CHAPTER VII.
During the early part of the eighteenth century, the British North American provinces had made extraordinary progress in population and wealth—a progress then unequaled in the world's history, and only now excelled by that of the Australian settlements. From many of the European nations, swarms of the energetic and discontented poured into the land of plenty and comparative freedom. By far the greater number of immigrants, however, were from the British islands, and their national character in a great measure, absorbed the peculiarities of all the rest. The natural increase of the population also far exceeded that of European states; the abundant supply of the necessaries of life, and immunity from oppressive restraint, produced their invariable results. In the absence of any harassing care for the future, early marriages were almost universally contracted. The man who possessed no capital but his labor found in it the means of present support, and even of future wealth; if he failed to obtain remunerative employment in the old districts, he needed only to carve out his way in the new. The fertile wilderness ever welcomed him with rude but abundant hospitality; every tree that fell beneath his ax was an obstacle removed from the road to competence; every harvest home, an earnest of yet richer rewards to come.
From the first, the British colonists had applied themselves to agriculture as the great business of life; then trade followed, to supply luxuries in exchange for superabundant products; and manufactures came next, to satisfy the increasing necessities of a higher civilization. From the peculiarities of the country, and the restless and irregular habits of many of the earlier immigrants, a system of cultivation arose, which, however detrimental to the progress of some individuals, tended to develop the resources of the country with astonishing rapidity. A number of the hardy men, who first began the clearing of the wilderness, only played the part of pioneers to those who permanently settled on the fertile soil: they felled the trees with unequaled dexterity, erected log houses and barns, hastily inclosed their farms, and, in an incredibly short space of time, reduced the land to a sort of cultivation. With their crops, a few cattle, and the produce of the chase, they gained subsistence for themselves and their families. These men could not endure the restraints of regular society; as the population advanced toward them, and they felt the obnoxious neighborhood of the magistrate and the tax gatherer, they were easily induced to dispose of their clearings at a price enhanced by that of surrounding settlements: once again they plunged into the wilderness, and recommenced their life of almost savage independence.
The new owner of the pioneer's clearing was generally a thrifty and industrious farmer: his object, a home for himself and an inheritance for his children. In certain hope of success, he labored with untiring energy, and converted the half-won waste into a fruitful field. His neighbors have progressed equally with himself; the dark shadows of the forest vanish from the surrounding country; detached log huts change to clusters of comfortable dwellings; churches arise, villages swell into towns, towns into cities.
This system exercised an important influence on the politics and manners of the colonists; the restless, impatient, and discontented found ample scope and occupation in the wilderness, instead of waging perpetual strife against the restraints of law and order in the older districts: many of these men ultimately even became useful and industrious. The acquisition of a little property of their own, and the necessity of law and order for the preservation of that property, reconciled them to the forfeiture of the wild liberty in which they had before exulted. The truculence of the desperate often turned into the healthy ambition of the prosperous.
Along the shores of the magnificent bays and estuaries of the Atlantic coast had already arisen many populous and thriving cities. Boston numbered more than 30,000 inhabitants; her trade was great; her shipping bore the produce of all countries through all seas, either as carriers for others, or to supply her own increasing demands; her sailors were noted for hardihood and skill, her mechanics for industry, and her merchants for thrift and enterprise; her councils, and the customs of her people, still bore the stamp which the hands of the Pilgrim Fathers had first impressed. Moral, sober, persevering, thoughtful, but narrow-minded and ungenial, they were little prone to allow the enjoyment of social intercourse to interfere with the pursuit of wealth. Although at times oppressive and always intolerant themselves, they ever resented with jealous promptitude the slightest infringement of their own freedom of conscience or action. They despised but did not pity the Indian, and had no scruple in profiting largely by the exchange of the deadly fire-water for his valuable furs.
