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    Ch. 10: Fifty Years of Fools and Heroes

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    Chapter 11
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    When thieves fall out, honest men come by their own. The first clause of
    this sentence may serve to describe the Colonial Wars in America; the
    second, to point the moral of the American Revolution.

    Columbus, and the other great mariners of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth
    Centuries, might claim for their motives an admixture, at least, of
    thoughts higher than mere material gain: the desire to enlarge knowledge,
    to win glory, to solve problems. But the patrons and proprietors of the
    adventurers had an eye single to profit. To make money was their aim. In
    overland trading there was small profit and scanty business; but the
    opening of the sea as a path to foreign countries, and a revelation of
    their existence--and of the fortuitous fact that they were inhabited by
    savages who could not defend themselves--completely transformed the
    situation.

    Ships could bring in months more, a hundred-fold more, merchandise than
    caravans could transport in years; and the expenses of carriage were
    minimized. Goods thus placed in the market could be sold at a vast profit.
    This was the first obvious fact. Secondly, this profit could be made to
    inure exclusively to that country whose ships made the discovery, by the
    simple device of claiming, as integral parts of the kingdom, whatever new
    lands they discovered; the ships of all other nations could then be
    forbidden to trade there. Thirdly, colonists could be sent out, who would
    serve a double use:--they would develop and export the products of the new
    country; and they would constitute an ever-increasing market for the
    exports of the home country.

    Such was the ideal. To realize it, three things were necessary: first,
    that the natives--the "heathen"--should be dominated, and either converted
    or exterminated; next, that the fiat of exclusion against other nations
    should be made good; and finally (most vital of all, though the last to be
    considered), that the colonists themselves should forfeit all but a
    fraction of their personal interests in favor of the monopolists at home.

    Now, as to the heathen, some of them, like the Caribbeans, could be--and
    by Spanish methods, they were--exterminated. Others, such as the Mexican
    and Central and South American tribes, could be in part killed off, in
    part "converted" as it was called. Others again, like the Indians of North
    America, could neither be converted nor exterminated; but they could be in
    a measure conciliated, and they could always be fought. The general result
    was that the natives co-operated to a certain extent in providing articles
    for export (chiefly furs), and on the other hand, delayed colonization by
    occasionally massacring the first small groups of colonists. In the long
    run however most of them disappeared, so far as power either for use or
    for offense was concerned.

    The attempt of the several colonizing powers to make their rivals keep
    out of their preserves was not successful. Piracy, smuggling,
    privateering, and open war were the answers of the nations to one
    another's inhibitions, though, all the while, none of them questioned the
    correctness of the excluding principle. Each of them practiced it
    themselves, though trying to defeat its practice by others. Portugal, the
    first of the foreign-trading and monopolizing nations, was early forced
    out of the business by more powerful rivals; Holland was the first to call
    the principle itself in question, and to fight in the cause of free
    commerce; though even she had her little private treasure-box in Java.
    Spain's commerce was, during the next centuries, seriously impaired by the
    growing might of England. France was the next to suffer; and finally
    England, after meeting with much opposition from her own colonies, was
    called upon to confront a European coalition; and while she was putting
    forth her strength to overcome that, her colonies revolted, and achieved
    their independence. Such was the history and fate of the colonial system;
    though Spain still retained much of her American possessions (owing to
    peculiar conditions) for years afterward.

    But England might have retained her settlements too, so far as Europe was
    concerned; the real cause of her discomfiture lay in the fact that her
    colonists were mainly people of her own blood, all of them with an
    inextinguishable love of liberty, which was fostered and confirmed by
    their marriage with the wilderness; and many of whom were also actuated by
    considerations of religion and conscience, the value of which they placed
    above everything else. They wished to be "loyal," but they would not
    surrender what they termed innate rights; they would not be taxed without
    representation, nor be debarred from manufacturing; nor consent to make
    England their sole depot and source of supplies. They would not surrender
    their privilege to be governed by representatives elected by themselves.
    England, as we have seen, contended against this spirit by all manner of
    more or less successful enactments and acts of despotism; until at last,
    near the opening of the Eighteenth Century, it became evident to a few
    far-seeing persons on both sides that the matter could only be settled by
    open force. But this method of arbitrament was postponed for half a
    century by the Colonial Wars, which made of the colonists a united people,
    and educated them, from farmers and traders, into a military nation. Then
    the war came, and the United States was its consequence.

