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%THE GREAT EVENTS%


BY

Famous Historians


A COMPREHENSIVE AND READABLE ACCOUNT OF THE WORLD'S HISTORY. EMPHASIZING
THE MORE IMPORTANT EVENTS. AND PRESENTING THESE AS COMPLETE NARRATIVES IN
THE MASTER-WORDS OF THE MOST EMINENT HISTORIANS


%NON-SECTARIAN NON-PARTISAN NON-SECTIONAL%


ON THE PLAN EVOLVED FROM A CONSENSUS OF OPINIONS GATHERED FROM THE MOST
DISTINGUISHED SCHOLARS OF AMERICA AND EUROPE. INCLUDING BRIEF INTRODUCTIONS
BY SPECIALISTS TO CONNECT AND EXPLAIN THE CELEBRATED NARRATIVES, ARRANGED
CHRONOLOGICALLY. WITH THOROUGH INDICES. BIBLIOGRAPHIES. CHRONOLOGIES. AND
COURSES OF READING


EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

ROSSITER JOHNSON, LL.D.


ASSOCIATE EDITORS

CHARLES F. HORNE, Ph.D. JOHN RUDD, LL.D.

_With a staff of specialists VOLUME XII_


%The National Alumni% 1905




%CONTENTS%

VOLUME XII


_An Outline Narrative of the Great Events_
CHARLES F. HORNE

_Louis XIV Establishes Absolute Monarchy (A.D. 1661)_
JAMES COTTER MORISON

_New York Taken by the English (A.D. 1664)_
JOHN R. BRODHEAD

_Great Plague in London (A.D. 1665)_
DANIEL DEFOE

_Great Fire in London (A.D. 1666)_
JOHN EVELYN

_Discovery of Gravitation (A.D. 1666)_
SIR DAVID BREWSTER

_Morgan, the Buccaneer, Sacks Panama (A.D. 1671)_
JOHANN W. VON ARCHENHOLZ

_Struggle of the Dutch against France and England (A.D. 1672)_
C.M. DAVIES.

_Discovery of the Mississippi
La Salle Names Louisiana (A.D. 1673-1682)_
FRANÇOIS XAVIER GARNEAU

_King Philip's War (A.D. 1675)_
RICHARD HILDRETH

_Growth of Prussia under the Great Elector
His Victory at Fehrbellin (A.D. 1675)_
THOMAS CARLYLE

_William Penn Receives the Grant of Pennsylvania
Founding of Philadelphia (A.D. 1681)_
GEORGE E. ELLIS

_Last Turkish Invasion of Europe Sobieski Saves Vienna (A.D. 1683)_
SUTHERLAND MENZIES

_Monmouth's Rebellion (A.D. 1685)_
GILBERT BURNET

_Revocation of the Edict of Nantes (A.D. 1685)_
BON LOUIS HENRI MARTIN

_The English Revolution
Flight of James II (A.D. 1688)_
GILBERT BURNET
H.D. TRAILL

_Peter the Great Modernizes Russia
Suppression of the Streltsi (A.D. 1689)_
ALFRED RAMBAUD

_Tyranny of Andros in New England
The Bloodless Revolution (A.D. 1689)_
CHARLES WYLLYS ELLIOTT

_Massacre of Lachine (A.D. 1689)_
FRANÇOIS XAVIER GARNEAU

_Siege of Londonderry and Battle of the Boyne (A.D. 1689-1690)_
TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLETT

_Salem Witchcraft Trials (A.D. 1692)_
RICHARD HILDRETH

_Establishment of the Bank of England (A.D. 1694)_
JOHN FRANCIS

_Colonization of Louisiana (A.D. 1699)_
CHARLES E.T. GAYARRÉ

_Prussia Proclaimed a Kingdom (A.D. 1701)_
LEOPOLD VON RANKE

_Founding of St. Petersburg (A.D. 1703)_
K. WALISZEWSKI

_Battle of Blenheim (A.D. 1704)
Curbing of Louis XIV_,
SIR EDWARD SHEPHERD CREASY

_Union of England and Scotland (A.D. 1707)_
JOHN HILL BURTON

_Downfall of Charles XII at Poltava (A.D. 1709)
Triumph of Russia_
K. WALISZEWSKI

_Capture of Port Royal (A.D. 1710)
France Surrenders Nova Scotia to England_
DUNCAN CAMPBELL

_Universal Chronology (A.D. 1661-1715)_
JOHN RUDD



ILLUSTRATIONS


VOLUME XII

_Surrender of Marshal Tallard at the Battle of Blenheim_, Painting by R.
Caton Woodville.

_The Duke of Monmouth humiliates himself before King James II_, Painting by
J. Pettie, A.R.A.

_Charles XII carried on a litter during the Battle of Poltava_, Painting by
W. Hauschild.



%AN OUTLINE NARRATIVE%

Tracing Briefly The Causes, Connections, And Consequencies Of

%THE GREAT EVENTS%

(Age Of Louis XIV)

CHARLES F. HORNE


It is related that in 1661, on the day following the death of the great
Cardinal Mazarin, the various officials of the State approached their young
King, Louis XIV. "To whom shall we go now for orders, Your Majesty?" "To
me," answered Louis, and from that date until his death in 1715 they had
no other master. Whether we accept the tale as literal fact or only as the
vivid French way of visualizing a truth, we find here the central point
of over fifty years of European history. The two celebrated cardinals,
Richelieu and Mazarin, had, by their strength and wisdom, made France by
far the most powerful state in Europe. Moreover, they had so reduced the
authority of the French nobility, the clergy, and the courts of law as to
have become practically absolute and untrammelled in their control of the
entire government. Now, all this enormous power, both at home and abroad,
over France and over Europe, was assumed by a young man of twenty-three. "I
am the state," said Louis at a later period of his career. He might almost
have said, "I am Europe," looking as he did only to the Europe that
dominated, and took pleasure in itself, and made life one continued
glittering revel of splendor. Independent Europe, that claimed the right of
thinking for itself, the suffering Europe of the peasants, who starved and
shed their blood in helpless agony--these were against Louis almost from
the beginning, and ever increasingly against him.

At first the young monarch found life very bright around him. His courtiers
called him "the rising sun," and his ambition was to justify the title, to
be what with his enormous wealth and authority was scarcely difficult, the
Grand Monarch. He rushed into causeless war and snatched provinces from
his feeble neighbors, exhausted Germany and decaying Spain. He built huge
fortresses along his frontiers, and military roads from end to end of his
domains. His court was one continuous round of splendid entertainments. He
encouraged literature, or at least pensioned authors and had them clustered
around him in what Frenchmen call the Augustan Age of their development.[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Louis XIV Establishes Absolute Monarchy_, page 1.]

The little German princes of the Rhine, each of them practically
independent ruler of a tiny state, could not of course compete with Louis
or defy him. Nor for a time did they attempt it. His splendor dazzled them.
They were content to imitate, and each little prince became a patron of
literature, or giver of entertainments, or builder of huge fortresses
absurdly disproportioned to his territory and his revenues. Germany, it has
been aptly said, became a mere tail to the French kite, its leaders feebly
draggling after where Louis soared. Never had the common people of Europe
or even the nobility had less voice in their own affairs. It was an age of
absolute kingly power, an age of despotism.

England, which under Cromwell had bid fair to take a foremost place in
Europe, sank under Charles II into unimportance. Its people wearied with
tumult, desired peace more than aught else; its King, experienced in
adversity, and long a homeless wanderer in France and Holland, seemed to
have but one firm principle in life. Whatever happened he did not intend,
as he himself phrased it, to go on his "travels" again. He dreaded and
hated the English Parliament as all the Stuarts had; and, like his father,
he avoided calling it together. To obtain money without its aid, he
accepted a pension from the French King. Thus England also became a
servitor of Louis. Its policy, so far as Charles could mould it, was
France's policy. If we look for events in the English history of the
time we must find them in internal incidents, the terrible plague that
devastated London in 1665,[1] the fire of the following year, that checked
the plague but almost swept the city out of existence.[2] We must note the
founding of the Royal Society in 1660 for the advancement of science, or
look to Newton, its most celebrated member, beginning to puzzle out his
theory of gravitation in his Woolsthorpe garden.[3]

[Footnote 1: See _Great Plague in London_, page 29.]

[Footnote 2: See _Great Fire in London_, page 45.]

[Footnote 3: See _Discovery of Gravitation_, page 51.]


CONTINENTAL WARS

Louis's first real opponent he found in sturdy Holland. Her fleets and
those of England had learned to fight each other in Cromwell's time, and
they continued to struggle for the mastery of the seas. There were many
desperate naval battles. In 1664 an English fleet crossed the ocean to
seize the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam, and it became New York.[4] In 1667
a Dutch fleet sailed up the Thames and burned the shipping, almost reaching
London itself.

[Footnote 4: See _New York Taken by the English_, page 19.]

Yet full as her hands might seem with strife like this, Holland did not
hesitate to stand forth against the aggression of Louis's "rising sun."
When in his first burst of kingship, he seized the Spanish provinces of the
Netherlands and so extended his authority to the border of Holland, its
people, frightened at his advance, made peace with England and joined an
alliance against him. Louis drew back; and the Dutch authorized a medal
which depicted Holland checking the rising sun. Louis never forgave them,
and in 1672, having secured German neutrality and an English alliance, he
suddenly attacked Holland with all his forces.[5]

[Footnote 5: See _Struggle of the Dutch against France and England_, page
86.]

For a moment the little republic seemed helpless. Her navy indeed withstood
ably the combined assaults of the French and English ships, but the French
armies overran almost her entire territory. It was then that her people
talked of entering their ships and sailing away together, transporting
their nation bodily to some colony beyond Louis's reach. It was then that
Amsterdam set the example which other districts heroically followed, of
opening her dykes and letting the ocean flood the land to drive out the
French. The leaders of the republic were murdered in a factional strife,
and the young Prince William III of Orange, descended from that William
the Silent who had led the Dutch against Philip II, was made practically
dictator of the land. This young Prince William, afterward King William III
of England, was the antagonist who sprang up against Louis, and in the end
united all Europe against him and annihilated his power.

Seeing the wonderful resistance that little Holland made against her
apparently overwhelming antagonists, the rest of Germany took heart; allies
came to the Dutch. Brandenburg and Austria and Spain forced Louis to fall
back upon his own frontier, though with much resolute battling by his great
general, Turenne.

Next to young William, Louis found his most persistent opponent in
Frederick William, the "Great Elector" of Brandenburg and Prussia,
undoubtedly the ablest German sovereign of the age, and the founder of
Prussia's modern importance. He had succeeded to his hereditary domains in
1640, when they lay utterly waste and exhausted in the Thirty Years' War;
and he reigned until 1688, nearly half a century, during which he was ever
and vigorously the champion of Germany against all outside enemies. He
alone, in the feeble Germany of the day, resisted French influence, French
manners, and French aggression.

In this first general war of the Germans and their allies against Louis,
Frederick William proved the only one of their leaders seriously to be
feared. Louis made an alliance with Sweden and persuaded the Swedes to
overrun Brandenburg during its ruler's absence with his forces on the
Rhine. But so firmly had the Great Elector established himself at home, so
was he loved, that the very peasantry rose to his assistance. "We are only
peasants," said their banners, "but we can die for our lord." Pitiful cry!
Pitiful proof of how unused the commons were to even a little kindness, how
eagerly responsive! Frederick William came riding like a whirlwind from the
Rhine, his army straggling along behind in a vain effort to keep up. He
hurled himself with his foremost troops upon the Swedes, and won the
celebrated battle of Fehrbellin. He swept his astonished foes back into
their northern peninsula. Brandenburg became the chief power of northern
Germany.[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Growth of Prussia under the Great Elector: His Victory at
Fehrbellin_, page 138.]

In 1679 the Peace of Ryswick ended the general war, and left Holland
unconquered, but with the French frontier extended to the Rhine, and Louis
at the height of his power, the acknowledged head of European affairs.
Austria was under the rule of Leopold I, Emperor of Germany from 1657 to
1705, whose pride and incompetence wholly prevented him from being what
his position as chief of the Hapsburgs would naturally have made him, the
leader of the opposition, the centre around whom all Europe could rally to
withstand Louis's territorial greed. Leopold hated Louis, but he hated also
the rising Protestant "Brandenburger," he hated the "merchant" Dutch,
hated everybody in short who dared intrude upon the ancient order of his
superiority, who refused to recognize his impotent authority. So he would
gladly have seen Louis crush every opponent except himself, would have
found it a pleasant vengeance indeed to see all these upstart powers
destroying one another.

Moreover, Austria was again engaged in desperate strife with the Turks.
These were in the last burst of their effort at European conquest. No
longer content with Hungary, twice in Leopold's reign did they advance to
attack Vienna. Twice were they repulsed by Hungarian and Austrian valor.
The final siege was in 1683. A vast horde estimated as high as two hundred
thousand men marched against the devoted city. Leopold and most of the
aristocracy fled, in despair of its defence. Only the common people who
could not flee, remained, and with the resolution of despair beat off the
repeated assaults of the Mahometans.[2]

[Footnote 2: See _Last Turkish Invasion of Europe: Sobieski Saves Vienna_,
page 164.]

They were saved by John Sobieski, a king who had raised Poland to one of
her rare outflashing periods of splendor. With his small but gallant Polish
army he came to the rescue of Christendom, charged furiously upon the huge
Turkish horde, and swept it from the field in utter flight. The tide of
Turkish power receded forever; that was its last great wave which broke
before the walls of Vienna. All Hungary was regained, mainly through the
efforts of Austria's greatest general, Prince Eugene of Savoy. The centre
of the centuries of strife shifted back where it had been in Hunyady's
time, from Vienna to the mighty frontier fortress of Belgrad, which was
taken and retaken by opposing forces.


LATER EFFORTS OF LOUIS XIV

The earlier career of Louis XIV seems to have been mainly influenced by his
passion for personal renown; but he had always been a serious Catholic, and
in his later life his interest in religion became a most important factor
in his world. The Protestants of France had for wellnigh a century held
their faith unmolested, safeguarded by that Edict of Nantes, which had been
granted by Henry IV, a Catholic at least in name, and confirmed by Cardinal
Richelieu, a Catholic by profession. Persuasive measures had indeed been
frequently employed to win the deserters back to the ancient Church; but
now under Louis's direction, a harsher course was attempted. The celebrated
"dragonades" quartered a wild and licentious soldiery in Protestant
localities, in the homes of Protestant house-owners, with special orders to
make themselves offensive to their hosts. Under this grim discouragement
Protestantism seemed dying out of France, and at last, in 1685, Louis,
encouraged by success, took the final step and revoked the Edict of Nantes,
commanding all his subjects to accept Catholicism, while at the same time
forbidding any to leave the country. Huguenots who attempted flight were
seized; many were slain. Externally at least, the reformed religion
disappeared from France.[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Revocation of the Edict of Nantes_, page 180.]

Of course, despite the edict restraining them, many Huguenots, the most
earnest and vigorous of the sect, did escape by flight; and some hundred
thousands of France's ablest citizens were thus lost to her forever. Large
numbers found a welcome in neighboring Holland; the Great Elector stood
forward and gave homes to a wandering host of the exiles. England received
colonies of them; and even distant America was benefited by the numbers who
sought her freer shores. No enemy to France in all the world but received a
welcome accession to its strength against her.

In the same year that Protestant Europe was thus assailed and terrified by
the reviving spectre of religious persecution, Charles II of England died
and his brother James II succeeded him. Charles may have been Catholic at
heart, but in name at least he had retained the English religion. James
was openly Catholic. A hasty rebellion raised against him by his nephew,
Monmouth, fell to pieces;[1] and James, having executed Monmouth and
approved a cruel persecution of his followers, began to take serious steps
toward forcing the whole land back to the ancient faith.

[Footnote 1: See _Monmouth's Rebellion_, page 172.]

So here was kingly absolutism coming to the aid of the old religious
intolerance. The English people, however, had already killed one king in
defence of their liberties; and their resolute opposition to James began to
suggest that they might kill another. Many of the leading nobles appealed
secretly to William of Orange for help. William was, as we have said, the
centre of opposition to Louis, and that began to mean to Catholicism as
well. Also, William had married a daughter of King James and had thus some
claim to interfere in the family domains. And, most important of all, as
chief ruler of Holland, William had an army at command. With a portion of
that army he set sail late in 1688 and landed in England. Englishmen of all
ranks flocked to join him. King James fled to France, and a Parliament,
hastily assembled in 1689, declared him no longer king and placed William
and his wife Mary on the throne as joint rulers.[2] Thus William had two
countries instead of one to aid him in his life-long effort against Louis.

[Footnote 2: See _The English Revolution: Flight of James II_, page 200.]

Louis, indeed, accepted the accession of his enemy as a threat of war and,
taking up the cause of the fugitive James, despatched him with French
troops to Ireland, where his Catholic faith made the mass of the people his
devoted adherents. There were, however, Protestant Irish as well, and these
defied James and held his troops at bay in the siege of Londonderry, while
King William hurried over to Ireland with an army. Father-in-law and
son-in-law met in the battle of the Boyne, and James was defeated in war
as he had been in diplomacy. He fled back to France, leaving his Catholic
adherents to withstand William as best they might. Limerick, the Catholic
stronghold, was twice besieged and only yielded when full religious freedom
had been guaranteed. Irishmen to this day call it with bitterness "the city
of the violated treaty."[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Siege of Londonderry and the Battle of the Boyne_, page
258.]

Meanwhile the strife between Louis and William had spread into another
general European war. William had difficulties to encounter in his new
kingdom. Its people cared little for his Continental aims and gave him
little loyalty of service. In fact, peculation among public officials was
so widespread that, despite large expenditures of money, England had only
a most feeble, inefficient army in the field, and William was in black
disgust against his new subjects. It was partly to aid the Government in
its financial straits that the Bank of England was formed in 1694.[2]

[Footnote 2: See _Establishment of the Bank of England_, page 286.]

Yet Louis's troubles were greater and of deeper root. Catholic Austria and
even the Pope himself, unable to submit to the arrogance of the "Grand
Monarch," took part against him in this war. It can therefore no longer be
regarded as a religious struggle. It marks the turning-point in Louis's
fortunes. His boundless extravagance had exhausted France at last. Both in
wealth and population she began to feel the drain. The French generals won
repeated victories, yet they had to give slowly back before their more
numerous foes; and in 1697 Louis purchased peace by making concessions of
territory as well as courtesy.

This peace proved little more than a truce. For almost half a century the
European sovereigns had been waiting for Charles II of Spain to die. He
was the last of his race, last of the Spanish Hapsburgs descended from
the Emperor Charles V, and so infirm and feeble was he that it seemed the
flickering candle of his life must puff out with each passing wind. Who
should succeed him? In Mazarin's time, that crafty minister had schemed
that the prize should go to France, and had wedded young Louis XIV to a
Spanish princess. The Austrian Hapsburgs of course wanted the place for
themselves, though to establish a common ancestry with their Spanish kin
they must turn back over a century and a half to Ferdinand and Isabella.

But strong men grew old and died, while the invalid Charles II still clung
to his tottering throne. Louis ceased hoping to occupy it himself and
claimed it for his son, then for his grandson, Philip. Not until 1700,
after a reign of nearly forty years, did Charles give up the worthless game
and expire. He declared Philip his heir, and the aged Louis sent the youth
to Spain with an eager boast, "Go; there are no longer any Pyrenees." That
is, France and Spain were to be one, a mighty Bourbon empire.

That was just what Europe, experienced in Louis's unscrupulous aggression,
dared not allow. So another general alliance was formed, with William of
Holland and England at its head, to drive Philip from his new throne in
favor of a Hapsburg. William died before the war was well under way, but
the British people understood his purposes now and upheld them. Once more
they felt themselves the champions of Protestantism in Europe. Anne, the
second daughter of the deposed King James, was chosen as queen; and under
her the two realms of England and Scotland were finally joined in one by
the Act of Union (1707), with but a single Parliament.[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Union of England and Scotland_, page 341.]

Meanwhile Marlborough was sent to the Rhine with a strong British army.
Prince Eugene paused in fighting the Turks and joined him with Austrian and
German troops. Together they defeated the French in the celebrated battle
of Blenheim (1704),[2] and followed it in later years with Oudenarde and
Malplaquet. Louis was beaten. France was exhausted. The Grand Monarch
pleaded for peace on almost any terms.

[Footnote 2: See _Battle of Blenheim: Curbing of Louis XIV_, page 327.]

Yet his grandson remained on the Spanish throne. For one reason, the
Spaniards themselves upheld him and fought for him. For another, the
allies' Austrian candidate became Emperor of Germany, and to make him ruler
of Spain as well would only have been to consolidate the Hapsburg power
instead of that of the Bourbons. Made dubious by this balance between
evils, Europe abandoned the war. So there were two Bourbon kingdoms after
all--but both too exhausted to be dangerous.

Louis had indeed outlived his fame. He had roused the opposition of all his
neighbors, and ruined France in the effort to extend her greatness. The
praises and flattery of his earlier years reached him now only from the
lips of a few determined courtiers. His people hated him, and in 1715
celebrated his death as a release. Frenchmen high and low had begun the
career which ended in their terrific Revolution. Lying on his dreary
death-bed, the Grand Monarch apologized that he should "take so long in
dying." Perhaps he, also, felt that he delayed the coming of the new age.
What his career had done was to spread over all Europe a new culture and
refinement, to rouse a new splendor and recklessness among the upper
classes, and to widen almost irretrievably the gap between rich and poor,
between kings and commons. In the very years that parliamentary government
was becoming supreme in England, absolutism established itself upon the
Continent.


CHANGES IN NORTHERN EUROPE

Toward the close of this age the balance of power in Northern Europe
shifted quite as markedly as it had farther south. Three of the German
electoral princes became kings. The Elector of Saxony was chosen King of
Poland, thereby adding greatly to his power. George, Elector of Hanover,
became King of England on the death of Queen Anne. And the Elector of
Brandenburg, son of the Great Elector, when the war of 1701 against France
and Spain broke out, only lent his aid to the European coalition on
condition that the German Emperor should authorize him also to assume the
title of king, not of Brandenburg but of his other and smaller domain of
Prussia, which lay outside the empire. Most of the European sovereigns
smiled at this empty change of title without a change of dominions; but
Brandenburg or Prussia was thus made more united, more consolidated, and
it soon rose to be the leader of Northern Germany. A new family, the
Hohenzollerns, contested European supremacy with the Hapsburgs and the
Bourbons.[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Prussia Proclaimed a Kingdom_, page 310.]

More important still was the strife between Sweden and Russia. Sweden had
been raised by Gustavus Adolphus to be the chief power of the North, the
chosen ally of Richelieu and Mazarin. Her soldiers were esteemed the best
of the time. The prestige of the Swedes had, to be sure, suffered somewhat
in the days when the Great Elector defeated them so completely at
Fehrbellin and elsewhere. But Louis XIV had stood by them as his allies,
and saved them from any loss of territory, so that in 1700 Sweden still
held not only the Scandinavian peninsula but all the lands east of the
Baltic as far as where St. Petersburg now stands, and much of the German
coast to southward. The Baltic was thus almost a Swedish lake, when in
1697 a new warrior king, Charles XII, rose to reassert the warlike
supremacy of his race. He was but fifteen when he reached the throne; and
Denmark, Poland, and Russia all sought to snatch away his territories. He
fought the Danes and defeated them. He fought the Saxon Elector who had
become king of Poland. Soon both Poland and Saxony lay crushed at the feet
of the "Lion of the North," as they called him then--"Madman of the
North," after his great designs had failed. Only Russia remained to oppose
him--Russia, as yet almost unknown to Europe, a semi-barbaric frontier
land, supposedly helpless against the strength and resources of
civilization.

Russia was in the pangs of a most sudden revolution. Against her will she
was being suddenly and sharply modernized by Peter the Great, most famous
of her czars. He had overthrown the turbulent militia who really ruled the
land, and had waded through a sea of bloody executions to establish his
own absolute power.[1] He had travelled abroad in disguise, studied
shipbuilding in Holland, the art of government in England, and
fortification and war wheresoever he could find a teacher. Removing from
the ancient, conservative capital of Moscow, he planted his government,
in defiance of Sweden, upon her very frontier, causing the city of St.
Petersburg to arise as if by magic from a desolate, icy swamp in the far
north.[2]

[Footnote 1: See _Peter the Great Modernizes Russia: Suppression of the
Streltsi_, page 223.]

[Footnote 2: See _Founding of St. Petersburg_, page 319.]

Charles of Sweden scorned and defied him. At Narva in 1700, Charles with
a small force of his famous troops drove Peter with a huge horde of his
Russians to shameful flight. "They will teach us to beat them," said Peter
philosophically; and so in truth he gathered knowledge from defeat after
defeat, until at length at Poltava in 1709 he completely turned the tables
upon Charles, overthrew him and so crushed his power that Russia
succeeded Sweden as ruler of the extreme North, a rank she has ever since
retained.[1]

[Footnote 1: See _Downfall of Charles XII at Poltava: Triumph of Russia_,
page 352.]


GROWTH OF AMERICA

The vast political and social changes of Europe in this age found their
echo in the New World. The decay of Spain left her American colonies to
feebleness and decay. The islands of the Caribbean Sea became the haunt of
the buccaneers, pirates, desperadoes of all nations who preyed upon Spanish
ships, and, as their power grew, extended their depredations northward
along the American coast. So important did these buccaneers become that
they formed regular governments among themselves. The most famed of their
leaders was knighted by England as Sir Henry Morgan; and the most renowned
of his achievements was the storm and capture of the Spanish treasure city,
Panama.[2]

[Footnote 2: See _Morgan, the Buccaneer, Sacks Panama_, page 66.]

As Spain grew weak in America, France grew strong. From her Canadian
colonies she sent out daring missionaries and traders, who explored the
great lakes and the Mississippi valley.[3] They made friends with the
Indians; they founded Louisiana.[4] All the north and west of the continent
fell into their hands.

[Footnote 3: See _Discovery of the Mississippi_, page 108.]

[Footnote 4: See _Colonization of Louisiana_, page 297.]

Never, however, did their numbers approach those of the English colonists
along the Atlantic coast. Both Massachusetts and Virginia were grown into
important commonwealths, almost independent of England, and well able to
support the weaker settlements rising around them. After the great Puritan
exodus to New England to escape the oppression of Charles I, there had come
a Royalist exodus to Virginia to escape the Puritanic tyranny of Cromwell's
time. Large numbers of Catholics fled to Maryland. Huguenots established
themselves in the Carolinas and elsewhere. Then came Penn to build a great
Quaker state among the scattered Dutch settlements along the Delaware.[1]
The American seaboard became the refuge of each man who refused to bow his
neck to despotism of whatever type.

[Footnote 1: See _William Penn Receives the Grant of Pennsylvania: Founding
of Philadelphia_, page 153.]

Under such settlers English America soon ceased to be a mere offshoot of
Europe. It became a world of its own; its people developed into a new race.
They had their own springs of action, their own ways of thought, different
from those of Europe, more simple and intense as was shown in the Salem
witchcraft excitement, or more resolute and advanced as was revealed in
Bacon's Virginia rebellion.[2]

[Footnote 2: See _Salem Witchcraft Trials_, page 268.]

The aboriginal inhabitants, the Indians, found themselves pressed ever
backward from the coast. They resisted, and in 1675 there arose in New
England, King Philip's war, which for that section at least settled the
Indian question forever. The red men of New England were practically
exterminated.[3] Those of New York, the Iroquois, were more fortunate or
more crafty. They dwelt deeper in the wilderness, and formed a buffer state
between the French in Canada and the English to the south, drawing aid now
from one, now from the other.

[Footnote 3: See _King Philip's War_, page 125.]

Each war between England and Louis XIV was echoed by strife between their
rival colonies. When King William supplanted James in 1688 there followed
in America also a "bloodless revolution."[4] Governor Andros, whom James
had sent to imitate his own harsh tyranny in the colonies, was seized and
shipped back to England. William was proclaimed king. The ensuing strife
with France was marked by the most bloody of all America's Indian
massacres. The Iroquois descended suddenly on Canada; the very suburbs
of its capital, Montreal, were burned, and more than a thousand of the
unsuspecting settlers were tortured, or more mercifully slain outright.[5]

[Footnote 4: See _Tyranny of Andros in New England: The Bloodless
Revolution_, page 241.]

[Footnote 5: See _Massacre of Lachine_, page 248.]

In the later war about the Spanish throne, England captured Nova Scotia,
the southern extremity of the French Canadian seaboard; and part of the
price Louis XIV paid for peace was to leave this colony in England's
hands.[1] The scale of American power began to swing markedly in her favor.
Everywhere over the world, as the eighteenth century progressed, England
with her parliamentary government was rising into power at the expense of
France and absolutism.

[Footnote 1: See _Capture of Port Royal: France Surrenders Nova Scotia to
England_, page 373.]

[Footnote: FOR THE NEXT SECTION OF THIS GENERAL SURVEY SEE VOLUME XIII.]



%LOUIS XIV ESTABLISHES ABSOLUTE MONARCHY%

A.D. 1661

JAMES COTTER MORISON


Not only was the reign of Louis XIV one of the longest in the world's
history, but it also marked among Western nations the highest development
of the purely monarchical principle. Including the time that Louis ruled
under the guardianship of his mother and the control of his minister,
Cardinal Mazarin, the reign covered more than seventy years (1643-1715).

The sovereign who could say, "I am the state" ("_l'État c'est moi_"), and
see his subjects acquiesce with almost Asiatic humility, while Europe
looked on in admiration and fear, may be said to have embodied for modern
times the essence of absolutism.

That all things, domestic and foreign, seemed to be in concurrence for
giving practical effect to the Grand Monarque's assumption of supremacy is
shown by the fact that his name dominates the whole history of his time.
His reign was not only "the Augustan Age of France"; it marked the
ascendency of France in Europe.

Of such a reign no adequate impression is to be derived from reading even
the most faithful narrative of its thronging events. But the reign as well
as the personality of Louis is set in clear perspective for us by Morison's
picturesque and discriminating treatment.

The reign of Louis XIV was the culminating epoch in the history of the
French monarchy. What the age of Pericles was in the history of the
Athenian democracy, what the age of the Scipios was in the history of the
Roman Republic, that was the reign of Louis XIV in the history of the old
monarchy of France. The type of polity which that monarchy embodied, the
principles of government on which it reposed or brought into play, in this
reign attain their supreme expression and development. Before Louis XIV the
French monarchy has evidently not attained its full stature; it is thwarted
and limited by other forces in the state. After him, though unresisted from
without, it manifests symptoms of decay from within. It rapidly declines,
and totally disappears seventy-seven years after his death.

But it is not only the most conspicuous reign in the history of France--it
is the most conspicuous reign in the history of monarchy in general. Of
the very many kings whom history mentions, who have striven to exalt the
monarchical principle, none of them achieved a success remotely comparable
to his. His two great predecessors in kingly ambition, Charles V and Philip
II, remained far behind him in this respect. They may have ruled over wider
dominions, but they never attained the exceptional position of power and
prestige which he enjoyed for more than half a century. They never were
obeyed so submissively at home nor so dreaded and even respected abroad.
For Louis XIV carried off that last reward of complete success, that he
for a time silenced even envy, and turned it into admiration. We who can
examine with cold scrutiny the make and composition of this colossus of
a French monarchy; who can perceive how much the brass and clay in it
exceeded the gold; who know how it afterward fell with a resounding ruin,
the last echoes of which have scarcely died away, have difficulty in
realizing the fascination it exercised upon contemporaries who witnessed
its first setting up.

Louis XIV's reign was the very triumph of commonplace greatness, of
external magnificence and success, such as the vulgar among mankind can
best and most sincerely appreciate. Had he been a great and profound ruler,
had he considered with unselfish meditation the real interests of France,
had he with wise insight discerned and followed the remote lines of
progress along which the future of Europe was destined to move, it is
lamentably probable that he would have been misunderstood in his lifetime
and calumniated after his death.

Louis XIV was exposed to no such misconception. His qualities were on the
surface, visible and comprehensible to all; and although none of them was
brilliant, he had several which have a peculiarly impressive effect when
displayed in an exalted station. He was indefatigably industrious; worked
on an average eight hours a day for fifty-four years; had great tenacity
of will; that kind of solid judgment which comes of slowness of brain, and
withal a most majestic port and great dignity of manners. He had also as
much kindliness of nature as the very great can be expected to have; his
temper was under severe control; and, in his earlier years at least, he
had a moral apprehensiveness greater than the limitations of his intellect
would have led one to expect.

His conduct toward Molière was throughout truly noble, and the more so that
he never intellectually appreciated Molière's real greatness. But he must
have had great original fineness of tact, though it was in the end nearly
extinguished by adulation and incense. His court was an extraordinary
creation, and the greatest thing he achieved. He made it the microcosm of
all that was the most brilliant and prominent in France. Every order of
merit was invited there and received courteous welcome. To no circumstance
did he so much owe his enduring popularity. By its means he impressed into
his service that galaxy of great writers, the first and the last classic
authors of France, whose calm and serene lustre will forever illumine the
epoch of his existence. It may even be admitted that his share in that
lustre was not so accidental and undeserved as certain king-haters have
supposed.

That subtle critic, M. Sainte-Beuve, thinks he can trace a marked rise even
in Bossuet's style from the moment he became a courtier of Louis XIV.
The King brought men together, placed them in a position where they
were induced and urged to bring their talents to a focus. His court was
alternately a high-bred gala and a stately university. If we contrast his
life with those of his predecessor and successor, with the dreary existence
of Louis XIII and the crapulous lifelong debauch of Louis XV, we become
sensible that Louis XIV was distinguished in no common degree; and when we
further reflect that much of his home and all of his foreign policy was
precisely adapted to flatter, in its deepest self-love, the national spirit
of France, it will not be quite impossible to understand the long-continued
reverberation of his fame.

But Louis XIV's reign has better titles than the adulations of courtiers
and the eulogies of wits and poets to the attention of posterity. It marks
one of the most memorable epochs in the annals of mankind. It stretches
across history like a great mountain range, separating ancient France
from the France of modern times. On the further slope are Catholicism and
feudalism in their various stages of splendor and decay--the France of
crusade and chivalry, of St. Louis and Bayard. On the hither side are
freethought, industry, and centralization--the France of Voltaire, Turgot,
and Condorcet.

When Louis came to the throne the Thirty Years' War still wanted six years
of its end, and the heat of theological strife was at its intensest glow.
When he died the religious temperature had cooled nearly to freezing-point,
and a new vegetation of science and positive inquiry was overspreading the
world. This amounts to saying that his reign covers the greatest epoch
of mental transition through which the human mind has hitherto passed,
excepting the transition we are witnessing in the day which now is. We need
but recall the names of the writers and thinkers who arose during Louis
XIV's reign, and shed their seminal ideas broadcast upon the air, to
realize how full a period it was, both of birth and decay; of the passing
away of the old and the uprising of the new forms of thought.

To mention only the greatest; the following are among the chiefs who
helped to transform the mental fabric of Europe in the age of Louis XIV:
Descartes, Newton, Leibnitz, Locke, Boyle. Under these leaders the first
firm irreversible advance was made out of the dim twilight of theology into
the clear dawn of positive and demonstrative science.

Inferior to these founders of modern knowledge, but holding a high rank as
contributors to the mental activity of the age, were Pascal, Malebranche,
Spinoza, and Bayle. The result of their efforts was such a stride forward
as has no parallel in the history of the human mind. One of the most
curious and significant proofs of it was the spontaneous extinction of the
belief in witchcraft among the cultivated classes of Europe, as the English
historian of rationalism has so judiciously pointed out. The superstition
was not much attacked, and it was vigorously defended, yet it died a
natural and quiet death from the changed moral climate of the world.

But the chief interest which the reign of Louis XIV offers to the student
of history has yet to be mentioned. It was the great turning-point in the
history of the French people. The triumph of the monarchical principle was
so complete under him, independence and self-reliance were so effectually
crushed, both in localities and individuals, that a permanent bent was
given to the national mind--a habit of looking to the government for all
action and initiative permanently established.

Before the reign of Louis XIV it was a question which might fairly be
considered undecided: whether the country would be able or not, willing or
not, to coöperate with its rulers in the work of the government and the
reform of abuses. On more than one occasion such coöperation did not seem
entirely impossible or improbable. The admirable wisdom and moderation
shown by the Tiers-État in the States-General of 1614, the divers efforts
of the Parliament of Paris to check extravagant expenditure, the vigorous
struggles of the provincial assemblies to preserve some relic of their
local liberties, seemed to promise that France would continue to advance
under the leadership indeed of the monarchy, yet still retaining in large
measure the bright, free, independent spirit of old Gaul, the Gaul of
Rabelais, Montaigne, and Joinville.

After the reign of Louis XIV such coöperation of the ruler and the ruled
became impossible. The government of France had become a machine depending
upon the action of a single spring. Spontaneity in the population at large
was extinct, and whatever there was to do must be done by the central
authority. As long as the government could correct abuses it was well; if
it ceased to be equal to this task, they must go uncorrected. When at last
the reform of secular and gigantic abuses presented itself with imperious
urgency, the alternative before the monarchy was either to carry the reform
with a high hand or perish in the failure to do so. We know how signal the
failure was, and could not help being, under the circumstances; and through
having placed the monarchy between these alternatives, it is no paradox
to say that Louis XIV was one of the most direct ancestors of the "Great
Revolution."

Nothing but special conditions in the politics both of Europe and of France
can explain this singular importance and prominence of Louis XIV's reign.
And we find that both France and Europe were indeed in an exceptional
position when he ascended the throne. The Continent of Europe, from one
end to the other, was still bleeding and prostrate from the effect of the
Thirty Years' War when the young Louis, in the sixteenth year of his age,
was anointed king at Rheims. Although France had suffered terribly in that
awful struggle, she had probably suffered less than any of the combatants,
unless it be Sweden.

It happened by a remarkable coincidence that precisely at this moment, when
the condition of Europe was such that an aggressive policy on the part of
France could be only with difficulty resisted by her neighbors, the power
and prerogatives of the French crown attained an expansion and preeminence
which they had never enjoyed in the previous history of the country. The
schemes and hopes of Philip the Fair, of Louis XI, of Henry IV, and of
Richelieu had been realized at last; and their efforts to throw off the
insolent coercion of the great feudal lords had been crowned with complete
success. The monarchy could hardly have conjectured how strong it had
become but for the abortive resistance and hostility it met with in the
Fronde.

The flames of insurrection which had shot up, forked and menacing, fell
back underground, where they smouldered for four generations yet to come.
The kingly power soared, single and supreme, over its prostrate foes. Long
before Louis XIV had shown any aptitude or disposition for authority, he
was the object of adulation as cringing as was ever offered to a Roman
emperor. When he returned from his consecration at Rheims, the rector of
the University of Paris, at the head of his professorial staff, addressed
the young King in these words: "We are so dazzled by the new splendor which
surrounds your majesty that we are not ashamed to appear dumfounded at the
aspect of a light so brilliant and so extraordinary"; and at the foot of an
engraving at the same date he is in so many words called a demigod.

It is evident that ample materials had been prepared for what the vulgar
consider a great reign. Abundant opportunity for an insolent and
aggressive foreign policy, owing to the condition of Europe. Security from
remonstrance or check at home, owing to the condition of France. The temple
is prepared for the deity; the priests stand by, ready to offer victims on
the smoking altar; the incense is burning in anticipation of his advent. On
the death of Mazarin, in 1661, he entered into his own.

Louis XIV never forgot the trials and humiliations to which he and his
mother had been subjected during the troubles of the Fronde. It has often
been remarked that rulers born in the purple have seldom shown much
efficiency unless they have been exposed to exceptional and, as it were,
artificial probations during their youth. During the first eleven years
of Louis' reign--incomparably the most creditable to him--we can trace
unmistakably the influence of the wisdom and experience acquired in that
period of anxiety and defeat. He then learned the value of money and the
supreme benefits of a full exchequer. He also acquired a thorough dread of
subjection to ministers and favorites--a dread so deep that it implied a
consciousness of probable weakness on that side. As he went on in life he
to a great extent forgot both these valuable lessons, but their influence
was never entirely effaced. To the astonishment of the courtiers and even
of his mother he announced his intention of governing independently, and
of looking after everything himself. They openly doubted his perseverance.
"You do not know him," said Mazarin. "He will begin rather late, but he
will go further than most. There is enough stuff in him to make four kings
and an honest man besides."

His first measures were dictated less by great energy of initiative than by
absolute necessity. The finances had fallen into such a chaos of jobbery
and confusion that the very existence of the government depended upon a
prompt and trenchant reform. It was Louis' rare good-fortune to find
beside him one of the most able and vigorous administrators who have ever
lived--Colbert. He had the merit--not a small one in that age--of letting
this great minister invent and carry out the most daring and beneficial
measures of reform, of which he assumed all the credit to himself. The
first step was a vigorous attack on the gang of financial plunderers,
who, with Fouquet at their head, simply embezzled the bulk of the state
revenues. The money-lenders not only obtained the most usurious interest
for their loans, but actually held in mortgage the most productive sources
of the national taxation: and, not content with that, they bought up, at 10
per cent. of their nominal value, an enormous amount of discredited bills,
issued by the government in the time of the Fronde, which they forced the
treasury to pay off at par; and this was done with the very money they had
just before advanced to the government.

Such barefaced plunder could not be endured, and Colbert was the last man
to endure it. He not only repressed peculation, but introduced a number of
practical improvements in the distribution, and especially in the mode of
levying the taxes. So imperfect were the arrangements connected with the
latter that it was estimated that of eighty-four millions paid by the
people, only thirty-two millions entered into the coffers of the state. The
almost instantaneous effects of Colbert's measures--the yawning deficit
was changed into a surplus of forty-five millions in less than two
years--showed how gross and flagrant had been the malversation preceding.

Far more difficult, and far nobler in the order of constructive
statesmanship, were his vast schemes to endow France with manufactures,
with a commercial and belligerent navy, with colonies, besides his manifold
reforms in the internal administration--tariffs and customs between
neighboring provinces of France; the great work of the Languedoc canal; in
fact, in every part and province of government. His success was various,
but in some cases really stupendous. His creation of a navy almost
surpasses belief. In 1661, when he first became free to act, France
possessed only thirty vessels-of-war of all sizes. At the peace of
Nimwegen, in 1678, she had acquired a fleet of one hundred twenty ships,
and in 1683 she had got a fleet of one hundred seventy-six vessels; and
the increase was quite as great in the size and armament of the individual
ships as in their number.

A perfect giant of administration, Colbert found no labor too great for
his energies, and worked with unflagging energy sixteen hours a day for
twenty-two years. It is melancholy to be forced to add that all this toil
was as good as thrown away, and that the strong man went broken-hearted to
the grave, through seeing too clearly that he had labored in vain for an
ungrateful egotist. His great visions of a prosperous France, increasing in
wealth and contentment, were blighted; and he closed his eyes upon scenes
of improvidence and waste more injurious to the country than the financial
robbery which he had combated in his early days. The government was not
plundered as it had been, but itself was exhausting the very springs of
wealth by its impoverishment of the people.

Boisguillebert, writing in 1698, only fifteen years after Colbert's death,
estimated the productive powers of France to have diminished by one-half
in the previous thirty years. It seems, indeed, probable that the almost
magical rapidity and effect of Colbert's early reforms turned Louis XIV's
head, and that he was convinced that it only depended on his good pleasure
to renew them to obtain the same result. He never found, as he never
deserved to find, another Colbert; and he stumbled onward in ever deeper
ruin to his disastrous end.

His first breach of public faith was his attack on the Spanish Netherlands,
under color of certain pretended rights of the Queen, his wife--the Infanta
Marie Thérèse; although he had renounced all claims in her name at his
marriage. This aggression was followed by his famous campaign in the Low
Countries, when Franche-Comté was overrun and conquered in fifteen days. He
was stopped by the celebrated triple alliance in mid career. He had not yet
been intoxicated by success and vanity; Colbert's influence, always exerted
on the side of peace, was at its height, the menacing attitude of Holland,
England, and Sweden awed him, and he drew back. His pride was deeply
wounded, and he revolved deep and savage schemes of revenge. Not on
England, whose abject sovereign he knew could be had whenever he chose to
buy him, but on the heroic little republic which had dared to cross his
victorious path. His mingled contempt and rage against Holland were indeed
instinctive, spontaneous, and in the nature of things. Holland was the
living, triumphant incarnation of the two things he hated most--the
principle of liberty in politics and the principle of free inquiry in
religion.

With a passion too deep for hurry or carelessness he made his preparations.
The army was submitted to a complete reorganization. A change in the
weapons of the infantry was effected, which was as momentous in its day as
the introduction of the breech-loading rifle in ours. The old inefficient
firelock was replaced by the flint musket, and the rapidity and certainty
of fire vastly increased. The undisciplined independence of the officers
commanding regiments and companies was suppressed by the rigorous and
methodical Colonel Martinet, whose name has remained in other armies
besides that of France as a synonyme of punctilious exactitude.

The means of offence being thus secured, the next step was to remove the
political difficulties which stood in the way of Louis' schemes; that is,
to dissolve Sir W. Temple's diplomatic masterpiece, the triple alliance.
The effeminate Charles II was bought over by a large sum of money and the
present of a pretty French mistress. Sweden also received a subsidy, and
her schemes of aggrandizement on continental Germany were encouraged.
Meanwhile the illustrious man who ruled Holland showed that kind of
weakness which good men often do in the presence of the unscrupulous and
wicked. John de Witt could not be convinced of the reality of Louis'
nefarious designs. France had ever been Holland's best friend, and he could
not believe that the policy of Henry IV, of Richelieu and Mazarin, would
be suddenly reversed by the young King of France. He tried negotiations in
which he was amused by Louis so long as it suited the latter's purpose. At
last, when the King's preparations were complete, he threw off the mask,
and insultingly told the Dutch that it was not for hucksters like them, and
usurpers of authority not theirs, to meddle with such high matters.

Then commenced one of the brightest pages in the history of national
heroism. At first the Dutch were overwhelmed; town after town capitulated
without a blow. It seemed as if the United Provinces were going to be
subdued, as Franche-Comté had been five years before. But Louis XIV had
been too much intoxicated by that pride which goes before a fall to retain
any clearness of head, if indeed he ever had any, in military matters. The
great Condé, with his keen eye for attack, at once suggested one of those
tiger-springs for which he was unequalled among commanders. Seeing the
dismay of the Dutch, he advised a rapid dash with six thousand horse on
Amsterdam. It is nearly certain, if this advice had been followed, that the
little commonwealth, so precious to Europe, would have been extinguished;
and that that scheme, born of heroic despair, of transferring to Batavia,
"under new stars and amid a strange vegetation," the treasure of freedom
and valor ruined in its old home by the Sardanapalus of Versailles, might
have been put in execution. But it was not to be.

Vigilant as Louis had been in preparation, he now seemed to be as careless
or incompetent in execution. Not only he neglected the advice of his best
general, and wasted time, but he did his best to drive his adversaries
to despair and the resistance which comes of despair. They were told by
proclamation that "the towns which should try to resist the forces of his
majesty by opening the dikes or by any other means would be punished with
the utmost rigor; and when the frost should have opened roads in all
directions, his majesty would give no sort of quarter to the inhabitants of
the said towns, but would give orders that their goods should be plundered
and their houses burned."

The Dutch envoys, headed by De Groot, son of the illustrious Grotius, came
to the King's camp to know on what terms he would make peace. They were
refused audience by the theatrical warrior, and told not to return except
armed with full powers to make any concessions he might dictate. Then the
"hucksters" of Amsterdam resolved on a deed of daring which is one of the
most exalted among "the high traditions of the world." They opened the
sluices and submerged the whole country under water. Still, their position
was almost desperate, as the winter frosts were nearly certain to restore a
firm foothold to the invader.

They came again suing for peace, offering Maestricht, the Rhine fortresses,
the whole of Brabant, the whole of Dutch Flanders, and an indemnity of ten
millions. This was proffering more than Henry IV, Richelieu, or Mazarin had
ever hoped for. These terms were refused, and the refusal carried with
it practically the rejection of Belgium, which could not fail to be soon
absorbed when thus surrounded by French possessions. But Louis met these
offers with the spirit of an Attila. He insisted on the concession of
Southern Gueldres and the island of Bommel, twenty-four millions of
indemnity, the endowment of the Catholic religion, and an extraordinary
annual embassy charged to present his majesty with a gold medal, which
should set forth how the Dutch owed to him the conservation of their
liberties. Such vindictive cruelty makes the mind run forward and dwell
with a glow of satisfied justice on the bitter days of retaliation and
revenge which in a future, still thirty years off, will humble the proud
and pitiless oppressor in the dust; when he shall be a suppliant, and
a suppliant in vain, at the feet of the haughty victors of Blenheim,
Ramillies, and Oudenarde.

But Louis' mad career of triumph was gradually being brought to a close.
He had before him not only the waste of waters, but the iron will and
unconquerable tenacity of the young Prince of Orange, "who needed neither
hope to made him dare nor success to make him persevere." Gradually, the
threatened neighbors of France gathered together and against her King.
Charles II was forced to recede from the French alliance by his Parliament
in 1674. The military massacre went on, indeed, for some years longer in
Germany and the Netherlands; but the Dutch Republic was saved, and peace
ratified by the treaty of Nimwegen.

After the conclusion of the Dutch War the reign of Louis XIV enters on a
period of manifest decline. The cost of the war had been tremendous. In
1677 the expenditure had been one hundred ten millions, and Colbert had to
meet this with a net revenue of eighty-one millions. The trade and commerce
of the country had also suffered much during the war. With bitter grief the
great minister saw himself compelled to reverse the beneficent policy of
his earlier days, to add to the tax on salt, to increase the ever-crushing
burden of the _taille_, to create new offices--hereditary employments in
the government--to the extent of three hundred millions, augmenting the
already monstrous army of superfluous officials, and, finally, simply to
borrow money at high interest. The new exactions had produced widespread
misery in the provinces before the war came to an end. In 1675 the Governor
of Dauphiné had written to Colbert, saying that commerce had entirely
ceased in his district, and that the larger part of the people had lived
during the winter on bread made from acorns and roots, and that at the time
of his writing they were seen to be eating the grass of the fields and the
bark of trees. The long-continued anguish produced at last despair and
rebellion.

In Bordeaux great excesses were committed by the mob, which were punished
with severity. Six thousand soldiers were quartered in the town, and were
guilty of such disorders that the best families emigrated, and trade was
ruined for a long period. But Brittany witnessed still worse evils. There
also riots and disturbances had been produced by the excessive pressure of
the imposts. An army of five thousand men was poured into the province, and
inflicted such terror on the population that the wretched peasants, at the
mere sight of the soldiers, threw themselves on their knees in an attitude
of supplication and exclaimed, "_Mea culpa_." The lively Madame de Sévigné
gives us some interesting details concerning these events in the intervals
when court scandal ran low and the brave doings of Madame de Montespan
suffered a temporary interruption. "Would you like," says the
tender-hearted lady to her daughter, "would you like to have news of
Rennes? There are still five thousand soldiers here, as more have come
from Nantes. A tax of one hundred thousand crowns has been laid upon the
citizens, and if the money is not forthcoming in twenty-four hours the tax
will be doubled and levied by the soldiers. All the inhabitants of a large
street have already been driven out and banished, and no one may receive
them under pain of death; so that all these poor wretches, old men, women
recently delivered, and children, were seen wandering in tears as they left
the town, not knowing whither to go or where to sleep or what to eat. The
day before yesterday one of the leaders of the riot was broken alive on
the wheel. Sixty citizens have been seized, and to-morrow the hanging will
begin." In other letters she writes that the tenth man had been broken on
the wheel, and she thinks he will be the last, and that by dint of hanging
it will soon be left off.

Such was the emaciated France which Louis the Great picked systematically
to the bone for the next thirty-five years. He had long ceased to be guided
by the patriotic wisdom of the great Colbert. His evil genius now was the
haughty and reckless Louvois, who carefully abstained from imitating the
noble and daring remonstrances against excessive expenditure which Colbert
addressed to his master, and through which he lost his influence at court.
Still, with a self-abnegation really heroic, Colbert begged, urged,
supplicated the King to reduce his outlay. He represented the misery of
the people. "All letters that come from the provinces, whether from the
intendants, the receivers-general, and even the bishops, speak of it," he
wrote to the King. He insisted on a reduction of the taille by five or six
millions; and surely it was time, when its collection gave rise to such
scenes as have just been described. It was in vain. The King shut his eyes
to mercy and reason. His gigantic war expenditure, when peace came, was
only partially reduced. For, indeed, he was still at war, but with nature
and self-created difficulties of his own making.

He was building Versailles: transplanting to its arid sands whole groves
of full-grown trees from the depths of distant forests, and erecting the
costly and fantastic marvel of Marli to afford a supply of water. Louis'
buildings cost, first and last, a sum which would be represented by about
twenty million pounds. The amount squandered on pensions was also very
great. The great Colbert's days were drawing to a close, and he was very
sad. It is related that a friend on one occasion surprised him looking out
of a window in his château of Sceau, lost in thought and apparently gazing
on the well-tilled fields of his own manor. When he came out of his reverie
his friend asked him his thoughts. "As I look," he said, "on these fertile
fields, I cannot help remembering what I have seen elsewhere. What a rich
country is France! If the King's enemies would let him enjoy peace it would
be possible to procure the people that relief and comfort which the great
Henry promised them. I could wish that my projects had a happy issue, that
abundance reigned in the kingdom, that everyone were content in it, and
that without employment or dignities, far from the court and business, I
saw the grass grow in my home farm."

The faithful, indefatigable worker was breaking down, losing strength,
losing heart, but still struggling on manfully to the last. It was noticed
that he sat down to his work with a sorrowful, despondent look, and not,
as had been his wont, rubbing his hands with the prospect of toil, and
exulting in his almost superhuman capacity for labor. The ingratitude of
the King, whom he had served only too well, gave him the final blow. Louis,
with truculent insolence, reproached him with the "frightful expenses" of
Versailles. As if they were Colbert's fault. Colbert, who had always urged
the completion of the Louvre and the suppression of Versailles.

At last the foregone giant lay down to die. A tardy touch of feeling
induced Louis to write him a letter. He would not read it. "I will hear no
more about the King," he said; "let him at least allow me to die in
peace. My business now is with the King of kings. If," he continued,
unconsciously, we may be sure, plagiarizing Wolsey, "if I had done for God
what I have done for that man, my salvation would be secure ten times over;
and now I know not what will become of me."

Surely a tender and touching evidence of sweetness in the strong man
who had been so readily accused of harshness by grasping courtiers. The
ignorant ingratitude of the people was even perhaps more melancholy than
the wilful ingratitude of the King. The great Colbert had to be buried by
night, lest his remains should be insulted by the mob. He, whose heart had
bled for the people's sore anguish, was rashly supposed to be the cause of
that anguish. It was a sad conclusion to a great life. But he would have
seen still sadder days if he had lived.

The health of the luxurious, self-indulgent Louis sensibly declined after
he had passed his fortieth year. In spite of his robust appearance he had
never been really strong. His loose, lymphatic constitution required much
support and management. But he habitually over-ate himself. He was indeed a
gross and greedy glutton. "I have often seen the King," says the Duchess
of Orleans, "eat four platefuls of various soups, a whole pheasant, a
partridge, a large dish of salad, stewed mutton with garlic, two good
slices of ham, a plate of pastry, and then fruit and sweetmeats." A most
unwholesome habit of body was the result.

An abscess formed in his upper jaw, and caused a perforation of the palate,
which obliged him to be very careful in drinking, as the liquid was apt to
pass through the aperture and come out by the nostrils. He felt weak and
depressed, and began to think seriously about "making his salvation."
His courtly priests and confessors had never inculcated any duties but
two--that of chastity and that of religious intolerance--and he had been
very remiss in both. He now resolved to make hasty reparation. The ample
charms of the haughty Montespan fascinated him no more. He tried a new
mistress, but she did not turn out well. Madame de Fontanges was young and
exquisitely pretty, but a giddy, presuming fool. She moreover died shortly.
He was more than ever disposed to make his salvation--that is, to renounce
the sins of the flesh, and to persecute his God-fearing subjects, the
Protestants.

The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, one of the greatest crimes and
follies which history records, was too colossal a misdeed for the guilt
of its perpetration to be charged upon one man, however wicked or however
powerful he may have been. In this case, as in so many others, Louis was
the exponent of conditions, the visible representative of circumstances
which he had done nothing to create. Just as he was the strongest king
France ever had, without having contributed himself to the predominance of
the monarchy, so, in the blind and cruel policy of intolerance which led to
the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, he was the delegate and instrument
of forces which existed independently of him. A willing instrument, no
doubt; a representative of sinister forces; a chooser of the evil part when
mere inaction would have been equivalent to a choice of the good. Still, it
is due to historic accuracy to point out that, had he not been seconded by
the existing condition of France, he would not have been able to effect the
evil he ultimately brought about.

Louis' reign continued thirty years after the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes, years crowded with events, particularly for the military historian,
but over the details of which we shall not linger on this occasion. The
brilliant reign becomes unbearably wearisome in its final period. The
monotonous repetition of the same faults and the same crimes--profligate
extravagance, revolting cruelty, and tottering incapacity--is as fatiguing
as it is uninstructive. Louis became a mere mummy embalmed in etiquette,
the puppet of his women and shavelings. The misery in the provinces grew
apace, but there was no disturbance: France was too prostrate even to
groan.

In 1712 the expenditure amounted to two hundred forty millions, and the
revenue to one hundred thirteen millions; but from this no less than
seventy-six millions had to be deducted for various liabilities the
government had incurred, leaving only a net income of thirty-seven
millions--that is to say, the outlay was more than six times the income.

The armies were neither paid nor fed, the officers received "food-tickets"
(_billets de subsistance_), which they got cashed at a discount of 80 per
cent. The government had anticipated by ten years its revenues from the
towns. Still, this pale corpse of France must needs be bled anew to gratify
the inexorable Jesuits, who had again made themselves complete masters of
Louis XIV's mind. He had lost his confessor, Père la Chaise (who died in
1709), and had replaced him by the hideous Letellier, a blind and fierce
fanatic, with a horrible squint and a countenance fit for the gallows. He
would have frightened anyone, says Saint-Simon, who met him at the corner
of a wood. This repulsive personage revived the persecution of the
Protestants into a fiercer heat than ever, and obtained from the moribund
King the edict of March 8,1715, considered by competent judges the clear
masterpiece of clerical injustice and cruelty. Five months later Louis XIV
died, forsaken by his intriguing wife, his beloved bastard (the Due de
Maine), and his dreaded priest.

The French monarchy never recovered from the strain to which it had been
subjected during the long and exhausting reign of Louis XIV. Whether it
could have recovered in the hands of a great statesman summoned in time is
a curious question. Could Frederick the Great have saved it had he been
_par impossible_ Louis XIV's successor? We can hardly doubt that he would
have adjourned, if not have averted, the great catastrophe of 1789. But
it is one of the inseparable accidents of such a despotism as France had
fallen under, that nothing but consummate genius can save it from ruin;
and the accession of genius to the throne in such circumstances is a
physiological impossibility.

The house of Bourbon had become as effete as the house of Valois in the
sixteenth century; as effete as the Merovingians and Carlovingians had
become in a previous age; but the strong chain of hereditary right bound up
the fortunes of a great empire with the feeble brain and bestial instincts
of a Louis XV. This was the result of concentrating all the active force of
the state in one predestined irremovable human being. This was the logical
and necessary outcome of the labors of Philip Augustus, Philip the Fair, of
Louis XI, of Henry IV, and Richelieu. They had reared the monarchy like
a solitary obelisk in the midst of a desert; but it had to stand or fall
alone; no one was there to help it, as no one was there to pull it down.
This consideration enables us to pass into a higher and more reposing order
of reflection, to leave the sterile impeachment of individual incapacity,
and rise to the broader question, and ask why and how that incapacity was
endowed with such fatal potency for evil. As it has been well remarked, the
loss of a battle may lead to the loss of a state; but then, what are the
deeper reasons which explain why the loss of a battle should lead to the
loss of a state? It is not enough to say that Louis XIV was an improvident
and passionate ruler, that Louis XV was a dreary and revolting voluptuary.
The problem is rather this: Why were improvidence, passion, and debauchery
in two men able to bring down in utter ruin one of the greatest monarchies
the world has ever seen? In other words, what was the cause of the
consummate failure, the unexampled collapse, of the French monarchy?

No personal insufficiency of individual rulers will explain it; and,
besides, the French monarchy repeatedly disposed of the services of
admirable rulers. History has recorded few more able kings than Louis le
Gros, Philip Augustus, Philip le Bel, Louis XI, and Henry IV; few abler
ministers than Sully, Richelieu, Colbert, and Turgot. Yet the efforts of
all these distinguished men resulted in leading the nation straight into
the most astounding catastrophe in human annals. Whatever view we take of
the Revolution, whether we regard it as a blessing or as a curse, we must
needs admit it was a reaction of the most violent kind--a reaction contrary
to the preceding action.

The old monarchy can only claim to have produced the Revolution in the
sense of having provoked it; as intemperance has been known to produce
sobriety, and extravagance parsimony. If the _ancien régime_ led in the
result to an abrupt transition to the modern era, it was only because it
had rendered the old era so utterly execrable to mankind that escape in any
direction seemed a relief, were it over a precipice.



%NEW YORK TAKEN BY THE ENGLISH%

A.D. 1664

JOHN R. BRODHEAD


For half a century the Dutch colony in New York, then called New
Netherlands, had developed under various administrations, when British
conquest brought it under another dominion. This transfer of the government
affected the whole future of the colony and of the great State into which
it grew, although the original Dutch influence has never disappeared from
its character and history.

Under Peter Stuyvesant, the last Dutch Governor (1647-1664), the colony
made great progress. He conciliated the Indians, agreed upon a boundary
line with the English colonists at Hartford, Connecticut, and took
possession of the colony of New Sweden, in Delaware.

Meanwhile the English colonists in different parts of North America were
carrying on illicit trade with the Dutch at New Amsterdam (New York city).
The English government, already jealous of the growing commerce of Holland,
was irritated by the loss of revenue, and resolved in 1663 upon the
conquest of New Netherlands. Brodhead, the historian of New York, recounts
the steps of this conquest in a manner which brings the rival powers and
their agents distinctly before us.

England now determined boldly to rob Holland of her American province. King
Charles II accordingly sealed a patent granting to the Duke of York and
Albany a large territory in America, comprehending Long Island and
the islands in its neighborhood--his title to which Lord Stirling
had released--and all the lands and rivers from the west side of the
Connecticut River to the east side of Delaware Bay. This sweeping grant
included the whole of New Netherlands and a part of the territory of
Connecticut, which, two years before, Charles had confirmed to Winthrop and
his associates.

The Duke of York lost no time in giving effect to his patent. As lord high
admiral he directed the fleet. Four ships, the Guinea, of thirty-six guns;
the Elias, of thirty; the Martin, of sixteen; and the William and Nicholas,
of ten, were detached for service against New Netherlands, and about four
hundred fifty regular soldiers, with their officers, were embarked. The
command of the expedition was intrusted to Colonel Richard Nicolls, a
faithful Royalist, who had served under Turenne with James, and had been
made one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber. Nicolls was also appointed to
be the Duke's deputy-governor, after the Dutch possessions should have been
reduced.

With Nicolls were associated Sir Robert Carr, Colonel George Cartwright,
and Samuel Maverick, as royal commissioners to visit the several colonies
in New England. These commissioners were furnished with detailed
instructions; and the New England governments were required by royal
letters to "join and assist them vigorously" in reducing the Dutch to
subjection. A month after the departure of the squadron the Duke of York
conveyed to Lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret all the territory between
the Hudson and Delaware rivers, from Cape May north to 41° 40' latitude,
and thence to the Hudson, in 41° latitude, "hereafter to be called by the
name or names of Nova Caesarea or New Jersey."

Intelligence from Boston that an English expedition against New Netherlands
had sailed from Portsmouth was soon communicated to Stuyvesant by Captain
Thomas Willett; and the burgomasters and _schepens_ of New Amsterdam were
summoned to assist the council with their advice. The capital was ordered
to be put in a state of defence, guards to be maintained, and _schippers_
to be warned. As there was very little powder at Fort Amsterdam a supply
was demanded from New Amstel, and a loan of five or six thousand guilders
was asked from Rensselaerswyck. The ships about to sail for Curaçao were
stopped; agents were sent to purchase provisions at New Haven; and as the
enemy was expected to approach through Long Island Sound, spies were sent
to obtain intelligence at West Chester and Milford.

But at the moment when no precaution should have been relaxed, a despatch
from the West India directors, who appear to have been misled by advices
from London, announced that no danger need be apprehended from the English
expedition, as it was sent out by the King only to settle the affairs of
his colonies and establish episcopacy, which would rather benefit the
company's interests in New Netherlands. Willett now retracting his previous
statements, a perilous confidence returned. The Curaçao ships were allowed
to sail; and Stuyvesant, yielded to the solicitation of his council, went
up the river to look after affairs at Fort Orange.

The English squadron had been ordered to assemble at Gardiner's Island.
But, parting company in a fog, the Guinea, with Nicolls and Cartwright on
board, made Cape Cod, and went on to Boston, while the other ships put in
at Piscataway. The commissioners immediately demanded the assistance of
Massachusetts, but the people of the Bay, who feared, perhaps, that the
King's success in reducing the Dutch would enable him the better to put
down his enemies in New England, were full of excuses. Connecticut,
however, showed sufficient alacrity; and Winthrop was desired to meet the
squadron at the west end of Long Island, whither it would sail with the
first fair wind.

When the truth of Willett's intelligence became confirmed, the council sent
an express to recall Stuyvesant from Fort Orange. Hurrying back to the
capital, the anxious director endeavored to redeem the time which had been
lost. The municipal authorities ordered one-third of inhabitants, without
exception, to labor every third day at the fortifications; organized a
permanent guard; forbade the brewers to malt any grain; and called on the
provincial government for artillery and ammunition. Six pieces, besides
the fourteen previously allotted, and a thousand pounds of powder were
accordingly granted to the city. The colonists around Fort Orange, pleading
their own danger from the savages, could afford no help; but the soldiers
of Esopus were ordered to come down, after leaving a small garrison at
Ronduit.

In the mean time the English squadron had anchored just below the Narrows,
in Nyack Bay, between New Utrecht and Coney Island. The mouth of the river
was shut up; communication between Long Island and Manhattan, Bergen and
Achter Cul, interrupted; several yachts on their way to the South River
captured; and the blockhouse on the opposite shore of Staten Island seized.
Stuyvesant now despatched Counsellor de Decker, Burgomaster Van der Grist,
and the two domines Megapolensis with a letter to the English commanders
inquiring why they had come, and why they continued at Nyack without
giving notice. The next morning, which was Saturday, Nicolls sent Colonel
Cartwright, Captain Needham, Captain Groves, and Mr. Thomas Delavall up to
Fort Amsterdam with a summons for the surrender of "the town situate on
the island and commonly known by the name of Manhatoes, with all the forts
thereunto belonging."

This summons was accompanied by a proclamation declaring that all who would
submit to his majesty's government should be protected "in his majesty's
laws and justice," and peaceably enjoy their property. Stuyvesant
immediately called together the council and the burgomasters, but would not
allow the terms offered by Nicolls to be communicated to the people, lest
they might insist on capitulating. In a short time several of the burghers
and city officers assembled at the Stadt-Huys. It was determined to prevent
the enemy from surprising the town; but, as opinion was generally against
protracted resistance, a copy of the English communication was asked from
the director. On the following Monday the burgomasters explained to a
meeting of the citizens the terms offered by Nicolls. But this would not
suffice; a copy of the paper itself must be exhibited. Stuyvesant then went
in person to the meeting. "Such a course," said he, "would be disapproved
of in the Fatherland--it would discourage the people." All his efforts,
however, were in vain; and the director, protesting that he should not be
held answerable for the "calamitous consequences," was obliged to yield to
the popular will.

Nicolls now addressed a letter to Winthrop, who with other commissioners
from New England had joined the squadron, authorizing him to assure
Stuyvesant that, if Manhattan should be delivered up to the King, "any
people from the Netherlands may freely come and plant there or thereabouts;
and such vessels of their own country may freely come thither, and any of
them may as freely return home in vessels of their own country." Visiting
the city under a flag of truce Winthrop delivered this to Stuyvesant
outside the fort and urged him to surrender. The director declined; and,
returning to the fort, he opened Nicolls' letter before the council and the
burgomasters, who desired that it should be communicated, as "all which
regarded the public welfare ought to be made public." Against this
Stuyvesant earnestly remonstrated, and, finding that the burgomasters
continued firm, in a fit of passion he "tore the letter in pieces." The
citizens, suddenly ceasing their work at the palisades, hurried to the
Stadt-Huys, and sent three of their numbers to the fort to demand the
letter.

In vain the director hastened to pacify the burghers and urge them to go on
with the fortifications. "Complaints and curses" were uttered on all sides
against the company's misgovernment; resistance was declared to be idle;
"The letter! the letter!" was the general cry. To avoid a mutiny Stuyvesant
yielded, and a copy, made out from the collected fragments, was handed to
the burgomasters. In answer, however, to Nicolls' summons he submitted a
long justification of the Dutch title; yet while protesting against any
breach of the peace between the King and the States-General, "for the
hinderance and prevention of all differences and the spilling of innocent
blood, not only in these parts, but also in Europe," he offered to treat.
"Long Island is gone and lost;" the capital "cannot hold out long," was the
last despatch to the "Lord Majors" of New Netherlands, which its director
sent off that night "in silence through Hell Gate."

Observing Stuyvesant's reluctance to surrender, Nicolls directed Captain
Hyde, who commanded the squadron, to reduce the fort. Two of the ships
accordingly landed their troops just below Breuckelen (Brooklyn), where
volunteers from New England and the Long Island villages had already
encamped. The other two, coming up with full sail, passed in front of Fort
Amsterdam and anchored between it and Nutten Island. Standing on one of
the angles of the fortress--an artilleryman with a lighted match at his
side--the director watched their approach. At this moment the two domines
Megapolensis, imploring him not to begin hostilities, led Stuyvesant from
the rampart, who then, with a hundred of the garrison, went into the city
to resist the landing of the English. Hoping on against hope, the director
now sent Counsellor de Decker, Secretary Van Ruyven, Burgomaster Steenwyck,
and "Schepen" Cousseau with a letter to Nicolls stating that, as he
felt bound "to stand the storm," he desired if possible to arrange on
accommodation. But the English commander merely declared, "To-morrow I will
speak with you at Manhattan."

"Friends," was the answer, "will be welcome if they come in a friendly
manner."

"I shall come with ships and soldiers," replied Nicolls; "raise the white
flag of peace at the fort, and then something may be considered."

When this imperious message became known, men, women, and children flocked
to the director, beseeching him to submit. His only answer was, "I would
rather be carried out dead." The next day the city authorities, the
clergymen, and the officers of the burgher guard, assembling at the
Stadt-Huys, at the suggestion of Domine Megapolensis adopted a remonstrance
to the director, exhibiting the hopeless situation of New Amsterdam, on all
sides "encompassed and hemmed in by enemies," and protesting against any
further opposition to the will of God. Besides the _schout_, burgomasters,
and schepens, the remonstrance was signed by Wilmerdonck and eighty-five of
the principal inhabitants, among whom was Stuyvesant's own son, Balthazar.

At last the director was obliged to yield. Although there were now fifteen
hundred souls in New Amsterdam, there were not more than two hundred fifty
men able to bear arms, besides the one hundred fifty regular soldiers. The
people had at length refused to be called out, and the regular troops were
already heard talking of "where booty is to be found, and where the young
women live who wear gold chains." The city, entirely open along both
rivers, was shut on the northern side by a breastwork and palisades, which,
though sufficient to keep out the savages, afforded no defence against
a military siege. There were scarcely six hundred pounds of serviceable
powder in store.

A council of war had reported Fort Amsterdam untenable for though it
mounted twenty-four guns, its single wall of earth not more than ten feet
high and four thick, was almost touches by the private dwellings clustered
around, and was commanded, within a pistol-shot, by hills on the north,
over which ran the "Heereweg" or Broadway.

Upon the faith of Nicolls' promise to deliver back the city and fort "in
case the difference of the limits of this province be agreed upon betwixt
his majesty of England and the high and mighty States-General," Stuyvesant
now commissioned Counsellor John de Decker, Captain Nicholas Varlett, Dr.
Samuel Megapolensis, Burgomaster Cornelius Steenwyck, old Burgomaster Oloff
Stevenson van Cortlandt, and old Schepen Jacques Cousseau to agree upon
articles with the English commander or his representatives. Nicolls, on
his part, appointed Sir Robert Carr and Colonel George Cartwright, John
Winthrop, and Samuel Willys, of Connecticut, and Thomas Clarke and John
Pynchon, of Massachusetts. "The reason why those of Boston and Connecticut
were joined," afterward explained the royal commander, "was because those
two colonies should hold themselves the more engaged with us if the Dutch
had been overconfident of their strength."

At eight o'clock the next morning, which was Saturday, the Commissioners
on both sides met at Stuyvesant's "bouwery" and arranged the terms of
capitulation. The only difference which arose was respecting the Dutch
soldiers, whom the English refused to convey back to Holland. The articles
of capitulation promised the Dutch security in their property, customs of
inheritance, liberty of conscience and church discipline. The municipal
officers of Manhattan were to continue for the present unchanged, and the
town was to be allowed to choose deputies, with "free voices in all public
affairs." Owners of property in Fort Orange might, if they pleased, "slight
the fortifications there," and enjoy their houses "as people do where there
is no fort."

For six months there was to be free intercourse with Holland. Public
records were to be respected. The articles, consented to by Nicolls, were
to be ratified by Stuyvesant the next Monday morning at eight o'clock, and
within two hours afterward, the "fort and town called New Amsterdam, upon
the Isle of Manhatoes," were to be delivered up, and the military officers
and soldiers were to "march out with their arms, drums beating, and colors
flying, and lighted matches."

On the following Monday morning at eight o'clock Stuyvesant, at the head of
the garrison, marched out of Fort Amsterdam with all the honors of war, and
led his soldiers down the Beaver Lane to the water-side, whence they were
embarked for Holland. An English corporal's guard at the same time took
possession of the fort; and Nicolls and Carr, with their two companies,
about a hundred seventy strong, entered the city, while Cartwright took
possession of the gates and the Stadt-Huys. The New England and Long Island
volunteers, however, were prudently kept at the Breuckelen ferry, as the
citizens dreaded most being plundered by them. The English flag was hoisted
on Fort Amsterdam, the name of which was immediately changed to "Fort
James." Nicolls was now proclaimed by the burgomasters deputy-governor for
the Duke of York, in compliment to whom he directed that the city of New
Amsterdam should thenceforth be known as "New York."

To Nicolls' European eye the Dutch metropolis, with its earthen fort
enclosing a windmill and high flag-staff, a prison and a governor's house,
and a double-roofed church, above which loomed a square tower, its gallows
and whipping-post at the river's side, and its rows of houses which hugged
the citadel, presented but a mean appearance. Yet before long he described
it to the Duke as "the best of all his majesty's towns in America," and
assured his royal highness that, with proper management, "within five years
the staple of America will be drawn hither, of which the brethren of Boston
are very sensible."

The Dutch frontier posts were thought of next. Colonel Cartwright, with
Captains Thomas Willett, John Manning, Thomas Breedon, and Daniel Brodhead,
were sent to Fort Orange, as soon as possible, with a letter from Nicolls
requiring La Montagne and the magistrates and inhabitants to aid in
prosecuting his majesty's interest against all who should oppose a
peaceable surrender. At the same time Van Rensselaer was desired to bring
down his patent and papers to the new governor and likewise to observe
Cartwright's directions.

Counsellor de Decker, however, travelling up to Fort George ahead of the
English commissioners, endeavored, without avail, to excite the inhabitants
to opposition; and his conduct being judged contrary to the spirit of the
capitulation which he had signed, he was soon afterward ordered out of
Nicolls' government. The garrison quietly surrendered, and the name of Fort
Orange was changed to that of "Fort Albany," after the second title of the
Duke of York. A treaty was immediately signed between Cartwright and
the sachems of the Iroquois, who were promised the same advantages "as
heretofore they had from the Dutch"; and the alliance which was thus
renewed continued unbroken until the beginning of the American Revolution.

It only remained to reduce the South River; whither Sir Robert Carr was
sent with the Guinea, the William and Nicholas, and "all the soldiers which
are not in the fort." To the Dutch he was instructed to promise all their
privileges, "only that they change their masters." To the Swedes he was to
"remonstrate their happy return under a monarchical government." To Lord
Baltimore's officers in Maryland he was to say that, their pretended rights
being a doubtful case, "possession would be kept until his majesty is
informed and satisfied otherwise."

A tedious voyage brought the expedition before New Amstel. The burghers and
planters, "after almost three days' parley," agreed to Carr's demands,
and Ffob Oothout with five others signed articles of capitulation which
promised large privileges. But the Governor and soldiery refusing the
English propositions, the fort was stormed and plundered, three of the
Dutch being killed and ten wounded. In violation of his promises, Carr now
exhibited the most disgraceful rapacity; appropriated farms to himself, his
brother, and Captains Hyde and Morely, stripped bare the inhabitants, and
sent the Dutch soldiers to be sold as slaves in Virginia. To complete the
work, a boat was despatched to the city's colony at the Horekill, which was
seized and plundered of all its effects, and the marauding party even took
"what belonged to the Quacking Society of Plockhoy, to a very naile."

The reduction of New Netherlands was now accomplished. All that could
be further done was to change its name; and, to glorify one of the most
bigoted princes in English history, the royal province was ordered to be
called "New York." Ignorant of James' grant of New Jersey to Berkeley
and Carteret, Nicolls gave to the region west of the Hudson the name of
"Albania," and to Long Island that of "Yorkshire," so as to comprehend
all the titles of the Duke of York. The flag of England was at length
triumphantly displayed, where, for half a century, that of Holland had
rightfully waved; and from Virginia to Canada, the King of Great Britain
was acknowledged as sovereign.

Viewed in all its aspects, the event which gave to the whole of that
country a unity in allegiance, and to which a misgoverned people
complacently submitted, was as inevitable as it was momentous. But whatever
may have been its ultimate consequences, this treacherous and violent
seizure of the territory and possessions of an unsuspecting ally was no
less a breach of private justice than of public faith.

It may, indeed, be affirmed that, among all the acts of selfish perfidy
which royal ingratitude conceived and executed, there have been few more
characteristic and none more base.



%GREAT PLAGUE IN LONDON%

A.D. 1665

DANIEL DEFOE


None of the great visitations of disease that have afflicted Europe within
historic times has wholly spared England. But from the time of the "Black
Death" (1349) the country experienced no such suffering from any epidemic
as that which fell upon London in 1665. That year the "Great Plague" is
said to have destroyed the lives of nearly one hundred thousand people in
England's capital. The plague had previously cropped up there every few
years, from lack of proper sanitation. At the time of this outbreak the
water-supply of the city was notoriously impure. In 1665 the heat was
uncommonly severe. Pepys said that June 7th of that year was the hottest
day that he had ever known.

The plague of 1665 is said, however, to have been brought in merchandise
directly from Holland, where it had been smouldering for several years.
Its ravages in London have often been described, and Defoe found in the
calamity a subject for a special story on history. Probably he was not more
than six years old when the plague appeared; but he assumes throughout the
pose of a respectable and religious householder of the period. All his own
recollections, all the legends of the time, and the parish records are
grouped in masterly fashion to form a single picture. The account has been
described as a "masterpiece of verisimilitude."

In the first place a blazing star or comet appeared for several months
before the plague, as there did the year after, a little before the great
fire; the old women and the weak-minded portion of the other sex, whom I
could almost call old women too, remarked--especially afterward, though not
till both those judgments were over--that those two comets passed directly
over the city, and that so very near the houses that it was plain they
imported something peculiar to the city alone; that the comet before the
pestilence was of a faint, dull, languid color, and its motion very heavy,
solemn, and slow; but that the comet before the fire was bright and
sparkling, or, as others said, flaming, and its motion swift and furious;
and that, accordingly, one foretold a heavy judgment, slow, but severe,
terrible, and frightful, as the plague was; but the other foretold
a stroke, sudden, swift, and fiery, like the conflagration. Nay, so
particular some people were that, as they looked upon that comet preceding
the fire, they fancied that they not only saw it pass swiftly and fiercely,
and could perceive the motion with the eye, but they even heard it; that it
made a rushing, mighty noise, fierce and terrible, though at a distance and
but just perceivable.

I saw both these stars, and I must confess, had so much of the common
notion of such things in my head that I was apt to look upon them as the
forerunners and warnings of God's judgments; and especially, when after the
plague had followed the first, I yet saw another of the like kind, I could
not but say, God had not yet sufficiently scourged the city.