At the time of which we treat, the people of the New England States numbered more than 380,000; they were the bone and sinews of British power in America; in peace the most prosperous and enterprising, and in war the most energetic, if not the most warlike, of the Anglo-Americans. Their hostility against the French was more bitter than that of their southern fellow-countrymen: in the advance guard of British colonization they came more frequently in contact with the rival power, and were continually occupied in resisting or imitating its aggressions. The senseless and unchristian spirit of "natural enmity" had spread in an aggravated degree among the children of the two great European states who had cast their lot of life in the New World.
The colony of New York had also arrived at considerable importance, but, from the varied sources of the original population, the 100,000 inhabitants it contained at the time of the war were less exclusively British in character and feeling than their Puritan brethren of New England. Many of the Dutch and Swedish farmers, as well as of the French emigrants, retained unaltered the language and customs of their fathers, and felt little affection for the metropolitan state, formerly their conqueror, and now their somewhat supercilious ruler. The trade of New York city, aided by the splendid navigation of the Hudson River, was very large in proportion to the then small population of 8000. Great quantities of corn, flour, and other provisions were conveyed from the rich Western country by the inland waters to the noble harbor at their mouth, and thence found their way to the West Indies and even to Europe. The town of Albany, although inferior in population, was important and prosperous as the chief dépôt for the Indian trade, and the place where conferences were usually held between the English and the fast-failing tribes of the once formidable Iroquois. New Jersey partook in some respects of the characteristics of New York, and contained about 60,000 souls. Owing to the protection of the larger neighboring states, this fertile province had suffered but little from Indian hostility, and the rich soil and mild climate aided the undisturbed labors of its husbandmen. The forests abounded with oak, ash, cypress, hickory, and other valuable timber, and the cultivation of flax and hemp was largely carried on: these different productions were disposed of in the markets of New York and Philadelphia, principally for European consumption.
The great and prosperous State of Pennsylvania, nearly 5000 square miles in extent, contained 250,000 inhabitants, and carried on a large trade with Europe and the West Indies; through the rich and beautiful capital, an immense surplus of agricultural produce, from its fertile soil, was exported to other less favored countries. Philadelphia was happily situated upon the tongue of land formed by the confluence of the two navigable rivers, Delaware and Schuylkill; the streets were broad and regular, the houses spacious and well built, and the docks and quays commodious. This city still continued largely impressed by the spirit of Quakerism; the stiffness of outline, the trim neatness of the dwellings, the convenient but unpretending public buildings, and the austere manners of the inhabitants, bespoke the stronghold of the formal men of peace. Here it was, not twenty years afterward, in a vulgar and unsightly brick edifice, that a few bold and earnest men pledged their sacred honor, their fortunes, and their lives to an act, perhaps the most important that history records—"The Declaration of Independence."
The State of Maryland lies next in succession southward; to the east and south, the waters of the Atlantic and the Potomac River wash its fertile shores. About 40,000 white men here held 60,000 of their negro brethren in toilsome slavery, and enriched themselves by the fruits of this unholy labor. Tobacco, large in quantity and good in quality, was the staple produce of the country. The capital, Annapolis, was beautifully situated on the banks of the Patuxent River.
South of the River Potomac and west of Chesapeake Bay, the State of Virginia stretches inland to the Allegany Mountains. This rich province produced corn and every kind of fruit in abundance; the forests were of great extent and value, and supplied much good timber for exportation; flax, hemp, tar, and iron were also produced in some quantity, but, as in Maryland, the principal wealth of the country was in tobacco, cultivated by the labor of nearly 100,000 slaves. The white population numbered about 70,000. The magnificent Bay of Chesapeake extended through this territory for nearly 300 miles from south to north, and received many considerable streams at both sides. However, no commercial town of any great importance had grown up on the shores of these navigable waters.
