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Title: The Conquest of Canada (Vol. 2 of 2)

Author: George Warburton

Release Date: January 6, 2011 [EBook #34862]

Language: English

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THE

CONQUEST OF CANADA.

BY

THE AUTHOR OF "HOCHELAGA."

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
82 CLIFF STREET.
1850.

CHAPTER I

In the year 1750, commissioners met at Paris to adjust the various boundaries of the North American territories, M. de Galissonière and M. de Silhouette on the part of France, and Messrs. Shirley and Mildmay on the part of Great Britain. The English commissioners, however, soon perceived that there was little chance of arriving at a friendly arrangement. The more they advanced in their offers, the more the French demanded; futile objections were started, and unnecessary delays continued; at length Mr. Shirley[1] and his colleague broke up the conference, and returned to England. [1752.] It now became evident that a decisive struggle was at hand.

Under the rule of M. de la Jonquière, a great and growing evil cankered the spirit of Canada. The scanty salaries[2] allowed to the government officers afforded a great inducement to peculation, especially as the remoteness of the colony rendered retribution distant and uncertain. The Indian trade opened a field for enormous dishonesty: M. Bigot, the intendant, discontented with his inadequate stipend, ventured to farm out trade licenses for his own profit and that of his creatures, and speedily accumulated considerable wealth; he, the governor, and a few others, formed themselves into a company, and monopolized nearly all the commerce of the country, to the great indignation of the colonists. M. de la Jonquière and his secretary, St. Sauveur, also kept exclusively to themselves the nefarious privilege of supplying brandy to the Indians: by this they realized immense profits.

At length a storm of complaints arose against the unworthy governor, and even reached the dull ears of his patrons at the court of France. Aware that his case would not bear investigation, he demanded his recall; but, before a successor could be appointed, he died at Quebec on the 17th of May, 1752,[3] aged sixty-seven years. Though not possessed of brilliant gifts, M. de la Jonquière was a man of considerable ability, and had displayed notable courage and conduct in many engagements; but a miserable avarice stained his character, and he died enormously wealthy, while denying himself the ordinary necessaries of his rank and situation.[4] Charles Le Moine, Baron de Longueuil, then governor of Montreal, being next in seniority, assumed the reins of power until the arrival of a successor.

The Marquis du Quesne de Menneville was appointed governor of Canada, Louisiana, Cape Breton, &c., on the recall of M. de la Jonquière in 1752. He was reputed a man of ability, but was of haughty and austere disposition. Galissonière, who had recommended the appointment, furnished him with every information respecting the colony and the territorial claims of France: thus instructed, he landed at Quebec in August, where he was received with the usual ceremonies.

The orders given to the new governor with regard to the disputed boundaries were such as to leave little doubt on his mind that the sword alone could enable him to secure their execution, and the character of his stubborn though unwarlike rivals promised a determined resistance to his views.[5] His first attention was therefore directed to the military resources of his command. He forthwith organized the militia[6] of Quebec and Montreal under efficient officers, and attached bodies of artillery to the garrison of each city; the militia of the country parishes next underwent a careful inspection, and nothing was neglected to strengthen the efficiency of his army.

In 1753, several French detachments were sent to the banks of the Ohio,[7] with orders to establish forts, and to secure the alliance of the Indians by liberal presents and splendid promises. The wily savages, however, quickly perceived that the rival efforts of the two great European powers would soon lead to a war of which their country must be the scene, and they endeavored, to the utmost of their ability, to rid themselves of both their dangerous visitors. Disregarding these efforts and entreaties, both the English and French advanced nearer to each other, and the latter fortified several posts upon the Allegany and the Ohio. When the hostile designs of France became thus apparent, Mr. Dinwiddie, governor of Virginia,[8] which was the most exposed of the British provinces, undertook to check these aggressions, upon his own responsibility, and formed a regiment of militia for the purpose. A small detachment, raised by the Ohio Company, was immediately sent to protect the traders, and take possession of the Forks of the Ohio and Monongahela, the precise spot where the first efforts of the French would probably be made. They had scarcely begun the erection of a fort, when M. de Contrecœur, with 1200 men, arrived from Venango in 300 canoes, drove them from the ground,[9] and completed and occupied their fortification: to this since well-known spot he gave the name of Fort du Quesne.[10] In the mean time the Virginia militia marched to the aid of the English, and met them on their retreat at Will's Creek; the colonel of this body had died soon after it took the field, and the command devolved upon the officer next in seniority—George Washington, the father of the Great Republic.

To gain intelligence of the movements of the Virginians, frequent expeditions were dispatched from Fort du Quesne. [1754.] One of these, forty-five in number, commanded by M. Jumonville,[11] was surprised by Colonel Washington, and destroyed or captured with the exception of one man.[12] The victors immediately proceeded to intrench themselves on the scene of action, a place called Little Meadows, with the view of holding their ground till re-enforcements should arrive: they gave to their little stronghold the name of Fort Necessity. They were soon after joined by the remainder of the Virginia militia and a company from South Carolina, which raised their strength to about 400 men. When M. de Contrecœur received intelligence of Jumonville's disaster, he sent M. de Villiers, with 1000 regular troops and 100 Indians, to obtain satisfaction. Colonel Washington resolved to await the attack in the fort, and trust to the arrival of some troops promised by the state of New York for his relief. He was, however, so warmly assailed by the French on the 3d of July, that he found it necessary to surrender the same evening, stipulating to march out with all the honors of war, and every thing in his possession except the artillery. The capitulation[13] was scarcely signed when it was most shamefully broken, the baggage was plundered, the horses and cattle destroyed, and the officers detained for some time as prisoners. At length Colonel Washington retired as he best might, and met at Winchester the re-enforcements that but a day before would have enabled him to stem the tide of French usurpation: he was then, however, fain to content himself with erecting Fort Cumberland[14] at Will's Creek, where he held his ground.

Meanwhile the governor of the British colonies transmitted reports of these events to London, and the embassador[15] at Paris was instructed to remonstrate firmly against the French aggressions in America; but that court disregarded these communications, and took no further pains to conceal their hostile intentions. They publicly gave orders for the speedy re-enforcement of their colonies, especially Quebec, with men and military stores, and prepared to follow up with vigor the success at Fort Necessity.

The English government only noticed these formidable preparations by letters of instruction to their colonial authorities, ordering them to unite for their common defense, and encouraging them to resist every aggression, without, however, furnishing any assistance. Commissioners were also appointed to meet the Indian chiefs in congress at Albany, and to endeavor to secure those important allies to the British power. The red warriors did not display much enthusiasm in the cause, but finally they accepted the presents offered them, and expressed a desire to receive vigorous assistance from the English to drive the French from their invaded hunting grounds. At this congress a general union of the funds and forces of the colonies was proposed, but clashing interests in comparatively unimportant matters defeated these salutary designs.

While this congress continued its almost useless deliberations, Governor Shirley, of Massachusetts, marched upon the Kennebec River with about 1000 men, and erected forts at the most exposed points to secure the northeastern frontier; he also accomplished the important object of gaining the confidence of the Indians, and their consent to his military occupation of the country. During the remainder of the year he repeatedly represented to the English ministry[16] the dangerous condition of the colonies, and the urgent need of powerful assistance to defeat the hostility of France. Shirley's appeal was successful; two regiments—Halket's, the 44th, and Dunbar's, the 48th, were ordered from Ireland to America,[17] and Major-general Braddock was appointed to the command of all the British forces on the Western continent; the governor of Massachusetts was at the same time thanked by the king, and empowered to concert measures for attacking the French settlements in the Bay of Fundy. The disbanded colonial regiments, Shirley's and Pepperel's, were also re-established, and recruits were rapidly raised through the several provinces to form an army for the approaching war.

General Braddock arrived by the end of February, 1755, and immediately convened the governors of the different British colonies to meet him in council at Alexandria, in Virginia, on the 14th of April. It appeared his orders from home[18] were positive that he should at once move upon Fort du Quesne, notwithstanding the danger, difficulty, and expense of carrying the war across the rugged barrier of the Allegany Mountains, instead of assailing the Canadian settlements, where the facility of transport by water, and their proximity to his resources, offered him every advantage. However, no alternative remained, and he obeyed. At the same time, Shirley's and Pepperel's newly-raised regiments[19] were directed upon Niagara, and a strong body of provincial troops, commanded by General Johnson, was commissioned to attack the French position of Fort Frederic, called by the English Crown Point.

While these plans were being carried out, Colonel Monckton,[20] with Colonel Winslow, marched against the French settlements in the Bay of Fundy; their force of nearly 3000 men was aided by the presence on the coast of Captain Rous, with three frigates and a sloop. The Acadian peasants,[21] and some regular troops with a few cannon, endeavored to oppose his passage at the River Massaquash, but were speedily overpowered. Thence he moved upon Fort Beau-sejour, and forced the garrison to capitulate after a bombardment[22] of four days. He left some troops to defend this position, which he now called Fort Cumberland, and proceeded the next day to a small intrenchment on the River Gaspereau, where the French had established their principal dépôt for the Indian trade, and the stores of arms, ammunition, and provisions; he then disarmed the peasantry to the number of 15,000 men. At the same time Captain Rous destroyed all the works erected by the French on the River St. John. By this expedition the possession of the extensive province of Nova Scotia was secured to the British crown almost without the loss of a man.

The court of France in the mean time hastened the equipment of a considerable fleet at Brest, under the orders of Admiral Bois de la Mothe. On board were several veteran regiments, commanded by the Baron Dieskau, who had distinguished himself under the celebrated Marshal Saxe.

The Marquis du Quesne had demanded his recall from the government of Canada, with the view of re-entering the naval service of France. His departure caused little regret, for though his management of public affairs was skillful and judicious, a haughty and domineering temper had made him generally unpopular in the colony. The Marquis de Vaudreuil de Cavagnac was appointed his successor, at the request of the Canadian people, who fondly hoped to enjoy, under the rule of the son of their favorite, the same prosperity and peace which had characterized his father's administration. The new governor, who arrived in M. de la Mothe's fleet, was received with great demonstrations of joy by the inhabitants of Quebec.

Hearing of these hostile preparations, the English ministry, in the month of April, 1755, dispatched Admiral Boscawen, with eleven sail of the line, to watch the French squadron, although at the time no formal declaration of war had been made. The rival armaments reached the Banks of Newfoundland almost at the same time: the friendly fogs of those dreary latitudes saved De la Mothe's fleet; two of his vessels, indeed, fell into the hands of his enemies,[23] but the remainder entered the Canadian ports in safety. On the news of this attack reaching Paris, M. de Mirepoix, the embassador, was recalled from London, and loud complaints were made by the French against Boscawen's conduct. On the part of Great Britain it was answered, that the aggressions of the Canadians in Virginia justified the act of hostility.[24]

On the 8th of May General Braddock joined the head-quarters of the army at a village on the Potomac; on the 10th he marched to Will's Creek, and encamped on a hill near Fort Cumberland. Here he remained till the 28th, passing the time in horse-races, reviews, and conferences with the Indians. These red warriors were astonished at the number of the British, their uniform dress, and their arms, the regularity of their march, the tremendous effect of their artillery, and the strange noises of their drums and fifes; but, unfortunately, the haughty general was not wise enough to conciliate his important allies, or to avail himself of their experience in forest warfare; he, however, with disdainful generosity, gave them numerous presents, and provided the warriors with arms and clothing.

The force now assembled in camp at Fort Cumberland consisted of the 44th (Sir Peter Halket's) and the 48th (Colonel Dunbar's) regiments, each of 700 men, with three New York and Carolina companies of 100, and ten of Virginia and Maryland (fifty strong), a troop of Provincial light horse, thirty seamen, and twelve pieces of field artillery: in all, 2300 men.[25] The Delawares and other friendly Indians, whose services were unfortunately so lightly valued, added considerably to the numbers of this formidable body.

Braddock was aware that the French garrison of Fort du Quesne only numbered 200 men, and earnestly desired to advance in early spring with his overwhelming force, but by an unfortunate exercise of corrupt influence at home his troops had been ordered to land in Virginia, where the inhabitants, altogether engrossed with the culture of tobacco, were unable to supply the necessary provisions and means of transport. Had they been landed in the agricultural state of Pennsylvania, all demands could have been readily supplied, their march shortened, and a large outlay saved to the British government. When the general found that the Virginians could not meet his views, he made a requisition on the neighboring state for 150 wagons, 300 horses, and a large quantity of forage and provisions: these were readily promised, but not a tenth part arrived at the appointed time. His disappointment was, however, somewhat mitigated by a small supply which Mr. Franklin sent shortly after from Philadelphia. By the exertions of this energetic man, Braddock was at length furnished with all his requisitions,[26] and then prepared to advance.

The unfortunate selection of the chief of this expedition was, however, more fatal than difficulty[27] or delay; his character was unsuited for such a command in every point except that of personal courage: haughty, self-sufficient, and overbearing, he estranged the good-will, and rejected the counsel of his Indian and Provincial allies.[28] His troops were harassed by the endeavor to enforce a formal and rigid discipline, which the nature of the service rendered impracticable. Through the tangled and trackless passes of the Alleganies, he adhered with stubborn bigotry to a system of operations only suited to the open plains of civilized Europe. But his greatest and worst error was to despise his foe: in spite of the warnings of the Duke of Cumberland, his patron and friend, he scorned to take precautions against the dangerous ambush of the American savage.

On the 29th, Major Chapman, with 600 men and two guns, marched from the camp: Sir John St. Clair, quarter-master general, some engineers, and seamen, accompanied this detachment to clear the roads and reconnoiter the country. From that time till the 10th of June an incredible amount of useless and harassing toil was wasted in widening and leveling the forest paths, and erecting unnecessarily elaborate bridges. At length, on the 10th, Braddock followed with the rest of his army, and reached the Little Meadows that night, a distance of twenty-two miles. In spite of the facilities afforded by the labors of the pioneers, great difficulty was experienced in the conveyance of the heavy stores. During the route still to be pursued, where no preparations had been made, greater delays were to be expected. At the same time the general was stimulated to activity by information that the French soon expected a re-enforcement at Fort du Quesne of 500 regular troops; with more of energy than he had yet displayed,[29] he selected 1200 men, and taking also ten guns, the seamen, and some indispensable supplies of provisions and ammunition, he pushed boldly on into the pathless and almost unknown solitudes of the Alleganies. Colonel Dunbar, with the rest of the army and the heavy luggage, followed as they best might.

To trace the unfortunate Braddock through his tedious march of 130 miles would be wearisome and unnecessary. His progress was retarded by useless labors in making roads, or rather tracks, and yet no prudent caution was observed; he persisted in refusing or neglecting the offers of the Provincials and Indians to scour the woods and explore the passes in his front.[30] Sir Peter Halket and other British officers ventured to remonstrate in strong terms against the dangerous carelessness of the march, but their instances seemed only to confirm the obstinate determination of the general. Washington, who acted as his aid-de-camp, also urged an alteration of arrangement, and with such vehement pertinacity that the irritated chief ordered his Virginian companies to undertake the inglorious duties of the rear-guard.

M. de Contrecœur, commandant of Fort du Quesne, had received information of all Braddock's movements from the Indians. With the view of embarrassing the English advance rather than of offering any serious resistance, he dispatched M. de Beaujeu, with 250 of the marine, or colony troops, toward the line of march which Braddock was expected to take; this detachment was afterward strengthened by about 600 Indians, principally Outamacs, and the united force took up a favorable position, where the underwood and long grass concealed them from the approaching enemy.

Intelligence of a contradictory nature as to the strength and movements of the French had been every day carried to the unfortunate Braddock by Indians professing to be his friends, and by doubly traitorous deserters. Still, under a fatal conviction of security, he had pursued his march, meeting with no interruption, except in taking "eight or nine scalps, a number much inferior to expectation." On the 8th of July, following the winding course which the difficulty of the country rendered necessary, he crossed the Monongahela River, encamped upon the bank at the opposite side from Fort du Quesne, and sent Sir John St. Clair forward to reconnoiter the enemy's fort. The quarter-master general was successful in attaining the desired information: he reported that the defenses were of timber, and that a small eminence lay close by, from whence red-hot shot could easily be thrown upon the wooden parapets.

At seven in the morning of the 9th of July, an advance guard of 400 men, under Colonel Gage, pushed on and took possession of the fords of the river, where it was necessary to recross, unopposed, but somewhat alarmed by the ominous appearance of a few Indians among the neighboring thickets. A little before mid-day the main body began to cross the broad stream with "colors flying, drums beating, and fifes playing the Grenadiers' March:" they formed rapidly on the opposite side, and, not having been interrupted in the difficult passage, recommenced their march in presumptuous security.

Three guides and six light horsemen led the way toward Fort du Quesne, through an open space in the forest, followed by the grenadiers of the 44th and 48th: flanking parties skirted the edge of the woods on both sides. The 44th regiment succeeded with two guns; behind them were the 48th, with the rest of the artillery and the general: the Virginian companies, in unwilling obedience, sullenly brought up the rear. In this order they advanced with as much regularity as the rough road permitted. When within seven miles of the fort, they left a steep conical hill to the right, and directed their march upon the extremity of the open space, where the path disappeared between the thickly-wooded banks of a small brook: so far all went well.

At length the guides and the light horse entered the "bush" in front and descended the slope toward the stream, while a number of axmen set vigorously to work felling the trees and clearing the underwood for the advance of the army, the grenadiers acting as a covering party. Suddenly from the dark ravine in front flashed out a deadly volley, and before the rattle of the musketry had ceased to echo, three fourths of the British advance lay dead and dying on the ground. The French had coolly taken aim from their unseen position, and singled out the officers with fatal effect, for every one was killed or wounded in that first discharge; only two-and-twenty of the grenadiers remained untouched; they hastily fired upon the copse containing their still invisible foes, then turned and fled. One of these random shots struck down the French chief, De Beaujeu, and for a short time checked the enemy's triumph. He was dressed like an Indian, but wore a large gorgiton to denote his rank. At the moment of his death he was waving his hat and cheering his men on at a running pace.

Braddock instantly advanced the 44th regiment to succor the front, and endeavored to deploy upon the open space, but simultaneously on all sides from the thick covert burst the war-whoop of the Indians, and a deadly fire swept away the head of every formation. The 44th staggered and hesitated. Sir Peter Halket and his son,[31] a lieutenant in the regiment, while cheering; them on, were shot dead side by side; Braddock's horse was killed, and two of his aids-de-camp wounded; the artillery, although without orders,[32] pressed to the front, and their leading guns plied the thickets with grape and canister, but in a few minutes all the officers and most of the gunners were stretched bleeding on the field. The broken remnant of the grenadiers who had formed the advance now fell back upon the disordered line, and threw it into utter confusion.

With stubborn purpose and useless courage the general strove to re-form his ruined ranks; most of the officers nobly stood by him, but the soldiers were seized with uncontrollable terror. Assailed on every side by foes, unseen save when a savage rushed out from his woody stronghold to tear the scalp from some fallen Englishman, they lost all order, and fell back upon the 48th, which was now rapidly advancing to their aid under Colonel Burton. Braddock, with these fresh troops, made several desperate efforts to gain possession of the conical hill, from whence a strong body of the French galled him intolerably, but his well-drilled ranks were broken by the close trees and rocks, and shattered by the flanking fire of the Indians. Again and again he endeavored to rally the now panic-stricken soldiers, without, however, any effectual movement of advance or retreat. His ill-judged valor was vain; the carnage increased, and with it his confusion. At length, after having had four horses shot under him, while still encouraging his men, a bullet shattered his arm and passed through his lungs. The luckless but gallant chief was placed in a wagon by Colonel Gage and hurried to the rear, although he was "very solicitous to be left on the field."[33]

The remains of the two British regiments now broke into utter disorder and fled, leaving all the artillery and baggage[34] in the hands of the enemy, and, worst of all, many of their wounded comrades, who were scalped by the Indians without mercy. This horrible occupation, and the plunder of the wagons, for a time interrupted the pursuers, and enabled Colonel Washington, the only mounted officer still unwounded, to rally the Virginian companies, who had as yet borne little share in the action. He succeeded in holding the banks of the Monongahela River[35] till the fugitives had passed, and then himself retired in tolerable order. One of his captains was Horatio Gates, afterward Burgoyne's conqueror in the Revolutionary war. This young officer distinguished himself by courage and conduct in the retreat, and was carried from the field severely wounded.

The routed army fled all through the night, and joined Colonel Dunbar the following evening at a distance of nearly fifty miles from the scene of their defeat.[36] Braddock ordered that the retreat should be immediately continued, which his lieutenant readily obeyed, as his troops were infected with the terror of the fugitives. A great quantity of stores were hurriedly destroyed, that the wounded officers and soldiers might have transport, and the remaining artillery was spiked and abandoned. The unfortunate general's sufferings increased hourly, aggravated by the most intense mental anguish. On the 12th of July, conscious of the approach of death, he dictated a dispatch acquitting his officers of all blame, and recommending them to the favor of his country: that night his proud and gallant heart ceased to beat. His dying words expressed that astonishment at his defeat which had continued to the last: "Who would have thought it! we shall know better how to deal with them another time."[37]

May he sleep in peace! With sorrow and censure, but not with shame, let his name be registered in the crowded roll of those who have fought and fallen for the rights and honor of England.

The number of killed, wounded, and missing, out of this small army, amounted to 896 men, and sixty-four officers, as appeared by the returns of the different companies after the battle. Some few, indeed, of these ultimately reappeared, but most of the wounded and missing met with a fate far more terrible from their savage enemies than a soldier's death upon the field. Of fifty-four women who had accompanied the troops, only four escaped alive from the dangers and hardships of the campaign. The French, on the other hand, only report the loss of their commander, De Beaujeu, and sixty men in this astonishing victory.

On Braddock's death, Colonel Dunbar fell back with disgraceful haste upon Fort Cumberland; nor did he even there consider himself safe. Despite the entreaties of the governors of Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, that he would remain to protect the frontier, he continued his march to Philadelphia, leaving only a small garrison of two Provincial companies at the fort. From Philadelphia the remains of the army, 1600 strong, was shipped for Albany by the order of General Shirley, who had succeeded to the command of the British American forces.

In consequence of this lamentable defeat and the injudicious withdrawal of the remaining British troops, the western borders of Pennsylvania and Virginia were exposed during the ensuing winter to the ruthless cruelties of the victorious savages, and the scarcely less ferocious hostilities of their European allies. The French not only incited the Indians to these aggressions, but rewarded them by purchasing their hapless captives at a high price, and in turn exacted large ransoms for the prisoners' release. Their pretense was to rescue the English from the torture, their real motive gain, and the rendering it more profitable for the savages to hunt their enemies than the wild animals of the forest.

From the presumptuous rashness of Braddock and the misconduct of the 44th and 48th regiments,[38] followed results of a far deeper importance than the loss of a battle and the injury of a remote province. The conviction formerly held by the colonists of the superior prowess of English regulars was seriously shaken, if not destroyed, and the licentious and violent conduct of Dunbar's army to the inhabitants during the retreat excited a wide-spread feeling of hostility. "They are more terrible, to us than to the enemy," said the discontented: "they slighted our officers and scorned our counsel, and yet to our Virginians they owe their escape from utter destruction." Some far-sighted and ambitious men there were, who, through this cloud upon the British arms, with hope espied the first faint rays of young America's ascending star.

The second expedition, set on foot by the council at Alexandria, was that under General Shirley: two Provincial regiments[39] and a detachment of the royal artillery were assembled by his order at Albany, to march against Niagara.[40] All the young men who had been, during more peaceful times, occupied by the fur trade in the neighboring country, were engaged to man the numerous bateaux for the transport of the troops and stores to Oswego. Part of the force commenced their westward journey in the beginning of July, and the remainder were preparing to follow, when the disastrous news of Braddock's ruin reached the camp. This struck a damp upon the undisciplined Provincial troops, and numbers deserted their colors, while the indispensable bateaux-men[41] nearly all fled to their homes, and resisted alike threats and entreaties for their return. The general, however, still vigorously pushed on, with all the force he could keep together. Great hopes had been formed of the assistance likely to be rendered to the expedition by the powerful confederacy of the Five Nations, but these politic savages showed no inclination to trust to the then doubtful fortunes of the British colonies, and even remonstrated against the transit of their territories by the army, alleging that the Oswego fort was established and tolerated by them as a trading-post,[42] but not as a place of arms for hostile purposes. After having undergone considerable hardships and overcome great difficulties, Shirley reached Oswego by the 18th of August:[43] his whole force, however, had not arrived till the end of the month. Want of supplies and the lateness of the season defeated his intention of attacking Niagara that year. On the 24th of October he withdrew from the shores of Lake Ontario, without having accomplished any thing of the slightest importance. Leaving 700 men under Colonel Mercer to complete and occupy the defenses of Oswego, and those of a new fort to be called Fort Ontario, he retraced the difficult route to his old quarters at Albany.[44]

The expedition against Crown Point was the last in commencement of those planned by the council at Albany, but the first in success. By the advice of Shirley, the command was intrusted to William Johnson,[45] an Irishman by birth. This remarkable man had emigrated to New York at an early age, and by uncommon gifts of mind and body, united to ardent ambition, had risen from the condition of a private soldier, to wealth, consideration, and a seat at the council-board of his adopted country. For some years he had been settled on the fertile banks of the Mohawk River, where he had built two handsome residences and acquired a large estate. He associated himself intimately with the Indians of the Five Nations, learned their language, habits, and feelings, and gained their affection and respect. In war, he was their chief and leader; in peace, the persevering advocate of their rights and interests. Accordingly, when called to the command of the army, Hendrick, a Mohawk sachem, and 300 warriors of that tribe, followed him to the camp.

General Johnson had never seen a campaign, his troops had never seen an enemy, with the exception of a few companies that had shared the glories of Louisburg, but his ability and courage, and their zeal and spirit, served instead of experience. To this force was intrusted the most difficult undertaking in the checkered campaign, and it alone gained a share of honor and success.

By the end of June, 6000 men, the hardy militia of the Northern States,[46] had mustered at Albany under Johnson's command. He soon after sent them forward, with Major-general Lyman, to the carrying-place between Lake George and the Hudson River, sixty miles in advance. Here they established a post called Fort Edward, in a strong position, while the artillery, provisions, and boats for the campaign were being prepared under the general's eye. Toward the end of August, Johnson joined his army at the carrying-place, and proceeded to the southern extremity of Lake George, leaving Colonel Blanchard with 300 men to garrison the newly-erected fort.

Here all the Indian scouts brought the news that the French had intrenched themselves at Ticonderoga, on the promontory between the Lakes George and Champlain, but that the works were still incomplete. Johnson promptly prepared for the offensive; soon, however, his plans were changed by the news of Baron Dieskau's arrival on the lake with a considerable force of regular troops from Old France. The well-known ability and courage of the enemy, together with his formidable force, alarmed Johnson for the safety of the British settlements; he therefore immediately dispatched an earnest entreaty for re-enforcements to the provincial governments, who loyally responded to the appeal, but the danger had passed before their aid reached the scene of action.

Baron Dieskau had been ordered to reduce the Fort of Oswego, on Lake Ontario, as the primary object of his campaign; but, on hearing that a British force was in motion upon Lake George, he determined first to check or destroy them, and pressed on rapidly against Johnson with 2000 men, chiefly Canadians and Indians. The English chief was apprized of this movement, but could form no estimate of the enemy's strength, his savage informants being altogether ignorant of the science of numbers: he nevertheless made every possible preparation for defense, and warned Colonel Blanchard to concentrate all his little force within the fort: that officer was, however, slain in the mean time by an advance party of the French.

Johnson now summoned a council of war, which recommended the rash step of dispatching a force of 1000 men and the Mohawk Indians to check the enemy: Colonel Ephraim Williams was placed in command of the detachment. Hardly had they advanced three miles from the camp, when suddenly they were almost surrounded by the French, and, after a gallant but hopeless combat, utterly routed, with the loss of their leader, Hendrick, the Indian chief, and many of the men. The victors, although they had also suffered in the sharp encounter, pursued with spirit, till checked near the camp by Colonel Cole and 300 men, sent by Johnson in the direction of the firing. By this delay the British were enabled to strengthen their defenses, and to recover, in some measure, from the confusion of their disaster. The most vigorous efforts of the officers were needed to overcome the panic caused by Williams's defeat and death, and by their ignorance of the advancing enemy's force.

After a brief pause, Dieskau made a spirited attack upon the British intrenchments, but his Canadians and Indians were suddenly checked by Johnson's guns;[47] they at once gave way, and, inclining to the right and left, contented themselves with keeping up a harmless fire on the flanks of the works. The French regulars, however, bravely maintained their ground, although surprised by the strength of Johnson's position, and damped by finding it armed with artillery. But they could not long bear the brunt alone; after several gallant attacks, the few remaining still unhurt also dispersed in the forest, leaving their leader mortally wounded on the field.[48] Early in the action General Johnson had received a painful wound, and was obliged unwillingly to retire to his tent; the command then devolved upon Lyman, who pursued the routed enemy for a short distance with great slaughter. The French loss in this disastrous action was little short of 800 men, and their regular troops were nearly destroyed.

The Canadians and Indians, who had fled almost unharmed, halted that evening at the scene of Williams's defeat to scalp the dead and dying. Finding they were not molested, they prepared for rest and refreshment, and even debated upon the renewal of the attack. The heavy loss already sustained by the English (upward of 200 men), and the consequent disorganization, prevented them from following up their victory: this forced inaction had well-nigh proved the destruction of 120 men sent from Fort Edward to their aid under Captain Macginnis. This gallant officer, however, had secured his march by every proper precaution, and was warned by his scouts that he was close upon the spot where the still formidable enemy was bivouacked. He promptly formed his little band, and sustained a sharp engagement for nearly two hours, extricating his detachment at length with little loss, and much honor to himself. The brave young man was, however, mortally wounded, and died three days afterward in Johnson's camp. The remnant of the French army then dispersed, and sought shelter at Ticonderoga.[49]

Though the brilliance of this success was obscured by the somewhat timid inaction that followed,[50] the consequences were of great importance. The English troops, it must be owned, were become so accustomed to defeat and disaster, that they went into action spiritless and distrustful. Now that a formidable force of the enemy had yielded to their prowess, confidence began to revive, and gradually strengthened into boldness. Had the French been successful in their attack, the results would have been most disastrous for the British colonies: nothing would have remained to arrest their progress into the heart of the country, or stem the tide of ruin that had followed on their track. The value of this unusual triumph on the Western continent was duly felt in England: a baronetcy by royal favor, and a grant of £5000 by a grateful Parliament, rewarded the successful general.

General Johnson turned his attention immediately after the battle to strengthen the position he had successfully held, with the view of securing the frontiers from hostile incursion when he should retire into winter quarters. The fort called William Henry[51] was forthwith constructed by his orders; guns were mounted, and a regiment of Provincial troops, with a company of rangers, left to garrison it and Fort Edward. On the 24th of December Johnson fell back to Albany, and from thence dispersed the remainder of his army to their respective provinces. In the mean time, Captain Rogers, a daring and active officer, made repeated demonstrations against the French in the neighborhood of Crown Point,[52] cut off many of their detached parties, and obtained constant intelligence of their proceedings. By these means it was known that the French had assembled a force of no less than 2000 men, with a proportion of artillery, and a considerable body of Indians, at Ticonderoga; the British were therefore obliged to use every vigilance to secure themselves against sudden attack from their formidable enemies, and to hasten, by all means in their power, the preparations for defense.

The fatal consequences of the unfortunate Braddock's defeat were rapidly developed in the southwestern frontiers. The French were aroused by success to an unusual spirit of enterprise, and, together with the Indians, they carried destruction into the remote and scattered hamlets of the British settlements. To put an end to these depredations, the government of Virginia marched 500 men to garrison Fort Cumberland, and 160 more to the southern branch of the Potomac, lately the scene of a cruel massacre. But these isolated efforts were of little more than local and temporary advantage; as the marauders were checked or baffled in one district, they poured with increased ferocity upon another. The province of Pennsylvania now became their foray-ground; and the inhabitants, the faithful but fanatic men of peace, actually denied all assistance to their governor for defense, and zealously preached against any warlike preparations, recommending patience and forbearance as the best means of securing their properties and lives.

This fatal delusion was not even dispelled by the intelligence that 1400 Indians and 100 French were already mustered on the banks of the Susquehanna, only eighty miles from Philadelphia, with the object of again dividing and sweeping the whole country in separate parties. Soon after, news arrived that the peaceful and prosperous settlement of Great Cove was utterly destroyed, and all the inhabitants massacred or carried into captivity. Still the men of peace refused to use the arm of flesh. The spirited governor in vain urged the necessity of action upon his unmanageable Assembly, till the sudden arrival of some hundreds of ruined fugitives strengthened his argument. These unfortunates crowded to the State House, dragging a wagon loaded with the dead and mutilated bodies of their friends, who had been scalped by the Indians at a place only sixty miles distant; they threw the bleeding corpses at the door, and threatened violence if their demands for protection and revenge were not instantly complied with. The Assembly, either moved by their distress, or overawed by their menaces, at length gave up its scruples, and passed a bill to call out the militia and appropriate £62,000 to the expenses of the war.

It must be said, at the same time, that the other English colonies, where no such scruples as those of the Quakers existed, were far from being active or united in raising supplies of men and money for their common safety. Those, however, where danger was most imminent, addressed strong and spirited appeals to their rulers for protection and support, and denounced in vigorous language the aggressions and usurpations of the French. These remonstrances had at length the desired effect of disposing the minds of the local authorities to second the views of the court of London for curbing the advances of Canadian power. On the 12th of December, 1755, a grand council of war was assembled at New York, consisting of as many provincial governors and superior officers as could be collected for the purpose. General Shirley presided, and laid before them the instructions which had been given to Braddock, his unfortunate predecessor. He exerted himself with energy and success to create a good understanding among the several governments, and was particularly happy in effecting a union for mutual protection and support between the important states of New England and New York. He also succeeded in regaining to his cause many of the Indians, who had either already gone over to the French or withdrawn to a cold neutrality.

The measures Shirley now proposed to the council were in accordance with the tenor of General Braddock's instructions; they were cheerfully assented to by that body, through his successful negotiations. It was agreed to strengthen the naval force on Lake Ontario, and to form an army of 6000 men upon its shores, while 10,000 more were to be directed against the French intrenchments at Ticonderoga. Another attempt was also proposed upon Fort du Quesne, and a movement against the Canadian settlements on the Chaudière, provided that these schemes should not interfere with the main objects of the war. The council then unanimously gave their opinion that a re-enforcement of regular soldiers was indispensable for the assertion and security of the British sovereign's rights on the American continent.

The English government,[53] though sensible of General Shirley's abilities as a negotiator, had not sufficient confidence in his military capacity to intrust him with the execution of extensive warlike operations. The command in chief of all the forces in America was therefore conferred upon the Earl of Loudon, a nobleman of amiable character, who had already distinguished himself in the service of his country.[54]

CHAPTER II.

The campaign of 1755 had opened with evil promise for the cause of France in the Western world; four formidable armies were arrayed to check her progress, and turn back the tide of war upon her own territory. A powerful fleet, under the brave and vigilant Boscawen, swept the Atlantic coast, insulted her eastern harbors, and captured her re-enforcements and supplies. The doubtful allegiance of many of her Indian neighbors was far overbalanced by the avowed hostility of others no less numerous and powerful.

But the close of the year presented results very different from those that might have been anticipated. Braddock was defeated and slain; the whole of that vast Valley of the Mississippi, whose unequaled fertility is now the wonder of mankind, had been freed from the presence of a British soldier by one decisive victory. Niagara was strengthened and unassailed; Crown Point had not been compromised by Johnson's partial success. The undisputed superiority upon Lake Ontario was upon the Canadian shore. From dangerous foes, or almost as dangerous friends, the forest tribes had generally become zealous allies, and thrown themselves with ready policy into the apparently preponderating scale; the ruined settlements and diminished numbers of the British frontier colonists marked the cruel efficiency of their co-operation. Notwithstanding the check of the Baron Dieskau's detachment, there still remained to the French more than 3000 regular troops, with a large force of the Canadian militia, who were in some respects even better qualified for forest warfare than their veteran brethren from the mother country. All these, united under one able chief, formed a much more formidable military power than the English colonies, with their jarring interests and independent commanders, could bring forward. Nova Scotia, again severed from the territories of New France, and the Acadian peasants reduced to British rule, formed but a slight offset to these hostile gains.

The civil progress of the French colony was, however, far from satisfactory. For two years past the scarcity of grain and other provisions had almost amounted to famine. The inhabitants of the country, constantly employed in warfare against their English neighbors were forced to neglect the cultivation of the soil, till absence from their own homesteads was almost as ruinous to themselves as their destructive presence to the enemy. Although the scanty supply of corn was too well known, the intendant Bigot, with infamous avarice, shipped off vast quantities of wheat to the West Indies for his own gain and that of his creatures. The price of food rose enormously, and the commerce of the country, hampered by selfish and stupid restrictions, rapidly declined.

The Marquis de Vaudreuil de Cavagnac, the successor of the Marquis du Quesne as governor, soon lost the confidence of his people. To him they had looked hopefully and earnestly for protection against the fatal monopolies of the Merchant Company, but they found that he readily sanctioned the oppression under which they suffered, and, indeed, rather increased its severity. Great stores of wheat had been purchased from the settlers by the company in anticipation of a scarcity; when they had obtained a sufficient quantity to command the market, they arranged with the intendant to fix the price at an immense advance, which was maintained in spite of the misery and clamors of the people. Again, the intendant pretended that the dearth was caused by the farmers having secreted their grain, and, in consequence, he issued an order that the city and troops should be immediately supplied at a very low rate, and those who would not submit to these nefarious conditions had their corn seized and confiscated without any remuneration whatever.

Abuses and peculations disgraced every department of the public service; the example set in high places was faithfully followed by the petty officials all over the colony. The commissaries who had the supply of the distant posts enriched themselves at the cost of the mother country; and, to the detriment of the hardy and adventurous men occupying those remote and dreary settlements, boats were not allowed to visit them without paying such heavy fees that the venture became ruinous, and thus the trade was soon altogether confined to the commissaries.

Vessels sent to Miramichi with provisions for the unfortunate Acadians, returned loaded with that people, who, faithful to their king and nation, had left their happy homes, refusing the proffered protection of their conquerors. When they reached Quebec they met with a cruel reception. The intendant gave to a creature named Cadet the office of ministering to their wants. This heartless man shamefully abused the trust, and only considered it as a means of selfish profit, providing them with unwholesome and insufficient food: thus many fell victims to his cruel avarice. Some, indeed, who settled on lands belonging to the governor or his favorites, were amply supplied, for the private advantage of the proprietors.

Loud and constant were the complaints of the colonists against these shameful abuses of power; but they fell either upon ears determined not to hear, or were misrepresented and refracted by the medium through which they passed. The outer aspect of New France was bold and formidable, but within all was corruption, languor, and decay. The seignorial tenure[62] and the custom law of Paris fatally embarrassed agricultural improvement, and the monopoly of the Merchant Company paralyzed trade. The absolute system of government, and the intrusive exercise of imperial power in even the most trivial matters of colonial interest, cramped individual energy by the constraining force of centralization. The military[63] system of feudal organization turned the plow-shares and reaping-hooks of the most active among the population into weapons of war, and the settlements, that were little else than scattered barracks for troops, made but small progress in the truly glorious war against the desolation of the wilderness. While the hardy voyageurs of the Ottawa and the farmers of the rich Valley of the St. Lawrence reaped the laurels of the bloody fight at Fort du Quesne, the canoes, once richly laden with the furs of the Western country, floated idly in the stream, and the exuberant soil by the banks of the Great River was overrun with a harvest of useless or noxious weeds. Thus it was that, while the military superstructure of this great French colony was strong and imposing, the social and political foundations were false and feeble.

On the other hand, the dangerous British rivals had rapidly advanced to prosperity and to the possession of formidable resources. The State of Massachusetts alone mustered 40,000 men capable of bearing arms, by one third a greater number than all Canada could produce. The militia of Connecticut was 27,000 strong, and that of New Hampshire and Rhode Island also considerable. Pennsylvania, Virginia, and other states were also in themselves powerful, but in military matters New England ever took the lead. The sturdy Nonconformists who first peopled that country had been long accustomed to encounter and overcome difficulties: they had continually waged a war of mutual extermination with the Indians. The unbending spirit of their ancestors lost nothing under such training. Each separate settlement possessed an independent vitality; the habit of self-government engendered a feeling of confidence in their own power, and they who had marched with steady step over the barriers of an almost impenetrable forest, and swept away the warlike hordes of its savage inhabitants, were no mean foes to match even against the brilliant chivalry of France.

The peculiar and distinct institutions of these British colonies, while they fostered the development of individual energy and stimulated general prosperity, forbade, at the same time, that compact and centralized organization which rendered the external power of New France so formidable. It was difficult or impossible to unite all the different states in one great effort, and hopeless to induce them to act in concert. The borderers of Maine or Massachusetts heard with almost indifference of Indian massacres upon the banks of the Susquehanna, and the men of Virginia felt but little sympathy with the victors of the north. English colonization had already progressed to unheard of prosperity in its component parts, in spite of its utter want of large and comprehensive system, while that of France, planned on a scheme of magnificent ambition, had proved but a sickly exotic under the over-anxious care of the founders. In the one, powerful elements formed but a disjointed and unwieldy aggregate; in the other, indifferent materials were rendered strong by the firm frame-work in which they were united.

The defensive power of the British colonies was, however, very great. In cases of real peril, when the farmer tore himself from his fields, the merchant from his store-house, and the hunter from the chase, a militia formidable in numbers and composition was at the service of the state, while the vast extent and the scattered situations of the settlements would have rendered complete conquest difficult, and occupation impossible.

The campaign of 1756 opened with a partial success of the French arms. The Marquis de Vaudreuil had learned that the British had erected a chain of small forts to protect their route to Oswego, and that they purposed building ships at that port to command the navigation of Lake Ontario, and thus break up the chain of his communications. He therefore ordered a detachment of about 350 Canadians and Indians, under M. Chaussegros de Léry, to march to Montreal, from whence they proceeded westward on the 17th of March.

After a harassing journey of great length through the wilderness, they came upon one of the small English forts on the Oswego route, garrisoned by Lieutenant Bull and twenty-five men. The British officer at once rejected the proposal of a capitulation, and prepared to offer a vigorous resistance; he was, however, speedily overpowered, and he and his little party, with the exception of two, were massacred and scalped by the Indians, whose ferocity could not be repressed; the fort was then blown up, and the ammunition destroyed.

The French, fully alive to the danger of allowing their enemies to hold possession of the important position of Oswego, were determined to spare no efforts to drive them away. Another expedition was accordingly prepared to accomplish this grand object, consisting of 300 men, led by M. de Villiers. They proceeded to within a short distance of Oswego, where they constructed a small fort, placed among the dense woods in such a manner as to be unseen by the enemy: from this hiding-place they frequently intercepted parties with provisions destined for Oswego. When the Iroquois became aware of the designs of the French, they summoned Sir William Johnson, whom they greatly respected, to meet them in council, for the purpose of considering the means of diverting hostilities from their country. He strongly advised them, if possible, to prevent the attack upon the fort, and thus avoid a war that would deluge the frontier with blood. Pursuing this counsel, they dispatched thirty deputies to Montreal to assure M. de Vaudreuil that they wished to preserve the strictest neutrality, and to entreat him not to draw the sword in their country or interrupt their communications. The governor answered that he would seek his enemies wherever he could find them, but that the people of the Five Nations should be protected from every insult as long as they did not join the English.

From this time the war was to assume a more important form, and new and more illustrious actors were to appear upon the stage. The British government[64] determined to increase its efforts in North America; and as the Earl of Loudon, lately appointed general-in-chief of the forces on that continent, was unavoidably detained in England for some time, Major-general Abercromby was ordered to precede him and hold command until his arrival. Lord Loudon was intrusted with extraordinary powers, to enable him to promote the essential object of union among the English colonies; he was also appointed governor of Virginia, and made colonel of a regiment of four battalions, chiefly officered by foreigners, called the Royal American.[65]

In the mean time, the preparations were made in British America to forward the execution of the plans[66] recommended by the great council of war, and the militia of the several provinces were assembled at Albany, where they awaited the arrival of the English general. Abercromby did not reach the army till the latter end of June, 1756, and at that time only brought with him two regiments, the 35th and the 42d, or Murray's Highlanders. The British troops in North America at this time consisted of those two corps, the 44th and 48th of the line, Shirley's and Pepperel's battalions, eight independent companies from New York and Carolina, and a large body of the Provincial militia.

General Abercromby considered the force under his command insufficient to carry out the extensive schemes recommended by the council at Albany; he was, however, cordially agreed with them upon the advantages to be gained by their execution. Desirous to avoid responsibility, he determined to await the arrival of the commander-in-chief, but in the mean time he marched the Provincial forces upon Fort William Henry, under the command of General Winslow,[67] who there awaited re-enforcements previous to his advance against Crown Point.

In the West, however, British energy and courage found employment under the able and adventurous Lieutenant-colonel Bradstreet. He determined to execute, as far as in his power lay, the resolves of the council at Albany, and left Schenectady with about 300 boatmen, bearing supplies and military stores to strengthen the important post of Oswego. His detachment consisted of raw Irish recruits, utterly unacquainted with discipline, and unaccustomed to the sight of an enemy; but their native courage overcame all disadvantages, and they bravely did their duty, as their countrymen have ever done when striving for a good cause, and led by a worthy chief. Bradstreet passed in safety up the Onondaga River, reached Oswego, and accomplished his object. The French, being apprized of this expedition, collected in force some miles to the eastward of Oswego, and detached 700 men to intercept their enemy. Happily, however, they became embarrassed in the tangled wilderness, and lost their way: when, at last, after much difficulty, they reached the banks of the Onondaga, the English had already passed up the stream in safety. They well knew, however, that Bradstreet must soon return by the same route; they therefore patiently awaited their opportunity, concealed beneath the favoring cloak of the dense forests surrounding the river.

The English chief—either informed of this ambuscade, or mistrusting the facility with which the dangerous navigation had been before accomplished—took the only precaution his difficult position permitted. To scour the neighborhood of the rapid stream with light troops would have been impossible, owing to the thick underwood every where arresting the human foot; and yet, from each dark clump of cedars, or from behind each projecting crag on the rugged banks, he might at any moment expect to see the deadly flash of the Canadian musket, and to hear the war-whoop of the savage. Bradstreet therefore determined on the precaution of proceeding in three divisions of canoes, within easy distances of each other; that thus, if any one were attacked, his stout boatmen might land from the others, and on equal terms encounter the assailants on the shore. He entered the first canoe; his gallant men followed with somewhat tumultuous good will. The day of their departure was the 3d of July; in that burning season the stream was low and difficult of navigation, and the stately trees and luxuriant underwood, rich in leafy honors, afforded complete concealment to the dangerous enemy.

For nine miles the party forced their way up the Onondaga, laboriously but without interruption; at length they reached a spot where the waters flow in shallow rapids past a small island, and the dense woods throw their shade over the very margin of the stream. Suddenly, from the north shore, a loud volley, and a louder yell, broke through the silence of the wilderness. This first fire fell with deadly effect upon the leading division; but Bradstreet, with six of the survivors, forced their canoes quickly across the eddying current toward the island. Twenty of the enemy had at the same time plunged into the river, and, taking advantage of the ford, arrived before him; nevertheless, Bradstreet threw himself on shore, and with desperate courage faced the foe. After a sharp struggle, he even dislodged them from the island, and drove them back upon the main land. When the remaining canoes of the advanced division joined, his little force amounted to no more than twenty men. The French, enraged at their first repulse, vigorously renewed the attack with doubled numbers, but they were again beaten, and, leaving many of their foremost dead in the stream, returned to the shelter of the shore. A third time, however, the assailants, brave even in defeat, pushed across the ford with seventy men, and threw themselves upon the little knot of English. For nearly an hour, with fiery courage on the one side and stubborn resolution on the other, they fought among the rocks and trees, till the secluded spot, where perhaps human foot had never before trodden, was red with human blood. At length the French gave way, and, scattered and depressed, fell back upon the main body of their countrymen.

While this stout fight was raging on the little island, the boatmen of the remaining divisions had landed in safety lower down on the southern shore, and moved in good order to the support of their hard-pressed comrades. The main body of the French pressed rapidly along the opposite bank toward another ford about a mile higher up the river, and many succeeded in crossing before Bradstreet's stout boatmen could intercept them. By this time, however, the British leader had arrived from the little island, and put himself at the head of his two last divisions. With prompt determination he threw himself upon the French advance, and, bravely supported by his followers, after a stubborn strife, forced it back into the river. Many of the conquered were struck down by the English marksmen in the close bush-fight, and even a greater number perished in their hurried passage of the stream.

In Bradstreet's absence, another large body of the French swarmed across the ford by the little island where they had been before repeatedly repulsed, but this last effort was even more disastrous than the preceding. Before they could form in the tangled swamps, the boatmen and their gallant chief came down at a running pace, flushed with recent success. One short struggle on the woody bank, and the assailants were forced back in utter rout. The remainder of the enemy dispersed in the forest and attacked no more, but above 100 of their number had perished in the stream or had fallen by the sword, while seventy prisoners and a great quantity of arms rewarded the successful valor of the conquerors. Many of the French regular soldiers, strangers to the American wilderness, became bewildered in its mazes, and died miserably of starvation. On the other hand, no less than sixty of Bradstreet's boatmen were killed and wounded in this gallant action.[68]

The English were too much fatigued and weakened by their hard-won victory to venture on pursuit, and prepared to rest that night upon the battle-field; they were, however, soon aroused by the approach of a body of troops, which, to their great joy, proved to be a detachment of their own grenadiers, on the march to Oswego, and the next morning 200 men also joined them from that garrison. But, in the mean time, the rain had poured down in torrents, and the stream of the Onondaga swelled to an angry flood; to cross and follow up their success was therefore impossible, and the remnant of the French found refuge in their vessels on the waters of Lake Ontario. After a time, when the subsiding flood permitted, the detachment and the grenadiers descended the river to Oswego, and the victorious boatmen, with their leader, pushed on for Schenectady, where they arrived in safety on the 14th of July. The following day Bradstreet set out for Albany to warn General Abercromby of the designs of the French against Oswego: the prisoners had informed him that a force of 1200 men was encamped on the shores of the lake, not far from the eastern fort of that port, where the thick covert of the forest concealed them from the British garrison. Abercromby at once ordered the remains of the 44th regiment, under Colonel Webb, to hasten to Oswego, but, owing to the interference of the Provincial governors,[69] a fatal delay intervened before this corps was put in motion.

On the 26th of July Lord Loudon arrived at New York from Europe; on the 29th he reached Albany, and assumed the command of the army. He found a body of nearly 3000 regular troops, besides a large Provincial force, under his orders at Albany[70] and Schenectady, including the survivors of the two unfortunate regiments which had been crippled and broken in Braddock's disaster.[71] In the fort of Oswego[72] were mustered 1400 bayonets, principally of Shirley's and Pepperel's regiments, besides sailors and peasants,[73] and nearly 500 men, in scattered detachments, preserved the difficult communications through the Iroquois territories.

On the other hand, the French held Crown Point and Ticonderoga with 3000 veterans, and found means to assemble a still more formidable force at Fort Frontenac for the purpose of attacking Oswego.

This year had arrived at Quebec from France a large body of regulars, under the command of the Marquis de Montcalm, with the Brigadier de Levi, and Colonel de Bourlemaque. Montcalm remained but a few days at Quebec, and then hastened on with his veteran re-enforcements to strengthen the force destined to act against Oswego. Rigaud de Vaudreuil, with a large body of Canadian militia raised at Montreal, was detached as the vanguard of the army, and arrived undiscovered on the 9th of August within a mile and a half of the British position; on the night of the 10th the first division also arrived; on the 12th, at midnight, the second division joined. Then the French chief, having made all necessary preparations, opened his trenches before Fort Ontario,[74] which was situated at the opposite side of the river from the important position of Oswego.

From break of day until six in the evening Montcalm kept up a heavy fire, which was vigorously replied to by the defenders; then, however, the resistance suddenly ceased. The unpardonable neglect of the British authorities had left this important post almost unprovided with ammunition, and in the hour of extremest need the scanty supply failed. Further defense was impossible; the survivors of the little garrison spiked their cannon, and retreated without interruption to the neighboring position of Fort Oswego, on the opposite side of the river. When the French perceived that the defenders had yielded the post, they quickly took possession, and turned such of the guns as in the hurry of retreat had been still left uninjured upon the walls of the remaining stronghold. The defenses of the feeble fort soon crumbled beneath the crushing fire from Montcalm's battering train and the now hostile guns of Fort Ontario. Colonel Mercer, the English chief, and many of his men, were struck down, and the remainder, hopeless of a successful defense, surrendered upon not unfavorable terms on the evening of the 14th of August.

Seven armed vessels, mounting from 8 to 18 guns each, 200 bateaux, a vast quantity of provisions and warlike stores, with 1200 prisoners,[75] were gained by the victors; and for a brief space, several British flags, the unwonted trophies of French conquest, decked with drooping folds the walls of the Canadian churches. This brilliant and important success was, however, stained by cruelty and doubtful faith.[76] Notwithstanding the terms of the capitulation, the savages were permitted to plunder all, and massacre many of the captives;[77] and, to the shame of Montcalm, the sick and wounded who had been intrusted to his protection were slain and scalped under the Indian knife. The remaining prisoners, however, were escorted to Montreal, where they were treated with kindness and consideration, and soon afterward exchanged.[78] The French, having demolished the works at Oswego, returned to the eastern part of the province.

This conquest established Montcalm's already rising reputation. Canada rejoiced, and the British colonies were proportionately discouraged. The sad news was first carried to Albany by some French deserters, but remained unconfirmed for several days, till two sailors arrived who had escaped subsequently to the disaster. Indian rumor was also busy with the melancholy tale. It was for a time believed that the whole garrison of Oswego had been put to the sword,[79] and that the bodies of the slain were left unburied upon the desolate shores of Lake Ontario. A panic spread. Colonel Webb, with the 44th regiment, nearly 900 strong, and 800 boatmen, stopped short in his advance, now useless through culpable delay, and employed his whole force in felling trees to block up the navigation of the important passage of Wood Creek,[80] while the French, equally anxious to avoid collision, performed a similar labor higher up the river.

The province of New York was the first to suffer by the unhappy loss of Oswego, and the pusillanimous retreat of Webb. The rich and beautiful settlements called the German Flats were speedily desolated by the Indians and the scarcely less vindictive Canadians; the crops were destroyed, the houses and homesteads burned, and such of the inhabitants as could not escape were captured, or slain and scalped.

It has been before stated that all the resources of the British colonies were taxed to enable General Winslow to act against Crown Point, with a view to master the important navigation of Lake Champlain, and to demolish the French forts upon its shores,[81] but these preparations produced no results beyond that of strengthening Forts Edward and William Henry. No blow was struck,[82] notwithstanding the opportunity afforded by the withdrawal of nearly all the French regular troops from that neighborhood to aid the Oswego expedition. The inglorious campaign concluded by the retirement of the British regiments of the line to Albany, and the return of the Provincials to their several localities.

But while the genius and good fortune of Montcalm raised the military reputation of New France and strengthened her external power, tyranny and corruption withered her budding prosperity, and blighted it with premature decay. The paltry peculations and narrow despotism of the petty magnates of colonial government are nauseous and ungrateful subjects. The "habitans" were oppressed and plundered, the troops were defrauded of their hard-earned stipend, traders were ground down under infamous extortions, and the unhappy Acadian refugees robbed of the generous bounties of the state. Eminent among the perpetrators of these shameless wrongs stood Bigot, the intendant; Cadet and others of his creatures were worthy of their principal. A scarcity almost amounting to famine, which inflicted the severest privations upon the colony, was again seized as an opportunity of gain by these relentless men, under the pretense of the general good; great stores of provisions were bought by them at a low, compulsory price, and resold at an enormous advance for their private benefit. Even the sacred calling of the missionaries did not in all instances preserve them from the taint of these unworthy acts; and where wealth, was thus largely and by such means increased, morals were naturally deteriorated.

The loss of Oswego was in some degree compensated to the English by the progress of Colonel Lawrence in Acadia, but sad it is to say that the stain of cruelty tainted our success, as it had the victory of Montcalm. When the French settlers refused to acknowledge allegiance to the British crown and laws, they were pursued with fire and sword, their villages and farms destroyed, and at last many thousands were suddenly shipped off, and dispersed among the Atlantic colonies, where friends and kinsfolk might never meet again; thus, to use the language of the time, "establishing peace and tranquillity throughout the whole province." In the ensuing February, some of these ill-fated Acadians with a few allied Indians, about 300 in all, unexpectedly sallied out upon the new English settlements, driven by desperation from the snowy forests; but Lieutenant-colonel Scott promptly called together an equal force of Provincials, and drove them back, with heavy loss, upon the inhospitable wilderness.

In the month of August of the year 1756, a small post on the borders of Pennsylvania, called Fort Granville, was surprised by a party of French and Indians, and the garrison carried into captivity. At the same time, the Moravian savages from the banks of the Ohio, rejoicing in the opportunity afforded by the contentions of the white men, suddenly burst upon the English western frontier, and massacred no less than 1000 of the scattered settlers. Then the thirst of vengeance burned among the hardy colonists. Infuriated rather than appalled by this horrid butchery, 280 men hastily assembled, and with untiring energy pushed on toward the rugged Alleganies to an Indian town called Kittaning, the rendezvous of the fierce marauders. The road was rude and difficult, the distance 150 miles, but the furious hatred of the pursuers spurred them forward, and on the morning of the fifth day the foremost scouts brought word that the Indian murderers were close at hand, celebrating their bloody triumph in songs and dances.

When morning light first chased away the darkness of the forest, the English Provincials burst upon the Indian camp. Armstrong, their leader, offered quarter, but the savages, conscious of their unpardonable cruelties, dared not submit. Then ensued a terrible slaughter; the Indians were beaten down in furious rage, or shot in attempting to fly, or shut up in their wooden huts and burned to death; some were seized and scalped, in horrible imitation of their own ferocity, and not a few were blown up and destroyed by the stores of ammunition they had collected during their late incursion. Terrible as was this vengeance, it availed but little. On almost every other part of the British frontiers, parties of the Indians, and their almost equally savage French allies, swarmed among the woods, concealed in ambush during the day, and by night busied in their bloody work.

In the mean time, the season had become too far advanced for the commencement of any important enterprise; the English colonies were divided in spirit, and all efforts for the general good were perpetually thwarted by jealousy and parsimony. Lord Loudon, with his armament, had not reached New York till the end of July; by that time little remained practicable but to strengthen some frontier forts, and push forward parties of observation into the French territories. Thus closed the campaign of 1756. England had a sorry account of her wasted blood and treasure in these Western wars; opportunities had been neglected, resources wasted, laurels lost.[83] The Indian trade and the commerce of the great lakes had been forfeited by the surrender of Oswego. To us only remained the barren boast of Bradstreet's gallant victory. The Indians were not slow to perceive the weakness of British councils, and Sir William Johnson's powerful influence was barely sufficient to restrain the politic Iroquois from openly declaring for the enemy.

CHAPTER III.

Stimulated by the general success of their arms during the campaign of 1756, the French suffered not their energies to slumber even through the chilly Canadian winter. With detachments of Indians and hardy "habitans," they scoured the northern frontiers of the British colonies, and gained intelligence of every movement. From information thus acquired, Montcalm determined to move a force suddenly on Fort William Henry,[89] at the southern extremity of Lake George,[90] where the English had formed a dépôt for a vast quantity of provisions and warlike stores, which was as yet unprotected by any sufficient garrison. Fifteen hundred men, of whom four hundred were Indians, led by Rigaud de Vaudreuil and the Chevalier de Longueuil, were dispatched to surprise and escalade the fort, and, in case of failure, to destroy the stores and buildings beyond the protection of its walls, and also the shipping and bateaux on the neighboring lake. On the 19th of March, at the dead of night, the French noiselessly approached the little fortress, but the vigilant sentries discovered them in time, and alarmed the defenders, who drove them back with a brisk fire of cannon and musketry. Having failed to surprise, they invested the place the following day, and twice again vainly attacked the fort. On the 21st they summoned the commandant, Major Eyres, to surrender, which demand he instantly refused. The French assailed the stronghold a fourth and even a fifth time; but, having been repulsed in every attack, contented themselves by destroying the undefended property without. Furthermore, they strengthened Ticonderoga and Crown Point with two battalions, and sent Captain Pouchot as commandant to Niagara, with orders to fortify that important post as he best might. They then returned to Montreal. Shortly afterward they gained an advantage of some value over a detachment of 400 men, led by Colonel Parker, which had been sent by water to attack their advanced guard near Ticonderoga. By a cleverly devised ambuscade, and the opportune arrival of a re-enforcement, they completely overpowered the British troops, and slew or captured more than half the number.

In the mean while the Earl of Loudon exerted himself to the utmost in collecting a sufficient force to strike a decisive blow. The favorite object of carrying Crown Point was laid aside, and the grander scheme of reducing the formidable stronghold of Louisburg, in Acadia, adopted instead.[91] There the naval power of England could be brought to bear, and the distracting jealousies of the several colonies might not interfere to paralyze vigorous action. Preparations for this enterprise were rapidly pushed on in England, and by the end of January, 1757, seven regiments of infantry and a detachment of artillery, all commanded by Major-general Hopson, were ordered to assemble at Cork, and await the arrival of a powerful fleet of fourteen line-of-battle ships, destined to bear them to America. June had nearly closed,[92] however, before this powerful armament, under Admiral Holborne, arrived at the place of rendezvous. Lord Loudon had arranged to meet the expedition at Halifax with all the force he could collect; to accomplish this transport, he was injudiciously led to lay an embargo on all the ships in the British North American ports. This arbitrary measure at once aroused a storm of indignation among the merchants and planters, whose trade it ruinously affected. The home government, ever jealous of commercial liberty, immediately disapproved the high-handed proceeding, and issued peremptory orders against its repetition.

On the 20th of June, 1757, Lord Loudon had embarked at New York with a considerable force drawn from the protection of the vast colonial borders. Sir Charles Hardy commanded a fleet of four ships of war and seventy transports for the troops; each ship had orders, in case of separation, to make the best of her way to Halifax. On the 30th they all reached that port, where they found eight vessels of war and some artillery, with two regiments of infantry. The troops were landed as soon as possible, and busied in various and somewhat trivial occupations, while fast-sailing vessels were dispatched to examine the French strength at Louisburg, and also to watch for the arrival of the remainder of the English fleet under Holborne. By the 9th of July the whole of the enormous armament had assembled. Nineteen ships of the line, with a great number of smaller craft, and an army of thirteen battalions in high spirit and condition, were now at the disposal of the British leaders.

Much valuable time was wasted at Halifax in unnecessary drills and silly sham fights; at length, however, on the 1st and 2d of August, the troops were embarked, with orders to proceed to Gabarus Bay, to the westward of Louisburg; but on the 4th, information received by a captured sloop that eighteen ships of the line and 3000 regular troops, with many militia-men and Indians, were prepared to defend the harbor, altered the views of the English chiefs. The attack was abandoned,[93] the troops were directed to land in various places on the Acadian peninsula, while the fleet was to cruise off Louisburg and endeavor to bring the French to action. About the middle of the month, a dispatch from Boston, containing the disastrous news of the loss of Fort William Henry, reached Lord Loudon; in consequence, his orders were again altered.[94] The luckless general himself, with a part of the troops and fleet, made sail for New York; the remaining regiments, not before landed, were directed upon the Bay of Fundy, and Admiral Holborne, with the bulk of this vast armament, bore away for the harbor of Louisburg.

The objects of this cruise can hardly be even conjectured; some imagine that curiosity was Holborne's sole motive. It is obvious that he did not mean to engage the enemy; for, when he approached within two miles of the hostile batteries, and saw the French admiral's signal to unmoor, he immediately made the best of his way back to Halifax. Being re-enforced by four ships of the line about the middle of September, Holborne again sailed within sight of Louisburg, being then certain that the French would not leave the shelter of their batteries to encounter his superior strength, and thus risk unnecessarily the safety of their colony.

While continuing this useless demonstration, a violent storm from the southwest assailed the British fleet on the 24th of October, at the distance of about forty leagues from the rock-bound coast. In twelve hours the ships were driven almost to within gunshot of the shore, when a happy shift of wind saved them from total destruction. But the Tilbury, a magnificent vessel of sixty guns, went to pieces on Cape Breton, and 225 of her crew perished in the waves; the Newark drove into Halifax crippled and damaged; others subsequently gained the same shelter, dismasted, and in a still more disastrous plight. When the weather moderated, Admiral Holborne made the best of his way for England with the remainder of the fleet, leaving, however, a small squadron, under Lord Colville, to protect the British traders in those northern seas.[95]

While the main force of the British armies had been occupied in the ill-fated expedition against Louisburg, Colonel Stanwix had marched to protect the Western frontier with a detachment of regular troops, and nearly 2000 of the Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia militia. At the same time, the borders of Carolina were intrusted to the care of Colonel Bouquet with a nearly similar force. But to the north, the province of New York and the New England states were feebly held by Colonel Webb with about 4000 men, and Colonel Monro with his garrison of Fort William Henry, against the able and vigilant Montcalm. Although Webb could not but be aware of the movements of his dangerous enemy, he unaccountably neglected to avail himself of the means of defense within his reach. With an indifference bordering on infatuation, he abstained from calling out the numerous and hardy militia of the surrounding states, in themselves a force sufficient to overpower his active antagonist. At length, when the white banner of France had actually been unfurled on the shores of Lake Champlain, Webb awoke from his lethargy, but only to make a precipitate and disgraceful retreat. He fell back upon Fort Edward the following day, leaving Colonel Monro, with about 2000 men, to bear the brunt of battle, and defend the post which he had thus shamefully abandoned.

When Lord Loudon had put to sea with the main army, Montcalm instantly seized the opportunity of renewing his favorite project of gaining the command of Lake George, through the reduction of Fort William Henry. He rapidly concentrated his forces at Ticonderoga, including a considerable body of Indians, numbering altogether 8000 men, well appointed and provisioned, with a proportionate force of artillery, and, without delay, pushed on a large division of his army, under M. de Levi, along the shores of the lake. On the 1st of August he followed with the remainder, who, together with the heavy ordnance and warlike stores, were embarked in canoes and bateaux. On the night of the 2d, both divisions met in a bay near the English fort, and soon afterward the general learned from some prisoners, who were the survivors of a party surprised by the Indians, the retreat of Webb and the weakness of the British garrison. He immediately advanced upon the fort in three columns, sending M. de Levi, with all his savage allies, to scour the neighboring woods; these fierce warriors suddenly fell upon a small foraging party of the English, slew and scalped forty of their number, and carried off fifty head of cattle.

Montcalm spent the 3d of August in reconnoitering the fort and neighborhood,[96] and in erecting batteries; but the Indians scorned the delays of regular warfare, and urged an immediate attack without waiting for the aid of artillery. The chief listened not unwillingly to this daring counsel; first, however, he determined to try the virtue of negotiation, and dispatched a peremptory summons to Colonel Monro, demanding an immediate surrender. The English chief, although but too well aware of his own weakness, returned a spirited answer to this haughty message: "I will defend my trust," said he, "to the last extremity."

This bold reply quickened the ardor of the French: during the 4th and 5th, day and night, their labors ceased not; they dug and delved into the earth with vindictive and untiring zeal, pushing on the trenches of the attack close to the ramparts of the fort. At daybreak on the 6th, ten guns and a large mortar broke the silence of the morning with a salvo upon the beleaguered garrison. The British paid back the deadly salute vigorously, but with far inferior power. Meanwhile, the Indians and some Canadian sharp-shooters swarmed around at every point; some hiding behind the stumps of the forest trees, others finding shelter in an adjoining garden, from their covert swept the works of the defenders with a murderous fire. The odds were great, but in a vain hope that Webb would not see him lost without an effort, Monro held out with stubborn courage. His loss was heavy, his defenses rapidly giving way under the crashing artillery of the French, yet still he resisted the threats and promises of the enemy. At length ammunition failed; the savages soon perceived this, and redoubled their fire, crowding closer round the failing defenders. While yet they strove to hold their ground, an intercepted letter from Webb to Monro was sent in by the French general; this destroyed the last remaining hope, for it stated that no timely relief could reach them, and advised that they should make the best terms in their power. Monro then no longer hesitated, and a capitulation was signed, with conditions such as a chivalrous conqueror should give to those who had nobly but unsuccessfully performed their duty.

The sequel of this gallant defense is as sad as it is unaccountable. The Indians despised the rights of the conquered. When they saw the garrison march out on the following day with arms and baggage, and protected by a French escort, their rage knew no bounds; but with savage cunning they suffered their victims to proceed uninterruptedly till a place was reached favorable to their murderous designs, when suddenly, with horrible yells, they burst from the woods, upon the English column. This unexpected onslaught paralyzed with terror the men who but the day before had fought with dauntless bravery; few attempted to resist, some were instantly struck down by the tomahawks of the savages, others found tardy protection from the French escort, and about 600 dispersed among the woods, and finally reached Fort Edward in miserable plight.

The endeavor to clear the memory of the illustrious Montcalm from the dark stain of connivance with this ferocious treachery is now a grateful task. While the dreadful story was fresh on the English ear, few voices were raised in his defense; the blood of the murdered men was laid at his door; the traitor to a soldier's faith was held in scornful detestation. But time, "that reverses the sentence of unrighteous judges,"[97] has served to clear away the cloud that shaded the brightness of the gallant Frenchman's fame. He may, indeed, still be censured for not having provided a sufficient escort for the surrendered garrison. Surely, however, he may well have deemed 2000 men, such as those who had before defended themselves with becoming bravery against his host, might hold their own against an inferior number of savages. When the onslaught began, he used his utmost endeavor to arrest it; he rushed into the bloody scene, and strove earnestly to stop its progress. Baring his breast, he called upon the savages to slay him, their father, but to spare the English for whom his honor was plighted. Then, finding his interference useless, he called upon the prisoners to defend themselves, and fire upon their pursuers; it was in vain, however, so overpowering were the terrors of the Indian tomahawk.[98] Montcalm's officers also threw themselves in the way of the vindictive savages, and some were even wounded in the attempt.[99]

Immediately after the victory Montcalm demolished the fort, destroyed all the English vessels and boats upon the lake, triumphantly carried off the artillery, warlike stores, and baggage, 100 live oxen, and provisions for six months for a garrison of 5000 men. They did not endeavor to push further their important advantages, but once again retired within their own territories.[100]

The Marquis de Vaudreuil took the earliest opportunity to inform the court of France that his gallant general's expedition had been thus eminently successful. He moreover accompanied the cheering news by earnest demands for aid in troops, artillery, and warlike stores, and prayed that he might be speedily informed of the intentions of the ministry, and their plans for the defense of the still endangered colony.[101]

Meanwhile, peculation and corruption had frightfully increased among those intrusted with the Provincial administration. The Associates' Company cast aside all decent seeming of honesty, and robbed the government, the settlers, and the Indians with unblushing effrontery. The officers in command of outposts followed this infectious example. Under pretext of supplying the savages, they made frequent and large demands for goods, which, when obtained, were applied to their own use; and, not even content with this wholesale plunder, they gave certificates, amounting to large sums of money, for articles never furnished: from this source arose that immense amount of paper currency which deluged the colony at the time of the conquest, leaving no less than eighty millions of livres then unprovided for. This enormous dishonesty brought down its own punishment; agriculture and trade were paralyzed, loyalty shaken, while diminished resources and a discontented people hastened the inevitable catastrophe of British triumph.

Immediately on Lord Loudon's return from the disgraceful expedition to Halifax,[102] he repaired to Fort Edward, which was the English advanced post in the direction of Canada since the loss of Fort William Henry.[103] As soon as he had given directions for its defense, he took up his winter quarters at Albany: thence he dispatched Captain Rogers, with a small party, to capture stragglers of the enemy, and gain intelligence of their movements. This officer succeeded in ascertaining that the important posts of Ticonderoga and Crown Point had been left insufficiently garrisoned. The English general formed designs, and even made extensive preparations to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered, but, with vacillating weakness, soon abandoned the project. In Acadia some ineffectual marching and counter-marching was performed by his orders, and the troops suffered considerably from privation and from the harassing enmity of the French and Indians.

The feeble conduct and the contemptible results of this campaign demonstrated the inability of the English chief for military command; but Lord Loudon's merits in council should not be overlooked, while he stands condemned as a general. He aroused the different colonial governments from a dangerous apathy, induced them to unite, in some measure, their great but disjointed power, and exert for the general good the means which Providence had abundantly supplied. These favorable conditions were improved by the politic wisdom of his successors in the post of commander-in-chief in North America.

The return of Holborne's shattered fleet and the news of the resultless maneuvers of Lord Loudon aroused a storm of indignation in England. Enormous preparations had proved fruitless, a vast force had warred only against the hardships of the wilderness or the dangers of the ocean. Twenty thousand regular troops, with a large Provincial army, had wasted the precious season of action in embarkations and disembarkations, disgraceful retreats, and advances almost equally disgraceful. Twenty magnificent ships of the line had left the British ports for the American shore in the pride of irresistible power, and, without firing a gun for the honor of their flag, returned to whence they came, or, maimed and dismantled, sought refuge in friendly ports. England had to lament her gallant children, her stately ships, her hard-earned treasures, and, above all, her military glory, lost in the Western deserts or swallowed up in the waters of the Atlantic.

CHAPTER IV.

During the disastrous campaign of 1757, a strife of greater importance than that on the American continent was carried on in the English House of Commons. In the preceding year, the falsehood and incompetency of the Duke of Newcastle, prime minister of England, had aroused a storm of indignation, to which the shameful losses of Minorca and Oswego had given overwhelming force. Mr. Fox, the only commoner of character and ability who still adhered to the ministry, determined to lend his name no longer to the premier's policy, and in the month of October resigned the seals of office. This blow proved fatal for the tottering cabinet. To the almost universal joy of the people, the Duke of Newcastle did not dare the encounter with his gifted rival in the approaching session of Parliament, and reluctantly yielded up those powers the exercise of which, in his hands, had led the nation to embarrassment and shame.

By the wish of the king, Mr. Fox endeavored to induce Mr. William Pitt to join him in the conduct of the national councils. The "Great Commoner," however, decisively rejected this overture.[108] The Duke of Devonshire, lord lieutenant of Ireland, a man more remarkable for probity and loyalty than for administrative capacity, next received the royal commands to form a ministry; he sacrificed his personal predilections toward Mr. Fox to the public good, and at once appointed Pitt Secretary of State, with Legge as Chancellor of the Exchequer. Most of the subordinate members of the cabinet retained their places, but several of Pitt's relatives received appointments to important offices.

Almost the first step of the new cabinet was to apply to Parliament for the means of aiding the King of Prussia against "the vindictive designs of France." Notwithstanding the great popularity of the ministry, and the general confidence in its capacity and integrity, the apparent contrast between this proposition and former protestations against continental interference excited the hostility of many, and the observation of all. The supplies, however, were voted to the full extent demanded by the minister.

Despite these concessions to the king's Hanoverian interests, nothing could overcome the personal dislike of his majesty to Pitt, and to his brother-in-law Lord Temple. The appointment of the Duke of Cumberland to command the British force on the Continent gave opportunity for the manifestation of this royal hostility. The duke refused to undertake his duties while such an anti-Hanoverian as Pitt remained as virtual head of the ministry. The king's love for his son, and hatred of his gifted servant, combined to prompt him to the decided step of dismissing the great minister from his councils. An interval of nearly three months elapsed in vain attempts to form a cabinet from which Pitt should be excluded. There was, however, another party interested in these arrangements, which neither prerogative nor parliamentary influence might long venture to oppose—the British nation. As with one voice, all ranks and classes spoke out their will that Pitt should hold the helm. His rivals saw that it was impossible to stem the stream, and wisely counseled the king to yield to the wishes of his people. In June the patriot minister was once again the ruler of England's destiny.[109]

This illustrious man knew no party but the British nation, acknowledged no other interest. To exalt the power and prosperity of his country, and to humble France, was his sole aim and object. Personally disagreeable to the highest power in the state, and from many causes regarded with hostility by the several aristocratic confederacies, it needed the almost unanimous voice of his countrymen, and the unacknowledged confidence of those powerful men whose favor he neither possessed nor desired, to sweep away these formidable difficulties, and give to England in the hour of need the services of her greatest son.

For the remainder of the campaign of 1757, however, the energy and wisdom of Pitt were too late brought to the council, and the ill-conducted schemes of his predecessors bore, as has been shown, the bitter fruit of disaster and disgrace. But no sooner was he firmly established in office, and his plans put in execution, than the British cause began to revive in the Western hemisphere, and, although still checkered with defeat, glory and success rewarded his gigantic efforts. He at once determined to renew the expedition against Cape Breton, and, warned by previous failures, urged upon the king the necessity of removing both the naval and military officers who had hitherto conducted the operations. With that admirable perception which is one of the most useful faculties of superior minds, he readily discerned in others the qualities requisite for his purpose—his judgment ever unwarped and his keen vision unclouded by personal or political considerations. In Colonel Amherst he had discovered sound sense, steady courage, and an active genius; he therefore recalled him from the army in Germany, and, casting aside the hampering formalities of military rule, promoted him to the rank of major-general, and to the command of the troops destined for the attack of Louisburg.[110] At the same time, from the British navy's brilliant roll, the minister selected the Hon. Edward Boscawen as admiral of the fleet, and gave him also, till the arrival of General Amherst, the unusual commission of command over the land forces. With vigorous zeal the equipments were hurried on, and on the 19th of February a magnificent armament sailed from Portsmouth for the harbor of Halifax on the Acadian peninsula. The general was delayed by contrary winds, and did not reach Halifax till the 28th of May, where he met Boscawen's fleet coming out of the harbor; the admiral, impatient of delay, having put all the force in motion, with the exception of a corps 1600 strong left to guard the post. No less than 22 ships of the line and 15 frigates, with 120 smaller vessels, sailed under his flag; and 14 battalions of infantry, with artillery and engineers, in all 11,600, almost exclusively British regulars, were embarked to form the army of General Amherst. The troops were told off in three brigades of nearly equal strength, under the brigadier-generals Whitmore, Lawrence, and James Wolfe.[111]

At dawn on the 2d of June the armament arrived off Cape Breton, where the greatest part of the fleet came to anchor in the open roadstead of Gabarus Bay. Amherst entertained a strong hope to surprise the garrison of Louisburg, and with that view issued an order to forbid the slightest noise, or the exhibition of any light, on board the transports near the shore; he especially warned the troops to preserve a profound silence as they landed. But the elements rendered these judicious orders of no avail. In the morning a dense fog shrouded the rocky shore, and as the advancing day cleared away the curtains of the mist, a prodigious swell rolled in from the Atlantic, and broke in impassable surf upon the beach. Nevertheless, in the evening the general, with Lawrence and Wolfe, approached close to the dangerous shore, and reconnoitered the difficulties which nature and the enemy might oppose to their landing. They found that the French had formed a chain of posts for some distance across the country, and that they had also thrown up works and batteries at the points where a successful debarkation seemed most probable. The next morning the sea had not abated, and for six successive days the heavy roll of the ocean broke with undiminished violence upon the rugged shore. During this interval the enemy toiled day and night to strengthen their position, and lost no opportunity of opening fire with guns and mortars upon the ships.

