From a drawing by Howard Pyle

[See p. [105]

WATCHING THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL

DECISIVE BATTLES
OF AMERICA

BY

ALBERT BUSHNELL HART, THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON,
CLAUDE HALSTEAD VAN TYNE, GEORGE PIERCE GARRISON,
Rear-Admiral FRENCH ENSOR CHADWICK, U.S.N. (Retired),
JAMES K. HOSMER, J. H. LATANÉ, RICHARD HILDRETH,
BENSON J. LOSSING

AND OTHERS

EDITED BY
RIPLEY HITCHCOCK

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
MCMIX

Copyright, 1909, by Harper & Brothers.
All rights reserved.
Published October, 1909.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION

America was discovered in a search for trade routes, but our country has been in larger part maintained and transmitted to us directly or indirectly as the result of war. Almost from the outset there were conflicting claims on the part of Spain, France, and England, and also Holland. The struggles against hostile native tribes along the Atlantic seaboard were followed by war against the aggressions of the French, who would have kept the English-speaking colonies east of the Alleghanies. That long period of strife was followed by two conflicts with England, the first gaining America for Americans as an independent nation, the second confirming it as an independent nationality. While the great Louisiana Purchase was a peaceful acquisition, Napoleon’s willingness to cede this territory was intermingled with his military plans. California and the extreme Southwest came out of conflict with Mexico. The Civil War preserved the integrity of the country which Americans had gained. Hawaii was added through a revolution fortunately bloodless. As a result of the war with Spain, Porto Rico and the Philippines were included within the limits of our authority.

Since war is a last resort, a brutal expression of failure to arrive at an agreement, the series of political events which have preceded war and the manifold aspects of civil life have seemed very justly to modern historians more important than the descriptions of war itself. The older writers were fond of dwelling upon all the pomp and circumstances and all the dramatic accompaniments of battle. Modern history is written differently, so differently, in fact, that we are apt to find battles summarized in paragraphs by scientific historians. Thus the pendulum has swung from one extreme to another, until it has become a difficult matter to find in the newest shorter histories accounts of significant military events which approach completeness. Take, for example, the battle of Bunker Hill. No name in our own military history is more familiar, and yet in many of the books most readily available for older as well as younger readers this battle appears as a brief summary of facts. As to the Mexican War, such remarkable military events as Taylor’s victory at Buena Vista over a force five times as large, or the series of desperate battles which won the City of Mexico for Scott, are practically little more than obscure names for readers of to-day. It is not strange that Mr. Charles Francis Adams once inaugurated his presidency of the American Historical Association with an earnest plea for military history.

In the present volume, which is a companion to Harper & Brothers’ new edition of Sir Edward Creasy’s Decisive Battles of the World, the editor has kept in mind the importance of preserving historical relations and continuity. The concise chronology of leading events in American history which runs through from beginning to end is not entirely limited to the military side of history. The introductory chapter sketches world relations from the fifteenth century. The second chapter affords a broad view of the relations of the early colonists to the Indians, and there is also specific reference to Champlain’s alliance with the Algonquins and the consequent hostility of the Iroquois. For the rest, the conditions and causes leading up to conflict are set forth wherever necessary in order to furnish a perspective, and to afford a narrative in some degree consecutive. As to the question of selection, there is obvious justice in Creasy’s dictum that the importance of battles is to be measured by their significance, and not by the number of men engaged or by carnage. To New Englanders in the seventeenth century the struggles with the Pequots and with King Philip were for the time being a fight for existence as well as for possession of the country. They were but small affairs, measured by modern standards; but much history would have been written differently had the early New England settlers encountered the fate of the lost colony of Roanoke.

The battle on the Plains of Abraham, which ended French rule on this continent, was fought by Englishmen with only slight American aid, but its consequences to Americans were assuredly momentous. As compared with Gettysburg, or Sedan, or Mukden, Bunker Hill was a mere skirmish, yet its fame is well founded, for it was the first formal stand against the British by an organized American soldiery, and in this and in the fact of American initiative in seizing and fortifying Breed’s Hill, it differed from the hasty gathering of patriots at Lexington and from the brief conflict at Concord Bridge. In the light of modern experience, again, the naval battles of Lake Erie and Lake Champlain seem small engagements, but the one safe-guarded our northern frontier and the other repelled an invasion aimed at the very vitals of our country. On the other hand, the dramatic battle of New Orleans, fought after peace was made, would have had but slight political consequences had the outcome been different.

As to the war with Mexico, a certain chastening of the American conscience has perhaps led us to forget the extraordinary gallantry of a volunteer as well as a regular soldiery in a foreign country, repeatedly pitted against great odds. The story of the more significant battles in those campaigns is entitled to better acquaintance, and Taylor’s final victory on the north and the series of desperate attacks by which Scott reached the heart of Mexico are therefore set forth in some detail.

Mention of our Civil War calls up a long roll of hard-fought battles, but Sir Edward Creasy’s point may be reiterated that it is not numbers or bloodshed that constitute the significance of a battle. Fort Sumter was a small affair; Antietam, Shiloh, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Chickamauga, and other hard-fought battles were great conflicts. Yet influential as they were, they were not decisive; while Sumter represented the first open attack on the Flag and the instant call to arms.

The fight of the Monitor brought a revolution in naval warfare. The blockade of the South, which can be only touched upon here, represented that decisive influence of sea power which has been so eloquently expounded by Captain Mahan. This influence was illustrated more concretely in Farragut’s capture of New Orleans, which was as necessary as Grant’s conquest of Vicksburg to clear the Mississippi and cut the Confederacy in two. In spite of the military importance of Sherman’s march to the sea, the fact that, like Grant’s ceaseless battering in Virginia, it was a campaign rather than an event, renders any adequate description impossible in the limits of a book dealing, for the most part, with crises or facts of immediately significant consequence. On the other hand, Gettysburg, which destroyed once and for all the possibility of a successful invasion of the North, is a historical landmark in concrete form. It is described in this volume by a historian who is also a veteran of the Civil War.

Insignificant as was the war with Spain in comparison with the great struggle of 1861–65, it is assuredly of historical consequence that the battles of Santiago de Cuba destroyed the last vestiges of a Spanish rule in the Western Hemisphere which had lasted nearly four hundred years. Out of this came freedom at last for Cuba, and its grave responsibilities. Earlier in the same year Dewey’s guns drove the Spanish flag from the Pacific, and gave us a not wholly welcome partnership in the vexed questions of the Orient.

Fortunately, our Temple of Janus is closed—let us trust, never to be reopened. But there are momentous lessons of patriotism and self-sacrifice to be read in these accounts of deeds which have preserved our country and helped to make it great. The eminent historians whose works have furnished these chapters have been moved by no desire to glorify war in itself—rather the reverse; but they have dealt with phases of history so vital and of such supreme interest that this story of these events will help general readers, old and young, to an ampler knowledge of our history.

DECISIVE BATTLES OF AMERICA

I
TERRITORIAL CONCEPTS

European Contests Affecting America, and a Summary of American Expansion

The settlers’ task of conquering the wilderness might have been simpler had they not spent so much energy in conquering one another; for side by side with the advance of the frontier goes a process of territorial rivalry of which the end is not yet. Along with a contest with the aborigines for the face of the country went a nominal subdivision of the continent among the occupying European powers, a process made more difficult by the slow development of knowledge about the interior: as late as 1660 people thought that the upper Mississippi emptied into the Gulf of California.

At the very beginning came an effort to settle the prime problem of European title by religious authority. Three papal bulls of 1493 attempted to draw a meridian through the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, west of which Spain should have the whole occupancy of newly discovered lands, and, east of it, Portugal.[1]

Spain was first to see the New World, first to coast the continents, first to explore the interior, first to conquer tribes of the natives, and first to set up organized colonies. Except in Brazil, which was east of the demarcation line, for a century after discovery Spain was the only American power. A war for the mastery of North America between the Anglo-Saxon and the Spaniard continued for more than two centuries. After the defeat of the Spanish Armada by the English, in 1588, it became possible to break in upon the monopoly of American territory; as soon as the war with Spain was over, England gave the first charter, which resulted in the founding of a lasting English colony in America—the Virginia grant of 1606.

The claim of Spain would have been more effective had it not included the whole continent of North America, hardly an eighth of which was occupied by Spanish colonies. International law as to the occupation of new countries was in a formative state: everybody admitted that you might seize the territory of pagans, but how did you know when you had seized it? Was the state of which an accredited vessel first followed a coast thereby possessed of all the back country draining into that coast? Did actual exploration of the interior create presumptive title to the surrounding region? Was a trading-post proof that occupation was meant to be permanent? Did actual colonies of settlers, who expected to spend their lives there, make a complete evidence of rightful title?

TERRITORIAL GROWTH [(FULL SIZE)]

These various sorts of claims were singularly tangled and contorted in America. Who had the best title to the Chesapeake—the English, who believed Sebastian Cabot had followed that part of the coast in 1498, or the French, whose commander Verrazzano undoubtedly was there in 1524, or the Spaniards, for whom De Ayllon made a voyage in 1526? Spanish explorers had crossed and followed the Mississippi River, but it is doubtful whether in 1600 they could easily have found its mouth. The French, in like manner, had explored the St. Lawrence, but without permanent results. Therefore, the territorial history of the United States may be said to begin with the almost simultaneous planting of settlements in the New World by France, England, and Holland, between 1600 and 1615. The French happened first on the St. Lawrence, which was the gateway into the interior, with its valuable fur-trade; and they set up their first permanent establishment at Quebec in 1608. The English, after thirty years of attempts on the Virginia coast, finally planted the colony of Jamestown in 1607. The Dutch rediscovered the Hudson River in 1609, and founded New Amsterdam in 1614. The next great river south, the Delaware, was occupied by the Swedes in 1638. It is one of the misfortunes of civilization that Germany, then the richest and most intellectual nation in Europe, and well suited for taking a share in the development of the New World, was in this critical epoch absorbed in the fearful Thirty Years’ War, which in 1648 left the country ruined and helpless, so that no attempt could be made to link the destinies of Germany with those of America.

Soon began seizures of undoubted Spanish territory: the English first picked up various small islands in the West Indies, in 1655 wrested away the Spanish island of Jamaica, and thereupon made a little settlement on the coast of Honduras. The next step was a determined onset against the nearer neighbors in North America. Quebec was taken and held from 1629 to 1632; the Dutch, who had absorbed the Swedish colonies, were dispossessed in 1664;[2] and the English proceeded to contest Hudson Bay with the French. These conflicts marked a deliberate intention to seize points of vantage like Belize and Jamaica, and to uproot the colonies of other European powers in North America; it was part of a process of English expansion which was going on also on the opposite side of the globe.

As the eighteenth century began, France, England, and Spain were still in antagonism for the possession of North America; and the French, in 1699, succeeded in planting a colony on the Gulf in the side of the Spanish colonial empire. These international rivalries were soon altered by the struggle of England against the attempt of Louis XIV. to bring about the practical consolidation of Spain and France, which would have made an immense Latin colonial empire. To some degree on religious grounds, partly to protect their commerce, and partly from inscrutable international jealousies, the nations of Europe were plunged into a series of five land and naval wars between 1689 and 1783, in each of which North American territory was attacked, and in several of which great changes were made in the map.

In these wars the colonies formed an ideal as to the duty of a mother-country to protect daughter colonies, and aided in developing a policy which has been described by one of the most brilliant of modern writers as that of “sea power.”[3] The illustration of that theory was a succession of fleet engagements in the West Indies, always followed by a picking up of enemy’s islands; and also the repeated efforts of the colonists in separate or joint expeditions to conquer the neighboring French or Spanish territory. The final result was the destruction of the French-American power and the serious weakening of the Spanish.

In 1732 the charter of Georgia was a denial of the Spanish claims to Florida. By the treaty of 1763 France was pressed altogether out of the continent, yielding up to England that splendid region of the eastern part of the Mississippi Valley which the English coveted, and with it the St. Lawrence Valley. For the first time since the capture of Jamaica, a considerable area of Spanish territory was transferred to England by the cession of the Floridas. Louisiana to the west of the Mississippi, together with New Orleans, on the east bank, were allowed to pass to Spain. From that time to the Revolution the only two North American powers were England and Spain, who substantially divided the continent between them by the line of the Mississippi River.[4]

During this period the English were not only acquiring but were parcelling out their new territory. It was always a serious question how far west the coast colonies extended; some of them—Massachusetts, Connecticut, Virginia, the Carolinas—had bounds nominally reaching to the Pacific Ocean. To silence this controversy, in 1763 a royal proclamation directed that the colonial governors should not exercise jurisdiction west of the heads of the rivers flowing into the Atlantic, leaving in a kind of territorial limbo the region between the summit of the Appalachians and the Mississippi.[5] These numerous territorial grants gave rise to many internal controversies; but by the time of the Revolution most of the lines starting at the sea-coast and leading inward had been adjusted.

