by Bruce Murray
The building site was a jovial place, with little direction required of the Acadian workers. Bernard was a competent contractor, skilled in the ways of construction. Even those men from the militia who were living in makeshift tents on the building site put their complete trust in “Monsieur Gaudet.” The women of the community kept our stomachs filled, and their generosity knew no bounds. Some evenings there were social gatherings with music and dancing. These were occasions for Bernard to entertain his colleagues with amusing stories and humorous banter. Instinctively, he realized that boosting the spirits of the workers made for a better and more productive workplace.
This was all possible because the master of this new edifice remained in Annapolis, confident that his future residence would be completed before the autumn. I believe he did not picture himself inhabiting anyone else’s home, even for a brief time. Perhaps he thought it would compromise his mission at Minas. He was probably correct in that assumption.
Once Mangeant’s new home was finished, the construction crew made their way home. Bernard, Denys, and the militiamen sailed to Annapolis, satisfied that they had managed to complete a fine home, worthy of Armstrong’s favourite. After being paid, the Gaudet brothers travelled to Melanson Village to visit Jeanne and the children. I remained behind at Grand Pré for a time, not willing to give up Benjamin’s stimulating company and the warmth of the Manor House. We would follow later in Benjamin’s vessel to attend the harvest festival at Melanson Village.
One late summer evening I asked Benjamin to describe his firsthand impressions of Monsieur Mangeant. He was decidedly frank in his observations of the favourite.
“A man who reveals nothing of the workings of his soul, when he feels the least significant personal revelation could condemn him in the eyes of the world, he is the most brilliant of actors, the most powerful of dissemblers. Mangeant is such a man. Every comment he made in my presence was laced with sweetness, but in reality it was laden with innuendo and accusations. Even my sisters commented that standing in the same room as the favourite caused their blood to freeze in the dead of a hot summer’s day. I am finding it difficult to imagine having such a man in our presence on a permanent basis.”
“I appreciate your fears, Cousin. At least in my village we have the luxury of distance from the aggravating politics of Annapolis. In the privacy of our community, we possess a certain freedom of speech and behaviour. But having a spy in your midst, the freedom is removed and one is forced to live in a world of whispers and silence.”
“Poor Uncle Alexandre has been madly perusing all his legal documents to make certain everything is in its proper order. He fears for the protection of the rights of the people in the community. If all is not nailed down on paper, understandings of ownership, tenancy, and inheritances could be manipulated and changed in favour of those who govern us at Annapolis. Uncle is even able to imagine Mangeant himself gaining a personal advantage if all the legal documents are not secured.”
“That is admirable of Alexandre. His kindness and concern for his neighbours is touching. I regret that he will soon be reduced to being the collector of taxes. He is such a proud man.”
“Unfortunately, it is a cross he must bear. And he will bear it with dignity.”
Chapter 17
While sailing home to Melanson Village on a balmy early autumn day, Benjamin and I expelled Mangeant from our thoughts. Instead, we recalled with relish all the good times we had shared as young children growing up in the glow of Uncle Pierre, Isabelle, René, and Grandmama. Some of these loved ones were still with us, but those who were not guided us in every step we took. We were young men with promising lives ahead of us. Why should anyone interfere with our happiness? Life was filled with challenges, but as far as we were concerned, none were insurmountable. Our vessel was close-hauled into the west wind and we were invincible.
We arrived home safely to discover that Isabelle was visiting Jeanne and the children. She was at that stage between childhood and womanhood where there were still flashes of the little girl wrapped in a woman’s body. She did not possess a conventional beauty, but the energy she exuded from within certainly made up for any lack in her features. She had the gift for attracting attention when she entered a room.
On seeing Benjamin for the first time in many long months, the light in her bright eyes intensified. This was not lost on my cousin, although it was evident he still treated her like a child. Her persuasions, however, soon rectified this. She was absolutely effervescent during those first few days after our arrival.
“Don’t you think Isabelle is becoming a woman right before our eyes, Benjamin?” I declared during the first day home.
Isabelle appeared delighted with my comment. Why is it that girls always want to be treated like adults, even at a young age?
“This is true, Cousin. I don’t believe I would have recognized her. She has matured dramatically.”
This brought out the flirtatiousness in Isabelle. “This is hardly surprising, Piau. I will soon be fifteen, after all,” she responded with a touch of playfulness.
“And how are your darling sisters, Benjamin? I do have fond memories of them from when I stayed with you at Grand Pré. I would love to see them again. They were such engaging company. I am sure they are now beautiful young women. I do envy their extraordinary virtues.” The formality in her speech was another sign of her desire to be treated like a woman.
“They would be highly complimented by your extravagant praise, Isabelle. Because they are my sisters, I must say I have to agree with you.”
“Beauty seems to run in the family,” Jeanne interjected.
“That is no surprise to me,” added my mother. “There was no greater beauty than their mother, Isabelle. I see so much of her reflected in Benjamin and his sisters.”
“That is true, Mama. Perhaps next spring Isabelle might join us on our annual visit to Grand Pré?”