    The Colonial Wars were between England on one side, and Spain and France
    on the other. Spain was not a serious foe, or obstacle; England had no
    special hankering after Florida and Mexico, and she knew nothing about the
    great Californian region. But France harried her on the north, and pushed
    her back on the west, the first collisions in this direction occurring at
    the Alleghanies and along the Ohio River. France had discovered, claimed,
    and in a certain sense occupied, a huge wedge of the present United
    States: an area which (apart from Canada) extended from Maine to Oregon,
    and down in converging lines to the Gulf of Mexico. They called it
    Louisiana. The story of the men who explored it is a story of heroism,
    devotion, energy and sublime courage perhaps unequaled in the history of
    the world. But France failed to follow up these men with substantial
    colonies. Colonies could not help the fur trade at the north, and the
    climate there was anything but attractive; and mishaps of various kinds
    prevented the colonizing of the great Mississippi valley. There was a
    little French settlement near the mouths of that river, the descendants of
    which still give character to New Orleans; but the rest of the enormous
    triangle was occupied chiefly by missionaries and trappers, and, during
    the wars, with the operating military forces. France would have made a far
    less effective resistance than she did, had she not observed, from the
    first, the policy of allying herself with the Indian tribes, and even
    incorporating them with herself. All converted Indians were French
    citizens by law; the French soldiers and settlers intermarried to a large
    extent with the red men, and the half-breed became almost a race of
    itself. The savages took much more kindly to the picturesque and emotional
    Church of Rome than to the gloomy severities of the Puritan Calvinists;
    the "praying Indians" were numerous; and the Cross became a real link
    between the red men and the white. This fact was of immense value in the
    wars with the English; and had it not been for the neutrality or active
    friendliness of a group of tribes whom the Jesuit missionaries had failed
    to win, the English colonies might have been quite obliterated. The policy
    of employing savages in warfare between civilized states was denounced
    then and afterward; it led to the perpetration of sickening barbarities;
    but it was France's only chance, and, speaking practically, it was hardly
    avoidable. Besides, the English did not hesitate to enlist Indians on
    their side, when they could. Had the savages fought after the manner of
    the white men, it would have been well enough; but on the contrary, they
    imposed their methods upon the whites; and most of the conflicts had more
    of the character of massacres than of battles. Women and children were
    mercilessly slain, or carried into captivity. But it must be remembered
    that the American continent, at that time, did not admit of such tactics
    as were employed in Europe--as Braddock found to his cost; operations must
    be chiefly by ambuscade and surprise; when the town or the fort was
    captured, it was not easy to restrain the wild men; and if they plied the
    tomahawk without regard to sex or age, the white soldiers, little less
    savage, readily learned to follow their example. After all, the wars were
    necessarily for extermination, and there is no better way to exterminate a
    people--as Spain has uniformly shown from the beginning to the end of her
    history--than by murdering their women and children. They are "innocent,"
    no doubt, so far as active hostilities are concerned; but they breed, or
    become, men and thereby threaten the future. Moreover, not a few of the
    women did deeds of warlike valor themselves. It was a savage time, and war
    has its hideous side always, and in this period seemed to have hardly any
    other.

    The pioneering on this continent of the Spanish and the French, though in
    itself a captivating story, cannot properly be dwelt on in a history of
    the growth of the American principle. Ponce de Leon traversed Florida in
    the first quarter of the Sixteenth Century, hunting for the Fountain of
    Immortality, and finding death. Hernando de Soto wandered over the area of
    several of our present Southern States, and discovered the lower reaches
    of the Mississippi; he was a man of blood, and his blood was shed. Some
    score of years later Spaniards massacred the Huguenot colony at St.
    Augustine, and built that oldest of American cities. Beyond this, on the
    Atlantic slope, they never proceeded, having enough to do further south.
    But they lay claim, even in these closing years of the Nineteenth Century,
    to the entire American continent--"if they had their rights."

    The French began their American career with an Italian employé,
    Verrazano, who spied out the coast from Florida to Newfoundland in 1524.
    Then Cartier peered into the wide mouth of the St. Lawrence, and tried to
    get to India by that route, but got no further than the present Montreal.
    In the next century, Champlain, one of the great explorers and the first
    governor of Canada, laid the corner-stone of Quebec; it became at once the
    center of Canadian trade which it has ever since remained. This was in
    1608. In respect of enterprise as explorers, the French easily surpassed
    the farm-loving, home-building, multiplying colonists of England. But
    England took advantage of French discoveries, and stayed, and prevailed.
    God makes men help each other in their own despite.

    Richelieu said in 1627 that the name, New France, designated the whole
    continent of America from the North Pole down to Florida. The Jesuits, who
    arose as a counteracting force to Luther and the Reformation, supplanted
    the Franciscans as missionaries among the heathen, and performed what can
    only be called prodigies of self-sacrifice and intrepidity. Loyola was a
    worthy antagonist of Calvin, and the first achievements of his followers
    were the more striking. But the magnificent exploits of these men were not
    the preliminary of commensurate colonization. The spirit of Calvin
    inspired large bodies of men and women to establish themselves in the
    wilderness in order to cultivate his doctrines without interference; the
    spirit of Loyola embodied no new religious principle; it simply kindled
    individuals to fresh exertions to promulgate the unchanging dogmas of the
    Roman Church. The Jesuits were leaders without followers; their mission
    was to bring the Church to the heathen, and the heathen into the Church;
    and the impressiveness of their activity was due to the daring and faith
    which pitted units against thousands, and refused to accept defeat. They
    were the knight-errantry of religion. The fame of their deeds inspired
    enthusiasm in France, so that noble women gave up their luxurious lives,
    for the sake of planting faith in the inhospitable immensities of the
    Canadian forests; but the mass of the common people were not stimulated or
    attracted; the profits of the fur-trade employed but a handful; and the
    blood of the Jesuit martyrs--none more genuine ever died--was poured out
    almost without practical results. Our estimate of human nature is exalted;
    but there are no happy communities to-day which owe their existence to the
    Jesuit pioneers. The priests themselves were wifeless and childless, and
    the family hearthstone could not be planted on the sites of their
    immolations and triumphs. Nor were the disciples of Loyola aided, as were
    the Calvinists, by persecution at home. All alike were good Catholics. But
    had the Jesuits advocated but a single principle of human freedom, France
    might have been mistress of America to-day.

