Part 5

As yet there had been no declaration of war by England or France, and the ministers of the two countries kept assuring each other of peaceful intentions, though the hostility of their dependencies in America could not be ignored. Louis XV., to help keep the peace, sent an army of three thousand soldiers to Canada, and the British government ordered General Braddock, with two regiments, to America, to protect their frontier settlements. Early in the spring of 1755 this force reached the Chesapeake, and in April Braddock held a council with all the Governors, at Alexandria. As there had been no formal declaration of war they would not invade Canada, but repel the French from the northern and western frontier. Vigorous and concerted measures, however, were to be employed. Governor Lawrence was to settle and guard the boundaries of Nova Scotia. Johnson, of New York, with his militia and a force of Mohawks, hired for the purpose, was to capture the French post at Crown Point, while Shirley, of Massachusetts, was to drive the enemy from their fortress at Niagara; and Braddock himself as commander-in-chief, with the main body of the regulars, was to subdue Fort Du Quesne. It was a magnificent program, but easier to plan than to execute; and those so full of confidence were to encounter some sad reverses.

Braddock’s army numbered about 2,000, nearly all veterans who had served in the wars of Europe. There were few provincial troops; two companies led by Gates, of New York, and Washington, joining the army at Fort Cumberland, was placed on Braddock’s staff as aid-de-camp. The movement was necessarily slow. Over a narrow and exceedingly rough road the slender column stretched out for some four miles. Braddock was a brave, resolute general, acquainted with his army, but ignorant of the country and the forces he would have to meet.

Franklin and others had suggested that it would be wise to move cautiously. But he scouted the idea that the assault of untutored savages that might be encountered before reaching the fort he proposed to capture, could make any impression on his regulars. When Washington, understanding the modes of Indian warfare, suggested the possibility of an ambuscade, the General was furious, and indignantly refused to be advised by an inferior. They had advanced without any noteworthy casualty till within about seven miles of the fort, and no enemy yet appeared. Confident of speedy success, Braddock, at the head of twelve hundred chosen troops, pressed on more rapidly, Colonel Gage, leading a detachment of three hundred men, in the advance. The road was but twelve feet wide, the country uneven and thickly wooded; a hill on the one hand and a dry ravine on the other, the whole region covered with a thick undergrowth. A few scouts were thrown forward, but the situation gave no opportunity for the feeble flanking parties to act. Suddenly there was a sharp, rapid fire of musketry heard in the front. The scouts were killed or driven in. The advance forces were thrown back in confusion, leaving their cannon in the hands of the enemy, who were found to be an unexpectedly strong force of both French and Indians. The peril of the situation was at once apparent, and, suffering much from their concealed foe, Gage’s men wavered and became confusedly mixed in thickest underbrush with a regiment that Braddock pushed forward to support them. The confusion grew almost to a panic, the men firing constantly, with but little effect, in the direction of the concealed enemy, while their well directed volleys, from under the cover of rocks and trees, told with terrible effect on the English crowded together in the narrow roadway. The rash, but brave General rushed to the front, and with impetuous courage rallied his men to charge on the foe. But it was impossible. They, panic-stricken, were huddled together like sheep, or fled in disorder to the rear. The army routed, his aids and officers mostly killed or wounded, and the forest strewn with dead or disabled soldiers, the General, after having five horses shot under him, fell mortally wounded. To Washington, who came to his aid, the fallen hero said: “What shall we do now, Colonel?” “Retreat, sir, retreat!” This was ordered, and the dying General carried from the scene of carnage. Washington, with the Virginians that remained alive, covered the hasty retreat of the ruined army. Nearly everything was lost. The artillery, baggage, provisions and private papers of the officers were left on the field. Braddock died the fourth day, and was buried by the roadside, a mile west of Fort Necessity, where Dunbar had been left, an officer with neither capacity nor courage. When the fugitives, who had not been pursued far from the battleground, reached, his camp, the panic was communicated; he destroyed the remaining artillery, baggage and army stores, to the value of a hundred thousand pounds sterling, and joined in a most precipitate retreat to Fort Cumberland, and thence, in a thoroughly demoralized condition, to Philadelphia. Thus, the main army, of which much was expected, was in a few days practically destroyed, and nothing more was attempted that year.

The work of subduing the French in Nova Scotia, assigned by Braddock and the Governors to Lawrence, assisted by the English fleet under Colonel Monckton, was done with dispatch and unparalleled cruelty.

The province had been ceded to the English in the treaty of 1713, and, remaining under the dominion of Great Britain, was ruled by English officers, though the inhabitants were largely French.

