to the Basin of Mines, where he found a small but prosperous settlement.  "It seems to me," he wrote to the minister, "that these people live like true republicans, acknowledging neither royal authority nor courts of law. " It was merely that their remoteness and isolation made them independent, of necessity, so far as concerned temporal government.  When Brouillan reached Port Royal he found a different state of things.  The fort and garrison were in bad condition; but the adjacent settlement, primitive as it was, appeared on the whole duly submissive. 

Possibly it would have been less so if it had been more prosperous; but the inhabitants had lately been deprived of fishing, their best resource, by a New England privateer which had driven their craft from the neighboring seas; and when the governor sent Lieutenant Neuvillette in an armed vessel to seize the interloping stranger, a fight ensued, in which the lieutenant was killed, and his vessel captured.  New England is said to have had no less than three hundred vessels every year in these waters.  Before the war a French officer proposed that New England sailors should be hired to teach the Acadians how to fish, and the King seems to have approved the plan.  Whether it was adopted or not, New England in peace or war had a lion's share of the Acadian fisheries.  "It grieves me to the heart," writes Subercase, Brouillan's successor, "to see Messieurs les Bastonnais enrich themselves in our domain; for the base of their commerce is the fish which they catch off our coasts, and send to all parts of the world. "

When the war broke out, Brouillan's fighting resources were so small that he was forced to depend largely for help on sea-rovers of more than doubtful character.  They came chiefly from the West Indies,—the old haunt of buccaneers,—and were sometimes mere pirates, and sometimes semi-piratical privateers commissioned by French West Indian governors.  Brouillan's successor writes that their opportunities are good, since at least a thousand vessels enter Boston every year.  Besides these irregular allies, the governor usually had at his disposal two French frigates of thirty and sixty guns, to which was opposed the Massachusetts navy, consisting of a ship of fifty-six guns, and the "province galley," of twenty-two.  In 1710 one of these Massachusetts vessels appeared off the coast escorting a fishing-fleet of no less than two hundred and fifty sail, some of which were afterwards captured by French corsairs.  A good number of these last, however, were taken from time to time by Boston sea-rovers, who, like their enemies, sometimes bore a close likeness to pirates.  They seized French fishing and trading vessels, attacked French corsairs, sometimes traded with the Acadians, and sometimes plundered them.  What with West India rum brought by the French freebooters, and New England rum brought by the English, it is reported that one could get drunk in Acadia for two sous. 

Port Royal, now Annapolis, was the seat of government, and the only place of any strength in the colony.  The fort, a sodded earthwork, lately put into tolerable repair by the joint labor of the soldiers and inhabitants, stood on the point of land between the mouth of the river Annapolis and that of the small stream now called Allen's River, whence it looked down the long basin, or land-locked bay, which, framed in hills and forests, had so won the heart of the Baron de Poutrincourt a century before.  The garrison was small, counting in 1704 only a hundred and eighty-five soldiers and eight commissioned officers.  At the right of the fort, between it and the mouth of the Annapolis, was the Acadian village, consisting of seventy or eighty small houses of one story and an attic, built of planks, boards, or logs, simple and rude, but tolerably comfortable.  It had also a small, new wooden church, to the building of which the inhabitants had contributed eight hundred francs, while the King paid the rest.  The inhabitants had no voice whatever in public affairs, though the colonial minister had granted them the privilege of travelling in time of peace without passports.  The ruling class, civil and military, formed a group apart, living in or near the fort, in complete independence of public opinion, supposing such to have existed.  They looked only to their masters at Versailles; and hence a state of things as curious as it was lamentable.  The little settlement was a hot-bed of gossip, backbiting, and slander.  Officials of every degree were continually trying to undermine and supplant one another, besieging the minister with mutual charges.  Brouillan, the governor, was a frequent object of attack.  He seems to have been of an irritable temper, aggravated perhaps by an old unhealed wound in the cheek, which gave him constant annoyance.  One writer declares that Acadia languishes under selfish greed and petty tyranny; that everything was hoped from Brouillan when he first came, but that hope has changed to despair; that he abuses the King's authority to make money, sells wine and brandy at retail, quarrels with officers who are not punctilious enough in saluting him, forces the inhabitants to catch seal and cod for the King, and then cheats them of their pay, and countenances an obnoxious churchwarden whose daughter is his mistress.  "The country groans, but dares not utter a word," concludes the accuser, as he closes his indictment. 

Brouillan died in the autumn of 1705, on which M.  de Goutin, a magistrate who acted as intendant, and was therefore at once the colleague of the late governor and a spy upon him, writes to the minister that "the divine justice has at last taken pity on the good people of this country," but that as it is base to accuse a dead man, he will not say that the public could not help showing their joy at the late governor's departure; and he adds that the deceased was charged with a scandalous connection with the Widow de Freneuse.  Nor will he reply, he says, to the governor's complaint to the court about a pretended cabal, of which he, De Goutin, was the head, and which was in reality only three or four honest men, incapable of any kind of deviation, who used to meet in a friendly way, and had given offence by not bowing down before the beast. 
Then he changes the subject, and goes on to say that on a certain festal occasion he was invited by Bonaventure, who acted as governor after the death of Brouillan, to share with him the honor of touching off a bonfire before the fort gate; and that this excited such envy, jealousy, and discord that he begs the minister, once for all, to settle the question whether a first magistrate has not the right to the honor of touching off a bonfire jointly with a governor. 