The idea of territorial solidarity among the English colonies was disturbed by the addition of Nova Scotia and Quebec on the north, and East and West Florida on the south. Intercolonial jealousy was heightened in 1774 by the Quebec act, under which the almost unpeopled region north of the Ohio River was added to the French-speaking province. When the Revolution broke out in 1775, that jealousy was reflected in the refusal of Quebec and Nova Scotia and the distant Floridas to join in it. Almost the first campaign of the war, however, showed the purpose of territorial enlargement, for in 1775 the Arnold-Montgomery expedition to Canada vainly attempted to persuade the Frenchmen by force to enter the union. Two years later George Rogers Clark lopped off the southern half of the British western country. The Southwest, into which settlers had begun to penetrate in 1769, was, during the Revolution, laid hold of by the adventurous frontiersman; and in 1782 the negotiators of Paris thought best to leave that, as well as the whole Northwest, in the hands of the new United States.[6]

The result of the Revolutionary War was the entrance into the American continent of a third territorial power, the United States, which was divided into two nearly equal portions: between the sea and the mountains lay the original thirteen states; between the mountains and the Mississippi was an area destined to be organized into separate states and immediately opened for settlement.[7] This destiny was solemnly announced by votes of Congress in 1780, and by the territorial ordinance of 1784, the land ordinance of 1785, and the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, which, taken together, were virtually a charter for the western country, very similar in import to the old colonial charters.[8]

In this sketch of territorial development up to 1787 may be seen the elements of a national policy and a national system: the territories were practically colonies and inchoate states, soon to be admitted into the Union; while the expansion of the national boundary during the war was a presage of future conquest and enlargement; and, considering the military and naval strength of Great Britain, the only direction in which annexation was likely was the southwest. Although the Federal Constitution of 1787 acknowledged the difference between states and territories only in general terms, and made no provision for the annexation of territory, the spirit and the reasonable implication of that instrument was that the Union might be and probably would be enlarged; some writers at the time felt sure that republican government was applicable to large areas.[9]

Hence it was neither unnatural nor unsuitable that the new nation should at once show a spirit of expansion: in 1795 and 1796 its boundaries were finally acknowledged by its southern and northern neighbors. Various wild schemes of invading Spanish territory were broached, but not till 1803 was the question of the Mississippi fairly faced. Repeating the bold policy of Louis XIV., Napoleon attempted to combine the military and colonial forces of Spain with those of France, in order to make head against Great Britain. As a preliminary, in 1800 he practically compelled the cession of the former French province of Louisiana, and thereby revealed to the American people that it would be a menace to national prosperity to permit a powerful military nation to block the commercial outlet of the interior. Hence, when Napoleon changed his mind and offered the province to the United States in 1803, there was nothing for the envoys, the President, the Senate, the House, and the people to do but to accept it as a piece of manifest destiny. The boundaries of the Union were thus extended to the Gulf and to the distant Rocky Mountains.[10]

With a refinement of assurance the United States also claimed, and in 1814 forcibly occupied West Florida. In the same period began a purposeful movement for extending the territory of the United States to the Pacific. Taking advantage of the discovery of the mouth of the Columbia River by an American ship in 1792, President Jefferson sent out a transcontinental expedition, under Lewis and Clark, which reached the Pacific in 1805, and thereby forged a second link in the American claims to Oregon. By this time the Spanish empire was in the throes of colonial revolution, and in 1819 the Spanish government ceded East Florida and withdrew any claims to Oregon, Texas being left to Spain.

This is a stirring decade, and it completely changed the territorial status of the United States. By 1819 the Atlantic coast all belonged to the United States, from the St. Croix River around Florida to the Sabine; the country was reaching out toward Mexico, and was building a bridge of solid territory across the continent, where, as all the world knew, far to the south of Oregon lay the harbor of San Francisco, the best haven on the Pacific coast. The bold conceptions of Jefferson and John Quincy Adams and their compeers included the commercial and political advantages of a Pacific front; and they were consciously preparing the way for the homes of unborn generations under the American flag.

One result of the new position of the United States was to bring out sharply a territorial rivalry with Great Britain. The War of 1812 had been an attempt to annex Canada, and after it was over a controversy as to the boundary between Maine and Nova Scotia kept the two countries harassed until its settlement in 1842.[11] After that the rivalry for Oregon, which had been held in joint occupation since 1818, was intensified. About 1832 immigration began in which the Americans outran the English; and it was fortunate for both countries that in 1846 the disputed territory was divided by a fair compromise line, the forty-ninth parallel.[12] A third territorial controversy was fought out within the limits of the Union itself, between the friends and opponents of the annexation of Texas, in 1845.[13] This was the first instance of an American colony planting itself within the acknowledged limits of another power, until it was strong enough to set up for itself as an independent state and to ask for admission to the Union.

The annexation of Texas inevitably led to a movement on California, which could be obtained only by aggressive war upon Mexico, and for connection with which the possession of New Mexico was also thought necessary. Ever since 1820 explorers had been opening up the region between the Mississippi and the Pacific,[14] and it was known that there were several practicable roads to that distant coast.[15] The annexation of California almost led the United States into a serious territorial adventure; for apparently nothing but the hasty treaty negotiated by Trist in 1848 stopped a movement for the annexation of the whole of Mexico.[16] The Gadsden Purchase of 1853 conveniently rounded out the cession of New Mexico and closed this second era of territorial expansion.

The annexation of Texas was logical, and delayed only by the accidental connection with slavery; but the annexation of Oregon and California added to the Union very distant possessions, the settlement of which must have been slow but for the discovery of gold in California in 1848. At once a new set of territorial questions arose: the necessity of reaching California across the plains led to the organization of Nebraska and Kansas territories in 1854, which convulsed the parties of the time; the movement across the Isthmus to California brought up the question of an interoceanic canal in a new light; the commercial footing on the Pacific led to a pressure which broke the shell of Japanese exclusion in 1854. Above all, these annexations brought before the nation two questions of constitutional law, which proved both difficult and disturbing: the issue of slavery in the territories, which precipitated, if it did not cause, the Civil War, and the eventual status of territories which, from their situation or their population, were not likely to become states.

The third era of national expansion began in 1867 with the purchase of Alaska,[17] which was wholly a personal plan of Secretary Seward, in which the nation took very little interest; nor was the public aroused by Seward’s more important scheme for annexing the Danish West India Islands and a part of Santo Domingo; when the latter project was taken up in 1870 and pushed with unaccountable energy by President Grant,[18] popular sentiment showed itself plainly averse to annexing a country with a population wholly negro and little in accord with the American spirit. For twenty-five years thereafter there was the same indisposition to annex territory that brought problems with it; and then the movement for the annexation of Hawaii was headed off by President Cleveland in 1893.[19] The Spanish War of 1898 swept all these barriers away, and left the United States in possession of the Philippine Islands, a distant archipelago containing seven and a half millions of Catholic Malays; of the island of Porto Rico, in the West Indies; of the Hawaiian group; of a responsible protectorate over Cuba; and, four years later, of the Panama strip, which may include the future Constantinople of the western world.

In the whole territorial history of the country, never has there been such a transition. The Philippines, which “Mr. Dooley” in 1898 thought might be canned goods, are now, according to the Supreme Court, in one sense “a part of the United States,” yet not an organic part in financial or governmental or legal relations. The country, which from 1850 to 1902 divided with Great Britain the responsibility for a future Isthmian canal, is now “making the dirt fly” in a canal strip which is virtually Federal territory. China, which a few years ago was one of the remotest parts of the earth, now lies but a few hundred miles from American possessions. The romantic era of annexations has gone by: the automobile trundles across the Great American Desert and stops for lunch at a railroad restaurant, and the South Sea Islands have lost their mystery since the trade-winds straighten out the American flag above some of those tiny land-spots.

SYNOPSIS OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS, CHIEFLY
MILITARY, IN THE HISTORY OF COLONIAL
AMERICA BETWEEN THE LANDING
OF COLUMBUS, 1492, AND
CHAMPLAIN’S BATTLE
WITH THE IROQUOIS,
1609

1492. Columbus discovers the western world.

1497. John Cabot reaches the mainland of North America.

1498. Columbus discovers the mainland of South America.

1512. Ponce de Leon lands in Florida.

1513. Balboa discovers the Pacific Ocean.

1519. Entry of Cortez into the City of Mexico.

1521. Conquest of Mexico by Cortez.

1531–33. Conquest of Peru by Pizarro.

1534. Cartier’s first voyage to the St. Lawrence.

1535–36. Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca crosses the continent from near the mouth of the Mississippi to Sinaloa in Mexico.

1541. The expedition of De Soto reaches the Mississippi River. Coronado, coming from Mexico, reaches the interior, probably northeastern Kansas.

1562. The Huguenots attempt a settlement on the coast of South Carolina.

1564. Huguenot settlement on the St. John’s River in Florida.

1565. Founding of St. Augustine by the Spanish.

1583. Sir Humphrey Gilbert takes possession of Newfoundland in the name of Queen Elizabeth.

1584. Raleigh’s expedition to North Carolina. The region is named Virginia in honor of Queen Elizabeth.

1585. Unsuccessful settlement by the English on Roanoke Island.

1602. Bartholomew Gosnold attempts a settlement on the coast of Massachusetts.

1606. James I. grants a patent to the London and Plymouth Companies.

1607. Foundation of Jamestown.

1608. Foundation of Quebec by the French.

1609. Champlain, with Algonquin Indians, defeats Mohawks, of the Iroquois Confederacy, near Ticonderoga.

II
A FIGHT FOR LIFE

The Hundred Years’ War Between Early Colonists and the Indians

European history makes much of the “Seven Years’ War” and the “Thirty Years’ War”; and when we think of a continuous national contest for even the least of those periods, there is something terrible in the picture. But the feeble English colonies in America, besides all the difficulties of pioneer life, had to sustain a warfare that lasted, with few intermissions, for about a hundred years. It was, moreover, a warfare against the most savage and stealthy enemies, gradually trained and reinforced by the most formidable military skill of Europe. Without counting the early feuds, such as the Pequot War, there elapsed almost precisely a century from the accession of King Philip, in 1662, to the Peace of Paris, which nominally ended the last French and Indian War in 1763. During this whole period, with pacific intervals that sometimes lasted for years, the same essential contest went on; the real question being, for the greater part of the time, whether France or England should control the continent. The description of this prolonged war may, therefore, well precede any general account of the colonial or provincial life in America.

The early explorers of the Atlantic coast usually testify that they found the Indians a gentle, not a ferocious, people. They were as ready as could be expected to accept the friendship of the white race. In almost every case of quarrel the white men were the immediate aggressors, and where they were attacked without seeming cause—as when Smith’s Virginian colony was assailed by the Indians in the first fortnight of its existence—there is good reason to think that the act of the Indians was in revenge for wrongs elsewhere. One of the first impulses of the early explorers was to kidnap natives for exhibition in Europe, in order to excite the curiosity of kings or the zeal of priests; and even where these captives were restored unharmed, the distrust could not be removed. Add to this the acts of plunder, lust, or violence, and there was plenty of provocation given from the very outset.

DISTRIBUTION OF AMERICAN INDIANS ABOUT 1500 BY LINGUISTIC STOCKS [(FULL SIZE)]

The disposition to cheat and defraud the Indians has been much exaggerated, at least as regards the English settlers. The early Spanish invaders made no pretence of buying one foot of land from the Indians, whereas the English often went through the form of purchase, and very commonly put in practice the reality. The Pilgrims, at the very beginning, took baskets of corn from an Indian grave to be used as seed, and paid for it afterward. The year after the Massachusetts colony was founded the court decreed: “It is ordered that Josias Plastowe shall (for stealing four baskets of corne from the Indians) returne them eight baskets againe, be fined five pounds, and hereafter called by the name of Josias, and not Mr., as formerly he used to be.” As a mere matter of policy, it was the general disposition of the English settlers to obtain lands by honest purchase; indeed, Governor Josiah Winslow, of Plymouth, declared, in reference to King Philip’s War, that “before these present troubles broke out the English did not possess one foot of land in this colony but what was fairly obtained by honest purchase of the Indian proprietors.” This policy was quite general. Captain West, in 1610, bought the site of what is now Richmond, Virginia, for some copper. The Dutch Governor Minuit bought the island of Manhattan, in 1626, for sixty gilders. Lord Baltimore’s company purchased land for cloth, tools, and trinkets; the Swedes obtained the site of Christiania for a kettle; Roger Williams bought the island of Rhode Island for forty fathoms of white beads; and New Haven was sold to the whites, in 1638, for “twelve coats of English cloth, twelve alchemy spoons, twelve hoes, twelve hatchets, twelve porringers, twenty-four knives, and twenty-four cases of French knives and spoons.” Many other such purchases will be found recorded by Doctor Ellis. And though the price paid might often seem ludicrously small, yet we must remember that a knife or a hatchet was really worth more to an Indian than many square miles of wild land; while even the beads were a substitute for wampum, or wompom, which was their circulating medium in dealing with each other and with the whites, and was worth, in 1660, five shillings a fathom.

So far as the mere bargaining went, the Indians were not individually the sufferers in the early days; but we must remember that behind all these transactions there often lay a theory which was as merciless as that of the Spanish “Requisition,”[20] and which would, if logically carried out, have made all these bargainings quite superfluous. Increase Mather begins his history of King Philip’s War with this phrase, “That the Heathen People amongst whom we live, and whose Land the Lord God of our Fathers hath given to us for a rightful Possession”; and it was this attitude of hostile superiority that gave the sting to all the relations of the two races. If a quarrel rose, it was apt to be the white man’s fault; and after it had arisen, even the humaner Englishmen usually sided with their race, as when the peaceful Plymouth men went to war in defence of the Weymouth reprobates. This fact, and the vague feeling that an irresistible pressure was displacing them, caused most of the early Indian outbreaks. And when hostilities had once arisen, it was very rare for a white man of English birth to be found fighting against his own people, although it grew more and more common to find Indians on both sides.

As time went on each party learned from the other. In the early explorations, as of Champlain and Smith, we see the Indians terrified by their first sight of firearms, but soon becoming skilled in the use of them. “The King, with fortie Bowmen to guard me,” says Capt. John Smith, in 1608, “entreated me to discharge my Pistoll, which they there presented to me, with a mark at six-score to strike therewith; but to spoil the practise I broke the cocke, whereat they were much discontented.” But writing more than twenty years later, in 1631, he says of the Virginia settlers, “The loving Salvages their kinde friends they trained up so well to shoot in a Peace [fowling-piece] to hunt and kill them fowle, they became more expert than our own countrymen.” La Hontan, writing in 1703, says of the successors of those against whom Champlain had first used firearms, “The Strength of the Iroquese lies in engaging with Fire Arms in a Forrest, for they shoot very dexterously.” They learned also to make more skilful fortifications, and to keep a regular watch at night, which in the time of the early explorers they had omitted. The same La Hontan says of the Iroquois, “They are as negligent in the night-time as they are vigilant in the day.”

But it is equally true that the English colonists learned much in the way of forest warfare from the Indians. The French carried their imitation so far that they often disguised themselves to resemble their allies, with paint, feathers, and all; it was sometimes impossible to tell in an attacking party which warriors were French and which were Indians. Without often going so far as this, the English colonists still modified their tactics. At first they seemed almost irresistible because of their armor and weapons. In the very first year of the Plymouth settlement, when report was brought that their friend Massasoit had been attacked by the Narrangansets, and a friendly Indian had been killed, the colony sent ten armed men, including Miles Standish, to the Indian town of Namasket (now Middleborough) to rescue or revenge their friend; and they succeeded in their enterprise, surrounding the chief’s house and frightening every one in a large Indian village by two discharges of their muskets.