On the 8th the sea subsided into calm, and the fog vanished from the shore. Before daybreak the troops were assembled in boats, formed in three divisions; at dawn Commodore Durell examined the coast, and declared that the landing was now practicable. When his report was received, seven of the smaller vessels at once opened fire, and in about a quarter of an hour the boats of the left division began to row in toward the shore: in them were embarked twelve companies of Grenadiers, 550 Light Infantry men, with the Highlanders and a body of Provincial Rangers: Brigadier-general Wolfe was their chief. The right and center brigades, under Whitmore and Lawrence, moved at the same time toward other parts of the shore, and three sloops were sent past the mouth of the harbor to distract the attention of the enemy.

The left division was the first to reach the beach, at a point a little eastward of Fresh-water Cove, and four miles from the town.[112] The French stood firm, and held their fire till the assailants were close in shore; then, as the boats rose on the dangerous surf, they poured in a rattling volley from every gun and musket that could be brought to bear. Many of the British troops were struck down, but not a shot was returned. Wolfe's flag-staff was shivered by a bar-shot, and many boats badly damaged; still, with ardent valor, the sailors forced their way through the surging waves, and in a very few minutes the whole division was ashore, and the enemy flying in disorder from all his intrenchments. The victors pressed on rapidly in pursuit, and, despite the rugged and difficult country, inflicted a heavy loss on the fugitives, and took seventy prisoners. At length the cannon of the ramparts of Louisburg checked their further advance. In the mean time the remaining British divisions had landed, but not without losing nearly 100 boats and many men from the increasing violence of the sea.

During the two following days the fury of the waves forbade all attempts to land the artillery and the necessary stores for the attack of the hostile stronghold; on the 11th, however, the weather began to clear, and some progress was made in the preparations. Hitherto the troops had suffered much from want of provisions and tents; now their situation was somewhat improved.

Louisburg is a noble harbor: within is ample shelter for the largest fleets England or France have ever sent from their shores. A rugged promontory, on which stood the town and somewhat dilapidated fortifications, protects it from the southwest wind; another far larger arm of the land is its shelter to the southeast. About midway across the entrance of this land-locked bay stands Goat Island, which at that time was defended by some works, with a formidable array of guns; a range of impassable rocks extends thence to the town. From an elevation to the northwest of the harbor, the grand battery showed a threatening front to those who might seek to force the entrance of the Sound. For the defense of this important position, M. de Drucour, the French chief, had at his disposal six line-of-battle ships; five frigates, three of which he sank, to impede the entrance of the harbor; 3000 regular troops and burgher militia, with 350 Canadians and Indians.

On the 12th the French withdrew all their outposts, and even destroyed the grand battery that commanded the entrance of the harbor, concentrating their whole power upon the defense of the town. Wolfe's active light troops soon gave intelligence of these movements, and the following day the brigadier pushed on his advance round the northern and eastern shores of the bay, till they gained the high lands opposite Goat Island with little opposition; there, as soon as the perversity of the weather would permit, he mounted some heavy artillery, but it was not till the 20th that he was enabled to open fire upon the ships and the land defenses. On the 25th the formidable French guns on Goat Island were silenced. Wolfe then left a detachment in his battery, and hastened round with his main force to a position close to the town, where he erected works, and from them assailed the ramparts and the shipping.

For many days the slow and monotonous operations of the siege continued, under great difficulties to the assailants, the marshy nature of the ground rendering the movement of artillery very tedious. The rain poured down in torrents, swamping the labors of the engineers; the surf still foamed furiously upon the shore, embarrassing the landing of the necessary material and impeding the communication with the fleet. On the night of the 9th of July, the progress of the besiegers was somewhat interrupted by a fierce and sudden sally; five companies of light troops, supported by 600 men, burst upon a small English work during the silence of the night, surprising and overwhelming the defenders. The young Earl of Dundonald, commanding the grenadiers of the 17th, who held the post, paid for this want of vigilance with his life; his lieutenant was wounded and taken, and his men struck down, captured, or dispersed. Major Murray, however, with the Grenadiers of the 22d and 28th, arrived ere long, and restored the fight. After a time the French again betook themselves to the shelter of their walls, having left twenty of their men dead upon the scene of strife, and eighty more wounded or prisoners in the hands of the besiegers.

Meanwhile the British generals pushed on the siege with unwearied zeal, and, at the same time, with prudent caution, secured their own camp by redoubts. Day and night the batteries[113] poured their ruinous shower upon the ramparts, the citadel, and shipping. On the 21st, three large vessels of war took fire in the harbor from a live shell, and the English gunners dealt death to those who sought to extinguish the flames. The next day the citadel was in a blaze; the next, the barracks were burned to the ground, and Wolfe's trenches were pushed up to the very defenses of the town. The French could no longer stand to their guns. On the night of the 25th, two young captains, La Forey and Balfour, with the boats of the fleet, rowed into the harbor under a furious fire, boarded the two remaining vessels of war, and thus destroyed the last serious obstacle to British triumph.[114] The following morning, M. de Drucour surrendered at discretion.

In those days, the taking of Louisburg was a mighty triumph for the British arms: a place of considerable strength, defended with skill and courage, fully manned, and aided by a powerful fleet, had been bravely won; 5600 men, soldiers, sailors, and marines were prisoners; eleven ships of war taken or destroyed; 240 pieces of ordnance, 15,000 stand of arms, and a great amount of ammunition, provisions, and military stores, had fallen into the hands of the victors, and eleven stand of colors were laid at the feet of the British sovereign: they were afterward solemnly deposited in St. Paul's Cathedral.

But while the wisdom and zeal of Amherst, and the daring skill of Wolfe,[115] excite the gratitude and admiration of their countrymen, it must not be forgotten that causes beyond the power and patriotism of man mainly influenced this great event. The brave admiral doubted the practicability of the first landing.[116] Amherst hesitated, and the chivalrous Wolfe himself, as he neared the awful surf, staggered in his resolution, and, purposing to defer the enterprise, waved his hat for the boats to retire. Three young subaltern officers, however, commanding the leading craft, pushed on ashore, having mistaken the signal for what their stout hearts desired—the order to advance; some of their men, as they sprung upon the beach, were dragged back by the receding surge and drowned, but the remainder climbed up the rugged rocks, and formed upon the summit. The brigadier then cheered on the rest of the division to the support of this gallant few, and thus the almost desperate landing was accomplished.

Nor should due record be omitted of that which enhances the glory of the conquerors—the merit of the conquered. To defend the whole line of coast with his garrison was impossible; for nearly eight miles, however, the energetic Drucour had thrown up a chain of works, and occupied salient points with troops; and when at length the besiegers effected a landing, he still left no means untried to uphold the honor of his flag. Hope of relief or succor there was none; beyond the waters of the bay the sea was white with the sails of the hostile fleet. Around him, on every side, the long red line of British infantry closed in from day to day. His light troops were swept from the neighboring woods; his sallies were interrupted or overwhelmed. Well-armed batteries were pushed up to the very ramparts; a murderous fire of musketry struck down his gunners at their work; three gaping breaches lay open to the assailants;[117] his best ships burned or taken; his officers and men worn with fatigue and watching; four fifths of his artillery disabled; then, and not till then, did the brave Frenchman give up the trust which he had nobly and faithfully held. To the honor of the garrison, not a man deserted his colors through all the dangers, privations, and hardships of the siege, with the exception of a few Germans who served as unwilling conscripts. This spirited defense was in so far successful that it occupied the bulk of the British force, while Abercromby was being crushed by the superior genius and power of Montcalm. By thus delaying for seven weeks the progress of the campaign, the season became too far advanced for further operations, and the final catastrophe of French American dominion was deferred for another year.[118]

On the 7th of August detachments were sent, under Major Dalling and Lord Rollo, to take possession of the other settlements in Cape Breton, and of the Isle de St. Jean, now Prince Edward's Island. This latter territory had long been an object of great importance to Canada; the fertility of the soil, the comparative mildness of the climate, and the situation commanding the navigation of the Great River, rendered it invaluable to the settlers of New France.

On the 15th the French prisoners were dispatched to Europe in transports. On the 28th, Admiral Sir Charles Hardy, with seven ships of the line and three frigates, conveying a force of some Artillery, and three battalions of Infantry, was sent round to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The object of this expedition was to destroy the French settlements at Miramichi, the Baye de Chaleurs, Gaspé, and as far up the banks of the Great River as the season might permit; then to disperse or carry away the inhabitants: by this it was hoped that the troublesome marauders on the English frontier might be chastised and kept in check, and that a portion of the enemy's strength might be diverted from Abercromby's front. The execution of this painful duty was committed to Brigadier-general Wolfe.

These stern orders were punctually obeyed, but as much humanity as was possible tempered the work of destruction. All the Acadian villages on the northeastern coast were laid in ruins: some hundreds of the inhabitants were borne away to captivity, and the rest driven from their blackened hearths and desolated farms to the grim refuge of the wilderness. Among the settlements devastated by this expedition was the flourishing fishing station of Mont Louis.[119] The intendant in charge of the place offered a ransom of 150,000 livres to save the stores and provisions his people's industry had created, but the relentless law of retribution took its course, and the hoarded magazines of corn, fish, and other supplies for their own use and for the market of Quebec, were totally destroyed. Colonel Monckton, with three other battalions, was sent on a similar errand to the Bay of Fundy and to the River St. John, and in like manner fulfilled his task.

It may, perhaps, be partial or unjust to single out one tale of woe from among the crowded records of this war's gigantic misery to hold up in the strong light of contrast with the glory of the recent victory. But we may not hear, without a blush of shame and sorrow, how the simple Acadian peasantry were made to pay the penalties of banishment and ruin for the love of France and for loyalty to their king, at a time when Pitt was the minister, Amherst the general, and Wolfe the lieutenant.

Having executed his orders, Wolfe repaired to Halifax and assumed the command of the troops in garrison. Admiral Boscawen and General Amherst came to a conclusion that for that season nothing more could be effected by them against the power of France. They therefore agreed, although their instructions did not extend to any part of the continent beyond Nova Scotia, that it would be advisable to detach a portion of the army to strengthen Abercromby, and assist him to repair his disaster, of which they were informed. Accordingly, Amherst sailed for Boston on the 30th of August with five battalions, arrived on the 13th of September, and the next day landed his troops. Despite the interested remonstrances of the local authorities, he soon pushed on through the difficult district of the Green Woods, by Kinderhook Mills, and through Albany to Lake George. Having there held counsel with the unfortunate Abercromby, and delivered over his seasonable re-enforcement, he returned to Boston, and finally to Halifax, where he had been instructed to await orders from the English government.

CHAPTER V.

From the brilliant successes on the island of Cape Breton, it is now necessary to turn to the painfully checkered course of events on the American continent, where the execution of Pitt's magnificent designs[121] was unhappily intrusted to very different men from the conquerors of Louisburg. The great minister's plan of operations had embraced the whole extent of French American dominions, from the embattled heights of Louisburg and Quebec, to the lone but luxuriant wilderness of the West. By the protracted defense of the loyal and skillful Drucour, the overwhelming forces of Amherst and Boscawen were delayed till the advancing season had rendered impossible, for that year, their descent upon the Valley of the St. Lawrence.

The next British expedition in order and in importance was directed against Ticonderoga and Crown Point. By the possession of these strongholds the French had long been enabled to harass the English frontier almost with impunity, and to command the navigation of the extensive lakes which formed the high road to the heart of Canada.

The third army was destined to march upon Fort du Quesne, of disastrous memory, and to establish the British power in the Valley of the Ohio, for the possession of which the sanguinary war had commenced, and the spot where blood had first been shed. By the success of this object, all communication between the French of Canada and Louisiana would be effectually cut off, and the countries watered by the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi left at the mercy of England's naval power.

The same express that bore the tidings of Lord Loudon's recall, conveyed a circular letter from Mr. Pitt to the colonial governors, declaring the determination of the British cabinet to repair, at any cost, the losses and disasters of the last campaign.[122] To encourage the vigorous co-operation of the colonists, they were informed that his majesty would recommend Parliament to grant the several provinces such compensation for the expenses which they might incur as their efforts should appear to justly merit, and that arms, ammunition, tents, provisions, and boats would be furnished by the crown. At the same time, the colonial governors were required to raise as numerous levies of Provincial militia as their districts would supply, to pay and clothe them, and appoint their officers. Inspired by the energy of the great minister, and excited to a generous emulation with the awakened spirit of the parent state, the American colonies came nobly forward in the common cause, and used their utmost efforts to strengthen, by their co-operation, the promised armament from England. Massachusetts raised 7000 men, Connecticut 5000, and the thinly-peopled State of New Hampshire 900; the numbers of the Rhode Island, New York, and New Jersey levies have not been specified. These troops were ordered to take the field early in May, but the muster proceeded slowly and irregularly, insomuch that no movements were made toward the scenes of action until the middle of June, 1757.

The largest European army ever yet seen on the American continent was assembled at Albany and in the neighborhood, under the command of Abercromby, the general-in-chief since Lord Loudon's recall. A detachment of the Royal Artillery, and seven strong battalions of the line, amounting altogether to 6350 regulars, with 9000 of the Provincial militia, composed this formidable force. Their object was the destruction of Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Toward the end of June they broke up from Albany, and encamped upon the ground where the melancholy ruins of Fort William Henry still remained. On the 5th of July, the cannon, ammunition, and stores arrived, and on that day the army embarked on the waters of Lake George: 1035 boats conveyed this powerful expedition, and a number of rafts, armed with artillery, accompanied them, to overcome any opposition that might be offered to the landing.

The armament continued its progress steadily through the day. When evening fell, Abercromby gave the signal to lie to at a place called Sabbath Point, on the shores of the lake: there the troops landed for a time, and lighted large fires to distract the attention of the enemy. In the dead of night they were suddenly re-embarked, and hurried on to the Narrows, where the waters contract into the stream that communicates with Wood Creek:[123] there they arrived at five o'clock the following morning. An advanced guard of 2000 men was thrown ashore at first dawn under the gallant Bradstreet, and these having encountered no enemy, the remainder of the army was rapidly landed. As the troops disembarked they were formed into four columns, some Light Infantry were sent on to scour the line of march, and the advance was sounded. They soon reached a small encampment which had been occupied by a detachment of the regiment of Guienne, but found it abandoned, the ammunition and provisions destroyed, the camp itself in flames.

Ticonderoga,[124] the first object of the British attack, was a fort of some strength, situated on the most salient point of the peninsula between Lakes George and Champlain. To the eastward the rugged shore afforded sufficient protection; to the west and north regular lines of defense had been erected by the French engineers, and an extensive swamp, spreading over nearly all the landward face, embarrassed the approaches of an enemy. The neighboring country was a dense and tangled forest.

Early in the summer of this year, the Marquis de Vaudreuil, governor of Canada, had received intelligence of Abercromby's extensive preparations to gain the positions of Ticonderoga and Crown Point,[125] and with them the command of the important chain of waters leading to the River St. Lawrence and the heart of the French possessions. The governor saw the necessity of defeating this enterprise at any cost. He called to his aid Montcalm, already famous by deserved success, and placed at his disposal all the troops that could be spared from every part of the colony: on the 20th of June they reached the position, they were directed to defend.

On the first of July Montcalm sent an advance of three regiments, under M. de Bourlemaque, along the northwestern shores of Lake George; he himself followed with three regiments, and the second battalion of Berry to a place called the Falls, at the head of the lake, where he encamped. The following day, two active and intelligent officers, Captains de Bernard and Duprât, with some light troops, were pushed on over the mountains toward the lower end of the lake where Abercromby's army lay. When the boats of the English force covered the waters on the morning of the 5th of July, these French detachments signalized to their general that the time for action was come. M. de Bourlemaque immediately dispatched 300 men, under the command of Captain de Trépézé, to watch the hostile armament from the shore, and, if possible, to oppose its landing. The next day, however, when the British disembarked, they were in such force as to render opposition hopeless; this corps of observation therefore fell back upon M. de Bourlemaque, and he too retired toward the main body, under the command of Montcalm.

So difficult and tangled were the woods on their retreat, that, in spite of their knowledge of the country, one French column of 500 men lost their way, fell into confusion, and in their bewilderment almost retraced their steps. The English pressed rapidly on in pursuit, and, from the ignorance of the guides, their divisions also became confounded, and mixed up together in alarming disorder. The officers vigorously exerted themselves to restore the broken ranks, but, in the midst of their efforts, the right center column, led by the good and gallant Lord Howe, was suddenly fronted by the body of the enemy who had gone astray in the forest. They joined in bitter strife: almost hand to hand, in the swamps, or from tree to tree on the hill side, the stout Frenchmen held their own against the British troops, and, nothing daunted by the unexpected danger, disdained to yield.[126] At the first shock many of Howe's Light Infantry went down; he himself, hurrying to the front, was struck by a musket ball in the breast, and instantly expired.[127] His men, infuriated by the loss of their beloved leader,[128] swarmed on through the thick woods, and finally overpowered or destroyed the enemy; not, however, till four fifths of the French were wounded, slain, or taken, and some of the conquerors killed and disabled, did they yield their ground.

That night the victors occupied the field of battle; to this their advantage was confined, for the disorganization of the troops had frightfully increased during the unpropitious march, in the hard-fought skirmish, and by the loss of their best and most trusted chief. The vigor and spirit of Abercromby's army seemed to pass away with Lord Howe. This gallant man, from the time he had landed in America, had wisely instructed his regiment for the peculiar service of that difficult country: no useless incumbrance of baggage was allowed; he himself set the example, and encountered privation and fatigue in the same chivalrous spirit with which he faced the foe. Graceful and kind in his manners, and considerate to the humblest under his charge, his officers and soldiers heartily obeyed the chief because they loved the man. At the fatal moment when he was lost to England, her glory and welfare most needed his aid. He lived long enough for his own honor, but not for that of his country.

The price of this slight advantage was ruinous to the English army. From the unhappy moment when Lord Howe was slain, the general lost all resolution, and, as a natural consequence, the troops lost all confidence. Order and discipline were no longer observed, and the after-operations can only be attributed to infatuation. At dawn on the day subsequent to the combat, Abercromby actually marched his forces back to the place where they had disembarked the day before, through the dreary and almost impassable wilderness, traversed with the utmost difficulty but a few hours before. However, on the return of the army to the landing place, a detachment was sent to gain an important post held by the French at some saw-mills, two miles from Ticonderoga. Colonel Bradstreet was selected for this duty; with him were sent the 44th regiment, six companies of the 60th, some Rangers, and a number of boatmen; among them were those who had forced the passage of the Onondaga River: altogether nearly 7000 men.

The point to be assailed was approachable only by one narrow bridge; this the French destroyed, and, not caring to encounter a very superior force, fell back toward their stronghold. Bradstreet was not to be deterred by difficulties. Accustomed to the necessity of finding resources, the stream was soon spanned by a temporary arch. With unwearied zeal he urged on the exertions of his men, and that very night, not only his own command, but the whole British army, was once more advanced across the stream, and established in an advantageous position near Ticonderoga.

At earliest light, Colonel Clark, chief engineer, and several officers of rank, reconnoitered the enemy's position to the best of their power. They could discover but little: a dense forest and a deep morass lay between them and Ticonderoga. They observed, indeed, a breast-work, with some felled trees in front, rising out of the only accessible part of the dreary swamp, but as to its nature, strength, and disposition for defense, their military skill and experience could afford them no light. Their report included a variety of opinions: some treated the defenses as slight and inconsiderable, and presenting only a deceptive show of strength; others, and they far better qualified to judge, acknowledged their formidable strength. Abercromby unfortunately adopted the former opinion, and rashly resolved to attack without waiting the essential aid of his artillery: his penalty was severe.

Prisoners informed the English chief that his enemies had assembled eight battalions, with some Canadians and Indians, and that they mustered altogether a force of 6000 men. They were encamped at a place called Carillon, in front of the fort, and busily occupied in strengthening their position, that they might make good their defense till the arrival of M. de Levi, who hastened to their aid, with 3000 men, from the banks of the Mohawk River, where he had been making an incursion against the British Indian allies. General Abercromby was determined by this information, which, however, subsequently proved much exaggerated. M. de Levi's force had in fact already arrived, and was only 800 strong, and the French regular troops in the position barely reached 3000 men, although battalions of the splendid, but then much reduced regiments of La Reine, La Sarre, Bearn, Guienne, Berry, Languedoc, and Royal Roussillon were present in their camp.

On the morning of the 8th of July the French garrison was called to arms, and marched into the threatened intrenchments. The regiments of Bearn, La Reine, and Guienne, under M. de Levi, occupied the right of the defenses; those of La Sarre, Languedoc, and two strong detachments under M. de Bourlemaque, the left. In the center Montcalm held under his own command the regiments of Berry, Royal Roussillon, and the light troops. The colonial militia and Canadian irregulars, with the Indians, were posted behind some field-works in the plain on the flanks of the main defense, supported by a small reserve. The French intrenchment presented in front, as was too late discovered, an almost impassable barrier: a solid earthen breast-work of eight feet in height protected the defenders from the hostile shot, and the gradual slope from its summit was covered for nearly 100 yards with abattis of felled trees laid close together, the branches sharpened and turned toward the foe. However, on either flank this grim position was open; no obstacle presented itself that could have stopped the stride of an English grenadier. Of this the hapless Abercromby was ignorant or unobservant. The French chief knew it well, and gave orders that, in case of the assailants appearing on either of these weak points, his troops should abandon the field and retreat to their boats as they best might.

With the rashness that bears no relation to courage, the British general determined to throw the flower of his force upon the very center of the enemy's strength. While the army was forming for the ill-starred attack, Sir William Johnson arrived with 440 Indians, who were at once pushed forward into the woods to feel the way and occupy the enemy. The American Rangers formed the left of Abercromby's advance, Bradstreet's boatmen were in the center, and on the right some companies of Light Infantry. Behind these, a line of the Massachusetts militia extended its ranks on either side toward Lake Champlain and Lake George. Next were ranged the British battalions of the line, with the 42d, Murray's Highlanders,[129] and the 55th, the corps trained by Lord Howe, in reserve: on them fell the brunt of this desolating day. A numerous mass of the Connecticut and New Jersey Provincial regiments formed the rear guard. Strict orders were issued that no man should fire a shot till he had surmounted the breast-work; then the arrangements were complete. During these formations and through the forenoon, some French detachments came forward and skirmished with the advance, but they were always overpowered with ease, and driven hurriedly back to shelter.

At one o'clock, when the mid-day sun poured down its burning rays upon the scene of strife, Abercromby gave the fatal order to attack. As his advance felt the fire, the light troops and the militia were moved aside, and the regular battalions called to the front. The Grenadier companies of the line led the way, Murray's Highlanders followed close behind. With quick but steady step, these intrepid men pressed on through the heavy swamp and tangled underwood, their ranks now broken by the uneven ground, now shattered by the deliberate fire of the French: impeded, though not confused, they passed the open ground, and, without one faltering pause or random shot, the thinned but unshaken column dashed against the abattis.

Then began a cruel and hopeless slaughter. With fiery valor the British Grenadiers forced themselves through the almost impenetrable fence; but still new obstacles appeared; and while, writhing among the pointed branches, they threatened the inaccessible enemy in impotent fury, the cool fire of the French from behind the breast-work smote them one by one. The Highlanders, who should have remained in reserve, were not to be restrained, and rushed to the front; they were apparently somewhat more successful; active, impetuous, lightly clad and armed, they won their way through the felled trees, and died upon the very parapet;[130] ere long, half of these gallant men[131] and nearly all their officers were slain or desperately wounded. Then fresh troops pressed on to the deadly strife, rivaling the courage and sharing the fate of those who had led the way. For nearly four hours, like the succeeding waves of an ebb tide, they attacked again and again, each time losing somewhat of their vantage-ground, now fiercely rushing on, unflinchingly enduring the murderous fire, then sullenly falling back to re-form their broken ranks for a fresh effort. It was vain at last as it was at first: the physical difficulties were impassable, and upon that rude barrier—which the simplest maneuver would have avoided, or one hour of well-plied artillery swept away[132]—the flower of British chivalry was crushed and broken. The troops that strove with this noble constancy were surely worthy of a better fate than that of sacrificing their lives and honor to the blind presumption of such a general.

An accident at length arrested this melancholy carnage. One of the British columns, in a hurried advance, lost their way, and became bewildered in the neighboring forest. When, after a time, they emerged upon the open country, a heavy fire was perceived close in front, as they thought, from the French intrenchments. With unhappy promptitude, they poured a deadly volley upon the supposed enemy; but when a breeze from the lake lifted the curtain of the smoke from the bloody scene, they saw that their shot had fallen with fatal precision among the red coats of their countrymen. Then indeed hesitation, confusion, and panic arose in the English ranks; their desperate courage had proved vain; a frightful loss had fallen upon their best and bravest; most of their officers were struck down; the bewildered general gave them no orders, sent them no aid; their strength was exhausted by repeated efforts under the fiery sun; and still, from behind the inaccessible breast-work, the French, steady and almost unharmed, poured a rolling fire upon their defenseless masses. The painful tale must now be told: the English Infantry turned and fled. The disorder in a few minutes became irretrievable; those who had been foremost in the fierce assault were soon the first in the disgraceful flight. Highlanders and Provincials, Rangers and Grenadiers, scarce looked behind them in their terror, nor saw that no man pursued. In this hour of greatest need, General Abercromby remained at the saw-mills, nearly two miles from the field of battle.[133]

When the fugitives found that the French did not venture to press upon their rear, they in some measure rallied upon a few still unbroken battalions that were posted around the position occupied by the general. Scarcely, however, had any thing of confidence been restored, when an unaccountable command[134] from Abercromby, to retreat to the landing-place, renewed the panic. The soldiers instantly concluded that they were to embark with every speed to escape the pursuit of the victorious enemy, and, breaking from all order and control, crowded toward the boats. Happily, the brave Bradstreet still held together a small force, like himself, unshaken by this groundless terror: with prompt decision, he threw himself before the landing place, and would not suffer a man to embark. To this gallant officer may be attributed the preservation of Abercromby's army: had the disordered masses been allowed to crowd into the boats, thousands must have perished in the waters of the lake. By this wise and spirited step, regularity was in a little time again restored, and the troops held their ground for the night.

The loss remains to be recorded: 1950 of the English army was slain, wounded, and missing; of these, 1642 were regular troops, with a large proportion of officers. The French had nearly 390 killed and disabled; but, as their heads only were exposed above the breast-work, few of those who were hit recovered. It is unnecessary to speak of their admirable conduct and courage, or of the merit of their chief: their highest praise is recorded with the deeds of those they conquered.[135]

The sad story of Ticonderoga is now seldom told and almost forgotten; the disasters or triumphs of that year's campaign have left upon its scene no traces more permanent than those of the cloud and sunshine of an April day. In the eventual century since passed, our country has emerged from the direst strife that ever shook the world, triumphant by land and sea, great in power and in wisdom, proudest among the nations of the earth, still humblest in reverence of Heaven. The memory of this remote disaster can not now, even for a moment, dim the light of "England's matchless glory." But such records give a lesson that may not be forgotten. Men bearing the same name have each at different periods played important parts in British military history; though both have long since passed away, their examples are still before us.[136] The British soldier, in time of danger, will not hesitate to elect between the fate of Abercromby who survived the shameful rout of Ticonderoga, and that of the stout Sir Ralph who fell upon the Egyptian plains.[137]

On the 9th the troops were ordered to embark and retire to Fort William Henry, which place they reached that night. Even when there the general did not consider his army safe till he had strengthened the defenses. Still diffident, he sent the artillery and ammunition on to Albany, and afterward even to New York. By this defensive attitude he neutralized the advantage which his greatly superior strength gave him over the enemy, and thus for another year was deferred the acquisition of the "Gates of Canada"—the Lakes George and Champlain, and the Richelieu River.

When Abercromby was fully secured in his old position, and discipline in a measure re-established in the army, he hearkened to the earnest solicitations of the indefatigable Bradstreet, that a force might be sent to revenge on Fort Frontenac the ruin of Oswego, and thus to gain the command of Lake Ontario. The carrying out of this plan was worthily committed to him who had designed it, and a detachment of Artillery, and two companies of regulars, with 2800 Provincial militia and boatmen, were allotted for the task. The pusillanimous destruction of the navigation of Wood Creek by General Webb in 1756 proved a most vexatious and harassing difficulty in this expedition. But the resolution and energy of Bradstreet overcame every obstacle; with immense labor and hardship, his men removed the logs from the river, and at length rendered it navigable. On the 13th of August the artillery and stores were embarked, and the same day the army moved by land to the Oneida Lake; thence, by the stream of the Onondaga, past the scene of their leader's brilliant victory, to the waters of Lake Ontario, where they again embarked.

On the 25th, Bradstreet landed without opposition within a mile of Fort Frontenac; he found this famed position[138] weakly fortified and worse garrisoned, through the unaccountable negligence of the Marquis de Vaudreuil. After the victory at Ticonderoga, the French governor had dispatched the Chevalier de Longueuil, with immense presents, to meet the chiefs of the Iroquois at Oswego, with a view of gaining their important alliance, and of inducing them to abandon all relations with the English, by representing their cause as ruined through Abercromby's defeat. He in some measure succeeded in his mission; the Indian deputies assured him of their attachment, but said that, as all their brethren had not been consulted, they must communicate with them before giving a decisive answer. When the conference ended, the chevalier returned to Montreal by Fort Frontenac, where he stopped for a day, and informed M. de Noyan, the commandant, of the danger that threatened his position from Bradstreet's advance. Every thing was speedily done to strengthen the fort which the limited means at hand permitted; but De Noyan, well aware that without aid resistance would be vain, urged upon De Longueuil to send him re-enforcements as soon as he could reach the governor. This the chevalier neglected, and Fort Frontenac and its worthy commandant were left to their fate. When too late indeed, the Marquis de Vaudreuil dispatched M. de Plessis Fabiot, with 1500 Canadian militia, toward Lake Ontario, but by the time they reached La Chine intelligence arrived that caused the greater part of the force to return to whence they came.

Bradstreet at first threw up his works at 500 yards from the fort. Finding that the distance was too great, and the fire of the enemy little to be feared, he pushed closer on, and gained possession of an old intrenchment near the defenses, whence he opened fire with vigor and effect. A little after seven o'clock on the morning of the 27th, the French surrendered, being without hope of succor, and of themselves alone utterly incapable of a successful defense. The garrison, consisting of only 120 regular soldiers and forty Indians, became prisoners of war; and sixty pieces of cannon, sixteen mortars, an immense supply of provisions, stores, and ammunition, with all the shipping on the lake, fell into the hands of the victors. Among the prizes were several vessels richly laden with furs, to the value, it is said, of 70,000 louis d'ors. The attacking army had not to lament the loss of a single soldier.[139]

The fort thus easily won was a quadrangle, each face about 100 yards in length; thirty pieces of cannon were mounted upon the walls, and the rest of the artillery was in reserve, but the garrison was altogether insufficient for the defense of the works. The very large amount of stores, ammunition, and provision which were thus left exposed were of vital importance to the supply of the distant Western forts, and the detachments on the Ohio, at Fort du Quesne and elsewhere. In obedience to an unaccountable order of General Abercromby, Bradstreet had no choice but to burn and destroy the artillery, provisions, and stores of every kind, and even the shipping, except two vessels which were retained to convey the valuable peltries to the southern shores of the lake. The fort was also ruined and abandoned; however, M. du Plessis Fabiot sent on a detachment from La Chine, with M. de Pont le Roy, the engineer, who speedily restored it. At the same time, another body of troops was sent to strengthen the distant post of Niagara. In the mean while, Bradstreet re-embarked his force and returned to the British colonies by the same route as he had advanced.[140]

At this time Fort Frontenac was the general rendezvous of all the Northern and Western Indian nations, the center of trade not only with the French, but also among themselves. Thither they repaired from all directions, even from the distance of 1000 miles, bearing with them their rich peltries, with immense labor, to exchange for European goods. The French traders had learned the art of conciliating these children of the forest, and among them attachment and esteem overcame even the force of interest. It was notorious that the British merchants at Albany could supply far better and cheaper articles, and actually forwarded large stores of all kinds to furnish the warehouses of their Canadian rivals; yet the savages annually passed by this favorable market, and bore the spoils of the chase to the French settlement on the distant shores of Lake Ontario.

These annual meetings of the Red Men, however, had another object besides that of commerce; the events of the preceding year were related and canvassed, and council held upon the conduct of the future. Here feuds were reconciled by the good offices of neutral tribes, old alliances were strengthened, and new ones arranged. In these assemblies, the actual presence of the French gave them an important influence over the deliberations, and colored, to a considerable extent, the policy of the Indian nations. On every account, therefore, the destruction of Fort Frontenac was a great gain to the British cause.

It now remained for the Marquis de Vaudreuil to announce the loss of Fort Frontenac to the court of France, and to endeavor to make it appear that he was free from blame in the unfortunate transaction. He determined at all hazards to conceal the fact that his neglecting to forward the required re-enforcements was the direct cause of the disaster. The only mode of escape which suggested itself to his mean mind was to throw the blame upon another; the unhappy commandant, De Noyan, was selected as the victim of his falsehood. To prevent that officer from forwarding to France his own statement of the case, the treacherous governor himself undertook to represent the affair in a light that could not fail to clear De Noyan of all responsibility. The snare was successful; the brave commandant, guileless himself, doubted not the honor of his chief, and blindly trusted him. De Vaudreuil, unmindful alike of truth and justice, threw the whole weight of blame upon his subordinate, and ascribed without scruple the loss of the fort to the pusillanimity of the defenders. De Noyan, when too late, found that he had been cruelly deceived; he appealed in vain, again and again, to the court for redress, and at length retired from the service in which he had met only with treachery and injustice.

While Abercromby's intrenchments afforded him complete security, the presence of his great but now useless army gave no protection to the English frontier. The ever active and vigilant Montcalm lost no opportunity of harassing outposts, assailing remote settlements, and intercepting convoys. On the 17th of July, a party of twenty Provincials, with three officers, was destroyed by the French light troops in the neighborhood of Half-way Brook, and ten days afterward, near the same place, 116 wagoners, with their escort of sixteen Rangers, were surprised and horribly massacred, in spite of the late severe warning. At length the general was aroused to exertion: he selected Major Rogers, already famous in partisan warfare, and, with a force of 700 men, sent him to seek the marauders; they, however, effected their escape unharmed. When the British were returning from this vain pursuit, a dispatch arrived from head-quarters, directing them to scour the country to the south and east of Lake Champlain, and retire by the route of Fort Edward.

According to these orders, Rogers pursued his difficult march, without, however, much success in distressing the enemy, as, from the superior information furnished to the French by the Indians, they always managed to avoid the unequal combat. On the 8th of August, however, they assembled a force of about 500 men, and, choosing a favorable situation, in some measure surprised the British detachment, despite the unsleeping caution of its able chief. Rogers's strength had been by this time, through hardship, desertion, and other causes, reduced almost to a level with that of his present opponents, and it was not without extreme difficulty that he succeeded in holding his ground. In the first onset a major and two lieutenants fell into the hands of the enemy, and several of his advance guard were slain. However, under his brave and skillful conduct, the British soon, in turn, won the advantage, and, after a sharp and sanguinary combat of an hour's duration, the assailants abandoned the field, leaving no less than 190 of their men killed and wounded. Although the victors lost only forty of their number, fatigue, and the cautions observed by the enemy during the retreat forbade pursuit. Rogers therefore continued his march homeward, and arrived at head-quarters without any thing further worthy of record having occurred.

Brigadier-general Stanwix had been detached, with a considerable force of Provincial troops, to erect a fort in a favorable position on the important carrying place between Wood Creek, at the Oneida Lake, and the Mohawk River, with a view to encourage and protect the friendly Indians in those districts from the enmity of the French and their allies. He performed this valuable but unostentatious service with ability and success; the works which he there established and garrisoned still bear his name.[141]

We must now return to the third expedition of the campaign against Fort du Quesne, led by General Forbes. Although this chief had put his army in motion before Abercromby marched upon the Northern Lakes, he had not been able to get his last division out of Philadelphia till the 30th of June: 350 of the 60th, or Royal American regiment, 1200 of the 77th, Montgomery's Highlanders,[142] and upward of 5000 Provincials, composed his force.

The march over the Alleganies was long and difficult; the defiles, forests, swamps, and mountains were in themselves formidable obstacles, had there even been no hostile force in front. But the judicious arrangements of the general overcame alike the impediments and the perils of the advance, and some dangerous attacks of the Indians were repelled with vigorous alacrity. When the army reached Raystown,[143] a place about 90 miles from Fort du Quesne, Forbes halted his main body, and detached Lieutenant-colonel Bouquet, with 2000 men, to take post in advance of Loyal Hanning, while he constructed a new road, being determined not to avail himself of the route used by Braddock.

Bouquet was unfortunately fired with ambition to reduce the hostile stronghold before the arrival of his chief, and accordingly he detached Major Grant and 800 Highlanders to reconnoiter the works of Fort du Quesne. The major, probably with a similar ambition to that of his chief, endeavored to induce the French to give battle, and drew up his men on a neighboring height, beating a march as a challenge. The combat was accepted; the garrison sallied out, and, after a very severe action, routed the Highlanders with loss, and took 300 prisoners, including the commander. The broken remnant of Grant's force fell back in great disorder upon their comrades at Loyal Hanning.[144]

Cautioned, but not dispirited, by this untoward occurrence, Forbes advanced with his whole army as rapidly as the rugged country and unfavorable weather would permit, although so debilitated from illness that he was obliged to be borne on a litter. Several parties of French and Indians endeavored to impede his march, but were always repulsed; once, however, in a night attack, some loss and confusion were occasioned by the Highlanders and the Virginian Provincials firing upon each other through mistake. The French were not sufficiently elated by their victory over Grant to venture any serious opposition to Forbes's advance, and the loss of Fort Frontenac, from whence they had been expecting a supply of provisions and warlike stores, rendered successful resistance hopeless: M. de Lignières, their leader, therefore dismantled and abandoned the celebrated fort, and dropped down the stream of the Ohio to the friendly settlements on the Mississippi. The following day, the 25th of November, the British took possession of the deserted stronghold, and at once proceeded to put it in repair. Under the new owners, Pittsburg[145] was substituted for the former name of disastrous memory—Fort du Quesne.[146]

This advantage was of considerable importance to the British; the respect for their power among the Indians, which recent disasters in that country had much shaken, was fully restored, and most of the Western native tribes sent to offer aid, or, at least, neutrality. Brigadier-general Forbes lived but a brief space to enjoy the credit gained by this success; his naturally weak constitution was broken by the hardships of the expedition, and he died soon afterward at Philadelphia, in honor, and regretted by all who knew him.

With this expedition concluded the campaign of the year 1758. Although its events were checkered with disaster and disgrace, the general result was eminently favorable to England, and honorable to the illustrious minister who then directed her councils. The reduction of Louisburg and its dependencies would have been of itself sufficient to reward the sacrifices so freely made by her patriotic people. Now in possession of a magnificent harbor—the key of the River St. Lawrence, it would be an easy task to intercept any succor which France might endeavor to send to prop her tottering sway in Canada. The reduction of the Forts Frontenac and du Quesne had paralyzed the enemy's power in the West, and given to England all the territory for the possession of which the war had arisen. Abercromby's defeat had been solely a negative event; his overwhelming force still hung like a thunder-cloud upon the shores of the lakes, and Montcalm well knew that he owed his brilliant victory to the incapacity of the British general, not to the want of military virtue in the British troops. The men—whose desperate valor had been wasted against the impassable barrier at Carillon—burning with ardor to avenge their defeat under an abler chief, were still straining, like bloodhounds on a leash, by the Canadian frontier.

With the full accord of the British king and people, the great minister distributed honor and punishment to the principal actors in the important events of the past campaign. General Abercromby was superseded in his command,[147] and Amherst, the conqueror of Louisburg, appointed chief of the American armies in his place. Immediately on receiving this commission, the new general embarked at Halifax for Boston, and thence proceeded to New York, where he arrived on the 12th of December, and assumed the command of the forces. On the 24th of January following, the unhappy Abercromby sailed for England in the Remmington man-of-war. Brigadier-general Wolfe accompanied him, in consequence of permission granted in his original order of service to return when the expedition had succeeded. Colonel Monckton was left in command at Nova Scotia.

CHAPTER VI.

It will now be advisable to consider the state of the two great rival races on the North American continent, before entering upon the relation of the eventful campaign which was but the crisis of a surely approaching fate. Although the decisive blow that forever crushed the power of France was doubtless dealt by the immortal Wolfe upon the Plains of Abraham, the slow but certain conquest of Canada had progressed for many a previous year; with the wisdom and rectitude of the counselor, with the ax and plow of the settler, with the thrift and adventure of the merchant, with the sober industry of the mechanic, and the daring hardihood of the fisherman, was the glorious battle won. Against weapons such as these the chivalry of Montcalm and of his splendid veteran regiments vainly strove. To them victory brought glory without gain, inaction danger, and disaster ruin. Despite their courage, activity, and skill, the rude but vigorous British population, like surging waves, gained rapidly on every side, and at length burst the opposing barriers of military organization, and poured in a broad flood over the dreary level of an oppressed and spiritless land.

In the year 1759, the population of Canada had only reached to 60,000 souls, and it was found to have decreased during the last twenty years of war and want; of these, 6700 dwelt under the protection of the ramparts of Quebec, 4000 at Montreal, and 1500 at the little town of Three Rivers. The greater part of the remainder led a rural life on the fertile banks of the St. Lawrence and its tributaries, while a few wandered with gun and rod among Indian tribes scarcely more savage than themselves, over the prairies, and on the shores of the great lakes and rivers of the West. The settlements on both shores below Quebec were then almost as advanced as now: small white houses, dainty in the distance, stretched in rows for many miles along the level banks, or dotted the hill side in picturesque irregularity. Here and there, neat wooden churches, of a peculiarly quaint architecture, stood the centers of hamlets and knots of farms. In their neighborhood this encumbering forest was usually cleared away with careful industry, and each fertile nook and valley, and the borders of each stream, were rich with waving corn. Through these lower settlements a sort of rude track extended for many miles by the water side. On the large and beautiful island of Orleans many thousand acres of corn and pulse were sown, the farms carefully separated by wooden paling, and intersected with tolerable roads.

Between Quebec and Montreal, the banks of the Great River were hardly in so advanced a state as those toward the sea; the churches were fewer and more distant, the houses ruder and more scattered. There were many miles, indeed, where no traces of human industry greeted the traveler's eye. The shores of the great lakes, or, rather, expansions of the stream, were dreary swamps and thickets, and the slopes of the distant hills still bore the primeval forest. On the sandy flats of Three Rivers, in a scattered village, dwelt a population more numerous than that of the present day; a small surrounding district was cleared and cultivated, but the main occupation and support of the inhabitants was the fur trade with the Indians, who resorted thither from the unknown north by the waters of the broad streams here uniting with the St. Lawrence.

The rich and fertile island of Montreal was already generally cleared, and extensively but thinly peopled. The city, at times called Ville Marie in old maps, ranged somewhat irregularly for more than a mile along the river side, and was even then remarkable for the superiority of its public buildings over those of its colonial neighbors.

The Fathers of the Sulpician Order, by virtue of a grant in the year 1663, were proprietors of the whole of this rich district. They had established three courts of justice in the city, and erected a stately church of cut stone at a great expense. The Knights Hospitallers also possessed a very handsome building. A large, solid rampart of heavy beams, with eleven separate redoubts, protected the landward face of Montreal, and two platform batteries commanded the streets from end to end.

Here was the great dépôt of the northwestern fur trade, and here, also, the best market for the plentiful crops of the adjoining island, of the prairie, and of the Richelieu district.

In the month of June the savages came hither in canoes from places even at 500 miles' distance, to exchange their peltries for guns, ammunition, clothes, weapons, and utensils of iron and brass. The meeting or fair lasted for nearly three months, and during that time the town presented a strange and sometimes fearful spectacle; motley groups of fierce and hostile Indians occupied the streets, now engaged in bloody strife, again sunk in brutal intoxication. The French used every effort to prevent the sale of ardent spirits, but in vain, although sentinels were posted night and day to forbid the supply of the maddening liquor, and to preserve something of order in the wild gathering: all precautions proved ineffectual, and the drunkard frequently became also a murderer. At one time the little town of Chambly rivaled Montreal in the gainful but dangerous traffic; however, in 1759, there only remained a fort to prevent the English from enjoying the doubtful advantage of this trade. At Sorel, the entrance of the Richelieu River, an agricultural village had also arisen, rather beyond the neighboring settlements in extent and population.

Southwest of Montreal there was no town of any consideration. Near where the modern Kingston stands, a few poor hamlets were indeed grouped round Fort Frontenac, but on the shores of the sheltered Bay of Toronto, where 20,000 British subjects now ply their prosperous industry, myriads of wild fowl then found undisturbed refuge from the stormy waters of the lake. At Niagara there was a small village round the fort; there were trading posts at Detroit, Michillimackinac, and elsewhere; but the splendid tract of country lying between the northern shores of Erie and Ontario was almost unknown, save to the wandering Indian.

At this period, the first in importance, as well as population, among the settlements of New France, unquestionably was Quebec, the seat of government and of the supreme tribunals of justice. From its lofty headland the successors of the wise Champlain looked down upon the subject stream of the St. Lawrence, and held the great highway of Canada as if by a gate. No doubtful or hostile vessel could elude their vigilance; more than one powerful fleet had already recoiled shamed and crippled from before their embattled city. Here were deposited the public records, with most of the arms, ammunition, and resources of the colony; here, too, the principal establishments of religion, law, and learning were first founded and best sustained. The citizens and neighboring peasantry were less lowered by Indian intercourse than their other countrymen, and among them the refreshing immigration from the fatherland produced its most invigorating effect.

On the summit of the rocky height, a number of large and somewhat imposing public buildings, grouped irregularly together, with the well-built private dwellings of the wealthier inhabitants, formed the upper town. The lofty spires of no less than nine large ecclesiastical edifices arose within this comparatively limited space.

There were the bishop's palace, the courts of judicature, and the house of the Knights Hospitallers, the latter built of stone, extensive, handsome, and adorned with two stately pavilions. There, also, in a commanding situation, stood the Jesuits' college and their church, which was almost magnificent in the interior decorations. The governor's palace, however, erected in 1639, was the proudest ornament of the colonial capital.

Southwest of the Upper Town, on the crest of the headland, was the citadel, a large, imperfectly quadrangular fort, with flanking defenses at each corner, only protected, however, by a wall on the inner side. Further on, a large work of great design, but not yet finished, crowned the height of Cape Diamond:[150] from the northern angle of this work, an irregular line of bastioned defenses ran across the whole promontory to the River St. Charles. Some rude and imperfect field-works, with redoubts, strengthened the front toward the Plains of Abraham.

The Lower Town covered the beach of the Great River under the cliffs of the promontory: the dwellings, stores, and offices of the merchants, many of them handsome and solid, filled up this narrow space. The only edifice of note, however, was the church of Nôtre Dame de Victoire, built to commemorate Phipps's defeat in 1690. The defense of this part of the city was a large platform battery on the most salient point of the shore, placed scarcely above the level of the waters. The access from the Lower to the Upper Town was steep, narrow, and difficult, and protected by flanking loop-holed walls.

There was also a considerable suburb called St. Roch's, on the side of the River St. Charles, where dwelt the chief part of the laboring population, in irregular streets of mean and temporary houses. A large portion of the now valuable space was unoccupied, and here and there the rocky hill side remained as nature had made it. A few of the primeval forest trees still ornamented the gardens and terraces of the city, and clothed the neighboring cliffs.

In the wide plain lying by the banks of the River St. Charles, many handsome country houses and pleasant seats, with well-cultivated gardens and rich orchards, met the eye, and, on the slopes beyond, the trim villages of Charlesburg, Lorette, and Beauport; the distant mountain range, with its forest covering, formed, as now, the background of the broad and beautiful picture.

From the Falls of Montmorency[151] to Quebec, a continuous chain of intrenchments defended the northern bank of the St. Lawrence. A large boom lay across the mouth of the River St. Charles, and the bridge, about a quarter of a mile high up the stream, was protected by a "tête du pont." All these various works and fortifications were, however, rude and imperfect; the strength, as well as the beauty, of this magnificent position, was chiefly due to the bountiful hand of Nature.

The cultivation of the fertile Canadian soil was of a very rude description; but even the feeble industry of the "habitan" was generally repaid by rich and plentiful crops. The animals of the chase, and the inexhaustible supplies of fish in their lakes and rivers, were resources that better suited the thriftless and scanty population than the toilsome produce of the field. Tillage was neglected; they cared not to raise more grain than their own immediate wants demanded. The unparalleled monopolies of the colonial government deprived labor of the best stimulant—the certain enjoyment of its fruits. The farmer hardly cared to store up his superabundant harvest, when his haggard was exposed to the licensed plunder of cruel and avaricious officials, or served but as a sign where the domineering soldiery of Old France might find free quarters. He that sowed the seed knew not who might reap the crop. Often, when the golden fields were almost ripe for the sickle, the war-summons sounded in the Canadian hamlets, and the whole male population were hurried away to stem some distant Indian onslaught, or to inflict on some British settlement a ruin scarcely more complete than their own. In the early wars with the fierce Iroquois, this rude militia had ever answered their leaders' call with ready zeal, and fought with worthy courage; when the haughty savage was subdued and humbled, and a new and more dangerous foe arose in the hereditary enemies of their fatherland, the Canadians again took the field, strong in the spirit of national hatred. But as, year after year, the vain strife continued, and, despite their valor and even success, the British power hemmed them more closely in, their hearts sickened at the hopeless quarrel, and they longed for peace even under a stranger's sway. Their fields desolate, their villages deserted, their ships driven from the seas, what cared they for the pride of France, when its fruit to them was ruin, oppression, and contempt![152] What cared they for the Bourbon lily, when known but as the symbol of avarice and wrong!

The manufactures of this neglected though splendid colony scarcely merit even a passing notice. Flax and hemp were worked only sufficiently to show how much was lost in their neglect, and the clothing of this simple peasantry was chiefly of a coarse gray woollen stuff, the produce of their own wheels and looms. At the forges of St. Maurice, near Three Rivers, indeed, iron works were carried on with some skill, and profit to the employed, if not to the employers.

The commercial spirit of the French, such as it was, the fur trade almost wholly engrossed; the fisheries were never carried on with any vigor by the colonists; some adventurers, indeed, from the home ports, bore the produce of the northern waters, with Canadian timber and provisions, to the tropical islands, but even this limited trade was monopolized by a privileged few, through the corrupt connivance of the authorities. In the official returns of the colonial customs, there appears every year an enormous surplus of imports over exports, which can only be accounted for by the clandestine shipment of great quantities of furs and other goods, to restore in some measure the necessary balance of exchange. The sole view of the local officials was rapidly to accumulate wealth at the expense of the state or of their Canadian fellow-subjects; such of their books and accounts as fell into the hands of the English were so confused and irregular that it was difficult or impossible to discover the exact nature of their undoubted dishonesty.

The French East India company enjoyed the exclusive privilege of exporting the valuable furs of the beaver; they had therefore an agent, director, and controller in each separate government of Montreal, Three Rivers, and Quebec. A stated price was fixed for each skin, and on the hunter presenting it at the store, he received a receipt which became current in the colony as money, and was held to the last in higher estimation than the notes of the royal treasury. It has already been stated that bills of exchange to an immense amount on the government of France were afloat in the colony at a considerable depreciation; in the emergency of the year 1759, they ceased to be negotiable at any price.

Although the Canadian population was at this time poor, rude, and dispersed, it presented in some respects features usually characteristic of older and more prosperous communities. The emigration from whence it mainly sprung contained within itself the embryo forms of organization; nobility, clergy, merchants, and peasants were sent out from the fatherland, and commissioned especially for their several offices. No voluntary influx of ambitious, truculent, but energetic men swelled the population or disturbed the fatal repose of the young nation; no free development was permitted to its infant form, but, clothed in the elaborate garments of maturer years, the limbs were cramped, and the goodly proportions of nature dwarfed into a feeble frame. No safety-valve offered itself to the quick spirit of the young Canadian; military rank was limited to the favorites of the powers at home; mercantile success was debarred by vile and stupid monopolies; territorial possessions were unattainable but by interest or wealth: here the proud man, for a time, chafed and murmured, and at length strode away to the Far West, and sought the irresistible attractions of free and savage life.

No colony was ever governed by a succession of more able and excellent men than that of New France, perhaps none (except Algiers) has been apparently so much indebted to the mother country in tender infancy; none ever exhibited more thorough failure. A fertile soil, invigorating climate, and unsurpassed geographical advantages also offered themselves to the men of France; royal liberality and power lent them every aid; but, clogged by the ruinous conditions of their ecclesiastic and feudal organization, healthy action was impeded, and the seed, thus freely sown and carefully tended, grew up into a weak and sickly exotic. Experience has amply proved, as wisdom might have suggested, that in colonies, certainly, "the best government is that which governs least." When bold and vigorous men struggle forth from among the crowded thousands of the old communities, let them start in a fair race in the land of their adoption; the difficulties are great, let high hope cheer them; Nature there only opens her rich stores and bestows her treasures to brave and patient industry; the uncertain seasons, the Indian, and the wolf, are check and tax sufficient. The fatal error of despotic restraint cost France Canada by conquest, and cost us the noblest land God ever gave to man, by the deeper disgrace of a deserved and violent divorce.

The Canadian nobility, or rather gentry, were descended from the civil and military officers who from time to time settled in the country; through their own influence or that of their ancestors, this privileged class was altogether supported by royal patronage. Some enjoyed grants of extensive seigneuries;[153] others were speedily enriched by an appointment to the command of a distant post, where ample opportunities of dishonest aggrandizement were afforded and improved. Even the largest and least fortunate class were provided for by the less profitable favor of commissions in the colonial corps.

These favorites of power were generally vain and indolent men; they disdained trade and agriculture alike as beneath their high-born dignity; but they did not scruple to grasp at every convenient opportunity of easy profit, whether lawful or contraband; and they exacted, frequently with unequal justice, a large portion of the fruits of the earth from their peasant vassals. The feeble complaints of poverty against oppression were seldom loud enough to awake the attention of judges who were themselves often as guilty as the accused. From the especial favor enjoyed by the Canadian gentry under the rule of France, they were stanch to the last to her and to their own interests, and, as far as they went, were the most effective garrison in the colony: to them the prospect of British conquest was hateful and ruinous; with it must end their reign of corruption and monopoly.

At the time of the first settlement of Canada, the feudal system existed in the mother country in all its Gothic rigor, and thus it was naturally established in spirit and in letter as the basis of the new society. Every territorial possession in New France was originally held by grants under the strictest form of these iron laws; but, as the country became more populous and of increasing importance, a variety of modifications was gradually introduced, tending to curb the exorbitant power of the seigneurs, and proportionally to elevate the condition of their vassals. By degrees, many of the more obnoxious features of feudalism were effaced; and the nature of the tenure became to a certain extent adapted to the peculiar circumstances of the colony. The independent holdings by "free and common soccage" were not, however, effectually introduced till thirty years after the conquest.

The favored classes of the Canadians were devoted to social amusements; excursions by day, parties for gaming, and the dance at night, occupied their summer; and in winter, sleighing, skating, snow-shoeing, and evening réunion, turned that dreary time into a season of enjoyment. Lively, free, and graceful in manners, their vanity and want of education were little noticeable in the intercourse of daily life.[154] They were inclined to ostentation and extravagance;[155] the means, often unscrupulously procured, were squandered with careless profusion, and they generally endeavored to keep up an appearance of wealth beyond that which they really possessed. Henri de Pont Brian, bishop of Quebec, in his remarkable address to the Canadian people immediately before the conquest, draws a dark picture of the religious and moral condition of the inhabitants at the time, and attributes the threatened danger to the "especial wrath of Heaven for the absence of pious zeal—for the profane diversions—the insufferable excesses of games of chance—the contempt of religious ordinances—open robberies—heinous acts of injustice—shameful rapines. The contagion is nearly universal." Making every allowance for the worthy ecclesiastic's probable exaggeration of the causes which excited his indignation, the evidence of their own spiritual pastor must bear heavily against the reputation of the French colonists.

The clergy were usually classed in the second rank of Canadian precedence; in actual importance, however, they had no superior. Those holding the higher offices of the Church were chiefly or exclusively of French origin, and some among them were men of high talents and attainments; the parochial ministers and curates were generally colonists, sprung from the humble orders of society, locally educated, and limited in their ideas. Nevertheless, their influence over the still simpler parishioners was very great. These inferior clergy were placed under the absolute control of their bishops, by them promoted, removed, or dispossessed at pleasure; a certain degree of jealousy, therefore, not unnaturally mingled itself with the curate's reverend awe of his alien prelate, whose lessons of humility were often less strongly inculcated by example than by precept. Although many of the country priests exerted themselves zealously against the English, under the impression that a heretic conquest would be the ruin of their Church, they were not altogether contented with the intimacy of the connection that bound them to France. The idea had arisen, increased, and ripened among them, that from their own body a discriminating government could have selected wise and holy men upon whose heads the apostolic miter might have been judiciously placed. The arrival of a new bishop or other ecclesiastical dignitary from France was no more a matter of rejoicing to the reverend fathers of Canada than that of a Parisian collector or intendant to the provincial merchant and farmer. In the year 1759, however, the Bishop of Quebec, the Abbé de la Corne, was of Canadian origin; notwithstanding which, he was at that critical time in France. When the Bishopric of Quebec was erected by Louis XIV. in 1664, he endowed the new see with the revenues of the two abbacies, Benevent and l'Estrie; subsequently these were resigned to a general fund for the increase of small livings, from which a yearly income of 8000 livres was allowed instead for the colonial bishopric. The chapter was also enriched by a royal pension and an abbey in France, together valued at 12,000 livres annually.

Besides some liberal allowances from the French crown, the Hôtel de Ville, and other external sources, no less than one fourth of all the granted lands was bestowed upon the Church establishment, and the several religious, educational, and charitable institutions of the colony, and a tithe of a twenty-sixth part of all the produce of the fields was also appropriated to the support of the parochial clergy.

First in establishment, and beyond all compare foremost in importance among the religious orders in the colony, was that of the Jesuits: to their particular care were intrusted the education of youth and the Indian missions. Here, as in all other countries where that mysterious and once terrible brotherhood had taken root, the traces of their vampire energy were plainly and painfully visible. We can not, however, but regard with admiration the courage and unquenchable zeal of these extraordinary men; their union of strange and contradictory qualities astounds us: the strong will of the tyrant, the enterprise of the freeman, and the discipline of the slave. With variety and versatility of power, but singleness of purpose, they pursued their appointed course; whether warping the minds of their civilized pupils in the chill tranquillity of the cloister, or denouncing idols among the fiercest of the heathen, ever devoted and unwearied.

The mission of the Jesuit priests was to bring the savage, on any terms, within the pale of the visible Church; not to advance him in civilization, but to tame him to the utmost possible docility. They overleaped the tedious difficulties of conversion, and proselyted whole tribes in a single day. At times they even adapted the forms of Catholicism to the ferocious customs of the Indians. On one occasion, when the Christian Hurons were about to torture and slay some heathen Iroquois taken in battle, the missionary, by bribes and prayers, gained permission to baptize the victims, but made no intercession to save them from an agonizing death: while under the torments of the fire and the knife, they recited their new creed instead of chanting the last war-song. The Jesuit historian of this dreadful scene calls on his readers to rejoice in the providential mercy that brought the captured Iroquois within the blessed fold of the Church. In the triumph of Christianizing the heathen, he despised the task of humanizing the Christian.

Even the wise and benevolent Charlevoix seemed to have forgotten that Christianity is "the religion of civilized man," and that its doctrine and practice are utterly incompatible with the habits of savage life. He, in common with his Jesuit brethren, ever exhibited a jealous hesitation and dislike to the enlightenment of the Indians by secular instruction, or to the improvement of their physical condition; any effort made by others with this object caused them deep uneasiness. When, in 1667, M. de Talon, the intendant, urged by the far-sighted Colbert, endeavored to introduce the language and civilization of Europe among the savages, he was defeated by the determined opposition of the missionaries, who alone at that time exercised influence over the red children of the forest. Nearly twenty years afterward the same policy was pressed upon M. de Denonville, and by him attempted; but, as Charlevoix complacently says, when the French were brought into contact with the Indians for this purpose, "the French became savages instead of the savages becoming French." This readiness in adapting themselves to the habits of the natives, which for a time gained them great power and popularity,[156] was ultimately fatal to their success as colonists. The Anglo-Americans, on the other hand, despising their Indian neighbors, and, in return, hated and feared by them, were seldom or never infected by the contagion of savage indolence.

M. de Frontenac writes, in the year 1691, that "the experience of twelve years' residence in Canada has convinced me that the Jesuit missions ought not to be separated as they are from the settlements of the French, but that free intercourse should be encouraged between the Indians and Europeans; thus they might become 'francisé' at the same time that they are Christianized, otherwise more harm than good will accrue to the king's service."

But on this question of the improvement of the Indians, the civil and the military authorities of the colony were at perpetual issue with the formidable brotherhood; the Canadian people generally concurred with their temporal rulers on this point, hence it resulted that in later years the Jesuits were little loved or esteemed in the colony.

More than a century after the missionaries first penetrated the Indian's country, their writers describe his condition as disgusting and degraded, rather with contentment than with regret. From their observations we may learn the views of the Jesuits, and in a measure see the result of their practice. "It must nevertheless be confessed that things have somewhat changed on this point (native civilization) since our arrival in this country; some of the Indians already begin to provide for future wants in case of the failure of the chase, but it is to be feared that this may go too far, and by creating superfluous wants, render them more unhappy than they now are in their greatest poverty. The missionaries, however, can not be blamed for causing this danger; they well know that it is morally impossible to keep the 'juste milieu,' and provide the proper restraint; they have rather desired to share with the Indian the hardships of his lot, than to open his eyes to the dangerous means of its amelioration."

When at one time the Christianized Iroquois had remained at peace for the unusual period of six months, they almost forgot the neighborhood of deadly and implacable enemies; the missionaries could not prevail upon their careless disciples to take the necessary precautions for defense; they therefore redoubled their endeavors to sanctify, and prepare for the worst fate, those whom they could not preserve from it. In this respect the Indian proved perfectly docile, and became readily imbued with the sentiments suitable to his perilous position: he was, in consequence, soon reduced to a degree of indolence and indifference which has perhaps no parallel in history. Enthusiasts in the cause, the Jesuits, Charlevoix says, regarded "every simple Indian who perished as an additional intercessor above for them and their labor of charity."

Almost the only civilization, and permanent religious faith and practice, was established among the Indians by the labors of Protestant missionaries. They, from the beginning, sought to cherish habits of industry and forethought, and to give their converts a taste for the comforts of life. In every instance of successful effort in the cause of civilization, from the earliest time to the present day, the native population has increased in numbers, and become gradually exempt from that mysterious curse of decay which seems to cling to all the rest of their savage brethren.[157]

The descendants of the now neglected Jesuit converts are in no wise distinguishable from other savages. By the labors of the brotherhood no permanent impression was stamped upon the Indians; they yielded themselves up in a great measure to the guidance of their missionary, who, in return, taught them the outward form and ceremony of his faith, but nothing more. He was the mind and the soul of the community; he alone exercised forethought, guarded against danger, and measured out enjoyment; to a certain extent he improved the temporary circumstances of his disciples, but he robbed them of their native energy, and crushed all freedom of thought and of individual action: he being removed, the body remained deprived of all directing intellect: the condition of the Christianized but uninstructed savage soon became almost the lowest of human existence, till weakness, hardship, and famine swept him away from the scene of earthly suffering.

A very able writer on colonization ascribes the rapid decay in numbers of all Jesuit congregations, whether in the snows of Canada, or the burning sunshine of Paraguay, to the unnatural restraint in which they live. No vigilant superintendence, moral instruction, and physical well-being can compensate for the loss of freedom of action and the habit of self-guidance. The necessity of taking thought for himself, and living by the sweat of his brow, seems indispensable to the healthy action of man's nature. It can not be denied that many of these communities have held together for generations free from the corroding cares and corrupting vices of civilization; amply supplied (superstition apart) with religious instruction, and free from crime and punishment; and many may be tempted favorably to contrast the feeble innocence of this theocracy with the turbulent passions and vices which deform more advanced societies, and to forget that the man whose mind is thus enslaved is sunk below the level of his kind: his contentment and simplicity are apathy and ignorance, and his obedience is degradation.

Although the evident aim of the brotherhood is to paralyze intellectual life in others, nothing is left undone to give vitality to their own. The Jesuit regards his society as the soul or citadel of Catholic theocracy, and sacrifices to it every social tie, his free will, and his life: fired with its gigantic ambition and its pride, they become his faith and morals; his constant idea is the hope of his order's universal sway; in darkness and secrecy, with patience and invincible perseverance, he works on at the labor of centuries, devoted to the one great purpose, the fulfillment of which his dilating eye sees through the vista of unborn generations. Yet this wonderful organization holds the eternal passion of its deep heart riveted upon an object ever unattainable; for the Jesuit seeks not to rear the supremacy of his Church upon the firm foundations of virtue, truth, and reason; his earnest toil is wasted on the shifting quicksands of ignorance and superstition; the loftier the building, the more complete and extensive must be the ruin. Nevertheless, through failure and success alike, his faith's somber fire burns unceasingly upon the inward altar of his soul.

The merchants of Canada were chiefly of French, the retail dealers of native birth. From the nature of the colonial system, trade conferred neither wealth nor respect, except to the favored few enjoying monopolies. Every one in business was deeply involved by the depreciated bills of exchange upon the home government, and their only hope of ultimate payment rested upon the maintenance of the connection with the parent state. The trading classes may therefore be counted as generally hostile to the British power, but their importance was very small; like all the French race, they were more inclined to small trading transactions than those on a larger scale, and preferred enterprise to industry. It has been seen that one of the leading objects in the establishment of the colony was the trade in fur, especially that of the beaver; but the very abundance of this commodity ultimately proved of great detriment: the long and frequent journeys for the purpose of obtaining it gave the Canadians idle and wandering habits, which they could not shake off even when the low value of the now over-plentiful fur rendered their enterprises almost unprofitable.

The Canadian peasantry, or "habitans," were generally a healthy, simple, and virtuous race, but they were also extremely ignorant; indeed, the jealousy of their rulers would never suffer a printing-press to be erected in the country; few could read or write, and they were remarkably credulous of even the grossest fabrications which emanated from their superiors. Chiefly of Norman origin, they inherit many ancestral characteristics: litigious, yet impetuous and thoughtless; brave and adventurous, but with little constancy of purpose. The resemblance of the interior of a peasant's dwelling in Normandy, and on the banks of the St. Lawrence, was remarkable to a practiced eye: with the exception of the flooring—which in Canada is always of wood, and in France of stone—every thing is nearly the same; the chimney always in the center of the building, and the partitions shutting off the sleeping apartments at each end of the large room where the inhabitants dwell by day.

The French minister, Colbert,[158] in his instructions to M. de Talon and the Sieur de Courcelles, dwelt much on the dangerous practice of the early Canadian colonists building their residences without rule or order, wherever convenience suited, and neglecting the important point of settling near together for mutual assistance and defense. This system being obviously a serious obstacle to successful colonization, an edict was issued by the king that henceforth there should be no clearing of lands except in close neighborhood, and that the dwellings should all be built according to rule: this ordinance proved useless, as it would have been necessary for the habitans to commence the toilsome task of new clearing, and to abandon the lands where their fathers had dwelt. In 1685, however, the French government again renewed the attempt to alter this pernicious system, but Charlevoix says that "every one agreed that their neighbor was in danger, but no one could be got to fear for himself in particular." Even those who had been the victims of this imprudence were not rendered wiser by experience;[159] any losses that could be repaired were repaired as soon as possible, and those that were irreparable were speedily forgotten. The sight of a little present advantage blinded all the habitans to the future. This is the true savage instinct, and it appears to be inspired by the air of the country. In the present day an evil of exactly the opposite description exists; as population became denser, the settlements became continuous, and the holdings smaller. The habitans, who are social to a vice, can not be induced to separate and clear new lands on a fresher but remoter soil.

In 1689 the King of France was urgently entreated by Comte de Frontenac to make a great effort against the English at New York. His answer was that he could spare no forces from Europe for America, and that the Canadians, by settling in closer neighborhood, would be fully capable of defending themselves. Thus, while the king could not understand the difficulty of the habitans giving up their old and cherished homes to seek others closer together, on the other hand they could not be convinced of his inability to send supplies; and, indeed, the system advocated by the crown would have been more costly in property than the most vigorous aggressive campaign could have proved.

Before the continuous wars with the English colonies, and internal corruption, had exhausted the sap of Canada, no people in the world enjoyed a happier lot than the simple habitans; they were blessed in a healthy climate, in the absence of all endemic diseases, in a fertile soil and an unlimited domain. These advantages might at least have retained in the colony those to whom it gave birth, and who could not be ignorant of its advantages; but love of change, hatred of steady labor, and impatience of restraint, have always urged many of the young and energetic, the life-blood of the population, to seek the irresistible allurements of the distant prairie and of the forest.

The Canadians were accused of an excessive greed of gain even by their greatest panegyrists; no enterprise was too difficult or dangerous that offered a rich reward. They were, however, far from miserly, and often dissipated their hardly-won treasures without restraint or consideration. Like all people in isolated communities, they had a high opinion of their own merits: this was not without some advantages, as it strengthened self-reliance, and gave spirit to overcome difficulties. The form and stature of the Canadian ranked high in the scale of mankind, but his vitality, though great, was not lasting; at a comparatively early age his frame exhibited symptoms of decline, and the snows of time descended upon his head.

Father Charlevoix simply remarks upon the intellectual powers of the Canadians, that "they are supposed to be incapable of any great scientific acquirements, or of patient study and application: I can not, however, answer for the justice of this remark, for we have never yet seen any one attempting to follow such pursuits." He gives them credit, however, for a rare taste for mechanics, and states that they frequently arrive at great perfection in trades to which they have never been apprenticed.

To reduce this volatile people to rules of military discipline was always found extremely difficult, but, in many respects, their own peculiar manner of waging war, at least against the Indians, was far more efficient in the wild scenes of savage contest: they were more to be depended upon for a sudden effort than for the continuous operations of a campaign, and in a time of excitement and under a commander whom they could trust, they have shown themselves capable of deeds of real daring. They were not commendable for filial affection, but elicited the warmest eulogiums from the reverend father (Charlevoix) on their piety and zeal. The sum of their virtues and vices denoted the promise more of a good than of a great people.

The Provincial revenue, produced by custom dues on imports and exports, charges on the sales of land, duties on spirituous liquors, rights on intestate deaths, shipwrecks, and miscellaneous sources, amounted to something under £14,000 sterling the year of the conquest, and the aid from the coffers of France to the ecclesiastical, civil, and military establishments was nearly £4760. These resources could not provide liberal salaries for the numerous colonial officials; as before stated, however, they made up for the deficiency by shameless and enormous peculations.

All the male inhabitants of the colony, from ten to sixty years of age, were enrolled by companies in a Provincial militia, except those who by birth or occupation enjoyed the privileges of nobility. The captains were usually the most respectable men in the country parishes, and were held in great respect. When the services of the militia were required, their colonels, or the town majors, transmitted the order of levy to the captains, who chose the required numbers, and conducted them under escort to the town; there each man received a gun, ammunition, and a rude sort of uniform: they were then marched to their destination. This force was generally reviewed once or twice a year for the inspection of their arms; that of Quebec was frequently exercised, and had attached thereto an efficient company of artillery. Many duties of law, police, and the superintendence of roads in the country districts were also imposed on the captains of militia: the governor-general was every year accustomed to bestow a quantity of powder and ball by way of gratification upon these useful officials.

Besides this numerous but somewhat uncertain militia force, there were in Canada ten veteran battalions of French infantry. These, however, were much reduced from their original strength by desertion, fatigue, and the casualties of war. The peculiar nature of the service, and the necessity of quartering the troops abroad in small detachments, had relaxed the rigor of European discipline, but the loss in this respect was more than counterbalanced by the knowledge of the country, and the habit of braving the severity of the climate. Their high military virtue was still well worthy of men who had fought under Marshal Saxe. The proud carriage and domineering conduct of these soldiers of Old France rendered them little loved by the Canadian people, and, as their pretensions were invariably supported by the government, it shared in the general unpopularity.

The one hundred and fifty years that had elapsed since Champlain first planted the banner of France upon the headland of Quebec told with terrible effect upon the Red Men: already among the Canadian hamlets on the banks of the Great River they were well-nigh forgotten. Whole tribes had sunk into the earth, and left not a trace behind; others had wandered away, and were absorbed among those more fortunate races as yet undisturbed by the white man's neighborhood; while some, in attempting a feeble and fatal imitation of civilized life, had dwindled to a few wretched families, who had cast away the virtues of savage life, and adopted instead only the vices of Europe. The Hurons of Jeune Lorette, near Quebec, were, however, as yet, a happy exception to this general demoralization. Many years before, they had been driven from the fertile countries between Lakes Huron and Erie, and found refuge upon the Jesuit lands: they lived much in the same manner as the Canadian peasantry, tilled the soil with equal success, and dwelt in comfortable houses. But in one respect they had not escaped the mysterious curse which has ever hung upon the red race in their contact with their European brethren; from year to year their numbers diminished in an unchecked decay.

CHAPTER VII.

During the early part of the eighteenth century, the British North American provinces had made extraordinary progress in population and wealth—a progress then unequaled in the world's history, and only now excelled by that of the Australian settlements. From many of the European nations, swarms of the energetic and discontented poured into the land of plenty and comparative freedom. By far the greater number of immigrants, however, were from the British islands, and their national character in a great measure, absorbed the peculiarities of all the rest. The natural increase of the population also far exceeded that of European states; the abundant supply of the necessaries of life, and immunity from oppressive restraint, produced their invariable results. In the absence of any harassing care for the future, early marriages were almost universally contracted. The man who possessed no capital but his labor found in it the means of present support, and even of future wealth; if he failed to obtain remunerative employment in the old districts, he needed only to carve out his way in the new. The fertile wilderness ever welcomed him with rude but abundant hospitality; every tree that fell beneath his ax was an obstacle removed from the road to competence; every harvest home, an earnest of yet richer rewards to come.

From the first, the British colonists had applied themselves to agriculture as the great business of life; then trade followed, to supply luxuries in exchange for superabundant products; and manufactures came next, to satisfy the increasing necessities of a higher civilization. From the peculiarities of the country, and the restless and irregular habits of many of the earlier immigrants, a system of cultivation arose, which, however detrimental to the progress of some individuals, tended to develop the resources of the country with astonishing rapidity. A number of the hardy men, who first began the clearing of the wilderness, only played the part of pioneers to those who permanently settled on the fertile soil: they felled the trees with unequaled dexterity, erected log houses and barns, hastily inclosed their farms, and, in an incredibly short space of time, reduced the land to a sort of cultivation. With their crops, a few cattle, and the produce of the chase, they gained subsistence for themselves and their families. These men could not endure the restraints of regular society; as the population advanced toward them, and they felt the obnoxious neighborhood of the magistrate and the tax gatherer, they were easily induced to dispose of their clearings at a price enhanced by that of surrounding settlements: once again they plunged into the wilderness, and recommenced their life of almost savage independence.

The new owner of the pioneer's clearing was generally a thrifty and industrious farmer: his object, a home for himself and an inheritance for his children. In certain hope of success, he labored with untiring energy, and converted the half-won waste into a fruitful field. His neighbors have progressed equally with himself; the dark shadows of the forest vanish from the surrounding country; detached log huts change to clusters of comfortable dwellings; churches arise, villages swell into towns, towns into cities.

This system exercised an important influence on the politics and manners of the colonists; the restless, impatient, and discontented found ample scope and occupation in the wilderness, instead of waging perpetual strife against the restraints of law and order in the older districts: many of these men ultimately even became useful and industrious. The acquisition of a little property of their own, and the necessity of law and order for the preservation of that property, reconciled them to the forfeiture of the wild liberty in which they had before exulted. The truculence of the desperate often turned into the healthy ambition of the prosperous.

Along the shores of the magnificent bays and estuaries of the Atlantic coast had already arisen many populous and thriving cities. Boston numbered more than 30,000 inhabitants; her trade was great; her shipping bore the produce of all countries through all seas, either as carriers for others, or to supply her own increasing demands; her sailors were noted for hardihood and skill, her mechanics for industry, and her merchants for thrift and enterprise; her councils, and the customs of her people, still bore the stamp which the hands of the Pilgrim Fathers had first impressed. Moral, sober, persevering, thoughtful, but narrow-minded and ungenial, they were little prone to allow the enjoyment of social intercourse to interfere with the pursuit of wealth. Although at times oppressive and always intolerant themselves, they ever resented with jealous promptitude the slightest infringement of their own freedom of conscience or action. They despised but did not pity the Indian, and had no scruple in profiting largely by the exchange of the deadly fire-water for his valuable furs.

At the time of which we treat, the people of the New England States numbered more than 380,000; they were the bone and sinews of British power in America; in peace the most prosperous and enterprising, and in war the most energetic, if not the most warlike, of the Anglo-Americans. Their hostility against the French was more bitter than that of their southern fellow-countrymen: in the advance guard of British colonization they came more frequently in contact with the rival power, and were continually occupied in resisting or imitating its aggressions. The senseless and unchristian spirit of "natural enmity" had spread in an aggravated degree among the children of the two great European states who had cast their lot of life in the New World.