The Carolinas, bounded to the north by Virginia, extend along the Atlantic coast for upward of 400 miles, and stretch westward 300 miles into the interior of the vast continent. They are divided into two provinces, the North and the South; the first the more populous, richer in production, more advanced in commerce and prosperity. Here, as the tropics are approached, the sultry climate favors the cultivation of rice, indigo, and tobacco: great numbers of slaves labored in the fertile swamps, and beautiful but unhealthy valleys of these states, enriching the ruling race by their lives of unrequited toil. We do not find any exact record of the population at the time of which we treat, but that of both the Carolinas was probably not less than 260,000; of these more than one half were whites.
Georgia, the most southern of the British settlements in America, skirts the Atlantic shore for about sixty miles, and includes the whole extent of the Western country to the Apalachian Mountains, nearly 300 miles away, widening gradually to 150 miles in breadth. To the south lay the Spanish limits, marked by the River Altamaha, and the deserted fort of San Augustin. At this time the province was thinly peopled, its resources little known, and its luxuriant savannas still wasted their exuberant fertility in rank vegetation and pestilential decay. The inhabitants, however, raised some quantities of rice and indigo, and had even made progress in the culture of silk. At Augusta, the second town in importance, situated 200 miles in the interior, a profitable fur trade was established with the Cherokees, and other comparatively civilized Indians.
It has been seen that the British North American colonies contained upward of 1,300,000 inhabitants at the commencement of the campaign which destroyed the power of France on the Western continent. Enormous as was this physical superiority over the rival colony of Canada, the wealth and resources of the British bore a vastly greater proportion to those of their enemies. Barnaby, an intelligent English traveler who at this time visited America, informs us that all the luxurious fruits of wealth were displayed in our transatlantic settlements; and that, in a journey of 1200 miles through the country, he was never once solicited for alms. At the same time, he observes that the people were already imbued with a strong spirit of independence,[161] and that a deep but vague impression existed that they were destined for some splendid future. But among these sturdy and ambitious men mutual jealousies rendered a permanent union of their councils apparently impossible; the mother country failed in her effort to bring the strength of her gigantic colonies to bear together[162] upon any imperial object, although she subsequently succeeded but too well in creating unanimity of feeling against herself.
By the fall of Louisburg, and the complete subjection of the Acadian peninsula, the high road of the St. Lawrence lay open to the British fleets; the capture of Fort du Quesne, and the occupation of the forks of the Ohio, had given to England the command of the vast chain of navigable communication which connected the Canadian lakes with the distant waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Thus the 60,000 French of North America were hopelessly isolated from their parent state, and left to the mercy of their exasperated and powerful foes. Already their Indian allies had wavered or seceded: no longer able to afford protection or supply their commerce, the Canadian governor sank rapidly in savage estimation; and even the "Great Father" beyond the seas ceased to be regarded with the superstitious reverence formerly felt toward him by his red children.
But the lofty spirit of France was still unbroken by these losses and dangers; even in this time of need she disdained to abandon or modify her pretensions to the dominion of those Western wilds of America, for the possession of which she had first drawn the sword, and she determined to risk the utter ruin of her transatlantic power rather than patiently submit to its diminution. Quebec and Canada might have been saved had she acquiesced in our just right and title to the ancient limits of Acadia, as marked out by former treaties, and had she refrained from the prosecution of that vast scheme of encroachment by which the British settlements would have been inclosed from Louisiana to the great lakes of the north.
At the same time, the British nation, inflamed by hopeful ambition, was stimulated to renewed exertion by the triumphs and advantages of the late campaign. Had the illustrious man who wielded England's strength ever doubted in his own far-seeing mind the policy of removing the Canadian incubus from the rising ambition of the colonies, the strong tide of public opinion would have doubtless swept him away. But he possessed neither the inclination nor the power to halt in the career of glory and success, when the magnificent dominions of France in America lay within his grasp: he firmly resolved to seize the prize, and devoted all the energies and abilities of his mind to the one great object.