But I could not at the same time carry these things to the height that
others did, knowing, too, that natural causes are assigned by the
astronomers for such things; and that their motions, and even their
evolutions, are calculated, or pretended to be calculated; so that they
cannot be so perfectly called the forerunners or foretellers, much less the
procurers of such events as pestilence, war, fire, and the like.

But let my thoughts, and the thoughts of the philosophers, be or have been
what they will, these things had a more than ordinary influence upon the
minds of the common people, and they had, almost universally, melancholy
apprehensions of some dreadful calamity and judgment coming upon the city;
and this principally from the sight of this comet, and the little alarm
that was given in December by two people dying in St. Giles.

The apprehensions of the people were likewise strangely increased by the
error of the times; in which, I think the people, from what principles
I cannot imagine, were more addicted to prophecies, and astrological
conjurations, dreams, and old wives' tales, than ever they were before or
since. Whether this unhappy temper was originally raised by the follies of
some people who got money by it--that is to say, by printing predictions
and prognostications--I know not; but certain it is books frightened them
terribly; such as _Lilly's Almanack, Gadbury's Allogical Predictions,
Poor Robin's Almanack_, and the like; also several pretended religious
books--one entitled _Come out of her, my people, lest you be partaker
of her plagues_; another, called _Fair Warning_; another, _Britain's
Remembrancer_; and many such, all or most part of which foretold directly
or covertly the ruin of the city: nay, some were so enthusiastically bold
as to run about the streets with their oral predictions, pretending they
were sent to preach to the city; and one in particular, who like Jonah
to Nineveh, cried in the streets, "Yet forty days, and London shall be
destroyed." I will not be positive whether he said "yet forty days" or "yet
a few days."

Another ran about naked, except a pair of drawers about his waist, crying
day and night. As a man that Josephus mentions, who cried, "Woe to
Jerusalem!" a little before the destruction of that city, so this poor
naked creature cried, "O the great and the dreadful God!" and said no more,
but repeated these words continually, with a voice and countenance full of
horror, a swift pace; and nobody could ever find him to stop or rest or
take any sustenance, at least that ever I could hear of. I met this poor
creature several times in the streets, and would have spoken to him, but he
would not enter into conversation with me, or anyone else, but held on his
dismal cries continually. These things terrified the people to the last
degree; and especially when two or three times, as I have mentioned
already, they found one or two in the bills dead of the plague at St.
Giles.

The justices of peace for Middlesex, by direction of the secretary
of state, had begun to shut up houses in the parishes of St.
Giles-in-the-Fields, St. Martin's, St. Clement Danes, etc., and it was with
good success; for in several streets where the plague broke out, after
strictly guarding the houses that were infected, and taking care to bury
those that died immediately after they were known to be dead, the plague
ceased in those streets. It was also observed that the plague decreased
sooner in those parishes, after they had been visited in detail, than it
did in the parishes of Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Aldgate, Whitechapel,
Stepney, and others; the early care taken in that manner being a great
check to it.

This shutting up of houses was a method first taken, as I understand, in
the plague which happened in 1603, on the accession of King James I to the
crown; and the power of shutting people up in their own houses was granted
by an act of Parliament entitled "An act for the charitable relief and
ordering of persons infected with the plague." On which act of Parliament
the lord mayor and aldermen of the city of London founded the order they
made at this time, viz., June, 1665; when the numbers infected within the
city were but few, the last bill for the ninety-two parishes being but
four. By these means, when there died about one thousand a week in the
whole, the number in the city was but twenty-eight; and the city was more
healthy in proportion than any other place all the time of the infection.

These orders of my lord mayor were published, as I have said, toward the
end of June. They came into operation from July ist, and were as follows:

  "_Orders conceived and published by the lord mayor and aldermen
  of the city of London, concerning the infection of the plague_,
  1665.

"Whereas, in the reign of our late sovereign, King James, of happy memory,
an act was made for the charitable relief and ordering of persons infected
with the plague; whereby authority was given to justices of the peace,
mayors, bailiffs, and other head officers, to appoint within their several
limits, examiners, searchers, watchmen, surgeons, and nurse-keepers, and
buriers, for the persons and places infected, and to minister unto them
oaths for the performance of their offices. And the same statute did also
authorize the giving of other directions, as unto them for the present
necessity should seem good in their discretions. It is now upon special
consideration thought very expedient for preventing and avoiding of
infection of sickness (if it shall so please Almighty God) that these
officers be appointed, and these orders hereafter duly observed."

Then follow the orders giving these officers instructions in detail and
prescribing the extent and limits of their several duties. Next, "_Orders
concerning infected houses and persons sick of the plague._" These had
reference to the "notice to be given of the sickness," "sequestration of
the sick," "airing the stuff," "shutting up of the house," "burial of
the dead," "forbidding infected stuff to be sold, and of persons leaving
infected houses," "marking of infected houses," and "regulating hackney
coaches that have been used to convey infected persons."

Lastly there followed "_Orders for cleansing and keeping the streets and
houses sweet_" and "_Orders concerning loose persons and idle assemblies_"
such as "beggars," "plays," "feasts," and "tippling-houses."

  "(Signed) SIR JOHN LAWRENCE, _Lord Mayor_.
  SIR GEORGE WATERMAN,
  SIR CHARLES DOE,
  _Sheriffs_."

I need not say that these orders extended only to such places as were
within the lord mayor's jurisdiction; so it is requisite to observe that
the justices of the peace, within those parishes, and those places called
the hamlets and out-parts, took the same method: as I remember, the orders
for shutting up of houses did not take place so soon on our side, because,
as I said before, the plague did not reach the eastern parts of the town,
at least not begin to be very violent, till the beginning of August.

Now, indeed, it was coming on amain; for the burials that same week were in
the next adjoining parishes thus:


                                  The next week  To the
                                  prodigiously   1st of
                                  increased, as  Aug. thus

  St. Leonard's, Shoreditch ... 64      84        110
  St. Botolph, Bishopsgate .... 65     105        116
  St. Giles, Cripplegate.......213     421        554
                               ---     ---        ---
                               342     610        780

The shutting up of houses was at first considered a very cruel and
unchristian thing, and the poor people so confined made bitter
lamentations; complaints were also daily brought to my lord mayor, of
houses causelessly--and some maliciously--shut up. I cannot say, but, upon
inquiry, many that complained so loudly were found in a condition to be
continued; and others again, inspection being made upon the sick person, on
his being content to be carried to the pesthouse, were released.

Indeed, many people perished in these miserable confinements, which it
is reasonable to believe would not have been distempered if they had had
liberty, though the plague was in the house; at which the people were
at first very clamorous and uneasy, and several acts of violence were
committed on the men who were set to watch the houses so shut up; also
several people broke out by force, in many places, as I shall observe by
and by; still it was a public good that justified the private mischief;
and there was no obtaining the least mitigation by any application to
magistrates. This put the people upon all manner of stratagems, in order,
if possible, to get out; and it would fill a little volume to set down the
arts used by the people of such houses to shut the eyes of the watchmen who
were employed, to deceive them, and to escape or break out from them. A few
incidents on this head may prove not uninteresting.

As I went along Houndsditch one morning, about eight o'clock, there was a
great noise; it is true, indeed, there was not much crowd, because people
were not very free to gather or to stay long together; but the outcry was
loud enough to prompt my curiosity, and I called to one that looked out of
a window, and asked what was the matter.

A watchman, it seems, had been employed to keep his post at the door of a
house which was infected, or said to be infected, and was shut up; he had
been there all night for two nights together, as he told his story, and the
day watchman had been there one day, and had now come to relieve him; all
this while no noise had been heard in the house, no light had been seen;
they called for nothing, sent him no errands, which was the chief business
of the watchman; neither had they given him any disturbance, as he said,
from the Monday afternoon, when he heard great crying and screaming in the
house, which, as he supposed, was occasioned by some of the family dying
just at that time. It seems the night before, the dead-cart, as it was
called, had been stopped there, and a servant-maid had been brought down
to the door dead, and the buriers or bearers, as they were called, put her
into the cart, wrapped only in a green rug, and carried her away.

The watchman had knocked at the door, it seems, when he heard that noise
and crying, as above, and nobody answered a great while; but at last one
looked out, and said, with an angry, quick tone, "What do ye want, that ye
make such a knocking?" He answered: "I am the watchman! how do you do?
what is the matter?" The person answered: "What is that to you? Stop the
dead-cart." This, it seems, was about one o'clock; soon after, as the
fellow said, he stopped the dead-cart, and then knocked again, but nobody
answered: he continued knocking, and the bellman called out several times,
"Bring out your dead!" but nobody answered, till the man that drove the
cart, being called to other houses, would stay no longer, and drove away.

The watchman knew not what to make of all this, so he let them alone
till the day watchman came to relieve him, giving him an account of the
particulars. They knocked at the door a great while, but nobody answered;
and they observed that the window or casement at which the person had
looked out continued open, being up two pair of stairs. Upon this the two
men, to satisfy their curiosity, got a long ladder, and one of them went
up to the window and looked into the room, where he saw a woman lying dead
upon the floor in a dismal manner, having no clothes on her but her shift.
Although he called aloud, and knocked hard on the floor with his long
staff, yet nobody stirred or answered; neither could he hear any noise in
the house.

Upon this he came down again and acquainted his fellow, who went up also,
and, finding the case as above, they resolved either to acquaint the lord
mayor or some other magistrate with it. The magistrate, it seems, upon
the information of the two men, ordered the house to be broken open, a
constable and other persons being appointed to be present, that nothing
might be plundered; and accordingly it was so done, when nobody was found
in the house but that young woman, who, having been infected, and past
recovery, the rest had left her to die by herself. Everyone was gone,
having found some way to delude the watchman and to get open the door or
get out at some back door or over the tops of the houses, so that he knew
nothing of it; and as to those cries and shrieks which the watchman had
heard, it was supposed they were the passionate cries of the family at
the bitter parting, which, to be sure, it was to them all, this being the
sister to the mistress of the house.

Many such escapes were made out of infected houses, as particularly when
the watchman was sent some errand, that is to say, for necessaries, such as
food and physic, to fetch physicians if they would come, or surgeons, or
nurses, or to order the dead-cart, and the like. Now, when he went it was
his duty to lock up the outer door of the house and take the key away with
him; but to evade this and cheat the watchman, people got two or three keys
made to their locks, or they found means to unscrew the locks, open the
door, and go out as they pleased. This way of escape being found out, the
officers afterward had orders to padlock up the doors on the outside and
place bolts on them, as they thought fit.

At another house, as I was informed, in the street near Aldgate, a whole
family was shut up and locked in because the maidservant was ill: the
master of the house had complained, by his friends, to the next alderman
and to the lord mayor, and had consented to have the maid carried to the
pesthouse, but was refused, so the door was marked with a red cross, a
padlock on the outside, as above, and a watchman set to keep the door
according to public order.

After the master of the house found there was no remedy, but that he, his
wife, and his children were to be locked up with this poor distempered
servant, he called to the watchman and told him he must go then and fetch a
nurse for them to attend this poor girl, for that it would be certain death
to them all to oblige them to nurse her; and that if he would not do this
the maid must perish, either of the distemper, or be starved for want of
food, for he was resolved none of his family should go near her, and she
lay in the garret, four-story high, where she could not cry out or call to
anybody for help.

The watchman went and fetched a nurse as he was appointed, and brought her
to them the same evening; during this interval the master of the house took
the opportunity of breaking a large hole through his shop into a stall
where formerly a cobbler had sat, before or under his shop window, but the
tenant, as may be supposed, at such a dismal time as that, was dead or
removed, and so he had the key in his own keeping. Having made his way
into this stall, which he could not have done if the man had been at the
door--the noise he was obliged to make being such as would have alarmed the
watchman--I say, having made his way into this stall, he sat still till the
watchman returned with the nurse, and all the next day also. But the night
following, having contrived to send the watchman another trifling errand,
he conveyed himself and all his family out of the house, and left the nurse
and the watchman to bury the poor woman, that is, to throw her into the
cart and take care of the house.

I could give a great many such stories as these which in the long course of
that dismal year I met with, that is, heard of, and which are very certain
to be true or very near the truth; that is to say, true in general, for no
man could at such a time learn all the particulars. There was, likewise,
violence used with the watchmen, as was reported, in abundance of places;
and I believe that, from the beginning of the visitation to the end, not
less than eighteen or twenty of them were killed or so severely wounded as
to be taken up for dead; which was supposed to have been done by the people
in the infected houses which were shut up, and where they attempted to come
out and were opposed.

For example, not far from Coleman Street they blowed up a watchman with
gunpowder, and burned the poor fellow dreadfully; and while he made hideous
cries, and nobody would venture to come near to help him, the whole family
that were able to stir got out at the windows one story high, two that were
left sick calling out for help. Care was taken to give the latter nurses
to look after them, but the fugitives were not found till after the plague
abated, when they returned; but as nothing could be proved, so nothing
could be done to them.

It is to be considered, too, that as these were prisons without bars or
bolts, which our common prisons are furnished with, so the people let
themselves down out of their windows, even in the face of the watchman,
bringing swords or pistols in their hands, and threatening to shoot the
poor wretch if he stirred or called for help.

In other cases some had gardens and walls or palings between them and
their neighbors; or yards and back houses; and these, by friendship and
entreaties, would get leave to get over those walls or palings, and so go
out at their neighbors' doors, or, by giving money to their servants, get
them to let them through in the night; so that, in short, the shutting up
of houses was in no wise to be depended upon. Neither did it answer the end
at all; serving more to make the people desperate and drive them to violent
extremities in their attempts to break out.

But what was still worse, those that did thus break out spread the
infection by wandering about with the distemper upon them; and many that
did so were driven to dreadful exigencies and extremities and perished in
the streets or fields or dropped down with the raging violence of the fever
upon them. Others wandered into the country and went forward any way as
their desperation guided them, not knowing whither they went or would go,
till faint and tired; the houses and villages on the road refusing to admit
them to lodge, whether infected or no, they perished by the roadside.

On the other hand, when the plague at first seized a family, that is to
say, when any one of the family had gone out and unwarily or otherwise
caught the distemper and brought it home, it was certainly known by the
family before it was known to the officers who were appointed to examine
into the circumstances of all sick persons when they heard of their being
sick.

I remember--and while I am writing this story I think I hear the very
shrieks--a certain lady had an only daughter, a young maiden about nineteen
years old and who was possessed of a very considerable fortune. The young
woman, her mother, and the maid had been out for some purpose, for the
house was not shut up; but about two hours after they came home the young
lady complained she was not well; in a quarter of an hour more she vomited
and had a violent pain in her head. "Pray God," says her mother, in a
terrible fright, "my child has not the distemper!" The pain in her head
increasing, her mother ordered the bed to be warmed, and resolved to
put her to bed, and prepared to give her things to sweat, which was the
ordinary remedy to be taken when the first apprehensions of the distemper
began.

While the bed was being aired, the mother undressed the young woman, and,
on looking over her body with a candle, immediately discovered the fatal
tokens. Her mother, not being able to contain herself, threw down her
candle and screeched out in such a frightful manner that it was enough to
bring horror upon the stoutest heart in the world. Overcome by fright, she
first fainted, then recovered, then ran all over the house, up the stairs
and down the stairs, like one distracted. Thus she continued screeching and
crying out for several hours, void of all sense, or at least government of
her senses, and, as I was told, never came thoroughly to herself again. As
to the young maiden, she was dead from that moment; for the gangrene which
occasions the spots had spread over her whole body, and she died in less
than two hours: but still the mother continued crying out, not knowing
anything more of her child, several hours after she was dead.

I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, though not
so freely as to run myself into apparent danger, except when they dug the
great pit in the church-yard of our parish of Aldgate. A terrible pit it
was, and I could not resist the curiosity to go and see it. So far as I
could judge, it was about forty feet in length and about fifteen or sixteen
feet broad, and, at the time I first looked at it, about nine feet deep;
but it was said they dug it nearly twenty feet deep afterward, when they
could go no deeper, for the water.

They had dug several pits in another ground when the distemper began to
spread in our parish, and especially when the dead-carts began to go about,
which in our parish was not till the beginning of August. Into these pits
they had put perhaps fifty or sixty bodies each; then they made larger
holes, wherein they buried all that the cart brought in a week, which, by
the middle to the end of August, came to from two hundred to four hundred
a week. They could not dig them larger, because of the order of the
magistrates confining them to leave no bodies within six feet of the
surface. Besides, the water coming on at about seventeen or eighteen feet,
they could not well put more in one pit. But now at the beginning of
September, the plague being at its height, and the number of burials in our
parish increasing to more than were ever buried in any parish about London
of no larger extent, they ordered this dreadful gulf to be dug, for such it
was, rather than a pit.

They had supposed this pit would have supplied them for a month or more
when they dug it, and some blamed the churchwardens for suffering such a
frightful thing, telling them they were making preparations to bury the
whole parish, and the like; but time made it appear the church-wardens
knew the condition of the parish better than they did; for the pit being
finished September 4th, I think they began to bury in it on the 6th, and by
the 20th, which was just two weeks, they had thrown into it one thousand
one hundred fourteen bodies, when they were obliged to fill it up, the
bodies being within six feet of the surface.

It was about September 10th that my curiosity led or rather drove me to
go and see this pit again, when there had been about four hundred people
buried in it; and I was not content to see it in the daytime, as I had done
before, for then there would have been nothing to see but the loose earth;
for all the bodies that were thrown in were immediately covered with earth
by those they called the buriers, but I resolved to go in the night and see
some of the bodies thrown in.

There was a strict order against people coming to those pits, and that
was only to prevent infection; but after some time that order was more
necessary, for people that were infected and near their end, and delirious
also, would run to those pits, wrapped in blankets or rags, and throw
themselves in and bury themselves.

I got admittance into the church-yard by being acquainted with the sexton,
who, though he did not refuse me at all, yet earnestly persuaded me not to
go, telling me very seriously--for he was a good and sensible man--that it
was indeed their business and duty to run all hazards, and that in so doing
they might hope to be preserved; but that I had no apparent call except my
own curiosity, which he said he believed I would not pretend was sufficient
to justify my exposing myself to infection. I told him "I had been pressed
in my mind to go, and that perhaps it might be an instructing sight that
might not be without its uses." "Nay," says the good man, "if you will
venture on that score, i' name of God go in; for depend upon it, 'twill be
a sermon to you; it may be the best that you ever heard in your life. It is
a speaking sight," says he, "and has a voice with it, and a loud one, to
call us to repentance;" and with that he opened the door and said, "Go, if
you will."

His words had shocked my resolution a little and I stood wavering for a
good while; but just at that interval I saw two links come over from the
end of the Minories, and heard the bellman, and then appeared a dead-cart,
so I could no longer resist my desire, and went in. There was nobody that I
could perceive at first in the church-yard or going into it but the buriers
and the fellow that drove the cart or rather led the horse and cart; but
when they came up to the pit they saw a man going to and fro muffled up in
a brown cloak and making motions with his hands under his cloak, as if
he was in a great agony, and the buriers immediately gathered about him,
supposing he was one of those poor delirious or desperate creatures that
used to bury themselves. He said nothing as he walked about, but two or
three times groaned very deeply and loud, and sighed as he would break his
heart.

When the buriers came up to him they soon found he was neither a person
infected and desperate, as I have observed above, nor a person distempered
in mind, but one oppressed with a dreadful weight of grief, indeed, having
his wife and several of his children in the cart that had just come in, and
he followed it in an agony and excess of sorrow. He mourned heartily, as
it was easy to see, but with a kind of masculine grief that could not give
itself vent in tears, and, calmly desiring the buriers to let him alone,
said he would only see the bodies thrown in and go away; so they left
importuning him. But no sooner was the cart turned round and the bodies
shot into the pit promiscuously, which was a surprise to him, for he at
least expected they would have been decently laid in, though indeed he was
afterward convinced that was impracticable--I say, no sooner did he see the
sight but he cried out aloud, unable to contain himself.

I could not hear what he said, but he went backward and forward two or
three times and fell down in a swoon. The buriers ran to him and took him
up, and in a little while he came to himself, and they led him away to the
Pye tavern, over against the end of Houndsditch, where it seems the man was
known and where they took care of him. He looked into the pit again as
he went away, but the buriers had covered the bodies so immediately with
throwing in the earth that, though there was light enough, for there were
lanterns and candles placed all night round the sides of the pit, yet
nothing could be seen.

This was a mournful scene, indeed, and affected me almost as much as the
rest, but the other was awful and full of terror. The cart had in it
sixteen or seventeen bodies; some were wrapped up in linen sheets, some in
rugs, some all but naked or so loose that what covering they had fell from
them in being shot out of the cart, for coffins were not to be had for the
prodigious numbers that fell in such a calamity as his.

It was reported, by way of scandal upon the buriers, that if any corpse was
delivered to them decently wrapped in a winding-sheet, the buriers were
so wicked as to strip them in the cart and carry them quite naked to the
ground; but as I cannot easily credit anything so vile among Christians,
and at a time so filled with terrors as that was, I can only relate it and
leave it undetermined.

I was indeed shocked at the whole sight; it almost overwhelmed me, and I
went away with my heart full of the most afflicting thoughts, such as I
cannot describe. Just at my going out at the church-yard and turning up
the street toward my own house I saw another cart with links and a bellman
going before, coming out of Harrow Alley, in the Butcher Row, on the other
side of the way, and being, as I perceived, very full of dead bodies, it
went directly toward the church; I stood awhile, but I had no desire to
go back again to see the same dismal scene over again, so I went directly
home, where I could not but consider, with thankfulness, the risk I had
run.

Here the poor unhappy gentleman's grief came into my head again, and,
indeed, I could not but shed tears in reflecting upon it, perhaps more than
he did himself; but his case lay so heavy upon my mind that I could not
constrain myself from going again to the Pye tavern, resolving to inquire
what became of him. It was by this time one o'clock in the morning and the
poor gentleman was still there; the truth was the people of the house,
knowing him, had kept him there all the night, notwithstanding the danger
of being infected by him, though it appeared the man was perfectly sound
himself.

It is with regret that I take notice of this tavern: the people were civil,
mannerly, and obliging enough, and had till this time kept their house open
and their trade going on, though not so very publicly as formerly; but a
dreadful set of fellows frequented their house, who, in the midst of all
this horror, met there every night, behaved with all the revelling and
roaring extravagances as are usual for such people to do at other times,
and, indeed, to such an offensive degree that the very master and mistress
of the house grew first ashamed and then terrified at them.

They sat generally in a room next the street, and, as they always kept
late hours, so when the dead-cart came across the street end to go into
Houndsditch, which was in view of the tavern windows, they would frequently
open the windows as soon as they heard the bell, and look out at them; and
as they might often hear sad lamentations of people in the streets or at
their windows as the carts went along, they would make their impudent mocks
and jeers at them, especially if they heard the poor people call upon God
to have mercy upon them, as many would do at those times in passing along
the streets.

These gentlemen, being something disturbed with the clatter of bringing the
poor gentleman into the house, as above, were first angry and very high
with the master of the house for suffering such a fellow, as they called
him, to be brought out of the grave into their house; but being answered
that the man was a neighbor, and that he was sound, but overwhelmed with
the calamity of his family, and the like, they turned their anger into
ridiculing the man and his sorrow for his wife and children; taunting him
with want of courage to leap into the great pit and go to heaven, as
they jeeringly expressed it, along with them; adding some profane and
blasphemous expressions.

They were at this vile work when I came back to the house, and as far as
I could see, though the man sat still, mute and disconsolate, and their
affronts could not divert his sorrow, yet he was both grieved and offended
at their words: upon this, I gently reproved them, being well enough
acquainted with their characters, and not unknown in person to two of them.
They immediately fell upon me with ill language and oaths: asked me what I
did out of my grave at such a time when so many honester men were carried
into the church-yard? and why I was not at home saying my prayers till the
dead-cart came for me?

I was indeed astonished at the impudence of the men, though not at all
discomposed at their treatment of me. However, I kept my temper. I told
them that though I defied them or any man in the world to tax me with any
dishonesty, yet I acknowledged that in this terrible judgment of God many a
better than I was swept away and carried to his grave. But to answer their
question directly, it was true that I was mercifully preserved by that
great God whose name they had blasphemed and taken in vain by cursing and
swearing in a dreadful manner; and that I believed I was preserved in
particular, among other ends of his goodness, that I might reprove them for
their audacious boldness in behaving in such a manner and in such an awful
time as this was; especially for their jeering and mocking at an honest
gentleman and a neighbor who they saw was overwhelmed with sorrow for the
sufferings with which it had pleased God to afflict his family.

They received all reproof with the utmost contempt and made the greatest
mockery that was possible for them to do at me, giving me all the
opprobrious, insolent scoffs that they could think of for preaching to
them, as they called it, which, indeed, grieved me rather than angered me.
I went away, however, blessing God in my mind that I had not spared them
though they had insulted me so much.

They continued this wretched course three or four days after this,
continually mocking and jeering at all that showed themselves religious or
serious, or that were any way us; and I was informed they flouted in the
same manner at the good people who, notwithstanding the contagion, met at
the church, fasted, and prayed God to remove his hand from them.

I say, they continued this dreadful course three or four days--I think it
was no more--when one of them, particularly he who asked the poor gentleman
what he did out of his grave, was struck with the plague and died in a most
deplorable manner; and in a word, they were every one of them carried into
the great pit which I have mentioned above, before it was quite filled up,
which was not above a fortnight or thereabout.



%GREAT FIRE IN LONDON%

A.D. 1666

JOHN EVELYN


In the reign of Charles II--the "Merry Monarch," of whom one of his
ministers observed that "he never said a foolish thing and never did a wise
one"--the calamities which happened eclipsed the merriment of his people,
if not that of the sovereign himself.

In 1666 England had not fully recovered from the civil wars of 1642-1651.
She was now at war with the allied Dutch and French, and was suffering from
the terrible effects of the "Great Plague" which ravaged London in 1665.
During September 2-5, 1666, occurred a catastrophe of almost equal horror.
A fire, which broke out in a baker's house near the bridge, spread on
all sides so rapidly that the people were unable to extinguish it until
two-thirds of the city had been destroyed.

Evelyn's account, from his famous _Diary_, is that of an eye-witness who
took a prominent part in dealing with the conflagration, during which
the inhabitants of London--like those of some of our cities in recent
times--"were reduced to be spectators of their own ruin." Besides
suspecting the French and Dutch of having landed and, as Evelyn records, of
"firing the town," people assigned various other possible origins for the
disaster, charging it upon the republicans, the Catholics, etc. It was
obviously due, as Hume thought it worth while to note, to the narrow
streets, the houses built entirely of wood, the dry season, and a strong
east wind.

"But the fire," says a later writer, "though destroying so much, was most
beneficial in thoroughly eradicating the plague. The fever dens in which it
continually lurked were burned, and the new houses which were erected were
far more healthy and better arranged."

In the year of our Lord 1666. 2d Sept. This fatal night, about ten, began
that deplorable fire near Fish Street, in London.

3. The fire continuing, after dinner I took coach with my wife and son, and
went to the Bankside in Southwark, where we beheld that dismal spectacle,
the whole city in dreadful flames near the water-side; all the houses from
the bridge, all Thames Street, and upward toward Cheapside, down to the
Three Cranes, were now consumed.

The fire having continued all this night--if I may call that night
which was as light as day for ten miles round about, after a dreadful
manner--when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind in a very dry season; I
went on foot to the same place, and saw the whole south part of the city
burning from Cheapside to the Thames, and all along Cornhill--for it
kindled back against the wind as well as forward--Tower Street, Fenchurch
Street, Gracechurch Street, and so along to Bainard's castle, and was
now taking hold of St. Paul's Church, to which the scaffolds contributed
exceedingly. The conflagration was so universal, and the people so
astonished, that from the beginning, I know not by what despondency or
fate, they hardly stirred to quench it; so that there was nothing heard
or seen but crying out and lamentation, running about like distracted
creatures, without at all attempting to save even their goods; such a
strange consternation there was upon them, so as it burned both in breadth
and length, the churches, public halls, exchange, hospitals, monuments,
and ornaments, leaping after a prodigious manner from house to house, and
street to street, at great distances one from the other; for the heat, with
a long set of fair and warm weather, had even ignited the air and prepared
the materials to conceive the fire, which devoured, after an incredible
manner, houses, furniture, and everything.

Here we saw the Thames covered with goods floating, all the barges and
boats laden with what some had time and courage to save, as, on the other,
the carts, etc., carrying out to the fields, which for many miles were
strewed with movables of all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter both
people and what goods they could get away. Oh, the miserable and calamitous
spectacle! such as haply the world had not seen the like since the
foundation of it, nor be outdone till the universal conflagration. All the
sky was of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, the light seen
above forty miles round about for many nights.

God grant my eyes may never behold the like, now seeing above ten thousand
houses all in one flame; the noise, and cracking, and thunder of the
impetuous flames, the shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people,
the fall of towers, houses, and churches was like a hideous storm, and the
air all about so hot and inflamed that at last one was not able to approach
it; so that they were forced to stand still and let the flames burn on,
which they did for near two miles in length and one in breadth. The clouds
of smoke were dismal, and reached, upon computation, near fifty miles in
length. Thus I left it this afternoon burning, a resemblance of Sodom or
the last day. London was, but is no more!

4. The burning still rages, and it has now gotten as far as the Inner
Temple, all Fleet Street, the Old Bailey, Ludgate Hill, Warwick Lane,
Newgate, Paul's Chain, Watling Street, now flaming, and most of it reduced
to ashes; the stones of St. Paul's flew like granados, the melting lead
running down the streets in a stream, and the very pavements glowing with
fiery redness, so as no horse nor man was able to tread on them, and the
demolition had stopped all the passages, so that no help could be applied.
The eastern wind still more impetuously drove the flames forward. Nothing
but the almighty power of God was able to stop them, for vain was the help
of man.

5. It crossed toward Whitehall; oh, the confusion there was then at that
court! It pleased his majesty to command me among the rest to look after
the quenching of Fetter Lane, and to preserve, if possible, that part of
Holborn, while the rest of the gentlemen took their several posts--for now
they began to bestir themselves, and not till now, who hitherto had stood
as men intoxicated, with their hands across--and began to consider that
nothing was likely to put a stop, but the blowing up of so many houses
might make a wider gap than any had yet been made by the ordinary method
of pulling them down with engines; this some stout seamen proposed early
enough to have saved nearly the whole city, but this some tenacious and
avaricious men, aldermen, etc., would not permit, because their houses must
have been of the first.

It was therefore now commanded to be practised, and my concern being
particularly for the hospital of St. Bartholomew, near Smithfield, where I
had many wounded and sick men, made me the more diligent to promote it, nor
was my care for the Savoy less. It now pleased God, by abating the wind,
and by the industry of the people, infusing a new spirit into them, and the
fury of it began sensibly to abate about noon, so as it came no further
than the Temple westward, nor than the entrance of Smithfield north; but
continued all this day and night so impetuous toward Cripplegate and the
Tower, as made us all despair. It also broke out again in the Temple, but
the courage of the multitude persisting, and many houses being blown up,
such gaps and desolations were soon made, as with the former three-days'
consumption, the back fire did not so vehemently urge upon the rest as
formerly. There was yet no standing near the burning and glowing ruins by
near a furlong's space.

The coal and wood wharfs, and magazines of oil, resin, etc., did infinite
mischief, so as the invective which a little before I had dedicated to his
majesty and published, giving warning what might probably be the issue of
suffering those shops to be in the city, was looked on as a prophecy.

The poor inhabitants were dispersed about St. George's Fields and
Moorfields, as far as Highgate, and several miles in circle, some under
tents, some under miserable huts and hovels, many without a rag, or any
necessary utensils, bed, or board; who, from delicateness, riches, and easy
accommodations in stately and well-furnished houses, were now reduced to
extremest misery and poverty.

In this calamitous condition I returned with a sad heart to my house,
blessing and adoring the mercy of God to me and mine, who in the midst of
all this ruin was like Lot, in my little Zoar, safe and sound.

7. I went this morning on foot from Whitehall as far as London bridge,
through the late Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill, by St. Paul's, Cheapside,
Exchange, Bishopsgate, Aldersgate, and out to Moorfields, thence through
Cornhill, etc., with extraordinary difficulty clambering over heaps of yet
smoking rubbish, and frequently mistaking where I was. The ground under my
feet was so hot that it even burned the soles of my shoes.

In the mean time his majesty got to the Tower by water, to demolish the
houses about the graff, which, being built entirely about it, had they
taken fire, and attacked the White Tower, where the magazine of powder lay,
would undoubtedly not only have beaten down and destroyed all the bridge,
but sunk and torn the vessels in the river, and rendered the demolition
beyond all expression for several miles about the country.

At my return I was infinitely concerned to find that goodly church, St.
Paul's, now a sad ruin, and that beautiful portico--or structure comparable
to any in Europe, as not long before repaired by the King--now rent in
pieces, flakes of vast stones split asunder, and nothing remaining entire
but the inscription in the architrave, showing by whom it was built, which
had not one letter of it defaced. It was astonishing to see what immense
stones the heat had in a manner calcined, so that all the ornaments,
columns, friezes, and projectures of massy Portland stone flew off, even
to the very roof, where a sheet of lead covering a great space was totally
melted; the ruins of the vaulted roof falling broke into St. Faith's, which
being filled with the magazines of books belonging to the stationers, and
carried thither for safety, they were all consumed, burning for a week
following.

It is also observable that the lead over the altar at the east end was
untouched, and among the divers monuments the body of one bishop remained
entire. Thus lay in ashes that most venerable church, one of the most
ancient pieces of early piety in the Christian world, besides near
one hundred more. The lead, ironwork, bells, plate, etc., melted; the
exquisitely wrought Mercer's Chapel, the sumptuous Exchange, the august
fabric of Christ Church, all the rest of the Companies' Halls, sumptuous
buildings, arches, all in dust; the fountains dried up and ruined, while
the very waters remained boiling; the _voragoes_ of subterranean cellars,
wells, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still burning in stench and dark
clouds of smoke, so that in five or six miles traversing about I did not
see one load of timber consume, nor many stones but what were calcined
white as snow.

The people who now walked about the ruins appeared like men in a dismal
desert, or rather in some great city laid waste by a cruel enemy: to which
was added the stench that came from some poor creatures' bodies, beds, etc.
Sir Thomas Gresham's statue, though fallen from its niche in the Royal
Exchange, remained entire, when all those of the kings since the Conquest
were broken to pieces; also the standard in Cornhill, and Queen Elizabeth's
effigies, with some arms on Ludgate, continued with but little detriment,
while the vast iron chains of the city streets, hinges, bars, and gates of
prisons, were many of them melted and reduced to cinders by the vehement
heat.

I was not able to pass through any of the narrow streets, but kept the
widest; the ground and air, smoke and fiery vapor, continued so intense
that my hair was almost singed and my feet insufferably surheated. The
by-lanes and narrower streets were quite filled up with rubbish, nor could
one have known where he was but by the ruins of some church or hall that
had some remarkable tower or pinnacle remaining. I then went toward
Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen two hundred thousand
people of all ranks and degrees, dispersed and lying along by their heaps
of what they could save from the fire, deploring their loss, and, though
ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one penny for
relief, which to me appeared a stranger sight than any I had yet beheld.

His majesty and council, indeed, took all imaginable care for their
relief, by proclamation for the country to come in and refresh them with
provisions. In the midst of all this calamity and confusion there was, I
know not how, an alarm begun that the French and Dutch, with whom we are
now in hostility, were not only landed, but even entering the city. There
was in truth some days before great suspicion of these two nations joining;
and now, that they had been the occasion of firing the town. This report
did so terrify that on a sudden there was such an uproar and tumult that
they ran from their goods, and, taking what weapons they could come at,
they could not be stopped from falling on some of those nations whom they
casually met, without sense or reason.

The clamor and peril grew so excessive that it made the whole court amazed,
and they did with infinite pains and great difficulty reduce and appease
the people, sending troops of soldiers and guards to cause them to retire
into the fields again, where they were watched all this night. I left them
pretty quiet, and came home sufficiently weary and broken. Their spirits
thus a little calmed, and the affright abated, they now began to repair
into the suburbs about the city, where such as had friends or opportunity
got shelter for the present, to which his majesty's proclamation also
invited them.



%DISCOVERY OF GRAVITATION%

A.D. 1666

SIR DAVID BREWSTER


Many admirers of Sir Isaac Newton have asserted that his was the most
gigantic intellect ever bestowed on man. He discovered the law of
gravitation, and by it explained all the broader phenomena of nature, such
as the movements of the planets, the shape and revolution of the earth, the
succession of the tides. Copernicus had asserted that the planets moved,
Newton demonstrated it mathematically.

His discoveries in optics were in his own time almost equally famous,
while in his later life he shared with Leibnitz the honor of inventing
the infinitesimal calculus, a method which lies at the root of all the
intricate marvels of modern mathematical science.

Newton should not, however, be regarded as an isolated phenomenon, a genius
but for whom the world would have remained in darkness. His first flashing
idea of gravitation deserves perhaps to be called an inspiration. But in
all his other labors, experimental as well as mathematical, he was but
following the spirit of the times. The love of science was abroad, and its
infinite curiosity. Each of Newton's discoveries was claimed also by other
men who had been working along similar lines. Of the dispute over the
gravitation theory Sir David Brewster, the great authority for the career
of Newton, gives some account. The controversy over the calculus was even
more bitter and prolonged.

It were well, however, to disabuse one's mind of the idea that Newton's
work was a finality, that it settled anything. As to why the law of
gravitation exists, why bodies tend to come together, the philosopher had
little suggestion to offer, and the present generation knows no more than
he. Before Copernicus and Newton men looked only with their eyes, and
accepted the apparent movements of sun and stars as real. Now, going one
step deeper, we look with our brains and see their real movements which
underlie appearances. Newton supplied us with the law and rate of the
movement--but not its cause. It is toward that cause, that great "Why?"
that science has ever since been dimly groping.

In the year 1666, when the plague had driven Newton from Cambridge, he was
sitting alone in the garden at Woolsthrope, and reflecting on the nature of
gravity, that remarkable power which causes all bodies to descend toward
the centre of the earth. As this power is not found to suffer any sensible
diminution at the greatest distance from the earth's centre to which we can
reach--being as powerful at the tops of the highest mountains as at the
bottom of the deepest mines--he conceived it highly probable that it must
extend much further than was usually supposed. No sooner had this happy
conjecture occurred to his mind than he considered what would be the effect
of its extending as far as the moon. That her motion must be influenced
by such a power he did not for a moment doubt; and a little reflection
convinced him that it might be sufficient for retaining that luminary in
her orbit round the earth.

Though the force of gravity suffers no sensible diminution at those small
distances from the earth's centre at which we can place ourselves, yet he
thought it very possible that, at the distance of the moon, it might differ
much in strength from what it is on the earth. In order to form some
estimate of the degree of its diminution, he considered that, if the moon
be retained in her orbit by the force of gravity, the primary planets must
also be carried round the sun by the same power; and by comparing the
periods of the different planets with their distances from the sun he found
that, if they were retained in their orbits by any power like gravity, its
force must decrease in the duplicate proportion, or as the squares of their
distances from the sun. In drawing this conclusion, he supposed the planets
to move in orbits perfectly circular, and having the sun in their centre.
Having thus obtained the law of the force by which the planets were drawn
to the sun, his next object was to ascertain if such a force emanating from
the earth, and directed to the moon, was sufficient, when diminished in the
duplicate ratio of the distance, to retain her in her orbit.

In performing this calculation it was necessary to compare the space
through which heavy bodies fall in a second at a given distance from the
centre of the earth, viz., at its surface, with the space through which the
moon, as it were, falls to the earth in a second of time while revolving
in a circular orbit. Being at a distance from books when he made this
computation, he adopted the common estimate of the earth's diameter then
in use among geographers and navigators, and supposed that each degree of
latitude contained sixty English miles.

In this way he found that the force which retains the moon in her orbit,
as deduced from the force which occasions the fall of heavy bodies to the
earth's surface, was one-sixth greater than that which is actually
observed in her circular orbit. This difference threw a doubt upon all his
speculations; but, unwilling to abandon what seemed to be otherwise so
plausible, he endeavored to account for the difference of the two forces
by supposing that some other cause must have been united with the force of
gravity in producing so great velocity of the moon in her circular orbit.
As this new cause, however, was beyond the reach of observation, he
discontinued all further inquiries into the subject, and concealed from his
friends the speculations in which he had been employed.

After his return to Cambridge in 1666 his attention was occupied with
optical discoveries; but he had no sooner brought them to a close than his
mind reverted to the great subject of the planetary motions. Upon the death
of Oldenburg in August, 1678, Dr. Hooke was appointed secretary to the
Royal Society; and as this learned body had requested the opinion of Newton
about a system of physical astronomy, he addressed a letter to Dr. Hooke
on November 28, 1679. In this letter he proposed a direct experiment for
verifying the motion of the earth, viz., by observing whether or not bodies
that fall from a considerable height descend in a vertical direction; for
if the earth were at rest the body would describe exactly a vertical line;
whereas if it revolved round its axis, the falling body must deviate from
the vertical line toward the east.

The Royal Society attached great value to the idea thus casually suggested,
and Dr. Hooke was appointed to put it to the test of experiment. Being
thus led to consider the subject more attentively, he wrote to Newton that
wherever the direction of gravity was oblique to the axis on which the
earth revolved, that is, in every part of the earth except the equator,
falling bodies should approach to the equator, and the deviation from the
vertical, in place of being exactly to the east, as Newton maintained,
should be to the southeast of the point from which the body began to move.

Newton acknowledged that this conclusion was correct in theory, and Dr.
Hooke is said to have given an experimental demonstration of it before the
Royal Society in December, 1679. Newton had erroneously concluded that the
path of the falling body would be a spiral; but Dr. Hooke, on the same
occasion on which he made the preceding experiment, read a paper to the
society in which he proved that the path of the body would be an eccentric
ellipse _in vacuo_, and an ellipti-spiral if the body moved in a resisting
medium.

This correction of Newton's error, and the discovery that a projectile
would move in an elliptical orbit when under the influence of a force
varying in the inverse ratio of the square of the distance, led Newton, as
he himself informs us in his letter to Halley, to discover "the theorem
by which he afterward examined the ellipsis," and to demonstrate the
celebrated proposition that a planet acted upon by an attractive force
varying inversely as the squares of the distances, will describe an
elliptical orbit in one of whose _foci_ the attractive force resides.

But though Newton had thus discovered the true cause of all the celestial
motions, he did not yet possess any evidence that such a force actually
resided in the sun and planets. The failure of his former attempt to
identify the law of falling bodies at the earth's surface with that which
guided the moon in her orbit, threw a doubt over all his speculations, and
prevented him from giving any account of them to the public.

An accident, however, of a very interesting nature induced him to resume
his former inquiries, and enabled him to bring them to a close. In June,
1682, when he was attending a meeting of the Royal Society of London, the
measurement of a degree of the meridian, executed by M. Picard in 1679,
became the subject of conversation. Newton took a memorandum of the result
obtained by the French astronomer, and having deduced from it the diameter
of the earth, he immediately resumed his calculation of 1665, and began to
repeat it with these new data. In the progress of the calculation he saw
that the result which he had formerly expected was likely to be produced,
and he was thrown into such a state of nervous irritability that he was
unable to carry on the calculation. In this state of mind he intrusted it
to one of his friends, and he had the high satisfaction of finding his
former views amply realized. The force of gravity which regulated the fall
of bodies at the earth's surface, when diminished as the square of the
moon's distance from the earth, was found to be almost exactly equal to the
centrifugal force of the moon as deduced from her observed distance and
velocity.

The influence of such a result upon such a mind may be more easily
conceived than described. The whole material universe was spread out before
him; the sun with all his attending planets; the planets with all their
satellites; the comets wheeling in every direction in their eccentric
orbits; and the systems of the fixed stars stretching to the remotest
limits of space. All the varied and complicated movements of the heavens,
in short, must have been at once presented to his mind as the necessary
result of that law which he had established in reference to the earth and
the moon.

After extending this law to the other bodies of the system, he composed a
series of propositions on the motion of the primary planets about the sun,
which were sent to London about the end of 1683, and were soon afterward
communicated to the Royal Society.

About this period other philosophers had been occupied with the same
subject. Sir Christopher Wren had many years before endeavored to explain
the planetary motions "by the composition of a descent toward the sun, and
an impressed motion; but he at length gave it over, not finding the means
of doing it." In January, 1683-1684, Dr. Halley had concluded from Kepler's
law of the periods and distances, that the centripetal force decreased in
the reciprocal proportion of the squares of the distances, and having one
day met Sir Christopher Wren and Dr. Hooke, the latter affirmed that he had
demonstrated upon that principle all the laws of the celestial motions. Dr.
Halley confessed that his attempts were unsuccessful, and Sir Christopher,
in order to encourage the inquiry, offered to present a book of forty
shillings value to either of the two philosophers who should, in the space
of two months, bring him a convincing demonstration of it. Hooke persisted
in the declaration that he possessed the method, but avowed it to be his
intention to conceal it for time. He promised, however, to show it to Sir
Christopher; but there is every reason to believe that this promise was
never fulfilled.

In August, 1684, Dr. Halley went to Cambridge for the express purpose of
consulting Newton on this interesting subject. Newton assured him that he
had brought this demonstration to perfection, and promised him a copy of
it. This copy was received in November by the doctor, who made a second
visit to Cambridge, in order to induce its author to have it inserted in
the register book of the society. On December 10th Dr. Halley announced
to the society that he had seen at Cambridge Newton's treatise _De Motu
Corporum_, which he had promised to send to the society to be entered upon
their register, and Dr. Halley was desired to unite with Mr. Paget, master
of the mathematical school in Christ's Hospital, in reminding Newton of his
promise, "for securing the invention to himself till such time as he can be
at leisure to publish it."

On February 25th Mr. Aston, the secretary, communicated a letter from
Newton in which he expressed his willingness "to enter in the register
his notions about motion, and his intentions to fit them suddenly for the
press." The progress of his work was, however, interrupted by a visit of
five or six weeks which he made in Lincolnshire; but he proceeded with such
diligence on his return that he was able to transmit the manuscript to
London before the end of April. This manuscript, entitled _Philosophic
Naturalis Principia Mathematics_ and dedicated to the society, was
presented by Dr. Vincent on April 28, 1686, when Sir John Hoskins, the
vice-president and the particular friend of Dr. Hooke, was in the chair.

Dr. Vincent passed a just encomium on the novelty and dignity of the
subject; and another member added that "Mr. Newton had carried the thing
so far that there was no more to be added." To these remarks the
vice-president replied that the method "was so much the more to be prized
as it was both invented and perfected at the same time." Dr. Hooke took
offence at these remarks, and blamed Sir John for not having mentioned
"what he had discovered to him"; but the vice-president did not seem to
recollect any such communication, and the consequence of this discussion
was that "these two, who till then were the most inseparable cronies, have
since scarcely seen one another, and are utterly fallen out." After the
breaking up of the meeting, the society adjourned to the coffee house,
where Dr. Hooke stated that he not only had made the same discovery, but
had given the first hint of it to Newton.

An account of these proceedings was communicated to Newton through two
different channels. In a letter dated May 22d Dr. Halley wrote to him
"that Mr. Hooke has some pretensions upon the invention of the rule of the
decrease of gravity being reciprocally as the squares of the distances
from the centre. He says you had the notion from him, though he owns the
demonstration of the curves generated thereby to be wholly your own. How
much of this is so you know best, as likewise what you have to do in this
matter; only Mr. Hooke seems to expect you would make some mention of him
in the preface, which it is possible you may see reason to prefix."

This communication from Dr. Halley induced the author, on June 20th,
to address a long letter to him, in which he gives a minute and able
refutation of Hooke's claims; but before this letter was despatched another
correspondent, who had received his information from one of the members
that were present, informed Newton "that Hooke made a great stir,
pretending that he had all from him, and desiring they would see that
he had justice done him." This fresh charge seems to have ruffled the
tranquillity of Newton; and he accordingly added an angry and satirical
postscript, in which he treats Hooke with little ceremony, and goes so far
as to conjecture that Hooke might have acquired his knowledge of the law
from a letter of his own to Huygens, directed to Oldenburg, and dated
January 14,1672-1673. "My letter to Hugenius was directed to Mr. Oldenburg,
who used to keep the originals. His papers came into Mr. Hooke's
possession. Mr. Hooke, knowing my hand, might have the curiosity to look
into that letter, and there take the notion of comparing the forces of the
planets arising from their circular motion; and so what he wrote to me
afterward about the rate of gravity might be nothing but the fruit of my
own garden."

In replying to this letter Dr. Halley assured him that Hooke's "manner of
claiming the discovery had been represented to him in worse colors than
it ought, and that he neither made public application to the society for
justice nor pretended that you had all from him." The effect of this
assurance was to make Newton regret that he had written the angry
postscript to his letter; and in replying to Halley on July 14, 1686, he
not only expresses his regret, but recounts the different new ideas which
he had acquired from Hooke's correspondence, and suggests it as the best
method "of compromising the present dispute" to add a _scholium_ in which
Wren, Hooke, and Halley are acknowledged to have independently deduced the
law of gravity from the second law of Kepler.

At the meeting of April 28th, at which the manuscript of the _Principia_
was presented to the Royal Society, it was agreed that the printing of
it should be referred to the council: that a letter of thanks should be
written to its author; and at a meeting of the council on May 19th it was
resolved that the manuscript should be printed at the society's expense,
and that Dr. Halley should superintend it while going through the press.
These resolutions were communicated by Dr. Halley in a letter dated May
22d; and in Newton's reply on June 20th, already mentioned, he makes the
following observations:

"The proof you sent me I like very well. I designed the whole to consist
of three books; the second was finished last summer, being short, and only
wants transcribing and drawing the cuts fairly. Some new propositions I
have since thought on which I can as well let alone. The third wants the
theory of comets. In autumn last I spent two months in calculation to no
purpose, for want of a good method, which made me afterward return to the
first book and enlarge it with diverse propositions, some relating to
comets, others to other things found out last winter. The third I now
design to suppress. Philosophy is such an impertinently litigious lady that
a man had as good be engaged in lawsuits as have to do with her. I found it
so formerly, and now I can no sooner come near her again but she gives me
warning. The first two books, without the third, will not so well bear the
title of _Philosophies Naturalis Principia Mathematica_; and therefore I
had altered it to this: _de Moti Corporum, Libri duo_. But after second
thoughts I retain the former title. 'Twill help the sale of the book, which
I ought not to diminish now 'tis yours."

In replying to this letter on June 29th Dr. Halley regrets that our
author's tranquillity should have been thus disturbed by envious rivals,
and implores him in the name of the society not to suppress the third book.
"I must again beg you," says he, "not to let your resentments run so high
as to deprive us of your third book, wherein your applications of your
mathematical doctrine to the theory of comets, and several curious
experiments which, as I guess by what you write ought to compose it,
will undoubtedly render it acceptable to those who will call themselves
philosophers without mathematics, which are much the greater number."

To these solicitations Newton seems to have readily yielded. His second
book was sent to the society, and presented on March 2, 1687. The third
book was also transmitted, and presented on April 6th, and the whole work
was completed and published in the month of May, 1687.

Such is the brief account of the publication of a work which is memorable
not only in the annals of one science or of one country, but which will
form an epoch in the history of the world, and will ever be regarded as the
brightest page in the records of human reason. We shall endeavor to convey
to the reader some idea of its contents, and of the brilliant discoveries
which it disseminated over Europe.

The _Principia_ consists of three books. The first and second, which occupy
three-fourths of the work, are entitled _On the Motion of Bodies_, and the
third bears the title _On the System of the World_. The two first books
contain the mathematical principles of philosophy, namely, the laws and
conditions of motions and forces; and they are illustrated with several
philosophical _scholia_ which treat of some of the most general and
best-established points in philosophy, such as the density and resistance
of bodies, spaces void of matter, and the motion of sound and light.
The object of the third book is to deduce from these principles the
constitution of the system of the world; and this book has been drawn up in
as popular a style as possible, in order that it may be generally read.

The great discovery which characterizes the _Principia_ is that of the
principle of universal gravitation, as deduced from the motion of the moon,
and from the three great facts or laws discovered by Kepler. This principle
is: _That every particle of matter is attracted by or gravitates to every
other particle of matter, with a force inversely proportional to the
squares of their distances_. From the first law of Kepler, namely, the
proportionality of the areas to the times of their revolution, Newton
inferred that the force which kept the planet in its orbit was always
directed to the sun; and from the second law of Kepler, that every planet
moves in an ellipse with the sun in one of its foci, he drew the still more
general inference that the force by which the planet moves round that focus
varies inversely as the square of its distance from the focus. As this law
was true in the motion of satellites round their primary planets Newton
deduced the equality of gravity in all the heavenly bodies toward the sun,
upon the supposition that they are equally distant from its centre; and
in the case of terrestrial bodies he succeeded in verifying this truth by
numerous and accurate experiments.

By taking a more general view of the subject Newton demonstrated that a
conic section was the only curve in which a body could move when acted
upon by a force varying inversely as the square of the distance; and he
established the conditions depending on the velocity and the primitive
position of the body, which were requisite to make it describe a circular,
an elliptical, a parabolic, or a hyberbolic orbit.

Notwithstanding the generality and importance of these results, it still
remained to be determined whether the forces resided in the centres of
the planets or belonged to each individual particle of which they were
composed. Newton removed this uncertainty by demonstrating that if a
spherical body acts upon a distant body with a force varying as the
distance of this body from the centre of the sphere, the same effect
will be produced as if each of its particles acted upon the distant body
according to the same law. And hence it follows that the spheres, whether
they are of uniform density or consist of concentric layers, with densities
varying according to any law whatever, will act upon each other in the same
manner as if their force resided in their centres alone.

But as the bodies of the solar system are very nearly spherical they will
all act upon one another, and upon bodies placed on their surfaces, as if
they were so many centres of attraction; and therefore we obtain the law of
gravity which subsists between spherical bodies, namely, that one sphere
will act upon another with a force directly proportional to the quantity of
matter, and inversely as the square of the distance between the centres
of the spheres. From the equality of action and reaction, to which no
exception can be found, Newton concluded that the sun gravitated to the
planets, and the planets to their satellites; and the earth itself to
the stone which falls upon its surface, and, consequently, that the two
mutually gravitating bodies approached to one another with velocities
inversely proportional to their quantities of matter.

Having established this universal law, Newton was enabled not only to
determine the weight which the same body would have at the surface of the
sun and the planets, but even to calculate the quantity of matter in the
sun, and in all the planets that had satellites, and even to determine the
density or specific gravity of the matter of which they were composed. In
this way he found that the weight of the same body would be twenty-three
times greater at the surface of the sun than at the surface of the earth,
and that the density of the earth was four times greater than that of the
sun, the planets increasing in density as they receded from the centre of
the system.

If the peculiar genius of Newton has been displayed in his investigation
of the law of universal gravitation, it shines with no less lustre in the
patience and sagacity with which he traced the consequences of this fertile
principle. The discovery of the spheroidal form of Jupiter by Cassini had
probably directed the attention of Newton to the determination of its
cause, and consequently to the investigation of the true figure of the
earth. The next subject to which Newton applied the principle of gravity
was the tides of the ocean.

The philosophers of all ages had recognized the connection between the
phenomena of the tides and the position of the moon. The College of Jesuits
at Coimbra, and subsequently Antonio de Dominis and Kepler, distinctly
referred the tides to the attraction of the waters of the earth by the
moon; but so imperfect was the explanation which was thus given of the
phenomena that Galileo ridiculed the idea of lunar attraction, and
substituted for it a fallacious explanation of his own. That the moon is
the principal cause of the tides is obvious from the well-known fact that
it is high water at any given place about the time when she is in the
meridian of that place; and that the sun performs a secondary part in their
production may be proved from the circumstance that the highest tides take
place when the sun, the moon, and the earth are in the same straight line;
that is, when the force of the sun conspires with that of the moon; and
that the lowest tides take place when the lines drawn from the sun and moon
to the earth are at right angles to each other; that is, when the force of
the sun acts in opposition to that of the moon.

By comparing the spring and neap tides Newton found that the force with
which the moon acted upon the waters of the earth was to that with which
the sun acted upon them as 4.48 to 1; that the force of the moon produced
a tide of 8.63 feet; that of the sun, one of 1.93 feet; and both of them
combined, one of 10-1/2 French feet, a result which in the open sea does
not deviate much from observation. Having thus ascertained the force of the
moon on the waters of our globe, he found that the quantity of matter in
the moon was to that in the earth as 1 to 40, and the density of the moon
to that of the earth as 11 to 9.

The motions of the moon, so much within the reach of our own observation,
presented a fine field for the application of the theory of universal
gravitation. The irregularities exhibited in the lunar motions had been
known in the time of Hipparchus and Ptolemy. Tycho had discovered the great
inequality, called the "variation," amounting to 37', and depending on the
alternate acceleration and retardation of the moon in every quarter of
a revolution, and he had also ascertained the existence of the annual
equation. Of these two inequalities Newton gave a most satisfactory
explanation.

Although there could be little doubt that the comets were retained in their
orbits by the same laws which regulated the motions of the planets, yet
it was difficult to put this opinion to the test of observation. The
visibility of comets only in a small part of their orbits rendered it
difficult to ascertain their distance and periodic times; and as their
periods were probably of great length, it was impossible to correct
approximate results by repeated observations. Newton, however, removed this
difficulty by showing how to determine the orbit of a comet, namely,
the form and position of the orbit, and the periodic time, by three
observations. By applying this method to the comet of 1680 he calculated
the elements of its orbit, and, from the agreement of the computed places
with those which were observed, he justly inferred that the motions of
comets were regulated by the same laws as those of the planetary bodies.
This result was one of great importance; for as the comets enter our system
in every possible direction, and at all angles with the ecliptic, and as
a great part of their orbits extends far beyond the limits of the solar
system, it demonstrated the existence of gravity in spaces far removed
beyond the planet, and proved that the law of the inverse ratio of the
squares of the distance was true in every possible direction, and at very
remote distances from the centre of our system.

Such is a brief view of the leading discoveries which the _Principia_ first
announced to the world. The grandeur of the subjects of which it treats,
the beautiful simplicity of the system which it unfolds, the clear and
concise reasoning by which that system is explained, and the irresistible
evidence by which it is supported might have insured it the warmest
admiration of contemporary mathematicians and the most welcome reception in
all the schools of philosophy throughout Europe. This, however, is not the
way in which great truths are generally received. Though the astronomical
discoveries of Newton were not assailed by the class of ignorant pretenders
who attacked his optical writings, yet they were everywhere resisted by the
errors and prejudices which had taken a deep hold even of the strongest
minds.

The philosophy of Descartes was predominant throughout Europe. Appealing to
the imagination, and not to the reason, of mankind it was quickly received
into popular favor, and the same causes which facilitated its introduction,
extended its influence and completed its dominion over the human mind. In
explaining all the movements of the heavenly bodies by a system of vortices
in a fluid medium diffused through the universe Descartes had seized upon
an analogy of the most alluring and deceitful kind. Those who had seen
heavy bodies revolving in the eddies of a whirlpool or in the gyrations
of a vessel of water thrown into a circular motion had no difficulty in
conceiving how the planets might revolve round the sun by an analogous
movement. The mind instantly grasped at an explanation of so palpable a
character and which required for its development neither the exercise
of patient thought nor the aid of mathematical skill. The talent and
perspicuity with which the Cartesian system was expounded, and the show by
which it was sustained, contributed powerfully to its adoption, while
it derived a still higher sanction from the excellent character and the
unaffected piety of its author.

Thus intrenched, as the Cartesian system was, in the strongholds of the
human mind, and fortified by its most obstinate prejudices, it was not to
be wondered at that the pure and sublime doctrines of the _Principia_, were
distrustfully received and perseveringly resisted. The uninstructed mind
could not readily admit the idea that the great masses of the planets were
suspended in empty space and retained in their orbits by an invisible
influence residing in the sun; and even those philosophers who had been
accustomed to the rigor of true scientific research, and who possessed
sufficient mathematical skill for the examination of the Newtonian
doctrines, viewed them at first as reviving the occult qualities of the
ancient physics, and resisted their introduction with a pertinacity which
it is not easy to explain.

Prejudiced, no doubt, in favor of his own metaphysical views, Leibnitz
himself misapprehended the principles of the Newtonian philosophy, and
endeavored to demonstrate the truths in the _Principia_ by the application
of different principles. Huygens, who above all other men was qualified
to appreciate the new philosophy, rejected the doctrine of gravitation as
existing between the individual particles of matter and received it only
as an attribute of the planetary masses. John Bernouilli, one of the first
mathematicians of his age, opposed the philosophy of Newton. Mairan, in the
early part of his life, was a strenuous defender of the system of vortices.
Cassini and Maraldi were quite ignorant of the _Principia_, and occupied
themselves with the most absurd methods of calculating the orbits of
comets long after the Newtonian method had been established on the most
impregnable foundation; and even Fontenelle, a man of liberal views and
extensive information, continued, throughout the whole of his life, to
maintain the doctrines of Descartes.

The chevalier Louville of Paris had adopted the Newtonian philosophy
before 1720; Gravesande had introduced it into the Dutch universities at a
somewhat earlier period; and Maupertuis, in consequence of a visit which
he paid to England in 1728, became a zealous defender of it; but
notwithstanding these and some other examples that might be quoted, we must
admit the truth of the remark of Voltaire, that though Newton survived the
publication of the _Principia_ more than forty years, yet at the time of
his death he had not above twenty followers out of England.



%MORGAN, THE BUCCANEER, SACKS PANAMA%

A.D. 1671

JOHANN W. VON ARCHENHOLZ


In the seventeenth century appeared "a class of rovers wholly distinct from
any of their predecessors in the annals of the world, differing as widely
in their plans, organizations, and exploits as in the principles that
governed their actions." These adventurers were a piratical gang called
buccaneers, or sometimes, as in the following narrative, freebooters, who
became noted for their exploits in the West Indies and on South American
coasts.

The nucleus of this association of pirates is traced to bands of
smugglers--English, French, and Dutch--who carried on a secret trade with
the island of Santo Domingo. Later they settled there and on other islands,
and after a while began to prey upon Spanish commerce. In 1630 they made
their chief head-quarters on the island of Tortuga; in 1655 they aided in
the English conquest of Jamaica, and ten years later settled the Bahamas.
All these islands became centres of their activities.

Most renowned among the leaders of the buccaneers was Sir Henry Morgan, a
Welshman, who died in Jamaica in 1688. For years he carried stolen riches
to England, and Charles II rewarded him with knighthood. Having pillaged
parts of Cuba, he took and ransomed Puerto Bello, in Colombia (1668), and
Maracaibo, in Venezuela (1669). In 1670 Morgan gathered a fleet of nearly
forty vessels, and a force of over two thousand men, for the greatest of
the exploits of the buccaneers, the capture and plunder of the wealthy city
of Panama.

By the end of the century the buccaneers had become dispersed among
contending European armies, and little more was heard of them.

Morgan's plan of capturing Panama was apparently attended with innumerable
difficulties. The chief obstacle was the position of that city on the
Pacific coast at such a great distance from the Caribbean Sea; and not an
individual on board the fleet was acquainted with the road that led to
the goal. To remedy this inconvenience, Morgan determined, in the first
instance, to go to the island of St. Catharine, where the Spaniards
confined their criminals, and thence to supply himself with guides.

The passage was rapid. Morgan landed in that island one thousand men, who,
by threatening to put to death everyone that hesitated for a moment to
surrender, so terrified the Spaniards that they speedily capitulated. It
was stipulated that, to save at least the honor of the garrison, there
should be a sham fight. In consequence of this, a very sharp fire ensued,
from the forts on one side, and on the other from the ships; but on both
sides the cannons discharged only powder. Further, to give a serious
appearance to this military comedy, the governor suffered himself to be
taken, while attempting to pass from Fort Jerome to another fort. At the
beginning the crafty Morgan did not rely too implicitly on this feint; and
to provide for every event, he secretly ordered his soldiers to load
their fusees with bullets, but to discharge them in the air, unless they
perceived some treachery on the part of the Spaniards. But his enemies
adhered most faithfully to their capitulation; and this mock engagement, in
which neither party was sparing of powder, was followed for some time with
all the circumstances which could give it the semblance of reality. Ten
forts surrendered, one after another, after sustaining a kind of siege or
assault; and this series of successes did not cost the life of a single
man, nor even a scratch, on the part either of the victors or of the
conquered.

All the inhabitants of the island were shut up in the great fort of Santa
Teresa, which was built on a steep rock; and the conquerors, who had not
taken any sustenance for twenty-four hours, declared a most serious war
against the horned cattle and game of the district.

In the isle of St. Constantine Morgan found four hundred fifty-nine
persons of both sexes; one hundred ninety of whom were soldiers, forty-two
criminals, eighty-five children, and sixty-six negroes. There were ten
forts, containing sixty-eight cannons, which were so defended in other
respects by nature that very small garrisons were deemed amply sufficient
to protect them. Besides an immense quantity of fusees and grenades--which
were at that time much used--upward of three hundred quintals of gunpowder
were found in the arsenal. The whole of this ammunition was carried on
board the pirate's ships; the cannon, which could be of no service to them,
were spiked; their carriages were burned, and all the forts demolished
excepting one, which the freebooters themselves garrisoned. Morgan
selected three of the criminals to serve him as guides to Panama. These he
afterward, on his return to Jamaica, set at liberty, even giving them a
share in the booty.

The plan, conceived by this intrepid chieftain, inspired all his companions
in arms with genuine enthusiasm; it had a character of grandeur and
audacity that inflamed their courage; how capable they were of executing it
the subsequent pages will demonstrate.

Panama, which stood on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, in the ninth degree
of northern latitude, was at that time one of the greatest, as well as most
opulent cities in America. It contained two thousand large houses, the
greater number of which were very fine piles of building, and five thousand
smaller dwellings, each mostly three stories in height. Of these, a pretty
considerable number were erected of stone, all the rest of cedar-wood, very
elegantly constructed and magnificently furnished. That city was defended
by a rampart and was surrounded with walls. It was the emporium for the
silver of Mexico and the gold of Peru, whence those valuable metals were
brought on the backs of mules--two thousand of which animals were kept for
this purpose only--across the isthmus toward the northern coast of the
Pacific. A great commerce was also carried on at Panama in negroes; which
trade was at that time almost exclusively confined to the English,
Dutch, French, and Danes. With this branch of commerce the Italians were
intimately acquainted. They gave lessons in it to all the rest of Europe;
and, as two things were necessary, in which the Genoese were by no means
deficient--money and address--they were chiefly occupied in the slave
trade, and supplied the provinces of Peru and Chile with negroes.

At the period now referred to, the President of Panama was the principal
intendant or overseer of the civil department, and captain-general of all
the troops in the viceroyalty of Peru. He had in his dependency Puerto
Bello and Nata, two cities inhabited by the Spaniards, together with the
towns of Cruces, Panama, Capira, and Veragua. The city of Panama had also a
bishop, who was a suffragan of the Archbishop of Lima.

The merchants lived in great opulence; and their churches were decorated
with uncommon magnificence. The cathedral was erected in the Italian
style, surmounted with a large cupola, and enriched with gold and silver
ornaments; as also were the eight convents which this city comprised. At
a small distance from its walls there were some small islands, alike
embellished by art and by nature, where the richest inhabitants had their
country houses; from which circumstance they were called the "gardens of
Panama." In short, everything concurred to render this place important and
agreeable. Here several of the European nations had palaces for carrying on
their commerce; and among these were the Genoese, who were held in great
credit, and who had vast warehouses for receiving the articles of their
immense trade, as also a most magnificent edifice. The principal houses
were filled with beautiful paintings and the masterpieces of the arts,
which had here been accumulated--more from an intense desire of being
surrounded with all the splendor of luxury--since they possessed the means
of procuring it--than from a refined taste. Their superabundance of gold
and silver had been employed in obtaining these splendid superfluities,
which were of no value but to gratify the vanity of their possessors.

Such was Panama in 1670, when the freebooters selected it as the object
of their bold attempt, and as the victim of their extravagancies, and
immortalized their name by reducing it to a heap of ruins.

In the execution of this design, which stupefied the New World, they
displayed equal prudence and cruelty. Previous to the adoption of any other
measure, it was necessary that the pirates should get possession of Fort
St. Laurent, which was situated on the banks of the river Chagres. With
this view, Morgan detached four ships, with four hundred men, under the
command of the intrepid Brodely, who had happily succeeded in victualling
the fleet, and who was intimately acquainted with the country. Morgan
continued at the island of St. Catharine with the rest of his forces.

His plan was to dissemble his vast projects against Panama as long as it
was possible, and to cause the pillage of Fort St. Laurent to be regarded
as a common expedition to which he would confine himself. Brodely
discharged his commission with equal courage and success. That castle
was situated on a lofty mountain, at the mouth of the river, and was
inaccessible on almost every side. The first attempts were fruitless; and
the freebooters, who advanced openly, without any other arms than their
fusees and sabres, at first lost many of their comrades; for the Spaniards
not only made use of all their artillery and musketry against them, but
were also seconded by the Indians that were with them in the fort and whose
arrows were far more fatal than the bullets.

The assailants saw their companions-in-arms fall by their side without
being able to avenge them. The danger of their present situation and
the nature of their arms seemed to render the enterprise altogether
impracticable. Their courage began to waver, their ranks were thrown into
disorder, and they already thought of retiring, when the provocations of
the Spaniards inspired them with new vigor. "You heretic dogs," cried they
in a triumphant tone; "you cursed English, possessed by the devil! Ah, you
will go to Panama, will you? No, no; that you shall not; you shall all bite
the dust here, and all your comrades shall share the same fate."

From these insulting speeches the pirates learned that the design of their
expedition was discovered; and from that moment they determined to carry
the fort or die to a man upon the spot. They immediately commenced the
assault in defiance of the shower of arrows that were discharged against
them, and undismayed by the loss of their commander, both of whose legs had
been carried away by a cannon-ball. One of the pirates, in whose shoulder
an arrow was deeply fixed, tore it out himself, exclaiming: "Patience,
comrades, an idea strikes me; all the Spaniards are lost!" He tore some
cotton out of his pocket, with which he covered his ramrod, set the cotton
on fire, and shot this burning material, in lieu of bullets, at the houses
of the fort, which were covered with light wood and the leaves of palm
trees. His companions collected together the arrows which were strewed
around them upon the ground, and employed them in a similar manner. The
effect of this novel mode of attack was most rapid; many of the houses
caught fire; a powder-wagon blew up. The besieged, being thus diverted from
their means of defence, thought only of stopping the progress of the fire.
Night came on; under cover of the darkness the freebooters attempted also
to set on fire the palisades, which were made of a kind of wood that was
easily kindled. In this attempt likewise they were crowned with success.
The soil, which the palisades supported, fell down for want of support,
and filled up the ditch. The Spaniards nevertheless continued to defend
themselves with much courage, being animated by the example of their
commander, who fought till the very moment he received a mortal blow. The
garrison had, throughout, the use of their cannon, which kept up a most
violent fire; but the enemy had already made too much progress to be
disconcerted with it; they persevered in their attack, until they at length
became masters of the fort.

A great number of Spaniards, finding themselves deprived of all resource,
precipitated themselves from the top of the walls into the river, that
they might not fall alive into the hands of the freebooters, who made only
twenty-four prisoners, and ten of these were wounded men, who had concealed
themselves among the dead, in the hope of escaping their ferocious
conquerors. These twenty-four men were all that remained of three hundred
forty who had composed the garrison, which had shortly before been
reënforced, for the President of Panama, having been apprised from
Carthagena of the real object of the pirates' expedition, came to encamp,
with thirty-six hundred men, in the vicinity of the threatened city. This
information was confirmed to the freebooters after the capture of the fort.
At the same time they learned that among this body of troops there were
four hundred horsemen, six hundred Indians, and two hundred mulat-toes; the
last of whom, being very expert in hunting bulls, were intended, in case of
necessity, to send two thousand of those animals among the freebooters.

It is scarcely credible that Brodely continued to command, notwithstanding
the severity of his wounds; but he would not, by retiring, compromise the
advantages which he had so dearly purchased; for out of four hundred men
who had composed his little army, one hundred sixty had been killed, eighty
wounded; and of these eighty, sixty were altogether out of the battle.

The bodies of the French and English were interred; but those of the
Spaniards were thrown down from the top of the fort and remained in a heap
at the foot of its walls. Brodely found much ammunition and abundance of
provisions, with which he was the more satisfied, as he knew that the grand
fleet was greatly in want of both those articles. He caused the fort to be
rebuilt, as far as was practicable, in order that he might defend himself
there in case the Spaniards should make a speedy attempt to retake it. In
this situation he waited for Morgan, who in a short time appeared with his
fleet.

As the pirates approached, they beheld the English flag flying on the fort,
and abandoned themselves to the most tumultuous joy and excessive drinking,
without dreaming of the dangers occurring at the mouth of the river
Chagres, beneath whose waters there was a sunken rock. The coasting pilots
of those latitudes came to their assistance, but their intoxication and
their impatience would not permit them to attend to the latter. This
negligence was attended with most fatal consequences and cost them four
ships, one of which was the admiral's vessel. The crews, however, together
with their ladings, were saved. This loss greatly affected Morgan, who
was wholly intent upon his vast designs, but who, nevertheless, made his
entrance into St. Laurent, where he left a garrison of five hundred men. He
also detached from his body of troops one hundred fifty men for the purpose
of seizing several Spanish vessels that were in the river.

The remainder of his forces Morgan directed to follow himself. They carried
but a small supply of provisions, not only that his march might not be
impeded, but also because the means of conveyance were very limited.
Besides, he was apprehensive lest he should expose to famine the garrison
he had left in the fort, which did not abound with provisions, and was cut
off on every side from receiving supplies; and it was likewise necessary
that he should leave sufficient for the support of all the prisoners and
slaves, whose number amounted very nearly to one thousand.

After all these steps had been taken, Morgan briefly addressed his
comrades, whom he exhorted to arm themselves with courage calculated to
subdue every obstacle, that they might return to Jamaica with an increase
of glory, and riches sufficient to supply all their wants for the rest of
their lives. At length, on January 18th, he commenced his march toward
Panama, with a chosen body of freebooters, who were thirteen hundred
strong.

The greatest part of their journey was performed by water, following the
course of the river. Five vessels were laden with the artillery; and the
troops were placed in a very narrow compass on board thirty-two boats. One
reason why they had brought only a small quantity of provisions was because
they hoped to meet with a supply on their route; but on the very day of
their arrival at Rio de los Bravos the expectations of the pirates were
frustrated. At the place where they landed they literally found nothing:
the terror which they everywhere inspired had preceded them; the Spaniards
had betaken themselves to flight, and had carried with them all their
cattle and even the very last article of their movables. They had cut the
grain and pulse without waiting for their maturity, the roots of which were
even torn out of the ground: the houses and stables were empty.

The first day of their voyage was spent in abstinence, tobacco affording
them the only gratification that was not refused them. The second day was
not more prosperous. In addition to the various impediments by which their
passage was obstructed, want of rain had rendered the waters of the river
very shallow, and a great number of trees had fallen into it, presenting
almost insurmountable obstacles. On their arrival at the Cruz de Juan
Gallego, they had no other alternative left but to abandon their boats and
pursue their route by land; otherwise, they must have resigned themselves
to the confusion necessarily consequent on retracing their steps.

Animated, however, by their chieftains, they determined to try the
adventure. On the third day their way led them to a forest, where there was
no beaten path, and the soil of which was marshy. But it was indispensably
necessary that they should leave this wretched passage, in order that they
might reach--with incredible difficulties, indeed--the town of Cedro Bueno.
For all these excessive fatigues they found no indemnification whatever;
there were no provisions, not even a single head of game.

These luckless adventurers at length saw themselves surrounded by all the
horrors of famine. Many of them were reduced to devour the leaves of trees;
the majority were altogether destitute of sustenance. In this state of
severe privations, and with very light clothing, they passed the nights
lying on the shore, benumbed with cold, incapable of enjoying, even in the
smallest degree, the solace of sleep, and expecting with anxiety the return
of day. Their courage was supported only with the hope of meeting
some bodies of Spaniards, or some groups of fugitive inhabitants, and
consequently of finding provisions, with an abundance of which the latter
never failed to supply themselves when they abandoned their dwellings.
Further, the pirates were obliged to continue their route at a small
distance only from the river, as they had contrived to drag their canoes
along with them, and, whenever the water was of sufficient depth, part
of the men embarked on board them, while the remainder prosecuted their
journey by land. They were preceded a few hundred paces by an advanced
guard of thirty men under the direction of a guide who was intimately
acquainted with the country; and the strictest silence was observed, in
order that they might discover the ambuscades of the Spaniards, and, if it
were possible, make some of them prisoners.

On the fourth day the freebooters reached Torna Cavellos, a kind of
fortified place which also had been evacuated, the Spaniards having carried
away with them everything that was portable and consumed the rest by fire.
Their design was to leave the pirates neither movables nor utensils; in
fact, this was the only resource left them by which they could reduce those
formidable guests to such a state of privation as to compel them to retire.
The only things which had not been burned or carried off were some large
sacks of hides, which were to these freebooters objects of avidity, and
which had almost occasioned a bloody dispute. Previously to devouring them,
it was necessary to cut them into pieces with all possible equity. Thus
divided, the leather was cut into small bits, these were scraped and
violently beaten between two stones. It was then soaked in water, in order
to become soft, after which it was roasted; nor, thus prepared, could it
have been swallowed if they had not taken most copious draughts of water.

After this repast the freebooters resumed their route, and arrived at
Torna-Munni, where also they found an abandoned fortress. On the fifth day
they reached Barbacoas; but still no place presented to their view either
man, animal, or any kind of provisions whatever. Here likewise the
Spaniards had taken the precaution of carrying away or destroying
everything that could serve for food. Fortunately, however, they discovered
in the hollow of a rock two sacks of flour, some fruit, and two large
vessels filled with wine. This discovery would have transported with joy a
less numerous troop; but, to so many famished men it presented only very
feeble resource. Morgan, who did not suffer less from hunger than the rest,
generously appropriated none of it to his own use, but caused this scanty
supply to be distributed among those who were just ready to faint. Many,
indeed, were almost dying. These were conveyed on board the boats, the
charge of which was committed to them; while those who had hitherto had the
care of the vessels, were reunited to the body that was travelling by land.
Their march was very slow, both on account of the extreme weakness of these
men, even after the very moderate refreshment they had just taken, as well
as from the roughness and difficulties of the way; and during the fifth day
the pirates had no other sustenance but the leaves of trees and the grass
of the meadows.

On the following day the freebooters made still less progress; want of food
had totally exhausted them, and they were frequently obliged to rest. At
length they reached a plantation, where they found a vast quantity of maize
in a granary that had just been abandoned. What a discovery was this to men
whose appetites were sharpened by such long protractions! A great many of
them devoured the grains in a raw state; the rest covered their shares
with the leaves of the banana-tree, and thus cooked or roasted the maize.
Reinvigorated by this food, they pursued their route; and, on the same day,
they discovered a troop of Indians on the other side of the river, but
those savages betook themselves to flight, so that it was impossible to
reach them. The cruel freebooters fired on them and killed some of them;
the rest escaped, exclaiming: "Come, you English dogs, come into the
meadow; we will there wait for you."

To this challenge the pirates were little tempted to answer. Their supply
of maize was exhausted; and they were further obliged to lie down in the
open air without eating anything. Hitherto, in the midst of privations the
most severely painful, as well as of the most difficult labors, they had
evinced an inexhaustible patience, but at length violent murmurs arose.
Morgan and his rash enterprise became the object of their execrations: a
great number of the freebooters were desirous of returning; but the rest,
although discontented, declared that they would rather perish than not
terminate an expedition so far advanced and which had cost them so much
trouble.

On the following day they crossed the river and directed their march toward
a place which they took for a town or, at all events, for a village, where,
to their great satisfaction, they thought they perceived at a distance the
smoke issuing from several chimneys. "There, at last," said they, "we shall
surely find both men and provisions." Their expectations were completely
frustrated; not a single individual appeared throughout the place. They
found no other articles of sustenance but a leather sack full of bread,
together with a few cats and dogs, which were instantly killed and
devoured. The place where they had now arrived was the town of Cruces, at
which were usually landed those commodities which were conveyed up the
river Chagres, in order to be carried by land to Panama, which was eight
French leagues distant. Here were some fine warehouses built of stone, and
likewise some stables belonging to the King of Spain, which, at the moment
of the pirates' arrival, were the only buildings that remained untouched,
all the inhabitants having betaken themselves to flight after they had set
their houses on fire.

Every corner of these royal buildings was ransacked by the freebooters, who
at length discovered seventeen large vessels full of Peruvian wine, which
were immediately emptied. Scarcely, however, had they drunk this liquor,
which was to recruit their exhausted strength, than they all fell ill.
At first they thought the wine was poisoned; they were overwhelmed with
consternation, and were fully persuaded that their last hour was come.
Their terrors were unfounded; as their sudden indisposition was easily
accounted for by the nature of the unwholesome food they had so recently
taken, by the extreme diminution of their strength, and the avidity with
which they had swallowed the wine; in fact, they found themselves much
better on the following day.