    So, under the One Hundred Assistants, as the French colonizing Company of
    the early Seventeenth Century was called, missions were dotted throughout
    the loneliness and terror of the wilderness; Breboeuf and Daniel did their
    work and met their fate; Raymbault carried the cross to Lake Superior;
    Gabriel Dreuilettes came down the Kennebec; Jogues was tortured by the
    Mohawks; Lallemand shed his blood serenely; Chaumont and Dablon built
    their chapel where now stands Syracuse; and after all, there stood the
    primeval forests, pathless as before, and the red men were but partially
    and transiently affected. The Hundred Assistants were dissolved, and a new
    colonial organization was operating in 1664; soldiers were sent over, and
    the Jesuits, still unweariedly in the van, pushed westward to Michigan,
    and Marquette and Joliet, two young men of thirty-six and twenty-seven,
    discovered the Mississippi, and descended it as far as Des Moines; but
    still, all the inhabitants of New France could easily have mustered in a
    ten-acre field. Then, in 1666 came Robert Cavelier La Salle, a cadet of a
    good family, educated in a Jesuit seminary, but destined to incur the
    enmity of the order, and at last to perish, not indeed at their hands, but
    in consequence of conditions largely due to them. The towering genius of
    this young man--he was but just past his majority when he came to
    Montreal, and he was murdered by his treacherous traveling companion,
    Duhaut, on a branch of Trinity River in Texas, before he had reached the
    age of five and forty--his indomitable courage, his tact and firmness in
    dealing with all kinds of men, from the Grand Monarch to the humblest
    savage, his great thoughts and his wonderful exploits, his brilliant
    fortune and his appalling calamities, both of which he met with an equal
    mind:--these qualities and the events which displayed them make La Salle
    the peer, at least, of any of his countrymen of that age. What must be the
    temper of a man who, after encountering and overcoming incredible
    opposition, after being the victim of unrelenting misfortune, including
    loss of means, friends, and credit, of deadly fevers, of shipwreck,--could
    rise to his feet amid the destruction of all that he had labored for
    twenty years to build up, and confidently and cheerfully undertake the
    enterprise of traveling on foot from Galveston in Texas to Montreal in
    Canada, to ask for help to re-establish his colony? It is a formidable
    journey to-day, with all the appliances of steam and the luxury of food
    and accommodation that science and ingenuity can frame; it would be a
    portentous trip for the most accomplished modern pedestrian, assisted
    though he would be by roads, friendly wayside inns and farms, maps of the
    route, and hobnailed walking boots. La Salle undertook it with thousands
    of miles of uncharted wilderness before him, through tribes assumed to be
    hostile till they proved themselves otherwise, with doubtful and
    quarreling companions, and shod with moccasins of green hide. Even of the
    Frenchmen whom he might meet after reaching Illinois, the majority, being
    under Jesuit influence, would be hostile. But he had faced and conquered
    difficulties as great as these, and he had no fear. At the time the
    scoundrel Duhaut shot him from ambush, he was making hopeful progress. But
    it was decreed that France was not to stay in America. La Salle discovered
    the Ohio and the Illinois, built Fort Crevecoeur, and started a colony on
    the coast of Texas; he received a patent of nobility, and lost his fortune
    and his life. The pathos of such a death lies in the consideration that
    his plans died with him. It was the year before the accession of William
    of Orange; and the first war with France began two years later.

    France, after all drawbacks, was far from being a foe to be slighted. The
    English colonists outnumbered hers, but hers were all soldiers; they had
    trained the Indians to the use of firearms, had taught them how to build
    forts, and by treating them as equals, had won the confidence and
    friendship of many of them. The English colonies, on the other hand, had
    as yet no idea of co-operation; each had its own ideas and ways of
    existence; they had never met and formed acquaintance with one another
    through a common congress of representatives. They were planters, farmers
    and merchants, with no further knowledge of war than was to be gained by
    repelling the attacks of savages, and retaliating in kind. They had the
    friendship of the Five Nations, and they received help from English
    regiments. But the latter had no experience of forest fighting, and made
    several times the fatal mistake of undervaluing their enemy, as well as
    clinging to impracticable formations and tactics. The English officers did
    not conceal their contempt for the "provincial" troops, who were not,
    indeed, comely to look at from the conventional military standpoint, but
    who bore the brunt of the fighting, won most of the successes, and were
    entirely capable of resenting the slights to which they were unjustly
    subjected. What was quite as important, bearing in mind what was to happen
    in 1775, they learned to gauge the British fighting capacity, and did not
    fear, when the time came, to match themselves against it.

    King William's War lasted from 1689 to 1697. Louis XIV. had refused to
    recognize William as a legitimate king of England, and undertook to
    champion the cause of the dethroned James. The conduct of the war in
    Europe does not belong to our inquiry. The proper course for the French to
    have adopted in America would have been to encourage the English colonies
    to revolt against the king; but the statesmanship of that age had not
    conceived the idea of colonial independence. Besides, the colonies would
    not at that epoch have fallen in with the scheme; they might have been
    influenced to rise against a Stuart, but not against a William. There was
    no general plan of campaign on either side. There was no question as yet
    about the western borders. There was but one point of contact of New
    France and the English colonies--the northern boundaries of New England
    and New York. The position of the English, strung along a thousand miles
    of the Atlantic coast, did not favor concentration against the enemy, and
    still less was it possible for the latter, with their small force, to
    march south and overrun the country. What could be done then? Obviously,
    nothing but to make incursions across the line, after the style of the
    English and Scottish border warfare. Nothing could be gained, except the
    making of each other miserable. But that was enough, since two kings,
    neither of whom any of the combatants had seen, were angry with each other
    three thousand miles away. Louis does not admit the right of William,
    doesn't he?--says the Massachusetts farmer to the Canadian coureur des
    bois; and without more ado they fly at each others' throats.

    The successes, such as they were, were chiefly on the side of the French.
    Small parties of Indians, or of French and Indians combined, would steal
    down upon the New York and New England farms and villages, suddenly leap
    out upon the man and his sons working in their clearings, upon the woman
    and her children in the hut: a whoop, a popping of musket shots and
    whistling of arrows, then the vicious swish and crash of the murderous
    tomahawk, followed by the dexterous twist of the scalping-knife, and the
    snatching of the tuft of hair from the bleeding skull. That is all--but,
    no: there still remains a baby or two who must be caught up by the leg,
    and have its brains dashed out on the door-jamb; and if any able-bodied
    persons survive, they are to be loaded with their own household goods, and
    driven hundreds of miles over snows, or through heats, to Canada, as
    slaves. Should they drop by the way, as Mrs. Williams did, down comes the
    tomahawk again. Or perhaps a Mrs. Dustin learns how to use the weapon so
    as to kill at a blow, and that night puts her knowledge to the proof on
    the skulls of ten sleeping savages, and so escapes. Occasionally there is
    a more important massacre, like that at Schenectady, or Deerfield. But
    these Indian surprises are not only revolting, but monotonous to
    weariness, and, as they accomplished nothing but a given number of
    murders, there is nothing to be learned from them. They are meaningless;
    and we can hardly imagine even the Grand Monarch, or William of Orange,
    being elated or depressed by their details.