But the heavy armor gradually proved a doubtful advantage against a stealthy and light-footed foe. In spite of the superior physical strength of the Englishman, he could not travel long distances through the woods or along the sands without lightening his weight. He learned also to fight from behind a tree, to follow a trail, to cover his body with hemlock boughs for disguise when scouting. Captain Church states in his own narrative that he learned from his Indian soldiers to march his men “thin and scattering” through the woods; that the English had previously, according to the Indians, “kept in a heap together, so that it was as easy to hit them as to hit a house.” Even the advantage of firearms involved the risk of being without ammunition, so that the Rhode Island colony, by the code of laws adopted in 1647, required that every man between seventeen and seventy should have a bow with four arrows, and exercise with them; and that each father should furnish every son from seven to seventeen years old with a bow, two arrows, and shafts, and should bring them up to shooting. If this statute was violated a fine was imposed, which the father must pay for the son, the master for the servant, deducting it in the latter case from his wages.

Less satisfactory was the change by which the taking of scalps came to be a recognized part of colonial warfare. Hannah Dustin, who escaped from Indian captivity in 1698, took ten scalps with her own hand, and was paid for them. Captain Church, undertaking his expedition against the eastern Indians, in 1705, after the Deerfield massacre, announced that he had not hitherto permitted the scalping of “Canada men,” but should thenceforth allow it. In 1722, when the Massachusetts colony sent an expedition against the village of “praying Indians,” founded by Father Rasle, they offered for each scalp a bounty of £15, afterward increased to £100; and this inhumanity was so far carried out that the French priest himself was one of the victims. Jeremiah Bumstead, of Boston, made this entry in his almanac in the same year: “Aug. 22, 28 Indian scalps brought to Boston, one of which was Bombazen’s [an Indian chief] and one fryer Raile’s.” Two years after, the celebrated but inappropriately named Captain Lovewell, the foremost Indian fighter of his region, came upon ten Indians asleep round a pond. He and his men killed and scalped them all, and entered Dover, New Hampshire, bearing the ten scalps stretched on hoops and elevated on poles. After receiving an ovation in Dover they went by water to Boston, and were paid a thousand pounds for their scalps. Yet Lovewell’s party was always accompanied by a chaplain, and had prayers every morning and evening.

From a drawing by Howard Pyle

INDIANS ON THE WARPATH

The most painful aspect of the whole practice lies in the fact that it was not confined to those actually engaged in fighting, but that the colonial authorities actually established a tariff of prices for scalps, including even non-combatants—so much for a man’s, so much for a woman’s, so much for a child’s. Doctor Ellis has lately pointed out the striking circumstance that whereas William Penn had declared the person of an Indian to be “sacred,” his grandson, in 1764, offered $134 for the scalp of an Indian man, $130 for that of a boy under ten, and $50 for that of a woman or girl. The habit doubtless began in the fury of retaliation, and was continued in order to conciliate Indian allies; and when bounties were offered to them, the white volunteers naturally claimed a share. But there is no doubt that Puritan theology helped the adoption of the practice. It was partly because the Indian was held to be something worse than a beast that he was treated with very little mercy. The truth is that he was viewed as a fiend, and there could not be much scruple about using inhumanities against a demon. Cotton Mather calls Satan “the old landlord” of the American wilderness, and says in his Magnalia: “These Parts were then covered with Nations of Barbarous Indians and Infidels, in whom the Prince of the Power of the Air did work as a Spirit; nor could it be expected that Nations of Wretches whose whole religion was the most Explicit sort of Devil-Worship should not be acted by the devil to engage in some early and bloody Action for the Extinction of a Plantation so contrary to his Interests as that of New England was.”

Before the French influence began to be felt there was very little union on the part of the Indians, and each colony adjusted its own relations with them. At the time of the frightful Indian massacre in the Virginia colony (March 22, 1622), when three hundred and forty-seven men, women, and children were murdered, the Plymouth colony was living in entire peace with its savage neighbors. “We have found the Indians,” wrote Governor Winslow, “very faithful to their covenants of peace with us, very loving and willing to pleasure us. We go with them in some cases fifty miles into the country, and walk as safely and peacefully in the woods as in the highways of England.” The treaty with Massasoit lasted for more than fifty years, and the first bloodshed between the Plymouth men and the Indians was incurred in the protection of the colony of Weymouth, which had brought trouble on itself in 1623. The Connecticut settlements had far more difficulty with the Indians than those in Massachusetts, but the severe punishment inflicted on the Pequots in 1637 quieted the savages for a long time. In that fight a village of seventy wigwams was destroyed by a force of ninety white men and several hundred friendly Indians; and Captain Underhill, the second in command, has left a quaint delineation of the attack.

There was a period resembling peace in the eastern colonies for nearly forty years after the Pequot War, while in Virginia there were renewed massacres in 1644 and 1656. But the first organized Indian outbreak began with the conspiracy of King Philip in 1675, although the seeds had been sown before that chief succeeded to power in 1662. In that year Wamsutta, or Alexander, Philip’s brother—both being sons of Massasoit—having fallen under some suspicion, was either compelled or persuaded by Major Josiah Winslow, afterwards the first native-born Governor of Plymouth, to visit that settlement. The Indian came with his whole train of warriors and women, including his queen, the celebrated “squaw sachem” Weetamo, and they stayed at Winslow’s house. Here the chief fell ill. The day was very hot, and though Winslow offered his horse to the chief, it was refused, because there was none for his squaw or the other women. He was sent home because of illness, and died before he got half-way there. This is the story as told by Hubbard, but not altogether confirmed by other authorities. If true, it is interesting as confirming the theory of that careful student, Lucien Carr, that the early position of women among the Indians was higher than has been generally believed. It is pretty certain, at any rate, that Alexander’s widow, Weetamo, believed her husband to have been poisoned by the English, and she ultimately sided with Philip when the war broke out, and apparently led him and other Indians to the same view as to the poisoning. It is evident that from the time of Philip’s accession to authority, whatever he may have claimed, his mind was turned more and more against the English.

It is now doubted whether the war known as King Philip’s War was the result of such deliberate and organized action as was formerly supposed, but about the formidable strength of the outbreak there can be no question. It began in June, 1675; Philip was killed August 12, 1676, and the war was prolonged at the eastward for nearly two years after his death. Ten or twelve Puritan towns were utterly destroyed, many more damaged, and five or six hundred men were killed or missing. The war cost the colonists £100,000, and the Plymouth colony was left under a debt exceeding the whole valuation of its property—a debt ultimately paid, both principal and interest. On the other hand, the war tested and cemented the league founded in 1643 between four colonies—Massachusetts, Plymouth, New Haven, and Connecticut—against the Indians and Dutch, while this prepared the way more and more for the extensive combinations that came after. In this early war, as the Indians had no French allies, so the English had few Indian allies, and it was less complex than the later contests, and so far less formidable. But it was the first real experience on the part of the eastern colonists of all the peculiar horrors of Indian warfare—the stealthy approach, the abused hospitality, the early morning assault, the maimed cattle, tortured prisoners, slain infants. All the terrors that lately attached to a frontier attack of Apaches or Comanches belonged to the daily life of settlers in New England and Virginia for many years, with one vast difference, arising from the total absence in those early days of any personal violence or insult to women. By the general agreement of witnesses from all nations, including the women captives themselves, this crowning crime was then wholly absent. The once famous “white woman,” Mary Jemison, who was taken prisoner by the Senecas at ten years old, in 1743—who lived in that tribe all her life, survived two Indian husbands, and at last died at ninety—always testified that she had never received an insult from an Indian, and had never known of a captive’s receiving any. She added that she had known few instances in the tribe of conjugal immorality, although she lived to see it demoralized and ruined by strong drink.

The English colonists seem never to have inflicted on the Indians any cruelty resulting from sensual vices, but of barbarity of another kind there was plenty, for it was a cruel age. When the Narraganset fort was taken by the English, December 19, 1675, the wigwams within the fort were all set on fire, against the earnest entreaty of Captain Church; and it was thought that more than one-half the English loss—which amounted to several hundred—might have been saved had there been any shelter for their own wounded on that cold night. This, however, was a question of military necessity; but the true spirit of the age was seen in the punishments inflicted after the war was over. The heads of Philip’s chief followers were cut off, though Captain Church, their captor, had promised to spare their lives; and Philip himself was beheaded and quartered by Church’s order, since he was regarded, curiously enough, as a rebel against Charles the Second, and this was the state punishment for treason. Another avowed reason was, that “as he had caused many an Englishman’s body to lye unburied,” not one of his bones should be placed under ground. The head was set upon a pole in Plymouth, where it remained for more than twenty-four years. Yet when we remember that the heads of alleged traitors were exposed in London at Temple Bar for nearly a century longer—till 1772 at least—it is unjust to infer from this course any such fiendish cruelty as it would now imply. It is necessary to extend the same charity, however hard it may be, to the selling of Philip’s wife and little son into slavery at the Bermudas; and here, as has been seen, the clergy were consulted and the Old Testament called into requisition.

While these events were passing in the eastern settlements there were Indian outbreaks in Virginia, resulting in war among the white settlers themselves. The colony was, for various reasons, discontented; it was greatly oppressed, and a series of Indian murders brought the troubles to a climax. The policy pursued against the Indians was severe, and yet there was no proper protection afforded by the government; war was declared against them in 1676, and then the forces sent out were suddenly disbanded by the governor, Berkeley. At last there was a popular rebellion, which included almost all the civil and military officers of the colony, and the rebellious party put Nathaniel Bacon, Jr., a recently arrived but very popular planter, at their head. He marched with five hundred men against the Indians, but was proclaimed a traitor by the governor, whom Bacon proclaimed a traitor in return. The war with the savages became by degrees quite secondary to the internal contests among the English, in the course of which Bacon took and burned Jamestown, beginning, it is said, with his own house; but he died soon after. The insurrection was suppressed, and the Indians were finally quieted by a treaty.

Into all the Indian wars after King Philip’s death two nationalities besides the Indian and English entered in an important way. These were the Dutch and the French. It was the Dutch who, soon after 1614, first sold firearms to the Indians in defiance of their own laws, and by this means greatly increased the horrors of the Indian warfare. On the other hand, the Dutch, because of the close friendship they established with the Five Nations, commonly called the Iroquois, did to the English colonists, though unintentionally, a service so great that the whole issue of the prolonged war may have turned upon it. These tribes, the Cayugas, Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, and Senecas—afterward joined by the Tuscaroras—held the key to the continent. Occupying the greater part of what is now the State of New York, they virtually ruled the country from the Atlantic to the Mississippi and from the Great Lakes to the Savannah River. They were from the first treated with great consideration by the Dutch, and they remained, with brief intervals of war, their firm friends. One war, indeed, there was under the injudicious management of Governor Kieft, lasting from 1640 to 1643; and this came near involving the English colonies, while it caused the death of sixteen hundred Indians, first or last, seven hundred of these being massacred under the borrowed Puritan leader Captain Underhill. But this made no permanent interruption to the alliance between the Iroquois and the Dutch.

When New Netherlands yielded to the English, the same alliance was retained, and to this we probably owe the preservation of the colonies, their union against England, and the very existence of the present American nation. Yet the first English governor, Colden, has left on record the complaint of an Indian chief, who said that they very soon felt the difference between the two alliances. “When the Dutch held this country,” he said, “we lay in our houses, but the English have always made us lie out-of-doors.”

But if the Dutch were thus an important factor in the Indian wars, the French became almost the controlling influence on the other side. Except for the strip of English colonies along the sea-shore, the North American continent north of Mexico was French. This was not the result of accident or of the greater energy of that nation, but of a systematic policy, beginning with Champlain and never abandoned by his successors. This plan was, as admirably stated by Parkman, “to influence Indian counsels, to hold the balance of power between adverse tribes, to envelop in the net-work of French power and diplomacy the remotest hordes of the wilderness.” With this was combined a love of exploration so great that it was hard to say which assisted the most in spreading their dominion—religion, the love of adventure, diplomatic skill, or military talent. These between them gave the interior of the continent to the French. One of the New York governors wrote home that if the French were to hold all that they had discovered, England would not have a hundred miles from the sea anywhere.

CHAMPLAIN’S BATTLE WITH THE IROQUOIS

By Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.

From the time of the restoration of New France (1632) till the final catastrophe of 1759, Canada remained uninterruptedly French; and from the tide-water of the St. Lawrence as a base, French traders, soldiers, and settlers (habitants) spread westward, northward, and eventually southward. In the year of the restoration probably not over a hundred and eighty of its inhabitants might properly be called settlers, with perhaps a few score military men, seafarers, and visiting commercial adventurers. The majority of residents, of course, centred at Quebec, with a few at the outlying trading-posts of Tadoussac on the east, Three Rivers on the west, and the intervening hamlets of Beaupré, Beauport, and Isle d’Orleans. At the same time the English and Dutch settlements in Virginia, the Middle Colonies, and Massachusetts had probably amassed an aggregate population of twenty-five thousand—for between the years 1627 and 1637 upward of twenty thousand settlers emigrated thither from Europe. While the English government was engaged in efforts to repress the migration toward its own colonies, the utmost endeavors of the powerful French companies, their arguments reinforced by bounties, could not induce more than a few home-loving Frenchmen to try their fortunes amid the rigors of the New World.

With all his tact, Champlain had committed one act of indiscretion, the effects of which were left as an ill-fated legacy to the little colony which he otherwise nursed so well. Seeking to please his Algonquian neighbors upon the St. Lawrence, and at the time eager to explore the country, the commandant, with two of his men-at-arms, accompanied (1609) one of their frequent war-parties against the confederated Iroquois, who lived, for the most part, in New York state and northeastern Pennsylvania. Meeting a hostile band of two hundred and fifty warriors near where Fort Ticonderoga was afterward constructed, Champlain and his white attendants easily routed the enemy by means of firearms, with which the interior savages were as yet unacquainted.[21] His success in this direction was, through the unfortunate importunity of his allies, repeated in 1610; but five years later, when he invaded the Iroquois cantonments in the company of a large body of Huron, whose country to the east of Lake Huron he had been visiting that summer, the tribesmen to the southeast of Lake Ontario were found to have lost much of their fear for white men’s weapons, and the invaders retreated in some disorder.