The French forts near the New Brunswick line being taken after but feeble resistance, the English were masters of the whole country east of the St. Croix; and, pretending to fear an insurrection on the part of the Nova Scotians, or Acadians, adopted measures with them that have always and everywhere met with the most unqualified condemnation. The French in the province outnumbered the English three to one, and had their pleasant homes in that oldest settlement of their people on the continent. They were ruthlessly torn from their homes and the graves of their kindred, driven at the point of the bayonet, forced on ship-board, and more than three thousand of them, half-starved and destitute, were scattered here and there among English colonists, from whom but little kindness and less of fellowship could be expected. The guilty agents in the infamous transaction, as cowardly as it was inhuman, made themselves the scorn of mankind.

In about the only quarter where the British army had that year any success, what followed the victory was so shocking to the feelings of humanity, and met with such universal condemnation, that even the guilty perpetrators of the deed would have blotted the record if they could.

The campaign planned for Shirley, who with his Indian allies was to take Fort Niagara, was about as utter a failure as that of Braddock. The fort had no great strength, and was not well garrisoned; but it was a month before he reached Oswego, where his provincials were to assemble. Four weeks were spent in getting his boats ready. A storm caused farther delay, and after the storm the wind was in the contrary direction. Then another storm caused delay. Sickness prevailed in camp, and by the first of October Shirley declared the lake too dangerous for navigation. The Indians deserted his standard. The fact was that while on the march, news of Braddock’s defeat reached him, and, as they had expected to meet at Niagara, he feared to go there, thinking the same fate might await him. So he marched homeward, without striking a blow.

Johnson, who was to attack the enemy at Crown Point, had better success, though the objective point was not reached, and his was a dear-bought victory. His movements were all anticipated, and the portion of his army led by Williams, ambushed and cut to pieces. Several hundred Englishmen fell. The French still held Crown Point, and had seized and fortified Ticonderoga.

That was a year of disasters to the English, and so was the next. The Indians, doubtless influenced by the unsuccessful campaign of the English, and perhaps instigated by French emissaries, had killed more than 1,000 people.

In May, 1756, after two years of actual hostilities, war was declared. The English, chagrined with the reverses of the past year, and in danger of losing all the territory west of the Alleghenies, after much debate in Parliament, decided to place all the military forces sent to America under one command. A large army was equipped, and Lord Loudon placed in command. He proved unfit for the position, and another year passed with great losses and little or nothing gained. The French, led by competent, determined men, were everywhere successful, and wasted the British forces with repeated assaults, capturing or destroying a large part of the armament, till the English had not a single fort or hamlet remaining in the valley of the St. Lawrence. And every cabin where English was spoken was swept out of the valley of the Ohio. At the end of the year France seemed to be in secure possession of twenty times as much territory in America as her British rival.

Her colonial possessions endangered, and the flag of the country in disgrace, the ministers were forced to resign, and the great commoner, William Pitt, became Prime Minister. The dilatory, imbecile Loudon, was deposed, and Abercrombie put in his place, with Lord Howe next in rank. The gallant Wolfe led a brigade. The campaign for the summer was well arranged and prosecuted with energy. In May Amhurst, at the head of ten thousand men, reached Halifax. A few days after the fleet was in Gabarus Bay, and Wolfe landed his division without serious loss, though under fire from the enemy’s batteries. The French dismantled their guns and retreated. The siege of Louisburg was pressed with great vigor. Four French vessels, one a seventy-four-gun ship, were fired by the English boats, and burned in the harbor. The town and fortress became a ruin. Resistance was hopeless, and Louisburg capitulated. The garrison, with the marines, in all six thousand men, became prisoners of war, and were sent to England. Cape Breton and Prince Edward’s Island were surrendered to Great Britain.

In another quarter, however, there was not long after only partial success, followed by severe disaster. General Abercrombie, with 15,000 men, reached Lake George, and embarked for Ticonderoga. His equipment was in all respects thorough. Proceeding to the northern extremity of the lake, they landed safely on the western shore. But the difficulty of going farther compelled them to leave the heavy artillery behind, Lord Howe leading the advance in person. Before reaching the fort, in a sharp skirmish with the pickets, that brave officer was killed. The French were overwhelmed, but the soldiers of Howe, smitten with grief, began to retreat. Abercrombie was in the rear with the main army, but the soul of the expedition was gone. Two days after a determined effort was made to take the fort by assault. The defences proved much stronger than was expected, and the assailing parties were again and again repulsed with great loss. The unavailing efforts were continued for four hours, and then they withdrew, having lost in killed and wounded nearly two thousand men. Probably in no other battle on the continent did the English have so many men engaged, or suffer such terrible loss. Abandoning this enterprise as hopeless, the army was withdrawn to Fort George, at the other extremity of the lake. Thence Colonel Bradstreet was sent with three thousand men, mostly provincials, against Fort Frontenac, at the present site of Kingston, at the outlet of Ontario. He embarked his command at Oswego, and landed within a mile of the fort. This fortress, of great importance, was at the time but feebly garrisoned, and after two days’ siege capitulated. Forty-six cannon, nine vessels of war, and a vast quantity of military stores were the fruit of this victory. It compensated the English for all their losses at Ticonderoga, except for the men who were there sacrificed. It was a crushing defeat for the French, who became disheartened. Their crops had failed, and with almost a famine in the land, it became so difficult to subsist the army that the people clamored for peace. “Peace, peace; no matter with what boundaries,” was the message sent by the brave Montcalm to the French ministry.