    There were no French farms or small villages to be attacked in requital,
    so it was necessary for the English to proceed against Port Royal or
    Quebec. The aged but bloodthirsty Frontenac was governor of Canada at this
    time, and proved himself able (aided by the imbecility of the attack) to
    defend it. In March of 1690 a sort of congress had met at Albany, which
    sent word to the several colonial governors to dispatch commissioners to
    Rhode Island for a general conference for adopting measures of defense and
    offense.

    The delegates met in May or the last of April, at New York, and decided
    to conquer Canada by a two-headed campaign; one army to go by way of Lake
    Champlain to Montreal, while a fleet should proceed against Quebec. Sir
    William Phips of Massachusetts was off to Port Royal within four weeks,
    and took it without an effort, there being hardly any one to defend it.
    But Leisler of New York and Winthrop of Connecticut quarreled at Lake
    Champlain, and that part of the plan came to a disgraceful end forthwith.
    A month or so later, Phips was blundering pilotless into the St. Lawrence,
    with two thousand Massachusetts men on thirty-four vessels. Their coming
    had been prepared for, and when they demanded the surrender of the
    impregnable fortress, with a garrison more numerous than themselves, they
    were answered with jeers; and it is painful to add that they turned round
    and set out for home again without striking a blow. A storm completed
    their discomfiture; and when Phips at last brought what was left of his
    fleet into harbor, he found the treasury empty, and was forced to issue
    paper money to pay his bills.

    No further talk of "On to Quebec" was heard for some time. Port Royal was
    retaken by a French vessel. Parties of Indians, encouraged by the Jesuits,
    again stole over the border and did the familiar work. Schuyler, on the
    English side, succeeded in making a successful foray in 1691; and a fort
    was built at Pemaquid--to be taken, five years afterward, by Iberville and
    Castin. In 1693 an English fleet, which had been beaten at Martinique,
    came to Boston with orders to conquer Canada; but as it was manned by
    warriors half of whom were dying of malignant yellow fever, Canada was
    spared once more. The only really formidable enemies that Frontenac could
    discover were the Five Nations, whom he tried in vain to frighten or to
    conciliate. He himself, at the age of seventy-four, headed the last
    expedition against them, in the summer of 1696. It returned without having
    accomplished anything except the burning of villages and the laying waste
    of lands. The following year peace was signed at Ryswick, a village in
    South Holland. France had done well in the field and by negotiations; but
    England had sustained no serious reverses, and having borrowed money from
    a group of private capitalists, whom it chartered as the Bank of England
    in 1694, was financially stronger than ever. Louis accepted the results of
    the English Revolution, but kept his American holdings; and the boundaries
    between these and the English colonies were not settled. The Five Nations
    were not pacified till 1700. The French continued their occupation of the
    Mississippi basin, and in 1699 Lemoine Iberville sailed for the
    Mississippi, and built a fort on the bay of Biloxi. Communication was now
    established between the Gulf of Mexico and Quebec. The English, through
    the agency of a New Jerseyman named Coxe, and a forged journal of
    exploration by Hennepin, tried to get a foothold on the great river, but
    the attempt was fruitless. Fruitless, likewise, were French efforts to
    find gold, or, indeed, to establish a substantial colony themselves in the
    feverish Louisiana region. Iberville caught the yellow plague and never
    fully recovered; and the desert-girded fort at Mobile seemed a small
    result for so much exertion.

    In truth, on both sides of the Atlantic, peace existed nowhere except on
    the paper signed at Ryswick; and in 1702 William saw that he must either
    fight again, or submit to a union between France and Spain, Louis XIV.
    becoming, by the death without issue of the Spanish king, sovereign of
    both countries, to the upsetting of the European balance of power. Spain
    had become a nonentity; she had no money, no navy, no commerce, no
    manufactures, and a population reduced by emigration, and by the expulsion
    of Jews and Moors, to about seven millions: nothing remained to her but
    that "pride" of which she was always so solicitous, based as it was upon
    her achievements as a robber, a murderer, a despot and a bigot. She now
    had no king, which was the least of her losses, but gave her the power of
    disturbing Europe by lapsing to the French Bourbons.

    William himself was close to death, and died before the opening year of
    the war was over. Louis was alive, and was to remain alive for thirteen
    years longer; but he was sixty-four, was becoming weary and discouraged,
    and had lost his ministers and generals. On the English side was
    Marlborough; and the battle of Blenheim, not to speak of the European
    combination against France, showed how the game was going. But the peace
    of Utrecht in 1713, though it lasted thirty years, was not based on
    justice, and could not stand. Spain was deprived of her possessions in the
    Netherlands, but was allowed to keep her colonies, and the loss of
    Gibraltar confirmed her hatred of England. Belgium, Antwerp and Austria
    were wronged, and France was insulted by the destruction of Dunkirk
    harbor. England embarked with her whole heart in the African slave trade,
    securing the monopoly of importing negroes into the West Indies for thirty
    years, and being the exclusive dealer in the same commodity along the
    Atlantic coast. Half the stock in the business was owned by the English
    people, and the other half was divided equally between Queen Anne and
    Philip of Spain. The profits were enormous. Meanwhile the treaty between
    Spain and England allowed and legitimatized the smuggling operations of
    the latter in the West Indies, a measure which was sure to involve our
    colonies sooner or later in the irrepressible conflict. England, again,
    got Hudson's Bay, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, but not the Mississippi
    valley, from France. Boundary lines were not accurately determined; and
    could not be until the wars between 1744 and 1763 finally decided these
    and other matters in England's favor. The most commendable clause in the
    treaty was the one inserted by Bolingbroke that defined contraband, and
    the rights of blockade, and laid down the rule that free ships should give
    freedom to goods carried in them.