As Morgan had been reduced to the necessity of removing, at this place, to
a distance from all his ships, he was obliged to land all his men, not even
excepting those who were most exhausted by weakness. The shallops alone,
with sixty men, were sent to the spot where his vessels and largest ships
had been left. A single shallop only was reserved to carry news, if
occasion offered, to the flotilla. Morgan prohibited every man from
going alone to any distance; and even required that they should not make
excursions in troops amounting to less than a hundred men. Famine, however,
compelled the freebooters to infringe this prohibition. Six of them went
out to some distance in quest of food; the event justified the foresight of
their chieftain. They were attacked by a large body of Spaniards, and could
not without very great difficulty regain the village: they had also the
mortification to see one of their comrades taken prisoner.

Morgan now determined to prosecute his march. After reviewing his
companions-in-arms he found that they amounted to eleven hundred men. As he
foresaw that they were apprehensive lest their lost comrade should betray
the secret of their enterprise and the state of their forces, Morgan made
them believe that he had not been taken; that he had only lost his way in
the woods, but had now returned to the main body.

The freebooters were on the eighth day of their painful journey, and
nothing but the hope of speedily terminating their labors could support
them much longer, for they had now ascertained that they were on the way to
Panama. An advanced guard of two hundred men was therefore formed, which
was to watch the movements of the enemy. They marched onward for a whole
day without perceiving any living object whatever, when suddenly a shower
of three or four thousand arrows was discharged upon them from the top of
a rock. For some minutes they were struck with astonishment; no enemy
presented himself to their view. They beheld around them, at their feet,
above their heads, nothing but steep rocks, trees, and abysses; and,
without striking a single blow, they reckoned twenty of their comrades
killed or wounded. This unexpected attack not being continued, they pursued
their march across a forest, where, in a hollow way, they fell upon a
large body of Indians who opposed their progress with much valor. In this
engagement the freebooters were victorious, though they lost eight killed
and ten wounded.

They made every possible effort to catch some of the fugitives, but these
fled away with the velocity of stags across the rocks, with all the
turnings and windings of which they were intimately acquainted. Not a
single man fell into their hands; the Indian chieftain was wounded;
and, notwithstanding he lay on the ground, he continued to fight
most obstinately until he received a mortal blow. He wore a crown of
party-colored feathers. His death made a great impression on the Indians
and was the principal cause of their defeat. The ground on which they had
attacked the pirates was so favorable that one hundred men would have been
fully sufficient to have destroyed the whole troop of freebooters. The
latter availed themselves of the inconceivable negligence of the Spaniards
in not taking more effectual measures for the defence of such an important
pass. They exerted all possible diligence to make their way out of this
labyrinth of rocks, where a second attack of a similar kind would have been
attended with consequences of the most fatal tendency to them, and to get
into an open and level country.

On the ninth day they found themselves in a plain or spacious meadow,
entirely divested of trees, so that nothing could shelter them against the
ardor of the solar rays. It rained, however, most copiously at the
moment of their arrival; and this circumstance added yet more to their
difficulties. In a short time they were wetted to their skins. In case of a
sudden attack their arms and ammunition would have afforded them but little
assistance; while the Spaniards would be able most effectively to use their
spears, which could not be damaged by the rain.

No human means could remedy this inconvenience. The pirates had only to
abandon themselves to their fate. Morgan most ardently desired that
some prisoner might fall into his hands, from whose confessions, either
voluntary or involuntary, he might obtain some information by which to
direct his march. With this intention, fifty men were detached in different
directions, with a promised reward of three hundred piasters, out of the
society's stock, to the man who should bring in either a Spaniard or an
Indian, exclusive of the share of booty to which he should be entitled.

About noon they ascended a steep hill, from whose summit they began to
discover the Pacific. At this sight, which announced the speedy termination
of their miseries, they were transported with joy. From the top of this
eminence they also perceived six ships departing from Panama, and sailing
toward the islands of Taroga and Tarogiela, which were situated in the
vicinity of that city. Panama itself for the present escaped their
observation; but how was their satisfaction increased on beholding, in a
valley, a vast number of bulls, cows, horses, and particularly of asses,
which were under the care of some Spaniards, who betook themselves to
flight the moment they saw the formidable pirates approaching? To the
latter no _rencontre_ could be more desirable. They were ready to faint
with famine and fatigue; the sustenance which they immediately devoured
would contribute to give them that strength which every moment would become
so necessary to them, and it is altogether inconceivable how the Spaniards
could abandon such a prey to their famished enemies. This want of foresight
can only be accounted for by the panic with which the Spaniards were
seized.

The spot which had just been deserted was occupied for some hours by the
freebooters; they stood in great need of rest, and were in much greater
want of provisions. They rushed therefore on the animals that had been left
behind, of which they killed a great number, and devoured their half-raw
flesh with such avidity that the blood streamed in torrents from their lips
over the whole of their bodies. What could not be consumed on the spot they
carried away with them, for Morgan, apprehensive of an attack by the flower
of the Spaniards' troops, allowed them only a small space of time for
repose. They resumed their march, but the uncertainty in which they had so
long been involved was not yet at an end.

Notwithstanding all that chieftain's experience, his spies could not
succeed in taking a single prisoner--a circumstance, which seems almost
incredible in a populous country--and after nine days' march Morgan was
deprived of every hint that was so essentially necessary to him. Further,
the freebooters were utterly ignorant how near they were to Panama, when,
from the summit of a hill, they discovered the towers of that city. They
could not refrain from shouting for joy. The air reëchoed with the sound of
trumpets and cymbals; they threw up their caps in the air, vociferating,
"Victory! victory!" In this place they halted and pitched their camp, with
the firm determination of attacking Panama on the following day.

At this time the Spaniards were in the utmost confusion. The first
defensive step which they deemed it advisable to take was to despatch
fifty horsemen for the purpose of reconnoitring the enemy. The detachment
approached the camp within musket-shot and offered some insults to the
freebooters, but speedily returned toward the city, exclaiming, "_Perros,
nos veromos!_" ("You dogs, we will see you again!") Shortly after a second
detachment of two hundred men appeared, who occupied every pass, in order
that, after the victory--which they considered as infallible--not one
single pirate might escape. The freebooters, however, beheld with the
utmost concern the measures which were adopted in order to block them up,
and, previously to every other consideration, turned their attention toward
their abundant supply of provision. As they were prohibited from kindling
any fire, they devoured the meat they had brought with them _entirely in
a raw state_. They could not conceive how the Spaniards could carry their
neglect or their fancied security to such a length as not to disturb that
repose of which they stood so greatly in need; nor how they could allow
them the necessary leisure for recruiting their exhausted strength and thus
become the more fit for battle. They availed themselves of this oversight
and were perfectly at ease; after they had glutted themselves with animal
food they lay down upon the grass and slept quietly. Throughout the night
the Spaniards made their artillery roar without intermission, in order to
display their vigilance.

On the ensuing day, which was the tenth of their march, January 27, 1671,
the pirates advanced at a very early hour, with their military music, and
took the road leading to Panama. By the advice, however, of one of their
guides, they quitted the main road and went out of the way across a thick
wood through which there was no footpath. For this the Spaniards were
unprepared, having confined themselves to the erection of batteries and
construction of redoubts on the highway. They soon perceived the inutility
of this measure and were obliged to relinquish their guns in order to
oppose their enemies on the contrary side; but not being able to take their
cannons away from their batteries, they were, consequently, incapacitated
from making use of one part of their defensive means.

After two hours' march the freebooters discovered the hostile army, which
was a very fine one, well equipped, and was advancing in battle array. The
soldiers were clad in party-colored silk stuffs, and the horsemen were
seated upon their mettlesome steeds as if they were going to a bull-fight.
The President in person took the command of this body of troops, which
was of considerable importance, both for the country and likewise for the
forces supported there by Spain. He marched against the pirates with four
regiments of the line consisting of infantry, besides twenty-four
hundred foot-soldiers of another description, four hundred horsemen, and
twenty-four hundred wild bulls under the conduct of several hundred Indians
and negroes.

This army, which extended over the whole plain, was discovered by the
pirates from the summit of a small eminence, and presented to them a most
imposing appearance, insomuch that they were struck with a kind of terror.
They now began to feel some anxiety as to the event of an engagement with
forces so greatly superior to them in point of numbers, but they were soon
convinced that they must actually conquer or die, and encouraged each other
to fight till the very last drop of their blood was shed; a determination
this, which, on the part of these intrepid men, was by no means a vain
resolution.

They divided themselves into three bodies, placed two hundred of their best
marksmen in the front, and marched boldly against the Spaniards, who
were drawn up in order of battle on a very spacious plain. The Governor
immediately ordered the cavalry to charge the enemy, and the wild bulls to
be at the same time let loose upon them. But the ground was unfavorable for
this purpose; the horsemen encountered nothing but marshes, behind which
were posted the two hundred marksmen, who kept up such a continual and
well-directed fire that horses and men fell in heaps beneath their shots
before it was possible to effect a retreat. Fifty horsemen only escaped
this formidable discharge of musketry.

The bulls, on whose services they had calculated so highly, it became
impracticable to drive among the pirates. Hence such a confusion arose as
to completely reverse the whole plan of the battle. The freebooters, in
consequence, attacked the Spanish infantry with so much the greater vigor.
They successively knelt on the ground, fired, and rose up again. While
those who were on one knee directed their fire against the hostile army,
which began to waver; the pirates, who continued standing, rapidly charged
their fire-arms. Every man, on this occasion, evinced a dexterity and
presence of mind which decided the fate of the battle. Almost every shot
was fatal. The Spaniards, nevertheless, continued to defend themselves with
much valor, which proved of little service against an exasperated enemy
whose courage, inflamed by despair, derived additional strength from their
successes. At length the Spaniards had recourse to their last expedient:
the wild cattle were let loose upon the rear of the freebooters.

The buccaneers were in their element: by their shouts they intimidated the
bulls, at the same time waving party-colored flags before them; fired on
the animals and laid them all upon the ground, without exception. The
engagement lasted two hours; and notwithstanding the Spaniards were so
greatly superior, both in numbers and in arms, it terminated entirely
in favor of the freebooters. The Spaniards lost the chief part of their
cavalry, on which they had built their expectations of victory; the
remainder returned to the charge repeatedly, but their efforts only tended
to render their defeat the more complete. A very few horsemen only escaped,
together with some few of the infantry who threw down their arms to
facilitate the rapidity of their flight. Six hundred Spaniards lay dead on
the field of battle; besides these, they sustained a very considerable loss
in such as were wounded and taken prisoner.

Among the latter were some Franciscans who had exposed themselves to the
greatest dangers in order that they might animate the combatants and afford
the last consolations of religion to the dying. They were conducted into
Morgan's presence, who instantly pronounced sentence of death upon them.
In vain did these hapless priests implore that pity which they might have
expected from a less ferocious enemy. They were all killed by pistol-shots.
Many Spaniards who were apprehensive lest they should be overtaken in their
flight had concealed themselves in the flags and rushes along the banks
of the river. They were mostly discovered and hacked to pieces by the
merciless pirates.

The freebooters' task, however, was by no means completed. They had yet to
take Panama, a large and populous city, which was defended by forts and
batteries, and into which the Governor had retired, together with the
fugitives. The conquest of this place was the more difficult, as the
pirates had dearly purchased their victory, and their remaining forces were
in no respect adequate to encounter the difficulties attending such an
enterprise. It was, however, determined to make an attempt. Morgan had just
procured from a wounded captive Spanish officer the necessary information;
but he had not a moment to lose. It would not do to allow the Spaniards
time to adopt new measures of defence; the city was therefore assaulted on
the same day, in defiance of a formidable artillery which wrought great
havoc among the freebooters; and at the end of three hours they were in
possession of Panama.

The capture of that city was followed by a general pillage. Morgan, who
dreaded the consequence of excessive intoxication--especially after his men
had suffered such a long abstinence--prohibited them from drinking any
wine under the severest penalties. He foresaw that such a prohibition would
infallibly be infringed, unless it were sanctioned by an argument far
more powerful than the fear of punishment. He therefore caused it to be
announced that he had received information that the Spaniards had poisoned
all their wine. This dexterous falsehood produced the desired effect, and
for the first time the freebooters were temperate.

The majority of the inhabitants of Panama had betaken themselves to flight.
They had embarked their women, their riches, all their movables that were
of any value and small in bulk, and had sent this valuable cargo to
the island of Taroga. The men were dispersed over the country, but in
sufficiently great numbers to appear formidable to the pirates, whose
forces were much diminished, and who could not expect any assistance from
abroad. They therefore continued constantly together, and for their greater
security, most of them encamped without the walls.

We have now reached the time when Morgan committed a barbarous and
incomprehensible action, concerning which his comrades--some of whom were
his historians--have given only a very ambiguous explanation.

Notwithstanding that all the precious articles had been carried away from
Panama, there still remained--as in every great European trading city--a
vast number of shops, warehouses, and magazines filled with every kind of
merchandise. Besides a very great quantity of wrought and manufactured
articles, the productions of luxury and industry, that city contained
immense stores of flour, wine, and spices; vast magazines of that metal
which is justly deemed the most valuable of all because it is the most
useful: extensive buildings, in which were accumulated prodigious stores of
iron tools and implements, anvils and ploughs which had been received from
Europe and were destined to revive the Spanish colonies. Some judgment may
be formed respecting the value of the last-mentioned articles only when it
is considered that a quintal (one hundredweight) of iron was sold at Panama
for thirty-two piasters (about thirty-three dollars).

All these multifarious articles, so essentially necessary for furnishing
colonists with the means of subsistence, were, it should seem, of no value
in the estimation of the ferocious Morgan because he could not carry them
away; although, by preserving them, he might have made use of them by
demanding a specific ransom for them. Circumstances might also enable him
to derive some further advantages from them, but, in fact, whatever was
distant or uncertain presented no attraction to this barbarian, who was
eager to enjoy, but more ardent to destroy.

He was struck by one consideration only. All these bulky productions of
art and industry were for the moment of no use to the freebooters. Of what
importance to him was the ruin of many thousand innocent families? He
consulted only the ferocity of his character, and without communicating his
design to any individual he secretly caused the city to be set on fire
in several places. In a few hours it was almost entirely consumed. The
Spaniards that had remained in Panama--as well as the pirates themselves,
who were at first ignorant whence the conflagration proceeded--ran together
and united their efforts in order to extinguish the flames. They brought
water, and pulled down houses, with a view to prevent the further progress
of that destructive element. All their exertions were fruitless. A violent
wind was blowing, and, in addition to this circumstance, the principal part
of the buildings in that city were constructed of wood. Its finest houses,
together with their valuable furniture, among which was the magnificent
palace belonging to the Genoese, the churches, convents, courthouse, shops,
hospitals, pious foundations, warehouses loaded with sacks of flour, nearly
two hundred other warehouses filled with merchandise--all were reduced to
ashes! The fire also consumed a great number of animals, horses, mules, and
many slaves who had concealed themselves and who were burned alive. A very
few houses only escaped the fire, which continued burning upward of four
weeks. Amid the havoc produced in every quarter by the conflagration, the
freebooters did not neglect to pillage as much as they possibly could, by
which means they collected a considerable booty.

Morgan seemed ashamed of his atrocious act; he carefully concealed that he
had ever executed it, and gave out that the Spaniards themselves had set
their city on fire.



%STRUGGLE OF THE DUTCH AGAINST FRANCE AND ENGLAND%

A.D. 1672

C.M. DAVIES


Seldom has any people held out so heroically against overwhelming numbers
as did the Dutch in 1672. Of the various wars during the reign of Louis
XIV, that which he carried on against Holland was one of the most
important. By its settlement, at the Peace of Nimwegen (1678-1679), the
long hostilities between France and Holland and their allies were brought
to a close, and Holland was once more saved from threatened destruction.

Louis, having invaded the Spanish Netherlands, had reluctantly consented to
the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle (1668), by which he retained a small part of
the Low Countries. By insisting on this treaty Holland gave deep offence
to the French monarch, who in 1672 began a war of revenge against the
Netherlands, where his schemes of large acquisition had been thwarted. His
first attempt was to isolate Holland, and having purchased the King of
Sweden, he bribed Charles II of England, uncle of William of Orange, to
enter into a secret treaty against the Netherlands.

The principal events of the war are narrated by Davies, who shows how the
old spirit of the Dutch returned to them in this supreme hour of new peril
to their liberties.

The Dutch, though, in defence of their religion and liberties, they had
beaten the first soldiers in the world, were never essentially a military
nation; and in 1672 a long interval of peace, and devotion to the pursuits
of commerce, had rendered them quite unfit for warlike enterprises. The
army was entirely disorganized; the officers, appointed by the magistrates
of the towns on the score of relationship or party adherence, without
the slightest regard to their efficiency, were suffered, without fear of
punishment, to keep the numbers of their regiments incomplete, in order
that they might appropriate the pay of the vacancies; while the men,
independent and undisciplined, were allowed to spend their time in the
pursuit of some gainful trade or peaceful occupation, instead of practising
military exercises. The disputes concerning the appointment of a
captain-general had impeded any fresh levies, the recruits refusing to take
the oath to the States except in conjunction with the Prince of Orange, and
had induced many of the best and most experienced officers to take service
in the French army; the fortifications of the towns were in a dilapidated
condition, and no measures had been adopted for the security of the
frontier.

Such was the state to which party spirit had reduced a nation filled with
brave, intelligent, and virtuous inhabitants, and governed by statesmen as
able and wise as the world ever saw, when the two most powerful sovereigns
of Europe declared war against her. The manifests were both issued on the
same day. That of the King of England is strongly marked by the duplicity
which was the distinguishing characteristic both of himself and of his
court as then constituted. From the style of the document one might be led
to suppose that he was forced into the war with extreme reluctance and
regret, and only in consequence of the impossibility of obtaining redress
by any other means for the deep injuries he had sustained. He declared
that, so far back as the year 1664, his Parliament had complained of the
wrongs and oppressions exercised by the Dutch on his subjects in the East
Indies, and for which they had refused to make reparation by amicable
means.

They had openly refused him the honor of the flag, one of the most ancient
prerogatives of his crown; had sought to invite the King of France to
hostilities against him; and had insulted his person and dignity by the
abusive pictures and medals exposed in all their towns. This expression was
understood to allude to a medal complained of three years before, and to
a portrait of Cornelius de Witt, in the perspective of which was a
representation of the burning of Chatham. Cornelius de Witt being an
ex-burgomaster of Dordrecht, the council of that town had, with a
natural pride, caused this picture to be painted and hung up in the
council-chamber. The extreme sensitiveness manifested by Charles on this
point appeared to the States rather superfluous in a monarch whose own
kingdom teemed with the most offensive truths relative to himself and his
government.

As if determined that the mode of commencing hostilities should be as
lawless and unjust as the war itself, the court of England, several days
before the declaration was issued, had commanded Sir Robert Holmes to
attack the Dutch Smyrna fleet on its return. While cruising near the Isle
of Wight, Holmes met the admiral, Sprague, by whom he was informed of the
near approach of the vessels; but, anxious to secure to himself the whole
of the booty, estimated at near a million and a half of guilders, he
suffered Sprague to sail away in ignorance of his instructions, and leaving
him with no more than nine frigates and three yachts. His covetousness,
happily, proved the salvation of the fleet. After a short encounter of two
days' duration, Holmes was forced to retire, having captured no more than
three or four of the more inconsiderable ships, while the remainder gained
their harbors in safety.

The King of France appeared, by the tenor of his declaration of war, to
imagine that his power and dignity entitled him to set at naught alike the
natural rights of mankind and the law of nations; it resembled, indeed,
rather the threat of a predatory incursion on the part of a barbarian chief
than the justification of the taking up of arms by a civilized government.
Without adducing a single cause of complaint, he satisfied himself with
declaring that the conduct of the States had been such as it was not
consistent with his glory to endure any longer.

If anything, indeed, could justify the arrogant tone assumed by Louis, the
circumstances in which he found himself would have done so. An army of one
hundred twenty thousand, able and well-equipped troops, commanded by Condé
and Turenne, and numbering in its ranks volunteers of the noblest families
in France eager to distinguish themselves under the eye of their sovereign;
funds lavishly supplied by the able minister of finance, Colbert; with vast
magazines of ammunition and every other necessary collected, and winter
quarters secured in the neighboring and friendly territories of Cologne and
Muenster, seemed means almost absurdly disproportioned in magnitude to the
end to be attained. At the same time he was but too well informed of the
defenceless condition of the enemy. Jan de Witt and the States conceived
that his first attempt would be upon Maestricht, the possession of which he
was known to have long coveted, and that the difficulties of its conquest
would be sufficient to deter from further enterprise a monarch of whose
military prowess no very high idea was entertained, and who was supposed to
be far more enamoured of the pomp and circumstance of war than of its toils
and dangers. They accordingly fortified and provided Maestricht with
the utmost care, leaving the frontier towns on the Rhine in an utterly
inefficient state of defence. Aware of this fact, Louis commenced his
operations on the side of Cleves, and, separating his army into four
divisions, laid siege simultaneously to as many places. He himself summoned
the town of Rhynberg, the Duke of Orleans sat down before Orsay, Condé was
commanded to reduce Wesel, and Turenne, Burick. All surrendered within a
week. To give an account of the capture of the towns which followed, would
be but to heap example upon example of cowardice or treachery, or--as they
are generally found together--both.

Nothing less than entire unanimity and the most undaunted resolution could
have enabled the Dutch to resist the overwhelming force employed against
them; whereas, the miserable effect of the internal dissensions of the
republic had been to destroy for the time all mutual confidence. In some
places the garrisons, despising their incapable commanders, refused to act;
or the governors, mistrustful of their undisciplined troops, lost all hope
of prolonging a defence; in others, the detestation entertained by the
magistrates toward the Orange party was so great that, preferring to submit
to France rather than to a native stadtholder, they hastened to deliver up
their towns to the invader; on the other hand, the friends of the house
of Orange looked not without some complacency on the misfortunes which
threatened the state, and which they hoped would reduce it to the necessity
of raising the Prince to the dignities of his family; while in those places
where the Catholics were numerous, the populace, under the guidance of the
priests, forced both garrisons and governments to open their gates to the
sovereign whom they hailed as the restorer of their religion. With scarcely
a show of opposition, therefore, Louis advanced to the Rhine.

The drought of the summer was so excessive that this river had become
fordable in three places, which, being pointed out to the French by some
peasants of Guelderland, the King determined on attempting the passage
between Schenkenschans and Arnhem, near the Tollhuys, a village and tower
about two miles distant from the separation of the branch of the river
called the Wahal. The Prince of Orange, who was stationed with about
twenty-two thousand men at Arnhem, and along the banks of the Yssel,
instead of concentrating his forces to oppose the passage of the enemy,
contented himself with detaching De Montbas to guard the Betuwe, and to
throw succors if requisite into Nimwegen. But this general, deeming the
troops placed under his command insufficient for the purpose required,
abandoned his post. He was arrested and sent to Utrecht, but afterward
allowed to escape. Immediately on the retreat of Montbas the Prince
despatched General Wurtz, but still with a vastly inadequate force, to
occupy the post at the Tollhuys. The French cuirassiers, led on by the
Counts de Guiche and Revel, first waded into the ford under the fire of
the artillery from the tower, which, however, as there were no more than
seventeen men stationed in it, was not very formidable. They were followed
by a number of volunteers, and in a short time the whole of the cavalry
passed over with trifling loss. The Dutch troops, discouraged as well by
the unexpectedness of the attempt as by their own inferiority in number,
were driven back after a short skirmish. A bridge was then thrown across
the river for the infantry, and thus this famous passage was accomplished
with comparative ease and safety.

As the position of the Prince of Orange on the Yssel, which in consequence
of the drought was fordable throughout nearly the whole of its course, was
now no longer tenable, he retired to Utrecht, abandoning Arnhem to the
enemy, who soon after received the submission of Nimwegen and the whole of
Guelderland, Thiel, and the Bommel. In order to put Utrecht into a state of
defence, the Prince considered it necessary to burn down all the suburbs;
a measure which, when he proposed to the States of the Province, he found
them reluctant to comply with. He therefore immediately quitted that city,
and with the whole of his forces made a further retreat into Holland. Thus
left wholly unprotected, the States of Utrecht conceived that the only
resource which remained to them was to mollify the conqueror by a speedy
submission; and accordingly, while Louis was yet at Doesburg, they sent
deputies to tender to him the keys of the city and the submission of the
whole province. The King shortly after entered Utrecht in triumph.

While the good-fortune, rather than the arms, of Louis subdued Guelderland
and Utrecht, his allies, the Bishops of Cologne and Muenster, found no more
vigorous resistance in Overyssel. Oldenzeel, Entschede, and other small
towns yielded at once to their summons; Deventer, though well garrisoned
and amply provided, was surrendered at once by the municipal government,
who, by their exhortations and example, induced that of Zwol to adopt a
like disgraceful course of conduct. The easily acquired spoil was divided
among the captors; the King of France, who had furnished a subsidy of
troops, placed garrisons in Campen and Elburg; the Archbishop of Cologne
retained Deventer; Groll and Breevoort being allotted to the Bishop of
Muenster, while Zwol was held in common. The troops of these warlike
prelates exercised everywhere unbounded license and cruelties. Numbers
of unhappy families were driven from their homes, and, taking refuge in
Holland, added to the consternation which prevailed there.

This province was now in imminent danger. No barrier remained, as it
appeared, to oppose the progress of the enemy; the army of the Prince had
dwindled to about thirteen thousand men; two of the frontier towns, Woerden
and Oudewater, had solicited safeguards from the invaders; and Naarden was
surprised by the Count of Rochefort. Had he marched on at once to Muyden he
might have occupied that town also, a post of immense importance from
its situation, as ships going to Amsterdam must come within reach of its
cannon; and by means of a sluice there, the surrounding country may at
any time be inundated. It had been left destitute of a garrison; but, the
French commander remaining two or three days inactive at Naarden, time was
afforded to John Maurice of Nassau to enter Muyden with a strong body of
troops, and the chance thus lost was gone forever.

Amazed at the rapid advances of the invader, and dispirited by the symptoms
of daily increasing aversion which the great body of the people manifested
to his government, the courage of Jan de Witt at this crisis so entirely
forsook him that he took upon himself the disgrace of being the first to
propose to the States of Holland that they should implore mercy from the
conqueror. The resolution was immediately adopted, and by them proposed to
the States-General, where it was passed with the dissentient voice only
of Zealand, who was of opinion that they should treat simultaneously with
England, from whence that province had to apprehend the principal danger. A
deputation was accordingly sent to Louis, at Keppel, near Doesburg, headed
by De Groot, and commissioned to inquire upon what terms his majesty was
inclined to grant peace to the republic. They were answered by Louvois,
that the King was not disposed to restore any of the conquests he had made
or to enter into any negotiation unless the deputies were furnished with
full powers and instructions as to what the States intended to offer.
Returning to The Hague, De Groot made his report to the States of Holland,
and, representing the desperate condition of their affairs, recommended
that Louis should be gratified with Maestricht and all the other towns of
the generality; and that a sum should be offered him to defray the expenses
of the war, provided the King would leave them in possession of their
liberty and sovereignty. Leyden, Haarlem, and most of the other towns
followed the example of the nobles in receiving these pusillanimous
counsels with approbation.

Amsterdam, however, proved that the spirit of the "Gueux" was not yet
utterly extinct in Holland. Prevailing with four towns of North Holland to
follow their example, the Council of Amsterdam refused to send deputies to
debate upon the question of granting full powers to the ambassadors, and
made vigorous preparations for the defence of their city. They repaired
the fortifications, and strengthened them with considerable outworks, the
magistrates themselves being the first to sacrifice their magnificent
country houses in the suburbs for this purpose; they assigned to each of
the regiments of burgher guards, who were ten thousand in number, a portion
of the city to watch; took into their pay as soldiers all those inhabitants
whom the cessation of trade would throw out of employment; stationed
outlyers in the Y, Amstel, Zuyder Zee, and Pampus, and, cutting the dikes,
laid the country to a great distance round under water. They likewise
passed a resolution that, though all the rest of Holland should make terms
with the conqueror, they would sustain the siege single-handed till some
friendly power should afford them assistance.

The causes which combined to expose the United Provinces to these terrible
disasters by land had, happily, no influence on their affairs by sea. The
fleet, commanded by De Ruyter, an officer surpassed by none of any age
or nation in ability and courage, and of devoted fidelity to the present
government, had been increased to ninety-one ships and frigates of war,
fifty-four fire-ships, and twenty-three yachts. That of the allies,
commanded by the Duke of York, comprised after the junction of the French
squadron under the Count d'Etrées, one hundred forty-nine ships-of-war,
besides the smaller vessels. Sailing in quest of the enemy, De Ruyter
discovered them lying in Solebay, evidently unprepared for his approach. On
this occasion was felt the disadvantage of intrusting an officer with the
chief command without at the same time giving him sufficient authority to
insure its beneficial exercise. In consequence of the presence on board of
Cornelius de Witt, the deputy of the States, De Ruyter, instead of ordering
an immediate attack, was obliged to call a council of war, and thus gave
the English time to arrange themselves in order of battle, which they did
with astonishing celerity.

The Dutch advanced in three squadrons, nearly in a line with each other;
the Admiral Bankert on the left to the attack of the French; Van Gend on
the right, with the purpose of engaging the blue squadron commanded by
Montague, Earl of Sandwich; while De Ruyter in the middle directed his
course toward the red flag of the English, and, pointing with his finger to
the Duke of York's vessel, said to his pilot, "There is our man." The pilot
instantly steered the ship right down upon that of the Duke, and a terrific
broadside was returned with equal fury. After two hours' incessant firing,
the English admiral retreated, his ship being so damaged that he was
obliged to transfer his flag on board the London. At the same time Braakel,
a captain who had signalized himself in the burning of Chatham, with a
vessel of sixty-two guns, attacked the Royal James, of one hundred four
guns, the ship of the Earl of Sandwich, which he boarded and fired.
Montague, refusing to surrender, was drowned in the attempt to escape in a
boat. On the other hand, Van Gend, the admiral of the squadron engaged with
the Earl's, was killed in the beginning of the action. The contest was
maintained with the daring and steady valor characteristic of both nations,
from seven in the morning until nightfall. The French had received
instructions to keep aloof from the fight, and allow the two fleets to
destroy each other; and these they took care to carry out to the full.
Thus, the only assistance they afforded to the English was to prevent
the Dutch squadron engaged in watching their movements from acting, an
advantage more than counterbalanced by the discouragement their behavior
occasioned among their allies.

Though both parties claimed the victory, it undoubtedly inclined in favor
of the Dutch, who sustained a loss somewhat inferior to that of their
antagonists, and had the satisfaction, moreover, of preventing a descent
upon Zealand by the combined fleets, which was to have been the immediate
consequence of a defeat. This was, however, attempted about a month after,
when the disasters attending the arms of the States by land, having induced
them to diminish the number of their ships, De Ruyter received commands to
remain in the ports and avoid an engagement. The whole of the English fleet
appeared in the Texel provided with small craft for the purpose of landing.
But, by a singular coincidence, it happened that, on the very day fixed for
the attempt, the water continued, from some unknown cause, so low as to
render it impossible for the vessels to approach the shore, and to impress
the people with the idea that the ebb of the tide lasted for the space of
twelve hours. Immediately after, a violent storm arose, which drove the
enemy entirely away from the coasts.

The internal condition of the United Provinces was at this time such as to
incite the combined monarchs, no less than their own successes, to treat
them with insolence and oppression. They beheld the inhabitants, instead of
uniting with one generous sentiment of patriotism in a firm and strenuous
defence of their fatherland, torn by dissensions, and turning against each
other the rage which should have been directed against their enemies. The
divisions in every province and town were daily becoming wider and more
embittered. Though both parties had merited an equal share of blame for the
present miscarriages, the people imputed them exclusively to the government
of Jan de Witt and his adherents; who, they said, had betrayed and sold the
country to France; and this accusation to which their late pusillanimous
counsels gave but too strong a color of plausibility, the heads of the
Orange party, though well aware of its untruth, diligently sustained and
propagated. The ministers of the Church, always influential and always on
the alert, made the pulpits resound with declamations against the treachery
and incapacity of the present government as the cause of all the evils
under which they groaned; and emphatically pointed to the elevation of the
Prince of Orange to the dignities of his ancestors as the sole remedy now
left them. To this measure De Witt and his brother were now regarded as the
only obstacles; and, so perverted had the state of public feeling become
that the most atrocious crimes began to be looked upon as meritorious
actions, provided only they tended to the desired object of removing these
obnoxious ministers.

On one occasion, Jan de Witt, having been employed at the Chamber of the
States to a late hour of the night, was returning home attended by a single
servant, according to his custom, when he was attacked by four assassins.
He defended himself for a considerable time, till having received some
severe wounds he fell, and his assailants decamped, leaving him for dead.
One only, James van der Graaf, was arrested; the other three took refuge in
the camp, where, though the States of Holland earnestly enjoined the Prince
of Orange and the other generals to use diligent means for their discovery,
they remained unmolested till the danger was passed. Van der Graaf was
tried and condemned to death. The pensionary was strongly solicited by
his friends to gratify the people by interceding for the pardon of the
criminals; but he resolutely refused to adopt any such mode of gaining
popularity. Impunity, he said, would but increase the number and boldness
of such miscreants; nor would he attempt to appease the causeless hatred of
the people against him by an act which he considered would tend to endanger
the life of every member of the Government. The determination, however
just, was imprudent. The criminal, an account of whose last moments was
published by the minister who attended him, was regarded by the populace as
a victim to the vengeance of Jan de Witt, and a martyr to the good of his
country. On the same day a similar attempt was made on the life of his
brother, Cornelius de Witt, at Dordrecht, by a like number of assassins,
who endeavored to force their way into his house, but were prevented by the
interference of a detachment of the burgher guard.

Cornelius had already, on his return from the fleet in consequence of
impaired health, been greeted with the spectacle of his picture, which had
given such umbrage to the King of England, cut into strips and stuck about
the town, with the head hanging upon the gallows. These symptoms of tumult
rapidly increased in violence. A mob assembling, with loud cries of
"_Oranje boven! de Witten onder_!" ("Long live the Prince of Orange! down
with the De Witts!") surrounded the houses of the members of the council,
whom they forced to send for the Prince, and to pass an act, repealing the
"Perpetual Edict," declaring him stadtholder, and releasing him from the
oath he had taken not to accept that office while he was captain-general.
Having been signed by all the other members of the council, this act was
carried to the house of Cornelius de Witt, who was confined to his bed
by sickness, the populace at the same time surrounding the house and
threatening him with death in case of refusal. He long resisted, observing
that he had too many balls falling around him lately to fear death, which
he would rather suffer than sign that paper; but the prayers and tears of
his wife and her threats, that if he delayed compliance she would throw
herself and her children among the infuriated populace, in the end overcame
his resolution. He added to his signature the letters V.C. _(vi coactus_),
but the people, informed by a minister of their purport, obliged him to
erase them.

Similar commotions broke out at Rotterdam, Haarlem, Leyden, Amsterdam, and
in other towns, both of Holland and Zealand, where the populace constrained
the magistrates by menace and violence to the repeal of the edict.
Reluctant to have such a measure forced upon them by tumult and sedition,
the States of Holland and Zealand now unanimously passed an act revoking
the Perpetual Edict, and conferring on the Prince of Orange the dignity of
stadtholder, captain, and admiral-general of these provinces.

Soon afterward Cornelius de Witt was thrown into prison and put to the
torture on a false charge of planning the assassination of the Prince of
Orange. Jan de Witt visited his brother in his agony, and a mob, bursting
into the jail, seized upon both brothers as traitors and murdered them with
horrid brutality.

From this time the authority of William became almost uncontrolled in the
United Provinces. Most of the leaders of the Louvestein party, either
convinced of the necessity of his elevation to power in the present
emergency or unwilling to encounter the vexation of a fruitless opposition,
acquiesced in the present state of things; many were afterward employed by
him, and distinguished themselves by fidelity and zeal in his service. The
constant coöperation and participation in his views also of the pensionary,
Fagel, gave him an advantage which none of his predecessors had ever
enjoyed; the influence of the pensionaries of Holland having hitherto been
always opposed, and forming a counterpoise, to that of the stadtholder.

Unquestionably the Dutch, while thus parting with their liberties, reaped
in some degree the benefits usually attendant on such a sacrifice, in
the increased firmness and activity of a government conducted by a sole
responsible head. At the time of the embassy of Peter de Groot to solicit
peace from the King of France, the Prince had so far partaken of the
general dejection as to ask permission of the States to nominate a deputy
to treat of his particular interests; but no sooner was he created
stadtholder than he began to adopt bolder and more spirited resolutions
for the safety of a country to which he felt himself attached by new and
stronger ties. Being invited by the Assembly of the States to give his
opinion on the terms offered by the allied monarchs, he declared that their
acceptance would entail upon them certain ruin, and that the very listening
to such was pernicious in the highest degree to affairs, as tending to
disunite and dispirit the people.

He encouraged them to hope for speedy assistance from his allies; pointed
out the resources which yet existed for the support of the war; and
persuaded them rather to resolve, if they were driven to extremity, to
embark on board their vessels and found a new nation in the East Indies,
than accept the conditions. At the same time he spurned with indignation
the flattering proposals made him both by the Kings of France and England;
for--so singularly are men appointed to work out their own destiny--these
monarchs now vied with each other, and were in fact principally
instrumental, in exalting the power and dignity of a prince who ere long
was to hurl the brother of the one from the throne of his ancestors, and
prepare for the other an old age of vexation and disgrace, if not to lay
the first foundation of the ruin of his kingdom in the next century.

Louis, upon the appointment of the Prince to the office of stadtholder, was
liberal in offers of honor and advantages to his person and family, and
among the rest was one which he considered could scarcely fail of its
effect; that, namely, of making him sovereign of the provinces under the
protection of France and England. William, however, was found wholly
immovable on this point, declaring that he would rather retire to his
lands in Germany, and spend his life in hunting, than sell his country and
liberty to France. Nor were the dispiriting representations made by the
English ambassadors, that Holland was utterly lost unless he consented to
the terms proposed, at all more influential; "I have thought of a means,"
he replied, "to avoid beholding the ruin of my country--to die in the last
ditch."

Neither, indeed, was the state of the country, though sufficiently
deplorable, such as to leave him no choice but to become the vassal of her
haughty enemies. The progress of the invader in Holland was effectually
arrested by the state of defence into which that province had been put.
Imitating the noble example set them by Amsterdam, the other towns readily
opened the sluices of the Lek, Meuse, Yssel, and Vecht, inundating by that
means the whole of the intervening tracts of land.

The Dutch army was stationed at the five principal posts of the provinces;
Prince Maurice John being placed at Muyden and Weesp; Field Marshal
Wurtz at Gorcum; the Count of Horn at the Goejanverwellen Sluys;
another detachment occupied Woerden; and the Prince himself took up his
head-quarters at Bodergrave and Nieuwerburg.

At length, finding his army increased by the addition of subsidies from
Spain to twenty-four thousand men, William determined to infuse new vigor
into the public mind by the commencement of offensive hostilities. He
first formed the design of surprising Naarden and Woerden, both of which
attempts, however, proved unsuccessful. He then marched toward Maestricht,
captured and demolished the fort of Valckenburg, by which that town was
straitened, and, with the view of diverting the force of the enemy
by carrying the war into his own territory, advanced to the siege of
Charleroi. But the middle of winter having already arrived before he
commenced the enterprise, he was soon after compelled, by the severity
of the weather, to abandon it and retire to Holland, which, during his
absence, had, from the same cause, been exposed to imminent danger.

The Duke of Luxemburg, who had been left in command of the forces in
Utrecht on the departure of the King of France, for Paris, finding that the
ice with which the land-water was covered, was sufficiently strong to bear
the passage of cavalry, marched with a strong body of troops to Zwammerdam,
and thence to Bodergrave, both of which were abandoned. The purpose of the
French commander was to advance directly upon The Hague, and to force the
States to acknowledge the sovereignty of the King of France; a measure
which would, he conceived, involve the immediate submission of the whole
of the provinces. But, happily, his project was defeated by a sudden thaw,
which obliged him to return to Utrecht; and had it not been that the fort
of Nieuwerburg, situated on the dike, which afforded the only passage
thither, was deserted by the commander, _Pain-et-Vin_, his retreat must
have been cut off, and his army exposed to almost certain destruction.
Before his departure, Luxemburg revenged himself on the luckless villages
he had captured, which he pillaged and burned to the ground.[1] Pain-et-Vin
was afterward tried for breach of duty and executed.

[Footnote 1: The accounts given by the Dutch historians of the revolting
outrages and barbarities exercised by the invaders on this expedition are
strenuously denied by the writers on the French side; their conduct in
Utrecht, however, which we shall have occasion hereafter to notice, affords
but too ample evidence that there was some truth in the accusations. On the
other hand, that the Dutch authors are guilty of exaggeration may be easily
believed, since one of them gravely puts into the mouth of the Duke of
Luxemburg the following address to his soldiers: "Go, my children, plunder,
murder, destroy, and if it be possible to commit yet greater cruelties, be
not negligent therein, that I may see I am not deceived in my choice of the
flower of the king's troops."]

Though it might well have been feared that the failure of all the
enterprises of the Prince of Orange would have renewed the discontents
lately prevalent in the United Provinces, such an effect was in no degree
produced. The very boldness of the designs, it seemed, had been the cause
of their ill-success, and argued a zeal and activity for the public good
which inspired unbounded confidence in his future measures. The appearance
of renovated vigor in the United Provinces, moreover, encouraged
surrounding states to make some demonstrations in their favor. They had
wished to see them humbled, but not destroyed. The Emperor and princes of
Germany, in especial, contemplated with dread the prospect of exchanging
the neighborhood of the inoffensive and industrious people, who rarely
appeared to them in any other light than as the dispensers of abundance,
wealth, and luxury, for that of an ambitious and unscrupulous monarch,
whose glory was in destruction, and from whose encroachments their
boundaries would be for not one moment safe.

Though deeply imbued with these sentiments, the Elector of Brandenburg had
hitherto been deterred from lending them any assistance, lest, should they
be forced to make a peace with the King of France, the whole power and
vengeance of that monarch might be directed against himself. He now induced
the Emperor Leopold to enter into an alliance with him, by virtue of which
he levied a force of twenty-four thousand men, to be joined with an equal
number furnished by himself, for the purpose of opposing the advances of
Louis. Though the secret treaty which the Emperor had made with France,
binding himself not to afford aid to any member of the Triple Alliance,
and of which the Elector was in ignorance, limited the employment of the
imperial army strictly to the protection of the empire, and consequently
prevented it from marching at once to the support of the provinces, its
movement was of considerable advantage to their affairs, in calling off
Turenne from Bois-le-Duc, to which he had laid siege, to the defence of the
places on the Rhine. The Bishops of Muenster and Cologne, also, whom the
brave defence of the garrison of Groningen had forced to raise the siege,
were under the necessity of abandoning both that province and Guelderland,
and hastening to the protection of their own territories.

Among the benefits which the Dutch anticipated with the utmost confidence
as the consequence of the elevation of the Prince of Orange to his paternal
dignities was the appeasing the hostility of his uncle, the King of
England. In this, however, they were wholly deceived. On the meeting of
Parliament in this year, the chancellor, Shaftesbury, addressed the two
Houses in a strain of hostile feeling to the Dutch nation, more bitter than
the court as yet ventured to express. He represented that, "besides the
personal indignities in the way of pictures, medals, and other public
affronts which the King received from the States, they came at last to
such a height of insolence as to deny him the honor of the flag, though an
undoubted jewel of the crown, and disputed the King's title to it in all
the courts of Europe, making great offers to the French King if he would
stand by them in this particular.

"But both kings, knowing their own interest, resolved to join against them,
who were the common enemies of all monarchies, but especially the English,
their only competitor in commerce and naval power, and the chief obstacle
to their attainment of the dominion they aimed at, a dominion as universal
as that of Rome; and so intoxicated were they with that vast ambition that
under all their present distress and danger they haughtily rejected every
overture for a treaty or a cessation of arms; that the war was a just and
necessary measure, advised by the Parliament itself from the conviction
that, at any rate, _Delenda est Carthago_--such a government'must be
destroyed; and that therefore the King may well say it was their war; which
had never been begun, but that the States refused him satisfaction because
they believed him to be in so great want of money that they must sit down
under any affronts."

But the Parliament, always disinclined to the war, had now begun to view it
with absolute aversion; and though moved, by the King's representations
of the embarrassed condition he should be reduced to if the supply were
refused, to yield a subsidy of seventy thousand pounds a month for eighteen
months, they forced him to pay a high price for their complaisance by
extorting his consent to the "Test Act." By the operation of this act, the
Duke of York, the inveterate enemy of the Dutch, and Sir Thomas Clifford,
the minister who had the most zealously pushed forward the business of the
war, were forced to resign their offices. With the funds granted him by
Parliament, Charles was enabled to complete the equipment of a fleet,
which, when joined to a squadron of French ships under D'Estrées, numbered
one hundred fifty sail.

The Prince of Orange had wisely continued De Ruyter in the command of
the fleet as lieutenant-admiral of the provinces, with almost unlimited
instructions, and suffered himself to be wholly guided by him in naval
affairs, interfering only so far as to reinstate Tromp in the office
of admiral under the College of Amsterdam, and to effect a perfect
reconciliation between him and De Ruyter--a matter which the placable and
magnanimous temper of the latter rendered of easy accomplishment. Having
failed in a scheme of blocking up the Thames by means of sinking vessels in
the bed of that river, De Ruyter stationed himself at Schooneveldt, with
the purpose of protecting the coast of Zealand against a meditated descent
of the enemy. While at anchor he descried the hostile fleet approaching;
but a calm, succeeded by rough weather, prevented them for some days from
coming to an engagement.

The Dutch were considerably inferior in strength to the allies, the number
of their vessels being no more than fifty-two men-of-war and twelve
frigates, of which, moreover, the equipages were, owing to the scarcity of
seamen, by no means complete. But this deficiency was more than compensated
by the spirit and conduct of their great commander. "The weaker our fleet
is," observed De Ruyter, in answer to some remark made to him on the
subject, "the more confidently I expect a victory, not from our own
strength, but from the arm of the Almighty." Under a favorable breeze, the
French and English ships bore down upon their unequal antagonists, in the
full expectation that they would avoid the encounter, by retiring behind
the sand-banks of Flushing. The Dutch, however, firmly awaited the shock,
commenced by the squadron of French ships, which on this occasion had
been placed in the van to avoid the imputation cast upon them in the last
battle. They engaged with that of Tromp, whose impetuous firing compelled
the French admiral to retire for a time; but quickly rallying, he returned
to the charge with such vigor that Tromp was obliged to remove his flag on
four different vessels successively.

De Ruyter, meanwhile, had engaged the red squadron, commanded by Prince
Rupert, which after a sharp contest he threw into some disorder, and
succeeded in cutting off a considerable number of ships from the remainder.
Instead, however, of pursuing his advantage, De Ruyter, becoming aware of
the danger of his rival, who was now entirely surrounded by the enemy,
hastened to his rescue. On seeing him approach, Tromp exclaimed: "Comrades,
here is our grandsire [a pet name given to De Ruyter among the sailors]
coming to help us; so long as I live I will never forsake him!" The
generous aid was no less effectual than well timed, since the enemy,
astonished at his unexpected appearance, fell back. "I am pleased to see,"
he said, "that our enemies still fear the Seven Provinces," the name of the
vessel which carried his flag. The fight was continued with unremitting
obstinacy till darkness separated the combatants, when the Dutch found that
they had gained about three miles upon their antagonists.

That the issue of such a contest should be doubtful was in itself
equivalent to a victory on the side of the Dutch; a victory of which they
reaped all the advantages, as well as the glory, since, besides delivering
their coasts from the intended invasion, their loss was so inconsiderable
that within a week the fleet was able to put to sea in its original numbers
and strength. Another engagement, fought with less of energy and resolution
on the side of the English than usually distinguished them, terminated in
their retreat toward the Thames, which, De Ruyter conceiving to be a feint
to draw the Dutch fleet off their coasts, he declined the pursuit. The
movement, however, had its origin in a far different cause. The English
sailors fully participated in the feelings entertained by the great body of
the nation, who viewed the aggrandizement of their ally with jealousy, and
the undeserved misfortunes of their enemy with pity, and considered every
advantage gained over the Dutch as a step toward the completion of the
sinister designs they suspected their own sovereign of harboring against
their religion and liberties. They accordingly made no concealment of their
reluctance to fight longer in such a quarrel.

It was now become evident to the Government that the only mode of
reconciling the people in any degree to the present state of things was the
execution of some brilliant achievement which should flatter their national
vanity and kindle their ambition or lead to the acquisition of spoil
sufficiently considerable to afford some sensible assistance in supporting
the war. A descent on Holland was therefore resolved on, or, if that were
found impracticable, it was proposed to intercept the Indian fleet, whose
arrival was hourly expected. With this view a formidable fleet of one
hundred fifty sail made its appearance in the Texel, and was met by De
Ruyter about five miles from the village of the Helder. The Dutch, though
far inferior in number, having only seventy-five vessels, convinced
that this struggle was to be the most desperate and the last, prepared
themselves for it as men who had everything at stake. After a short but
inspiring harangue, De Ruyter gave the signal for attack. As if with a
presentiment that long years would elapse before they should again try
the strength of each other's arm, the English and Dutch seemed mutually
determined to leave upon the minds of their foes an ineffaceable impression
of their skill and prowess.

All the resources which ability could suggest or valor execute were now
employed. Each admiral engaged with the antagonist against whom it had
before been his fortune to contend. De Ruyter attached himself to the
squadron of Prince Rupert; Tromp attacked Sprague, who commanded the blue
flag; while Bankert was opposed to the French; the latter, however, after
a short skirmish on the part of Rear Admiral Martel, who was unacquainted
with the secret orders given to the commander, D'Estrées, dropped off to a
distance; nor could all the signals made by Prince Rupert induce them to
take any further share in the fight. Bankert, therefore, joined De Ruyter,
who was engaged in a terrific contest with the squadron of Prince Rupert.
The firing was kept up for several hours without cessation; the discharges
from the cannon of the Dutch vessels being, it was said, as rapid as those
of musketry, and in proportion of three to one to those of the enemy.
Tromp, whose actions always reflected more honor on his courage than
conduct, separated himself, as was his custom, from the remainder of the
fleet, and pressed forward into the midst of the enemy.

He had sustained a continued cannonading from the vessel of Sprague for
upward of three hours, without a single one of his crew being wounded, when
De Ruyter, who had forced Prince Rupert to retire, came to his assistance.
The Prince, on the other side, joined Admiral Sprague, and the fight was
renewed with increased ardor. The vessel of Tromp was so damaged that he
was obliged to remove his flag on board of another; Sprague was reduced to
a similar necessity of quitting his ship, the Royal Prince, for the St.
George, which, ere long, was so much disabled that he was obliged to
proceed to a third; but the boat in which he was passing being struck by a
cannon-ball, sank, and himself and several others were drowned. Toward the
close of evening one English man-of-war was on fire, and two foundered. Not
a single ship-of-war was lost on the side of the Dutch, but both fleets
were so much damaged as to be unable to renew the engagement on the next
morning. Each side, as usual, returned thanks for the victory, to
which, however, the English failed to establish their claim, neither by
accomplishing the projected invasion or intercepting the East India fleet,
the whole of which, except one vessel, reached the ports in safety.

In the more distant quarters of the world the war was carried on with
various success. The French captured the ports of Trincomalee, in Ceylon,
and St. Thomas, on the coast of Coromandel--which were, however, recovered
in the next year--and made an unsuccessful attempt on Curajao. The English
possessed themselves of the island of Tobago and seized four merchantmen
returning from India. But, on the other hand, the States' admiral,
Evertson, made himself master of New York, and, attacking the Newfoundland
ships, took or destroyed no less than sixty-five, and returned to Holland
laden with booty.

The King of France, meanwhile, well satisfied to have secured at so easy
a rate a powerful diversion of the forces of Holland, and the mutual
enfeebling of the two most formidable maritime powers of Europe, cared
little how the affairs of his ally prospered, so that he had been enabled
to pursue the career of his conquests on land. Marching in person at the
head of his troops he laid siege to Maestricht, a town famous for its
gallant defence against the Duke of Parma in 1579, but which now,
notwithstanding several brisk and murderous sallies, capitulated in less
than a month. With this achievement the campaign of Louis ended. The
progress of his arms, and the development of his schemes of ambition had
now raised him up a phalanx of enemies, such as not even his presumption
could venture to despise. He had planned and executed his conquests in full
reliance on the cooperation or neutrality of the neighboring powers, and
found himself in no condition to retain them in defiance of their actual
hostility. He had, from the first, been strongly advised by Condé and
Turenne to destroy the fortifications of the less important towns,
retaining so many only of the larger as to insure the subjection of the
provinces. He had, however, deemed it more consonant to his "glory" to
follow the advice of Louvois in preserving all his conquests entire,
and had thus been obliged to disperse a large portion of his army into
garrisons, leaving the remainder, thinned, moreover, by sickness and
desertion, wholly insufficient to make head against the increasing number
of his opponents. He therefore came to the mortifying resolution of
abandoning the United Provinces, the possession of which he had anticipated
with so much pride.

This auspicious dawn of better fortunes to the provinces was followed by
the long and ardently desired peace with England. The circumstances of the
last battle, in which, as the English declared, "themselves, and the Dutch
had been made the gladiators for the French spectators," had more than
ever disgusted that nation with the alliance of an ambitious and selfish
monarch, who, they perceived, was but gratifying his own rapacity at the
expense of their blood and treasure. Spain had threatened a rupture with
England unless she would consent to a reasonable peace; and even Sweden
herself had declared, during the conferences at Cologne, that she should be
constrained to adopt a similar course if the King of France persisted in
extending his conquests. Should a war with these nations occur, the English
saw themselves deprived of the valuable commerce they carried on in their
ports, to be transferred, most probably, to the United Provinces; in
addition to which consideration, their navigation had already sustained
excessive injury from the privateering of the Zealanders, who had captured,
it is said, no less than twenty-seven hundred English merchant-ships.
These, and various other causes, had provoked the Parliament to use
expressions of the highest indignation at the measures of the court, and to
a peremptory refusal of further supplies for the war unless the Dutch, by
their obstinacy in rejecting terms of peace, should render its continuance
unavoidable.

Aware of this disposition, the States had addressed a letter to the King,
which, with sufficient adroitness, they had contrived should arrive
precisely at the meeting of Parliament, offering the King restitution
of all the places they had gained during the war, and satisfaction with
respect to the flag, or "any other matter they had not already ordered
according to his wishes." This communication, received with feelings of
extreme irritation by the court, had all the effect intended on the House
of Commons. It was in vain that the King complained of the personal insults
offered him by the Dutch; in vain that the chancellor expatiated on their
obstinacy, arrogance, and enmity to the English; and that the court party
remonstrated against the imprudence of exposing England defenceless to
the power of her haughty enemy. The Parliament persisted in refusing the
solicited supply; voted the standing army a grievance; bitterly complained
of the French alliance, and resolved that his majesty should be advised to
proceed in a treaty with the States-General, in order to a speedy peace.

A few days sufficed to accomplish a treaty; the Dutch obviating the
principal difficulty by yielding the honor of the flag in the most ample
manner. They now agreed that all their ships should lower their topsails
and strike the flag upon meeting one or more English vessels bearing the
royal standard, within the compass of the four seas, from Cape Finisterre
to Staaten in Norway, and engaged to pay the King two million guilders for
the expenses of the war.

Shortly after, the Bishops of Muenster and Cologne, alarmed at the
probability of being abandoned by the French to the anger of the Emperor,
who had threatened them with the ban of the empire, consented to a treaty
with the United Provinces, in virtue of which they restored all the places
they had conquered.



%DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI%

LA SALLE NAMES LOUISIANA

A.D. 1673-1682

FRANÇOIS XAVIER GARNEAU[1]

[Footnote 1: Translated by Andrew Bell.]


During the early colonization of New France, in the era of Count Frontenac,
a remarkable spirit of adventure and discovery manifested itself in Canada
among both clerics and laymen. This enterprise, in seeking to open up and
colonize the country, indeed, showed itself under each successive governor,
from the first settlement of Québec, in 1608, down to the fall, in 1759, of
the renowned capital on the St. Lawrence. In the entailed arduous labor,
full as it was of hazard and peril, the pathfinders of empire in the New
World, besides laymen, were largely the Jesuit missionaries.

This spirit of adventure specially began to show itself in the colony at
the period when M. Talon became intendant, when the government of New
France, at the time of Louis XIV's minister, Colbert, became vested
directly in the French crown. Through Talon's instrumentality the colony
revived, and by his large-minded policy its commerce, which had fallen into
the hands of a company of monopolists, was in time set free from many of
its restrictions.

Before Talon quitted the country, he took steps to extend the dominion of
France in the New World toward Hudson's Bay, and westward, in the direction
of the Great Lakes. In 1671 he despatched a royal commissioner to Sault
Ste. Marie, at the foot of Lake Superior, to assemble the Indians of the
region and induce them to place themselves under the protection, and aid
the commerce, of the French King.

While thus engaged, the commissioner heard of the Mississippi River from
the Indians; and Talon intrusted the task of tracking its waters to Father
Marquette and to M. Joliet, a merchant of Québec. With infinite toil these
two adventurous spirits reached the great river they were in search of, and
explored it as far south as the Arkansas. Here unfriendly Indian tribes
compelled them to return, without being permitted to trace the mighty
stream to its outlet. This, however, is supposed to have been accomplished,
in 1682, by Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la Salle, a daring young Frenchman,
who descended the Mississippi, it is currently believed, to the Gulf of
Mexico, naming the whole region Louisiana, in honor of Louis XIV.

Whether La Salle actually explored the great river to its mouth is, among
historians, still a moot point. It is supposed that early in his adventures
he retraced his steps and returned to Canada, where, as well as in France,
he had numerous detractors, among whom was De la Barre, the then Governor
of New France. It is known that he was soon again in Québec, to meet his
enemies, which he did successfully, after which he proceeded to France.
Here he was royally received by the King, and, as a proof of the monarch's
confidence in him, La Salle was intrusted with the command of a colonizing
expedition which was sent to Louisiana by sea.

This expedition never reached its destination, for differences with the
commander of the vessels (Beaujeu) interfered with the direction of the
expedition. The mouths of the Mississippi, it seems, were passed, and
the ships reached the coast of Texas. Disaster now dogged the leader's
footsteps, for Beaujeu ran one of the ships on the rocks, and then deserted
with another. La Salle and some of his more trusty followers were left to
their fate, which was a cruel one, for disease broke out in the ranks, and
famine and savage foes made havoc among the survivors. His colony being
reduced to forty persons, La Salle set out overland with sixteen men for
Canada to procure recruits. On the way his companions mutinied, put
La Salle to death, and but a handful of the party reached Canada, the
remainder perishing in the wilderness.

Were we to express in the briefest of terms the motives which induced the
leading European races of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries who came
to the Americas, we should say that the Spaniards went thither in quest of
gold, the English for the sake of enjoying civil and religious freedom, the
French in view of propagating the Gospel among the aborigines. Accordingly,
we find, from the beginning, in the annals of New France, religious
interests overlying all others. The members of the Society of Jesus,
becoming discredited among the nations of Europe for their subserviency to
power--usually exalting the rights of kings, but at all times
inculcating submission, both by kings and their subjects, to the Roman
pontiffs--individual Jesuits, we say, whatever may have been their demerits
as members of the confraternity in Europe or in South America, did much to
redeem these by their apostolic labors in the wilderness of the northern
continent; cheerfully encountering, as they did, every form of suffering,
braving the cruelest tortures, and even welcoming death as the expected
seal of their martyrdom for the cause of Christ and for the advancement of
civilization among barbarous nations.

From Québec as a centre-point the missionary lines of the Jesuit fathers
radiated in all directions through every region inhabited by our savages,
from the Laurentian Valley to the Hudson's Bay territory, along the
great-lake countries, and down the valley of the Mississippi. Scantily
equipped, as it seemed to the worldly eye, with a breviary around the neck
and a crucifix in hand, the missionary set forth, and became a pioneer
for the most adventurous secular explorers of the desert. To such our
forefathers owed their best earliest knowledge of vast regions, to whose
savage inhabitants they imparted the glad tidings of the Gospel, and
smoothed the way for native alliances with their compatriots of the laity,
of the greatest after-import to the colony.

Such devotedness, at once heroic and humble, could not but confound worldly
philosophy, while it has gained for the members of the order the admiration
of many Protestants. Thus we have the candid testimony of Bancroft, the
able historian of the English plantations in this continent, that "The
annals of missionary labors are inseparably connected with the origin of
all the establishments of French America. Not a cape was doubled nor a
stream discovered that a Jesuit did not show the way."

On the other hand, there were instances where secular explorers, seeking
to illustrate their names by great discoveries or to enrich themselves by
traffic, opened a way for the after-labors of the missionary. The most
celebrated of such were Champlain, Nicolet, Perrot, Joliet, La Salle, and
La Verendrye.

In regions south of the St. Lawrence, Père Druillettes was the first
European who passed overland from that river to the eastern Atlantic
seaboard, ascending the Chaudifere and descending the Kennebec in 1646. He
did good service to the colony by preserving for it the amity of that brave
nation, the only one which the Iroquois were slow to attack.

In another direction, the traffickers and missionaries, constantly moving
onward toward the sources of the St. Lawrence, had reached the upper
extremity of Lake Huron. Pères Brébeuf, Daniel, Lalemant, Jogues, and
Raimbault founded in the regions around its waters the Christianized
settlements (_villages_) of St. Joseph, St. Michel, St. Ignace, and Ste.
Marie. The last-named, seated at the point where Lake Huron communicates
with Lake Erie, was long the central point of the northwestern missions.

In 1639 Jean Nicholet, following the course of a river flowing out of Lake
Michigan at Green Bay, was led within three days' navigation of "the
Great Water," such was the distinctive name the aborigines gave to the
Mississippi. In 1671 the relics of the Huron tribes, tired of wandering
from forest to forest, settled down in Michilimackinac, at the end of Lake
Superior, under the care of Père Marquette, who thus became the earliest
founder of a European settlement in Michigan. The natives of the vicinity
were of the Algonquin race; but the French called them _Sauteurs_, from
their being near to Sault Ste. Marie.

Between the years 1635 and 1647 communication with the region was little
attempted, the hostile feeling of the Iroquois making the navigation of
Lake Ontario perilous to adventurers, and obliging them to pass to and
from the western mission field by the valley of the Ottawa. The Neuters'
territory, visited by Champlain, and the southern lakeboard of Erie beyond
Buffalo, were as yet almost unknown.

The new impulse which had been given to Canada by Colbert and Talon began
to bear fruit. Commerce revived, immigration increased, and the aborigines,
dominated by the genius of civilization, feared and respected everywhere
the power of France. Perrot, a famous explorer, was the first European who
reached the end of Lake Michigan and the Miâmis country, where deputies
from all the native tribes of the regions irrigated by the head waters
of the Mississippi, the sources of the Red River and the St. Lawrence,
responded to his call to meet him at the Sault Ste. Marie, From one
discovery to another, as so many successive stages in a journey, the French
attained a certainty that "the Great Water" did exist, and they could, in
advance, trace its probable course. It appeared certain, from the recent
search made for it in northerly and eastern directions, that its waters, so
voluminous as the natives asserted, must at last find their sea-vent either
in the Bay of Mexico or in the Pacific Ocean. Talon, who took a strong
interest in the subject, during his intendancy recommended Captain Poulet,
a skilful mariner of Dieppe, to verify the passage from sea to sea, through
the Straits of Magellan.

He induced M. de Frontenac to send M. Joliet into the region where the
great stream, yet unseen, must take its rise; and follow its course, if
found, till its waters reached the sea. The person thus employed on a
mission which interested everyone at the time was a man of talent, educated
in the Jesuits' College of Québec, probably in view of entering the Church,
but who had gone into the peltry trade. He had travelled much in the
countries around Lake Superior and gained great experience of the natives,
especially those of the Ottawa tribes. M. Joliet and Père Marquette set out
together in the year 1673. The latter, who had lived among the Potowatami
Indians as a missionary, and gained their affections, was forewarned by
them of the perils, they alleged, which would beset his steps in so daring
an enterprise, admonishing him and his companion that the people of the
farther countries would allow no stranger to pass through them; that
travellers were always pillaged at the least; that the great river swarmed
with monsters who devoured men,[1] and that the climate was so hot that
human flesh could not endure it.

[Footnote 1: There was some foundation for this report, as alligators
abounded, at that time, in the lower waters of the river.]

Having progressed to the farthest horde, over the Fox River, where Père
Allouez was known, and the extremest point yet touched by any European,
the adventurers found the people of the divers tribes living together in
harmony; viz., the Kikapoos, Mascoutins, and Miâmis. They accorded the
strangers a kind reception and furnished guides to direct the party, which
was composed of nine persons in all--Joliet, Marquette, with five other
whites, and two natives. On June 10th they set out, bearing two light
canoes on their shoulders for crossing the narrow portage which separates
the Fox River from that of Wisconsin, where the latter, after following a
southerly, takes a western, course. Here their Indian guides left them,
fearing to go farther.

Arrived at the Lower Wisconsin they embarked and glided down the stream,
which led the travellers through a solitude; they remarking that the levels
around them presented an unbroken expanse of luxuriant herbage or forests
of lofty trees. Their progress was slow, for it was not till the tenth day
that they attained the confluence of the Wisconsin and Mississippi. But the
goal was surely, if tardily, attained. They were now floating on the bosom
of the "Father of Waters," a fact they at once felt assured of, and fairly
committed themselves to the course of the doubled current. This event
constituted an epoch in American annals.

"The two canoes," says Bancroft, "with sails outspread under a new sky,
sped their way, impelled by favoring breezes, along the surface of the calm
and majestic ocean tributary. At one time the French adventurers glided
along sand-banks, the resting-places of innumerable aquatic birds; at
others they passed around wooded islands in midflood; and otherwhiles,
again, their course lay through the vast plains of Illinois and Iowa,
covered with magnificent woods or dotted with clumps of bush scattered
about limitless prairie lands."

It was not till the voyagers had descended sixty leagues of the great
stream that they discovered any signs of the presence of man; but at
length, observing on the right bank of the river a foot-track, they
followed it for six miles, and arrived at a horde _(bourgade),_ situated on
a river called by the natives Moingona, an appellation afterward corrupted
into "Rivière des Moines." Seeing no one, the visitors hollowed lustily,
and four old men answered the call, bearing in hand the calumet of peace.
"We are Illinois," said the Indians: "you are our fellow-men; we bid you
welcome." They had never before seen any whites, but had heard mention
of the French, and long wished to form an alliance with them against the
Iroquois, whose hostile excursions extended even to their country. They
were glad to hear from Joliet that the colonists had lately chastised those
whom no others could vanquish, and feasted the visitors, to manifest their
gratitude as well as respect. The chief of the tribe, with some hundreds of
his warriors, escorted the party to their canoes; and, as a mark of parting
esteem, he presented a calumet, ornamented with feathers of various colors;
a safe-conduct this, held inviolable among the aborigines.

The voyagers, again on their way, were forewarned of the confluence of the
Missouri with the main stream, by the noise of its discharging waters.
Forty leagues lower, they reached the influx of the Ohio, in the territory
of the Chouanows. By degrees the region they traversed changed its aspect.
Instead of vast prairies, the voyagers only saw thick forests around them,
inhabited by savages whose language was to them unknown. In quitting the
southern line of the Ohio, they left the Algonquin family of aborigines
behind, and had come upon a region of nomads, the Chickasaw nation being
here denizens of the forest. The Dacotas, or Sioux, frequented the riverain
lands, in the southern region watered by the great flood. Thus interpreters
were needed by the natives, who wished to parley from either bank of the
Mississippi, each speaking one of two mother-tongues, both distinct from
those of the Hurons and Algonquins, much of the latter being familiar to
Joliet and others of the party.

Continuing their descent, the confluence of the Arkansas with the
Mississippi was attained. The voyagers were now under the thirty-third
parallel of north latitude, at a point of the river-course reported to have
been previously reached, from the opposite direction, by the celebrated
Spanish mariner De Soto. Here the Illinois chief's present stood the party
in good stead, for on exhibiting his ornate calumet they were treated with
profuse kindness. Bread, made of maize, was offered by the chief of the
horde located at the mouth of the Arkansas River. Hatchet-heads of steel,
in use by the natives, gave intimation that they traded with Europeans, and
that the Spanish settlements on the Bay of Mexico were probably not far
off. The waxing summer heats, too, gave natural corroboration to the same
inferences. The party had now, in fact, attained to a region without a
winter, unless as such be reckoned that part of its year known as "the
rainy season."

It now became expedient to call a halt, for the stored provisions were
beginning to fail, and chance supplies could not be depended upon in such
a wilderness as the bold adventurers had already traversed; and they were
still more uncertain as to what treatment they might receive from savage
populations if they proceeded farther. One thing was made plain to their
perceptions: the Mississippi afforded no passage to the East Indian seas.
They rightly concluded, also, that it found its sea outlet in the Bay
of Mexico, not the Pacific Ocean. They had therefore now done enough to
entitle them to the grateful thanks of their compatriots, and for the
names of their two leaders to take a permanent place in the annals of
geographical discovery.

The task of ascending the great river must have been arduous, and the
return voyage protracted. Arrived at the point where it is joined by the
Illinois, they left it for that stream, which, ascending for a part of its
lower course, Père Marquette elected to remain with the natives of tribes
located near to its banks; while M. Joliet, with the rest of the party,
passed overland to Chicago. Thence he proceeded to Québec, and reported his
proceedings to the Governor, M. Talon at that time being in France. This
duty he had to perform orally, having lost all his papers when shooting the
rapids of the St. Lawrence, above Montreal. He afterward drew up a written
report, with a tracing of his route, from memory.

The encouragement the intendant procured for the enterprise fairly entitles
him to share its glory with those who so ably carried it out; for we cannot
attach too much honor to the memory of statesmen who turn to account their
opportunities of patronizing useful adventure. M. Joliet received in
property the island of Anticosti as a reward for his Western discoveries
and for an exploratory voyage he made to Hudson's Bay. He was also
nominated hydrographer-royal, and got enfeoffed in a seigniory near
Montreal. Expecting to reap great advantage from Anticosti as a fishing and
fur-trading station, he built a fort thereon; but after living some time on
the island with his family, he was obliged to abandon it. His patronymic
was adopted as the name of a mountain situated near the Rivère des Plaines,
a tributary of the Illinois; and Joliet is also the appellation, given in
his honor, of a town near Chicago.

Père Marquette proceeded to Green Bay by Lake Michigan, in 1673; but
he returned soon afterward and resumed his missionary labors among the
Illinois Indians. Being then at war with the Miâmis, they came to him
asking for gunpowder. "I have come among you," said the apostolic priest,
"not to aid you to destroy your enemies' bodies, but to help you to save
your own souls. Gunpowder I cannot give you, but my prayers you can have
for your conversion to that religion which gives glory to God in the
highest and on earth peace to all men." Upon one occasion he preached
before two thousand warriors of their nation, besides the women and
children present. His bodily powers, however, were now wellnigh exhausted.
He decided to return to Mackinac; but while coasting the lower shores of
Lake Michigan, feeling that his supreme hour was nigh, he caused the people
in his canoe to set him ashore. Having obtained for him the shelter of
a hut formed of branches, he there died the death of the righteous. His
companions interred his remains near the river which yet bears his name,
and set up a crucifix to mark the spot. Thus ended, amid the solitudes
of the Western wilderness, the valuable existence of one whose name, too
little known to his own age, will be remembered when hundreds of those
which, however loudly sounded in the present, shall have passed into utter
oblivion.[1]

[Footnote 1: Guérin observes that, according to some authorities, La
Salle, some time between the years 1669 and 1671, descended the
Mississippi, as far as the Arkansas, by the river Ohio. There can be no
doubt that the story is a mere figment.]

The news of the discovery of the Mississippi made a great sensation
in Canada, and eclipsed for a time the interest attaching to other
explorations of the age, which were becoming more and more rife every year.
Every speculative mind was set to work, as was usual on such occasions,
to calculate the material advantages which might result, first to the
colonists, and next to their mother-country, from access being obtained to
a second gigantic waterway through the territories of New France; serving,
as it virtually might in times to come, as a complement, or completing
moiety for the former, enabling the colonists to have the command of two
seas. Still, as the Gulf of Mexico had not been reached by the adventurers
upon the present occasion, some persons had their doubts about the real
course of the lower flood. There was therefore still in store credit for
those who should succeed in clearing up whatever uncertainty there might be
about a matter so important.

"New France," says Raynal, "had among its people a Norman named Robert
Cavalier de la Salle, a man inspired with the double passion of amassing a
large fortune and gaining an illustrious name. This person had acquired,
under the training of the Jesuits, among whom his youth was
passed, activity, enthusiasm, firmness of character, and
high-heartedness--qualities which that celebrated confraternity knew so
well to discern and cultivate in promising natures committed to their care.
Their most audacious and enterprising pupil, La Salle, was especially
impatient to seize every occasion that chance presented for distinguishing
himself, and ready to create such opportunities if none occurred." He had
been resident some years in Canada when Joliet returned from his expedition
to the Mississippi. The effect of so promising a discovery, upon such a
mind as La Salle's, was of the most awakening kind. Joliet's report of what
he experienced, and his shrewd conjectures as to what he did not see but
which doubtless existed, well meditated upon by his fellow-genius, inspired
the latter to form a vast design of exploration and traffic conjoined, in
realizing which he determined to hazard both his fortunes and reputation.

Cavalier Sieur de la Salle was born in Rouen, and the son of respectable
parents. While yet a young man he came to Canada full of a project he had
conceived of seeking a road to Japan and China by a northern or western
passage, but did not bring with him the pecuniary means needful even to
make the attempt. He set about making friends for himself in the colony,
and succeeded in finding favor with the Count de Frontenac, who discerned
in him qualities somewhat akin to his own. With the aid of M. de Courcelles
and Talon he opened a factory for the fur traffic at Lachine, near
Montreal, a name which (_China_) he gave to the place in allusion to the
oriental goal toward which his hopes tended as an explorer.

In the way of trade he visited Lakes Ontario and Erie. While the Canadians
were yet excited about the discovery of the Mississippi, he imparted
his aspirations regarding it to the Governor-general. He said that, by
ascending, instead of descending, that great stream, a means might be
found for reaching the Pacific Ocean; but that the outlay attending the
enterprise could only be defrayed by combining with it an extended traffic
with the nations of the West; that he would gladly make the attempt himself
if a trading-post were erected for his use at the foot of Lake Ontario, as
a basis for his operations, with an exclusive license to traffic in the
Western countries. The Governor gave him the command of Fort Frontenac, to
begin with. Obtaining, also, his recommendations to the Court, La Salle
sailed for France in 1675, and gained all he wanted from the Marquis de
Seignelai, son and successor of the great Colbert as minister of marine.
The King bestowed on La Salle the seigniory of Cataraqui (Kingston) and
ennobled him. This seigniory included Fort Frontenac, of which he was made
the proprietor, as well as of Lake Ontario; conditioned, however, that he
was to reconstruct the fort in stone. His majesty also invested him with
all needful credentials for beginning and continuing his discoveries.

La Salle, on his return to Canada, actively set about aggrandizing his
new possession. Several colonists and some of the natives repaired to
the locality, and settled under protection of his fort. He built in its
vicinity three decked vessels--the first ever seen upon Lake Ontario. In
1677 he visited France again, in quest of aid to carry out his plans.
Colbert and Seignelai got him a royal commission as recognized explorer of
Northwest America, with permission to erect fortified posts therein at his
discretion. He found a potent protector, also, in the Prince de Conti.

La Salle, full of hope, sailed from La Rochelle in summer, 1678, with
thirty seamen and artisans, his vessel freighted with equipments for
his lake craft, and merchandise for barter with the aborigines. A brave
officer, Chevalier de Tonti, went with him, proposing to share his
fortunes. Arrived at Cataraqui, his energy put all his workpeople in
activity. On November 18th he set sail from Fort Frontenac in one of his
barks, loaded with goods and materials for constructing a second fort and a
brigantine at Niagara. When he reached the head of Lake Ontario, his vessel
excited the admiration of the savages; while the Falls of Niagara no less
raised the wonder of the French. Neither had before seen the former so
great a triumph of human art; nor the latter, so overpowering a spectacle
of nature.

La Salle set about founding his proposed stronghold at Niagara; but the
natives, as soon as the defensive works began to take shape, demurred to
their being continued. Not caring to dispute the matter with them, he gave
his erections the form of a palisaded storehouse merely. During winter
following, he laid the keel of a vessel on the stocks, at a place some six
miles above the Falls. His activity redoubled as his operations progressed.
He sent on his friend Tonti with the famous Récollet, Père Hennepin, to
seek out several men whom he had despatched as forerunners, in autumn
preceding, to open up a traffic he intended to carry on with the aborigines
of the West. In person he visited the Iroquois and several other nations,
with whom he wished to form trading relations. He has the honor of founding
the town of Niagara. The vessel he there built he called the Griffin,
because, said he, "the griffin has right of mastery over the ravens": an
allusion, as was said, to his hope of overcoming all his ill-willers, who
were numerous.[1] Be this as it may, the Griffin was launched in midsummer,
1679, under a salute of cannon, with a chanting of _Te Deum_ and shouts
from the colonists; the natives present setting up yells of wonder, hailing
the French as so many _Otkou_ (or "men of a contriving mind").

[Footnote 1: Some authors say that he named his vessel the Griffin in honor
of the Frontenacs, the supporters in whose family coat-of-arms were two
Griffins. Where all is so uncertain in an important matter, a third
suggestion may be as near the mark as the first two. As the Norse or Norman
sea-kings bore the raven for a standard, perhaps La Salle adopted the
raven's master-symbol, in right of a hoped-for sovereignty over the
American lakes.]

On August 7th the Griffin, equipped with seven guns and loaded with small
arms and goods, entered Lake Erie; when La Salle started for Detroit, which
he reached in safety after a few days' sail. He gave to the expansion of
the channel between Lakes Erie and Huron the name of Lake Ste. Claire,
traversing which, on August 23d he entered Lake Huron. Five days later he
reached Michilimackinac, after having encountered a violent storm, such as
are not unfrequent in that locality. The aborigines of the country were
not less moved than those of Niagara had been, at the appearance of the
Griffin; an apparition rendered terrible as well as puzzling when the sound
of her cannon boomed along the lake and reverberated from its shores.

On attaining to the chapel of the Ottawa tribe, at the mission station, he
landed and attended mass. Continuing his voyage, some time in September he
reached the Baie des Puants, on the western lake board of Michigan, where
he cast anchor. So far the first ship navigation of the great Canadian
lakes had been a triumph; but the end was not yet, and it proved to be
disastrous, for La Salle, hearing that his creditors had in his absence
confiscated his possessions, despatched the Griffin, loaded with peltry, to
Niagara, probably in view of redeeming them; but his vessel and goods were
totally lost on the way.

Meanwhile he started, with a trading-party of thirty men of different
callings, bearing arms and merchandise. Passing to St. Joseph's, at the
lower end of Lake Michigan, whither he had ordered that the Griffin should
proceed on her proposed second voyage from Niagara, he laid the foundations
of a fort on the crest of a steep height, washed on two sides by the river
of the Miâmis, and defended on another side by a deep ravine. He set
buoys at the entrance of the stream for the direction of the crew of
the anxiously expected vessel, upon whose safety depended in part the
continuation of his enterprises; sending on some skilful hands to
Michilimackinac to pilot her on the lake. The vessel not appearing, and
winter being near, he set out for the country of the Illinois Indians,
leaving a few men in charge of the fort, and taking with him the
missionaries Gabriel, Hennepin, and Zenobe, also some private men; Tonti,
who was likewise of the party, having rejoined his principal, but without
the men he was sent to seek, as he could not find them.

The expedition, thus constituted, arrived toward the close of December at a
deserted native village situated near the source of the Illinois River,
in the canton which still bears La Salle's name. Without stopping here
he descended that stream as far as Lake Peoria--called by Hennepin,
"Pimiteoui"--on the margin of which he found encamped a numerous body of
the Illinois. These Indians, though naturally gentle, yet turned unfriendly
regards at first on the party, but, soon recovering from surprise at the
appearance of the French, treated them with great hospitality; one of their
attentions to the supposed wants of the visitors being to rub their wearied
legs with bear's-grease and buffalo fat. These friendly people were glad to
learn that La Salle meant to form establishments in their country. Like the
Huron savages of Champlain's time, the Illinois, harassed as they were by
the Iroquois, trusted that the French would protect them in future. The
visitors remarked that the Illinois formed the sides of their huts with
mats of flat reeds, lined and sewed together. All those the party saw were
tall, robust in body, and dexterous with the bow. But the nation has been
stigmatized by some early reporters as cowardly, lazy, debauched, and
without respect for their chiefs.