CHAMPLAIN’S ATTACK ON AN IROQUOIS FORT
(From an old print)

The results were highly disastrous both to the Huron and the French. The former were year by year mercilessly harried by the bloodthirsty Iroquois, until in 1649 they were driven from their homes, and in the frenzy of fear fled first to the islands of Lake Huron, then to Mackinac and Sault Ste. Marie, finally to the southern shores of Lake Superior, and deep within the dark pine forests of northern Wisconsin. In the destruction of Huronia, several Jesuit missionaries suffered torture and death.

As for the squalid little French settlements at Three Rivers, Quebec, and Tadoussac, they soon felt the wrath of the Iroquois, who were the fiercest and best-trained fighters among the savages of North America. Almost annually the war-parties of this dread foe raided the lands of the king, not infrequently appearing in force before the sharp-pointed palisades of New France, over which were waged bloody battles for supremacy. Fortunately logs could turn back a primitive enemy unarmed with cannon; but not infrequently outlying parties of Frenchmen had sorry experiences with the stealthy foe, of whose approach through the tangled forest they had no warning. Champlain’s closing years were much saddened by these merciless assaults which he had unwittingly invited; in the decade after his death the operations of his successors were largely hampered thereby. Montreal, founded by religious enthusiasts in 1642, during its earliest years served as a buffer colony, in the direction of the avenging tribesmen, and supped to the dregs the cup of border turmoil.

Not only were Frenchmen obliged to huddle within their defences, but far and near their Indian allies were swept from the earth. The Iroquois practically destroyed the Algonquin tribes between Quebec and the Saguenay, as well as the Algonquins of the Ottawa, the Huron, and the Petun and Neutrals of the Niagara district. The fur-trade of New France was for a long period almost wholly destroyed; English and Dutch rivals to the south were friendly to the Iroquois, furnished them cheap goods and abundant firearms and ammunition, and egged them on in their northern forays; while toward the Mississippi, and south of the Great Lakes, Iroquois raiders terrorized those tribes which dared to entertain trade relations with the French.

In 1646, however, the blood-stained confederates, after nearly a half-century of opposition, consented to a peace which lasted spasmodically for almost twenty years; until in 1665 the French government found itself strong enough to threaten the chastisement of the New York tribesmen, and thereafter the Iroquois opposition, while not altogether quelled, was of a far less threatening character.

SYNOPSIS OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS, CHIEFLY
MILITARY, BETWEEN CHAMPLAIN’S BATTLE
WITH THE IROQUOIS, 1609, AND
THE CONQUEST OF THE
PEQUOTS, 1637

1609. Henry Hudson ascends the Hudson River.

1610. Henry Hudson explores Hudson Bay.

1614. The Dutch erect a Fort on Manhattan Island.

1619. A colonial assembly is convened at Jamestown. Negro slavery is introduced into Virginia.

1620. Landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth.

1622. The Dutch West India Company take possession of New Netherlands. Indian massacre in Virginia.

1623. Settlement of New Hampshire.

1624. Dissolution of the London Company. Virginia becomes a Crown Colony.

1626. The Dutch purchase Manhattan Island from the Indians.

1628. Settlement of Salem by the Massachusetts Bay Company.

1629. The English take Quebec.

1630. Foundation of Boston.

1631. Settlement of Maryland by Clayborne.

1632. Canada is restored to France by England. Lord Baltimore receives a charter for a colony in Maryland.

1634. Settlement of St. Mary’s, Maryland, by Calvert.

1634–36. Settlement of Connecticut by the English. Settlement of Rhode Island by Roger Williams.

1636. Foundation of Harvard College.

1637. Conquest of the Pequots by the New England colonists.

III
THE CONQUEST OF THE PEQUOTS, 1637

In 1636 the Massachusetts colony, under Vane’s administration, became involved in new troubles—a violent internal controversy and a dangerous Indian war. The most powerful native tribes of New England were concentrated in the neighborhood of Narragansett Bay. The Wampanoags, or Pocanokets, were on the east side of that bay within the limits of the Plymouth patent, and the Narragansets, a more powerful confederacy, on the west side. Still more numerous and more powerful were the Pequots, whose chief seats were on or near Pequot River, now the Thames, but whose authority extended over twenty-six petty tribes, along both shores of the Sound to the Connecticut River, and even beyond it, almost or quite to the Hudson. In what is now the northeast corner of the State of Connecticut dwelt a smaller tribe, the enemies, perhaps the revolted subjects, of the Pequots, known to the colonists as Mohegans—an appropriation of a general name properly including all the Indians along the shores of Long Island Sound as far west as the Hudson, and even the tribes beyond that river, known afterward to the English as the Delawares. The Indians about Massachusetts Bay, supposed to have been formerly quite numerous, had almost died out before the arrival of the colonists, and the smallpox had since proved very fatal among the few that remained. Some tribes of no great consideration—the Nipmucks, the Wachusetts, the Nashaways—dwelt among the interior hills, and others, known collectively to the colonists as the River Indians, fished at the falls of the Connecticut, and cultivated little patches of its rich alluvial meadows. The lower Merrimac, the Piscataqua, and their branches were occupied by the tribes of a considerable confederacy, that of Penacook, or Pawtucket, whose chief sachem, Passaconaway, was reported to be a great magician. The interior of New Hampshire and of what is now Vermont seems to have been an uninhabited wilderness. The tribes eastward of the Piscataqua, known to the English by the general name of Tarenteens, and reputed to be numerous and powerful, were distinguished by the rivers on which they dwelt. They seem to have constituted two principal confederacies, those east of the Kennebec being known to the French of Acadie as the Abenakis. All the New England Indians spoke substantially the same language, the Algonquin, in various dialects. From the nature of the country, they were more stationary than some other tribes, being fixed principally at the falls of the rivers. They seem to have entertained very decided ideas of the hereditary descent of authority, and of personal devotion to their chiefs. What might have been at this time the total Indian population of New England it is not very easy to conjecture; but it was certainly much less than is commonly stated. Fifteen or twenty thousand would seem to be a sufficient allowance for the region south of the Piscataqua, and as many more, perhaps, for the more easterly district. The Pequots, esteemed the most powerful tribe in New England, were totally ruined, as we shall presently see, by the destruction or capture of hardly more than a thousand persons.

The provocation for this exterminating war was extremely small. Previous to the Massachusetts migration to the Connecticut, one Captain Stone, the drunken and dissolute master of a small trading vessel from Virginia, whom the Plymouth people charged with having been engaged at Manhattan in a piratical plot to seize one of their vessels, having been sent away from Boston with orders not to return without leave, under pain of death, on his way homeward to Virginia, in 1634, had entered the Connecticut River, where he was cut off, with his whole company, seven in number, by a band of Pequots. There were various stories, none of them authentic, as to the precise manner of his death, but the Pequots insisted that he had been the aggressor—a thing in itself sufficiently probable. As Stone belonged to Virginia, the magistrates of Massachusetts wrote to Governor Harvey to move him to stir in the matter. Van Cuyler, the Dutch commissary at Fort Good Hope, in fact revenged Stone’s death by the execution of a sachem and several others. This offended the Pequots, who renounced any further traffic with the Dutch, and sent messengers to Boston desiring an intercourse of trade, and assistance to settle their pending difficulties with the Narragansets, who intervened between them and the English settlements. They even promised to give up—at least so the magistrates understood them—the only two survivors, as they alleged, of those concerned in the death of Stone. These offers were accepted; for the convenience of this traffic a peace was negotiated between the Pequots and the Narragansets, and a vessel was presently sent to open a trade. But this traffic disappointed the adventurers; nor were the promised culprits given up. The Pequots, according to the Indian custom, tendered, instead, a present of furs and wampum. But this was refused, the colonists seeming to think themselves under a religious obligation to avenge blood with blood.

Thus matters remained for a year or two, when, in July, 1636, the crew of a small bark, returning from Connecticut, saw close to Block Island a pinnace at anchor, and full of Indians. This pinnace was recognized as belonging to Oldham, the Indian trader, the old settler at Nantasket, and explorer of the Connecticut. Conjecturing that something must be wrong, the bark approached the pinnace and hailed, whereupon the Indians on board slipped the cable and made sail. The bark gave chase, and soon overtook the pinnace; some of the Indians jumped overboard in their fright, and were drowned; several were killed, and one was made prisoner. The dead body of Oldham was found on board, covered with an old seine. This murder, as appeared from the testimony of the prisoner, who was presently sentenced by the Massachusetts magistrates to be a slave for life, was committed at the instigation of some Narraganset chiefs, upon whom Block Island was dependent, in revenge for the trade which Oldham had commenced under the late treaty with the Pequots, their enemies. Indeed, all the Narraganset chiefs, except the head sachem, Canonicus, and his nephew and colleague, Miantonimoh, were believed to have had a hand in this matter, especially the chieftain of the Niantics, a branch of the Narragansets, inhabiting the continent opposite Block Island.

Canonicus, in great alarm, sent to his friend and neighbor, Roger Williams, by whose aid he wrote a letter to the Massachusetts magistrates, expressing his grief at what had happened, and stating that Miantonimoh had sailed already with seventeen canoes and two hundred warriors to punish the Block Islanders. With this letter were sent two Indians, late sailors on board Oldham’s pinnace, and presently after two English boys, the remainder of his crew. In the recapture of Oldham’s pinnace eleven Indians had been killed, several of them chiefs; and that, with the restoration of the crew, seems to have been esteemed by Canonicus a sufficient atonement for Oldham’s death. But the magistrates and ministers of Massachusetts, assembled to take this matter into consideration, thought otherwise. Volunteers were called for in August, 1636; and four companies, ninety men in all, commanded by Endicott, whose submissiveness in Williams’ affair had restored him to favor, were embarked in three pinnaces, with orders to put to death all the men of Block Island, and to make the women and children prisoners. The old affair of the death of Stone was now also called to mind, though the murder of Oldham had no connection with it, except in some distant similarity of circumstances. Endicott was instructed, on his return from Block Island, to go to the Pequots, and to demand of them the murderers of Stone, and a thousand fathoms of wampum for damages—equivalent to from three to five thousand dollars—also, some of their children as hostages; and, if they refused, to employ force.

The Block Islanders fled inland, hid themselves, and escaped; but Endicott burned their wigwams, staved their canoes, and destroyed their standing corn. He then sailed to Fort Saybrook, at the mouth of the Connecticut, and marched thence to Pequot River. After some parley, the Indians refused his demands, when he burned their village and killed one of their warriors. Marching back to the Connecticut River, he inflicted like vengeance on the Pequot village there, whence he returned to Boston, after a three weeks’ absence and without the loss of a man.

The Pequots, enraged at what they esteemed a treacherous and unprovoked attack, lurked about Fort Saybrook, killed or took several persons, and did considerable mischief. They sent, also, to the Narragansets to engage their alliance against the colonists, whom they represented as the common enemy of all the Indians. Williams, informed of this negotiation, sent word of it to the Massachusetts magistrates, and, at their request, he visited Canonicus, to dissuade him from joining the Pequots. This mission was not without danger. In the wigwam of Canonicus, Williams encountered the Pequot messengers, full of rage and fury. He succeeded, however, in his object, and, in October, Miantonimoh was induced to visit Boston, where, being received with much ceremony by the governor and magistrates, he agreed to act with them as a faithful ally. Canonicus thought it would be necessary to attack the Pequots with a very large force; but he recommended, as a thing likely to be agreeable to all the Indians—so Williams informs us—that the women and children should be spared, a humane piece of advice which received in the end but little attention.

The policy of this war, or, at least, the wisdom of Endicott’s conduct, was not universally conceded. A letter from Plymouth reproached the Massachusetts magistrates with the dangers likely to arise from so inefficient an attack upon the Pequots. Gardiner, the commandant at Fort Saybrook, who lost several men during the winter, was equally dissatisfied. The new settlers up the Connecticut complained bitterly of the dangers to which they were exposed. Sequeen, the same Indian chief at whose invitation the Plymouth people had first established a trading-house on the Connecticut River, had granted land to the planters at Wethersfield on condition that he might settle near them, and be protected; but when he came and built his wigwam, they had driven him away. He took this opportunity for revenge by calling in the Pequots, who attacked the town, and killed nine of the inhabitants. The whole number killed by the Pequots during the winter was about thirty.

In December a special session of the General Court of Massachusetts organized the militia into three regiments, the magistrates to appoint the field officers—called sergeant-majors—and to select the captains and lieutenants out of a nomination to be made by the companies respectively. Watches were ordered to be kept, and travellers were to go armed....

The new towns on the Connecticut had continued to suffer during the winter. The attack on Wethersfield has been mentioned already. Fort Saybrook was beleaguered; several colonists were killed, and two young girls were taken prisoners, but were presently redeemed and sent home by some Dutch traders. It had been resolved in Massachusetts to raise a hundred and sixty men for the war, and already Underhill had been sent, with twenty men, to reinforce Fort Saybrook; but, during Vane’s administration, these preparations had been retarded—not from any misgivings as to the justice of the war, but because the army “was too much under a covenant of works.” The expedition was now got ready, and, by a “solemn public invocation of the word of God,” a leader was designated by lot from among three of the magistrates set apart for that purpose. The lot fell on Stoughton, whose adherence to the orthodox party during the late dissensions had restored him to favor, and obtained for him, at the late election, one of the vacant magistrates’ seats. Wilson was also designated by lot as chaplain to the expedition. The people of Plymouth agreed to furnish forty-five men.

The decisive battle, however, had been already fought. The Connecticut towns, impatient of delay, having obtained the alliance of Uncas, sachem of the Mohegans, had marched, to the number of ninety men, almost their entire effective force, under the command of John Mason, bred a soldier in the Netherlands, whom Hooker, on May 10, with prayers and religious ceremonies, solemnly invested with the staff of command. After a night spent in prayer, this little army, joined by Uncas with sixty Indians, and accompanied by Stone, Hooker’s colleague, as chaplain, embarked at Hartford. They were not without great doubts as to their Indian allies, but were reassured at Fort Saybrook. While Stone was praying “for one pledge of love, that may confirm us of the fidelity of the Indians,” these allies came in with five Pequot scalps and a prisoner. Underhill joined with his twenty men, and the united forces proceeded by water to Narragansett Bay, where they spent Sunday, May 21, in religious exercises. They were further strengthened by Miantonimoh and two hundred Narraganset warriors; but the English force seemed so inadequate that many of the Narragansets became discouraged and returned home.