    Anne, a daughter of James II., but a partisan of William, succeeded him
    in 1702 at the age of thirty-seven; she was herself governed by the
    Marlboroughs and Mrs. Mashamam--an intelligent woman of humble birth, who
    became keeper of her majesty's privy purse. The war which the queen
    inherited, and which was called by her name, lasted till the final year of
    her reign. Only New England on the north and Carolina on the south were
    participants in the fray on this side, and no great glory or advantage
    accrued to either. New York was sheltered by the neutrality of the Five
    Nations, and Pennsylvania, Virginia and the rest were beyond the reach of
    French operations.

    The force raised by South Carolina to capture St. Augustine had expected
    to receive cannon for the siege from Jamaica; but the cannon failed them,
    and they retreated with nothing to show but a debt which they liquidated
    in paper. They had better luck with an expedition to sever the Spanish
    line of communication with Louisiana; the Spanish and Indians were beaten
    in December, 1705, and the neighboring inhabitants along the Gulf
    emigrated to South Carolina. Then the French set out to take Charleston;
    but the Huguenots were mindful of St. Bartholomew and of the revocation of
    the Edict of Nantes, and they set upon the invaders when they landed, and
    slew three out of every eight of them. The South Carolinians were let
    alone thereafter.

    In the north, the French secured the neutrality of the Senecas, but the
    English failed to do the like with the Abenakis, and the massacring season
    set in with marked severity on the Maine border in the summer of 1703. It
    was in the ensuing winter that the Deerfield affair took place; the
    crusted snow was so deep that it not only gave the French and Indian war
    party good walking down from Canada, but enabled them to mount up the
    drifts against the palisades of the town and leap down inside. The
    sentinels were not on guard that morning, though, warned by the Mohawks,
    the people had been looking for the attack all winter long. What is to be
    said of these tragedies? When we have realized the awful pang in a
    mother's heart, wakened from sleep by that shrill, triumphant yell of the
    Indian, and knowing that in a moment she will see her children's faces
    covered with the blood and brains from their crushed skulls, we shall have
    nothing more to learn from Indian warfare. How many mothers felt that pang
    in the pale dawn of that frosty morning in Deerfield? After the war party
    had done the work, and departed exulting with their captives, how many
    motionless corpses, in what ghastly attitudes, lay huddled in the darksome
    rooms of the little houses, or were tossed upon the trodden snow without,
    the looks of mortal agony frozen on their features? But you will hear the
    howl of the wolves by-and-by; and the black bear will come shuffling and
    sniffing through the broken doors; and when the frightful feast is over,
    there will be, in place of these poses of death, only disordered heaps of
    gnawed bones, and shreds of garments rent asunder, and the grin of
    half-eaten skulls. Nothing else remains of a happy and innocent community.
    Why were they killed? Had they harmed their killers? Was any military
    advantage gained by their death?--They had harmed no one, and nothing was
    gained, or pretended to be gained, by their murder: nothing except to
    establish the principle that, since two countries in Europe were at war,
    those emigrants of theirs who had voyaged hither in quest of peace and
    happiness should lie in wait to destroy one another. Human sympathies
    have, sometimes, strange ways of avouching themselves.

    People become accustomed even to massacre. But the children born in these
    years, who were themselves to be the fathers and mothers of the generation
    of the Revolution, must have sucked in stern and fierce qualities with the
    milk from their mothers' breasts. No one, even in the midst of
    Massachusetts, was safe during that first decade of the Eighteenth
    Century. A single Indian, in search of glory, would spend weeks in
    creeping southward from the far border; he would await his chance long and
    patiently; he would leap out, and strike, and vanish again, leaving that
    silent horror behind him. Such deeds, and the constant possibility of
    them, left their mark upon the whole population. They grew up familiar
    with violent death in its most terrible forms. The effect of Indian
    warfare upon the natures of those who engage in it, or are subjected to
    its perils, is different from that of what we must call civilized
    fighting. The end as well as the aim of the Indian's battle is death--a
    scalp. Murder for the mere pleasure of murdering has an influence upon a
    community far more sinister than that of death by war waged for
    recognizable causes. The Puritans of the Eighteenth Century were another
    people than those of the Seventeenth. There had been reason in the early
    Indian struggles, when the savages might have hoped to exterminate the
    settlers and leave their wilderness a wilderness once more; but there
    could be no such hope now. The desire for revenge was awakened and
    fostered as it had never been before. Many other circumstances combined to
    modify the character of the people of New England during this century; but
    perhaps this new capacity for revenge was not the least potent of the
    influences that made the seven years of the Revolution possible.

    Peter Schuyler protested in vain against the "savage and boundless
    butchery" into which the conflict between "Christian princes, bound to the
    exactest laws of honor and generosity," was degenerating; but the only way
    to stop it appeared to be to extirpate the perpetrators; and to that end a
    fifth part of the population were constantly in arms. The musket became
    more familiar to their hands than the plow and spade; and their
    marksmanship was near perfection. They gradually developed a system of
    tactics of their own, foreign to the manuals. The first thing you were
    aware of in the provincial soldier was the puff of smoke from the muzzle
    of his weapon; almost simultaneously came the thud of his bullet in your
    breast, or crashing through your brain. He loaded his gun lying on his
    back beneath the ferns and shrubbery; he advanced or retreated invisibly,
    from tree to tree. Your only means of estimating his numbers was from your
    own losses. It was thus that the American troops afterward gained their
    reputation of being almost invincible behind an intrenchment; it gave its
    character to the engagements at Concord and along the Boston Road, and
    sent hundreds of redcoats to death on the slopes of Bunker Hill. It was
    not magnificent--to look at; but it was war; combined with the European
    tactics acquired later on, it survived reverses that would have driven
    other troops from the field, and, with Washington at the head, won our
    independence at last.