The colony of New York had also arrived at considerable importance, but, from the varied sources of the original population, the 100,000 inhabitants it contained at the time of the war were less exclusively British in character and feeling than their Puritan brethren of New England. Many of the Dutch and Swedish farmers, as well as of the French emigrants, retained unaltered the language and customs of their fathers, and felt little affection for the metropolitan state, formerly their conqueror, and now their somewhat supercilious ruler. The trade of New York city, aided by the splendid navigation of the Hudson River, was very large in proportion to the then small population of 8000. Great quantities of corn, flour, and other provisions were conveyed from the rich Western country by the inland waters to the noble harbor at their mouth, and thence found their way to the West Indies and even to Europe. The town of Albany, although inferior in population, was important and prosperous as the chief dépôt for the Indian trade, and the place where conferences were usually held between the English and the fast-failing tribes of the once formidable Iroquois. New Jersey partook in some respects of the characteristics of New York, and contained about 60,000 souls. Owing to the protection of the larger neighboring states, this fertile province had suffered but little from Indian hostility, and the rich soil and mild climate aided the undisturbed labors of its husbandmen. The forests abounded with oak, ash, cypress, hickory, and other valuable timber, and the cultivation of flax and hemp was largely carried on: these different productions were disposed of in the markets of New York and Philadelphia, principally for European consumption.

The great and prosperous State of Pennsylvania, nearly 5000 square miles in extent, contained 250,000 inhabitants, and carried on a large trade with Europe and the West Indies; through the rich and beautiful capital, an immense surplus of agricultural produce, from its fertile soil, was exported to other less favored countries. Philadelphia was happily situated upon the tongue of land formed by the confluence of the two navigable rivers, Delaware and Schuylkill; the streets were broad and regular, the houses spacious and well built, and the docks and quays commodious. This city still continued largely impressed by the spirit of Quakerism; the stiffness of outline, the trim neatness of the dwellings, the convenient but unpretending public buildings, and the austere manners of the inhabitants, bespoke the stronghold of the formal men of peace. Here it was, not twenty years afterward, in a vulgar and unsightly brick edifice, that a few bold and earnest men pledged their sacred honor, their fortunes, and their lives to an act, perhaps the most important that history records—"The Declaration of Independence."

The State of Maryland lies next in succession southward; to the east and south, the waters of the Atlantic and the Potomac River wash its fertile shores. About 40,000 white men here held 60,000 of their negro brethren in toilsome slavery, and enriched themselves by the fruits of this unholy labor. Tobacco, large in quantity and good in quality, was the staple produce of the country. The capital, Annapolis, was beautifully situated on the banks of the Patuxent River.

South of the River Potomac and west of Chesapeake Bay, the State of Virginia stretches inland to the Allegany Mountains. This rich province produced corn and every kind of fruit in abundance; the forests were of great extent and value, and supplied much good timber for exportation; flax, hemp, tar, and iron were also produced in some quantity, but, as in Maryland, the principal wealth of the country was in tobacco, cultivated by the labor of nearly 100,000 slaves. The white population numbered about 70,000. The magnificent Bay of Chesapeake extended through this territory for nearly 300 miles from south to north, and received many considerable streams at both sides. However, no commercial town of any great importance had grown up on the shores of these navigable waters.

The Carolinas, bounded to the north by Virginia, extend along the Atlantic coast for upward of 400 miles, and stretch westward 300 miles into the interior of the vast continent. They are divided into two provinces, the North and the South; the first the more populous, richer in production, more advanced in commerce and prosperity. Here, as the tropics are approached, the sultry climate favors the cultivation of rice, indigo, and tobacco: great numbers of slaves labored in the fertile swamps, and beautiful but unhealthy valleys of these states, enriching the ruling race by their lives of unrequited toil. We do not find any exact record of the population at the time of which we treat, but that of both the Carolinas was probably not less than 260,000; of these more than one half were whites.

Georgia, the most southern of the British settlements in America, skirts the Atlantic shore for about sixty miles, and includes the whole extent of the Western country to the Apalachian Mountains, nearly 300 miles away, widening gradually to 150 miles in breadth. To the south lay the Spanish limits, marked by the River Altamaha, and the deserted fort of San Augustin. At this time the province was thinly peopled, its resources little known, and its luxuriant savannas still wasted their exuberant fertility in rank vegetation and pestilential decay. The inhabitants, however, raised some quantities of rice and indigo, and had even made progress in the culture of silk. At Augusta, the second town in importance, situated 200 miles in the interior, a profitable fur trade was established with the Cherokees, and other comparatively civilized Indians.

It has been seen that the British North American colonies contained upward of 1,300,000 inhabitants at the commencement of the campaign which destroyed the power of France on the Western continent. Enormous as was this physical superiority over the rival colony of Canada, the wealth and resources of the British bore a vastly greater proportion to those of their enemies. Barnaby, an intelligent English traveler who at this time visited America, informs us that all the luxurious fruits of wealth were displayed in our transatlantic settlements; and that, in a journey of 1200 miles through the country, he was never once solicited for alms. At the same time, he observes that the people were already imbued with a strong spirit of independence,[161] and that a deep but vague impression existed that they were destined for some splendid future. But among these sturdy and ambitious men mutual jealousies rendered a permanent union of their councils apparently impossible; the mother country failed in her effort to bring the strength of her gigantic colonies to bear together[162] upon any imperial object, although she subsequently succeeded but too well in creating unanimity of feeling against herself.

By the fall of Louisburg, and the complete subjection of the Acadian peninsula, the high road of the St. Lawrence lay open to the British fleets; the capture of Fort du Quesne, and the occupation of the forks of the Ohio, had given to England the command of the vast chain of navigable communication which connected the Canadian lakes with the distant waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Thus the 60,000 French of North America were hopelessly isolated from their parent state, and left to the mercy of their exasperated and powerful foes. Already their Indian allies had wavered or seceded: no longer able to afford protection or supply their commerce, the Canadian governor sank rapidly in savage estimation; and even the "Great Father" beyond the seas ceased to be regarded with the superstitious reverence formerly felt toward him by his red children.

But the lofty spirit of France was still unbroken by these losses and dangers; even in this time of need she disdained to abandon or modify her pretensions to the dominion of those Western wilds of America, for the possession of which she had first drawn the sword, and she determined to risk the utter ruin of her transatlantic power rather than patiently submit to its diminution. Quebec and Canada might have been saved had she acquiesced in our just right and title to the ancient limits of Acadia, as marked out by former treaties, and had she refrained from the prosecution of that vast scheme of encroachment by which the British settlements would have been inclosed from Louisiana to the great lakes of the north.

At the same time, the British nation, inflamed by hopeful ambition, was stimulated to renewed exertion by the triumphs and advantages of the late campaign. Had the illustrious man who wielded England's strength ever doubted in his own far-seeing mind the policy of removing the Canadian incubus from the rising ambition of the colonies, the strong tide of public opinion would have doubtless swept him away. But he possessed neither the inclination nor the power to halt in the career of glory and success, when the magnificent dominions of France in America lay within his grasp: he firmly resolved to seize the prize, and devoted all the energies and abilities of his mind to the one great object.

The British Parliament addressed the throne in terms of the highest approbation of the minister; they applauded the conduct of the campaign, and pledged themselves zealously and cheerfully to furnish all necessary supplies. The king sent them a message representing the spirited efforts made by his American subjects in the prosecution of the war, and recommending compensation for the losses and expenses they had incurred in the maintenance of his rights and England's glory; the prompt answer was a vote of £200,000 for the required purpose. The people even surpassed their representatives in ardor; one universal spirit pervaded all ranks and classes—a confidence in British triumph and French humiliation. The conquest of Canada was now the first and darling object of the nation.

Mr. Pitt decided upon pursuing the same plan of operations which had been partially successful in the last campaign: he purposed to throw three separate expeditions at once against the three strongholds of Canadian power, Niagara, Montreal, and Quebec. The mainspring of this grand design was, that these attacks should be simultaneous, and thus distract the attention and divide the force of the defenders. A formidable armament was zealously and speedily equipped in the English ports to carry a force of from 7000 to 8000 men, by the River St. Lawrence to the walls of Quebec. The main army of America, 12,000 strong, was assembled on the woody shores of Lake George: it was destined to penetrate the heart of Canada by the Richelieu River and occupy Montreal, after having first overwhelmed the French detachments at Ticonderoga and Crown Point; thence the British troops were to descend the broad stream of the St. Lawrence till they joined their strength to that of the besiegers of Quebec. At the same time, another British corps, and a large body of Indians, was directed upon Niagara, with orders to take and garrison the fort, and then hasten down over Ontario, and the rapids of the Great River, to co-operate with the other expeditions. This scheme was as impracticable in its execution, as it was bold and comprehensive in design.

When Pitt cast his eyes over the scantily traced map of the Western World, he disdained to note the almost insurmountable difficulties which its broad blanks unobtrusively represented. As his bold hand struck out the several lines of operation, he forgot the hideous wilderness, the stormy ocean, and the dangerous lake, over the tracings of which his pencil passed, and his daring heart doubted not for a moment of success. It is a trite observation, that a combined movement is always precarious, even under the most favorable circumstances. Uncertainty of weather, or different degrees of zeal and activity in the leaders, may disjoint the most elaborate scheme; but, in such a case as this, with all the superadded chances of the sea, the river, and the desert, a wisdom greater than that of the wisest, a power stronger than that of the most powerful, could alone have given us the victory.

The French possessed the immense advantage of acting as it were on a smooth high road, while their assailants were entangled in a broken and difficult country. The River St. Lawrence furnished a means of intercommunication that enabled them to throw the mass of their force upon any one of the hostile armies they might select, and thus outnumber each in succession; the bold position of Quebec supplied them with a place of arms, and an advantageous battle-ground when all else should be lost. The able and skillful Montcalm was not likely to fail in turning these favorable circumstances to full account.

The most vulnerable, and, at the same time, the most vital part of Canada was the spot where the Richelieu River pours into the St. Lawrence. Thence to the magnificent harbor of New York, a scarcely interrupted chain of navigable water, by the Lakes Champlain and George and the Hudson River, offered a practicable route to the invading force. Looking back upon the past with that wisdom which is the humble disciple of experience, it would appear that the whole British power should have been thrown at once upon that single point. By uniting the veteran corps embarked in the fleet from England and Nova Scotia, with the formidable force destined against Niagara, to the main army, nearly 25,000 British troops could have been brought to bear against the feeble defenses of the lakes, and poured down with irresistible strength on the Valley of the St. Lawrence. Thence to Quebec the watery path lay free and unembarrassed, and no hostile power existed strong enough to dare a battle against such a host. In the mean time, the English fleet should have anchored in the broad basin above the island of Orleans, intercepted all European aid, and, by vigorous demonstrations, kept in play as much as possible of the enemy's strength. Had this scheme been adopted, the decisive battle might probably have still been fought on the Plains of Abraham, but with far greater chances in favor of British triumph than in the fight which was subsequently bravely won. The whole disposable force of Canada would naturally have opposed the invading army, and would have been either forced down upon the defense of Quebec, or driven to an unequal combat. The French army overpowered and their great stronghold taken, Montreal, with Niagara and the Western country, must have lain an easy prey.

To find out the weakest point of the enemy's position, and to assail it with his greatest power, was the constant aim of the first of modern captains, and the talisman of his matchless success. The British minister's scheme for the conquest of Canada presents exactly the reverse of this system; the several strongholds of the French were selected for simultaneous attack by separate and insufficient forces. By an overruling Providence, however, the skill and daring of a British general, and the valor of his troops, together with the incomprehensible error of their chivalrous opponent, gave to the arms of England victory and glory, and to the ruler of her councils complete ultimate success.

To pave the way for the campaign of 1759, a grand conference was held with the Indians, in the October of the preceding year, at Easton, about ninety miles from Philadelphia; there peace was formerly established between England and the several native nations inhabiting the country, which extends from the Apalachian Mountains to the lakes. Some tribes, however, still held aloof. The business of the British agents at this meeting was to ascertain the limits of the several lands about the possession of which disputes had occurred with the natives, to reconcile the bitter hostilities of different tribes against each other, to remove every cause of misunderstanding between the Indians and ourselves, and effectually to detach them from the interests of the French. The conferences were continued from the 8th to the 26th of October, when every article was finally arranged to the satisfaction of all parties. The Indians were then given presents, made drunk, and dismissed to their several dwellings.

General Amherst, and his gallant colleague Admiral Boscawen, had, as the conquerors of Louisburg, received the high honor of thanks from the representatives of a grateful people in the British Parliament. The vigor, ability, and courage displayed by Amherst in the previous year, inspired a universal hope of future success among his countrymen, and all eyes were fixed with deep and sanguine interest on the movements of the formidable armies which he was now to direct against the failing power of the French. But the memory of Abercromby's fatal disaster was still fresh in the English mind, and somewhat damped the rising hopes of conquest and of glory. The difficulties before which he had recoiled, disgraced and ruined, were since increased rather than diminished: the fort of Chambly, which defended the pass by the Richelieu River to the St. Lawrence, had been strengthened and garrisoned by a body of regular troops and militia; Crown Point had been re-enforced, and an increase of vessels had completely given the command of Lake Champlain to the French.

The British colonies were eager in seconding the grand designs of the parent state—designs, indeed, far more important to them than to England. But they found it difficult to keep pace with the expenditure which the great minister's splendid and thriftless conduct of the war rendered necessary. Some reluctance was now expressed, especially in New England, to raise the levies required by the Provincial governments. In the opening of last year's operations it had been promised that a single campaign would suffice to end with success the deadly and ruinous strife. The same promise was now once more offered, but received by no willing ears. The taxes were already excessive, the demand for men most burdensome, and the liberal compensation voted by the British Parliament was still insufficient to remunerate the colonists for past losses and advances, and had been unfortunately so long delayed by official interruptions as to create considerable mistrust and dissatisfaction. It was not without much difficulty that Connecticut was induced to keep up her last year's contingent of 5000 men, and Massachusetts at first declined to raise more than the same number, until prevailed upon by the instances of Amherst, who was universally respected and esteemed. The thinly-peopled state of New Hampshire, however, exceeded her former exertions, and sent no less than 1000 men into the field.

The movements of the last campaign, and the extensive preparations in the British settlements, no longer afforded room for doubt that the aim of England was the annihilation of the power of France in America. The Marquis de Vaudreuil therefore issued a proclamation at the close of the year 1758 to the several officers of Canadian militia, to excite their zeal and quicken their activity in preparations for resistance. "Notwithstanding our glorious successes," said he, "the state of the colony is perilous. The enemy are making great efforts both by sea and land; we must prepare, therefore, to meet them boldly as soon as the season of the year allows them to act. No time must be lost in organizing our defense." He then directed that all the male inhabitants of the province, from sixteen to sixty years of age, should be enrolled in the militia, and should remain in readiness to march at a moment's notice.

The captains of militia faithfully endeavored to comply with these orders, but the farmers, or habitans, showed great disinclination to abandon the cultivation of their fields for the certain hardships and dangers, and the uncertain glories of a soldier's life. Where the levies were efficiently carried out, the country remained waste; the last harvest had been far from abundant, and the rapacious seizures of grain for the real or fictitious wants of the government caused a pinching scarcity. The intendant had arbitrarily fixed the price of wheat at twelve sous the bushel, yet none was sold under a far higher rate. Every device of peculation was resorted to by the unworthy civil officers to increase their gains from the distresses of the people, while the vicious decrees of a corrupted court of law supported instead of curbing them in their iniquities. Dishonest exactions and forced contributions caused a reckless waste of those resources, upon the enjoyment of which no man could confidently count, and the intendant, finding it at length difficult or impossible to obtain the necessary supplies, quartered the troops upon the unfortunate inhabitants.

The misery and distress of the colony at length deepened into absolute famine. Cadet, the commissary-general, by the intendant's orders, killed a number of horses for the use of the inhabitants and troops at Montreal and Quebec. Finally the governor and M. de Montcalm dispatched an officer to France with a detail of the deplorable state of Canada, and an earnest entreaty for succor. This officer, the afterward celebrated De Bougainville, although he had sailed very late in the autumn, escaped the dangers of the season and the vigilance of the British navy, and laid his melancholy dispatch before the throne of France.[163]

Early in January, 1759, a census was taken of all those capable of bearing arms in Canada; the result showed 15,229 men. Of these, however, a large proportion were neither available nor worthy of trust. A detachment of artillery, eight battalions of French regulars, and thirty-three companies of the marine or colony troops, formed the real strength of the Canadian army.

Montcalm[164] was indefatigable in his preparations for the approaching struggle. Regulars and militia were kept at constant work on the several fortifications. Three armed vessels were built to command the navigation of Lake Champlain. Captain Pouchot, a skillful engineer, was sent to strengthen the works of Niagara, and undertake their defense. On the 14th of May, M. de Bougainville,[165] afterward distinguished alike in literature and adventure, arrived from France with decorations and promotions for the governor, the general, and other officers whose merit had been conspicuous in the last campaign, but he was also bearer of the alarming intelligence that England was about to assail the colony forthwith both by sea and land. As yet, however, no supplies or re-enforcements from France made their appearance in this hour of peril, and the governor, M. de Vaudreuil, was simply instructed to make the best provision in his power for the defense of Canada.

The governor addressed a notice to the militia to be ready at a moment's warning, and endeavored to excite their somewhat dormant patriotism by a spirited appeal. "This campaign," said he, "will give the Canadians an opportunity of displaying once again their loyalty and valor: their king doubts not that they will faithfully defend his and their rights, their religion, homes, and properties against the cruel English. These invaders hate our name and nation; they accuse us of the evil deeds of a few savage Indians, and burn for revenge. We will protect our people by every possible means from falling into the hands of our ruthless enemies, and from such mercies as the people of Acadia, Cape Breton, and St. John's received from them. Better would it be for us, our wives, and our children, to be buried in the ruins of the colony, than to fall alive into the hands of the English. We have, however, no fears for our safety, and accordingly we direct that every suitable step be taken for a successful defense."

A council of war was held at Montreal, which, after frequent meetings, decided that a body of troops under Montcalm, with the brigadier-generals, the Marquis de Levi and M. de Senezergues, should be posted at Quebec; that M. de Bourlemaque should hasten to Ticonderoga, blow up the works at the approach of the English, retire by the lake to Isle aux Noix, and there make a stubborn resistance. The Chevalier de la Corne, with 800 regulars and militia, was directed to hold the rapids above Montreal, to intrench himself in a strong position, and hold out to the best of his power. These resolutions taken, Montcalm hastened to Quebec, and pushed on the works of the city and its outposts. To embarrass the hostile fleet, he removed the buoys and other marks for navigation in the Great River; above all, he strove to raise the drooping spirit of the Canadian people.

CHAPTER VIII.

We must now return to the proceedings in the British camp. In the stern climate of Northern America the season for military action was very limited. From the breaking up of the ice on the lakes and rivers, and the melting of the forest snows, till they again hindered or forbid the movement of troops, but little interval was left for the march of an invading army. To pursue with effect the great plan of the campaign, it was necessary to take the field with the earliest signs of returning spring. General Amherst, therefore, left New York on the 28th of April, 1759, and arrived at Albany on the 3d of May: there he busied himself in assembling and organizing his army for the field, preparing boats for transporting the troops, artillery, and stores, and instructing the raw Provincial levies in the rudiments of military discipline. Before this time, he had dispatched the active partisan officer, Major Rogers, with 350 men, from Fort Edward, to feel the strength of the enemy at Ticonderoga and Crown Point: they succeeded in surprising a French working party close to the disastrous scene of the previous year's defeat, killed some men, and took several prisoners, with but little loss to themselves. The intense severity of the weather, however, made the victors pay dearly for their success: two thirds of the detachment were frost-bitten in the feet, some of them to such an extent that their more fortunate companions were obliged to carry them back to the British camp.

The whole month of May was occupied in preparation for the advance. The Provincial regiments, as fast as they arrived at head-quarters, were encamped, and instructed with all diligence. The regular troops were pushed on by the road to Fort Edward, and posted at a place fifty-six miles from Albany, while a detachment under Major West constructed a small stockaded fort between Fort Edward and the lake. On the 3d of June the near divisions of the army were ordered to take the field. That same day the general left Albany, and encamped at Port Edward on the 6th.

During this time of military inaction but of tedious toil, an alarming spirit of desertion broke out among the British troops. A large proportion of even the regulars were young and untrained men, unaccustomed to the dull restraint of discipline, and as yet almost unconscious of that professional pride which, to a certain extent, may practically supply the place of a higher principle in the soldier's mind. The Provincials were chiefly new levies, and not always very zealous recruits. The duties of the camp were harassing, the labors on the works were wearying; before them lay a dreary and dangerous march, behind them the pleasant villages and well-stored homesteads of New England. The temptation was strong, the principle of resistance weak. Appeals to patriotism, stringent orders, and moderate punishments proved ineffectual; still by twos and threes, and at length by scores, Amherst's army melted away into the neighboring forests. The last example became necessary; a general court-martial sentenced two deserters, Dunwood and Ward, to death, and they were immediately executed. Despite this terrible warning, despite all promises and threats, the vile treason still prevailed, especially among the Provincials; two other traitors, Rogers and Harris, were also apprehended, convicted, and shot.

An insidious attempt to examine the British strength, under the pretext of a flag of truce from M. de Bourlemaque, was frustrated by Amherst's vigilance; he would not suffer the French officers to enter the camp, but examined the dispatches, and returned answer while they remained at a suitable distance. The general's active care could not protect the frontier settlers from the atrocious cruelties of the French and Indians; although scouting parties were constantly moving through the forests, the subtle and ferocious enemy eluded their vigilance, and scalped men, women, and children without mercy. These outrages gave rise to the following order by Amherst, which he found means to forward to the Governor of Canada and his general:

"No scouting party, or others in the army, are to scalp women or children belonging to the enemy. They are, if possible, to take them prisoners, but not to injure them on any account, the general being determined, should the enemy continue to murder and scalp women and children, who are the subjects of the King of Great Britain, to revenge it by the death of two men of the enemy for every woman or child murdered by them."

It were a needless pain to dwell upon the cruelties of this bloody war. Our countrymen must bear their share, although not an equal share, of the deep disgrace. The contending parties readily acquired the fiendish ingenuity in torture of their Indian allies; the Frenchman soon became as expert as his red teacher in tearing the scalp from a prostrate enemy; and even the British soldier counted these odious trophies with unnatural triumph. In the exterminating strife, the thirst of blood became strong and deep, and was slaked, not only in the life-streams of the armed foe, but in that of the aged, the maimed, the helpless woman, and the innocent child. The peaceful hamlet and the smiling corn-field excited hostile fury alike with the camp, the intrenchment, and the fort, and shared in their destruction when the defenders were overpowered. Yet still over these murdered corpses and scenes of useless desolation, the spotless flag of France and the Red Cross of St. George waved in alternate triumph, proudly and remorselessly, by their symbolic presence sanctioning the disgraceful strife.

The greater part of the troops, artillery, and stores being now arrived, the general advanced from Fort Edward on the 21st of June, with about 6000 men, in two columns; he visited the several posts established on the communications by the way, and that night encamped on the woody banks of Lake George, where the following morning he traced out the plan of a small fort.[166] The remainder of the troops and the boats were brought up to this point with all dispatch, but the difficulties of the carrying place, the intense heat of the weather, and the badness of the roads proved harassing impediments to the British chief. During these delays several unimportant affairs occurred between our advanced parties and the French light troops and Indians, which usually ended in favor of the enemy. However, the time was profitably employed by Captain Loring of the navy, who exerted himself bravely and successfully in the arrangements for embarkation: he raised, rigged, and armed the sloop Halifax, and also a floating battery of eight heavy guns, both of which had been sunk in the last campaign. On the 21st of July, all was in readiness; the troops and stores had arrived; the army embarked upon the lake.

The force with which General Amherst now undertook the invasion of Canada consisted of 111 of the Royal Artillery, having under charge fifty-four pieces of ordnance of various descriptions; six battalions of regulars, numbering, officers included, 5743 men; nine battalions of Provincials,[167] with a regiment of Light Infantry, newly raised and commanded by General Gage, 5279 men, in all numbering 11,133. This army crossed the lake in four columns: the following day it reached the second Narrows without interruption except from the roughness of the weather, and landed near the spot where Abercromby had disembarked the year before. The British vanguard, composed principally of light troops, pushed on rapidly into the bush, and soon fell upon a detachment of the Regiment de Berry and some Indians, commanded by Captain Bournie; the French were instantly overpowered and dispersed, two were "made prisoners, and four were scalped: their wounded they carried off with them in their flight." Amherst followed with his main body in good order, and took up a position of great strength near the Saw-mills. He learned from the French prisoners that M. de Bourlemaque commanded at Carillon, his garrison, three battalions of regulars, and a large body of Canadian militia, and some Indians, in all 3400 men.

That night the British troops lay on their arms, and at earliest dawn the heavy sound of the advancing artillery warned the French that a formidable attack was about to open upon the lines under the shelter of which their brilliant victory of the preceding year had been gained. They ventured not to try the issue of a second combat against a different chief, and abandoning the blood-stained breast-works, fell back upon the neighboring fort. The Grenadiers of the English regulars immediately occupied the deserted intrenchments, and the rest of the army encamped at a short distance to the rear.

In the center of these remarkable lines, the French had, in celebration of the victory of Carillon, erected a lofty cross, which still remained; a deep grave was sunk before it, and on the cross was affixed a plate of brass, with this inscription:

"Pone principes eorum sicut Oreb et Zebec et Zalmanna."

The French kept up a warm fire from the fort upon the position where the British lay encamped, but the great height and strength of the breast-works erected for their own defense now sheltered their enemies, and rendered the shower of shot and shells perfectly harmless. The preparations for the siege rapidly progressed, and the garrison were apparently equally vigorous in dispositions for defense; but M. de Bourlemaque soon perceived that the English general possessed the skill and determination, as well as the necessary force, to insure success; he therefore silently abandoned the fort on the night of the 23d, leaving 400 men to continue such a resistance as might mask the retreat of his army. This small but gallant band, while their countrymen filed cautiously down toward the lake, made a sudden attack upon the advanced guard in the besiegers' trenches, killed and wounded sixteen men, and caused such confusion that in the darkness of the night the British fired upon each other.

On the 24th and 25th, the remaining French in the fort kept up a continuous fire upon the besiegers' camp, and, having ascertained the range, caused much annoyance and some loss. Colonel Townshend, a brave and beloved officer—the Lord Howe of Amherst's army—was struck down by a cannon shot in the trenches, and he instantly expired, to the great grief of all who knew him. Meanwhile the English approaches were advanced within 600 yards of the fort, and the Indians, under Major Rogers, harassed the defenders with a continuous fire from the advanced works. At ten o'clock on the night of the 26th some deserters to the British camp informed the general that the French had abandoned the fort, but that they had left every gun loaded and pointed, several mines charged for the utter destruction of the defenses, and a lighted fuse communicating with the well-stored powder magazine. While they yet spoke, an awful explosion, bursting upon the silence of the night, confirmed the tale; then, from under the dense cloud of smoke and dust, and the shower of burning embers, arose the flames of the wooden breast-works, barracks, and stores, while at intervals, from the mass of fire, the yellow flash of the bursting guns and the exploding mines varied the tints of the light that fell far and near upon the lake and the surrounding forest.

The retreat of the French had been so hurried that they were unable to give warning to their scouting parties, who, on returning to the fort, fell into the hands of the English. Colonel Haviland, with some Rangers[168] and light troops in fast boats, pursued the flying enemy across the lake, and succeeded in capturing some bateaux laden with powder, and sixteen prisoners. At daylight in the morning a sergeant of the British regulars volunteered for the dangerous duty of entering the burning fort, to strike the French flag and raise that of England in its place; he succeeded, and carried the white banner in safety to his general. Soon afterward a detachment was sent to extinguish the flames, and save any guns which yet might have remained uninjured. This object was accomplished with some difficulty, but no loss. No more than seventy-six men of the British force had been killed and wounded in all the preceding operations.

Amherst set vigorously to work in repairing the fort of Ticonderoga; most of the ramparts, the covered way, and the walls of the buildings remained uninjured; his principal exertions were therefore employed in leveling his own now useless siege works, and completing the road from the shore. Meanwhile Captain Loring still labored to strengthen the British naval power on the lake; he weighed some French bateaux which had been sunk, and constructed a brig with all possible dispatch. The general was intent, in the mean time, on forwarding the main objects of the campaign. Crown Point was the next obstacle to be overcome; little was known as to its defenses or situation, but it at least was not guarded by the gloomy memories which had hung around the neighboring stronghold of Ticonderoga.

Major Rogers, who had so often proved his activity and skill, was pushed on with about 200 Rangers to feel the strength of the enemy and examine the position of Crown Point; his orders were to seize some strong and safe post near the fort, and, in case of attack, to hold out at all hazards until relieved by the advancing army. After a little fruitless skirmishing and scalping, the Rangers established themselves in a commanding situation, but on the 1st of August intelligence arrived which proved that all precautions had been needless: the enemy had abandoned Crown Point. A small English detachment immediately took possession, but Amherst, with the main army, did not arrive till the 4th. He then encamped his troops, and traced out the lines of a new fort, as a defense in future against the savage scalping parties which had so long been a terror to the frontier settlers of New York.

The skillful and cautious movements of the British general had thus, with scarcely any loss, secured possession of the two important strongholds which ruled the destiny of the long-disputed lakes: where his predecessor had not only been baffled, but had received a terrible chastisement, he, with an inferior power, had almost uninterruptedly won his way, and overcome all opposition more by demonstration than by force. The country, now thus cheaply won, was rich and beautiful; far as the eye could reach, magnificent forests and verdant turf alternated on the undulations of the landscape, down to the margin of the transparent lake. The sugar-tree, and various fruits and flowers, abounded in the sunny valleys, and the scent of aromatic herbs filled the pure air with a delightful perfume. Deep was the sorrow of the French when they abandoned forever that lovely land which had been adorned by their taste and industry, strengthened by their skill and toil, defended by their best blood, and endeared to their vain but gallant hearts by memories of glorious victory.

The orders of M. de Bourlemaque were to impede more than to resist the overwhelming British force. The naval superiority which he still retained upon the lakes enabled him to carry out these orders, despite the vigor and skill of his opponent; but his losses in material, if not in life and honor were considerable. Besides a large quantity of guns, ammunition, and stores sunk or destroyed, several pieces of cannon of various sizes, some swivels, small arms, powder, and intrenching tools fell into the hands of the English.

On the 16th of August, Amherst was informed by deserters that the French had encamped on Isle aux Noix, at the northern extremity of Lake Champlain, where a strong position gave them the command of the entrance to the Richelieu River. Joined by some small detachments, sufficient to repair their losses by defection and in the field, they still mustered 3500 men; 100 pieces of cannon, and four armed vessels, commanded by naval officers, and manned by picked soldiers of the line, enabled them even yet to offer a formidable front.

The fate of this portion of the campaign now evidently turned upon the relative strength of the contending parties on the waters of the lake. Amherst's great superiority of troops was unavailable while French vessels cruised triumphantly between him and his enemy. He therefore stimulated Captain Loring to increased exertions; on the 17th, a large raft to carry six heavy guns was commenced. But the enemy were also active, and in a fortnight afterward launched a new vessel pierced for sixteen guns. On the 3d of September the English began the construction of a sloop equal in size to that of the French. It was not, however, till the 11th of October that the raft, the brig from Ticonderoga, and the new sloop were ready for action. And already the bleak autumnal winds were sweeping over the lake; the nights fell dark and chill; the dreary winter approached, when no zeal or courage could avail an invading force. Montcalm had therefore insomuch succeeded, and Amherst failed, in their several objects: the main force of the British army was destined once again to waste its strength upon the very threshold of Canada,[169] and played no part of real importance in the great results which the hand of Providence directed surely but unexpectedly elsewhere.

In consequence of intelligence received of General Prideaux's death before Niagara, Brigadier-general Gage had been dispatched by Amherst on the 28th of July to join that army, and the second battalion of the Royal Highlanders was also sent from head-quarters to Oswego, to support, if necessary, the movement in the West. Gage had been instructed, in case of the reduction of Niagara, to take post immediately at a place called La Galette, a position commanding the entrance of the River St. Lawrence from Lake Ontario. Amherst knew that the occupation of this post was so essential for the security of the British frontiers from the enemy's scalping parties, that on the receipt of Gage's dispatch he instantly sent Major Christie to the brigadier to repeat and enforce his former orders. The difficulties in the way of this movement were, however, considerable, and General Gage had conceived himself justified in representing them to his chief, and deferring the execution of his orders until a more favorable opportunity. Meanwhile the dreary winter advanced apace, and difficulty became impossibility; to Amherst's infinite chagrin, this important operation was necessarily postponed to another year.

General Gage does not appear to have sufficiently felt the importance of fulfilling the portion of the great scheme which fell to his lot; doubtless the difficulties in his path were many and formidable, but it was to overcome difficulties that he was selected for the proud post of leader to thousands of gallant men. His first duty, assuredly, was to fulfill the task confided to him, upon which, perhaps, the success or failure of the campaign, and his country's glory might depend. One object lay distinctly before him; in accomplishing that object, he could not have been too cautious, or too precious of his men; but rather than abandon the enterprise, and fail in his share of the combination, far better would it have been for England's cause and his own honor had he dared the worst dangers of the trackless wilderness and of the stormy lake.

Meanwhile General Amherst sent Captain Kennedy with a flag of truce to the warlike Indians of St. François, offering them peace and amity: their populous village lay at the western extremity of Lake St. François. The savages, however, detained the British officer and his party as prisoners, and returned no answer to their communications. Amherst promptly determined to inflict the severest chastisement for the insult. The expedition undertaken for this purpose was perhaps the most daring and extraordinary of any during the progress of the war.

Early in October, 200 men were sent against the Indians of St. François, under the command of Major Rogers, an officer already distinguished for courage and ability. His orders were to inflict condign punishment on the warriors of this tribe for a long arrear of cruelties and atrocities committed upon the unprotected British settlers, but to spare all women and children. A glance at the map of North America will show the great distance of the point of attack from Amherst's head-quarters. The route lay through one vast forest, utterly a wilderness, and untrodden by human foot, except where the invaders' deadly enemies lay in wait, or scoured the country for their destruction. The casualties and hardships of the march reduced Rogers's small detachment by more than a fourth of its strength; the survivors, however, came in sight of the Indian village on the evening of the 22d day. The leader left his men in a place of concealment, and went forward alone, with necessary caution, to observe the enemy. For several hours he hovered about, now approaching close to the dangerous scene, now again falling back into the darkness of the night, and still darker shades of the forest, until he had at length fully informed himself of the situation and state of the village. It so chanced that the savages were engaged in celebrating some of their wild and mysterious rites: they danced and shouted furiously, and devoured the war-feast with ravenous zeal. At length they lay down to sleep, exhausted by fatigue and repletion. Major Rogers, satisfied with his observations, returned to his party at two o'clock in the morning.

A little before dawn the English detachment marched silently to within 500 yards of the sleeping village, and laid aside their packs and all other incumbrances. Not a sound arose, not a limb moved among the Indians; in the fatal confidence of savage tactics, not a scout or sentinel was placed to give notice of impending danger. When the sun had already risen, but not yet gained sufficient strength to reach the drowsy eyes of the slumberers, Rogers formed his men, and gave the long wished-for order to attack; with a loud cry of vengeance they burst upon the sleeping village. The surprise was complete; the Indians had no time to arm or resist; they were slain without mercy; many never wakened, others were struck down at the doors of their huts as they endeavored to fly; some few escaped to the Great River, but were pursued by the English, and, with their frail canoes swamped in the waters. The conquerors then fired the village, saving only three houses where corn was stored; the wretched savages who had concealed themselves in the cellars and lofts perished in the flames. By seven o'clock in the morning the destruction was accomplished, and more than 200 Indian warriors were slain. Women and children were spared by the sword, but doubtless many must have perished in the fire and in the confusion of the strife: twenty were taken alive; six of these, however, only were detained; the rest received the scant mercy of freedom to wander back to their ruined homes, and to the now lonely hunting-grounds of their tribe.

Five English captives were released from slavery by this success, and taken under the protection of their countrymen. The loss to the victors was very slight; one friendly Indian was killed, and Captain Ogden, with six men, were wounded. The situation of the little detachment was, however, most perilous; the prisoners informed Major Rogers that a party of 300 French, with some savages, had discovered and seized his boats, down the river, about four miles from the village of St. François. He could not doubt the truth of this unwelcome news, for they told him the exact number of his boats, and described the place where they had been left. He also learned that another force of 200 French and 15 Indians lay in wait for him higher up the stream. The English officers held a hurried council on their almost desperate position, and agreed unanimously that the only chance of safety lay in a return to the British settlements by the upper branches of the Connecticut River. This route was attended with toils and hardships well-nigh incredible.

Rogers marched his detachment for eight successive days to the southeast without interruption, but provisions began to fail, and it became necessary to divide his people into small parties, that each might provide for themselves as they best could. A guide was appointed to every division, and they parted near the beautiful shores of Lake Memphremagog, with orders to reassemble at the point where the Amansook pours into the Connecticut River: there the provident chief had before caused a dépôt of provisions to be prepared. Major Rogers and his party reached the place of meeting in safety on the 5th of November, worn out with fatigue and cold, and almost famished.

Another party, commanded by Lieutenant George Campbell, of the Rangers, underwent trials more severe than any of their companions had suffered. At one time they were four days without a morsel of food; they had wandered from the direct route, and knew not whither they went. The weak in mind went mad from suffering and despair; the weak in body sank. They had already devoured their leather straps, and the covers of their cartouch boxes: no resource, and but a faint glimmering of hope remained. At length, on the 28th of October, in crossing a small stream dammed up with logs, they espied some human bodies, scalped and horribly mangled, probably the corpses of their companions. Their furious hunger knew no restraint; they did not wait even for a fire to prepare the ghastly banquet, but ate like beasts of prey; then collecting carefully the remnants, pursued their journey. A squirrel and a few roots helped to keep them alive till the 4th of November, when, to their unutterable joy, they saw a boat on the Connecticut River, sent by Rogers to their relief. On the 7th they rejoined their companions.

We must now return to the insignificant conclusion of General Amherst's campaign. On the 10th of October, the brig arrived from Ticonderoga with eighteen guns; seventy seamen and sixty soldiers embarked as marines. The following day the little fleet was completed by the arrival of the new sloop carrying sixteen guns, sixty sailors, and fifty soldiers, under the command of Lieutenant Grant, of Montgomery's Highlanders. In the afternoon the troops embarked for Isle aux Noix in the bateaux; the armed vessels got out first, and sailed up the lake with a fair wind, the army following in four divisions. As night fell, lights were hoisted on board the brigantine and Great Radeau, to guide the expedition. In the gray of the morning, some guns were suddenly heard in the advance, and a message was sent to the general that his armed vessels were in action with those of the French. He hastened to the front, and soon discovered the mistake. The bateaux containing a wing of the 42d Regiment, under Major Reid, had gone astray in the night, and got unexpectedly among the enemy's sloops; the first light of day revealed the dangerous error, and they happily ran the gauntlet of the French guns in safety. One boat, however, with a lieutenant and twenty men, being very far in advance, could not effect an escape, and was captured. The enemy's squadron, content with this small advantage, crowded all sail, and disappeared among the numerous islands. Toward the evening of the 12th the wind increased, and the waters of the lake rose into formidable waves; the light bateaux and clumsy rafts were equally unfit to face this boisterous weather. The general was most unwillingly compelled to order the expedition to seek the shelter of a neighboring bay on the western shore, where commodious anchorage opportunely offered. The troops were then landed, and allowed to stretch their cramped limbs, while Gage's Light Infantry scoured the adjacent forest to guard against surprise; at the same time, the Rangers disembarked on an island that commanded the entrance of the harbor, and overlooked the lake. Meanwhile, despite the angry skies, Captain Loring, with the armed vessels, still stoutly kept at sea, and strove with untiring zeal to bring the enemy to action. At daylight in the morning he had caught sight of a French schooner, about forty-five miles down the lake, and crowded all sail in her pursuit; but, ignorant of the navigation in those strange waters, he had run two of his vessels ashore. After much exertion, however, he succeeded in getting them off. At length, to his great joy, he espied three hostile sloops, and immediately gave chase with all the sail he could carry. The French, finding escape impossible, ran for a small bay on the western shore, drove one of the vessels aground, and sunk the two others. The crews, under their commandant, M. de Bolabarras, made their escape through the woods, after having encountered extreme difficulty and hardship.

The deepening shades of evening prevented the English from seeing the catastrophe of the enemy's squadron, and rendered it difficult or impossible for them to pursue into the rocky shallows; they therefore prepared as they best could to brave out the stormy night, and cast anchor at the entrance of the bay. When daylight came they saw the abandoned vessels; the French schooner, however, had escaped. Captain Loring left Lieutenant Grant with the sloop to endeavor to save the stranded vessel, with her guns, stores, and rigging; he himself again put out into the lake in pursuit of the only hostile sail now left upon the waters.

The storm continued to the 15th of October; on the 16th there was frost; on the 17th a contrary wind again rose. During all this time General Amherst was forced to remain inactive. Every hour was precious; the fate of the campaign, his fame and England's interests might have hung upon his movements, and he did not stir. By flags of truce and letters of ceremony from the hostile chief, he had received information, vaguely, that a British fleet lay before Quebec; that combats had been fought, and blood had freely flowed; and while the balance of victory trembled under the walls of the great stronghold, he, with his overwhelming power, lay helpless, as in a nightmare, on the banks of the stormy lake.[170]

On the 18th the waters became somewhat calmer, and a south wind blew gently up Lake Champlain. Amherst made one other effort; the troops were once more hurried into the bateaux, and the expedition pushed on to the north. They reached in a few hours the bay where the French vessels had been driven ashore a few days previously; there again, however, the uncertain winds veered round; the clouds darkened in the north, and a chill blast swept down the lake, plowing the angry waters. The British general was now finally baffled; winter had almost commenced; he had no hope of grappling with the enemy before the season closed; the fate of Quebec must, ere then, have been decided; there was much to risk and little to gain by another effort upon the lakes. Nothing was left but to prepare for the inglorious step of disposing his army in winter quarters. Amherst therefore fell back upon Crown Point on the 21st, directed the completion of the defenses, made roads and bridges, and nursed the Provincials, who had become uncommonly sickly. Thus ended his campaign.

CHAPTER IX.

The expedition against Niagara consisted of a detachment of the Royal Artillery, the 44th and 46th British regiments, the 4th battalion of the Royal Americans, two battalions of New York Provincials, and a large body of Indians under Sir William Johnson: Brigadier Prideaux commanded in chief. On the 20th of May the troops commenced their advance from Schenectady, where they had assembled, and moved upon Oswego; they embarked on Lake Ontario from that port on the 1st of July, after a march of great difficulty, but without interruption from the enemy. A detachment under Colonel Haldimand was left for the protection of Oswego.

The British force landed, unopposed, on the 7th of July, about six miles to the eastward of Fort Niagara, and at once set to work in opening a communication between the landing place and the Niagara River. The fort was situated on a narrow peninsula, the lake on one side, the broad, deep stream on the other; it was thus a matter of little difficulty to invest the position effectually on the land side, while the numerous bateaux cut off from the besieged all communication by water. Prideaux planned and advanced his approaches with skill and vigor. Batteries were speedily erected, from which he fired upon the defenses, and kept under the artillery of the French. Still, as the superiority of the besiegers' guns told more and more upon the crumbling ramparts, the works were pushed closer and closer, and fresh spirit was thrown into the attack.

On the first arrival of the English army before the fort, the general had sent a peremptory summons to M. Pouchot,[171] the commandant, to surrender at discretion; this was promptly refused by the stout Frenchman, who answered that "his post was strong, his garrison faithful, and that, the longer he held out, the more he should win the esteem of his enemy." Early intelligence of the approaching danger had reached Pouchot; he had not lost a moment in dispatching couriers eastward to Frontenac, to inform the Canadian government, and southward to Detroit, Presque Isle, Venango, and Le Bœuf, with orders for all the French detachments to assemble with their Indian allies at the Niagara Rapids, and to hasten to his relief.

On the 10th of July, M. Chaboust arrived, with a small party of French and some savages, and succeeded in getting into the fort. On the 11th the besieged attempted a sally upon the British trenches, but were instantly overpowered, and pursued till they found shelter under the fire of their guns. By the 14th the besiegers' parallels were finished to the banks of the lake, and the fire became so heavy that the defenders could only find safety in the covered way and behind the ramparts. On the 19th the French schooner Iroquoise arrived from Frontenac, and lay to abreast of the fort, but could not venture in under the English guns, which still, night and day, kept up their harassing fire.

General Prideaux being well informed of the enemy's formidable muster for the relief of the fort, made every preparation that zeal and prudence could suggest to meet their designs; but at this critical moment a melancholy accident deprived the army of his useful services, and gave to another the enjoyment of the honors which he had worthily won. On the evening of the 19th, while issuing some orders in the trenches, unperceived by the gunners in a battery close at hand, a cohorn mortar was unhappily fired, the shell of which burst prematurely, and a splinter struck the gallant general with a deadly wound. The command devolved to the hands of Sir William Johnson.

Meanwhile the besieged, though hardly pressed, were still buoyed up with the hope of relief from their advancing countrymen. On the 23d four savages made their way into the fort with a letter to M. Bouchet, informing him that MM. d'Aubry and De Lignières were at hand with 1200 Frenchmen and a still larger force of Indians, and that they were about to attack the British lines. On the result of this attack hung the fate of Niagara and of all the Western country which still owned the sway of France: preparations were made to second it with all the efforts of the garrison. The cause of the French was, however, already all but desperate; the feeble defenses of the fort shook and crumbled under the heavy and increasing fire of their enemies. An overpowering artillery forbade the approach of their vessel from the lake. The beleaguering trenches intruded within 100 yards of their parapets, and gave shelter to swarms of British and Indian marksmen. The little garrison was worn by toil and wasted by death; the barracks and dwellings were ruined by shot and shell; and, worst of all, the apparently favorable chance in the death of the besieging general had only transferred the conduct of the attack to hands even more able and skillful than those of the deceased. It was true that the French detachment, then about to risk all for their relief, were brave and veteran troops; but their numbers were hopelessly inadequate, and little dependence could be placed in the politic and faithless savages who marched with them, more to witness than to contribute to their success or defeat.

On the other hand, Sir William Johnson had received ample notice of De Aubry's approach, and, confident in his own strength and ability, made steady preparation for the combat. His great superiority of force enabled him to leave the trenches crowded with troops, chiefly Provincials, while he marched out to overwhelm the advancing enemy. About sunset on the evening of the 23d, he pushed forward strong pickets, and the light companies of the regular regiments, into the woods on either side of the rude track leading from Niagara Falls to the Fort, and scattered small parties of Indians on the flanks of the Europeans. Having posted their sentries, and no enemy being yet visible, Johnson's advance lay down to rest upon their arms. Never, perhaps, has a stranger scene been witnessed than the banks of the Niagara River presented on that September night: the dark ramparts of the fort, every now and then illumined by the flash of the defenders' guns, or suddenly revealed by the red light of a salvo from the hostile trenches; in the open plain beyond, the white tents and the huts of the besieging army; and further on, the watch-fires of the advanced guard throwing their flickering glare upon the lofty arches of the forest, and upon the scattered groups of the British soldiery and Indian warriors. Away, still further to the west, unseen in the gloomy woods, the weak but gallant troops of France slept the sleep which most of them were to know no more. High over all, the soft, misty spray from the neighboring cataract stood like a huge pillar of lightest summer clouds up against the sky, while the dull, deep roar of falling waters filled the air with a solemn and unceasing voice.

At daylight on the 24th Sir William Johnson advanced his Grenadier companies and part of the 46th regiment, under Lieutenant-colonel Massey, to strengthen his front, while the 44th regiment, under Lieutenant-colonel Farquhar, kept up the communication with Major Beckwith, who commanded the troops in the trenches, and remained in readiness to throw their force wherever aid might be required. These judicious dispositions being made, the British awaited the approach of the enemy.

At about eight o'clock the leading files of the French were first perceived advancing through the woods, flanked by large bodies of Indians; as they came on, the English outposts fell back on the reserves steadily, and without firing. In the mean time, the Iroquois, serving under Johnson, endeavored to parley with the Canadian savages, with a view of inducing them to make peace; these overtures were, however, unsuccessful, and the warriors of the Five Nations fell back on the flanks of the British. By nine o'clock D'Aubry's force was formed, and the order immediately given for the attack. With furious gestures and terrible impetuosity, the Indians burst through the woods and fell upon the English lines as they rushed to the charge, shouting the appalling war-cry which had once struck terror into their foes; but it fell upon accustomed ears: they were received with a calm front and steady fire. The Grenadiers of the 44th, who had received a dreadful lesson in savage warfare under the unfortunate Braddock, now bore the shock unmoved, and, stoutly supported by the 46th, with a few rolling volleys they swept away the fierce assailants. So complete was the discomfiture of the red warriors that they rallied no more, and so sudden their disappearance from the scene of strife that the French could only attribute it to treachery which had prearranged defeat.

Undismayed by the dispersion of his allies, the gallant D'Aubry led on his men against the besiegers' position, now strengthened by a force of Provincials from the trenches. The attack was vigorously and bravely pushed, but failed to shake the steady courage of the British troops; meanwhile Johnson's Indians made their way through the woods, and fell upon the flanks of the French. Attacked on all sides, deserted by allies, outnumbered by foes, the assailants hesitated, gave way, and in little more than half an hour broke into utter rout. D'Aubry and all his surviving officers were taken, with a great part of his troops; the remainder were pursued with deadly zeal, and slain or driven into the wilderness.

It was not until two o'clock in the day that Pouchot and his garrison were informed that the firing heard in the morning had ended in the ruin of their hopes of succor. With great difficulty and danger, an Indian had passed the besiegers' lines and borne them the unwelcome intelligence of D'Aubry's defeat and capture. From the earliest dawn, deep excitement had reigned in the beleaguered fort; while the shades of night still lingered under the tall forest trees, flashes of scattered musketry had occasionally burst forth. As the morning advanced, the dropping shots quickened into the sharp rattle of a skirmish, the sounds still approaching the besieged, and stimulating hopes of aid. A little before nine o'clock the skirmish had breezed up into a battle; for half an hour the line of fire waved to and fro, now bent toward the fort, again receded up the banks of the Great River, then held pertinaciously to a woody hollow, and at length fell back into the forest, became broken, interrupted, indistinct, and disappeared. With it vanished the last chance of succor for the garrison of Niagara.

When the first ardor of the pursuit had abated, and Sir William Johnson had got his forces somewhat in hand again, he sent Major Harvey with a flag of truce to inform the French chief of the morning's events, and to exhort him to surrender without further bloodshed, conveying also a terrible hint that in a little time he might not be able to restrain the fierce vengeance of his Indian allies. Pouchot yet doubted, or affected to doubt, the truth of the woeful disaster which had befallen his countrymen, and, still endeavoring to gain time, requested that one of his officers might be allowed to see the prisoners, and hear the tale of defeat from their own lips. The request was granted, the facts were ascertained, and, no further excuse for procrastination suggesting itself, the stubborn Frenchman then surrendered with his fort and garrison.[172]

The terms of capitulation were liberal, and worthy of both conquerors and conquered. It was agreed that the French troops should march out with the honors of war from the ramparts they had so well defended, and lay down their arms on the banks of the lake. There they were to embark immediately in vessels provided by Sir William Johnson, and to be carried to New York by the shortest and easiest route. The French ladies, and all females and children, were offered safe conveyance, subsistence, and escort to the nearest port of France: and the sick and wounded men were to be carefully tended till able to travel, when they were to rejoin their comrades. The victors undertook to protect their prisoners from every insult or injury, in person and in property. All stores, provisions, and arms, with every thing belonging to his most Christian majesty, were to be delivered up in strict faith by M. Pouchot. At seven o'clock in the morning of the 26th of July, a British guard was to take possession of the fort gates.

Accordingly, a little before mid-day on the 26th, the French garrison, 607 strong, marched out from the lost stronghold. Drums were beating, colors flying, and bayonets fixed; but the downcast and sullen looks of the bronzed veterans showed that these "honors of war" were but a mockery to their dejected hearts. Many a glance of angry sorrow and embittered regret was cast back upon the magnificent scene they were to revisit no more; never again was the "spotless flag" to flaunt its ample folds upon the breezes of the Western lakes; never again were the martial strains of France to sound through the majestic roar of nature's grandest wonder. A sufficient British guard attended under arms to keep the fierce and vindictive Indians at a distance. But the humane and extraordinary influence which Sir William Johnson exercised over the minds of his savage followers proved more effectual in restraining their ferocious passions than any mere show of force. The fear of alienating the allegiance of his Indians weighed not a feather weight in his loyal heart when the cause of mercy and his plighted word were at stake. For the successful exercise of his well-earned power over the red warriors, he must, upon this occasion, ever stand in most favorable contrast with Montcalm, his more brilliant rival.

Every article of the capitulation of Niagara was strictly observed in spirit and in letter: no insulting triumph dimmed the honor of British victory, but a demeanor of respectful sympathy with the vanquished characterized the gallant conquerors throughout the embarkation and all subsequent proceedings.

The English loss in this siege and in the action was very slight, with the exception of that of their worthy general, Prideaux, and of Colonel Johnson, a provincial officer of courage and capacity. Sir William Johnson enhanced the merit of his success by his modest and honorable dispatch to General Amherst. "I have only to regret," he writes, "the loss of General Prideaux and Colonel Johnson. I endeavored to pursue the late general's vigorous measures, the good effects of which he deserved to enjoy."

Historians have dwelt with admiration upon the striking military merit displayed at this time by two untaught generals, Clive in the East, and Johnson in the West, "who, by a series of shining actions have demonstrated that uninstructed genius can, by its own internal light and efficacy, rival, if not eclipse, the acquired art of discipline and experience." Thus writes Smollett: the learned doctor's remark is capable of far more general application than to the cases here mentioned. Our military system always has trusted, and still trusts, to this "uninstructed genius" in our chiefs, and by its own provisions furnished no teaching to a Marlborough and a Wellington beyond the knowledge of drill in a field day, and of the forms of discipline in a barrack yard. While we rest with pride and pleasure on the undoubted predominance of success over all foes which has attended our arms, we may not deny that to the never failing chivalry of the officers and to the stubborn courage of the soldiery are these successes due. Many and sad are the records of combats where torrents of British blood have flowed to redeem the errors, or to make amends for the want of military science in a British chief. Our great captains, great in genius and skill as well as in success, have indeed been "lone stars," presenting, in comparison, to those not so gifted, very much the proportion which "uninstructed genius" usually displays among men in other pursuits of life.

It may be urged that the officers of our instructed corps, the artillery and engineers, have never supplied the general service with a chief of conspicuous ability; but it is a remarkable fact that, except in the brief Syrian campaign of 1840, no member of those corps has ever led an English army, or even a brigade. Through the unvarying rule of promotion by seniority, no officer of artillery or engineers arrives at a sufficient rank to command, until a time of life when the experience of the veteran can hardly be aided by the energy of the man. Rare indeed must be the instances of those who have passed nearly half a century of service, in which the hope of reward was too faint to stimulate industry, the dread of censure too slight to alarm indolence, and who still retain sufficient zeal and vigor for their country's need. They are probably equally rare with the instances of successful "genius" among their uninstructed brethren of the rest of the British army.

Many worthy and earnest, though mistaken men there are, who dread the instruction of the toiling millions of our countrymen; who believe in all sincerity that the penetrating light of awakened intellect would flash upon the squalid purlieus of Manchester and Liverpool only to render degradation more degraded, and misery more miserable, by a keener appreciation. There can hardly, however be found any one, beyond those grown gray under the existing system, who fears that professional education could perniciously influence the qualifications of our officers for their station in life, or damp their undoubted chivalry and spirit. To cast aside political or personal considerations, and select for command the man most conspicuous by merit and genius, has not been an unvarying rule with those in high authority. But a system requiring the qualifications of at least a careful education[173] from all to whom the lofty trust of England's military honor is confided, might to a great extent supply the deficiencies of chiefs unendowed with the gift of genius, and undistinguished by pre-eminent merit.

By the capture of Niagara, the French posts to the westward, on the lakes and rivers, were cut off from all aid; and by the destruction of D'Aubry's army, composed principally of their garrisons, they were rendered incapable of any effectual resistance. Colonel Bouquet, therefore, who, with a small force, had been detached by Brigadier-general Stanwix against the principal of these, Presque Isle, Venango, and Le Bœuf, had only to summon them to surrender and then to take possession, with no greater difficulties than those presented by the long and rugged route.

We must now, for a moment, return to Colonel Haldimand, who was, as before related, left in command at Oswego by General Prideaux. In the forenoon of the 5th of July, while superintending the works at the fort, he was startled by the well-known sound of the Indian war-whoop close at hand, but no enemy then appeared. The English colonel immediately sent out scouts upon the lake, who brought word that an armament of 100 boats was lying in a neighboring cove. About mid-day some Indians and Canadians appeared in the borders of the forest near the fort, and made a show of attacking two detached redoubts, but were speedily driven back among the trees; from thence, however, they kept up a dropping fire, which was only silenced by the approach of night. A deserter who had passed over under cover of the darkness, gave information that the attacking party consisted of 300 colony troops, 1300 Canadian militia, and 150 Indians, and that M. de la Corne was in command. The French had hoped to carry the fort by surprise: their zeal was stimulated by the vindictive fury of a Canadian priest, named Piquet, who marched at their head till the fire commenced, urged them on with the hope of plunder, and denounced all who might give quarter to the heretic enemy.

The night passed without any alarm. At first dawn, however, the dusky forms of the Indians were seen cautiously approaching the western angle of the intrenchments, and mustering for an attack. But two guns loaded with grape, and a sharp volley of musketry from the fort, at once drove them back yelling into the woods. After a time they gathered sufficient determination to make an attempt at burning the English boats in the harbor, which they again and again repeated, but always without success. M. de la Corne did not bring his French troops into action. Finding Colonel Haldimand well prepared for his reception, he abandoned the enterprise, having buried his dead, and carried off his wounded to the boats. The French chief acquired little honor by this impotent demonstration; not a prisoner rewarded his efforts, nor did he obtain a single scalp, although the deserters affirmed that he had offered 1000 livres for one such horrible trophy. The fierce priest, Piquet, gained a reputation for cruelty and ferocity which was not forgotten when Canada had passed from the sway of France.

Thus every where in the far West success attended the British arms. One small fort, indeed, at the remote extremity of Lake Erie, on the banks of the Detroit River, still remained in the possession of France, but distance and comparative insignificance were its sole protection: shut out from supplies or re-enforcements, and feebly garrisoned, it only awaited the summons to surrender. The English force on Lake Ontario rested upon their arms after their somewhat easy victory; Amherst's strength, as we have seen, lay paralyzed by the opposing winds on Lake Champlain; the plan of the campaign as yet had failed. Opposition had been overpowered, forts taken, guns, trophies, and stores captured, but still, at the vital point, at the great Canadian stronghold, from the lofty headland of Quebec, the wise and gallant Montcalm, with an outnumbering host, looked down in unshaken confidence upon the invader's force. There the real battle was to be fought; there alone the die was to be cast which should decide the fate of France's noblest colony. Time rolled on, spring had warmed into summer; summer now deepened into autumn; the broad sycamore leaf drooped upon the stem; the rich foliage of the maple betrayed in its chameleon tints the approaching fall; the mysterious northern lights reappeared in the chilly darkness, and illumined the unclouded sky. Still, while these symptoms of the coming winter crowded upon the eyes of the British generals on Champlain and Ontario, they gained no tidings of their colleague's fate, save such vague rumors as a wandering Indian or a false deserter might convey; and yet, with wonder be it said, they sat them down to rest, and inactively awaited the event of that all-important struggle.

CHAPTER X.

From the indifferent progress of Amherst and the untoward inactivity of Gage, we may now return to the more stirring events of the expedition against Quebec. Early in February a considerable squadron was equipped in the English ports for North America, under the command of Admiral Saunders.[175] A land force was to proceed under convoy of the fleet for the same destination. Pitt justly estimated the importance and difficulty of the enterprise. He looked around in vain among the senior officers of the army for a chief worthy of the occasion. Judging that, among them, the advantages of experience were more than counterbalanced by the infirmities of age, he determined to trust the military honor of England to the elastic vigor and sanguine confidence of youth.

While yet a boy, James Wolfe had received the thanks of his general, the Duke of Cumberland, on the field of La Feldt; rapid promotion had followed this distinction. As lieutenant-colonel of a regiment, the young officer had justified the notice of his superiors. He was appointed to the staff in the inglorious expedition against Rochefort, and gathered laurels where all was barren to his associates. At the siege of Louisburg his transcendent merit shone in the strong light of opportunity and success, and when still in early manhood he had gained a fair maturity of fame. In him ambition was exalted by patriotism and purified by religion. Modest in manners and conversation, he nevertheless possessed in action self-reliance almost to presumption. With the prize of honorable distinction in view, his daring courage foiled every danger and difficulty, and "obstacles were but the stepping stones to his success." He commanded the confidence and respect of the rude soldiers, in spite of an almost feminine sensibility. When reverses for a moment damped his hope, they at the same time served to brace his energy. Ardent and laborious, daring and provident, practical and studious, pertinacious yet reasonable, he was dignified in command and docile in obedience. Gifted, gentle, and generous, earnest in life and devoted in death, history may grace her page with the name of no greater hero when she records the deeds of many a greater general.

Wolfe returned to England from Louisburg in the end of the year 1758. He suffered severely from an illness, for which repose offered the only chance of relief, and an early prospect of the realization of a long and dearly-cherished hope drew him to home. But his aspiring spirit would not yield either to the weakness of his frame or to the strength of his affection, and almost immediately after landing from America, he addressed Mr. Pitt in a modest and manly letter, and offered his services for the next American campaign.

Wolfe's name stood high in the esteem of all who were qualified to judge, but, at the same time, it stood low in the column of colonels in the Army List. The great minister thought that the former counterbalanced the latter. With instinctive genius, he discerned that the young soldier possessed the peculiar qualifications suited for his purpose, and, throwing aside the obstacles presented by official routine, he recommended the gallant brigadier of Louisburg to the especial notice of the king. One of the last gazettes in the year 1758 announced the promotion of Colonel James Wolfe to the rank of major-general, and his appointment to the chief command of the expedition against Quebec.

About the middle of February, 1759, the squadron sailed from England to Louisburg, where the whole of the British force destined for the River St. Lawrence was ordered to assemble. On the 21st of April Saunders and his armament reached the coast of Cape Breton, but the harbors were still blocked up with the ice of the preceding winter, and he could not enter. He then bent his course for Halifax, on the neighboring peninsula of Nova Scotia, and anchored the whole fleet in that magnificent sea port. Twenty-two ships of the line, five frigates, and nineteen smaller vessels of war, with a crowd of transports, were mustered under the orders of the admiral, and a detachment of Artillery and Engineers, and ten battalions of Infantry, with six companies of Rangers, formed Wolfe's command; the right flank companies of the three regiments which still garrisoned Louisburg soon after joined the army, and were formed into a corps called the Louisburg Grenadiers. The total of the land forces embarked were somewhat under 8000. Two thousand Infantry, which had formed part of the expedition to the West Indies, under Hodgson, were to have increased Wolfe's strength, but, owing to unavoidable circumstances, they were subsequently countermanded.

Before leaving England Admiral Saunders had received intelligence that the French would make an effort to run a convoy up the River St. Lawrence for the relief of Quebec, at the first opening of the navigation. He therefore dispatched Admiral Durell with a small squadron to intercept it. From Halifax Saunders proceeded to Louisburg as soon as the breaking up of the ice permitted, and there held counsel with Wolfe upon the plan of the expedition. On the 15th of May he issued a general order to the fleet, that, in case of any temporary separation from adverse weather or other accidents, Gaspé Bay, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, was to be the first place of rendezvous, and the island of Bic, 340 miles up the Great River, the next.

It was not, however, till the 1st of June that the British ships began to weigh anchor in Louisburg Harbor, and the huge armament had not altogether cleared the land for six days afterward. While spreading sail, the admiral received the unwelcome news that three French frigates and a cloud of store vessels had escaped Durell's squadron and reached Quebec in safety. Two prizes were captured, however, which had lagged somewhat behind, and they, besides a quantity of powder and other munition, contained French charts of the River St. Lawrence, the possession of which proved of great importance to the British fleet.

A cheerful and confident spirit pervaded all ranks and services in the expedition. A portion of the troops, among whom were the gallant 43d, had been for a considerable time doomed to unwilling inactivity upon the dreary shores of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton; they especially were filled with hopeful enthusiasm: as each successive transport cleared the harbor and the broad expanse of sea appeared, shouts of joy burst from the soldiers on the crowded decks.

On the 7th the fleet made the coast of Newfoundland, still covered with the winter's snow; on the 9th it passed the Bird Islands in a stiff breeze, and on the 11th made the headland of Gaspé. The desolate and dangerous island of Anticosti was passed during the 13th with "most delightful weather and favorable breezes; the fleet well together." Early in the morning of the 18th they cast anchor within sight of the island of Bic, where they found the Richmond frigate, which had got some distance in advance, perhaps urged forward by the eager spirit of Wolfe, who was on board. The next day they again sailed; on the 20th they were becalmed off the mouth of the deep and gloomy Saguenay, and many of the smaller vessels narrowly escaped being dashed against each other by the powerful currents. In the night a favorable breeze arose, and cleared them from their perilous entanglement, and now, at noon the following day, the first Canadian settlement came in sight. On the 22d a French ship was taken, on board of which were several nuns and some ladies of distinction, a relation of the Marquis de Vaudreuil, governor of Canada, among the number: they were treated with the greatest respect and courtesy, and immediately sent back to Quebec under a flag of truce.

On the 23d the fleet passed the Narrows between Isle au Condre and the shore, and in the evening came to anchor opposite the little settlement of St. Joseph. There the first act of hostility took place: the inhabitants fired upon some sounding boats which had neared the shore; this was answered by a small detachment of the 15th Regiment, sent in a barge for the protection of the sounders; little or no damage, however, was inflicted by either party. In revenge for this attack, the little Canadian village was subsequently burned, and the fields laid waste by a body of British troops from before Quebec.[176] On the 25th the difficult passage of "the Traverse" was made in safety, and on the following day the armament anchored off the fair and fertile island of Orleans, and the troops received orders of readiness to land.

About midnight, Lieutenant Meech and forty Rangers rowed silently toward the shore, and, unobserved by the Canadians, effected a landing. Leaving their boats, they pushed on through the darkness almost to the northern side of the island; suddenly they came upon a numerous body of armed peasants, who were engaged in burying different valuables for safety against the invaders. The few shots which were speedily exchanged showed the Rangers that they were outnumbered, and that a bold front was the only chance of safety. A smart skirmish ensued; the Canadians, surprised by the unexpected attack, and not aware what force might support their assailants, gave way, and retired in confusion. Lieutenant Meech, happy in having escaped the danger, also fell back, and took refuge in a farm-house till the morning. During the night the inhabitants abandoned the island.

The troops landed early on the 27th in a cove under the Church of St. Lawrence, which sacred building they were implored to respect, through the means of a placard directed to "the worthy officers of the British army." The soldiers were charmed with the beauty and richness of the island, and their comparative freedom after the weary voyage; but the mind of their young general was filled with deep and anxious interest by the sight of the stronghold that stood boldly out into the river a few miles above. Accompanied by the chief engineer, Major M'Kellar, and an escort of Light Infantry, Wolfe, as soon as he landed, pushed on to the extremity of the island nearest to Quebec. A magnificent but disheartening scene lay before him. On the summit of the highest eminence, over the strait in the Great River from whence the basin before him opened, the French flag waved. The crest of the rocky height was crowned with formidable works redoubted and flanked. On every favorable spot above, below, or on the rugged ascent, were batteries bristling with guns. This stronghold formed the right flank of a position eight miles in extent; the falls, and the deep and rapid stream of the Montmorency, was the left. The shoals and rocks of the St. Lawrence protected the broad front, and the rich valley of the St. Charles, with the prosperous and beautiful villages of Charlesburg and Beauport, gave shelter and hospitality in the rear. A crested bank of some height over the Great River marked the main line of the defenses from east to west; parapets, flanked at every favorable spot, aided their natural strength. Crowding on this embattled bank, swarming in the irregular village streets, and formed in masses on the hills beyond, were 12,000 French and Canadian troops, led by the gallant Montcalm.

While Wolfe still gazed upon this appalling prospect a storm gathered over his head, and burst in sudden violence. The teeming rain fell like a vail between him and the beautiful but dangerous shore. Lightning hissed through the air, and a hurricane swept over the river with destructive strength. Transports were driven from their moorings and cast ashore; smaller boats were dashed against each other and swamped, and the vessels of war with difficulty held to their anchors. Silently and thoughtfully the young general retraced his steps to the landing-place, his sanguine and sensitive spirit oppressed for a moment with the difficulties of his enterprise, and by the gloomy omen of the heavens. But, before he rejoined the army, the weight was flung aside; the elastic spring of his mind had resumed its play, and he entered the camp with head erect and his usual bright and fearless aspect. He did not forget that he received his high command in the confidence that "no dangers or difficulties should discourage him."

The storm passed away as suddenly as it came; the evening of the 27th fell calm and serene, but very dark; a few stars only were faintly reflected from the surface of the waters. As the British sentinels paced slowly to and fro upon the rocky shore of the island of Orleans facing toward Quebec, the silence of the night was only broken by the echo of their own footsteps and the ripple of the rapidly receding tide. About midnight a soldier on one of the most advanced points called the attention of his comrades on the neighboring posts to some dark objects moving along the river—slowly, as if drifting with the tide in the direction of the fleet, or rather toward some shoals to the northward of the fleet, which had been marked out by buoys during the preceding day. While the sentinels were yet debating about giving the alarm, each of the dark objects sent forth a crashing salvo of artillery; grape-shot rattled among the rocks and trees upon the shore, and plowed up the surrounding waters. Shells and grenades leaped into the air, and exploded with loud reports, now here, now there, on every side of the astounded soldiers. At the same time bright red flames burst from these fire-ships, sprung up among the masts and spars, quivered through the distinctly visible tracery of the rigging, and spread out in broad sheets over the collapsing sails. The river, the hostile camps, the city, and the distant mountains, instantly stood revealed as in noonday by this lurid light. As the blaze spread, explosion after explosion racked the burning vessels; they staggered and spun half round under the shocks; but still the ebb tide swept them rapidly on, near to where the crowded transports lay.

This strange and terrible sight struck the sentries with uncontrollable panic; they fled from their posts, carried their terrors to their pickets, and all retired hastily toward the English camp. Falling in upon each other in the woods, they became utterly confused. The alarm spread; the whole line turned out, loaded their muskets, and prepared somewhat unsteadily for action. Order and confidence were not fully restored till daylight showed that there was no enemy at hand.

In the mean time, upon the river, where real danger threatened, it was happily met with cool and courageous skill. As soon as the premature ignition of the fire-ships gave the alarm to the fleet, a number of well-manned boats put off and pulled toward them. The sailors waited until the guns were discharged and the powder exploded; then fixed grappling irons upon the burning vessels, and towed them leisurely ashore, where those least injured were anchored; the rest drifted with the tide upon the rocks, and soon broke into harmless ruin. Then, to the sharp report of cannon and grenade, succeeded the cheerful and sonorous "All's well" of the British seamen.

On the following morning, the 28th of June, Wolfe published a manifesto to the Canadian people to the following effect: "We have a powerful armament. We are sent by the English king to conquer this province, but not to make war upon women and children, the ministers of religion, or industrious peasants. We lament the sufferings which our invasion may inflict upon you, but, if you remain neuter, we proffer you safety in person and property, and freedom in religion. We are masters of the river; no succor can reach you from France. General Amherst, with a large army, assails your southern frontier. Your cause is hopeless, your valor useless. Your nation have been guilty of great cruelties to our unprotected settlers; but we seek not revenge: we offer you the sweets of peace amid the horrors of war. England, in her strength, will befriend you; France, in her weakness, leaves you to your fate."

This judicious proclamation was, however, at first, of little or no avail. The Canadian clergy used their utmost endeavors to excite their flocks against the heretical invaders, and implored them not to trust to British promises. Hereditary hatred of the haughty islanders still existed in the hearts of even the transatlantic French. The counter-proclamations and threats of Montcalm also bewildered the unhappy peasantry. He threatened them with death if they refused to serve, and with the fury of the savages if they aided the English. In consequence, the "habitans" generally used their best exertions to embarrass the invaders and to assist the defense. They followed the French banners pretty freely, and furnished such supplies to the army as their means allowed. Not content with this, they gave the rein to the fierce passions which intercourse with the Indians had strengthened. They scalped without mercy all the English that fell into their hands, massacred the wounded, and mutilated the dead. Wolfe appealed to his gallant enemy to put a stop to these atrocities; but Montcalm's authority was insufficient to restrain the savages, and their almost as savage allies; and it must be admitted, to our shame, that the British general was, in consequence, induced to connive at a vindictive retaliation. Ultimately Wolfe issued the following strange and somewhat conditional order: "The general strictly forbids the inhuman practice of scalping, except when the enemy are Indians, or Canadians dressed like Indians." At the same time, however, he threatened with the punishment of death all who might offer cruelty to women, and decreed the severest penalties against plundering. The last order was ineffectual, for the soldiers plundered in all directions.

While the British fleet had been slowly ascending the river, Montcalm and his followers were busily preparing to receive it. They labored unceasingly to add to the great natural strength of the country about Quebec. Parapets were thrown up upon every vulnerable point, guns mounted, and, above all, no efforts were spared to organize the numerous but somewhat doubtful forces of the Canadian peasantry. Five veteran French battalions, filled up by picked men from the colonial levies, and two battalions of the "marine," or "colony troops," also trained soldiers, formed the main strength of his army. The armed peasantry or militia were chiefly posted for the defense of the long line of works between Quebec and Montmorency, and several tribes of friendly Indians hovered about among the neighboring woods.

The Canadians trusted much to the supposed difficulty of the river navigation, and were inexpressibly disappointed when a preconcerted signal announced that the vast British armament had passed the Narrows in safety. When the crowding sails were seen rounding the isle of Orleans, the people, in despair, flew to the churches to offer up their prayers for the preservation of their country. At first the van of Admiral Durell's squadron hoisted French colors, and the joyful rumor spread along the shore that a fleet had arrived to their aid from France. Pilots hastened on board to offer assistance to their supposed friends; but when they were detained, and the British flag was hoisted instead of the French, the pleasing illusion was dispelled. A Canadian priest stood gazing delightedly upon the ships through a telescope: he was so overwhelmed with consternation when he perceived the mistake that he fell down and died.

The storm had taught the British admiral that the channel between the island of Orleans and the south shore was neither a safe nor a convenient anchorage; he therefore determined to pass up into the basin with his whole fleet. Information had, however, been received that the French occupied, in some force of infantry and artillery, a headland called Point Levi, which is opposite to the headland of Quebec, and which, with the latter, forms the strait at the entrance of the basin. From this commanding position the enemy's guns might seriously annoy the English ships. Saunders therefore requested General Wolfe to drive the French away from this point, and to occupy it himself.

On the evening of the 29th of June, Brigadier-general Monckton, with his brigade of four battalions and some Light Infantry and Rangers, were formed on the southwestern extremity of the island of Orleans, in readiness to pass over against Point Levi. Through some unforeseen delay, they did not embark till dusk, and the light troops, with one regiment only, were enabled to cross the river before the ebb of tide rendered further movement impossible for the present. The remaining three regiments lay for the night on their arms by the shore. The troops which had embarked landed without opposition, and contented themselves with taking possession of Beaumont Church on the south shore; there they barricaded themselves, lighted watch-fires, and awaited the morning.

At earliest daylight Monckton embarked the rest of his brigade and pushed across to the advance. The sound of musketry from the southern shore soon stimulated the exertions of the rowers, and, as the scattered shots breezed up into a skirmish, they used their utmost efforts to increase their speed. The troops scarcely waited to form after landing, but hastened on to the church where their comrades had passed the night. There, however, they only met with a couple of wounded men; the Light Infantry had speedily overpowered a detachment of colony troops, and were still pressing hard upon their retreating footsteps through the wood. The English brigadier found the banks of the river steep, the country rugged and difficult: a few resolute men might have embarrassed or baffled his expedition.

In the mean time the British light troops had arrested the pursuit at a large farm-house at the foot of the hill which rises into the headland of Point Levi; they deemed it prudent to secrete themselves there, lest the enemy should return with re-enforcements before the succors arrived from Orleans, and also because there was plenty of provisions, some plunder, and a good fire. While the English soldiers were availing themselves of these advantages, they were alarmed by hearing voices close at hand: they seized their arms, searched the house and the surrounding thickets without discovering any one. They at length determined to fire the building and fall back upon the church. In a few moments the farm-house was in a blaze. Then, to their horror, loud shrieks of women and children burst from the burning ruins; they hastened back, and used their best endeavors to save the sufferers, but in vain; while they yet strove, the roof fell in with a crash, and all was silent. The miserable victims had hidden themselves in a cellar at the approach of the British troops. After this horrible incident the Light Infantry fell back to Beaumont Church, where they found the whole of Monckton's brigade assembled.

At ten o'clock the brigadier moved upon the heights of Point Levi, preceded by a cloud of skirmishers. The way lay over a pleasant road, with a highly cultivated country on either side, and was not disputed till the British troops began to ascend the hill. They soon forced the height, and hurried on to the village facing Quebec. Here, however, they received a check. A strong body of Canadians threw themselves into the church and the adjoining houses, and another detachment held stoutly to a rocky eminence further to the rear. The English rallied and gained possession of the buildings, but were speedily dislodged again; the position was not finally won till the 78th Highlanders forced the flank in overwhelming numbers, and Monckton himself, with four companies of Grenadiers, broke through the front. The Canadians and Indians, who had fought so stoutly, although not altogether more than 1000 strong, crossed over to Quebec when evening fell. The British brigade housed themselves luxuriously in the neat village of Point Levi: no guns fell into their hands, nor were any works in progress on that side of the river.