The British Parliament addressed the throne in terms of the highest approbation of the minister; they applauded the conduct of the campaign, and pledged themselves zealously and cheerfully to furnish all necessary supplies. The king sent them a message representing the spirited efforts made by his American subjects in the prosecution of the war, and recommending compensation for the losses and expenses they had incurred in the maintenance of his rights and England's glory; the prompt answer was a vote of £200,000 for the required purpose. The people even surpassed their representatives in ardor; one universal spirit pervaded all ranks and classes—a confidence in British triumph and French humiliation. The conquest of Canada was now the first and darling object of the nation.
Mr. Pitt decided upon pursuing the same plan of operations which had been partially successful in the last campaign: he purposed to throw three separate expeditions at once against the three strongholds of Canadian power, Niagara, Montreal, and Quebec. The mainspring of this grand design was, that these attacks should be simultaneous, and thus distract the attention and divide the force of the defenders. A formidable armament was zealously and speedily equipped in the English ports to carry a force of from 7000 to 8000 men, by the River St. Lawrence to the walls of Quebec. The main army of America, 12,000 strong, was assembled on the woody shores of Lake George: it was destined to penetrate the heart of Canada by the Richelieu River and occupy Montreal, after having first overwhelmed the French detachments at Ticonderoga and Crown Point; thence the British troops were to descend the broad stream of the St. Lawrence till they joined their strength to that of the besiegers of Quebec. At the same time, another British corps, and a large body of Indians, was directed upon Niagara, with orders to take and garrison the fort, and then hasten down over Ontario, and the rapids of the Great River, to co-operate with the other expeditions. This scheme was as impracticable in its execution, as it was bold and comprehensive in design.
When Pitt cast his eyes over the scantily traced map of the Western World, he disdained to note the almost insurmountable difficulties which its broad blanks unobtrusively represented. As his bold hand struck out the several lines of operation, he forgot the hideous wilderness, the stormy ocean, and the dangerous lake, over the tracings of which his pencil passed, and his daring heart doubted not for a moment of success. It is a trite observation, that a combined movement is always precarious, even under the most favorable circumstances. Uncertainty of weather, or different degrees of zeal and activity in the leaders, may disjoint the most elaborate scheme; but, in such a case as this, with all the superadded chances of the sea, the river, and the desert, a wisdom greater than that of the wisest, a power stronger than that of the most powerful, could alone have given us the victory.
The French possessed the immense advantage of acting as it were on a smooth high road, while their assailants were entangled in a broken and difficult country. The River St. Lawrence furnished a means of intercommunication that enabled them to throw the mass of their force upon any one of the hostile armies they might select, and thus outnumber each in succession; the bold position of Quebec supplied them with a place of arms, and an advantageous battle-ground when all else should be lost. The able and skillful Montcalm was not likely to fail in turning these favorable circumstances to full account.
The most vulnerable, and, at the same time, the most vital part of Canada was the spot where the Richelieu River pours into the St. Lawrence. Thence to the magnificent harbor of New York, a scarcely interrupted chain of navigable water, by the Lakes Champlain and George and the Hudson River, offered a practicable route to the invading force. Looking back upon the past with that wisdom which is the humble disciple of experience, it would appear that the whole British power should have been thrown at once upon that single point. By uniting the veteran corps embarked in the fleet from England and Nova Scotia, with the formidable force destined against Niagara, to the main army, nearly 25,000 British troops could have been brought to bear against the feeble defenses of the lakes, and poured down with irresistible strength on the Valley of the St. Lawrence. Thence to Quebec the watery path lay free and unembarrassed, and no hostile power existed strong enough to dare a battle against such a host. In the mean time, the English fleet should have anchored in the broad basin above the island of Orleans, intercepted all European aid, and, by vigorous demonstrations, kept in play as much as possible of the enemy's strength. Had this scheme been adopted, the decisive battle might probably have still been fought on the Plains of Abraham, but with far greater chances in favor of British triumph than in the fight which was subsequently bravely won. The whole disposable force of Canada would naturally have opposed the invading army, and would have been either forced down upon the defense of Quebec, or driven to an unequal combat. The French army overpowered and their great stronghold taken, Montreal, with Niagara and the Western country, must have lain an easy prey.