    The least revolting feature of the Indian warfare was the habit they
    acquired, through French suggestion doubtless, of taking large numbers of
    persons captive, and carrying them north. If they weakened on the journey,
    they were of course tomahawked out of the way at once; but if they
    survived, they were either sold as slaves to the Canadians, or were kept
    by the Indians, who adopted them into their tribes, having no system of
    slavery. Many a woman and little girl from New England became the mother
    of Indian children; and when the captives were young enough at the
    beginning, they generally grew to love the wild life too well to leave it.
    Indeed, they were generally treated well by both the Canadians and the
    Indians after they got to their destination. On the other hand, there were
    the fathers and mothers and relatives of the lost planning their
    redemption or rescue, and raising money to buy them back. Many a thrilling
    tale could be told of these episodes. But we must imagine beautiful young
    women, who had been taken away in childhood, found after years of
    heart-breaking search and asked to return to their homes. What was their
    home? They had forgotten New England, and those who loved them and had
    sorrowed for them there. The eyes of these young women, clear and bright,
    had a wildness in their look that is never seen in the children of
    civilization; their faces were tanned by sun and breeze, their figures
    lithe and athletic, their dress of deerskin and wampum, their light feet
    clad in moccasins; their tongues and ears were strange to the language of
    their childhood homes. No: they would not return. Sometimes, curiosity, or
    a vague expectation, would induce them to revisit those who yearned for
    them; but, having arrived, they received the embraces of their own flesh
    and blood shyly and coldly; they were stifled and hampered by the houses,
    the customs, the ordered ways of white people's existence. A night must
    come when they would arise silently, resume with a deep in-breathing of
    delight the deerskin raiment, and be gone without one last loving look at
    the faces of those who had given them life, but from whom their souls were
    forever parted. There is a harrowing mystery in these estrangements: how
    strong, and yet how helpless is the human heart; all the world cannot
    break the bonds it ties, nor can all the world tie them again, once the
    heart itself has dissolved them.

    Thus, in more ways than one, the blood of the English colonists became
    wedded to the soil of the wilderness, if wilderness the settlements could
    now be called. And they became like the captives we have just been
    imagining, who cared no longer for the land and the people that had been
    their home. Not more because they were estranged by England's behavior
    than because they had formed new attachments beside which the old ones
    seemed pale, were they now able to contemplate with composure the idea of
    a final separation. America was no longer England's daughter. She had
    acquired a life of her own, and could look forward to a destiny which the
    older country could never share. The ways of the two had parted more fully
    than either, as yet, quite realized; and if they were ever to meet
    again hereafter, it must be the older, and not the younger, who must
    change.

    Apart from the Indian episodes, little was done until 1710, when a large
    fleet left Boston and again captured Port Royal, to which the name of
    Annapolis was given as a compliment to the snuffy little woman who sat on
    the English throne. This success was made the basis of a proposition to
    put an end to the development of the French settlements west of the
    Alleghanies. It was represented to the English government that the entire
    Indian population in the west was being amalgamated with the French; the
    Jesuits ensnaring them on the spiritual side, and the intermarrying system
    on the other. The English Secretary of State was Bolingbroke--or
    Saint-John as he was then--a man of three and thirty, brilliant, graceful,
    gifted, versatile; but without principle or constancy, who never
    emancipated his superb intellect from his restless and sensuous nature.
    After hearing what the American envoys had to say, and thinking the matter
    over, Saint-John made up his mind that it could do no harm, as a
    beginning, to capture Quebec; and that being safe in English hands, the
    rest of the programme could be finished at leisure. Seven regiments of
    Marlborough's veterans, the best soldiers in the world at that time, a
    battalion of marines, and fifteen men-of-war, were intrusted to the
    utterly incompetent and preposterous Hovenden Walker, with the not less
    absurd Jack Hill, brother of Mrs. Masham, as second in command. In short,
    the expedition was what would now be called a "job" for the favorites and
    hangers-on of the Court; the taking of the Canadian fortress was deemed so
    easy a feat that even fools and Merry-Andrews could accomplish it. The
    Americans had meantime made their preparations to co-operate with this
    imposing armada; an army of colonists and Iroquois were at Albany, ready
    for a dash on Montreal. But week after week passed away, and the fleet,
    having got to Boston, seemed unable to get away from it. No doubt
    Hovenden, Hill and the rest of the rabble were enjoying themselves in the
    Puritan capital. The Boston of stern-visaged, sad-garmented,
    scripture-quoting men and women, of unpaved streets and mean houses, was
    gone; Boston in the first quarter of the Eighteenth Century was a city--a
    place of gayety, fashion and almost luxury. The scarlet coats of the
    British officers made the narrow but briskly-moving streets brilliant; but
    even without them, the embroidered coats, silken small clothes and clocked
    stockings, powdered wigs and cocked hats of the fine gentlemen, and the
    wide hoops and imposing head-dresses of the women, made a handsome show.
    People of many nationalities mingled in the throng, for commerce had
    brought the world in all its various forms to the home of the prayers of
    Winthrop and Higginson; the royal governors maintained a fitting state,
    and traveled Americans, then as now, brought back with them from Europe
    the freshest ideas of modishness and style. There were folk of quality
    there, personages of importance and dignity, forming an inner aristocratic
    circle who conversed of London and the Court, and whose august society it
    was the dear ambition of the lesser lights to ape, if they could not join
    it. Democratic manners were at a discount in these little hotbeds of
    amateur cockneyism; the gloomy severities of the old-fashioned religion
    were put aside; there was an increasing gap between the higher and the
    lower orders of the population. This appearance was no doubt superficial;
    and the beau-monde is never so numerous as its conspicuousness leads one
    to imagine. When the rumblings of the Revolutionary earthquake began to
    make themselves heard in earnest, the gingerbread aristocracy came
    tumbling down in a hurry, and the old, invincible spirit, temporarily
    screened by the waving of scented handkerchiefs, the flutter of fans, and
    the swish of hoop-skirts, made itself once more manifest and dominant. But
    that epoch was still far off; for the present court was paid to Hovenden
    and his officers; and the British coffee-house in King Street was a noble
    sight.