Montcalm felt that the assailants had gained a dangerous advantage in the possession of Point Levi. Although at a distance of three quarters of a mile from the city, heavy ordnance played from thence with ruinous effect. In a council of war he had urged that 4000 men should be strongly intrenched upon this position, with orders to hold it to the last extremity; but his opinion was overruled by the governor, M. de Vaudreuil, and from that time a fatal alienation arose between the two French authorities. However, in the morning of the 1st of July, Montcalm made a feeble effort to dislodge the British, by attacking their position from three floating batteries. For an hour and a half the French continued an annoying but almost harmless fire. Then Saunders dispatched the Trent frigate to check the insult; favorable winds carried her up to the scene of action, and a broadside concluded the business.

From that time Wolfe exerted himself to put Point Levi beyond the reach of further insult; batteries were thrown up, and guns mounted in commanding situations. In the afternoon skirmishes took place, both in the woods near this new position and on the island of Orleans; some lives were lost without any result, and both parties behaved with savage cruelty. On the following morning this useless mischief was continued: the same evening Wolfe made a reconnoissance in some force up the right bank of the river, and marked out the ground for batteries to bombard the town. Some of the Rangers under Major Scott penetrated as far as the Chaudière River in this advance, but performed nothing worthy of notice.

The 48th Regiment, the Grenadiers and Light Infantry of the division, and the Rangers, with working parties from other corps, broke ground upon the high lands to the west of Point Levi on the 5th of July. They labored with zeal, and the batteries which were to play from thence upon Quebec soon began to assume a formidable appearance. The Rangers took post during the day in small parties upon the adjoining hills, which commanded the several approaches to the works, and erected small breast-works for their defense, while they guarded against the sudden approach of an enemy. In the mean time a portion of Townsend's brigade, under Colonel Carleton, was engaged in throwing up strong intrenchments on the westernmost point of Orleans. When these two positions were occupied, the safety of the fleet in the basin was assured; nevertheless, by some unaccountable temerity or carelessness, the Leostoff cutter allowed herself to be surprised and taken by the enemy while sounding. This little incident brought on a brisk cannonade, which continued for nearly two hours, without, however, causing damage to either party.

When the works on Point Levi and on the western extremity of the island of Orleans were in a respectably defensible condition, Wolfe turned his attention to the north shore of the St. Lawrence, where a favorable position offered for threatening the French left. On the morning of the 9th the lighter vessels of the British fleet hauled in to the shore as close as the depth of water would permit, and opened a fire upon the enemy's lines between Quebec and the Falls of Montmorency. The range was distant; nevertheless, the seamen plied their guns with such effect that Montcalm found it necessary to strike the encampments near the shore, and retire upon the high crest which extended along his whole front: there he was beyond reach of annoyance. At the first dawn, Monckton's brigade, with the exception of the working parties, was formed on the slopes of the hills opposite Quebec, and ostentatiously marched up the left bank of the St. Lawrence westward from Point Levi. The object of the bombardment by the ships, and this movement of the troops, was to divert the attention of the enemy from Wolfe's real object, which was to establish himself upon the north shore by the Falls of Montmorency.

The movement of Monckton's corps was marked by an incident pre-eminently lamentable, even among daily scenes of death and misery. A lieutenant of Rangers, with twenty men, was sent to scour the woods to the southward of the line of march, and, if possible, to gain information of the enemy's movements. They pressed forward with somewhat rash zeal into the woody solitudes, and, being overtaken by the night, lay on their arms and returned the next morning. While retracing their steps, they were attracted by smoke rising from a neighboring clearing. They approached having spread themselves in a circle, to prevent the escape of those they might discover. The smoke proceeded from a log hut, where they found and captured a man and his three sons, the eldest a youth of fifteen years. The Rangers then hurried homeward with their prize. They had not got far on their road when the horrible war-whoop of the Indians rose behind them, and a glance showed that their assailants were in overpowering numbers. There was, however, still hope of escape, for the Rangers were hardy and active men, skilled in forest craft, and, happily, well acquainted with the rugged and intricate paths. They plunged into the woods at a running pace, and in a few minutes emerged into another road unknown to their fierce pursuers. But here an unfortunate difficulty arose: the elder prisoners were hurried along, unwillingly enough, but in terrified silence; not so the two younger, who were mere children: they filled the air with lamentations and cries of alarm that neither entreaties nor threats could check. The British lieutenant then begged of them to leave him and return home; but the poor innocents only clung the more closely to him, and wailed the louder. The sole chance of escape lay in reaching, unobserved, a pass which led to the new position of Monckton's brigade, and by which the Indians might not expect them to retreat. The hapless children, however, by their screams, guided the savages in their pursuit through the tangled woods, and again the war-whoop sounded close behind the fugitives. An awful moment of irresolution was succeeded by an awful resolve; the British officer, with a mournful heart, gave the order that his young prisoners should be silenced forever. The Rangers reached the brigade in safety before evening.

While the attention of the enemy was distracted by Monckton and the fleet, Wolfe passed over from Orleans to the eastward of Montmorency, with a large force, at about one o'clock in the day, and encamped, unopposed, on the left bank of the stream close to the falls. He immediately placed some Light Artillery in position, and commenced intrenching himself. The works were vigorously continued the following morning, and Captain Dank's company of Rangers were pushed forward into the woods to cover some parties who were engaged in making fascines for the intrenchments. The Rangers had scarcely entered the bush when they were suddenly and fiercely assailed by a considerable body of ambushed Indians, and driven back with considerable loss. When they got into the open ground, however, they rallied; the savages, elated with their first success, pressed boldly on and renewed the combat, forcing the British troops back over the fields toward the camp, and scalping and massacring the wounded in the sight of their comrades. But the state of affairs was soon changed; some advanced companies of Townshend's brigade, with two field-pieces hurried out on hearing the firing: they fell on the flank of the Indians, and slaughtered them without mercy.

The plan of Wolfe's operations was now fairly developed. The mass of his army was formed in threatening array upon the extreme left of the French position, and from a considerable height looked down almost into the rear of their intrenchments. The British general had hoped that from hence he might find a ford across the rapid stream of the Montmorency, and force on an action in the open country behind the enemy's lines; there he doubted not that the courage and discipline of his troops would give him an easy victory over the numerous Canadian levies. But he had altogether mistaken the difficulties of the undertaking. The only ford was three miles up the stream; the bush was so dense and the country so rugged that a few Indians sufficed to baffle his repeated attempts to reconnoiter, and killed or wounded no less than forty of his men. He could no longer endure the slaughter of his magnificent Light Infantry by the hands of unseen savages, and altogether abandoned the idea of crossing the river above the falls.

Montcalm quickly perceived the dangerous error of the English in dividing their small army. As soon as Monckton's brigade commenced to plant their guns on Point Levi, 1500 Canadians and savages were pushed across the St. Lawrence from Quebec, and posted in the woods on the right bank: they reconnoitered the English position, and, having obtained a re-enforcement of 300 colony troops, prepared for an attack on the night of the 13th. M. de Charrier, seigneur of Point Levi, a skillful and a resolute man, commanded the assailants; meanwhile, Wolfe, on hearing of the enemy's movements, had taken the command, in person, at the south side of the river. The night came on still and cloudless, but very dark; the weather was intensely hot, and the British troops, wearied with the labors of the day, lay in profound repose, not dreaming that the French would venture a night attack. The sentries, indeed, paced their rounds, but, unconscious of the danger that lay under the dark shadows of the neighboring forest, they still shouted "All's well" as each hour passed away.

The French advanced in two columns, silently, and at first with great steadiness; as they proceeded, the difficulty of the road and the extreme darkness of the night threw them into some confusion; despite the skill of their leader and his perfect knowledge of the ground, the disorder increased. The most perfect discipline and self-confidence are rarely proof against the hazards of a night attack; among raw levies, such as were the bulk of De Charrier's followers, disorder, once commenced, becomes inextricable. While he yet strove to re-form the broken ranks, an unexplained noise in a coppice by the road side struck the Canadians with sudden panic, and they rapidly retraced their steps. The rear column, hearing the approach of numerous footsteps from the front, supposed that the English were upon them, and poured a close volley among the fugitives, who again, under a like mistake, returned the fire. The bloodshed was only stayed by both parties flying in different directions. Not less than seventy of the French were killed and wounded in this untoward enterprise. The attempt was not renewed.

The British batteries being completed at Point Levi and at Montmorency, a fire of guns and mortars was poured night and day upon the city of Quebec, and upon the French lines to the westward. The enemy replied with spirit, but with little effect. The Lower Town was much damaged by the constant bombardment from the opposite side of the river, and at eleven o'clock on the forenoon of the 16th, a fire broke out in the Upper Town, where a shell had fallen. The flames spread with rapidity, fanned by a strong northwest wind; many buildings were destroyed before the conflagration was arrested; among others the great Cathedral, with all its paintings, images, and ornaments. The defenses remained untouched throughout this lamentable destruction; the assailants only diminished the value of the prize for which they strove, without approaching a whit nearer to its attainment.

Wolfe returned to the north camp on the 16th, and pushed the works above the Falls of Montmorency with vigor. He frequently, during the day, sent out detachments of troops to scour the neighboring woods, and to keep the marauding Indians in check. The savages hovered constantly round the British position, and from their ambush sprang like tigers upon those who ventured unprotected within their reach. On the night of the 16th they surprised and scalped four sentries of the Louisburg Grenadiers. While Wolfe busied himself in strengthening his position, and cannonading the French lines at a distance, M. de Levi, a distinguished French officer, solicited Montcalm to drive him away. "Dislodge him thence, and he will give us more trouble," replied Montcalm, "while there he can not hurt us; let him amuse himself."

The British general determined to reconnoiter the banks of the river above the town, while he still continued his preparations below. With this view, a small squadron under Captain Rous sailed with fair wind and tide a little before midnight on the 18th, and passed up unharmed in the face of the enemy's batteries. One frigate, however, the Diana, ran aground near Point Levi, and could not be got off till the following day. This bold passage was a complete surprise to the besieged: the English ships were not observed by the sentries till it was too late to bring their guns to bear. Two of these unhappy soldiers paid the penalty of death for their carelessness: they were hung on a gibbet the following morning, in sight of both armies.

Montcalm lost no time in sending some guns up the left bank of the river to annoy the British squadron; he erected a battery in a suitable position at a place called Sillery, and compelled Rous to weigh anchor and move up the stream. The French artillerymen had not been long inactive after this achievement when they were again called to their guns; a barge was discovered skirting the southern shore, and steering toward the nearest English ship. They gave her a salvo as she went by, and one shot carried away her mast; before they could reload she was out of reach. General Wolfe was in this barge on his way to reconnoiter the upper river.

Wolfe found the aspect of affairs as unpromising above the town as it was below; the banks were every where high and precipitous; at each assailable point intrenchments more or less formidable had been thrown up, and each movement was jealously watched from the shore. However, to divide and harass the enemy, and in the hope of procuring intelligence, he sent Colonel Carleton, who commanded the troops embarked in Rous's squadron, to make a descent upon the small town of Point aux Trembles, to which many of the inhabitants of Quebec had retired with their stores, papers, and valuables.

Carleton landed on the 22d at the head of three companies of Grenadiers and a battalion of the Royal Americans; a few Indians offered some resistance at first, and wounded several of the leading files, but were soon overpowered and driven into the woods. A number of useless prisoners, some plunder, and several packets of letters, fell into the hands of the English. The latter were of importance. "De Vaudreuil, the governor, and Montcalm have disagreed, and endeavor to embarrass each other," quotes one writer. "But for respect for our priests, and fear of the savages, we would submit," writes the next. "We are without hope, and without food," says a third. "Since the English have passed the town, our communication with Montreal is cut off—God has forsaken us," laments another. The misery of the besieged was great, therefore great also was the hope of the besiegers.

To increase the distress of the enemy, an order was issued from the English head-quarters on the 24th of July. "Our out-parties are to burn and lay waste the country for the future, sparing only churches, or houses dedicated to divine worship." However, it was again repeated, "that women and children are not to be molested, on any account whatsoever." We may suppose men received scant mercy. "We played so warmly on the town last night, that a fire broke out in two different parts of it at eleven o'clock, which burned with great rapidity until near three this morning. We are erecting a new six-gun battery to the right of the others, to keep the town in ruins, which appears to be almost destroyed." So writes an officer of the 43d, in his journal, dated Point Levi, 25th of July, 1759. Such is war, even when Wolfe, the pious, the domestic, and the tender-hearted, was the general!

On the 26th the indefatigable British general proceeded up the left bank of the Montmorency River to reconnoiter some works which the enemy were erecting on the opposite side. His escort was attacked by a swarm of Indians, and for a time hardly pressed; many of the English soldiers were struck down before they could get sight of their subtle enemy; and when the savages were finally silenced, it was with the loss of nearly fifty of Wolfe's men killed and wounded. The next morning the 78th Highlanders surprised a French detachment, and slew nine of them; their own colonel and a captain were, however, wounded in the struggle.

In consequence of some threatening movements in the British fleet, the French sent down a fire-raft on the night of the 28th. A number of small schooners, shallops, and rafts were chained together, to the breadth of 200 yards, and laden with shells, grenades, old guns, pistols, and tar barrels: this mischievous contrivance floated rapidly down with the ebb tide. The English seamen, however, were, as before, alert, and towed the fire-raft ashore, without its having caused the slightest damage. The following morning Wolfe sent a flag of truce to the garrison of Quebec, with the following message: "If the enemy presume to send down any more fire-rafts, they are to be made fast to two particular transports, in which are all the Canadian and other prisoners, in order that they may perish by their own base inventions." The French constructed no more fire-rafts.

CHAPTER XI.

Wolfe had now been five weeks before Quebec; not a few lives had been lost, a vast quantity of ammunition expended, and, above all, the season of action was already half consumed. But, as yet, no important step, in a military point of view, had been gained. The high grounds which he occupied beyond Montmorency and Point Levi had scarcely been disputed by the enemy. From day to day the hostile parapets were strengthened and extended. He had carefully examined the north bank of the Great River above and below the city, and could discover no one spot where either nature or art did not forbid his landing. Whatever discontent or distress might exist in the Canadian camp, there appeared no diminution of numbers or slackening of zeal in the defense. Montcalm had neither suffered himself to be provoked by insult or to be tempted by brilliant but dangerous opportunity. He rendered assurance doubly sure by keeping his superior force in a superior position; his raw provincial levies, when behind breast-works, were far from inefficient, and his numerous savage allies were terrible in their forest warfare; with the first he manned his lines, with the latter he lost no opportunity of harassing the invaders. On the other hand, the state of affairs in the British camp was by no means promising: under Wolfe's circumstances, inaction was almost equivalent to defeat.

It was true that, before leaving England, he was instructed that his expedition was only auxiliary to that of Amherst. To the main army, which was advancing by the inland lakes, England looked for the conquest of the country. Wolfe had already occupied the most important points in the neighborhood of Quebec, and might well be excused had he awaited the arrival of the general-in-chief for an attack upon the great stronghold. In this situation, many a brave and experienced veteran would probably have written "a most eloquent and conclusive apology for being beaten or for standing still."[177] But Wolfe had been happily chosen. He deeply felt that his unusual selection should be justified by unusual achievements, and that it was his duty to risk his reputation, as well as his life, rather than fail the sanguine hopes of his country.

Before narrating Wolfe's determination in this crisis, and the events consequent thereupon, it will, perhaps, be well to recall the reader's attention to the position of the Canadian army. The north shore of the basin of Quebec is a curve of about eight miles long. The waters shoal as they approach this shore, and at low tide a muddy bank is exposed, in some places nearly half a mile in breadth. The long-crested height, mentioned in a former description, at some parts of the line overhangs high-water mark, at others recedes into the country, and leaves some rich alluvial fields between its base and the river's banks. Wherever this height was not sufficiently precipitous to form a natural defense, the face was scarped, the summit crowned with a parapet, and the foot pallisadoed or armed with abattis. The irregular line of this formidable front shaped itself here and there into projections and inclinations, as if traced in flank and ravelin by the skill of the engineer. The extreme left of the French army rested on the rocky banks of the Montmorency. The beautiful cataract, and the foaming rapids for three miles up the stream, forbade the passage of an enemy: there was, indeed, a ford, but it was well defended; beyond that, the tangled bush defied the strength of battalions. Below the falls, however, the waters spread themselves in numerous shallow channels over the sands, and the stream is fordable except at high tide. To strengthen this weak point, Montcalm had thrown up a four-gun redoubt at the foot of the overhanging cliff. Although defiladed from the British artillery, these cliffs were altogether exposed to that of the French, and therefore untenable in case of falling into the assailants' hands.

Toward the right of the French position the crested ridge subsides in a gentle slope upon a valley, through the center of which winds the St. Charles or Little River. The entrance to this stream is deep, and forms a small harbor; here the French had run their ships of war aground, and these powerful wooden batteries, with their heavy guns, swept the slopes on either side, both toward the city walls and the right shoulder of the crested height.

The almost desperate course upon which Wolfe at length determined, was that of attacking the enemy in these intrenchments. He maturely weighed his plans; the skill and caution of the execution could alone justify the temerity of the resolve. The redoubt on the low ground, in front of the French left, and near the Falls of Montmorency, offered the most vulnerable point; detached from the main defenses, and within reach of guns from the shipping, he doubted not that he could easily master it, or bring on a general action for its possession. On the other hand, this redoubt could not be held when taken, for it lay exposed to the artillery of the French. However, there were difficulties on every side; Wolfe chose that which he considered the least. He well knew that, even were he to carry the crested hill over the redoubt, and to force the enemy from their works, the River St. Charles and the inner intrenchments still lay between him and the city; "But," said he, "a victorious army meets with no difficulties."

Wolfe's available force was less by one third than that of the defenders of this almost impregnable position. He had to risk the confusion of a debarkation, the despotism of the tides, and the caprice of the winds. The undertaking was all but desperate, and yet an overweening confidence in their chief and in themselves was more fatal to the British troops than the guns and parapets of the enemy.

Wolfe concerted the plan of attack with the admiral. A small frigate, the Centurion, was to sail toward the shore, as near as the depth of water would permit, and open fire upon the redoubt. Two armed transports received orders to second the frigate, and, if necessary, to run aground in a favorable position. In one of these the general himself embarked. The boats of the fleet were directed to take on board the greater part of Monckton's brigade at Point Levi, with the available troops from Orleans, and to muster at an early hour in the forenoon off the northwestern point of that island. In the mean time, the British batteries from Point Levi, and the heights over Montmorency Falls, were to open upon the city and the intrenchments with every gun and mortar. Townshend's and Murray's brigades were commanded to form in close columns eastward of the ford below the falls, and there to await the general's orders.

At ten o'clock on the morning of the 31st of July, the 15th and 78th Regiments, 200 men of the Royal Americans, and all the Grenadiers of Monckton's brigade, embarked in the boats of the fleet at Point Levi: they made for the northwest point of the island of Orleans, where they were joined by four more companies of Grenadiers. The whole flotilla then pushed out into mid-channel and awaited orders. At eleven o'clock the two armed transports stood in for the Point de Lest, and grounded; one, under Lieutenant Garnier, within musket-shot of the French redoubt. At the same time, Admiral Saunders, in the Centurion, brought to a little further from the shore, opposite the ford, and all three vessels opened fire. This gave the signal to the gunners at Point Levi and on the east bank of the Montmorency: they also began to work; the enemy replied; and in a few minutes the whole of the vast amphitheater resounded with the roar of artillery.

Wolfe was in the transport which had first grounded. He promptly observed that the redoubt, if taken, was too distant from the water to allow of effectual support by the guns and the small arms of the shipping. He saw, moreover, that his threatening movements had caused an unusual stir in the French lines; bodies of troops were moving to and fro, between the several points of defense, with that degree of irregularity which usually attends the sudden re-formations of undisciplined men: two battalions of the enemy were observed marching from the roar of their left in the direction of the ford, three miles up the Montmorency River: their object was evidently to cross the stream, and fall upon the British batteries on the left bank, while the mass of Wolfe's army was occupied in the attack upon the intrenchments. This movement was immediately met by a counter-demonstration: the 48th Regiment, which had been left in the works at Point Levi, was ostentatiously pushed up the right bank of the St. Lawrence, as if about to cross and attempt the French position above the city. Montcalm, upon this, gave up his flank attack, and dispatched the two battalions to watch the 48th from the opposite side of the river.

For several hours, during these demonstrations, the firing on all sides had slackened; the flotilla still lay motionless in the center of the northern channel of the St. Lawrence. A great part of the day had thus passed without any thing of importance having been attempted. The clouds gathered heavily over the hills, and the receding tide warned Wolfe that only brief space was left for action. He hesitated for a time; circumstances were very adverse; but, unfortunately, the slight disorder in the enemy's lines confirmed the bolder counsel, always most congenial to his mind. At four o'clock he signaled for a renewal of the cannonade; at five his barge put off from the second transport, and rowed toward the flotilla, and at the same moment a red flag ran up to the mizen peak of the stranded ship: it was the signal to advance.

With a loud cheer the sailors bent to the oar, and the long-motionless flotilla sprung into life. A few strokes somewhat disordered the regularity of the line; some boats were faster, some crews more vigorous than others. As they approached, the French gunners tried the decreasing range; the shot fell near, hissed over head, and at length fell in among the boats. Some few struck with fatal effect, for the weak frames were easily shivered, and then sunk with all on board. While still pressing on through the fire, the leading boats grounded on a ledge of unseen rocks at short musket-shot from the beach. The disorder then became dangerous.

Wolfe was now in action: hesitation was at an end. He gave orders that the flotilla should re-form in rear of the rocks, and, when the boats were again afloat, signaled to Townshend to stop the advance of his brigade, which was already in motion upon the ford; he then sprang into a cutter with some navy officers, and skirted the reef in search of an opening. He soon succeeded. It was now half past five; the storm threatened close at hand; battalion after battalion the French were crowding from right to left; but Wolfe was not to be daunted; he renewed the signal of attack, and himself pointed out the way through the rocks. A few strokes carried the flotilla to the shore; while the eager troops sprang upon land, the French gave a parting volley, and abandoned the redoubt and the detached battery which defended the ford.

The thirteen companies of Grenadiers and the Royal Americans were first ashore; they had received orders to form in four columns on the beach, there to await the support of the remainder of Monckton's brigade from the boats, and Townshend's from beyond the ford. But these chosen men were flushed with an overweening confidence: proud of their post of preference, proud of their individual strength, and exasperated by long delay, they burst like bloodhounds from the leash. Despite the orders of their officers, they raced across the intervening fields, and, without any order or formation, threw themselves against the crested height.

Wolfe soon saw that this rash valor had ruined the fortunes of the day: nothing remained but to make such preparations for retreat as might mitigate the inevitable disaster. Monckton's remaining regiments, the 15th and 78th, were now landed, and formed in admirable order upon the beach, while Townshend and Murray crossed the ford of the Montmorency and advanced to join them. Instead of risking this unbroken array in supporting the unfortunate attack of the advance, Wolfe kept his men in hand, and strove to recall the disordered assailants. Meanwhile the storm burst, and when the Grenadiers reached the steep slope, they found it impossible to keep their footing on the muddy side; their ammunition was soon rendered useless by the teeming rain; but, still trusting to the bayonet, they tried to make good their ground upon the hill. The position was far stronger than they had anticipated; they were out of breath, and exhausted by their hurried advance; by the time they had clambered within reach of the enemy's parapets they were already beaten. One close and steady volley of the French sufficed to roll them back from off the crested hill.

In tumultuous disorder, the Grenadiers fell back upon the abandoned redoubt, and sought shelter under its parapets from the stinging fire of the French. The works had, however, been so constructed that little or no protection was afforded against the neighboring heights. Officers and men were rapidly struck down in vain endeavors to re-form the broken ranks, but still, with sullen tenacity, they held the unprofitable position. At length, in obedience to peremptory orders, they retired, and took post in the rear of Monckton's line.

The slope of the fatal hill now presented a melancholy scene to the British army. More than 200 of the Grenadiers had fallen; the track of the rash advance and disastrous retreat was marked by the dying and the dead. Some red coats lay almost under the enemy's parapets, where a few of these impetuous men had won their way; others were seen dragging their maimed limbs to seek shelter behind rocks or trees from the vindictive fire which the French still poured upon their fallen foes. Among the wounded lay Captain Ochterlony and Ensign Peyton, of the second battalion of the Royal Americans: they had refused the proffered aid of their retreating soldiers, and, being bound by ties of the closest friendship, determined to meet together the desperate chances of the field. They sat down side by side, bade each other farewell, and awaited their fate. In a few minutes a Frenchman and two Indians approached, plundered the wounded officers, and were about to murder Ochterlony, when Peyton shot one of the savages with a double-barreled gun which he still held; the other then rushed upon him, and, although receiving the contents of the second barrel, closed in mortal struggle. The Englishman succeeded, after a moment, in drawing a dagger, and with repeated stabs, brought the Indian to the ground. In the mean time, the French soldier had carried Ochterlony as a prisoner to his lines.[178]

Peyton now started up, and, although his leg was broken, ran for forty yards toward the river; there he sank exhausted. Presently a crowd of Indians, reeking from their work of butchery, approached him from the extreme left. Peyton reloaded his musket, leaned upon his unwounded limb, and faced the savages; the two foremost hesitated before this resolute attitude, when, to the deep disgrace of the French, they opened a fire of musketry and even cannon from their breast-works upon the maimed and solitary officer. However, at this desperate moment relief was nigh; the Indians, who before had hesitated, now turned and fled like scared vultures from their prey. A detachment of the gallant 78th Highlanders, undismayed by the still murderous fire, chased the marauders from the field, and bore the wounded Englishman in safety to the shore. This extraordinary scene occurred in full view of both armies.

The evening was now far advanced; the tide was beginning to flow; the ammunition of the whole army was damaged by the heavy rains; the waters looked angry beneath a threatening gale; the enemy's strength was concentrated; they had suffered little or no loss, while the British were weakened by 33 officers and 410 men. Wolfe had learned by painful experience the prodigious advantage of the French position, which, although nearly invulnerable to attack, yet afforded admirable facilities for retreat. He was baffled; all that now remained was to conduct the re-embarkation with safety and regularity. Such of the wounded as could be yet saved were carried from the field; the stranded transports were abandoned and burned, and the flotilla rowed away from the fatal shore. Townshend and Murray, whose untouched brigades had covered the embarkation, then recrossed the ford without interruption, and resumed their position on the heights east of the Montmorency.

Wolfe knew that the enterprise of the 31st of July was of such a nature that nothing but success could justify its temerity. By failure his military error had been thrown into strong light, and yet it was probable that he would have succeeded but for a strange adversity of circumstances. The officers of the fleet had remained in unaccountable ignorance of the reef of rocks which delayed and disordered the attack. The storm of rain not only injured the ammunition of his men, but rendered the steep ascent of the enemy's position so slippery that they could not find firm footing, and the ill-timed audacity of the Grenadiers had confounded all his calculations. The leading fault of his plan was undoubtedly the attempt of a combined attack by land and water. Had Monckton's brigade been landed beyond the falls, and the whole army crossed the ford together, the fatal embarrassments of the disembarkation would have been avoided. Wolfe suffered intense mental distress from this mishap; his mind preyed upon his feeble frame; his chronic ailment attacked him with unusual violence; fever supervened, and for some weeks he lay absolutely helpless, to the grief of the whole army. In the mean time, however, he issued the following merited rebuke to the corps whose indiscretion had led to results so disastrous:

"The check which the Grenadiers met with will, it is hoped, be a lesson to them for the time to come. Such impetuous, irregular, and unsoldierlike proceedings destroy all order, and put it out of the general's power to execute his plan. The Grenadiers could not suppose that they alone could beat the French army; therefore it was necessary the corps under Brigadiers Townshend and Monckton should have time to join them, that the attack might be general. The very first fire of the enemy was sufficient to have repulsed men who had lost all sense of order and military discipline. Amherst's (the 15th) and the Highland (the 78th) regiment, by the soldier-like and cool manner in which they formed, would undoubtedly have beaten back the whole Canadian army, if they had ventured to attack them. The loss, however, is very inconsiderable, and may be easily repaired when a favorable opportunity offers, if the men will show a proper attention to their officers."

Immediately after the repulse at Montmorency, Wolfe had dispatched 1200 men, under Brigadier Murray, to assist Admiral Holmes in the Upper River, and with orders to attempt the destruction of the French shipping which had passed up the stream. The brigadier was directed, at the same time, to take every favorable opportunity of engaging the enemy, and to endeavor, by all means in his power, to provoke them to attack him. In obedience to these orders, Murray proceeded up the left bank of the river with his detachment, consisting of the 15th Regiment, three companies of the Royal Americans, two of Marines, and one of Light Infantry. At a convenient place above the Chaudière River, he embarked under Admiral Holmes, and the squadron then made sail up the stream. The French ships easily avoided the danger by sending all their guns and stores ashore, and, when thus lightened, taking refuge in the shallows toward Montreal; one brigantine of 200 tons was, however, abandoned and burned in their retreat.

Murray found every place fortified where a landing might be effected, and the enemy always on the alert. After two vain attempts to disembark, he at length only succeeded by a surprise: he then pushed to the village of Dechambault, which was close at hand, carried it with scarcely any resistance, and burned some stores of provisions, clothing, and ammunition. Several prisoners of some note were taken in the onslaught, and a few important letters fell into the hands of the English. Through these letters Murray first heard of the occupation of Crown Point by Amherst, and of Johnson's victory at Niagara. Finding that he could effect nothing further, he hastened to convey this cheering news to his general.

Meanwhile fruitless damage was inflicted by each party upon the other: the Indians frequently surprised and scalped English stragglers, and the English batteries at Montmorency and Point Levi kept up a continued fire upon the lines and upon the city. On the morning of the 10th of August, at one o'clock, a shell pitched upon the vaulted roof of a cellar in the lower town, broke through, and burst; a large quantity of brandy which was there stored instantly ignited, the flames spread rapidly, and nearly the whole of the quarter, including the Church of Nôtre Dame de la Victoire, was burned to the ground. A fire broke out simultaneously in the Upper Town, but was extinguished without having spread to any great extent.

The intelligence of Amherst and Johnson's progress, although satisfactory in itself, gave Wolfe no hope of their assistance before the close of the campaign: defeat could hardly have been more disastrous to the general interests of the war than their inactivity. Almost the whole force of Canada still mustered behind the formidable defenses of Quebec. Nothing, however, could shake the resolution of the British general; while life remained, he determined to persevere in the enterprise. Far from being disheartened, he was only stimulated by increasing difficulties. The fate of the campaign now hung upon him alone: the disaster at Montmorency had endangered his reputation; it only remained to clear away the cloud by success, or to silence censure by a soldier's death.

While Wolfe lay stricken with fever and unable to bear the presence of his officers, he meditated unceasingly upon plans of attack. At length, when somewhat recovered, but still incapable of leaving his bed, he dictated the following letter to the brigadiers under his command:

"That the public service may not suffer by the general's indisposition, he begs the brigadiers will meet and consult together for the public utility and advantage, and consider of the best method to attack the enemy.

"If the French army be attacked and defeated, the general concludes that the town would immediately surrender, because he does not find that they have any provision in that place.

"The general is of opinion that the army should be attacked in preference to the place, because of the difficulties of penetrating from the Lower to the Upper Town; in which attempt neither the guns of the shipping nor of our own batteries could be of much use."

The letter then proceeds to suggest three different modes of attack—all, however, upon the enemy's lines between the city and Montmorency.

The brigadiers assembled in consequence of this communication, and, after having maturely deliberated, agreed in recommending the remarkable plan which Wolfe unreservedly adopted. The merit of this daring and skillful proposition belongs to Colonel George Townshend, although long disputed, or withheld by jealousy or political hostility. This able officer had left every happiness that domestic life could bestow, and every gratification which fortune and position could procure, to face the hardships and seek the honors of his country's service. When the ministry's determination to prepare the expedition against Quebec became known, he successfully exerted his powerful interest to obtain employment, and was appointed to the third post of seniority in Wolfe's army.

The general plan of operations being arranged, preparations were commenced to carry it into execution. The prospect of action revived the drooping spirits of the British troops, and tended considerably to improve their health; fever had been rife among them: a number of men and officers had already died, and the temporary hospitals were still crowded. Supplies had become so scant that horseflesh was frequently served out as rations. The duties were rendered peculiarly harassing by the subtle and dangerous hostility of the savages: although invariably defeated, they seldom failed in the first instance to surprise and massacre some hapless stragglers; and no outpost was ever safe from their attacks. The Canadians were scarcely less dangerous and vindictive; their knowledge of the country, and activity in forest warfare, gave them a great advantage over the British soldiers in irregular encounters; but, whenever they ventured to act in bodies, they were sure to meet with severe chastisement. The invaders, however, were not backward in revenging these injuries; for miles round their camp, and on the banks of the river, they devastated the country without mercy.

Stimulated by the sight of the ruin wrought in neighboring parishes, the unfortunate priest of Château Richer armed some eighty of his flock, and fortified himself in a large stone house, about ten miles eastward of the British camp, at Montmorency; from thence he sent a message, defying to the combat an English detachment posted in his neighborhood. At the same time, however, conveying in a note a polite request for the favor of the commanding officer's company at dinner, with an assurance of a safe-conduct. The strange but simple courtesy was of course rejected. In a short time a detachment of light troops, with a field-piece, was sent against the fortified house; the English took post in an adjoining road, and by a stratagem contrived to draw the little garrison from their defenses, and surrounded thirty of them, who were slain and scalped, including the unhappy priest himself. The excuse pleaded for this atrocious barbarity was, that the victims were disguised as Indians.

On the 29th of August the British troops began to evacuate their positions east of the Montmorency, in pursuance of the new plan of operations. The sick, the women, and the heavy baggage were first embarked in the boats of the fleet, and conveyed past the enemy's batteries, at a respectful distance, to the camp at Point Levi: some of the heavy guns followed on the 31st. On the 2d of the following month Wolfe sent home an admirable dispatch, with an account of his operations and failures. By the 3d of September he was prepared to move the whole of his force from the north shore. Montcalm had anticipated this step from the stir in the British lines, and from the activity of the British light troops in burning houses and laying waste the country. He therefore marched two strong columns into the woods to make for the ford of the Montmorency, and, passing by it, to attack Wolfe while in the act of embarkation. From the distant hills of Point Levi, Brigadier Monckton observed the enemy's movements: he immediately ordered his brigade under arms, hurried two regiments on board of boats supplied by the admiral, supported by some sloops and frigates, rowed toward the Beauport shore, and formed within a safe distance, as if preparing to land. This demonstration was successful; the French columns were recalled from the ford, and the British embarked unmolested.

During the 7th, 8th, and 9th, Admiral Holmes maneuvered his fleet in the upper river, harassing the enemy by constant menaces of their different posts. At the same time, Wolfe, now somewhat recovered, was, with his brigadiers, busily occupied in reconnoitering the northern bank of the St. Lawrence. At length he discovered a narrow path winding up the side of the steep precipice from the water's edge: at this spot, about three miles above the city, the lofty banks were slightly carved inward. At that time the place was known by the name of Le Foullon; it now bears a name that may never be forgotten—Wolf's Cove. At the top of the path the enemy had a small post; however, by the number of tents, which did not exceed a dozen, the British general concluded that its strength could not be more than 100 men. For miles on either side there was no other possible access to the heights than by that narrow path; but that narrow path sufficed to lead Wolfe to victory and to death.

As before stated, Quebec stands on the slope of the eastern extremity of that lofty range which here forms the left bank of the St. Lawrence; a table-land extends westward for about nine miles from the defenses of the city, occasionally wooded and undulating, but from the top of the narrow path to the ramparts open and tolerably level: this portion of the heights is called the Plains of Abraham. Wolfe's plan was to ascend this path secretly with his whole army, and make the plains his battle ground. The extraordinary audacity of the enterprise was its safety: the wise and cautious Montcalm had guarded against all the probable chances of war: he was not prepared against an attempt for which the pages of romance can scarcely furnish a parallel.

It was on the 9th of September that Wolfe addressed to the Secretary of State a letter which bears a deep and melancholy interest. His own view of the prospects of the expedition was most gloomy, and he seemed anxious to prepare the public mind in England for his failure.[179] The letter conveys the impression that he only continued his operations to divert the attention of the enemy from other points: it concludes in the following desponding words: "I am so far recovered as to do business, but my constitution is entirely ruined, without the consolation of having done any considerable service to the state, or without any prospect of it." But while he wrote almost in despair, he acted as if he had never doubted of success.

On the 11th of September, Wolfe issued general orders to the army, from which the following are extracts:

"The troops on shore, except the Light Infantry and Americans, are to be upon the beach to-morrow morning at five o'clock, in readiness to embark; the Light Infantry and Americans will re-embark at, or about, eight o'clock. The detachment of Artillery to be put on board the armed sloop this day. The army to hold themselves in readiness to land and attack the enemy.

"The troops must go into the boats (from the ships) about nine to-morrow night, or when it is pretty near high water; ... and as there will be a necessity for remaining some part of the night in the boats, the officers will provide accordingly.

"When they (the boats) are to drop away from the Sutherland, she will show two lights in the main-top-mast shrouds, one over the other. The men to be quite silent, and, when they are about to land, must not, upon any account, fire out of the boats."

Great preparations were made throughout the fleet and army for the decisive movement, but the plans were still kept secret; a wise caution was observed in this respect, for the treachery of a single deserter might have imperiled the success of the expedition had its exact object been known. On the morning of the 12th, a soldier of the Royal Americans did desert: happily, he was unable to warn the enemy of their danger. Almost at the same time, one of the French regulars deserted to Wolfe, and brought a clear account of the state of affairs in Montcalm's camp. "The main force is still below the town," said he; "our general will not believe that you meditate an attack any where but on the Montmorency side. The Canadians are dissatisfied, alarmed by the fall of Niagara, and in great distress for provisions. M. de Levi, with a large detachment, has left us for Montreal, to meet Amherst; and M. de Bougainville, with 1500 men, watches the motions of your fleet in the Upper River."

From on board the Sutherland man-of-war, Wolfe issued his last orders to the army on the evening of the 12th of September:

"The enemy's force is now divided, great scarcity of provisions is now in their camp, and universal discontent among the Canadians, which gives us reason to think that General Amherst is advancing into the colony: a vigorous blow struck by the army at this juncture may determine the fate of Canada ... the troops will land where the French seem least to expect it. The first body that gets on shore is to march directly to the enemy ... the battalions must form on the upper ground with expedition, and be ready to charge whatever presents itself.... The officers and men will remember what is expected from them, and what a determined body of soldiers, inured to war, is capable of doing, against five weak French battalions, mingled with a disorderly peasantry."

The heavier ships of the line moved this evening toward the Beauport shore, anchoring as near the enemy's lines as the depth of the water would permit. While daylight yet remained, all the boats of that portion of the fleet were lowered, filled with marines and seamen, and ranged in order, threatening a descent upon the shore. At the same time, the remaining ships suddenly hoisted sail; and, with a favoring breeze, swept proudly past the batteries of Quebec, and joined Holmes's squadron at Cape Rouge, eight miles above the city. Monckton and Murray, who, with their brigades, still occupied Point Levi and the village of St. Michael's, now pushed rapidly up the left bank of the St. Lawrence till they arrived opposite the fleet, and there embarked without being observed by the enemy. At nine o'clock at night the first division of the army, 1600 strong, silently removed into flat-bottomed boats; the soldiers were in high spirits; Wolfe led in person. About an hour before daylight the flotilla fell down with the ebb tide. "Weather favorable; a star-light night."

CHAPTER XII.

We must leave Wolfe for a while to take a brief review of the position of affairs in his enemy's camp. Montcalm's difficulties were also great. He knew not where to turn for a ray of hope, except, indeed, to the now rapidly advancing winter. The toils were spread on every side: the stately fleet riding below the town cut off all supplies from France; the fall of Niagara and Fort of Frontenac broke off the chain of communication with the distant West; Amherst, with an overwhelming force, hung over the weakest point of the Canadian frontier; Montreal, with neither army nor fortification, lay exposed to the British advance. But, worst of all, distrust of his colleague, and contempt of the prowess of his militia, paralyzed Montcalm's vigor and destroyed his confidence. "You have sold your country," exclaimed he, in uncontrollable indignation, to M. de Vaudreuil, when the latter opposed his views; "but, while I live, I will not deliver it up." And of the Canadian levies he writes to M. de Berryer, "My Canadians without discipline, deaf to the sound of the drum, and badly armed, nothing remains for them but to fly; and behold me—beaten without resource!" "But," continued he, in the same remarkable letter,[181] "of one thing I can assure you, I shall not survive the probable loss of the colony. There are times when a general's only resource is to die with honor; this is such a time. No stain shall rest on my memory. But in defeat and death there is consolation left. The loss of the colony will one day be of more value to my country than a victory. The conqueror shall here find a tomb; his aggrandizement shall prove his ultimate ruin."

Montcalm's utmost exertions failed to prevent desertion among the Canadians; he scourged some offenders, hanged others, threatened their villages with the vengeance of the savages, but still the unhappy peasantry were with difficulty held together. At the camp they were badly supplied with provisions, while their families almost starved at home. Their harvest, that which the English had not destroyed, remained unreaped. At length the general was obliged to yield to the urgent necessity of the case, and at a most critical period of the campaign he allowed 2000 of the militia to depart for the purpose of getting in their crops.

The Indians, however, still remained faithful: as long as a chance of blood and plunder offered, they were sure to be present; but in a pitched battle they were nearly useless, and the increased experience of the British troops rendered even their forest warfare now less dangerous.

Not only provisions, but even ammunition, were becoming scarce in Montcalm's camp: there was no hope of supplies from any quarter. The Lower Town and a large portion of the Upper Town were laid in ruins by the English artillery: the defenses, it was true, still remained uninjured; but, except in natural advantages, they were by no means formidable. The repulse of the besiegers at Montmorency had for a time raised the spirits of the French, and given them a better opinion of Canadian prowess, for upon that occasion the peasantry had fired with great steadiness from behind their breast-works. But the daring though misdirected valor of the British Grenadiers, and the imposing front of their supports, failed not to confirm Montcalm's deep forebodings of the probable result of a battle. Then the incessant activity of the invaders, their pertinacious retention of any point which offered an apparent advantage, and their seemingly inexhaustible resources, showed that no stone would be left unturned for his destruction.

One only hope remained to the French general: the winter approached. In a few weeks the northern blast would scare away the stubborn enemy, against whom his arms and skill were ineffectual. Could he struggle on a little longer, the fate of Canada might be thrown upon the chances of another campaign, and a turn in European affairs yet preserve the splendid colony of France. "Unless Wolfe lands above the town, and forces me to a battle, I am safe," writes Montcalm. But while, on the night of the 12th of September, he watched in confident expectation the deceitful preparations of the fleet below the town, the ebbing tide silently floated down the British army toward that position the occupation of which he knew must be his ruin.

Silently and swiftly, unchallenged by the French sentries,[182] Wolfe's flotilla dropped down the stream in the shade of the overhanging cliffs. The rowers scarcely stirred the waters with their oars; the soldiers sat motionless. Not a word was spoken save by the young general; he, as a midshipman on board his boat afterward related,[183] repeated, in a low voice to the officers by his side, "Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard;" and as he concluded the beautiful verses, said, "Now, gentlemen, I would rather be the author of that poem than take Quebec!" But while Wolfe thus, in the poet's words, gave vent to the intensity of his feelings, his eye was constantly bent upon the dark outline of the heights under which he hurried past. He recognized at length the appointed spot, and leaped ashore. Some of the leading boats, conveying the light company of the 78th Highlanders, had in the mean time been carried about 200 yards lower down by the strength of the tide. These Highlanders, under Captain Donald M'Donald, were the first to land. Immediately over their heads hung a woody precipice, without path or track upon its rocky face; at the summit a French sentinel marched to and fro, still unconscious of their presence. Without a moment's hesitation, M'Donald and his men dashed at the height. They scrambled up, holding on by rocks and branches of trees, guided only by the stars that shone over the top of the cliff; half the ascent was already won, when for the first time "Qui vive?" broke the silence of the night. "La France," answered the Highland captain, with ready self-possession, and the sentry shouldered his musket and pursued his round. In a few minutes, however, the rustling of the trees close at hand at length alarmed the French guard; they hastily turned out, fired one irregular volley down the precipice, and fled in panic. The captain, M. de Vergor, alone, though wounded, stood his ground. When summoned to surrender, he fired at one of the assailants, but was instantly overpowered; the Highlanders, incensed at his vain valor, tore from his breast a decoration which he bore, and sent him a prisoner to the rear. In the mean time, nearly 500 men landed and made their way up the height; those who had first reached the summit then took possession of the intrenched post at the top of that path which Wolfe had selected for the ascent of his army.

Wolfe, Monckton, and Murray landed with the first division; as fast as each boat was cleared, it put back for re-enforcements to the ships, which had now also floated down with the tide nearly opposite to the point of disembarkation. The battalions formed on the narrow beach at the foot of the winding path, and, as soon as completed, each ascended the cliff, when they again formed upon the plains above. There all was quiet; the Light Infantry, under Lieutenant-colonel Howe, brother of the gallant Lord Howe who fell at Ticonderoga, had driven away the enemy's pickets. The boats plied busily; company after company was quickly landed, and, as soon as the men touched the shore, they swarmed up the steep ascent with ready alacrity. When morning broke, the whole disposable force of Wolfe's army stood in firm array upon the table-land above the cove. Only one gun, however, could be carried up the hill, and even that was not got into position without incredible difficulty.

After a few minutes' anxious observation of the face of the country, Wolfe marched the army by files to the right in the direction of the city, leaving two companies of the 58th Regiment to guard the landing place; he then formed his line of battle upon the Plains of Abraham, and resolved there to cast the die for Canada. The 35th Regiment held the extreme right over the precipice, at the distance of three quarters of a mile from the ramparts, where, to adapt themselves to the shape of a slight elevation which rises from the plains, they were ranged in a semicircle on its slope. Next came the Grenadiers of Louisburg. The 28th prolonged the line to the 43d, which formed the center. The 58th, upon the left, occupied the brow of the ridge which overlooks the Valley of the St. Charles; the 78th Highlanders extended over the plain to the right, and the 47th completed the front to the place where the 43d were formed. Wolfe, with Monckton, commanded the right of the first line, Murray the left.

Townshend took charge of the second line. The 15th Regiment rested their right flank upon the precipice over the river; the two battalions of the 60th or Royal Americans held the plains to the left. Colonel Burton, with the 48th Regiment, in four columns of two companies each, formed the reserve in a third line, and Colonel Howe, with the Light Infantry, some in houses, others in the neighboring coppices, covered the flank and rear.

At about six o'clock some small parties of the enemy appeared upon the slopes under the ramparts of the city; at seven they mustered in greater force, and brought up two field-guns, which caused some annoyance. Shortly afterward they threw a body of Canadians and Indians into the brushwood on the face of the precipice over the river, into a field of corn in front of the 35th Regiment, and into a coppice opposite the British center: those skirmishers caused considerable mischief, but were speedily routed by Colonel Howe, with a detachment of the 47th. The whole line then received orders to lie upon their arms, while Light Infantry videttes covered their position at some distance in advance.

Meanwhile Montcalm had been completely deceived by the demonstrations of the fleet below the town. Through the whole of that anxious night boats were approaching the shore and again retiring, on various points of the line between the Montmorency and the St. Charles. The English ships of war had worked up as near as they could find depth of water, and their guns played incessantly upon the beach, as if to prepare the way for a debarkation. Day broke before Montcalm even suspected that another struggle awaited him on his eastern lines; then, however, a stray cannon shot, and the distant echo of musketry from above the town, caught his ear; while he yet doubled, a horseman reached him at full speed with tidings that the English had landed on the Plains of Abraham. The news spread like lightning through the Canadian camp. Aids-de-camp galloped to and fro in fiery haste: trumpets and drums aroused the sleeping soldiery. As fast as the battalions could be mustered, they were hurried across the Valley of the St. Charles, over the bridge, and along the front of the northern ramparts of Quebec to the battle ground. M. de Vaudreuil, with some Canadian militia, were left to guard the lines.

Under some mysterious and incomprehensible impulse, Montcalm at once determined to meet his dangerous enemy in the open field.

To account for this extraordinary resolution is impossible. Had the French general thrown himself into Quebec, he might have securely defied his assailants from behind its ramparts till winter drove them away. But a short time before he had recorded his deliberate conviction that he could not face the British army in a general engagement. He was well aware that all the efforts of his indefatigable enemy had been throughout exerted to bring on an action upon any terms; and yet at length, on an open plain, without even waiting for his artillery, unaided by any advantage of position, he threw the rude Canadian militia against the veterans of England. Once, and once only, in a successful and illustrious career, did this gallant Frenchman forget his wisdom and military skill; but that one tremendous error led him to defeat and death.

Even when the alarming news of Wolfe's landing reached Montcalm, he professed confidence—confidence which he could not have felt. When the position of the English army was pointed out to him, he said, "Yes, I see them where they ought not to be;" and he afterward added, "If we must fight, I will crush them." He, however, altogether failed to communicate to the Canadian troops the sanguine spirit which he himself professed.

At eight o'clock the heads of French columns began to appear ascending the hill from the St. Charles to the Plains of Abraham; the only piece of artillery which Wolfe had been able to bring into action then opened with some effect, and caused them slightly to alter their line of march. As they arrived, they formed in three separate masses upon a slope to the northwest of the city, where they were sheltered from the solitary but mischievous gun.

At nine o'clock, Montcalm moved some distance to the front, and developed his line of battle; at the same time, M. de Bougainville, who was hastening down the left bank of the St. Lawrence, made a demonstration with some light cavalry upon Wolfe's extreme left. Townshend checked this movement by throwing the third battalion of the 60th into a line extending from the threatened flank to the post over the landing place.

Montcalm was already worsted as a general; it was, however, still left him to fight as a soldier. His order of battle was steadily and promptly arrayed. The center column, under Montcalm in person, consisted of the regiments of Bearne and Guienne, numbering together no more than 720 bayonets; with them were formed 1200 of the Canadian militia. On the right stood the regiments of La Sarre and Languedoc, and a battalion of the marine or colony troops, in all 1600 veterans; 400 of the militia, with one light field-piece, completed this wing. On the left, the Royal Roussillon and a battalion of the Marine mustered 1300 bayonets, while these disciplined regiments were supported by no less than 2300 of the Canadian levies. The total force, therefore, actually engaged, amounted to 7520 men, besides Indians; of these, however, not more than one half were regular troops: it was on them the brunt of the battle fell, and almost the whole loss. Wolfe's "field state" on the morning of the 13th of September, showed only 4828 men of all ranks from the generals downward, but of these every man was a trained soldier.

The French attacked. At about ten o'clock a crowd of Canadians and Indians emerged from the bush on the slope which falls toward the Valley of the St. Charles; as they advanced they opened fire upon the English pickets of the extreme left, and drove them into their supports. Under cover of the cloud of smoke which rose above the scene of this attack, the French veterans of the right wing passed swiftly round the left of Murray's Brigade, and turned his flank; then, throwing aside their irregulars, they fell upon Howe's Light Infantry. This gallant officer felt the importance of his post: the houses and the line of coppice which he occupied formed almost a right angle with the front of the British army, covering it in flank and rear. He was hardly pressed; his men fell fast under the overpowering fire of the French; but, in a few minutes, Townshend, with the 15th, came to his aid: soon afterward the two battalions of the 60th joined the line, and turned the tide of battle.

In the mean time swarms of skirmishers advanced against the right and center of the British army; their stinging fire immediately dislodged the few Light Infantry which Wolfe had posted in his front, and forced them back in confusion upon the main body. This first impression was not without danger: the troops who were in the rear, and could not see the real state of affairs, became alarmed at the somewhat retrograde movements in front. Wolfe perceived this: he hurried along the line, cheered the men by his voice and presence, and admonished them on no account to fire without orders. He succeeded: confidence was restored.

The spirited advance of the skirmishers was but the mask of a more formidable movement. The whole of the French center and left, with loud shouts and arms at the recover, now bore down to the attack. Their light troops then ceased firing and passed to the rear. As the view cleared, their long, unbroken lines were seen rapidly approaching Wolfe's position. When they reached within 150 yards, they advanced obliquely from the left of each formation, so that the lines assumed the appearance of columns, and chiefly threatened the British right. And now from flank to flank of the assailing battalions rolled a murderous and incessant fire. The 35th and the Grenadiers fell fast. Wolfe, at the head of the 28th, was struck in the wrist, but not disabled. Wrapping a handkerchief round the wound, he hastened from one rank to another, exhorting the men to be steady and to reserve their fire. No English soldier pulled a trigger: with matchless endurance they sustained the trial. Not a company wavered; their arms shouldered as if on parade, and motionless, save when they closed up the ghastly gaps, they waited the word of command.

When the head of the French attack had reached within forty yards, Wolfe gave the order to "fire." At once the long row of muskets was leveled, and a volley, distinct as a single shot, flashed from the British line. For a moment the advancing columns still pressed on, shivering like pennons in the fatal storm; but a few paces told how terrible had been the force of the long-suspended blow. Numbers of the French soldiers reeled and fell; some staggered on for a little, then dropped silently aside to die; others burst from the ranks shrieking in agony. The Brigadier de St. Ours was struck dead, and De Senezergues, the second in command, was left mortally wounded upon the field. When the breeze carried away the dense clouds of smoke, the assailing battalions stood reduced to mere groups among the bodies of the slain. Never before or since has a deadlier volley burst from British infantry.

Montcalm commanded the attack in person. Not fifteen minutes had elapsed since he had first moved on his line of battle, and already all was lost! The Canadian militia, with scarcely an exception, broke and fled. The right wing, which had recoiled before Townshend and Howe, was overpowered by a counter attack of the 58th and 78th; his veteran battalions of Bearne and Guienne were shattered before his eyes under the British fire; on the left the Royal Roussillon was shrunk to a mere skeleton, and, deserted by their Provincial allies, could hardly retain the semblance of a formation. But the gallant Frenchman, though ruined, was not dismayed; he rode through the broken ranks, cheered them with his voice, encouraged them by his dauntless bearing, and, aided by a small redoubt, even succeeded in once again presenting a front to his enemy.

Meanwhile Wolfe's troops had reloaded. He seized the opportunity of the hesitation in the hostile ranks, and ordered the whole British line to advance. At first they moved forward in majestic regularity, receiving and paying back with deadly interest the volleys of the French. But soon the ardor of the soldiers broke through the restraints of discipline: they increased their pace to a run, rushing over the dying and the dead, and sweeping the living enemy off their path. On the extreme right, the 35th, under the gallant Colonel Fletcher, carried all before them, and won the white plume which for half a century afterward they proudly bore.[184] Wolfe himself led the 28th and the diminished ranks of the Louisburg Grenadiers, who that day nobly redeemed their error at Montmorency. The 43d, as yet almost untouched, pressed on in admirable order, worthy of their after-fame in that noble Light Division which "never gave a foot of ground but by word of command." On the left, the 58th and 78th overcame a stubborn and bloody resistance; more than 100 of the Highlanders fell dead and wounded; the weak battalion by their side lost a fourth part of their strength in the brief struggle. Just now Wolfe was a second time wounded, in the body; but he dissembled his suffering, for his duty was not yet accomplished. Again a ball from the redoubt struck him on the breast:[185] he reeled on one side, but, at the moment, this was not generally observed. "Support me," said he to a Grenadier officer who was close at hand, "that my brave fellows may not see me fall." In a few seconds, however, he sank, and was borne a little to the rear. Colonel Carleton was desperately wounded in the head at a few paces from Wolfe; the aid-de-camp who hastened for Monckton, to call him to the command, found him also bleeding on the field, beside the 47th Regiment. At length Townshend, now the senior officer, was brought from the left flank to this bloody scene to lead the army.

The brief struggle fell heavily upon the British, but was ruinous to the French. They wavered under the carnage; the columns which death had disordered were soon broken and scattered. Montcalm, with a courage that rose above the wreck of hope, galloped through the groups of his stubborn veterans, who still made head against the advancing enemy, and strove to show a front of battle. His efforts were vain; the head of every formation was swept away before that terrible musketry; in a few minutes, the French gave way in all directions. Just then their gallant general fell with a mortal wound: from that time all was utter rout.

The English followed fiercely in the pursuit; the 47th and 58th, with fixed bayonets, pressed on close to the St. Louis and St. John's gates, till the first were checked by grape-shot from the ramparts, and the latter by the artillery of the hulks which were grounded in the river. But foremost in the advance, and most terrible to the flying enemy, were the 78th Highlanders; active and impetuous in their movements, and armed with the broadsword, they supplied in this case the want of cavalry to the British army. Numbers of the French fell beneath their vigorous blows;[186] others saved themselves by timely surrender, piteously craving mercy, and declaring that they had not been at Fort William Henry.[187] The remainder of Montcalm's right wing only found shelter beyond the bridge over the St. Charles. The survivors of the right and center soon placed the ramparts of Quebec between themselves and their pursuers.

While some of the British battalions were disordered in the rapid advance, a body of about 800 French and Canadians collected in a coppice near the St. Charles, and assumed a somewhat threatening appearance on the left flank of the pursuers. Perceiving this, Townshend ordered Colonel Hunt Walsh, with the 28th and 43d, to crush the new resistance. These two battalions were well in hand; Walsh wheeled them promptly to the left, and, after a sharp struggle, cleared the coppice.

The battle was now over, but the general of the victorious army had still to guard against another antagonist, as yet untouched and unbroken. It has been related, that, before the commencement of the action, the extreme left of the British position had been threatened by some light cavalry—the advance guard of De Bougainville's formidable corps. The main body and their chief had now arrived upon the scene; but, so rapid and complete had been the ruin of Montcalm's army, that his lieutenant found not a single unbroken company remaining in the field with which to co-operate. He himself, however, was still strong; besides 350 cavalry—an arm in which the invaders were altogether deficient—he had with him nearly 1500 men, a large proportion of whom were Grenadiers and Light Infantry.

Townshend hastened to recall his disordered battalions, but he determined not to imperil the victory by seeking another engagement with fresh troops. His arrangements were strictly defensive; while re-forming a line of battle, he dispatched the 35th and the 48th with two field-pieces to meet De Bougainville, and, if possible, check his advance. The demonstration sufficed; the French soldiers, demoralized by the defeat of their general-in-chief, were in no condition to meet a victorious enemy; they recoiled before the resolute front of the British force, and retreated with precipitation up the left bank of the St. Lawrence. There Townshend did not deem it prudent to follow; the ground was swampy, and, for the most part, still covered with the primeval forest, affording every advantage to a retreating enemy.

As soon as the action was over, Townshend began to intrench his camp, and to widen the road up the cliff for the convenience of the artillery and stores. De Bougainville did not halt till he reached Cape Rouge, and M. de Vaudreuil,[188] with his 1500 Canadians, deserted the lines west of the Montmorency, left all his artillery, ammunition, tents, and stores behind him, and made a hurried retreat toward Jacques Cartier.

The loss of the English in this memorable battle amounted to 55 killed and 607 wounded of all ranks; that of the French has never been clearly ascertained, but it was not probably less than 1500 in killed and wounded and prisoners. Moreover, a very large proportion of the Canadian militia dispersed and never rejoined their colors. On the British side, the Louisburg Grenadiers upon the right, and the 58th and 78th upon the left, suffered the most severely. The five regular French battalions were almost destroyed, and one of the two pieces of artillery which they had brought into action was captured by the victors.[189]

While the British troops were carrying all before them, their young general's life was ebbing fast away. When struck for the third time, he sank down; he then supported himself for a few minutes in a sitting posture, with the assistance of Lieutenant Brown, Mr. Henderson, a volunteer, and a private soldier, all of the Grenadier company of the 22d; Colonel Williamson, of the Royal Artillery, afterward went to his aid. From time to time, Wolfe tried, with his faint hand, to clear away the death-mist that gathered on his sight; but the effort seemed vain; for presently he lay back, and gave no signs of life beyond a heavy breathing and an occasional groan. Meantime the French had given way, and were flying in all directions. The grenadier officers, seeing this, called out to those around him, "See, they run." The words caught the ear of the dying man; he raised himself, like one aroused from sleep, and asked eagerly, "Who runs?" "The enemy, sir," answered the officer: "they give way every where." "Go one of you to Colonel Burton," said Wolfe: "tell him to march Webbe's (the 48th) regiment with all speed down to the St. Charles River, to cut off the retreat." His voice grew faint as he spoke, and he turned as if seeking an easier position on his side; when he had given this last order, he seemed to feel that he had done his duty, and added feebly, but distinctly, "Now, God be praised, I die happy." His eyes then closed, and, after a few convulsive movements, he became still.[190] Despite the anguish of his wounds, he died happy; for through the mortal shades that fell upon his soul, there rose, over the unknown world's horizon, the dawn of an eternal morning.

"GENERAL ORDERS.

"14th of September, 1759. Plains of Abraham.

"Parole—Wolfe. Countersign—England.

"The remaining general officers fit to act take the earliest opportunity to express the praise which is due to the conduct and bravery of the troops; and the victory, which attended it, sufficiently proves the superiority which this army has over any number of such troops as they engaged yesterday. They wish that the person who lately commanded them had survived so glorious a day, and had this day been able to give the troops their just encomiums. The fatigues which the troops will be obliged to undergo, to reap the advantage of this victory, will be supported with a true spirit, as this seems to be the period which will determine, in all probability, our American labors."

Deep and sincere was the sorrow of the English army for the loss of their chief; they almost grieved over their dearly-purchased victory.

Late on the evening of the 14th of September Montcalm also died. When his wound was first examined, he asked the surgeon if it was mortal; and being answered that it was, he said, "I am glad of it: how long can I survive?" "Perhaps a day, perhaps less," replied the surgeon. "So much the better," rejoined Montcalm; "I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec." When his wound was dressed, M. de Ramsay, the governor of the city, visited him, and desired to receive his commands for the defense; but he refused to occupy himself any longer with worldly affairs: "My time is very short," continued he, "so pray leave me. I wish you all comfort, and to be happily extricated from your present perplexities." He then called for his chaplain, who, with the bishop of the colony, administered the last offices of religion, and remained with him till he expired.

An officer of the 43d regiment, whose carefully-kept journal furnishes much valuable information on the subject of this campaign, states that Montcalm paid the English army the following compliment after the battle: "Since it was my misfortune to be discomfited and mortally wounded, it is a great consolation to me to be vanquished by so great and generous an enemy. If I could survive this wound, I would engage to beat three times the number of such forces as I commanded this morning with a third of their number of British troops."

Townshend, on the day succeeding the battle, busied himself incessantly in pushing on works against the city, and cutting off from the besieged all communication with the country. On the 17th, Admiral Saunders moved the whole of the British fleet into the basin, and prepared to attack the Lower Town; and by that evening no less than sixty-one pieces of heavy, and fifty-seven of light ordnance, were mounted on the British batteries and ready to open fire. The besieged had endeavored to retard these proceedings by constantly plying all their available guns, but did not succeed in inflicting any annoyance of importance. Before nightfall, an officer, bearing a flag of truce, approached the English camp, and was conducted to the general; to him he gave the governor, M. de Ramsay's, proposition to surrender if not relieved by the following morning.

In the mean time, M. de Vaudreuil, who had, with his disorganized followers, joined De Bougainville at Cape Rouge on the evening of the 13th, dispatched a courier to M. de Levi,[191] at Montreal, with tidings of the disaster, and to require his immediate presence to command the army in Montcalm's room. This done, the marquis summoned his principal officers to a council of war, and gave his opinion "that they should take their revenge on the morrow, and endeavor to wipe off the disgrace of that fatal day." But this bold proposition met with no more support in the council than it really possessed in De Vaudreuil's own mind. The officers were unanimously of opinion "that there was an absolute necessity for the army to retire to Jacques Cartier, and that no time should be lost." In consequence of this decision, the French immediately resumed their retreat, leaving every thing behind them, and marched all night to gain Point aux Trembles, which was fixed as the rendezvous of the whole remaining force.

On the receipt of the disastrous news of Montcalm's defeat and death, M. de Levi instantly departed from Montreal to take the command of the shattered army. On the 16th he arrived; after a few hours' conference with the Marquis de Vaudreuil, it was agreed to send the following message to M. de Ramsay: "We exhort you, by all means, to hold out to the last extremity. On the 18th the whole army shall be in motion: a disposition is made to throw in a large supply of provisions, and to relieve the town." The courier reached the besieged early on the 18th, but it was too late; the governor was already in treaty with Townshend, and on that morning, the 18th day of September, 1759, Quebec surrendered.[192] In the evening the keys of the city were delivered up, and the Louisburg Grenadiers marched in, preceded by a detachment of artillery and one gun, with the British flag hoisted on a staff upon the carriage: this flag was then placed upon the highest point of the citadel. Captain Palliser, of the navy, with a body of seamen, at the same time took possession of the Lower Town.

The news of these great events reached England but two days later than Wolfe's discouraging dispatch of the 9th of September;[193] an extraordinary Gazette was immediately published and circulated throughout the country, and a day of thanksgiving was appointed by proclamation through all the dominions of Great Britain.

"Then the sounds of joy and grief from her people wildly rose:"

never, perhaps, have triumph and lamentation been so strangely intermingled. Astonishment and admiration at the splendid victory, with sorrow for the loss of the gallant victor, filled every breast. Throughout all the land were illuminations and public rejoicings, except in the little Kentish village of Westerham, where Wolfe was born, and where his widowed mother[194] now mourned her only child.

Wolfe's body was embalmed, and borne to the river for conveyance to England. The army escorted it in solemn state to the beach: they mourned their young general's death as sincerely as they had followed him in battle bravely. Their attachment to him had softened their toils, their confidence in him had cheered them in disasters, and his loss now turned their triumph into sadness. When his remains arrived at Plymouth they were landed with the highest honors; minute guns were fired; the flags were hoisted half-mast high, and an escort, with arms reversed, received the coffin on the shore. He was then conveyed to Greenwich, and buried beside his father, who had died but a few months before.

The House of Commons, on the motion of Mr. Pitt, unanimously voted that a monument should be erected to Wolfe's memory in Westminster Abbey[195] at the public expense. The monument was accordingly executed, and inscribed with a eulogistic memorial in Latin. Not many years since, a pillar was erected by Lord Dalhousie, on a lofty situation in the city of Quebec, to Wolfe and Montcalm, bearing a remarkably graceful Latin inscription by Dr. Fisher, of Quebec. Lord Aylmer has also placed a small and simple monument on the Plains of Abraham, on which the date and the following words only are engraved:

"HERE WOLFE DIED VICTORIOUS."

CONCLUSION.

On the 18th of October, Admiral Saunders, with the whole fleet—the Race-horse of twenty, and the Porcupine of eighteen guns, excepted—weighed anchor and dropped down the river to Isle aux Coudres, there to await a fair wind to sail for Halifax and England. Brigadier Monckton embarked at the same time for New York, where he soon recovered from his wound, and Brigadier Townshend proceeded direct to London. The government of Quebec was intrusted to Brigadier Murray, with Colonel Burton as lieutenant-governor, and all the soldiers of the several regiments engaged in the campaign, who were still fit for duty, remained to form the garrison: the number of all ranks and arms now only amounted to 7300 men. The sick and wounded, whose recovery was remote or improbable, were sent home with the admiral. Having left a squadron at Halifax, the fleet reached England in safety ere the severity of the winter had set in.

Before the close of the navigation, the French governor and intendant of Canada intrusted their melancholy dispatches to M. Cannon, who succeeded in passing Quebec unobserved, by taking advantage of a favorable wind and a thick fog. Having escaped the many other dangers which beset his voyage, he arrived safely in France. These dispatches were filled with criminations and recriminations: M. de Vaudreuil animadverted bitterly upon M. de Ramsay for his "precipitate surrender" of Quebec, while from other quarters heavy complaints were put forward against M. de Vaudreuil for his retreat, or rather flight, from the lines of Montmorency.

The condition of the once splendid colony of France was now very lamentable. To the east, Quebec; to the west, Niagara; to the south, Crown Point and Ticonderoga—all the strongest positions in the northern continent of America, had passed from their hands in one disastrous campaign. Many of their veteran soldiers had found graves in the land which they had bravely but vainly striven to defend, or had been borne away as prisoners across the Atlantic. Provisions of all kinds were scarce, almost to famine; the prices during winter rose to an enormous height: wheat was commonly sold at 30 or 40 livres a bushel; a cow was worth 900 livres; a pair of oxen, 1500 or 2000; and sheep from 200 to 300 livres apiece. Many people actually died of want; and at length no money would induce the farmers to part with their produce, when life itself depended upon their retaining such supplies as they possessed. The politic Indians were quick to observe the fallen condition of the French, their poverty, and their weakness: a general defection among doubtful allies was the consequence, increased activity of enemies, and a more measured assistance from friends.

As the winter approached, the Chevalier de Levi retreated to Montreal, where he put the greater part of his army into cantonments. He, however, busied himself during that period of forced military inaction in preparations for a bold attempt to wipe out the memory of last year's disasters by the reconquest of Quebec. At the first opening of spring he began to refit such of the shipping as still bore the French flag, repaired the small craft, built galleys, and at Sorel embarked the necessary stores and ammunition, which he had drawn from the dépôts of St. John's and Chambly. M. de Vaudreuil seconded these exertions by the publication of an address to the Canadian people, representing in a highly colored style the imaginary cruelties and oppressions of the British governor of Quebec. He also endeavored to raise their hopes while he stimulated their animosity. "We have a numerous and gallant army," said he, "and well-grounded assurances of powerful assistance from France." His appeal met with no echo from a starving and discontented people.

During the winter the French made several demonstrations against the British outposts at Point Levi, Cape Rouge, St. Foy, and Lorette, without, however, any result beyond bloodshed and mutually inflicted suffering; but on the 6th of April, M. de Bourlemaque, with three battalions of regular troops and a body of militia, marched from Jacques Cartier upon Cape Rouge, with the hope of surprising the English detachment at that place. His troops lay on their arms that night, with the exception of two companies of Grenadiers, whom he sent to reconnoiter. On their return the main body became alarmed, supposing them to be English troops, and fired among them; the Grenadiers returned the fire, and the disastrous mistake was not discovered until twenty-two of their men were killed and wounded. Before dawn the unlucky expedition returned to their quarters at Jacques Cartier.

On the 17th of April, 1760, De Levi left Montreal with all his available force, and, collecting on his way the several detached corps, arrived in the neighborhood of Cape Rouge with eight battalions of regular troops, recruited to 4500 men, 6000 Canadians, of whom 200 were cavalry and 250 Indians. His heavy artillery, ammunition, and stores, followed his march by the river in bateaux and other vessels.

Meanwhile Murray lost no time in strengthening his position at Quebec. He erected eight timber redoubts outside the works of the city, and armed them with artillery; he broke up the neighboring roads, laid in eleven months' provision, and repaired 500 of the houses, which the English shot had ruined, for quarters for his troops. The outposts which he had established in the country round Quebec proved of considerable advantage: by them his movements were concealed, and those of the enemy watched. The inhabitants of eleven parishes in the vicinity placed themselves under British protection, and swore allegiance to the British crown: they subsequently proved very useful in supplying fresh provisions and firewood for the army to their utmost ability. Nevertheless, Murray's troops were obliged to undergo great hardship in collecting fuel for themselves: no less than a fourth of the whole army had to march ten miles each day, for many successive days, to cut timber in the forests, and numbers of the men were frost-bitten, or sank altogether under the trial. The scurvy raged also with extraordinary violence in the garrison; many fell victims to that dreadful disease; but a decoction of the hemlock spruce, recommended by an old Canadian, was at length successfully employed as a remedy. The severity of the duty and the monotony of the winter proved intolerable to not a few of the British soldiers; designing Frenchmen were at hand to profit by this opportunity; they persuaded many of the soldiers to leave their colors, and the spirit of desertion was not checked till some of those taken in the act were hanged, and their abettors subjected to a like punishment.

When Murray was apprized of the approach of the French army, he marched out on the 27th of April with the whole disposable force to cover the retreat of his advanced posts: in this he succeeded with the loss of only two men. He then broke down all the bridges, and retired into the city the same evening. De Levi crossed the little stream at Cape Rouge, and cantoned his army, upward of 10,000 strong, in and about the village of St. Foy; at nine the following morning he advanced within three miles of Quebec.

The British general, unwarned by Montcalm's fate, formed the unaccountable resolution of giving battle to the French in the open field with his feeble army, which was now reduced by sickness, desertion, and the sword to 3000 available men. In his letter to the Secretary of State reporting the consequent events, he states the following not very conclusive reasons for having taken this unfortunate step: "Well weighing my peculiar position, and well knowing that, in shutting myself up within the walls of the city, I should risk the whole stake on the chance of defending a wretched fortification, which could not be lessened by an action in the field."

At daylight on the 28th of April, Murray marched out to the Plains of Abraham with his ten skeleton battalions and twenty pieces of artillery. His light troops easily drove in those of the French; he then proceeded to form his line of battle. On the right, Colonel Burton led the 15th, the 48th, and the second battalion of the 60th. The center consisted of the 43d and 58th, under Colonel James, and the left of the 28th, 47th, and 78th, under Colonel Fraser. The 35th, and the third battalion of the 60th, formed the reserve. Major Dalling's Light Infantry covered the right flank, and some Volunteers and the Rangers the left. The guns were distributed in the most suitable positions.

When the formations were completed, Murray rode to the front to reconnoiter the enemy's position: he found them occupied in putting their arms, which had been damaged by heavy rains during the night, in order, and in other respects unprepared for action. This seemed to afford a favorable opportunity for striking a blow, and accordingly he returned in all speed, and gave orders to attack without delay. The little army joyfully obeyed, and moved forward in admirable order over the brow of the heights, thence down the slope into the plains beyond.

At first De Levi could not bring himself to believe that the British were abandoning their vantage-ground to grapple with his overwhelming force; but when he perceived their colors still steadily advancing almost within gunshot range, he called his men "to arms." The French hurried together, and formed their front of battle, not, however, without some confusion and alarm. Two companies of Grenadiers were in the mean time pushed forward into the woods above Sillery as a covering party; here they came in collision with the volunteers and Rangers of the British left, and, after a short encounter, they retired leisurely upon the main body. Murray's irregulars, now joined by the Light Infantry, pursued with unlucky zeal: this hasty advance exposed them to the fire of their own artillery, and compelled its silence; finally they were repulsed and broken by the French battalions, which had by that time attained to a steady formation. They then fell to the rear, and showed no more during the combat.

De Levi's army was by this time ranged in battle array. Bourlemaque, with three battalions of Regulars, held the right; the general in person, with a like force, held the left; and M. Dumas, with two battalions, occupied the center. The lines were formed three deep, and in the intervals between the bodies of veteran troops the Canadian levies were formed. Some companies of the Marine or Colony troops, with the Indians, were posted in a wood somewhat in advance of the right of the position. The French had no artillery.

When the flight of the light troops opened the front of battle, a column of French Infantry was seen winding up through the suburbs of St. Roch, so as to threaten Murray's right. Major Morris, with the 35th from the reserve, were quickly called into action, and they checked this movement. But, in the mean time, the British left was altogether over-matched. Fraser, with his brigade, had boldly attacked the French right, and at first gained some advantage, having, by an impetuous charge, driven Bourlemaque from two redoubts; but the superior weight of the enemy's fire soon told upon his weak battalions, and they were speedily reduced to a mere handful of men. The 43d from the center and the 3d battalion of the 60th from the reserve, now came to his aid, and still he bravely held his own ground against the overwhelming numbers of the French. At this critical time the Royal Roussillon from De Levi's center, who had not, as yet, fired a shot, charged in upon the British left, and bore down all resistance. The whole of Fraser's brigade then gave way, and retired in confusion; Burton's men, on the right, already hardly pressed, soon followed; all the artillery was lost; and, had it not been for the firm front presented by the 15th and 58th, the disaster might have proved irreparable. Even as it was, the carnage was almost unexampled in proportion to the numbers engaged: Murray left no less than 300 dead upon the field, and upward of 700 more of his men were wounded.[196]

The triumph of the French was sullied by unusual cruelty to their gallant but unfortunate foes. Quarter was in vain asked by some of the British officers: four of them, being conducted to the officers of the Regiment of La Sarre, were received with a wave of the hand, and "Allez-vous-en," which speedily decided their bloody fate. Of the great number of wounded Englishmen who were unavoidably abandoned in the retreat, twenty-eight only were sent to the hospitals; the rest were given up to glut the rage of the Indians. Murray's artillery, and the steady fire of his veterans, caused the French to purchase victory at a very heavy cost: by their own computation, 1800 of their men were killed and wounded.

De Levi followed up his success by intrenching himself before the city and preparing for the siege. Murray was not idle. No more than 2200 of the British troops were now fit for duty; but even the wounded assisted as far as they were able; nearly 600 men, unable to walk without crutches, seated themselves on the ramparts, made sand-bags for the works, and cartridges for the cannon. The women were also active in tending the wounded, and cooking rations for the soldiers, who were now too much occupied to perform those offices for themselves. By unremitting exertion, 132 guns were soon mounted on the ramparts; and, as many of the Infantry had during the winter been trained by the artillerymen, Murray was enabled to keep up a fire which altogether overpowered that of the French.

But the hopes of the besieged rested alone for final delivery on the arrival of the fleet. On the 9th of May the Leostoffe frigate rounded the headland of Point Levi, and stood over for the city. For a time an intense anxiety reigned in both armies, as the French also expected a squadron with supplies. At length, when the red-cross flag ran up to the mizen peak of the strange ship, and a boat put off for the Lower Town, the joy of the garrison knew no bounds; officers and soldiers together mounted the parapets in the face of the enemy, and for nearly an hour together made the air ring with hearty British cheers. On the 16th, Commodore Swainton arrived with the Vanguard and the Diana frigate; the next day he passed the town, and destroyed or captured the whole of the French armament upon the river.[197]

De Levi, upon this, raised the siege with inglorious haste. His camp, guns, ammunition, stores, provisions, and intrenching tools were all abandoned, and his retreat was almost a flight. Murray pushed out his Grenadiers and Light Infantry in pursuit, and succeeded in taking some of the rear guard prisoners. The French then took up their old quarters at Jacques Cartier. This attempt upon Quebec, the results of which were so disproportionate to the means employed, was called by the Canadians "De Levi's folly."

Although the siege of Quebec lasted but a short time, it gave opportunity to the French officers of departments to indulge in enormous peculation.[198] The public money was squandered with the utmost profusion and with the most unblushing dishonesty. False estimates were authorized by the engineers, and paid by the intendant at Montreal. Among other charges against the French government was put forward a bill for 300,000 moccasins for the Indians; the infamous Cadet managed this contract himself, in the name of his clerk, and charged the crown no less than 300,000 livres for the fraudulent supply. Large stores were constantly furnished to the army, the greater part of which became the property of the contractors, and was resold by them to the government at an exorbitant rate: meanwhile the soldiers were miserably supplied, and the people almost perishing with want.