To find out the weakest point of the enemy's position, and to assail it with his greatest power, was the constant aim of the first of modern captains, and the talisman of his matchless success. The British minister's scheme for the conquest of Canada presents exactly the reverse of this system; the several strongholds of the French were selected for simultaneous attack by separate and insufficient forces. By an overruling Providence, however, the skill and daring of a British general, and the valor of his troops, together with the incomprehensible error of their chivalrous opponent, gave to the arms of England victory and glory, and to the ruler of her councils complete ultimate success.
To pave the way for the campaign of 1759, a grand conference was held with the Indians, in the October of the preceding year, at Easton, about ninety miles from Philadelphia; there peace was formerly established between England and the several native nations inhabiting the country, which extends from the Apalachian Mountains to the lakes. Some tribes, however, still held aloof. The business of the British agents at this meeting was to ascertain the limits of the several lands about the possession of which disputes had occurred with the natives, to reconcile the bitter hostilities of different tribes against each other, to remove every cause of misunderstanding between the Indians and ourselves, and effectually to detach them from the interests of the French. The conferences were continued from the 8th to the 26th of October, when every article was finally arranged to the satisfaction of all parties. The Indians were then given presents, made drunk, and dismissed to their several dwellings.
General Amherst, and his gallant colleague Admiral Boscawen, had, as the conquerors of Louisburg, received the high honor of thanks from the representatives of a grateful people in the British Parliament. The vigor, ability, and courage displayed by Amherst in the previous year, inspired a universal hope of future success among his countrymen, and all eyes were fixed with deep and sanguine interest on the movements of the formidable armies which he was now to direct against the failing power of the French. But the memory of Abercromby's fatal disaster was still fresh in the English mind, and somewhat damped the rising hopes of conquest and of glory. The difficulties before which he had recoiled, disgraced and ruined, were since increased rather than diminished: the fort of Chambly, which defended the pass by the Richelieu River to the St. Lawrence, had been strengthened and garrisoned by a body of regular troops and militia; Crown Point had been re-enforced, and an increase of vessels had completely given the command of Lake Champlain to the French.
The British colonies were eager in seconding the grand designs of the parent state—designs, indeed, far more important to them than to England. But they found it difficult to keep pace with the expenditure which the great minister's splendid and thriftless conduct of the war rendered necessary. Some reluctance was now expressed, especially in New England, to raise the levies required by the Provincial governments. In the opening of last year's operations it had been promised that a single campaign would suffice to end with success the deadly and ruinous strife. The same promise was now once more offered, but received by no willing ears. The taxes were already excessive, the demand for men most burdensome, and the liberal compensation voted by the British Parliament was still insufficient to remunerate the colonists for past losses and advances, and had been unfortunately so long delayed by official interruptions as to create considerable mistrust and dissatisfaction. It was not without much difficulty that Connecticut was induced to keep up her last year's contingent of 5000 men, and Massachusetts at first declined to raise more than the same number, until prevailed upon by the instances of Amherst, who was universally respected and esteemed. The thinly-peopled state of New Hampshire, however, exceeded her former exertions, and sent no less than 1000 men into the field.
The movements of the last campaign, and the extensive preparations in the British settlements, no longer afforded room for doubt that the aim of England was the annihilation of the power of France in America. The Marquis de Vaudreuil therefore issued a proclamation at the close of the year 1758 to the several officers of Canadian militia, to excite their zeal and quicken their activity in preparations for resistance. "Notwithstanding our glorious successes," said he, "the state of the colony is perilous. The enemy are making great efforts both by sea and land; we must prepare, therefore, to meet them boldly as soon as the season of the year allows them to act. No time must be lost in organizing our defense." He then directed that all the male inhabitants of the province, from sixteen to sixty years of age, should be enrolled in the militia, and should remain in readiness to march at a moment's notice.