La Salle's people, hearing no mention of his ship all this while, began
first to murmur, and then to leave him: six of them deserted in one night.
In other respects events occurred ominous of evil for the termination of
the enterprise. To occupy the attention of his companions, and prevent
them from brooding on apprehended ills, as well as to guard them against
a surprise by any hostile natives, he set them on erecting a fort upon an
eminence, at a place four days' journey distant from Lake Peoria; which,
when finished, he named Breakheart (_Crèvecoeur_), in allusion to the
mental sufferings he then endured. To put an end to an intolerable state
of suspense, in his own case he resolved to set out on foot for Frontenac,
four hundred or five hundred leagues distant--hoping there to obtain good
news about the Griffin; also in order to obtain equipments for a new bark,
then in course of construction at Crèvecoeur, in which he meant to embark
upon his return thither, intending to descend the Mississippi to its
embouchure. He charged Père Hennepin to trace the downward course of the
Illinois to its junction with the Mississippi, then to ascend the former as
high as possible and examine the territories through which its upper waters
flow. After making Tonti captain of the fort in his absence, he set out,
March 2, 1680, armed with a musket, and accompanied by three or four whites
and one Indian.[1]

[Footnote 1: Charlevoix, by following the relation attributed to Tonti, has
fallen into some obvious errors respecting La Salle's expedition to
the Illinois River. Hennepin, an ocular witness, is assuredly the best
authority, corroborated, as his narration is, by the relation and letters
of Père Zenobe Mambrè.]

Père Hennepin, who left two days before, descended the Illinois to the
Mississippi, made several excursions in the region around their confluence;
then ascended the latter to a point beyond the Sault St. Antony, where he
was detained for some months by Sioux Indians, who only let him go on his
promise to return to them next year. One of the chiefs traced on a scrap of
paper the route he desired to follow; and this rude but correct chart, says
Hennepin, "served us truly as a compass." By following the Wisconsin, which
falls into the Mississippi, and Fox River, when running in the opposite
direction, he reached Lake Michigan mission station, passing through,
intermediately, vast and interesting countries. Such was the famous
expedition of Hennepin; who, on his return, was not a little surprised to
find a company of fur-traders near the Wisconsin River, led by one De Luth,
who had probably preceded him in visiting that remote region.

While Hennepin was exploring the upper valley of the Mississippi, La
Salle's interests were getting from bad to worse at Crèvecoeur. But, for
rightly understanding the events which at last obliged him to abandon that
post, it is necessary to explain the state of his affairs in Canada, and to
advert to the jealousies which other traffickers cherished regarding his
monopolizing projects in the western regions of the continent. He came to
the colony, as we have seen, a fortuneless adventurer--highly recommended,
indeed; while the special protection he obtained from the Governor,
with the titular and more solid favors he obtained at court, made him a
competitor to all other commercialists, whom it was impossible to contend
with directly. Underhand means of opposition, therefore--and these not
always the fairest--were put in play to damage his interests and, if
possible, effect his ruin.

For instance, feuds were stirred up against him among the savage tribes,
and inducements held out to his own people to desert him. They even induced
the Iroquois and the Miâmis to take up arms against the Illinois, his
allies. Besides this hostility to him within New France, he had to face the
opposition of the Anglo-American colonists, who resisted the realization
of his projects, for nationally selfish reasons. Thus they encouraged the
Iroquois to attack La Salle's Indian allied connections of the Mississippi
Valley; a measure which greatly increased the difficulties of a position
already almost untenable. In a word, the odds against him became too great;
and he was constrained to retire from the high game he wished to play out,
which, indeed, was certainly to the disadvantage of individuals, if tending
to enhance the importance of the colony as a possession of France.

La Salle's ever-trusty lieutenant, the Chevalier de Tonti, meanwhile did
all he could, at Crèvecoeur, to engage the Illinois to stand firm to their
engagements with his principal. Having learned that the Miâmis intended to
join the Iroquois in opposition to them, he hastened to teach the use of
fire-arms to those who remained faithful, to put the latter on a footing
of equality with these two nations, who were now furnished with the like
implements of war. He also showed them how to fortify their hordes with
palisades. But while in the act of erecting Fort Louis, near the sources
of the river Illinois, most of the garrison at Crèvecoeur mutinied and
deserted, after pillaging the stores of provision and ammunition there laid
up.

At this crisis of La Salle's affairs (1680) armed bands of the Iroquois
suddenly appeared in the Illinois territory and produced a panic among its
timid inhabitants. Tonti, acting with spirit and decision as their ally,
now intervened, and enforced upon the Iroquois a truce for the Illinois;
but the former, on ascertaining the paucity of his means, recommenced
hostilities. Attacking the fort, they murdered Père Gabriel, disinterred
the dead, and wasted the cultivated land of the French residents. The
Illinois dispersed in all directions, leaving the latter isolated among
their enemies. Tonti, who had at last but five men under his orders, also
fled the country.

While the Chevalier, in his passage from Crèvecoeur, was descending the
north side of Lake Michigan, La Salle was moving along its southern side
with a reënforcement of men, and rigging for the bark he left in course of
construction at the above-named post, where, having arrived, he had the
mortification to find it devastated and deserted. He made no attempt
to refound it, but passed the rest of the year in excursions over the
neighboring territories, in which he visited a great number of tribes;
among them the Outagamis and Miâmis, whom he persuaded to renounce an
alliance they had formed with the Iroquois. Soon afterward he returned to
Montreal, taking Frontenac on his way. Although his pecuniary losses had
been great, he was still able to compound with his creditors, to whom he
conceded his own sole rights of trade in the Western countries, they in
return advancing moneys to enable him to prosecute his future explorations.

Having got all things ready for the crowning expedition he had long
meditated, he set out with Tonti, Père Mambré, also some French and native
followers, and directed his course toward the Mississippi, which river he
reached February 6, 1682. The mildness of the climate in that latitude, and
the beauties of the country, which increased as he proceeded, seemed to
give new life to his hopes of finally obtaining profit and glory.[1]
In descending the majestic stream, he recognized the Arkansas and other
riverain tribes visited by Marquette; he traversed the territories of many
other native nations, including the Chickasaws, the Taensas, the Chactas,
and the Natchez--the last of these rendered so celebrated, in times near
our own, by the genius of Chateaubriand.

[Footnote 1: "A vessel loaded with merchandise belonging to La Salle,
valued at 22,000 livres, had just been lost in the Gulf of St. Lawrence;
several canoes, also loaded with his goods, were lost in the rapids of the
same river. On learning these new misfortunes [in addition to others, of
his enemies' procuring], he said it seemed to him that all Canada had risen
up against his enterprises, with the single individual exception of the
Governor-general. He asserted that the subordinates, whom he had brought
from France, had been tempted to quit his service by rival traders, and
that they had gone to the New Netherlands with the goods he had intrusted
to their care; and as for the Canadians in his hire, his enemies had found
means to detach them, also, from his interests."--Yet, "under the pressure
of all his misfortunes," says a missionary, "I have never remarked the
least change in him; no ill news seemed to disturb his usual equanimity:
they seemed rather to spur him on to fresh efforts to retrieve his
fortunes, and to make greater discoveries than he had yet effected."]

Halting often in his descent to note the outlets of the many streams
tributary to the all-absorbing Mississippi, among others the Missouri and
the Ohio--at the embouchure of the latter erecting a fort--he did not reach
the ocean mouths of the "Father of Waters" till April 5th, that brightest
day of his eventful life. With elated heart, he took formal possession of
the country--eminently in the name of the reigning sovereign of France; as
he gave to it, at the same time, the distinctive appellation of Louisiana.
Thus was completed the discovery and exploration of the Mississippi, from
the Sault St. Antony to the sea; a line more than six hundred leagues in
length.



%KING PHILIP'S WAR%

A.D. 1675

RICHARD HILDRETH


This was the most extensive and most important of the Indian wars of
the early European settlers in North America. It led to the practical
extermination of the red men in New England.

Various policies toward the natives were pursued by different colonists in
different parts of the country. In New England the first white settlers
found themselves in contact with several powerful tribes, chief among which
were the Mohegans, the Narragansetts, and the Pequots.

Some attempt was made to convert and civilize these savages, but it was not
long before the English colonists were at war with the Pequots, the most
dreaded of the tribes in southern New England. This contest(1636-1638) was
mainly carried on for the colonists by the settlers of Connecticut. It
resulted in the almost complete extermination of the Pequot tribe.

After the union of the New England colonies (1643), formed principally for
common defence against the natives, there was no considerable conflict
between whites and Indians until the outbreak of King Philip's War, here
described by Hildreth.

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

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

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

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

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

Arrived at Taunton on their return from the Narragansett country, news came
that Philip and his warriors had been discovered by Church, of Plymouth
colony, collected in a great swamp at Pocasset, now Tiverton, the southern
district of the Wampanoag country, whence small parties sallied forth to
burn and plunder the neighboring settlements. After a march of eighteen
miles, having reached the designated spot, the soldiers found there a
hundred wigwams lately built, but empty and deserted, the Indians having
retired deep into the swamp. The colonists followed; but the ground was
soft; the thicket was difficult to penetrate; the companies were soon
thrown into disorder. Each man fired at every bush he saw shake, thinking
an Indian might lay concealed behind it, and several were thus wounded by
their own friends. When night came on, the assailants retired with the loss
of sixteen men.

The swamp continued to be watched and guarded, but Philip broke through,
not without some loss, and escaped into the country of the Nipmucks, in the
interior of Massachusetts. That tribe had already commenced hostilities by
attacking Mendon. They waylaid and killed Captain Hutchinson, a son of the
famous Mrs. Hutchinson, and sixteen out of a party of twenty sent from
Boston to Brookfield to parley with them. Attacking Brookfield itself, they
burned it, except one fortified house. The inhabitants were saved by Major
Willard, who, on information of their danger, came with a troop of horse
from Lancaster, thirty miles through the woods, to their rescue. A body of
troops presently arrived from the eastward, and were stationed for some
time at Brookfield.

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

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

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

Meanwhile, hostilities were spreading; the Indians on the Merrimac began to
attack the towns in their vicinity; and the whole of Massachusetts was soon
in the utmost alarm. Except in the immediate neighborhood of Boston, the
country still remained an immense forest, dotted by a few openings. The
frontier settlements could not be defended against a foe familiar with
localities, scattered in small parties, skilful in concealment, and
watching with patience for some unguarded or favorable moment. Those
settlements were mostly broken up, and the inhabitants, retiring toward
Boston, spread everywhere dread and intense hatred of "the bloody heathen."

Even the praying Indians and the small dependent and tributary tribes
became objects of suspicion and terror. They had been employed at first as
scouts and auxiliaries, and to good advantage; but some few, less confirmed
in the faith, having deserted to the enemy, the whole body of them were
denounced as traitors. Eliot the apostle, and Gookin, superintendent of
the subject Indians, exposed themselves to insults, and even to danger,
by their efforts to stem this headlong fury, to which several of the
magistrates opposed but a feeble resistance. Troops were sent to break up
the praying villages at Mendon, Grafton, and others in that quarter.
The Natick Indians, "those poor despised sheep of Christ," as Gookin
affectionately calls them, were hurried off to Deer Island, in Boston
harbor, where they suffered excessively from a severe winter. A part of the
praying Indians of Plymouth colony were confined, in like manner, on the
islands in Plymouth harbor.

Not content with realities sufficiently frightful, superstition, as usual,
added bugbears of her own. Indian bows were seen in the sky, and scalps in
the moon. The northern lights became an object of terror. Phantom horsemen
careered among the clouds or were heard to gallop invisible through the
air. The howling of wolves was turned into a terrible omen. The war was
regarded as a special judgment in punishment of prevailing sins. Among
these sins the General Court of Massachusetts, after consultation with
the elders, enumerated: Neglect in the training of the children of church
members; pride, in men's wearing long and curled hair; excess in apparel;
naked breasts and arms, and superfluous ribbons; the toleration of Quakers;
hurry to leave meeting before blessing asked; profane cursing and swearing;
tippling-houses; want of respect for parents; idleness; extortion in
shopkeepers and mechanics; and the riding from town to town of unmarried
men and women, under pretence of attending lectures--"a sinful custom,
tending to lewdness."

Penalties were denounced against all these offences; and the persecution of
the Quakers was again renewed. A Quaker woman had recently frightened the
Old South congregation in Boston by entering that meeting-house clothed in
sackcloth, with ashes on her head, her feet bare, and her face blackened,
intending to personify the small-pox, with which she threatened the colony,
in punishment for its sins.

About the time of the first collision with Philip, the Tarenteens, or
Eastern Indians, had attacked the settlements in Maine and New Hampshire,
plundering and burning the houses, and massacring such of the inhabitants
as fell into their hands. This sudden diffusion of hostilities and vigor of
attack from opposite quarters made the colonists believe that Philip had
long been plotting and had gradually matured an extensive conspiracy, into
which most of the tribes had deliberately entered for the extermination of
the whites. This belief infuriated the colonists and suggested some very
questionable proceedings.

It seems, however, to have originated, like the war itself, from mere
suspicions. The same griefs pressed upon all the tribes; and the struggle
once commenced, the awe which the colonists inspired thrown off, the
greater part were ready to join in the contest. But there is no evidence
of any deliberate concert; nor, in fact, were the Indians united. Had they
been so, the war would have been far more serious. The Connecticut tribes
proved faithful, and that colony remained untouched. Uncas and Ninigret
continued friendly; even the Narragansetts, in spite of so many former
provocations, had not yet taken up arms. But they were strongly suspected
of intention to do so, and were accused by Uncas of giving, notwithstanding
their recent assurances, aid and shelter to the hostile tribes.

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

The winter was unfavorable to the Indians; the leafless woods no longer
concealed their lurking attacks. The frozen surface of the swamps made the
Indian fastnesses accessible to the colonists. The forces destined against
the Narragansetts--six companies from Massachusetts, under Major Appleton;
two from Plymouth, under Major Bradford; and five from Connecticut, under
Major Treat--were placed under the command of Josiah Winslow, Governor of
Plymouth since Prince's death--son of that Edward Winslow so conspicuous in
the earlier history of the colony. The Massachusetts and Plymouth forces
marched to Petasquamscot, on the west shore of Narragansett Bay, where they
made some forty prisoners.

Being joined by the troops from Connecticut, and guided by an Indian
deserter, after a march of fifteen miles through a deep snow they
approached a swamp in what is now the town of South Kingston, one of the
ancient strongholds of the Narragansetts. Driving the Indian scouts before
them, and penetrating the swamp, the colonial soldiers soon came in sight
of the Indian fort, built on a rising ground in the morass, a sort of
island of two or three acres, fortified by a palisade and surrounded by a
close hedge a rod thick. There was but one entrance, quite narrow, defended
by a tree thrown across it, with a block-house of logs in front and other
on the flank.

It was the "Lord's day," but that did not hinder the attack. As the
captains advanced at the heads of their companies the Indians opened a
galling fire, under which many fell. But the assailants pressed on and
forced the entrance. A desperate struggle ensued. The colonists were once
driven back, but they rallied and returned to the charge, and, after a
two-hours' fight, became masters of the fort. Fire was put to the wigwams,
near six hundred in number, and all the horrors of the Pequot massacre were
renewed. The corn and other winter stores of the Indians were consumed, and
not a few of the old men, women, and children perished in the flames. In
this bloody contest, long remembered as the "Swamp Fight," the colonial
loss was terribly severe. Six captains, with two hundred thirty men, were
killed or wounded; and at night, in the midst of a snow-storm, with a
fifteen-miles' march before them, the colonial soldiers abandoned the fort,
of which the Indians resumed possession. But their wigwams were burned;
their provisions destroyed; they had no supplies for the winter; their loss
was irreparable. Of those who survived the fight many perished of hunger.

Even as a question of policy this attack on the Narragansetts was more
than doubtful. The starving and infuriated warriors, scattered through
the woods, revenged themselves by attacks on the frontier settlements.
Lancaster was burned, and forty of the inhabitants killed or taken; among
the rest, Mrs. Rolandson, wife of the minister, the narrative of whose
captivity is still preserved. Groton, Chelmsford, and other towns in that
vicinity were repeatedly attacked. Medfield, twenty miles from Boston, was
furiously assaulted, and, though defended by three hundred men, half the
houses were burned. Weymouth, within eighteen miles of Boston, was attacked
a few days after. These were the nearest approaches which the Indians made
to that capital.

For a time the neighborhood of the Narragansett country was abandoned. The
Rhode Island towns, though they had no part in undertaking the war, yet
suffered the consequences of it. Warwick was burned and Providence was
partially destroyed. Most of the inhabitants sought refuge in the islands;
but the aged Roger Williams accepted a commission as captain for the
defence of the town he had founded. Walter Clarke was presently chosen
governor in Coddington's place, the times not suiting a Quaker chief
magistrate.

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

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

The colonists had suffered severely. Men, women, and children had perished
by the bullets of the Indians or fled naked through the wintry woods by the
light of their blazing houses, leaving their goods and cattle a spoil to
the assailants. Several settlements had been destroyed and many more had
been abandoned; but the oldest and wealthiest remained untouched. The
Indians, on the other hand, had neither provisions nor ammunition.
While attempting to plant corn and catch fish at Montague Falls, on the
Connecticut River, they were attacked with great slaughter by the garrison
of the lower towns, led by Captain Turner, a Boston Baptist, and at first
refused a commission on that account, but, as danger increased, pressed to
accept it.

Yet this enterprise was not without its drawbacks. As the troops returned,
Captain Turner fell into an ambush and was slain with thirty-eight men.
Hadley was attacked on a lecture-day, while the people were at meeting;
but the Indians were repulsed by the bravery of Goffe, one of the fugitive
regicides, long concealed in that town. Seeing this venerable unknown man
come to their rescue, and then suddenly disappear, the inhabitants took him
for an angel.

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

No longer sheltered by the River Indians, who now began to make their
peace, and even attacked by bands of the Mohawks, Philip returned to his
own country, about Mount Hope, where he was still faithfully supported by
his female confederate and relative, Witamo, squaw-sachem of Pocasset.
Punham, also, the Shawomet vassal of Massachusetts, still zealously carried
on the war, but was presently killed. Philip was watched and followed by
Church, who surprised his camp, killed upward of a hundred of his people,
and took prisoners his wife and boy.

The disposal of this child was a subject of much deliberation. Several of
the elders were urgent for putting him to death. It was finally resolved to
send him to Bermuda, to be sold into slavery--a fate to which many other of
the Indian captives were subjected. Witamo shared the disasters of Philip.
Most of her people were killed or taken. She herself was drowned while
crossing a river in her flight, but her body was recovered, and the head,
cut off, was stuck upon a pole at Taunton, amid the jeers and scoffs of the
colonial soldiers, and the tears and lamentations of the Indian prisoners.

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

The popular rage against the Indians was excessive. Death or slavery was
the penalty for all known or suspected to have been concerned in shedding
English blood. Merely having been present at the Swamp Fight was adjudged
by the authorities of Rhode Island sufficient foundation for sentence of
death, and that, too, notwithstanding they had intimated an opinion that
the origin of the war would not bear examination. The other captives
who fell into the hands of the colonists were distributed among them as
ten-year servants. Roger Williams received a boy for his share. Many chiefs
were executed at Boston and Plymouth on the charge of rebellion; among
others, Captain Tom, chief of the Christian Indians at Natick, and
Tispiquin, a noted warrior, reputed to be invulnerable, who had surrendered
to Church on an implied promise of safety.

A large body of Indians, assembled at Dover to treat of peace, were
treacherously made prisoners by Major Waldron, who commanded there. Some
two hundred of these Indians, claimed as fugitives from Massachusetts, were
sent by water to Boston, where some were hanged and the rest shipped off to
be sold as slaves. Some fishermen of Marblehead having been killed by
the Indians at the eastward, the women of that town, as they came out of
meeting on a Sunday, fell upon two Indian prisoners who had just been
brought in, and murdered them on the spot.

The same ferocious spirit of revenge which governed the contemporaneous
conduct of Berkeley in Virginia toward those concerned in Bacon's rebellion
swayed the authorities of New England in their treatment of the conquered
Indians. By the end of the year the contest was over in the South, upward
of two thousand Indians having been killed or taken. But some time elapsed
before a peace could be arranged with the Eastern tribes, whose haunts it
was not so easy to reach.

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

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

On the side of the colonists the contest had also been very disastrous.
Twelve or thirteen towns had been entirely ruined and many others partially
destroyed. Six hundred houses had been burned, near a tenth part of all in
New England. Twelve captains, and more than six hundred men in the prime of
life, had fallen in battle. There was hardly a family not in mourning. The
pecuniary losses and expenses of the war were estimated at near a million
of dollars.



%GROWTH OF PRUSSIA UNDER THE GREATELECTOR%

HIS VICTORY AT FEHRBELLIN

A.D. 1675

THOMAS CARLYLE


It was the good-fortune of Frederick William, Elector of Brandenburg, who
is known in history as the "Great Elector," to lay a firm foundation for
Prussian monarchy. Under his father, George William, the Tenth Elector,
Brandenburg had lost much of its former importance. When Frederick William
came into his inheritance in 1640 he found a weak and disunited state,
little more than a group of provinces, with foreign territories lying
between them, and governed by differing laws.

The great problem before the Elector was how to become actual ruler of his
ill-joined possessions, and his first aim was to weld them together, that
he might make himself absolute monarch. By forming an army of mercenaries
he established his authority. His whole life was occupied with warlike
affairs. He remained neutral during the last stages of the Thirty Years'
War, but was always prepared for action. He freed Prussia from Polish
control and drove the Swedes from Brandenburg.

This last was his most famous success. It was won by his victory over the
Swedes under Wrangel, at Fehrbellin. Carlyle's characteristic narrative and
commentary on this and other triumphs of the Great Elector place him before
the reader as one of the chief personages of the Hohenzollern race and a
leading actor in European history.

Brandenburg had sunk very low under the Tenth Elector, in the unutterable
troubles of the times, but it was gloriously raised up again by his Son
Friedrich Wilhelm, who succeeded in 1640. This is he whom they call the
"Great Elector" ("_Grosse Kurfuerst_"), of whom there is much writing and
celebrating in Prussian Books. As for the epithet, it is not uncommon among
petty German populations, and many times does not mean too much: thus Max
of Bavaria, with his Jesuit Lambkins and Hyacinths, is by Bavarians called
"Maximilian the Great." Friedrich Wilhelm, both by his intrinsic qualities
and the success he met with, deserves it better than most. His success, if
we look where he started and where he ended, was beyond that of any other
man in his day. He found Brandenburg annihilated, and he left Brandenburg
sound and flourishing--a great country, or already on the way toward
greatness: undoubtedly a most rapid, clear-eyed, active man. There was a
stroke in him swift as lightning, well aimed mostly, and of a respectable
weight withal, which shattered asunder a whole world of impediments for him
by assiduous repetition of it for fifty years.

There hardly ever came to sovereign power a young man of twenty under
more distressing, hopeless-looking circumstances. Political significance
Brandenburg had none--a mere Protestant appendage dragged about by a Papist
Kaiser. His Father's Prime Minister was in the interest of his enemies;
not Brandenburg's servant, but Austria's. The very Commandants of his
Fortresses, Commandant of Spandau more especially, refused to obey
Friedrich Wilhelm on his accession--"were bound to obey the Kaiser in the
first place." He had to proceed softly as well as swiftly, with the most
delicate hand, to get him of Spandau by the collar, and put him under lock
and key, as a warning to others.

For twenty years past Brandenburg had been scoured by hostile armies,
which, especially the Kaiser's part of which, committed outrages new in
human history. In a year or two hence Brandenburg became again the theatre
of business. Austrian Gallas, advancing thither again (1644) with intent
"to shut up Tortenson and his Swedes in Jutland," where they had been
chastising old Christian IV, now meddlesome again for the last time, and
never a good neighbor to Sweden, Gallas could by no means do what he
intended; on the contrary, he had to run from Tortenson what feet could
do, was hunted, he and his _Merode_-Bruder (beautiful inventors of the
"Marauding" Art), "till they pretty much all died (_crepirten_)," says
Kohler. No great loss to society, the death of these Artists, but we can
fancy what their life, and especially what the process of their dying, may
have cost poor Brandenburg again.

Friedrich Wilhelm's aim, in this as in other emergencies, was sun-clear
to himself, but for most part dim to everybody else. He had to walk very
warily, Sweden on one hand of him, suspicious Kaiser on the other; he had
to wear semblances, to be ready with evasive words and advance noiselessly
by many circuits. More delicate operation could not be imagined; but
advance he did, advance and arrive. With extraordinary talent, diligence,
and felicity, the young man wound himself out of this first fatal position;
got those foreign Armies pushed out of his country, and kept them out. His
first concern had been to find some vestige of revenue, to put that upon
a clear footing, and by loans or otherwise to scrape a little ready money
together, on the strength of which a small body of soldiers could be
collected about him, and drilled into real ability to fight and obey.
This as a basis; on this followed all manner of things, freedom from
Swedish-Austrian invasions as the first thing.

He was himself, as appeared by and by, a fighter of the first quality
when it came to that, but never was willing to fight if he could help it;
preferred rather to shift, manoeuvre, and negotiate, which he did in a most
vigilant, adroit, and masterly manner. But by degrees he had grown to have,
and could maintain it, an Army of twenty-four thousand men, among the best
troops then in being. With or without his will, he was in all the great
Wars of his time--the time of Louis XIV--who kindled Europe four times
over, thrice in our Kurfuerst's day. The Kurfuerst's Dominions, a long,
straggling country, reaching from Memel to Wesel, could hardly keep out
of the way of any war that might rise. He made himself available, never
against the good cause of Protestantism and German Freedom, yet always in
the place and way where his own best advantage was to be had. Louis XIV
had often much need of him; still oftener, and more pressingly, had Kaiser
Leopold, the little Gentleman "in scarlet stockings, with a red feather
in his hat," whom Mr. Savage used to see majestically walking about, with
Austrian lip that said nothing at all. His twenty-four thousand excellent
fighting-men, thrown in at the right time, were often a thing that could
turn the balance in great questions. They required to be allowed for at
a high rate, which he well knew how to adjust himself for exacting and
securing always.

When the Peace of Westphalia (1648) concluded that Thirty-Years'
Conflagration, and swept the ashes of it into order again, Friedrich
Wilhelm's right to Pommern was admitted by everybody, and well insisted on
by himself; but right had to yield to reason of state, and he could not get
it. The Swedes insisted on their expenses; the Swedes held Pommern, had all
along held it--in pawn, they said, for their expenses. Nothing for it but
to give the Swedes the better half of Pommern--_Fore_-Pommern so they call
it, ("Swedish Pomernia" thenceforth), which lies next the Sea; this, with
some Towns and cuttings over and above, was Sweden's share. Friedrich
Wilhelm had to put up with _Hinder_-Pommern, docked furthermore of the Town
of Stettin, and of other valuable cuttings, in favor of Sweden, much to
Friedrich Wilhelm's grief and just anger, could he have helped it.

They gave him Three secularized Bishoprics, Magdeburg, Halberstadt, Minden
with other small remnants, for compensation, and he had to be content with
these for the present. But he never gave up the idea of Pommern. Much of
the effort of his life was spent upon recovering Fore-Pommern; thrice eager
upon that, whenever lawful opportunity offered. To no purpose, then; he
never could recover Swedish Pommern; only his late descendants, and that by
slowish degrees, could recover it all. Readers remember that Burgermeister
of Stettin, with the helmet and sword flung into the grave and picked out
again, and can judge whether Brandenburg got its good luck quite by lying
in bed.

Once, and once only, he had a voluntary purpose toward War, and it remained
a purpose only. Soon after the Peace of Westphalia, old Pfalz-Neuburg, the
same who got the slap on the face, went into tyrannous proceedings against
the Protestant part of his subjects in Juelic-Cleve, who called to
Friedrich Wilhelm for help. Friedrich Wilhelm, a zealous Protestant, made
remonstrances, retaliations; ere long the thought struck him, "Suppose,
backed by the Dutch, we threw out this fantastic old gentleman, his
Papistries, and pretended claims and self, clear out of it?" This was
Friedrich Wilhelm's thought, and he suddenly marched troops into the
Territory with that view. But Europe was in alarm; the Dutch grew faint.
Friedrich Wilhelm saw it would not do. He had a conference with old
Pfalz-Neuburg: "Young gentleman, we remember how your Grandfather made
free with us and our august countenance! Nevertheless, we--" In fine, the
"statistics of Treaties" was increased by One, and there the matter rested
till calmer times.

In 1666 an effective Partition of these litigated Territories was
accomplished; Prussia to have the Duchy of Cleve-Proper, the Counties of
Mark and Ravensberg, with other Patches and Pertinents; Neuburg, what was
the better share, to have Juelich Duchy and Berg Duchy. Furthermore, if
either of the Lines failed, in no sort was a collateral to be admitted; but
Brandenburg was to inherit Neuburg, or Neuburg Brandenburg, as the case
might be. A clear Bargain this at last, and in the times that had come it
proved executable so far; but if the reader fancies the Lawsuit was at last
out in this way, he will be a simple reader. In the days of our little
Fritz,[1] the Line of Pfalz-Neuburg was evidently ending; but that
Brandenburg, and not a collateral, should succeed it, there lay the quarrel
open still, as if it had never been shut, and we shall hear enough about
it.

[Footnote 1: Frederick the Great]

Friedrich Wilhelm's first actual appearance in War, Polish-Swedish War
(1655-1660), was involuntary in the highest degree; forced upon him for the
sake of his Preussen, which bade fair to be lost or ruined without blame of
his or its. Nevertheless, here too he made his benefit of the affair. The
big King of Sweden had a standing quarrel, with his big cousin of Poland,
which broke out into hot War; little Preussen lay between them, and
was like to be crushed in the collision. Swedish King was Karl Gustav,
Christina's Cousin, Charles XII's Grandfather: a great and mighty man, lion
of the North in his time; Polish King was one John Casimir; chivalrous
enough, and with clouds of forward Polish chivalry about him, glittering
with barbaric gold. Friedrich III, Danish King for the first time being, he
also was much involved in the thing. Fain would Friedrich Wilhelm have kept
out of it, but he could not. Karl Gustav as good as forced him to join; he
joined; fought along with Karl Gustav an illustrious Battle, "Battle of
Warsaw," three days long (July 28-30, 1656), on the skirts of Warsaw;
crowds "looking from the upper windows" there; Polish chivalry, broken at
last, going like chaff upon the winds, and John Casimir nearly ruined.

Shortly after which, Friedrich Wilhelm, who had shone much in the Battle,
changed sides. An inconsistent, treacherous man? Perhaps not, O reader;
perhaps a man advancing "in circuits," the only way he has; spirally, face
now to east, now to west, with his own reasonable private aim sun-clear to
himself all the while.

John Casimir agreed to give up the "Homage of Preussen" for this service; a
grand prize for Friedrich Wilhelm. What the Teutsch Ritters strove for in
vain, and lost their existence in striving for, the shifty Kurfuerst has
now got: Ducal Prussia, which is also called East Prussia, is now a free
sovereignty, and will become as "Royal" as the other Polish part, or
perhaps even more so, in the course of time--Karl Gustav, in a high frame
of mind, informs the Kurfuerst that he has him on his books, and will pay
the debt one day.

A dangerous debtor in such matters, this Karl Gustav. In these same months,
busy with the Danish part of the Controversy, he was doing a feat of war
which set all Europe in astonishment. In January, 1658, Karl Gustav marches
his Army, horse, foot, and artillery, to the extent of Twenty thousand,
across the Baltic ice, and takes an island without shipping--Island of
Fuenen, across the Little Belt--three miles of ice, and a part of the sea
_open_, which has to be crossed on planks; nay, forward from Fuenen, when
once there, he achieves ten whole miles more of ice, and takes Zealand
itself, to the wonder of all mankind: an imperious, stern-browed,
swift-striking man, who had dreamed of a new Goth Empire: the mean
Hypocrites and Fribbles of the South to be coerced again by noble Norse
valor, and taught a new lesson; has been known to lay his hand on his
sword while apprising an Embassador (Dutch High Mightiness) what his royal
intentions were: "not the sale or purchase of groceries, observe you, Sir!
My aims go higher." Charles XII's Grandfather, and somewhat the same type
of man.

But Karl died short while after; left his big, wide-raging Northern
Controversy to collapse in what way it could. Sweden and the fighting
parties made their "Peace of Oliva" (Abbey of Oliva, near Dantzig, May 1,
1660), and this of Preussen was ratified, in all form, among other points.
No Homage more; nothing now above Ducal Prussia but the Heavens, and great
times coming for it. This was one of the successfulest strokes of business
ever done by Friedrich Wilhelm, who had been forced, by sheer compulsion,
to embark in that big game. "Royal Prussia," the Western _Polish_
Prussia--this too, as all Newspapers know, has in our times gone the same
road as the other, which probably after all, it may have had in Nature,
some tendency to do? Cut away, for reasons, by the Polish sword, in that
Battle of Tannenberg, long since, and then, also for reasons, cut back
again: that is the fact, not unexampled in human History.

Old Johann Casimir, not long after that Peace of Oliva, getting tired of
his unruly Polish chivalry and their ways, abdicated, retired to Paris,
and "lived much with Ninon de l'Enclos and her circle" for the rest of his
life. He used to complain of his Polish chivalry that there was no solidity
in them, nothing but outside glitter, with tumult and anarchic noise; fatal
want of one essential talent, the talent of Obeying; and has been heard to
prophesy that a glorious Republic, persisting in such courses, would arrive
at results which would surprise it.

Onward from this time Friedrich Wilhelm figures in the world, public men
watching his procedure, Kings anxious to secure him, Dutch Printsellers
sticking up his Portraits for a hero-worshipping Public. Fighting hero,
had the Public known it, was not his essential character, though he had
to fight a great deal. He was essentially an Industrial man; great in
organizing, regulating, in constraining chaotic heaps to become cosmic for
him. He drains bogs, settles colonies in the waste places of his Dominions,
cuts canals; unweariedly encourages trade and work. The Friedrich-Wilhelm's
Canal, which still carries tonnage from the Oder to the Spree, is a
monument of his zeal in this way; creditable, with the means he had. To
the poor French Protestants in the Edict-of-Nantes Affair, he was like an
empress Benefit of Heaven: one Helper appointed, to whom the help itself
was profitable. He munificently welcomed them to Brandenburg; showed really
a noble piety and human self-pity, as well as judgment; nor did Brandenburg
and he want their reward. Some twenty thousand nimble French souls,
evidently of the best French quality, found a home there; made "waste sands
about Berlin into pot-herb gardens"; and in the spiritual Brandenburg, too,
did something of horticulture, which is still noticeable.

Certainly this Elector was one of the shiftiest of men; not an unjust man
either; a pious, God-fearing man rather, stanch to his Protestantism and
his Bible; not unjust by any means, nor, on the other hand, by any means
thin-skinned in his interpretings of justice: Fairplay to myself always, or
occasionally even the Height of Fairplay. On the whole, by constant energy,
vigilance, adroit activity, by an ever-ready insight and audacity to seize
the passing fact by its right handle, he fought his way well in the world;
left Brandenburg a flourishing and greatly increased Country, and his own
name famous enough.

A thickset, stalwart figure, with brisk eyes, and high, strong,
irregularly-Roman nose. Good bronze Statue of him, by Schlueter, once a
famed man, still rides on the _Lange-Bruecke_ (Long Bridge) at Berlin; and
his Portrait, in huge frizzled Louis-Quatorze wig, is frequently met with
in German Galleries. Collectors of Dutch Prints, too, know him; here a
gallant, eagle-featured little gentleman, brisk in the smiles of youth,
with plumes, with truncheon, caprioling on his war-charger, view of tents
in the distance; there a sedate, ponderous wrinkly old man, eyes slightly
puckered (eyes _busier_ than mouth), a face well plowed by Time, and not
found unfruitful; one of the largest, most laborious potent faces (in an
ocean of circumambient periwig) to be met with in that Century. There are
many Histories about him, too, but they are not comfortable to read. He
also has wanted a sacred Poet, and found only a bewildering Dryasdust.

His two grand Feats that dwell in the Prussian memory are perhaps none
of his greatest, but were of a kind to strike the imagination. They both
relate to what was the central problem of his life--the recovery of Pommern
from the Swedes. Exploit First is the famed Battle of Fehrbellin (Ferry of
Belleen), fought on June 18, 1675. Fehrbellin is an inconsiderable Town
still standing in those peaty regions, some five-and-thirty miles northwest
of Berlin, and had for ages plied its poor Ferry over the oily-looking,
brown sluggish stream called Rhin, or Rhein in those parts, without the
least notice from mankind till this fell out. It is a place of pilgrimage
to patriotic Prussians ever since Friedrich Wilhelm's exploit there. The
matter went thus:

Friedrich Wilhelm was fighting, far south in Alsace, on Kaiser Leopold's
side, in the Louis XIV War--that second one, which ended in the Treaty of
Nimwegen. Doing his best there, when the Swedes, egged on by Louis XIV,
made war upon him; crossed the Pomeranian marshes, troop after troop, and
invaded his Brandenburg Territory with a force which at length amounted to
sixteen thousand men. No help for the moment; Friedrich Wilhelm could not
be spared from his post. The Swedes, who had at first professed well,
gradually went into plunder, roving, harrying at their own will; and a
melancholy time they made of it for Friedrich Wilhelm and his People. Lucky
if temporary harm were all the ill they were likely to do; lucky if----
He stood steady, however; in his solid manner finishing the thing in hand
first, since that was feasible. He then even retired into winter-quarters
to rest his men, and seemed to have left the Swedish sixteen thousand
autocrats of the situation, who accordingly went storming about at a great
rate.

Not so, however; very far, indeed, from so. Having rested his men for
certain months, Friedrich Wilhelm silently, in the first days of June,
1675, gets them under march again; marches his Cavalry and he as first
instalment, with best speed from Schweinfurt, which is on the River Mayn,
to Magdeburg, a distance of two hundred miles. At Magdeburg, where he rests
three days, waiting for the first handful of Foot and a field-piece or two,
he learns that the Swedes are in three parties wide asunder, the middle
party of them within forty miles of him. Probably stronger, even this
middle one, than his small body (of "Six thousand Horse, Twelve hundred
Foot, and three guns")--stronger, but capable, perhaps, of being surprised,
of being cut in pieces before the others can come up? Rathenau is the
nearest skirt of this middle party: thither goes the Kurfuerst, softly,
swiftly, in the June night (June 16-17, 1675); gets into Rathenau by brisk
stratagem; tumbles out the Swedish Horse regiment there, drives it back
toward Fehrbellin.

He himself follows hard; swift riding enough in the summer night through
those damp Havel lands, in the old Hohenzollern fashion; and, indeed, old
Freisack Castle, as it chances--Freisack, scene of Dietrich von Quitzow and
_Lazy Peg_ long since--is close by. Follows hard, we say; strikes in upon
this midmost party (nearly twice his number, but Infantry for most part);
and after fierce fight, done with good talent on both sides, cuts it into
utter ruin, as proposed; thereby he has left the Swedish Army as a mere
head and tail without body; has entirely demolished the Swedish Army. Same
feat intrinsically as that done by Cromwell on Hamilton and the Scots in
1648. It was, so to speak, the last visit Sweden paid to Brandenburg, or
the last of any consequence, and ended the domination of the Swedes in
those quarters--a thing justly to be forever remembered by Brandenburg; on
a smallish modern scale, the Bannockburn, Sempach, Marathon of Brandenburg.

Exploit Second was four years later--in some sort a corollary to this, and
a winding up of the Swedish business. The Swedes, in further prosecution of
their Louis XIV speculation, had invaded Preussen this time, and were doing
sad havoc there. It was in the dead of winter--Christmas, 1678--more than
four hundred miles off; and the Swedes, to say nothing of their own havoc,
were in a case to take Koenigsberg, and ruin Prussia altogether, if not
prevented. Friedrich Wilhelm starts from Berlin, with the opening Year, on
his long march; the Horse-troops first, Foot to follow at their swiftest;
he himself (his Wife, his ever-true "Louisa," accompanying, as her wont
was) travels toward the end, at the rate of "sixty miles a day." He gets in
still in time; finds Koenigsberg unscathed; nay, it is even said the Swedes
are extensively falling sick, having after a long famine found infinite
"pigs near Insterburg," in those remote regions, and indulged in the fresh
pork overmuch.

I will not describe the subsequent manoeuvres, which would interest nobody;
enough if I say that on January 16, 1679, it had become of the highest
moment for Friedrich Wilhelm to get from Carwe (Village near Elbing), on
the shore of the _Frische Haf_, where he was, through Koenigsberg, to
Gilge on the _Curische Haf_, where the Swedes are, in a minimum of time.
Distance, as the crow flies, is about a hundred miles; road, which skirts
the two _Hafs_ (wide shallow _Washes_, as we should name them), is of rough
quality and naturally circuitous. It is ringing frost to-day, and for days
back. Friedrich Wilhelm hastily gathers all the sledges, all the horses of
the district; mounts Four thousand men in sledges; starts with speed of
light, in that fashion; scours along all day, and after the intervening bit
of land, again along, awakening the ice-bound silences. Gloomy _Frische
Haf_, wrapped in its Winter cloud-coverlids, with its wastes of tumbled
sand, its poor frost-bound fishing-hamlets, pine hillocks--desolate-
looking, stern as Greenland, or more so, says Busching, who travelled
there in winter-time--hears unexpected human voices, and huge grinding and
trampling; the Four thousand, in long fleet of sledges, scouring across it
in that manner. All day they rush along--out of the rimy hazes of morning
into the olive-colored clouds of evening again--with huge, loud-grinding
rumble, and do arrive in time at Gilge. A notable streak of things,
shooting across those frozen solitudes in the New Year, 1679; little short
of Karl Gustav's feat, which we heard of in the other or Danish end of the
Baltic, twenty years ago, when he took islands without ships.

This Second Exploit--suggested or not by that prior one of Karl Gustav on
the ice--is still a thing to be remembered by Hohenzollerns and Prussians.
The Swedes were beaten here on Friedrich Wilhelm's rapid arrival; were
driven into disastrous, rapid retreat Northward, which they executed in
hunger and cold, fighting continually, like Northern bears, under the grim
sky, Friedrich Wilhelm sticking to their skirts, holding by their tail,
like an angry bear-ward with steel whip in his hand; a thing which, on the
small scale, reminds one of Napoleon's experiences. Not till Napoleon's
huge fighting-flight, a Hundred and thirty-four years after, did I read of
such a transaction in those parts. The Swedish invasion of Preussen has
gone utterly to ruin.

And this, then, is the end of Sweden, and its bad neighborhood on these
shores, where it has tyrannously sat on our skirts so long? Swedish
Pommern; the Elector already had: last year, coming toward it ever since
the Exploit of Fehrbellin, he had invaded Swedish Pommern; had besieged
and taken Stettin, nay Stralsund too, where Wallenstein had failed;
cleared Pommern altogether of its Swedish guests, who had tried next in
Preussen, with what luck we see. Of Swedish Pommern the Elector might now
say, "Surely it is mine; again mine, as it long was; well won a second
time, since the first would not do." But no; Louis XIV proved a gentleman
to his Swedes. Louis, now that the Peace of Nimwegen had come, and only
the Elector of Brandenburg was still in harness, said steadily, though
anxious enough to keep well with the Elector, "They are my allies, these
Swedes; it was on my bidding they invaded you: can I leave them in such a
pass? It must not be." So Pommern had to be given back: a miss which was
infinitely grievous to Friedrich Wilhelm. The most victorious Elector
cannot hit always, were his right never so good.

Another miss which he had to put up with, in spite of his rights and his
good services, was that of the Silesian Duchies. The Heritage-Fraternity
with Liegnitz had at length, in 1675, come to fruit. The last Duke
of Liegnitz was dead: Duchies of Liegnitz, of Brieg, Wohlau, are
Brandenburg's, if there were right done; but Kaiser Leopold in the scarlet
stockings will not hear of Heritage-Fraternity. "Nonsense!" answers Kaiser
Leopold: "a thing suppressed at once, ages ago by Imperial power; flat
_zero_ of a thing at this time; and you, I again bid you, return me your
Papers upon it." This latter act of duty Friedrich Wilhelm would not do,
but continued insisting: "Jagerndorf, at least, O Kaiser of the world,"
said he, "Jagerndorf, there is no color for your keeping that!" To which
the Kaiser again answers, "Nonsense!" and even falls upon astonishing
schemes about it, as we shall see, but gives nothing. Ducal Preussen
is sovereign, Cleve is at peace, Hinter-Pommern ours; this Elector has
conquered much, but Silesia, and Vor-Pommern, and some other things he will
have to do without. Louis XIV, it is thought, once offered to get him made
King, but that he declined for the present.

His married and domestic life is very fine and human, especially with that
Oranien-Nassau Princess, who was his first Wife (1646-1667) Princess Louisa
of Nassau-Orange, Aunt to our own Dutch William, King William III, in time
coming: an excellent, wise Princess, from whom came the Orange Heritages,
which afterward proved difficult to settle. Orange was at last exchanged
for the small Principality of Neufchatel in Switzerland, which is Prussia's
ever since. "Oranienburg (_Orange-Burg)_" a Royal Country-house, still
standing, some Twenty miles northward from Berlin, was this Louisa's place:
she had trimmed it up into a little jewel of the Dutch type--pot-herb
gardens, training-schools for girls, and the like--a favorite abode of hers
when she was at liberty for recreation. But her life was busy and earnest;
she was helpmate, not in name only, to an ever-busy man. They were married
young, a marriage of love withal. Young Friedrich Wilhelm's courtship,
wedding in Holland; the honest trustful walk and conversation of the two
Sovereign Spouses, their journeyings together, their mutual hopes, fears,
and manifold vicissitudes, till Death, with stern beauty, shut it in: all
is human, true, and wholesome in it; interesting to look upon, and rare
among sovereign persons.

Not but that he had his troubles with his womankind. Even with this his
first Wife, whom he loved truly, and who truly loved him, there were
scenes--the Lady having a judgment of her own about everything that passed,
and the man being choleric withal. Sometimes, I have heard, "he would dash
his hat at her feet," saying symbolically, "Govern you, then, Madam! Not
the Kurfuerst Hat; a Coif is my wear, it seems!" Yet her judgment was good,
and he liked to have it on the weightiest things, though her powers of
silence might halt now and then. He has been known, on occasions, to
run from his Privy Council to her apartment, while a complex matter was
debating, to ask her opinion, hers, too, before it was decided. Excellent
Louisa, Princess full of beautiful piety, good sense, and affection--a
touch of the Nassau-Heroic in her. At the moment of her death, it is said,
when speech had fled, he felt from her hand which lay in his, three slight,
slight pressures: "Farewell!" thrice mutely spoken in that manner, not easy
to forget in this world.

His second Wife, Dorothea, who planted the Lindens in Berlin, and did other
husbandries, fell far short of Louisa in many things, but not in tendency
to advise, to remonstrate, and plaintively reflect on the finished and
unalterable. Dreadfully thrifty lady, moreover; did much in dairy produce,
farming of town-rates, provision-taxes, not to speak again of that Tavern
she was thought to have in Berlin, and to draw custom to it in an oblique
manner! "Ah! I have not my Louisa now; to whom now shall I run for advice
or help?" would the poor Kurfuerst at times exclaim.

He had some trouble, considerable trouble, now and then, with mutinous
spirits in Preussen; men standing on antique Prussian franchises and
parchments, refusing to see that the same were now antiquated incompatible,
nor to say impossible, as the new Sovereign alleged, and carrying
themselves very stiffly at times. But the Hohenzollerns had been used
to such things; a Hohenzollern like this one would evidently take his
measures, soft but strong, and even stronger to the needful pitch, with
mutinous spirits. One Buergermeister of Koenigsberg, after much stroking
on the back, was at length seized in open Hall by Electoral writ, soldiers
having first gently barricaded the principal streets, and brought cannon to
bear upon them. This Buergermeister, seized in such brief way, lay prisoner
for life, refusing to ask his liberty, though it was thought he might have
had it on asking.

Another gentleman, a Baron von Kalkstein, of old Teutsch-Ritter kin, of
very high ways, in the Provincial Estates _(Staende)_ and elsewhere, got
into lofty, almost solitary, opposition, and at length, into mutiny proper,
against the new "Non-Polish" Sovereign, and flatly refused to do homage at
his accession--refused, Kalkstein did, for his share; fled to Warsaw; and
very fiercely, in a loud manner, carried out his mutinies in the Diets and
Court Conclaves there, his plea being, or plea for the time, "Poland is our
liege lord" (which it was not always), "and we cannot be transferred to
you except by our consent asked and given," which, too, had been a little
neglected on the former occasion of transfer; so that the Great Elector
knew not what to do with Kalkstein, and at length (as the case was
pressing) had him kidnapped by his Embassador at Warsaw; had him "rolled in
a carpet" there, and carried swiftly in the Embassador's coach, in the
form of luggage, over the frontier, into his native Province, there to be
judged, and, in the end (since nothing else would serve him), to have the
sentence executed, and his head cut off; for the case was pressing. These
things, especially this of Kalkstein, with a boisterous Polish Diet and
parliamentary eloquence in the rear of him, gave rise to criticisms, and
required management on the part of the Great Elector.

Of all his ancestors, our little Fritz, when he grew big, admired this
one--a man made like himself in many points. He seems really to have loved
and honored this one. In the year 1750 there had been a new Cathedral got
finished at Berlin; the ancestral bones had to be shifted over from the
vaults of the old one--the burying-place ever since Joachim II, that
Joachim who drew his sword on Alba. King Friedrich, with some attendants,
witnessed the operation, January, 1750. When the Great Kurfuerst's coffin
came, he bade them open it; gazed in silence on the features for some time,
which were perfectly recognizable; laid his hand on the hand long dead, and
said, "_Messieurs, celui ci a fait de grandes choses_!" ("This one did a
grand work").



%WILLIAM PENN RECEIVES THE GRANT OF PENNSYLVANIA%

FOUNDING OF PHILADELPHIA

A.D. 1681

GEORGE E. ELLIS


Although European settlers had occupied portions of the present State of
Pennsylvania for fifty years before William Penn arrived in that territory,
the real foundation of the great commonwealth named after him is justly
dated from his time.

Penn was an English "Friend," or Quaker, and was descended from a long line
of sailors. He was born in London in 1644, his father being Admiral
Sir William Penn of the English navy. The son was educated at Oxford
University, and became a preacher of the Society of Friends. This calling
brought him into collision with the authorities. He was several times
arrested, and for a while was imprisoned in the Tower for "urging the cause
of freedom with importunity."

Through the influence of his family and the growing weight of his own
character, he escaped the heavier penalties inflicted upon some of his
coreligionists, and, by the shrewdness and tact which he united with
spiritual fervor, he rapidly advanced in public position.

In 1675 Penn became part proprietor of West New Jersey, where a colony of
English Friends was settled. Five years later, through his influence at
court and the aid of wealthy persons, he was enabled to purchase a large
tract in East New Jersey, where he designed to establish a similar colony
on a larger plan. But this project was soon superseded by a much greater
one, of which the execution is here related.

The interest of William Penn having been engaged for some time in the
colonization of an American province, and the idea having become familiar
to his mind of establishing there a Christian home as a refuge for Friends,
and the scene for a fair trial of their principles, he availed himself of
many favorable circumstances to become a proprietary himself. In various
negotiations concerning New Jersey he had had a conspicuous share, and the
information which his inquiring mind gathered from the adventures in the
New World gave him all the knowledge which was requisite for his further
proceedings. Though he had personal enemies in high places, and the project
which he designed crossed the interests of the Duke of York[1] and of Lord
Baltimore, yet his court influence was extensive, and he knew how to use
it.

[Footnote 1: Afterward James II. He was proprietor of New York, and Lord
Baltimore of Maryland.]

The favor of Charles II and of his brother the Duke of York had been sought
by Penn's dying father for his son, and freely promised. But William Penn
had a claim more substantial than a royal promise of those days. The
crown was indebted to the estate of Admiral Penn for services, loans, and
interest, to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The exchequer, under
the convenient management of Shaftesbury, would not meet the claim. Penn,
who was engaged in settling the estate of his father, petitioned the King,
in June, 1680, for a grant of land in America as a payment for all these
debts.

The request was laid before the privy council, and then before the
committee of trade and plantations. Penn's success must have been owing
to great interest made on his behalf; for both the Duke of York, by his
attorney, and Lord Baltimore opposed him. As proprietors of territory
bounding on the tract which he asked for, and as having been already
annoyed by the conflict of charters granted in the New World, they were
naturally unfairly biassed. The application made to the King succeeded
after much debate. The provisions in the charter of Lord Baltimore were
adopted by Penn with slight alterations. Sir William Jones objected to one
of the provisions, which allowed a freedom from taxation, and the Bishop of
London, as the ecclesiastical supervisor of plantations, proposed another
provision, to prevent too great liberty in religious matters. Chief Justice
North having reduced the patent to a satisfactory form, to guard the King's
prerogative and the powers of Parliament, it was signed by writ of privy
seal at Westminster, March 4, 1681. It made Penn the owner of about forty
thousand square miles of territory.

This charter is given at length by Proud and other writers. The preamble
states that the design of William Penn was to enlarge the British empire
and to civilize and convert the savages. The first section avers that his
petition was granted on account of the good purposes of the son and the
merits and services of the father. The bounds of the territory are thus
defined: "All that tract or part of land, in America, with the islands
therein contained, as the same is bounded on the east by Delaware River,
from twelve miles distance northward of New Castle town, unto the
three-and-fortieth degree of northern latitude, if the said river doth
extend so far northward; but if the said river shall not extend so far
northward, then, by the said river, so far as it doth extend; and from
the head of the said river, the eastern bounds are to be determined by a
meridian line to be drawn from the head of the said river, unto the said
forty-third degree. The said land to extend westward five degrees in
longitude to be computed from the said eastern bounds; and the said lands
to be bounded on the north by the beginning of the three-and-fortieth
degree of northern latitude, and on the south by a circle drawn at twelve
miles' distance from New Castle, northward and westward, unto the beginning
of the fortieth degree of northern latitude; and then by a straight line
westward to the limits of longitude above mentioned."

Though these boundaries appear to be given with definiteness and precision,
a controversy, notwithstanding, arose at once between Penn and Lord
Baltimore, which outlasted the lives of both of them, and, being continued
by their representatives, was not in fact closed until the Revolutionary
War.

The charter vested the perpetual proprietaryship of this territory in
William Penn and his heirs, on the fealty of the annual payment of two
beaver-skins; it authorized him to make and execute laws not repugnant
to those of England, to appoint judges, to receive those who wished to
transport themselves, _to establish a military force_, to constitute
municipalities, and to carry on a free commerce. It required that an agent
of the proprietor should reside in or near London, and provided for the
rights of the Church of England. The charter also disclaimed all taxation,
except through the proprietor, the governor, the assembly, or Parliament,
and covenanted that if any question of arms or conditions should arise
it should be decided in favor of the proprietor. By a declaration to
the inhabitants and planters of Pennsylvania, dated April 2d, the King
confirmed the charter, to ratify it for all who might intend to emigrate
under it, and to require compliance from all whom it concerned.

By a letter from Penn to his friend Robert Turner, written upon the day on
which the charter was signed, we learn that the proprietor designed to call
his territory "New Wales"; but the under-secretary, a Welshman, opposed it.
Penn then suggested "Sylvania," as applicable to the forest region; but the
secretary, acting under instructions, prefixed "Penn" to this title. The
modest and humble Quaker offered the official twenty guineas as a bribe
to leave off his name. Failing again, he went to the King and stated his
objection; but the King said he would take the naming upon himself, and
insisted upon it as doing honor to the old admiral.

Penn now resigned the charge of West New Jersey, and devoted himself to the
preliminary tasks which should make his province available to himself and
others. He sent over, in May, his cousin and secretary, Colonel William
Markham, then only twenty-one years old, to make such arrangements for
his own coming as might be necessary. This gentleman, who acted as Penn's
deputy, carried over from him a letter, dated London, April 8, 1681,
addressed "For the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania; to be read by my Deputy."
This was a courteous announcement of his proprietaryship and intentions
to the Dutch, Swedes, and English, who, to the number, probably, of about
three thousand, were then living within his patent.

Penn's object being to obtain adventurers and settlers at once, he
published _Some Account of the Province of Pennsylvania, in America, lately
granted, under the Great Seal of England, to William Penn_. This was
accompanied by a copy of the charter and a statement of the terms on which
the land was to be sold, with judicious advice addressed to those who were
disposed to transport themselves, warning them against mere fancy dreams,
or the desertion of friends, and encouraging them by all reasonable
expectations of success.

The terms of sale were, for a hundred acres of land, forty shillings
purchase money, and one shilling as an annual quit-rent. This latter
stipulation, made in perfect fairness, not unreasonable in itself, and
ratified by all who of their own accord acceded to it, was, as we shall
see, an immediate cause of disaffection, and has ever since been the
basis of a calumny against the honored and most estimable founder of
Pennsylvania.

Under date of July 11, 1681, Penn published _Certain Conditions or
Concessions to be agreed upon by William Penn, Proprietary and Governor
of the Province of Pennsylvania, and those who may become Adventurers and
Purchasers in the same Province_. These conditions relate to dividing,
planting, and building upon the land, saving mulberry-and oak-trees, and
dealing with the Indians. These documents were circulated, and imparted
sufficient knowledge of the country and its produce, so that purchasers at
once appeared, and Penn went to Bristol to organize there a company called
"The Free Society of Traders in Pennsylvania," who purchased twenty
thousand acres of land, and prepared to establish various trades in the
province.

Yet further to mature his plans, and to begin with a fair understanding
among all who might be concerned in the enterprise, Penn drew up and
submitted a sketch of the frame of government, providing for alterations,
with a preamble for liberty of conscience. On the basis of contracts and
agreements thus made and mutually ratified, three passenger ships, two from
London and one from Bristol, sailed for Pennsylvania in September, 1681.
One of them made an expeditious passage; another was frozen up in the
Delaware; and the third, driven to the West Indies, was long delayed. They
took over some of the ornamental work of a house for the proprietor.

The Governor also sent over three commissioners, whose instructions we
learn from the original document addressed to them by Penn, dated September
30, 1681. These commissioners were William Crispin, John Bezar, and
Nathaniel Allen. Their duty was that of "settling the colony." Penn refers
them to his cousin Markham, "now on the spot." He instructs them to take
good care of the people; to guard them from extortionate prices for
commodities from the earlier inhabitants; to select a site by the river,
and there to lay out a town; to have his letter to the Indians read to them
in their own tongue; to make them presents from him--adding, "Be grave;
they love not to be smiled upon"--and to enter into a league of amity with
them. Penn also instructs the commissioners to select a site for his own
occupancy, and closes with some good advice in behalf of order and virtue.

These commissioners probably did not sail until the latter part of October,
as they took with them the letter to the Indians, to which Penn refers.
This letter, bearing the date October 18, 1681, is a beautiful expression
of feeling on the part of the proprietor. He does not address the Indians
as heathen, but as his brethren, the children of the one Father. He
announces to them his accession, as far as a royal title could legitimate
it, to a government in their country; he distinguishes between himself and
those who had ill treated the Indians, and pledges his love and service.

About this time William Penn was elected a fellow of the Royal Society in
London, probably by nomination of his friend, Dr. John Wallis, one of its
founders, and with the hope that his connection with the New World would
enable him to advance its objects.

With a caution, which the experience of former purchases rendered
essential, Penn obtained of the Duke of York a release of all his claims
within the patent. His royal highness executed a quitclaim to William
Penn and his heirs on August 21, 1682. The Duke had executed, in March,
a ratification of his two former grants of East Jersey. But a certain
fatality seemed to attend upon these transfers of ducal possessions. After
various conflicts and controversies long continued, we may add, though by
anticipation, that the proprietaryship of both the Jerseys was abandoned,
and they were surrendered to the crown under Queen Anne, in April, 1702.

Penn also obtained of the Duke of York another tract of land adjoining his
patent. This region, afterward called the "Territories," and the three
"Lower Counties," now Delaware, had been successively held by the Swedes
and Dutch, and by the English at New York. The Duke confirmed it to William
Penn, by two deeds, dated August 24, 1682.

The last care on the mind of William Penn, before his embarkation, was to
prepare proper counsel and instruction for his wife and children. This he
did in the form of a letter written at Worminghurst, August 4, 1682. He
knew not that he should ever see them again, and his heart poured forth to
them the most touching utterances of affection. But it was not the heart
alone which indited the epistle. It expressed the wisest counsels of
prudence and discretion. All the important letters written by Penn contain
a singular union of spiritual and worldly wisdom. Indeed, he thought these
two ingredients to be but one element. He urged economy, filial love,
purity, and industry, as well as piety, upon his children. He favored,
though he did not insist upon, their receiving his religious views. We may
express a passing regret that he who could give such advice to his children
should not have had the joy to leave behind him anyone who could meet the
not inordinate wish of his heart.

In the mean while his deputy, Markham, acting by his instructions, was
providing him a new home by purchasing for him, of the Indians, a piece
of land, the deed of which is dated July 15th, and endorsed with a
confirmation, August 1st, and by commencing upon it the erection which was
afterward known as Pennsbury Manor.

All his arrangements being completed, William Penn, at the age of
thirty-eight, well, strong, and hopeful of the best results, embarked
for his colony, on board the ship Welcome, of three hundred tons, Robert
Greenaway master, on the last of August, 1682. While in the Downs he wrote
a _Farewell Letter to Friends, the Unfaithful and Inquiring_, in his native
land, dated August 30th, and probably many private letters. He had about
one hundred fellow-passengers, mostly Friends from his own neighborhood in
Sussex. The vessel sailed about September 1st, and almost immediately the
small-pox, that desolating scourge of the passenger-ships of those days,
appeared among the passengers, and thirty fell victims to it. The trials
of that voyage, told to illustrate the Christian spirit which submissively
encountered them, were long repeated from father to son and from mother to
daughter.

In about six weeks the ship entered the Delaware River. The old inhabitants
along the shores, which had been settled by the whites for about half a
century, received Penn with equal respect and joy. He arrived at New Castle
on October 27th. The day was not commemorated by annual observances until
the year 1824, when a meeting for that purpose was held at an inn, in
Laetitia court, where Penn had resided. While the ship and its company went
up the river, the proprietor, on the next day, called the inhabitants,
who were principally Dutch and Swedes, to the court-house, where, after
addressing them, he assumed and received the formal possession of the
country. He renewed the commissions of the old magistrates, who urged him
to unite the Territories to his government.

After a visit of ceremony to the authorities at New York and Long Island,
with a passing token to his friends in New Jersey, Penn went to Upland to
hold the first Assembly, which opened on December 4th. Nicholas Moore, an
English lawyer, and president of the Free Society of Traders, was made
speaker. After three days' peaceful debate, the Assembly ratified, with
modifications, the laws made in England, with about a score of new ones of
a local, moral, or religious character, in which not only the drinking of
healths, but the talking of scandal, was forbidden. By suggestion of his
friend and fellow-voyager, Pearson, who came from Chester, in England, Penn
substituted that name for Upland. By an act of union, passed on December
7th, the three Lower Counties, or the Territories, were joined in the
government, and the foreigners were naturalized at their own request.

On his arrival Penn had sent two messengers to Charles Calvert, Lord
Baltimore, to propose a meeting and conference with him about their
boundaries. On December 19th they met at West River with courtesy and
kindness; but after three days they concluded to wait for the more
propitious weather of the coming year. Penn, on his way back, attended a
religious meeting at a private house, and afterward an official meeting at
Choptank, on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake, and reached Chester again
by December 29th, where much business engaged him. About twenty-three ships
had arrived by the close of the year; none of them met with disaster,
and all had fair passages. The new-comers found a comparatively easy
sustenance. Provisions were obtained at a cheap rate of the Indians and of
the older settlers. But great hardships were endured by some, and special
providences are commemorated. Many found their first shelter in caves
scooped out in the steep bank of the river. When these caves were deserted
by their first occupants, the poor or the vicious made them a refuge; and
one of the earliest signs both of prosperity and of corruption, in the
colony, is disclosed in the mention that these rude coverts of the first
devoted emigrants soon became tippling-houses and nuisances in the misuse
of the depraved.

There has been much discussion of late years concerning the far-famed
Treaty of Penn with the Indians. A circumstance, which has all the interest
both of fact and of poetry, was confirmed by such unbroken testimony of
tradition that history seemed to have innumerable records of it in the
hearts and memories of each generation. But as there appears no document
or parchment of such _criteria_ as to satisfy all inquiries, historical
scepticism has ventured upon the absurd length of calling in question
the fact of the treaty. The Historical Society of Pennsylvania, with
commendable zeal, has bestowed much labor upon the questions connected with
the treaty, and the results which have been attained can scarcely fail to
satisfy a candid inquirer. All claim to a peculiar distinction for William
Penn, on account of the singularity of his just proceedings in this matter
is candidly waived, because the Swedes, the Dutch, and the English had
previously dealt thus justly with the natives. It is in comparison with
Pizarro and Cortes that the colonists of all other nations in America
appear to an advantage; but the fame of William Penn stands, and ever will
stand, preeminent for unexceptionable justice and peace in his relations
with the natives.

Penn had several meetings for conference and treaties with the Indians,
besides those which he held for the purchase of lands. But unbroken and
reverently cherished tradition, beyond all possibility of contradiction,
has designated one great treaty held under a large elm-tree, at Shackamaxon
(now Kensington), a treaty which Voltaire justly characterizes as "never
sworn to, and never broken." In Penn's _Letter to the Free Society of
Traders,_ dated August 16, 1683, he refers to his conferences with the
Indians. Two deeds, conveying land to him, are on record, both of which
bear an earlier date than this letter; namely, June 23d and July 14th of
the same year. He had designed to make a purchase in May; but having been
called off to a conference with Lord Baltimore, he postponed the business
till June. The "Great Treaty" was doubtless unconnected with the purchase
of land, and was simply a treaty of amity and friendship, in confirmation
of one previously held, by Penn's direction, by Markham, on the same spot;
that being a place which the Indians were wont to use for this purpose. It
is probable that the treaty was held on the last of November, 1682; that
the Delawares, the Mingos, and other Susquehanna tribes formed a large
assembly on the occasion; that written minutes of the conference were made,
and were in possession of Governor Gordon, who states nine conditions as
belonging to them in 1728, but are now lost; and that the substance of the
treaty is given in Penn's _Letter to the Free Traders_. These results
are satisfactory, and are sufficiently corroborated by known facts and
documents. The Great Treaty, being distinct from a land purchase, is
significantly distinguished in history and tradition.

The inventions of romance and imagination could scarcely gather round this
engaging incident attractions surpassing in its own simple and impressive
interest. Doubtless Clarkson has given a fair representation of it, if we
merely disconnect from his account the statement that the Indians were
armed, and all that confounds the treaty of friendship with the purchase
of lands. Penn wore a sky-blue sash of silk around his waist, as the most
simple badge. The pledges there given were to hold their sanctity "while
the creeks and rivers run, and while the sun, moon, and stars endure."

While the whites preserved in written records the memory of such covenants,
the Indians had their methods for perpetuating in safe channels their
own relations. They cherished in grateful regard, they repeated to their
children and to the whites, the terms of the Great Treaty. The Delawares
called William Penn _Miquon_, in their own language, though they seem to
have adopted the name given him by the Iroquois, _Onas_; both which terms
signify a quill or pen. Benjamin West's picture of the treaty is too
imaginative for a historical piece. He makes Penn of a figure and aspect
which would become twice the years that had passed over his head. The
elm-tree was spared in the war of the American Revolution, when there
was distress for firewood, the British officer, Simcoe, having placed a
sentinel beneath it for protection. It was prostrated by the wind on the
night of Saturday, March 3, 1810. It was of gigantic size, and the circles
around its heart indicated an age of nearly three centuries. A piece of
it was sent to the Penn mansion at Stoke Poges, in England, where it is
properly commemorated. A marble monument, with suitable inscriptions, was
"placed by the Penn Society, A.D. 1827, to mark the site of the Great Elm
Tree." Long may it stand!

Penn then made a visit to his manor of Pennsbury, up the Delaware. Under
Markham's care, the grounds had been arranged, and a stately edifice of
brick was in process of completion. The place had many natural beauties,
and is said to have been arranged and decorated in consistency both with
the office and the simple manners of the proprietor. There was a hall
of audience for Indian embassies within, and luxurious gardens without.
Hospitality had here a wide range, and Penn evidently designed it for a
permanent abode.

With the help of his surveyor, Thomas Holme, he laid out the plan of his
now beautiful city, and gave it its name of Christian signification, that
brotherly love might pervade its dwellings. He purchased the land, where
the city stands, of the Swedes who already occupied it, and who purchased
it of the Indians, though it would seem that a subsequent purchase was made
of the natives of the same site with adjacent territory some time afterward
by Thomas Holme, acting as president of the council, while Penn was in
England. The Schuylkill and the Delaware rivers gave to the site eminent
attractions. The plan was very simple, the streets running north and south
being designated by numbers, those running east and west by the names of
trees. Provision was made for large squares to be left open, and for common
water privileges. The building was commenced at once, and was carried on
with great zeal and continued success.



%LAST TURKISH INVASION OF EUROPE%

SOBIESKI SAVES VIENNA

A.D. 1683

SUTHERLAND MENZIES


After the defeat of the Turks at Lepanto, in 1571, the Ottoman power in
Europe slowly declined. But under the Sultan Mahomet IV the old Moslem
ambition for European conquest reawoke, as if for a final effort. And such
it proved to be. By the disaster before Vienna, in which John Sobieski,
King of Poland, once more saved Europe from their incursions, the Turks
were driven back within their own confines, where they have since, for the
most part, remained, making many wars, but no successful inroads, upon
European powers.

In 1682 the Hungarian magnates, who were resisting the oppression and
persecution of their people by the Austrian Government, called upon the
Turks for assistance. Listening to the proposals of Tekeli, the Hungarian
leader, who had secured the aid of Louis XIV of France, Mahomet IV decided
to break the truce he had made with Austria in 1665. In vain the Emperor
Leopold I sent an embassy to Constantinople to dissuade the Sultan from his
purpose.

Early in the spring of 1683 Sultan Mahomet marched forth from his capital
with a large army, which at Belgrad he transferred to the command of the
Grand Vizier Kara Mustapha. Tekeli formed a junction with the Turks at
Essek. In vain did Ibrahim, the experienced Pacha of Buda, endeavor to
persuade Kara Mustapha first of all to subdue the surrounding country, and
to postpone until the following year the attack upon Vienna; his advice was
scornfully rejected, and, indeed, the audacity of the Grand Vizier seemed
justified by the scant resistance he had met with. He talked of renewing
the conquests of Solyman: he assembled, it is said, seven hundred thousand
men, one hundred thousand horses, and one thousand two hundred guns--an
army more powerful than any the Turks had set on foot since the capture of
Constantinople. All of which may be reduced to one hundred fifty thousand
barbarian troops without discipline, the last conquering army which the
degenerate race of the Osmanlis produced wherewith to invade Hungary.

Hostilities commenced in March, 1683; for the Turks, who had not been
accustomed to enter upon a campaign before the summer season, had begun
their march that year before the end of winter. Some prompt and easy
successes exalted the ambition of Kara Mustapha; and in spite of the
contrary advice of Tekeli, Ibrahim Pacha, and several other personages,
he determined to besiege Vienna. He accordingly advanced direct upon that
capital and encamped under its walls on July 14th. It was just at the
moment that Louis XIV had captured Strasburg, and at which his army
appeared ready to cross the Rhine: all Europe was in alarm, believing that
an agreement existed between France and the Porte for the conquest and
dismemberment of Germany. But it was not so. The Turks, without giving
France any previous warning, had of themselves made their invasion of
Hungary; Louis XIV was delighted at their success, but nevertheless
disposed, if it went too far, to check them, in order to play the part of
saviour of Christendom.

It was fortunate for the Emperor Leopold that he had upon the frontiers of
Poland an ally of indomitable courage in King John Sobieski, and that he
found the German princes loyal and prompt on this occasion, contrary to
their custom, in sending him succor. Moreover, in Duke Charles of Lorraine
he met with a skilful general to lead his army. Consternation and confusion
prevailed, however, in Vienna, while the Emperor with his court fled to
Linz. Many of the inhabitants followed him; but the rest, when the
first moments of terror had passed, prepared for the defence, and the
dilatoriness of the Turks, who amused themselves with pillaging the
environs and neighboring _châteaux_, allowed the Duke of Lorraine to throw
twelve thousand men as a garrison into the city; then, as he was unable
with his slender force to bar the approach of the Turkish army, he kept
aloof and waited for the King of Poland.

Leopold solicited succor on all sides, and the Pope made an appeal to the
piety of the King of France. Louis XIV, on the contrary, was intriguing
throughout Europe in order that the Christian princes should not quit their
attitude of repose, and he only offered to the Diet of Ratisbon the aid
of his arms on condition that it should recognize the recent usurpations
decreed by the famous Chambers of Reunion,[1] and that it should elect his
son king of the Romans. He reckoned, if it should accept his offers, to
determine the Turks to retreat and to effect a peace which, by bringing
the imperial crown into his house, would have been the death-stroke for
Austria. All these combinations miscarried through the devotedness of the
Poles.

[Footnote 1: The Chambers of Reunion were special courts established in
France by Louis XIV (1680). These courts declared for the annexation to
France of various territories along the eastern frontier.--ED.]

When Leopold supplicated Sobieski to come to his aid, Louis XIV tried to
divert him from it; he reassured him upon the projects of the Turks by
a letter of the Sultan, he made him see his real enemies in Austria,
Brandenburg, and that power of the North, which the Dutch gazettes had
begun to call "His Russian Majesty"; he reminded him, in fine, that the
house of Austria, saved by the French on the day of St. Gothard, had
testified its gratitude to them by allowing the victors to die of hunger
and by envenoming their difference with the Porte. But it was all useless;
hatred of the infidels prevailed, and the Polish squadrons hurried to the
deliverance of Vienna.

Count Rudiger de Starhemberg was made commandant of the city, and showed
himself alike bold and energetic in everything that could contribute to its
defence. The Turkish camp encircled Vienna and its suburbs, spreading over
the country all round to the distance of six leagues. Two days afterward,
Kara Mustapha opened the trenches, and his artillery battered the walls
in order to make a breach. Great efforts, moreover, were made in digging
mines, with the design of blowing up bastions or portions of the wall, so
that the city might be carried by assault, wherein the Turks hoped to find
an immense booty. But the besieged made an obstinate defence, and repaired
during the night the damage done on the previous day. During sixty days
forty mines and ten counter-mines were exploded; the Turks delivered
eighteen assaults, the besieged made twenty-four sorties. Each inch of
ground was only obtained by dint of a hard and long struggle, in which an
equal stubbornness both in attack and defence was exhibited.

The hottest fighting took place at the "Label" bastion, around which there
was not a foot of ground that had not been steeped in the blood of friend
or foe. However, by degrees the Turks gained a few paces; at the end of
August they were lodged in the ditches of the city; and on September 4th
they sprung a mine under the "Bourg" bastion; one-half of the city was
shaken thereby, and a breach was rent in the bastion wide enough for an
assault to be delivered, but the enemy was repulsed. Next day the Turks
attacked it with renewed courage, but the valor of the besieged baffled
the assailants. On September 10th another mine was sprung under the same
bastion, and the breach was so wide that a battalion might have entered
it abreast. The danger was extreme, for the garrison was exhausted
by fighting, sickness, and incessant labor. The Count de Starhemberg
despatched courier after courier to the Duke of Lorraine for succor: "There
is not a moment to be lost, Monseigneur," he wrote, "not a moment;" and
Vienna, exhausted, saw not yet her liberators arrive. At length, on the
14th, when the whole city was in a stupor in the immediate expectation of
an attack, a movement was observed in the enemy's camp which announced that
succor was at hand. At five o'clock in the afternoon the Christian army was
descried surmounting the Hill of Kahlen, and it made its presence known by
a salvo of artillery. John Sobieski had arrived at the head of a valiant
army. The Electors of Saxony and of Bavaria with many princes, dukes,
and margraves of Germany had brought with them fresh troops. Charles of
Lorraine might then dare to march against the Moslems, although he had yet
only forty-six thousand men.

The army of Sobieski reached Klosterenburg, Koenigstetten, St. André,
the Valley of Hagen and Kirling, where it effected its junction with the
Austrians and the Saxons who had arrived there in passing by Hoeflin. On
Sunday, September 15th, in the earliest rays of a fine autumnal day, the
holy priest Marco d'Aviano celebrated mass in the chapel of Kahlenberg, and
the King of Poland served him during the sacrifice. Afterward, Sobieski
made his son kneel down and dubbed him a knight in remembrance of the great
occasion on which he was going to be present; then, turning toward his
officers, he reminded them of the victory of Choczim, adding that the
triumph they were about to achieve under the walls of Vienna would not only
save a city, but Christendom. Next morning the Christian army descended the
Hill of Kahlen in order of battle. A salvo of five cannon-shot gave the
signal for the fight. Sobieski commanded the right wing, the Duke of
Lorraine the left, under whose orders served Prince Eugene of Savoy, then
aged nineteen. The Elector of Bavaria was in the centre. The village of
Naussdorf, situated upon the Danube, was attacked by the Saxon and
imperial troops which formed the left wing, and carried after an obstinate
resistance. Toward noon the King of Poland, having descended into the
plain with the right wing, at the head of his Polish cavalry, attacked the
innumerable squadrons of Turkish horse. Flinging himself upon the enemy's
centre with all the fury of a hurricane, he spread confusion in their
ranks; but his courage carried him too far; he was surrounded and was on
the point of being overwhelmed by numbers. Then, shouting for aid, the
German cavalry, which had followed him, charged the enemy at full gallop,
delivered the King, and soon put the Turks to flight on all sides. The
right wing had decided the victory; by seven o'clock in the evening the
deliverance of Vienna was achieved. The bodies of more than ten thousand
infidels strewed the field of battle.

But all those combats were mere preludes to the great battle which must
decide the fortune of the war. For the Turkish camp, with its thousands of
tents, could still be seen spreading around as far as the eye could
reach, and its artillery continued to play upon the city. The victorious
commander-in-chief was holding a council of war to decide whether to give
battle again on that same day, or wait till the morrow to give his troops
an interval of rest, when a messenger came with the announcement that the
enemy appeared to be in full flight; and it proved to be the fact. A panic
had seized the Turks, who fled in disorder, abandoning their camp and
baggage; and soon even those who were attacking the city were seen in full
flight with the rest of the army.

The booty found in the Turkish camp was immense: three hundred pieces of
heavy artillery, five thousand tents, that of the Grand Vizier with all the
military chests and the chancery. The treasures amounted to fifteen million
crowns; the tent of the Vizier alone yielded four hundred thousand crowns.
Two millions also were found in the military chest; arms studded with
precious stones, the equipments of Kara Mustapha, fell into the hands of
the victors. In their flight the Mussulmans threw away arms, baggage, and
banners, with the exception of the holy standard of the Prophet, which,
nevertheless, the imperials pretended to have seized. The King of Poland
received for his share four million florins; and in a letter to his
wife--the sole delight of his soul, his dear and well-beloved Mariette--he
speaks of that booty and of the happiness of having delivered Vienna. "All
the enemy's camp," he wrote, "with the whole of his artillery and all his
enormous riches, have fallen into our hands. We are driving before us a
host of camels, mules, and Turkish prisoners."

Count Starhemberg received the King of Poland in the magnificent tent
of the Grand Vizier and greeted him as a deliverer. Next day Sobieski,
accompanied by the Elector of Bavaria and the different commanders,
traversed the city on horseback, preceded by a great banner of cloth of
gold and two tall gilded staves bearing the horse-tails which had been
planted in front of the Grand Vizier's tent, as a symbol of supreme
command. In the Loretto chapel of the Augustins the hero threw himself upon
his face before the altar and chanted the _Te Deum_. Vienna was delivered;
the flood of Ottomans, that had beaten against its walls one hundred
fifty-four years previously, had returned more furiously, more menacing
still, against that dignified protectress of European civilization, but
this time it had been repelled never to return.

Thus vanished the insane hopes of the Grand Vizier. If Demetrius Cantemir
may be believed, Kara Mustapha had desired to capture Vienna to appropriate
it to himself and found in the West an empire of which he would have been
the sovereign. "That subject," says the historian, "who only held his power
from the Sultan, despised in his heart the Sultan himself; and as he found
himself at the head of all the disciplined troops of the empire, he looked
upon his master as a shadow denuded of strength and substance, who, being
very inferior in courage to him, could never oppose to him an army like
that which was under his command. For all that concerned the Emperor of
Germany, he appeared still less to be feared: being a prince bare and
despoiled so soon as he should have lost Vienna. It was thus that Kara
Mustapha reasoned within himself.