But this reign of peculation and oppression was fast drawing to a close. The successful action at Sillery was "Fortune's parting smile" upon the French in Canada. On the 3d of May, General, now Sir Jeffery Amherst, the commander-in-chief, embarked at New York and proceeded to Schenectady; from thence, with part of his army, he pursued his route to Oswego, where he encamped on the 9th of July. General Gage and the rest of the force was ordered to follow with all diligence: accordingly, they also reached Oswego on the 22d, and Sir William Johnson, with his Indians, arrived the following day. In the mean time, Captain Loring, of the navy, with two armed vessels, had cleared the Lake Ontario of the French cruisers, and driven them for refuge to the beautiful labyrinth of the "Thousand Isles."

Amherst's army, now assembled on the shores of Lake Ontario, consisted of a detachment of the Royal Artillery, six complete battalions and thirteen companies of regular troops, a corps of Grenadiers, and another of Light Infantry, with some Rangers, and eight battalions of Provincials, in all 10,142 men of all ranks; Johnson's Indians numbered 706.

The plan of the campaign was again founded on combined movements. The general-in-chief, warned by the untoward delays which he had experienced in the preceding year, himself chose to descend upon the enemy's capital by Lake Ontario and the Upper St. Lawrence, leaving the route of Lake Champlain to Colonel Haviland, with a force of some artillery, 1500 regular troops, 1800 Provincials, and a few Indians, which were assembled at Crown Point. At the same time, Murray, with the disposable portion of the gallant garrison of Quebec, aided by Lord Rollo and two battalions from Louisburg, was to push up the St. Lawrence, and, if possible, meet the other two corps under the general-in-chief and Haviland on the island of Montreal. Their movements were as follows:

Amherst embarked the grenadiers and light troops, with a battalion of Highlanders, on the 7th of August, and dispatched them, under Colonel Haldimand, to take post at that end of Lake Ontario from whence issues the River St. Lawrence. On the 10th, he himself, with the artillery, the remainder of the regular troops, and the Indians, followed in whale-boats. The Provincials, under Gage, joined the flotilla on the 12th, and the following day the whole army reached La Galette, on the banks of the Great River. They then dropped down the stream to Isle Royale without any occurrence worth record, except the gallant capture of an armed vessel by Colonel Williamson with a detachment of troops in row-boats.

Upon Isle Royale there was a French post of some strength, called Fort Levi, which Amherst determined to subdue, partly because he was unwilling to leave an enemy in his rear, but principally because among the little garrison were several men well skilled in the dangerous navigation of the St. Lawrence, whose services might prove of great value to the expedition; accordingly, the fort was completely invested by the 20th. On the 23d the British batteries were in readiness, and the armed vessels placed in a favorable position, while a detachment of grenadiers with scaling-ladders were told off to storm the works. A cannonade was opened upon the fort; but the gallant little garrison returned the fire with such spirit, that one of the British vessels which had got aground was obliged to strike her colors, and was abandoned by her crew. Amherst, astonished at this vigorous resistance, deferred his contemplated assault to another day. The delay proved fortunate in preventing further bloodshed; for M. Pouchot, the French commandant, seeing that there was no hope of a successful defense, surrendered at discretion on the 25th.

When the fort was delivered up, a circumstance occurred which reflects far more honor upon Englishmen than the triumph of their arms. Johnson's Indians had secretly determined to seize their opportunity of vengeance, and to massacre the gallant band of Frenchmen as soon as they gained admission within the works. Happily, Amherst was made aware of this atrocious scheme. He immediately gave orders to Sir William to dissuade the savages, if possible, from their intention; at the same time, he promised them all the stores which might be found in the fort, and warned them that if they persisted he would restrain them by force. The Indians sullenly submitted and returned to their camp, but they bitterly resented the interference, and Johnson informed the general that they would probably quit the army in anger. Amherst answered, "Although I wish to retain their friendship, I will not purchase it at the expense of countenancing barbarity; and tell them that, if they commit any acts of cruelty on their return home from the army, I will assuredly chastise them." Amherst lost his Indians, but he preserved his honor. Nearly all abandoned him; they did not, however, dare to perpetrate any violence on their way home.

The British leveled the works at Fort Levi, and continued their route down the stream with little difficulty till they reached the dangerous passage of the Cedars. About noon on the 4th of September the van of the army entered the rapids. Here the vast flood of the St. Lawrence dashes swiftly through a comparatively narrow channel; broken rocks, eddies, and surging waves render the appearance of this navigation terrible to the unaccustomed eye, but under the guidance of experienced pilots light boats constantly pass with little or no danger. Amherst expected that the enemy would have opposed him at this critical point; he therefore did not deem it prudent to permit the boats to descend in the successive order which would have best suited the navigation, but, himself leading the way, he ordered on a number of boats filled with artillery, grenadiers, and light infantry at the same time. Scarcely had they entered the boisterous waters when the boats became crowded together; some were stove in against each other, and many were dashed to pieces upon the rocks. No less than eighty-eight men and sixty-four boats, with some artillery and stores, were lost by this lamentable disaster.

On the 6th of September the British army landed on the island of Montreal, nine miles from the town; the French retired before them within the walls, and the same evening the place was invested in form.

In pursuance of the plan of the campaign, Murray had sailed from Quebec on the 14th of June, to co-operate with the expeditions under Amherst and Haviland. His army consisted of 2450 men of all ranks, the veterans who had conquered under Wolfe. His voyage up the river was an almost continuous skirmish. Whenever his vessels approached the shore, they were assailed with musketry, and by cannon at all suitable points; however, he met with no resistance of a nature materially to delay his progress. On the 8th of August the fleet passed Three Rivers, and on the 12th anchored opposite to Sorel, where M. de Bourlemaque was posted with about 4000 men. Here Murray judged it prudent to await Lord Rollo with the regiment from Louisburg, and, being joined by this re-enforcement, he again sailed upward on the 27th. On the 7th of September the troops were disembarked upon the island of Montreal, and on the following day they encamped to the northeast of the city. M. de Bourlemaque had retired before them within the walls.

Colonel Haviland embarked upon Lake Champlain on the 11th of August; on the 16th he encamped opposite the French port at Isle aux Noix, and by the 24th opened a fire of mortars upon it. On the night of the 27th, M. de Bougainville, the commandant, retired from the fort, leaving a garrison of only thirty men, who surrendered the next morning. Without any further interruption, Haviland also arrived upon the island of Montreal by the 8th of September. A British force of 16,000 men was then assembled under the walls of the defenseless city. On the same day the Marquis de Vaudreuil signed the capitulation which severed Canada from France forever.

All Canada was included in this capitulation, from the fishing stations on the coast of the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the unknown wilderness of the West. The regular troops were permitted to march out from their several posts with the honors of war, and were then conveyed to France in British ships, under an engagement that they were not again to serve before the conclusion of the first peace. The Provincial militia were allowed to return unmolested to their homes. The free exercise of religion was granted, and private property was held sacred. All the civil officers were also conveyed to France, with their families, baggage, and papers, except such of the latter as might be deemed useful to the conquerors for the future government of the country. The French colonists were guaranteed the same civil and commercial privileges as British subjects, and were to be allowed to retain their slaves. The Indians who had supported the cause of France were to be unmolested in person, and the possession of their lands was secured to them.

The total effective force of the French included in the capitulation was eight battalions of the line, and two of the colony or marine, being 4011 regular troops; sixty-four companies of the Quebec militia, 7976; nineteen of Three Rivers, 1115, and eighty-seven of Montreal, 7331; altogether, 20,433 men. The French had destroyed all their colors, but the English regained possession of two of their own, which had been taken from Shirley's and Pepperel's Provincial regiments at the capture of Oswego.

Although the campaign of 1760 was unmarked by many events of stirring interest, its conduct was most creditable to the officers and men of the British army. Amherst's plans were as ably executed as they were judiciously conceived. By descending the St. Lawrence from Ontario, he rendered it impossible for the French to retire westward from Montreal, and to prolong the war on the shores of the great lakes. His combinations were arranged with admirable accuracy, and carried out by his lieutenants with almost unparalleled success. With scarcely any loss, three considerable bodies of troops had accomplished journeys of uncommon difficulty, by routes of dangerous and almost unknown navigation, in the face of a vigilant and still formidable enemy, and all three had arrived at the place of meeting within forty-eight hours of each other.

While we dwell with pleasure upon the achievements of this British army and of their generals, we may not forget the merits of the gallant men against whom they fought. With a noble patriotism that no neglect could damp, Montcalm and his veterans strove for the honor of their country. From first to last they persevered almost against hope; destitute, and well-nigh deserted by France, they never for a moment wavered in their loyalty; all that skill could accomplish, they accomplished; all that devotion could endure, they endured; and all that chivalry could dare, they dared. In these later times, when the intoxication of triumph and the sting of defeat have long since passed away, the soldiers of France and England may alike look back with honest pride to the brave deeds of their ancestors in the Canadian war.

One of the most momentous political questions that has ever yet moved the human race was decided in this struggle. When a few English and French emigrants first landed among the Virginian and Canadian forests, it began; when the British flag was hoisted on the citadel of Quebec, it was decided. From that day the hand of Providence pointed out to the Anglo-Saxon race that to them was henceforth intrusted the destiny of the New World.

APPENDIX.

No. I.

"Geneva, Nov. 6.—Two days after the news arrived here of the taking of Quebec, Monsieur de Voltaire gave a grand entertainment at his house in the country. In the evening the company retired into a noble gallery, at the end of which was erected an elegant theater, and a new piece, called Le Patriot Insulaire, was performed, in which all the genius and fire of that celebrated poet were exhausted in the cause of liberty. M. de Voltaire himself appeared in the principal character, and drew tears from the whole audience. The scenes were decorated with emblems of liberty, and over the stage was this inscription in Latin and English:

'Libertati quieti
Musis Sacrum
S P of the F.'

The English line means 'Spite of the French.'

"After the play the windows of the gallery flew open, and presented a spacious court finely illuminated and adorned with savage trophies. In the middle of the court a magnificent fire-work was played off, accompanied with martial music; the star of St. George shedding forth innumerable rockets, and underneath a lively representation, by girandoles, of the cataract of Niagara."—Public Advertiser, Nov. 23, 1759.

No. II.

"One of the most singular geographical illusions on record is that which for a long while haunted the imaginations of the inhabitants of the Canaries. They fancied they beheld a mountainous island, of about ninety leagues in length, lying far to the westward. It was only seen at intervals, though in perfectly clear and serene weather. To some it seemed one hundred leagues distant, to others forty, to others only fifteen or eighteen.[199]

"On attempting to reach it, however, it somehow or other eluded the search, and was nowhere to be found. Still, there were so many persons of credibility who concurred in testifying to their having seen it, and the testimony of the inhabitants of different islands agreed so well as to its form and position, that its existence was generally believed; and geographers inserted it in their maps. It is laid down on the globe of Martin Behrm, projected in 1492, as delineated by M. de Murr, and it will be found in most of the maps of the time of Columbus, placed commonly about 200 leagues west of the Canaries. During the time that Columbus was making his proposition to the court of Portugal, an inhabitant of the Canaries applied to King John II. for a vessel to go in search of this island. In the archives of the Torre di Tombo,[200] also, there is a record of a contract made by the crown of Portugal with Fernando de Ulmo, cavalier of the royal household, and captain of the Island of Terceira, wherein he undertakes to go, at his own expense, in quest of an island, or islands, or terra firma, supposed to be the Island of the Seven Cities, on condition of having jurisdiction over the same for himself and his heirs, allowing one tenth of the revenues to the king. This Ulmo, finding the expedition above his capacity, associated one Juan Alphonso del Estreito in the enterprise. They were bound to be ready to sail with two caravels in the month of March, 1487.[201] The fate of their enterprise is unknown.

"The name of St. Brandan, or Borondan, given to this imaginary island from time immemorial, is said to be derived from a Scotch abbot, who flourished in the sixth century, and who is called sometimes by the foregoing appellations, sometimes St. Blandano or St. Blandanus. In the Martyrology of the order of St. Augustine, he is said to have been the patriarch of 3000 monks. About the middle of the sixth century, he accompanied his disciple, St. Maclovio or St. Malo, in search of certain islands, possessing the delights of paradise, which they were told existed in the midst of the ocean, and were inhabited by infidels. After these most adventurous saints-errant had wandered for a long time upon the ocean, they at length landed upon an island called Ima. Here St. Malo found the body of a giant lying in a sepulcher. He resuscitated him, and had much interesting conversation with him, the giant informing him that the inhabitants of that island had some notions of the Trinity, and, moreover, giving him an account of the torments which Jews and pagans suffered in the infernal regions. Finding the giant so docile and reasonable, St. Malo expounded to him the doctrines of the Christian religion, converted him, and baptized him by the name of Mildum. The giant, however, either through weariness of life, or eagerness to enjoy the benefits of his conversion, begged permission, at the end of fifteen days, to die again, which was granted him.

"According to another account, the giant told them he knew of an island in the ocean, defended by walls of burnished gold, so resplendent that they shone like crystal, but to which there was no entrance. At their request he undertook to guide them to it, and, taking the cable of their ship, threw himself into the sea. He had not proceeded far, however, when a tempest arose and obliged them all to return, and shortly after the giant died.[202] A third legend makes the saint pray to Heaven, on Easter day, that they may be permitted to find land where they may celebrate the offices of religion with becoming state: an island immediately appears, on which they land, perform a solemn mass, and the sacrament of the Eucharist; after which, reembarking and making sail, they behold to their astonishment the supposed island suddenly plunge to the bottom of the sea, being nothing else than a monstrous whale.[203] When the rumor circulated of an island seen from the Canaries, which always eluded the search, the legends of St. Brandan were revived, and applied to this unapproachable land. We are told, also, that there was an ancient Latin manuscript in the archives of the cathedral church of the Grand Canary in which the adventures of these saints were recorded. Through carelessness, however, this manuscript disappeared.[204] Some have maintained that this island was known to the ancients, and was the same mentioned by Ptolemy among the Fortunate or Canary Islands by the name of Aprositus,[205] a Greek word signifying 'inaccessible,' and which, according to Friar Diego Philipo, in his book on the Incarnation of Christ, shows that it possessed the same quality in ancient times of deluding the eye, and being unattainable to the feet of mortals.[206] But, whatever belief the ancients may have had on the subject, it is certain that it took a strong hold on the faith of the moderns during the prevalent rage for discovery; nor did it lack abundant testimonials. Don Joseph de Viera y Clavijo says there never was a more difficult paradox or problem in the science of geography, since to affirm the existence of this island is to trample upon sound criticism, judgment, and reason, and to deny it, one must abandon tradition and experience, and suppose that many persons of credit had not the proper use of their senses.[207]

"The belief in this island has continued long since the time of Columbus. It was repeatedly seen, and by various persons at a time, always in the same place and the same form. In 1626, an expedition set off for the Canaries in quest of it, commanded by Fernando de Troya and Fernando Alvarez. They cruised in the wonted direction, but in vain; and their failure ought to have undeceived the public. 'The phantasm of the island, however,' says Viera, 'had such a secret enchantment for all who beheld it, that the public preferred doubting the good conduct of the explorers than their own senses.' In 1570 the appearances were so repeated and clear, that there was a universal fever of curiosity awakened among the people of the Canaries, and it was determined to send forth another expedition. That they might not appear to act upon light grounds, an exact investigation was previously made of all the persons of talent and credibility who had seen these apparitions of land, or who had other proofs of its existence.

"Alonzode Espinosa, governor of the island of Ferro, accordingly made a report, in which more than one hundred witnesses, several of them persons of the highest respectability, deposed that they had beheld the unknown island about forty leagues to the northwest of Ferro; that they had contemplated it with calmness and certainty, and had seen the sun set behind one of its points.

"Testimonials of still greater force came from the islands of Palma and Teneriffe. There were certain Portuguese who affirmed that, being driven about by a tempest, they had come upon the island of St. Borondon. Pedro Vello, who was the pilot of the vessel, asserted that, having anchored in a bay, he landed with several of the crew. They drank fresh water in a brook, and beheld in the sand the print of footsteps, double the size of those of an ordinary man, and the distance between them was in proportion. They found a cross nailed to a neighboring tree, near to which were three stones placed in form of a triangle, with signs of fire having been made among them, probably to cook shell-fish. Having seen much cattle and sheep grazing in the neighborhood, two of their party, armed with lances, went into the woods in pursuit of them. The night was approaching, the heavens began to lower, and a harsh wind arose. The people on board the ship cried out that she was dragging her anchor, whereupon Vello entered the boat and hurried on board. In an instant they lost sight of land, being, as it were, swept away in the hurricane. When the storm had passed away, and sea and sky were again serene, they searched in vain for the island; not a trace of it was to be seen, and they had to pursue their voyage, lamenting the loss of their two companions who had been abandoned in the wood.[208]

"A learned licentiate, Pedro Ortez de Funez, inquisitor of the Grand Canary, while on a visit at Teneriffe, summoned several persons before him who testified having seen the island. Among them was one Marcos Verde, a man well known in those parts. He stated that, in returning from Barbary, and arriving in the neighborhood of the Canaries, he beheld land, which, according to his maps and calculations, could not be any of the known islands. He concluded it to be the far-famed St. Borondon. Overjoyed at having discovered this land of mystery, he coasted along its spell-bound shores until he anchored in a beautiful harbor, formed by the mouth of a mountain ravine. Here he landed with several of his crew. 'It was now,' he said, 'the hour of Ave Maria, or of vespers. The sun being set, the shadows began to spread over the land. The navigators, having separated, wandered about in different directions, until out of hearing of each other's shouts. Those on board, seeing the night approaching, made signals to summon back the wanderers to the ship. They re-embarked, intending to resume their investigations on the following day. Scarcely were they on board, however, when a whirlwind came rushing down the ravine with such violence as to drag the vessel from her anchor and hurry her out to sea, and they never saw any thing more of this hidden and inhospitable island.'

"Another testimony remains on record in a manuscript of one Abreu Galindo, but whether taken at this time does not appear. It was that of a French adventurer, who, many years before, making a voyage among the Canaries, was overtaken by a violent storm, which carried away his masts. At length the furious winds drove him to the shores of an unknown island covered with stately trees. Here he landed with part of his crew, and, choosing a tree proper for a mast, cut it down, and began to shape it for his purpose. The guardian power of the island, however, resented, as usual, this invasion of his forbidden shores. The heavens assumed a dark and threatening aspect; the night was approaching; and the mariners, fearing some impending evil, abandoned their labor, and returned on board. They were borne away, as usual, from the coast, and the next day arrived at the island of Palma.[209]

"The mass of testimony collected by official authority in 1570 seemed so satisfactory that another expedition was fitted out in the same year in the island of Palma. It was commanded by Fernando de Villalobos, regidor of the island, but was equally fruitless with the preceding. St. Borondon seemed disposed only to tantalize the world with distant and serene glimpses of his ideal paradise, or to reveal it amid storms to tempest-tossed mariners, but to hide it completely from the view of all who diligently sought it. Still, the people of Palma adhered to their favorite chimera. Thirty-four years afterward, in 1605, they sent another ship on the quest, commanded by Gaspar Perez de Acosta, an accomplished pilot, accompanied by the Padre Lorenzo Pinedo, a holy Franciscan friar, skilled in natural science. San Borondon, however, refused to reveal his island to either monk or mariner. After cruising about in every direction, sounding, observing the skies, the clouds, the winds, every thing that could furnish indications, they returned without having seen any thing to authorize a hope.

"Upward of a century now elapsed without any new attempt to seek this fairy island. Every now and then, it is true, the public mind was agitated by fresh reports of its having been seen. Lemons and other fruits, and the green branches of trees, which floated to the shores of Gomara and Ferro, were pronounced to be from the enchanted groves of San Borondon. At length, in 1721, the public infatuation again rose to such a height that a fourth expedition was sent, commanded by Don Gaspar Dominguez, a man of probity and talent. As this was an expedition of solemn and mysterious import, he had two holy friars as apostolical chaplains. They made sail from the island of Teneriffe toward the end of October, leaving the populace in an indescribable state of anxious curiosity. The ship, however, returned from its cruise as unsuccessful as all its predecessors.

"We have no account of any expedition being since undertaken, though the island still continued to be a subject of speculation, and occasionally to reveal its shadowy mountains to the eyes of favored individuals. In a letter written from the island of Gomara, 1759, by a Franciscan monk to one of his friends, he relates having seen it from the village of Alaxera, at six in the morning of the third of May. It appeared to consist of two lofty mountains, with a deep valley between, and on contemplating it with a telescope, the valley or ravine appeared to be filled with trees. He summoned the curate, Antonio Joseph Manrique, and upward of forty other persons, all of whom beheld it plainly.[210]

"Nor is this island delineated merely in ancient maps of the time of Columbus. It is laid down as one of the Canary Islands in a French map published in 1704; and Mons. Gautier, in a geographical chart annexed to his Observations on Natural History, published in 1759, places it five degrees to the west of the Island of Ferro, in the 29th degree of north latitude.[211]

"Such are the principal facts existing relative to the island of St. Brandan. Its reality was for a long time a matter of firm belief. It was in vain that repeated voyages and investigations proved its non-existence: the public, after trying all kinds of sophistry, took refuge in the supernatural to defend their favorite chimera. They maintained that it was rendered inaccessible to mortals by divine providence or by diabolical magic. Most inclined to the former. All kinds of extravagant fancies were indulged concerning it:[212] some confounded it with the fabled island of the Seven Cities, situated somewhere in the bosom of the ocean, where, in old times, seven bishops and their followers had taken refuge from the Moors. Some of the Portuguese imagined it to be the abode of their last king, Sebastian. The Spaniards pretended that Roderic, the last of their Gothic kings, had fled thither from the Moors after the disastrous battle of the Guadalete. Others suggested that it might be the seat of the terrestrial paradise—the place where Enoch and Eliiah remained in a slate of blessedness until the final day; and that it was made at times apparent to the eyes, but invisible to the search of mortals. Poetry, it is said, has owed to this popular belief one of its beautiful fictions; and the garden of Armida, where Rinaldo was detained enchanted, and which Tasso places in one of the Canary Islands, has been identified with the imaginary San Borondon.[213]

"The learned father Feyjoo[214] has given a philosophical solution to this geographical problem. He attributes all these appearances, which have been so numerous and so well authenticated as not to admit of doubt, to certain atmospherical deceptions, like that of the Fata Morgana, seen at times in the Straits of Messina, where the city of Reggio and its surrounding country is reflected in the air above the neighboring sea; a phenomenon which has likewise been witnessed in front of the city of Marseilles. As to the tales of the mariners who had landed on these forbidden shores, and been hurried from thence in whirlwinds and tempests, he considers them as mere fabrications.

"As the populace, however, reluctantly give up any thing that partakes of the marvelous and mysterious, and as the same atmospherical phenomena which first gave birth to the illusion may still continue, it is not improbable that a belief in the island of St. Brandan may still exist among the ignorant and credulous of the Canaries, and that they at times behold its fairy mountains rising above the distant horizon of the Atlantic."—Washington Irving, Life of Columbus.

No. III.

The following lines in Pulci's "Morgante Maggiore" afford probably the most circumstantial prediction that is to be found of the existence of a Western World. The devil, alluding to the vulgar superstition respecting the Pillars of Hercules, thus addresses Rinaldo:

"Know that this theory is false; his bark
The daring mariner shall urge far o'er
The western wave, a smooth and level plain,
Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel.
Man was in ancient days of grosser mold,
And Hercules might blush to learn how far
Beyond the limits he had vainly set,
The dullest sea-bird soon shall wing her way.
Men shall descry another hemisphere,
Since to one common center all things tend.
So earth, by curious mystery divine,
Well-balanced hangs amid the starry spheres.
At our antipodes are cities, states,
And thronged empires, ne'er divined of yore.
But see, the sun speeds on his western path,
To glad the nations with expected light."

Canto xxv., st. 229, 230.

Dante, two centuries before, had indicated more vaguely his belief in an undiscovered quarter of the globe:

"De' vostri sensi, ch'é del rimanente
Non vogliate negar l'esperienza
Diretro al sol, del mondo senza gente."

Inferno, Canto xxvi., st. 115.

The prophetic lines of Seneca are well known:

"Nil, qua fuerat sede, reliquit
Pervius orbis.
Indus gelidum potat Araxem,
Albim Persæ, Rhenumque bibunt
Venient annis sæcula seris
Quibus Oceanus vincula rerum
Laxet, et ingens pateat tellus,
Tethysque novos detegat orbes,
Nec sit terris ultima Thule."

Medea, Act II., v. 371, et seq. Chorus in Fine. Ed. Bip.

On which the learned Acosta remarks:

"Sed utrum divinarit Seneca, an fortuito ac temere cecinerit, quæri potest. Mihi verò divinasse videtur, sed eo genere divinationis, quod prudentes viri familiare habent."

Acosta further on writes thus:

"Scribit Hieronymus in epistolam ad Ephesios—'Quærirmus quoque quid sit. In quibus aliquando ambulastis secundum sæculum sit mundi hujus utrumnam et aliud quod non pertineat ad mundum istum, sed ad mundos alios, de quibus et Clemens in epistolâ suâ scribit, oceanus et mundi qui transipsum sunt.'"—J. Acosta, Societatis Jesu, De Naturâ Novi Orbis, lib. i., cap. xi.

"Lorsq' Alfonso V. permit en 1461 à Dom Henry de peupler les îles Açores, on trouva en celle de Cuervo une statue représentant un cavalier qui, de la main gauche, tenoit la bride de son cheval, et de la droite montroit l'occident, précisément du côte d'Amerique—on voyoit sur le roc une inscription en caractères inconnus, dont il seroit à souhaiter qu'on eût pris soin d'aporter l'empreinte en Europe; mais ces premiers navigateurs cherchoient des trésors et non des nouvelles lumières."—Histoire de France, par M. de Villaret, vol. xvi., p. 376.

No. IV.

The fable of Welsh Indians is of very old date. In the time of Sir Walter Raleigh, a confused report was spread over England that on the coast of Virginia the Welsh salutation had been heard; has, honi, iach. Owen Chapelain relates that in 1669, by pronouncing some Celtic words, he saved himself from the hands of the Indians of Tuscarora, by whom he was on the point of being scalped. The same thing, it is pretended, happened to Benjamin Beatty, in going from Virginia to Carolina. This Beatty asserts that he found a whole Welsh tribe, who preserved the tradition of the voyage of Madoc ap Owen, which took place in 1170. John Filson, in his "History of Kentucky," has revived these tales of the first travelers. According to him, Captain Abraham Chaplain saw Indians arrive at the post of Kaskasky, and converse in the Welsh language with some soldiers, who were natives of Wales. Captain Isaac Stewart asserts that on the Red River of Natchitoches, at the distance of 700 miles above its mouth, in the Mississippi, he discovered Indians with a fair skin and red hair, who conversed in Welsh, and possessed the titles of their origin. "They produced, in proof of what they said of their arrival on the eastern coast, rolls of parchment, carefully wrapped up in otter skins, and on which great characters were written in blue, which neither Stewart, nor his fellow-traveler, Davey, a native of Wales, could decipher." We may observe, first, that all these testimonies are extremely vague for the indication of places. The last letter of Mr. Owen, repeated in the journals of Europe (of the 11th February, 1819), places the posts of the Welsh Indians on the Madwaga, and divides them into two tribes, the Brydones and the Chadogians. "They speak Welsh with greater purity than it is spoken in the principality of Wales(!), since it is exempt from Anglicisms; they profess Christianity, strongly mixed with Druidism." We can not read such assertions without recollecting that all those fabulous stories which flatter the imagination are renewed periodically under new forms. The learned and judicious geographer of the United States, Mr. Warden, inquires justly, why all the traces of Welsh colonies and the Celtic tongue have disappeared, since less credulous travelers, and who, in some sort, control one another, have visited the country situated between the Ohio and the Rocky Mountains. Mackenzie, Barton, Clarke, Lewis, Pike, Drake, Mitchill, and the editors of the "New Archæologia Americana," have found nothing, absolutely nothing, which denotes the remains of European colonies of the 12th century.—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. vi., p. 326. See Hakluyt, vol. iii., p. 1; Powell's History of Wales, p. 196, &c.

Lord Lyttleton, in his notes to the 5th book of his "History of Henry II.," p. 371, has invalidated the story of Madoc's discoveries by arguments of great weight; and Mr. Pennant, in "Philosophical Transactions," vol. lviii., p. 91, has overthrown many of the arguments upon which the existence of a Welsh settlement among the Indians was founded. General Bowles, the Cherokee, was questioned when in England as to the locality of the supposed descendants of Madoc: he laid his finger on one of the branches of the Missouri. Pike's "Travels" had lessened the probability of finding such a tribe; and Lewis and Clarke's "Travels to the Source of the Missouri" have entirely destroyed it, as acknowledged by Mr. Southey in his "Madoc."—See note to the Preface of Madoc.

"It is much to be wished, that in our days, when a healthy tone of criticism is very much in use, without assuming a scornful character, the ancient inquiries of Powell ('Powell's History of Wales,' p. 196) and Richard Hakluyt ('Voyages and Navigations,' vol. iii., p. 4) might again be taken up in England. I do not participate in the notion of rejecting inquiries, by which the traditions of nations are frequently observed; I prefer much to hold the firm conviction that, with more diligence and perseverance, many of the historical problems which have hitherto remained unknown to us will one day be cleared up by actual discoveries."—Humboldt's Cosmos, vol. ii., p. 456.

By some antiquarians traces have been supposed to have been found of the discovery of America by the Irish before the year 1000. The Esquimaux related to the Normans who were settled in Winland, that further southward, on the other side of Chesapeake Bay, there dwelt "white men, who walked about in long white clothes, before them sticks to which white cloths were attached, and crying with a loud voice." This account was interpreted by the Christian Normans to signify processions, in which they carried flags and sang hymns. In the oldest traditions, and in the historical narrative of Thorfinn Karlsefue, and the Iceland Landnama Book, these southern coasts, between Virginia and Florida, are indicated by the name of "Whiteman's Land." They were, in the country itself, certainly called "Great Ireland" (Irland it Mikla), and it was supposed that they were peopled by the Irish. According to testimony extending as far back as the year 1064, before Leif discovered Winland, Ari Marsson, of the powerful Iceland race of Ulf, on a voyage southward from Iceland, was driven by a storm upon the coasts of "Great Ireland," and there baptized as a Christian, and not being allowed to go away, was subsequently recognized there by people from the Orkneys and Iceland. It is the present opinion of some northern antiquarians that Iceland was not peopled immediately from Europe, but from Virginia and Carolina (that is, from Great Ireland), by the Irish, who had early migrated to America.... The assiduous attempt to diffuse religious doctrines paved the way, at one time, for warlike undertakings, at another for the spread of peaceful ideas and commercial intercourse. The zeal which is so peculiar to the religions systems of India, Palestine, and Arabia, and which is altogether free from the indifference of Grecian and Roman polytheism, kept alive the study of geography in the first half of the Middle Ages. Letronne, the commentator of the Irish monk Dicuil, has proved, in an acute way, that after the Irish missionaries were driven out of the Färöe Islands by the Normans, they began to visit Iceland about the year 795. The Normans, when they came to Iceland, found there Irish books, bells for ringing for mass, and other objects, which former strangers, who were called Papar, had left behind. These Papæ (fathers) were the Clerici of Dicuil. Now if, as we must suppose from his testimony, those objects belonged to the Irish monks, who came from the Färöe Islands, the question is, why are the monks (Papar) called in their native traditions "Westmen"—men who have come from the west over the sea? Respecting the connection of Prince Madoc's voyage to a great western country in 1170, with the "Great Ireland" of the Iceland traditions, all accounts are enveloped in deep obscurity. Compare the inquiries in Rafn Antiq. Amer., p. 203, 206, 446, 451; and Wilhelmi upon Iceland, Hvitramannaland, the Land of White Men, p. 75, 81; Letronne, Récherches Géog. et Crit. sur le Livre de Mensurâ Orbis Terræ, composé en Irelande par Dicuil, 1814, p. 129, 146.

The celebrated stone of Taunton River may date its hieroglyphics from the time that Norwegian navigators visited the shores of "Great Ireland." "Anglo-American antiquaries have made known an inscription, supposed to be Phœnician, and which is engraved on the rocks of Dighton, near the banks of Taunton River, twelve leagues south of Boston.... The natives who inhabited these countries at the time of the first European settlements preserved an ancient tradition, according to which strangers in wooden houses had sailed up Taunton River, formerly called Assoonet. These strangers, having conquered the red men, had engraved marks on the rock, which is now covered by the waters of the river. Count de Gebelin does not hesitate, with the learned Dr. Stiles, to regard these marks as a Carthaginian inscription. He says, with that enthusiasm which is natural to him, but which is highly injurious in discussions of this kind, that this inscription comes happily at the moment from the New World to confirm his ideas on the origin of nations, and that it is clearly demonstrated to be a Phœnician monument, a picture which in the foreground represents an alliance between the American people and the foreign nation, coming by the winds of the north from a rich and industrious country. I have carefully examined the four drawings of the celebrated stone of Taunton River, which M. Loot published in England in the Memoirs of the Antiquarian Society." (Archæologia, vol. viii., p. 296.) "Far from recognizing a symmetrical arrangement of simple letters and syllabic characters, I discover a drawing scarcely traced, like those that have been found on the rocks of Norway, and in almost all the countries inhabited by the Scandinavian nations." (Suhm, Samlinger til ten Danske Historic, b. ii., p. 215.) "In the sketch we distinguish, from the form of the heads, five human figures surrounding an animal with horns, much higher in the fore than in the hind part of the body."—Humboldt's Researches in America, vol. i., p. 153.

No. V.

"The great and splendid work of Marco Polo (Il Milione di Messer Marco Polo), as we see in the corrected edition of Count Baldelli, is wrongly called a book of travels: it is chiefly a descriptive, and, we may add, a statistical work, in which it is difficult to distinguish what the traveler himself saw and what he derived from others, or gathered from the topographical descriptions which are so plenty in Chinese literature, and which he had an opportunity of attaining through his Persian interpreter. The striking similarity of the report of the travels of Hinan-tschang, the Buddhist pilgrim of the seventh century, with that of Marco Polo, of the Pamir Highlands, in 1277, early attracted my attention.... However much the more recent travelers have been inclined to enter into an account of their own personal adventures, Marco Polo, on the other hand, endeavors to mix up his own observations with the official accounts communicated to him, which were probably numerous, as he held the post of governor of the town of Zangui. The plan of compiling adopted by the famous traveler renders it intelligible how he was able to dictate his book to his fellow-prisoner and friend, Messer Rustigielo, of Pisa, from the documents before him, while in prison in Genoa in 1295."—Humboldt's Cosmos, vol. ii., p. 400.

Humboldt elsewhere says, that "it has frequently been supposed, and declared with remarkable decision, that the truthful Marco Polo had a great influence upon Columbus, and even that he was in possession of a copy of Marco Polo's work upon his first voyage of discovery."—Navarrete, Collecion de los Viajos y Descubrimientos que hicieron por mar los Españoles, vol. i., p. 261.

Marco Polo is called by Malte Brun "the creator of modern Oriental geography—the Humboldt of the thirteenth century."

"The work of Marco Polo is stated by some to have been originally written in Latin, though the most probable opinion is that it was written in Italian. Copies of it in manuscript were multiplied, and rapidly circulated; translations were made into various languages, until the invention of printing enabled it to be widely diffused throughout Europe. In the course of these translations and successive editions, the original text, according to Purchas, has been much vitiated, and it is probable many extravagances in numbers and measurements with which Marco Polo is charged may be the errors of translators and printers. Francis Pepin, author of the Brandenburgh version, styles Polo a man commendable for his devoutness, prudence, and fidelity. Athanasius Kircher, in his account of China, says that none of the ancients have described the kingdoms of the remote parts of the East with more exactness. Various other learned men have borne testimony to his character, and most of the substantial points of his work have been authenticated by subsequent travelers. It is manifest, however, that he dealt much in exaggeration. The historical part of his work is full of errors and fables. He confuses the names of places, is very inexact as to distances, and gives no latitude of the places he visited."—Washington Irving's Columbus, vol. iv., p. 294.

Marco Polo returned from Tartary to his native city, Venice, in 1295, having pursued his mercantile peregrinations in Asia upward of twenty-six years.

No. VI.

"Sir John Mandeville was born in the town of St. Alban's. He was devoted to study from his earliest childhood, and, after finishing his general education, applied himself to medicine. He left England in 1332, and, according to his own account, visited Turkey, Armenia, Egypt, Upper and Lower Libya, Syria, Persia, Chaldea, Ethiopia, Tartary, Amazonia, and the Indies, residing in their principal cities. He wrote a history of his travels in three languages, English, French, and Latin. The descriptions given by Mandeville of the Grand Khan, of the province of Cathay, and the city of Camhalee, are scarcely less extravagant than those of Marco Polo. The royal palace was more than two leagues in circumference; the grand hall had twenty-four columns of copper and gold; there were more than 300,000 men occupied, and living in and about the palace, of which more than 100,000 were employed in taking care of the elephants, of which there were 10,000, &c., &c.

"Mandeville has become proverbial for indulging in a traveler's exaggerations; yet his accounts of the countries which he visited have been found far more veracious than had been imagined. His descriptions of Cathay and the wealthy province of Mangi, agreeing with those of Marco Polo, had great authority with Columbus."—Washington Irving's Columbus, vol. iv., p. 308.

No. VII.

"The Western nations, the Greeks, and the Romans, knew that magnetism could be communicated for a length of time to iron ('sola hæc materia ferri vires à magneti lapide accipit, retinetque longo tempore.'—Plin., xxxiv., 14). The great discovery of the terrestrial directive force, therefore, depended alone on this, that no one in the West happened to observe that a longish piece of magnetic iron ore, or a magnetized iron rod, floated at liberty upon water by means of a piece of wood, or balanced and suspended freely in the air by means of a thread. But a thousand years and more before the commencement of our era, in the dark epoch of Codru, and the return of the Heraclidæ to the Peloponnesus, the Chinese had already magnetic cars, upon which the movable arm of a human figure pointed invariably to the south, as a means of finding the way through the boundless grassy plains of Tartary. In the third century, indeed, of the Christian era, at least 700 years, therefore, before the introduction of the ship's compass upon European seas, Chinese craft were sailing the Indian Ocean under the guidance of magnetic southern indication. This early knowledge and application of the magnetic needle gave the Chinese geographers great advantages over those of early Greece and Rome, to whom, for example, the true course of the Apennines and Pyrenees was never known.

"Magnetism is one of the numerous forms in which electricity manifests itself. The ancient suspicion of the identity of electrical and magnetical attraction has been demonstrated in the present age. 'If electrum (amber),' says Pliny, in the sense of the Ionic natural philosophy of Thales, 'becomes inspired by friction and warmth, it attracts bark and dried leaves, exactly like the magnetic iron stone.'[215] The same words occur in the discourse laudatory of the magnet of the Chinese natural philosopher Kuopho, who lived in the fourth century. It was not without surprise that I myself observed, among the children at play on the woody banks of the Orinoco, the offspring of native tribes in the lowest grade of civilization, that the excitement of electricity by friction was known. The boys rubbed the dry, flat, and shining seeds of a creeping leguminous plant (probably a negretia) until they attracted fibers of cotton wool and chips of the bamboo. This amusement of these coppery children is calculated to leave a deep and solemn impression behind it. What a chasm lies between the electrical play of these savages and the discovery of the lightning conductor, of the chemically decompounding pile, of the light-evoking mechanical apparatus! In such gulfs, millenniums in the history of the intellectual progress of mankind lie buried."—Humboldt's Cosmos, vol. i., p. 180; Klaproth, Lettre à M.A. de Humboldt, sur l'Invention de la Boussole, p. 125. 1834.

"The application of the magnetic needle's direction toward the north and south, that is, the use of the mariner's compass in Europe, is probably due to the Arabs, who have to thank the Chinese for their knowledge of it. The Arabic words 'Zohron' and 'Aphron,' meaning north and south, like the numerous Arabic names of the stars in use at the present day, testify the route through which the West became acquainted with it. In European Christendom, the use of the magnetic needle is spoken of as something well known, first in a political and satirical poem, entitled 'La Bible,' written by Guyot of Provence in 1190, and in the description of Palestine, by Jacob of Vitry, bishop of Ptolemais, between the years 1204 and 1215. Also Dante (Paradiso, xii., 29) mentions in a simile the needle (ajo) 'which points southward.' The discovery of the mariner's compass was for a long time attributed to Flavius Gioja: he probably made some improvements in the apparatus for managing it in 1302. A much earlier employment of the compass in the European seas is seen in a naval work by Raymundus Lullus of Majorca, a wonderfully talented and scientific man. In his book, entitled 'Fenix de las Maravillas del Orbe,' published in 1286, Lullus says that the mariners of his times made use of the magnetic needle. Navarrete, in his 'Discurso Historico sobre los Progressos del Arte de Navegar en Espana,' p. 28, 1802, records a remarkable passage in the Leyes de las Partidas of the middle of the thirteenth century: 'The needle which guides the mariner in the dark night, and shows him in good and bad weather the direction which he must take, is the mediatrix (medianera) between the magnetic stone (la piedra) and the north star."—Humboldt's Cosmos, vol. ii., p. 291, 462.

No. VIII.

"In the fifteenth century almost all the mercantile nations sought for slaves at the Canary Islands, as we seek them at present on the Coast of Guinea. Every individual made prisoner before he received the rite of baptism was a slave. At this period no attempt had yet been made to prove that the blacks were an intermediary race between men and animals. The swarthy Guanche and the African negro were sold simultaneously in the market of Seville, without a question whether slavery ought to weigh only on men with a black skin and frizzled hair. The archipelago of the Canaries was divided into several small states hostile to each other. The trading nations kept up intestine warfare; one Guanche then became the property of another, who sold him to the Europeans; several, who preferred death to slavery, killed themselves and their children. What remained of the Guanches perished mostly in 1494, in the terrible pestilence called the modorra, which was attributed to the quantity of dead bodies left exposed to the air by the Spaniards after the battle of La Laguna. The nation of the Guanches was therefore extinct at the beginning of the seventeenth century. It is very certain that no native of pure race exists in the whole island; and some travelers, who may otherwise be relied upon, are mistaken when they assert that their guides to the Peak were some of those slender and nimble-footed Guanches. (It is asserted that they could seize the rabbit or wild goat in its course.) It is true that a few Canarian families boast of their relationship to the last shepherd king of Guimar; but these pretensions do not rest on very solid foundations, and are renewed from time to time, when some Canarian of a more dusky hue than his countrymen is prompted to solicit a commission in the service of the King of Spain.

"The Guanches, famed for their tall stature, were the Patagonians of the Old World. I never saw Guanche mummies but in the cabinets of Europe. A considerable number, however, might be found, if miners were employed to open the sepulchral caverns which are cut in the rock on the eastern slope of the Peak. These mummies are in a state of desiccation so singular, that whole bodies with their integuments, frequently do not weigh above six or seven pounds, or a third less than the skeleton of an individual of the same size recently stripped of the muscular flesh. The conformation of the skull has some slight resemblance to that of the white race of the ancient Egyptians.... The only monument that can throw some light on the origin of the Guanches is their language; but, unhappily, there are not above 150 words remaining. It has long been imagined that the language of the Guanches had no analogy with the living tongues; but since the travels of Hornemann, and the ingenious researches of Marsden and Venturi, have drawn the attention of the learned to the Berbers, who, like the Sarmatic tribes, occupy an immense extent of country in the north of Africa, we find that several Guanche words have common roots with words of the Chilha and Gebali dialects. This is at least an indication of the ancient connection between the Guanches and Berbers, a tribe of mountaineers, in which the Numidians, the Getuli, and the Garamanti are confounded, and who extend themselves from the eastern extremity of Atlas by Harutsch and Fezzan, as far as the Oasis of Siwah and Angela. The description which Scylax gives in his 'Periplus' of the inhabitants of Cerne, a shepherd people of a tall stature and long hair, reminds us of the features which characterize the Canary Guanches.... The people who succeeded the Guanches descended from the Spaniards, and in a less degree from the Normans. Though these two races have been exposed during three centuries past to the same climate, the latter is distinguished by a whiter skin. The descendants of the Normans inhabit the Valley of the Teganana. The names of Grandville and Dampierre are still pretty common in this district. The whole archipelago does not contain 160,000 inhabitants, and the Islennos are perhaps more numerous in the Spanish settlements of America than in their own country."—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. i., p. 280.

No. IX.

"Pomponius Mela, qui vivoit à une époque assez rapprochée du temps de Cornelius Nepos, raconte, et Pline répète que Metellus Celer, tandis qu'il étoit proconsul dans les Gaules, avoit reçu en cadeau, d'un roi des Boii (Pline le nomme roi des Suèves) quelques Indiens qui, chassés des mers de l'Inde par des tempêtes, avoient abordé sur les côtes de la Germanie...... Il ne peut rester aucun doute que Pomponius Mela n'ait cru que les Indiens étoient arrivés sur les côtes nord-est de l'Allemagne par la circumnavigation de l'Asie orientale et boréale. Il dit, 'Vi tempestatum ex Indieis æquoribus abrepti.'..... Comme il est reconnu que malgré le grand perfectionnement de la navigation moderne, l'accumulation des glaces s'oppose à toute navigation par le détroit de Behring le long des îles de la Nouvelle Zemble on a soulevé la question de savoir de quelle race peuvent avoir été les hommes de couleur que le proconsul Metellus Celer a pris pour des Indiens. Gomara dit que, 'Les Indiens de Quintus Metellus Celer etoient peut-être de la Terre du Laboureur, et l'on se trompe (sur leur vraie origine) à cause de leur couleur.'...... Il paraissoit peu probable que des Eskimaux fussent venus aux côtes d'Allemagne; et tandis que Vossius, le savant commentateur de Mela, ne voyait dans les Indiens de Cornelius Nepos que des Bretons, dont le corps étoit fardé de pastel, d'autres commentateurs adoptant l'explication de Gomara et de Wytfleet, substituoient au Suevorum Rex, un prince Scandinave qui avoit recueillé des naufragés sur les côtes de Norwège. L'analogie du fait non contesté de l'arrivée d'Eskimaux aux îles Orcades, semble jeter une vive lumière sur le fait que nous examinons ici; et quand on considère les nombreux exemples d'individus tombés entre les mains des barbares et traînés comme captifs de nation à nation loin du lieu du naufrage, on trouve moins surprenant que des étrangers aient été conduits dans les Gaules, en passant des îles Britanniques en Batavie et on Germanie: mais ce qui est bien étrange, c'est que dans des évènemens semblables et également énigmatiques, du moyen-âge, il ne soit toujours questions que de côtes Germaniques. Ces évènemens sont rapportés aux règnes des Othons et de Frédéric Barberousse; ils sont, par conséquent, du dixième et du douzième siècle. 'Nos apud Othonem legimus,' dit le pape Æneas Sylvius, 'sub imperatoribus teutonicis indicam navem et negotiatores Indos in Germanico littore fuisse deprehensos.' Et dans Gomara, on lit, 'On assure aussi que, du temps de l'empereur Frédéric Barberousse on amena à Lubec certains Indiens dans un canot.' Sir Humphrey Gilbert après avoir discutí prolixement en trois chapitres le passage de Cornelius Nepos, ajoute 'L'an 1160, quelques Indiens arrivèrent, sous le règne de Frédéric Barberousse, upon the coast of Germanie.' J'ai perdu beaucoup de temps dans de vaines recherches sur la première source de ces faits curieux. D'où Gomara, historien généralement très exact, a-t-il su que, 'Les Indiens ont été amenés à Lubec?' Comment les continuateurs des Annales d'Othon de Freising, et le Franciscain Ditmar, auteur de l'excellente Chronique de Lubec, n'ont ils rien sur de ces prétendus Indiens?... à la maison où se réunit la corporation des marins de Lubec on conserve un canot groenlandois dans lequel se trouve une figure d'Eskimau en bois. Le canot a été reparé plusieurs fois; la première inscription ne porte que l'année 1607; mais d'après une tradition très vague, un navire de Lubec doit avoir capturé ce pêcheur Eskimau, il y a trois cent ans, dans les mers de l'ouest. On agrandit la pensée, en renaissant, sous un pointe de vue général, les preuves de ces communications lointaines, favorisées par le hazard; on voit comment les mouvemens de l'océan et de l'atmosphère ont pu, dès les époques les plus reculées, contribuer à répandre les différentes races d'hommes sur la surface du globe; on comprend avec Colomb (sida del Almirante, cap. viii.) comme un continent a pu ses révéler a l'autre."—Humboldt's Examen Critique du Géographie du Nouveau Continent, vol. ii., p. 278.

No. X.

Herodotus relates that a Phœnician fleet, fitted out by Necho, king of Egypt, took its departure about six hundred and four years before the Christian era, from a port in the Red Sea, doubled the southern promontory of Africa, and, after a voyage of three years, returned by the Straits of Gades to the mouth of the Nile. Eudoxus of Cyzicus is said to have held the same course, and to have accomplished the same arduous undertaking.—Herod., lib. iv., cap. xlii.; Plin., Nat. Hist., lib. ii., cap. lxvii.

These voyages, if performed in the manner narrated, may justly be reckoned the greatest efforts of navigation in the ancient world; and if we attend to the imperfect state of the art at that time, it is difficult to determine whether we should most admire the courage and sagacity with which the design was formed, or the conduct and good fortune with which it was executed. But, unfortunately, all the original and authentic accounts of the Phœnician and Carthaginian voyages, whether undertaken by public authority or in prosecution of their private, have perished. Whatever acquaintance with the remote regions of the earth the Carthaginians or Phœnicians may have acquired, was concealed from the rest of mankind with a mercantile jealousy. Every thing relating to the course of their navigation was not only a mystery of trade, but a secret of state. Extraordinary facts are recorded concerning their solicitude to prevent other nations from penetrating into what they wished should remain undivulged (Strab., Geogr., lib. iii., p. 265; lib. xviii., p. 1154). Many of their discoveries seem accordingly to have been scarcely known beyond the precincts of their own states. The navigation round Africa, in particular, is recorded by the Greek and Roman writers rather as a strange, amusing tale, which they either did not comprehend or did not believe, than as a real transaction which enlarged their knowledge and influenced their opinion. As neither the progress of the Phœnician and Carthaginian discoveries, nor the extent of their navigation, were communicated to the rest of mankind, all memorials of their extraordinary skill in naval affairs seem, in a great measure, to have perished when the maritime power of the former was annihilated by Alexander's conquest of Tyre, and the empire of the latter was overturned by the Roman arms. The Periplus Hannonis is the only authentic monument of the Carthaginian skill in naval affairs, and one of the most curious fragments transmitted to us by antiquity. Montesquieu and De Bougainville have established its authenticity by arguments that appear to me unanswerable. Hanno sailed from Gades to the island of Cerne in twelve days. This is probably what is known to the moderns by the name of the island of Arguim. His furthest advance was to a promontory, which he named the South Horn, manifestly Cape de Tres Puntas, about five degrees north of the line.—Robertson's America, vol. i., p. 9-250.

No. XI.

The importance of this discovery, and of the European settlements consequent upon it, is chiefly interesting with regard to the intellectual and moral effects produced by the sudden increase in the stock of ideas upon the improvement and the social condition of mankind. Since that grand era, a new and active state of the intellect and feelings, bold wishes and hopes scarcely to be restrained, have gradually penetrated into the whole of civil society; the scanty population of a hemisphere, especially the coasts opposite Europe, favored the settlement of colonies, which, in rendering themselves extensive and independent in position, have overturned unlimited states by their choice of a free form of government; and, lastly, the Reformation, a forerunner of vast political revolutions, had to pass through different phases of its development in one country which had become the place of refuge for all religious opinions, and for the most varied ideas of divinity. The boldness of the Genoese mariner is the first link in the immeasurable chain of these pregnant events.... We might be induced to suppose that the value of these great discoveries, and of the double victory in the physical and intellectual world, was first acknowledged in our times, since the history of the civilization of the human race has been treated in a philosophical way. Such a supposition is refuted by Columbus's cotemporaries. The most talented of them anticipated the influence which the events of the latter years of the fifteenth century would exercise upon mankind. "Each day," says Peter Martyr, in his letters of the years 1493 and 1494, "bring us new wonders from a new world, from the Western antipodes, which a certain Genoese traveler has discovered.... Our friend Pomponius Lætus could scarcely restrain his tears of joy when I communicated to him the first accounts of so unexpected an event.... What aliment more delicious than such tidings can be set before an ingenious mind.... It is like an accession of wealth to a miser. Our minds, soiled with vices, become meliorated by contemplating such glorious events."

"Sebastian Cabot mentioned that he was in London when news was brought there of the discovery, and that it caused great talk and admiration in the court of Henry VII., being affirmed to be a thing more divine than human."—Hakluyt, p. 7.

"The mind of men became sharpened in order to comprehend the boundless store of new phenomena, to work them out, and by comparison to employ them for the attainment of general and higher views of the creation. If we carefully examine the original works of the earliest historians of the Conquista, we are astonished at finding, in a Spanish author of the sixteenth century, the germs of so many important physical truths. Upon the occasion of the discovery of a continent, which appeared to be separated from all the other regions of the creation, in the distant solitude of the ocean, a great number of the same questions with which we are employed at the present day occurred to the excited curiosity of the travelers, and to those who were collected together by their narratives; these questions were, Of the unity of the human race, and the derivation of its varieties from a common original form; of the migration of nations, and the affinities of language; of the possibility of varieties in the species of plants and animals; of the causes of the trade winds, and of the constant currents in the ocean; of the regular decrease of temperature at the declivities of the Cordilleras, and in the various strata of water at different depths of the ocean; and of the respective effects of chains of volcanic mountains, and their influence upon the frequency of earthquakes, and the extension of the range of the volcanic forces. The foundation of what is at the present day called physical geography is, exclusive of mathematical considerations, found in the works of the Jesuit, Joseph Acosta, and in the work of Oviedo, which appeared scarcely twenty years after the death of Columbus. In no other period of time since the existence of man in a social condition has the range of ideas in respect to the external world, and the relations of different places, been so suddenly and so wonderfully extended, or the necessity of observing natural phenomena in different latitudes and at different elevations above the level of the sea, or of multiplying the means of examining them, so deeply felt."—Humboldt's Cosmos, vol. ii., p. 295-337.

No. XII.

More than ten places have disputed the glory of having given birth to Columbus: Genoa, Cogoleto (Cucchereto, Cugureo, Cogoreo, Cucurco d'Herrera, et Cugurco de Puffendorf), Bugiasco, Finale, Quinto et Nervi, dans la Riviera di Genova, Savone, Palestrella, et Arbizoli, Cosseria, la vallée d'Oneglia, Castello di Cuccaro, la ville de Plaisance, et Pradello. "Le nombre de ces lieux s'est accru progressivement avec l'illustration du héros, car ses contemporains, Pierre Martyr, le cura de los Palacios, Geraldine, Pietro Coppo da Isola, l'évêque Giustiniani, le chancelier Antonio Gallo et Senerega l'ont unanimement appellé Génois.... Un voyageur moderne, dit en parlant de Cogoleto: Ce lieu n'a pas renoncé à l'honneur d'avoir vu naître Colomb, malgré la multitude de recherches et de dissertations d'aprês lesquelles le grand homme paroît tout simplement Génois. On prétend même á Cogoleto indiquer sa maison, espèce de cabanne, sur le bord de la mer, que je trouvai assex convenablement occupée par un gardecôte, et sur laquelle on lit, à la suite d'autres inscriptions pitoyables, ce beau vers improvisé par M. Gagliuffi.

"Unus erat Mundus; Duo sint, nit iste: fuere."

Voyages Hist. et Littér. en Italie de M. Valery, tom. v., p. 73.

No. XIII.

"Christophe Colomb, Cortez et Raleigh ont eprouvé que le genie ne régne que sur l'avenir et que son pouvoir est tardive. Ils ont pendant quelques tems, excité au plus haut degré l'admiration de leurs contemporains; mais la bienveillance publique a abandonné leur viellesse, on ne s'est souvenu d'eux que pour les affliger dans leur isolement.[216] Le siècle qui les a vus naître n'a pas compris ce que leur action successive a produit et préparê de changements dans l'état des peuples de l'occident. L'influence que ces peuples exercent sur tous les points du globe ou leur présence se fait sentir simultanément, la prépondérance universelle qui en est la suite, ne datent que de la découverte de l'Amérique et du voyage de Gama. Les évènemens qui appartiennent à un petit group de six années (1492-1498) ont determiné pour ainsi dire le partage du pouvoir sur la terre. Dés-lors le pouvoir de l'intelligence, geographiquement limité, restreint dans des bornes étroites a pu prendre un libre essor; il a trouvé un moyen rapide d'étendre, d'entretenir, de perpétuer son action. Les migrations des peuples, les expéditions guerrières dans l'intérieur d'un continent, les communications par caravanes sur des routes invariablement suivies depuis des siècles, n'ont produit que des effets partiels et généralement moins durables. Les expéditions les plus lontaines ont été dévastatrice, et l'impulsion a été donnée par ceux qui n'avoient rien à ajouter aux trésors de l'intelligence déjà accumulés. Au contraire, les évènemens de la fin du quinzième siècle, qui ne sont séparés que par un intervalle de six ans, ont été longuement préparés dans le moyen-âge, qui à son tour avoit été fécondé par les idées des siècles antérieures, excité par les dogmes et les rêveries de la géographie systématique des Hellènes. C'est seulement depuis l'époque que nous venons de signaler que l'unité homérique de l'océan s'est fait sentir tous son heureuse influence sur la civilisation du genre humain. L'élément mobile qui baigne toutes les côtes en est devenu le lien moral et politique, et les peuples de l'occident, dont l'intelligence active a créé ce lien et qui ont compris son importance, se sont élevés à une universalité d'action qui détermine la prépondérance du pouvoir sur le globe."—Humboldt's Géographie du Nouveau Continent, vol. iv., p. 23.

No. XIV.

"Per necessità d'acque mandammo il battello a terra con venticinque huomini: dove per le grandissime e frequente onde che gettava il mare al lito per esser la spiaggia aperta, non fu possibile che alcuno potesse smontare in terra senza pericolo di perder il battello: vedemmo quivi molte genti che venivano al lito, facendo varij segni d'amicizia e dimostrando contentezza che andassimo a terra, e per pruova li conoscemmo molto umani e cortesi come per il successo caso V.M. intenderà. Per mandarli delle cose nostre, e da Indiani communimente molto desiderate, e apprezzate come sono fogli di charta, specchi, sonagli e altri simile cose, mandammo a terra un giovane de nostri marinari, quale ponendosi a nuoto, nell' approssimarsi (ritrovandosi in acqua da tre, o quattro braccia di terra lontano) di lor non confidandosi gliele getto nel lito, poi nel voler ritornar a dietro, dall onde con tanta furèa fu traportato alla riva, che vi si trovò di modo straccho, e sbattuto, che vi resto quasi morto. Il che veduto da gli Indiani corsero a pigliarlo, e tiratolo fuora lo portarono alquanto dal mare lontano. Risentito il giovane e vedendosi da lor portato, alla disgrazia prima vi s'aggiunse il spavento, per il quale metteva grandissimi gridi, e il simile facevano gl' Indiani che l'accompagnavano, nel volerlo assicurare e li davano cuore di non temere: di poi avendolo posto in terra al piè d'un picciolo colle in faccia del sole, con atti d'admirazione lo riguardavano, maravigliandosi della bianchezza della sua carne, e ignudo spogliatolo lo fecero ad un grandissimo fuoco restaurare, non senza timore di noi altri, che eramo nel battello restati, che a quel fuoco arrostendolo, lo volessero divorare. Riavute le forze il giovane, e con loro avendo alquanto dimorato, con segni li dimostrò voler alla nave far ritorno: da quali con grandissimo amore, tenendolo sempre stretto, con varij abbracciamenti, fu accompagnato sino al mare, e per più assicurarlo, allargandosi andarono sopra un colle eminente, e quivi fermatislo stellero a riguardare sino che nel battello fu entrato."—Verazzano in Ramusio, tom, iii., p. 420.

No. XV.

"Commission de François I. à Jacques Quartier, pour l'établissement du Canada, du 17^e Octobre, 1540.[217]

"François, par la grace de Dieu, Roi de France: à tous ceux que ces présentes lettres verront, salut. Comme pour le désir d'entendre et avoir connoissance de plusieurs pays qu'on dit inhabités, et autres être possédés par gens sauvages, vivant sans connoissance de Dieu et sans usage de raison, eussions dès pie-ça, à grands frais et mises envoyé découvrir les dits pays par plusieurs bons pilotes, et autres nos sujets de bons entendement, savoir et expérience, qui d'iceux pays nous avoient amené divers hommes que nous avons par long-tems tenus en notre royaume, les faisant instruire en l'amour et crainte de Dieu et de sa sainte loix et doctrine Chrétienne en intention de les faire ramener ès dits pays en compagnie de bon nombre de nos sujets de bonne volonté, afin de plus facilement induire les autres peuples d'iceux pays à croire en notre sainte foi; et entr'autres y eussions envoyé notre cher et bien aimé Jacques Quartier, lequel auroit découvert grands pays des terres de Canada et Hochelaga faissant un bout de l'Asie du côte de l'Occident; lesquels pays il trouvé (comme il nous a rapporté), garnis de plusieurs bonnes commodités, et les peuples d'iceux bien fournis de corps et de membres; et bien disposé d'esprit et d'entendement; desquels il nous a semblablement amené aucun nombre, que nous avons par long-tems fait voir et instruire en notre dite sainte foi avec nos dits sujets: en considération de quoi, et de leur bonne inclination, nous avons avisé et delibéré de renvoyer le dit Quartier ès dits pays de Canada et Hochelaga, et jusques en la terre de Saguenai (s'il peut y aborder) avec bonne nombre de navires, et de toutes qualités, arts et industrie pour plus avant entrer ès dits pays, converser avec les peuples d'iceux, et avec eux habiter (si besoin est) afin de mieux parvenir à notre dite intention et à faire chose agréable à Dieu nôtre Créateur et Rédempteur, et que soit à l'augmentation de son saint et sacré nom, et de Nôtre Mère Sainte Église Catholique, de laquelle nous sommes dits et nommés premier fils; par quoi soit besoin pour meilleur ordre et expédition de la dite entreprise, députer et établir un Capitaine Général et Maître pilote des dits navires, qui ait regard à la conduite d'iceux, et sur les gens, officiers et soldats y ordonnés et établis; savoir faisons, que nous à plein confians de la personne du dit Jacques Quartier et de ses sens, suffisance, loyauté, prud'hommie hardiesse, grande diligence et bonne expérience, icelui pour ces causes et autres à ce nous, mouvans, avons faits constitué et ordonné, faisons, constituons, ordonnons et établissons par ces présentes, Capitaine Générale et Maître pilote de tous les navires et autres vaisseaux de mer, par nous ordonnés être menés pour la dite entreprise et expédition, pour le dit état et charge de Capitaine Générale et Maître Pilote d'iceux navires et vaisseaux, avoir tenir, et exercer par le dit Jacques Quartier aux honneurs, prérogatives, pré-éminences, franchises, libertés, gages et bienfaits tels que par nous lui seront pour ce ordonnés, tant qu'il nous plaira. Et lui avons donné, et donnons puissance et autorité de mettre, établir, et instituer aux dits navires tels lieutenants, patrons, pilotes et autres ministres nécessaires pour le fait et conduite d'iceux, en tel nombre qu'il verra et connoîtra être besoin et nécessaire pour le bien de la dite expédition. Si donnons en mandement par ces dites présentes, à nôtre Admiral au Vice Admiral que prins et reçue du dit Jacques Quartier le serment pour ce on est accoutumé, icelui mettent et instituent on fassent mettre et instituer de par nous en possession et saisine du dit état de Capitaine Générale et Maître Pilote; et d'icelui, ensemble des honneurs, prérogatives, pré-éminences, franchises, libertés, gages et bienfaits, tels que par nous lui seront pour ce ordonnés, le fassent, souffrent et laissent, jour et user pleinement et paisiblement et à lui obéir et entendre de tous ceux, et ainsi qu'il appartiendra ès choses touchant et concernant le dit état et charge: et outre lui fasse, souffre et permette prendre le petit galion, appellé l'Emérillon que de présent il a de nous, lequel est jà vieil et caduc, pour servir à l'adoub de ceux des navires qui en auront besoin, et lequel nous voulons être prins et appliqué par le dit Quartier pour l'effet dessus dit, sans qu'il soit tenus en rendre aucun autre compte et reliquat; et duquel compte et reliquat nous l'avons déchargé et déchargeons par icelles présentes: par lesquels nous mandons aussi à nos Prévôts de Paris; Bailliffs de Rouen, de Caen, d'Orleans, de Blois, et de Tours; Sénéchaux du Maine, d'Anjou, et Guienne, et à tous nos autres Bailliffs, Sénéchaux, Prévôts, Alloués, et autres nos Justiciers et officiers, tant de notre royaume que de notre pays de Brétagne uni à icelui pardevers lesquels sont aucuns prisonniers, accusés, ou prévenus d'aucuns crimes quels qu'ils soient, fors de crimes de lèze-Majesté divine et humaine envers nous, et de faux monnoyeurs qu'ils aient incontinent à délivrer, rendre et bailler ès mains du dit Quartier, ou ces commis ou députés partans ces présentés, on le duplicate d'icelles pour notre service en la dite entreprise et expédition, ceux des dits prisonniers qu'il connoîtra être propres, suffisans, et capables pour servir en icelle expédition jusqu'au nombre de cinquante personnes, et selon le choix que le dit Quartier en fera, iceux premièrement jugés et condamnés selon leur démérites et la gravité de leurs méfaits, si jugés et condamnés ne sont; et satisfaction aussi préalablement ordonnée aux parties civiles et intéressés, si fait n'avoit été: Pour laquelle toutefois nous ne voulons la déliverance de leur personne ès dites mains du dit Quartier (s'il les trouve de service) être rétardée ne retenue; mais se prendra la dite satisfaction sur leurs biens seulement: et laquelle délivrance des dits prisonniers accusés ou prévenus, nous voulons être faite ès dites mains du dit Quartier pour l'effet dessus dits par nos dits justiciers et officiers respectivement, et par chacun d'eux en leur regard, pouvoir et jurisdiction, nonobstant oppositions ou appellations quelconque faites ou à faire, relevées, ou à relever, et sans que par le moyen d'icelles, icelle délivrance en la manière dessus dite, soit aucunement différée; et afin que le plus grand nombre n'en soit tiré, outre les dits cinquante, nous voulons que la délivrance que chacun de nos dits officiers en fera au dit Quartier soit écrite et certifiée en la marge de ses présentes, et que neanmoins registre en soit par eux fait et envoyée incontinent pardevers notre âme et fial Chancellier, pour connoître le nombre et la qualité de ceux qui auront été baillé et délivrés: Car tel est notre plaisir. En témoin de ce, nous avons fait mettre notre scel à ces dites présentes. Donné à Saint Pris le dix septième jour d'Octobre, l'an de grâce, mil cinq cent quarante, et de notre règne le vingt-septième.

"Ainsi signé sur le repli, par le Roi, vous Monseigneur le Chancellier et autres persons.

"De la Chesnaie.

"Et scellé sur le repli à simple queue de cire jaune."

No. XVI.

The following account of the romantic expedition of De Gourgues is extracted from the "Picture of Quebec:"

"The French and Spaniards had been long at bitter enmity, and the wars between them were carried on with all the exasperation of ancient rivalry and mutual hatred. The encroachments of the former upon the territories claimed by the Spaniards in Florida raised the liveliest indignation in the minds of a people not less martial and chivalrous than the French; and when we add that these encroachments had been chiefly made by the Huguenots, a race held in sovereign detestation by the Catholic Spaniard, and persecuted to a degree of intensity by Philip II., the height of animosity to which they were excited can easily be conceived. Nor were the French less susceptible of angry and vindictive feelings, to which may be added the poignant stings of offended national pride. They had never forgiven the captivity of their popular and gallant prince, Francis I.; the memory of this supposed disgrace still rankled in the population; nor was it even wholly eradicated until adequate reparation was made to the national honor by the accession of a French prince to the throne of Spain many years afterward. Notwithstanding a short cessation of the warfare between these two great powers, the passions we have attempted to describe remained in full force.

"Laudonnière passed the winter of 1564 in the fort which he had built near the mouth of St. Mary's River, and which he called La Caroline. In August, 1565, having experienced the mutinous disposition of part of his force, superadded to the horrors of famine, he was preparing to abandon the enterprise and to return to France, when he was joined by Ribaut with seasonable supplies. On the 4th of September, they were surprised by the appearance in the road of six large vessels, which proved to be a Spanish fleet, under the command of Don Pedro Menendez. Hostilities were immediately commenced; and the French, having an inferior force of four vessels, were obliged to put to sea, chased by the Spaniard. The former, however, being the better sailors, after distancing their opponents, returned to the coast, and relanded their troops about eight leagues from the fort of La Caroline. Three of the Spanish vessels kept the open sea, while the others lay in the road watching an opportunity to attack the French fort. Ribaut, who was a brave but obstinate man, persisted in his resolution to put to sea again, for the purpose of meeting and fighting with the Spanish vessels. The season was extremely tempestuous, and Laudonnière, having first vainly endeavored to dissuade his colleague from the rash attempt, fortified himself, and made every preparation to resist the attack which he anticipated. At length, notwithstanding the very heavy and long-continued rains, the Spaniards were descried by the French sentinels advancing to the assault on the 29th of September. The ramparts, maintained with spirit by a small force, were soon surmounted and carried—the gallant defenders slain in the breaches. Laudonnière, fighting his way bravely, was the last to leave the fort, and succeeded in escaping to the woods, where he rallied a few of his straggling countrymen, and whence he ultimately returned to France. The remainder, with the fort, fell into the hands of the Spaniards. Nor did the disasters of the French end here. The vessels commanded by Ribaut were driven on shore by the storms then prevalent—many of the people lost—the survivors and their commander became prisoners to the Spaniards. The French were cruelly, and with bitter taunts, put to death. Several were hung from neighboring trees with this insulting legend: 'Ceux-ci n'ont pas été traité de la sorte en qualité de François, mais comme hérétiques et ennemis de Dieu.'

"Ample chastisement was, however, about to be inflicted. Champlain, who writes of this transaction with the blunt and honest indignation of a soldier, in his own familiar and quaint style, observes, 'Ceux-ci furent payés de la même monnaye, qu'ils avoient payés les François' ('they were repaid in the same coin with which they had paid the French').

"So Shakspeare truly says,

'In these cases,
We still have judgment here: that we but track
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips.'

"This outrage excited the deepest indignation in France, but the avowed hatred of the court toward Coligny and the Huguenots prevented public satisfaction being demanded from Philip II. The instrument of a just retribution was not wanting to the emergency, but it was reserved for a private individual to redeem the honor of the French name. 'En l'an 1567,' says Champlain, 'se presenta le brave Chevalier de Gourgues, qui plein de valeur et de courage, pour venger cet affront fait à la nation François, et recognoissant qu'aucun d'entre la noblesse, dont la France foisonne, ne l'offroit pour tirer raison d'une telle injure, entreprint de le faire.' ('In the year 1567, there presented himself the brave Chevalier de Gourgues, who, full of valor and courage, to avenge the insult on the French nation, and observing that none among the nobility, with whom France abounded, offered to obtain satisfaction for such an injury, undertook himself to do so.') He was a gentleman of Gascony, and there were at that period few inferior officers in France, or perhaps in all Europe, who had acquired a more brilliant reputation in war, or had undergone greater vicissitudes. When very young he had served in Italy with honor; and on one occasion, having the command of a small band of thirty men, near Sienna in Tuscany, he was able for a considerable time to withstand and repulse the assault of a part of the Spanish army, until, all his men being slain, he yielded himself prisoner. Contrary to the usage of war among generous foes, he was sent to the galleys in chains as a robber-slave. The galley to which the indignant De Gourgues was condemned was afterward captured by the Turks on the Sicilian coast, and sent into Rhodes. Again putting to sea with a Turkish crew, it was encountered and taken by the galleys of the Knights of Malta, and De Gourgues recovered his liberty and his sword. He afterward made several passages to Brazil and the coast of Africa, still treasuring up vengeance on the Spaniards; and he had just returned to France from one of his voyages, with the reputation of the bravest and most able among her navigators, when he heard of the disastrous tale of La Caroline, and the disgraceful manner in which his countrymen had been put to death by the Spaniards. Like a patriot, he felt keenly for the honor of his country; and as a man, he burned for an opportunity of satiating his long-dormant revenge on the perfidious Spaniards for their unworthy treatment of himself. At this time, too, there was circulated in France a narrative, entitled the 'Supplication of the Widows and Children of those who had been massacred in Florida,' calculated to rouse the national feeling to the highest pitch. These united motives urged De Gourgues to a chivalrous undertaking—no less than to chase the murderous invaders from the coasts of Florida, at the sword's point, or to die in the attempt. He accordingly proceeded to make his preparations, which, however, were concealed with great skill and address. He raised a considerable sum by selling his property, and by loans obtained from his friends; and, disguising his real purpose, gave out that he was bound, as before, to the African coast. The squadron consisted of three vessels, with crews amounting to 250 souls, amply provided for twelve months. Thus equipped, he sailed, on the 23d of August, 1567, from Bordeaux, and after some time began to unfold his real design, expatiating in glowing language on the glory of the attempt and the righteousness of the quarrel.

"Speech of De Gourgues, from Champlain: 'Mes compagnons et fidèles amis de ma fortune, vous n'estes pas ignorans combien je cheris les braves courages comme vous, et l'avez assez tesmoigné par la belle resolution que vous avez prise de me suivre et assister en tous les perils et hazards honorables que nous aurons à souffrir et essuyer, lorsqu'ils se presenteront devant nos yeux, et l'estat que je fais de la conservation de vos vies; ne desirant point vous embarquer au risque d'un enterprise que je ne sçaurois réussir, à une ruine sans honneur: ce seroit à moy une trop grand et blamable témérité, de hazarder vos personnes à un dessein d'un accez si difficile; ce que je ne croy pas estre, bien que j'aye employé une bonne partie de mon bien et de mes amis, pour équipper ces vaisseaux et les mettre en mer, estant le seul entrepreneur de tout le voyage. Mais tout cela ne me donne pas tant de sujet de m'affliger, comme j'en ay de me resjouir, de vous voir tous resolus à une autre entreprise, que retournera à votre gloire, sçavoir d'aller venger l'injure que nostre nation a receüe des Espagnols, qui ont fait une telle playe à la France, qu'elle saignera à jamais, par les supplices et traictemens infames qu'ils ont fait souffrir à nos François, et excercé des cruautez barbares et inouis en leur endroit. Les ressentimens que j'en ay quelquefois, m'en font jetter des larmes de compassion, et me relevent le courage de telle sort, que je suis resolu avec l'assistance de Dieu, et la vostre, de prendre une juste vengeance d'une telle felonnie et cruauté Espagnolle, de ces cœurs laches et poltrons, qui ont surpris mal-heureusement nos compatriots, qu'ils n'eussent osé regarder sur la défense de leurs armes. Ils sont assez mal logez, et les surprendrons aisément. J'ay des hommes en mes vaisseaux qui cognaissent tres-bien le pais, et pouvous y allez en seureté. Voicy, chers compagnons, un subject de relever nos courages, faites paroietre que vous avez autant de bonne volonté à éxécuter ce bon dessein, que vous avez d'affection à me suivre: ne serez vous pas contents de remporter les lauriers triomphans de la despouille de vos ennemis?'

"'Companions, and faithful friends of my fortunes, you are not ignorant how highly I value brave men like yourselves. Your courage you have sufficiently proved by your noble resolution to accompany me in all the dangers which we shall have to encounter, as they successively present themselves: my regard for you I have shown by the care I have taken for the safety of your lives. I desire not to embark you in any enterprise which may result in dishonorable failure: it would be in me a far too great and blamable temerity to hazard your safety in any design so difficult of accomplishment, which, however, I do not consider this one to be, seeing that I have employed in it a good part of my own fortune, and that of my friends, in equipping these vessels, and putting to sea, myself being the sole undertaker of the voyage. But all this does not give me so much cause for regret, as I have reason to rejoice, seeing you all resolved upon another enterprise, which will redound to your glory, namely, to avenge the insult suffered by our nation from the Spaniards, who have inflicted an incurable wound upon France by their infamous treatment, and the barbarous and unheard-of cruelties they have exercised upon our countrymen. The description of these wrongs has caused me to shed tears of pity, and inspires me now with such determination, that I am resolved, with the assistance of God and your aid, to take a just revenge for this felonious outrage on the part of the Spaniards—those base and cowardly men, who unhappily destroyed our friends by surprise, whom, with arms in their hands, they dared not to have looked in the face. The enemy is poorly lodged, and may be easily surprised. I have on board persons who know the country well, and we can reach it in safety. Here, my dear companions, here is a subject to rouse our courage! Let me see that you have as good will to perform this noble design, as you had affection to follow my person! Will you not rejoice to bear away triumphant laurels, bought by the spoil and ruin of our enemies?'

"This enthusiastic speech produced its full effect. Each soldier shouted assent to the generous proposal, and was ready to reply with Euryalus,

'Est hic, est animus lucis contemptor, et istum
Qui vita bene credat emi, quo tendes, honorem!'
'Like thine, this bosom glows with martial flame,
Burns with a scorn of life, and love of fame;
And thinks, if endless glory can be sought
On such low terms, the prize is cheaply bought.'