“That would be splendid!” Isabelle replied enthusiastically. “How will I manage to survive the long winter? Spring seems like such a long time away.”
“From one who has experienced an infinite number of winters and springs, believe me, the time will fly all too quickly, my dear,” interrupted my grandmother. “Time passes slowly only for the young!”
We all began to chuckle. Grandmama’s comments always inspired this reaction in us. Although she sometimes exerted her matriarchal powers with great bombast, most of what she uttered was intended to make us laugh.
“Only after I give birth,” Jeanne said in a matter-of-fact manner.
We all sat there, not certain we had heard her correctly.
“Is that true, Jeanne?” I immediately crossed the room and kissed her on the forehead.
Isabelle began to clap her hands with excitement.
“Oh, how I do love children!” she said, almost singing the words.
Benjamin was very attentive to Isabelle throughout his stay with us. Together they played with my daughters and filled their days with games of all sorts. One evening he surprised us with a new book written by a Reverend Doctor Swift, which he had acquired from an English sea captain that year. It was the strange story of a man named Gulliver. He read it aloud in English for those of us who understood and translated into French for Jeanne and Isabelle. We all marvelled at the fantastic tale of Gulliver as he travelled through the land of the Lilliputians and Giants. We were a captive audience.
“According to my Irish friend, Captain Andrew Tyrone, who presented the book to me, the stories have a more significant meaning than they appear on the surface. They are what are known as satire. They are similar to Molière’s plays, which make fun of people’s foibles and expose our tendency as humans to pretend to be what we are not. Mr. Swift is not only making fun of people’s tendency to be hypocritical, but he secretly attacks the English government as well. He did not claim to be its author until recently. It was published an
onymously for fear he might be arrested or thrown in jail.”
This caught Grandmama’s immediate attention.
“That is so like the two-faced English to throw a writer in jail for speaking his mind. Even if its meaning is hidden, the French would have at least enjoyed the humour in the stories.”
We all laughed and continued our listening.
Chapter 18
In the month of June 1734, as promised, we boarded Charles’s schooner bound for Grand Pré. Jeanne, the two little girls, our newborn, Madeleine, and Isabelle, newly arrived from Gaudet Village, set sail with my brother and sister-in-law to visit our relatives there. During the voyage, Isabelle had her hands full managing her energetic little nieces. Carefree as we may have felt as our vessel hugged the shoreline of the great Bay of Fundy, little did we imagine the complicated situation in which we were to be embroiled not long after our arrival.
It was impossibly beautiful in the valley at Minas. The contrast of rich vegetation and sprouting wheat fields with our struggling efforts at Annapolis made us wonder why we persisted at Melanson Village. But our compensation was a harmonious family compound with ancient apple orchards and reclaimed grain fields that provided us with all we needed to maintain a prosperous existence. We had the added advantage of selling an abundance of produce to the garrison at Annapolis.
All seemed at peace at Grand Pré. We were informed, not long after our arrival, that Mangeant and his family had settled into their new home and had passed the winter quietly. The favourite had neither antagonized members of the community nor did he fraternize with its inhabitants. He attended mass at the chapel, insisting that a front pew be reserved for his family. There were no objections to this honour. It allowed the parishioners to observe them unnoticed. Madame Mangeant was a timid woman; her fine clothes could not conceal her Acadian roots. Louise, the fifteen-year-old daughter, was pretty but not imposing. They were the first to depart the church every Sunday and rarely remained behind to socialize with the other parishioners. The distance between the Mangeants and the inhabitants of Grand Pré seemed natural; no one complained that the favourite and his family were haughty and unfriendly. However, most accepted that this was merely the honeymoon period.
The situation changed dramatically the first Sunday after we arrived.
Benjamin and his family shared the front row across the aisle from the Mangeants in the chapel. As usual, the magistrate and his family entered the church moments before the mass began. But the Mangeants’ entrance on that day was different from other days, for trailing behind them as they paraded up the centre aisle was a tall, strikingly handsome young gentleman wearing the uniform of a British officer. We were later to discover that this was Samuel Mangeant, the eighteen-year-old son of the favourite. How he had changed since that day the Mangeants sailed into the harbour at Annapolis seven years ago. In the early years of their stay, I had noticed him occasionally at mass, but he disappeared soon after. We learned that he had been sent off to England to attend a prestigious military school, probably at Armstrong’s expense. And here he was, resplendent in the king’s army uniform for all to admire.
It did not escape anyone’s notice that Samuel Mangeant glanced across the aisle on several occasions. It fired the imagination of those behind them that he may have been impressed by the three beautiful young women seated opposite him. The three young ladies in question were themselves noticed stealing glances at the handsome young man who had unexpectedly descended upon them.
At least this is how the parishioners imagined it.
It was perhaps for this reason that when we left the church Mangeant and his family were waiting to meet us. The favourite spotted me almost right away. He seemed surprised to see me in this setting and in the company of the LeBlanc family. Before engaging in any formal greetings, he directed a question in my direction.
“Why, Monsieur Belliveau, I’m surprised to see you here at Grand Pré. I was not aware you had connections to this community.”