The Pequots were principally collected a few miles east of Pequot River, now the Thames, in two forts, or villages, fortified with trees and brushwood. After a fatiguing march of two days, Mason reached one of these strongholds, situated on a high hill, at no great distance from the sea-shore. He encamped a few hours to rest his men, but marched again before daybreak, and at early dawn approached the fort. The Pequots had seen the vessels pass along the sea-shore toward the bay of Narragansett, and, supposing the hostile forces afraid to attack them, they had spent the night in feasting and dancing, and Mason could hear their shoutings in his camp. Toward morning they sunk into a deep sleep, from which they were roused by the barking of their dogs, as the colonists, in two parties, approached the fort, one led by Mason, the other by Underhill, both of whom have left us narratives of the battle. The assailants poured in a fire of musketry, and, after a moment’s hesitation, forced their way into the fort. Within were thickly clustered wigwams containing the families of the Indians, and what remained of their winter stores. The astonished Pequots seized their weapons and fought with desperation; but what could their clubs and arrows avail against the muskets and plate-armor of the colonists? Yet there was danger in the great superiority of their numbers, and Mason, crying out “we must burn them,” thrust a firebrand among the mats with which the wigwams were covered. Almost in a moment the fort was in a blaze. The colonists, “bereaved of pity and without compassion,” so Underhill himself declares, kept up the fight within the fort, while their Indian allies, forming a circle around, struck down every Pequot who attempted to escape. No quarter was given, no mercy was shown; some hundreds, not warriors only, but old men, women, and children, perished by the weapons of the colonists, or in the flames of the burning fort. “Great and doleful,” says Underhill, “was the bloody sight to the view of young soldiers, to see so many souls lie gasping on the ground, so thick you could hardly pass along.” The fact that only seven prisoners were taken, while Mason boasts that only seven others escaped, evinces the unrelenting character of this massacre, which was accomplished with but trifling loss, only two of the colonists being killed, and sixteen or twenty wounded. Yet the victors were not without embarrassments. The morning was hot, there was no water to be had, and the men, exhausted by their long march the two days before, the weight of their armor, want of sleep, and the sharpness of the late action, must now encounter a new body of Pequots from the other village, who had taken the alarm, and were fast approaching. Mason, with a select party, kept this new enemy at bay, and thus gave time to the main body to push on for Pequot River, into which some vessels had just been seen to enter. When the Indians approached the hill where their fort had stood, at sight of their ruined habitations and slaughtered companions they burst out into a transport of rage, stamped on the ground, tore their hair, and, regardless of everything save revenge, rushed furious in pursuit. But the dreaded firearms soon checked them, and Mason easily made good his retreat to Pequot harbor, now New London, where he found not only his own vessels, but Captain Patrick also, just arrived in a bark from Boston, with forty men. Mason sent the wounded and most of his forces by water, but, in consequence of Patrick’s refusal to lend his ship, was obliged to march himself, with twenty men, followed by Patrick, to Fort Saybrook, where his victory was greeted by a salvo of cannon.

In about a fortnight Stoughton arrived at Saybrook with the main body of the Massachusetts forces. Mason, with forty Connecticut soldiers and a large body of Narragansets, joined also in pursuing the remnants of the enemy. The Pequots had abandoned their country, or concealed themselves in the swamps. In July one of these fortresses was attacked by night, and about a hundred Indians captured. The men, twenty-two in number, were put to death; thirty women and children were given to the Narraganset allies; some fifty others were sent to Boston, and distributed as slaves among the principal colonists. The flying Pequots were pursued as far as Quinapiack, now New Haven. A swamp in that neighborhood, where a large party had taken refuge, being surrounded and attacked, a parley was had, and life was offered to “all whose hands were not in English blood.” About two hundred, old men, women, and children, reluctantly came out and gave themselves up. Daylight was exhausted in this surrender; and as night set in, the warriors who remained renewed their defiances. Toward morning, favored by a thick fog, they broke through and escaped. Many of the surviving Pequots put themselves under the protection of Canonicus and other Narraganset chiefs. Sassacus, the head sachem, fled to the Mohawks; but they were instigated by their allies, the Narragansets, to put him to death. His scalp was sent to Boston, and many heads and hands of Pequot warriors were also brought in by the neighboring tribes. The adult male prisoners who remained in the hands of the colonists were sent to the West Indies to be sold into slavery; the women and children experienced a similar fate at home. It was reckoned that between eight and nine hundred of the Pequots had been killed or taken. Such of the survivors as had escaped, forbidden any longer to call themselves Pequots, were distributed between the Narragansets and Mohegans, and subjected to an annual tribute. A like tribute was imposed, also, on the inhabitants of Block Island. The colonists regarded their success as ample proof of Divine approbation, and justified all they had done to these “bloody heathen” by abundant quotations from the Old Testament. Having referred to “the wars of David,” Underhill adds, “We had sufficient light from the word of God for our proceedings”; and Mason, after some exulting quotations from the Psalms, concludes: “Thus the Lord was pleased to smite our enemies in the hinder parts, and to give us their land for an inheritance!” The Indian allies admired the courage of the colonists, but they thought their method of war “too furious, and to slay too many.”

SYNOPSIS OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS, CHIEFLY
MILITARY, BETWEEN THE CONQUEST OF
THE PEQUOTS, 1637, AND THE DEFEAT
OF KING PHILIP, 1676

1638. Settlement of Rhode Island. Establishment of the Colony of New Haven. Swedes and Finns settle in Delaware.

1639. Adoption of the Connecticut Constitution.

1642. War between Charles I. and Parliament. Indecisive Battle of Edgehill.

1643. The Colonies of New England form a confederacy.

1644. Battle of Marston Moor, in which the English Royalists are defeated. Roger Williams obtains a patent from Parliament for the United Government of the Rhode Island Settlements.

1645. Defeat of the English Royalists at the Battle of Naseby.

1649. Execution of Charles I.

1653. Cromwell is made Lord Protector of England.

1655. Peter Stuyvesant, Director-General of New Netherlands, dispossesses the Swedish settlers at the mouth of the Delaware.

1660. Restoration of the Stuarts in England.

1662. The Connecticut and New Haven Colonies receive a charter from Charles II.

1664. Charles II. grants the region between the Connecticut and Delaware rivers to his brother James, Duke of York. The English occupy New Amsterdam and take possession of the province of New Netherland. The Colony of New Jersey is established.

1665. The union of the Connecticut and New Haven Colonies is completed.

1668. Father Marquette founds the Mission of Sault Ste. Marie.

1670. Incorporation of the Hudson Bay Company.

1673. The Dutch occupy New York and New Jersey.

1674. New York and New Jersey are restored to the English.

1675. King Philip’s War.

IV
THE DEFEAT OF KING PHILIP, 1676

Except in the destruction of the Pequots, the native tribes of New England had, in 1673, undergone no very material diminution. The Pocanokets, or Wampanoags, though somewhat curtailed in their limits, still occupied the eastern shore of Narragansett Bay. The Narragansets still possessed the western shore. There were several scattered tribes in various parts of Connecticut; though, with the exception of some small reservations, they had already ceded all their lands. Uncas, the Mohegan chief, was now an old man. The Pawtucket, or Penacook, confederacy continued to occupy the falls of the Merrimac and the heads of the Piscataqua. Their old sachem, Passaconaway, regarded the colonists with awe and veneration. In the interior of Massachusetts and along the Connecticut were several other less noted tribes. The Indians of Maine and the region eastward possessed their ancient haunts undisturbed; but their intercourse was principally with the French, to whom, since the late peace with France, Acadie had been again yielded up. The New England Indians were occasionally annoyed by war parties of Mohawks; but, by the intervention of Massachusetts, a peace had recently been concluded.

Efforts for the conversion and civilization of the Indians were still continued by Eliot and his coadjutors, supported by the funds of the English society. In Massachusetts there were fourteen feeble villages of these praying Indians, and a few more in Plymouth colony. The whole number in New England was about thirty-six hundred, but of these near one-half inhabited the islands of Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard.

Massachusetts held a strict hand over the Narragansets and other subject tribes, and their limits had been contracted by repeated cessions, not always entirely voluntary. The Wampanoags, within the jurisdiction of Plymouth, experienced similar treatment. By successive sales of parts of their territory, they were now shut up, as it were, in the necks or peninsulas formed by the northern and eastern branches of Narragansett Bay, the same territory now constituting the continental eastern portion of Rhode Island. Though always at peace with the colonists, the Wampanoags had not always escaped suspicion. The increase of the settlements around them, and the progressive curtailment of their limits, aroused their jealousy. They were galled, also, by the feudal superiority, similar to that of Massachusetts over her dependent tribes, claimed by Plymouth on the strength of certain alleged former submissions. None felt this assumption more keenly than Pometacom, head chief of the Wampanoags, better known among the colonists as King Philip of Mount Hope, nephew and successor of that Massasoit who had welcomed the Pilgrims to Plymouth. Suspected of hostile designs, he had been compelled to deliver up his firearms, and to enter into certain stipulations. These stipulations he was accused of not fulfilling; and nothing but the interposition of the Massachusetts magistrates, to whom Philip appealed, prevented Plymouth from making war upon him. He was sentenced instead to pay a heavy fine, and to acknowledge the unconditional supremacy of that colony.

A praying Indian, who had been educated at Cambridge and employed as a teacher, upon some misdemeanor had fled to Philip, who took him into service as a sort of secretary. Being persuaded to return again to his former employment, this Indian accused Philip anew of being engaged in a secret hostile plot. In accordance with Indian ideas, the treacherous informer was waylaid and killed. Three of Philip’s men, suspected of having killed him, were arrested by the Plymouth authorities, and, in accordance with English ideas, were tried for murder by a jury half English, half Indians, convicted upon very slender evidence, and hanged. Philip retaliated by plundering the houses nearest Mount Hope. Presently he attacked Swanzey, and killed several of the inhabitants. Plymouth took measures for raising a military force. The neighboring colonies were sent to for assistance. Thus, by the impulse of suspicion on the one side and passion on the other, New England became suddenly engaged in a war very disastrous to the colonists, and utterly ruinous to the native tribes. The lust of gain, in spite of all laws to prevent it, had partially furnished the Indians with firearms, and they were now far more formidable enemies than they had been in the days of the Pequots. Of this the colonists hardly seem to have thought. Now, as then, confident of their superiority, and comparing themselves to the Lord’s chosen people driving the heathen out of the land, they rushed eagerly into the contest, without a single effort at the preservation of peace. Indeed, their pretensions hardly admitted of it. Philip was denounced as a rebel in arms against his lawful superiors, with whom it would be folly and weakness to treat on any terms short of absolute submission.

A body of volunteers, horse and foot, raised in Massachusetts, marched under Major Savage, in June, 1675, four days after the attack on Swanzey, to join the Plymouth forces. After one or two slight skirmishes, they penetrated to the Wampanoag villages at Mount Hope, but found them empty and deserted. Philip and his warriors, conscious of their inferiority, had abandoned their homes. If the Narragansets, on the opposite side of the bay, did not openly join the Wampanoags, they would, at least, be likely to afford shelter to their women and children. The troops were therefore ordered into the Narraganset country, accompanied by commissioners to demand assurances of peaceful intentions, and a promise to deliver up all fugitive enemies of the colonists—pledges which the Narragansets felt themselves constrained to give.

Arrived at Taunton on their return from the Narraganset country, news came that Philip and his warriors had been discovered by Church, of Plymouth colony, collected in a great swamp at Pocasset, now Tiverton, the southern district of the Wampanoag country, whence small parties sallied forth to burn and plunder the neighboring settlements. After a march of eighteen miles, having reached the designated spot, the soldiers found there a hundred wigwams lately built, but empty and deserted, the Indians having retired deep into the swamp. The colonists followed; but the ground was soft; the thicket was difficult to penetrate; the companies were soon thrown into disorder. Each man fired at every bush he saw shake, thinking an Indian might lay concealed behind it, and several were thus wounded by their own friends. When night came on, the assailants retired with the loss of sixteen men. The swamp continued to be watched and guarded, but Philip broke through, not without some loss, and escaped into the country of the Nipmucks, in the interior of Massachusetts. That tribe had already commenced hostilities by attacking Mendon. They waylaid and killed Captain Hutchinson, a son of the famous Mrs. Hutchinson, and sixteen out of a party of twenty sent from Boston to Brookfield to parley with them. Attacking Brookfield itself, they burned it, except one fortified house. The inhabitants were saved by Major Willard, who, on information of their danger, came with a troop of horse from Lancaster, thirty miles through the woods, to their rescue. A body of troops presently arrived from the eastward, and were stationed for some time at Brookfield.

The colonists now found that by driving Philip to extremity they had roused a host of unexpected enemies. The River Indians, anticipating an intended attack upon them, joined the assailants. Deerfield and Northfield, the northernmost towns on the Connecticut River, settled within a few years past, were attacked, and several of the inhabitants killed and wounded. Captain Beers, sent from Hadley to their relief with a convoy of provisions, was surprised near Northfield in September, and slain, with twenty of his men. Northfield was abandoned, and burned by the Indians.

“The English at first,” says Gookin, “thought easily to chastise the insolent doings and murderous practice of the heathen; but it was found another manner of thing than was expected; for our men could see no enemy to shoot at, but yet felt their bullets out of the thick bushes where they lay in ambush. The English wanted not courage or resolution, but could not discover nor find an enemy to fight with, yet were galled by the enemy.” In the arts of ambush and surprise, with which the Indians were so familiar, the colonists were without practice. It is to the want of this experience, purchased at a very dear rate in the course of the war, that we must ascribe the numerous surprises and defeats from which the colonists suffered at its commencement.