The outlook in Canada and along the lakes was not encouraging, and Forbes, with nine thousand men from Philadelphia, undertook the reduction of Fort Du Quesne, and the expulsion of the French from the valley of the Ohio.

Washington was again in command of the Virginians, Armstrong led the Pennsylvanians. An advance section, under Major Grant, more eager than wise, was attacked by the enemy in ambush, and lost heavily. The main column came on slowly, cutting roads and bridging streams, but in such force that, as they drew near, those in the fort became alarmed, burned their works, and with what they could carry, floated down the river. Those eager for the assault, and to avenge injuries received in former attempts, marched, unopposed, over the ruins, and unfurled their flag over that gateway of the West, calling it, in honor of the great British minister, whose energetic measures gave confidence to the army and hope to the colonists—Pittsburgh.

Marked progress was made during the summer and fall campaign, and Parliament voted twelve million pounds sterling for carrying on the war. The colonial magistrates exerted themselves to the utmost, and by the spring of 1759 the whole effective force of the English was near fifty thousand, while the entire French army was less than eight thousand.

The conquest of Canada was not at first contemplated, but it had become evident that the rival nations could not live in peace, with such slight natural barriers between them, and so Canada must be conquered and made a British province. With that object in view, the campaigns for the year were planned.

Prideaux proceeded against Niagara, for the relief of which the French collected all their available forces from Detroit, Erie, Le Bœuf and Venango. Prideaux was accidentally killed on the 15th, and Sir William Johnson, on whom the command devolved, so disposed his forces as to intercept the approaching French, and a bloody battle was fought in which they were completely routed; the fort soon after capitulated.

Amhurst was victorious on Lake Champlain, and proceeded through Lake George, to attack and take Ticonderoga, from which, after feeble resistance, the enemy withdrew to Crown Point, and the whole region, mapped out for his operations, was recovered, with but little loss on his part.

The French were now sadly crippled everywhere, except in the valley of the St. Lawrence, and it remained for General Wolfe to achieve the final victory. As soon as the river was navigable in the spring he proceeded with a force of eight thousand men, and a fleet of forty-four vessels. He arrived on the 27th of June at the Isle of Orleans, four miles below Quebec, and began his operations vigorously. His camp was located on the upper end of the island, and the fleet gave him immediate command of the river. On the night of the 29th General Monckton was sent to plant a battery on Point Levi, opposite the city, and was successful.

The lower town was soon reduced to ruins, and the upper much injured, but the fortress seemed unharmed. The French knowing that the city could not be stormed from the river side, had constructed three defences, reaching five miles from the Montmorenci to the St. Charles, and in these entrenchments the brave Montcalm, with ten or twelve thousand soldiers, awaited the movement of his assailants. Anxious for battle, though there were serious difficulties in the way of approaching the foe, it was decided to risk an engagement by fording the Montmorenci when the tide ran out. The attempt was made without success, and with the loss of nearly five hundred men. Disappointments, fatigue and exposure threw the English general into a fever that held him prisoner in the tent for some days; and when convalescent he proposed another assault on the lines of defence, but was in that overruled, and it was determined, if possible, to gain possession of the Plains of Abraham in the rear of the city, without passing the fortifications. After thorough examination a place, afterward called Wolfe’s Cove, was found, where it was thought possible to make the ascent. On the night appointed, everything being in readiness, the English entered their transports, quietly dropped down to the place, and with almost superhuman exertions ascended to the plain, and the morning revealed them to the greatly astonished defenders of the city, drawn up in battle array.

When Montcalm learned the fact so unexpected, he said: “They are now on the weak side of this unfortunate city, and we must crush them before noon.” With great haste he withdrew his army from the trenches and threw them between the English and the city. The battle began with an hour’s cannonade, and then the attempt to turn the English flank, but he was driven back. The weakened ranks of the French wavered. Wolfe led his charge in person, and was shot thrice, and survived but a short time. Learning from an attendant that the enemy fled, he gave directions for securing the fruits of the battle, and declared he was happy thus to die. Montcalm also fell early in the battle, mortally wounded, and when told by his surgeon that the end was near, said: “It is well—then I shall not live to see Quebec surrendered.” The surrender took place a few days after, and the last resistance was offered by the French at Montreal, but it was hopeless and of short continuance. The remnants of their beaten armies collected there, to the number of ten thousand, were surrendered to General Amhurst, and all the French possessions in America were ceded to the English. Liberal terms were granted, the rights of conscience respected, and the ecclesiastical institutions and property of the Catholics respected and protected.