De Goutin sometimes discourses of more serious matters.  He tells the minister that the inhabitants have plenty of cattle, and more hemp than they can use, but neither pots, scythes, sickles, knives, hatchets, kettles for the Indians, nor salt for themselves.  "We should be fortunate if our enemies would continue to supply our necessities and take the beaver-skins with which the colony is gorged;" adding, however, that the Acadians hate the English, and will not trade with them if they can help it. 

In the next year the "Bastonnais" were again bringing supplies, and the Acadians again receiving them.  The new governor, Subercase, far from being pleased at this, was much annoyed, or professed to be so, and wrote to Ponchartrain, "Nobody could suffer more than I do at seeing the English so coolly carry on their trade under our very noses. " Then he proceeds to the inevitable personalities.  "You wish me to write without reserve of the officers here; I have little good to tell you;" and he names two who to the best of his belief have lost their wits, a third who is incorrigibly lazy, and a fourth who is eccentric; adding that he is tolerably well satisfied with the rest, except M.  de la Ronde.  "You see, Monseigneur, that I am as much in need of a madhouse as of barracks; and what is worse, I am afraid that the mauvais esprit of this country will drive me crazy too. " "You write to me," he continues, "that you are informed that M.  Labat has killed some cattle belonging to the inhabitants.  If so, he has expiated his fault by blowing off his thumb by the bursting of his gun while he was firing at a sheep.  I am sure that the moon has a good deal to do with his behavior; he always acts very strangely when she is on the wane. "

The charge brought against Brouillan in regard to Madame de Freneuse was brought also against Bonaventure in connection with the same lady.  "The story," says Subercase, "was pushed as far as hell could desire;" and he partially defends the accused, declaring that at least his fidelity to the King is beyond question. 

De Goutin had a quarrel with Subercase, and writes: "I do all that is possible to live on good terms with him, and to that end I walk as if in the chamber of a sick prince whose sleep is of the lightest. " As Subercase defends Bonaventure, De Goutin attacks him, and gives particulars concerning him and Madame de Freneuse which need not be recounted here.  Then comes a story about a quarrel caused by some cows belonging to Madame de Freneuse which got into the garden of Madame de Saint-Vincent, and were driven out by a soldier who presumed to strike one of them with a long stick.  "The facts," gravely adds De Goutin, "have been certified to me as I have the honor to relate them to your Grandeur. ") Then the minister is treated to a story of one Allein.  "He insulted Madame de Belleisle at the church door after high mass, and when her son, a boy of fourteen, interposed, Allein gave him such a box on the ear that it drew blood; and I am assured that M.  Petit, the priest, ran to the rescue in his sacerdotal robes. " Subercase, on his side, after complaining that the price of a certain canoe had been unjustly deducted from his pay, though he never had the said canoe at all, protests to Ponchartrain, "there is no country on earth where I would not rather live than in this, by reason of the ill-disposed persons who inhabit it. "

There was the usual friction between the temporal and the spiritual powers.  "The Church," writes Subercase, "has long claimed the right of commanding here, or at least of sharing authority with the civil rulers. " The Church had formerly been represented by the Capuchin friars, and afterwards by the Récollets.  Every complaint was of course carried to the minister.  In 1700 we find M.  de Villieu, who then held a provisional command in the colony, accusing the ecclesiastics of illicit trade with the English.  Bonaventure reports to Ponchartrain that Père Félix, chaplain of the fort, asked that the gate might be opened, in order that he might carry the sacraments to a sick man, his real object being to marry Captain Duvivier to a young woman named Marie Muis de Poubomcoup,—contrary, as the governor thought, to the good of the service.  He therefore forbade the match; on which the priests told him that when they had made up their minds to do anything, nobody had power to turn them from it; and the chaplain presently added that he cared no more for the governor than for the mud on his shoes.  He carried his point, and married Duvivier in spite of the commander. 

Every king's ship from Acadia brought to Ponchartrain letters full of matters like these.  In one year, 1703, he got at least fourteen such.  If half of what Saint-Simon tells us of him is true, it is not to be supposed that he gave himself much trouble concerning them.  This does not make it the less astonishing that in the midst of a great and disastrous war a minister of State should be expected to waste time on matters worthy of a knot of old gossips babbling round a tea-table.  That pompous spectre which calls itself the Dignity of History would scorn to take note of them; yet they are highly instructive, for the morbid anatomy of this little colony has a scientific value as exhibiting, all the more vividly for the narrowness of the field, the workings of an unmitigated paternalism acting from across the Atlantic.  The King's servants in Acadia pestered his minister at Versailles with their pettiest squabbles, while Marlborough and Eugene were threatening his throne with destruction.  The same system prevailed in Canada; but as there the field was broader and the men often larger, the effects are less whimsically vivid than they appear under the Acadian microscope.  The two provinces, however, were ruled alike; and about this time the Canadian Intendant Raudot was writing to Ponchartrain in a strain worthy of De Goutin, Subercase, or Bonaventure.