Driven to the necessity of defensive warfare, those in command on the river determined to establish a magazine and garrison at Hadley. Captain Lathrop, who had been dispatched from the eastward to the assistance of the river towns, was sent with eighty men, the flower of the youth of Essex County, to guard the wagons intended to convey to Hadley three thousand bushels of unthreshed wheat, the produce of the fertile Deerfield meadows. Just before arriving at Deerfield, near a small stream still known as Bloody Brook, under the shadow of the abrupt conical Sugar Loaf, the southern termination of the Deerfield mountain, Lathrop, on September 18, fell into an ambush, and, after a brave resistance, perished there with all his company. Captain Moseley, stationed at Deerfield, marched to his assistance, but arrived too late to help him. Deerfield was abandoned, and burned by the Indians. Springfield, about the same time, was set on fire, but was partially saved by the arrival, with troops from Connecticut, of Major Treat, successor to the lately deceased Mason in the chief command of the Connecticut forces. An attack on Hatfield was vigorously repelled by the garrison.

Meanwhile, hostilities were spreading; the Indians on the Merrimac began to attack the towns in their vicinity, and the whole of Massachusetts was soon in the utmost alarm. Except in the immediate neighborhood of Boston, the country still remained an immense forest dotted by a few openings. The frontier settlements could not be defended against a foe familiar with localities, scattered in small parties, skilful in concealment, and watching with patience for some unguarded or favorable moment. Those settlements were mostly broken up, and the inhabitants, retiring toward Boston, spread everywhere dread and intense hatred of “the bloody heathen.” Even the praying Indians, and the small dependent and tributary tribes, became objects of suspicion and terror. They had been employed at first as scouts and auxiliaries, and to good advantage; but some few, less confirmed in the faith, having deserted to the enemy, the whole body of them were denounced as traitors. Eliot the apostle, and Gookin, superintendent of the subject Indians, exposed themselves to insults, and even to danger, by their efforts to stem this headlong fury, to which several of the magistrates opposed but a feeble resistance. Troops were sent to break up the praying villages at Mendon, Grafton, and others in that quarter. The Natick Indians, “those poor despised sheep of Christ,” as Gookin affectionately calls them, were hurried off to Deer Island, in Boston harbor, where they suffered excessively from a severe winter. A part of the praying Indians of Plymouth colony were confined, in like manner, on the islands in Plymouth harbor.

Not content with realities sufficiently frightful, superstition, as usual, added bugbears of her own. Indian bows were seen in the sky, and scalps in the moon. The northern lights became an object of terror. Phantom horsemen careered among the clouds or were heard to gallop invisible through the air. The howling of wolves was turned into a terrible omen. The war was regarded as a special judgment in punishment of prevailing sins. Among these sins, the General Court of Massachusetts, after consultation with the elders, enumerated neglect in the training of the children of church-members; pride, in men’s wearing long and curled hair; excess in apparel; naked breasts and arms, and superfluous ribbons; the toleration of Quakers; hurry to leave meeting before blessing asked; profane cursing and swearing; tippling-houses; want of respect for parents; idleness; extortion in shopkeepers and mechanics; and the riding from town to town of unmarried men and women, under pretence of attending lectures—“a sinful custom, tending to lewdness.” Penalties were denounced against all these offences; and the persecution of the Quakers was again renewed. A Quaker woman had recently frightened the Old South congregation in Boston by entering that meeting-house clothed in sackcloth, with ashes on her head, her feet bare, and her face blackened, intending to personify the smallpox, with which she threatened the colony, in punishment for its sins.

About the time of the first collision with Philip, the Tarenteens, or Eastern Indians, had attacked the settlements in Maine and New Hampshire, plundering and burning the houses, and massacring such of the inhabitants as fell into their hands. This sudden diffusion of hostilities and vigor of attack from opposite quarters made the colonists believe that Philip had long been plotting and had gradually matured an extensive conspiracy, into which most of the tribes had deliberately entered, for the extermination of the whites. This belief infuriated the colonists, and suggested some very questionable proceedings. It seems, however, to have originated, like the war itself, from mere suspicions. The same griefs pressed upon all the tribes; and the struggle once commenced, the awe which the colonists inspired thrown off, the greater part were ready to join in the contest. But there is no evidence of any deliberate concert; nor, in fact, were the Indians united. Had they been so, the war would have been far more serious. The Connecticut tribes proved faithful, and that colony remained untouched. Uncas and Ninigret continued friendly; even the Narragansets, in spite of so many former provocations, had not yet taken up arms. But they were strongly suspected of intention to do so, and were accused by Uncas of giving, notwithstanding their recent assurances, aid and shelter to the hostile tribes.

An attempt had lately been made to revive the union of the New England colonies. At a meeting of commissioners, on September 9, 1675, those from Plymouth presented a narrative of the origin and progress of the present hostilities. Upon the strength of this narrative the war was pronounced “just and necessary,” and a resolution was passed to carry it on at the joint expense, and to raise for that purpose a thousand men, one-half to be mounted dragoons. If the Narragansets were not crushed during the winter, it was feared they might break out openly hostile in the spring; and at a subsequent meeting a thousand men were ordered to be levied to co-operate in an expedition specially against them.

The winter was unfavorable to the Indians; the leafless woods no longer concealed their lurking attacks. The frozen surface of the swamps made the Indian fastnesses accessible to the colonists. The forces destined to act against the Narragansets—six companies from Massachusetts, under Major Appleton; two from Plymouth, under Major Bradford; and five from Connecticut, under Major Treat—were placed under the command of Josiah Winslow, Governor of Plymouth since Prince’s death—son of that Edward Winslow so conspicuous in the earlier history of the colony. In December the Massachusetts and Plymouth forces marched to Petasquamscot, on the west shore of Narragansett Bay, where they made some forty prisoners. Being joined by the troops from Connecticut, and guided by an Indian deserter, after a march of fifteen miles through a deep snow, they approached a swamp in what is now the town of South Kingston, one of the ancient strongholds of the Narragansets. Driving the Indian scouts before them, and penetrating the swamp, the colonial soldiers soon came in sight of the Indian fort, built on a rising ground in the morass, a sort of island of two or three acres, fortified by a palisade, and surrounded by a close hedge a rod thick. There was but one entrance, quite narrow, defended by a tree thrown across it, with a block-house of logs in front and another on the flank. It was the “Lord’s day,” but that did not hinder the attack. As the captains advanced at the heads of their companies, the Indians opened a galling fire, under which many fell. But the assailants pressed on, and forced the entrance. A desperate struggle ensued. The colonists were once driven back, but they rallied and returned to the charge, and, after a two hours’ fight, became masters of the fort. Fire was put to the wigwams, near six hundred in number, and all the horrors of the Pequot massacre were renewed. The corn and other winter stores of the Indians were consumed, and not a few of the old men, women, and children perished in the flames. In this bloody contest, long remembered as the “Swamp Fight,” the colonial loss was terribly severe. Six captains, with two hundred and thirty men, were killed or wounded; and at night, in the midst of a snow-storm; with a fifteen miles’ march before them, the colonial soldiers abandoned the fort, of which the Indians resumed possession. But their wigwams were burned; their provisions destroyed; they had no supplies for the winter; their loss was irreparable. Of those who survived the fight, many perished of hunger.

Even as a question of policy, this attack on the Narragansets was more than doubtful. The starving and infuriated warriors, scattered through the woods, revenged themselves by attacks on the frontier settlements. On February 10, 1676, Lancaster was burned, and forty of the inhabitants killed or taken; among the rest, Mrs. Rolandson, wife of the minister, the narrative of whose captivity is still preserved. Groton, Chelmsford, and other towns in that vicinity were repeatedly attacked. Medfield, twenty miles from Boston, was furiously assaulted, and, though defended by three hundred men, half the houses were burned. Weymouth, within eighteen miles of Boston, was attacked a few days after. These were the nearest approaches which the Indians made to that capital. For a time the neighborhood of the Narraganset country was abandoned. The Rhode Island towns, though they had no part in undertaking the war, yet suffered the consequences of it. In March, Warwick was burned, and Providence was partially destroyed. Most of the inhabitants sought refuge in the islands, but the aged Roger Williams accepted a commission as captain for the defence of the town he had founded. Walter Clarke was presently chosen governor in Coddington’s place, the times not suiting a Quaker chief magistrate.

The whole colony of Plymouth was overrun. Houses were burned in almost every town, but the inhabitants, for the most part, saved themselves in their garrisons, a shelter with which all the towns now found it necessary to be provided. On March 26 Captain Pierce, with fifty men and some friendly Indians, while endeavoring to cover the Plymouth towns, fell into an ambush and was cut off. That same day, Marlborough was set on fire; two days after Rehoboth was burned. The Indians seemed to be everywhere. On April 18 Captain Wadsworth, marching to the relief of Sudbury, fell into an ambush, and perished with fifty men. The alarm and terror of the colonists reached again a great height. But affairs were about to take a turn. The resources of the Indians were exhausted; they were now making their last efforts.

A body of Connecticut volunteers, under Captain Denison, and of Mohegan and other friendly Indians, Pequots and Niantics, swept the entire country of the Narragansets, who suffered, as spring advanced, the last extremities of famine. Canonchet, the chief sachem, said to have been a son of Miantonimoh, but probably his nephew, had ventured to his old haunts to procure seed-corn with which to plant the rich intervals on the Connecticut, abandoned by the colonists. Taken prisoner, he conducted himself with all that haughty firmness esteemed by the Indians the height of magnanimity. Being offered his life on condition of bringing about a peace, he scorned the proposal. His tribe would perish to the last man rather than become servants to the English. When ordered to prepare for death, he replied, “I like it well; I shall die before my heart is soft, or I shall have spoken anything unworthy of myself.” Two Indians were appointed to shoot him, and his head was cut off and sent to Hartford.

The colonists had suffered severely. Men, women, and children had perished by the bullets of the Indians, or fled naked through the wintry woods by the light of their blazing houses, leaving their goods and cattle a spoil to the assailants. Several settlements had been destroyed, and many more had been abandoned; but the oldest and wealthiest remained untouched. The Indians, on the other hand, had neither provisions nor ammunition. On May 12, while attempting to plant corn and catch fish at Montague Falls, on the Connecticut River, they were attacked with great slaughter by the garrison of the lower towns, led by Captain Turner, a Boston Baptist, and at first refused a commission on that account, but as danger increased, pressed to accept it. Yet this enterprise was not without its drawbacks. As the troops returned, Captain Turner fell into an ambush and was slain, with thirty-eight men. Hadley was attacked on a lecture day, June 12, while the people were at meeting; but the Indians were repulsed by the bravery of Goffe, one of the fugitive regicides, long concealed in that town. Seeing this venerable unknown man come to their rescue, and then suddenly disappear, the inhabitants took him for an angel.

Major Church, at the head of a body of two hundred volunteers, English and Indians, energetically hunted down the hostile bands in Plymouth colony. The interior tribes about Mount Wachusett were invaded and subdued by a force of six hundred men, raised for that purpose. Many fled to the north to find refuge in Canada—guides and leaders, in after years, of those French and Indian war parties by which the frontiers of New England were so terribly harassed. Just a year after the fast at the commencement of the war, a thanksgiving was observed for success in it.

No longer sheltered by the River Indians, who now began to make their peace, and even attacked by bands of the Mohawks, Philip returned to his own country, about Mount Hope, where he was still faithfully supported by his female confederate and relative, Witamo, squaw sachem of Pocasset. Punham, also, the Shawomet vassal of Massachusetts, still zealously carried on the war, but was presently killed. Philip was watched and followed by Church, who surprised his camp on August 1st, killed upward of a hundred of his people, and took prisoners his wife and boy. The disposal of this child was a subject of much deliberation. Several of the elders were urgent for putting him to death. It was finally resolved to send him to Bermuda, to be sold into slavery—a fate to which many other of the Indian captives were subjected. Witamo shared the disasters of Philip. Most of her people were killed or taken. She herself was drowned while crossing a river in her flight; but her body was recovered, and the head, cut off, was stuck upon a pole at Taunton, amid the jeers and scoffs of the colonial soldiers, and the tears and lamentations of the Indian prisoners.

Philip still lurked in the swamps, but was now reduced to extremity. Again attacked by Church, he was killed by one of his own people, a deserter to the colonists. His dead body was beheaded and quartered, the sentence of the English law upon traitors. One of his hands was given to the Indian who had shot him, and on August 17, the day appointed for a public thanksgiving, his head was carried in triumph to Plymouth.

The popular rage against the Indians was excessive. Death or slavery was the penalty for all known or suspected to have been concerned in shedding English blood. Merely having been present at the “Swamp Fight” was adjudged by the authorities of Rhode Island sufficient foundation for sentence of death, and that, too, notwithstanding they had intimated an opinion that the origin of the war would not bear examination. The other captives who fell into the hands of the colonists were distributed among them as ten-year servants. Roger Williams received a boy for his share. Many chiefs were executed at Boston and Plymouth on the charge of rebellion; among others, Captain Tom, chief of the Christian Indians at Natick, and Tispiquin, a noted warrior, reputed to be invulnerable, who had surrendered to Church on an implied promise of safety. A large body of Indians, assembled at Dover to treat of peace, were treacherously made prisoners by Major Waldron, who commanded there. Some two hundred of these Indians, claimed as fugitives from Massachusetts, were sent by water to Boston, where some were hanged, and the rest shipped off to be sold as slaves. Some fishermen of Marblehead having been killed by the Indians at the eastward, the women of that town, as they came out of meeting on a Sunday, fell upon two Indian prisoners who had just been brought in, and murdered them on the spot. The same ferocious spirit of revenge which governed the contemporaneous conduct of Berkeley in Virginia toward those concerned in Bacon’s rebellion, swayed the authorities of New England in their treatment of the conquered Indians. By the end of the year the contest was over in the South, upward of two thousand Indians having been killed or taken. But some time elapsed before a peace could be arranged with the Eastern tribes, whose haunts it was not so easy to reach.

In this short war of hardly a year’s duration the Wampanoags and Narragansets had suffered the fate of the Pequots. The Niantics alone, under the guidance of their aged sachem, Ninigret, had escaped destruction. Philip’s country was annexed to Plymouth, though sixty years afterward, under a royal order in council, it was transferred to Rhode Island. The Narraganset territory remained as before, under the name of King’s Province, a bone of contention between Connecticut, Rhode Island, the Marquis of Hamilton, and the Atherton claimants. The Niantics still retained their ancient seats along the southern shores of Narragansett Bay. Most of the surviving Narragansets, the Nipmucks, and the River Indians, abandoned their country, and migrated to the North and West. Such as remained, along with the Mohegans and other subject tribes, became more than ever abject and subservient.