"Having thus obtained the full co-operation of his gallant band, De Gourgues steered for the coast of Florida, and passed some time in reconnoitering the position of the Spaniards, and in acquiring from the Indians full particulars of their strength and resources. These were, indeed, sufficiently formidable, amounting to 400 fighting men, provided with every munition of war. No way discouraged by this superiority of numbers and of position, De Gourgues made a furious attack upon the two forts, on the day before the Sunday called the Quasimodo, in April, 1658, intending to capture them by escalade. The Spaniards offered a very gallant resistance; but the fury and impetuosity of the French, stimulated by national antipathy, by the particular nature of the revenge which they contemplated, and fired by the valor and personal example of their heroic chief, soon surmounted all opposition. 'Nostre genereux Chevalier De Gourgues,' says Champlain, exultingly, 'le coutelas à la main, leur enflamme le courage, et comme un lion à la teste des siens, gaigne le dessus du rampart, repousse les Espagnols, se fait voye parmi eux.' 'Our brave Chevalier De Gourgues, sword in hand, inflames their courage, and, like a lion at the head of his troop, mounts the rampart, overthrows the Spaniards, and cuts his way through them.' The fate of the Spaniards was sealed; many were killed in the forts, the rest taken, or put to death by the Indians. De Gourgues, thus crowned with victory, and having fully succeeded in an enterprise which to him seemed so truly glorious, brought all the prisoners to the spot where the French had been massacred, and where the inscription of Menendez yet remained. Alter reproaching his fallen enemies with their cruelty and perfidy, he caused them to be hung from the same trees, affixing this writing in the place of the former: 'Je n'ay pas fait pendre ceux-ci comme Espagnols, mais comme traitres, voleurs, et meurtriers.' 'I hang these persons, not as being Spaniards, but as traitors, robbers, and murderers.'

"De Gourgues, on developing his real design and destination to Florida, which he did in the first instance to his chosen friends, had pathetically complained that ever since he had heard of the Spanish outrage at La Caroline, he had been unable, however wearied with toil, to obtain his usual rest by night; that his imagination was ever occupied by the semblance of his countrymen hanging from the trees of Florida; that his ears were startled with piercing cries for vengeance; and that sleep, 'Nature's soft nurse,' would never visit him again—

'No more would weigh his eyelids down,
And steep his senses in forgetfulness'—

until he had won her offices by a full and exquisite revenge on the Spaniards. The accomplishment of his cherished purpose must have been a high and vivifying relief to an ardent spirit like De Gourgues. He now declared with exulting delight, that sleep, that 'balm of hurt minds,' had once more deigned to visit his couch, and that his rest was now sweet, like that of a man delivered from a burden of misery too great to bear!

"Having accomplished this remarkable expedition, and inflicted, in a spirit accordant with that of the times, a terrible retribution on the Spaniards, De Gourgues sailed from the coast of Florida on the 3d of May, and arrived in France on the 6th of June, where he was received by the people with every token of joy and approbation. In consequence, however, of the demand of the King of Spain for redress, he was compelled to absent himself for some time, until the anger of the court permitted him to reappear. The narrative of this expedition was long preserved in the family of De Gourgues.

"Champlain, in whose Voyages this romantic story is to be found, seems to have been a passionate admirer of the conduct of De Gourgues, and thus enthusiastically concludes his account of the expedition:

"'Ainsi ce genereux chevalier repara l'honneur de la nation Françoise, que les Espagnols avoient offensée; ce q'autrement eust été un regret à jamais pour la France, s'il n'eust vengé l'affront receu de la nation Espagnolle. Entreprise généreuse d'un gentilhomme qui l'executa à ses propres cousts et despens, seulement pour l'honneur, sans autre espérance: ce qui lui a réussi glorieusement, et ceste gloire est plus à priser que tous les tresors du monde.' 'Thus did this brave knight repair the honor of the French nation, insulted by the Spaniards, which otherwise had been an everlasting subject of regret to France, if he had not avenged the affront received from the Spanish people. A generous enterprise, undertaken by a gentleman, and executed at his own cost, for honor's sake alone, without any other expectation, and one which resulted in obtaining for him a glory far more valuable than all the treasures of the world.'"

No. XVII.

"Un ancien missionnaire, le Père Paul le Jeune, a fait une description de la manière de vie des missionnaires parmi les sauvages du Canada. Il parle ici des Montagnais qu'il a suivi dans une chasse pendant l'hiver, je vais transcrire sa relation presque mot pour mot:

"'Ces sauvages habitent un pays extrêmement rude et inculte, mais il ne l'est pas encore autant que celui, qu'ils choisissent pour leurs chasses. Il faut marcher long-tems pour y arriver, et porter sur son dos tout ce dont ou peut avoir besoin pendant cinq ou six mois, par des chemins quelquefois si affreux, que l'on ne comprend pas comment les Bêtes Fauves peuvent y passer; si on n'avoit pas la precaution de se fournir d'écorces d'Arbres, ou ne trouveroit pas de quoi se mettre à couvert de la pluye et de la neige pendant le chemin. Dès qu'on est parvenu au terme on s'accommode un peu mieux, mais ce mieux ne consiste, qu'en ce qu'on n'y est pas sans cesse exposé à toutes les injures de l'air.

"'Tout le monde y travaille, et les missionnaires, qui dans ces commencemens n'avoient personne pour les servir, et pour qui les sauvages n'avoient aucune considération, n'étoient pas plus épargnés que les autres, on ne leur donnait pas même de cabanne séparée, et il falloit qu'ils se logeassent dans la première, où l'on vouloit bien les recevoir. Ces cabannes, parmi la plûpart des Nations Algonquines, sont à peu près de la figure de nos Glacières, rondes, et terminées en cone; elles n'ont point d'autres soûtiens, que de perches plantés dans la neige, attachées ensemble par les extrémités, et couvertes d'écorces assez mal jointes, et mal attachées aussi le vent y entre-t-il de toutes parts.

"'Leur fabrique est l'ouvrage d'une demie heure au plus, des branches de Sapin y tiennent lieu de nattes, et on n'y a point d'autres lits. Ce qu'il y a de commode, c'est qu'on peut les changer tous les jours; les neiges ramassées tout autour forment une espece de parapet, qui a son utilité, les vents n'y pénétrent point. C'est le long et à l'abri de ce parapet qu'on dort aussi tranquillement sur ces branchages, couverts d'une mechante peau que dans le meilleur lit; il en coûte à la verité au missionnaires pour s'y accoétumer, mais la fatigue et la necessité les y reduisent bientôt. Il n'en est pas tout-à-fait de même de la fumée, que presque toujours remplit tellement le haut de la cabanne, qu'on ne peut y être de bout, sans avoir la tête dans une espèce de tourbillon. Cela ne fait aucune peine aux sauvages, habitués dès l'enfance à être assis à terre, ou couchés tout le tems, qu'ils sont dans leurs cabannes, mais c'est un grand supplice pour les François, à qui cette inaction ne convient pas.

"'D'ailleurs le vent, qui entre comme je l'ai remarqué, par tous les côtés, y souffle un froid, qui transit d'une part, tandis qu'on étouffe, et qu'on est grillé de l'autre. Souvent on ne se voit point à deux ou trois pieds, on perd les yeux à force de pleurer, et il y a des tems, où, pour respirer un peu, il faut se tenir couché sur le ventre, et avoir la bouche presque collée contre la terre; le plus court seroit de sortir dehors, mais la plûpart du tems on ne le peut pas; tantôt à cause d'une neige si épaisse, qu'elle obscurcit le jour, et tantôt par ce qu'il souffle un vent sec, qui coupe le visage, et fait éclater les arbres dans les fôrets. Cependant un missionnaire est obligé de dire son office, de célébrer la messe, et de s'acquitter de toutes les autres fonctions de son ministere.

"'A toutes ces incommodités il en faut ajouter une autre, qui d'abord vous paroitra peu de chose, mais qui est réellement tres-considérable; c'est la persécution des chiens. Les sauvages en ont toujours un fort grand nombre, qui les suivent par tout, et leur sont très-attachés; peu caressans, par ce qu'on ne les caresse jamais, mais hardis et habiles chasseurs: j'ai déjà dit qu'on les dresse de bonne heure pour les différentes chasses, ausquelles on veut les appliquer; j'ajôute qu'il faut en avoir beaucoup pour chacune, parce-qu'il en périt un grand nombre par les dents et par les cornes des Bêtes fauves, qu'ils attaquent avec un courage, que rien ne rebute. Le soin de les nourrir occupe très-peu leurs maîtres, ils vivent de ce qu'ils peuvent attraper, et cela ne va pas bien loin, aussi sont ils toujours fort maigres; d'ailleurs ils ont peu de poil, ce qui les rend fort sensibles au froid.'

"Pour s'en garantir, s'ils ne peuvent approcher du feu, où il est difficile qu'ils puissent tenir tous, quand même il n'y auroit personne dans la cabanne, ils vont se coucher sur les premiers, qu'ils rencontrent, et souvent on se réveille la nuit en sursaut, presque étouffé par deux ou trois chiens. S'ils étoient un peu plus discrets, et se plaçoient mieux, leur compagnie ne seroit pas trop fâcheuse, on s'en accommoderoit même assez, mais ils se placent où ils peuvent; on a beau les chasser, ils reviennent d'abord. C'est bien pis encore le jour; dès qu'il parôit quelque chose à manger, il faut voir les mouvemens qu'ils se donnent pour en avoir leur part. Un pauvre missionnaire est à demi couché auprès du feu pour dire son bréviaire, ou pour lire un livre, en luttant de son mieux contre la fumée, et il faut qu'il essuye encore l'importunité d'une douzaine de chiens, qui ne font que passer et repasser sur lui, en courant après un morceau de viande, qu'ils ont apperçu. S'il a besoin d'un peu de repos, à peine trouvera-t'il un petit recoin, où il soit à l'abri de cette véxation. Si on lui apporte à manger, les chiens ont plutôt mis le museau dans son plat, qu'il n'y a porté la main; et souvent tandis qu'il est occupé à défendre sa portion contre ceux, qui l'attaquent de front, il en vieut un par derriere, qui lui enlève la moitié, ou qui en le heurtant, lui fait tomber le plat des mains, et répandre sa sagamité dans les cendres.

"Assez souvent les maux, dont je viens de parler, sont effacés par un plus grand, et au prix duquel tous les autres ne sont rien; c'est la faim. Les provisions, qu'on a apportées, ne durent pas lontems, on a compté sur la chasse, et elle ne donne pas toujours. Il est vrai que les sauvages sçavent endurer la faim avec autant de patience, qu'ils apportent peu de précautions pour s'en garantir; mais ils se trouvent quelquefois réduits à une si grande extrémité, qu'ils y succombent. Le missionnaire, de qui j'ai tiré ce détail, fut obligé dans son premier hyvernement, de manger les peaux d'aguilles et d'élans, dont il avoit rapetassé sa soutanne; après quoi il lui fallut se nourrir des jeunes branches, et des plus tendres écorces des arbres. Il soutint néanmoins cette épreuve, sans que sa santé en fût alterée, mais tous n'en ont pas eu la force.

"La seule malpropreté des cabannes, et l'infection, qui en est une suite nécessaire, sont pour tout autre qu'un sauvage, un vrai supplice; il est aisé de juger jusqu'où l'une et l'autre doivent aller parmi des gens, qui ne changent de hardes, que quand les leurs tombent par lambeaux, et qui n'ont nul soin de les nettoyer. L'été ils se baignent tous les jours, mais ils se frottent aussitôt d'huile ou de graisse d'une odeur forte. L'hyver ils demeurent dans leur crasse, et dans tous les tems on ne peut entrer dans leurs cabannes, qu'on ne soit empesté.

"Non seulement tout ce qu'ils mangent est sans apprêt, et ordinairement fort insipide, mais il regne dans leurs repas une malpropreté, qui passe tout ce qu'on en peut dire: ce que j'en ai vû, et ce qu'on m'en raconte vous feroit horreur. Il y a bien peu d'animaux, qui ne mangent plus proprement.

"Comme les villages sont toujours situés, ou auprès des bois, ou sur le bord des eaux, dès que l'air commence à s'échauffer, les Maringonins et une quantité prodigieuse d'autres moucherons, excitent une persécution bien plus vive encore que celle de la fumée, qu'on est même souvent obligé d'appeller à son secours car il n'y a presque point d'autre rémède contre la piques de ces petites insectes, qui vous mettent tout le corps en feu, et ne vous permettent point de dormir en repos. Ajoutez à cela les marches souvent forcées, et toujours très rudes, qu'il faut faire à la suite de ces barbares, tantôt dans l'eau jusqu'à la ceinture, tantôt dans la fange jusqu'aux genoux; dans les bois aux travers des ronces et des épines, avec danger d'en être aveuglé; dans les campagnes, où rien ne garantit d'un soleil aussi ardent en été que le vent est piquant pendant l'hiver. Si l'on voyage en canot, la posture gênante, où il faut s'y tenir, l'inaction où l'on y est, le peu de société qu'on peut avoir avec des gens qui ne sçavent rien, qui ne parlent jamais quand ils sont occupés, qui vous infectant par leur mauvaise odeur, et qui vous remplissent de saletés et de vermine, les caprices et les manières brusques qu'il en faut essuyer, les avarices, aux quelles on est exposé de la part d'un ivrogne, ou d'un homme que quelque accident inopiné, un songe, un souvenir fâcheux, font entrer en mauvaise humeur, la cupidité qui naît aisément dans le cœur de ces barbares, et qui a coûté la vie à plus d'un missionnaire, et si la guerre est declarée entre les nations parmi lesquelles on se trouve, le danger qu'on court sans cesse, ou de se voir tout à coup réduit à la plus dure servitude, ou de périr dans les plus affreux tourmens. Voilà la vie qu'ont mené surtout les premiers missionnaires."—Charlevoix, vol. vi., p. 59.

The lives of hardship here described were in many cases terminated by horrible deaths. The following is one relation, out of many of the same nature:

"Ils avoient avec eux les PP. Jean de Brebœuf et Gabriel Lallemant, neveu des PP. Charles et Jerome Lallemant, dont nous avons parlé; et ils n'avoient pu engager ni l'un ni l'autre à se mettre en lieu de sûreté. Il eût pourtant été mieux qu'ils se fussent partagés et que le P. de Brebœuf eût usé de son autorité pour obliger son compagnon de suiver ceux, qui avoient pris la fuite; mais l'exemple tout récent du P. Daniel, et le danger, où étoient un grand nombre de catéchumènes de mourir sans Baptême, leur firent croire à tous les deux qu'ils ne devoient pas désemparer. Ils prirent donc leur poste chacun à une des extrémités de l'attaque, et ils furent toujours aux endroits les plus exposés, uniquement occupés à baptiser des mourans, et à encourager les combattans à n'avoir que Dieu en vûe.

"Enfin tous les Hurons furent tués ou pris, et les deux missionnaires furent du nombre des derniers. Les vainqueurs mirent ensuite le feu aux cabannes, et reprirent avec les prisonniers et tout le butin, le chemin de S. Ignace.

"De St. Ignace, où j'ai dit qu'on les avoit conduits d'abord, ils avoient été ramenés à St. Louis, et ils y furent reçus, comme on a coûtume de recevoir les prisonniers de guerre; on les épargna même d'autant moins, que leur procès étoit fait, et qu'on avoit résolu de ne les pas mener plus loin. Le P. de Brebœuf, que vingt années de travaux les plus capables de faire mourir tous les sentimens naturels, un caractère d'esprit d'une fermeté a l'épreuve de tout; une vertu nourrie dans la vûe toujours prochaine d'une mort cruelle, et portée jusqu'à en faire l'objet de ses vœux les plus ardens; prévenu d'ailleurs par plus d'un avertissement céleste que ses vœux seroient exaucés, se rioit également et des menaces et des tortures mêmes; mais la vûe de ses chers neophytes cruellement traités à ses yeux, repandoit une grande amertume sur la joye, qu'il ressentoit de voir ses esperances accomplies.

"Son compagnon, Gabriel Lallemant, qui ne faisoit que d'entrer dans la carrière apostolique, où il avoit apporté plus de courage que de force, et qui étoit d'une complexion sensible et delicate, fut surtout pour lui jusqu'au dernier soupir un grand sujet de douleur et d'inquiétude. Les Iroquois connurent bien d'abord qu'ils auroient á faire à un homme, à qu'ils n'auroient pas le plaisir de voir échaper la moindre foiblesse, et comme s'ils eussent appréhendé qu'il ne communiquát aux autres son intrépidité, ils le séparèrent après quelque tems de la troupe des prisonniers, le firent monter seul sur un échafant, et s'acharnèrent de telle sorte sur lui, qu'ils paroissoient hors d'eux-mêmes de rage et de désespoir.

"Tout cela n'empêchoit point le serviteur de Dieu de parler d'une voix forte, tantôt aux Hurons, qui ne le voyoient plus, mais qui pouvoient encore l'entendre; tantôt à ses bourreaux, qu'il exhortait à craindre la colère du ciel, s'ils continuoient à persécuter les adorateurs du vrai Dieu. Cette liberté étonna les barbares, et ils en furent choqués, quoiqu' accoutumés à essuyer les bravades de leurs prisonniers en semblables occasions. Ils voulurent lui imposer silence, et n'en pouvant venir à bout, ils lui coupèrent la lèvre inférieure, et l'extrémité du nez, lui appliquerent par tout le corps des torches allumées, lui brulerent les gencives, et enfin lui enforcèrent dans le gosier un fer rougi dans le feu.

"L'invincible missionnaire se voyant par ce dernier coup la parole interdite, parut avec un visage assuré, et un regard si ferme qu'il sembloit donner encore la loy à ses ennemis. Un moment après on lui amena son compagnon dans un équipage bien capable de toucher un cœur comme le sien, aussi tendre et aussi compatissant sur les maux d'autrui, qu'il étoit insensible aux siens propres. On avoit mis d'abord le jeune religieux tout nud et après l'avoir tourmenté quelque tems, on l'avoit enveloppé depuis les pieds jusqu'à la tête d'écorce de sapin, et on se preparoit à y mettre le feu.

"Dès qu'il apperçut le P. de Brebœuf dans l'affreux état, où on l'avoit mis, il frémit d'abord, ensuite lui dit ces paroles de l'Apôtre, Nous avons été mis spectacle au monde, aux anges, et aux hommes.[218] Le père lui répondit par une douce inclination de tête, et dans ce moment le P. Lallemant se trouvant libre, courut se jetter à ses pieds, baisa respectueusement ses playes, et le conjura de redoubler auprès du seigneur ses prières, pour lui obtenir la patience, et la foy, qu'il voyoit, ajoùta-t-il avec beaucoup de confusion, sur le point de lui échapper à tout moment. On le reprit aussitôt, et on mit le feu aux ecorces, dont il étoit couvert.

"Les bourreaux s'arrêtèrent quelque tems pour goûter le plaisir de le voir brûler lentement, et d'entendre ses soupirs et les gémissemens, qu'il ne pouvoit s'empêcher de pousser. Ils le laissèrent ensuite quelque tems, pour faire rougir des haches de fer, dont ils firent un collier, qu'ils mirent au cou du P. de Brebœuf; mais ce nouveau supplice n'ébranla pas plus le saint martyr, qui n'avoient fait les autres, et comme les barbares cherchoient quelque nouveau tourment, pour tacher de vaincre un courage qui les irritoit, un Huron apostat se mit à crier qu'il falloit jetter aux deux missionnaires de l'eau boüillante sur la tête, en punition de ce qu'ils en avoient jetté tant de froide sur celle des autres, et causé par-là tous les malheurs de sa nation, et on la répandit lentement sur la tête des deux confesseurs de Jesus Christ.

"Cependant la fumée épaisse qui sortoit des ecorces, dont le P. Lallemant étoit revêtu lui remplissoit la bouche, et il fut assez lontems sans pouvoir articuler une seule parole. Ses liens étant brûlés, il leva les mains au ciel, pour implorer le secours de celui qui est la force des foibles, mais on les lui fit baisser, en le frappant à grands coups de cordes. Enfin les deux corps n'étant plus qu'une playe, ce spectacle bien loin de faire horreur aux Iroquois, les mit de bonne humeur; ils se disoient les uns aux autres que la chair des François devoit être bonne, et ils en coupèrent sur l'un et sur l'autre de grands lambeaux, qu'ils mangèrent. Puis ajôutant la raillerie à la cruauté, ils dirent au P. de Brebœuf, 'Tu nous assurois tout à l'heure que plus on souffre sur la terre, plus on est heureux dans le ciel; c'est par amitié pour toi que nous nous étudions à augmenter tes souffrances, et tu nous en auras obligation.'

"Quelques momens après ils lui enlevèrent toute la peau de la tête, et comme il respiroit encore, un chef lui ouvrit le côté, d'où le sang sortant en abondance, tous les barbares accoururent pour en boire; après quoi le même, qui avoit fait la playe, découvrit le cœur, l'arracha, et le dévora. Le P. de Brebœuf étoit du diocèse de Bayeux, et oncle du traducteur du Pharsale. Il étoit d'une taille avantageuse, et mangré son abstinence extrême, et vingt années du plus pénible apostolat, il avoit assez d'embonpoint. Sa vie fut un heroisme continuel, et sa mort fut l'étonnement des bourreaux mêmes.

"Dès qu'il eut expiré, le P. Lallemant fut reconduit dans la cabanne, où son martyre avoit commencé; il n'est pas même certain qu'il soit demeuré auprès du Père de Brebœuf jusqu'à ce que celui-ci eût rendu les derniers soupirs; on ne l'avoit amené là, que pour attendrir son compagnon, et amollir, s'il étoit possible, le courage de ce héros. Il est au moins constant par le témoignage de plusieurs Iroquois, qui furent acteurs dans ce tragédie, que ce dernier mourut le seize, et qu'il ne fut que trois heures dans le feu, au lieu que le supplice du P. Lallemant dura dix-sept heures, et qu'il ne mourut que le dix-sept.

"Quoiqu'il en soit, sitôt qu'il fut rentré dans sa cabanne il reçut au-dessus de l'oreille gauche, un coup de hache, qui lui ouvrit le crane, et lui en fit sortir de la cervelle. On lui arracha ensuite un œil, à la place duquel on mit un charbon ardent; c'est tout ce qu'on a pu sçavoir de ce qui se passa alors jusqu'à ce qu'il eût expiré; tous ceux, qui assistèrent à sa mort s'étant contentés de dire que les bourreaux s'étoient surpassés en cruauté. Ils ajôutèrent que de tems en tems il jettoit des cris capables de percer les cœurs les plus durs, et qu'il paroissoit quelquefois hors de lui-même; mais qu'aussitôt on le voyoit s'élever au-dessus de la douleur, et offrir à Dieu ses souffrances avec une ferveur admirable. Ainsi la chair étoit souvent foible, et prête a succomber; mais l'esprit fut toujours prompt à la relever, et la soutint jusqu'au bout. Le P. Lallemant étoit de Paris, fils et petit fils de lieutenans-criminels. Il étoit extrêmement maigre, et il n'y avoit guére que six mois, qu'il étoit arrivé dans la Nouvelle France. Il mourut dans sa trente-neuvième année."—Charlevoix, vol. ii., p. 12.

No. XVIII.

"The Jesuits are commonly very learned, studious, and are very civil and agreeable in company. In their whole deportment there is something pleasing; it is no wonder, therefore, that they captivate the minds of the people. They seldom speak of religious matters, and if it happens, they generally avoid disputes. They are very ready to do any one a service, and when they see that their assistance is wanted, they hardly give one time to speak of it, falling to work immediately to bring about what is required of them. Their conversation is very entertaining and learned, so that one can not be tired of their company. Among all the Jesuits I have conversed with in Canada, I have not found one who was not possessed of these qualities in a very eminent degree. They do not care to become preachers to a congregation in the town or country, but leave these places, together with the emoluments arising from them, to the priests. All their business here is to convert the heathen; and with that view their missionaries are scattered over every part of the country. Near every town and village peopled by converted Indians are one or two Jesuits, who take great care that they may not return to paganism, but live as Christians ought to do. Thus there are Jesuits with the converted Indians in Tadoussac, Lorette, Beçancourt, St. François, Sault St. Louis, and all over Canada. There are likewise Jesuit missionaries with those who are not converted, so that there is commonly a Jesuit in every village belonging to the Indians, whom he endeavors on all occasions to convert. In winter he goes on their great hunts, where he is frequently obliged to suffer all imaginable inconveniences, such as walking in the snow all day, lying in the open air all winter, lying out both in good and bad weather, lying in the Indian huts, which swarm with fleas and other vermin, &c. The Jesuits undergo all these hardships for the sake of converting the Indians, and likewise for political reasons. The Jesuits are of great use to their king; for they are frequently able to persuade the Indians to break their treaty with the English, to make war upon them, to bring their furs to the French, and not to permit the English to come among them. There is much danger attending these exertions; for, when the Indians are in liquor, they sometimes kill the missionaries who live with them, calling them spies, or excusing themselves by saying that the brandy had killed them. These are the chief occupations of the Jesuits in Canada. They do not go to visit the sick in the town; they do not hear the confessions, and attend to no funerals. I have never seen them go in procession in honor of the Virgin Mary or other saints. Every body sees that they are, as it were, selected from other people on account of their superior genius and abilities. They are here reckoned a most cunning set of people, who generally succeed in their undertakings, and surpass all others in acuteness of understanding. I have therefore several times observed that they have enemies in Canada. They never receive any others into their society but persons of very promising parts, so that there are no blockheads among them. The Jesuits who live here are all come from France, and many of them return thither again after a stay of a few years here. Some who were born in Canada went over to France, and were received among the Jesuits there, but none of them ever came back to Canada. I know not what political reason hindered them. During my stay in Quebec, one of the priests, with the bishop's leave, gave up his priesthood and became a Jesuit. The other priests were very ill pleased with this, because it seemed as if he looked upon their condition as too mean for himself."—Kalm, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 648.

"The Recollets are a third class of clergymen in Canada. They have a fine large dwelling-house here, and a fine church, where they officiate. Near it is a large and fine garden, which they cultivate with great application.

"In Montreal and Trois Rivières they are lodged in almost the same manner as here. They do not endeavor to choose cunning fellows among them, but take all they can get. They do not torment their brains with much learning; and I have been assured that, after they have put on their monastic habit, they do not study to increase their knowledge, but forget even what little they knew before. At night they generally lie on mats, or some other hard mattresses. However, I have sometimes seen good beds in the cells of some of them. They have no possessions here, having made vows of poverty, and live chiefly on the alms which people give them. To this purpose the young monks, or brothers, go into the houses with a bag, and beg what they want. They have no congregations in the country, but sometimes they go among the Indians as missionaries.

"In each fort, which contains forty men, the king keeps one of these monks instead of a priest, who officiates there. The king gives him lodging, provisions, servants, and all he wants, besides two hundred livres a year. Half of it he sends to the community he belongs to; the other half he reserves for his own use. On board the king's ships are generally no other priests than these friars, who are therefore looked upon as people belonging to the king. When one of the chief priests[219] in the country dies, and his place can not immediately be filled up, they send one of these friars there, to officiate while the place is vacant. Part of these monks come over from France, and part are natives of Canada.

"There are no other monks in Canada besides these, except, now and then, one of the order of St. Austin, or some other who comes with one of the king's ships, but goes off with it again.

"The priests are the second and most numerous class of the clergy in this country; for most of the churches, both in towns and villages (the Indian converts excepted), are served by priests. A few of them are likewise missionaries. In Canada are two seminaries: one in Quebec, the other in Montreal. The priests of the seminary of Montreal are of the order of St. Sulpitius, and supply only the congregation on the isle of Montreal, and the town of the same name. At all the other churches in Canada the priests belonging to the Quebec seminary officiate. The former, or those of the order of St. Sulpitius, all come from France; and I was assured that they never suffer a native of Canada to come among them.

"In the seminary at Quebec, the natives of Canada make the greater part.

"In order to fit the children of this country for orders, there are schools at Quebec and St. Joachim, where the youths are taught Latin, and instructed in the knowledge of those things and sciences which have a more immediate connection with the business they are intended for.

"However, they are not very nice in their choice, and people of a middling capacity are often received among them.

"They do not seem to have made great progress in Latin; for, notwithstanding the service is read in that language, and they read their Latin breviary and other books every day, yet most of them find it very difficult to speak it.

"All the priests in the Quebec seminary are consecrated by the bishop. Both the seminaries have got great revenues from the king; that in Quebec has above thirty thousand livres. All the country on the west side of the River St. Lawrence, from the town of Quebec to Bay St. Paul, belongs to this seminary, besides their other possessions in the country. They lease the land to the settlers for a certain rent, which, if it be annually paid, according to their agreement, the children or heirs of the settlers may remain in an undisturbed possession of the lands.

"A piece of land three arpents[220] broad, and thirty, forty, or fifty arpents long, pays annually an ecu,[221] and a couple of chickens, or some other additional trifle. In such places as have convenient water-falls, they have built water-mills or saw-mills, from which they annually get considerable sums. The seminary of Montreal possesses the whole ground on which that town stands, together with the whole isle of Montreal. I have been assured that the ground rent of the town and isle is computed at seventy thousand livres, besides what they get for saying masses, baptizing, holding confessions, attending at marriages and funerals, &c. All the revenues of ground rent belong to the seminaries alone, and the priests in the country have no share in them. But the seminary in Montreal, consisting only of sixteen priests, has greater revenues than it can expend; a large sum of money is annually sent over to France, to the chief seminary there. The land rents belonging to the Quebec seminary are employed for the use of the priests in it, and for the maintenance of a number of young people, who are brought up to take orders. The priests who live in the country parishes get the tithe from their congregation, together with the perquisites on visiting the sick, &c. In small congregations the king gives the priests an additional sum. When a priest in the country grows old, and has done good service, he is sometimes allowed to come into the seminary in town. The seminaries are allowed to place the priests on their own estates, but the other places are in the gift of the bishop."—Ibid.

"After the conquest of Quebec, the British government prohibited the religious male orders from augmenting their numbers, excepting the priests. The orders were allowed to enjoy the whole of their revenues as long as a single individual of the body existed; then they reverted to the crown. The revenue of the Jesuit Society was upward of £12,000 per annum when it fell into the possession of the government. It had been for several years enjoyed solely by an old father, who had survived all the rest. He was a native of Switzerland; his name, Jean Joseph Casot. In his youth he was no more than porter to the convent, but, having considerable merit, he was promoted, and in course of time received into the order. He died at a very advanced age, in 1800, with a high character for kindness and generosity: his large income was entirely employed in charitable purposes. The lands belonging to the Jesuits, as well as to the other religious orders, are by far the best in the country, and produce the greatest revenues."—Lambert's Travels in Canada, vol. i., p. 59.

"The Jesuits, who in the early settlement of the country were merely missionaries, obtained a patent (Petits Droits des Colonies Françaises, vol. ii., p. 441), by which they acquired a license to purchase lands, and hold property as in France. The property the Jesuits possessed in this country in after times was acquired by grants from the kings of France; by grants from the Company of New France; by gifts from individuals, and by purchase."—Smith's History of Canada, vol. i., p. 27; Weld, p. 249. Smith estimates the revenues of the society, when, after P. Casot's death, they reverted to the crown, at only £1600 per annum. Weld comes nearer to the statement of Lambert. He visited Quebec in 1796, four years before P. Casot's death, and states that the great possessions of the Jesuits had centered in him, and amounted to £10,000 per annum. It is to be remembered that in 1764 the order of Jesuits was abolished by the King of France, and the members of the society became private individuals.

"The college of the Jesuits at Quebec was long considered as the first institution on the continent of North America for the instruction of young men. The advantages derived from it were not limited to the better class of Canadians, but were extended to all whose inclination it was to participate in them, and many students came thither from the West Indies. From the period of the expulsion of the Jesuits from the states of Europe, and the consequent abolition of their order on that continent, this establishment, although protected by the British government, began rapidly to decline.

"When, by the death of the last Canadian Jesuit, the landed property devolved to the crown, it was designed by the sovereign as a recompense for the services of the late Lord Amherst, who commanded the troops in North America at the time of the conquest of Canada, and Who completed the reduction of that province under the British government. The claim of these estates has been relinquished by his successor for a pension. The revenue arising from them has been appropriated by the Legislature of Lower Canada for the purpose of establishing in the different parishes schools for the education of children. The Jesuits' college is now converted into a commodious barrack for the troops."—Heriot's Canada, p. 30.

No. XIX.

The Mississippi is the only river in North America, which, for grandeur and commodiousness of navigation, comes in competition with the St. Lawrence, or with that river which runs from Lake Ontario to the ocean. If, however, we consider that immense body of water that flows from Lake Winnipeg through the Lake of the Woods, Lake Superior, &c., down to the sea, as one entire stream, and, of course, as a continuation of the St. Lawrence, it must be allowed to be a very superior river to the Mississippi in every point of view; and we may certainly consider it as one stream with as much reason as we look upon that as one river which flows from Lake Ontario to the sea; for, before it meets the ocean, it passes through four large lakes, not, indeed, to be compared with those of Erie or Superior in size, but they are independent lakes, notwithstanding, as much as any of the others. The Mississippi is principally to be admired for the evenness of its current, and the prodigious length of way it is navigable without any interruption for bateaux of a very large burden, but in many respects it is a very inferior river to the St. Lawrence, properly so called. The Mississippi, at its mouth, is not twenty miles broad, and the navigation is there so obstructed by banks or bars that a vessel drawing more than twelve feet water can not ascend it without very imminent danger. Fresh bars are formed or the old bars are enlarged every year, and it is said that unless some steps are taken to prevent the lodgments of the trees annually brought down at the time of the inundation, the navigation may in a few years be still more obstructed than it is at present. The River St. Lawrence, however, on the contrary, is no less than ninety miles wide at its mouth, and it is navigable for ships of the line as far as Quebec, a distance of 400 miles from the sea. The channel, also, instead of having been impaired by time, is found to be considerably better now than when the river was first discovered, and there is reason to imagine that it will improve still more in process of time, as the clear water that flows from Lake Ontario comes down with such impetuosity during the floods in the spring of the year as frequently to remove banks of gravel and loose stones in the river, and thus to deepen its bed. The channel on the north side of the island of Orleans, immediately below Quebec, which, according to the account of Charlevoix, was not sufficiently deep in the year 1720 to admit a shallop of a small size, except at the time of high tides, is at present found to be deep enough for the largest vessels, and is the channel most generally used.—Weld, p. 336.

No. XX.

"Upper Canada, down to the period when it was conquered by England, was in a very wild and unreclaimed condition. With the exception of the small location on the banks of the Detroit, it contained only detached posts at great distances, formed for military defense and the prosecution of the fur trade. The real settlement of Upper Canada took place in 1783, at the close of the first American war; at that time, not only a large body of troops were disbanded, but many inhabitants of the United States, who had adhered to Britain during this unfortunate contest, sought refuge within her colonies; and as these last were generally in a state of great destitution, the government felt disposed to treat them liberally, and afford the utmost possible compensation for their losses and sufferings. With this view, the whole land along the St. Lawrence above the French settlements, and also on Lake Ontario, to and around the Bay of Quiete, for the space of 150 miles, was formed into townships, originally entitled First, Second, Third, but to which regular names were afterward attached. These settlements were termed the United Empire Loyalists, and not only received an ample supply of land, but farming utensils, building materials, and subsistence for two years. A further engagement was made that every member of their families, on attaining the age of twenty-one, should have a fresh donation of 200 acres, which engagement has been strictly fulfilled. Military grants were at the same time bestowed at rates varying from 5000 for a field officer, to 200 for a private soldier.

"In 1791, Upper Canada had attained to such importance, that when Mr. Pitt determined to bestow a constitution on the colony, he formed this part into a separate government, giving to it the name of Upper, and to the early-settled districts that of Lower Canada. The former was not supposed, after all, to contain at that time above 10,000 inhabitants. General Simcoe, however, in 1794, founded the town of York,[222] which was fixed on as the seat of government, and made the most strenuous efforts to encourage colonists to settle in the neighborhood. They came in considerable numbers, though chiefly from the United States. It was not till 1803 that, through the exertions of Colonel Talbot, emigration from Britain was commenced on any large scale. The result of these measures was, that in 1811 the country was found to contain about 9623 persons paying taxes.

Lower Canada is comprised within the parallels of 45° and 52° north latitude, and the meridians of 59·50° to 80·6° west of Greenwich; the entire province, as far as its boundaries will admit of estimation, contains about a quarter of a million square miles, or 160,000,000 of acres. Upper Canada is comprised within the parallels of 41° to 49° north, and the meridians of 74° to 117° west of Greenwich, embracing an area of about 100,000 square miles, or 64,000,000 acres. The following are the words of the order in council by which Canada was in 1791 divided into two provinces. "To commence at a stone boundary on the north bank of the Lake St. Francis, at the cove west of Point au Baudet, in the limit between the township of Lancaster and the seigniory of New Longueuil, running along the said limit in the direction of N. 34 W. to the westernmost angle of the said seigniory of New Longueuil; then along the N.W. boundary of the seigniory of Vaudreuil, running N. 25 E. until it strikes the Ottawa River; to ascend the said river into the Lake Temiscaming, and from the head of the said lake by a line drawn due N. until it strikes the boundary of Hudson's Bay, including all the territory to the westward and southward of the said line to the utmost extent of the country commonly called or known by the name of Canada." The want of clearness in the above delineation, added to the imperfections of the map on which it was drawn, particularly as regarded the westwardly angle of the seigniory of New Longueuil, and the S.W. angle of Vaudreuil, which are represented as coincident, when, according to Colonel Bouchette, they are nine miles distant from each other, has naturally caused disputes as to the boundaries between Upper and Lower Canada.—Montgomery Martin's Hist. of Canada, p. 62; Murray's British America, vol. i., p. 287.

No. XXI.

"On the 5th of February, 1663, about half past five o'clock in the evening, a great rushing noise was heard throughout the whole extent of Canada. This noise caused the people to run out of their houses into the streets, as if their habitations had been on fire; but, instead of flames or smoke, they were surprised to see the walls reeling backward and forward, and the stones moving as if they were detached from each other. The bells sounded by the repeated shocks. The roofs of the buildings bent down, first on one side, and then on the other. The timbers, rafters, and planks cracked. The earth trembled violently, and caused the stakes of the palisades and palings to dance, in a manner that would have been incredible had we not actually seen it in many places. It was at this moment every one ran out of doors. Then were to be seen animals flying in every direction; children crying and screaming in the streets; men and women, seized with affright, stood horror-struck with the dreadful scene before them, unable to move, and ignorant where to fly for refuge from the tottering walls and trembling earth, which threatened every instant to crush them to death, or sink them into a profound and immeasurable abyss. Some threw themselves on their knees in the snow, crossing their breasts, and calling on their saints to relieve them from the dangers with which they were surrounded. Others passed the rest of this dreadful night in prayer; for the earthquake ceased not, but continued at short intervals with a certain undulating impulse, resembling the waves of the ocean; and the same qualmish sensations, or sickness at the stomach, was felt during the shocks as is experienced in a vessel at sea.

"The violence of the earthquake was greatest in the forest, where it appeared as if there was a battle raging between the trees; for not only their branches were destroyed, but even their trunks are said to have been detached from their places, and dashed against each other with inconceivable violence and confusion—so much so, that the Indians, in their figurative manner of speaking, declared that all the forests were drunk. The war also seemed to be carried on between the mountains, some of which were torn from their beds and thrown upon others, leaving immense chasms in the places from whence they had issued, and the very trees with which they were covered sunk down, leaving only their tops above the surface of the earth; others were completely overturned, their branches buried in the earth, and the roots only remained above ground. During this general wreck of nature, the ice, upward of six feet thick, was rent and thrown up in large pieces, and from the openings in many parts there issued thick clouds of smoke, or fountains of dirt and sand, which spouted up to a very considerable height. The springs were either choked up, or impregnated with sulphur; many rivers were totally lost; others were diverted from their course, and their waters entirely corrupted. Some of them became yellow, others red, and the great river of the St. Lawrence appeared entirely white, as far down as Tadoussac. This extraordinary phenomenon must astonish those who know the size of the river, and the immense body of waters in various parts, which must have required such an abundance of matter to whiten it. They write from Montreal that, during the earthquake, they plainly saw the stakes of the picketing or palisades jump up as if they had been dancing; and that of two doors in the same room, one opened and the other shut of their own accord; that the chimneys and tops of the houses bent like branches of the trees agitated with the wind; that when they went to walk they felt the earth following them, and rising at every step they took, something sticking against the soles of their feet, and other things in a very forcible and surprising manner.

"From Three Rivers they write that the first shock was the most violent, and commenced with a noise resembling thunder. The houses were agitated in the same manner as the tops of trees during a tempest, with a noise as if fire was crackling in the garrets. The shock lasted half an hour, or rather better, though its greatest force was properly not more than a quarter of an hour, and we believe there was not a single shock which did not cause the earth to open either more or less.

"As for the rest, we have remarked that, though this earthquake continued almost without intermission, yet it was not always of an equal violence. Sometimes it was like the pitching of a large vessel which dragged heavily at her anchors, and it was this motion which occasioned many to have a giddiness in their heads and a qualmishness in their stomachs. At other times the motion was hurried and irregular, creating sudden jerks, some of which were extremely violent; but the most common was a slight tremulous motion, which occurred frequently with little noise. Many of the French inhabitants and Indians, who were eye-witnesses to the scene, state that, a great way up the river of Trois Rivières, about eighteen miles below Quebec, the hills which bordered the river on either side, and which were of a prodigious height, were torn from their foundations, and plunged into the river, causing it to change its course, and spread itself over a large tract of land recently cleared; the broken earth mixed with the waters, and for several months changed the color of the great River St. Lawrence, into which that of Trois Rivières disembogues itself. In the course of this violent convulsion of nature, lakes appeared where none ever existed before; mountains were overthrown, swallowed up by the gaping, or precipitated into adjacent rivers, leaving in their places frightful chasms or level plains; falls and rapids were changed into gentle streams, and gentle streams into falls and rapids. Rivers in many parts of the country sought other beds, or totally disappeared. The earth and the mountains were entirely split and rent in innumerable places, creating chasms and precipices, whose depths have never yet been ascertained. Such devastation was also occasioned in the woods, that more than a thousand acres in our neighborhood were completely overturned; and where, but a short time before, nothing met the eye but one immense forest of trees, now were to be seen extensive cleared lands, apparently cut up by the plow.

"At Tadoussac (about 150 miles below Quebec, on the north side) the effect of the earthquake was not less violent than in other places; and such a heavy shower of volcanic ashes fell in that neighborhood, particularly in the River St. Lawrence, that the waters were as violently agitated as during a tempest. The Indians say that a vast volcano exists in Labrador. Near St. Paul's Bay (about fifty miles below Quebec, on the north side), a mountain, about a quarter of a league in circumference, situated on the shore of the St. Lawrence, was precipitated into the river, but, as if it had only made a plunge, it rose from the bottom, and became a small island, forming with the shore a convenient harbor, well sheltered from all winds. Lower down the river, toward Point Alouettes, an entire forest of considerable extent was loosened from the main bank, and slid into the River St. Lawrence, where the trees took fresh root. There are three circumstances, however, which have rendered this extraordinary earthquake particularly remarkable: the first is its duration, it having continued from February to August, that is to say, more than six months almost without intermission! It is true, the shocks were not always equally violent. In several places, as toward the mountains behind Quebec, the thundering noise and trembling motion continued successively for a considerable time. In others, as toward Tadoussac, the shock continued generally for two or three days at a time with much violence.

"The second circumstance relates to the extent of this earthquake, which, we believe, was universal throughout the whole of New France, for we learn that it was felt from L'Isle Percé and Gaspé, which are situated at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, to beyond Montreal; as also in New England, Acadia, and other places more remote. As far as it has come to our knowledge, this earthquake extended more than 600 miles in length, and about 300 in breadth. Hence 180,000 square miles of land were convulsed in the same day and at the same moment.

"The third circumstance, which appears the most remarkable of all, regards the extraordinary protection of Divine Providence, which has been extended to us and our habitations; for we have seen near us the large openings and chasms which the earthquake occasioned, and the prodigious extent of country which has been either totally lost or hideously convulsed, without our losing either man, woman, or child, or even having a hair of their head touched."—Jesuits' Journal, Quebec, 1663.

No. XXII.

"The principle in both instances is alike: in the former, the caloric or vital heat of the body passes so rapidly from the hand into the cold iron as to destroy the continuous and organic structure of the part; in the latter, the caloric passes so rapidly from the hot iron into the hand as to produce the same effect: heat, in both cases, being the same; its passing into the body from the iron, or into the iron from the body, being equally injurious to vitality. From a similar cause, the incautious traveler in Canada is burned in the face by a very cold wind, with the same sensations as when he is exposed to the blast of an eastern sirocco. Milton thus alludes to the effects of cold in his description of the abode of Satan and his compeers. After adverting to Styx, he says,

'Beyond this flood, a frozen continent
Lies, dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms
Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land
Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems
Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice;
A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog
Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,
Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air
Burns frore (frozen), and cold performs the effect of fire.'

Paradise Lost, B. 2.

"We also find in Virgil, Georg., i., 93,

'Borea penetrabile frigus adurat.'"—Gray's Canada, p. 290.

No. XXIII.

"This meteor is strongest and most frequent about the arctic circle, or between that and the parallel of 64°. It is now ascertained, we think, beyond all doubt, that the height of the Aurora, instead of being, as supposed by Mr. Dalton and others, above the region of the atmosphere, is, in fact, rarely above six or seven miles. This was satisfactorily proved by angles taken in the same moment at two distant places, always exceedingly small at one or both stations; by the extreme rapidity with which a beam darts from one side of the horizon to the opposite side, which could not happen if 100 miles high or upward; by its frequently darting its beams beneath the clouds, and at very short distances from the earth's surface, and by its being acted upon by the wind. Mr. Hood was told by one of the partners of the Northwest Company that he once saw the coruscations of the Aurora Borealis so vivid and low that the Canadians fell on their faces, and began crying and praying, fearing lest they should be killed; that he threw away his gun and knife, that they might not attract the flashes, for they were within two feet from the earth, flitting along with incredible swiftness, and moving parallel to the surface; he added that they made a loud rustling noise, like the waving of a flag in a strong breeze. This rustling noise, which is universally asserted by the servants of the Northwest Company, was not heard by any of the officers of Captain Franklin's expedition, but he says that it would be an absurd degree of skepticism to doubt the fact any longer, for their observations had rather increased than diminished the probability of it. It has hitherto been supposed that the magnetic needle was not affected by the Aurora; but a vast number of experiments given in the tables prove that, in certain positions of the beams and arches, the needle was considerably drawn aside, and mostly so when the flashes were between the clouds and the earth, or when their actions were quick, their light vivid, and the atmosphere hazy."—Franklin's Journey to the Polar Sea, Nos. II. and III. of the Appendix.

The following is Charlevoix's description of the Aurora Borealis, never before witnessed by the French colonists:

"Un autre phénomène, qui parôit dans l'air, mériteroit bien qu'on s'étudiât à en découvrir la cause. Dans le tems le plus serein, on apperçoit tout à coup au milieu de la nuit de nuages d'une blancheur extraordinaire, et au travers de ces nuages une lumière très-éclatante. Lors même qu'on ne sent pas un souffle de vent, ces nuages sont chassés avec une très-grande vitesse, et prennent toutes sortes de figures. Plus la nuit est obscure, plus la lumière est vive: elle l'est même quelquefois à un point, qu'on peut lire à sa lueur beaucoup plus aisément, qu'à celle de la lune dans son plein.

"On dira peut-être que ce n'est qu'une réfraction des raïons du soleil, qui par cette hauteur ne s'éloigne pas beaucoup de l'horison pendant les nuits de l'été, et qu'encore qu'il n'y ait point de vent dans la basse région de l'air, il peut y en avoir dans la supérieure, ce qui est vrai; mais ce qui me fait juger qu'il y a encore une autre de ce météore, c'est que pendant l'hyver même, la lune paroît souvent environnée d'arc-en-ciel de couleurs différentes, et toutes très-vives. Pour moi je suis persuadé que ces effets doivent être attribués en partie à des exhalaisons nitreuses, qui pendant le jour ont été attirées et enfluencées par le soleil."

No. XXIV.

"Very distant posterity will one day decide whether, as Mr. Leslie has endeavored to prove by ingenious hypothesis (An Experimental Inquiry into the Nature and Propagation of Heat, 1804), 2400 years are sufficient to augment the mean temperature of the atmosphere a single degree. However slow this increment may be, we must admit that an hypothesis, according to which organic life seems gradually to augment on the globe, occupies more agreeably our imagination than the old system of the cooling of our planet and the accumulation of the polar ice."—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. ii., p. 83.

"A point of much interest is the comparison of the actual temperature of the globe with that of the same regions in former ages. The evidence which justifies the conclusion that no change has occurred but from local or superficial causes, is worth studying, were it only for its variety and singularity. We might begin with Laplace's conclusion, that the mean heat can not be altered by 1° of Réaumur since the time of Hipparchus, inasmuch as the dimensions of the globe would be thereby changed in a small amount, its angular velocity be increased or diminished, and a sensible difference be made in the length of the day, which difference does not exist. We might then proceed to the argument urged by Biot and Champollion, from the identity of the time of inundation in the Nile, 5000 years ago, the periodical rains producing which depend upon and indicate the degree and distribution of heat over a vast equatorial region. Next we might turn to the method of Professor Schaw, in his work on the comparative temperature of ancient and modern times, founded on the northern and southern limits of production of different animals and plants in any given country, as they come recorded to us by ancient writers, compared with the observations of our own day. The result of general identity is obtained by this method also; and the same remark may be extended to the miscellaneous proofs derived from other passages in ancient writers, numerously collated, respecting the climate of particular regions and localities. There is no amount of diversity shown by this evidence which does not admit of explanation from local and accidental causes, many of them belonging to the agency of man himself, on the surface of the earth."—Quarterly Review, September, 1848.

"Several planters attribute the failure of the cotton crop this year (1842) to the unusual size and number of the icebergs, which floated southward last spring from Hudson's and Baffin's Bays, and may have cooled the sea and checked the early growth of the cotton plant, so numerous and remote are the disturbing causes of meteorology! Forty degrees of latitude intervene between the region where the ice-floes are generated and that where the crops are raised, whose death-warrant they are supposed to have carried with them."—Lyell's America, vol. i., p. 174.

No. XXV.

The theory by which Dr. Brewster seeks to account for the peculiarities of the American climate is the following: "He supposes that the poles of the globe and the isothermal poles are by no means coincident, and that, on the contrary, there exist two different points, within a few degrees of the poles, where the cold is greatest in both hemispheres. These points are believed by Dr. Brewster to be situated about the eightieth parallel of latitude, and in the meridians of 95° east and 100° west longitude. The meridians of these isothermal poles[223] he considers as lying nearly at right angles to the parallels of what might be called the meteorological latitudes, which, according to his theory, appear to have an obliquity of direction as regards the equator something like the zodiac. Thus the cold circle of latitude that passes through Siberia would be the same that traverses the frigid atmosphere of Canada. This theory would go some length toward explaining the causes of the gradual decrease of the severity of cold in the south of Europe, and lead us to the conclusion that eventually the cold meridian of Canada may work its way westward, and leave that part of America to an enjoyment of the same temperature as those European countries situated in corresponding latitudes. That the temperature of the air has been modified by agricultural operations can not be denied, but that these operations should of themselves be capable of producing the changes known to have taken place in the course of ages in Europe, where formerly the Tiber used to be often frozen, and snow was by no means uncommon at Rome;[224] when the Euxine Sea, the Rhone, and the Rhine, were almost every year covered with ice, of sufficient thickness to bear considerable burdens, it is scarcely possible rationally to admit; and, indeed, the meteorological observations, as far as they go in Canada, serve rather to disprove than to establish the fact."—Bouchette, vol. i., p. 335.

"The earliest record of the climate of Canada is that contained in the 'Fastes Chronologiques,' and refers to the period of Cartier's second voyage. On the 15th of November, 1535, Old Style, the vessels in the River St. Charles were surrounded by ice, and the Indians informed Cartier that the whole river was frozen over as far as Montreal. On the 22d of February, 1536, the River St. Lawrence became navigable for canoes opposite to Quebec, but the ice remained firm in the St. Croix harbor. On the 5th of April his vessels were disengaged from the ice. To obtain the modern dates, it will be necessary to add eleven days to each period.

"The later meteorological statistics do not prove that the progressive opening of the country has had so powerful an influence upon the temperature of the atmosphere as is generally supposed. Its chief tendency seems to be to lengthen the summer, and thus abridge the duration of winter. That the gradual removal of the forests to make room for open fields contributes to augment the summer temperature, is undoubtedly true, since it is well known that the atmosphere itself is not heated by the direct rays of the sun, but that its warmth springs from the earth, and that the degree of this warmth is entirely governed by the quantum of heat absorbed through the earth's surface. The progressive settlement of the country may then be expected to benefit the climate, by its throwing open to the direct action of the sun a more extended surface of territory; and this benefit will be more sensibly felt at night, from the earth's having imbibed a sufficient quantity of caloric to temper the coolness of the air between the setting and rising of the sun. In an agricultural point of view, such an improvement in the climate of Canada will be of great moment, as the coldness of the nights is generally the cause of blight in tender fruits and plants; and from its equalizing the temperature, probably render the climate capable of maturing fruits that are indigenous to warm countries.

"Notwithstanding the opposing testimony of meteorological data, we have the assertion of some of the oldest inhabitants of the country that the climate of Canada has become perceptibly milder within their recollection, and are thus left to conciliate this traditional record with contradictory facts, and the only mode of doing so appears to be the application of their remarks, more to the duration of the mild season than the degrees of cold that were indicated by the thermometer in the course of the year."—Bouchette, vol. i., p. 334, 340, 1831; Lambert's Travels through Canada in 1808, vol. i., p. 119.

Kalm says in 1748, September 12th, "The weather about this time was like the beginning of our August, Old Style. Therefore it seems that autumn commences a whole month later in Canada than in the midst of Sweden."—P. 682.

No. XXVI.

The Vitis vinifera is found in America in its wild state; in James's "Expedition to the Rocky Mountains" it is thus described: "The small elms along this valley were bending under the weight of innumerable grape vines, now loaded with ripe fruit, the purple clusters crowded in such profusion as almost to give a coloring to the landscape. On the opposite side of the river was a range of low sand-hills, fringed with vines, rising not more than a foot or eighteen inches from the surface. On examination, we found these hillocks had been produced exclusively by the agency of the grape vines, arresting the sand as it was borne along by the wind until such quantities had been accumulated as to bury every part of the plant except the end of the branches. Many of these were so loaded with fruit as to present nothing to the eye but a series of clusters, so closely arranged as to conceal every part of the stem. The fruit of these vines is incomparably finer than that of any other native or exotic which we have met with in the United States. The burying of the greater part of the trunk with its larger branches produces the effect of pruning, inasmuch as it prevents the unfolding of leaves and flowers on the parts below the surface, while the protruded ends of the branches enjoy an increased degree of light and heat from the reflection of the sand. It is owing, undoubtedly, to these causes that the grapes in question are far superior to the fruit of the same vine under ordinary circumstances. The treatment here employed by nature to bring to perfection the fruit of the vine may be imitated, but, without the peculiarities of soil and exposure, can with difficulty be carried to the same magnificent extent. Here are hundreds of acres, covered with a movable surface of sand, and abounding in vines, which, left to the agency of the sun and of the winds, are, by their operation, placed in more favorable circumstances than it is in the power of man to so great an extent to afford."—Vol. ii., p. 315, 316.

No. XXVII.

"Fir-trees, Thuja, and Cypress-trees are a northern type, which is very rare in the tropical regions. The freshness of their evergreen leaves cheers the desert winter landscape; it proclaims to the inhabitants of these regions that although snow and ice cover the earth, the internal life of the plants, like the fire of Prometheus, is never extinguished."—Cosmos, vol. ii., p. 90.

"There are upward of twenty species of Pinus, of which one half are natives of Canada, Nova Scotia, or Newfoundland.

"Pinus Balsamea (Balm of Gilead Fir, or American Silver Fir) grows to the height of fifty feet, and is an elegant tree, resembling the silver fir of Europe. The resin of this species is the common Canada Balsam, which is often substituted for the Balm of Gilead. It is found in small blisters on the bark, extracted by incision, and received in a limpid state into a shell or cup. This tree has long been cultivated for curiosity in England, but in general, though it grows to a considerable size and height, scarcely survives above twenty years, which seems to be the natural period of its existence. Mr. Lambert mentions some older trees of this species at Woburn and Warwick Castle.

"Pinus Canadensis (Hemlock Spruce) is a beautiful and very large tree, bearing some resemblance in its foliage to the common yew. Peter Collinson records his having introduced this tree to the English collections in 1736, and a fine specimen of it is, or was, in his garden at Mill Hill.

"Pinus Nigra (Black or Double Spruce) is found from Canada to Nova Scotia, and terminates in latitude 65°. It was introduced into England about the year 1700, but not much cultivated there.

"Pinus Alba (White Spruce) flourishes from latitude 43° northward. Its growth is nearly equal to that of the European silver fir, 140 feet in height. It is one of the most ornamental of the Abies tribe (those having single, not fasciculated leaves); the branches feather down to the ground, and the leaves have a beautiful and peculiar glaucous hue. From the young shoots of this tree (also from Pinus Nigra) is obtained the resinous extract from which spruce beer is made: good turpentine is obtained from the bark. This tree was cultivated in England by Bishop Compton before 1700.

"Pinus Resinosa (Pitch Pine) grows in Canada in close forests, and is distinguished for its great height and smooth red bark, whence it is often called Red Pine by the French population. This tree is the glory of Canada. Its timber, in color, quality, and durability, appears to be in every respect equal to the best Riga, and in one particular superior, that of being quite free from knots. It was first raised in England by the Duke of Northumberland at Zion House, where many of this species are still to be seen flowering in May.

"Pinus Banksiana (Labrador Scrub, or Gray Pine) inhabits cold, barren, and rocky situations. The finest trees of this species in England are at Pain's Hill and Kew.

"Pinus Strobus (White, or Weymouth Pine) is the largest species on the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains, being sometimes 200 feet high, and the trunk five feet in diameter. The attention which Lord Weymouth, afterward Marquis of Bath, gave to the cultivation of this valuable tree has justly stamped it with his name. It is now generally diffused through every considerable plantation in England. When growing in open situations, it is feathered to the ground; but, as generally found in the Canadian forests, it is little more than an immense stick with a quantity of brush at its head, in about the same proportion as the hair on the tail of an elephant. It is of this tree that in general the forests of all British America are composed, and it is, in fact, peculiar to America. It is called in commerce White Pine, Yellow Pine, or American Pine. The timber is very valuable for masts. The age to which this tree arrives is not known: 1500 annular divisions have been counted.

"Pinus Pendula (Black Larch, or Hackmatack) is a beautiful and large tree, generally resembling the larch of Europe. The buds are black, and yield a fine turpentine. This tree was first raised in England by the celebrated Peter Collinson, whose original tree, one of the treasures of the Mill Hill garden, was cut down about the year 1800 to make a rail! Few exotics are more worthy of general cultivation. The wood is at least equal to the European larch.

"Pinus Microcarpa (Red Larch) resembles the preceding so much, that Michaux and Wildman confounded the two species together. The red larch, however, is now clearly distinguished as a distinct kind. It is named by the voyageurs L'Epinette Rouge, and by the Hudson's Bay men Juniper."—H. Murray's British America, vol. iii., p. 328; R. M. Martin, p. 254; Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Pinus.

No. XXVIII.

"The canoes that navigate the Canadian lakes are among the most ingenious and useful of the Indian manufactures, and nothing that European ingenuity has devised is so well adapted to the habits and necessities of their mode of life. They are made of the bark of the birch-tree; and of all the various contrivances for transporting burdens by water, these vessels are the most extraordinary. From the slightness of their construction, they would appear to be totally inadequate to contend against the rapids they are continually exposed to. They are of various lengths, from twelve to thirty feet (the latter used only by the Hudson's Bay Company); their breadth from four to six feet, diminishing to a point at each end without distinction. The exterior is the bark of the birch-tree, scarcely the eighth part of an inch in thickness: it is kept distended by thin hoops and the bark; the gunwale is a narrow lath, to which the hoop and the bark are sewed with narrow strips of the roots of the white cedar-tree; and the joinings in the bark are rendered water-proof by a species of gum, said to be collected from the wild cherry-tree, which soon becomes perfectly hard. No iron work or nails are employed in their construction; and they are so light, that the common-sized ones are easily carried for several miles by a man of moderate strength. They are worked by paddles over the sides, and the dexterity of the Indians in working them is surprising. They, of course, push them forward, and not backward, as in the operation of rowing. The largest description will carry about five tons of merchandise, besides eight or ten men. The great objection that attends the use of bark canoes is the difficulty of keeping them water-tight. It requires the greatest attention to prevent them from touching a rock, or even the shore, as they would otherwise break; hence they are never brought near to the bank. Two men keep the canoe afloat at a distance, while the rest of the crew load or unload her. The canoe is unloaded every night, raised out of the water, and left on the beach bottom upward. This is also occasionally done when they stop during the day: it affords an opportunity of allowing the canoe to dry, otherwise the bark absorbs much water, and becomes very heavy. All motion on the part of those on board is to be avoided, as it causes the pitch to crack, and renders the canoe leaky."—Keating's Narrative of an Expedition to the Source of St. Peter's River, vol. ii., p. 72, quoted in Sir George Simpson's Overland Journey Round the World, vol. i., p. 14.

La Hontan, in 1684, gives the same description of the bark canoes, and complains of "the inconvenience of their brittle and tender fabric. If they do but touch or grate upon stone or sand, the cracks of the bark fly open, upon which the water gets in, and spoils the provisions and merchandise. Every day there is some new chink or seam to be gummed over. At night they are always unloaded and carried on shore, where they are made fast with pegs, lest the wind should blow them away."

Charlevoix gives a nearly similar account in 1720, vol. v., p. 285. He adds: "Tous ces canots, jusqu'au plus petits, portent la voile et avec un bon vent peuvent faire vingt lieues par jour. Sans voiles il faut avoir de bons canoteurs pour en faire douze dans une eau morte."

No. XXIX.

"Many of the species of Acer form large, ornamental, and valuable trees. The kinds in most esteem for making sugar are Acer dasycarpum (white, or soft maple), Acer nigrum (black sugar maple), and Acer saccharinum (the sugar maple), the last two yielding the greatest quantity of sugar. The process by which the sap is obtained is extremely simple, nothing more being necessary than to bore a hole in the tree, and conduct the flowing liquid, by means of a hollowed piece of wood, into a vessel beneath. Whatever quantity of sap is collected, it must be boiled down the same evening, as it is liable to be spoiled by fermentation in the course of a few hours. The operation of boiling is generally performed in a very primitive way: it is thus described by the intelligent authoress of Backwoods of Canada: 'A pole was fixed across two forked stakes strong enough to bear the weight of the big kettle. The employment during the day was emptying the troughs and chopping wood to supply the fires. In the evening they lit the fires and began boiling down the sap. It was a pretty and picturesque sight to see the sugar boilers, with their bright log-fire among the trees, now stirring up the blazing pile, now throwing in the liquid, and stirring it down with a big ladle. When the fire grew fierce it boiled and foamed up in the kettle, and they had to throw in fresh sap to keep it from running over. When the sap begins to thicken into molasses, it is then brought to the sugar boiler to be finished. The process is simple: it only requires attention in skimming, and keeping the mass from boiling over, till it has arrived at the sugaring point, which is ascertained by dropping a little into cold water. When it is near the proper consistency, the kettle or pot becomes full of yellow froth, that dimples and rises in large bubbles from beneath. These throw out puffs of steam, and when the molasses is in this stage it is nearly converted into sugar. Those who pay great attention to keeping the liquid free from scum, and understand the precise sugaring point, will produce an article little, if at all, inferior to Muscovado.' It is, however, often adulterated with flour, which thickens and renders it heavy. It is very hard, and requires to be scraped with a knife when used for tea, otherwise the lumps would be a considerable time in dissolving. The Canadians say that it possesses medicinal qualities, for which they eat it in large lumps. It very possibly acts as a corrective to the vast quantity of fat pork which they consume, as it possesses a greater degree of acidity than the West India sugar. Before salt was in use, sugar was eaten with meat, as a corrective; hence, probably, the custom of eating sweet apple-sauce with pork and goose, and currant-jelly with hare and venison."—Lambert, vol. i., p. 84.

"The production of maple sugar amounted (in 1836) to about 25,000 cwt. annually. A plantation of maple is termed 'suegari,' and is considered very valuable: the sugar sells from 3d. to 6d. per pound. A moderate tree is said to yield from twenty to thirty gallons of the sap, from which may be extracted five or six pounds of sugar. Nor is sugar the only product to be obtained from this valuable tree: strong and excellent vinegar is made from it, as well as good wine; and, with the addition of hops, sound and pleasant beer may be had at a very trifling expense."—H. Murray's Canada, vol. iii., p. 315; Gray's Canada, p. 224.

"It is a very remarkable fact that these trees, after having been tapped for six or seven successive years, always yield more sap than they do on being first wounded. This sap, however, is not so rich as that which the trees distill for the first time; but, from its coming in an increased portion, as much sugar is generally produced from a single tree on the fifth or sixth year of its being tapped as on the first.

"The ingenious Mr. Nooth, of Quebec, who is at the head of the general hospital in Canada, has made a variety of experiments upon the manufacture of maple sugar. He has granulated, and also refined it, so as to render it equal to the best lump sugar that is made in England. To convince the Canadians also, who are as incredulous on some points as they are credulous on others, that it was really maple sugar that they saw thus refined, he has contrived to have large lumps, exhibiting the sugar in its different stages toward refinement, the lower part of the lumps being left hard, similar to the common cakes, the middle part granulated, and the upper part refined. Dr. Nooth has calculated that the sale of the molasses alone would be fully adequate to the expense of refining the maple sugar, if a manufactory for that purpose were established. Some attempts have been made to establish one of the kind at Quebec, but they have never succeeded, as the persons by whom they were made were adventurers that had not sufficient capital for such an undertaking."—Weld, 1800, p. 271.

Charlevoix says in his Journal, "On me régale ici d'eau d'erable—elle est délicieuse, d'un fraícheur admirable et fort saine. Pour qu'elle coule avec abondance, il faut qu'il y ait beaucoup de neiges sur la terre, qu'il ait gelé pendant la nuit, que le ciel soit serein, et que le vent ne soit pas trop froid. Nos érables auroient peut-être la même vertu, si nous avions en France autant de neiges qu'en Canada, et si elles y duroient aussi lontems. J'en ai donné à foudre à un refineur d'Orleans qui n'y a trouvé d'autre défaut que ce qu'il n'avoit pas été suffisamment égouté. Il le croyoit même de meilleure qualité de l'autre."—Vol. v., p. 181.

No. XXX.

"Quelques nations tirent leur subsistance, d'une sorte de grain que la Nature produit d'elle-même; on le nomme le folle-avoine, dont les Français ont transporté le nom à quelques-unes de ces nations. C'est une plante marécageuse qui approche assez de l'avoine, mais qui est mieux nourrie. Les sauvages vont la chercher dans leurs canots, au tems de sa maturité. Ils ne font que sécouer les épis, les quels s'égraissent facilement, de sorte que leurs canots sont bientôt remplis, et leurs provisions bientôt faìtes, sans qu'ils soient obligés de labourer ni de semer."—Lafitau, tom. ii., 96.

This grain is the Zizania aquatica of Linnæus. Kalm calls it the water tare-grass, and says that "the Indians reckon it among their dainty dishes. It grows in plenty in their lakes, in stagnant waters, and sometimes in rivers which flow slowly. They gather its seeds in October, and prepare them in different ways, and chiefly as groats, which take almost as well as rice."—Kalm, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 696.

"Common in all the waters from Canada to Florida, and known by the name of Tuscarora,[225] or wild rice."—Pursh. Sir Joseph Banks introduced it into this country in 1790, and cultivated it abundantly in the ponds of his villa of Spring Grove. The seeds were obtained from Canada in jars of water. Mr. Lambert is of opinion that this grain might be cultivated in many shallow lakes of Ireland, and turned to considerable advantage.

No. XXXI.

"The soil and climate of Canada are admirably adapted to the growth of hemp. The Society for the Encouragement of Arts, &c., assert, in their preface to Vol. XXI., 'That they have ascertained, by actual experiments, that Canada can furnish hemp equal in quality for the uses of the navy to that from the Baltic.' Hemp is one of the most valuable and profitable productions of the earth. It enriches the cultivator, and furnishes shipping with the most useful and important part of its equipment. The several processes of hemp, also, benefit the state, by employing many hands that could not be so usefully and profitably engaged in other occupations. The advantage, therefore, which a country must derive from the culture and manufacture of hemp, throughout its several branches, can not be doubted, and is sufficiently proved by the importance which Russia has derived from her commerce in that article, by which she has, in a manner, rendered the greatest navy in the world dependent upon her will and caprice. The importation of hemp from Russia has annually amounted to no less than 30,000 tons for the general consumption of the country, and for the use of the royal navy. It must, therefore, in every point of view, be a great object to Great Britain to draw her supplies of hemp from her own colonies. The efforts of government to promote its general cultivation have hitherto proved very partially successful. The failure is attributed, in a great degree, to the attachment of the Canadians to old customs, and the opposition of the Romish clergy, hemp not being a tithable article. The wheat merchants and the seigniors, who depend for success in trade and for the constant employment of their mills, the chief source of their revenues, upon abundant crops of wheat, are strongly opposed to the introduction of the culture of hemp, which they conceive would partly, if not wholly, annihilate that of wheat."—Lambert, vol. i., p. 449.

M. de Talon, the able Intendant of Quebec (in 1665), strongly recommended the cultivation of hemp, having ascertained that the nature of the soil and climate promised every possible success.

No. XXXII.

"It is calculated that there is a greater proportion of wheat soil in the Canadas than in England, and that, if this valuable grain were cultivated in this latter country in the same defective manner as in these provinces, it could not be of much value. Climate, an equally important particular, seems, at first sight, less favorable than soil. A region which for several months, and, in some districts, for more than half the year, remains buried in frost and snow, may well be supposed unfriendly to vegetation. The strong, steady heat of summer, however, counteracts almost completely this chilling influence, and matures, with surprising rapidity, the most valuable plants. Mr. Evans has had wheat in ear nine weeks after it was sown. Even the violent alternations of frost and thaw, of snow and rain, instead of injuring vegetation, are found to pulverize and soften the soil, and thus render it more fertile with less culture. The great steadiness of the summer weather exempts plants from sundry vicissitudes which they undergo in a more changeable climate. From these causes, the annuals suited to a temperate region grow in Canada to full perfection, and as these include the grains fitted for bread, the food most essential to man, she has little cause to envy any other country. In regard to wheat, indeed, the chief of those vegetables, this observation must be somewhat restricted. Its plants are so far biennial, that to acquire the very first quality they must be sown during the preceding autumn. Yet this course has not been found safe in Lower Canada, where wheat must be treated as an annual, sown in spring, and reaped before the end of the year. The defect is owing, not to the rigor of the winter, still less to the depth of snow, which, on the contrary, is found to protect and cherish vegetable growth, but is ascribed to severe frosts, violent and chilling rains, occurring after the snow has left the ground, and the plants have made some progress. An opinion is entertained that, with good management, autumn wheat might be raised with success. The British American Land Company have decidedly adopted this idea, and some successful experiments have been made. Mr. Evans, however, is of opinion that, from the above causes, unless in some favored situations, it must always be an unsafe crop, and peculiarly liable to disease. He had once autumn and spring wheats growing on the same field, when, although the first was completely ruined by rust and mildew, the other proved excellent. He seems to apprehend, therefore, that Lower Canada must be content with her good spring growth. It is said, however, to require a soil more minutely pulverized, while the grain produced contains a greater proportion of gluten, and is thus harder and more difficult to grind. In Upper Canada, autumn wheat is raised without any difficulty."—H. Murray, vol. i., p. 339.

"Canada wheat is of an excellent quality: it is thought superior to the Baltic wheat, being harder, and yielding more flour in proportion to the quality. The Canadian farmers are very negligent in preventing the growth of weeds, so that the wheat, when thrashed, is very foul, and seldom or never in a condition to be shipped until it is cleaned. For that purpose, it undergoes the operation of being once or twice put through what is called the cribbles."—Gray's Canada, p. 199.

No. XXXIII.

It is still a subject of dispute among naturalists whether the moose deer and the elk are the same animal. Professor Kalm and his translator, Forster, formed this opinion principally on the Algonquin name for the elk, Musu, the final u being scarcely sounded. The Algonquins, before the Iroquois attained to such great power in America, were the principal nation in the northern part of the continent, and their language a kind of universal language. Charlevoix says, "Ce qu'on appelle ici Orignal, c'est ce qu'en Allemagne, en Pologne, et en Muscovie on nomme Elau, ou la Grand Bête." The first mention of this remarkable animal is in a tract of Mr. Josselyn's, entitled "New England Rarities." That author says, "It is a very fine creature, growing to twelve feet high; the horns are extremely beautiful, with broad palms, some of them full grown, being two fathoms from the tip of one horn to the tip of the other." The same author, in another work, entitled "Two Voyages to New England," calls this creature "a monster of superfluity;" and says that, "when full grown, it is many times larger than an ox." The best account, however, of the moose deer is Mr. Paul Dudley's. This gentleman says they are of two kinds: the common light-gray moose deer, called by the Indians Wampoose, and the larger black moose. The gray moose is the same animal which Mr. Clayton, in his account of the Virginian quadrupeds, calls the elk; and this is the creature described in the Anatomical Discoveries of the Paris Academy under the name of the stag of Canada. Horns of this creature have been sent from Virginia, and called elks' horns; they are wholly the same with those of our red deer, except in size, weighing about twelve pounds, and measuring from the burr to the tip about six feet long.—Phil. Trans., No. cxliv., p. 386; Abr., vol. vii., p. 447. Mr. Dudley says that the gray moose is like the English deer, and that these creatures herd together thirty or more in a company. The black or large moose has been taken, he says, measuring 14 spans in height from the withers, which, allowing 9 inches to the span, is 10½ feet. The large horns found fossil in Ireland have, from their vast dimensions, been supposed to have originally belonged to the black moose deer; they are provided with brow antlers between the burr and the palm, which the European elk has not, and the American has. However, the largest horns of the American moose ever brought over are only 32 inches long, and 34 between tip and tip, while some of the Irish horns are near 12 feet between tip and tip, and 6 feet 4 inches long; they may probably be ranked among those remains which fossilists distinguish by the title of diluvian.

Professor Kalm says, "They sometimes dig very large horns out of the ground in Ireland, and nobody in that country, or any where else in the world, knows any animal that has such horns. This has induced many to believe that it is the moose deer so famous in North America, and that the horns found were of animals of this kind which had formerly lived in that island, but were gradually destroyed. It has even been concluded that Ireland, in distant ages, either was connected with North America, or that a number of little islands, which are lost at present, made a chain between them. This led me to inquire whether an animal with such excessive great horns as are ascribed to the moose deer had ever been seen in any part of this country. Mr. Bertram told me that he had carefully inquired to that purpose, and was entirely of opinion that there was no such animal in North America. Mr. Franklin related that he had, when a boy, seen two of the animals which they call moose deer; but he well remembered that they were not near of such a size as they must have been if the horns found in Ireland were to fit them. The two animals which he saw were brought to Boston in order to be sent to England to Queen Anne. The height of the animal up to the back was that of a pretty tall horse, but the head and its horns were still higher. On my travels in Canada, I often inquired of the Frenchmen whether there had ever been seen so large an animal in this country as some people say there is in North America, and with such great horns as are sometimes dug out in Ireland. But I was always told that they had never heard of it, much less seen it; some added that if there was such an animal, they certainly must have met with it in some of their excursions in the woods."—Kalm, in Pink., vol. xiii., p. 472. In shape the elk or moose deer is much less elegant than the rest of the deer kind, having a very short and thick neck; a large head; horns dilating immediately from the base into a broad, palmated form; a thick, broad upper lip, hanging very much over the lower; very high shoulders, and long legs. The hair is a dark grayish-brown color, strong, coarse, and elastic, much longer on the top of the shoulders and ridge of the neck than on other parts, forming together a kind of stiffish mane; the eye and ears are large, the hoofs broad, and the tail extremely short. The elk resides principally in the midst of forests, for the convenience of browsing the boughs of trees, because it is prevented from grazing with facility on account of the shortness of the neck and the disproportionate length of the legs. Their gait is remarkable; their general pace is described to be a high, shambling, but very swift trot, the feet being lifted up very high, and the hoofs clattering much during their motion; in their common walk they lift their feet very high, and will without difficulty step over a gate five feet high. The flesh of the moose is extremely sweet and nourishing; the Indians say that they can travel three times further after a meal of moose than after any other animal food. The tongues are excellent; but the nose is said to be perfect marrow, and is considered the greatest delicacy in Canada. The skin makes excellent buff, being strong, soft, and light. The Indians dress the hide, and, after soaking it for some time, stretch and render it supple by a lather of the brains in hot water. They not only make their snow-shoes of the skin, but after the chase cover the hull of their canoes with it, in which they return home with the spoils of their chase. The hair on the neck, withers, and hams of a full-grown elk is of considerable use in making mattresses and saddles; and the palmated parts of the horns are further excavated by the Indians, and converted into ladles and other culinary articles. An ancient superstition has prevailed that the elk is naturally subject to epilepsy, and that it finds its cure by scratching its ear with the hoof until it draws blood; in consequence of this notion, the hoofs of the elk form an article of the ancient Materia Medica. A piece of the hoof was anciently set in a ring, and worn as a preservative against the complaint above mentioned; sometimes the hoof was held in the patient's hand, or applied to the pulse, to the left ear, or suspended from the neck.—Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Cervus Alces; Lambert's Canada, vol. i., p. 414.

Charlevoix speaks of the species having been almost entirely destroyed even in his time (1721) by the indiscriminate carnage of the early settlers.—Vol. v., p. 184. "Les Orignaux étoient partout à foison, lorsque nous découvrimes a pays, et ils pouvoient faire un objet pour le commerce, une douceur pour la vie, si on les avoit mieux ménages."—Vol. v., p. 193.

La Hontan minutely describes the chase of the elk or moose deer, in which laborious amusement he spent three months. Fifty-six elks were killed by the party of savages who accompanied him. He says that the flesh of the Orignal eats deliciously. He was assured by the savages that in summer it would trot for three days and three nights without intermission; it neither runs nor skips, he says, but its trot will almost keep up with the running of a hart.—La Hontan, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 284.

No. XXXIV.

Ursus Americanus, a species distinct from the black bear of Europe: it has a long, pointed nose, and narrow forehead, the hair of a glossy black color, smoother and shorter than that of the European kind, and is generally smaller than the European bear. The brown bear, Ursus Arctos, is also found in some of the northern parts of America. La Hontan observed the difference of disposition between the brown and the black bear; the latter, he says, "are extremely black, but not mischievous, for they never attack one unless they be wounded or fired upon." The reddish (rougeâtres) bears are mischievous creatures, for they fall fiercely upon the huntsmen, whereas the black fly from them. The former sort are less, and more nimble than the latter. The flesh of the black bear, and, above all, their feet, are very nice victuals. The savages affirm that no flesh is so delicious as that of bears, and I think they are right.[226]—La Hontan, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 288. Charlevoix, vol. v., p. 172.