“Monsieur Mangeant, I believe everyone in Acadia has some connection with this place,” I responded promptly. “Benjamin LeBlanc and his family are my kinfolk. I spent the winters of my childhood at the Manor House with my uncle Sieur Pierre Laverdure. I consider this my second home.”
“Indeed.” He gave me a curious and assessing look then turned away, affording me little more than a dismissive nod.
“Monsieur LeBlanc, my son, Samuel, has requested that I introduce him to your family. He is recently returned from England, where he has completed his officer training. Perhaps you could do the honours.”
Benjamin seemed quite aware that Mangeant had granted him the honour of introducing his family because the favourite was unable to recall any of their names himself. With the most formal but friendly demeanour he could muster, Benjamin obliged.
“May I introduce Pierre Belliveau, my cousin, with whom you are already acquainted? And these are my sisters, Marie Josephe and Elizabeth. This other charming young lady is Monsieur Belliveau’s sister-in-law Isabelle Gaudet, from Gaudet Village. Her father, Bernard Gaudet, supervised the construction of your new home. She is a regular guest in our house.”
The young women curtsied in turn, directing their gestures at the young man.
Mangeant’s son gave a sharp and formal bow. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance.”
It was lost on no one that the young officer had a distinct English accent.
“Perhaps, Monsieur LeBlanc, you would allow me the honour of calling on you at the Manor House sometime soon.”
Benjamin noticed the smiles on the faces of the young ladies.
“Indeed, sir. Any time you choose. We are at your disposal. And so, we must bid you adieu.”
It was obvious that Benjamin purposefully claimed the advantage by being the first to dismiss the present company.
Mangeant’s stern look exposed his displeasure.
“Au revoir, mesdames et messieurs.” His reply was a curt response to what Mangeant considered my cousin’s presumptuous farewell. Speaking French was his way of changing the rules of the game.
For the time being, the rules of behaviour were still recognizable. They were certainly not lost on Benjamin, who disguised his understanding of them with his congenial smile. I was always cognizant of my cousin’s iron will. This was evidence.
True to his word, Lieutenant Samuel Mangeant presented himself at our front gate two days later. Benjamin was away from the Manor House on local business and the rest of us were busying ourselves within the confines of the stone enclosure. Isabelle was playing with the little girls as was her custom, my two cousins were tending to their flower garden, and Jeanne was holding the baby in her arms, contentedly perched on an ornate chair made from birch limbs. I was unaware of young Mangeant’s arrival as I hoed diligently in the vegetable garden at the rear of the house.
Announcing his arrival, the two sisters politely welcomed and escorted the young lieutenant through the front gate. As he strolled into the garden, he was introduced to Jeanne, who had been absent from the chapel two days earlier. My wife’s serenity calmed the adolescent fervour that descended on the young ladies of the household in the presence of their handsome visitor so there was no embarrassment.
Jeanne spoke in French. “You are welcome, monsieur. Come into the house where we can relax and enjoy some refreshments.” The young ladies followed the gentleman like puppies chasing after their mother.
Inside it was cool, and the cozy atmosphere of the Great Room made everyone relax.
“Please call me Samuel. There is no need for formalities amongst friends.” He immediately put them at their ease.
Benjamin’s sisters looked at one another with a look that signalled that each thought Samuel did not possess his father’s arrogant ways. This was a relief for both of them.
His glances at the library suggested that he was as impressed as m
ost guests were when they saw Benjamin’s book collection. “I have rarely seen such a fine collection of books. Perhaps at the homes of my fellow officers in England, but this could compete with most I have seen anywhere.”
Although Elizabeth was the younger of the two sisters, she was bold enough to speak first. “Our brother treasures these volumes. Should you wish to borrow any, I am certain Benjamin would gladly approve the loan. They are written in both English and French.”
“I am afraid my French is a bit rusty, but those in English I can manage quite well, thank you.”
Elizabeth guided Samuel to the bookshelves as a pretext for being alone with him. Marie Josephe looked on amused but watchful. Jeanne and Isabelle were unaware of what the two were saying because they were conversing in English. Samuel was basking in the attention he was receiving from the beautiful young woman.
Jeanne could sense that the attention Elizabeth was bestowing on the stranger might be construed as inappropriate. The only person who was in a position to interfere was Marie Josephe, and she seemed to be enjoying their flirtation.
Samuel randomly chose two books and set them aside in order to sit in one of the large chairs. Jeanne served him a cool cup of dandelion wine. The others joined him. After a few sips, the colour rose into his cheeks, which the girls later remarked enhanced his good looks. Oh, to have that much power over a room filled with beautiful women! Even Jeanne was charmed by the young visitor.
Marie Josephe was the first to speak.
“How long will you remain at Grand Pré, Samuel?”
“Only for the summer, and then I must take up my military post in the New England Regiment. My parents were hoping I would be stationed at Annapolis, but my services were required elsewhere. Lieutenant-Governor Armstrong recommended that I join the Boston garrison because it would be an excellent first step in my army career.”