The work of conversion was now again renewed, and, after such overwhelming proofs of Christian superiority, with somewhat greater success. A second edition of the Indian Old Testament, which seems to have been more in demand than the New, was published in 1683, revised by Eliot, with the assistance of John Cotton, son of the “great Cotton,” and minister of Plymouth. But not an individual exists in our day by whom it can be understood. The fragments of the subject tribes, broken in spirit, lost the savage freedom and rude virtues of their fathers, without acquiring the laborious industry of the whites. Lands were assigned them in various places, which they were prohibited by law from alienating. But this very provision, though humanely intended, operated to perpetuate their indolence and incapacity. Some sought a more congenial occupation in the whale fishery, which presently began to be carried on from the islands of Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard. Many perished by enlisting in the military expeditions undertaken in future years against Acadie and the West Indies. The Indians intermarried with the blacks, and thus confirmed their degradation by associating themselves with another oppressed and unfortunate race. Gradually they dwindled away. A few sailors and petty farmers, of mixed blood, as much African as Indian, are now the sole surviving representatives of the aboriginal possessors of southern New England.

On the side of the colonists the contest had also been very disastrous. Twelve or thirteen towns had been entirely ruined, and many others partially destroyed. Six hundred houses had been burned, near a tenth part of all in New England. Twelve captains and more than six hundred men in the prime of life had fallen in battle. There was hardly a family not in mourning. The pecuniary losses and expenses of the war were estimated at near a million of dollars. Massachusetts was burdened with a heavy debt. No aid nor relief seems to have come from abroad, except a contribution from Ireland of £500 for the benefit of the sufferers by the war, chiefly collected by the efforts of Nathaniel Mather, lately successor to his brother Samuel as minister of the non-conformist congregation at Dublin.

SYNOPSIS OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS, CHIEFLY
MILITARY, BETWEEN THE DEFEAT OF KING
PHILIP, 1676, AND THE CAPTURE
OF QUEBEC, 1759

1676. Bacon’s Rebellion in Virginia against the government of Sir William Berkeley.

1679. The Scottish Covenanters are defeated by the Duke of Monmouth at Bothwell Bridge.

1681. William Penn obtains his patent from the English Crown.

1682. Purchase of East Jersey by William Penn. He takes possession of New Castle (Delaware) and founds the Colony of Pennsylvania. La Salle descends the Mississippi to its mouth.

1684. The charter of the Massachusetts Bay Company is declared forfeited to the English Crown.

1685. James II. succeeds his brother, Charles II., as King of England. Insurrection of the Earl of Argyll and the Duke of Monmouth. Defeat of Monmouth at Sedgemoor; his execution.

1686. Sir Edmund Andros is made Governor of New England.

1688. William of Orange lands in England; flight of James II.

1689. William and Mary are proclaimed King and Queen of England. England declares war against France. Victory of the Scottish Jacobites at Killiecrankie. Overthrow of Andros in New England. Beginning of King William’s War in America.

1690. The Orangemen in Ireland win the battle of the Boyne. Destruction of Schenectady by the French and Indians. Sir William Phips, commanding a New England expedition, captures Port Royal, and later makes a fruitless demonstration against Quebec.

1691. The Jacobites are overcome in Scotland. Surrender of Limerick, the last stronghold of James II. in Ireland.

1692. Union of the Plymouth and Massachusetts colonies. Witchcraft delusion at Salem.

1693. The French Admiral Tourville defeats the English fleet off Cape St. Vincent.

1697. France makes peace at Ryswick with Holland, Spain, and England. Close of King William’s War in America.

1699. The French begin the settlement of Louisiana.

1701. Beginning of the War of the Spanish Succession.

1702. Death of William III. and accession of Queen Anne. Successful campaign of Churchill (Marlborough) in the Netherlands. Naval triumph of the English and Dutch over the Spanish and French at Vigo. Queen Anne’s War in America. French settlement in Alabama.

1704. The English are victorious over the French at the battle of Blenheim. Capture of Gibraltar by the English. Massacre of white settlers by the Indians at Deerfield, Massachusetts.

1706. Marlborough defeats the French and Bavarians at the battle of Ramillies.

1708. Victory of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, at Oudenarde, over the Dukes of Burgundy and Vendôme.

1711. Unsuccessful expedition of the English and New England forces under Walker against Canada.

1713. Treaty of Utrecht. Close of Queen Anne’s War in America. Acadia (Nova Scotia, etc.) ceded to England by France, which also restores the Hudson Bay region. The power of the Tuscarora Indians broken by the Carolinians.

1714. George I., Elector of Hanover, succeeds to the English Crown.

1715. Rebellion in Scotland and in the North of England in favor of James Edward Stuart, the Jacobite pretender.

1718. French settlement of New Orleans.

1720. Failure of Law’s Mississippi scheme in France.

1722. Establishment of the Moravian settlement in Pennsylvania under Count Zinzendorf.

1727. Accession of George II.

1728. Discovery of Behring’s Strait.

1729. Carolina, purchased by the English Crown, is divided into the royal provinces of North and South Carolina.

1730. Baltimore is laid out.

1732. Oglethorpe embarks from England to establish a settlement in Georgia.

1733. Founding of Savannah.

1741. New Hampshire is finally separated from Massachusetts.

1744. Beginning of King George’s War in America. The French capture Canseau (afterward Canso), and are repulsed at Annapolis.

1745. Jacobite rising in Scotland. Charles Edward, the young Pretender, is victorious at Prestonpans. The New England troops, under Sir William Pepperell, reduce the French fortress of Louisburg.

1746. Jacobite defeat at Culloden.

1748. The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle terminates the War of the Austrian Succession and King George’s War in America. Louisburg restored to France.

1749. The Ohio Company receives its grant from George II.

1753. Friction between French and Americans on tributaries of the Alleghany, along American western frontier. Washington’s vain protest against the French seizure of Venango.

1754. Beginning of the French and Indian War in America. Washington’s attack upon Jumonville, near Great Meadows, the first action. The French compel Washington to capitulate at Fort Necessity.

1755. Braddock’s expedition against Fort Duquesne and his disastrous defeat. Abortive expeditions by the English against Niagara and Crown Point.

1756. Formal declaration of hostilities between France and England, and beginning of the Seven Years’ War. Capture of Oswego by the French.

1757. Montcalm takes Fort William Henry on Lake George.

1758. Victory of Montcalm at Ticonderoga. Reduction of Louisburg, and capture of Forts Frontenac and Duquesne by the English.

V
THE FALL OF QUEBEC, 1759

[The visits of Breton fishermen to Newfoundland in the early sixteenth century, the voyages of Cartier to the St. Lawrence in 1534 and 1541–43, the foundation of Port Royal in Acadia in 1605, and of Quebec by Champlain in 1608, were the beginnings of a French occupancy of the northern and central portions of North America which led inevitably to conflict with England and the American colonists. The title based upon Marquette’s discovery of the Mississippi in 1673, and La Salle’s exploration and claim to the whole vast valley in 1682, would have confined the English to the Atlantic seaboard. The contact between the wholly different types represented in English and French colonization caused friction which became acute when King William’s War broke out in 1689. The eight years of that war, with its profitless capture of Port Royal, Nova Scotia, were followed by Queen Anne’s War, 1702–13, and King George’s War, 1744–48, and the interval after the Treaty of Utrecht was a truce rather than peace. The French were strengthening their hold along the western frontier of the English colonists, at Fort Duquesne, and elsewhere. Braddock’s defeat in 1755, and attacks upon Crown Point and Niagara, preceded the formal declaration of hostilities between France and England in 1756, the beginning of the Seven Years’ War, involving nearly all Europe, with England and Prussia facing Russia, France, Austria, Sweden, and Saxony. In America, in 1756–57, the incompetency of Loudon and Abercrombie, the dilatory preparations to attack Louisburg, and Montcalm’s capture of Fort William Henry, made the first stage of the war a gloomy one. But Pitt’s entrance into the British cabinet as Secretary of State brought an intelligent and active prosecution of the war. The next year, 1758, witnessed the capture of Fort Frontenac on Ontario, Fort Duquesne, and Louisburg by the English and American forces.—Editor.]

The British Parliament met late in November, 1758, at a time when the nation was aglow with enthusiasm over the successes of the year—Louisburg and Frontenac in North America, and the driving of the French from the Guinea coast as the result of battles at Sénégal (May) and Gorée (November).[22] The war was proving far more costly than had been anticipated, yet Pitt rigidly held the country to the task; but not against its will, and the necessary funds were freely voted. Walpole wrote to a friend: “Our unanimity is prodigious. You would as soon hear ‘No’ from an old maid as from the House of Commons.” The preparations for the new year were on a much larger scale than before; both by land and sea France was to be pushed to the uttermost, and the warlike spirit of Great Britain seemed wrought to the highest pitch.

The new French premier, Choiseul, was himself not lacking in activity. He renewed with vigor the project of invading Great Britain, preparations therefor being evident quite early in the year 1759. Fifty thousand men were to land in England, and twelve thousand in Scotland, where the Stuart cause still lingered. But as usual the effort came to naught. The Toulon squadron was to co-operate with one from Brest; Boscawen, who now commanded the Mediterranean fleet, apprehended the former while trying to escape through the Straits of Gibraltar in a thick haze (August 17), and after destroying several of the ships dispersed the others; while Sir Edward Hawke annihilated the Brest fleet in a brilliant sea-fight off Quiberon Bay (November 20).[23] Relieved of the possibility of insular invasion, the Channel and Mediterranean squadrons were now free to raid French commerce, patrol French ports, and thus intercept communication with New France, and to harry French—and, later, Spanish—colonies overseas.

PROGRESS OF FRENCH DISCOVERY IN THE INTERIOR 1600–1762

In 1757 Clive had regained Calcutta and won Bengal at the famous battle of Plassey. Two years thereafter the East Indian seas were abandoned by the French after three decisive actions won by Pitt’s valiant seamen, and India thus became a permanent possession of the British empire.[24] In January, 1759, also, the British captured Guadeloupe, in the West Indies.[25] Lacking sea power, it was impossible for France much longer to hold her colonies; it was but a question of time when the remainder should fall into the clutches of the mistress of the ocean.

Notwithstanding all this naval activity, Pitt’s principal operations were really centred against Canada. The movement thither was to be along two lines, which eventually were to meet in co-operation. First, a direct attack was to be made upon Quebec, headed by Wolfe, who was to be convoyed and assisted by a fleet under the command of Admiral Saunders; second, Amherst—now commander-in-chief in America, Abercrombie having been recalled—was to penetrate Canada by way of Lakes George and Champlain. He was to join Wolfe at Quebec, but was authorized to make such diversions as he found practicable—principally to re-establish Oswego and to relieve Pittsburg (Fort Duquesne) with reinforcements and supplies.

Wolfe’s selection as leader of the Quebec expedition occasioned general surprise in England. Yet it was in the natural course of events. He had been the life of the Louisburg campaign of the year before, and when Amherst was expressing the desire of attacking Quebec after the reduction of Cape Breton he wrote to the latter: “An offensive, daring kind of war will awe the Indians and ruin the French. Block-houses and a trembling defensive encourage the meanest scoundrels to attack us. If you will attempt to cut up New France by the roots, I will come with pleasure to assist.”[26]

Wolfe, whose family enjoyed some influence, had attained a captaincy at the age of seventeen and became a major at twenty. He was now thirty-two, a major-general, and with an excellent fighting record both in Flanders and America. Quiet and modest in demeanor, although occasionally using excitable and ill-guarded language, he was a refined and educated gentleman; careful of and beloved by his troops, yet a stern disciplinarian; and although frail in body, and often overcome by rheumatism and other ailments, capable of great strain when buoyed by the zeal which was one of his characteristics. The majority of his portraits represent a tall, lank, ungainly form, with a singularly weak facial profile; but it is likely that these belie him, for he had an indubitable spirit, a profound mind, quick intuition, a charming manner, and was much thought of by women. Indeed, just before sailing, he had become engaged to the beautiful and charming Katharine Lowther, sister of Lord Lonsdale, and afterward the Duchess of Bolton.[27]

On February 17 Wolfe departed with Saunders’ fleet of twenty-one sail, bearing the king’s secret instructions to “carry into execution the said important operation with the utmost application and vigor.”[28] The voyage was protracted, and after arrival at Louisburg he was obliged to wait long before the promised troops appeared. He had expected regiments from Guadeloupe, but these could not yet be spared, owing to their wretched condition; and the Nova Scotia garrisons had also been weakened by disease, so that of the twelve thousand agreed upon he finally could muster somewhat under nine thousand.[29] These were of the best quality of their kind; although the general still entertained a low opinion of the value of the provincials, who, it must be admitted, were, however serviceable in bush-ranging, far below the efficiency of the regulars in a campaign of this character. The force was divided into three brigades, under Monckton, Townsend, and Murray, young men of ability; although Townsend’s supercilious manner—the fruit of a superior social connection—did not endear him either to his men or his colleagues.

On June 1 the fleet began to leave Louisburg. There were thirty-nine men-of-war, ten auxiliaries, seventy-six transports, and a hundred and sixty-two miscellaneous craft, which were manned by thirteen thousand naval seamen and five thousand of the mercantile marine—an aggregate of eighteen thousand, or twice as many as the landsmen under Wolfe.[30] While to the latter is commonly given credit for the result, it must not be forgotten that the victory was quite as much due to the skilful management of the navy as to that of the army, the expedition being in all respects a joint enterprise, into which the men of both branches of the service entered with intense enthusiasm.