The Ursus Maritimus, or Polar Bear, is confined to the coldest parts of the globe, being unknown except on the coasts of Hudson's Bay, Greenland, and Spitzbergen. (Lambert says that they have been seen at Newfoundland, and La Hontan saw one at a distance at Placentia.) This animal grows to so great a size that the skin of some are thirteen feet long. They are so fond of human flesh that they will greedily disinter dead bodies; they will attack companies of armed men, and will even board small vessels. The skins of the Polar Bear were formerly offered by the hunters of the Arctic regions to the high altars of cathedral and other churches, for the priest to stand on during the celebration of mass in winter.—Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Ursus.

Captain Clarke agrees with La Hontan in ascribing fierceness of disposition to the brown bear, and also speaks of it as "reddish," or of a bay brown. "We had rather," says Captain Clarke, "encounter two Indians than meet a single brown bear; their very track in the mud or sand, which we have sometimes found 11 inches long and 7¼ wide, exclusive of the talons, is alarming. The wonderful power of life which they possess renders them dreadful: there is no chance of killing them by a single shot, unless the ball goes through the brain." ... Six of Captain Clarke's party, all good hunters, having sight of a large one of the brown breed, came unperceived within forty paces of him; four of them then fired, and each lodged a ball in his body, two of which went directly through the lungs. The brave beast made at them instantly; as he came near, the two men who had reserved their shot both wounded him; one of the balls broke his shoulder, and retarded his motion for a moment; before they could reload, he was so near that they all ran to the river; two jumped into the canoe, the other four separated, hid themselves among the willows, and, firing as fast as they could reload, struck him repeatedly, but every shot seemed as if it only served to guide him, and he pursued two of them so closely that at last they threw aside their guns and pouches, and jumped down a perpendicular bank of twenty feet into the water. Even this did not secure them; Bruin sprang after them, and was within a few feet of the hindermost, when one of the hunters from the shore shot him in the head. It was found that eight balls had passed through him. Another brown bear, after being shot five times through the lungs, and receiving four other wounds, swam half across the river to a sand-bar. This creature measured 8 feet 7½ inches from the nose to the extremity of the hind feet, and his heart was as big as that of a large ox, his maw ten times larger. Another, having been shot through the middle of the lungs, pursued his enemy for half a mile, than traveled more than a mile in another direction, and dug, as if for his grave, a hole for himself in the earth two feet deep and five feet long, in which he was found by the hunters. The skin of this beast was a burden for two men.—Captain Lewis and Clarke's Travels to the Source of the Missouri River.

No. XXXV.

"None of the foxes of North America possess the long-enduring speed of the European kind, their strength appearing to be exhausted at the first burst, after which they are easily overtaken by a mounted horseman. The American cross fox (Canis decussatus) is probably nothing more than a variety of the red fox of that country (Canis fulvus), though usually of smaller size. Its fur is highly esteemed; a single skin, not many years ago, being worth from four to five guineas, while that of the red fox did not bring more than 15s. The black, or silver fox (Canis argentatus) is a much rarer and still more valuable variety, of which seldom more than four or five individuals are ever taken at any single post throughout the year. It varies from a mixed or hoary hue to a shining black, and La Hontan observes that, in his time, the skin of one was worth its weight in gold. We know that it still brings six times the price of any fur obtained in America."—H. Murray, vol. iii., p. 236.

No. XXXVI.

Charlevoix says that hares and rabbits are the same in America as in Europe, except that their hinder feet are longer than their fore feet. The rabbit, however, has never been found wild in any part of America. La Hontan says that the Ossæ are little animals like hares, and resemble them in every thing excepting the ears and fore feet.

No. XXXVII.

Sciurus, a name formed of two Greek words, signifying shade and tail, because the tail serves this animal for an umbrella. The Sciurus Niger, Black Squirrel; the S. Vulpinus, Cat Squirrel; the S. Hudsonius, Hudson's Bay Squirrel, and S. Striatus, Striped Squirrel, are all natives of Canada, besides two species of flying squirrels. The S. Cinereus, Gray Squirrel, is confined entirely to North America. It is about half the size of a full-grown rabbit; the animal is of an elegant pale gray, with the inside of the limbs and the under part of the body white; the ears and tail are sometimes tinged with black. It is frequently so numerous as to do incredible mischief to plantations of corn; hence it is a proscribed animal, and 3d. per head given for every one killed; at which rate, in the year 1749, £8000 were paid in rewards.

The black squirrel, Weld says, is also peculiar to North America. It is entirely of a shining black, except that the muzzle and the tail are sometimes white; specimens have sometimes been seen with a white ring round the neck. "In this year" (1796), Weld says, "the black squirrels migrated from the south, from the territory of the United States. As if conscious of their inability to cross a very wide piece of water, they bent their course toward Niagara River, above the falls, and at its narrowest and most tranquil part, crossed over into the British territory. It was calculated that upward of 50,000 of them crossed the river in the course of two or three days, and such great depredations did they commit on arriving at the opposite side, that in one part of the country the farmers deemed themselves very fortunate where they got in as much as one third of their crops of corn. Some writers have asserted that these animals can not swim, but that when they come to a river, in migrating, each one provides itself with a piece of wood or bark, upon which, when a favorable wind offers, they embark, spread their bushy tails to catch the wind, and are thus wafted over to the opposite side. Whether these animals do or do not sometimes cross in this manner, I can not take upon me to say; but I can safely affirm that they do not always cross so, for I have often shot them in the water while swimming. Their tail is useful to them by way of rudder, and they use it with great dexterity; owing to its being so light and bushy, the greater part of it floats upon the water, and thus helps to support the animal."—P. 330.

The S. Striatus, Striped Squirrel, is a native of the colder parts of America and Asia, but has sometimes been found in Europe also. Its body is yellowish, with five longitudinal stripes of a blackish color. It differs from the major part of the squirrel tribe in its mode of life, which rather resembles that of the dormouse. It resembles some of the mouse tribe in this, that it is provided with cheek pouches for the temporary reception of food, a peculiarity not to be found in any other species of squirrel. It is not known whether this is the same species as that described by La Hontan as "Suisse squirrels, little animals resembling rats." The epithet Suisse is bestowed upon them in regard that the hair which covers their body is streaked with black and white, and resembles a Suisse's doublet; and these streaks make a ring on each thigh that strongly resembles a Suisse's cap. He also describes "the flying squirrels, as big as a large rat, and of a grayish white color. They are as drowsy as those of the other species are watchful. They are called flying squirrels, in regard that they fly from one tree to another, by the means of a certain skin which stretches itself out in the form of a wing when they make these little flights." The S. Volucellæ and the S. Hudsonius are the only species of the flying squirrel found in America. The former is an animal of great beauty, and is readily tamed, showing a considerable degree of attachment to its possessor. It is naturally of a gregarious disposition, and may be seen flying, to the number of ten or twelve together, from tree to tree.—Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Sciurus. La Hontan, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 352. Kalm, in Pink., vol. xiii., p. 480.

No. XXXVIII.

"The most interesting feature of the animal creation in the Western Continent is, perhaps, the beaver (Castor fiber). These amphibia, indeed, occur in the northern parts of Europe and Siberia, but on comparatively so small a scale, both in number and size, that the beaver may be viewed with propriety as specially American. There appears to be absolutely no animal which makes so close an approach to human art and intelligence. The beaver builds his habitation either in a pond or in the channel of a river, converted into a pond by strong piles being laid across. This operation involves the greatest display of ingenuity. A tall tree is selected, and filed round with the teeth till it is undermined and falls across the stream. It is then fastened down by smaller trees and branches, brought often from a distance, and connected with earth. In the little lake thus formed, the beaver rears his abode to the height of two, three, or four stories, half above and half under the water, and with an opening into both elements. Stones and earth, as well as wood, are used in forming the walls, which, by the joint operation of the feet and the tail, are brought into a mass so solid as to be proof against the action of current, wind, and weather. The outside is plastered in the neatest manner, the floor kept excessively clean, strewed with box and fir. A large provision of food, consisting of bark and leaves, is stored up for the winter. The beavers possess a social and almost a moral existence. Each mansion contains from six to thirty inhabitants, who live together in the greatest harmony, and afford mutual aid and co-operation. From twelve to fourteen houses united form a village, containing thus a population of 200 or 300.

"The flesh of these animals is much prized by the Indians and Canadian voyageurs, especially when roasted in the skin after the hair has been singed off. The enjoyment of this expensive luxury is of course restrained as much as possible by the fur traders. The Iroquois are the greatest beaver-catchers in Canada. Great injury has resulted from the indiscriminate capture of old and young, and the too frequent trenching of the same dams. It is known that in the year 1743 the amount of their skins brought into the ports of London and Rochelle exceeded 150,000, besides a considerable quantity introduced illicitly into Great Britain; while in 1837, the importation into London, from more than four times the extent of fur country formerly possessed, did not much exceed 800,000.

"There are two modes of taking the beaver—one by traps, which is the easiest, and generally followed by single adventurers; the other is what is termed trenching, or the ice chisel. On a beaver house being discovered, all the canals leading from it are stopped up; then, with the instrument above named, it is broken into, and the old animals speared. The young are left untouched, and thus the breed remains uninjured, while in trapping both old and young equally fall victims. The company, therefore, have prohibited the latter operation in all their settlements. The skins are divided into parchment, or those of the old animals; and cub, or those of the young ones. The latter are the finest, but, from their smaller size, not of equal value with the others. They have, of course, become much rarer since their capture was prohibited."—Murray's America, vol. ii., p. 306.

Kalm says that he ate beaver flesh, and thought it any thing but delicious, as he had been told it was. He says that it must be boiled in several waters from morning till noon to make it lose the bad taste it has. Charlevoix says the same. The flesh is reckoned best when the beaver has lived only on vegetables; when he has eaten fish it does not taste well. It was a popular food among the French Roman Catholics, as the only meat they could indulge in on fast days, his holiness, in his system (Kalm says), having ranked the beaver among the fish. This arrangement is attributed by Charlevoix to two numerous and learned bodies in France. "Le Castor a été juridiquement declaré poisson par la Faculté de Médicine de Paris, et en consequence de cette déclaration la Faculté de Theologie a decide qu'on pouvoit manger sa chair les jours maigres. Par sa queuë il est tout a fait poisson." La queuë—the tail, so remarkable in natural history, is thus described by Charlevoix, one of the earliest observers of the habits of the beaver in North America: "Elle est presque ovale, épaisse d'un pouce, et longue d'un pied. Elle est couverte d'une peau écailleuse dont les écailles sont hexagones, ont une demi ligne d'épaisseur, sur trois ou quatre lignes de longueur, et sont appuyées les unes sur les autres comme toutes celles des poissons. Une pellicule très délicate leur sert de fond, et elles y sont enchâssées de manière, qu'on peut aisément les en séparer après la mort de l'animal.... Tous les vuides de leurs batimens sont remplis d'une terre grasse si bien appliquée qu'il n'y passe pas une goûte d'eau. C'est avec leurs pattes que les Castors preparent cette terre, et leur queuë ne leur sert pas seulement de truelle pour maçonner, mais encore d'auge pour voiturer ce mortier, ce qu'ils font en se traînant sur leurs pattes de derrière. Arrivés au bord de l'eau, ils le prennent avec les dents, et pour l'employer, ils se servent d'abord de leurs pattes, ensuite de leur queuë." Charlevoix applies the happy term of "une petite Venise" to the habitations of a society of beavers. He says, that in their erection "les proportions sont toujours exactement gardées. La régle et le compas sont dans l'œil du grand maître des arts et des sciences. On a observé que le côté du courant de l'eau est toujours en tatus, et l'autre côté parfaitement à plomb. En un mot il seroit difficile à nos meilleurs ouvriers de rien faire de plus solide et de plus regulier." Both La Hontan and Charlevoix speak of the "Castor terriers." "They are called by the savages 'the idle or lazy kind,' as being expelled by the other beavers from the kennels in which these animals are lodged, because they are unwilling to work. They make holes in the earth, like rabbits or foxes, and resemble the other sort in their figure, except that the hair is rubbed off many parts of their body by their rubbing against the earth whenever they stir out from their holes."—La Hontan, p. 307. Charlevoix adds, "Ils sont maigres, c'est la fruit de leur paresse. Les Castors, ou Biévres d'Europe, tiennent plus de ceux-ci que des autres; en effet M. Lemery dit qu'ils se retirent dans les creux et dans les cavernes qui se rencontrent sur les bords des rivières surtout en Pologne. Il y en a aussi en Allemagne le long de l'Ehre, et en France, sur le Rhone, l'Isère, et l'Oise. Ce qui est certain c'est que nous ne voyons point dans les Castors Européens le merveilleux qui distingue si fort ceux du Canada.... Avant la découverte de l'Amérique on trouve dans les anciens titres des Chapeliers de Paris des réglemens pour la fabrique des chapeaux Biévres, or Biévre et Castor c'est absolument le même animal, mais soit que le Biévre Européen soit devenu extrêmement rare, on que son poil n'eût pas la même bonté que celui du Castor Américain, on ne parle plus guéres que de ce dernier.... Leur poil est de deux sortes par tout le corps, excepté aux pattes, où il n'y en a qu'un fort couet. Le plus grand est long de huit à dix lignes, il est rude, gros, luisant, et c'est celui qui donne la couleur à la bête. On n'en fait aucun usage. L'autre poil est un duvet tres fin, fort épais, long tout au plus d'un pouce, et c'est celui qu'on met en œuvre; on l'appelloit autrefois en Europe, Laine de Moscovie."—Charlevoix, vol. v., p. 147.

"In 1669 an attempt was made to employ the flix or down of the beaver in the manufacture of cloths, flannels, stockings. Much more wool, however, than flix was required, the hair of the beaver being so short, and this prevented the manufacture being very profitable. It flourished for a while, however, in an establishment in the Faubourg St. Antoine, near Paris, but finally was given up on finding by experience that the stuffs lost their dye when wet, and that, when dry again, they were harsh and stiff as felts."—Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Beaver.

"In Captain Lewis and Clarke's Travels to the Source of the Missouri," it is mentioned that "the beavers who have not been invaded here by the furrier are continually altering the course of the river. They dam up the small channels of about twenty yards between the islands; when they have effected this, their pond ere long becomes filled with mud and sand; they then remove to another; this is in like manner filled up; and thus the river, having its course obstructed, spreads on all sides, and cuts the projecting points of lands into islands."—Quarterly Review, vol. xii., p. 346.

Weld mentions, in 1796, that "the indiscriminate slaughter of beavers had so much diminished their numbers that an annual deficiency of 15,000 beaver skins had for some years been observed in the number brought to Montreal."—P. 551.

"One day a gentleman, long resident in this country, espied five young beavers sporting in the water, leaping upon the trunk of a tree, pushing one another off, and playing a thousand interesting tricks. He approached softly, under cover of the bushes, and prepared to fire on the unsuspecting creatures; but a nearer approach discovered to him such a similitude between their gestures and the infantile caresses of his own children that he threw aside his gun."—Franklin's Journey to the Polar Sea, p. 91.

"The proprietor of one of the large quarries of gypsum on the Shubenacadie showed me some wooden stakes, dug up a few days before by one of his laborers from a considerable depth in a peat bog. His men were persuaded that they were artificially cut by a tool, and were the relics of aboriginal Indians; but, having been a trapper of beavers in his younger days, he knew well that they owed their shape to the teeth of these creatures. We meet with the skulls and bones of beavers in the fens of Cambridgeshire, and elsewhere in England. May not some of the old tales of artificially cut wood, occurring at great depths in peats and morasses, which have puzzled many a learned antiquary, admit of the like explanation?"—Lyell's Travels in America, vol. ii., p. 229.

No. XXXIX.

"The Hudson's Bay Company is now the only survivor of the numerous exclusive bodies, to which almost every branch of British trade was at one time subjected. The Northwest Company, after a long and furious contest, destructive alike to the interests of both, and most demoralizing to the savage aborigines, were at length obliged to yield to their rivals; and, in consequence of their overstrained exertions, they became involved beyond their capital. They obtained in 1821 an honorable capitulation. On transferring all their property and means of influence, the principal partners were admitted to shares in the Hudson's Bay Company, who took the inferior officers into their service. Thus these two concerns were united, with great advantage to the peace of the fur countries, and perhaps to the permanent interests of the trade. A great blank was indeed felt in the city where the partners had resided, and where, according to Washington Irving, they had held huge feasts and revels, such as are described to have taken place in Highland castles. 'The hospitable magnates of Montreal, the lords of the lakes and forests, have passed away,' and that city, as to the fur trade, has sunk to a subordinate station.

"In the present case, there are some peculiar circumstances which plead strongly in favor of the monopoly exercised by the Hudson's Bay Company. For example, their trade is carried on throughout vast regions, free from all control of law, and tenanted by savage races, who are easily prompted to deeds of violence. The struggle with the Northwest Company filled large tracts with outrage, often amounting to bloodshed. The article, too, by far the most prized by those tribes, and which, amid an eager rivalry, can not be prevented from coming into the market, is spirits, the immoderate use of which is productive of the most dreadful consequences. The company, by their present position, obtained the opportunity, of which they have most laudably availed themselves, to withdraw it altogether as an object of trade, merely giving an occasional glass when the natives visit the factories. They have even prohibited it from passing, under any pretext, to the northward of Cumberland House, on the Saskatchawan, so that all the settlements beyond form complete temperance societies. Another very important specialty in their case consists in the nature of the commodities drawn from this range of territory, namely, they are such as human industry can not produce or multiply according to the demand. The wild animals, which afford its staple of furs and skins, exist only in a limited number, and being destined to give way in proportion as colonization advances, will soon be thinned, or even utterly exterminated. Bands of individual hunters, with no permanent interest in the country, capture all they can reach, young and old indiscriminately, without any regard to keeping up the breed. Thus the beaver, the most valuable of the furred animals, has been nearly destroyed in Upper and Lower Canada, and much diminished in the districts beyond the Rocky Mountains, which are traversed by trapping parties from the States. During the competition of the Northwest adventurers, a great part even of the wooded countries suffered severely; but since the Hudson's Bay Company obtained the entire control, they have carefully nursed the various animals, removing their stations from the districts where they had become scarce, and prohibiting all wasteful and destructive modes of capture. It may be finally observed, that in this vast open territory the means of excluding rivalry are so imperfect, that without good management and liberal dealing it would be impossible to maintain their privilege. In fact, Mr. Irving admits, that by the legitimate application of large capital, by good organization, regular transmission of supplies, with faithful and experienced servants, they have carried all before them, even in the western territory, where they are exposed to a full competition from the United States. Several associations from thence have made very active efforts to supplant or rival them, but without success."—Washington Irving's Adventures of Captain Bonneville, vol. ii., p. 17, 19; vol. iii., p. 267, 272; H. Murray's British America, vol. iii., p. 83.

No. XL.

"This species of rattlesnake is most commonly found between four and five feet in length, and as thick as the wrist of a large man. Its body approaches to a triangular form, the back bone rising higher than any other part of the animal. It is not with the teeth which the rattlesnake uses for ordinary purposes that it strikes its enemy, but with two long, crooked fangs in the upper jaw, which point down the throat. When about to use these fangs, it rears itself up as much as possible, throws back its head, drops its under jaw, and, springing forward upon its tail, endeavors to hook itself, as it were, upon its enemy. In order to raise itself upon its tail, it coils itself up previously in a spiral line, with the head in the middle. It can not spring further forward than about half its own length. Tho body of the rattlesnake, finely pulverized, after being dried to a cinder over the fire, and then infused in a certain portion of brandy, is said to be a never-failing remedy against the rheumatism. The liquor is taken inwardly, in the quantity of a wine-glassful at once about three times a day. It is said that one of the reasons why these creatures are decreasing so much in the neighborhood of human habitations, is, that they are eaten by the pigs."—Sir G. Simpson's Journey round the World, vol. i., p. 159; Weld, p. 411.

"The rattle is usually about half an inch in breadth, one quarter of an inch in thickness, and each joint about half an inch long. The joint consists of a number of little cases of a dry, horny substance, inclosed one within another; and not only the outermost of these little cases articulates with the outermost case of the contiguous joint, but each case, even to the smallest one of all, at the inside, is connected by a sort of joint with the corresponding case in the next joint of the rattle. The little cases or shells lie very loosely within one another, and the noise proceeds from their dry and hard coats striking one against the other. It is said that the animal joins a fresh joint to its rattle every year. Of this, however, I have great doubts; for the largest snakes are frequently found to have the fewest joints to their rattles. A medical gentleman in the neighborhood of Newmarket had a rattle in his possession which contained no less than thirty-two joints; yet the snake from which it was taken scarcely measured five feet. Rattlesnakes, however, of the same kind, and in the same part of the country, have been found of a greater length with not more than ten rattles."—Weld, p. 409.

"Man or animals bitten by the rattlesnake expire in extreme agony; the tongue swells to an enormous size, the blood turns black, and, all the extremities becoming cold, gangrene ensues, and is speedily succeeded by death. The remedies in common use are the Polygala seneca or Aristolochia serpentaria, employed as a decoction. Sometimes scarification, or cauterizing the wound with a burning iron, if immediate in their application, is attended with success. The Indians' favorite remedy is sucking the wound, which in a slight bite is generally successful. Mr. Catesby, by traveling much among the Indians, had frequent opportunities of seeing the direful effects of the bite inflicted by these snakes. He seems to consider that the success of any remedy is owing more to the force of nature or to the slightness of the bite than to any other cause. He has known persons bitten to survive without assistance for many hours; but where a rattlesnake with full force penetrates with his deadly fangs into a vein or artery, inevitable death ensues, and that, as he has often seen, in less than two minutes. The Indians, for this reason, know their destiny directly they are bit, and when they perceive it is mortal, apply no remedy, concluding all efforts in vain. From experiments made in Carolina by Captain Hall, and related in the Philosophical Transactions, it appears that a rattlesnake of about four feet long, being fastened to a stake in the ground, bit three dogs, the first of which died in less than a quarter of a minute; the second, which was bitten a short time afterward, in about two hours, in convulsions; and the third, which was bitten about half an hour afterward, showed the visible effects of the poison in about three hours, and died likewise. Four days after this, another dog was bitten, which died in half a minute; and then another, which died in four minutes. A cat which was bitten was found dead the next day. The experiments having been discontinued some time, from want of subjects, a common black-snake was procured, which was healthy and vigorous, and about three feet long. It was brought to the rattlesnake, when they bit each other, the black-snake biting the rattlesnake so as to make it bleed. They were then separated, and in less than eight minutes the black-snake died, while the rattlesnake, on the contrary, showed no signs of indisposition, appearing as well as before. Lastly, in order to try whether the rattlesnake could poison itself, it was provoked to bite itself: the experiment succeeded, and the animal expired in less than twelve hours."—Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Crotalus.

Charlevoix says that "La morsure du Serpent à Sonnettes est mortelle, si on n'y rémédie sur-le-champ; mais la Providence y a pourvu. Dans tous les endroits, où se rencontre ce dangereux reptile, il croît une plante à laquelle on a donné le nom d'Herbe à Serpent à Sonnettes (Bidens Canadensis) et dont la racine est un antidote sûr contre le venin de cet animal.... Il est rare que le serpent à sonnettes attaque les passans qui ne lui cherchent point nuire. J'eu ai en un à mes pieds qui eut assurément plus de peur que moi, car je ne l'aperçus que quand il fuyoit."—Charlevoix, vol. v., p. 235.

"Archdeacon Burnaby was told by a planter in Virginia that he had one day provoked a rattlesnake to such a degree as to make it strike a small vine which grew close by, and the vine presently drooped and died."—Burnaby's Travels in North America, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 724.

"The rattlesnake has two fangs, which are concealed in a sheath, one at each side of the upper jaw. They are curved in their shape, and their point is as sharp as that of a common needle. They are hollow in the center, and the roots of the fangs are connected with the poison bags. These reptiles generally use only one fang at a time, and when they do use it, they seize with their mouth the part which they intend to poison, then perforate it deeply with the fang. At this moment the bag contracts, and the deleterious fluid, which has such an enmity to the blood, is injected into the very bottom of the wound, through a small aperture in the under part of the fang, at a short distance from the sharp point. Having effected his purpose, he withdraws the instrument, and leaves his victim to his fate. He does not seem to feel pain at the moment, and generally for the first five minutes he appears to be perfectly well. At the end of this period, however, the ears begin to droop; he seems giddy and uneasy; the lower extremities soon lose their power; he falls on the ground; the pupils dilate; slight convulsions come on; and the animal dies, generally, in about fifteen minutes from the time that the poison had been injected into the wound. When we examine the part immediately after death, we find that the poison has completely destroyed the red color of the blood; and not only of this, but for two inches all round the puncture, the muscular fibers, and even the cellular substance, are as black as if they had been for hours in a state of complete mortification. When the muriate of soda (common salt) is immediately applied to the wound, it is a complete antidote. When an Indian is bitten by a snake, he applies a ligature above the part, and scarifies the wound to the very bottom; he then stuffs it with common salt, and after this it soon heals, without producing any effect on the general system. (The ligature may be the efficacious remedy, intercepting the current of blood to the heart, and consequently preventing the action of the poison upon that vital organ.) A rabbit, under the influence of the rattlesnake poison, has been seen to drink a saturated solution of muriate of soda and soon recover, while healthy rabbits would not taste a drop of the same saline water."—Stevens's Observations on the Properties of the Blood, p. 137, 315.

"I was with the Hon. Esquire Boyle when he made certain experiments of curing the bite of vipers with certain East India snake-stones, that were sent him by King James II., purposely to have him try their virtue and efficacy. For that end he got some brisk vipers, and made them bite certain pullets; he applied nothing to one of the pullets, and it died within three minutes and a half; but I think they all recovered to whom he applied the snake-stones, though they turned wonderful pale, their combs drooped immediately, and the next morning all their flesh was turned green to a wonder; nevertheless, they recovered by degrees."—Miscellanea Curiosa, vol. iii., p. 345.

No. XLI.

"It is an unquestionable fact, that the copper-colored man can not endure the spread of European civilization in his neighborhood, but perishes in its atmosphere, without suffering from ardent spirits, epidemics, or war, as if touched by a poisonous breath." Thus writes Mr. Poeppig, a German naturalist, who has resided for some years in South America; and he proceeds to compare the substitution of the one race for the other, with the destruction of the first growth of low vegetation in the recently-formed islands of the Pacific by the vigorous crop of forest trees which succeeds it.—Encyclopædia of Erz and Gruber, art. Indici.

Thus also writes the philosophical traveler, Mr. Darwin: "Besides several evident causes of destruction, there appears to be some more mysterious agency at work. Wherever the European has trod, death seems to pursue the aboriginal. We may look to the wide extent of the Americas, Polynesia, the Cape of Good Hope, and Australia, and we shall find the same result. Nor is it the white man alone that thus acts the destroyer. The Polynesian of Malay extraction has, in parts of the East Indian Archipelago, thus driven before him the dark-colored native. The varieties of man seem to act upon each other in the same way as different species of animals, the stronger always extirpating the weaker. It was melancholy at New Zealand to hear the fine, energetic natives saying, 'They knew the land was doomed to pass from their children.'"

Sir Richard Bourke writes thus to Lord Glenelg respecting New Zealand (1837): "Disease and death prevail even among those natives who, by their adherence to the missionaries, have received only benefit from the English connection, and even the very children, who are reared under the care of the missionaries, are swept off in a ratio which promises, at no very distant period, to leave the country destitute of a single aboriginal inhabitant. The natives are perfectly sensible of this decrease, and when they contrast their own condition with that of the English families, they conceive that the God of the English is removing the aboriginal inhabitants to make room for them; and it appears to me that this impression has produced among them a very general unhappiness and indifference to life."

Sir Francis Head justified the sweeping measures of removal[227] contemplated during his administration of Canada, by asserting his belief in the same mysterious certainty of the aboriginals' extirpation. "We may as well endeavor to make the setting sun stand still on the summit of the Rocky Mountains, as attempt to arrest the final extermination of the Indian race."—See Merivale's Lectures on Colonization, No. 19 (delivered before the University of Oxford in 1839, 1840, and 1841), in which he objects to the truth of the facts on which the above statements are founded, in so far as they are supposed to involve any mysterious influence of the white over the copper-colored races. "Perhaps I may venture to attribute some of the coloring (of the foregoing statements) to that taste for fanciful analogies, and speculations partaking of the mysterious, in which natural philosophers are apt to indulge when they apply their knowledge to subjects not immediately within their province. When we find one race of animals, or one class of vegetation, extirpating another, there is nothing inexplicable in the succession of cause and effect. The stronger destroys the weaker by natural agencies: animals become the prey of newly-imported indigenous ones, or their food is destroyed by the multiplication of the latter: the seeds of one class of vegetables can not spring where a stronger growth has established itself, and so forth. What is there in these or similar processes analogous to the supposed mysterious influence of the mere contact of one family of the human race upon another? If it be true that the mere presence of a white population is sufficient to cause the Red Indians or the Polynesians to dwindle and decay, without any assignable agency of the one or the other, it must be confessed that this is an anomaly in the laws of Providence utterly unexplained by all our previous knowledge, wholly at variance with all the other laws by which animal life and human society are governed."—Vol. ii., p. 206.

No. XLII.

"The small-pox proves almost always fatal to the Red Indian, his hardened skin preventing the appearance of the eruption. In Abyssinia, where this dreadful disease is supposed to have originated, when any person is seized with it, the neighbors surround the house and set it on fire, consuming it with its miserable inhabitants. The American Indians regard the contagion with almost as much horror. The Mahas had been a powerful and warlike tribe till now, when they saw their strength wasted by a malady which they could neither resist nor prevent; they became frantic; they set fire to their village, and many of them killed their wives and children, to spare them the sufferings of disease, and that they might all go together to the land of souls."—Lewis and Clarke's Travels to the Source of the Missouri.

Lambert says, "Many nations have been totally exterminated by the small-pox. When I was in Canada in the spring of 1808, a village of Mississagas, residing near Kingston, was nearly depopulated by the small-pox; not more than twenty escaped of five hundred."

"Repeated efforts have been made, and so far, generally, as the tribes have ever had the disease (or, at all events, within the recollection of those who are now living in the tribes), the government agents (of the United States) have succeeded in introducing vaccination as a protection; but among the tribes in their wild state, who have not yet suffered from the disease, very little success has been met with in the attempt to protect them, on account of their superstitions, which have generally resisted all attempts to introduce vaccination. While I was on the Upper Missouri, several surgeons were sent into the country with the Indian agents, where I several times saw the attempt made without success. They have perfect confidence in the skill of their own physicians, until the disease has made one slaughter in their tribe, and then, having seen white men among them protected by it, they are disposed to receive it, before which they can not believe that so minute a puncture in the arm is going to protect them from so fatal a disease; and as they see white men so earnestly urging it, they decide that it must be some new trick of the pale faces, by which they are to gain some new advantage over them, and they stubbornly and successfully resist it."—Catlin, vol. ii., p. 258.

From the accounts brought to New York in the fall of 1838 by Messrs. M'Kenzie, Mitchell, and others, from the Upper Missouri, and with whom I conversed on the subject, it seems that in the summer of that year the small-pox was accidentally introduced among the Mandans by the fur traders, and that in the course of two months they all perished except some thirty or forty, who were taken as slaves by the Riccarees, an enemy living two hundred miles below them, and who worked up and took possession of their village soon after their calamity, taking up their residence in it, it being a better built village than their own; and from the lips of one of the traders who had more recently arrived from there, I had the following account of the remaining few, in whose destruction was the final termination of this interesting and once numerous tribe:

"'The Riccarees,' he said, 'had taken possession of the village after the disease had subsided, and, after living some months in it, were attacked by a large party of their enemies, the Sioux, and while fighting desperately in resistance, in which the Mandan prisoners had taken an active part, the latter had concerted a plan for their own destruction, which was effected by their simultaneously running through the pickets on to the prairie, calling out to the Sioux (both men and women) to kill them, "that they were Riccaree dogs, that their friends were all dead, and they did not wish to live;" that they here wielded their weapons as desperately as they could, to excite the fury of their enemy, and that they were thus cut to pieces and destroyed.'

"The accounts given by two or three white men, who were among the Mandans during the ravages of this frightful disease, are most appalling, and actually too heart-rending and disgusting to be recorded. The disease was introduced into the country by the Fur Company's steamer from St. Louis, which had two of their crew sick with the disease when it approached the Upper Missouri, and imprudently stopped to trade at the Mandan village, which was on the bank of the river, where the chiefs and others were allowed to come on board, by which means the disease got ashore.

"I am constrained to believe that the gentlemen in charge of the steamer did not believe it to be the small-pox; for if they had known it to be such, I can not conceive of such imprudence as regarded their own interests in the country, as well as the fate of these poor people, by allowing their boat to advance into the country under such circumstances.

"It seems that the Mandans were surrounded by several war parties of their more powerful enemies, the Sioux, at that unlucky time, and they could not, therefore, disperse upon the plains, by which many of them could have been saved; and they were necessarily inclosed within the pickets of the village, where the disease in a few days became so very malignant, that death ensued in a few hours after its attacks; and so slight were their hopes when they were attacked, that nearly half of them destroyed themselves with their knives, with their guns, and by dashing their brains out by leaping head foremost from a thirty-foot ledge of rocks in front of their village. The first symptom of the disease was a rapid swelling of the body, and so very virulent had it become, that very many died in two or three hours after their attack, and that in many cases without the appearance of the disease upon the skin. Utter dismay seemed to possess all classes and all ages, and they gave themselves up in despair as entirely lost. There was but one continual crying and howling, and praying to the Great Spirit for his protection, during the nights and days; and there being but few living, and those in too appalling despair, nobody thought of burying the dead, whose bodies, whole families together, were left in horrid and loathsome piles in their own wigwams, with a few buffalo robes, &c., thrown over them, there to decay, and be devoured by their own dogs. That such a proportion of their community as that above mentioned should have perished in so short a time, seems yet to the reader an unaccountable thing; but, in addition to the causes just mentioned, it must be borne in mind that this frightful disease is every where far more fatal among the native than in civilized population, which may be owing to some extraordinary susceptibility, or, I think, more probably, to the exposed lives they live, leading more directly to fatal consequences. In this, as in most of their diseases, they ignorantly and imprudently plunge into the coldest water while in the highest state of fever, and often die before they have the power to get out.

"Some have attributed the unexampled fatality of this disease among the Indians to the fact of their living entirely on animal food; but so important a subject for investigation I must leave for sounder judgments than mine to decide. They are a people whose constitutions and habits of life enable them most certainly to meet most of its ills with less dread, and with decidedly greater success, than they are met in civilized communities; and I would not dare to decide that their simple meat diet was the cause of their fatal exposure to one frightful disease, when I am decidedly of opinion that it has been the cause of their exemption and protection from another, almost equally destructive, and, like the former, of civilized introduction.

"During the season of the ravages of the Asiatic cholera, which swept over the greater part of the Western country and the Indian frontier, I was a traveler through those regions, and was able to witness its effects; and I learned from what I saw, as well as from what I have heard in other parts since that time, that it traveled to and over the frontiers, carrying dismay and death among the tribes on the borders in many cases, so far as they had adopted the civilized modes of life, with its dissipations, using vegetable food and salt; but wherever it came to the tribes living exclusively on meat, and that without the use of salt, its progress was suddenly stopped. I mention this as a subject which I looked upon as important to science, and therefore one on which I made careful inquiries; and, so far as I have learned, along that part of the frontier over which I have since passed, I have, to my satisfaction, ascertained that such became the utmost limits of this fatal disease in its travel to the west, unless where it might have followed some of the routes of the fur traders, who, of course, have introduced the modes of civilized life.

"From the trader who was present at the destruction of the Mandans I had many most wonderful incidents of this dreadful scene, but I dread to recite them. Among them, however, there is one that I must briefly describe, relative to the death of that noble gentleman, of whom I have already said so much, and to whom I became so much attached, Mah-to-to-pa, or 'the Four Bears.' This fine fellow sat in his wigwam and watched every one of his family die about him, his wives and his little children, after he had recovered from the disease himself, when he walked out round the village, and wept over the final destruction of his tribe; his braves and warriors, whose sinewy arms alone he could depend on for a continuance of their existence, all laid low; when he came back to his lodge, where he carried his whole family in a pile, with a number of robes, and wrapping another around himself, went out upon a hill at a little distance, where he laid several days, despite all the solicitations of the traders, resolved to starve himself to death. He remained there till the sixth day, when he had just strength enough to creep back to the village, when he entered the horrid gloom of his own wigwam, and, laying his body alongside of the group of his family, drew his robe over him, and died on the ninth day of his fatal abstinence.

"So have perished the friendly and hospitable Mandans, from the best accounts I could get; and although it may be possible that some few individuals may yet be remaining, I think it is not probable; and one thing is certain, even if such be the case, that, as a nation, the Mandans are extinct, having no longer an existence.

"There is yet a melancholy part of the tale to be told, relating to the ravages of this frightful disease in that country on the same occasion, as it spread to other contiguous tribes, to the Minatarrees, the Knisteneaux, the Blackfeet, the Chayennes, and Crows, among whom 25,000 perished in the course of four or five months, which most appalling facts I got from Major Pilcher, now Superintendent of Indian Affairs at St. Louis, from Mr. M'Kenzie, and others."—Catlin's American Indians, vol. ii., p. 257.

No. XLIII.

"In man the coloring matter seems to be deposited in the dermoidal system by the roots or the bulbs of the hair,[228] and all sound observations prove that the skin varies in color from the action of external stimuli on individuals, and is not hereditary in the whole race. The Eskimoes of Greenland, and the Laplanders, are tanned by the influence of the air, but their children are born white. We will not decide on the changes which Nature may produce in a space of time, exceeding all historical traditions. Reason stops short in these matters when no longer under the guidance of experience and analogy. The nations that have a white skin begin their cosmogony by white men; according to them, the negroes and all tawny people have been blackened or embrowned by the excessive heat of the sun. This theory, adopted by the Greeks, though not without contradiction (Onesicritus apud Strabon, lib. xv., p. 983), has been propagated even to our own times. Buffon has repeated, in prose, what Theodectes had expressed in verse two thousand years before, 'that the nations wear the livery of the climate they inhabit.' If history had been written by black nations, they would have maintained what even Europeans have recently advanced (Prichard's Researches into the Physical History of Man, 1813), p. 233, 239, that man was originally black, or of a very tawny color, and that he has whitened in some races from the effect of civilization and progressive debilitation, as animals in a state of domestication pass from dark to lighter colors. I shall here cite the authority of Ulloa. This learned man has seen the Indians of Chili, of the Andes, of Peru, of the burning coasts of Panama, and those of Louisiana, situated under the northern temperate zone. He had the good fortune to live at a time when theories were less numerous, and, like me, he was struck at seeing the native under the line as much bronzed as brown, in the cold climate of the Cordilleras as in the plains. Where differences of color are observed, they depend on the race."—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. iii., p. 298.

No. XLIV.

"The Indian and the negro races, both fated, as it seems, to yield the supremacy to the whites, present in every other particular a curious contrast to each other. The red man appears to have received from nature every quality which contributes to greatness, except—I have no other word for it—tamability; he has shown in many remarkable instances intellectual capacity, talents for government, eloquence, energy, and self-command.... There is something noble and striking—something that commands respect and admiration, in the Indian character, irreconcilable though it be with advanced civilization and the operation of Christian influences. The negro, on the contrary, has precisely what the Indian wants; he is a domestic animal.... The Indian avoids his conqueror; the negro bows at his feet. The Indian loves the independence and privations of his solitude better than all the flesh-pots of Egypt; the negro, if left to himself, is helpless and miserable: he must have society and sensual pleasures; if he be allowed to eat and drink well, to dance, to sing, and to make love, he seems to have no further or higher aspirations, and to care nothing for the degradation of his race. With the single exception of Toussaint, I know no instance of a negro distinguishing himself in politics, or arms, or letters; and though I make every allowance for the difficulties and obstacles to his doing so which his situation imposes on him, I can not allow that these account for the fact that, notwithstanding the excellent education which many negroes receive, and the stimulus afforded by constant intercourse with whites, not one of them has yet, either here or in the West Indies, with the above-named exception, taken the lead among his countrymen, or made a name for himself. And this natural superiority of the Indian is, perhaps unconsciously, recognized and illustrated in a singular manner by the white man, in the different feelings which he exhibits upon the subject of amalgamation with the two races. Some of the best families in the United States are proud to trace their origin to Indian chiefs (e.g., the Randolphs of Virginia boast that they came of the lineage of Powhatan); and I have myself met with half-breeds who were considered (and most justly) in every respect equal in estimation with full-blooded whites. It is needless to observe, that with respect to the negroes, the precise converse is the case. Cæteris paribus, we seem naturally to receive the red man as our equal."—Godley's Letters from America, vol. i., p. 153.

No. XLV.

"These islands were partly discovered by Behring in 1741, and the rest at several periods since his time. The most considerable of them amount to forty in number, and they may be justly considered as a branch of the Kamtskadale Mountains continued in the sea. The three small islands, known by the names of Attak, Shemya, and Semitshi, with a few others, were denominated by the Russians Aleutskie Ostrova, because a bold rock in the language of these parts is called 'Aleut.' In the sequel this name was extended to the whole chain, though a part of it is named the Andreanoffskoi, and the rest, lying further toward America, the Fox Islands. The survey of these islands, more anciently discovered by the Russians, and of the adjacent parts of the two continents, was made by Captain Cook in his third voyage, in 1778. If the Russians, then, can deservedly claim the priority of the discovery, no one can withhold from the adventurous and persevering Captain Cook the glory and the merit of having fixed the distance of the two continents and their respective extent, to the east for Asia, and to the west for North America."—Rees's Cyclopædia, art. Aleutian Islands.

No. XLVI.

"Almost every where in the New World we recognize a multiplicity of forms and tenses in the verb, an artificial industry to indicate before-hand, either by inflection of the personal pronouns, which form the terminations of the verb, or by an intercalated suffix, the nature and the relation of its object and its subject, and to distinguish whether the object be animate or inanimate, of the masculine or the feminine gender, simple, or in complex number. This multiplicity characterizes the rudest American languages. Astarloa reckons, in like manner, in the grammatical system of the Biscayan, 206 forms of the verb. Strange conformity in the structure of languages among races of men so different, and on spots so distant.

"Those languages, the principal tendency of which is inflection, excite less the curiosity of the vulgar than those which seem formed by aggregation. In the first, the elements of which words are composed, and which are generally reduced to a few letters, are no longer distinguished. These elements, when isolated, exhibit no meaning; the whole is assimilated and mixed together. The American languages, on the contrary, are like complicated machines, the wheels of which are exposed. The artifice is visible—I mean the industrious mechanism of their construction. We seem to be present at their formation, and we should state them to be of very recent origin, if we did not recollect that the human mind follows imperturbably an impulse once given; that nations enlarge, improve, and repair the grammatical edifice of their language according to a plan already determined; finally, that there are countries where the languages of all the institutions and the arts have remained stereotyped, as it were, during the lapse of ages. The highest degree of intellectual development has been hitherto found among nations which belong to the Indian and Pelasgic branch. The languages, formed principally by aggregation, seem themselves to oppose obstacles to the improvement of the mind. They are, in fact, unfurnished with that rapid movement, that interior life, to which the inflection of the root is favorable, and which gives so many charms to works of the imagination. Let us not, however, forget that a people celebrated in the remotest antiquity, from whom the Greeks themselves borrowed knowledge, had perhaps a language, the construction of which recalls involuntarily that of the language of America. What a scaffolding of little monosyllabic and dissyllabic forms is added to the verb and to the substantive in the Coptic language!"—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. iii., p. 273.

In his "Researches," Humboldt observes: "We find in the New Continent languages, some of which, as the Greenland, the Cora, the Tamanac, the Totonac, and the Quichua (Archiv. fuer Ethnographie, b. i., s. 345; Vaters, s. 206), display a richness of grammatical forms which we trace nowhere in the Old World, except at Congo, and among the Biscayans, who were the remains of the ancient Cantabrians. But, amid these marks of civilization (referring to the Aztec nation), and this progressive perfection of language, it is remarkable that no people of America had attained that analysis of sounds which leads to the most admirable, we might almost say the most miraculous of all inventions, an alphabet. We are led to think that the progressive perfection of symbolic signs, and the facility with which objects are painted, had prevented the introduction of letters ... not the case in Egypt."

Chateaubriand says that the Jesuits have left important works relative to the language of the Canadian savage. Father Chaumont, who had lived fifty years among the Hurons, composed a grammar of their language. To Father Rasles, who spent ten years in an Abenakis village, we are indebted for valuable documents. A French and Iroquois dictionary—a new treasure for philologists—is finished. There is also a manuscript dictionary—Iroquois and English—but, unluckily, the first volume is lost.

"Les trois langues, Huronne, Algonquine et Siou sont les langues mères du Canada. Ils ont tous les caractères des langues primitives, et il est certain qu'elles n'ont pas une origine commune. La seule prononciation suffisoit pour le pronom. Le Siou sifle en parlant, le Huron n'a point de lettre labiale, qu'il ne sçanroit prononcer, parle du gosier et aspire presque toutes les syllabes; l'Algonquin prononce avec plus de douceur, et parle plus naturellement. Je n'ai pu rien apprendre de particulier de la première de ces trois langues; mais nos anciens missionnaires ont beaucoup travaillé sur les deux autres, et sur les principales de leurs dialectes: voici ce que j'en ais oui dire aux plus habiles.

"La langue Huronne est d'une abondance, d'une énergie, et d'une noblesse, qu'on ne trouve peut-être réunies dans aucune des plus belles, que nous connoissons, et ceux, à qui elle est propre, quoiqu'ils ne soient plus qu'une poignée d'hommes, ont encore dans l'âme une élévation, qui s'accorde bien mieux avec la majesté de leur langage, qu'avec le triste état, où ils sont réduits. Quelques uns ont cru y trouver des rapports avec l'Hébreu; d'autres en plus grand nombre ont prétendu qu'elle avoit la même origine que celle des Grecs; mais rien n'est plus frivole que les preuves, qu'ils en apportent. La langue Algonquine n'a pas autant de force, que la Huronne, mais elle a plus de douceur et d'élégance. Toutes deux ont une richesse d'expressions, une variété de tones, une propriété de termes, une régularité, qui étonnent: mais ce qui surprend encore davantage, c'est que parmi des Barbares qu'on ne voit point s'étudier à bien parler, et qui n'ont jamais eu l'usage de l'écriture, il ne s'introduit point un mauvais mot, un terme impropre, une construction vicieuse, et que les enfans mêmes en conservent, jusque dans le discours familier, toute la pureté. D'ailleurs, la manière dont ils animent tout se qu'ils disent, ne laisse aucun lieu de douter qui ne comprennent toute la valeur de leur expressions, et toute la beauté de leur langue. Dans le Huron tout se conjugue; un certain artifice, que je ne vous expliquerois pas bien, y fait distinguer des verbes, les noms, les pronoms, les adverbes, &c. Les verbes simples ont une double conjugaison, l'une absoluë, l'autre réciproque. Les troisièmes personnes ont les deux genres, car il n'y en a que deux dans ces langues; à sçavoir, le genre noble, et le genre ignoble. Pour ce qui est des nombres et des tems, on y trouve les mêmes différences que dans le Grec. Par exemple, pour raconter un voyage, on s'exprime autrement si on la fait par terre, ou si on l'a fait par eau. Les verbes actifs se multiplient autant de fois, qu'il y a de choses, qui tombent sous leur action; comme le verbe, qui signifie Manger, varie autant de fois, qu'il y a de choses comestibles. L'action s'exprime autrement à l'égard d'une chose inanimée: ainsi voir un homme, et voir une pierre, ce sont deux verbes. Se servir d'une chose, qui appartient à celui qui s'en sert, ou à celui à qui on parle, ce sont autant de verbes différens.

"Il y a quelque chose de tout cela dans la langue Algonquine, mais la manière n'en est pas la même, et je ne suis nullement en état de vous en instruire. Cependant, madame, si du peu, que je viens de vous dire, il s'ensuit que la richesse et la variété de ces langues les rendent extrêmement difficiles à apprendre, la disette et la stérilité où elles sont tombées ne causent pas un moindre embarras. Car, comme les peuples, quand nous avons commencé à les fréquenter, ignoroient presque tout ce dont ils n'avoient pas l'usage, ou qui ne tomboit pas sous leurs sens, ils manquoient de termes pour les exprimer, ou les avoient laissé tomber dans l'oubli."—Charlevoix, tom. v., p. 288.

The variety of dialects proves the little communication held between the different tribes of savages, a necessary consequence of their living by the chase, and requiring extensive hunting-grounds.

"We need only," says Acosta (De Procur. Indorum Salut.), "cross a valley for hearing another jargon."

No. XLVII.

"The following are the results of the most recent researches on the lines of fortifications, and the tumuli found between the Rocky Mountains and the chain of the Alleganies. The fortifications chiefly occupy the space between the great lakes of Canada, the Mississippi and the Ohio, from the fourty-fourth to the thirty-ninth degree of latitude. Those which advance most toward the northeast are on the Black River, one of the tributary streams of Lake Ontario. The most remarkable ancient fortifications in the State of Ohio are, 1st. Newark, a very regular octagon, containing an area of 32 acres, and connected with a circular circumvallation of 16 acres; the eight great doors of the octagon are defended by eight works placed before each opening. 2d. Perryvale County, numerous walls, not in clay, but stone. 3d. Marietta, two great squares with twelve doors; the walls of earth are 21 feet high, and 42 feet at their base. 4th. Circleville, a square with eight doors, and eight small works for their defense connected with a circular fort, surrounded by two walls and a moat. 5th. Point Creek, at the confluence of the Scioto and the Ohio; the fortifications are partly irregular; one of them contains 62 acres. 6th. Portsmouth, opposite Alexandria; vast ruins, disposed on parallel lines, denote that this spot heretofore contained a numerous population. 7th. Little Miami and Cincinnati, a wall of 7 feet high and 6300 toises long. All these square forts are placed as exactly to the east as the Egyptian and Mexican pyramids; when the forts have only one opening, it is directed toward the rising sun. The walls of these lines of fortification are most frequently of earth, but two miles from Chilicothe, in the State of Ohio, we find a wall constructed in stone, from 12 to 15 feet high, and from 5 to 8 feet thick, forming an inclosure of 80 acres. It is not yet precisely known how far those works extend to the west, along the course of the Missouri and the River La Plata; but they are not found on the north of the Lakes Ontario, Erie, and Michigan, neither do they pass the chain of the Alleganies. Some circumvallations discovered on the banks of the Chenango, near Oxford, in the State of New York, may be considered as a very remarkable exception. We must not confound these military monuments with the mounds or tumuli containing thousands of skeletons of a stunted race of men, scarcely 5 feet high. These mounds increase in number from the north toward the south; Mr. Brackenridge thinks there are nearly 3000 tumuli, from 20 to 100 feet high, between the mouth of the Ohio, the Illinois, the Missouri, and the Rio San Francisco, and that the number of skeletons they contain indicate how considerable must have been the population heretofore of those countries. These monuments, considered as the places of sepulture of great communes, are most frequently situated at the confluence of rivers, and on the most favorable points for trade. The base of the tumuli is round, or of an oval form; they are generally of a conical form, and sometimes flattened at the summit, as if intended to serve for sacrifices, or other ceremonies to be seen by a great mass of people at once. Some of those monuments are two or three stories high, and resemble in their form the Mexican Teocallis, and the pyramids with steps of Egypt and Western Asia. Some of the tumuli are constructed of earth, and some of stones heaped together. Hatchets have been found on them, together with painted pottery, vases, and ornaments of brass, a little iron, silver in plates (near Marietta), and perhaps gold (near Chilicothe). Some of these mounds are only a few feet high, and are placed at the center or in the neighborhood of the circular circumvallations; they were either tribunes for haranguing the assembled people, or places of sacrifice, and where they are only from 20 to 25 feet high, they may be considered as observatories erected to discover the movements of a neighboring enemy. The great tumuli, from 80 to 100 feet high, are most frequently insulated, and sometimes seem to be of the same age as the fortifications to which they are linked. The latter merit particular attention: I know nowhere any thing that resembles them either in South America or the ancient continent. The regularity of the polygon and circular forms, and the small works intended to cover the doors of the building, are, above all, remarkable. We know not whether they were inclosures of property, walls of defense against enemies, or intrenched camps, as in Central Asia. The custom of separating the different quarters of a town by circumvallations is observed alike in the ancient Tenochleitian and the Peruvian town of Chimu, the ruins of which I examined, between Truxillo and the coast of the South Sea. The tumuli are less characteristic constructions, and may have belonged to nations who had no communication with one another; they cover both Americas, the north of Asia, and the whole east of Europe, and, it is said, are still constructed by the Omawhaws of the River Plata. The skulls contained in the tumuli of the United States furnish means of recognizing, almost with certainty, to what degree the race of men by whom they were raised differ from the Indians who now inhabit the same countries. Mr. Mitchell believes that the skeletons of the caverns of Kentucky and Tennessee 'belong to the Malays, who came by the Pacific Ocean to the western coast of America, and were destroyed by the ancestors of the present Indians, and who were of Tartar race (Mongul).' With respect to the tumuli and the fortifications, the same learned writer supposes, with Mr. De Witt Clinton, that those monuments are the works of Scandinavian nations, who, from the eleventh to the fourteenth century, visited the coast of Greenland, Newfoundland, or Vinland, or Drageo, and a part of the continent of North America. If this hypothesis be well founded, the skulls found in the tumuli ought to belong, not to the American, Mongul, or Malay race, but to a race vulgarly called Caucasian.... Did the nations of the Mexican race, in their migrations to the south, send colonies toward the east, or do the monuments of the United States pertain to the Autochthone nations? Perhaps we must admit in North America, as in the ancient world, the simultaneous existence of several centers of civilization, of which the mutual relations are not known in history. The very civilized nations of New Spain, the Tolteques, the Azteques, and the Chichimeques, pretended to have issued successively, from the sixth to the twelfth century, from three neighboring countries situated toward the north. These nations spoke the same language, they had the same cosmogonic fables, the same propensity for the sacerdotal congregations, the same hieroglyphic paintings, the same divisions of time, the same taste (Chinese and Japanese) for noting and registering every thing. The names given by them to the towns built in the country of Analmae; were those of the towns they had abandoned in their ancient country. The civilization on the Mexican table-land was regarded by the inhabitants themselves as the copy of something which had existed elsewhere, as the reflection of the primitive civilization of Aztlan. Where, it may be asked, must be placed that parent land of the colonies of Anahuac, that officinum gentium which, during five centuries, sends nations toward the south who understand each other without difficulty, and recognize each other for relations? Asia, north of Amour, where it is nearest America, is a barbarous country, and in supposing (which is geographically possible) a migration of southern Asiatics by Japan, Tarakay (Tchoka), the Kurile and Aleutian Isles, from southwest toward the northeast (from 40 to 55 degrees of latitude), how can it be believed that in so long a migration, on a way so easily intercepted, the remembrance of the institutions of the parent country could have been preserved with so much force and clearness? The cosmogonic fables, the pyramidal constructions, the system of the calendar, the animals of the tropics found in the catasterim of days, the convents and congregations of priests, the taste for statistic enumerations, the annals of the empire held in the most scrupulous order, lead us toward Oriental Asia, while the lively remembrances of which we have just spoken, and the peculiar physiognomy which Mexican civilization presents in so many other respects, seem to indicate the antique existence of an empire in the north of America, between the thirty-sixth and forty-second degrees of latitude. We can not reflect on the military monuments of the United States without recollecting the first country of the civilized nations of Mexico. It is in rising to more general historical considerations, in examining with more care than has been hitherto done the languages and the osteologic conformation of different tribes, in exploring the immense country bounded by the Alleganies and the coast of the Western Ocean, that means will be obtained of throwing light on a problem so worthy of exercising the sagacity of historians.... According to the traditions collected by Mr. Heckewelder, the country east of the Mississippi was heretofore inhabited by a powerful nation, of gigantic stature, called Alleghewi, and which gave its name to the Alleganian mountains. The Alleghewis were more civilized than any of the other tribes found in the northern climates by the Europeans of the sixteenth century. They inhabitated towns founded on the banks of the Mississippi, and the fortifications that now excite the astonishment of travelers were constructed by them, in order to defend themselves against the Delawares, who came from the west, and were allied at that period with the Iroquois. It may be supposed that this invasion of a barbarous people changed the political and moral state of those countries. The Alleghewis were vanquished by the Delawares after a long struggle. In their flight toward the south they gathered together the bones of their relations in separate tumuli; they descended the Mississippi, and what became of them is not known.... The lines of fortification of a prodigious length observed by Captain Lewis on the banks of the Missouri sufficiently prove that the ancient habitation of the Alleghewis, that powerful people which I am inclined to regard as being of Tolteque or Azteque race, extended far to the west of the Mississippi, toward the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Mr. Nuttall, in going up the Arkansas to Cadron, was informed of the existence of an ancient intrenchment, resembling a triangular fort. The Arkansas assert that it is the work of a white and civilized people, whom, when they arrived in this country, their ancestors fought and vanquished, not by force, but cunning. They attribute, also, to a more ancient and polished people than themselves, the monuments of rough stones heaped up on the summit of the hills. Other monuments, not less curious, are the commodious roads of immense length which the natives have traced from time immemorial, and which lead from the banks of the Arkansas, near Little Rock, to Saint Louis on the right, and by the settlement of Mont Prairie, as far as Natchitoches, on the left. Do the characteristic features of colossal stature and white color, attributed to nations now destroyed, owe their origin to the ideas of power and physical force in general, to the feeling of the intellectual preponderance of the Europeans, or are those features linked with the fables of white men, legislators, and priests, which we find among the Mexicans, the inhabitants of New Granada, and so many other American nations? The skeletons contained in the tumuli of the trans-Alleganian country belong, for the most part, to a stunted race of men, of lower stature than the Indians of Canada and the Missouri.

"An idol discovered at Natchez has been justly compared by M. Malte-Brun to the images of celestial spirits found by Pallas among the Mongul nations. If the tribes who inhabit the towns on the banks of the Mississippi issued from the same country of Aztlan, it must be admitted that the Tolteques, the Chichimeques, and the Azteques, from the inspection of their idols, and their essays in sculpture, were much less advanced in the arts than the Mexican tribes, who, without deviating toward the east, have followed the great path of the nations of the New World, directed from north to south, from the banks of the Gila toward the Lake of Nicaragua."—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. vi., p. 328.

No. XLVIII.

"Dr. Morton, in his luminous and philosophical essay on the aboriginal race of America, seems to have proved that all the different tribes, except the Eskimaux, are of one race, and that this race is peculiar and distinct from all others. The physical characteristics of the Fuegians, the Indians of the tropical plains, those of the Rocky Mountains, and of the great Valley of the Mississippi, are the same, not only in regard to feature and external lineaments, but also in osteological structure. After comparing nearly 400 crania, derived from tribes inhabiting almost every region of both Americas, Dr. Morton has found the same peculiar shape pervading all; 'the square or rounded head, the flattened or vertical occiput, the high cheek bones, the ponderous maxillæ, the large quadrangular orbits, and the low, receding forehead.' The oldest skulls from the cemeteries of Peru, the tombs of Mexico, or the mounds of the Mississippi and Ohio, agree with each other, and are of the same type as the heads of the most savage existing tribes."—Lyell, vol. ii., p. 37.

No. XLIX.

"I saw no person among the Chaymas who had any natural deformity. I might say the same of thousands of Caribs, Muyseas, and Mexican and Peruvian Indians, whom we observed during the course of five years. Bodily deformities—deviations from nature—are infinitely rare among certain races of men, especially those nations who have the dermoid system highly colored. I can not believe that they depend solely on the progress of civilization, a luxurious life, or the corruption of morals. We might be tempted to think that savages all appear well made and vigorous, because feeble children die young for want of care, and that the strongest alone survive; but these causes can not act on the Indians of the missions, who have the manners of our peasants, and the Mexicans of Cholula and Tlascala, who enjoy wealth that has been transmitted to them by ancestors more civilized than themselves. If, in every state of cultivation, the copper-colored race manifest the same inflexibility, the same resistance to deviation from a primitive type, are we not forced to admit that this property belongs in great measure to hereditary organization—to that which constitutes the race? I use intentionally the phrase in great measure, not entirely to exclude the influence of civilization. Besides, with copper-colored men, as with the whites, luxury and effeminacy, by weakening the physical constitution, had heretofore rendered deformities more common at Corezco and Tenochtitlan."—Humboldt's Personal Narrative, vol. iii., p. 235.

No. L.

To those well read in the sad records of Indian history, the names of Powhatan, Opechancanough, Massasoit, Alexander, Philip, Canonchet, Logan, Pontiac, and the never-to-be-forgotten Tecumthè, will suggest memories fully justifying the above assertion. The name of Tecumthè signifies "a tiger crouching for his prey." He was equally great in council and in war, noble and generous in spirit as commanding in intellect. He bore the commission of Chief of the Indian Forces in the British army during the late war. He did not, however, join the ranks of the white men until the failure of several admirably contrived projects convinced his sound and enlightened judgment that opposition to the white race was vain. Pontiac was an Ottawa chieftain, who in 1763 succeeded in the next-to-impossible scheme of uniting all the scattered and often hostile Indian tribes distributed throughout the colonized districts of North America in one grand confederacy against their European invaders. Their first step was the projected extinction of all the white man's posts along a thousand miles of frontier; and he actually succeeded so far as to cut off, almost simultaneously, nine out of twelve of these military establishments. The surprise of Michillimackinac, one of these stations, is thus narrated in a public document. (It was a period of profound peace between the Europeans and Indians):

"The fort was then upon the main land, near the northern point of the peninsula. The Ottawas, to whom the assault was committed, prepared for a great game of ball, to which the officers of the garrison were invited. While engaged in play, one of the parties gradually inclined toward the fort, and the other pressed after them. The ball was once or twice thrown over the pickets, and the Indians were suffered to enter and procure it. Nearly all the garrison were present as spectators, and those on duty were alike unprepared as unsuspicious. Suddenly the ball was again thrown into the fort, and all the Indians rushed after it. The rest of the tale is soon told: the troops were butchered, and the fort destroyed." This extensive and well-laid scheme failed, from Pontiac himself being betrayed at the fort of Detroit. He has been accused of great cruelty; but, in contests waged between the red and white races, this is a word of doubtful import. His generosity and heroism are undeniable.

As a compliment, Major Rogers had sent Pontiac a bottle of brandy. His counselors advised him not to take it: "It must be poisoned," said they, "and sent with a design to kill him;" but Pontiac laughed at their suspicions. "He can not," he replied, "he can not take my life; I have saved his!"

No. LI.

But a far truer insight into the religious state of the American Indian will be obtained by observing how peculiarly and emphatically he is, in the words of the apostle, "a law unto himself." I mean, how distinctly he evinces, in the whole moral conduct of his life, that he lives under a strong and awful sense of positive obligation. It is of little matter with what doctrines that sense of obligation connects itself. It often appears to connect itself with none. The Indian can not tell why a burden is laid upon him to act in this or that manner. He obeys a law undefined, unwritten, but mysteriously binding upon his spirit. All the compulsive force which what we call the law of honor had upon the conscience of a man of the world—I had almost said which religious sanctions have upon the man of principle—is scarcely to be paralleled with that kind of moral necessity which seems in some cases to actuate his proceedings. If religion be what its name implies, id quod relligat, that which binds the will, and enforces self-denial and self-devotion (be the object or motive held out what it may), then no people taken in the mass is to be compared, in this respect, to the savages of America. "After all," says Mr. Flint, "that which has struck us, in contemplating the Indians, with the most astonishment and admiration, is the invisible but universal energy of the operation and influence of an inexplicable law, which has, where it operates, a more certain and controlling power than all the municipal and written laws of the whites united. There is despotic rule without any hereditary or elected chief. There are chiefs with great power, who can not tell when, where, or how they became such. There is perfect unanimity on a question involving the existence of a tribe, when every member belonged to the wild and fierce democracy of nature, and could dissent without giving a reason. A case occurs where it is prescribed by custom that an individual should be punished with death. Escaped from the control of his tribe, and as free as the winds, this invisible tie is about him, and he returns and surrenders himself to justice. His accounts are not settled, and he is in debt. He requests delay till he shall have finished his summer's hunt. He finishes it, pays his debt, and dies with a constancy which has always been, in all views of the Indian character, the theme of admiration."—Flint's Geography of the Mississippi Valley, p. 125.

In the expressive words of Penn, "What good might not a good people graft, where there is so distinct a knowledge both of good and evil?"—Report on Aborigines, 1837, p. 116.

Mr. Merivale adds, "I would not insert the following high-colored expression in a work edited by Washington Irving, were it not for the remarkable agreement between all capable observers of the uncontaminated races of Indians upon this subject. 'Simply to call these people religious (some tribes of the Rocky Mountains) would convey but a faint idea of the deep hue of piety and devotion which pervades the whole of their conduct. They are more like a nation of saints than a horde of savages.'"—Adventures of Captain Bonneville.

No. LII.

Catlin gives the same account of the appropriation of the Manitou or guardian angel as Lafitau and Charlevoix. He applies to it the term of Mystery, or Medicine-bag, and thus explains the derivation of the modern term:

"The term Medicine, in its common acceptation among the Indians, means mystery, and nothing else. The origin of the term is, that in the French language a doctor is called 'Médecin;' the Indian country is full of doctors, and as they are all magicians, and profess to be skilled in many mysteries, the word 'médecin' has become habitually applied to every thing mysterious or unaccountable, and the English and American have easily and familiarly adopted the same word, with a slight alteration conveying the same meaning; and, to be a little more explicit, they have denominated these personages 'Medicine-men,' which means something more than merely a doctor or physician. The Indians do not use the word 'medicine,' however, but in each tribe they have a word of their own construction synonymous with mystery or mystery-man. Their medicine-bag then is a mystery-bag, and its meaning and importance necessary to be understood, as it may be said to be the key to Indian life and character.

"Feasts are often made, and dogs and horses sacrificed, to a man's 'medicine;' and days, and even weeks of fasting and penance of various kinds are often suffered to appease his medicine, which he fancies he has in some way offended. This curious custom has generally been done away with along the frontier, where white men laugh at the Indian for the observance of so ridiculous and useless a form; but in this country (beyond the Rocky Mountains) it is still in full force, and every male in the tribe carries this his supernatural charm or guardian, to which he looks for the preservation of his life in battle or in other danger.... During my travels thus far I have been unable to buy a medicine-bag of an Indian, though I have offered extravagant prices for them; and even on the frontier, where they have been induced to abandon the practice, though a white may induce an Indian to relinquish his medicine, yet he can not buy it of him: the Indian in such case will bury it to please a white, and save it from his sacrilegious touch, and he will linger around the spot, and at regular times visit and pay it his devotions as long as he lives."—Catlin's North American Indians, vol. i., p. 36.

No. LIII.

Catlin says, "The tribes, so far as I have visited them, all distinctly believe in the existence of a Great (or Good) Spirit, an Evil (or Bad) Spirit, and also in a future existence and future accountability, according to their virtues and vices in this world. So far the North American Indians would seem to be one family, and such, an unbroken theory among them; yet, with regard to the manner and form, and time and place of that accountability—to the constructions of virtues and vices, and the modes of appeasing and propitiating the Good and Evil Spirits, they are found in all the change and variety which fortuitous circumstances, and fictions and fables have wrought upon them.... These people, living in a climate where they suffer from cold in the severity of their winters, have very naturally reversed our ideas of heaven and hell. The latter they describe to be a country very far to the north, of barren and hideous aspect, and covered with eternal snow and ice. The torments of this freezing place they describe as most excruciating, while heaven they suppose to be in a warmer and delightful latitude, where nothing is felt but the keenest enjoyment, and where the country abounds in buffaloes and other luxuries of life. The Great or Good Spirit they believe dwells in the former place, for the purpose of there meeting those who have offended him, increasing the agony of their sufferings by being himself present, administering the penalties. The Bad or Evil Spirit they suppose to be at the same time in Paradise, still tempting the happy; and those who have gone to the regions of punishment they believe to be tortured for a time proportioned to the amount of their transgression, and that they are then to be transferred to the land of the happy, where they are again liable to the temptation of the Evil Spirit, and answerable again at a future period for their new offenses."—Catlin, vol. i., p. 159.

Dr. Richardson says, "While at Carlton I took an opportunity of asking a communicative old Indian of the Blackfoot nation his opinion of a future state. He replied that they had heard from their fathers that the souls of the departed have to scramble with great labor up the sides of a steep mountain, upon attaining the summit of which they are rewarded with the prospect of an extensive plain, interspersed here and there with new tents, pitched in agreeable situations, and abounding in all sorts of game. While they are absorbed in the contemplation of this delightful scene, they are descried by the inhabitants of the happy land, who, clothed in new skins, approach and welcome, with every demonstration of kindness, those Indians who have led good lives; but the bad Indians, who have imbrued their hands in the blood of their countrymen, are told to return from whence they came, and, without more ceremony, precipitated down the steep sides of the mountain."—Franklin's Journey, p. 77.

"C'est du côté de l'ouest, d'où les sauvages prétendent être venus, qu'il placent le pays des ancêtres, ou des âmes. C'est, disent-ils, un pays très êloigné, et où chacun est contraint de se rendre, après son trèpas, par un chemin fort long et fort pénible, dans lequel il y a beaucoup à souffrir, à cause des rivières qu'il faut passer sur des ponts tremblants, et si étroits qu'il faut être une âme pour pouvoir s'y soûtenir; encore trouve-t-il au bout du pont un chien, qui comme un antre cerbère leur dispute le passage, et en fait tomber plusieurs dans les eaux, dont la rapidité les roule de précipice en précipice. Celles qui sont assez heureuses pour franchir ce pas, trouvent en arrivant, un grand et beau pays, au milieu duquel est une grande Cabane, dont Tharonhiaouagon, leur Dieu, occupe une partie, et Ataensic, son ayeule, occupe l'autre. L'appartement de cette vielle est tapissé d'une quantité infini de colliers de porcelaine, de bracelets, et d'autres meubles, dont les morts, qui sont sous sa dépendance, lui ont fait présent à leur arrivée. Ataensic est maîtresse de la Cabane, selon le style des sauvages, elle et son petit fils dominent sur les mânes, et font consister leur plaisir à les faire danser devant eux. Il y a une infinité de versions sur le pays des âmes, mais ce qui je viens d'en rapporter en est comme le fonds, où tout le reste se réduit."—Lafitau, tom. i., p. 402.

No. LIV.

"Un officier Français, qui parle la langue Huronne comme les Hurons même, et qui connoît fort bien le génie des sauvages, m'a raconté un fait, dont il a été le témoin ... Quelques sauvages intrigués, au sujet d'un parti de sept guerriers de leur village, et dont tout le monde commençoit à être en peine, prièrent une vielle sauvagesse de jongler pour eux. Cette femme étoit en grande réputation, et on avoit vérifié plusieurs de ses prédictions, mais on avoit beaucoup de peine à la déterminer à faire ces sortes d'opérations, quoiqu'on la payât bien, parce-qu'elle souffroit beaucoup. Comme elle avoit de l'amitié pour moi, dit cet officier, je me mis de la partie avec les sauvages, ajoutant néanmoins très peu de foy à ces sortes de choses, je la priai très fortement, et je fis tant, qu'elle s'y résolut. Elle commença d'abord par préparer un espace de terrain qu'elle nettoya bien, et qu'elle couvrit de farine. Elle disposa sur cette poudre comme sur une carte géographique, quelques paquets de buchettes, qui représentaient divers villages de différentes nations, observant particulièrement leur position, et les rhumbs de vent. Elle entra ensuite dans de grandes convulsions, pendant lesquelles nous vîmes sensiblement sept bluettes de feu sortir des buchettes qui représentoient notre village; tracer un chemin sur cette farine et aller d'un village à l'autre. Après d'être éclipsées pendant un assez long tems, dans l'un de ces villages, ces bluettes reparurent au nombre de neuf, tracèrent un nouveau chemin pour le retour, jusqú'à ce qu'enfin elles s'arrêtèrent assez près du village, ou paquet de buchettes, d'où les sept premièrs étoient d'abord sorties. Alors la sauvagesse, toujours en fureur, troubla tout l'ordre des buchettes, foula aux pieds tout le terrain qu'elle avoit préparé, et où cette scène venoit de passer. Elle s'assit ensuite et après s'être donné le tems de se tranquilliser, et de reprendre ses esprits, elle raconta tout ce qui étoit arrivè aux guerriers, la route qu'ils avoient tenue, les villages par où ils avoient passé, le nombre des prisonniers qu'ils avoient fait; elle nomma l'endroit où ils étoient dans ce moment, et assura qu'ils arriveroient trois jours après au village, ce qui fut vérifié par l'arrivée des guerriers, qui confirmèrent de point en point ce qu'elle avoit dit."—Lafitau, tom. i., p. 387.

"Quoiqu' aujourd'hui les Abénaquis fassent tous profession du Christianisme, ils ne laissent pas encore d'avoir quelquefois recours à cet art qu'ils ont reçû de leurs pères (la Pyromantie, ou Divination par le feu). Ils s'en confessent néanmoins, à cause de l'horreur qu'on leur en a inspiré, mais il s'en trouve quelques uns qui cherchent à le justifier. Une sauvagesse disoit à un missionnaire, qui tâchoit de lui faire concevoir sa faute: 'Je n'ai jamais compris qu'il n'y eût à elle aucun mal, et j'ai peine à y en voir encore: écoute, Dieu a partagé différemment les hommes; à vous autres François, il a donné l'écriture, par laquelle vous apprennez lea choses qui se passent loin de vous, comme si elles vous étoient présentes; pour ce qui est de nous, il nous a donné l'art de connoître par le feu les choses absentes et eloignées; suppose donc que le feu c'est notre livre, notre écriture; tu ne verras pas qu'il y ait de différence, et plus de mal dans l'un que dans l'autre. Ma mère m'a appris ce secret pendant mon enfance, comme tes parents t'ont appris à lire et à écrire; je m'en suis servi plusieurs fois avec succès, avant d'être Chrètienne, je l'ai fait quelquefois avec le même succès depuis que je la suis; j'ai éte tenté, et j'ai succombé à la tentation, mais sans croire commettre aucune péché.'"—Lafitau, tom, i., p. 388.

Some of the Indians seem to have been acquainted with the mysteries of clairvoyance. "Ils croyent qu'il y a des personnes que les esprits favorisent d'avantage, qui sont plus éclairées que le commun, dont l'âme sçut, non seulement ce qui les concerne personnellement, mais qui voient jusques dans le fonds de l'âme des autres, qui percent à travers le voile qui les couvre, et y apperçoit les désirs naturels et innés, qu'elle a, quoique cette âme elle même ne les ait pas aperçus; c'est ce qui leur a fait donner le nom de Iaïotkatta par les Hurons, c'est á dire voyans, parce qu'ils voyent les hommes dans leur intérieur."—Lafitau, tom. i., p. 371.

Charlevoix also relates instances of the successful exercise of magical arts.—Vol. vi., p. 92.

No. LV.

"In the neighborhood of Caughnawaga are the large tracts of land once belonging to the Johnson family, whose possessions were all confiscated at the period of the Revolution, in consequence of their adherence to the British, who gave them compensation by grants of land in Canada. The founder of this family is said to have acquired this fine tract of country by a dexterous piece of management. He traded extensively with the tribe of Mohawk Indians. Their chiefs were in the habit of applying to him frequently for tobacco and rum, which they had, they told him, dreamed that he was to give them. Johnson never failed to encourage their strong faith in dreams, humoring their foible by acceding to every request founded on them. Thus visits and dreams became frequent on the part of the Indians. Johnson never sent them away empty handed. To every request he replied, 'I will prove that you are right,' and presented them with whatever they applied for, on the footing that they had dreamed of it. At length the king had the conscience to dream that, if he were invested with Johnson's military dress of scarlet and gold, he should be as great a man as King George; and King George he soon in so far became, for no long time elapsed before Johnson had him appareled as he wished. But Johnson's turn to dream had now arrived, for he had all the while attached the same weight to dreams. He dreamed that the nation had, in consequence of his kindness to them, and in return for the hospitality he had shown them, bestowed on him part of their territory, which he had described, and which he of course took care should be sufficiently extensive and valuable—in fact, one of the finest tracts of land that it is possible to conceive. 'Have you really had such a dream?' they exclaimed, with terror and alarm depicted on their countenances. Being satisfied on this point, the chief or king convoked his tribe, who deliberated, and then announced to the dreamer that they had confirmed the dream. 'Brother Johnson,' they said, 'we give thee that tract of land, but never dream any more.' The head of this family was subsequently created a baronet, for his gallantry in the war, when the French made an incursion from Canada in 1755."—Stuart's America, vol. i., p. 71. See, also, Mrs. Grant's Letters of an American Lady, for an account of Sir William Johnson's intercourse with the Indians.

Lafitau and Charlevoix write at great length upon the Indian faith in dreams; Lafitau gives the following curious illustration of the extent to which this superstition is carried: "Un ancien missionnaire m'a raconté qu'un sauvage ayant rêvé que le bonheur de sa vie dépendoit de son mariage avec une femme qui étoit déjà mariée à l'un des plus considérables du village où il demeuroit. Le mari et la femme vivoient dans une grande union et s'entre-aimoient beaucoup. La séparation fut rude à l'un et à l'autre, cependant ils n'osoient refuser. Ils se séparèrent donc. La femme prit un nouvel engagement, et le mari abandonné, par complaisance et pour ôter tout soupçon qu'il pensât encore à sa première épouse, se marie avec une autre. Il reprit la première cependant, après la mort de celui qui les avait désunis, laquelle arriva peu de temps après."—Lafitau, vol. i., p. 364.

No. LVI.