    What bottles of wine those warriors drank, what snuff they took, what
    long pipes they smoked, how they swore and ruffled, and what tales they
    told of Marlborough and the wars! The British army swore frightfully in
    Flanders, and in King Street, too. There, also, they read the news in the
    newspapers of the day, and discussed matters of high policy and strategy,
    while the civilians listened with respectful admiration. And see how that
    dapper young officer seated in the window arches his handsome eyebrows and
    smirks as two pretty Boston girls go by! Yes, it is no wonder that the
    British fleet needed a long time to refit in Boston harbor, before going
    up to annihilate those French jumping-jacks on the banks of the St.
    Lawrence. "La, Captain, I hope you won't get hurt!" says pretty Miss
    Betty, with her white wig and her beauty spots; and that heroic young
    gentleman lifts her hand to his lips, and swears deeply that, for a glance
    from her bright eyes, he would go forth and capture Quebec single-handed.

    While these dalliances were in progress, the French jumping-jacks were
    putting things in order to receive their expected guests in a becoming
    manner. They held a great pow-wow of representatives of Indian tribes from
    all parts of the seat of the projected war, and bound them by compacts to
    their assistance. Everybody, even the women, worked on the fortifications,
    or on anything that might aid in the common defense. Before the end of
    August, at which time the outlookers reported signs of a fleet of near a
    hundred sail, flying the British flag, all was ready for them in the
    French strongholds. So now let the mighty combat begin.

    But it was not to come this time: the era of William Pitt and General
    Wolfe was nearly half a century distant. The latter would not be born for
    sixteen years, and the former was a pap-eating babe of three. Meanwhile
    the redoubtable Hovenden was snoring in bed, while his fleet was
    struggling in a dense fog at night, being driven on the shoals of the Egg
    Islands near the mouth of the St. Lawrence. "For the Lord's sake, come on
    deck!" roars Captain Goddard, thrusting his head into the cabin for the
    second time, "or we shall all be lost!" Thus adjured, the old imbecile
    huddles on his dressing gown and slippers, and finds himself, sure enough,
    close on a lee shore. He made shift to get his own vessel out of harm's
    way, but eight others went down, and near nine hundred men were drowned.
    "Impossible to go on," was the vote of the council of war the next
    morning; and "It's all for the best," added this remarkable admiral; "for
    had we got to Quebec, ten or twelve thousand of us must have perished of
    cold and hunger; Providence took eight hundred to save the rest!"

    So back they went, with their tails between their legs, without having
    had a glimpse of the citadel which they were to have captured without an
    effort; and of course the army waiting at Albany for the word to advance
    got news of a different color, and Montreal was as safe as Quebec. In the
    west, the Foxes, having planned an attack on Detroit, did really lay siege
    to it; but Du Buisson, who defended it, summoned a swarm of Indian allies
    to his aid, and the Foxes found that the boot was on the other leg; they
    were all either slain or carried into slavery. Down in the Carolinas, a
    party of Tuscaroras attacked a settlement of Palatines near Pamlico Sound,
    and wiped them out; and some Huguenots at Bath fared little better.
    Disputes between the governor and the burgesses prevented aid from
    Virginia; but Barnwell of South Carolina succeeded in making terms with
    the enemy. A desultory and exhausting warfare continued however,
    complicated with an outbreak of yellow fever, and it was not until 1713
    that the Tuscaroras were driven finally out of the country, and were
    incorporated with the Iroquois in the north. The war in Europe had by that
    time come also to an end, and the treaty of Utrecht brought about an
    ambiguous peace for a generation.

    George I. now became king of England; because he was the son of Sophia,
    granddaughter of James I., and professed the Protestant religion. He was a
    Hanoverian German, and did not understand the English language; he was
    stupid and disreputable, and better fitted to administer a German
    bierstube than a great kingdom. But the Act of Settlement of 1701 had
    stipulated that if William or Anne died childless, the Protestant issue of
    Sophia should succeed. That such a man should prove an acceptable
    sovereign both to Great Britain and her American colonies, showed that the
    individuality on the throne had become secondary to the principles which
    he stood for; besides, George profited by the easy, sagacious,
    good-humored leadership of that unprincipled but common-sensible
    man-of-the-world, Sir Robert Walpole, who was prime minister from 1715 to
    1741, with an interval of only a couple of years. Walpole's aim was to
    avoid wars and develop commerce and manufactures; and while he lived, the
    colonies enjoyed immunity from conflicts with the French and Spanish.

    They were not to forget the use of arms, however; for the Indians were
    inevitably encroached upon by the expanding white population, and resented
    it in the usual way. In 1715 the Yemasses began a massacre on the Carolina
    borders; they were driven off by Charles Craven, after the colonists had
    lost four hundred men. The proprietors had given no help in the war, and
    after it was over, the colony renounced allegiance to them, and the
    English government supported their revolt, regarding it in the light of an
    act of loyalty to George. Francis Nicholson, a governor by profession, and
    of great experience in that calling, was appointed royal governor, and
    made peace with the tribes; and in 1729 the crown bought out the claims of
    the proprietors. North Carolina, without a revolt, enjoyed the benefits
    obtained by their southern brethren. The Cherokees became a buffer against
    the encroachments of the French from the west.