The French had placed much reliance on the supposed impossibility of great battle-ships being successfully navigated up the St. Lawrence above the mouth of the Saguenay without the most careful piloting. This portion of the river, a hundred and twenty miles in length, certainly is intricate water, being streaked with perplexing currents created by the mingling of the river’s strong flow with the flood and ebb of the tide; the great stream is diverted into two parallel channels by reefs and islands, and there are numerous shoals—moreover, the French had removed all lights and other aids to navigation. But British sailors laughed at difficulties such as these, and, while they managed to capture a pilot, had small use for him, preferring their own cautious methods. Preceded by a crescent of sounding-boats, officered by Captain James Cook, afterward of glorious memory as a pathfinder, the fleet advanced slowly but safely, its approach heralded by beacons gleaming nightly to the fore, upon the rounded hill-tops overlooking the long thin line of riverside settlement which extended eastward from Quebec to the Saguenay.[31]

The French had at first expected attacks only from Lake Ontario and from the south. But receiving early tidings of Wolfe’s expedition, through convoys with supplies from France that had escaped Saunders’ patrol of the gulf, general alarm prevailed, and Montcalm decided to make his stand at Quebec. To the last he appears to have shared in the popular delusion that British men-of-war could not ascend the river; nevertheless, he promptly summoned to the capital the greater part of the militia from all sections of Canada, save that a thousand whites and savages were left with Pouchot to defend Niagara, twelve hundred men under De la Corne to guard Lake Ontario, and Bourlamaque, with upward of three thousand, was ordered to delay Amherst’s advance and thus prevent him from joining Wolfe. The population of Canada at the time was about eighty-five thousand souls, and of these perhaps twenty-two thousand were capable of bearing arms.[32] The force now gathered in and about Quebec aggregated about seventeen thousand, of whom some ten thousand were militia, four thousand regulars of the line, and a thousand each of colonial regulars, seamen, and Indians; of these two thousand were reserved for the garrison of Quebec, under De Ramezay, while the remainder were at the disposal of Montcalm for the general defence.[33]

The “rock of Quebec” is the northeast end of a long, narrow triangular promontory, to the north of which lies the valley of the St. Charles and to the south that of the St. Lawrence. The acclivity on the St. Charles side is lower and less steep than the cliffs fringing the St. Lawrence, which rise almost precipitously from two to three hundred feet above the river—the citadel cliff being three hundred and forty-five feet, almost sheer. Either side of the promontory was easily defensible from assault, the table-land being only reached by steep and narrow paths. Surmounting the cliffs, at the apex of the triangle, was Upper Town, the capital of New France. Batteries, largely manned by sailors, lined the cliff-tops within the town, and the western base, fronting the Plains of Abraham, was protected by fifteen hundred yards of insecure wall—for, after all, Quebec had, despite the money spent upon it, never been scientifically fortified, its commanders having from the first relied chiefly upon its natural position as a stronghold.

At the base of the promontory, on the St. Lawrence side, is a wide beach occupied by Lower Town, where were the market, the commercial warehouses, a large share of the business establishments, and the homes of the trading and laboring classes. A narrow strand, little more than the width of a roadway, extended along the base of the cliffs westward, communicating with the up-river country; another road led westward along the table-land above. Thus the city obtained its supplies from the interior both by highway and by river.

THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM ON THE MORNING OF THE BATTLE

Entrance to the St. Charles side of the promontory had been blocked by booms at the mouth of that river, protected by strong redoubts; and off Lower Town was a line of floating batteries. Beyond the St. Charles, for a distance of seven miles eastward to the gorge of the Montmorenci, Montcalm disposed the greater part of his forces, his position being a plain naturally protected by a steep slope descending to the meadow and tidal flats which here margin the St. Lawrence. This plain rises gradually from the St. Charles, until at the Montmorenci cataract it attains a height of three hundred feet, and along the summit of the slope were well-devised trenches. The gorge furnished a strong natural defence to the left wing, for it could be forded only in the dense forest at a considerable distance above the falls, and to force this approach would have been to invite an ambuscade. Wolfe contented himself, therefore, with intrenching a considerable force along the eastern bank of the gorge, and thence issuing for frontal attacks on the Beauport Flats—so called from the name of the village midway. Montcalm had chosen this as the chief line of defence, on the theory that the approach by the St. Charles would be the one selected by the invaders; as, indeed, it long seemed to Wolfe the only possible path to the works of Upper Town.

Westward of the city, upon the table-land, Bougainville headed a corps of observation, supposed continually to patrol the St. Lawrence cliff-tops and keep communications open with the interior; but this precaution failed in the hour of need. The height of Point Lévis, across the river from the town, on the south bank, was unoccupied. Montcalm had wished to fortify this vantage-point, and thus block the river from both sides, but Vaudreuil had overruled him, and the result was fatal. Other weak points in the defence were divided command and the scarcity of food and ammunition, occasioned largely by Bigot’s rapacious knavery.

On June 26 the British fleet anchored off the Isle of Orleans, thus dissipating the fond hopes of the French that some disaster might prevent its approach. Three days later Wolfe’s men, now encamped on the island at a safe distance from Montcalm’s guns, made an easy capture of Point Lévis, and there erected batteries which commanded the town. British ships were, in consequence, soon able to pass Quebec, under cover of the Point Lévis guns, and destroy some of the French shipping anchored in the upper basin; while landing parties harried the country to the west, forcing habitants to neutrality and intercepting supplies. Frequently the British forces were, upon these various enterprises, divided into three or four isolated divisions, which might have been roughly handled by a venturesome foe. But Montcalm rigidly maintained the policy of defence, his only offensive operations being the unsuccessful dispatch of fire-ships against the invading fleet.

On his part, Wolfe made several futile attacks upon the Beauport redoubts. The position was, however, too strong for him to master, and in one assault (July 31) he lost half of his landing party—nearly five hundred killed, wounded, and missing.[34] This continued ill-success fretted Wolfe and at last quite disheartened him, for the season was rapidly wearing on, and winter sets in early at Quebec; moreover, nothing had yet been heard of Amherst. There was, indeed, some talk of waiting until another season. However, more and more British ships worked their way past the fort, and, by making frequent feints of landing at widely separated points, caused Bougainville great annoyance. Montcalm was accordingly obliged to weaken his lower forces by sending reinforcements to the plains west of the city. Thus, while Wolfe was pining, French uneasiness was growing, for the British were now intercepting supplies and reinforcements from both above and below, and Bougainville’s men were growing weary of constantly patrolling fifteen or twenty miles of cliffs.[35]

Meanwhile, let us see how Amherst was faring. At the end of June the general assembled five thousand provincials and sixty-five hundred regulars at the head of Lake George. He had previously dispatched Brigadier Prideaux with five thousand regulars and provincials to reduce Niagara, and Brigadier Stanwix, who had been of Bradstreet’s party the year before, to succor Pittsburg, now in imminent danger from French bush-rangers and Indians who were swarming at Presque Isle, Le Bœuf, and Venango.

Amherst himself moved slowly, it being July 21 before the army started northward upon the lake. Bourlamaque, whose sole purpose was to delay the British advance, lay at Ticonderoga with thirty-five hundred men, but on the twenty-sixth he blew up the fort and retreated in good order to Crown Point. On the British approaching that post he again fell back, this time to a strong position at Isle aux Noix, at the outlet of Lake Champlain, where, wrote Bourlamaque to a friend, “we are entrenched to the teeth, and armed with a hundred pieces of cannon.”[36] Amherst now deeming vessels essential, yet lacking ship-carpenters, it was the middle of September before his little navy was ready, and then he thought the season too far advanced for further operations.[37] Amherst’s advance had, however, induced Montcalm to defend Montreal, Lévis having been dispatched thither for this purpose.

Prideaux, advancing up the Mohawk, proceeded to Oswego, where he left half of his men to cover his retreat, and then sailed to Niagara. Slain by accident during the siege, his place was taken by Sir William Johnson, the Indian commander, who pushed the work with vigor. Suddenly confronted by a French force of thirteen hundred rangers and savages from the West, who had been deflected thither from a proposed attack on Pittsburg, with the view of recovering that fort, Johnson completely vanquished them (July 24). The discomfited crew burned their posts in that region and retreated precipitately to Detroit. The following day Niagara surrendered, and thus, with Pittsburg also saved, the West was entirely cut off from Canada, and the upper Ohio Valley was placed in British hands. The work of Stanwix having been accomplished by Johnson, the former, who had been greatly delayed by transport difficulties, advanced as promptly as possible to the Forks of the Ohio, and in the place of the old French works built the modernized stronghold of Fort Pitt.[38]

On August 20, Wolfe fell seriously ill. Both he and the army were discouraged. The casualties had thus far been over eight hundred men, and disease had cut a wide swath through the ranks. Desperate, he at last accepted the counsel of his officers, that a landing be attempted above the town, supplies definitively cut off from Montreal, and Montcalm forced to fight or surrender. From September 3 to 12, Wolfe, arisen from his bed but still weak, quietly withdrew his troops from the Montmorenci camp and transported them in vessels which successfully passed through a heavy cannonading from the fort to safe anchorage in the upper basin. Reinforcements marching along the southern bank, from Point Lévis, soon joined their comrades aboard the ships. For several days this portion of the fleet regularly floated up and down the river above Quebec, with the changing tide, thus wearing out Bougainville’s men, who in great perplexity followed the enemy along the cliff-tops, through a beat of several leagues, until from sheer exhaustion they at last became careless.

On the evening of September 12, Saunders—whose admirable handling of the fleet deserves equal recognition with the services of Wolfe—commenced a heavy bombardment of the Beauport lines, and feigned a general landing at that place. Montcalm, not knowing that the majority of the British were by this time above the town, and deceived as to his enemy’s real intent, hurried to Beauport the bulk of his troops, save those necessary for Bougainville’s rear guard. Meanwhile, however, Wolfe was preparing for his desperate attempt several miles up the river.

Before daylight the following morning (September 13), thirty boats containing seventeen hundred picked men, with Wolfe at their head, floated down the stream under the dark shadow of the apparently insurmountable cliffs. They were challenged by sentinels along the shore; but, by pretending to be a provision convoy which had been expected from up-country, suspicion was disarmed. About two miles above Quebec they landed at an indentation then known as Anse du Foulon, but now called Wolfe’s Cove. From the narrow beach a small, winding path, sighted by Wolfe two days before, led up through the trees and underbrush to the Plains of Abraham. The climbing party of twenty-four infantrymen found the path obstructed by an abatis and trenches; but, nothing daunted, they clambered up the height of two hundred feet by the aid of stunted shrubs, reached the top, overcame the weak and cowardly guard of a hundred men, made way for their comrades, and by sunrise forty-five hundred men of the British army were drawn up across the plateau before the walls of Quebec.[39]

SIEGE OF QUEBEC

Montcalm, ten miles away on the other side of the St. Charles, was amazed at the daring feat, but by nine o’clock had massed his troops and confronted his enemy. The battle was brief but desperate. The intrepid Wolfe fell on the field—“the only British general,” declared Horace Walpole, “belonging to the reign of George the Second who can be said to have earned a lasting reputation.”[40] Montcalm, mortally wounded, was carried by his fleeing comrades within the city, where he died before morning. During the seven hours’ battle the British had lost forty-eight killed and five hundred and ninety-seven wounded, about twenty per cent. of the firing-line; the French lost about twelve hundred killed, wounded, and prisoners, of whom perhaps a fourth were killed.[41]

Tom by disorder, the militia mutinous, the walls in ruins from the cannonading of the British fleet, and Vaudreuil and his fellows fleeing to the interior, the helpless garrison of Quebec surrendered, September 17, the British troops entering the following day. The English flag now floated over the citadel, and soon there was great rejoicing throughout Great Britain and her American colonies; and well there might be, for the affair on the Plains of Abraham was one of the most heroic and far-reaching achievements ever wrought by Englishmen in any land or sea.

SYNOPSIS OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS, CHIEFLY
MILITARY, BETWEEN THE CAPTURE OF
QUEBEC, 1759, AND THE BATTLE
OF BUNKER HILL, 1775

1760. Accession of George III. to throne of England. The English capture Montreal.

1761. American commerce and industry closely restricted by enforcement of navigation laws, acts of trade, and writs of assistance. Protests of James Otis and Patrick Henry.

1762. England declares war against Spain and captures Havana.

1763. Treaty of Paris, and cession of Canada to England.

1765. Passage of the Stamp Act by the British Parliament, followed by American protests.

1766. Repeal of the Stamp Act.

1767. The British Parliament, by the Townshend Acts, imposes duties on paper, glass, tea, etc., imported into America.

1769. Massachusetts House of Representatives refuses to pay for quartering British troops. Defeat of Paoli and subjection of Corsica by the French.

1770. “Boston Massacre”—British soldiers, provoked by citizens, kill three and wound several.

1772. First partition of Poland between Russia, Austria, and Prussia. Samuel Adams actively advocates independence in Boston. British ship, the Gaspee, burned by Rhode Islanders. Virginia Assembly appoints Committee of Correspondence to keep in touch with other colonies.

1773. “Boston Tea-party”—taxed tea from England thrown overboard in Boston harbor by disguised Americans.

1774. Five oppressive Acts, including Boston Port Bill, passed by British Parliament. General Gage, commissioned as Governor, comes to Boston with additional British troops. A Congress meets in Philadelphia, with delegates from all colonies except Georgia, and issues a “Declaration of Rights,” frames Articles of Association, and indorses opposition of Massachusetts to the Oppressive Acts of Parliament.

1775. General Gage sends troops to destroy supplies gathered at Concord. Battles of Lexington and Concord. North Carolina the first to instruct delegates to Congress for independence. Battle of Bunker Hill. Seizure of Ticonderoga and occupation of Crown Point by Americans. Washington takes command of the army at Cambridge. The Americans capture Montreal. Arnold repulsed at Quebec and Montgomery killed.

VI
CAUSES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION

I

Not a clause in the Declaration of Independence sets forth the real and underlying cause of the American Revolution. The attention of its writer was bent upon recent events, and he dwelt only upon the immediate reasons for throwing off allegiance to the British government. In the dark of the storm already upon them, the men of the time could hardly look with clear vision back to ultimate causes. They could not see that the English kings had planted the seeds of the Revolution when, in their zeal to get America colonized, they had granted such political and religious privileges as tempted the radicals and dissenters of the time to migrate to America. Only historical research could reveal the fact that from the year 1620 the English government had been systematically stocking the colonies with dissenters and retaining in England the conformers. The tendency of colonization was to leave the conservatives in England, thus relatively increasing the conservative force at home, while the radicals went to America to fortify the radical political philosophy there. Thus England lost part of her potentiality for political development.

Not only were radicals constantly settling in the colonies, because of the privileges granted them there, but the Crown neglected to enforce in the colonies the same regulations that it enforced at home. The Act of Uniformity was not extended to the colonies, though rigidly enforced in England; the viceregal officers, the governors, permitted themselves again and again to be browbeaten and disobeyed by the colonial legislatures;[42] and even the king himself had allowed Massachusetts (1635) to overreach him by not giving up her charter.[43]