"Already he casts his eyes over the treasures which he has in his
possession; with the money of the Sultan he has also brought his own; all
that of the German princes is going to be his; for he believes that it is
amassed in the city he is besieging. If he needs support, he reckons upon
the different governors of Hungary as devoted to his interests; these are
his creatures, whom he has put into their posts during the seven years of
his vizierate; not one of those functionaries dare offer an obstacle to the
elevation of his benefactor. Ibrahim Pacha, Beylerbey of Buda, keeps him in
suspense by reason of the influence that his fame gives him over the army
and over Hungary; he must be won over before all else, as well as the chief
officers of the janizaries and the spahis. Ibrahim shall be made King of
Hungary. The different provinces comprised in that kingdom shall be divided
into _timars_ for appanage of the spahis, and all the rest of the soldiery
shall have establishments in the towns, as so many new colonies; to them
shall be assigned the lands of the old inhabitants, who will be driven out
or reduced to slavery. He reserves for himself the title of Sultan,
his share shall be all Germany as far as the frontiers of France, with
Transylvania and Poland, which he intends to render subject or at least
make tributary the year following." Such are the projects that Cantemir
attributes to Kara Mustapha; the intervention of Sobieski caused these
chimerical plans quickly to vanish.

The Emperor Leopold, who returned to Vienna on September 16th, instead of
expressing his thanks and gratitude to the commanders who had rescued his
capital, received them with the haughty and repulsive coldness prescribed
by the etiquette of the imperial court. Sobieski nevertheless continued
his services by pursuing the retreating Turks. Awakened from his dream of
self-exaltation, the Grand Vizier retook the road toward Turkey, directing
his steps to the Raab, where he rallied the remnants of his army. Thence he
marched toward Buda, and attacked by the way the Styrian town of Lilenfeld;
he was repulsed by the prelate Matthias Kalweis, and avenged himself for
that fresh check by devastating Lower Styria. He crossed the Danube by a
bridge of boats at Parkany; but the Poles vigorously disputed the passage
with him, and he again lost more than eight thousand men taken or slain by
the Christians. Shortly after, the fortress of Gran opened its gates to
Kara Mustapha. The Grand Vizier barbarously put to death the officers who
had signed the capitulation; he threw upon his generals the responsibility
of his reverses, and thought to stifle in blood the murmurs of his
accusers. The army marched in disorder as though struck with a panic
terror. Kara Mustapha wished that a Jew whom he despatched to Belgrad
should be escorted by a troop of horsemen. "I have no need of an escort,"
replied the Jew: "I have only to wear my cap in the German fashion, and not
a Turk will touch me."

The enemies of the Grand Vizier, however, conspired to effect his ruin at
Constantinople; and the results of the campaign justified the predictions
of the party of peace. Mahomet IV, enraged at these disasters, sent his
grand chamberlain to Belgrad with orders to bring back the head of the
Vizier (1683): it was, in fact, brought to the Sultan in a silver dish.



%MONMOUTH'S REBELLION%

A.D. 1685

GILBERT BURNET


James II was scarcely seated on the English throne in 1685 when serious
disturbances began in his realm. The King had inherited the peculiar traits
of the Stuarts. His first purpose was to overcome the Parliamentary power
and make himself absolute ruler. He was likewise a Roman Catholic, and one
of his objects was the suppression of English Protestantism.

During the first days of his reign the Protestant peasants in the west of
England rose in revolt. They supported the claims of James Fitzroy, Duke
of Monmouth, to the throne. Monmouth was the (reputed) illegitimate son of
Charles II and Lucy Walters. With other exiled malcontents, English and
Scotch, he had taken refuge in Holland. One of those exiled was the Earl of
Argyle, whose father had figured prominently on the side of the Scottish
Presbyterians against Charles I.

Owing to national jealousy, the English and Scotch in Holland could not act
in unison, but all were determined to strike against James. Two expeditions
were planned--one under Argyle, who expected to find forces awaiting him in
Scotland; the other under Monmouth, whose adherents were to join him in the
west of England.

Argyle's attempt miscarried through disagreement among the leaders, and the
Earl was taken and beheaded, June 30, 1685. What befell the enterprise of
Monmouth is told by Bishop Burnet, a contemporary historian. Monmouth was
executed July 15, 1685, and in the trials known as the "Bloody Assizes,"
presided over by the brutal George Jeffreys, some three hundred of the
Duke's followers were condemned to death, and more than a thousand
otherwise punished.

As soon as Lord Argyle sailed for Scotland, Monmouth set about his design
with as much haste as possible. Arms were brought and a ship was freighted
for Bilbao in Spain. He pawned all his jewels, but these could not raise
much, and no money was sent to him out of England. So he was hurried into
an ill-designed invasion. The whole company consisted but of eighty-two
persons. They were all faithful to one another. But some spies whom
Shelton, the new envoy, set on work, sent him the notice of a suspected
ship sailing out of Amsterdam with arms.

Shelton neither understood the laws of Holland nor advised with those who
did; otherwise he would have carried with him an order from the admiralty
of Holland, that sat at The Hague, to be made use of as the occasion should
require. When he came to Amsterdam, and applied himself to the magistrates
there, desiring them to stop and search the ship that he named, they found
the ship was already sailed out of their port and their jurisdiction went
no further. So he was forced to send to the admiralty at The Hague. But
those on board, hearing what he was come for, made all possible haste. And,
the wind favoring them, they got out of the Texel before the order desired
could be brought from The Hague. After a prosperous course, the Duke landed
at Lyme in Dorsetshire (June 11, 1685); and he with his small company came
ashore with some order, but with too much daylight, which discovered how
few they were.

The alarm was brought hot to London, where, upon the general report and
belief of the thing, an act of attainder passed both Houses in one day;
some small opposition being made by the Earl of Anglesey, because the
evidence did not seem clear enough for so severe a sentence, which was
grounded on the notoriety of the thing. The sum of five thousand pounds was
set on his head. And with that the session of Parliament ended; which was
no small happiness to the nation, such a body of men being dismissed
with doing so little hurt. The Duke of Monmouth's manifesto was long and
ill-penned--full of much black and dull malice.

It charged the King with the burning of London, the popish plot, Godfrey's
murder, and the Earl of Essex's death; and to crown all, it was pretended
that the late King was poisoned by his orders: it was set forth that the
King's religion made him incapable of the crown; that three subsequent
houses of commons had voted his exclusion: the taking away of the old
charters, and all the hard things done in the last reign, were laid to his
charge: the elections of the present parliament were also set forth very
odiously, with great indecency of style; the nation was also appealed to,
when met in a free parliament, to judge of the Duke's own pretensions;[1]
and all sort of liberty, both in temporals and spirituals, was promised to
persons of all persuasions.

[Footnote 1: He asserted that his mother had been the lawful wife of his
father.--ED.]

Upon the Duke of Monmouth's landing, many of the country people came in to
join him, but very few of the gentry. He had quickly men enough about
him to use all his arms. The Duke of Albemarle, as lord lieutenant of
Devonshire, was sent down to raise the militia, and with them to make head
against him. But their ill-affection appeared very evident; many deserted,
and all were cold in the service. The Duke of Monmouth had the whole
country open to him for almost a fortnight, during which time he was very
diligent in training and animating his men. His own behavior was so
gentle and obliging that he was master of all their hearts as much as
was possible. But he quickly found what it was to be at the head of
undisciplined men, that knew nothing of war, and that were not to be used
with rigor. Soon after their landing, Lord Grey was sent out with a small
party. He saw a few of the militia, and he ran for it; but his men stood,
and the militia ran from them. Lord Grey brought a false alarm, that was
soon found to be so, for the men whom their leader had abandoned came back
in good order. The Duke of Monmouth was struck with this when he found that
the person on whom he depended most, and for whom he designed the command
of the horse, had already made himself infamous by his cowardice. He
intended to join Fletcher with him in that command. But an unhappy accident
made it not convenient to keep him longer about him. He sent him out on
another party, and he, not being yet furnished with a horse, took the horse
of one who had brought in a great body of men from Taunton. He was not in
the way, so Fletcher not seeing him to ask his leave, thought that all
things were to be in common among them that could advance the service.

After Fletcher had ridden about as he was ordered, as he returned, the
owner of the horse he rode on--who was a rough and ill-bred man--reproached
him in very injurious terms for taking out his horse without his leave.
Fletcher bore this longer than could have been expected from one of his
impetuous temper. But the other persisted in giving him foul language, and
offered a switch or a cudgel, upon which he discharged his pistol at him
and shot him dead. He went and gave the Duke of Monmouth an account of
this, who saw it was impossible to keep him longer about him without
disgusting and losing the country people who were coming in a body to
demand justice. So he advised him to go aboard the ship and to sail on to
Spain whither she was bound. By this means he was preserved for that time.

Ferguson ran among the people with all the fury of an enraged man that
affected to pass for an enthusiast, though all his performances that way
were forced and dry. The Duke of Monmouth's great error was that he did not
in the first heat venture on some hardy action and then march either to
Exeter or Bristol; where as he would have found much wealth, so he would
have gained some reputation by it. But he lingered in exercising his men
and stayed too long in the neighborhood of Lyme.

By this means the King had time both to bring troops out of Scotland,
after Argyle was taken, and to send to Holland for the English and Scotch
regiments that were in the service of the states; which the Prince sent
over very readily and offered his own person, and a greater force, if
it were necessary. The King received this with great expressions of
acknowledgment and kindness. It was very visible that he was much
distracted in his thoughts, and that, what appearance of courage soever he
might put on, he was inwardly full of apprehensions and fears. He dare not
accept of the offer of assistance that the French made him; for by that he
would have lost the hearts of the English nation, and he had no mind to be
so much obliged to the Prince of Orange or to let him into his counsels or
affairs. Prince George committed a great error in not asking the command of
the army; for the command, how much soever he might have been bound to the
counsels of others, would have given him some lustre; whereas his staying
at home in such times of danger brought him under much neglect.

The King could not choose worse than he did when he gave the command to
the Earl of Feversham, who was a Frenchman by birth--and nephew to M. de
Turenne. Both his brothers changing religion--though he continued still
a Protestant--made that his religion was not much trusted to. He was an
honest, brave, and good-natured man, but weak to a degree not easy to be
conceived. And he conducted matters so ill that every step he made was like
to prove fatal to the King's service. He had no parties abroad. He got no
intelligence, and was almost surprised and like to be defeated, when he
seemed to be under no apprehension, but was abed without any care or order.
So that if the Duke of Monmouth had got but a very small number of good
soldiers about him, the King's affairs would have fallen into great
disorder.

The Duke of Monmouth had almost surprised Lord Feversham and all about him
while they were abed. He got in between two bodies, into which the army lay
divided. He now saw his error in lingering so long. He began to want bread,
and to be so straitened that there was a necessity of pushing for a speedy
decision. He was so misled in his march that he lost an hour's time, and
when he came near the army there was an inconsiderable ditch, in the
passing which he lost so much more time that the officers had leisure to
rise and be dressed, now they had the alarm. And they put themselves in
order. Yet the Duke of Monmouth's foot stood longer and fought better than
could have been expected; especially, when the small body of horse they
had, ran upon the first charge, the blame of which was cast on Lord Grey.

The foot being thus forsaken and galled by the cannon, did run at last.
About a thousand of them were killed on the spot, and fifteen hundred were
taken prisoners. Their numbers, when fullest, were between five and six
thousand.

The Duke of Monmouth left the field[1] too soon for a man of courage who
had such high pretensions; for a few days before he had suffered himself to
be called king, which did him no service, even among those that followed
him. He rode toward Dorsetshire; and when his horse could carry him no
further he changed clothes with a shepherd and went as far as his legs
could carry him, being accompanied only by a German whom he had brought
over with him. At last, when he could go no farther, they lay down in a
field where there was hay and straw, with which they covered themselves,
so that they hoped to lie there unseen till night. Parties went out on all
hands to take prisoners. The shepherd was found by Lord Lumley in the Duke
of Monmouth's clothes. So this put them on his track, and having some dogs
with them, they followed the scent, and came to the place where the German
was first discovered. And he immediately pointed to the place where the
Duke of Monmouth lay. So he was taken in a very indecent dress and posture.

[Footnote 1: This engagement took place at Ledgemoor, Somerset, July 6,
1685.--ED.]

His body was quite sunk with fatigue, and his mind was now so low that he
begged his life in a manner that agreed ill with the courage of the former
parts of it. He called for pen, ink, and paper, and wrote to the Earl of
Feversham, and both to the Queen and the Queen dowager, to intercede with
the King for his life. The King's temper, as well as his interest, made it
so impossible to hope for that, that it showed a great meanness in him
to ask it in such terms as he used in his letters. He was carried up to
Whitehall, where the King examined him in person, which was thought very
indecent, since he was resolved not to pardon him.[1] He made new and
unbecoming submissions, and insinuated a readiness to change his religion;
for, he said, the King knew what his first education was in religion. There
were no discoveries to be got from him; for the attempt was too rash to be
well concerted, or to be so deep laid that many were involved in the guilt
of it. He was examined on Monday, and orders were given for his execution
on Wednesday.

[Footnote 1: The Duke of Monmouth pressed extremely that the King would see
him, whence the King concluded he had something to say to him that he
would tell to nobody else; but when he found it ended in nothing but lower
submission than he either expected or desired, he told him plainly he had
put it out of his power to pardon him by having proclaimed himself king.
Thus may the most innocent actions of a man's life be sometimes turned to
his disadvantage.--ED.]

Turner and Ken, the Bishops of Ely and of Bath and Wells, were ordered
to wait on him. But he called for Dr. Tennison. The bishops studied to
convince him of the sin of rebellion. He answered, he was sorry for the
blood that was shed in it, but he did not seem to repent of the design. Yet
he confessed that his father had often told him that there was no truth in
the reports of his having married his mother. This he set under his hand,
probably for his children's sake, who were then prisoners in the Tower,
that so they might not be ill-used on his account. He showed a great
neglect of his duchess. And her resentments for his course of life with
Lady Wentworth wrought so much on her that she seemed not to have any of
that tenderness left that became her sex and his present circumstances, for
when he desired to speak privately with her she would have witnesses to
hear all that passed, to justify herself, and to preserve her family.
They parted very coldly. He only recommended to her the rearing of their
children in the Protestant religion.

The bishops continued still to press on him a deep sense of the sin of
rebellion; at which he grew so uneasy that he desired them to speak to him
of other matters. They next charged him with the sin of living with Lady
Wentworth, as he had done. In that he justified himself; he had married his
duchess too young to give a true consent; he said that lady was a pious
worthy woman, and that he had never lived so well, in all respects, as
since his engagements with her. All the pains they took to convince him of
the unlawfulness of that course of life had no effect. They did certainly
very well in discharging their consciences and speaking so plainly to him.
But they did very ill to talk so much of this matter and to make it so
public, as they did, for divines ought not to repeat what they say to dying
penitents no more than what the penitents say to them. By this means the
Duke of Monmouth had little satisfaction in them and they had as little in
him.

He was much better pleased with Dr. Tennison, who did very plainly speak to
him with relation to his public actings and to his course of life; but he
did it in a softer and less peremptory manner. And having said all that he
thought proper, he left those points, in which he saw he could not convince
him, to his own conscience, and turned to other things fit to be laid
before a dying man. The Duke begged one day more of life with such repeated
earnestness that as the King was much blamed for denying so small a favor,
so it gave occasion to others to believe that he had some hope from
astrologers that if he outlived that day he might have a better fate. As
long as he fancied there was any hope, he was too much unsettled in his
mind to be capable of anything.

But when he saw all was to no purpose and that he must die he complained a
little that his death was hurried on so fast. But all on a sudden he came
into a composure of mind that surprised those that saw it. There was no
affectation in it. His whole behavior was easy and calm, not without a
decent cheerfulness. He prayed God to forgive all his sins, unknown as well
as known. He seemed confident of the mercies of God, and that he was going
to be happy with him. And he went to the place of execution on Tower Hill
with an air of undisturbed courage that was grave and composed. He said
little there, only that he was sorry for the blood that was shed, but he
had ever meant well to the nation. When he saw the axe he touched it and
said it was not sharp enough. He gave the hangman but half the reward he
intended, and said if he cut off his head cleverly, and not so butcherly as
he did the Lord Russel's, his man would give him the rest.

The executioner was in great disorder, trembling all over; so he gave him
two or three strokes without being able to finish the matter and then flung
the axe out of his hand. But the sheriff forced him to take it up; and at
three or four more strokes he severed his head from his body and both were
presently buried in the chapel of the Tower. Thus lived and died this
unfortunate young man. He had several good qualities in him, and some that
were as bad. He was soft and gentle even to excess and too easy to those
who had credit with him. He was both sincere and good-natured, and
understood war well. But he was too much given to pleasure and to
favorites.



%REVOCATION OF THE EDICT OF NANTES%

A.D. 1685

BON LOUIS HENRI MARTIN


It was one of the glories of Henry of Navarre to end the religious wars of
France by publishing the Edict of Nantes (1598), which placed Catholics and
Protestants on a practically equal footing as subjects. By the revocation
of that edict, in 1685, Louis XIV opened the way for fresh persecution of
the Huguenots. Of the hundreds of thousands whom the King and his agents
then caused to flee the country and seek civil and religious liberty in
other lands, many crossed the sea and settled in the colonies of North
America, especially in South Carolina.

By revoking the Edict of Nantes Louis XIV arrayed against himself all the
Protestant countries of Europe. By seizures of territory he also offended
Catholic states. In 1686 the League of Augsburg combined the greater part
of Europe for resisting his encroachments.

This period of the "Huguenots of the Dispersion" was marked by complicated
strifes in politics, religion, and philosophy. It was one of the most
reactionary epochs in French history. No writer has better depicted the
time, with the severities, atrocities, and effects of the revocation of the
great edict, than Martin, the celebrated historian of his country.

For many years the government of Louis XIV had been acting toward the
Reformation as toward a victim entangled in a noose which is drawn tighter
and tighter till it strangles its prey. In 1683 the oppressed had finally
lost patience, and their partial attempts at resistance, disavowed by the
most distinguished of their brethren, had been stifled in blood. After
the truce of Ratisbon, declarations and decrees hostile to Protestantism
succeeded each other with frightful rapidity; nothing else was seen in the
official gazette. Protestant ministers were prohibited from officiating
longer than three years in the same church (August, 1684); Protestant
individuals were forbidden to give asylum to their sick coreligionists; the
sick who were not treated at home were required to go to the hospitals,
where they were put in the hands of churchmen. A beautiful and touching
request, written by Pastor Claude, was in vain presented to the King
in January, 1685. Each day beheld some Protestant church closed for
contraventions either imaginary or fraudulently fabricated by persecutors.
It was enough that the child of a "convert" or a bastard (all bastards were
reputed Catholic) should enter a Protestant church for the exercise of
worship, to be interdicted there.

If this state of things had continued long, not a single Protestant church
would have been left. The Protestant academy or university of Saumur,
which had formed so many eminent theologians and orators, was closed; the
ministers were subjected to the villein tax for their real estate (January,
1685). The quinquennial assembly of the clergy, held in May, presented to
the King a multitude of new demands against the heretics; among others, for
the establishment of penalties against the "converts" who did not fulfil
their duties as Catholics. The penalty of death, which had been decreed
against emigrants, was commuted into perpetual confinement in the galleys,
by the request of the clergy. The first penalty had been little more than
a threat; the second, which confounded with the vilest miscreants,
unfortunates guilty of having desired to flee from persecution, was to be
applied in the sternest reality! It was extended to Protestants living in
France who should authorize their children to marry foreigners. It was
interdicted to Reformers to follow the occupation of printer or bookseller.
It was forbidden to confer on them degrees in arts, law, or medicine.
Protestant orphans could have only Catholic guardians. Half of the goods
of emigrants was promised to informers. It was forbidden to Reformers to
preach or write against Catholicism (July, August, 1685).

A multitude of Protestant churches had been demolished, and the inhabitants
of places where worship had been suppressed were prohibited from going
to churches in places where it was still permitted. Grave difficulties
resulted with respect to the principal acts of civil life, which, among
Protestants as among Catholics, owed their authenticity only to the
intervention of ministers of religion. A decree in council of September 15,
1685, enacted that, in places deprived of the exercise of worship, a pastor
chosen by the intendant of the generality should celebrate, in the presence
of relatives only, the marriages of Reformers; that their bans should be
published to the congregations, and the registries of their marriages
entered on the rolls of the local court. Similar decrees had been issued
concerning baptisms and burials. Hitherto Protestantism had been struck
right and left with all kinds of weapons, without any very definite method:
these decrees seemed to indicate a definite plan; that is, the suppression
of external worship, with a certain tolerance, at least provisionally, for
conscience, and a kind of civil state separately constituted for obstinate
Protestants.

This plan had, in fact, been debated in council. "The King," wrote Madame
de Maintenon, August 13, 1684, "has it in mind to work for the _entire_
conversion of heretics; he has frequent conferences for this purpose with
M. le Tellier and M. de Chateauneuf (the secretary of state charged with
the affairs of the so-called Reformed religion), in which they wish to
persuade me to take part. M. de Chateauneuf has proposed means that are
unsuitable. Things must not be hastened. _It is necessary to convert, not
to persecute_. M. de Louvois prefers mild measures which do not accord with
his nature and his eagerness to see things ended."

The means proposed by Chateauneuf was apparently the immediate revocation
of the Edict of Nantes, which was judged premature. As to the "mildness" of
Louvois, it was soon seen in operation. Louvois pretended to be moderate,
lest the King, through scruples of humanity, should hesitate to confer on
him the management of the affair. He had his plan ready: it was to recur to
the "salutary constraint" already tried in 1681 by the instrumentality
of soldiers to the Dragonade. Colbert was no longer at hand to interpose
obstacles to this.

Louvois had persuaded the King that in the moral situation of Protestant
communities it would be enough "to show them the troops," to compel them to
abjure. The troops had been "shown," therefore, to the Reformers of Béarn;
the intendant of that province, Foucault, had come to Paris to concert with
the minister the management of the enterprise; Louvois could not have found
a fitter instrument than this pitiless and indefatigable man, who had the
soul of an inquisitor under the garb of a pliant courtier. On his return
from Paris, Foucault, seconded by the Parliament of Pau and the clergy,
began by the demolition, on account of "contraventions," of fifteen out of
twenty Protestant churches that remained in Béarn, and the "conversion" of
eleven hundred persons in two months (February-April, 1685). He then called
for the assistance of the army to complete the work, promising "to keep a
tight rein over the soldiers, so that they should do no violence." This
was for the purpose of allaying the scruples of the King. The troops were
therefore concentrated in the cities and villages filled with Reformers;
the five remaining Protestant churches shared the fate of the rest, and
the pastors were banished, some to a distance of six leagues from their
demolished churches, others beyond the jurisdiction of the Parliament of
Pau.

Terror flew before the soldiers; as soon as the scarlet uniforms and the
high caps of the dragoons were descried, corporations, whole cities, sent
their submission to the intendant. An almost universal panic chilled all
hearts. The mass of Reformers signed or verbally accepted a confession of
the Catholic faith, suffered themselves to be led to the church, bowed
their heads to the benediction of the bishop or the missionary, and cannon
and bonfires celebrated the "happy reconciliation." Protestants who had
hoped to find a refuge in liberty of conscience without external worship
saw this hope vanish. Foucault paid no attention to the decrees in council
that regulated the baptisms, marriages, and burials of Protestants,
because, he said in a despatch to the minister, "in the present disposition
to general and speedy conversion, this would expose those who waver, and
harden the obstinate." The council issued a new order confirmatory of the
preceding ones, and specially for Béarn. Foucault, according to his
own words, "did not judge proper to execute it." This insolence went
unpunished. Success justified everything. Before the end of August the
twenty-two thousand Protestants of Béarn were "converted," save a few
hundred. Foucault, in his _Memoirs_, in which he exhibits his triumphs with
cynicism, does not, however, avow all the means. Although he confesses that
"the distribution of money drew many souls to the Church," he does not
say how he kept his promise of preventing the "soldiers from doing any
violence." He does not recount the brutalities, the devastations, the
tortures resorted to against the refractory, the outrages to women, nor
how these soldiers took turns from hour to hour to hinder their hosts from
sleeping during entire weeks till these unfortunates, stupefied, delirious,
signed an abjuration.

The King saw only the result. The resolution was taken to send everywhere
these "booted missionaries" who had succeeded so well in Béarn. Louvois
sent, on the part of the King, July 31st, a command to the Marquis de
Boufflers, their general, to lead them into Guienne, and "to quarter them
all on the Reformers"; "observing to endeavor to diminish the number of
Reformers in such a manner that in each community the Catholics shall be
twice or three times more numerous than they; so that when, in due time,
his majesty shall wish no longer to permit the exercise of this religion in
his kingdom, he may no longer have to apprehend that the small number that
shall remain can undertake anything." The troops were to be withdrawn as
fast as this object should be obtained in each place, without undertaking
to convert all at once. The ministers should be driven out of the country,
and by no means should they be retained by force; the pastors absent, the
flocks could more easily be brought to reason. The soldiers were to commit
"no other disorders than to levy (daily) twenty sous for each horseman or
dragoon, and ten sous for each foot-soldier." Excesses were to be severely
punished. Louvois, in another letter, warned the general not to yield to
all the suggestions of the ecclesiastics, nor even of the intendants. They
did not calculate on being able to proceed so rapidly as in Béarn.

These instructions show precisely, not what was done, but what the King
wished should be done. The subalterns, sure of immunity in case of success,
acted more in accordance with the spirit of Louvois than according to the
words dictated by Louis. The King, when by chance he heard that his orders
had been transcended, rarely chastised the transgressor, lest it might be
"said to the Reformers that his majesty disapproves of whatsoever has been
done to convert them." Louis XIV, therefore, cannot repudiate, before
history, his share of this terrible responsibility.

The result exceeded the hopes of the King and of Louvois. Guienne yielded
as easily as Béarn. The Church of Montauban, the head-quarters of the
Reformation in this region, was "reunited" in great majority, after several
days of military vexations; Bergerac held out a little longer; then all
collective resistance ceased. The cities and villages, for ten or twelve
leagues around, sent to the military leaders their promises of abjuration.
In three weeks there were sixty thousand conversions in the district of
Bordeaux or Lower Guienne, twenty thousand in that of Montauban or Upper
Guienne. According to the reports of Boufflers, Louvois, September 7th,
reckoned that before the end of the month there would not remain in Lower
Guienne ten thousand Reformers out of the one hundred fifty thousand found
there August 15th. "There is not a courier," wrote Madame de Maintenon,
September 26th, "that does not bring the King great causes of joy; to wit,
news of conversions by thousands." The only resistance that they deigned to
notice here and there was that of certain provincial gentlemen, of simple
and rigid habits, less disposed than the court nobility to sacrifice their
faith to interest and vanity.

Guienne subjected, the army of Béarn was marched, a part into Limousin,
Saintonge, and Poitou, a part into Languedoc. Poitou, already "dragooned"
in 1681 by the intendant Marillac, had just been so well labored with by
Marillac's successor, Lamoignon de Basville, aided by some troops, that
Foucault, sent from Béarn into Poitou, found nothing more to glean. The
King even caused Louvois to recommend that they should not undertake to
convert all the Reformers at once, lest the rich and powerful families, who
had in their hands the commerce of those regions, should avail themselves
of the proximity of the sea to take flight (September 8th). Basville, a
great administrator, but harshly inflexible, was sent from Poitou into
Lower Languedoc, in the first part of September, in order to coöperate
there with the Duke de Noailles, governor of the province. The intendant of
Lower Languedoc, D'Aguesseau, although he had zealously coöperated in all
the restrictive measures of the Reformed worship, had asked for his recall
as soon as he had seen that the King was determined on the employment of
military force; convinced that this determination would not be less fatal
to religion than to the country, he retired, broken-hearted, his spirit
troubled for the future.

The conversion of Languedoc seemed a great undertaking. The mass of
Protestants, nearly all concentrated in Lower Languedoc, and in the
mountainous regions adjoining, was estimated at more than two hundred forty
thousand souls; these people, more ardent, more constant than the mobile
and sceptical Gascons, did not seem capable of so easily abandoning
their belief. The result, however, was the same as elsewhere. Nîmes and
Montpellier followed the example of Montauban. The quartering of a hundred
soldiers in their houses quickly reduced the notables of Nîmes; in this
diocese alone, the principal centre of Protestantism, sixty thousand souls
abjured in three days. Several of the leading ministers did the same. From
Nîmes the Duc de Noailles led the troops into the mountains. Cévennes and
Gevaudan submitted to invasion like the rest, as the armed mission advanced
from valley to valley. These cantons were still under the terror of the
sanguinary repressions of 1683, and had been disarmed, as far as it was
possible, as well as all Lower Languedoc. Noailles, in the earlier part of
October, wrote to Louvois that he would answer "upon his head" that, before
the end of November, the province would contain no more Huguenots. If we
are to believe his letters, prepared for the eyes of the King, everything
must have taken place "with all possible wisdom and discipline"; but the
Chancellor d'Aguesseau, in the "life" of his father, the intendant, teaches
us what we are to think of it. "The manner in which this miracle was
wrought," he says, "the singular facts that were recounted to us day by
day, would have sufficed to pierce a heart less religious than that of my
father!" Noailles himself, in a confidential letter, announced to Louvois
that he would ere long send "some capable men to answer about any matters
which he desired to know, and about which he could not write." There was
a half tacit understanding established between the minister, the military
chiefs, and the intendants. The King, in their opinion, desired the end
without sufficiently desiring the means.

Dauphiny, Limousin, La Rochelle, that holy Zion of the Huguenots, all
yielded at the same time. Louis was intoxicated. It had sufficed for him
to say a word, to lay his hand upon the hilt of his sword, to make those
fierce Huguenots, who had formerly worn out so many armies, and had forced
so many kings to capitulate before their rebellions, fall at his feet and
the feet of the Church. Who would henceforth dare to doubt his divine
mission and his infallible genius!

Not that Louis, nor especially those that surrounded him, precisely
believed that terror produced the effects of _grace_, or that these
innumerable conversions were sincere; but they saw in this the extinction
of all strong conviction among the heretics, the moral exhaustion of an
expiring sect. "The children at least will be Catholics, if the fathers
are hypocrites," wrote Madame de Maintenon. At present it was necessary to
complete the work and to prevent dangerous relapses in these subjugated
multitudes. It was necessary to put to flight as quickly as possible the
"false pastors" who might again lead their old flocks astray, and to make
the law conform to the fact, by solemnly revoking the concessions formerly
wrung by powerful and armed heresy from the feebleness of the ruling power.
Louis had long preserved some scruples about the violation of engagements
entered into by his grandfather Henry IV; but his last doubts had been
set at rest, several months since, by a "special council of conscience,"
composed of two theologians and two jurisconsults, who had decided that he
might and should revoke the Edict of Nantes. The names of the men who took
upon themselves the consequences of such a decision have remained unknown:
doubtless the confessor La Chaise was one of the theologians; who was the
other? The Archbishop of Paris, Harlai, was not, perhaps, in sufficient
esteem, on account of his habits. The great name of the Bishop of Meaux
naturally presents itself to the mind; but neither the correspondence of
Bossuet nor the documents relating to his life throw any light on this
subject, and we know not whether a direct and material responsibility must
be added to the moral responsibility with which the maxims of Bossuet and
the spirit of his works burden his memory.

After the "council of conscience," the council of the King was convened
for a definitive deliberation in the earlier part of October. Some of the
ministers, apparently the two Colberts, Seignelai, and Croissi, insinuated
that it would be better not to be precipitate. The Dauphin, a young prince
of twenty-four, who resembled, in his undefined character, his grandfather
more than his father, and who was destined to remain always as it were lost
in the splendid halo of Louis the Great, attempted an intervention that
deserves to rescue his name from oblivion. "He represented, from an
anonymous memorial that had been addressed to him the evening before, that
it was, perhaps, to be apprehended that the Huguenots might take up arms;"
"that in case they did not dare to do this, a great number would leave the
kingdom, which would injure commerce and agriculture, and thereby even
weaken the state." The King replied that he had foreseen all and provided
for all, that nothing in the world would be more painful to him than to
shed a drop of the blood of his subjects, but that he had armies and good
generals whom he would employ, in case of necessity, against rebels who
desired their own destruction. As to the argument of interest, he judged
it little worthy of consideration, compared with the advantages of an
undertaking that would restore to religion its splendor, to the state its
tranquillity, and to authority all its rights. The suppression of the Edict
of Nantes was resolved upon without further opposition.

Father la Chaise and Louvois, according to their ecclesiastical and
military correspondence, had promised that it should not even cost the drop
of blood of which the King spoke. The aged Chancellor le Tellier, already
a prey to the malady that was to bring him to his grave, drew up with
trembling hand the fatal declaration, which the King signed October 17th.

Louis professed in this preamble to do nothing but continue the pious
designs of his grandfather and his father for the reunion of their subjects
to the Church. He spoke of the "perpetual and irrevocable" edict of Henry
IV as a temporary regulation. "Our cares," he said, "since the truce that
we facilitated for this purpose, have had the effect that we proposed to
ourselves, since the better and the greater part of our subjects of the
so-called Reformed religion have embraced the Catholic; and inasmuch as by
reason of this the execution of the Edict of Nantes" "remains useless, we
have judged that we could not do better, in order wholly to efface the
memory of evils that this false religion had caused in our kingdom, than
entirely to revoke the said Edict of Nantes and all that has been done
since in favor of the said religion."

The order followed to demolish unceasingly all the churches of the said
religion situated in the kingdom. It was forbidden to assemble for the
exercise of the said religion, in any place, private house or tenement,
under penalty of confiscation of body and goods. All ministers of the said
religion who would not be converted were enjoined to leave the kingdom in a
fortnight, and divers favors were granted to those who should be converted.
Private schools for instruction of children in the said religion were
interdicted. Children who should be born to those of the said religion
should for the future be baptized by the parish curates, under penalty of a
fine of five hundred livres, and still more, if there were occasion, to
be paid by the parents, and the children should then be brought up in the
Catholic religion. A delay of four months was granted to fugitive Reformers
to leave the kingdom and recover possession of their property; this delay
passed, the property should remain confiscated. It was forbidden anew to
Reformers to leave the kingdom, under penalty of the galleys for men,
and confiscation of body and goods for women. The declarations against
backsliders were confirmed.

A last article, probably obtained by the representations of the Colberts,
declared that the Reformers, "till it should please God to enlighten them
like others, should be permitted to dwell in the kingdom, in strict loyalty
to the King, to continue there their commerce and enjoy their goods,
without being molested or hindered under pretext of the said religion."

The Edict of Revocation was sent in haste to the governors and intendants,
without waiting for it to be registered, which took place in the Parliament
of Paris, October 22d. The intendants were instructed not to allow the
ministers who should abandon the country to dispose of their real estate,
or to take with them their children above seven years of age: a monstrous
dismemberment of the family wrought by an arbitrary will that recognized
neither natural nor civil rights! The King recommended a milder course
toward noblemen, merchants, and manufacturers; he did not desire that
obstinacy should be shown "in compelling them to be converted immediately
without exception" "by any considerable violence."

The tone of the ministerial instructions changed quickly on the reception
of despatches announcing the effect of the edict in the provinces. This
effect teaches us more in regard to the situation of the dragooned people
than could the most sinister narratives. The edict which proscribed the
Reformed worship, which interdicted the perpetuation of the Protestant
religion by tearing from it infants at their birth, was received as a boon
by Protestants who remained faithful to their belief. They saw, in the
last article of the edict, the end of persecution, and, proud of having
weathered the storm, they claimed the tolerance that the King promised
them, and the removal of their executioners. The new converts, who,
persuaded that the King desired to force all his subjects to profess
his religion, had yielded through surprise, fear, want of constancy in
suffering, or through a worthier motive, the desire of saving their
families from the license of the soldiers, manifested their regret and
their remorse, and were no longer willing to go to mass.

All the leaders of the dragonades, the Noailles, the Foucaults, the
Basvilles, the Marillacs, complained bitterly of a measure that was useless
to them as to the demolition of Protestant churches and the prohibition of
worship, and very injurious as to the progress of conversions. They had
counted on rooting out the worship by converting all the believers. The
revocation of the Edict of Nantes sinned, therefore, in their eyes by
excess of moderation! Louvois hastened to reassure them in this respect,
and authorized them to act as if the last article of the edict did not
exist. "His majesty," he said, "desires that the extremest rigors of the
law should be felt by those who will not make themselves of his religion,
and those who shall have the foolish glory of wishing to remain the
last must be pushed to the last extremity." "Let the soldiers," he said
elsewhere, "be allowed to live very licentiously!" (November, 1685).

The King, however, did not mean it thus, and claimed that persecution
should be conducted with method and gravity. But men do not stop at
pleasure in evil: one abyss draws on another. The way had been opened to
brutal and cynical passions, to the spirit of denunciation, to low and
mean fanaticism; the infamies with which the subaltern agents polluted
themselves recoiled upon the chiefs who did not repress them, and on this
proud government that did not blush to add to the odium of persecution the
shame of faithlessness! The chiefs of the dragonades judged it necessary to
restrain the bad converts by making example of the obstinate; hence arose
an inundation of horrors in which we see, as Saint Simon says, "the
orthodox imitating against heretics the acts of pagan tyrants against
confessors and martyrs." Everything, in fact, was allowed the soldiers
but rape and murder; and even this restriction was not always respected;
besides, many of the unfortunate died or were maimed for life in
consequence of the treatment to which they had been subjected; and the
obscene tortures inflicted on women differed little from the last outrage,
but in a perversity more refined.

All the diabolic inventions of the highwaymen of the Middle Ages to extort
gold from their captives were renewed here and there to secure conversions:
the feet of the victims were scorched, they were strappadoed, suspended by
the feet; young mothers were tied to the bedposts, while their infants at
the breast were writhing with hunger before their eyes. "From torture to
abjuration, and from this to communion, there was often not twenty-four
hours' distance, and their executioners were their guides and witnesses.
Nearly all the bishops lent themselves to this sudden and impious
practice." Among the Reformed whom nothing could shake, those who
encouraged others to resistance by the influence of their character or
social position were sent to the Bastille or other state prisons; some were
entombed in subterranean dungeons--in those dark pits, stifling or deadly
cold, invented by feudal barbarism. The remains of animals in a state of
putrefaction were sometimes thrown in after them, to redouble the horror!
The hospital of Valence and the tower of Constance at Aigues-Mortes have
preserved, in Protestant martyrology, a frightful renown. The women usually
showing themselves more steadfast than the men, the most obstinate were
shut up in convents; infamous acts took place there; yet they were rare. It
must be said to the honor of the sex, often too facile to the suggestions
of fanaticism, that the nuns showed much more humanity and true religion
than the priests and monks. Astonished to see Huguenot women so different
from the idea they had formed of them, they almost became the protectors of
victims that had been given them to torment.

The abduction of children put the final seal to the persecution. The Edict
of Revocation had only declared that children subsequently born should be
brought up in the Catholic religion. An edict of January, 1686, prescribed
that children from five to sixteen years of age should be taken from their
heretical relatives and put in the hands of Catholic relatives, or, if they
had none, of Catholics designated by the judges! The crimes that we have
just indicated might, in strictness, be attributed to the passions of
subaltern agents; but this mighty outrage against the family and nature
must be charged to the Government alone.

With the revocation, the dragonade was extended, two places partially
excepted, over all France. When the great harvest had been sufficiently
gathered in the South and West, the reapers were sent elsewhere. The
battalions of converters marched from province to province till they
reached the northern frontier, carrying everywhere the same terror. Metz,
where the Protestants were numerous, was particularly the theatre of
abominable excesses. Paris and Alsace were alone, to a certain extent,
preserved. Louvois did not dare to show such spectacles to the society of
Versailles and Paris; the King would not have endured it. The people of
Paris demolished the Protestant church of Charenton, an object of their
ancient animosity; the ruling power weighed heavily upon the eight or nine
thousand Huguenots who remained in the capital, and constrained two-thirds
of them, by intimidation, to a feigned conversion; but there were no
striking acts of violence, except perhaps the banishment of thirty elders
of the consistory to different parts of the kingdom, and the soldiers did
not make their appearance. The lieutenant of police, La Reinie, took care
to reassure the leading merchants, and the last article of the Edict of
Revocation was very nearly observed in Paris and its environs. As to
Lutheran Alsace, it had nothing in common with the system of the Edict
of Nantes and the French Calvinists: the Treaty of Westphalia, the
capitulation of Strasburg, all the acts that bound it to France, guaranteed
to it a separate religious state. An attempt was indeed made to encroach
upon Lutheranism by every means of influence and by a system of petty
annoyances; but direct attacks were limited to a suppression of public
worship in places where the population was two-thirds Catholic. The
political events that soon disturbed Europe compelled the French Government
to be circumspect toward the people of this recently conquered frontier.

The converters indemnified themselves at the expense of another frontier
population, that was not dependent on France. The Vaudois, the first
offspring of the Reformation, had always kept possession of the high
Alpine valleys, on the confines of Piedmont and Dauphiny, in spite of the
persecutions that they had repeatedly endured from the governments of
France and Piedmont. The Piedmontese Vaudois had their Edict of Nantes;
that is, liberty of worship in the three valleys of St. Martin, La Luzerne,
and La Perouse. When the dragonade invaded Dauphiny, the Vaudois about
Briançon and Pignerol took refuge in crowds with their brethren in the
valleys subject to Piedmont. The French Government was unwilling to suffer
them to remain in this asylum. The Duke Victor Amadeus II enjoined the
refugees to quit his territory (November 4th). The order was imperfectly
executed, and Louis XIV demanded more. The Duke, by an edict of February 1,
1686, prohibited the exercise of heretical worship, and ordered the
schools to be closed under penalty of death. The _barbes_ (ministers),
schoolmasters, and French refugees were to leave the states of the Duke in
a fortnight, under the same penalty. The Vaudois responded by taking up
arms, without reflecting on the immense force of their oppressors. The
three valleys were assailed at the same time by French and Piedmontese
troops. The French were commanded by the governor of Casale, Catinat, a man
of noble heart, an elevated and philosophic mind, who deplored his fatal
mission, and attempted to negotiate with the insurgents, but Catinat could
neither persuade to submission these men resolved to perish rather than
renounce their faith, nor restrain the fury of his soldiers exasperated by
the vigor of the resistance. The valleys of St. Martin and La Perouse were
captured, and the victors committed frightful barbarities. Meanwhile
the Piedmontese, after having induced the mountaineers, who guarded the
entrance of the valley of La Luzerne, to lay down their arms, by false
promises, slaughtered three thousand women, children, and old men at
the Pré de la Tour! The remotest recesses of the Alps were searched; a
multitude of unfortunates were exterminated singly: more than ten thousand
were dragged as prisoners to the fortresses of Piedmont, where most of them
died of want. A handful of the bravest succeeding in maintaining themselves
among the rocks, where they could not be captured, and, protected by the
intervention of Protestant powers, and especially of the Swiss, finally
obtained liberty to emigrate, both for themselves and their coreligionists.

There has often been seen in history much greater bloodshed than that
caused by the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, scenes of destruction
planned more directly and on a vaster scale by governments, and sometimes
the same contrast between an advanced state of civilization and acts of
barbarity; but no spectacle wounds moral sense and humanity to the same
degree as this persecution carried on coldly and according to abstract
ideas, without the excuse of struggle and danger, without the ardent fever
of battle and revolution. The very virtues of the persecutors are here
but an additional monstrosity: doubtless, there is also seen, at a later
period, among the authors of another reign of terror, this same contrast
that astounds and troubles the conscience of posterity; but they, at least,
staked each day their own lives against the lives of their adversaries,
and, with their lives, the very existence of the country involved in their
cause!

A million and a half of Frenchmen were in terror and despair; yet songs of
victory resounded around Louis the Great. The aged Le Tellier lifted to
heaven the hand that had just signed the Revocation, and parodied, on the
occasion of an edict that recalls the times of Decius and Diocletian,
the canticle by which Simeon hailed the birth of the Redeemer. He died
a fanatic, after having lived a cold and astute politician (October 31,
1685); he died, and the most eloquent voices of the Gallican Church broke
forth in triumphal hymns, as over the tomb of a victorious hero! "Let us
publish this miracle of our days," exclaimed Bossuet, in that funeral
oration of Le Tellier, wherein he nevertheless exhibited apprehensions of
new combats and of a sombre future for the Church; "let us pour forth our
hearts in praise of the piety of Louis; let us lift our acclamations to
heaven, and let us say to this new Constantine, to this new Theodosius, to
this new Marcianus, to this new Charlemagne: 'You have strengthened the
faith, you have exterminated the heretics; this is the meritorious work of
your reign, its peculiar characteristic. Through you heresy is no more: God
alone could have wrought this wonder.'" The gentle Fléchier himself echoed
Bossuet, with the whole corps of the clergy with the great mass of the
people. Paris and Versailles, that did not witness the horror of the
details, that saw only the general prestige and the victory of unity, were
deaf to the doleful reports that came from the provinces, and applauded the
"new Constantine."

"This is the grandest and finest thing that ever was conceived and
accomplished," wrote Madame de Sévigné. All the corporations, courts of
justice, academies, universities, municipal bodies, vied with each other in
every species of laudatory allusion; medals represented the King crowned
by Religion "for having brought back to the Church two millions of
Calvinists"; the number of victims was swollen in order to swell the glory
of the persecutor. Statues were erected to the "destroyer of heresy." This
concert of felicitations was prolonged for years; the influence of example,
the habit of admiring, wrung eulogies even from minds that, it would seem,
ought to have remained strangers to this fascination; every writer thought
he must pay his tribute; even La Bruyere, that sagacious observer and
excellent writer, whose acute and profound studies of manners appeared in
1687; and La Fontaine himself, the poet of free-thought and of universal
freedom of action.

The Government redoubled its rigor. The penalty of death was decreed
against ministers reëntering the kingdom without permission, and the
galleys against whomsoever should give them asylum; penalty of death
against whomsoever should take part in a meeting (July 1, 1686). And this
penalty was not simply a dead letter! Whenever the soldiers succeeded in
surprising Protestants assembled for prayer in any solitary place, they
first announced their presence by a volley; those who escaped the bullet
and the sword were sent to the gallows or the galleys. Measures almost as
severe were employed to arrest emigration. Seamen were forbidden to aid the
Reformers to escape under penalty of a fine for the first offence, and of
corporal punishment for a second offence (November 5, 1685). They went
further: ere long, whoever aided the flight of emigrants became liable to
the galleys for life, like emigrants themselves (May 7, 1686). Armed barks
cruised along all the coasts; all the passes of the frontier were guarded;
the peasants everywhere had orders to rush upon the fugitives. Some of the
emigrants perished in attempting to force an exit; a host of others
was brought back manacled; they dared not place them all under the
galley-master's lash; they feared the effects of their despair and of their
numbers, if they should mass them in the royal galleys; they crowded the
prisons with those who were unwilling to purchase pardon by abjuration. The
misfortunes of the first emigrants served to render their coreligionists,
not more timid, but more adroit; a multitude of pilgrims, of mendicants
dragging their children after them, of nomadic artisans of both sexes
and of all trades, incessantly took their way toward all the frontiers;
innumerable disguises thus protected the "flight of Israel out of Egypt."
Reformers selected the darkest winter nights to embark, in frail open
boats, on the Atlantic or stormy Channel; the waves were seen to cast upon
the shores of England families long tossed by tempests and dying with cold
and hunger.

By degrees, the guards stationed along the shores and the frontiers were
touched or seduced, and became saviors and guides to fugitives whom they
were set to arrest. Then perpetual confinement in the galleys was no longer
sufficient against the accomplices of the _desertes_; for the galleys an
edict substituted death; death, which fell not upon those guilty of the
pretended crime of desertion, was promised to their abettors (October
12, 1687). Some were given up to capital punishment; many, nevertheless,
continued their perilous assistance to emigrants, and few betrayed them.
Those Reformers whom the authority wished most to retain in the kingdom,
the noblemen, the rich citizens, manufacturers, and merchants, were those
who escaped easiest, being best able to pay for the interested compassion
of the guards. It is said that the fugitives carried out of France sixty
millions in five years. However this may be, the loss of men was much more
to be regretted than the loss of money. The vital energy of France did
not cease for many years to ooze away through this ever-open ulcer of
emigration.

It is difficult to estimate, even approximately, the number of Protestants
who abandoned their country, become to them a barbarous mother. Vauban
estimated it at a hundred thousand, from 1684 to 1691. Benoit, the
Calvinist historian of the Edict of Nantes, who published his book in 1695,
estimates it at two hundred thousand; the illustrious refugee Basnage
speaks vaguely of three or four hundred thousand. Others give figures much
more exaggerated, while the Duke of Burgundy, in the memoir that we have
cited above, reduces the emigration to less than sixty-eight thousand
souls in the course of twenty years; but the truly inconceivable illusions
preserved by this young prince, concerning the moral and political results
of the Revocation, do not allow us to put confidence in his testimony;
he was deceived, took pleasure in being deceived, and closed his ear to
whomsoever desired to undeceive him. The amount from two hundred thousand
to two hundred fifty thousand, from the Revocation to the commencement
of the following century, that is, to the revolt of Cévennes, seems most
probable. But it is not so much by the quantity as by the quality of
the emigrants that the real loss of France must be measured. France was
incomparably more weakened than if two hundred thousand citizens had been
taken at hazard from the Catholic mass of the nation. The Protestants were
very superior, on the average, if not to the Catholic middle class of Paris
and the principal centres of French civilization, at least to the mass of
the people, and the emigrants were the best of the Protestants. A multitude
of useful men, among them many superior men, left a frightful void in
France, and went to swell the forces of Protestant nations. France declined
both by what she lost and what her rivals gained. Before 1689 nine thousand
sailors, the best in the kingdom, as Vauban says, twelve thousand soldiers,
six hundred officers, had gone to foreign countries.

The most skilful chiefs and agents of contemporaneous industry went in
multitudes to settle in foreign lands. Industrial capacities, less striking
than literary capacities, inflicted losses on France still more felt and
less reparable. France was rich enough in literary glory to lose much
without being impoverished; such was not the case with respect to industry;
France was to descend in a few years, almost in a few months, from that
economical supremacy which had been conquered for her by long efforts of a
protective administration; populous cities beheld the branches of commerce
that constituted their prosperity rapidly sinking, by the disappearance of
the principal industrial families, and these branches taking root on the
other side of the frontiers. Thus fell, never to rise again, the Norman
hat trade--already suffering on account of regulations that fettered the
Canadian fur trade. Other branches, in great number, did not disappear
entirely, but witnessed the rise of a formidable competition in foreign
lands, where they had hitherto remained unknown; these were so many outlets
closed, so many markets lost for our exportation, lately so flourishing.
A suburb of London (Spitalfields) was peopled with our workmen in silk,
emigrated from Lyons and Touraine, which lost three-fourths of their looms;
the manufacture of French silk was also established in Holland, with
paper-making, cloth manufacture, etc. Many branches of industry were
transplanted to Brandenburg, and twenty thousand Frenchmen carried the most
refined arts of civilization to the coarse population thinly scattered
among the sands and firs of that sombre region. French refugees paid for
the hospitality of the Elector Frederick by laying the foundation of the
high destinies of Berlin, which on their arrival was still but a small city
of twelve or fifteen thousand souls, and which, thenceforth, took a start
which nothing was to arrest. Like the Hebrews after the fall of Jerusalem,
the Huguenot exiles scattered themselves over the entire world: some went
to Ireland, carrying the cultivation of flax and hemp; others, led by a
nephew of Duquesne, founded a small colony at the Cape of Good Hope.

France was impoverished, not only in Frenchmen who exiled themselves,
but in those, much more numerous, who remained in spite of themselves,
discouraged, ruined, whether they openly resisted persecution or suffered
some external observances of Catholicism to be wrung from them, all having
neither energy in work nor security in life; it was really the activity
of more than a million of men that France lost, and of the million that
produced most.

The great enterprise, the miracle of the reign, therefore miscarried; the
new temple that Louis had pretended to erect to unity fell to ruin as
it rose from the ground, and left only an open chasm in place of its
foundation. Everything that had been undertaken by the governing power of
France for a century in the direction of national, civil, and territorial
unity had gloriously succeeded; as soon as the governing power left this
legitimate field of unity to invade the domain of conscience and of human
individuality, it raised before itself insurmountable obstacles; it
concerned itself in contests wherein it was equally fatal to conquer or
be conquered, and gave the first blow to the greatness of France. What a
contrast between the pretensions of Louis that he could neither be mistaken
nor deceived, that he saw everything, that he accomplished everything, and
the illusions with which he was surrounded in regard to the facility of
success and the means employed! The nothingness of absolute power, and of
government by one alone, was thus revealed under the reign of the "Great
King!"



%THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION%

FLIGHT OF JAMES II

A.D. 1688

GILBERT BURNET

H.D. TRAILL


With the accession of William and Mary to the throne of England not only
did the Stuart line come to an end, but the Protestant religion was finally
established in the kingdom. By the Declaration of Right, upon which their
title rested, it was decreed that after the death of William and Mary no
person holding the Roman Catholic faith should ever be king or queen of
England. Assumption of the throne by a Roman Catholic should release the
people from their allegiance.

William III (William of Orange) was a nephew of James II. He had greatly
distinguished himself as leader of the Dutch against the invasions of Louis
XIV, when the English people, tired of the tyranny of James II, and also
fearing that he might be succeeded by a Catholic, decided to choose a
Protestant for their sovereign. William was married (1677) to Mary, eldest
child of James II. Could they have been sure that she would succeed her
father, the English people would gladly have had Mary for their sole ruler,
though European interests demanded the elevation to larger power of
the Prince of Orange as the great antagonist of Louis XIV. William was
accordingly invited to take possession of the English throne conjointly
with Mary. The Prince of Orange landed at Torbay, November 5, 1688.

This revolution, one of the least violent in all history, is best described
by Bishop Burnet, who accompanied William of Orange from Holland to
England, and in 1689 was made Bishop of Salisbury. He is not less eminent
as the historian of his time than as a theologian and prelate of the
English Church.

Having made his preparations for sailing, William was annoyed by many
delays occasioned by the hesitation of his subordinates. Traill's account
of the convention which William summoned for settlement of the crown, gives
in a wholly modern way the particulars of the formal accession of William
and Mary.

GILBERT BURNET


All this while the men-of-war were still riding at sea, it being a
continued storm for some weeks. The Prince[1] sent out several advice-boats
with orders to them to come in. But they could not come up to them. On
October 27th there was for six hours together a most dreadful storm; so
that there were few among us that did not conclude that the best part of
the fleet, and by consequence that the whole design, were lost. Many that
have passed for heroes yet showed then the agonies of fear in their looks
and whole deportment. The Prince still retained his usual calmness, and
the same tranquillity of spirit that I had observed in him in his happiest
days. On the 28th it calmed a little, and our fleet came all in, to our
great joy. The rudder of one third-rate was broken; and that was all the
hurt that the storm had done. At last the much-longed-for east wind came.
And so hard a thing it was to set so vast a body in motion that two days of
this wind were lost before all could be quite ready.

[Footnote 1: William of Orange.]

On November 1 (O.S.), we sailed out with the evening tide, but made little
way that night, that so our fleet might come out and move in order. We
tried next day till noon if it were possible to sail northward, but the
wind was so strong and full in the east that we could not move that way.
About noon the signal was given to steer westward. This wind not only
diverted us from that unhappy course, but it kept the English fleet in the
river; so that it was not possible for them to come out, though they were
come down as far as to the Gunfleet. By this means we had the sea open to
us, with a fair wind and a safe navigation. On the 3d we passed between
Dover and Calais, and before night came in sight of the Isle of Wight. The
next day, being the day in which the Prince was both born and married, he
fancied if he could land that day it would look auspicious to the army and
animate the soldiers. But we all, who considered that the day following,
being gunpowder-treason day, our landing that day might have a good effect
on the minds of the English nation, were better pleased to see that we
could land no sooner.

Torbay was thought the best place for our great fleet to lie in, and it was
resolved to land the army where it could be best done near it; reckoning
that being at such a distance from London we could provide ourselves with
horses, and put everything in order before the King could march his army
toward us, and that we should lie some time at Exeter for the refreshing of
our men. I was in the ship, with the Prince's other domestics, that went
in the van of the whole fleet. At noon on the 4th, Russel came on board us
with the best of all the English pilots that they had brought over. He gave
him the steering of the ship, and ordered him to be sure to sail so that
next morning we should be short of Dartmouth; for it was intended that some
of the ships should land there, and that the rest should sail into Torbay.
The pilot thought he could not be mistaken in measuring our course, and
believed that he certainly kept within orders, till the morning showed us
we were past Torbay and Dartmouth. The wind, though it had abated much
of its first violence, was yet still full in the east; so now it seemed
necessary for us to sail on to Plymouth, which must have engaged us in a
long and tedious campaign in winter through a very ill country.

Nor were we sure to be received at Plymouth. The Earl of Bath, who was
governor, had sent by Russel a promise to the Prince to come and join him;
yet it was not likely that he would be so forward as to receive us at our
first coming. The delays he made afterward, pretending that he was managing
the garrison, whereas he was indeed staying till he saw how the matter was
likely to be decided, showed us how fatal it had proved, if we had been
forced to sail on to Plymouth. But while Russel was in no small disorder,
after he saw the pilot's error (upon which he bade me go to my prayers, for
all was lost), and as he was ordering the boat to be cleared to go aboard
the Prince, on a sudden, to all our wonder, it calmed a little. And then
the wind turned into the south, and a soft and happy gale of wind carried
in the whole fleet in four hours' time into Torbay. Immediately as many
landed as conveniently could. As soon as the Prince and Marshal Schomberg
got to shore, they were furnished with such horses as the village of
Broxholme could afford, and rode up to view the grounds, which they found
as convenient as could be imagined for the foot in that season. It was not
a cold night; otherwise the soldiers, who had been kept warm aboard, might
have suffered much by it.

As soon as I landed, I made what haste I could to the place where the
Prince was; who took me heartily by the hand, and asked me if I would
not now believe in predestination. I told him I would never forget that
providence of God which had appeared so signally on this occasion.[1] He
was cheerfuller than ordinary. Yet he returned soon to his usual gravity.
The Prince sent for all the fishermen of the place and asked them which was
the properest place for landing his horse, which all apprehended would be a
tedious business and might hold some days. But next morning he was showed
a place, a quarter of a mile below the village, where the ships could be
brought very near the land, against a good shore, and the horses would
not be put to swim above twenty yards. This proved to be so happy for our
landing, though we came to it by mere accident, that if we had ordered the
whole island round to be sounded we could not have found a properer place
for it. There was a dead calm all that morning; and in three hours' time
all our horse were landed, with as much baggage as was necessary till
we got to Exeter. The artillery and heavy baggage were left aboard, and
ordered to Topsham, the seaport to Exeter. All that belonged to us was so
soon and so happily landed that by the next day at noon we were in full
march, and marched four miles that night. We had from thence twenty miles
to Exeter, and we resolved to make haste thither.

[Footnote 1: Light is thrown on this passage by the following curious
account given in M'Cormick's _Life of Carstares_: "Mr. Carstares set out
along with his highness in quality of his domestic chaplain, and went
aboard of his own ship. It is well known that, upon their first setting out
from the coast of Holland, the fleet was in imminent danger by a violent
tempest, which obliged them to put back for a few days. Upon that occasion,
the vessel which carried the Prince and his retinue narrowly escaped
shipwreck, a circumstance which some who were around his person were
disposed to interpret into a bad omen of their success. Among these, Dr.
Burnet happening to observe that it seemed predestined that they should not
set foot on English ground, the Prince said nothing; but, upon stepping
ashore at Torbay, in the hearing of Mr. Carstares, he turned about to Dr.
Burnet, and asked him what he thought of the doctrine of predestination
now?" Cunningham, according to the translation of the Latin MS. of his
_History of England_, says that "Dr. Burnet, who understood but little
of military affairs, asked the Prince of Orange which way he intended to
march, and when? and desired to be employed by him in whatever service
he should think fit. The Prince only asked what he now thought of
predestination? and advised, if he had a mind to be busy, to consult the
canons." The Bishop omits mentioning the proximate cause of the Prince's
question, and says nothing about his declining the offer of his services,
which indeed it is not likely that he did, at least so uncivilly.]

But as we were now happily landed, and marching, we saw new and
unthought-of characters of a favorable providence of God watching over us.
We had no sooner got thus disengaged from our fleet than a new and great
storm blew from the west; from which our fleet, being covered by the land,
could receive no prejudice; but the King's fleet had got out as the wind
calmed, and in pursuit of us was come as far as the Isle of Wight, when
this contrary wind turned upon them. They tried what they could to pursue
us; but they were so shattered by some days of this storm that they were
forced to go into Portsmouth, and were no more fit for service that year.
This was a greater happiness than we were then aware of: for Lord Dartmouth
assured me some time after, that, whatever stories we had heard and
believed, either of officers or seamen, he was confident they would all
have fought very heartily. But now, by the immediate hand of Heaven, we
were masters of the sea without a blow. I never found a disposition to
superstition in my temper: I was rather inclined to be philosophical upon
all occasions; yet I must confess that this strange ordering of the winds
and seasons just to change as our affairs required it, could not but make
a deep impression on me as well as on all that observed it. Those famous
verses of Claudian seemed to be more applicable to the Prince than to him
they were made on:

  "Heaven's favorite, for whom the skies do fight,
   And all the winds conspire to guide thee right!"

The Prince made haste to Exeter, where he stayed ten days, both for
refreshing his troops and for giving the country time to show its
affection. Both the clergy and magistrates of Exeter were very fearful and
very backward. The Bishop and the dean ran away. And the clergy stood off,
though they were sent for and very gently spoken to by the Prince. The
truth was, the doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance had been
carried so far and preached so much that clergymen either could not all
on the sudden get out of that entanglement into which they had by long
thinking and speaking all one way involved themselves, or they were ashamed
to make so quick a turn. Yet care was taken to protect them and their
houses everywhere, so that no sort of violence or rudeness was offered to
any of them. The Prince gave me full authority to do this, and I took so
particular a care of it that we heard of no complaints. The army was kept
under such an exact discipline that everything was paid for where it
was demanded, though the soldiers were contented with such moderate
entertainment that the people generally asked but little for what they did
eat. We stayed a week at Exeter before any of the gentlemen of the country
about came in to the Prince. Every day some persons of condition came from
other parts. The first were Lord Colchester, Mr. Wharton, the eldest sons
of the Earl of Rivers, and Lord Wharton, Mr. Russel, Lord Russel's brother,
and the Earl of Abingdon.

The King came down to Salisbury, and sent his troops twenty miles farther.
Of these, three regiments of horse and dragoons were drawn on by their
officers, Lord Cornbury and Colonel Langston, on design to come over to the
Prince. Advice was sent to the Prince of this. But because these officers
were not sure of their subalterns, the Prince ordered a body of his men to
advance and assist them in case any resistance was made. They were within
twenty miles of Exeter, and within two miles of the body that the Prince
had sent to join them, when a whisper ran about among them that they were
betrayed. Lord Cornbury had not the presence of mind that so critical a
thing required. So they fell in confusion, and many rode back. Yet one
regiment came over in a body, and with them about a hundred of the other
two.

This gave us great courage, and showed us that we had not been deceived in
what was told us of the inclinations of the King's army. Yet, on the other
hand, those who studied to support the King's spirit by flatteries, told
him that in this he saw that he might trust his army, since those who
intended to carry over those regiments were forced to manage it with so
much artifice, and dared not discover their design either to officers or
soldiers, and that as soon as they perceived it the greater part of them
had turned back. The King wanted support; for his spirits sunk extremely.
His blood was in such fermentation that he was bleeding much at the nose,
which returned oft upon him every day. He sent many spies over to us. They
all took his money, and came and joined themselves to the Prince, none of
them returning to him. So that he had no intelligence brought him of what
the Prince was doing but what common reports brought him, which magnified
our numbers and made him think we were coming near him while we were still
at Exeter. He heard that the city of London was very unquiet.

News was brought him that the Earls of Devonshire and Danby, and Lord
Lumley, were drawing great bodies together, and that both York and
Newcastle had declared for the Prince. Lord Delamere had raised a regiment
in Cheshire. And the body of the nation did everywhere discover their
inclinations for the Prince so evidently that the King saw he had nothing
to trust to but his army. And the ill-disposition among them was so
apparent that he reckoned he could not depend on them. So that he lost
both heart and head at once. But that which gave him the last and most
confounding stroke was that Lord Churchill and the Duke of Grafton left him
and came and joined the Prince at Axminster, twenty miles on that side of
Exeter.

After this he could not know on whom he could depend. The Duke of Grafton
was one of King Charles' sons by the Duchess of Cleveland. He had been
some time at sea, and was a gallant but rough man. He had more spirit than
anyone of that spurious race. He made answer to the King, about this time,
that was much talked of. The King took notice of somewhat in his behavior
that looked factious, and he said he was sure he could not pretend to act
upon principles of conscience; for he had been so ill-bred that, as he knew
little of religion, so he regarded it less. But he answered the King that,
though he had little conscience, yet he was of a party that had conscience.
Soon after that, Prince George, the Duke of Ormond, and Lord Drumlanerick,
the Duke of Queensbury's eldest son, left him and came over to the Prince,
and joined him when he was come as far as the Earl of Bristol's house at
Sherburn.

When the news came to London the Princess was so struck with the
apprehensions of the King's displeasure, and of the ill-effects that it
might have, that she said to Lady Churchill that she could not bear the
thoughts of it, and would leap out of window rather than venture on it. The
Bishop of London was then lodged very secretly in Suffolk Street. So Lady
Churchill, who knew where he was, went to him and concerted with him the
method of the Princess' withdrawing from the court. The Princess went
sooner to bed than ordinary. And about midnight she went down a back stairs
from her closet, attended only by Lady Churchill,[1] in such haste that
they carried nothing with them. They were waited for by the Bishop of
London, who carried them to the Earl of Dorset's, whose lady furnished them
with everything, And so they went northward as far as Northampton, where
that Earl attended on them with all respect, and quickly brought a body of
horse to serve for a guard to the Princess. And in a little while a small
army was formed about her, who chose to be commanded by the Bishop of
London, of which he too easily accepted, and was by that exposed to much
censure.

[Footnote 1: And Mrs. Berkeley, afterward Lady Fitzharding. The back stairs
were made a little before for that purpose. The Princess pretended she was
out of order, upon some expostulations that had passed between her and the
Queen, in a visit she received from her that night, therefore said she
would not be disturbed till she rang her bell. Next morning, when her
servants had waited two hours longer than her usual time of rising, they
were afraid something was the matter with her, and finding the bed open,
and her highness gone, they ran screaming to my father's lodgings, which
were the next to hers, and told my mother the Princess was murdered by the
priests; thence they went to the Queen, and old Mistress Buss asked her in
a very rude manner what she had done with her mistress. The Queen answered
her very gravely, she supposed their mistress was where she liked to be,
but did assure them she knew nothing of her, but did not doubt they would
hear of her again very soon. Which gave them little satisfaction, upon
which there was a rumor all over Whitehall that the Queen had made away
with the Princess.--_Dartmouth._]

These things put the King in an inexpressible confusion. He saw himself now
forsaken not only by those whom he had trusted and favored most, but even
by his own children. And the army was in such distraction that there was
not any one body that seemed entirely united and firm to him. A foolish
ballad was made at that time treating the papists, and chiefly the Irish,
in a very ridiculous manner, which had a burden, said to be Irish words,
_lero, lero, lilibulero_, that made an impression on the army that cannot
be well imagined by those who saw it not. The whole army, and at last all
people both in city and country, were singing it perpetually. And perhaps
never had so slight a thing so great an effect.

But now strange counsels were suggested to the King and Queen. The priests
and all the violent papists saw a treaty was now opened. They knew that
they must be the sacrifice. The whole design of popery must be given up,
without any hope of being able in an age to think of bringing it on again.
Severe laws would be made against them. And all those who intended to
stick to the King, and to preserve him, would go into those laws with a
particular zeal; so that they and their hopes must be now given up and
sacrificed forever. They infused all this into the Queen. They said she
would certainly be impeached, and witnesses would be set up against her and
her son; the King's mother had been impeached in the Long Parliament; and
she was to look for nothing but violence. So the Queen took up a sudden
resolution of going to France with the child. The midwife, together with
all who were assisting at the birth, were also carried over, or so disposed
of that it could never be learned what became of them afterward.

The Queen prevailed with the King not only to consent to this, but to
promise to go quickly after her. He was only to stay a day or two after
her, in hope that the shadow of authority that was still left in him might
keep things so quiet that she might have an undisturbed passage. So she
went to Portsmouth. And thence, in a man-of-war, she went over to France,
the King resolving to follow her in disguise. Care was also taken to send
all the priests away. The King stayed long enough to get the Prince's
answer. And when he had read it he said he did not expect so good terms. He
ordered the lord chancellor to come to him next morning. But he had called
secretly for the great seal. And the next morning, being December 10th,
about three in the morning he went away in disguise with Sir Edward Hales,
whose servant he seemed to be. They passed the river, and flung the great
seal into it; which was some months after found by a fisherman near
Foxhall. The King went down to a miserable fisher-boat that Hales had
provided for carrying them over to France.

Thus a great king, who had yet a good army and a strong fleet, did choose
rather to abandon all than either to expose himself to any danger with that
part of the army that was still firm to him or to stay and see the issue of
a parliament. Some put this mean and unaccountable resolution on a want of
courage. Others thought it was the effect of an ill-conscience, and of some
black thing under which he could not now support himself. And they who
censured it the most moderately said that it showed that his priests had
more regard for themselves than for him; and that he considered their
interests more than his own; and that he chose rather to wander abroad with
them and to try what he could do by a French force to subdue his people
than to stay at home and be shut up within the bounds of law, and be
brought under an incapacity of doing more mischief; which they saw was
necessary to quiet those fears and jealousies for which his bad government
had given so much occasion. It seemed very unaccountable, since he was
resolved to go, that he did not choose rather to go in one of his yachts or
frigates than to expose himself in so dangerous and ignominious a manner.
It was not possible to put a good construction on any part of the
dishonorable scene which he then acted.

With this his reign ended: for this was a plain deserting of his people and
exposing the nation to the pillage of an army which he had ordered the Earl
of Feversham to disband. And the doing this without paying them was letting
so many armed men loose upon the nation; who might have done much mischief
if the execution of those orders that he left behind him had not been
stopped. I shall continue the recital of all that passed in this
_interregnum_, till the throne, which he now left empty, was filled.

He was not got far, when some fishermen of Feversham, who were watching
for such priests and other delinquents as they fancied were making their
escape, came up to him. And they, knowing Sir Edward Hales, took both the
King and him, and brought them to Feversham. The King told them who he
was.[1] And that flying about brought a vast crowd together to look on this
astonishing instance of the uncertainty of all worldly greatness, when he
who had ruled three kingdoms and might have been the arbiter of all Europe
was now in such mean hands, and so low an equipage. The people of the town
were extremely disordered with this unlooked-for accident; and, though for
a while they kept him as a prisoner, yet they quickly changed that into
as much respect as they could possibly pay him. Here was an accident that
seemed of no great consequence. Yet all the strugglings which that party
have made ever since that time to this day, which from him were called
afterward the Jacobites, did rise out of this; for if he had got clear
away, by all that could be judged, he would not have had a party left; all
would have agreed that here was a desertion, and that therefore the nation
was free and at liberty to secure itself. But that following upon this gave
them a color to say that he was forced away and driven out. Till now he
scarce had a party but among the papists. But from this incident a party
grew up that has been long very active for his interests.

[Footnote 1: And desired they would send to Eastwell for the Earl of
Winchelsea; which Sir Basil Dixwell put a stop to by telling him surely
they were good enough to take care of him. Which occasioned the King's
saying he found there was more civility among the common people than some
gentlemen, when he was returned to Whitehall.--_Dartmouth_.]

As soon as it was known at London that the King was gone, the 'prentices
and the rabble, who had been a little quieted when they saw a treaty
on foot between the King and the Prince, now broke out again upon all
suspected houses, where they believed there were either priests or
papists. They made great havoc of many places, not sparing the houses of
ambassadors. But none was killed, no houses burned, nor were any robberies
committed. Never was so much fury seen under so much management. Jeffreys
finding the King was gone, saw what reason he had to look to himself, and,
apprehending that he was now exposed to the rage of the people whom he had
provoked with so particular a brutality, he had disguised himself to
make his escape. But he fell into the hands of some who knew him. He was
insulted by them with as much scorn and rudeness as they could invent. And,
after many hours tossing him about, he was carried to the lord mayor, whom
they charged to commit him to the Tower, which Lord Lucas had then seized,
and in it had declared for the Prince. The lord mayor was so struck with
the terror of this rude populace, and with the disgrace of a man who had
made all people tremble before him, that he fell into fits upon it, of
which he died soon after.

Upon the news of the King's desertion, it was proposed that the Prince
should go on with all possible haste to London. But that was not advisable.
For the King's army lay so scattered through the road all the way to London
that it was not fit for him to advance faster than his troops marched
before him; otherwise, any resolute officer might have seized or killed
him. Though, if it had not been for that danger a great deal of mischief
that followed would have been prevented by his speedy advance; for now
began that turn to which all the difficulties that did afterward disorder
our affairs may be justly imputed. Two gentlemen of Kent came to Windsor
the morning after the Prince came thither. They were addressed to me; and
they told me of the accident at Feversham, and desired to know the Prince's
pleasure upon it. I was affected with this dismal reverse of the fortune
of a great prince more than I think fit to express. I went immediately to
Benthink and wakened him, and got him to go to the Prince and let him
know what had happened, that some order might be presently given for the
security of the King's person, and for taking him out of the hands of a
rude multitude who said they would obey no orders but such as came from the
Prince.

The Prince ordered Zuylestein to go immediately to Feversham, and to see
the King safe and at full liberty to go whithersoever he pleased. But as
soon as the news of the King's being at Feversham came to London, all the
indignation that people had formerly conceived against him was turned to
pity and compassion. The privy council met upon it. Some moved that he
should be sent for. Others said he was king, and might send for his guards
and coaches as he pleased, but it became not them to send for him. It was
left to his general, the Earl of Feversham, to do what he thought best. So
he went for him with his coaches and guards. And, as he came back through
the city, he was welcomed with expressions of joy by great numbers; so
slight and unstable a thing is a multitude, and so soon altered. At his
coming to Whitehall, he had a great court about him. Even the papists crept
out of their lurking-holes, and appeared at court with much assurance.
The King himself began to take heart. And both at Feversham, and now at
Whitehall, he talked in his ordinary high strain, justifying all that he
had done; only he spoke a little doubtfully of the business of Magdalen
College. But when he came to reflect on the state of his affairs, he saw it
was so soon broken that nothing was now left to deliberate upon. So he
sent the Earl of Feversham to Windsor without demanding any passport, and
ordered him to desire the Prince to come to St. James' to consult with him
of the best way for settling the nation.

When the news of what had passed at London came to Windsor, the Prince
thought the privy council had not used him well, who after they had sent to
him to take the government upon him, had made this step without consulting
him. Now the scene was altered and new counsels were to be taken. The
Prince heard the opinions, not only of those who had come along with him,
but of such of the nobility as were now come to him, among whom the Marquis
of Halifax was one. All agreed that it was not convenient that the King
should stay at Whitehall. Neither the King, nor the Prince, nor the city,
could have been safe if they had been both near one another. Tumults would
probably have arisen out of it. The guards and the officious flatterers of
the two courts would have been unquiet neighbors. It was thought necessary
to stick to the point of the King's deserting his people, and not to
give up that by entering upon any treaty with him. And since the Earl of
Feversham, who had commanded the army against the Prince, was come without
a passport he was for some days put in arrest.

It was a tender point now to dispose of the King's person. Some proposed
rougher methods: the keeping him a prisoner, at least till the nation was
settled, and till Ireland was secured. It was thought his being kept in
custody would be such a tie on all his party as would oblige them to submit
and be quiet. Ireland was in great danger. And his restraint might oblige
the Earl of Tyrconnel to deliver up the government, and to disarm the
papists, which would preserve that kingdom and the Protestants in it. But,
because it might raise too much compassion and perhaps some disorder if the
King should be kept in restraint within the kingdom, therefore the sending
him to Breda was proposed. The Earl of Clarendon pressed this vehemently on
account of the Irish Protestants, as the King himself told me, for those
that gave their opinions in this matter did it secretly and in confidence
to the Prince. The Prince said he could not deny but that this might be
good and wise advice, but it was that to which he could not hearken; he
was so far satisfied with the grounds of this expedition that he could act
against the King in a fair and open war; but for his person, now that he
had him in his power, he could not put such a hardship on him as to make
him a prisoner; and he knew the Princess' temper so well that he was sure
she would never bear it: nor did he know what disputes it might raise, or
what effect it might have upon the Parliament that was to be called; he was
firmly resolved never to suffer anything to be done against his person; he
saw it was necessary to send him out of London, and he would order a guard
to attend upon him who should only defend and protect his person, but not
restrain him in any sort.

A resolution was taken of sending the Lords Halifax, Shrewsbury, and
Delamere to London, who were first to order the English guards that were
about the court to be drawn off and sent to quarters out of town, and when
that was done the Count of Solms with the Dutch guards was to come and take
all the posts about the court. This was obeyed without any resistance or
disorder, but not without much murmuring. It was midnight before all was
settled. And then these lords sent to the Earl of Middleton to desire him
to let the King know that they had a message to deliver to him from the
Prince. He went in to the King, and sent them word from him that they might
come with it immediately. They came and found him abed. They told him the
necessity of affairs required that the Prince should come presently to
London; and he thought it would conduce to the safety of the King's person
and the quiet of the town that he should retire to some house out of town,
and they proposed Ham.

The King seemed much dejected, and asked if it must be done immediately.
They told him he might take his rest first, and they added that he should
be attended by a guard who should only guard his person, but should give
him no sort of disturbance. Having said this, they withdrew. The Earl of
Middleton came quickly after them and asked them if it would not do as well
if the King should go to Rochester; for since the Prince was not pleased
with his coming up from Kent it might be perhaps acceptable to him if he
should go thither again. It was very visible that this was proposed in
order to a second escape.

They promised to send word immediately to the Prince of Orange, who lay
that night at Sion, within eight miles of London. He very readily consented
to it. And the King went next day to Rochester, having ordered all that
which is called the moving wardrobe to be sent before him, the Count of
Solms ordering everything to be done as the King desired. A guard went with
him that left him at full liberty, and paid him rather more respect than
his own guards had done of late. Most of that body, as it happened, were
papists. So when he went to mass they went in and assisted very reverently.
And when they were asked how they could serve in an expedition that was
intended to destroy their own religion, one of them answered, his soul
was God's, but his sword was the Prince of Orange's. The King was so much
delighted with this answer that he repeated it to all that came about him.
On the same day the Prince came to St. James'. It happened to be a very
rainy day. And yet great numbers came to see him. But, after they had stood
long in the wet, he disappointed them; for he, who loved neither shows
nor shoutings, went through the park. And even this trifle helped to set
people's spirits on edge.

The revolution was thus brought about with the universal applause of the
whole nation; only these last steps began to raise a fermentation. It was
said, here was an unnatural thing to waken the King out of his sleep, in
his own palace, and to order him to go out of it when he was ready to
submit to everything. Some said he was now a prisoner, and remembered the
saying of King Charles I, that the prisons and the graves of princes lay
not far distant from one another; the person of the King was now struck at,
as well as his government, and this specious undertaking would now appear
to be only a disguised and designed usurpation. These things began to work
on great numbers. And the posting of the Dutch guards where the English
guards had been, gave a general disgust to the whole English army. They
indeed hated the Dutch besides, on account of the good order and strict
discipline they were kept under; which made them to be as much beloved by
the nation as they were hated by the soldiery. The nation had never known
such an inoffensive march of an army. And the peace and order of the
suburbs, and the freedom of markets in and about London, were so carefully
maintained that in no time fewer disorders had been committed than were
heard of this winter.

None of the papists or Jacobites was insulted in any sort. The Prince had
ordered me, as we came along, to take care of the papists and to secure
them from all violence. When he came to London he renewed these orders,
which I executed with so much zeal and care that I saw all the complaints
that were brought me fully redressed. When we came to London I procured
passports for all that desired to go beyond the sea. Two of the popish
bishops were put in Newgate. I went thither in the Prince's name. I told
them the Prince would not take upon him yet to give any orders about
prisoners; as soon as he did that, they should feel the effects of it. But
in the mean while I ordered them to be well used, and to be taken care of,
and that their friends might be admitted to come to them; so truly did I
pursue the principle of moderation even toward those from whom nothing of
that sort was to be expected.

Now that the Prince was come, all the bodies about the town came to welcome
him. The bishops came the next day. Only the Archbishop of Canterbury,
though he had once agreed to it, yet would not come. The clergy of London
came next. The city, and a great many other bodies, came likewise, and
expressed a great deal of joy for the deliverance wrought for them by the
Prince's means. Old Sergeant Maynard came with the men of the law. He was
then near ninety, and yet he said the liveliest thing that was heard of on
that occasion. The Prince took notice of his great age, and said that he
had outlived all the men of the law of his time; he answered he had liked
to have outlived the law itself if his highness had not come over.