The captains of militia faithfully endeavored to comply with these orders, but the farmers, or habitans, showed great disinclination to abandon the cultivation of their fields for the certain hardships and dangers, and the uncertain glories of a soldier's life. Where the levies were efficiently carried out, the country remained waste; the last harvest had been far from abundant, and the rapacious seizures of grain for the real or fictitious wants of the government caused a pinching scarcity. The intendant had arbitrarily fixed the price of wheat at twelve sous the bushel, yet none was sold under a far higher rate. Every device of peculation was resorted to by the unworthy civil officers to increase their gains from the distresses of the people, while the vicious decrees of a corrupted court of law supported instead of curbing them in their iniquities. Dishonest exactions and forced contributions caused a reckless waste of those resources, upon the enjoyment of which no man could confidently count, and the intendant, finding it at length difficult or impossible to obtain the necessary supplies, quartered the troops upon the unfortunate inhabitants.
The misery and distress of the colony at length deepened into absolute famine. Cadet, the commissary-general, by the intendant's orders, killed a number of horses for the use of the inhabitants and troops at Montreal and Quebec. Finally the governor and M. de Montcalm dispatched an officer to France with a detail of the deplorable state of Canada, and an earnest entreaty for succor. This officer, the afterward celebrated De Bougainville, although he had sailed very late in the autumn, escaped the dangers of the season and the vigilance of the British navy, and laid his melancholy dispatch before the throne of France.[163]
Early in January, 1759, a census was taken of all those capable of bearing arms in Canada; the result showed 15,229 men. Of these, however, a large proportion were neither available nor worthy of trust. A detachment of artillery, eight battalions of French regulars, and thirty-three companies of the marine or colony troops, formed the real strength of the Canadian army.
Montcalm[164] was indefatigable in his preparations for the approaching struggle. Regulars and militia were kept at constant work on the several fortifications. Three armed vessels were built to command the navigation of Lake Champlain. Captain Pouchot, a skillful engineer, was sent to strengthen the works of Niagara, and undertake their defense. On the 14th of May, M. de Bougainville,[165] afterward distinguished alike in literature and adventure, arrived from France with decorations and promotions for the governor, the general, and other officers whose merit had been conspicuous in the last campaign, but he was also bearer of the alarming intelligence that England was about to assail the colony forthwith both by sea and land. As yet, however, no supplies or re-enforcements from France made their appearance in this hour of peril, and the governor, M. de Vaudreuil, was simply instructed to make the best provision in his power for the defense of Canada.
The governor addressed a notice to the militia to be ready at a moment's warning, and endeavored to excite their somewhat dormant patriotism by a spirited appeal. "This campaign," said he, "will give the Canadians an opportunity of displaying once again their loyalty and valor: their king doubts not that they will faithfully defend his and their rights, their religion, homes, and properties against the cruel English. These invaders hate our name and nation; they accuse us of the evil deeds of a few savage Indians, and burn for revenge. We will protect our people by every possible means from falling into the hands of our ruthless enemies, and from such mercies as the people of Acadia, Cape Breton, and St. John's received from them. Better would it be for us, our wives, and our children, to be buried in the ruins of the colony, than to fall alive into the hands of the English. We have, however, no fears for our safety, and accordingly we direct that every suitable step be taken for a successful defense."
A council of war was held at Montreal, which, after frequent meetings, decided that a body of troops under Montcalm, with the brigadier-generals, the Marquis de Levi and M. de Senezergues, should be posted at Quebec; that M. de Bourlemaque should hasten to Ticonderoga, blow up the works at the approach of the English, retire by the lake to Isle aux Noix, and there make a stubborn resistance. The Chevalier de la Corne, with 800 regulars and militia, was directed to hold the rapids above Montreal, to intrench himself in a strong position, and hold out to the best of his power. These resolutions taken, Montcalm hastened to Quebec, and pushed on the works of the city and its outposts. To embarrass the hostile fleet, he removed the buoys and other marks for navigation in the Great River; above all, he strove to raise the drooping spirit of the Canadian people.