"C'étoit une loi générale chez certains peuples barbares de l'antiquité (Ælian, de Cois, lib. iii.; Sext. Emp., de Tybaren.; Procop., de Etulis., lib. ii.; de Bello Gotico; Stobæus, de Massag., Serm. 122) de faire mourir leurs viellards avant l'âge de soixante ou soixante et dix ans, soit qu'ils ne voulassent point parmis eux conserver des morte payes, qui consumassent le peu qui restoit aux autres pour vivre: soit qu'ils se persuadassent rendre service à ceux qu'ils faisoient ainsi périr, en leur épargnant par une morte prompte et courte, la tristesse et les ennuis d'un âge avancé, dont les infirmités peuvent être regardées comme une mort continuelle. Cela a été, dit-on, une loi générale parmi quelques peuples de l'Amérique, et une de nos dernières relations porte, qu'il y a une nation où il n'est pas même permis de laisser passer aux femmes l'âge de trente ans; ce qui paroitra sans doute bien rigoureux à celles qui veulent encore être jeune dans un âge plus avancé.

"Les Algonquins et les autres nations errantes sont plus sujets à cette inhumanité envers les viellards que les autres, parcequ' étant presque toujours en voyage, et plus souvent réduits à la faim, l'incommodité des viellards qu'il faut porter et nourrir, devient alors plus sensible. Ces pauvres malheureux sont souvent les premiers à dire à celui qui les porte, 'Mon petit fils, je le donne bien de la peine, je ne suis plus bon à rien, casse-moi la tête.' On ne les écoute pas toujours; mais quelquefois aussi il arrive que le jeune homme epuisé de lassitude et de faim, répond froidement, 'Tu as raison, mon grand père.' Il décharge en même tems son paquet, prend sa hache, et casse la tête au bon homme, qui sans doute est faché intérieurement d'être pris au mot."—Lafitau, tom. ii., p. 490.

In 1819, James writes thus of the same inhuman custom: "The worst trait in the Indian character is the neglect shown toward the aged and helpless, which is carried to such a degree that, when on a march or a hunting excursion, it is a common practice to leave behind their nearest relations when reduced to that state, with a little food and water, abandoning them without ceremony to their fate. When thus abandoned by all that is dear to them, their fortitude does not forsake them, and the inflexible passive courage of the Indian sustains them against despondency. They regard themselves as entirely useless; and as the custom of the nation has long led them to anticipate this mode of death, they attempt not to remonstrate against the measure, which is, in fact, frequently the result of their earnest solicitation."—James's Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, vol. i., p. 237.

"This cruelty to living relations strongly contrasts with the extravagance and self-sacrifice of their mourning for the dead. The same people who expose a living parent because they can not carry him, are often found to convey the corpses of their departed friends to 'the festivals of the dead,' during many days of wearisome journeying."—P. de Brebœuf, Relation de la Nouvelle France; Charlevoix: Lafitau.

Catlin, one of the most partial observers, and the most zealous defender of the Indian character, relates the following scene, of which he was an eye-witness (in 1840): "We found that the Puncahs were packing up all their goods, and preparing to start for the prairies in pursuit of buffaloes, to dry meat for their winter's supplies. They took down their wigwams of skins to carry with them, and all were flat to the ground, and every thing packing up ready for the start. My attention was directed by Major Sanford, the Indian agent, to one of the most miserable and helpless-looking objects I ever had seen in my life—a very aged and emaciated man of the tribe, who, he told me, was going to be exposed. The tribe were going where hunger and dire necessity obliged them to go, and this pitiable object, who had once been a chief, and a man of distinction in his tribe, who was now too old to travel, being reduced to mere skin and bone, was to be left to starve, or meet with such death as might fall to his lot, and his bones to be picked by the wolves! I lingered around this poor old forsaken patriarch for hours before we started, to indulge the tears of sympathy which were flowing for the sake of this poor benighted and decrepit old man, whose worn-out limbs were no longer able to support him, and his body and his mind doomed to linger into the withering agony of decay, and gradual solitary death. I wept; and it was a pleasure to weep; for the painful looks and the dreary prospects of this old veteran, whose eyes were dimmed, whose venerable locks were whitened by a hundred years, whose limbs were almost naked, and trembling as he sat by a small fire which his friends had left him, with a few sticks of wood within his reach, and a buffalo's skin stretched upon some crotches over his head. Such was to be his only dwelling, and such the chances for his life, with only a few half-picked bones that were laid within his reach, and a dish of water, without means of any kind to replenish them, or move his body from that fatal locality. His friends and his children had all left him, and were preparing in a little time to be on the march. He had told them to leave him; 'he was old,' he said, 'and too feeble to march.' 'My children,' said he, 'our nation is poor, and it is necessary you should all go to the country where you can get meat. My eyes are dimmed, and my strength is no more; my days are nearly all numbered, and I am a burden to my children; I can not go, and I wish to die. Keep your hearts stout, and think not of me; I am no longer good for any thing.' In this way they had finished the ceremony of exposing him, and taken their final leave of him. I advanced to the old man, and was undoubtedly the last human being who held converse with him. I sat by the side of him, and though he could not distinctly see me, he shook me heartily by the hand, and smiled, evidently aware that I was a white man, and that I sympathized with his inevitable misfortune. When passing by the site of the Puncah village a few months after this in my canoe, I went ashore with my men, and found the poles and the buffalo skin standing as they were left over the old man's head. The fire-brands were lying nearly as I had left them; and I found at a few yards' distance the skull and others of his bones, which had been picked and cleaned by the wolves, which is probably all that any human being can ever know of his final and melancholy fate. This cruel custom of exposing their aged people belongs, I think, to all the tribes who roam about the prairies, making severe marches, when such decrepit persons are totally unable to go, unable to ride or to walk, when they have no means of carrying them."—Catlin's American Indians, vol. i., p. 217.

No. LVII.

"The child, in its earliest infancy, has its back lashed to a straight board, being fastened to it by bandages, which pass around it in front, and on the back of the board they are tightened to the necessary degree by lacing-strings, which hold it in a straight and healthy position, with its feet resting on a broad hoop, which passes around the foot of the cradle, and the child's position (as it rides about on its mother's back, supported by a broad strap that passes across her forehead), that of standing erect, no doubt has a tendency to produce straight limbs, sound lungs, and long life. The bandages that pass around the cradle, holding the child in, are often covered with a beautiful embroidery of porcupine quills, with ingenious figures of horses, men, &c. A broad hoop of elastic wood passes around in front of the child's face to protect it in case of a fall, from the front of which is suspended a toy of exquisite embroidery for the child to handle, and amuse itself with. The papoose (the Indian name for the cradle) seems a cruel mode of confining the child; but I am inclined to believe it is a very good one for those who use it, and well adapted to the circumstances under which they live; in support of which opinion, I offer the universality of the custom, which has been practiced for centuries among all the tribes of North America, as a legitimate and a very strong reason. Along the frontiers, where the Indians have been ridiculed for the custom, they have in many instances departed from it; but even there they will generally be seen lugging their child about in this way, when they have abandoned almost every other native custom, and are too poor to cover it with more than rags and strings, which fasten it to its cradle. The infant is carried in this manner until it is five, six, or seven months old.... If the infant dies during the time allotted for it to be carried in this cradle, it is buried, and the disconsolate mother fills the cradle with black quills and feathers, in the parts which the child's body had occupied, and in this way carries it about with her wherever she goes for a year or more; and she often lays or stands it against the side of the wigwam, where she is all day engaged in her needle-work, and chatting and talking to it as familiarly and affectionately as if it were her loved infant instead of its shell that she was talking to."—Catlin, vol. ii., p. 133.

No. LVIII.

The following is Lafitau's description of this barbarous operation: "Ils cernent pour cet effet la peau qui couvre la crâne, coupant au-dessus du front et des oreilles jusqu'au derrière de la tête. Après l'avoir arrachée, ils la préparent, et la ramollissent comme ils ont coûtume de faire a celles des bêtes qu'ils ont prises à la chasse. Ils étendent ensuite cette peau sur un cercle au ils l'attachent, ils la peignent des deux côtés de diverses couleurs, quelquefois ils tracent du côté opposé aux cheveux, le portrait de celui à qui ils l'ont enlevée at la suspendent au bout d'une perche et la portent ainsi en triomphe. Ce qu'il y a de surprenant, c'est que tous ceux à qui l'on fait cette cruelle opération de leur enlever la chevelure, n'en meurent point, non plus que du coup de casse-tête, dont on a crû les avoir assommés à n'en plus revenir. Plusieurs en sont réchappés et j'ai vu une femme dans notre mission, à qui après un semblable accident, les François avoient donnée le nom de la Tête-pelée, et qui se portoit fort bien. Elle étoit mariée à un François Iroquoisé, dont elle avoit des enfans." Lafitau does not omit to notice the striking similarity between Indian and Scythian barbarity; he cites the following passage from Herodotus as a support and illustration of his own peculiar theory: "Un Scythe boit du sang du premier prisonnier qu'il fait, et il présente au roi les têtes de tous ceux qu'il a tués dans le combat; car en portant une tête il a part au butier, auquel il n'a nul droit sans cette condition. Il coupe la tête de cette manière. Il la cerne autour les oreilles et ayant séparé le test d'avec le reste, il en arrache la peau, qu'il a soin de ramollir avec ses mains, et d'apprêter comme un apprête une peau de bœuf. Il en fait ensuite un ornement, et l'attache au harnois de son cheval en guise de trophèe. Plus un particulier a de ces sortes de dépouilles, plus il est considéré et estimé."—Lafitau, tom. ii., 258; Herodotus, lib. iv., n. 64.

"The scalping is an operation not calculated of itself to take life, as it only removes the skin, without injuring the bone of the head, and necessarily, to be a genuine scalp, must contain and show the crown and center of the head—that part of the skin which lies directly over what the phrenologists call 'self-esteem,' where the hair divides and radiates from the center, of which they all profess to be strict judges, and able to decide whether an effort has been made to produce two or more scalps from one head. Besides taking the scalp, the victor generally, if he has time to do it without endangering his own scalp, cuts off and brings home the rest of the hair, which his knife will divide into a great many small locks, and with them fringe the seams of his shirt and leggins, which also are worn as trophies and ornaments to the dress, and these are familiarly called 'scalp-locks.' ... As the scalp is taken in evidence of a death, it will easily be seen that an Indian has no business or inclination to take it from the head of the living, which I venture to say is never done in North America, unless it be, as has sometimes happened, when a man falls in the heat of battle, and the Indian, rushing over his body, snatches off his scalp, supposing him dead, who afterward rises from the field of battle, and easily recovers from this superficial wound of the knife, wearing a bald spot on his head during the remainder of his life."—Catlin, vol. i., p. 238.

No. LIX.

Charlevoix gives the following account of some of the games of chance in use among the red Indians:

"Le Jeu de Pailles.—Ces pailles sont de petits joncs de la grosseur des tuyaux de froment et de la longueur de deux doigts. On en prend un paquet, qui est ordinairement de deux cent un, et toujours en nombre impair. Après qu'on les a bien remués, en faisant mille contortions, et en invoquant les génies, on les sépare avec une espèce d'aliene, ou un os pointee, en paquets de dix; chacun prend le sien à l'aventure, et celui, à qui échoit le paquet de onze, gagne un certain nombre de points, dont on est convenu: les parties sont en soixante ou en quatre vingt.... On m'a dit qu'il y avoit autant d'addresse que de hazarde dans ce jeu, et que les sauvages y sont extremement fripons, comme dans tous les autres; qu'ils s'y acharnent souvent jusqu'à y passer les jours et les nuits.

"Le Jeu de la Crosse.—On y joue avec une bale et des bâtons, recourbés et terminés par une espèce de raquette. On dresse deux poteaux qui servent des bornes, et qui sont éloignés l'un de l'autre, à proportion du nombre des joueurs. Par exemple s'ils sont quatre vingt, il y a entre les poteaux une demie lieue de distance. Les joueurs sont partagés en deux bandes, qui ont chacune leur poteau, et il s'agit de faire aller la bale jusqu'à celui de la partie adverse, sans qu'elle tombe à terre, et sans qu'elle soit touchée avec la main; car si l'un ou l'autre arrive on perd la partie, à moins que celui qui a fait la faute ne la répare, en faisant aller la bale d'un seul trait au but, ce qui est souvent impossible. Ces sauvages sont si adroits à prendre la bale avec leurs crosses, que quelquefois ces parties durent plusieurs jours de suite.

"Le Jeu du Plat, appellé aussi le Jeu des Osselets.—Il ne se joue qu'entre deux personnes. Chacun a six ou huit osselets, que je pris d'abord pour des noyaux d'abricots; els en ont la figure et sont de même grandeur, mais en les regardant de près je m'aperçus qu'ils étoient à six faces inégales, dont les deux principales sont peintes, l'une en noir, l'autre en blanc tirant sur le jaune. On les fait sauter en l'air, en frappant la terre, ou la table, avec un plat rond et creux, où ils sont, et qu'ils font pirouetter auparavant. Si tous en tombant présentent la même couleur, celui qui a joué gagne cinq points, la partie est en quarante, et on défalque les points gagnés, à mesure que l'adversaire en gagne de son côté. Cinq osselets d'une même couleur ne donnent qu'un point pour la première fois, mais à la seconde on fait rafle de tout. En moindre nombre on ne gagne rien. Celui, qui gagne la partie, continue de jouer; le perdant cède sa place à un autre, qui est nommé par les marqueurs de sa partie. Car on se partage d'abord, et souvent tout le village s'intéresse au jeu: quelquefois même un village joue contre un autre. Chaque partie choisit son marqueur, mais il se retire quand il veut, ce qui n'arrive que lorsque la chose tourne mal pour les siens. À chaque coup que l'on joue, surtout si c'est un coup décisif, il s'élève de grands cris: les joueurs paroissent comme des fascinés, et les spectateurs ne sont pas plus tranquils."—Charlevoix, vol. v., p. 386; vol. vi., p. 26.

No. LX.

"The action in which Sir Richard met with his death is so extraordinary that it well merits recital: its object was to surprise the Spanish fleet when it rendezvoused at the Azores, on its return from America. For this purpose, Lord Thomas Howard sailed from England with six of the queen's ships, six victualers, and some pinnaces, Sir Richard Grenville being vice admiral in the Revenge. Having set out in the spring, 1591, they waited six months at Flores in expectation of their prize. Philip, however, obtaining intelligence of their design, dispatched Don Alphonso Barcau with fifty-three ships of war to act as convoy. So secure had the English become by protracted delay, that this armament was bearing down upon them before they had the least suspicion of its approach. Most of the crews were on shore, providing water, ballast, and other necessaries, and many were disabled by sickness. To hurry on board, weigh anchor, and leave the place with the utmost speed, was their only safety; and Grenville, upon whom the charge of the details at this pressing crisis was imposed, was the last upon the spot, superintending the embarkation, and receiving his men on board, of whom ninety were on the sick-list, and only one hundred able for duty. Thus detained, he found it impossible to recover the wind, and there was no alternative but either to cut his mainsail, tack about, and fly with all speed, or remain and fight it out single handed. It was to this desperate resolution that he adhered. 'From the greatness of his spirit,' says Raleigh, 'he utterly refused to turn from the enemy, protesting he would rather die than be guilty of such dishonor to himself, his country, and her majesty's ship.' His design was to force the squadron of Seville, which was on his weather bow, to give way; and such was the impetuosity of his attack, that it was on the point of being successful. Divers of the Spaniards, springing their loof, as the sailors of those times termed it, fell under his lee; when the San Philip, a galleon of 1500 tons, gained the wind, and coming down on the Revenge, becalmed her sails so completely that she could neither make way nor obey the helm. The enemy carried three tier of guns on each side, and discharged eight foreright from her chase, besides those of her stern ports. At the moment Sir Richard was thus entangled, four other galleons loofed up and boarded him, two on his larboard and two on his starboard. The close fight began at three in the afternoon, and continued, with some slight intermission, for fifteen hours, during which time, Grenville, unsupported, sustained the reiterated attacks of fifteen Spanish ships, the rest not being able to engage in close fire. The unwieldy San Philip, having received a broadside from the lower tier of the Revenge, shifted with all speed, and avoided the repetition of such a salute; but still, as one was beaten off, another supplied the vacant space. Two galleons were sunk, and two others so handled as to lie complete wrecks upon the water; yet it was evident no human power could save Sir Richard's vessel. Although wounded in the beginning of the action, its brave commander refused, for eight hours, to leave the upper deck. He was then shot through the body, and as his wound was dressing he received another musket ball, and saw the surgeon slain at his side. Such was the state of things during the night; but the darkness concealed the full extent of the calamity. As the day broke, a melancholy spectacle presented itself. 'Now,' says Raleigh, 'was to be seen nothing but the naked hull of a ship, and that almost a skeleton, having received eight hundred shot of great artillery, and some under water; her deck covered with the limbs and carcasses of forty valiant men, the rest all wounded, and painted with their own blood; her masts beat overboard; all her tackle cut asunder; her upper works raised and level with the water, and she herself incapable of receiving any direction or motion except that given her by the heaving billows.' At this moment Grenville proposed to sink the vessel, and trust to the mercy of God rather than fall into the hands of the Spaniards—a resolution in which he was joined by the master gunner and a part of the crew; but the rest refused to consent, and compelled their captain to surrender. Faint with the loss of blood, and, like his ship, shattered with repeated wounds, this brave man soon after expired, with these remarkable words: 'Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind, for that I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for his country, queen, religion, and honor.'"—Report of the Truth of the Fight about the Isles of the Azores, 4to, 1501, quoted in Tytler's "Life of Raleigh."

No. LXI.

"Pocahontas, before her marriage, was instructed in the principles of the Christian religion, which she cordially embraced, and was baptized by the name of Rebecca. Soon after, she set sail to visit England. As soon as Smith heard of her arrival, he sent a letter to the queen, recounting all her services to himself and to the nation, assuring her majesty that she had a great spirit, though a low stature, and earnestly soliciting her majesty's kindness and courtesy. Mrs. Rolfe was accordingly introduced, and well received at court. At first James fancied that Rolfe, in marrying her, might be advancing a claim to the crown of Virginia; however, by great pains, this idea was at last driven out of his brains. Mrs. Rolfe was for some time, as a novelty, the favorite object in the circles of fashion and nobility. On her introduction into these, she deported herself with a grace and propriety which, it is said, many ladies, bred with every advantage of education and society, could not equal. Purchas mentions meeting her at the table of his patron, Dr. King, bishop of London, where she was entertained 'with festival state and pomp,' beyond what, at his hospitable board, was shown to other ladies. She carried herself as the daughter of a king, and was respected as such. She was accompanied by Vitamokomakkin, an Indian chief and priest, who had married one of her sisters, and had been sent to attend her. Purchas saw him repeatedly 'sing and dance his diabolical measures.' He endeavored to persuade this chief to follow the example of his sister-in-law, and embrace Christianity, but found him 'a blasphemer of what he knew not, preferring his God to ours.' He insisted that their Okee, having taught them to plant, sow, and wear a cork twisted round their left ear, was entitled to their undivided homage. Powhatan had instructed him to bring back every information respecting England, and particularly to count the number of people, furnishing him for that purpose with a bundle of sticks, that he might make a notch for every man. Vitamokomakkin, the moment he landed at Plymouth, was appalled at the magnitude of the task before him; however, he continued notching most indefatigably all the way to London; but the instant that he entered Piccadilly, he threw away the sticks, and on returning, desired Powhatan to count the leaves on the trees, and the sand on the sea-shore. He also told Smith that he had special instructions to see the English god, their king, their queen, and their prince. Smith could do nothing for him as to the first particular; but he was taken to the levee, and saw the other three, when he complained bitterly that none of them had made him any present. As soon as Smith learned that Pocahontas was settled in a house at Brentford, which she had chosen in order to be out of the smoke of London, he hastened to wait upon her. His reception was very painful. The princess turned from him, hid her face, and for two hours could by no effort be induced to utter a word. A certain degree of mystery appears to hang on the origin of this deadly offense. Her actual reproaches, when she found her speech, rested on having heard nothing of him since he left Virginia, and on having been assured there that he was dead. Prevost has taken upon him to say that the breach of plighted love was the ground of this resentment, and that it was only on believing that death had dissolved the connection between them that she had been induced to marry another. I can not in any of the original writers meet with the least trace of this alleged vow, and should be sorry to find in Smith the false lover of the fair Pocahontas. It would not also have been much in unison with her applauded discretion to have resented a wrong of this nature in such a time and manner. I am persuaded that this love was a creation of the romantic brain of Prevost, and that the real ground of her displeasure was, that during the two years when she was so shamefully kept in durance, she had heard nothing of any intercession made in her favor by one whom she had laid under such deep obligation, and really the thing seems to require some explanation. It appears that when Smith at last was able to draw speech from the indignant fair one, he succeeded in satisfying her that there had been no such neglect as she apprehended, and she insisted on calling him by the name of father.

"It is said that Pocahontas departed from London with the most favorable impressions, and with every honor, her husband being appointed Secretary and Recorder General of Virginia. But Providence had not destined that she should ever revisit her native shore. As she went down to embark at Gravesend she was seized with illness, and died in a few days. Her end is described to have edified extremely all the spectators, and to have been full of Christian resignation and hope."—Murray's America. See Smith, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 120-123; Beverley; Prevost, Hist. Gen. des Voyages, vol. xiv., p. 471; Purchas, vol. iv., 1774.

No. LXII.

"The historians of Virginia have left some records respecting this unfortunate race, who have not even left behind a relic of their name or nation. A rude agriculture, devolved solely on the women; hunting, pursued with activity and skill, but rather as a pastime than a toil; strong attachment of the members of the little communities to each other, but deadly enmity against all their neighbors, and this manifesting itself in furious wars—these features belong to the Virginians, in common with almost every form of savage life. There are others which are more distinctive. Although a rude independence has been supposed to be, and in many cases is, the peculiar boast of the savage, yet, when a yoke of opinion and authority has once been established over his mind, he yields a submission more entire and more blind than is rendered to the most absolute of Eastern despots. Such a sway had the King of Virginia. 'When he listeth,' says Smith, 'his will is a law, and must be obeyed; not only as a king, but as half a god they esteem him. What he commandeth they dare not disobey in the least thing. It is strange to see with what great fear and adoration all this people do adore this Powhatan; at the least frown of his brow their greatest spirits will tremble with fear.' Powhatan (father of the celebrated Pocahontas; see Appendix, No. LXI.) had under him a number of chiefs, who ruled as supreme within their own circle; and they were so numerous, and covered so large an extent of territory, that Powhatan is often dignified by Europeans with the title of emperor.

"The priests and conjurers formed a separate order, and enjoyed that high influence which marks a certain advance in the social state. They possessed some knowledge of nature, and of the history and traditions of their country, superior, at least, to that of their ruder countrymen. Their temples were numerous, formed on a similar plan to those of Florida, and each served by one or more priests.

"Beverley was the man who made the most close inquiry into the Virginian mythology. He did not meet with all the success he wished, finding them excessively mysterious on the subject. Having got hold, however, of an intelligent Indian, and plied him heartily with strong cider, he at last got him to open his heart in some degree. As he declared his belief in a wise, perfect, and supremely beneficent being, who dwelt in the heavens, Beverley asked him how then he could confine his worship to the devil, a wicked, ugly, earthly being. The Indian said that they were secure as to the good being, who would shower down his blessings without asking any return; but that the evil spirit was perpetually busy and meddling, and would spoil all if court were not paid to him. Beverley, however, pressed upon him how he could think that an insensible log, 'a helpless thing, equipped with a burden of clouts,' could ever be a proper object of worship. The visage of the Indian now assumed a very marked and embarrassed expression. After a long pause, he began to utter, in broken sentences, 'It is the priests;' then, after another pause, 'It is the priests;' but 'a qualm crossed his conscience,' and he would say no more.

"Beverley had been so well informed upon this last point, in consequence of a favorable accident of which he had availed himself. While the whole town were assembled to deliberate upon some great state affair, he was ranging the woods, and stumbled upon their great temple. He resolved not to lose so favorable an occasion. After removing about fourteen logs, with which the door was barricadoed, he entered the mansion, which appeared at first to consist only of a large, empty, dark apartment, with a fire-place in the middle, and set round with posts, crowned with carved or painted heads. On closer observation, he at length discovered a recess, with mats hung before it, and involved in the deepest darkness. With some hesitation he ventured into this wondrous sanctuary, where he found the materials, which, on being put together, made up Okee, Kiwasee, or Mioceos, the mighty Indian idol. The main body consisted of a large plank, to whose edges were nailed half hoops, to represent the breast and belly. Long rolls of blue and red cotton cloth, variously twisted, made arms and legs, the latter of which were represented in a bent position. The reputation of the god was chiefly supported by the very dim religious light under which he was viewed, and which enabled also the conjurer to get behind him, and move his person in such a manner as might be favorable to the extension of his influence, while the priest in front, by the most awful menaces, deterred any from approaching so near as might lead to any revelation of the interior mysteries.

"Smith alleges against the Virginians that they made a yearly sacrifice of a certain number of children; but it appears clear, from the statements of Beverley, that he misunderstood, in this sense, the practice of huskenawing, a species of severe probation through which those were required to pass who desired either to be chiefs or priests. On this occasion, after various preparatory ceremonies, the children are led naked through two lines of men, armed with bastinadoes, which are employed with great rigor against the victims, who, after running through this gauntlet, are more dead than alive, and are covered with boughs and leaves of trees. If any expire under this trial, it is esteemed that the Okee has fixed his heart upon him, and carried him off. The rest are conveyed into the depths of a wood, and shut up into a cage or pen, where they are plied with intoxicating drugs till they are said to become for several weeks actually deranged. By this process they are supposed completely to lose all memory of what they have seen and known in their former life, and to begin a new and brighter era. They must not, on their return home, recognize their nearest friends or comrades, the most common objects, nor even know a word of their own language; all must be learned afresh. If any indications of memory escape, the youth must pass again through the dreadful ordeal. Above all, he must be careful not to have retained the slightest recollection of any property he may have possessed, and which the neighbors usually consider a favorable opportunity to appropriate.

"These Indians had not the least tincture of science, nor, of course, used any form of writing. They made, however, paintings of animals and other natural objects, by the form and natural position of which information was transmitted; but it is to be regretted that none of the Virginian paintings have been preserved to compare with those of the Mexicans."—Murray's America, vol. i., p. 235. See History of Virginia, by R. Beverley, a native and inhabitant of the place. 8vo. London, 1702.

No. LXIII.

The following is Hennepin's account of the voyage of the first vessel built by Europeans on the American lakes:

"It now became necessary for La Salle, in furtherance of his object, to construct a vessel above the Falls of Niagara sufficiently large to transport the men and goods necessary to carry on a profitable trade with the savages residing on the Western lakes. On the 22d of January, 1679, they went six miles above the falls to the mouth of a small creek, and there built a dock convenient for the construction of their vessel.[229]

"On the 26th of January, the keel and other pieces being ready, La Salle requested Father Hennepin to drive the first bolt, but the modesty of the good father's profession prevented.

"During the rigorous winter La Salle determined to return to Fort Frontenac;[230] and leaving the dock in charge of an Italian named Chevalier Tuti, he started, accompanied by Father Hennepin, as far as Lake Ontario; from thence he traversed the dreary forests to Frontenac on foot, with only two companions and a dog, which drew his baggage on a sled, subsisting on nothing but parched corn, and even that failed him two days' journey from the fort. In the mean time, the building of the vessel went on under the suspicious eyes of the neighboring savages, although the most part of them had gone to war beyond Lake Erie. One of them, feigning intoxication, attempted the life of the blacksmith, who defended himself successfully with a red-hot bar of iron. The timely warning of a friendly squaw averted the burning of their vessel on the stocks, which was designed by the savages. The workmen were almost disheartened by frequent alarms, and would have abandoned the work had they not been cheered by the good father, who represented the great advantage their perseverance would afford, and how much their success would redound to the glory of God. These and other inducements accelerated the work, and the vessel was soon ready to be launched, though not entirely finished. Chanting Te Deum, and firing three guns, they committed her to the river amid cries of joy, and swung their hammocks in security from the wild beasts and still more dreaded Indians.

"When the Senecas returned from their expedition they were greatly astonished at the floating fort, 'which struck terror among all the savages who lived on the great lakes and river within 1500 miles.' Hennepin ascended the river in a bark canoe with one of his companions as far as Lake Erie. They twice pulled the canoe up the rapids, and sounded the lake for the purpose of ascertaining the depth. He reported that with a favorable north or northwest wind the vessel could ascend to the lake, and then sail without difficulty over its whole extent. Soon after, the vessel was launched in the current of Niagara, about four and a half miles from the lake. Hennepin left it for Fort Frontenac, and, returning with La Salle and two other fathers, Gabriel and Zenobe Mambre, anchored in the Niagara on the 30th of July, 1769. On the 4th of August they reached the dock where the ship was built, which he calls distant eighteen miles from Lake Ontario, and proceeded from thence in a bark canoe to their vessel, which they found at anchor three miles from the 'beautiful Lake Erie.'

"The vessel was of sixty tons burden, completely rigged, and found with all the necessaries, arms, provisions, and merchandise; it had seven small pieces of cannon on board, two of which were of brass. There was a griffin flying at the jib-boom, and an eagle above. There were also all the ordinary ornaments and other fixtures which usually grace a ship of war.

"They endeavored many times to ascend the current of the Niagara into Lake Erie without success, the wind not being strong enough. While they were thus detained La Salle employed a few of his men in clearing some land on the Canadian shore opposite the vessel, and in sowing some vegetable seeds for the benefit of those who might inhabit the place.

"At length, the wind being favorable, they lightened the vessel by sending most of the crew on shore, and with the aid of their sails and ten or a dozen men at the tow-lines, ascended the current into Lake Erie. Thus, on the 7th of August, 1679, the first vessel set sail on the untried waters of Lake Erie. They steered southward after having chanted their never-failing Te Deum, and discharged their artillery in the presence of a vast number of Seneca warriors. It had been reported to our voyagers that Lake Erie was full of breakers and sandbanks, which rendered a safe navigation impossible; they therefore kept the lead going, sounding from time to time.

"After sailing without difficulty through Lake Erie, they arrived on the 11th of August at the mouth of the Detroit River, sailing up which they arrived at Lake St. Clair, to which they gave the name it bears. After being detained several days by contrary winds at the bottom of the St. Clair River, they at length succeeded in entering Lake Huron on the 23d of August, chanting Te Deum through gratitude for a safe navigation thus far. Passing along the eastern shore of the lake, they sailed with a fresh and favorable wind until evening, when the wind suddenly veered, driving them across Saginaw Bay (Sacinaw). The storm raged until the 24th, and was succeeded by a calm, which continued until next day noon (25th), when they pursued their course until midnight. As they doubled a point which advanced into the lake, they were suddenly struck by a furious wind, which forced them to run behind the cape for safety. On the 26th the violence of the storm compelled them to send down their top-masts and yards and to stand in, for they could find neither anchorage nor shelter.

"It was then the stout heart of La Salle failed him; the whole crew fell upon their knees to say their prayers and prepare for death, except the pilot, whom they could not compel to follow their example, and who, on the contrary, 'did nothing all that time but curse and swear against M. la Salle, who had brought him thither to make him perish in a nasty lake, and lose the glory he had acquired by his long and happy navigation on the ocean.' On the 27th, favored with less adverse winds, they arrived during the night at Michillimackinack, and anchored in the bay, where they report six fathoms of water and a clay bottom. This bay is protected on the southwest, west, and northwest, but open to the south. The savages were struck dumb with astonishment at the size of their vessel and the noise of their guns.

"Here they regaled themselves on the delicious trout, which they described as being from 50 lbs. to 60 lbs. in weight, and as affording the savages their principal subsistence. On the 2d of September they left Mackinack, entered Lake Michigan (Illinois), and sailed forty leagues to an island at the mouth of the Bay of Puara (Green Bay). From this place La Salle determined to send back the ship laden with furs to Niagara. The pilot and five men embarked in her, and on the 10th she fired a gun and set sail on her return with a favorable wind. Nothing more was heard from her, and she undoubtedly foundered in Lake Huron, with all on board. Her cargo was rich, and valued at 60,000 livres.

"Thus ended the first voyage of the first ship that sailed over the Western lakes. What a contrast is presented between the silent waves and unbroken forests which witnessed the course of that adventurous bark, and the busy hum of commerce which now rises from the fertile bottoms, and the thousand ships and smoking palaces which now furrow the surface of those inland seas!"—American Tourist.

No. LXIV.

Militia of Canada Before the Conquest in 1760.

"All the inhabitants of the colony, by virtue of the Law of Fiefs (except such gentlemen and other persons who, by their employments, had the privilege of nobles), were militia-men, and enrolled in the several companies of militia of the province. The captains of militia were the most respectable persons in the country parishes, and were entitled to the first seat in the churches; they also received the same distinctions as the magistrates in the towns; they were held in great respect, and government exacted from the inhabitants obedience to the orders they signified to them on the part of government. If any of the inhabitants did not obey orders, the captains were authorized to conduct them to the city, and, on complaint, they were punished according to the nature of the delinquency. When the government wanted the services of the militia as soldiers, the colonels of militia, or the town majors, in consequence of a requisition from the governor general, sent orders to the several captains of militia in the country parishes to send a certain number of militia-men, chosen by those officers who ordered the draughts, into town, under an escort commanded by an officer of militia, who conducted them to the town major, who furnished each militia-man with a gun, a capot or Canadian cloak, a cotton shirt, a cap, a pair of leggins, a pair of Indian shoes, and a blanket; after which they were marched to the garrison to which they were destined. The militia were generally reviewed once or twice a year to inspect their arms. The militia of the city of Quebec were frequently exercised, and the company of artillery every Sunday were exercised at the great gun practice, under the orders and directions of the artillery sergeant major of the king's troops. To excite the emulation of the militia-men, a premium was given to such as excelled. The captains in the country were obliged to execute all orders addressed to them by the governor general, and also all processes from the intendant respecting the police, and also with regard to suits touching fiefs. They were also obliged to execute all orders respecting the roads from the grand voyer. It was customary for the governor general to deliver to the several captains of militia every year, by way of gratification, a quantity of powder and ball."—General Murray's Report.

No. LXV.

"When the French began their settlements in Canada, the country exhibited one vast and unbounded forest, and property was granted in extensive lots called seigneuries, stretching along either coast of the St. Lawrence for a distance of ninety miles below Quebec, and thirty miles above Montreal, comprehending a space of three hundred miles in length.

"The seigneuries each contain 100 to 500 square miles, and are parceled out into small tracts on a freehold lease to the inhabitants, as the persons to whom they were granted had not the means of cultivating them. These consisted of officers of the army, of gentlemen, and of communities, who were not in a state to employ laborers and workmen. The portion to each inhabitant was of three acres in breadth, and from seventy to eighty in depth, commencing on the banks of the river, and running back into the woods, thus forming an entire and regular lot of land.

"To the proprietors of seigneuries some powers, as well as considerable profits, are attached. They are by their grants authorized to hold courts and sit as judges in what is termed haute and basse justice, which includes all crimes committed within their jurisdiction, treasons and murders excepted. Few, however, exercised this privilege except the ecclesiastical seigneurs of Montreal, whose right of jurisdiction the King of France purchased from them, giving them, in return, his droit de change. Some of the seigneurs have a right of villain service from their tenants.

"At every transfer or mutation of proprietor, the new purchaser is bound to pay a sum equal to a fifth part of the purchase money to the seigneur or to the king; but if this fine be paid immediately, only one third of the fifth is demanded. This constituted a principal part of the king's revenues in the province. When an estate falls by inheritance to a new possessor, he is by law exempted from the fine.

"The income of a seigneur is derived from the yearly rent of his lands, from lots et vents, or a fine on the disposal of property held under him, and from grist mills, to whose profits he has an exclusive right. The rent paid by each tenant is considerable; but they who have many inhabitants on their estates enjoy a tolerably handsome revenue, each person paying in money, grain, or other produce, from five to twelve livres per annum. In the event of a sale of any of the lots of his seigneurie, a proprietor may claim a preference of repurchasing it, which is seldom exercised but with a view to prevent frauds in the disposal of the property. He may also, whenever he finds it necessary, cut down timber for the purpose of building mills and making roads; tithes of all the fisheries on his domain likewise belong to him.

"Possessed of these advantages, seigneurs might in time attain to a state of comparative affluence were their estates allowed to remain entire. But by the practice of divisions among the different children of a family, they become, in a few generations, reduced. The most ample share, which retains the name of seigneurie, is the portion of eldest son; the other partitions are denominated feofs. These are, in the next generation, again subdivided, and thus, in the course of a few descents, a seigneur is possessed of little more than his title. This is the condition of most of those estates that have passed to the third or fourth generation.

"The inhabitants, in like manner, make divisions of their small tracts of land, and a house will sometimes belong to several proprietors. It is from these causes that they are in a great measure retained in a state of poverty, that a barrier to industry and emulation is interposed, and that a spirit of litigation is excited.

"There are in Canada upward of 100 seigneuries, of which that of Montreal, belonging to the seminary of St. Sulpicius, is the richest and most productive. The next in value and profit is the territory of the Jesuits. The members of that society who resided at Quebec were, like the priests of Montreal, only agents for the head of their community. But since the expulsion of their order from France, and the seizure by the Catholic sovereigns of Europe of all the lands of that society within their dominions, the Jesuits in Canada held their seigneurie in their own right.

"Some of the domiciliated savages held also in the province land in the right of seigneurs.

"Upon a representation of the narrow circumstances to which many of the noblesse and gentlemen of the colony were reduced, not only by the causes already assigned, but by others equally powerful, Louis XIV. was induced to permit persons of that description to carry on commerce by sea or land without being subjected to any inquiry on this account, or to an imputation of their having derogated from their rank in society.

"To no seigneurie is the right of patronage to the Church attached; it was upon the advancement of the pretensions of some seigneurs, founded on their having built parochial churches, that the king in 1685 pronounced in council that this right should belong to the bishop, he being the most capable of judging concerning the qualifications of persons who were to serve, and the incomes of the curacies also being paid from the tithes, which belonged to him alone. The right of patronage was at the same time declared not to be reputed an honor."—Heriot's Canada, p. 98.

No. LXVI.

"Louis Joseph, marquis de Montcalm de St. Véran, lieutenant général, naquit au château de Candiac, près de Nîmes, en 1712. Sa famille, originaire du Ronerque, joint ordinairement à son nom celui de Gozon.[231] L'éducation du Marquis de St. Véran fut confiée, ainsi que celle de son frère aîné, enfant célébre,[232] aux soins de Dumas, l'inventeur du bureau typographique. Quoiqu'il fut sorti à l'âge de quatorze ans des mains de cet habile instituteur, pour entrer dans la carrière militaire, il avoit si bien profité de ses leçons qu'il conserva le goût de l'étude jusque dans le tumulte des camps; et l'étendue de ses connaissances justifia son ambition et son espérance d'être admis à l'Académie Royale des inscriptions et belle-lettres de Paris. Il ne vécut pas assez pour jouir de cette honneur.

"Sa vie militaire a jetté un grand éclat. Il se distingua dès les premiers pas dans la carrière, reçut trois blessures à la bataille de Plaisance, et deux au funeste combat d'Exilles (ou de l'Assiette).[233] Il étoit alors colonel d'infanterie. Devenue brigadier il passa dans la cavalerie et fut fait mestre-de-camp d'un régiment de son nom. Maréchal-de-camp en 1756 il alla commander en chef les troupes chargées de la défense des colonies Françaises dans l'Amérique Septentrionale."-Biographie Universelle, art. Montcalm.

The French troops that served in Canada, being desirous of erecting a monument in honor of Montcalm, their general, who fell in the action at Quebec, when we also lost the brave Wolfe, a French colonel wrote to the Academy of Belles-Lettres for an epitaph to be placed over Montcalm's tomb, in a church in that city, which occasioned the following letter from M. de Bougainville, member of the academy, to Mr. Pitt:

"Sir,—The honors paid, under your ministry, to Mr. Wolfe, assure me that you will not disapprove of the grateful endeavors of the French troops to perpetuate the memory of the Marquis de Montcalm. The body of their general, who was honored by the regret of your nation, is interred in Quebec. I have the honor to send you an epitaph made for him by the Academy of Inscriptions. I beg the favor of you, sir, that you will be pleased to examine it, and, if not improper, obtain leave for me to send it to Quebec, engraved on marble, and to be placed on the Marquis de Montcalm's tomb. Should such leave be granted, may I presume, sir, that you will be so good as to inform me of it, and at the same time to send me a passport, that the marble, with the epitaph engraved upon it, may be received into an English ship, and Mr. Murray, governor of Quebec, allow it to be placed in the Ursuline Church. You will be pleased, sir, to pardon me for this intrusion on your important occupations; but endeavoring to immortalize illustrious men and eminent patriots is doing honor to yourself.

"I am, with respect, &c.,

De Bougainville."[234]

Mr. Pitt's answer:

"Sir,—It is a real satisfaction to me to send you the king's consent on a subject so affecting as the epitaph composed by the Academy of Inscriptions at Paris for the Marquis de Montcalm, and which it is desired may be sent to Quebec, engraved on marble, to be placed on the tomb of that illustrious soldier. It is perfectly beautiful; and the desire of the French troops which served in Canada to pay such a tribute to the memory of their general, whom they saw expire at their head in a manner worthy of them and himself, is truly noble and praiseworthy.

"I shall take a pleasure, sir, in facilitating every way such amiable intentions; and on notice of the measures taken for shipping this marble, I will not fail immediately to transmit you the passport you desire, and send directions to the governor of Quebec for its reception.

"I withal beg of you, sir, to be persuaded of my just sensibility of that so obliging part of the letter with which you have honored me relating to myself, and to believe that I embrace as a happiness the opportunity of manifesting the esteem and particular regard with which I have the honor to be, &c.,

W. Pitt

"London, April 10th, 1761."

The epitaph was as follows:

Utroque in orbe æternum victurus,
Ludovicus Josephus de Montcalm Gozon,
Marchio Sancti Verani, Baro Gebriaci,
Ordinis sancti Ludovici commendator,
Legatus generalis exercituum Gallicorum;
Egregius et civis et miles,
Nullius rei appetens præterquam veræ laudis,
Ingenio felici, et literis exculto;
Omnes militiæ gradus per continua decora emensus,
Omnium belli artium, temporum, discriminum gnarus,
In Italia, in Bohemia, in Germania
Dux industrius.
Mandata sibi ita semper gerens ut majoribus par haberetur.
Jam clarus periculus
Ad tutandam Canadensem provinciam missus,
Parva militum manu hostium copias non semel repulit,
Propuguacula cepit viris armisque instructissima.
Algoris, inediæ, vigiliarum, laboris patiens,
Suis unice prospiciens, immemor sui,
Hostis acris, victor mansuetus.
Fortunam virtuti, virium inopiam peritia et celeritate compensavit;
Imminens coloniæ fatum et consilio et manu per quadrimum sustinuit,
Tandem ingentum exercitum duce strenuo et audaci,
Classemque omni bellorum mole gravem,
Multiplici prudentia diu ludificatus,
Vi pertractus ad dimicandum,
In prima acie, in primo conflictu vulneratus,
Religioni quam semper coluerat innitens,
Magno suorum desiderio, nec sine hostium mœrore,
Extinctus est
Die xiv. Sept., A.D. MDCCLIX., ætat. XLVIII.
Mortales optimi ducis exuvias in excavata humo,
Quam globus bellicus decidens dissiliensque defoderat,
Galli lugentes deposuerunt,
Et generosæ hostium fidei commemdârunt.

TRANSLATION.

Here lieth,
In either hemisphere to live forever,
Lewis Joseph de Montcalm Gozon,
Marquis of St. Veran, Baron of Gabriac,
Commendatory of the Order of St. Louis,
Lieutenant general of the French army;
Not loss an excellent citizen than soldier,
Who knew no desire but that of true glory;
Happy in a natural genius, improved by literature,
Having gone through the several steps of military honors
With uninterrupted luster,
Skill'd in all the arts of war,
The juncture of times, and the crisis of dangers,
In Italy, in Bohemia, in Germany,
An indefatigable general.
He so discharged his important trusts,
That he seemed always equal to still greater.
At length, grown bright with perils,
Sent to secure the province of Canada,
With a handful of men
He more than once repulsed the enemy's forces,
And made himself master of their forts,
Replete with troops and ammunition.
Inured to cold, hunger, watchings, and labors,
Unmindful of himself,
He had no sensation but for his soldiers;
An enemy with the fiercest impetuosity,
A victor with the tenderest humanity.
Adverse fortune he compensated with valor,
The want of strength with skill and activity,
And, with his counsel and support,
For four years protracted the impending fate of the colony.
Having with various artifices
Long baffled a great army,
Headed by an expert and intrepid commander,
And a fleet furnished with all warlike stores,
Compelled at length to an engagement,
He fell, in the first rank, in the first onset,
With those hopes of religion which he had always cherished,
To the inexpressible loss of his own army,
And not without the regret of the enemy's,
XIV. September, A.D. MDCCLIX., of his age XLVIII.
His weeping countrymen
Deposited the remains of their excellent general
In a grave,
Which a fallen bomb in bursting had excavated for him,
Recommending them to the generous faith of their enemies.

—Annual Register, 1762.

No. LXVII.

Memoir of General Wolfe.

James Wolfe was the second son of Colonel Edward Wolfe, who was afterward colonel of the 8th Regiment, and died on the 27th of March, 1759, but a short time before the death of his gallant son. Colonel Wolfe had served and won honorable estimation, under Marlborough in early life; on his return from the continental wars he married Miss Harriett Thompson, sister to the then member of Parliament for York. The inhabitants of that city made a vigorous effort to appropriate the honor of James Wolfe having been born among them, and a controversy in prose and verse, neither of them of a very brilliant description, was long carried on in the periodicals of the day, between the capital of the North and the quiet village of Westerham. Whatever the merits of the writers upon either side may have been, and their power of wit and argument, there were a few lines in the parish register of the Kentish hamlet which proved more convincing than any thing else; James, son of Colonel Edward Wolfe, was baptized on January 11th, 1727. On a tablet erected to his memory in Westerham Church, it is stated that he was born on the 2nd of January, 1727.

The vicarage house of the village was the place of Wolfe's birth, then leased to his father by the Reverend George Lewis, the vicar, whose son was vicar when Wolfe died, and wrote the inscription for his monument. The elder brother of this gallant general died young; he himself was sent to a respectable private school in the neighborhood, where, although an ardent and clever boy, he was not distinguished for any very remarkable characteristics.

When only fourteen years of age he embarked with his father, who was engaged in the expedition to Flanders under Lord Cathcart; the youth, however, who was then and always of a very delicate constitution, fell ill, and was under the necessity of being landed at Portsmouth. After a little time, his health being somewhat re-established, he joined his father on the Continent, and at once began to read the lessons of military art in the stern school of reality.

On the 3rd of November, 1741, Colonel Wolfe caused his youthful son to be appointed to a commission in a battalion of marines which he himself commanded. On the 27th of March, 1742, James Wolfe removed into the 12th Regiment as ensign, and fought at the battle of Dettingen in that same year. In April he appears to have been on leave, traveling probably for health; in this month he writes to his mother, dating Rome, a grateful and affectionate letter. On the 14th of July, 1743, he was promoted to a lieutenancy in the same regiment, while serving with the allies behind the Scheldt, and in 1744 was engaged under Wade in his inglorious operations; in that year he was given a company in the 4th Regiment; in the following, he fought under the Duke of Cumberland in the fatal but glorious battle of Fontenoy. Up to this time Wolfe had been with his regiment in every engagement in which it had taken part, and had already gained greater distinction than can usually fall to the lot of those in the junior ranks of the army. In 1746 he fought under Hawley in the front line at the disgraceful rout at Falkirk, and his conduct, even in that unfortunate occasion, called forth the praise of his superiors. In the same year his services were transferred to a service more worthy of his future fame than the obscure and painful struggles of a civil war; he served and gained new approbation under the gallant Ligonier at Liers.

On the 5th of February, 1746-7, he was raised to a majority in the 33d Regiment. This step of rank afforded new opportunity to this gallant youth; at the battle of La Feldt, in the same year, he distinguished himself in so remarkable a manner, that the British general-in-chief, the Duke of Cumberland, publicly thanked him on the battle-field. On the 5th of January, 1748-9, he removed into Lord George Sackville's, the 20th Regiment of Foot.

Wolfe commanded this regiment during the absence of the colonel for a considerable time, and soon brought it into a state of the highest discipline. Wherever he went, he received the praise of the different general officers commanding, and gained the esteem and regard of all who became acquainted with him in civil or military life. His regimental orders, which are still extant, are admirable, and furnish ample evidence of zeal for, and knowledge of, his profession.

In February, 1748-9, Wolfe served at Stirling, in Scotland; in April, at Glasgow; in October, at Perth. March 20th, 1749-50, he was made colonel of the regiment which he had for some time so admirably commanded; in October he was at Dundee, in November at Banff; and remained in Scotland till 1753, when he removed to Reading, where his regiment was reviewed and highly commended by the Duke of Cumberland. In December in that year he was at Dover Castle. In 1755 he was at Winchester and Southampton; at the end of October he marched to Gravesend, and in December to Canterbury. While in the south of England, he constantly practiced his regiment in such evolutions as might be necessary to oppose the landing of an invading army, and wrote an elaborate code of instructions, to be acted upon in case of any attempt being made upon the coast. At the same time, a number of his trained soldiers were withdrawn to fill up the ill-fated ranks of the 44th and 48th, then about to sail for America under Braddock, where many of them perished miserably and ingloriously.

Early in 1757, Lieutenant-colonel Wolfe was selected, on account of his known merit, by Mr. Pitt to serve as quarter-master general of the force sent against Rochefort, under Sir John Mordaunt, the general, and Sir Edward Hawke, the admiral. While the expedition lay motionless in Basque Roads, from the untoward dissensions between the naval and military officers, Wolfe landed one night alone upon the hostile shore, and walked two miles up the country. He found that there were no real difficulties in the way of debarkation, and that no preparations had been made to oppose it. When he returned to the fleet he reported the result of his observations, and strongly, but vainly, urged the general to land, and at once attack Rochefort. Finally, he pledged himself to carry the place, should three ships of war and 500 men be placed at his disposal. The proposal was neglected: however, the zeal and daring shown by the gallant young soldier on this occasion confirmed Pitt in the estimate which he had formed of his character. Some more days were wasted in inaction, and at length the expedition, having destroyed the unimportant fortifications of Aix, returned ingloriously to England. Wolfe's merit was thrown out in strong relief by the incapacity of those under whom he served; while they were despised, he was honored. The rank of brevet colonel on the 21st of October of that year was his first reward.

On the 23d of January, 1758, Mr. Pitt made Wolfe brigadier general, and gave him the command of a brigade under Amherst, in the expedition against Louisburg, disregarding the mere official routine of seniority. Events soon proved the wisdom of the selection. From thenceforward Wolfe's biography is English history. However, it may be added that he was made colonel of the 67th Foot on the 21st of April, 1758. In January, 1759, Pitt again selected him for service. This time he was to command in chief: he was gazetted as major general, and intrusted with the conduct of the arduous expedition against Quebec.

It is a painful duty to repeat here an anecdote of Wolfe, which stands recorded by the high authority of Lord Mahon. The young general dined with Mr. Pitt shortly after his appointment to the command, a third person only being present. After dinner, when the conversation turned upon the approaching expedition, Wolfe became unreasonably excited: he strode about the room, flourished his sword, and broke forth in a style of vaporing altogether surprising in a man of real spirit. When he at length departed, Mr. Pitt remained dismayed at having intrusted the fate of the country and of the ministry in such hands. Happily, he did not suffer new doubts to alter his former arrangements.

For some time Wolfe appears to have been unsuccessful in a suit which he pleaded to Miss Lowther, and, in consequence, his naturally domestic mind was re-strung to the harsher tones of ambition. Subsequently, however, he became engaged to this lady, and the marriage was to have been celebrated immediately on his return from the expedition against Quebec. After his death Miss Lowther became Duchess of Bolton, but tradition says that she always wore henceforth a pearl necklace which he had given her, covered with black velvet, in memory of the departed.

Wolfe was a plain man: his features were sharp, his forehead somewhat receding, his hair sandy or red, and, contrary to the fashion of the time, was not powdered; his skin was coarse, fair, and freckled; but his mouth wore a smiling and gentle expression, and his eyes were blue and benignant. He was delicate from early youth, and the seeds of fatal diseases were displayed in his constitution. At first his address and manner were unengaging, but he invariably endeared himself to all with whom he was familiar. All his thoughts and actions were influenced by a deep religious feeling. When a courtier remonstrated with the king upon Wolfe's appointment to command the expedition against Quebec, saying that "he was mad" (meaning that he was over-religious), the king replied, "If he be mad, I wish he would bite some of my other generals."

Wolfe was assiduously and conscientiously attentive to his profession, and was constitutionally and steadily daring. His mind was clear and active, his temper lively and almost impetuous; he was independent without pride, and generous to profusion. "He never caviled with his instructions, or hesitated to obey orders; exact in discipline himself, he was always punctual to obey. His judgment was acute, his memory quick and retentive, and his disposition candid, constant, and sincere. The union of the gentle and the bold, of ambition and affection, formed the peculiar charm of his character. His courage never quailed before danger, nor shrank from responsibility."

Little is known of Wolfe's private life. Dr. Southey contemplated the task of writing his biography, but abandoned it from the want of materials. To Lord Mahon and Mr. Gleig we are indebted for some very interesting particulars, and for a few judiciously selected portions of such of the hero's letters as are still extant. It only remains to conclude this imperfect memoir with a few of these selections.

On first assuming the command of a regiment, Wolfe writes, "I take upon me the difficult duty of a commander. It is a hard thing to keep the passions within bounds, where authority and immaturity go together. It is hard to be a severe disciplinarian, yet humane; to study the temper of all, and endeavor to please them, and yet be impartial—to discourage vice at the turbulent age of twenty-three."

His letters breathe a spirit of tenderness and gentleness, over which ambition could not triumph. In writing to his mother on the 28th of September, 1755, he says, "My nature requires some extraordinary events to produce itself. I want that attention and those assiduous cares that commonly go along with good nature and humanity. In the common occurrences of life I am not seen to advantage." So far back as the 13th of August, 1749, he writes also to his mother from Glasgow, "I have observed your instructions so rigidly that, rather than want the word, I got the reputation of being a very good Presbyterian by frequenting the Kirk of Scotland till our chapel opens." Again he writes to his mother from Inverness, November 6th, 1751, "There are times when men fret at trifles, and quarrel with their tooth-picks. In one of these ill habits I exclaim against my present condition, and think it the worst of all, but coolly and temperately, it is plainly the best. Where there is most employment and least vice, there should one wish most to be."

On the 18th of February, 1755, he writes to his father, "I find that your bounty and liberality keep pace, as they usually do, with my necessities. I shall not abuse your kindness, nor receive it unthankfully, and what use I make of it shall be for your honor and the king's service—an employment worthy of the hand that gives it." His amiable temper strongly inclined him, from an early age, to domestic life; in the letter, November 6th, 1751 (before quoted), he declares that he has "a turn of mind that favors matrimony prodigiously; I love children, and think them necessary to people in their later days." He, however, struggled with these wishes, and for a long time overcame them, from his ardent love of fame.

Of Wolfe's life we know but little; the waves of oblivion have closed over it, but the story of his death remains forever treasured in England's grateful memory.

"Annual Register," May, 1760.

Some gentlemen in the parish of Westerham, in Kent, have erected a plain monument to the late General Wolfe, in the inscription on which the extraordinary honor intended his memory by his sovereign is hinted at, and the impropriety of a more expensive monument in that place justly shown. The table is of statuary marble, beautifully executed by Mr. Lovel, near Cavendish Square.

JAMES,
Son of Colonel Edward WOLFE, and Henrietta his wife, was born in
this parish, January 2d, 1727,
And died in America, September 13th, 1759.

"While George in sorrow bows his laurel'd head,
And bids the artist grace the soldier dead,
We raise no sculptured trophy to thy name,
Brave youth! the fairest in the list of fame.
Proud of thy birth, we boast th' auspicious year;
Struck with thy fall, we shed a general tear;
With humble grief inscribe one artless stone,
And from thy matchless honors date our own."
"I Decus I Nostrum."[235]

"Annual Register," October, 1773.

On an oval tablet on front of the sarcophagus of General Wolfe's monument in Westminster Abbey, just opened, is the following inscription:

To the memory of
JAMES WOLFE, Esq.,
Major General and Commander-in-Chief
Of the British Land Forces
On an expedition against Quebec,
Who,
Surmounting, by ability and valor,
All obstacles of art and nature,
Was slain,
In the moment of Victory,
At the head of his conquering troops,
On the 13th of Sept., 1759,
The King
And the Parliament of Great Britain
Dedicate this monument.

"Annual Register," 1762.

The Right Honorable the Earl Temple has lately dedicated a most magnificent building at Stowe, of the Ionic order, Concordiæ Et Victoriæ.

In the pediment of the portico is a fine alto relievo, representing the four quarters of the world bringing gifts to Britain. In the portico, or ante-temple, two medallions, Concordia fœderatorum, Concordia civium. Over the door, Quo tempore salus corum in ultimas angustias deducta nullum ambitioni locum relinquebat. In the inner temple, in a niche facing the entrance, the statue of Britannia: over which, in a tablet, Candidis autem animis voluptatum, præbuerint in conspicuo posita, quæ cuique magnifica merito contigerunt. On the walls, fourteen medallions, representing the taking of Quebec, Martinico, &c.; Louisburg, Guadeloupe, &c.; Montreal, &c.; Pondicherry, &c. Naval victory off Belleisle, naval victory off Lagas, Crevelt and Minden, Fellinghausen; Senegal and Gorce, Niagara and Crown Point, Beau Sejour and Fort du Quesne, Cherburg and Belleisle. On a hill at a distance, in a diagonal line, runs an obelisk above a hundred feet, inscribed

To Major-General Wolfe.

Ostendunt Terris nunc tantum Fata.

No. LXVIII.

"Lord Howe always lay in his tent with the regiment which he commanded, while the rest of the army were quartered in the town and fort of Albany. This regiment he modeled in such a manner that they were ever after considered as an example to the whole American army. Lord Howe laid aside all pride and prejudice, and gratefully accepted council from those whom he knew to be the best qualified to direct him. Madame Schuyler was delighted with the calm steadiness with which he carried through the austere rules which he found it necessary to lay down. In the first place, he forbade all displays of gold and scarlet in the rugged march they were about to undertake, and set the example by wearing himself an ammunition coat, that is to say, one of the surplus soldiers' coats cut short. This was a necessary precaution, because, in the woods, the hostile Indians who started from behind the trees usually caught at the long and heavy skirts then worn by the soldiers; and, for the same reason, he ordered the muskets to be shortened, that they might not, as on former occasions, be snatched from behind by these agile foes. To prevent the march of his regiment from being descried at a distance by the glittering of their arms, the barrels of their guns were all blackened; and to save them from the tearing of bushes, the stings of insects, &c., he set them the example of wearing leggins, a kind of buskin made of strong woolen cloth. The greatest privation to the young and vain yet remained. Hair well dressed and in great quantity was then considered as the greatest possible ornament, which those who had it took the utmost care to display to advantage, and to wear in a bag or queue. Lord Howe's was very full and very abundant; he, however, cropped it, and ordered every one else to do the same.

"The austere regulations and constant self-denial which he imposed upon the troops he commanded were patiently borne, because he was not only gentle in his manners, but generous and humane in a very high degree, and exceedingly attentive to the health and real necessities of the soldiery. Among many instances of this, a quantity of powdered ginger was given to every man, and the sergeants were ordered to see that when, in the course of marching, the soldiers arrived hot and tired at the banks of any stream, they should not be permitted to stoop to drink, as they generally inclined to do, but be obliged to lift water in their canteens, and mix ginger with it. This became afterward a general practice, and in those aguish swamps through which the troops were forced to march, was the means of saving many lives. Aunt Schuyler, as this amiable young officer familiarly styled his maternal friend, had the greatest esteem for him, and the greatest hope that he would at some future time redress all those evils that had formerly impeded the service. The night before the march they had a long and serious conversation. In the morning Lord Howe proposed setting out very early; but, when he arose, was astonished to find Madame Schuyler waiting, and breakfast ready; he smiled, and said he would not disappoint her, as it was hard to say when he might again breakfast with a lady. Impressed with an unaccountable degree of concern about the fate of the enterprise in which he was embarked, she again repeated her counsels and her caution; and when he was about to depart, embraced him with the affection of a mother, and shed many tears, a weakness she did not often give way to. A few days after Lord Howe's departure, in the afternoon, a man was seen coming on horseback from the north, galloping violently, without his hat. Pedrom ran eagerly to inquire, well knowing he rode express. The man galloped on, crying out that Lord Howe was killed. Shrieks and sobs of anguish re-echoed through every part of the house."—Letters of an American Lady, vol. ii.; p. 73.

No. LXIX.

"Le troisième de Juillet de cette année Samuel de Champlain fonda la ville de Quebec, capitale de la Nouvelle France, sur la rivière septentrionale du fleuve St. Laurent à six-vingt lieuës de la mer, entre une petite rivière qui porte le nom de St. Charles et un gros cap, qu'on appelle le Cap aux Diamans, parce qu'on y trouvoit alors quantité de diamans assez semblables à ceux d'Alençon."—Fastes Chronologiques, 1608.

"Cape Diamond abounds with very fine specimens of quartz, or rock crystals. I have myself, in walking on the banks of the river at the foot of the rocks, found many of them. They are discovered from the brilliancy of their reflecting surfaces: they sparkle like the diamond, and hence the place had its name. On examination, I have generally found that they are pentagons, terminating in a point, and possessing naturally much of the brilliancy and polish of a cut diamond; and they are so hard, that, like a diamond, they cut glass."—Gray's Canada, p. 68.

"The mountain on which Quebec is built, and the hills along the River St. Lawrence, consist of it for some miles together on both sides of Quebec. About a yard from the surface this stone is quite compact, and without any cracks, so that one can not perceive that it is a slate, its particles being imperceptible. It lies in strata, which vary from three or four inches to twenty thick and upward. In the mountains on which Quebec is built the strata do not lie horizontal, but dipping, so as to be nearly perpendicular, the upper ones pointing northwest and the lower ones southeast. From hence it is, the corners of these strata always strike out at the corners into the streets, and cut the shoes in pieces. I have likewise seen some strata inclining to the northward, but rather perpendicular, as the former. The strata are divided by narrow cracks, which are commonly filled by fibrous white gypsum, which can sometimes be got loose with a knife, if the larger stratum of slate above it is broken in pieces; and in that case it has the appearance of a thin white leaf. The large cracks are almost filled up with transparent quartz crystals of different sizes. One part of the mountain contains great quantities of these crystals, from which the corner of the mountain which lies to S.S.E. of the palace has got the name of Pointe de Diamante, or Diamond Point."—Kalm, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 678.

No. LXX.

"The Cherokees are planters and farmers, tradespeople and mechanics. They have corn-fields and orchards, looms and work-shops, schools and churches, and orderly institutions. In 1824, when the population of the Cherokees was 15,560 persons, it included 1277 negroes; they had 18 schools, 36 grist-mills, 13 saw-mills, 762 looms, 2486 spinning-wheels, 172 wagons, 2923 plows, 7683 horses, 22,531 black cattle, 46,732 swine, 2546 sheep, 430 goats, 62 blacksmiths' shops, &c., with several public roads, and fences, and turnpikes. The natives carry on a considerable trade with the adjoining states, and some of them export cotton to New Orleans. A printing-press has been established for several years, and a newspaper, written partly in the English and partly in the Cherokee language, has been successfully carried on. This paper, called the Cherokee Phœnix, is written entirely by a Cherokee, a young man under thirty. The missionaries among them declare that the converts generally are very attentive to preaching, and very exemplary in their conduct. Public worship, conducted by native members of the church, is held in three or four places remote from the station. The pupils are making great progress at the schools. Many of them are leaving the schools with an education sufficient for life. New Echota is the seat of government of the Cherokees. The provisions of the Constitution are placed under six heads, divided into sections. The trial by jury is in full operation. The right of suffrage is universal; every free male citizen who has attained the age of eighteen years is entitled to vote at public elections."—Stuart's Three Years in North America, vol. ii., p. 143.

"The Creeks, Cherokees, and Choctaws certainly hold out a promise of the gradual attainment of civilization.... The recent invention of written characters by a full-blood Cherokee,[236] consisting of eighty-four signs expressing all the dominant sounds of that language, and the great number of half words among them, are both favorable to this change of life. The best proof that they are advancing from their savage state to a higher grade is, that their numbers increase, while almost all other tribes spread over the American continent far and near are known to diminish in numbers so rapidly that common observation alone would enable any one to predict their utter extinction before the lapse of many years."—Latrobe, Rambler in America, vol. i., p. 163.

The Stockbridge Indians (so called from Stockbridge, Massachusetts) are, upon the whole, considered to have made greater attainments in the useful arts of civilized life, and also in the Christian religion, than any other tribe of the aborigines. They heard the preaching of Brainard and Edwards, and have enjoyed Christian privileges and education with little interruption for more than ninety years. The Stockbridge Indians, and the Oneidas, under the celebrated Oneida half-blood Mr. Williams, were the principal of those unfortunate New York Indians who were persuaded, on the faith of solemn treaties, to leave their homes in New York and form new settlements among the wild Indian tribes beyond the Mississippi. One of the visitors to these new settlements, after the Indians had been a few years established there, thus describes the improvements they had effected in this remote wilderness: "On the east bank of Fox River they had in the course of some half dozen years reared a flourishing settlement; built houses and barns in the usual style of the white settlements under similar circumstances; cleaved away portions of the forest, and reduced their farms to an interesting state of improvement; organized and brought into solitary operation a political and civil economy; established schools, and in 1830 were building a very decent Christian church; had erected mills and machinery; exhibiting, in a word, a most interesting phasis of civilization, along with the purest morals under the simplest manners."—Colton's Tour among the Northwest Indians, vol. i., p. 203. This American writer is justly indignant at the cruel and dishonest policy of the American government in driving these unfortunate wanderers away from the new home solemnly promised them into the wild and dreary regions of the Far West, as soon as the settlement at Fox River was ascertained to possess sufficient natural advantages to entitle it to form a part of the Union.

No. LXXI.

Articles of Capitulation demanded by M. de Ramsay, the king's lieutenant, commanding the high and low towns of Quebec, chief of the Military Order of St. Louis, to his excellency the general of the troops of his Britannic majesty.

"The capitulation demanded on the part of the enemy, and granted by their excellencies, Admiral Saunders and General Townshend, &c., &c., is in manner and form as hereafter expressed:

"I.M. de Ramsay demands the honors of war for his garrison, and that it shall be sent back to the army in safety, and by the shortest route, with arms, baggage, six pieces of brass cannon, two mortars or howitzers, and twelve rounds for each of them. The garrison of the town, composed of land forces, marines, and sailors, shall march out with their arms and baggage, drums beating, matches lighted, with two pieces of French cannon, and twelve rounds for each piece, and shall be embarked as conveniently as possible, to be sent to the first port in France.

"II. That the inhabitants shall be preserved in the possession of their houses, goods, effects, and privileges.—Granted, upon their laying down their arms.

"III. That the inhabitants shall not be accountable for having carried arms in the defense of the town, forasmuch as they were compelled to do it, and that the inhabitants of the colonies, of both crowns, equally serve as militia.—Granted.

"IV. That the effects of the absent officers and citizens shall not be touched.—Granted.

"V. That the inhabitants shall not be removed, nor obliged to quit their houses, until their condition shall be settled by their Britannic and most Christian majesties.—Granted.

"VI. That the exercise of the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman religion shall be maintained, and that safeguards shall be granted to the houses of the clergy and to the mountaineers, particularly to his lordship the Bishop of Quebec, who, animated with zeal for religion, and charity for the people of his diocese, desires to reside in it constantly, to exercise freely, and with that decency which his character and the sacred offices of the Roman religion require, his episcopal authority in the town of Quebec, whenever he shall think proper, until the possession of Canada shall be decided by a treaty between their Britannic and most Christian majesties. The free exercise of the Roman religion is granted, likewise safeguards to all religions persons, as well as to the bishop, who shall be at liberty to come and exercise, freely and with decency, the functions of his office whenever he thinks proper, until the possession of Canada shall have been decided between their Britannic and most Christian majesties.

"VII. That the artillery and warlike stores shall be faithfully given up, and that an inventory of them shall be made out.—Granted.

"VIII. That the sick and wounded, the commissaries, chaplains, physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, and other people employed in the service of the hospitals, shall be treated conformably to the cartel of the 6th of February, 1759, settled between their Britannic and most Christian majesties.—Granted.

"IX. That before delivering up the gate and the entrance of the town to the English troops, their general will be pleased to send some soldiers to be posted as safeguards upon the churches, convents, and principal habitations.—Granted.

"X. That the king's lieutenant commanding in Quebec shall be permitted to send information to the Marquis de Vaudreuil, governor general, of the reduction of the place, as also that the general may send advice thereof to the French ministry.—Granted.

"XI. That the present capitulation shall be executed according to its form and tenor, without being subject to non-execution under pretense of reprisals, or for the non-execution of any preceding capitulation.—Granted.

"Duplicates hereof, taken and executed by and between us, at the camp before Quebec, this 18th day of September, 1759.

"Charles Saunders, George Townshend, De Ramsay."

No. LXXII

Extracts from "Lettres de M. le Marquis de Montcalm, G.G. en Canada, à MM. de Berryer et de la Molé, 1757-1759. Londres, 1777."

In 1757.—Letter 1. Montcalm informs M. de Berryer that he carries on a correspondence with the English planters by giving them a few prohibited articles. "They dupe their own people, who think they dupe us; their letters discover to me many curious political secrets. Our governors of Canada have neglected the only means of making the country prosperous ... another system is indispensable."

S.J., of Boston, writes to Montcalm, "The cause of your non-progress lies in the genius of your nation. Your governors were French gentlemen, hating and despising commerce—wealth, commerce, and strength are inseparable—your skeleton colony has lost more in a year than it can regain in ten. Your commerce with us ought to be free and unfettered.... We shall soon break with England for commercial reasons."

Montcalm observes on the foregoing, "Let us beware how we allow the establishment of manufactures in Canada; she would become proud and mutinous like the English. So long as France is a nursery to Canada, let not the Canadians be allowed to trade, but kept to their wandering, laborious life with the savages, and to their military exercises. They will be less wealthy, but more brave and more faithful to us.

"We may lose Canada—no great loss, if we keep some port in North America for fishing and trade.... The English settlers are as hostile to their mother country as to us. The state of their country is singular—not a city is fortified. The English governors often wished to fortify, but the people objected. If Canada be in the hands of an able (French) governor when the certain quarrel comes on, it will repay us for all former cost. England made a great mistake in not taxing these colonies from the first, even ever so little. If they now attempt it—revolt."

Letter from M. de Montcalm to M. de Molé, Premier Président au Parliament de Paris, 1759:

"Monsieur et cher Cousin,

"Me voici, depuis plus de trois mois, aux prises avec M. Wolfe: il ne cesse jour et nuit de bombarder Quebec, avec une furie qui n'a guères d'example dans le siège d'une place qu'en veut prendre et conserver. Il a déjà consumé par le feu presque toute la basse ville, une grande partie de la haute est écrasée par les bombes. Mais ne laissa-t-il pierre sur pierre, il ne viendra jamais à bout de s'emparer de cette capitale de la colonie, tandis qu'il se contentera de l'attaquer de la rive opposée, dont nous lui avons abandonné la possession. Aussi après trois mois de tentative, n'est il pas plus avancé dans son dessein qu'on premier jour. Il nous ruine, mais il ne s'enrichit pas. La campagne n'a guères plus d'un mois à durer, à raison du voisinage de l'automne, terrible dans ces parages pour une flotte, par les coups de vent qui règnent constamment et périodiquement.

"Il semble qu'après un si heureux prélude, la conservation de la colonie est presque assurée. Il n'en est cependant rien: la prise de Quebec dépend d'un coup du main. Les Anglois sont maîtres de la rivière: il n'ont qu'à effectuer une descente sur la rive, où cette ville, sans fortifications et sans défense, est située. Les voilà en état de me présenter la battaille, que je ne pourrai plus refuser, et que je ne devrai pas gagner. M. Wolfe, en effet, s'il entend son métier, n'à qu'à essuyer le premier feu, venir en suite à grand pas sur mon armée, faire à bout partant sa décharge, mes Canadiens, sans discipline, sourds à la voix du tambour, et des instrumens militaires, dérangés par cet escarre, ne sçauront plus reprendre leurs rangs. Ils sont ailleurs sans bagonettes pour repondre à celles de l'ennemi: il ne leur reste qu'à fuir, et me voilà, battue sans ressource. Voilà ma position!... Position bien fâcheuse pour un général, et qui me fait passer de bien terribles momens. La connaissance que j'en aye m'a fait tenir jusqu'ici sur la défensive, qui m'a réussi; mais réussira-t-elle jusqu'à la fin? Les évènemens en décideront! Mais une assurance que je puis vous donner, c'est, que je ne survivrois pas probablement la perte de la colonie. Il est des situations où il ne reste plus à un général, que de périr avec honneur: je crois y être: et sur ce point je crois que jamais la postérité n'aura rien à reprocher à ma mémoire; mais si la Fortune décide de ma vie, elle ne décidera pas de mes sentimens—ils sont François, et ils le seront, jusque dans le tombeau, si dans le tombeau on est encore quelque chose! Je me consolerai du moins de ma défaite, et de la perte de la colonie, par l'intime persuasion où je suis, que cette défaite vaudroit un jour à ma patrie plus qu'une victoire, et que le vainqueur en s'aggrandissant, trouveroit un tombeau dans son aggrandissement même.

"Ce que j'advance ici, mon cher cousin, vous paroitra un paradoxe; mais un moment de réflexion politique, un coup d'œil sur la situation des choses en Amérique, et la vérité de mon opinion, brillera dans tout son jour. Non, mon cher cousin, les hommes n'obéissent qu'à la force et à la nécessité; c'est à dire, que quand ils voyent armé devant leurs yeux, un pouvoir toujours prêt, et toujours suffisant pour les y contraindre, ou quand la chaine de leurs besoins leur en dicte la loi. Hors de là point de joug pour eux, point d'obéissance de leur part; ils sont à eux; ils vivent libres, parce qu'ils n'ont rien au dedans, rien au dehors, qui les oblige à se dépouiller de cette liberté, qui est le plus bel appanage, la plus précieuse prérogative de l'humanité. Voilà les hommes! et sur ce point les Anglois, soit par l'éducation, soit par sentiment, sont plus hommes que les autres: La gêne de la contrainte leur déplait plus qu'à tout autre: il leur faut respirer un air libre et dégagé; sans cela ils sont hors de leur élément. Mais si ce sont là les Anglois de l'Europe, c'est encore plus les Anglois d'Amérique. Une grand partie de ces colons sont les enfans de ces hommes qui s'expatrièrent dans ces temps de trouble, où l'ancienne Angleterre, en proye aux divisions, étoit attaquée dans ses privilèges et droits, et allèrent chercher en Amérique une terre, où ils puissent vivre et mourir libres, et presqu'indépendents; et ces enfans n'ont pas dégénerés des sentimens republicains de leurs pères. D'autres sont des hommes, ennemis de tout frein, de tout assujettissement, que le government y a transporté pour leur crimes. D'autres, enfin, sont un ramas de différentes nations de l'Europe, qui tiennent très peu à l'ancienne Angleterre par le cœur et le sentiment, tous en général no se soucient guères du roi ni du Parlement d'Angleterre.

"Je les connois bien, non sur des rapports étrangers, mais sur des corréspondances, et des informations secrets, que j'ai moi-même ménages, et dont un jour, si Dieu me prête vie, je pourrais faire usage à l'avantage de ma patrie. Pour surcroit de bonheur pour eux, tous ces colons sont parvenu dans un état très florissant; ils sont nombreux et riches; ils recueillent dans le sein de leur patrie, toutes les nécessités de la vie. L'ancienne Angleterre a été assez sotte, et assez dupe, pour leur laisser établir chez eux les arts, les métiers, les manufactures; c'est à dire, qu'elle leur a laissé briser la chaine de besoins, qui les lioit, qui les attachoit à elle, et qui les fait dépendants. Aussi toutes ces colonies Angloises auroient depuis long temps secoué le joug, chaque province auroient formé une petite république indépendante, si la crainte de voir les François à leur porte n'avoit été un frein, qui les avoit rétenu. Maîtres pour maîtres ils ont préferé leur compatriotes aux étrangers, prenant cependant pour maxime, de n'obéir que le moins qu'ils pourroient; mais que la Canada vînt à être conquis, et que les Canadiens et ces colons ne fussent plus qu'un seul peuple, et la première occasion, où l'ancienne Angleterre sembleroit toucher à leurs intérêts, croiez-vous, mon cher cousin, que colons obéiroient? Et qu'auroient-ils à craindre, en se revoltant?

"Je ne puis cependant pas dissimuler que l'ancienne Angleterre avec un peu de bonne politique pourroit toujours se réserver dans les mains une ressource toujours prête pour mettre à la raison ses anciennes colonies. Le Canada considéré dans lui-même, dans ses richesses, dans ses forces, dans le nombre de ses habitans n'est rien en comparaison du conglobat des colonies Angloises; mais la valeur, l'industrie, la fidélité de ses habitans, y supplie si bien, que depuis plus d'un siècle ils se battent avec avantage contre toutes ces colonies: dix Canadiens sont suffisants contre cent colons Anglois. L'expérience journalière prove ce fait. Si l'ancienne Angleterre, après avoir conquis le Canada sçavoit se l'attacher par la politique des bienfaits, et se le conserver à elle seule, si elle le laissoit à sa religion, à ses loix, à son language, à ses coûtumes, à son ancienne gouvernement, le Canada, divisé dans tous ces points, d'avec les autres colonies, formerait toujours un pais isolé, qui n'entreroit jamais dans leurs intérêts; ... mais ce n'est pas là la politique Brittannique. Les Anglois font-ils une conquête, il faut qu'ils changent la constitution du pays, ils y portent leur loix, leur coûtumes, &c., &c.... Voilà les Canadiens transformés en politiques, en négocians, en hommes infatués d'une prétendue liberté, qui chez la populace tient souvent en Angleterre de la licence, et de la nardin.... Je suis si sûr de ce que j'écris, que je ne donnerai pas dix ans après la conquête de Canada pour en voir l'accomplissement.

"Voilà ce que, comme François, me console aujourd'hui du danger éminent que court ma patrie, de voir cette colonie perdue pour elle.

"Du camp devant Quebec, Jan.

Montcalm.

"24 d'Août, 1759."

THE END.

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