The first thing to be done after the compliments were over was to consider
how the nation was to be settled. The lawyers were generally of opinion
that the Prince ought to declare himself king, as Henry VII had done. This,
they said, would put an end to all disputes, which might otherwise grow
very perplexing and tedious; and they said he might call a Parliament which
would be a legal assembly if summoned by the king in fact, though his title
was not yet recognized. This was plainly contrary to his declaration, by
which the settlement of the nation was referred to a parliament; such a
step would make all that the Prince had hitherto done pass for an aspiring
ambition only to raise himself; and it would disgust those who had been
hitherto the best affected to his designs, and make them less concerned in
the quarrel if, instead of staying till the nation should offer him the
crown, he would assume it as a conquest.

These reasons determined the Prince against that proposition. He called all
the peers and the members of the three last parliaments that were in town,
together with some of the citizens of London. When these met it was told
them that, in the present distraction, the Prince desired their advice
about the best methods of settling the nation. It was agreed in both these
Houses, such as they were, to make an address to the Prince, desiring
him to take the administration of the Government into his hands in the
_interim_. The next proposition passed not so unanimously; for, it being
moved that the Prince should be likewise desired to write missive letters
to the same effect, and for the same persons to whom writs were issued out
for calling a parliament, that so there might be an assembly of men in the
form of a parliament, though without writs under the great seal, such as
that was that had called home King Charles II.

To this the Earl of Nottingham objected that such a convention of the
states could be no legal assembly unless summoned by the King's writ.
Therefore he moved that an address might be made to the King to order the
writs to be issued. Few were of his mind. The matter was carried the other
way, and orders were given for those letters to be sent round the nation.

The King continued a week at Rochester. And both he himself and everybody
else saw that he was at full liberty, and that the guard about him put him
under no sort of restraint. Many that were zealous for his interests went
to him and pressed him to stay and to see the issue of things: a party
would appear for him; good terms would be got for him; and things would be
brought to a reasonable agreement. He was much distracted between his own
inclinations and the importunities of his friends. The Queen, hearing what
had happened, writ a most vehement letter to him, pressing his coming over,
remembering him of his promise, which she charged on him in a very earnest
if not in an imperious strain. This letter was intercepted. I had an
account of it from one that read it. The Prince ordered it to be conveyed
to the King, and that determined him. So he gave secret orders to prepare a
vessel for him, and drew a paper, which he left on his table, reproaching
the nation for their forsaking him. He declared that though he was going to
seek for foreign aid to restore him to his throne, yet he would not make
use of it to overthrow either the religion established or the laws of
the land. And so he left Rochester very secretly on the last day of this
memorable year and got safe over to France.


H.D. TRAILL

The convention for filling the vacant throne met on January 22d, when
Halifax was chosen president in the Lords; Powle speaker of the Commons. A
letter from William, read in both Houses, informed their members that he
had endeavored to the best of his power to discharge the trust reposed in
him, and that it now rested with the convention to lay the foundation of a
firm security for their religion, laws, and liberties. The Prince then went
on to refer to the dangerous condition of the Protestants in Ireland, and
the present state of things abroad, which obliged him to tell them that
next to the danger of unreasonable divisions among themselves, nothing
could be so fatal as too great a delay in their consultations. And he
further intimated that as England was already bound by treaty to help the
Dutch in such exigencies as, deprived of the troops which he had brought
over, and threatened with war by Louis XIV, they might easily be reduced
to, so he felt confident that the cheerful concurrence of the Dutch in
preserving this kingdom would meet with all the returns of friendship from
Protestants and Englishmen whenever their own condition should require
assistance.

To this the two Houses replied with an address thanking the Prince for his
great care in the administration of the affairs of the kingdom to this
time, and formally continuing to him the same commission, recommending to
his particular care the present state of Ireland. William's answer to this
address was characteristic both of his temperament and his preoccupation.
"My lords and gentlemen," he said, "I am glad that what I have done hath
pleased you; and since you desire me to continue the administration
of affairs, I am willing to accept it. I must recommend to you the
consideration of affairs abroad which makes it fit for you to expedite your
business, not only for making a settlement at home on a good foundation,
but for the safety of Europe."

On the 28th the Commons resolved themselves into a committee of the whole
House, and Richard Hampden, son of the great John, was voted into the
chair. The honor of having been the first to speak the word which was on
everybody's lips belongs to Gilbert Dolben, son of a late archbishop of
York, who "made a long speech tending to prove that the King's deserting
his kingdom without appointing any person to administer the government
amounted in reason and judgment of law to a demise." Sir Robert Howard, one
of the members for Castle Rising, went a step further, and asserted that
the throne was vacant. The extreme Tories made a vain effort to procure
an adjournment, but the combination against them of Whigs and their own
moderates was too strong for them, and after a long and stormy debate
the House resolved "That King James II, having endeavored to subvert the
constitution by breaking the original contract between the King and people,
and by the advice of Jesuits and other wicked persons having violated the
fundamental laws and withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, has abdicated
the government, and that the throne is thereby vacant."

This resolution was at once sent up to the Lords. Before, however, they
could proceed to consider it, another message arrived from the Commons to
the effect that they had just voted it inconsistent with the safety and
welfare of this Protestant nation to be governed by a popish king.

To this resolution the Peers assented with a readiness which showed in
advance that James had no party in the Upper House, and that the utmost
length to which the Tories in that body were prepared to go was to support
the proposal of a regency. The first resolution of the Commons was then put
aside in order that this proposal might be discussed. It was Archbishop
Sancroft's plan, who, however, did not make his appearance to advocate it,
and in his absence it was supported by Rochester and Nottingham, while
Halifax and Danby led the opposition to it. After a day's debate it was
lost by the narrow majority of two, forty-nine peers declaring in its favor
and fifty-one against it.

The Lords then went into committee on the Commons' resolution, and at once
proceeded, as was natural enough, to dispute the clause in its preamble
which referred to the original contract between the King and the people. No
Tory, of course, could really have subscribed to the doctrine implied in
these words; but it was doubtless as hard in those days as in these to
interest an assembly of English politicians in affirmations of abstract
political principle, and some Tories probably thought it not worth while
to multiply causes of dissent with the Lower House by attacking a purely
academic recital of their resolution. Anyhow, the numbers of the minority
slightly fell off, only forty-six Peers objecting to the phrase, while
fifty-three voted that it should stand. The word "deserted" was then
substituted without a division for the word "abdicated," and, the hour
being late, the Lords adjourned.

The real battle, of course, was now at hand, and to anyone who assents
to the foregoing criticisms it will be evident that it was far less of a
conflict on a point of constitutional principle, and far more of a struggle
between the parties of two distinct--one cannot call them rival--claimants
to the throne than high-flying Whig writers are accustomed to represent
it. It would, of course, be too much to say that the Whigs insisted on
declaring the vacancy of the throne, _only_ because they wished to place
William on it, and that the Tories contended for a demise of the crown,
_only_ because they wished an English princess to succeed to the throne
rather than a Dutch prince. Still, it is pretty certain that, but for this
conflict of preferences, the two political parties, who had made so little
difficulty of agreeing in the declaration that James had ceased to reign,
would never have found it so hard to concur in its almost necessary
sequence that the throne was vacant.

The debate on the last clause of the resolution began, and it soon became
apparent that the Whigs were outnumbered. The forty-nine peers who had
supported the proposal of a regency--which implied that the royal title was
still in James--were bound, of course, to oppose the proposition that the
throne was vacant; and they were reënforced by several peers who held that
that title had already devolved upon Mary. An attempt to compromise the
dispute by omitting the words pronouncing the throne vacant, and inserting
words which merely proclaimed the Prince and Princess of Orange king and
queen, was rejected by fifty-two votes to forty-seven; and the original
clause was then put, and negatived by fifty-five votes to forty-one.

Thus amended by the substitution of "deserted" for "abdicated," and
the omission of the words "and that the throne is thereby vacant," the
resolution was sent back to the Commons, who instantly and without a
division disagreed with the amendments. The situation was now becoming
critical. The prospect of a deadlock between the two branches of the
convention threw London into a ferment; crowds assembled in Palace Yard;
petitions were presented in that tumultuous fashion which converts
supplication into menace. To their common credit, however, both parties
united in resistance to these attempts at popular coercion; and William
himself interposed to enjoin a stricter police of the capital. On Monday,
February 4th, the Lords resolved to insist on their amendments; on the
following day the Commons reaffirmed their disagreement with them by two
hundred eighty-two votes to one hundred fifty-one. A free conference
between the two Houses was then arranged, and met on the following day.

But the dispute, like many another in our political history, had meanwhile
been settled out of court. Between the date of the peers' vote and the
conference Mary had communicated to Danby her high displeasure at the
conduct of those who were setting up her claims in opposition to those
of her husband; and William, who had previously maintained an unbroken
silence, now made, unsolicited, a declaration of a most important and,
indeed, of a conclusive kind. If the convention, he said, chose to adopt
the plan of a regency, he had nothing to say against it, only they must
look out for some other person to fill the office, for he himself would not
consent to do so. As to the alternative proposal of putting Mary on the
throne and allowing him to reign by her courtesy, "No man," he said, "can
esteem a woman more than I do the Princess; but I am so made that I cannot
think of holding anything by apron strings; nor can I think it reasonable
to have any share in the government unless it be put in my own person, and
that for the term of my life. If you think fit to settle it otherwise I
will not oppose you, but will go back to Holland, and meddle no more in
your affairs."

These few sentences of plain-speaking swept away the clouds of intrigue and
pedantry as by a wholesome gust of wind. Both political parties at once
perceived that there was but one possible issue from the situation. The
conference was duly held, and the constitutional question was, with great
display of now unnecessary learning, solemnly debated; but the managers
for the two Houses met only to register a foregone conclusion. The word
"abdicated" was restored; the vacancy of the throne was voted by sixty-two
votes to forty-seven; and it was immediately proposed and carried without a
division that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be declared king and
queen of England.

It now only remained to give formal effect to this resolution, and in so
doing to settle the conditions whereon the crown, which the convention
had now distinctly recognized itself as conferring upon the Prince and
Princess, should be conferred. A committee appointed by the Commons to
consider what safeguards should be taken against the aggressions of future
sovereigns had made a report in which they recommended not only a solemn
enunciation of ancient constitutional principles, but the enactment of
new laws. The Commons, however, having regard to the importance of prompt
action, judiciously resolved on carrying out only the first part of the
programme. They determined to preface the tender of the crown to William
and Mary by a recital of the royal encroachments of the past reigns, and
a formal assertion of the constitutional principles against which such
encroachments had offended. This document, drafted by a committee of which
the celebrated Somers, then a scarcely known young advocate, was the
chairman, was the famous "Declaration of Right." The grievances which it
recapitulated in its earlier portion were as follows:

(1) The royal pretension to dispense with and suspend laws without consent
of Parliament; (2) the punishment of subjects, as in the "Seven Bishops'"
case, for petitioning the crown; (3) the establishment of the illegal
court of high commission for ecclesiastical affairs; (4) the levy of taxes
without the consent of Parliament; (5) the maintenance of a standing
army in time of peace without the same consent; (6) the disarmament of
Protestants while papists were both armed and employed contrary to law; (7)
the violation of the freedom of election; (8) the prosecution in the king's
bench of suits only cognizable in Parliament; (9) the return of partial and
corrupt juries; (10) the requisition of excessive bail; (11) the imposition
of excessive fines; (12) the infliction of illegal and cruel punishments;
(13) the grants of the estates of accused persons before conviction.

Then after solemnly reaffirming the popular rights from which these abuses
of the prerogative derogated, the declaration goes on to recite that,
having an "entire confidence" William would "preserve them from the
violation of the rights which they have here asserted, the Three Estates
do resolve that William and Mary, Prince and Princess of Orange, be and be
declared king and queen: to hold the crown and royal dignity, to them the
said Prince and Princess during their lives and the life of the survivor
of them; and the sole and full exercise of the royal power be only in and
exercised by the said Prince of Orange, in the names of the said Prince and
Princess during their lives, and, after their deceases, the said crown and
royal dignity of the said kingdoms and dominions to the heirs of the body
of the said Princess; and, for default of such issue, to the Princess Anne
of Denmark and the heirs of her body; and, for the default of such issue,
to the issue of the said Prince of Orange." Then followed an alteration
required by the scrupulous conscience of Nottingham in the terms of the
oath of allegiance.

On February 12th Mary arrived from Holland. On the following day, in the
Banqueting House at Whitehall, the Prince and Princess of Orange were
waited on by both Houses of convention in a body. The declaration was read
by the clerk of the crown; the sovereignty solemnly tendered to them
by Halifax, in the name of the Estates; and on the same day they were
proclaimed king and queen in the usual places in the cities of London and
Westminster.



%PETER THE GREAT MODERNIZES RUSSIA%

SUPPRESSION OF THE STRELTSI

A.D. 1689

ALFRED RAMBAUD


It is the glory of Peter the Great to have changed the character of his
country and elevated its position among European nations. By opening Russia
to the influence of Western civilization he prepared the way for the advent
of that vast empire as one of the world's great powers.

Peter I Alexeievitch was born in Moscow June 9 (N.S.), 1672. After a joint
reign with his half-brother Ivan (1682-1696), he ruled alone until his
death, February 8 (N.S.), 1725. He is distinguished among princes as a
ruler who temporarily laid aside the character of royalty "in order to
learn the art of governing better." By his travels under a common name and
in a menial disguise, he acquired fruits of observation which proved of
greater practical advantage in his career than comes to sovereigns from
training in the knowledge of the schools. His restless and inquiring spirit
was never subdued by the burdens of state, and his matured powers proved
equal to the demands laid upon him by the great formative work which he was
called to accomplish for his people.

The character and early career of this extraordinary man are here set forth
by Rambaud in a masterly sketch, showing the first achievements which laid
the foundation of Peter's constructive policies.

Alexis Mikhailovitch, Czar of Russia, had by his first wife, Maria
Miloslavski, two sons, Feodor and Ivan, and six daughters; by his second
wife, Natalia Narychkine, one son (who became Peter I) and two daughters.
As he was twice married, and the kinsmen of each wife had, according to
custom, surrounded the throne, there existed two factions in the palace,
which were brought face to face by his death and that of his eldest son,
Feodor. The Miloslavskis had on their side the claim of seniority, the
number of royal children left by Maria, and, above all, the fact that Ivan
was the elder of the two surviving sons; but unluckily for them, Ivan was
notoriously imbecile both in body and mind.

On the side of the Narychkines was the interest excited by the precocious
intelligence of Peter, and the position of legal head of all the royal
family, which, according to Russian law, gave to Natalia Narychkine her
title of czarina dowager. Both factions had for some time taken their
measures and recruited their partisans. Who should succeed Feodor? Was
it to be the son of the Miloslavski, or the son of the Narychkine? The
Miloslavskis were first defeated on legal grounds. Taking the incapacity of
Ivan into consideration, the boyars and the Patriarch Joachim proclaimed
the young Peter, then nine years old, Czar. The Narychkines triumphed:
Natalia became czarina regent, recalled from exile her foster-father,
Matveef, and surrounded herself by her brothers and uncles.

The Miloslavskis' only means of revenge lay in revolt, but they were
without a head; for it was impossible for Ivan to take the lead. The eldest
of his six sisters was thirty-two years of age, the youngest nineteen;
the most energetic of them was Sophia, who was twenty-five. These six
princesses saw themselves condemned to the dreary destiny of the Russian
_czarevni_, and were forced to renounce all hopes of marriage, with no
prospects but to grow old in the seclusion of the _terem_, subjected by law
to the authority of a step-mother. All their youth had to look forward
to was the cloister. They, however, only breathed in action; and though
imperial etiquette and Byzantine manners, prejudices, and traditions
forbade them to appear in public, even Byzantine traditions offered them
models to follow. Had not Pulcheria, daughter of an emperor, reigned at
Constantinople in the name of her brother, the incapable Theodosius? Had
she not contracted a nominal marriage with the brave Marcian, who was her
sword against the barbarians?

Here was the ideal that Sophia could propose to herself; to be a
_czardievitsa_, a "woman-emperor." To emancipate herself from the rigorous
laws of the terem, to force the "twenty-seven locks" of the song, to raise
the _fata_ that covered her face, to appear in public and meet the looks of
men, needed energy, cunning, and patience that could wait and be content
to proceed by successive efforts. Sophia's first step was to appear at
Feodor's funeral, though it was not the custom for any but the widow and
the heir to be present. There her litter encountered that of Natalia
Narychkine, and her presence forced the Czarina-mother to retreat. She
surrounded herself with a court of educated men, who publicly praised
her, encouraged and excited her to action. Simeon Polotski and Silvester
Medviedef wrote verses in her honor, recalled to her the example of
Pulcheria and Olga, compared her to the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth of England,
and even to Semiramis; we might think we were listening to Voltaire
addressing Catharine II. They played on her name Sophia (wisdom), and
declared she had been endowed with the quality as well as the title.
Polotski dedicated to her the _Crown of Faith_, and Medviedef his _Gifts of
the Holy Spirit_.

The terem offered the strangest contrasts. There acted they the _Malade
Imaginaire_, and the audience was composed of the heterogeneous assembly
of popes, monks, nuns, and old pensioners that formed the courts of the
ancient czarinas. In this shifting crowd there were some useful
instruments of intrigue. The old pensioners, while telling their rosaries,
served as emissaries between the palace and the town, carried messages and
presents to the turbulent _streltsi_[1] and arranged matters between the
czarian ladies and the soldiers. Sinister rumors were skilfully
disseminated through Moscow: Feodor, the eldest son of Alexis, had died,
the victim of conspirators; the same lot was doubtless reserved for Ivan.
What was to become of the poor czarevni, of the blood of kings? At last it
was publicly announced that a brother of Natalia Narychkine had seized the
crown and seated himself on the throne, and that Ivan had been strangled.
Love and pity for the son of Alexis, and the indignation excited by the
news of the usurpation, immediately caused the people of Moscow to revolt,
and the ringleaders cleverly directed the movement. The tocsin sounded
from four hundred churches of the "holy city"; the regiments of the
streltsi took up arms and marched, followed by an immense crowd, to the
Kremlin, with drums beating, matches lighted, and dragging cannon behind
them. Natalia Narychkine had only to show herself on the "Red Staircase,"
accompanied by her son Peter, and Ivan who was reported dead. Their mere
appearance sufficed to contradict all the calumnies. The streltsi
hesitated, seeing they had been deceived. A clever harangue of Matveef,
who had formerly commanded them, and the exhortations of the patriarch,
shook them further. The revolt was almost appeased; the Miloslavskis had
missed their aim, for they had not yet succeeded in putting to death the
people of whom they were jealous.

[Footnote 1: The streltsi were an ancient Muscovite guard composed of
citizens rendering hereditary military service in the different cities and
fortified posts. At this time many of them were ripe for revolt.]

Suddenly Prince Michael Dolgorouki, chief of the _prikaz_ of the streltsi,
began to insult the rioters in the most violent language. This ill-timed
harangue awoke their fury; they seized Dolgorouki, and flung him from the
top of the Red Staircase onto their pikes. They stabbed Matveef, under the
eyes of the Czarina; then they sacked the palace, murdering all who fell
into their hands. Athanasius Narychkine, a brother of Natalia, was thrown
from a window onto the points of their lances. The following day the
_emeute_ recommenced; they tore from the arms of the Czarina her father
Cyril and her brother Ivan; the latter was tortured and sent into a
monastery. Historians show us Sophia interceded for the victims on her
knees, but an understanding between the rebels and the Czarevna did exist;
the streltsi obeyed orders.

The following days were consecrated to the purifying of the palace and the
administration, and the seventh day of the revolt they sent their
commandant, the prince-boyar, Khovanski, to declare that they would have
two czars--Ivan at the head, and Peter as coadjutor; and if this were
refused, they would again rebel. The boyars of the _douma_ deliberated on
this proposal, and the greater number of the boyars were opposed to it. In
Russia the absolute power had never been shared, but the orators of the
terem cited many examples both from sacred and profane history: Pharaoh
and Joseph, Arcadius and Honorius, Basil II and Constantine VIII; and the
best of all the arguments were the pikes of the streltsi (1682).

Sophia had triumphed: she reigned in the name of her two brothers, Ivan
and Peter. She made a point of showing herself in public, at processions,
solemn services, and dedications of churches. At the Ouspienski Sobor,
while her brothers occupied the place of the czar, she filled that of the
czarina; only _she_ raised the curtains and boldly allowed herself to be
incensed by the patriarch. When the _raskolniks_ challenged the heads of
the orthodox church to discussion, she wished to preside and hold the
meeting in the open air, at the Lobnoe Miesto on the Red Place. There was,
however, so much opposition that she was forced to call the assembly in
the Palace of Facets, and sat behind the throne of her two brothers,
present though invisible. The double-seated throne used on those occasions
is still preserved at Moscow; there is an opening in the back, hidden by a
veil of silk, and behind this sat Sophia. This singular piece of furniture
is the symbol of a government previously unknown to Russia, composed of
two visible czars and one invisible sovereign.

The streltsi, however, felt their prejudices against female sovereignty
awaken. They shrank from the contempt heaped by the Czarevna upon the
ancient manners. Sophia had already become in their eyes a "scandalous
person" (_pozornoe litzo_). Another cause of misunderstanding was the
support she gave to the state church, as reformed by Nicon, while the
streltsi and the greater part of the people held to the "old faith." She
had arrested certain "old believers," who at the discussion in the Palace
of Facets had challenged the patriarchs and orthodox prelates, and she had
caused the ringleader to be executed. Khovanski, chief of the streltsi,
whether from sympathy with the _raskol_ or whether he wished to please his
subordinates, affected to share their discontent. The court no longer felt
itself safe at Moscow. Sophia took refuge with the Czarina and the two
young princes in the fortified monastery of Troitsa, and summoned around
her the gentlemen-at-arms. Khovanski was invited to attend, was arrested
on the way, and put to death with his son. The streltsi attempted a new
rising, but, with the usual fickleness of a popular militia, suddenly
passed from the extreme of insolence to the extreme of humility. They
marched to Troitsa, this time in the guise of suppliants, with cords round
their necks, carrying axes and blocks for the death they expected. The
patriarch consented to intercede for them, and Sophia contented herself
with the sacrifice of the ringleaders.

Sophia, having got rid of her accomplices, governed by aid of her two
favorites--Chaklovity, the new commandant of the streltsi, whom she had
drawn from obscurity, and who was completely devoted to her, and Prince
Vasili Galitsyne. Galitsyne has become the hero of a historic school which
opposes his genius to that of Peter the Great, in the same way as in France
Henry, Duke of Guise, has been exalted at the expense of Henry IV. He was
the special favorite, the intimate friend, of Sophia, the director of
her foreign policy, and her right hand in military affairs. Sophia and
Galitsyne labored to organize a holy league between Russia, Poland, Venice,
and Austria against the Turks and Tartars. They also tried to gain
the countenance of the Catholic powers of the West; and in 1687 Jacob
Dolgorouki and Jacob Mychetski disembarked at Dunkirk as envoys to the
court of Louis XIV. They were not received very favorably: the King of
France was not at all inclined to make war against the Turks; he was, on
the other hand, the ally of Mahomet IV, who was about to besiege Vienna
while Louis blockaded Luxemburg. The whole plan of the campaign was,
however, thrown out by the intervention of Russia and John Sobieski in
favor of Austria. The Russian ambassadors received orders to reëmbark at
Havre, without going farther south.

The government of the Czarevna still persisted in its warlike projects. In
return for an active cooperation against the Ottomans, Poland had consented
to ratify the conditions of the Treaty of Androussovo, and to sign a
perpetual peace (1686). A hundred thousand Muscovites, under the command
of Prince Galitsyne, and fifty thousand Little Russian Cossacks, under the
orders of the hetman Samoilovitch, marched against the Crimea (1687). The
army suffered greatly in the southern steppes, as the Tartars had fired the
grassy plains. Galitsyne was forced to return without having encountered
the enemy. Samoilovitch was accused of treason, deprived of his command,
and sent to Siberia; and Mazeppa, who owed to Samoilovitch his appointment
as secretary-at-war, and whose denunciations had chiefly contributed to his
downfall, was appointed his successor.

In the spring of 1689 the Muscovite and Ukranian armies, commanded by
Galitsyne and Mazeppa, again set out for the Crimea. The second expedition
was hardly more fortunate than the first: they got as far as Perekop, and
were then obliged to retreat without even having taken the fortress. This
double defeat did not hinder Sophia from preparing for her favorite a
triumphal entry into Moscow. In vain Peter forbade her to leave the palace;
she braved his displeasure and headed the procession, accompanied by the
clergy and the images and followed by the army of the Crimea, admitted
the generals to kiss her hand and distributed glasses of brandy among
the officers. Peter left Moscow in anger, and retired to the village of
Preobrajenskoe. The foreign policy of the Czarevna was marked by another
display of weakness. By the Treaty of Nertchinsk she restored to the
Chinese empire the fertile regions of the Amur, which had been conquered
by a handful of Cossacks, and razed the fortress of Albazine, where those
adventurers had braved all the forces of the East. On all sides Russia
seemed to retreat before the barbarians.

Meanwhile Peter was growing. His precocious faculties, his quick
intelligence, and his strong will awakened alike the hopes of his partisans
and the fears of his enemies. As a child he only loved drums, swords,
and muskets. He learned history by means of colored prints brought from
Germany. Zotof, his master, whom he afterward made "the archpope of fools,"
taught him to read. Among the heroes held up to him as examples we are not
surprised to find Ivan the Terrible, whose character and position offer so
much analogy to his own. "When the Czarevitch was tired of reading," says
M. Zabieline, "Zotof took the book from his hand and, to amuse him, would
himself read the great deeds of his father, Alexis Mikhailovitch, and those
of the Czar, Ivan Vasilievitch, their campaigns, their distant expeditions,
their battles and sieges: how they endured fatigues and privations better
than any common soldier; what benefits they had conferred on the empire,
and how they extended the frontiers of Russia."

Peter also learned Latin, German, and Dutch. He read much and widely, and
learned a great deal, though without method. Like Ivan the Terrible, he was
a self-taught man. He afterward complained of not having been instructed
according to rule. This was perhaps a good thing. His education, like
that of Ivan IV, was neglected, but at least he was not subjected to the
enervating influence of the terem--he was not cast in that dull mould which
turned out so many idiots in the royal family. He "roamed at large, and
wandered in the streets with his comrades." The streets of Moscow at that
period were, according to M. Zabieline, the worst school of profligacy and
debauchery that can be imagined; but they were, on the whole, less bad for
Peter than the palace. He met there something besides mere jesters: he
encountered new elements which had as yet no place in the terem, but
contained the germ of the regeneration of Russia. He came across Russians
who, if unscrupulous, were also unprejudiced, and who could aid him in his
bold reform of the ancient society. He there became acquainted with Swiss,
English, and German adventurers--with Lefort, with Gordon, and with
Timmermann, who initiated him into European civilization.

His court was composed of Leo Narychkine, of Boris Galitsyne, who had
undertaken never to flatter him; of Andrew Matveef, who had marked taste
for everything European; and of Dolgorouki, at whose house he first saw an
astrolabe. He played at soldiers with his young friends and his grooms, and
formed them into the "battalion of playmates," who manoeuvred after the
European fashion, and became the kernel of the future regular army. He
learned the elements of geometry and fortification, and constructed small
citadels, which he took or defended with his young warriors in those fierce
battles which sometimes counted their wounded or dead, and in which the
Czar of Russia was not always spared. An English boat stranded on the shore
of Yaousa caused him to send for Franz Timmermann, who taught him to manage
a sailing-boat, even with a contrary wind. He who formerly, like a true
boyar of Moscow, had such a horror of the water that he could not make up
his mind to cross a bridge, became a determined sailor: he guided his boat
first on the Yaousa, then on the lake of Pereiaslavl. Brandt, the Dutchman,
built him a whole flotilla; and already, in spite of the terrors of his
mother, Natalia, Peter dreamed of the sea.

"The child is amusing himself," the courtiers of Sophia affected to
observe; but these amusements disquieted her. Each day added to the years
of Peter seemed to bring her nearer to the cloister. In vain she proudly
called herself "autocrat"; she saw her stepmother, her rival, lifting up
her head. Galitsyne confined himself to regretting that they had not known
better how to profit by the revolution of 1682, but Chaklovity, who knew
he must fall with his mistress, said aloud, "It would be wiser to put the
Czarina to death than to be put to death by her." Sophia could only save
herself by seizing the throne--but who would help her to take it?
The streltsi? But the result of their last rising had chilled them
considerably. Sophia herself, while trying to bind this formidable force,
had broken it, and the streltsi had not forgotten their chiefs beheaded at
Troitsa. Now what did the emissaries of Sophia propose to them? Again to
attack the palace; to put Leo Narychkine and other partisans of Peter to
death; to arrest his mother, and to expel the patriarch. They trusted
that Peter and Natalia would perish in the tumult. The streltsi remained
indifferent when Sophia, affecting to think her life threatened, fled to
the Dievitchi monastery, and sent them letters of entreaty. "If thy days
are in peril," tranquilly replied the streltsi, "there must be an inquiry."
Chaklovity could hardly collect four hundred of them at the Kremlin.

The struggle began between Moscow and Preobrajenskoe, the village with the
prophetical name (the "Transfiguration" or "Regeneration"). Two streltsi
warned Peter of the plots of his sister, and for the second time he sought
an asylum at Troitsa. It was then seen who was the true czar; all men
hastened to range themselves around him: his mother, his armed squires, the
"battalion of playmates," the foreign officers, and even the streltsi of
the regiment of Soukharef. The patriarch also took the side of the Czar,
and brought him moral support, as the foreign soldiers had brought him
material force. The partisans of Sophia were cold and irresolute; the
streltsi themselves demanded that her favorite Chaklovity should be
surrendered to the Czar. She had to implore the mediation of the patriarch.
Chaklovity was first put to the torture and made to confess his plot
against the Czar, and then decapitated. Medviedef was at first only
condemned to the knout and banishment for heresy, but he acknowledged he
had intended to take the place of the patriarch and to marry Sophia; he was
dishonored by being imprisoned with two sorcerers, condemned to be burned
alive in a cage, and was afterward beheaded. Galitsyne was deprived of
his property, and exiled to Poustozersk. Sophia remained in the Dievitchi
Monastyr, subjected to a hard captivity. Though Ivan continued to reign
conjointly with his brother, yet Peter, who was then only seventeen,
governed alone, surrounded by his mother, the Narychkines, and the
Dolgoroukis (1689). Sophia had freed herself from the seclusion of the
terem, as Peter had emancipated himself from the seclusion of the palace
to roam the streets and navigate rivers. Both had behaved scandalously,
according to the ideas of the time--the one haranguing soldiers, presiding
over councils, walking with her veil raised; the other using the axe like
a carpenter, rowing like a Cossack, brawling with foreign adventurers, and
fighting with his grooms in mimic battles. But to the one her emancipation
was only a means of obtaining power; to the other the emancipation of
Russia, like the emancipation of himself, was the end. He wished the nation
to shake off the old trammels from which he had freed himself. Sophia
remained a Byzantine, Peter aspired to be a European. In the conflict
between the Czarevna and the Czar, progress was not on the side of the
Dievitchi Monastyr.

The first use the Czar made of his liberty was to hasten to Archangel.
There, deaf to the advice and prayers of his mother, who was astounded at
this unexpected taste for salt water, he gazed on that sea which no czar
had ever looked on. He ate with the merchants and the officers of foreign
navies; he breathed the air which had come from the West. He established
a dockyard, built boats, dared the angry waves of this unknown ocean,
and almost perished in a storm, which did not prevent the "skipper Peter
Alexeievitch" from again putting to sea, and bringing the Dutch vessels
back to the Holy Cape. Unhappily, the White Sea, by which, since the time
of Ivan IV, the English had entered Russia, is frost-bound in winter.
In order to open permanent communications with the West, with civilized
countries, it was necessary for Peter to establish himself on the Baltic or
the Black Sea. Now the first belonged to the Swedes, and the second to the
Turks, as the Caspian did to the Persians. Who was first to be attacked?
The treaties concluded with Poland and Austria, as well as policy and
religion, urged the Czar against the Turks, and Constantinople has always
been the point of attraction for orthodox Russia.

Peter shared the sentiments of his people, and had the enthusiasm of a
crusader against the infidel. Notwithstanding his ardent wish to travel in
the West, he took the resolution not to appear in foreign lands till he
could appear as a victor. Twice had Galitsyne failed against the Crimea;
Peter determined to attack the barbarians by the Don, and besiege Azov. The
army was commanded by three generals, Golovine, Gordon, and Lefort, who
were to act with the "bombardier of the Preobrajenski regiment, Peter
Alexeievitch." This regiment, as well as three others which had sprung from
the "amusements" of Preobrajenskoe--the Semenovski, the Botousitski, and
the regiment of Lefort--were the heart of the expedition. It failed because
the Czar had no fleet with which to invest Azov by sea, because the new
army and its chiefs wanted experience, and because Jansen, the German
engineer, ill-treated by Peter, passed over to the enemy. After two
assaults the siege was raised. This check appeared the more grave because
the Czar himself was with the army, because the first attempt to turn from
the "amusements" of Preobrajenskoe to serious warfare had failed, and
because this failure would furnish arms against innovations, against
the Germans and the heretics, against the new tactics. It might even
compromise, in the eyes of the people, the work of regeneration (1695).

Although Peter had followed the example of Galitsyne, and entered Moscow in
triumph, he felt he needed revenge. He sent for good officers from foreign
countries. Artillerymen arrived from Holland and Austria, engineers from
Prussia, and Admiral Lima from Venice. Peter hurried on the creation of a
fleet with feverish impatience. He built of green wood twenty-two galleys,
a hundred rafts, and seventeen hundred boats or barks. All the small ports
of the Don were metamorphosed into dock-yards; twenty-six thousand workmen
were assembled there from all parts of the empire. It was like the camp
of Boulogne. No misfortune--neither the desertion of the laborers, the
burnings of the dock-yards, nor even his own illness--could lessen his
activity. Peter was able to write that, "following the advice God gave to
Adam, he earned his bread by the sweat of his brow." At last the "marine
caravan," the Russian armada, descended the Don. From the slopes of Azov he
wrote to his sister Natalia[1]: "In obedience to thy counsels, I do not go
to meet the shells and balls; it is they who approach me, but tolerably
courteously."

[Footnote 1: His mother died in 1694, his brother Ivan in 1696.]

Azov was blockaded by sea and land, and a breach was opened by the
engineers. Preparations were being made for a general assault, when the
place capitulated. The joy in Russia was great, and the streltsi's jealousy
of the success of foreign tactics gave place to their enthusiasm as
Christians for this victory over Islamism, which recalled those of Kazan
and Astrakhan. The effect produced on Europe was considerable. At Warsaw
the people shouted, "Long live the Czar!" The army entered Moscow under
triumphal arches, on which were represented Hercules trampling a pacha and
two Turks under foot, and Mars throwing to the earth a _mirza_ and two
Tartars. Admiral Lefort and Schein the generalissimo took part in the
_cortège_, seated on magnificent sledges; while Peter, promoted to the rank
of captain, followed on foot. Jansen, destined to the gibbet, marched among
the prisoners (1696).

Peter wished to profit by this great success to found the naval power
of Russia. By the decision of the _douma_ three thousand families were
established at Azov, besides four hundred Kalmucks, and a garrison of
Moscow streltsi. The patriarch, the prelates, and the monasteries taxed
themselves for the construction of one vessel to every eight thousand
serfs. The nobles, the officials, and the merchants were seized with the
fever of this holy war, and brought their contributions toward the infant
navy. It was proposed to unite the Don and the Volga by means of a canal.
A new appeal was made to the artisans and sailors of Europe. Fifty young
nobles of the court were sent to Venice, England, and the Low Countries
to learn seamanship and shipbuilding. But it was necessary that the Czar
himself should be able to judge of the science of his subjects; he must
counteract Russian indolence and prejudice by the force of a great example;
and Peter, after having begun his career in the navy at the rank of
"skipper," and in the army at that of bombardier, was to become a carpenter
of Saardam. He allowed himself, as a reward for his success at Azov, the
much-longed-for journey to the West.

In 1697 Admiral Lefort and Generals Golovine and Vosnitsyne prepared
to depart for the countries of the West, under the title of "the great
ambassadors of the Czar." Their suite was composed of two hundred seventy
persons--young nobles, soldiers, interpreters, merchants, jesters, and
buffoons. In the cortège was a young man who went by the name of Peter
Mikhailof. This _incognito_ would render the position of the Czar easier,
whether in his own personal studies or in delicate negotiations. On the
journey to Riga Peter allowed himself to be insulted by the governor, but
laid up the recollection for future use. At Koenigsburg the Prussian,
Colonel Sternfeld, delivered to "M. Peter Mikhailof" "a formal brevet of
master of artillery." The great ambassadors and their travelling
companion were cordially received by the courts of Courland, Hanover, and
Brandenburg.

Sophia Charlotte of Hanover, afterward Queen of Prussia, has left us some
curious notes about the Czar, then twenty-seven years of age. He astonished
her by the vivacity of his mind and the promptitude and point of his
answers, not less than by the grossness of his manners, his bad habits
at table, his wild timidity, like that of a badly brought-up child, his
grimaces, and a frightful twitching which at times convulsed his whole
face. Peter had then a beautiful brown skin, with great piercing eyes, but
his features already bore traces of toil and debauchery. "He must have
very good and very bad points," said the young Electress; and in this he
represented contemporary Russia. "If he had received a better education,"
adds the Princess, "he would have been an accomplished man." The suite of
the Czar were not less surprising than their master; the Muscovites danced
with the court ladies, and took the stiffening of their corsets for their
bones. "The bones of these Germans are devilish hard!" said the Czar.

Leaving the great embassy on the road Peter travelled quickly and reached
Saardam. The very day of his arrival he took a lodging at a blacksmith's,
procured himself a complete costume like those worn by Dutch workmen, and
began to wield the axe. He bargained for a boat, bought it, and drank the
traditional pint of beer with its owner. He visited cutleries, ropewalks,
and other manufactories, and everywhere tried his hand at the work: in a
paper manufactory he made some paper. However, in spite of the tradition,
he only remained eight days at Saardam. At Amsterdam his eccentricities
were no less astonishing. He neither took any rest himself nor allowed
others to do so; he exhausted all his _ciceroni_, always repeating, "I must
see it." He inspected the most celebrated anatomical collections; engaged
artists, workmen, officers, and engineers; and bought models of ships and
collections of naval laws and treaties. He entered familiarly the houses of
private individuals, gained the good-will of the Dutch by his _bonhomie_,
penetrated into the recesses of the shops and stalls, and remained lost in
admiration over a dentist.

But, amid all these distractions, he never lost sight of his aim. "We
labor," he wrote to the patriarch Adrian, "in order thoroughly to master
the art of the sea; so that, having once learned it, we may return to
Russia and conquer the enemies of Christ, and free by his grace the
Christians who are oppressed. This is what I shall long for to my last
breath." He was vexed at making so little progress in shipbuilding, but in
Holland everyone had to learn by personal experience. A naval captain told
him that in England instruction was based on principles, and these he could
learn in four months; so Peter crossed the sea, and spent three months in
London and the neighboring towns. There he took into his service goldsmiths
and gold-beaters, architects and bombardiers. He then returned to Holland,
and, his ship being attacked by a violent tempest, he reassured those who
trembled for his safety by the remark, "Did you ever hear of a czar of
Russia who was drowned in the North Sea?"

Though much occupied with his technical studies, he had not neglected
policy; he had conversed with William III, but did not visit France in this
tour, for "Louis XIV," says St. Simon, "had procured the postponement of
his visit"; the fact being that his alliance with the Emperor and his wars
with the Turks were looked on with disfavor at Versailles. He went to
Vienna to study the military art, and dissuaded Leopold from making peace
with the Sultan. Peter wished to conquer Kertch in order to secure the
Straits of Ienikale. He was preparing to go to Venice, when vexatious
intelligence reached him from Moscow.

The first reforms of Peter, his first attempts against the national
prejudices and customs, had raised him up a crowd of enemies. Old Russia
did not allow herself quietly to be set aside by the bold innovator. There
was in the interior a sullen and resolute resistance, which sometimes gave
birth to bloody scenes. The revolt of the streltsi, the insurrection of
Astrakhan, the rebellion of the Cossacks, and later the trial of his son
and first wife are only episodes of the great struggle. Already the priests
were teaching that Antichrist was born. Now it had been prophesied that
Antichrist should be born of an adulteress, and Peter was the son of the
_second_ wife of Alexis, therefore his mother Natalia was the "false
virgin," the adulterous woman of the prophecies. The increasingly heavy
taxes that weighed on the people were another sign that the time had come.
Others, disgusted by the taste shown by the Czar for German clothes and
foreign languages and adventures, affirmed that he was not the son of
Alexis, but of Lefort the Genevan, or that his father was a German surgeon.
They were scandalized to see the Czar, like another Gregory Otrepief,
expose himself to blows in his military "amusements." The lower orders were
indignant at the abolition of the long beards and national costume, and
the _raskolniks_[1] at the authorization of "the sacrilegious smell of
tobacco."

[Footnote 1: Dissenters from the orthodox church of Russia (Greek
Church).--ED.]

The journey to the west completed the general dissatisfaction. Had anyone
ever before seen a czar of Moscow quit Holy Russia to wander in the
kingdoms of foreigners? Who knew what adventures might befall him among the
_niemtsi_ and the _bousourmanes_? for the Russian people hardly knew how to
distinguish between the Turks and the Germans, and were wholly ignorant of
France and England. Under an unknown sky, at the extremity of the world, on
the shores of the "ocean sea," what dangers might he not encounter? Then
a singular legend was invented about the travels of the Czar. It was said
that he went to Stockholm disguised as a merchant, and that the Queen had
recognized him and had tried in vain to capture him. According to another
version, she had plunged him in a dungeon, and delivered him over to his
enemies, who wished to put him in a cask lined with nails and throw him
into the sea. He had only been saved by a streletz who had taken his place.
Some asserted that Peter was still kept there; and in 1705 the streltsi and
raskolniks of Astrakhan still gave out that it was a false czar who had
come back to Moscow--the true czar was a prisoner at Stockholm, attached to
a stake.

In the midst of this universal disturbance, caused by the absence of Peter,
there were certain symptoms peculiarly disquieting. The Muscovite army
grew more and more hostile to the new order of things. In 1694 Peter had
discovered a fresh conspiracy, having for its object the deliverance of
Sophia; and at the very moment of his departure from Russia he had to put
down a plot of streltsi and Cossacks headed by Colonel Tsykler. Those of
the streltsi who had been sent to form the garrison of Azov pined for their
wives, their children, and the trades they had left in Moscow. When in the
absence of the Czar they were sent from Azov to the frontiers of Poland,
they again began to murmur. "What a fate is ours! It is the boyars who do
all the mischief; for three years they have kept us from our homes."

Two hundred deserted and returned to Moscow; but the douma, fearing their
presence in the already troubled capital, expelled them by force. They
brought back to their regiments a letter of Sophia. "You suffer," she
wrote; "later it will become worse. March on Moscow. What is it you wait
for? There is no news of the Czar." It was repeated through the army that
the Czar had died in foreign lands, and that the boyars wished to put his
son Alexis to death. It was necessary to march on Moscow and exterminate
the nobles.

The military sedition was complicated by the religious fanaticism of the
raskolniks and the demagogic passions of the popular army. Four regiments
revolted and deserted. Generals Schein and Gordon, with their regular
troops, hastened after them, came up with them on the banks of the Iskra,
and tried to persuade them to return to their duty. The streltsi replied
by a petition setting forth all their grievances: "Many of them had died
during the expedition to Azov, suggested by Lefort, a German, a heretic;
they had endured fatiguing marches over burning plains, their only food
being bad meat; their strength had been exhausted by severe tasks, and they
had been banished to distant garrisons. Moscow was now a prey to all sorts
of horrors. Foreigners had introduced the custom of shaving the beard and
smoking tobacco. It was said that these niemtsi meant to seize the town. On
this rumor, the streltsi had arrived, and also because Romodanovski wished
to disperse and put them to the sword without anyone knowing why." A few
cannon-shots were sufficient to scatter the rebels. A large number were
arrested; torture, the gibbet, and the dungeon awaited the captives.

When Peter hastened home from Vienna he decided that his generals and his
douma had been too lenient. He had old grievances against the streltsi;
they had been the army of Sophia, in opposition to the army of the Czar;
he remembered the invasion of the Kremlin, the massacre of his mother's
family, her terrors in Troitsa, and the conspiracies which all but delayed
his journey to the west. At the very time that he was travelling in Europe
for the benefit of his people, these incorrigible mutineers had forced him
to renounce his dearest projects and had stopped him on the road to Venice.
He resolved to take advantage of the opportunity by crushing his enemies
_en masse_, and by making the Old Russia feel the weight of a terror that
would recall the days of Ivan IV. The long beards had been the standard of
revolt--they should fall. On August 26th he ordered all the gentlemen of
his court to shave themselves, and himself applied the razor to his great
lords. The same day the Red Place was covered with gibbets. The patriarch
Adrian tried in vain to appease the anger of the Czar by presenting to him
the wonder-working image of the Mother of God. "Why hast thou brought out
the holy icon?" exclaimed the Czar. "Retire and restore it to its place.
Know that I venerate God and his Mother as much as thyself, but know also
that it is my duty to protect the people and punish the rebels."

On October 30th there arrived at the Red Place the first instalment of two
hundred thirty prisoners: they came in carts, with lighted torches in their
hands, nearly all already broken by torture, and followed by their wives
and children, who ran behind chanting a funeral wail. Their sentence was
read, and they were slain, the Czar ordering several officers to help the
executioner. John George Korb, the Austrian agent, who as an eye-witness
has left us an authentic account of the executions, heard that five rebel
heads had been sent into the dust by blows from an axe wielded by the
noblest hand in Russia. The terrible carpenter of Saardam worked and
obliged his boyars to work at this horrible employment. Seven other days
were employed in this way; a thousand victims were put to death. Some were
broken on the wheel, and others died by various modes of torture. The
removal of the corpses was forbidden: for five months Moscow had before its
eyes the spectacle of the dead bodies hanging from the battlements of the
Kremlin and the other ramparts; and for five months the streltsi suspended
to the bars of Sophia's prison presented her the petition by which they
had entreated her to reign. Two of her confidants were buried alive; she
herself, with Eudoxia Lapoukhine, Peter's wife, who had been repudiated for
her obstinate attachment to the ancient customs, had their heads shaved
and were confined in monasteries. After the revolt of the inhabitants of
Astrakhan, who put their waywode to death, the old militia was completely
abolished, and the way left clear for the formation of new troops.



%TYRANNY OF ANDROS IN NEW ENGLAND%

THE "BLOODLESS REVOLUTION"

A.D. 1689

CHARLES W. ELLIOT


When the spirit of the English Revolution of 1688 crossed the Atlantic
and stirred the New England colonists to throw off the Stuart tyranny
represented by Andros, a long step was taken in the development of early
American self-government. The Charter Oak tradition, whether or not
resting on actual occurrences, correctly typifies the temper of that
self-government as it has ever manifested itself in the crises of patriotic
development in this country. And the ending of theocratic government,
as here recorded of Massachusetts, foreshadowed the further growth of
democracy in America.

Sir William Andros, an Englishman, was colonial governor of New York from
1674 to 1681, and of New England, including New York, from 1686 to 1689.
His rule "was on the model dear to the heart of his royal master--a harsh
despotism, but neither strong nor wise; it was wretched misgovernment and
stupid, blundering oppression." What poor success Andros had in his attempt
to force such a rule upon people of the English race who had already
accustomed themselves to a large measure of independence and
self-government Elliott's account briefly but fully shows.

While colonies are poor they are neglected by the parent state; when they
are able to pay taxes then she is quite ready to "govern them"; she is
willing to appoint various dependents to important offices, and to allow
the colonies to pay liberal salaries; she likes also to tax them to the
amount of the surplus production which is transferred to the managers
in the mother-country. Surprising as this is, it is what many call
"government," and is common everywhere. England has been no exception to
this, and her practice in New England was of this character till, in the
year 1776, the back of the people was so galled that it threw its rider
with violence.

At various times attempts had been made to destroy the Massachusetts
charter. At the restoration of Charles II, in 1660, the enemies of the
Puritans roused themselves. All who scented the breath of liberty in those
Western gales--all who had been disappointed of fond hopes in those
infant states--all who had felt in New England, too, the iron hand of
ecclesiastical tyranny, who chafed in the religious manacles which there,
as everywhere else, were imposed upon the minority--all united against
them; and in 1664 commissioners were sent over with extraordinary powers.
The colony withstood them to the best of its ability; but at last, in 1676,
a _quo warranto_ was issued, and judgment was obtained in England against
the Massachusetts charter.

In 1683 the quo warranto was brought over by Edward Randolph, who had been
appointed collector of the port of Boston in 1681, but had not been allowed
to act. He was the "messenger of death" to the hopes of the colony. The
deputies refused to appear in England and plead, and judgment was entered
up against them at last, in 1685, and the charter was abrogated. Charles
died, and the bitter and bigoted James II came to the throne in 1684. The
colonists then had rumors that Colonel Kirke, the fiercest hater of the
Nonconformists in England, was coming over as governor, which filled them
with dread. The colony now seemed to be at the mercy of the churchmen, or,
worse than that, of the papists, for such was James. Mr. Rawson, secretary
of the colony, about this time wrote, "Our condition is awful."

Mr. Joseph Dudley was appointed governor and acted for a short time, but
was succeeded by Sir Edmund Andros, who arrived December 19, 1686, with a
commission from James II, to take upon himself the absolute government
of all New England. Andros was supposed to be a bigoted papist, and he
certainly carried matters with a high hand; the poisoned chalice of
religious despotism, which these Pilgrims had commended to the lips of
Roger Williams, the Browns, Mrs. Hutchinson, Gorton, Clarke, and the
Quakers, was now offered to their own lips, and the draught was bitter.

First, the press was muzzled; then marriage was no longer free. The
minister Moody (1684) was imprisoned six months in New Hampshire for
refusing to administer the communion to Cranfield and others, according
to the manner and form set forth in the _Book of Common Prayer_. The
Congregational ministers were as mere laymen, and danger menaced public
worship and the meeting-houses. But this last extremity was saved them by
the necessity which James was under of securing the triumph of _his_ church
in Protestant England, the first step toward which was the proclamation
of religious toleration. This, of course, secured the colonists, and the
pilgrims were saved that fearful misery of being driven out from their
own cherished altars. Andros carried things with as high a hand in
Massachusetts as his master did in England; absolute subjection they both
insisted on. Besides the denial of political and religious rights, the
practice of arbitrary taxation was asserted by Andros, and all titles to
lands were questioned; in the brutal phrase of the time, it was declared
that "the calf died in the cow's belly"; that is, having no rights as a
state, they had none as individuals; so fees, fines, and expenditures
impoverished the people and enriched the officials. All seemed lost in
Massachusetts.

Andros went down to Hartford, in Connecticut, with his suite, and with
sixty troops took possession of the government there and demanded the
charter. Through the day (October 31, 1687) the authorities remonstrated
and postponed. When they met Andros again in the evening the people
collected, much excited. There seemed no relief. Their palladium, their
charter, was demanded, and before them stood Andros, with soldiers and
drawn swords, to compel his demand. There was then no hope, and the roll
of parchment--the charter, with the great royal seal upon it--was brought
forth and laid upon the table, in the midst of the excited people.
Suddenly, without warning, all lights were extinguished! There were
darkness and silence, followed by wonder, movement, and confusion. What
meant this very unparliamentary conduct, or was it a gust of wind which had
startled all? Lights were soon obtained, and then--

"Where is the charter?" was the question that went round the assembly.

"What means this?" cried Andros, in anger.

But no man knew where the charter had disappeared to; neither threats nor
persuasion brought it to light. What could Andros do? Clearly nothing, for
the authorities had done all that could be asked; they had produced the
charter in the presence of Andros, and now it had disappeared from his
presence. He had come upon a fool's errand, and some sharp Yankee (Captain
Wadsworth) had outwitted him. Where was the charter? Safely hidden in the
heart of the great oak, at Hartford, on the grounds of Samuel Wyllys. There
it remained beyond the reach of tyranny.

The tree known as the "Charter Oak" stood for over a century and a half
from that day. The Indians had always prayed that the tree might be spared;
they have our thanks.

Andros wrote on the last page of their records, _Finis_, and
disappeared--but that was not the end of Connecticut.

It was a dark time for liberty in New England, and a dark day for liberty
in Old England; for there James II and his unscrupulous ministers were
corruptly, grossly, and illegally trampling down the rights of manhood.
Andros was doing it in New England, and he found in Dudley, Stoughton,
Clark, and others, sons of New England, ready feet. In 1688 Randolph
writes, "We are as arbitrary as the great Turk"; which seems to have been
true. The hearts of the best men in both countries sank within them, and
they cried in their discouragement, "O Lord! how long!"

Thus matters stood when, during the spring of 1688-1689, faint rumors of
the landing of William, Prince of Orange, in England, came from Virginia.
Could this be true? It brought Andros up to Boston (April), where he gave
orders to have the soldiers ready against surprise.

Liberty is the most ardent wish of a brave and noble people, and is too
often betrayed by confidence in cultivated and designing and timid men.
Liberty was the wish of the people of New England; and for the want of
brave men then and since then they suffered.

When, on April 4th, John Winslow brought from Virginia the rumor of the
English Revolution and the landing of the Prince of Orange, it went through
their blood like the electric current, and thrilled from the city along the
byways into every home. Men got on their horses and rode onward to the next
house to carry the tidings that the popish King was down and William was
up, and that there was hope; through town and country the questions were
eagerly asked: "Shall we get our old charter? Shall we regain our rights?"
"What is there for us to do?" cried the people.

Andros put out a proclamation that all persons should be in readiness to
resist the forces of the Prince of Orange should they come. But the old
magistrates and leaders silently prayed for his success; the people, less
cautious and more determined, said to one another: "Let us do something.
Why not act?" and this went from mouth to mouth till their hatred of
Andros, and the remembrance to his dastardly oppressions, blazed into a
consuming fire.

"On April 18, 1689," wrote an onlooker, "I knew not anything of what was
intended until it was begun, yet being at the north end of the town, where
I saw boys running along the streets with clubs in their hands encouraging
one another to fight, I began to mistrust what was intended, and hasting
toward the Town Dock I soon saw men running for their arms; but before I
got to the Red Lion I was told that Captain George and the master of the
frigate were seized and secured in Mr. Colman's house at the North End; and
when I came to the Town Dock I understood that Bullivant and some others
were laid hold of, and then immediately the drums began to beat, and the
people hastened and ran, some with and some for arms," etc.

So it was begun, no one knew by whom; but men remembered yet their old
liberties and were ready to risk something to regain them; they remembered,
too, their present tyrants and longed to punish them. But in all this, men
of property took no part--they are always timid. It was the "mob" that
acted.

Governor Andros was at the fort with some soldiers, and sent for the
clergymen to come to him, who declined. The people and train-bands rallied
together at the Town House, where old Governor Bradstreet and some other
principal men met to consult as to what should be done. The King's frigate
in the harbor ran up her flags, and the lieutenant swore he would die
before she should be taken, and he opened her ports and ran out her guns;
but Captain George (prisoner in Boston) sent him word not to fire a shot,
for the people would tear him in pieces if he did. In the afternoon the
soldiers and people marched to the fort, took possession of a battery,
turned its guns upon the fort and demanded its surrender. They did not wait
for its surrender, but stormed in through the portholes, and Captain John
Nelson, a Boston merchant, cried out to Andros, "I demand your surrender."
Andros was surprised at the anger of an outraged people, and knew not what
to do, but at last gave up the fort, and was lodged prisoner in Mr. Usher's
house.

The next day he was forced to give up the castle in the harbor, and the
guns of the battery from the shore were brought to bear upon the frigate.
But the captain prayed that she might not be forced to surrender, because
all the officers and crew would lose their wages; so she was dismantled
for present security. All through the day people came pouring in from the
country, well armed and hot with rage against Andros and his confederates;
and the cooler men trembled lest some unnecessary violence might be done;
so Captain Fisher, of Dedham, led Andros by the collar of the coat back to
the fort for safety.

On the 20th Bradstreet and other leading men met, and formed a kind of
provisional council. They carefully abstained from resuming their old
charter, partly from fear and partly from doubt, and called upon the
towns to send up deputies. When these met, on May 22, 1689, forty out of
fifty-four were for "resuming," but a majority of the council opposed
it, and time was spent in disputes; but at last the old Governor and
magistrates accepted the control of affairs, though they would not consent
to resume the charter. Thus the moment for action passed, and the colony
lost that chance for reestablishing its old rights.

Rhode Island and Connecticut resumed their charters, which had never
been legally vacated. Mr. Threat was obliged to take again the office of
governor of Connecticut, when the amazing reports of the revolution and
seizure of the Governor in Massachusetts reached them. They issued loyal
addresses to William and Mary, in which they said: "Great was that day when
the Lord who sitteth upon the floods did divide his and your adversaries
like the waters of Jordan, and did begin to magnify you like Joshua, by the
deliverance of the English dominions from popery and slavery."

Andros escaped, but was apprehended at Rhode Island, and sent back to
Boston, and in February, 1689, with Dudley and some others, he was sent
away to England.

Increase Mather, the agent of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, with the aid of
friends in England, endeavored to gain the restoration of the old charter
from King William, but was unsuccessful; a new one was granted (1691),
which contained many of the old privileges; but the King would not grant
them the power of appointing their own governor; that power was reserved;
and appeals from the colony courts to England were allowed. The Governor
and the King both had a veto upon all colonial legislation. By it all
religions except the Roman Catholic were declared free, and Plymouth was
annexed to Massachusetts.

Thus two important elements of a free government were lost to
Massachusetts; and powers which had been exercised over fifty years were,
for nigh a hundred years, taken away. In Connecticut and Rhode Island they
continued to elect their own rulers and to exercise all the powers of
government. The new charter was brought over by Sir William Phipps, the new
governor appointed by the King, who arrived on May 14, 1692.

Thus ended the rule of the theocracy in Massachusetts, and from this time
forward the ministers and church-members possessed no more power than the
rest of the people.



%MASSACRE OF LACHINE%

A.D. 1689

FRANÇOIS XAVIER GARNEAU


Just after Count Frontenac's first administration of Canada (1672-1682),
when the colony of New France was under the rule of De la Barre and his
successor, the Marquis de Denonville, Montreal and its immediate vicinity
suffered from the most terrible and bloody of all the Indian massacres
of the colonial days. The hatred of the Five Nations for the French,
stimulated by the British colonists of New York, under its governor,
Colonel Dongan, was due to French forays on the Seneca tribes, and to
the capture and forwarding to the royal galleys in France of many of the
betrayed Iroquois chiefs. At this period the English on the seaboard began
to extend their trade into the interior of the continent and to divert
commerce from the St. Lawrence to the Hudson. This gave rise to keen
rivalries between the two European races, and led the English to take sides
with the Iroquois in their enmity to the French. The latter, at Governor
Denonville's instigation, sought to settle accounts summarily with the
Iroquois, believing that the tribes of the Five Nations could never be
conciliated, and that it was well to extirpate them at once. Soon the
Governor put his fell purpose into effect. With a force of two thousand
men, in a fleet of canoes, he entered the Seneca country by the Genesee
River, and for ten days ravaged the Iroquois homes and put many of them
cruelly to death. Returning by the Niagara River he erected and garrisoned
a fort at its mouth and then withdrew to Québec. A terrible revenge was
taken on the French colonists for these infamous acts, as the following
article by M. Garneau shows.

The situation of the colonists of New France during the critical era of
M. Denonville's administration was certainly anything but enviable. They
literally "dwelt in the midst of alarms," yet their steady courage in
facing perils, and their endurance of privations when unavoidable, were
worthy of admiration. A lively idea of what they had to resist or to
suffer may be found by reading the more particular parts of the Governor's
despatches to Paris. For instance, in one of these he wrote in reference to
the raids of the Iroquois: "The savages are just so many animals of prey,
scattered through a vast forest, whence they are ever ready to issue, to
raven and kill in the adjoining countries. After their ravages, to go
in pursuit of them is a constant but almost bootless task. They have no
settled place whither they can be traced with any certainty; they must be
watched everywhere, and long waited for, with fire-arms ready primed. Many
of their lurking-places could be reached only by blood-hounds or by other
savages as our trackers, but those in our service are few, and the native
allies we have are seldom trustworthy; they fear the enemy more than
they love us, and they dread, on their own selfish account, to drive the
Iroquois to extremity. It has been resolved, in the present strait, to
erect a fort in every seigniory, as a place of shelter for helpless people
and live-stock, at times when the open country is overrun with ravagers.
As matters now stand, the arable grounds lie wide apart, and are so begirt
with bush that every thicket around serves as a point for attack by a
savage foe; insomuch that an army, broken up into scattered posts, would be
needful to protect the cultivators of our cleared lands."[1]

[Footnote 1: Letter to M. Seignelai, August 10, 1688.]

Nevertheless, at one time hopes were entertained that more peaceful
times were coming. In effect, negotiations with the Five Nations were
recommenced; and the winter of 1687-1688 was passed in goings to and fro
between the colonial authorities and the leaders of the Iroquois, with whom
several conferences were holden. A correspondence, too, was maintained by
the Governor with Colonel Dongan at New York; the latter intimating in one
of his letters that he had formed a league of all the Iroquois tribes,
and put arms in their hands, to enable them to defend British colonial
territory against all comers.

The Iroquois confederation itself sent a deputation to Canada, which
was escorted as far as Lake St. François by twelve hundred warriors--a
significant demonstration enough. The envoys, after having put forward
their pretensions with much stateliness and yet more address, said that,
nevertheless, their people did not mean to press for all the advantages
they had the right and the power to demand. They intimated that they
were perfectly aware of the comparative weakness of the colony; that the
Iroquois could at any time burn the houses of the inhabitants, pillage
their stores, waste their crops, and afterward easily raze the forts. The
Governor-general, in reply to these--not quite unfounded--boastings and
arrogant assumptions, said that Colonel Dongan claimed the Iroquois as
English subjects, and admonished the deputies that, if such were the case,
then they must act according to his orders, which would necessarily be
pacific, France and England not now being at war; whereupon the deputies
responded, as others had done before, that the confederation formed an
independent power; that it had always resisted French as well as English
supremacy over its subjects; and that the coalesced Iroquois would be
neutral, or friends or else enemies to one or both, at discretion; "for we
have never been conquered by either of you," they said; adding that, as
they held their country immediately from God, they acknowledge no other
master.

It did not appear, however, that there was a perfect accordance among the
envoys on all points, for the deputies from Onnontaguez, the Onneyouths,
and Goyogouins agreed to a truce on conditions proposed by M. Denonville;
namely, that all the native allies of the French should be comprehended
in the treaty. They undertook that deputies [others than some of those
present?] should be sent from the Agniers and Tsonnouthouan cantons, who
were then to take part in concluding a treaty; that all hostilities should
cease on every side, and that the French should be allowed to revictual,
undisturbed, the fort of Cataracoui. The truce having been agreed to on
those bases, five of the Iroquois remained (one for each canton), as
hostages for its terms being observed faithfully. Notwithstanding this
precaution, several roving bands of Iroquois, not advertised, possibly, of
what was pending, continued to kill our people, burn their dwellings, and
slaughter live-stock in different parts of the colony; for example, at
St. François, at Sorel, at Contrecoeur, and at St. Ours. These outrages,
however, it must be owned, did not long continue, and roving corps of
savages, either singly or by concert, drew off from the invaded country and
allowed its harassed people a short breathing-time at least.

The native allies of the French, on the other hand, respected the truce
little more than the Iroquois. The Abenaquis invaded the Agniers canton,
and even penetrated to the English settlements, scalping several persons.
The Iroquois of the Sault and of La Montagne did the like; but the Hurons
of Michilimackinac, supposed to be those most averse to the war, did all
they could, and most successfully, too, to prevent a peace being signed.

While the negotiations were in progress, the "Machiavel of the wilderness,"
as Raynal designates a Huron chief, bearing the native name of Kondiarak,
but better known as Le Rat in the colonial annals, arrived at Frontenac
(Kingston), with a chosen band of his tribe, and became a means of
complicating yet more the difficulties of the crisis. He was the most
enterprising, brave, and best-informed chief in all North America; and, as
such, was one courted by the Governor in hopes of his becoming a valuable
auxiliary to the French, although at first one of their most formidable
enemies. He now came prepared to battle in their favor, and eager to
signalize himself in the service of his new masters. The time, however, as
we may well suppose, was not opportune, and he was informed that a treaty
with the Iroquois being far advanced, and their deputies on the way to
Montreal to conclude it, he would give umbrage to the Governor-general of
Canada should he persevere in the hostilities he had been already carrying
on.

The Rat was taken aback on hearing this to him unwelcome news, but took
care to hide his surprise and uttered no complaint. Yet was he mortally
offended that the French should have gone so far in the matter without the
concert of their native allies, and he at once resolved to punish them,
in his own case, for such a marked slight. He set out secretly with his
braves, laid an ambuscade near Famine Cove for the approaching deputation
of Iroquois, murdered several and made the others his prisoners. Having
done so, he secretly gloried in the act, afterward saying that he had
"killed the peace." Yet in dealing with the captives he put another and a
deceptive face on the matter; for, on courteously questioning them as to
the object of their journey, being told that they were peaceful envoys, he
affected great wonder, seeing that it was Denonville himself who had sent
him on purpose to waylay them!

To give seeming corroboration to his astounding assertions, he set the
survivors at liberty, retaining one only to replace one of his men who
was killed by the Iroquois in resisting the Hurons' attack. Leaving the
deputies to follow what course they thought fit, he hastened with his men
to Michilimackinac, where he presented his prisoner to M. Durantaye, who,
not as yet officially informed, perhaps, that a truce existed with the
Iroquois, consigned him to death, though he gave Durantaye assurance of who
he really was; but when the victim appealed to the Rat for confirmation of
his being an accredited envoy, that unscrupulous personage told him he must
be out of his mind to imagine such a thing! This human sacrifice offered
up, the Rat called upon an aged Iroquois, then and long previously a Huron
captive, to return to his compatriots and inform them from him that while
the French were making a show of peace-seeking, they were, underhand,
killing and making prisoners of their native antagonists.

This artifice, a manifestation of the diabolic nature of its author, had
too much of the success intended by it, for, although the Governor managed
to disculpate himself in the eyes of the more candid-minded Iroquois
leaders, yet there were great numbers of the people who could not be
disabused, as is usual in such cases, even among civilized races.
Nevertheless the enlightened few, who really were tired of the war, agreed
to send a second deputation to Canada; but when it was about to set out, a
special messenger arrived, sent by Andros, successor of Dongan, enjoining
the chiefs of the Iroquois confederation not to treat with the French
without the participation of his master, and announcing at the same time
that the King of Great Britain had taken the Iroquois nations under his
protection. Concurrently with this step, Andros wrote to Denonville that
the Iroquois territory was a dependency holden of the British, and that he
would not permit its people to treat upon those conditions already proposed
by Dongan.

This transaction took place in 1688; but before that year concluded,
Andros' "royal master" was himself superseded, and living an exile in
France.[1] Whether instructions sent from England previously warranted
the polity pursued by Andros or not, his injunctions had the effect of
instantly stopping the negotiations with the Iroquois, and prompting them
to recommence their vengeful hostilities. War between France and Britain
being proclaimed next year, the American colonists of the latter adopted
the Iroquois as their especial allies, in the ensuing contests with the
people of New France.

[Footnote 1: In 1688 Andros was appointed Governor of New York and New
England. The appointment of this tyrant, and the annexation of the
colony to the neighboring ones, were measures particularly odious to the
people.--ED.]

Andros, meanwhile, who adopted the policy of his predecessor so far as
regarded the aborigines if in no other respect, not only fomented the
deadly enmity of the Iroquois for the Canadians, but tried to detach the
Abenaquis from their alliance with the French, but without effect in their
case; for this people honored the countrymen of the missionaries who had
made the Gospel known to them, and their nation became a living barrier
to New France on that side, which no force sent from New England could
surmount; insomuch that the Abenaquis, some time afterward, having crossed
the borders of the English possessions, and harassed the remoter colonists,
the latter were fain to apply to the Iroquois to enable them to hold their
own.

The declaration of Andros, and the armings of the Iroquois, now let loose
on many parts of Canada, gave rise to a project as politic, perhaps, as it
was daring, and such as communities when in extremity have adopted with
good effect; namely, to divert invasion by directly attacking the enemies'
neighboring territories. The Chevalier de Callières, with whom the idea
originated, after having suggested to Denonville a plan for making a
conquest of the province of New York, set out for France, to bring it under
the consideration of the home government, believing that it was the only
means left to save Canada to the mother-country.

It was high time, indeed, that the destinies of Canada were confided to
other directors than the late and present ones, left as the colony had
been, since the departure of M. de Frontenac, in the hands of superannuated
or incapable chiefs. Any longer persistency in the policy of its two most
recent governors might have irreparably compromised the future existence
of the colony. But worse evils were in store for the latter days of the
Denonville administration; a period which, take it altogether, was one of
the most calamitous which our forefathers passed through.

At the time we have now reached in this history an unexpected as well as
unwonted calm pervaded the country, yet the Governor had been positively
informed that a desolating inroad by the collective Iroquois had been
arranged, and that its advent was imminent; but as no precursive signs of
it appeared anywhere to the general eyes, it was hoped that the storm, said
to be ready to burst, might yet be evaded. None being able to account for
the seeming inaction of the Iroquois, the Governor applied to the Jesuits
for their opinion on the subject. The latter expressed their belief that
those who had brought intelligence of the evil intention of the
confederacy had been misinformed as to facts, or else exaggerated sinister
probabilities. The prevailing calm was therefore dangerous as well as
deceitful, for it tended to slacken preparations which ought to have been
made to lessen the apprehensions of coming events which threw no shadow
before.

The winter and the spring of the year 1688-1689 had been passed in an
unusually tranquil manner, and the summer was pretty well advanced when the
storm, long pent up, suddenly fell on the beautiful island of Montreal, the
garden of Canada. During the night of August 5th, amid a storm of hail and
rain, fourteen hundred Iroquois traversed Lake St. Louis, and disembarked
silently on the upper strand of that island. Before daybreak next morning
the invaders had taken their station at Lachine in platoons around every
considerable house within a radius of several leagues. The inmates were
buried in sleep--soon to be the dreamless sleep that knows no waking, for
too many of them.

The Iroquois wait only for the signal from their leaders to fall on. It is
given. In short space the doors and the windows of the dwellings are
driven in; the sleepers dragged from their beds; men, women, children all
struggling in the hands of their butchers. Such houses as the savages
cannot force their way into, they fire; and as the flames reach the persons
of those within, intolerable pain drives them forth to meet death beyond
the threshold, from beings who know no pity. The more fiendish murderers
even forced parents to throw their children into the flames. Two hundred
persons were burned alive; others died under prolonged tortures. Many were
reserved to perish similarly, at a future time. The fair island upon which
the sun shone brightly erewhile, was lighted up by fires of woe; houses,
plantations, and crops were reduced to ashes, while the ground reeked with
blood up to a line a short league apart from Montreal city. The ravagers
crossed to the opposite shore, the desolation behind them being complete,
and forthwith the parish of Le Chenaie was wasted by fire and many of its
people massacred.

The colonists for many leagues around the devoted region seem to have been
actually paralyzed by the brain-blow thus dealt their compatriots by the
relentless savages, as no one seems to have moved a step to arrest their
course; for they were left in undisturbed possession of the country
during several weeks. On hearing of the invasion, Denonville lost his
self-possession altogether. When numbers of the colonists, recovering from
their stupor, came up armed desiring to be led against the murderers of
their countrymen, he sent them back or forbade them to stir! Several
opportunities presented themselves for disposing of parties of the
barbarians, when reckless from drink after their orgies, or when roving
about in scattered parties feeble in number; but the Governor-general's
positive orders to refrain from attacking them withheld the uplifted hand
from striking.

In face of a prohibition so authoritative, the soldiers and the inhabitants
alike could only look on and wait till the savages should find it
convenient to retire. Some small skirmishing, indeed, there was at a few
distant points between the people and their invaders. Thus a party of men,
partly French and partly natives, led by Larobeyre, an ex-lieutenant, on
the way to reënforce Fort Roland, where Chevalier de Vaudreuil commanded,
were set upon and all killed or dispersed. More than half of the prisoners
taken were burned by their conquerors. Larobeyre, being wounded and not
able to fire, was led captive by the Iroquois to their country, and roasted
at a slow fire in presence of the assembled tribe of his captors. Meantime
the resistance to the barbarians being little or none in the regions they
overran, they slew most of the inhabitants they met in their passage; while
their course was marked, wherever they went, by lines of flame.

Their bands moved rapidly from one devoted tract to another; yet wherever
they had to face concerted resistance--which in some cases, at least, put a
fitting obstacle in the way of their intended ravagings--they turned aside
and sought an easier prey elsewhere. In brief, during ten entire weeks or
more, did they wreak their wrath, almost unchecked, upon the fairest region
of Canada, and did not retire thence till about mid-October.

The Governor-General having sent a party of observation to assure himself
of the enemy having decamped, this detachment observed a canoe on the Lake
of the Two Mountains, bearing twenty-two of the retiring Iroquois. The
Canadians, who were of about the same number, embarked in two boats and,
nearing the savages, coolly received their fire; but in returning the
discharge, each singled out his man, when eighteen of the Iroquois were at
once laid low.

However difficult it may have been to put the people of a partially cleared
country, surrounded with forests, on their guard against such an irruption
as the foregoing, it is difficult to account for their total unpreparedness
without imputing serious blame to Denonville and his subalterns in office.
That he exercised no proper influence, in the first place, was evident, and
the small use he made of the means he had at his disposal when the crisis
arrived was really something to marvel at. He was plainly unequal to the
occasion, and his incapacity in every particular made it quite impossible
for his presence, as chief of the colony, to be endured any longer. There
is little doubt that had he not been soon recalled by royal order, the
colonists themselves would have set him aside. The latter season of his
inglorious administration took the lugubrious name "the Year of the
Massacre."[1]

[Footnote 1: The Five Nations, being at war with the French, made a sudden
descent on Montreal, burned and sacked the town, killed one hundred of the
inhabitants, carrying away a number of prisoners whom they burned alive,
and then returned to their own country with the loss of only a few of their
number. Had the English followed up the success of their allies, all Canada
might have been easily conquered.--ED.]

The man appointed through a happy inspiration to supersede M. de Denonville
had now reached the Lower Canadian waters. He was no other than the Count
de Frontenac. It appears that the King, willing to cover, with a handsome
pretext, the recall of Denonville, in a letter dated May 31st, advertised
him that, war having been rekindled in Europe, his military talents would
be of the greatest use in home service. By this time De Frontenac was
called to give counsel regarding the projects of the Chevalier de
Callières, and assist in preparing the way for their realization if
considered feasible. Meanwhile he undertook to resume his duties as
governor-general of New France; but a series of events delayed his arrival
in Canada till the autumn of 1689.

He landed at Québec on October 18th, at 8 P.M., accompanied by De
Callières, amid the heartiest demonstrations of popular welcome. The public
functionaries and armed citizens in waiting, with torch-bearers, escorted
him through the city, which was spontaneously illuminated, to his quarters.
His return was hailed by all, but by none more than the Jesuits, who had,
in fact for years before, labored to obtain his recall. The nobles, the
merchants, the business class, gave him so hearty a reception as to
convince him that real talent such as his must in the end rise superior
to all the conjoined efforts of faction, public prejudices, and the evil
passions of inferior minds.

War was declared against Britain in the month of June. M. de Frontenac,
on resuming the reins of government, had to contend both against the
Anglo-American colonies and the Five Nations. His energy and skill,
however, overcame all obstacles; the war was most glorious for the
Canadians, so few in number compared with their adversaries; and far from
succumbing to their enemies, they carried the war into the adversaries'
camp and struck at the heart of their most remote possessions.



%SIEGE OF LONDONDERRY AND BATTLE OF THE BOYNE%

A.D. 1689-1690

TOBIAS G. SMOLLETT


Londonderry, capital of the county of the same name in Ireland, is a city
of historic celebrity by reason of the successful defence there made
(April-August, 1689) by the Irish Protestants against the besieging forces
of James II. The battle of the Boyne (July 1, 1690) is of less importance
in a military sense than for the reason that it virtually ended the war
which James II carried into Ireland in his unsuccessful attempt to regain
his throne from William and Mary. On account of this result, and still more
by reason of the hereditary antagonisms which have so long survived it,
this battle still retains a peculiar fame in history.

In Ireland, where the Roman Catholics were numerous, there was strong
opposition to the government of William and Mary. The fugitive James II had
supporters who controlled the Irish army. Some resistance was made by the
English and Scotch colonists in Ireland, but little head was made against
the Catholic party, which supported James, until William entered the
country with his forces.

In the following narrative Smollett speaks of an "intended massacre" of the
Protestants at Londonderry. The people of that city were of Anglo-Saxon
blood. Although belonging to various Protestant churches, they were united
in their hostility to the Irish and to the Catholic faith. They were
alarmed at the close of 1688 by rumors of a plan for their own extirpation
by the papists. News of the approach of the Earl of Antrim with a regiment,
under orders from the Lord Deputy, filled the city with consternation. What
followed there is graphically told in the words of the historian. A better
account of a military action than that which Smollett gives of the Battle
of the Boyne it would be hard to find.

On the first alarm of an intended massacre, the Protestants of Londonderry
had shut their gates against the regiment commanded by the Earl of Antrim,
and resolved to defend themselves against the Lord Deputy; they transmitted
this resolution to the Government of England, together with an account of
the danger they incurred by such a vigorous measure, and implored immediate
assistance; they were accordingly supplied with some arms and ammunition,
but did not receive any considerable reënforcement till the middle of
April, when two regiments arrived at Loughfoyl under the command of
Cunningham and Richards.

By this time King James had taken Coleraine, invested Kilmore, and was
almost in sight of Londonderry. George Walker, rector of Donaghmore, who
had raised a regiment for the defence of the Protestants, conveyed this
intelligence to Lundy, the governor; this officer directed him to join
Colonel Crafton, and take post at the Longcausey, which he maintained
a whole night against the advanced guard of the enemy, until, being
overpowered by numbers, he retreated to Londonderry and exhorted the
governor to take the field, as the army of King James was not yet
completely formed. Lundy assembling a council of war, at which Cunningham
and Richards assisted, they agreed that as the place was not tenable,
it would be imprudent to land the two regiments; and that the principal
officers should withdraw themselves from Londonderry, the inhabitants of
which would obtain the more favorable capitulation in consequence of their
retreat; an officer was immediately despatched to King James with proposals
of a negotiation; and Lieutenant-general Hamilton agreed that the army
should halt at the distance of four miles from the town.

Notwithstanding this preliminary, James advanced at the head of his troops,
but met with such a warm reception from the besieged that he was fain to
retire to St. John's Town in some disorder. The inhabitants and soldiers in
garrison at Londonderry were so incensed at the members of the council of
war who had resolved to abandon the place that they threatened immediate
vengeance. Cunningham and Richards retired to their ships, and Lundy locked
himself in his chamber. In vain did Walker and Major Baker exhort him
to maintain his government; such was his cowardice or treachery that he
absolutely refused to be concerned in the defence of the place, and he was
suffered to escape in disguise, with a load of matches on his back; but he
was afterward apprehended in Scotland, from whence he was sent to London to
answer for his perfidy or misconduct.

After his retreat the townsmen chose Mr. Walker and Major Baker for their
governors with joint authority; but this office they would not undertake
until it had been offered to Colonel Cunningham, as the officer next in
command to Lundy; he rejected the proposal, and with Richards returned to
England, where they were immediately cashiered. The two new governors, thus
abandoned to their fate, began to prepare for a vigorous defence: indeed
their courage seems to have transcended the bounds of discretion, for the
place was very ill-fortified; their cannon, which did not exceed twenty
pieces, were wretchedly mounted; they had not one engineer to direct their
operations; they had a very small number of horse; the garrison consisted
of people unacquainted with military discipline; they were destitute of
provisions; they were besieged by a king, in person, at the head of a
formidable army, directed by good officers, and supplied with all the
necessary implements for a siege or battle.

The town was invested on April 20th; the batteries were soon opened, and
several attacks were made with great impetuosity, but the besiegers
were always repulsed with considerable loss; the townsmen gained divers
advantages in repeated sallies, and would have held their enemies in the
utmost contempt had they not been afflicted with a contagious distemper,
as well as reduced to extremity by want of provisions; they were even
tantalized in their distress, for they had the mortification to see some
ships, which had arrived with supplies from England, prevented from sailing
up the river by the batteries the enemy had raised on both sides, and a
boom with which they had blocked up the channel.