[End of Required Reading for May.]

THE DIVINE SCULPTOR.

By MRS. EMILY J. BUGBEE.

I feel the chiseling touch, And know that I shall stand, Finished and shapely as the work, Of the designer’s hand. Though cruel is the pain From His unceasing blows, I hold me, trustfully and still, What time “the Angel grows.”

Through slowly passing years, With an unerring skill, His hand, with patient, tireless care, Is shaping to His will; That when I stand unveiled Before His glorious throne, No traces in me shall be found Of the unsightly stone.

He sees what I _shall be_, Through all the rough disguise, And knows, at every stroke he gives, Some earthward clinging dies. Some harsh discordant part, Is rounded into grace; Some likeness of the pattern true Is fashioned in its place.

Work on, oh, Master hand, I gladly yield to thee, Until within thy loftiest thought I stand complete and free; Thy glorious design I would not mar or break, I shall be satisfied I know, When perfected I wake.

REMINISCENCES OF WENDELL PHILLIPS.

By EDWARD EVERETT HALE.

For many generations the gift of oratory has been in the blood of the Phillips family. The founder of the family in America, the Rev. George Phillips, first minister of Watertown, Mass., is noted in New England annals for his eloquence. “The irrefragable doctor” he was called by his hearers, we learn from the pedantic Mather, so able was he in dispute, and such readiness had he on all occasions to stand to his guns and to maintain any statement he had once made. But there must have been another strain of blood in Wendell Phillips, added to that in the veins of his ancestor George, for Mather goes on to say that the earlier Puritan was “very averse unto disputation until delivered thereto by extreme necessity.”

The son of George Phillips, of Watertown, was the Rev. Samuel Phillips, first minister of Rowley, so distinguished a preacher that it was said of his father: “He would have been beyond compare, if he had not been the father of Samuel.” This is Mather’s epitaph on the Rev. George Phillips.

The grandson of the first Phillips was another George, a minister like his father and grandfather, who lived at Brookhaven, Long Island. “A good man,” was the second Rev. George, but “thought to be too much addicted to facetiousness and wit;” more dangerous qualities in those Puritan times than nowadays, and suggesting, again, the Phillips of our day.

The great-grandson of the first George Phillips, nephew to the second, was Samuel Phillips, for sixty years minister of Andover, and the father of John and Samuel Phillips, the founders of the Andover and Exeter academies. Strictly orthodox was the Rev. Samuel Phillips, as one may see from his sermons; and the religious tone that he gave to the village of Andover has lasted to this day. His many printed sermons are proof of the popularity of his public speech, and the election sermon, at least, shows that he was not afraid to deal with the living problems of the day.

His sons founded the two Phillips academies, John that at Exeter, and the two together the academy at Andover. Samuel was as well a liberal benefactor to the theological seminary at Andover. It would be fair to say, that with one single exception, where there was perhaps insanity, the family has been distinguished for public spirit, as well as for eloquence. Two of the grandsons of the Rev. Samuel, Samuel and William, were chosen lieutenant-governors of the commonwealth of Massachusetts. Their second cousin, John Phillips, was the first mayor of Boston. Their grandfathers had been brothers, the one Samuel, the Andover minister, and the other John, a Boston merchant. The mother of this second John was Margaret Wendell. She was Wendell Phillips’s grandmother, and from her he had his Christian name. His mother was of another Puritan family. Her maiden name was Walley.

John Phillips, father of Wendell, graduated at Harvard College in 1788, and became a lawyer. He was afterward one of the trustees of the college, and in 1809 was appointed a judge of common pleas. In 1822 Boston was made a city, and John Phillips was chosen the first mayor. He died in the next year of a trouble of the heart. His sudden death took place when Wendell and his brother George were both scholars in the Boston Latin School—the oldest school in America. At that time this school had recently been revived, and set in new order, with great local reputation, under Mr. Benjamin Apthorp Gould. It is said that the mayor, John Phillips, once came into the school to examine it, and, almost of course, had offered to him the seat of most dignity on the platform. This his little boys thought a mistake in etiquette, considering that no one could be of rank as high as the master. They did not hesitate then, more than in later days, to express their disapprobation, and when their father met them at table, told him they had been mortified to see him in that chair. “Ah,” he said, “you were not more ashamed of me than I was of you.”