    In the north, meanwhile, the Abenakis, in sympathy with the French,
    claimed the region between the Kennebec and the St. Croix, and applied to
    the French for assistance. Sebastian Rasles, a saintly Jesuit priest and
    Indian missionary, had made his abode at Norridgwock on the Kennebec; he
    was regarded by Massachusetts as an instigator of the enemy. They seized
    his post, he escaping for the time; the Indians burned Brunswick; but in
    1723 Westbrooke with a company of hardy provincials, who knew more of
    Indian warfare than the Indians themselves, attacked an Indian fort near
    the present Bangor and destroyed it; the next year Norridgwock was
    surprised, and Rasles slain. He met his death with the sublime
    cheerfulness and courage which were the badge of his order. French
    influence in northeastern Massachusetts was at an end, and John Lovewell,
    before he lost his life by an ambush of Saco Indians at Battle Brook, had
    made it necessary for the Indians to sue for peace. Commerce took the
    place of religion as a subjugating force, and an era of prosperity began
    for the northeastern settlements.

    There was no settled boundary between northern New York and the French
    regions. Each party used diplomatic devices to gain advantage. Both built
    trading stations on doubtful territory, which developed into forts. Burnet
    of New York founded Oswego in 1727, and gained a strip of land from the
    Iroquois; France built a fort on Lake Champlain in 1731. Six years before
    that, they had established, by the agency of the sagacious trader
    Joncaire, a not less important fort at Niagara. Upon the whole, the French
    gained the better of their rivals in these negotiations.

    Louisiana, as the French possessions, or claims, south of Canada were
    called, was meanwhile bidding fair to cover most of the continent west of
    the Alleghanies and north of the indeterminate Spanish region which
    overspread the present Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California and Mexico.
    No boundary lines could be run in those enormous western expanses; and it
    made little practical difference whether a given claim lay a thousand
    miles this way or that. But on the east it was another matter. The French
    pursued their settled policy of conciliating the Indians wherever they
    hoped to establish themselves; but though this was well, it was not
    enough. Narrow though the English strip of territory was, the inhabitants
    greatly outnumbered the French, and were correspondingly more wealthy.
    Spotswood of Virginia, in 1710, was for pushing out beyond the mountains,
    and Logan of Pennsylvania also called Walpole's attention to the troubles
    ahead; but the prime minister would take no action. On the other hand, the
    white population of Louisiana was ridiculously small, and their trade
    nothing worth mentioning; but when Anthony Crozar resigned the charter he
    had received for the district, it was taken up by the famous John Law, the
    English goldsmith's son, who had become chief financial adviser of the
    Regent of France; and immediately the face of things underwent a change
    like the magic transformations of a pantomime.

    The Regent inherited from Louis XIV. a debt which there was not money
    enough in all France to pay. Law had a plan to pay it by the issue of
    paper. Louisiana offered itself as just the thing for purposes of
    investment, and a pretext for the issue of unlimited "shares." Not to
    speak of the gold and silver, there was unlimited wealth in the unknown
    country, and Law assumed that it could be produced at once. Companies were
    formed, and thousands of settlers rushed to the promised paradise. But we
    have to do with the Mississippi Bubble only as it affected America. The
    Bubble burst, but the settlers remained, and were able to prosper, in
    moderation, like other settlers in a fertile country. A great area of land
    was occupied. Local tribes of Indians joined in a massacre of the
    colonists in 1729. They in turn were nearly exterminated by the French
    forces during the next two years, but the war aroused a new hostility
    among the red tribes against the French, which redounded to the English
    advantage. In 1740, Bienville was more than willing to make a peace, which
    left to France no more than nominal control of the tract of country
    drained by the southern twelve hundred miles of the Mississippi. The
    population, after all the expense and efforts of half a century, numbered
    about five thousand white persons, with upward of two thousand slaves. The
    horse is his who rides it. The French had not proved themselves as good
    horsemen as the English. The English colonies had at the same time a
    population of about half a million; their import and export trade
    aggregated nearly four million dollars; they had a wide and profitable
    trade; and the only thing they could complain of was the worthless or
    infamous character of the majority of the officials which the shameless
    corruption of the Walpole administration sent out to govern--in other
    words, to prey upon--them. But if this was the only subject of complaint,
    it could not be termed a small subject. It meant the enforcement of the
    Navigation Acts in their worst form, and the restriction of all manner of
    manufactures. Manufactures would tend to make the colonies set up for
    themselves, and therefore they must be forbidden:--such was the
    undisguised argument. It was a case of the goose laying golden eggs.
    America had in fact become so enormously valuable that England wanted it
    to become profit and nothing else--and all the profit to be England's.
    They still failed to realize that it was inhabited by human beings, and
    that those human beings were of English blood. And because the northern
    colonies, though the more industrious, produced things which might
    interfere with British goods, therefore they were held down more than the
    southern colonies, which grew only tobacco, sugar, rice and indigo, which
    could in no degree interfere with the sacred shopkeepers and mill-owners
    of England. An insanity of blindness and perversity seized upon the
    English government, and upon most of the people; they actually were
    incapable of seeing justice, or even their own best interests. It seems
    strange to us now; but it was a mania, like that of witchcraft, though it
    lasted thrice as many years as that did months.

    The will of England in respect of the colonies became as despotic as
    under the Stuarts; but though it delayed progress, it could not break down
    the resistance of the assemblies; and Walpole would consent to no
    suggestion looking toward enforcing it by arms. Stamp duties were spoken
    of, but not enacted. The governors raged and complained, but the
    assemblies held the purse-strings. Would-be tyrants like Shute of Boston
    might denounce woe, and Crosby of New York bellow treason, but they were
    fain to succumb. Paper money wrought huge mischief, but nothing could
    prevent the growing power and wealth of the colonies, fed, also, by the
    troubles in Europe. In 1727 the Irish, always friends of liberty, began to
    arrive in large numbers. But what was of better augury than all else was
    the birth of two men, one in Virginia, the other in Boston. The latter was
    named Benjamin Franklin: the former, George Washington.
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