At length a reënforcement arrived in the Lough, under the command of
General Kirke, who had deserted his master, and been employed in the
service of King William. He found means to convey intelligence to Walker
that he had troops and provisions on board for their relief, but found it
impracticable to sail up the river. He promised, however, that he would
land a body of forces at the Inch, and endeavor to make a diversion in
their favor, when joined by the troops at Inniskillen, which amounted to
five thousand men, including two thousand cavalry. He said he expected six
thousand men from England, where they were embarked before he set sail; he
exhorted them to persevere in their courage and loyalty, and assured them
that he would come to their relief at all hazards. The assurances enabled
them to bear their miseries a little longer, though their numbers daily
diminished. Major Baker dying, his place was filled by Colonel Michelburn,
who now acted as colleague to Mr. Walker.

King James having returned to Dublin to be present at the Parliament, the
command of his army devolved to the French general, Rosene,[1] who was
exasperated by such an obstinate opposition by a handful of half-starved
militia. He threatened to raze the town to its foundations and destroy the
inhabitants without distinction of age or sex unless they would immediately
submit themselves to their lawful sovereign. The governors treated his
menaces with contempt, and published an order that no person, on pain of
death, should talk of surrendering. They had now consumed the last remains
of their provisions, and supported life by eating the flesh of horses,
dogs, cats, rats, mice, and tallow, starch, and salted hides; and even
this loathsome food began to fail. Rosene, finding them deaf to all his
proposals, threatened to wreak his vengeance on all the Protestants of that
county and drive them under the walls of Londonderry, where they should be
suffered to perish by famine. The Bishop of Meath being informed of this
design, complained to King James of the barbarous intention, entreating his
majesty to prevent its being put into execution; that Prince assured
him that he had already ordered Rosene to desist from such proceedings;
nevertheless, the Frenchman executed his threats with the utmost rigor.

[Footnote 1: James was assisted in his attempt by a small body of French
troops, England having entered the Grand Alliance against Louis XIV.--ED.]

Parties of dragoons were detached on this cruel service. After having
stripped all the Protestants for thirty miles round, they drove these
unhappy people before them like cattle, without even sparing the enfeebled
old men, nurses with infants at their breasts, and tender children. About
four thousand of these miserable objects were driven under the walls of
Londonderry. This expedient, far from answering the purpose of Rosene,
produced a quite contrary effect. The besieged were so exasperated at this
act of inhumanity that they resolved to perish rather than submit to such a
barbarian. They erected a gibbet in sight of the enemy, and sent a message
to the French general importing that they would hang all the prisoners they
had taken during the siege unless the Protestants whom they had driven
under the walls should be immediately dismissed. This threat produced a
negotiation, in consequence of which the Protestants were released after
they had been detained three days without tasting food. Some hundreds
died of famine or fatigue; and those who lived to return to their own
habitations found them plundered and sacked by the papists, so that the
greater number perished for want, or were murdered by straggling parties of
the enemy. Yet these very people had for the most part obtained protection
from King James, to which no respect was paid by his general.

The garrison of Londonderry was now reduced from seven thousand to five
thousand seven hundred men, and these were driven to such extremity of
distress that they began to talk of killing the popish inhabitants and
feeding on their bodies. Kirke, who had hitherto lain inactive, ordered
two ships laden with provisions to sail up the river, under convoy of the
Dartmouth (frigate); one of these, called the Mountjoy, broke the enemy's
boom, and all the three--after having sustained a very hot fire from both
sides of the river--arrived in safety at the town, to the inexpressible joy
of the inhabitants.

The army of James was so dispirited by the success of this enterprise that
they abandoned the siege in the night, and retired with precipitation,
after having lost about nine thousand men before the place. Kirke no sooner
took possession of the town than Walker was prevailed upon to embark for
England, with an address of thanks from the inhabitants to their majesties
for the seasonable relief they had received.

King James trusted so much to the disputes in the English Parliament that
he did not believe his son-in-law would be able to quit that kingdom, and
William had been six days in Ireland before he received intimation of his
arrival. This was no sooner known than he left Dublin under the guard
of the militia, commanded by Luttrel, and, with a reënforcement of six
thousand infantry which he had lately received from France, joined the
rest of his forces, which now almost equalled William's army in number,
exclusive of about fifteen thousand men who remained in different
garrisons. He occupied a very advantageous post on the bank of the Boyne,
and, contrary to the advice of his general officers, resolved to stand
battle. They proposed to strengthen their garrisons, and retire to the
Shannon, to wait the effect of the operations at sea.

Louis had promised to equip a powerful armament against the English fleet,
and send over a great number of small frigates to destroy William's
transports, as soon as their convoy should be returned to England; the
execution of this scheme was not at all difficult, and must have proved
fatal to the English army, for their stores and ammunition were still on
board; the ships sailed along the coast as the troops advanced in their
march; and there was not one secure harbor into which they could retire on
any emergency. James, however, was bent on hazarding an engagement, and
expressed uncommon confidence and alacrity. Besides the river, which was
deep, his front was secured by a morass and a rising ground; so that the
English army could not attack him without manifest disadvantage.

King William marched up to the opposite bank of the river, and as he
reconnoitred their situation was exposed to the fire of some field-pieces,
which the enemy purposely planted against his person. They killed a man and
two horses close by him, and the second bullet rebounding from the earth,
grazed on his right shoulder, so as to carry off part of his clothes and
skin and produce a considerable contusion. This accident, which he bore
without the least emotion, created some confusion among his attendants,
which, the enemy perceiving, concluded he was killed, and shouted aloud in
token of their joy; the whole camp resounded with acclamation, and several
squadrons of their horse were drawn down toward the river as if they
intended to pass it immediately and attack the English army. The report was
instantly communicated from place to place until it reached Dublin; from
thence it was conveyed to Paris, where, contrary to the custom of the
French court, the people were encouraged to celebrate the event with
bonfires and illuminations.

William rode along the line to show himself to the army after this narrow
escape. At night he called a council of war, and declared his resolution to
attack the enemy in the morning. Schomberg[1] at first opposed his design,
but, finding the King determined, he advised that a strong detachment of
horse and foot should that night pass the Boyne at Slane bridge and take
post between the enemy and the pass at Duleck, that the action might be the
more decisive; this counsel being rejected, the King determined that early
in the morning Lieutenant-general Douglas with the right wing of the
infantry, and young Schomberg with the horse, should pass at Slane bridge,
while the main body of the foot should force their passage at Old bridge,
and the left at certain fords between the enemy's camp and Drogheda. The
Duke, perceiving that his advice was not relished by the Dutch generals,
retired to his tent, where, the order of battle being brought to him, he
received it with an air of discontent, saying it was the first that had
ever been sent to him in that manner. The proper dispositions being made,
William rode quite through the army by torchlight, and then retired to his
tent after having given orders to his soldiers to distinguish themselves
from the enemy by wearing green boughs in their hats during the action.

[Footnote 1: The Duke of Schomberg, who commanded for William, had
accompanied him to England in 1688. The Duke is further spoken of below.
"Young Schomberg" was his son.--ED.]

At six o'clock in the morning, General Douglas, with young Schomberg, the
Earl of Portland, and Auverquerque, marched to Slane bridge, and passed the
river with very little opposition. When they reached the farther bank they
perceived the enemy drawn up in two lines, to a considerable number of
horse and foot, with a morass in their front, so that Douglas was obliged
to wait for reinforcements. This being arrived, the infantry was led on to
the charge through the morass, while Count Schomberg rode round it with his
cavalry, to attack the enemy in flank. The Irish, instead of waiting the
assault, faced about, and retreated toward Duleck with some precipitation;
yet not so fast but that Schomberg fell in among their rear, and did
considerable execution. King James, however, soon reënforced his left
wing from the centre; and the Count was in his turn obliged to send for
assistance.

At this juncture King William's main body, consisting of the Dutch guards,
the French regiments,[1] and some battalions of English, passed the river,
which was waist-high, under a general discharge of artillery. King James
had imprudently removed his cannon from the other side; but he had posted a
strong body of musketeers along the bank, behind hedges, houses, and some
works raised for the occasion; these poured in a close fire on the English
troops before they reached the shore; but it produced very little effect.
Then the Irish gave way, and some battalions landed without further
opposition; yet before they could form, they were charged with great
impetuosity by a squadron of the enemy's horse, and a considerable body of
their cavalry and foot, commanded by General Hamilton, advanced from behind
some little hillocks to attack those that were landed as well as to prevent
the rest from reaching the shore; his infantry turned their backs and fled
immediately; but the horse charged with incredible fury, both on the bank
and in the river, so as to put the unformed regiments in confusion.

[Footnote 1: French Protestants or Huguenots.--ED.]

Then the Duke of Schomberg passed the river in person, put himself at the
head of the French Protestants, and pointing to the enemy, "Gentlemen,"
said he, "those are your persecutors." With these words he advanced to the
attack, where he himself sustained a violent onset from a party of the
Irish horse, which had broken through one of the regiments and were now on
their return. They were mistaken for English, and allowed to gallop up
to the Duke, who received two severe wounds in the head; but the French
troops, now sensible of their mistake, rashly threw in their fire on the
Irish while they were engaged with the Duke, and, instead of saving, shot
him dead on the spot.

The death of this general had wellnigh proved fatal to the English army,
which was immediately involved in tumult and disorder; while the infantry
of King James rallied and returned to their posts with a face of
resolution. They were just ready to fall on the centre when King William,
having passed with the left wing, composed of the Danish, Dutch, and
Inniskillen horse, advanced to attack them on the right: they were struck
with such a panic at his appearance that they made a sudden halt, and then
facing about retreated to the village of Dunmore. There they made such a
vigorous stand that the Dutch and Danish horse, though headed by the King
in person, recoiled; even the Inniskillens gave way, and the whole wing
would have been routed had not a detachment of dragoons, belonging to the
regiment of Cunningham and Levison, dismounted and lined the hedges on each
side of the ditch through which the fugitives were driven; there they did
such execution on the pursuers as soon checked their ardor. The horse,
which were broken, had now time to rally, and, returning to the charge,
drove the enemy before them in their turn.

In this action General Hamilton, who had been the life and soul of the
Irish during the whole engagement, was wounded and taken, an incident which
discouraged them to such a degree that they made no further efforts to
retrieve the advantage they had lost. He was immediately brought to
the King, who asked him if he thought the Irish would make any further
resistance, and he replied, "On my honor I believe they will, for they
have still a good body of horse entire." William, eying him with a look of
disdain, repeated, "Your honor, your honor!" but took no other notice of
his having acted contrary to his engagement, when he was permitted to go to
Ireland on promise of persuading Tyrconnel to submit to the new government.
The Irish now abandoned the field with precipitation; but the French and
Swiss troops, that acted as their auxiliaries under De Lauzun, retreated
in good order, after having maintained the battle for some time with
intrepidity and perseverance.

As King William did not think proper to pursue the enemy, the carnage was
not great; the Irish lost a thousand five hundred men and the English
about one-third of that number; though the victory was dearly purchased,
considering the death of the gallant Duke of Schomberg, who fell, in the
eighty-second year of his age, after having rivalled the best generals of
that time in military reputation. He was the descendant of a noble family,
in the Palatinate, and his mother was an Englishwoman, daughter of Lord
Dudley. Being obliged to leave his country on account of the troubles
by which it was agitated, he commenced a soldier of fortune, and served
successively in the armies of Holland, England, France, Portugal, and
Brandenburg; he attained to the dignity of mareschal in France, grandee in
Portugal, generalissimo in Prussia, and duke in England. He professed the
Protestant religion; was courteous and humble in his deportment; cool,
penetrating, resolute, and sagacious, nor was his probity inferior to his
courage.

This battle also proved fatal to the barve Caillemote, who had followed
the Duke's fortunes, and commanded one of the Protestant regiments. After
having received a mortal wound, he was carried back through the river by
four soldiers, and, though almost in the agonies of death, he, with a
cheerful countenance, encouraged those who were crossing to do their duty,
exclaiming, "_A la gloire, mes enfants, à la gloire!_" ("To glory, my lads,
to glory!")

The third remarkable person who lost his life on this occasion was Walker,
the clergyman, who had so valiantly defended Londonderry against the whole
army of King James; he had been very graciously received by King William,
who gratified him with a reward of five thousand pounds and a promise of
further favor; but, his military genius still predominating, he attended
his royal patron in this battle, and, being shot, died in a few minutes.

The persons of distinction who fell on the other side were the Lords Dongan
and Carlingford; Sir Neile O'Neile and the Marquis of Hocquincourt. James,
himself, stood aloof during the action on the hill of Dunmore, surrounded
with some squadrons of horse, and seeing victory declare against him
retired to Dublin without having made the least effort to reassemble his
broken forces. Had he possessed either spirit or conduct his army might
have been rallied and reënforced from his garrisons, so as to be in a
condition to keep the field and even to act on the offensive; for his loss
was inconsiderable, and the victor did not attempt to molest his troops
in their retreat, an omission which has been charged to him as a flagrant
instance of misconduct. Indeed, through the whole of this engagement
William's personal courage was much more conspicuous than his military
skill.



%SALEM WITCHCRAFT TRIALS%


A.D. 1692

RICHARD HILDRETH


Among the people of Massachusetts during the century which saw the Pilgrims
seek religious liberty there, a delusion broke out which not only spread
horror through the community and caused suffering and disgrace even in
the most respectable families, but has baffled all later attempts at
explanation. The witchcraft madness, as manifested there and elsewhere
in the world, has remained alike the puzzle of history and the riddle of
psychology.

Historically, witchcraft is classed with other occult phenomena or
practices connected with supposed supernatural influences. The famous
trials and executions for witchcraft which took place in and near Salem,
Massachusetts, toward the end of the seventeenth century, owed their
special prominence to their peculiar localization and environment.
Otherwise they might have been regarded as nothing more than incidents of a
once general course in criminal procedure. Thousands in Europe had already
suffered similar condemnation, and the last recorded execution for
witchcraft in Great Britain did not occur till 1722. Even so late as 1805 a
woman was imprisoned for this "crime" in Scotland.

Hildreth's account skilfully condenses the essential matters relating to
this strange episode in Massachusetts history.

       *       *       *       *       *

The practice of magic, sorcery, and spells, in the reality of which all
ignorant communities have believed, had long been a criminal offence in
England. A statute of the thirty-third year of Henry VIII made them capital
felonies. Another statute of the first year of James I, more specific in
its terms, subjected to the same penalty all persons "invoking any evil
spirit, or consulting, covenanting with, entertaining, employing, feeding,
or rewarding any evil spirit, or taking up dead bodies from their graves to
be used in any witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment, or killing or
otherwise hurting any person by such infernal arts."

That second Solomon, before whom the illustrious Bacon bowed with so much
reverence, was himself a firm believer in witchcraft. He professed, indeed,
to be an adept in the art of detecting witches, an art which became the
subject of several learned treatises, one of them from James' own royal
pen. During the Commonwealth England had abounded with professional
witch-detectors, who travelled from county to county, and occasioned the
death of many unfortunate persons. The "Fundamentals" of Massachusetts
contained a capital law against witchcraft, fortified by that express
declaration of Scripture, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

Yet, among other evidences of departure from ancient landmarks, and of
the propagation even to New England of a spirit of doubt, were growing
suspicions as to the reality of that everyday supernaturalism which formed
so prominent a feature of the Puritan theology. The zeal of Increase Mather
against this rising incredulity had engaged him, while the old charter was
still in existence, to publish a book of _Remarkable Providences_, in which
were enumerated, among other things, all the supposed cases of witchcraft
which had hitherto occurred in New England, with arguments to prove their
reality.

What at that time had given the matter additional interest was the case of
a bewitched or haunted house at Newbury. An intelligent neighbor, who had
suggested that a mischievous grandson of the occupant might perhaps be at
the bottom of the mystery, was himself accused of witchcraft and narrowly
escaped. A witch, however, the credulous townspeople were resolved to find,
and they presently fixed upon the wife of the occupant as the culprit.
Seventeen persons testified to mishaps experienced in the course of
their lives, which they charitably chose to ascribe to the ill-will and
diabolical practices of this unfortunate old woman. On this evidence she
was found guilty by the jury; but the magistrates, more enlightened,
declined to order her execution. The deputies thereupon raised a loud
complaint at this delay of justice. But the firmness of Governor
Bradstreet, supported as he was by the moderate party, and the abrogation
of the charter which speedily followed, saved the woman's life.

This same struggle of opinion existed also in the mother-country, where
the rising sect of "freethinkers" began to deny and deride all diabolical
agencies. Nor was this view confined to professed freethinkers. The
latitudinarian party in the Church, a rapidly growing body, leaned
perceptibly the same way. The "serious ministers," on the other hand, led
by Richard Baxter, their acknowledged head, defended with zeal the reality
of witchcraft and the personality and agency of the devil, to deny which
they denounced as little short of atheism. They supported their opinions
by the authority of Sir Matthew Hale, lord chief justice of England,
as distinguished for piety as for knowledge of the law, under whose
instructions two alleged witches, at whose trials he had presided shortly
after the Restoration, had been found guilty and executed. The accounts
of those trials, published in England on occasion of this controversy and
republished at Boston, had tended to confirm the popular belief. The doubts
by which Mather had been alarmed were yet confined to a few thinking men.
Read with a forward and zealous faith, these stories did not fail to make a
deep impression on the popular imagination.

While Andros was still governor, shortly after Increase Mather's departure
for England, four young children, members of a pious family in Boston, the
eldest a girl of thirteen, the youngest a boy not five, had begun to behave
in a singular manner, barking like dogs, purring like cats, seeming to
become deaf, blind, or dumb, having their limbs strangely distorted,
complaining that they were pinched, pricked, pulled, or cut--acting out, in
fact, the effects of witchcraft, according to the current notions of it
and the descriptions in the books above referred to. The terrified
father called in Dr. Oakes, a zealous leader of the ultra-theocratic
party--presently sent to England as joint agent with Mather--who gave
his opinion that the children were bewitched. The oldest girl had lately
received a bitter scolding from an old Irish indented servant, whose
daughter she had accused of theft.

This same old woman, from indications no doubt given by the children,
was soon fixed upon as being the witch. The four ministers of Boston and
another from Charlestown having kept a day of fasting and prayer at the
troubled house, the youngest child was relieved. But the others, more
persevering and more artful, continuing as before, the old woman was
presently arrested and charged with bewitching them. She had for a long
time been reputed a witch, and she even seems to have flattered herself
that she was one. Indeed, her answers were so "senseless" that the
magistrates referred it to the doctors to say if she were not "crazed in
her intellects." On their report of her sanity, the old woman was tried,
found guilty, and executed.

Though Increase Mather was absent on this interesting occasion, he had a
zealous representative in his son, Cotton Mather, by the mother's side
grandson of the "Great Cotton," a young minister of twenty-five, a prodigy
of learning, eloquence, and piety, recently settled as colleague with his
father over Boston North Church. Cotton Mather had an extraordinary memory,
stuffed with all sorts of learning. His application was equal to that of a
German professor. His lively imagination, trained in the school of Puritan
theology, and nourished on the traditionary legends of New England, of
which he was a voracious and indiscriminate collector, was still further
stimulated by fasts, vigils, prayers, and meditations almost equal to
those of any Catholic saint. Of a temperament ambitious and active, he was
inflamed with a great desire of "doing good." Fully conscious of all his
gifts, and not a little vain of them, like the Jesuit missionaries in
Canada, his contemporaries, he believed himself to be often, during his
devotional exercises, in direct and personal communication with the Deity.

In every piece of good-fortune he saw a special answer to his prayers; in
every mortification or calamity, the special personal malice of the devil
and his agents. Yet both himself and his father were occasionally troubled
with "temptations to atheism," doubts which they did not hesitate to
ascribe to diabolical influence. The secret consciousness of these doubts
of their own was perhaps one source of their great impatience at the doubts
of others.

Cotton Mather had taken a very active part in the late case of witchcraft;
and, that he might study the operations of diabolical agency at his
leisure, and thus be furnished with evidence and arguments to establish
its reality, he took the eldest of the bewitched children home to his own
house. His eagerness to believe invited imposture. His excessive vanity and
strong prejudices made him easy game. Adroit and artful beyond her years,
the girl fooled him to the top of his bent. His ready pen was soon
furnished with materials for "a story all made up of wonders," which, with
some other matters of the same sort, and a sermon preached on the occasion,
he presently published, under the title of _Memorable Providences relating
to Witchcrafts and Possessions_, with a preface in which he warned all
"Sadducees" that he should regard their doubts for the future as a personal
insult.

Cotton Mather was not the only dupe. "The old heresy of the sensual
Sadducees, denying the being of angels either good or evil," says the
recommendatory preface to this book, signed by the other four ministers of
Boston, "died not with them, nor will it, whilst men, abandoning both faith
and reason, count it their wisdom to credit nothing but what they see or
feel. How much this fond opinion hath gotten ground in this debauched age
is awfully observable; and what a dangerous stroke it gives to settle men
in atheism is not hard to discern. God is therefore pleased, besides the
witness borne to this truth in Sacred Writ, to suffer devils sometimes to
do such things in the world as shall stop the mouths of gainsayers, and
extort a confession from them."

They add their testimony to the truth of Mather's statements, which they
commend as furnishing "clear information" that there is "both a God and a
devil, and witchcraft." The book was presently republished in London, with
a preface by Baxter, who pronounced the girl's case so "convincing" that
"he must be a very obdurate Sadducee who would not believe it."

Mather's sermon, prefixed to this narrative, is a curious specimen of
fanatical declamation. "Witchcraft," he exclaims, "is a renouncing of God,
and the advancement of a filthy devil into the throne of the Most High.
Witchcraft is a renouncing of Christ, and preferring the communion of a
loathsome, lying devil before all the salvation of the Lord Redeemer.
Witchcraft is a siding with hell against heaven and earth, and therefore a
witch is not to be endured in either of them. 'Tis a capital crime, and is
to be prosecuted as a species of devilism that would not only deprive God
and Christ of all his honor, but also plunder man of all his comfort.
Nothing too vile can be said of, nothing too hard can be done to, such a
horrible iniquity as witchcraft is!"

Such declamations from such a source, giving voice and authority to the
popular superstition, prepared the way for the tragedy that followed.
The suggestion, however, that Cotton Mather, for purposes of his own,
deliberately got up this witchcraft delusion, and forced it upon a doubtful
and hesitating people, is utterly absurd. And so is another suggestion, a
striking exhibition of partisan extravagance, that because the case of the
four Boston children happened during the government of Andros, therefore
the responsibility of that affair rests on him, and not on the people of
Massachusetts. The Irish woman was tried under a Massachusetts law, and
convicted by a Massachusetts jury; and, had Andros interfered to save her
life, to the other charges against him would doubtless have been added that
of friendship for witches.

Cotton Mather seems to have acted, in a degree, the part of a demagogue.
Yet he is not to be classed with those tricky and dishonest men, so common
in our times, who play upon popular prejudices which they do not share, in
the expectation of being elevated to honors and office. Mather's position,
convictions, and temperament alike called him to serve on this occasion as
the organ, exponent, and stimulator of the popular faith.

The bewitched girl, as she ceased to be an object of popular attention,
seems to have returned to her former behavior. But the seed had been sown
on fruitful ground. After an interval of nearly four years, three young
girls in the family of Parris, minister of Salem village, now Danvers,
began to exhibit similar pranks. As in the Boston case, a physician
pronounced them bewitched, and Tituba, an old Indian woman, the servant of
Parris, who undertook, by some vulgar rites, to discover the witch, was
rewarded by the girls with the accusation of being herself the cause of
their sufferings. The neighboring ministers assembled at the house of
Parris for fasting and prayer. The village fasted; and presently a general
fast was ordered throughout the colony. The "bewitched children," thus
rendered objects of universal sympathy and attention, did not long want
imitators. Several other girls and two or three women of the neighborhood
began to be afflicted in the same way, as did also John, the Indian husband
of Tituba, warned, it would seem, by the fate of his wife.

Parris took a very active part in discovering the witches; so did Noyes,
minister of Salem, described as "a learned, a charitable, and a good man."
A town committee was soon formed for the detection of the witches. Two
of the magistrates, resident at Salem, entered with great zeal into
the matter. The accusations, confined at first to Tituba and two other
friendless women, one crazed, the other bedrid, presently included two
female members of Parris' church, in which, as in so many other churches,
there had been some sharp dissensions. The next Sunday after this
accusation Parris preached from the verse, "Have I not chosen you twelve,
and one is a devil?" At the announcement of this text the sister of one of
the accused women rose and left the meeting-house. She, too, was accused
immediately after, and the same fate soon overtook all who showed the least
disposition to resist the prevailing delusion.

The matter had now assumed so much importance that the Deputy-governor--for
the provisional government was still in operation--proceeded to
Salem village, with five other magistrates, and held a court in the
meeting-house. A great crowd was present. Parris acted at once as clerk
and accuser, producing the witnesses, and taking down the testimony. The
accused were held with their arms extended and hands open, lest by the
least motion of their fingers they might inflict torments on their victims,
who sometimes affected to be struck dumb, and at others to be knocked down
by the mere glance of an eye. They were haunted, they said, by the spectres
of the accused, who tendered them a book, and solicited them to subscribe a
league with the devil; and when they refused, would bite, pinch, scratch,
choke, burn, twist, prick, pull, and otherwise torment them. At the mere
sight of the accused brought into court, "the afflicted" would seem to be
seized with a fit of these torments, from which, however, they experienced
instant relief when the accused were compelled to touch them--infallible
proof to the minds of the gaping assembly that these apparent sufferings
were real and the accusations true. The theory was that the touch conveyed
back into the witch the malignant humors shot forth from her eyes; and
learned references were even made to Descartes, of whose new philosophy
some rumors had reached New England, in support of this theory.

In the examinations at Salem village meeting-house some very extraordinary
scenes occurred. "Look there!" cried one of the afflicted; "there is Goody
Procter on the beam!" This Goody Procter's husband, notwithstanding the
accusation against her, still took her side, and had attended her to the
court; in consequence of which act of fidelity some of "the afflicted"
began now to cry out that he too was a wizard. At the exclamation above
cited, "many, if not all, the bewitched had grievous fits."

Question by the Court: "Ann Putnam, who hurts you?"

Answer: "Goodman Procter, and his wife, too."

Then some of the afflicted cry out, "There is Procter going to take up Mrs.
Pope's feet!" and "immediately her feet are taken up."

Question by the Court: "What do you say, Goodman Procter, to these things?"

Answer: "I know not: I am innocent."

Abigail Williams, another of the afflicted, cries out, "There is Goodman
Procter going to Mrs. Pope!" and "immediately said Pope falls into a fit."

A magistrate to Procter: "You see the devil will deceive you; the
children," so all the afflicted were called, "could see what you were going
to do before the woman was hurt. I would advise you to repentance, for you
see the devil is bringing you out."

Abigail Williams cries out again, "There is Goodman Procter going to hurt
Goody Bibber!" and "immediately Goody Bibber falls into a fit." Abigail
Williams and Ann Putnam both "made offer to strike at Elizabeth Procter;
but when Abigail's hand came near, it opened, whereas it was made up into
a fist before, and came down exceedingly lightly as it drew near to said
Procter, and at length, with open and extended fingers, touched Procter's
hood very lightly; and immediately Abigail cries out, 'My fingers, my
fingers, my fingers burn!' and Ann Putnam takes on most grievously of her
head, and sinks down."

Such was the evidence upon which people were believed to be witches, and
committed to prison to be tried for their lives! Yet, let us not hurry too
much to triumph over the past. In these days of animal magnetism, have we
not ourselves seen imposture as gross, and even in respectable quarters
a headlong credulity just as precipitate? We must consider also that the
judgments of our ancestors were disturbed, not only by wonder, but by fear.

Encouraged by the ready belief of the magistrates and the public, "the
afflicted" went on enlarging the circle of their accusations, which
presently seemed to derive fresh corroboration from the confessions of some
of the accused. Tituba had been flogged into a confession; others yielded
to a pressure more stringent than blows. Weak women, astonished at the
charges and contortions of their accusers, assured that they were witches
beyond all doubt, and urged to confess as the only possible chance for
their lives, were easily prevailed upon to repeat any tales put into their
mouths: their journeys through the air on broomsticks to attend witch
sacraments--a sort of travesty on the Christian ordinance--at which the
devil appeared in the shape of a "small black man"; their signing the
devil's book, renouncing their former baptism, and being baptized anew
by the devil, who "dipped" them in "Wenham Pond," after the Anabaptist
fashion.

Called upon to tell who were present at these sacraments, the confessing
witches wound up with new accusations; and by the time Phipps arrived in
the colony, near a hundred persons were already in prison. The mischief was
not limited to Salem. An idea had been taken up that the bewitched could
explain the causes of sickness; and one of them, carried to Andover for
that purpose, had accused many persons of witchcraft, and thrown the whole
village into the greatest commotion. Some persons also had been accused in
Boston and other towns.

It was one of Governor Phipps' first official acts to order all the
prisoners into irons. This restraint upon their motions might impede them,
it was hoped, in tormenting the afflicted. Without waiting for the meeting
of the General Court, to whom that authority properly belonged, Phipps
hastened, by advice of his counsel, to organize a special court for the
trial of the witches. Stoughton, the Lieutenant-governor, was appointed
president; but his cold and hard temper, his theological education,
and unyielding bigotry were ill qualifications for such an office. His
associates, six in number, were chiefly Boston men, possessing a high
reputation for wisdom and piety, among them Richards, the late agent,
Wait Winthrop, brother of Fitz-John Winthrop, and grandson of the former
Governor, and Samuel Sewell, the two latter subsequently, in turn,
chief-justices of the province.

The new court, thus organized, proceeded to Salem, and commenced operations
by the trial of an old woman who had long enjoyed the reputation of being a
witch. Besides "spectral evidence," that is, the tales of the afflicted, a
jury of women, appointed to make an examination, found upon her a wart or
excrescence, adjudged to be "a devil's teat." A number of old stories were
also raked up of dead hens and foundered cattle and carts upset, ascribed
by the neighbors to her incantations. On this evidence she was brought in
guilty, and hanged a few days after, when the court took an adjournment to
the end of the month.

The first General Court under the new charter met meanwhile, and Increase
Mather, who had returned in company with Phipps, gave an account of his
agency. From a House not well pleased with the loss of the old charter he
obtained a reluctant vote of thanks, but he received no compensation for
four years' expenses, which had pressed very heavily upon his narrow
income. After passing a temporary act for continuing in force all the old
laws, among others the capital law against witchcraft, an adjournment was
had, without any objection or even reference, so far as appears, to the
special court for the trial of the witches, which surely would have raised
a great outcry had it been established for any unpopular purpose.

According to a favorite practice of the old Government, now put in use
for the last time, Phipps requested the advice of the elders as to the
proceedings against the witches. The reply, drawn up by the hand of Cotton
Mather, acknowledges with thankfulness "the success which the merciful God
has given to the sedulous and assiduous endeavors of our honorable rulers
to defeat the abominable witchcrafts which have been committed in the
country, humbly praying that the discovery of those mysterious and
mischievous wickednesses may be perfected." It advises, however, "critical
and exquisite caution" in relying too much on "the devil's authority," that
is, on spectral evidence, or "apparent changes wrought in the afflicted
by the presence of the accused"; neither of which, in the opinion of the
ministers, could be trusted as infallible proof. Yet it was almost entirely
on this sort of evidence that all the subsequent convictions were had.
Stoughton, unfortunately, had espoused the opinion--certainly a plausible
one--that it was impossible for the devil to assume the appearance of an
innocent man, or for persons not witches to be spectrally seen at witches'
meetings; and some of the confessing witches were prompt to flatter the
chief justice's vanity by confirming a doctrine so apt for their purposes.

At the second session of the special court five women were tried and
convicted. The others were easily disposed of; but in the case of Rebecca
Nurse, one of Parris' church-members, a woman hitherto of unimpeachable
character, the jury at first gave a verdict of acquittal. At the
announcement of this verdict "the afflicted" raised a great clamor. The
"honored Court" called the jury's attention to an exclamation of the
prisoner during the trial, expressive of surprise at seeing among the
witnesses two of her late fellow-prisoners: "Why do these testify against
me? They used to come among us!" These two witnesses had turned confessors,
and these words were construed by the court as confirming their testimony
of having met the prisoner at witches' meetings. The unhappy woman,
partially deaf, listened to this colloquy in silence. Thus pressed by the
Court, and hearing no reply from the prisoner, the jury changed their
verdict and pronounced her guilty. The explanations subsequently offered in
her behalf were disregarded. The Governor, indeed, granted a reprieve, but
the Salem committee procured its recall, and the unhappy woman, taken in
chains to the meeting-house, was solemnly excommunicated, and presently
hanged with the others.

At the third session of the court six prisoners were tried and convicted,
all of whom were presently hanged except Elizabeth Procter, whose pregnancy
was pleaded in delay. Her true and faithful husband, in spite of a letter
to the Boston ministers, denouncing the falsehood of the witnesses,
complaining that confessions had been extorted by torture, and begging for
a trial at Boston or before other judges, was found guilty, and suffered
with the rest. Another of this unfortunate company was John Willard,
employed as an officer to arrest the accused, but whose imprudent
expression of some doubts on the subject had caused him to be accused also.
He had fled, but was pursued and taken, and was now tried and executed. His
behavior, and that of Procter, at the place of execution, made, however, a
deep impression on many minds.

A still more remarkable case was that of George Burroughs, a minister whom
the incursions of the Eastern Indians had lately driven from Saco back to
Salem village, where he had formerly preached, and where he now found among
his former parishioners enemies more implacable even than the Indians. It
was the misfortune of Burroughs to have many enemies, in part, perhaps,
by his own fault. Encouragement was thus found to accuse him. Some of
the witnesses had seen him at witches' meetings; others had seen the
apparitions of his dead wives, which accused him of cruelty. These
witnesses, with great symptoms of horror and alarm, even pretended to see
these dead wives again appearing to them in open court. Though small of
size, Burroughs was remarkably strong, instances of which were given
in proof that the devil helped him. Stoughton treated him with cruel
insolence, and did his best to confuse and confound him.

What insured his condemnation was a paper he handed to the jury, an extract
from some author, denying the possibility of witchcraft. Burroughs' speech
from the gallows affected many, especially the fluent fervency of his
prayers, concluding with the Lord's Prayer, which no witch, it was thought,
could repeat correctly. Several, indeed, had been already detected by some
slight error or mispronunciation in attempting it. The impression, however,
which Burroughs might have produced was neutralized by Cotton Mather, who
appeared on horseback among the crowd, and took occasion to remind the
people that Burroughs, though a preacher, was no "ordained" minister, and
that the devil would sometimes assume even the garb of an angel of light.

At a fourth session of the court six women were tried and found guilty. At
another session shortly after, eight women and one man were convicted, all
of whom received sentence of death. An old man of eighty, who refused to
plead, was pressed to death--a barbarous infliction prescribed by the
common law for such cases.

Ever since the trials began, it had been evident that confession was the
only avenue to safety. Several of those now found guilty confessed and were
reprieved; but Samuel Woodwell, having retracted his confession, along with
seven others who persisted in their innocence, was sent to execution. "The
afflicted" numbered by this time about fifty; fifty-five had confessed
themselves witches and turned accusers; twenty persons had already suffered
death; eight more were under sentence; the jails were full of prisoners,
and new accusations were added every day. Such was the state of things when
the court adjourned to the first Monday in November.

Cotton Mather employed this interval in preparing his _Wonders of the
Invisible World_, containing an exulting account of the late trials, giving
full credit to the statements of the afflicted and the confessors,
and vaunting the good effects of the late executions in "the strange
deliverance of some that had lain for many years in a most sad condition,
under they knew not what evil hand."

While the witch trials were going on, the Governor had hastened to
Pemaquid, and in accordance with instructions brought with him from
England, though at an expense to the province which caused loud complaints,
had built there a strong stone fort. Colonel Church had been employed,
in the mean time, with four hundred men, in scouring the shores of the
Penobscot and the banks of the Kennebec.

Notwithstanding some slight cautions about trusting too much to spectral
evidence, Mather's book, which professed to be published at the special
request of the Governor, was evidently intended to stimulate to further
proceedings. But, before its publication, the reign of terror had already
reached such a height as to commence working its own cure. The accusers,
grown bold with success, had begun to implicate persons whose character and
condition had seemed to place them beyond the possibility of assault. Even
"the generation of the children of God" were in danger. One of the Andover
ministers had been implicated; but two of the confessing witches came to
his rescue by declaring that they had surreptitiously carried his shape to
a witches' meeting, in order to create a belief that he was there. Hale,
minister of Beverly, had been very active against the witches; but when his
own wife was charged, he began to hesitate. A son of Governor Bradstreet,
a magistrate of Andover, having refused to issue any more warrants, was
himself accused, and his brother soon after, on the charge of bewitching a
dog. Both were obliged to fly for their lives. Several prisoners, by the
favor of friends, escaped to Rhode Island, but, finding themselves
in danger there, fled to New York, where Governor Fletcher gave them
protection. Their property was seized as forfeited by their flight. Lady
Phipps, applied to in her husband's absence on behalf of an unfortunate
prisoner, issued a warrant to the jailer in her own name, and had thus,
rather irregularly, procured his discharge. Some of the accusers, it is
said, began to throw out insinuations even against her.

The extraordinary proceedings on the commitments and trials; the
determination of the magistrates to overlook the most obvious falsehoods
and contradictions on the part of the afflicted and the confessors, under
pretence that the devil took away their memories and imposed upon their
brain, while yet reliance was placed on their testimony to convict the
accused; the partiality exhibited in omitting to take any notice of certain
accusations; the violent means employed to obtain confessions, amounting
sometimes to positive torture; the total disregard of retractions made
voluntarily, and even at the hazard of life--all these circumstances had
impressed the attention of the more rational part of the community; and, in
this crisis of danger and alarm, the meeting of the General Court was most
anxiously awaited.

When that body assembled, a remonstrance came in from Andover against the
condemnation of persons of good fame on the testimony of children and
others "under diabolical influences." What action was taken on this
remonstrance does not appear. The court was chiefly occupied in the passage
of a number of acts, embodying some of the chief points of the old civil
and criminal laws of the colony. The capital punishment of witchcraft was
specially provided for in the very terms of the English act of Parliament.
Heresy and blasphemy were also continued as capital offences. By the
organization of the Superior Court under the charter, the special
commission for the trial of witches was superseded. But of this Superior
Court Stoughton was appointed chief justice, and three of his four
colleagues had sat with him in the special court.

There is no evidence that these judges had undergone any change of opinion;
but when the new court proceeded to hold a special term at Salem for the
continuation of the witch trials a decided alteration in public feeling
became apparent. Six women of Andover renounced their confessions, and sent
in a memorial to that effect. Of fifty-six indictments laid before the
grand jury, only twenty-six were returned true bills. Of the persons tried,
three only were found guilty. Several others were acquitted, the first
instances of the sort since the trials began.

The court then proceeded to Charlestown, where many were in prison on the
same charge. The case of a woman who for twenty or thirty years had been
reputed a witch, was selected for trial. Many witnesses testified against
her; but the spectral evidence had fallen into total discredit, and was not
used. Though as strong a case was made out as any at Salem, the woman was
acquitted, with her daughter, granddaughter, and several others. News
presently came of a reprieve for those under sentence of death at Salem, at
which Stoughton was so enraged that he left the bench, exclaiming, "Who it
is that obstructs the course of justice I know not; the Lord be merciful to
the country!" nor did he again take his seat during that term.

At the first session of the Superior Court at Boston the grand jury, though
sent out to reconsider the matter, refused to find a bill even against a
confessing witch.

The idea was already prevalent that some great mistakes had been committed
at Salem. The reality of witchcraft was still insisted upon as zealously as
ever, but the impression was strong that the devil had used "the afflicted"
as his instruments to occasion the shedding of innocent blood. On behalf
of the ministers, Increase Mather came out with his _Cases of Conscience
concerning Witchcraft_, in which, while he argued with great learning that
spectral evidence was not infallible, and that the devil might assume the
shape of an innocent man, he yet strenuously maintained as sufficient proof
confession, or "the speaking such words or the doing such things as none
but such as have familiarity with the devil ever did or can do." As to such
as falsely confessed themselves witches, and were hanged in consequence,
Mather thought that was no more than they deserved.

King William's veto on the witchcraft act prevented any further trials;
and presently, by Phipps' order, all the prisoners were discharged. To a
similar veto Massachusetts owes it that heresy and blasphemy ceased to
appear as capital crimes on her statute-book.

The Mathers gave still further proof of faith unshaken by discovering an
afflicted damsel in Boston, whom they visited and prayed with, and of whose
case Cotton Mather wrote an account circulated in manuscript. This damsel,
however, had the discretion to accuse nobody, the spectres that beset her
being all veiled. Reason and common-sense at last found an advocate in
Robert Calef, a citizen of Boston, sneered at by Cotton Mather as "a weaver
who pretended to be a merchant." And afterward, when he grew more angry, as
"a coal sent from hell" to blacken his character--a man, however, of sound
intelligence and courageous spirit. Calef wrote an account, also handed
about in manuscript, of what had been said and done during a visitation
of the Mathers to this afflicted damsel, an exposure of her imposture
and their credulity, which so nettled Cotton Mather that he commenced a
prosecution for slander against Calef, which, however, he soon saw reason
to drop.

Calef then addressed a series of letters to Mather and the other Boston
ministers, in which he denied and ridiculed the reality of any such
compacts with the devil as were commonly believed in under the name of
witchcraft. The witchcraft spoken of in the Bible meant no more, he
maintained, than "hatred or opposition to the word and worship of God, and
seeking to seduce therefrom by some sign"--a definition which he had found
in some English writer on the subject, and which he fortified by divers
texts.

It was, perhaps, to furnish materials for a reply to Calef that a circular
from Harvard College, signed by Increase Mather as president, and by all
the neighboring ministers as fellows, invited reports of "apparitions,
possessions, enchantments, and all extraordinary things, wherein the
existence and agency of the invisible world is more sensibly demonstrated,"
to be used "as some fit assembly of ministers might direct." But the
"invisible world" was fast ceasing to be visible, and Cotton Mather laments
that in ten years scarce five returns were received to this circular.

Yet the idea of some supernatural visitation at Salem was but very slowly
relinquished, being still persisted in even by those penitent actors in the
scene who confessed and lamented their own delusion and blood-guiltiness.
Such were Sewell, one of the judges; Noyes, one of the most active
prosecutors; and several of the jurymen who had sat on the trials. The
witnesses upon whose testimony so many innocent persons had suffered were
never called to any account. When Calef's letters were presently published
in London, together with his account of the supposed witchcraft, the book
was burned in the college yard at Cambridge by order of Increase Mather.
The members of the Boston North Church came out also with a pamphlet in
defence of their pastors. Hale, minister of Beverly, in his _Modest Inquiry
into the Nature of Witchcraft_, and Cotton Mather, in his _Magnalia_,
though they admit there had been "a going too far" in the affair at Salem,
are yet still as strenuous as ever for the reality of witchcraft.

Nor were they without support from abroad. Dr. Watts, then one of the chief
leaders of the English Dissenters, wrote to Cotton Mather, "I am persuaded
there was much agency of the devil in those affairs, and perhaps there
were some real witches, too." Twenty years elapsed before the heirs of the
victims, and those who had been obliged to fly for their lives, obtained
some partial indemnity for their pecuniary losses. Stoughton and Cotton
Mather, though they never expressed the least regret or contrition for
their part in the affair, still maintained their places in the public
estimation. Just as the trials were concluded, Stoughton, though he held
the King's commission as lieutenant-governor, was chosen a counsellor--a
mark of confidence which the theocratic majority did not choose to extend
to several of the moderate party named in the original appointment--and
to this post he was annually reëlected as long as he lived; while Moody,
because he had favored the escape of some of the accused, found it
necessary to resign his pastorship of the First Church of Boston, and to
return again to Portsmouth.

Yet we need less wonder at the pertinacity with which this delusion was
adhered to, when we find Addison arguing for the reality of witchcraft at
the same time that he refuses to believe in any modern instance of it; and
even Blackstone, half a century after, gravely declaring that "to deny the
possibility, nay, actual existence of witchcraft and sorcery, is at once
flatly to contradict the revealed word of God in various passages both of
the Old and New Testament."



%ESTABLISHMENT OF THE BANK OF ENGLAND%

A.D. 1694

JOHN FRANCIS


Not only did the establishment of the Bank of England meet the demands of
public exigency at the time; it also created an institution which was
to become vitally important in the expanding life of the nation. This
custodian of the public money and manager of the public debt of Great
Britain is now the largest bank in the world. The only other financial
institution that could show an equal record of long stability was the Bank
of Amsterdam, which existed from 1609 to 1814.

The national debt of England began in 1693, when William III, in order to
carry on the war against France, resorted to a system of loans. This debt,
however, was not intended to be permanent; but when the Bank of England was
established, the contracting of a permanent debt began. Its advantages
and disadvantages to England have been discussed by many theorists and
financial authorities. But of the extraordinary service rendered to Great
Britain by the far-seeing Scotchman, William Paterson, originator of the
plan of the Bank of England, there is no question, although, as Francis
shows, the project at first met with opposition from many quarters.

The important position assumed by England, toward the middle of the
seventeenth century, renders the absence of a national bank somewhat
surprising. Under the sagacious government of Cromwell the nation had
increased in commercial and political greatness; and although several
projects were issued for banks, one of which was to have branches in every
important town throughout the country, yet, a necessity for their formation
not being absolutely felt, the proposals were dismissed. During the
Protectorate, however, Parliament, taking into consideration the rate of
interest, which was higher in England than abroad, and that the trade was
thereby rendered comparatively disadvantageous to the English merchant,
reduced the legal rate from 8 to 6 per cent., and this measure, although it
had been carried by the Parliament of Cromwell, almost every act of which
proved odious in the eyes of the Stuarts, was nevertheless confirmed by
the legislature of Charles II. In 1546 the payment of interest had been
rendered legal, and fixed at 10 per cent. In 1624 the rate had been reduced
to 8 per cent.; and with the advance of commercial prosperity it had been
found advisable to lower it still further.

There were many reasons for the establishment of a national bank. It was
necessary for the sake of a secure paper currency. It was required for the
support of the national credit. It was desirable as a method of reducing
the rate of interest paid by the state; a rate so high that, according to
Anderson, men were induced to take their money out of trade, for the sake
of securing it; an operation "big with mischief." The truth is that the
times required it. The theorist may prove to demonstration the perfection
of his theory; the speculator may show the certainty of its success: but
unless it be a necessity called for by the onward progress of society, it
must eventually fall to the ground.

That the want of such an establishment was felt is certain. But while such
firms as Childs--the books of whom go back to the year 1620, and refer to
prior documents; Hoares, dating from 1680; and Snows, from 1685--were able
to assist the public demand, although at the exorbitant interest of the
period, it does not occasion so much surprise that the attempt made to meet
the increasing requirements of trade proved insufficient. In 1678, sixteen
years previous to the foundation of the Bank of England, "proposals for a
large model of a bank" were published; and, in 1683 a "national bank of
credit" was brought forward. In a rare pamphlet entitled _Bank Credit; or
the usefullness and security of The Bank of Credit, examined in a dialogue
between a Country Gentleman and a London Merchant_, this idea is warmly
defended. It was, however, simply to have one of credit, nor was it
proposed to form a bank of deposit; although, by the following remark of
the "Country Gentleman," it is evident that such an establishment on a
secure scale was desirable. He says:

"Could they not without damage to themselves have secured the running
cash of the nobility, gentry, merchants, and the traders of the city and
kingdom, from all hazard, which would have been a great benefit to all
concerned, who know not where to deposit their cash securely?"

After much trouble this bank of credit was established at Devonshire House,
in Bishopsgate Street; its object, as we have related, being principally
to advance money to tradesmen and manufacturers on the security of goods.
Three-fourths of the value was lent on these, and bills for their amount
given to the depositor. In order to render them current, an appointed
number of persons in each trade was formed into a society to regulate
commercial concerns. Any individual possessed of such bills might therefore
obtain from this company goods or merchandise with as much ease as if he
offered current coin.

The bank of credit does not appear to have flourished. The machinery was
too complicated, and the risk of depreciation and the value of manufactures
too great. It was next to impossible for such a company to exist after the
Bank of England came with its low discount and free accommodations.

The wild spirit of speculation--that spirit which at various periods has
created fearful crises in the commercial world--commenced in 1694. The
fever which from time to time has flushed the mind of the moneyed man, and
given a fierce excitement to the almost penniless adventurer, was then and
in the following year in full operation. The great South Sea scheme in 1720
is ordinarily considered the earliest display of this reckless spirit.
But a quarter of a century before, equal ingenuity and equal villany were
exercised. Obscure men, whose sole capital was their enormous impudence,
invented similar schemes, promised similar advantages, and used similar
arts to entice the capitalists, which were employed with so much success at
a later period.

The want of a great banking association was sure to be made a pretext. Two
"land banks," and a "London bank" to be managed by the magistrates, with
several other proposals, were therefore put promisingly forward. One of
these was for another "bank of credit"; and a pamphlet published in 1694,
under the title of _England's Glory_, will give some idea of its nature:

"If a person desires money to be returned at Coventry or York he pays it
at the office in London, and receives a bill of credit after their form
written upon marble paper, indenturewise, or on other as may be contrived
to prevent counterfeiting." It was also proposed that the Government should
share the profits; but neither of the projects was carried out.

The people neglected their calling. The legitimate desire of money grew
into a fierce and fatal spirit of avarice. The arts so common at a later
day were had recourse to. Project begat project, copper was to be turned
into brass. Fortunes were to be realized by lotteries. The sea was to yield
the treasures it had engulfed. Pearl-fisheries were to pay impossible
percentages. "Lottery on lottery," says a writer of the day, "engine on
engine, multiplied wonderfully. If any person got considerably by a happy
and useful invention, others followed in spite of the patent, and published
printed proposals, filling the daily newspapers therewith, thus going on to
jostle one another, and abuse the credulity of the people."

Amid the many delusive and impracticable schemes were two important
projects which have conferred great benefits on the English people. The
first of these was the New River Company, the conception of Sir Hugh
Middleton; the second was the corporation of the Bank of England. Nature
and the great nations of antiquity suggested the former; the force and
pressure of the times demanded the latter. It is from such demands that our
chief institutions arise. By precept we may be taught their propriety; by
example we may see their advantages. But until the necessity is personally
felt they are sure to be neglected; and men wonder at their want of
prescience and upbraid their shortsightedness when, with a sudden and
sometimes startling success, the proposal they have slighted arises through
the energy of another.

William Paterson, one of those men whose capacity is measured by failure or
success, was the originator of the new bank; and it is perhaps unfortunate
for his fame that no biography exists of this remarkable person. As
the projector of the present Bank of Scotland, as the very soul of the
celebrated Darien Company, and as the founder of the Bank of England, he
deserves notice. A speculator as well as an adventurous man, he proved his
belief in the practicability of the Darien scheme by accompanying that
unfortunate expedition; and the formation of the Bank of England was the
object of his desires and the subject of his thoughts for a long time
previous to its establishment.

From that political change which had been so justly termed the "great
revolution," to the establishment of the Bank of England, the new
Government had been in constant difficulties; and the ministerial mode of
procuring money was degrading to a great people. The duties in support of
the war waged for liberty and Protestantism were required before they
were levied. The city corporation was usually applied to for an advance;
interest which varied probably according to the necessity of the borrower
rather than to the real value of cash, was paid for the accommodation. The
officers of the city went round in their turn to the separate wards, and
borrowed in smaller amounts the money they had advanced to the state.
Interest and premiums were thus often paid to the extent of 25 and even 30
per cent., in proportion to the exigency of the case, and the trader found
his pocket filled at the expense of the public. Mr. Paterson gives a
graphic description:

"The erection of this famous bank not only relieved the ministerial
managers from their frequent processions into the city, for borrowing of
money on the best and nearest public securities, at 10 or 12 per cent. per
annum, but likewise gave life and currency to double or treble the value
of its capital in other branches of the public credit, and so, under God,
became the principal means of the success of the campaign in 1695; as,
particularly, in reducing the important fortress of Namur, the first
material step toward the peace concluded in 1679."

To remedy this evil the Bank of England was projected; and after much
labor, William Paterson, aided by Mr. Michael Godfrey, procured from
Government a consideration of the proposal. The King was abroad when the
scheme was laid before the council, but the Queen occupied his place. Here
considerable opposition occurred. Paterson found it more difficult to
procure consent than he anticipated, and all those who feared an invasion
of their interests united to stop its progress. The goldsmith foresaw the
destruction of his monopoly, and he opposed it from self-interest. The Tory
foresaw an easier mode of gaining money for the government he abhorred,
with a firmer hold on the people for the monarch he despised, and his
antagonism bore all the energy of political partisanship.

The usurer foresaw the destruction of his oppressive extortion, and he
resisted it with the vigor of his craft. The rich man foresaw his profits
diminished on government contracts, and he vehemently and virtuously
opposed it on all public principles. Loud therefore were the outcries and
great the exertions of all parties when the bill was first introduced
to the House of Commons. But outcries are vain and exertions futile in
opposition to a dominant and powerful party. A majority had been secured
for the measure; and they who opposed its progress covered their defeat
with vehement denunciations and vague prophecies. The prophets are in
their graves, and their predictions only survive in the history of that
establishment the downfall of which they proclaimed.

"The scheme of a national bank," says Smollett, "had been recommended to
the ministry for the credit and security of the Government and the increase
of trade and circulation. William Paterson was author of that which was
carried into execution. When it was properly digested in the cabinet, and
a majority in Parliament secured, it was introduced into the House of
Commons. The supporters said it would rescue the nation out of the hands
of extortioners; lower interest; raise the value of land; revive public
credit; extend circulation; improve commerce; facilitate the annual
supplies; and connect the people more closely with Government. The project
was violently opposed by a strong party, who affirmed that it would become
a monopoly, and engross the whole of the kingdom; that it might be employed
to the worst purposes of arbitrary power; that it would weaken commerce
by tempting people to withdraw their money from trade; that brokers and
jobbers would prey on their fellow-creatures; encourage fraud and gambling;
and corrupt the morals of the nation."

Previous governments had raised money with comparative ease because they
were legitimate. That of William was felt to be precarious. It was feared
by the money-lender that a similar convulsion to the one which had borne
him so easily to the throne of a great nation might waft him back to the
shores of that Holland he so dearly loved. Thus the very circumstances
which made supplies necessary also made them scarce.

In addition to these things his person was unpopular. His phlegmatic Dutch
habits contrasted unfavorably with those of the graceful Stuarts,
whose evil qualities were forgotten in the remembrance of their showy
characteristics. Neither his Dutch followers nor his Dutch manners were
regarded with favor; and had it not been for his eminently kingly capacity,
these things would have proved as dangerous to the throne as they tended to
make the sovereign unpopular. In a pamphlet published a few years after the
establishment of the new corporation is the following vivid picture of this
monarch's government:

"In spite of the most glorious Prince and most vigilant General the world
has ever seen, yet the enemy gained upon us every year; the funds were
run down, the credit jobbed away in Change Alley, the King and his troops
devoured by mechanics, and sold to usury, tallies lay bundled up like Bath
fagots in the hands of brokers and stock-jobbers; the Parliament gave
taxes, levied funds, but the loans were at the mercy of those men (the
jobbers); and they showed their mercy, indeed, by devouring the King and
the army, the Parliament, and indeed the whole nation; bringing their great
Prince sometimes to that exigence through inexpressible extortions that
were put upon him, that he has even gone into the fields without his
equipage, nay even without his army; the regiments have been unclothed when
the King had been in the field, and the willing, brave English spirits,
eager to honor their country, and follow such a King, have marched even
to battle without either stockings or shoes, while his servants have
been every day working in Exchange Alley to get his men money of the
stock-jobbers, even after all the horrible demands of discount have
been allowed; and at last, scarce 50 per cent. of the money granted by
Parliament has come into the hands of the Exchequer, and that late, too
late for service, and by driblets, till the King has been tired with the
delay."

This is a strange picture; beating even Mr. Paterson's account of the
"processions in the city," and adds another convincing proof of the
necessity which then existed for some establishment, capable of advancing
money at a reasonable rate, on the security of Parliamentary grants.

The scheme proposed by William Paterson was too important not to meet with
many enemies, and it appears from a pamphlet by Mr. Godfrey, the first
deputy-governor, that "some pretended to dislike the bank only for fear it
should disappoint their majesties of the supplies proposed to be raised."
That "all the several companies of oppressors are strangely alarmed, and
exclaim at the bank, and seemed to have joined in a confederacy against
it." That "extortion, usury, and oppression were never so attacked as they
are likely to be by the bank." That "others pretend the bank will join with
the prince to make him absolute. That the concern have too good a bargain
and that it would be prejudicial to trade." In Bishop Burners _History of
His Own Times_ we read an additional evidence of its necessity:

"It was visible that all the enemies of the Government set themselves
against it with such a vehemence of zeal that this alone convinced all
people that they saw the strength that our affairs would receive from it.
I heard the Dutch often reckon the great advantage they had had from their
banks, and they concluded that as long as England remained jealous of her
Government, a bank could never be settled among us, nor gain credit among
us to support itself, and upon that they judged that the superiority in
trade must still be on their side."

All these varied interests were vainly exerted to prevent the bill from
receiving the royal sanction; and the Bank of England, founded on the same
principles which guarded the banks of Venice and Genoa, was incorporated
by royal charter, dated July 27, 1694. From Mr. Gilbart's _History and
Principles of Banking_ we present the following brief analysis of this
important act:

"The Act of Parliament by which the Bank was established is entitled 'An
Act for granting to their majesties several duties upon tonnage of ships
and vessels, and upon beer, ale, and other liquors, for securing certain
recompenses and advantages in the said Act mentioned to such persons as
shall voluntarily advance the sum of fifteen hundred thousand pounds toward
carrying on the war with France.' After a variety of enactments relative to
the duties upon tonnage of ships and vessels, and upon beer, ale, and other
liquors, the Act authorizes the raising of 1,200,000 pounds by voluntary
subscription, the subscribers to be formed into a corporation and be styled
'The Governor and Company of the Bank of England.'

"The sum of 300,000 pounds was also to be raised by subscription, and the
contributors to receive instead annuities for one, two, or three lives.
Toward the 1,200,000 pounds no one person was to subscribe more than 10,000
pounds before the first day of July, next ensuing, nor at any time more
than 20,000 pounds. The Corporation were to lend their whole capital to the
Government, for which they were to receive interest at the rate of 8 per
cent. per annum, and 4000 pounds per annum for management; being 100,000
pounds per annum on the whole. The Corporation were not allowed to borrow
or owe more than the amount of their capital, and if they did so the
individual members became liable to the creditors in proportion to the
amount of their stock. The Corporation were not to trade in any 'goods,
wares, or merchandise whatever, but they were allowed to deal in bills
of Exchange, gold or silver bullion, and to sell any goods, wares, or
merchandise upon which they had advanced money, and which had not been
redeemed within three months after the time agreed upon.' The whole of the
subscription was filled in a few days; 25 per cent. paid down; and, as we
have seen, a charter was issued on July 27, 1694, of which the following
are the most important points:

"That the management and government of the corporation be admitted to the
governor, deputy-governor, and twenty-four directors, who shall be elected
between March 25th and April 25th of each year, from among the members of
the company, duly qualified.

"That no dividend shall at any time be made by the said governor and
company save only out of the interest, profit, or produce arising out of
the said capital, stock, or fund, or by such dealing as is allowed by act
of Parliament.

"They must be natural-born subjects of England, or naturalized subjects;
they shall have in their own name and for their own use, severally, viz.,
the governor at least 4000 pounds, the deputy-governor 3000 pounds, and
each director 2000 pounds of the capital stock of the said corporation.

"That thirteen or more of the said governors or directors (of which the
governor or deputy-governor shall be always one) shall constitute a court
of directors for the management of the affairs of the company, and for the
appointment of all agents and servants which may be necessary, paying them
such salaries as they may consider reasonable.

"Every elector must have, in his own name and for his own use, 500 pounds
or more capital stock, and can only give one vote; he must, if required by
any member present, take the oath of stock, or the declaration of stock if
it be one of those people called Quakers.

"Four general courts to be held in every year in the months of September,
December, April, and July. A general court may be summoned at any time,
upon the requisition of nine proprietors duly qualified as electors.

"The majority of electors in general courts have the power to make and
constitute by-laws and ordinances for the government of the corporation,
provided that such by-laws and ordinances be not repugnant to the laws of
the kingdom, and be confirmed and approved according to the statutes in
such case made and provided."

When the payment was completed it was handed into the exchequer, and the
bank procured from other quarters the funds which it required. It employed
the same means which the bankers had done at the Exchange, with this
difference, that the latter traded with personal property, while the bank
traded with the deposits of their customers. It was from the circulation
of a capital so formed that the bank derived its profits. It is evident,
however, from the pamphlet of the first deputy-governor, that at this
period they allowed interest to their depositors; and another writer,
D'Avenant, makes it a subject of complaint: "It would be for the general
good of trade if the bank were restrained from allowing interest for
running cash; for the ease of having 3 and 4 per cent. without trouble must
be a continual bar to industry."

First in Mercers' Hall, where they remained but a few months, and afterward
in Grocers' Hall, since razed for the erection of a more stately structure,
the Bank of England conducted its operations. Here, in one room, with
almost primitive simplicity were gathered all who performed the duties of
the establishment. "I looked into the great hall where the bank is kept,"
says the graceful essayist of the day, "and was not a little pleased to see
the directors, secretaries, and clerks, with all the other members of that
wealthy Corporation, ranged in their several stations according to the
parts they hold in that just and regular economy." The secretaries and
clerks altogether numbered but fifty-four, while their united salaries did
not exceed four thousand three hundred fifty pounds. But the picture is
a pleasant one, and though so much unlike present usages it is doubtful
whether our forefathers did not derive more benefit from intimate
association with and kindly feelings toward their inferiors than their
descendants receive from the broad line of demarcation adopted at the
present day.

The effect of the new corporation was almost immediately experienced. On
August 8th, in the year of its establishment, the rate of discount on
foreign bills was 6 per cent.; although this was the highest legal
interest, yet much higher rates had been previously demanded. The name of
William Paterson was not long upon the list of directors. The bank was
established in 1694, and for that year only was its founder among those
who managed its proceedings. The facts which led to his departure from the
honorable post of director are difficult to collect; but it is not at all
improbable that the character of Paterson was too speculative for those
with whom he was joined in companionship. Sir John Dalrymple remarks,
"The persons to whom he applied made use of his ideas, took the honor to
themselves, were civil to him awhile, and neglected him afterward." Another
writer says, "The friendless Scot was intrigued out of his post and out of
the honors he had earned." These assertions must be received with caution;
accusations against a great body are easily made; and it is rarely
consistent with the dignity of the latter to reply; they are received as
truths either because people are too idle to examine or because there is no
opportunity of investigating them.



%COLONIZATION OF LOUISIANA%

A.D. 1699

CHARLES E.T. GAYARRÉ


It was not only as the beginning of what was to become an important State
of the American Union, but also as a nucleus of occupation which led to
an immense acquisition of territory by the United States, that the first
settlement in Louisiana proved an event of great significance. Nothing in
American history is of greater moment than the adding of the Louisiana
Purchase (1803) to the United States domain. And the acquisition of that
vast region, extending from New Orléans to British America, and westward
from the Mississippi to the Rocky Mountains, had historic connection with
the French settlement of 1699.

As early as 1630 the territory afterward known as Louisiana was mostly
embraced in the Carolina grant by Charles I to Sir Robert Heath. It was
taken into possession for the French King by La Salle in 1682, and named
Louisiana in honor of Louis XIV. In 1698 Louis undertook to colonize the
region of the lower Mississippi, and sent out an expedition under Pierre le
Moyne, Sieur d'Iberville, a naval commander, who had served in the French
wars of Canada, and aided in establishing French colonies in North America.

With two hundred colonists Iberville sailed (September 24, 1698) for the
mouth of the Mississippi. Among his companions were his brothers, Sauvolle
and Jean Baptiste le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville. The latter was long
governor of Louisiana, and founded New Orleans. Of their arrival and
subsequent operations in the lower Mississippi region, Gayarré, the
Louisiana historian, gives a glowing and picturesque account.

On February 27, 1699, Iberville and Bienville reached the Mississippi. When
they approached its mouth they were struck with the gloomy magnificence of
the sight. As far as the eye could reach, nothing was to be seen but reeds
which rose five or six feet above the waters in which they bathed their
roots. They waved mournfully under the blast of the sharp wind of the
north, shivering in its icy grasp, as it tumbled, rolled, and gambolled on
the pliant surface. Multitudes of birds of strange appearance, with their
elongated shapes so lean that they looked like metamorphosed ghosts,
clothed in plumage, screamed in the air, as if they were scared of one
another. There was something agonizing in their shrieks that was in harmony
with the desolation of the place. On every side of the vessel, monsters of
the deep and huge alligators heaved themselves up heavily from their native
or favorite element, and, floating lazily on the turbid waters, seemed to
gaze at the intruders.

Down the river, and rumbling over its bed, there came a sort of low,
distant thunder. Was it the voice of the hoary Sire of Rivers, raised in
anger at the prospect of his gigantic volume of waters being suddenly
absorbed by one mightier than he? In their progress it was with great
difficulty that the travellers could keep their bark free from those
enormous rafts of trees which the Mississippi seemed to toss about in mad
frolic. A poet would have thought that the great river, when departing from
the altitude of its birthplace, and as it rushed down to the sea through
three thousand miles, had, in anticipation of a contest which threatened
the continuation of its existence, flung its broad arms right and left
across the continent, and, uprooting all its forests, had hoarded them
in its bed as missiles to hurl at the head of its mighty rival when they
should meet and struggle for supremacy.

When night began to cast a darker hue on a landscape on which the
imagination of Dante would have gloated there issued from that chaos of
reeds such uncouth and unnatural sounds as would have saddened the gayest
and appalled the most intrepid. Could this be the far-famed Mississippi,
or was it not rather old Avernus? It was hideous indeed--but hideousness
refined into sublimity, filling the soul with a sentiment of grandeur.
Nothing daunted, the adventurers kept steadily on their course. They
knew that through those dismal portals they were to arrive at the most
magnificent country in the world; they knew that awful screen concealed
loveliness itself. It was a coquettish freak of nature, when dealing with
European curiosity, as it came eagerly bounding to the Atlantic wave, to
herald it through an avenue so sombre as to cause the wonders of the
great valley of the Mississippi to burst with tenfold more force upon
the bewildered gaze of those who, by the endurance of so many perils and
fatigues, were to merit admittance into its Eden.

It was a relief for the adventurers when, after having toiled up the river
for ten days, they at last arrived at the village of the Bayagoulas. There
they found a letter of Tonty[1] to La Salle, dated in 1685. The letter, or
rather that "speaking bark" as the Indians called it, had been preserved
with great reverence. Tonty, having been informed that La Salle was
coming with a fleet from France to settle a colony on the banks of the
Mississippi, had not hesitated to set off from the northern lakes, with
twenty Canadians and thirty Indians, and to come down to the Balize to meet
his friend, who had failed to make out the mouth of the Mississippi, and
had been landed by Beaujeu on the shores of Texas. After having waited
for some time, and ignorant of what had happened, Tonty, with the same
indifference to fatigues and dangers of an appalling nature, retraced his
way back, leaving a letter to La Salle to inform him of his disappointment.
Is there not something extremely romantic in the characters of the men of
that epoch? Here is Tonty undertaking, with the most heroic unconcern, a
journey of nearly three thousand miles, through such difficulties as it is
easy for us to imagine, and leaving a letter to La Salle, as a proof of
his visit, in the same way that one would, in these degenerate days of
effeminacy, leave a card at a neighbor's house.

[Footnote 1: Henry de Tonty was an Italian explorer who accompanied La
Salle in his descent of the Mississippi (1681-1682).--ED.]

The French extended their explorations up to the mouth of the Red River. As
they proceeded through that virgin country, with what interest they must
have examined every object that met their eyes, and listened to the
traditions concerning De Soto,[2] and the more recent stories of the
Indians on La Salle and the iron-handed Tonty! A coat of mail which was
presented as having belonged to the Spaniards, and vestiges of their
encampment on the Red River, confirmed the French in the belief that there
was much of truth in the recitals of the Indians.

[Footnote 2: De Soto explored this region in 1541.--ED.]

On their return from the mouth of the Red River the two brothers separated
when they arrived at Bayou Manchac. Bienville was ordered to go down the
river to the French fleet, to give information of what they had seen and
heard. Iberville went through Bayou Manchac to those lakes which are known
under the names of Pontchartrain and Maurepas. Louisiana had been named
from a king: was it not in keeping that those lakes should be called after
ministers?

From the Bay of St. Louis, Iberville returned to his fleet, where, after
consultation, he determined to make a settlement at the Bay of Biloxi.
On the east side, at the mouth of the bay, as it were, there is a slight
swelling of the shore, about four acres square, sloping gently to the woods
in the background, and on the bay. Thus this position was fortified by
nature, and the French skilfully availed themselves of these advantages.
The weakest point, which was on the side of the forest, they strengthened
with more care than the rest, by connecting with a strong intrenchment the
two ravines, which ran to the bay in a parallel line to each other. The
fort was constructed with four bastions, and was armed with twelve pieces
of artillery. When standing on one of the bastions which faced the bay, the
spectator enjoyed a beautiful prospect. On the right, the bay could be
seen running into the land for miles, and on the left stood Deer Island,
concealing almost entirely the broad expanses of water which lay beyond. It
was visible only at the two extreme points of the island, which both, at
that distance, appeared to be within a close proximity of the mainland.
No better description can be given than to say that the bay looked like a
funnel to which the island was the lid, not fitting closely, however, but
leaving apertures for egress and ingress. The snugness of the locality had
tempted the French, and had induced them to choose it as the most favorable
spot, at the time, for colonization. Sauvolle was put in command of the
fort, and Bienville, the youngest of the three brothers, was appointed his
lieutenant.

A few huts having been erected round the fort, the settlers began to clear
the land, in order to bring it into cultivation. Iberville having furnished
them with all the necessary provisions, utensils, and other supplies,
prepared to sail for France. How deeply affecting must have been the
parting scene! How many casualties might prevent those who remained in this
unknown region from ever seeing again those who, through the perils of such
a long voyage, had to return to their home! What crowding emotions must
have filled up the breast of Sauvolle, Bienville, and their handful of
companions, when they beheld the sails of Iberville's fleet fading in the
distance, like transient clouds! Well may it be supposed that it seemed to
them as if their very souls had been carried away, and that they felt a
momentary sinking of the heart when they found themselves abandoned, and
necessarily left to their own resources, scanty as they were, on a patch
of land between the ocean on one side and on the other a wilderness, which
fancy peopled with every sort of terrors. The sense of their loneliness
fell upon them like the gloom of night, darkening their hopes and filling
their hearts with dismal apprehensions.

But as the country had been ordered to be explored, Sauvolle availed
himself of that circumstance to refresh the minds of his men by the
excitement of an expedition into the interior of the continent. He
therefore hastened to despatch most of them with Bienville, who, with a
chief of the Bayagoulas for his guide, went to visit the Colapissas. They
inhabited the northern shore of Lake Pontchartrain, and their domains
embraced the sites now occupied by Lewisburg, Mandeville, and
Fontainebleau. That tribe numbered three hundred warriors, who, in their
distant hunting-excursions, had been engaged in frequent skirmishes with
some of the British colonists in South Carolina. When the French landed,
they were informed that, two days previous, the village of the Colapissas
had been attacked by a party of two hundred Chickasaws, headed by two
Englishmen. These were the first tidings which the French had of their old
rivals, and which proved to be the harbinger of the incessant struggle
which was to continue for more than a century between the two races, and to
terminate by the permanent occupation of Louisiana by the Anglo-Saxon.

Bienville returned to the fort to convey this important information to
Sauvolle. After having rested there for several days, he went to the Bay of
Pascagoulas, and ascended the river which bears that name, and the banks
of which were tenanted by a branch of the Biloxis, and by the Moelobites.
Encouraged by the friendly reception which he met everywhere, he ventured
farther, and paid a visit to the Mobilians, who entertained him with great
hospitality. Bienville found them much reduced from what they had been, and
listened with eagerness to the many tales of their former power, which had
been rapidly declining since the crushing blow they had received from De
Soto.

When Iberville ascended the Mississippi the first time, he had remarked
Bayou Plaquemines and Bayou Chetimachas. The one he called after the fruit
of certain trees which appeared to have exclusive possession of its banks,
and the other after the name of the Indians who dwelt in the vicinity. He
had ordered them to be explored, and the indefatigable Bienville, on his
return from Mobile, obeyed the instructions left to his brother, and made
an accurate survey of these two bayous. When he was coming down the river,
at the distance of about eighteen miles below the site where New Orleans
now stands, he met an English vessel of sixteen guns, under the command of
Captain Bar. The English captain informed the French that he was examining
the banks of the river, with the intention of selecting a spot for the
foundation of a colony. Bienville told him that Louisiana was a dependency
of Canada; that the French had already made several establishments on the
Mississippi; and he appealed, in confirmation of his assertions, to their
own presence in the river, in such small boats, which evidently proved
the existence of some settlement close at hand. The Englishman believed
Bienville, and sailed back. Where this occurrence took place the river
makes a considerable bend, and it was from the circumstance which I have
related that the spot received the appellation of the "English Turn"--a
name which it has retained to the present day. It was not far from that
place, the atmosphere of which appears to be fraught with some malignant
spell hostile to the sons of Albion, that the English, who were outwitted
by Bienville in 1699, met with a signal defeat in battle from the Americans
in 1815. The diplomacy of Bienville and the military genius of Jackson
proved to them equally fatal when they aimed at the possession of
Louisiana.

Since the exploring expedition of La Salle down the Mississippi, Canadian
hunters, whose habits and intrepidity Fenimore Cooper has so graphically
described in the character of Leather-Stocking, used to extend their roving
excursions to the banks of that river; and those holy missionaries of the
Church, who, as the pioneers of religion, have filled the New World with
their sufferings, and whose incredible deeds in the service of God afford
so many materials for the most interesting of books, had come in advance
of the pickaxe of the settler, and had domiciliated themselves among the
tribes who lived near the waters of the Mississippi. One of them, Father
Montigny, was residing with the Tensas, within the territory of the present
parish of Tensas, in the State of Louisiana, and another, Father Davion,
was the pastor of the Yazoos, in the present State of Mississippi.

Such were the two visitors who in 1699 appeared before Sauvolle, at the
fort of Biloxi, to relieve the monotony of his cheerless existence, and to
encourage him in his colonizing enterprise. Their visit, however, was not
of long duration, and they soon returned to discharge the duties of their
sacred mission.

Iberville had been gone for several months, and the year was drawing to
a close without any tidings of him. A deeper gloom had settled over the
little colony at Biloxi, when, on December 7th, some signal-guns were heard
at sea, and the grateful sound came booming over the waters, spreading joy
in every breast. There was not one who was not almost oppressed with the
intensity of his feelings. At last, friends were coming, bringing relief to
the body and to the soul! Every colonist hastily abandoned his occupation
of the moment and ran to the shore. The soldier himself, in the eagerness
of expectation, left his post of duty, and rushed to the parapet which
overlooked the bay. Presently several vessels hove in sight, bearing the
white flag of France, and, approaching as near as the shallowness of the
beach permitted, folded their pinions, like water-fowl seeking repose on
the crest of the billows.

It was Iberville returning with the news that, on his representations,
Sauvolle had been appointed by the King governor of Louisiana; Bienville,
lieutenant-governor; and Boisbriant, commander of the fort at Biloxi, with
the grade of major. Iberville, having been informed by Bienville of
the attempt of the English to make a settlement on the banks of the
Mississippi, and of the manner in which it had been foiled, resolved to
take precautionary measures against the repetition of any similar attempt.
Without loss of time he departed with Bienville, on January 16, 1700, and
running up the river, he constructed a small fort, on the first solid
ground which he met, and which is said to have been at a distance of
fifty-four miles from its mouth.

When so engaged, the two brothers one day saw a canoe rapidly sweeping down
the river and approaching the spot where they stood. It was occupied by
eight men, six of whom were rowers, the seventh was the steersman, and the
eighth, from his appearance, was evidently of a superior order to that of
his companions, and the commander of the party. Well may it be imagined
what greeting the stranger received, when leaping on shore he made himself
known as the Chevalier de Tonty, who had again heard of the establishment
of a colony in Louisiana, and who, for the second time, had come to see
if there was any truth in the report. With what emotion did Iberville and
Bienville fold in their arms the faithful companion and friend of La Salle,
of whom they had heard so many wonderful tales from the Indians, to whom he
was so well known under the name of "Iron Hand"! With what admiration they
looked at his person, and with what increasing interest they listened to
his long recitals of what he had done and had seen on that broad continent,
the threshold of which they had hardly passed!

After having rested three days at the fort, the indefatigable Tonty
reascended the Mississippi, with Iberville and Bienville, and finally
parted with them at Natchez. Iberville was so much pleased with that part
of the bank of the river where now exists the city of Natchez that he
marked it down as a most eligible spot for a town, of which he drew the
plan, and which he called Rosalie, after the maiden name of the Countess
Pontchartrain, the wife of the chancellor. He then returned to the new
fort he was erecting on the Mississippi, and Bienville went to explore the
country of the Yatasses, of the Natchitoches, and of the Ouachitas.
What romance can be more agreeable to the imagination than to accompany
Iberville and Bienville in their wild explorations, and to compare the
state of the country in their time with what it is in our days?

When the French were at Natchez they were struck with horror at an
occurrence, too clearly demonstrating the fierceness of disposition of that
tribe which was destined in after years to become celebrated in the history
of Louisiana. One of their temples having been set on fire by lightning, a
hideous spectacle presented itself to the Europeans. The tumultuous rush of
the Indians; the infernal howlings and lamentations of the men, women,
and children; the unearthly vociferations of the priests, their fantastic
dances and ceremonies around the burning edifice; the demoniac fury with
which mothers rushed to the fatal spot, and, with the piercing cries and
gesticulations of maniacs, flung their new-born babes into the flames
to pacify their irritated deity--the increasing anger of the
heavens--blackening with the impending storm, the lurid flashes of
lightning darting as it were in mutual enmity from the clashing clouds--the
low, distant growling of the coming tempest--the long column of smoke and
fire shooting upward from the funeral pyre, and looking like one of the
gigantic torches of Pandemonium--the war of the elements combined with
the worst effects of frenzied superstition of man--the suddenness and
strangeness of the awful scene--all the circumstances produced such an
impression upon the French as to deprive them for a moment of the powers
of volition and action. Rooted to the ground, they stood aghast with
astonishment and indignation at the appalling scene. Was it a dream--a wild
delirium of the mind? But no--the monstrous reality of the vision was but
too apparent; and they threw themselves among the Indians, supplicating
them to cease their horrible sacrifice to their gods, and joining threats
to their supplications. Owing to this intervention, and perhaps because a
sufficient number of victims had been offered, the priests gave the signal
of retreat, and the Indians slowly withdrew from the accursed spot. Such
was the aspect under which the Natchez showed themselves, for the first
time, to their visitors: it was ominous presage for the future.

After these explorations Iberville departed again for France, to solicit
additional assistance from the government, and left Bienville in command
of the new fort on the Mississippi. It was very hard for the two brothers,
Sauvolle and Bienville, to be thus separated, when they stood so much in
need of each other's countenance, to breast the difficulties that sprung
up around them with a luxuriance which they seemed to borrow from the
vegetation of the country. The distance between the Mississippi and Biloxi
was not so easily overcome in those days as in ours, and the means which
the two brothers had of communing together were very scanty and uncertain.

Sauvolle died August 22,1701, and Louisiana remained under the sole
charge of Bienville, who, though very young, was fully equal to meet that
emergency, by the maturity of his mind and by his other qualifications. He
had hardly consigned his brother to the tomb when Iberville returned with
two ships of the line and a brig laden with troops and provisions.

According to Iberville's orders, and in conformity with the King's
instructions, Bienville left Boisbriant, his cousin, with twenty men, at
the old fort of Biloxi, and transported the principal seat of the colony
to the western side of the river Mobile, not far from the spot where now
stands the city of Mobile. Near the mouth of that river there is an island,
which the French had called Massacre Island from the great quantity of
human bones which they found bleaching on its shores. It was evident that
there some awful tragedy had been acted; but Tradition, when interrogated,
laid her choppy finger upon her skinny lips, and answered not.

This uncertainty, giving a free scope to the imagination, shrouded the
place with a higher degree of horror and with a deeper hue of fantastical
gloom. It looked like the favorite ballroom of the witches of hell. The
wind sighed so mournfully through the shrivelled-up pines, those vampire
heads seemed incessantly to bow to some invisible and grisly visitors: the
footsteps of the stranger emitted such an awful and supernatural sound,
when trampling on the skulls which strewed his path, that it was impossible
for the coldest imagination not to labor under some crude and ill-defined
apprehension. Verily, the weird sisters could not have chosen a fitter
abode. Nevertheless, the French, supported by their mercurial temperament,
were not deterred from forming an establishment on that sepulchral island,
which, they thought, afforded some facilities for their transatlantic
communications.

In 1703 war had broken out between Great Britain, France, and Spain; and
Iberville, a distinguished officer of the French navy, was engaged in
expeditions that kept him away from the colony. It did not cease, however,
to occupy his thoughts, and had become clothed, in his eye, with a sort
of family interest. Louisiana was thus left, for some time, to her scanty
resources; but, weak as she was, she gave early proofs of that generous
spirit which has ever since animated her; and on the towns of Pensacola and
St. Augustine, then in possession of the Spaniards, being threatened with
an invasion by the English of South Carolina, she sent to her neighbors
what help she could in men, ammunition, and supplies of all sorts. It was
the more meritorious as it was the _obolus_ of the poor!

The year 1703 slowly rolled by and gave way to 1704. Still, nothing was
heard from the parent country. There seemed to be an impassable barrier
between the old and the new continent. The milk which flowed from the
motherly breast of France could no longer reach the parched lips of her
new-born infant; and famine began to pinch the colonists, who scattered
themselves all along the coast, to live by fishing. They were reduced to
the veriest extremity of misery, and despair had settled in every bosom,
in spite of the encouragements of Bienville, who displayed the most manly
fortitude amid all the trials to which he was subjected, when suddenly a
vessel made its appearance. The colonists rushed to the shore with wild
anxiety, but their exultation was greatly diminished when, on the nearer
approach of the moving speck, they recognized the Spanish instead of the
French flag. It was relief, however, coming to them, and proffered by a
friendly hand. It was a return made by the governor of Pensacola for the
kindness he had experienced the year previous. Thus the debt of gratitude
was paid: it was a practical lesson. Where the seeds of charity are cast,
there springs the harvest in time of need.

Good things, like evils, do not come singly, and this succor was but the
herald of another one, still more effectual, in the shape of a ship from
France. Iberville had not been able to redeem his pledge to the poor
colonists, but he had sent his brother Chateaugué in his place, at the
imminent risk of being captured by the English, who occupied, at that time,
most of the avenues of the Gulf of Mexico. He was not the man to spare
either himself or his family in cases of emergency, and his heroic soul
was inured to such sacrifices. Grateful the colonists were for this act of
devotedness, and they resumed the occupation of their tenements which they
had abandoned in search of food. The aspect of things was suddenly changed;
abundance and hope reappeared in the land, whose population was increased
by the arrival of seventeen persons, who came, under the guidance of
Chateaugué, with the intention of making a permanent settlement, and who,
in evidence of their determination, had provided themselves with all the
implements of husbandry. We, who daily see hundreds flocking to our shores,
and who look at the occurrence with as much unconcern as at the passing
cloud, can hardly conceive the excitement produced by the arrival of these
seventeen emigrants among men who, for nearly two years, had been cut off
from communication with the rest of the civilized world. A denizen of the
moon, dropping on this planet, would not be stared at and interrogated with
more eager curiosity.

This excitement had hardly subsided when it was revived by the appearance
of another ship, and it became intense when the inhabitants saw a
procession of twenty females, with veiled faces, proceeding arm in arm, and
two by two, to the house of the Governor, who received them in state and
provided them with suitable lodgings. What did it mean? Innumerable were
the gossipings of the day, and part of the coming night itself was spent
in endless commentaries and conjectures. But the next morning, which was
Sunday, the mystery was cleared by the officiating priest reading from
the pulpit, after mass, and for the general information, the following
communication from the minister to Bienville: "His majesty sends twenty
girls to be married to the Canadians and to the other inhabitants of
Mobile, in order to consolidate the colony. All these girls are industrious
and have received a pious and virtuous education. Beneficial results to the
colony are expected from their teaching their useful attainments to the
Indian females. In order that none should be sent except those of known
virtue and of unspotted reputation, his majesty did intrust the Bishop of
Québec with the mission of taking these girls from such establishments as,
from their very nature and character, would put them at once above all
suspicions of corruption. You will take care to settle them in life as well
as may be in your power, and to marry them to such men as are capable of
providing them with a commodious home."

This was a very considerate recommendation, and very kind it was, indeed,
from the great Louis XIV, one of the proudest monarchs that ever lived, to
descend from his Olympian seat of majesty to the level of such details and
to such minute instructions for ministering to the personal comforts of his
remote Louisianan subjects. Many were the gibes and high was the glee on
that occasion; pointed were the jokes aimed at young Bienville on his
being thus transformed into a matrimonial agent and _pater familiae_. The
intentions of the King, however, were faithfully executed, and more than
one rough but honest Canadian boatman of the St. Lawrence and of the
Mississippi closed his adventurous and erratic career and became a domestic
and useful member of that little commonwealth, under the watchful influence
of the dark-eyed maid of the Loire or of the Seine. Infinite are the chords
of the lyre which delights the romantic muse; and these incidents, small
and humble as they are, appear to me to be imbued with an indescribable
charm, which appeals to her imagination.



%PRUSSIA PROCLAIMED A KINGDOM%

A.D. 1701

LEOPOLD VON RANKE


Few historical developments are more distinctly traceable or of greater
importance than that of the margravate of Brandenburg into the kingdom of
Prussia, the principal state of the present German empire. As far back as
the tenth century the name Preussen (Prussia) was applied to a region lying
east of Brandenburg, which in that century became a German margravate. At
that time the inhabitants of Prussia were still heathens. In the thirteenth
century they were converted to Christianity, having first been conquered by
the Teutonic Knights in "a series of remorseless wars" continued for almost
fifty years. German colonization followed the conquest.

In 1466 nearly the whole of Prussia was wrested from the Teutonic
Knights and annexed to the Polish crown. Soon after the beginning of the
Reformation the Teutonic Knights embraced Protestantism and the order
became secularized. In 1525 the Knights formally surrendered to King
Sigismund of Poland, their late grand master was created duke of Prussia,
and this, with other former possessions of the order, was held by him as a
vassal of the Polish crown. This relation continued until 1618, when the
duchy of Prussia was united with Brandenburg, which had become a German
electorate.

During the Thirty Years' War the enlarged electorate took little part in
affairs, but suffered much from the ravages of the conflict. Under the
electorate of George William, who died in 1640, Brandenburg became almost a
desert, and in this impoverished condition was left to his son, Frederick
William, the "Great Elector," who restored it to prosperity and
strengthened its somewhat insecure sovereignty over the duchy of Prussia.
The Great Elector died in 1688, and was succeeded by his son, Frederick
III of Brandenburg. This Elector, through the series of events narrated by
Ranke, became the founder of the Prussian monarchy, and is known in history
as Frederick I. He founded the Academy of Sciences in Berlin and the
University of Halle.

       *       *       *       *       *

Frederick I, the next heir and successor to the "Great Elector," though far
inferior to his father in native energy of character, cannot be accused of
having flinched from the task imposed on him. Above all, the warlike fame
of the Brandenburg troops suffered no diminution under his reign. His army
took a very prominent and active part in the most important events of that
period.

Prince William of Orange might, perhaps, have hesitated whether to try the
adventure which made him king of England, had not the Dutch troops, which
he was forced to withdraw from the Netherlands for his expedition, been
replaced by some from Brandenburg. The fact has indeed been disputed, but
on closer investigation its truth has been established, beyond doubt, that
many other Brandenburg soldiers in his service and that of his republic
followed him to England, where they contributed essentially to his success.

In the war which now broke out upon the Rhine the young Elector, Frederick,
took the field himself, inflamed by religious enthusiasm, patriotism, and
personal ambition. On one occasion, at the siege of Bonn, when he was
anxious about the result, he stepped aside to the window and prayed to
God that he might suffer no disgrace in this his first enterprise. He was
successful in his attack upon Bonn, and cleared the whole lower Rhine
of the hostile troops; he at the same time gained a high reputation for
personal courage.

Long after, at the beginning of the War of the Spanish Succession, the
presence of the Elector contributed in a great measure to the speedy
termination of the first important siege--that of Kaiserswerth, a point
from which the French threatened at once both Holland and Westphalia.

But it was not only when led by the Elector that his troops distinguished
themselves by their courage; they fought most bravely at the battle of
Hochstadt. Prince Eugene, under whose command they stood, could scarce find
words strong enough to praise the "undaunted steadfastness" with which they
first withstood the shock of the enemy's attack, and then helped to break
through his tremendous fire. Two years later, at Turin, they helped to
settle the affairs of Italy in the same manner as they had already done in
those of Germany; headed by Prince Leopold of Anhalt, they climbed over the
enemy's intrenchments, under the full fire of his artillery, shouting the
old Brandenburg war-cry of "_Gah to_" ("Go on"). The warlike enterprise of
Brandenburg never spread over a wider field than under Frederick I. Then
it was that they first met the Turks in terrible battles; they showed
themselves in the South of France at the siege of Toulon; in their camp the
Protestant service was performed for the first time in the territories of
the pope, and the inhabitants of the surrounding country came to look on
and displayed a certain satisfaction at the sight. But the Netherlands
were always the scene of their greatest achievements and at that time an
excellent school for their further progress in the art of war; there they
might at once study sieges under the Dutch commanders, Vauban and Cochorn,
and campaigns under Marlborough, one of the greatest generals of all times.

Throughout all the years of his reign Frederick steadily adhered to the
Great Alliance which his father had helped to form so long as that alliance
continued to subsist; and, indeed, the interest which he took in the
affairs of Europe at large was in the end of great advantage to himself and
to his house. That very alliance was the original cause of his gaining a
crown--the foundation of the Prussian monarchy. It will not be denied, even
by those who think most meanly of the externals of rank and title, that the
attainment of a higher step in the European hierarchy, as it then stood,
was an object worth striving for.

The Western principalities and republics still formed a great corporation,
at the head of which was the German Emperor. Even the crown of France had
to submit to manifold and wearisome negotiations in order to obtain the
predicate of "majesty," which until then had belonged exclusively to the
Emperor. The other sovereigns then laid claim to the same dignity as that
enjoyed by the King of France, and the Venetian republic to an equal rank
with those, on the score of the kingdoms which she once possessed; and,
accordingly, the electoral ambassadors to Vienna had to stand bareheaded
while the Venetian covered his head. The electors and reigning dukes were
but ill-pleased with such precedence, and in their turn laid claim to the
designation of "serenissimus," and the title of "brother," for themselves,
and the style of "excellency" for their ambassadors. But even the most
powerful among the electors found it difficult to advance a single step
in this matter, because whatever privileges were conceded to them were
immediately claimed by all the rest, many of whom were mere barons of the
empire. It is evident that Brandenburg was interested in being freed at
once from these negotiations, which only served to impede and embarrass all
really important business. There exists the distinct assertion of a highly
placed official man that the royal title had been promised to the
Elector, Frederick William: his son now centred his whole ambition in its
attainment.

Frederick, while elector, was one of the most popular princes that ever
reigned in Brandenburg. His contemporaries praise him for his avoidance of
all dissipation, and his life entirely devoted to duty; while his subjects
were still asleep, say they, the Prince was already busied with their
affairs, for he rose very early. A poet of the time makes Phosphorus
complain that he is ever anticipated by the King of Prussia. His manners
were gracious, familiar, sincere, and deliberate. His conversation
indicated "righteous and princely thoughts." Those essays, written by
him, which we have read, exhibit a sagacious and careful treatment of the
subjects under consideration. He shared in a very great degree the taste
of his times for outward show and splendor; but in him it took a direction
which led to something far higher than mere ostentation. The works of
sculpture and architecture produced under his reign are monuments of a pure
and severe taste; the capital of Prussia has seen none more beautiful. He
complacently indulged in the contemplation of the greatness founded by his
father, the possession of a territory four times as large as that of any
other elector, and the power of bringing into the field an army which
placed him on a level with kings. Now, however, he desired that this
equality should be publicly recognized, especially as he had no lack of
treasure and revenue wherewith to maintain the splendor and dignity of a
royal crown. In the mind of the father, this ambition was combined with
schemes of conquest; in the son it was merely a desire for personal and
dynastic aggrandizement. It is certain that the origin of such a state
as the kingdom of Prussia can be attributed to no other cause than to so
remarkable a succession of so many glorious princes. Frederick was resolved
to appear among them distinguished by some important service rendered to
his house. "Frederick I," said he, "gained the electoral dignity for our
house, and I, as Frederick III, would fain give it royal rank, according to
the old saying that 'the third time makes perfect."

It was in the year 1693 that he first began seriously to act upon the
project of obtaining a royal crown. He had just led some troops to Crossen
which were to serve the Emperor against the Turks; but the imperial
ministers neither arrived in due time to receive them, nor, when at length
they made their appearance, did they bring with them the grants of certain
privileges and expectancies which Frederick had looked for. In disgust at
being treated with neglect at the very moment in which he was rendering the
Emperor a very essential service, he went to Carlsbad, where he was joined
by his ambassador to Vienna, who had been commissioned by the imperial
ministers to apologize for the omissions of which they had been guilty.
In concert with his ambassador, and his prime minister, Dankelmann, the
brother of the former, Frederick resolved to make public the wish which
he had hitherto entertained in secret, or only now and then let drop into
conversation; the ambassador accordingly received instruction to present a
formal memorial.

At that time, however, nothing could be done. The Count of Ottingen, who
was hostile to the Protestant princes, was once more in favor at the court
of Vienna; the peril from without had ceased to be pressing, and coalition
had begun gradually to dissolve; the only result of the negotiation was a
vague and general promise.

The Elector did not, however, give up his idea. The elevation of the Saxon
house to the throne of Poland, the prospect enjoyed by his near kindred of
Hanover of succeeding to that of England, and perhaps the very difficulties
and opposition which he encountered, tended to sharpen his appetite for a
royal crown. The misunderstandings which arose among the great European
powers out of the approaching vacancy of the throne of Spain soon afforded
him an excellent opportunity of renewing his demands. The court of Vienna
was not to be moved by past, but by future, services.

It would be unnecessary to enter into the details of the negotiation on
this subject; it suffices to say that the Prince devoted his whole energy
to it, and never lost sight of any advantage afforded by his position.
Suggestions of the most exaggerated kind were made to him; for instance,
that he should lay his claims before the Pope, who possessed the power of
granting the royal dignity in a far higher degree than the Emperor; while,
on the other hand, some of the more zealous Protestants among his ministers
were anxious to avoid even that degree of approach toward the Catholic
element implied in a closer alliance with the Emperor, and desired that
the Elector's elevation in rank should be made to depend upon some new and
important acquisition of territory, such, for example, as that of Polish
Prussia, which then seemed neither difficult nor improbable. Frederick,
however, persisted in the opinion that he was entitled to the royal dignity
merely on acccount of his sovereign dukedom of Prussia, and that the
recognition of the Emperor was the most important step in the affair. He
was convinced that, when the Emperor had once got possession of the Spanish
inheritance, or concluded a treaty upon the subject, nothing more was to be
hoped from him; but that now, while the Elector of Brandenburg was able to
render him as effectual assistance as any power in Europe, some advantage
might be wrung from him in return.

Influenced by these considerations, he resolved to lay proposals before the
Emperor, which acquired uncommon significance from the circumstances under
which they were made. At that very time, in March, 1700, England, Holland,
and France had just concluded a treaty for the division of the Spanish
monarchy, in which the right of inheritance of Austria was utterly
disregarded, in order to preserve the European balance of power. Spain
and the Indies were, indeed, to fall to the share of the young Archduke
Charles, but he was to be deprived of Naples, Sicily, and Milan; and should
the Archduke ever become Emperor of Germany, Spain and the Indies were to
be given up to another prince, whose claims were far inferior to his. This
treaty was received with disgust and indignation at Vienna, where the
assistance of Heaven was solemnly implored, and its interference in the
affair fully expected.

At this juncture Brandenburg offered to make common cause with the Emperor,
not alone against France, but even against England and Holland, with
whom it was otherwise closely allied. The only recompense was to be the
concession of royal rank to the Elector.

The principal opposition to this offer arose out of the difference of
confessions. It is also quite true that the Emperor's confessor, Pater
Wolf, to whom the Elector wrote with his own hand, helped to overrule it,
and took part in the negotiations. But the determining cause was, without
doubt, the political state of affairs. A concession which involved no loss
could not surely be thought too high a price to pay for the help of the
most warlike of the German powers on so important an occasion. In the month
of July, 1700, at the great conference, the imperial ministers came to the
resolution that the wishes of the Elector should be complied with; and as
soon as the conditions could be determined, involving the closest alliance
both for the war and for the affairs of the empire, the treaty was signed
on November 16, 1700. On the side of Brandenburg the utmost care was taken
not to admit a word which might imply anything further than the assent and
concurrence of the Emperor. The Elector affected to derive from his own
power alone the right of assuming the royal crown. He would, nevertheless,
have encountered much ulnpleasant oppositions in other quarters but for the
concurrences which, very opportunely for him, now took place in France and
Spain.

The last Spanish sovereign of the line of Hapsburg had died in the mean
time; and on opening his will it was found to be entirely in favor of the
King of France, whose grandson was appointed heir to the whole Spanish
monarchy. Hereupon Louis XIV broke the treaty of partition which had
recently been made under his own influence, and determined to seize the
greater advantage, and to accept the inheritance. This naturally roused all
the antipathies entertained by other nations against France, and England
and Holland went over to the side of Austria. The opposition which these
two powers had offered to the erection of a new throne was now silenced,
and they beheld a common interest in the elevation of the house of
Brandenburg.

Frederick had, moreover, already come to an understanding with the King of
Poland, though not with the Republic; so that, thus supported, and with
the consent of all his old allies, he could now celebrate the splendid
coronation for which his heart had so long panted.

We will not describe here the ceremonial of January 18,1701; to our taste
it seems overcharged when we read the account of it. But there is a certain
grandeur in the idea of the sovereign's grasping the crown with his own
hand; and the performance of the ceremony of anointing after, instead
of before, the crowning, by two priests promoted to bishoprics for the
occasion, was a protest against the dependence of the temporal on the
spiritual power, such as perhaps never was made at any other coronation
either before or since. The spiritual element showed itself in the only
attitude of authority left to it in Protestant states: that of teaching
and exhortation. The provost of Berlin demonstrated, from the examples of
Christ and of David, that the government of kings must be carried on to
the glory of God and the good of their people. He lays down as the first
principle that all rulers should bear in mind, they have come into the
world for the sake of their subjects, and not their subjects for the sake
of them. Finally, he exhorts all his hearers to pray to God that he will
deeply impress this conviction upon the hearts of all sovereign princes.

The institution of the order of the Black Eagle, which immediately preceded
the coronation, was likewise symbolical of the duties of royalty. The words
"_Suum cuique_," on the insignia of the order, according to Lamberty, who
suggested them, contain the definition of a good government, under which
all men alike, good as well as bad, are rewarded according to their several
deserts. The laurel and the lightning denote reward and punishment. The
conception at least is truly royal. Leibnitz, who was at that time closely
connected with the court, and who busied himself very much with this
affair, justly observes that nothing is complete without a name, and that,
although the Elector did already possess every royal attribute, he became
truly a king only by being called so.

Although the new dignity rested only on the possession of Prussia, all the
other provinces were included in the rank and title; those belonging to the
German empire were thus in a manner chosen out from among the other German
states, and united into a new whole, though, at the same time, care was
taken in other respects to keep up the ancient connection with the empire.
Thus we see that the elevation of the Elector to a royal title was an
important, nay, even a necessary, impulse to the progress of Prussia, which
we cannot even in thought separate from the whole combination of events.

The name of Prussia now became inseparable from an idea of military power
and glory, which was increased by splendid feats of arms, such as those
which we have already enumerated.



%FOUNDING OF ST. PETERSBURG%

A.D. 1703

K. WALISZEWSKI[1]

[Footnote 1: Translated from the Russian by Lady Mary Loyd.]


So radical and so vigorous were the changes made by Peter the Great in
Russia that they roused the opposition of almost the entire nation. Moscow,
the ancient capital, was the chief seat of this protesting conservatism;
and Peter, resolved to teach his opponents how determined he was in his
course and how helpless they were against his absolute power, formed the
tremendous project of building a wholly new capital, one where no voice
could be raised against him, where no traditions should environ him. He
chose an icy desert plain looking out toward the waters which led to that
Western Europe which he meant to imitate, if not to conquer.

No other man--one is almost tempted to say, no sane man--would have
ventured to erect a capital city in such an impossible place and on the
very frontier of his dominions. That Peter not only dared, but succeeded,
though at an almost immeasurable cost, makes the creation of the great
metropolis, St. Petersburg, one of the most remarkable events of history.

It was the chances of the great northern war that led Peter to St.
Petersburg. When he first threw down the gauntlet to Sweden he turned his
eyes on Livonia--on Narva and Riga. But Livonia was so well defended that
he was driven northward, toward Ingria. He moved thither grudgingly,
sending, in the first instance, Apraxin, who turned the easily conquered
province into a desert. It was not for some time, and gropingly, as it
were, that the young sovereign began to see his way, and finally turned
his attention and his longings to the mouth of the Neva. In former years
Gustavus Adolphus had realized the strategical importance of a position
which his successor, Charles XII, did not deem worthy of consideration,
and had himself studied all its approaches. Peter not only took it to be
valuable from the military and commercial point of view: he also found it
most attractive, and would fain have never left it. He was more at home
there than anywhere else, and the historical legends, according to which
it was true Russian ground, filled him with emotion. No one knows what
inspired this fondness on his part. It may have been the vague resemblance
of the marshy flats to the lowlands of Holland; it may have been the
stirring of some ancestral instinct. According to a legend, accepted by
Nestor, it was by the mouth of the Neva that the earliest Norman conquerors
of the country passed on their journeys across the Varegian Sea--_their own
sea_--and so to Rome.

Peter would seem to have desired to take up the thread of that tradition,
nine centuries old; and the story of his own foundation of the town has
become legendary and epic. One popular description represents him as
snatching a halberd from one of his soldiers, cutting two strips of turf,
and laying them crosswise with the words "Here there shall be a town!"
Foundation-stones were evidently lacking, and sods had to take their
place. Then, dropping the halberd, he seized a spade, and began the first
embankment. At that moment an eagle appeared, hovering over the Czar's
head. It was struck by a shot from a musket. Peter took the wounded bird,
set it on his wrist, and departed in a boat to inspect the neighborhood.
This occurred on May 16, 1703.

History adds that the Swedish prisoners employed on the work died in
thousands. The most indispensable tools were lacking. There were no
wheelbarrows, and the earth was carried in the corners of men's clothing.
A wooden fort was first built on the island bearing the Finnish name of
Ianni-Saari (Hare Island). This was the future citadel of St. Peter and St.
Paul. Then came a wooden church, and the modest cottage which was to be
Peter's first palace. Near these, the following year, there rose a Lutheran
church, ultimately removed to the left bank of the river, into the
Liteinaia quarter, and also a tavern, the famous inn of the Four Frigates,
which did duty as a town hall for a long time before it became a place of
diplomatic meeting. Then the cluster of modest buildings was augmented by
the erection of a bazaar. The Czar's collaborators gathered round him, in
cottages much like his own, and the existence of St. Petersburg became an
accomplished fact.

But, up to the time of the battle of Poltava, Peter never thought of making
St. Petersburg his capital. It was enough for him to feel he had a
fortress and a port. He was not sufficiently sure of his mastery over the
neighboring countries, not certain enough of being able to retain his
conquest, to desire to make it the centre of his government and his own
permanent residence. This idea was not definitely accepted till after his
great victory. His final decision has been bitterly criticised, especially
by foreign historians; it has been severely judged and remorselessly
condemned. Before expressing any opinion of my own on the subject, I should
like to sum up the considerations which have been put forward to support
this unfavorable verdict.

The great victory, we are told, diminished the strategic importance of St.
Petersburg, and almost entirely extinguished its value as a port; while
its erection into the capital city of the empire was never anything but
madness. Peter, being now the indisputable master of the Baltic shores, had
nothing to fear from any Swedish attack in the Gulf of Finland. Before any
attempt in that direction, the Swedes were certain to try to recover Narva
or Riga. If in later years they turned their eyes to St. Petersburg, it
was only because that town had acquired undue and unmerited political
importance. It was easy of attack and difficult to defend. There was no
possibility of concentrating any large number of troops there, for the
whole country, forty leagues round, was a barren desert. In 1788 Catharine
II complained that her capital was too near the Swedish frontier, and too
much exposed to sudden movements, such as that which Gustavus III very
nearly succeeded in carrying out. Here we have the military side of the
question.

From the commercial point of view St. Petersburg, we are assured, did
command a valuable system of river communication; but that commanded by
Riga was far superior. The Livonian, Esthonian, and Courland ports of Riga,
Libau, and Revel, all at an equal distance from St. Petersburg and Moscow,
and far less removed from the great German commercial centres, enjoyed
a superior climate, and were, subsequent to the conquest of the
above-mentioned provinces, the natural points of contact between Russia and
the West. An eloquent proof of this fact may be observed nowadays in the
constant increase of their commerce, and the corresponding decrease of that
of St. Petersburg, which has been artificially developed and fostered.

Besides this, the port of St. Petersburg, during the lifetime of its
founder, never was anything but a mere project. Peter's ships were moved
from Kronslot to Kronstadt. Between St. Petersburg and Kronstadt the Neva
was not, in those days, more than eight feet deep, and Manstein tells us
that all ships built at Petersburg had to be dragged, by means of machines
fitted with cables, to Kronstadt, where they received their guns. Once
these had been taken on board, the vessels could not get upstream again.
The port of Kronstadt was closed by ice for six months out of the twelve,
and lay in such a position that no sailing-ship could leave it unless the
wind blew from the east. There was so little salt in its waters that the
ship timbers rotted in a very short time, and, besides, there were no oaks
in the surrounding forests, and all such timber had to be brought from
Kasan. Peter was so well aware of all these drawbacks that he sought and
found a more convenient spot for his shipbuilding yards at Rogerwick,
in Esthonia, four leagues from Revel. But here he found difficulty in
protecting the anchorage from the effects of hurricanes and from the
insults of his enemies. He hoped to insure this by means of two piers,
built on wooden caissons filled with stones. He thinned the forests of
Livonia and Esthonia to construct it, and finally, the winds and the waves
having carried everything away twice over, the work was utterly abandoned.

On the other hand, and from the very outset, the commercial activity of St.
Petersburg was hampered by the fact that it was the Czar's capital. The
presence of the court made living dear, and the consequent expense of labor
was a heavy drawback to the export trade, which, by its nature, called
for a good deal of manual exertion. According to a Dutch resident of that
period, a wooden cottage, very inferior to that inhabited by a peasant in
the Low Countries, cost from eight hundred to one thousand florins a year
at St. Petersburg. A shopkeeper at Archangel could live comfortably on a
quarter of that sum. The cost of transport, which amounted to between nine
and ten copecks a pood (36.07 pounds), between Moscow and Archangel, five
to six between Yaroslaff and Archangel, and three or four between Vologda
and Archangel, came to eighteen, twenty, and thirty copecks a pood in the
case of merchandise sent from any of these places to St. Petersburg. This
accounts for the opposition of the foreign merchants at Archangel to the
request that they should remove to St. Petersburg. Peter settled the matter
in characteristic fashion, by forbidding any trade in hemp, flax, leather,
or corn to pass through Archangel. This rule, though somewhat slackened, in
1714, at the request of the States-General of Holland, remained in force
during the great Czar's reign. In 1718 hemp and some other articles of
commerce were allowed free entrance into the port of Archangel, but only on
condition that two-thirds of all exports should be sent to St. Petersburg.
This puts the case from the maritime and commercial point of view.

As a capital city, St. Petersburg, we are told again, was ill-placed on the
banks of the Neva, not only for the reasons already given, but for others,
geographical, ethnical, and climatic, which exist even in the present day,
and which make its selection an outrage on common-sense. Was it not, we
are asked, a most extraordinary whim which induced a Russian to found the
capital of his Slavonic empire among the Finns, against the Swedes--to
centralize the administration of a huge extent of country in its remotest
corner--to retire from Poland and Germany on the plea of drawing nearer to
Europe, and to force everyone about him, officials, court, and diplomatic
corps, to inhabit one of the most inhospitable spots, under one of the
least clement skies, he could possibly have discovered? The whole place was
a marsh--the Finnish word neva means "mud"; the sole inhabitants of the
neighboring forests were packs of wolves. In 1714, during a winter night,
two sentries, posted before the cannon-foundry, were devoured. Even
nowadays, the traveller, once outside the town, plunges into a desert. Far
away in every direction the great plain stretches; not a steeple, not a
tree, not a head of cattle, not a sign of life, whether human or animal.
There is no pasturage, no possibility of cultivation--fruit, vegetables,
and even corn, are all brought from a distance. The ground is in a sort of
intermediate condition between the sea and _terra firma_.

Up to Catharine's reign inundations were chronic in their occurrence.
On September 11, 1706, Peter drew from his pocket the measure he always
carried about him, and convinced himself that there were twenty-one inches
of water above the floors of his cottage. In all directions he saw men,
women, and children clinging to the wreckage of buildings, which was
being carried down the river. He described his impressions in a letter to
Menshikoff, dated from "Paradise," and declared it was "extremely amusing."
It may be doubted whether he found many persons to share his delight.
Communications with the town, now rendered easy by railways, were in those
days not only difficult, but dangerous. Campredon, when he went from Moscow
to St. Petersburg, in April, 1723, spent twelve hundred rubles. He lost
part of his luggage, eight of his horses were drowned, and after having
travelled for four weeks he reached his destination, very ill. Peter
himself, who arrived before the French diplomat, had been obliged to ride
part of the way, and to swim his horse across the rivers!

But in spite of all these considerations, the importance of which I am far
from denying, I am inclined to think Peter's choice a wise one. Nobody can
wonder that the idea of retaining Moscow as his capital was most repugnant
to him. The existence of his work in those hostile surroundings--in a place
which to this day has remained obstinately reactionary--could never have
been anything but precarious and uncertain. It must, after his death at
least, if not during his life, have been at the mercy of those popular
insurrections before which the sovereign power, as established in the
Kremlin, had already so frequently bowed. When Peter carried Muscovy out of
her former existence, and beyond her ancient frontiers, he was logically
forced to treat the seat of his government in the same manner. His new
undertaking resembled, both in aspect and character, a marching and
fighting formation, directed toward the west. The leader's place, and that
of his chief residence, was naturally indicated at the head of his column.
This once granted, and the principle of the translation of the capital to
the western extremity of the Czar's newly acquired possessions admitted,
the advantages offered by Ingria would appear to me to outweigh all the
drawbacks previously referred to.

The province was, at that period, virgin soil sparsely inhabited by a
Finnish population possessing neither cohesion nor historical consistency,
and, consequently, docile and easily assimilated. Everywhere else--all
along the Baltic coast, in Esthonia, in Carelia, and in Courland--though
the Swedes might be driven out, the Germans still remained firmly settled;
the neighborhood of their native country and of the springs of Teutonic
culture enduing them with an invincible power of resistance. Riga in
the present day, after nearly two centuries of Russian government, is a
thoroughly German town. In St. Petersburg, Russia, as a country, became
European and cosmopolitan, but the city itself is essentially Russian, and
the Finnish element in its neighborhood counts for nothing.

In this matter, though Peter may not have clearly felt and thought it out,
he was actuated by the mighty and unerring instinct of his genius. I am
willing to admit that here, as in everything else, there was a certain
amount of whim, and perhaps some childish desire to ape Amsterdam. I will
even go further, and acknowledge that the manner in which he carried out
his plan was anything but reasonable. Two hundred thousand laborers, we are
told, died during the construction of the new city, and the Russian nobles
ruined themselves to build palaces which soon fell out of occupation. But
an abyss was opened between the past the reformer had doomed and the future
on which he had set his heart, and the national life, thus violently forced
into a new channel, was stamped, superficially at first, but more and more
deeply by degrees, with the Western and European character he desired to
impart.

Moscow, down to the present day, has preserved a religious, almost a
monastic air; at every street corner chapels attract the passers-by, and
the local population, even at its busiest, crosses itself and bends as it
passes before the sacred pictures which rouse its devotion at every turn.
St. Petersburg, from the very earliest days, presented a different and
quite a secular appearance. At Moscow no public performance of profane
music was permitted. At St. Petersburg the Czar's German musicians played
every day on the balcony of his tavern. Toward the middle of the eighteenth
century the new city boasted a French theatre and an Italian opera, and
Schloezer noted that divine service was performed in fourteen languages!
Modern Russia, governed, educated to a certain extent, intellectually
speaking emancipated, and relatively liberal, could not have come into
existence nor grown in stature elsewhere.

And to conclude: Peter was able to effect this singular change without
doing too great violence to the historical traditions of his country. From
the earliest days of Russian history, the capital had been removed from
place to place--from Novgorod to Kiev, from Kiev to Vladimir, from Vladimir
to Moscow. This phenomenon was the consequence of the immense area of the
national territory, and the want of consistency in the elements of the
national life. From the beginning to the end of an evolution which lasted
centuries the centre of gravity of the disjointed, scattered, and floating
forces of ancient Russia perpetually changed its place. Thus the creation
of St. Petersburg was nothing but the working out of a problem in dynamics.
The struggle with Sweden, the conquest of the Baltic provinces, and the
yet more important conquest of a position in the European world naturally
turned the whole current of the national energies and life in that
direction. Peter desired to perpetuate this course. I am inclined to think
he acted wisely.



%BATTLE OF BLENHEIM%

CURBING OF LOUIS XIV

A.D. 1704

SIR EDWARD SHEPHERD CREASY


Among the decisive battles of the world, that of Blenheim is regarded by
historians as one of the most far-reaching in results. "The decisive blow
struck at Blenheim," says Alison, "resounded through every part of Europe.
It at once destroyed the vast fabric of power which it had taken Louis XIV
so long to construct." And Creasy himself elsewhere declares: "Had it not
been for Blenheim, all Europe might at this day suffer under the effect of
French conquests resembling those of Alexander in extent and those of the
Romans in durability."

It was the first great battle in the War of the Spanish Succession
(1701-1714), which was carried on mainly in Italy, the Netherlands, and
Germany. This war followed closely upon the War of the Palatinate, which
ended with the Treaty of Ryswick, in 1697. To this peace Louis XIV of
France--the most powerful monarch in Europe, who, in spite of his brutal
conduct of the war, had really been a loser by it--gave his consent. Among
the concessions made by him was his recognition--much against his own
interest--of William III as the rightful King of England.

Louis gave his consent to the Treaty of Ryswick partly because of his
interest in the question of the Spanish succession. Charles II of
Spain--last of the Hapsburg line in that country--was childless, and there
were three claimants for the throne; namely, Philip of Anjou, grandson of
Louis XIV; the Electoral Prince of Bavaria; and Charles, son of Leopold
I of Germany, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. The real stake was the
"balance of power" in Europe. At last, after much wrangling and intrigue
among the courts, Charles II bequeathed his throne to the Bavarian Prince,
whose death, in 1699, left Europe still divided over the succession.

Finally, Louis XIV completely won Charles II to his side, and Philip of
Anjou was named in Charles' will as his heir. Louis accepted for Philip,
who was crowned at Madrid, in 1701, as Philip V, and Europe was stirred to
wrath by the greed of the already too powerful French King. Turning now
upon England, Louis, in violation of the Treaty of Ryswick, declared the
son of the exiled James II rightful king of that country. The result of
Louis' acts was the Grand Alliance of The Hague against France, formed
between England, Holland, Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, Portugal, and
Savoy.

On the side of the allies in the war that followed, the great generals
were the English Duke of Marlborough, Prince Eugene of Savoy, and Hensius,
Pensioner of Holland. France had lost her best generals by death, and Louis
was compelled to rely upon inferior men as leaders of his army. War was
formally declared against France by the allies May 4, 1702. The early
operations were carried on in Flanders, in Germany--on the Upper Rhine--and
in Northern Italy.


Marlborough headed the allied troops in Flanders during the first two
years of the war, and took some towns from the enemy, but nothing decisive
occurred. Nor did any actions of importance take place during this period
between the rival armies in Italy. But in the centre of that line from
north to south, from the mouth of the Schelde to the mouth of the Po, along
which the war was carried on, the generals of Louis XIV acquired advantages
in 1703 which threatened one chief member of the Grand Alliance with utter
destruction.

France had obtained the important assistance of Bavaria as her confederate
in the war. The Elector of this powerful German state made himself master
of the strong fortress of Ulm, and opened a communication with the French
armies on the Upper Rhine. By this junction the troops of Louis were
enabled to assail the Emperor in the very heart of Germany. In the autumn
of 1703 the combined armies of the Elector and French King completely
defeated the Imperialists in Bavaria; and in the following winter they
made themselves masters of the important cities of Augsburg and Passau.
Meanwhile the French army of the Upper Rhine and Moselle had beaten the
allied armies opposed to them, and taken Treves and Landau. At the same
time the discontents in Hungary with Austria again broke out into open
insurrection, so as to distract the attention and complete the terror of
the Emperor and his council at Vienna.

Louis XIV ordered the next campaign to be commenced by his troops on a
scale of grandeur and with a boldness of enterprise such as even Napoleon's
military schemes have seldom equalled. On the extreme left of the line of
the war, in the Netherlands, the French armies were to act only on the
defensive. The fortresses in the hands of the French there were so many and
30 strong that no serious impression seemed likely to be made by the allies
on the French frontier in that quarter during one campaign, and that one
campaign was to give France such triumphs elsewhere as would, it was hoped,
determine the war. Large detachments were therefore to be made from the
French force in Flanders, and they were to be led by Marshal Villeroy to
the Moselle and Upper Rhine.

The French army already in the neighborhood of those rivers was to march
under Marshal Tallard through the Black Forest, and join the Elector of
Bavaria, and the French troops that were already with the Elector under
Marshal Marsin. Meanwhile the French army of Italy was to advance through
the Tyrol into Austria, and the whole forces were to combine between the
Danube and the Inn. A strong body of troops was to be despatched into
Hungary, to assist and organize the insurgents in that kingdom; and the
French grand army of the Danube was then in collected and irresistible
might to march upon Vienna and dictate terms of peace to the Emperor. High
military genius was shown in the formation of this plan, but it was met and
baffled by a genius higher still.

Marlborough had watched with the deepest anxiety the progress of the French
arms on the Rhine and in Bavaria, and he saw the futility of carrying on a
war of posts and sieges in Flanders, while death-blows to the empire were
being dealt on the Danube. He resolved, therefore, to let the war in
Flanders languish for a year, while he moved with all the disposable forces
that he could collect to the central scenes of decisive operations. Such a
march was in itself difficult; but Marlborough had, in the first instance,
to overcome the still greater difficulty of obtaining the consent and
cheerful cooperation of the allies, especially of the Dutch, whose frontier
it was proposed thus to deprive of the larger part of the force which had
hitherto been its protection.

Fortunately, among the many slothful, the many foolish, the many timid,
and the not few treacherous rulers, statesmen, and generals of different
nations with whom he had to deal, there were two men, eminent both in
ability and integrity, who entered fully into Marlborough's projects and
who, from the stations which they occupied, were enabled materially to
forward them. One of these was the Dutch statesman Heinsius, who had been
the cordial supporter of King William, and who now, with equal zeal and
good faith, supported Marlborough in the councils of the allies; the other
was the celebrated general, Prince Eugene, whom the Austrian cabinet had
recalled from the Italian frontier to take the command of one of the
Emperor's armies in Germany. To these two great men, and a few more,
Marlborough communicated his plan freely and unreservedly; but to the
general councils of his allies he only disclosed part of his daring scheme.

He proposed to the Dutch that he should march from Flanders to the
Upper Rhine and Moselle with the British troops and part of the foreign
auxiliaries, and commence vigorous operations against the French armies in
that quarter, while General Auverquerque, with the Dutch and the remainder
of the auxiliaries, maintained a defensive war in the Netherlands. Having
with difficulty obtained the consent of the Dutch to this portion of his
project, he exercised the same diplomatic zeal, with the same success, in
urging the King of Prussia and other princes of the empire to increase
the number of the troops which they supplied, and to post them in places
convenient for his own intended movements.

Marlborough commenced his celebrated march on May 10th. The army which
he was to lead had been assembled by his brother, General Churchill,
at Bedburg, not far from Maestricht, on the Meuse; it included sixteen
thousand English troops, and consisted of fifty-one battalions of foot, and
ninety-two squadrons of horse. Marlborough was to collect and join with him
on his march the troops of Prussia, Luneburg, and Hesse, quartered on the
Rhine, and eleven Dutch battalions that were stationed at Rothweil. He had
only marched a single day when the series of interruptions, complaints, and
requisitions from the other leaders of the allies began, to which he seemed
subjected throughout his enterprise, and which would have caused its
failure in the hands of anyone not gifted with the firmness and the
exquisite temper of Marlborough.

One specimen of these annoyances and of Marlborough's mode of dealing with
them may suffice. On his encamping at Kupen on the 20th, he received an
express from Auverquerque pressing him to halt, because Villeroy, who
commanded the French army in Flanders, had quitted the lines which he had
been occupying, and crossed the Meuse at Namur with thirty-six battalions
and forty-five squadrons, and was threatening the town of Huy. At the same
time Marlborough received letters from the Margrave of Baden and Count
Wratislaw, who commanded the Imperialist forces at Stollhoffen, near the
left bank of the Rhine, stating that Tallard had made a movement, as if
intending to cross the Rhine, and urging him to hasten his march toward the
lines of Stollhoffen. Marlborough was not diverted by these applications
from the prosecution of his grand design.

Conscious that the army of Villeroy would be too much reduced to undertake
offensive operations, by the detachments which had already been made toward
the Rhine, and those which must follow his own march, he halted only a
day to quiet the alarms of Auverquerque. To satisfy also the Margrave, he
ordered the troops of Hompesch and Buelow to draw toward Philippsburg,
though with private injunctions not to proceed beyond a certain distance.
He even exacted a promise to the same effect from Count Wratislaw, who at
this juncture arrived at the camp to attend him during the whole campaign.

Marlborough reached the Rhine at Coblenz, where he crossed that river, and
then marched along its left bank to Broubach and Mainz. His march,
though rapid, was admirably conducted, so as to save the troops from all
unnecessary fatigue; ample supplies of provisions were ready, and the most
perfect discipline was maintained. By degrees Marlborough obtained more
reinforcements from the Dutch and the other confederates, and he also was
left more at liberty by them to follow his own course. Indeed, before
even a blow was struck, his enterprise had paralyzed the enemy and had
materially relieved Austria from the pressure of the war. Villeroy, with
his detachments from the French Flemish army, was completely bewildered
by Marlborough's movements, and, unable to divine where it was that the
English general meant to strike his blow, wasted away the early part of the
summer between Flanders and the Moselle without effecting anything.[1]

[Footnote 1: "Marshal Villeroy," says Voltaire, "who had wished to follow
Marlborough on his first marches, suddenly lost sight of him altogether,
and only learned where he really was on hearing of his victory at
Donawert."]

Marshal Tallard, who commanded forty-five thousand French at Strasburg, and
who had been destined by Louis to march early in the year into Bavaria,
thought that Marlborough's march along the Rhine was preliminary to an
attack upon Alsace; and the marshal therefore kept his forty-five thousand
men back in order to protect France in that quarter. Marlborough skilfully
encouraged his apprehensions by causing a bridge to be constructed across
the Rhine at Philippsburg, and by making the Landgrave of Hesse advance his
artillery at Mannheim, as if for a siege of Landau.

Meanwhile the Elector of Bavaria and Marshal Marsin, suspecting that
Marlborough's design might be what it really proved to be, forbore to press
upon the Austrians opposed to them or to send troops into Hungary; and they
kept back so as to secure their communications with France. Thus, when
Marlborough, at the beginning of June, left the Rhine and marched for the
Danube, the numerous hostile armies were uncombined and unable to check
him.

"With such skill and science," says Coxe, "had this enterprise been
concerted that at the very moment when it assumed a specific direction the
enemy was no longer enabled to render it abortive. As the march was now to
be bent toward the Danube, notice was given for the Prussians, Palatines,
and Hessians, who were stationed on the Rhine, to order their march so as
to join the main body in its progress. At the same time directions were
sent to accelerate the advance of the Danish auxiliaries, who were marching
from the Netherlands."

Crossing the river Neckar, Marlborough marched in a southeastern direction
to Mundelshene, where he had his first personal interview with Prince
Eugene, who was destined to be his colleague on so many glorious fields.
Thence, through a difficult and dangerous country, Marlborough continued
his march against the Bavarians, whom he encountered on July 2d on the
heights of the Schullenberg, near Donauwoerth. Marlborough stormed their
intrenched camp, crossed the Danube, took several strong places in Bavaria,
and made himself completely master of the Elector's dominions except the
fortified cities of Munich and Augsburg. But the Elector's army, though
defeated at Donauwoerth, was still numerous and strong; and at last Marshal
Tallard, when thoroughly apprised of the real nature of Marlborough's
movements, crossed the Rhine; and being suffered, through the supineness of
the German general at Stollhoffen, to march without loss through the Black
Forest, he united his powerful army at Biberach, near Augsburg, with
that of the Elector and the French troops under Marshal Marsin, who had
previously been cooperating with the Bavarians.

On the other hand, Marlborough recrossed the Danube, and on August 11th
united his army with the Imperialist forces under Prince Eugene. The
combined armies occupied a position near Hoechstaedt,[1] a little higher up
the left bank of the Danube than Donauwoerth, the scene of Marlborough's
recent victory, and almost exactly on the ground where Marshal Villars and
the Elector had defeated an Austrian army in the preceding year. The French
marshals and the Elector were now in position a little further to the east,
between Blenheim and Lützingen, and with the little stream of the Nebel
between them and the troops of Marlborough and Eugene. The Gallo-Bavarian
army consisted of about sixty thousand men, and they had sixty-one pieces
of artillery. The army of the allies was about fifty-six thousand strong,
with fifty-two guns.

[Footnote 1: The Battle of Blenheim is called by the Germans and the French
the battle of Hoechstaedt.--ED.]

Although the French army of Italy had been unable to penetrate into
Austria, and although the masterly strategy of Marlborough had hitherto
warded off the destruction with which the cause of the allies seemed
menaced at the beginning of the campaign, the peril was still most serious.
It was absolutely necessary for Marlborough to attack the enemy before
Villeroy should be roused into action. There was nothing to stop that
general and his army from marching into Franconia, whence the allies drew
their principal supplies; and besides thus distressing them, he might, by
marching on and joining his army to those of Tallard and the Elector, form
a mass which would overwhelm the force under Marlborough and Eugene. On
the other hand, the chances of a battle seemed perilous, and the fatal
consequences of a defeat were certain. The disadvantage of the allies in
point of number was not very great, but still it was not to be disregarded;
and the advantage which the enemy seemed to have in the composition of
their troops was striking.

Tallard and Marsin had forty-five thousand Frenchmen under them, all
veterans and all trained to act together; the Elector's own troops also
were good soldiers. Marlborough, like Wellington at Waterloo, headed an
army of which the larger proportion consisted, not of English, but of men
of many different nations and many different languages. He was also obliged
to be the assailant in the action, and thus to expose his troops to
comparatively heavy loss at the commencement of the battle, while the enemy
would fight under the protection of the villages and lines which they were
actively engaged in strengthening. The consequences of a defeat of the
confederated army must have broken up the Grand Alliance, and realized
the proudest hopes of the French King. Alison, in his admirable military
history of the Duke of Marlborough, has truly stated the effects which
would have taken place if France had been successful in the war; and when
the position of the confederates at the time when Blenheim was fought is
remembered--when we recollect the exhaustion of Austria, the menacing
insurrection of Hungary, the feuds and jealousies of the German princes,
the strength and activity of the Jacobite party in England, and the
imbecility of nearly all the Dutch statesmen of the time, and the weakness
of Holland if deprived of her allies--we may adopt his words in speculating
on what would have ensued if France had been victorious in the battle,
and "if a power, animated by the ambition, guided by the fanaticism, and
directed by the ability of that of Louis XIV, had gained the ascendency in
Europe.

"Beyond all question, a universal despotic dominion would have been
established over the bodies, a cruel spiritual thraldom over the minds, of
men. France and Spain, united under Bourbon princes and in a close family
alliance--the empire of Charlemagne with that of Charles V--the power
which revoked the Edict of Nantes and perpetrated the massacre of St.
Bartholomew, with that which banished the Moriscoes and established
the Inquisition, would have proved irresistible, and, beyond example,
destructive to the best interests of mankind.

"The Protestants might have been driven, like the pagan heathens of old by
the son of Pépin, beyond the Elbe; the Stuart race, and with them Romish
ascendency, might have been reestablished in England; the fire lighted by
Latimer and Ridley might have been extinguished in blood; and the energy
breathed by religious freedom into the Anglo-Saxon race might have expired.
The destinies of the world would have been changed. Europe, instead of a
variety of independent states, whose mutual hostility kept alive courage,
while their national rivalry stimulated talent, would have sunk into the
slumber attendant on universal dominion. The colonial empire of England
would have withered away and perished, as that of Spain has done in the
grasp of the Inquisition. The Anglo-Saxon race would have been arrested
in its mission to overspread the earth and subdue it. The centralized
despotism of the Roman Empire would have been renewed on Continental
Europe; the chains of Romish tyranny, and with them the general infidelity
of France before the Revolution, would have extinguished or perverted
thought in the British Islands."

Marlborough's words at the council of war, when a battle was resolved on,
are remarkable, and they deserve recording. We know them on the authority
of his chaplain, Mr. (afterward Bishop) Hare, who accompanied him
throughout the campaign, and in whose journal the biographers of
Marlborough have found many of their best materials. Marlborough's words to
the officers who remonstrated with him on the seeming temerity of attacking
the enemy in their position were: "I know the danger, yet a battle is
absolutely necessary, and I rely on the bravery and discipline of the
troops, which will make amends for our disadvantages." In the evening
orders were issued for a general engagement, and were received by the army
with an alacrity which justified his confidence.

The French and Bavarians were posted behind the little stream called the
Nebel, which runs almost from north to south into the Danube immediately in
front of the village of Blenheim. The Nebel flows along a little valley,
and the French occupied the rising ground to the west of it. The village
of Blenheim was the extreme right of their position, and the village of
Luetzingen, about three miles north of Blenheim, formed their left. Beyond
Luetzingen are the rugged high grounds of the Godd Berg and Eich Berg,
on the skirts of which some detachments were posted, so as to secure the
Gallo-Bavarian position from being turned on the left flank. The Danube
secured their right flank; and it was only in front that they could be
attacked. The villages of Blenheim and Luetzingen had been strongly
palisaded and intrenched; Marshal Tallard, who held the chief command, took
his station at Blenheim; the Elector and Marshal Marsin commanded on the
left.

Tallard garrisoned Blenheim with twenty-six battalions of French infantry
and twelve squadrons of French cavalry. Marsin and the Elector had
twenty-two battalions of infantry and thirty-six squadrons of cavalry in
front of the village of Luetzingen. The centre was occupied by fourteen
battalions of infantry, including the celebrated Irish brigade. These were
posted in the little hamlet of Oberglau, which lies somewhat nearer
to Luetzingen than to Blenheim. Eighty squadrons of cavalry and seven
battalions of foot were ranged between Oberglau and Blenheim. Thus the
French position was very strong at each extremity, but was comparatively
weak in the centre. Tallard seems to have relied on the swampy state of
the part of the valley that reaches from below Oberglau to Blenheim for
preventing any serious attack on this part of his line.

The army of the allies was formed into two great divisions, the largest
being commanded by the Duke in person, and being destined to act against
Tallard, while Prince Eugene led the other division, which consisted
chiefly of cavalry, and was intended to oppose the enemy under Marsin and
the Elector. As they approached the enemy, Marlborough's troops formed the
left and the centre, while Eugene's formed the right of the entire army.
Early in the morning of August 13th the allies left their own camp and
marched toward the enemy. A thick haze covered the ground, and it was not
until the allied right and centre had advanced nearly within cannon-shot
of the enemy that Tallard was aware of their approach. He made his
preparations with what haste he could, and about eight o'clock a heavy fire
of artillery was opened from the French right on the advancing left wing of
the British. Marlborough ordered up some of his batteries to reply to
it, and while the columns that were to form the allied left and centre
deployed, and took up their proper stations in the line, a warm cannonade
was kept up by the guns on both sides.

The ground which Eugene's columns Jiad to traverse was peculiarly
difficult, especially for the passage of the artillery, and it was nearly
mid-day before he could get his troops into line opposite to Luetzingen.
During this interval Marlborough ordered divine service to be performed by
the chaplains at the head of each regiment, and then rode along the
lines, and found both officers and men in the highest spirits and waiting
impatiently for the signal for the attack. At length an aide-de-camp
galloped up from the right with the welcome news that Eugene was ready.
Marlborough instantly sent Lord Cutts, with a strong brigade of infantry to
assault the village of Blenheim, while he himself led the main body down
the eastward slope of the valley of the Nebel, and prepared to effect the
passage of the stream.

The assault on Blenheim, though bravely made, was repulsed with severe
loss, and Marlborough, finding how strongly that village was garrisoned,
desisted from any further attempts to carry it, and bent all his energies
to breaking the enemy's line between Blenheim and Oberglau. Some temporary
bridges had been prepared, and planks and fascines had been collected; and
by the aid of these, and a little stone bridge which crossed the Nebel
near a hamlet called Unterglau, that lay in the centre of the valley,
Marlborough succeeded in getting several squadrons across the Nebel, though
it was divided into several branches, and the ground between them was soft,
and, in places, little better than a mere marsh.

But the French artillery was not idle. The cannon-balls plunged incessantly
among the advancing squadrons of the allies, and bodies of French cavalry
rode frequently down from the western ridge, to charge them before they had
time to form on the firm ground. It was only by supporting his men by fresh
troops, and by bringing up infantry, who checked the advance of the enemy's
horse by their steady fire, that Marlborough was able to save his army in
this quarter from a repulse, which, succeeding the failure of the attack
upon Blenheim, would probably have been fatal to the allies. By degrees,
his cavalry struggled over the bloodstained streams; the infantry were
also now brought across, so as to keep in check the French troops who held
Blenheim, and who, when no longer assailed in front, had begun to attack
the allies on their left with considerable effect.

Marlborough had thus at length succeeded in drawing up the whole left wing
of his army beyond the Nebel, and was about to press forward with it, when
he was called away to another part of the field by a disaster that
had befallen his centre. The Prince of Holstein Beck had, with eleven
Hanoverian battalions, passed the Nebel opposite to Oberglau, when he was
charged and utterly routed by the Irish brigade which held that village.
The Irish drove the Hanoverians back with heavy slaughter, broke completely
through the line of the allies, and nearly achieved a success as brilliant
as that which the same brigade afterward gained at Fontenoy.

But at Blenheim their ardor in pursuit led them too far. Marlborough came
up in person, and dashed in upon the exposed flank of the brigade with some
squadrons of British cavalry. The Irish reeled back, and as they strove to
regain the height of Oberglau their column was raked through and through by
the fire of three battalions of the allies, which Marlborough had summoned
up from the reserve. Marlborough having reestablished the order and
communications of the allies in this quarter, now, as he returned to his
own left wing, sent to learn how his colleague fared against Marsin and the
Elector, and to inform Eugene of his own success.

Eugene had hitherto not been equally fortunate. He had made three attacks
on the enemy opposed to him, and had been thrice driven back. It was only
by his own desperate personal exertions, and the remarkable steadiness of
the regiments of Prussian infantry, which were under him, that he was able
to save his wing from being totally defeated. But it was on the southern
part of the battle-field, on the ground which Marlborough had won beyond
the Nebel with such difficulty, that the crisis of the battle was to be
decided.

Like Hannibal, Marlborough relied principally on his cavalry for achieving
his decisive successes, and it was by his cavalry that Blenheim, the
greatest of his victories, was won. The battle had lasted till five in the
afternoon. Marlborough had now eight thousand horsemen drawn up in two
lines, and in the most perfect order for a general attack on the enemy's
line along the space between Blenheim and Oberglau. The infantry was drawn
up in battalions in their rear, so as to support them if repulsed, and
to keep in check the large masses of the French that still occupied the
village of Blenheim. Tallard now interlaced his squadrons of cavalry with
battalions of infantry, and Marlborough, by a corresponding movement,
brought several regiments of infantry and some pieces of artillery to his
front line at intervals between the bodies of horse.

A little after five Marlborough commenced the decisive movement, and the
allied cavalry, strengthened and supported by foot and guns, advanced
slowly from the lower ground near the Nebel up the slope to where the
French cavalry, ten thousand strong, awaited them. On riding over the
summit of the acclivity, the allies were received with so hot a fire from
the French artillery and small arms that at first the cavalry recoiled, but
without abandoning the high ground. The guns and the infantry which they
had brought with them maintained the contest with spirit and effect. The
French fire seemed to slacken. Marlborough instantly ordered a charge along
the line. The allied cavalry galloped forward at the enemy's squadrons, and
the hearts of the French horsemen failed them. Discharging their carbines
at an idle distance, they wheeled round and spurred from the field, leaving
the nine infantry battalions of their comrades to be ridden down by the
torrent of the allied cavalry.

The battle was now won. Tallard and Marsin, severed from each other,
thought only of retreat. Tallard drew up the squadrons of horse that he had
left, in a line extended toward Blenheim, and sent orders to the infantry
in that village to leave it and join him without delay. But long ere his
orders could be obeyed the conquering squadrons of Marlborough had wheeled
to the left and thundered down on the feeble array of the French marshal.
Part of the force which Tallard had drawn up for this last effort was
driven into the Danube; part fled with their general to the village of
Sonderheim, where they were soon surrounded by the victorious allies and
compelled to surrender. Meanwhile Eugene had renewed his attack upon the
Gallo-Bavarian left, and Marsin, finding his colleague utterly routed, and
his own right flank uncovered, prepared to retreat. He and the Elector
succeeded in withdrawing a considerable part of their troops in tolerable
order to Dillingen; but the krge body of French who garrisoned Blenheim
were left exposed to certain destruction.

Marlborough speedily occupied all the outlets from the village with
his victorious troops, and then, collecting his artillery round it, he
commenced a cannonade that speedily would have destroyed Blenheim itself
and all who were in it. After several gallant but unsuccessful attempts to
cut their way through the allies, the French in Blenheim were at length
compelled to surrender at discretion; and twenty-four battalions and twelve
squadrons, with all their officers, laid down their arms and became the
captives of Marlborough.

"Such," says Voltaire, "was the celebrated battle which the French called
the battle of Hoechstaedt, the Germans Blindheim, and the English Blenheim.
The conquerors had about five thousand killed and eight thousand wounded,
the greater part being on the side of Prince Eugene. The French army was
almost entirely destroyed: of sixty thousand men, so long victorious,
there never reassembled more than twenty thousand effective. About twelve
thousand killed, fourteen thousand prisoners, all the cannon, a prodigious
number of colors and standards, all the tents and equipages, the general of
the army, and one thousand two hundred officers of mark in the power of the
conqueror, signalized that day!"

Ulm, Landau, Treves, and Traerbach surrendered to the allies before the
close of the year. Bavaria submitted to the Emperor, and the Hungarians
laid down their arms. Germany was completely delivered from France, and the
military ascendency of the arms of the allies was completely established.
Throughout the rest of the war Louis fought only in defence. Blenheim had
dissipated forever his once proud visions of almost universal conquest.



%UNION OF ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND%

A.D. 1707

JOHN HILL BURTON


Although not one of the longest, the reign of Queen Anne was one of the
most glorious, in English history. Not only was it signalized by the
victorious deeds of Marlborough in the War of the Spanish Succession, but
also by the union of the two kingdoms of England and Scotland, one of the
principal events in British annals.

Before the union England and Scotland had no political partnership save
that derived through the person of the sovereign by inheritance of both
crowns. From the completion of the union in 1707 both countries have been
not only under one royal head, but also represented in a single Parliament.
At the beginning of Anne's reign the attitude of Scotland toward England
was hostile, old antagonisms surviving in memory to intensify fresh
irritations. Although William III, predecessor of Anne, had urged a union
of the kingdoms, all negotiations to that end had failed. In 1703, and
again in 1704, the Scottish Parliament had passed an act of security
declaring in favor of the abrogation of the union of the crowns which had
existed for a century. The English Parliament resorted to retaliatory
measures.

By this time, however, the wiser statesmen in both countries saw that open
hostilities could be averted only by a complete political union of the two
kingdoms, and they used all their influence to bring it about. How this
great historic reconciliation was accomplished, Burton, the eminent
Scottish historian and jurist, shows with equal learning and impartiality.

The English statute, responding by precautions and threats to the Scots Act
of Security, contained clauses for furthering an incorporating union as the
only conclusive settlement of accumulating difficulties. It provided that
commissioners for England appointed by the Queen under the great seal shall
have power "to treat and consult" with commissioners for the same purpose
"authorized by authority of the Parliament of Scotland." The statute of the
Parliament of Scotland completing the adjustment, with the short title "Act
for a treaty with England," authorizes such persons "as shall be nominated
and appointed by her majesty under the great seal of this kingdom" to treat
and consult with "the commissioners for England."

The next great step was the appointment of the two commissions, thirty-one
on either side. On the English were the two archbishops; for Scotland there
was no clerical element. It was noticed that for England all the members
not official were from the peerage, while in Scotland there seemed to be a
desire to represent the peerage, the landed commoners, and the burgesses
or city interest, in just proportions. At an early stage in the daily
business, the English brought up a proposition about the reception of which
they had considerable apprehension: that there should be "the same customs,
excise, and all other taxes" throughout the United Kingdom--virtually a
resolution that Scotland should be taxed on the English scale. This was
easily passed by means of a solvent--due, no doubt, to the financial
genius of Godolphin--that, on an accounting and proof of local or personal
hardships arising from the adoption of uniformity, compensation in money
should be made from the English treasury. But a more critical point was
reached when, on April 24th, the chancellor of Scotland brought forward,
among certain preliminary articles, one "that there be free communication,
and intercourse of trade and navigation, between the two kingdoms and
plantations thereunto belonging, under such regulations as in the progress
of this treaty shall be found most for the advantage of both kingdoms."
This was frankly accepted on the part of England, and faithfully adjusted
in detail. It was felt to be a mighty sacrifice made to exercise indefinite
but formidable calamities in another shape.

At this point in the progress of the union all interest resting on the
excitements of political victory and defeat, or the chances of a bitter
war, came to an end. There were a few small incidents in Scotland; but
England was placidly indifferent. She had cheerfully paid a heavy stake as
loser in the great game, and it would trouble her no more. The statesmen
of the two countries knew that the union must pass unless the Jacobites of
Scotland were joined by an invading French army; and that was not a likely
casualty while Marlborough was hovering on the frontiers of France. There
was a touch of the native haughtiness in this placid indifference of
England. No doubt it helped in clearing the way to the great conclusion;
but for many years after the fusing of the two nations into one, disturbing
events showed that it had been better had the English known something about
the national institutions and the temper of the people who had now a right
to call themselves their fellow-countrymen.

It was expected that Scotland would be quietly absorbed into
England--absorptions much more difficult in the first aspect were in
continuous progress in Asia and America. The Englishman had great
difficulty in reconciling himself to political and social conditions not
his own, and his pride prompted him to demand that, if he left England, any
part of the world honored by his presence should make an England for his
reception. When expecting this on the other side of the border, he forgot
that the Scot had too much of his own independence and obstinacy. True, the
Scot, among the sweet uses of adversity, had imbibed more of the vagrant,
and could adapt himself more easily to the usages and temper of other
nations. But on the question of yielding up his own national usages and
prejudices in his own country he was as obstinate as his mighty partner.

There was stills world of business to be transacted in details of the
unattractive kind that belong to accountants' reports. These may be objects
of vital and intense interest--as in the realizing of the assets in
bankruptcies, where persons immediately interested in frantic excitement
hunt out the array of small figures--two, three, four, or five--that tells
them whether they are safe or ruined. But the interest is not of a kind to
hold its intensity through after generations. On some items of the present
accounting, however, there was, in the principle adopted, a fund of
personal and political interest. The heavy debts of England had to be
considered--and here, as in all pecuniary arrangements, England was
freehanded. The Scots made an effort to retain their African Company, but
they fortunately offered the alternative of purchasing the stock from the
holders. On the alternative of retention the English commissioners were
resolute in refusal and resistance, but they were ready to entertain the
other; and they accepted it in a literal shape. To have bought the stock at
its market value would have been a farce, after the ruin that had overcome
the company. But if it could not be even said that England had ruined
the company, the sacrifice had been made in the prevalence of English
interests, and while there was yet a hold on England it should be kept.
There was no difficulty in coming to a settlement satisfactory to the
Scots, and willingly offered by the English. It was substantially payment
of the loss on each share, as calculated from an examination of the
company's books.

The adjustment of the several pecuniary claims thus created in favor of
Scotland was simply the collective summation of the losses incurred by all
the stockholders; and when the summation was completed the total was passed
into a capital sum, called the "Equivalent." This sum total of the various
items, with all their fractions, making up a fractional sum less than four
hundred thousand pounds, might be otherwise described as a capital stock
held by the shareholders of the old company trading to Africa and the
Indies, each to the extent of his loss. Odious suspicions were, down to
the present generation, propagated about an item or group of items in the
Equivalent. A sum amounting to twenty thousand five hundred forty pounds
seventeen shillings sevenpence had been made over by the English treasury,
to be paid to influential Scotsmen as the price of their votes or influence
in favor of England.

Fortunately this affair was closely investigated by the celebrated
committee of inquiry that brought on Marlborough's dismissal and Walpole's
imprisonment. It was found that the Scots treasury had been drained; and
the crisis of the union was not a suitable time either for levying money
or for leaving debts--the salaries of public offices especially--unpaid.
England, therefore, lent money to clear away this difficulty. The
transaction was irregular, and had not passed through the proper treasury
forms. It was ascertained, however, that the money so lent had been repaid.
In discussions of the affair, before those concerned were fully cleared
of the odium of bribery, taunting remarks had been made on the oddity and
sordid specialties of the items of payment. Thus the allowance to the Lord
Banff was, in sterling money, eleven pounds two shillings. It would have
had a richer sound, and perhaps resolved itself into round numbers, in
Scots money; but as it is, there is no more to be said against it than
that, as a debt in some way due to the Lord Banff, the exact English
book-keeper had entered it down to its fraction.

There remained a few matters of adjustment of uniformities between the two
countries for the advantage of both--such as a fixed standard for rating
money in account. The Scots grumbled, rather than complained, about the
English standard being always made the rule, and no reciprocity being
offered. But the Scots were left considerable facilities for the use of
their own customs for home purposes in pecuniary matters, and in weights
and measures. If, for the general convenience of commerce and taxation,
any uniformity was necessary, and the practice of the greater nation was a
suitable standard for the other, it was the smaller sacrifice, and to both
parties the easier arrangement, that those who were only an eighth part of
the inhabitants of the island should yield to the overwhelming majority.

It was in keeping with the wisdom and tolerance prevailing throughout on
the English side of the treaty that it should be first discussed in the
Parliament of Scotland. If this was felt as a courtesy to Scotland it was
an expediency for England. All opposition would be in Scotland, and it was
well to know it at once, that disputes might be cleared off and a simple
affirmative or negative presented to the Parliament of Scotland.

The Parliament of England has ever restrained vague oratory by a rule that
there must always be a question of yes or no, fitted for a division as the
text of a debate. In Scotland on this occasion, as on many others, there
was at first a discussion of the general question; and when this, along
with other sources of information, had given the servants of the Crown
some assurance of the fate of the measure, there was a separate debate
and division on the first article, understood on all hands to be a final
decision. The debate was decorated by a work of oratorical art long admired
in Scotland, and indeed worthy of admiration anywhere for its brilliancy
and power. It was a great philippic--taking that term in its usual
acceptation--as expressing a vehement torrent of bitter epigram and
denunciatory climax.

The speech of John Hamilton, Lord Belhaven, "On the subject-matter of a
union betwixt the two kingdoms of England and Scotland," was so amply
dispersed in its day that if a collector of pamphlets on the union buys
them in volumes he will generally find this speech in each volume. It is,
no doubt, an effort of genius; but what will confer more interest on the
following specimens selected from it is that it was an attempt to rouse the
nation to action at this perilous and momentous crisis, and succeeded only
in drawing attention and admiration as a fine specimen of rhetorical art:

"I think I see the present peers of Scotland, whose noble ancestors
conquered provinces, overran countries, reduced and subjected towns and
fortified places, exacted tribute through the greater part of England, now
walking in the court of requests like so many English attorneys, laying
aside their walking-swords when in company with the English peers, lest
their self-defence should be found murder.

"I think I see the royal state of boroughs walking their desolate streets,
hanging down their heads under disappointments, wormed out of all the
branches of their old trade, uncertain what hand to turn to, necessitate
to become 'prentices to their unkind neighbors, and yet after all finding
their trade so fortified by companies and secured by prescriptions that
they despair of any success therein. But above all, my lord, I think I see
our ancient mother, Caledonia, like Caesar, sitting in the midst of our
senate, ruefully looking round her, covering herself with her royal
garment, attending the fatal blow, and breathing out her last with a _'et
tu quoque mi fili,'_"

The great remedy for all is an end of rancorous feuds and hatreds dividing
Scotland; and this calls from him a glowing picture of the land that by
union and industry has made itself too powerful to be a safe partner for
humiliated Scotland:

"They are not under the afflicting hand of Providence as we are; their
circumstances are great and glorious; their treaties are prudently managed
both at home and abroad; their generals brave and valorous; their armies
successful and victorious; their trophies and laurels memorable and
surprising; their enemies subdued and routed. Their royal navy is the
terror of Europe; their trade and commerce extended through the universe,
encircling the whole world, and rendering their own capital city the
emporium for the whole inhabitants of the earth."

The speech was for the country, not for the House. The great points about
trade and virtual independence had been conceded by England, and a union
was looked to rather as a refuge and a gain than as oppression and plunder.
It has even been said that there was some inclination to receive the speech
with irony; and Defoe, who seems to have been present on the occasion,
gives this account of what followed:

"Mr. Seton, who made the first speech, stood up to answer the Lord
Belhaven; but as he had already spoken, the order of the House--viz., 'that
the same member could not speak twice in the same cause'--was urged against
his speaking, and the Earl of Marchmont standing up at the same time, the
lord chancellor gave place to him, who indeed made a short return to so
long a speech, and which answer occasioned some laughter in the House. The
Earl of Marchmont's speech was to this purpose, viz.: He had heard a long
speech, and a very terrible one; but he was of opinion it required a short
answer, which he gave in these terms: 'Behold he dreamed, but, lo! when
he awoke, he found it was a dream.' This answer, some said, was as
satisfactory to the members, who understood the design of that speech as if
it had been answered vision by vision."

In the debates on the union, some Scots statesmen found a tactic,
infinitely valuable to them in the united Parliament, of voting in a group.
They were called the "New party," and nicknamed the "_Squadrone volante_."
In the correspondence already referred to, it was good news at St.
Stephen's when it was announced that the New party had adopted the union.
On the critical division the numbers stood one hundred eighteen for the
article and eighty-three against it. The remainder of the clauses passed
without division, a ready acceptance being given to amendments, that were
virtually improvements, in giving effect to the spirit of details in the
treaty; as where it was adjusted that, for trading purposes, vessels bought
abroad for trade from the Scots harbors should be counted equivalent to
vessels of Scottish build.

There was a considerable noisy excitement through the country, the
Jacobites ever striving to rouse the people in the great towns to riot
and sedition, and, when they found that impossible, spreading exaggerated
accounts of the effects of their efforts. A mob was raised in Edinburgh,
but it was appeased without the loss of life and with no other casualty
save the frightening of the provost's wife. There were some eccentric
movements among the Cameronians, rendered all the more grotesque by the
Jacobites taking the leadership in them; and some of the more vehement
clergy betook themselves to their own special weapons in the holding of a
day of humiliation and prayer.

Ere the whole came to a conclusion, a point was yielded to the Presbyterian
Church of Scotland. It was passed as a separate act before the Act of Union
was passed--the separate act stipulating its repetition in any act adopting
the Treaty of Union. It provided for the preservation of the discipline,
worship, and ecclesiastical government of the establishment. It was further
provided that every sovereign of the United Kingdom, on accession to the
throne, should make oath in terms of this act. Hence it happens that this
oath is taken immediately on the accession, the other oaths, including
that for the protection of the Church of England, being postponed till the
ceremony of the coronation. On October 16, 1706, there came a vote on the
passing of the "Act ratifying and approving the Treaty of Union." This was
carried in the Scots Parliament by one hundred ten to sixty-nine.

It was the determination of the Queen's ministers for England to carry the
treaty as it came from Scotland, word for word; and they employed all their
strength to do so. It was the policy of the English government and their
supporters in the matter of the union, to avoid a Parliamentary debate upon
it clause by clause at St. Stephen's.

To this end there was an endeavor to give it, as much as in the peculiar
conditions could be given, the character of a treaty between two
independent powers, each acting through its executive, that executive
acknowledging the full power of Parliament to examine, criticise, and
virtually judge the act done as a whole, but not admitting Parliamentary
interference with the progress of the details. If there were an
illogicality in the essence of a treaty where the executive--the Queen--was
the common sovereign of both realms, the difficulty could be discarded as
a pedantry, in a constitutional community where the sovereign acts through
responsible advisers. Some slight touches of apprehension were felt in
England when it was seen that the Scots Estates were not only voting the
separate articles, but in some measure remodelling them.

The Estates were taking the privilege naturally claimed by the weaker party
to a bargain in protecting themselves while it was yet time. When all was
adjusted, England, as the vast majority, could correct whatever had been
done amiss in the preliminary adjustment of her interests, but poor
Scotland would be entirely helpless. There was another reason for
tolerating the alterations, in their being directed to the safety and
completeness of the legal institutions left in the hands of Scotland
untouched, as matters of entire indifference to England; still it weakened
the hands of those who desired to evade a Parliamentary discussion on the
several articles in England that this had been permitted in Scotland, and
had become effective in the shape of amendments. John Johnston, who had
been for some time secretary of state for Scotland--a son of the celebrated
covenanting hero Archibald Johnston of Warriston--was then in London
carefully looking at the signs of the times. He wrote to Scotland, saying:
"You may, I think, depend on it that the alterations you have hitherto
made will not break the union; but if you go on altering, it's like your
alterations will be altered here, which will make a new session with you
necessary, and in that case no man knows what may happen." All is well as
yet (January 4th), and if there be no more serious alterations the English
ministers will be able to give effect to their resolution "to pass the
union here without making any alterations at all."

By what had been usually called a message from the throne, the attention of
Parliament was directed to the treaty as it had come from Scotland, but the
matter being of supreme importance the Queen was her own messenger. From
the Commons she had to ask for a supply to meet the equivalent. To both
Houses she said: "You have now an opportunity before you of putting the
last hand to a happy union of the two kingdoms, which I hope will be a
lasting blessing to the whole island, a great addition to its wealth and
power, and a firm security to the Protestant religion. The advantages that
will accrue to us all from a union are so apparent that I will add no more,
but that I shall look upon it as a particular happiness if this great
work, which has been so often attempted without success, can be brought to
perfection in my reign."

The opportunity was taken to imitate the Scots in a separate preliminary
act "for securing the Church of England as by law established." There was a
desultory discussion in both Houses, with a result showing the overwhelming
strength of the supporters of the union. In the House of Lords there were
some divisions, and among these the largest number of votes mustered by
the opposition was twenty-three, bringing out a majority of forty-seven by
seventy votes for the ministry. The conclusion of the discussion was a vote
of approval by each House.

The opposition, however, did not adopt their defeat. They were preparing to
fight the battle over again, clause by clause, when a bill was brought in
to convert the Articles of Union into an act of Parliament. The English
House of Commons has always been supremely tolerant to troublesome and
even mischievous members, so long as they adhere to the forms of the
House--forms to be zealously guarded, since they were framed for averting
hasty legislation and the possible domination of an intolerant majority. It
was determined, however, that the impracticals and impedimenters should not
have their swing on this occasion, when the descent of a French army to
gather to its centre the Jacobitism still lingering in the country darkened
the political horizon. Both Houses had a full opportunity for discussing
the merits of every word in the treaty, and the risk of national ruin was
not to be encountered because they had not expended all their loquacity,
having expected another opportunity.

The tactic for evading the danger was credited to the ingenuity of Sir
Simon Harcourt, the attorney-general. The two acts of ecclesiastical
security and the articles of the treaty were all recited in the preamble of
the bill under the command of the mighty "Whereas," the enacting part
of the act was dropped into a single sentence, shorter than statutory
sentences usually are. The opposition might throw out the measure, and
the ministry with it, if they had strength to do so; but there had been
sufficient discussion on the clauses, and there should be no more. In the
descriptive words of Burnet: "This put those in great difficulties who had
resolved to object to several articles, and to insist on demanding several
alterations in them, for they could not come at any debate about them; they
could not object to the recital, it being mere matter of fact; and they had
not strength enough to oppose the general enacting clause; nor was it easy
to come at particulars and offer provisos relating to them. The matter
was carried on with such zeal that it passed through the House of Commons
before those who intended to oppose it had recovered out of the surprise
under which the form it was drawn in had put them."

There was thus but one question, that the bill do pass, and the opposition
had not reaped encouragement to resist so great an issue. The Lords had, in
their usual manner of dignified repose, managed to discuss the clauses, but
it was rather a conversation, to see that all was in right order, and that
no accident had happened to a measure of so vital moment, than a debate.

On March 6, 1707, the Queen came to the House of Lords, and in a graceful
speech gave the royal assent to the act.



%DOWNFALL OF CHARLES XII AT POLTAVA%

TRIUMPH OF RUSSIA

A.D. 1709

K. WALISZEWSKI[1]

[Footnote 1: Translated from the Russian by Lady Mary Loyd.]


The battle of Poltava was selected by Sir Edward Creasy as one of the
fifteen great decisive contests which have altered the fate of nations. His
able narrative of the battle has been superseded in scholars' eyes by the
more modern work of the great Russian authority, Waliszewski; but the
importance of the event remains. It reversed the positions of Sweden and
Russia in European politics, and placed Russia among the great countries of
the modern world; Sweden among the little ones.

Before 1709 Sweden still held the rank to which Gustavus Adolphus had
raised her in the Thirty Years' War. Her prestige had been a little dimmed
by the victories of the "Great Elector" of Prussia; but her ally Louis XIV
had saved her from any considerable diminution of the extensive territories
which she held on the mainland to the south and east of the Baltic Sea.
About 1700 the young and gallant warrior, Charles XII, the "Madman of the
North," reasserted her prowess, made her once more the dictator of Northern
Europe, one of the five great powers of the world.

Meanwhile Peter the Great was progressing but slowly with his
transformation of Russia. His people had little confidence in him; his
armies were half-barbaric hordes. When he ventured into war against Sweden
Europe conceived but one possible result: these undisciplined barbarians
would be annihilated. At first the expected occurred. Again and again large
Russian armies were defeated by small bodies of Swedes; but with splendid
tenacity Peter persisted in the face of revolt at home and defeat abroad.
"The Swedes shall teach us to beat them" was his famous saying, and at
Poltava he achieved his aim. From that time forward Russia's antagonism to
her leader disappeared. His people followed him eagerly along the path to
power.

It would appear that it was not till Peter's visit to Vienna, in 1698, that
he conceived the idea of attacking Sweden. Up till that time his warlike
impulse had rather been directed southward, and the Turk had been the sole
object of his enmity. But at Vienna he perceived that the Emperor, whose
help he had counted on, had failed him, and forthwith the mobile mind of
the young Czar turned to the right-about. A war he must have of some kind,
it little mattered where, to give work to his young army. The warlike
instincts and the greed of his predecessors, tempted sometimes by the Black
Sea, sometimes by the Baltic and the border provinces of Poland, had,
indeed, always swung and turned back and forward between the south and the
north. These alternate impulses, natural enough in a nation so full of
youth and strength, have, since those days, been most unnecessarily
idealized, erected into a doctrine, and dignified as a work of unification.
It must be acknowledged that every nation has at one time or the other
thus claimed the right to resume the national patrimony at the expense
of neighboring peoples, and Peter, by some lucky fate, remained in this
respect within certain bounds of justice, of logic, and of truth. Absorbed
and almost exhausted, as he soon became, by the desperate effort demanded
by his war in the North, he forgot or imperilled much that the conquering
ambition of his predecessors had left him in the South and West. He clung
to the territory already acquired on the Polish side, retired from the
Turkish border, and claimed what he had most right, relatively speaking, to
claim in the matter of resumption, on his northwestern frontier.

On that frontier the coast country between the mouth of the Narva, or
Narova, and that of the Siestra, watered by the Voksa, the Neva, the
Igora, and the Louga, was really an integral part of the original Russian
patrimony. It was one of the five districts (_piatiny_) of the Novgorod
territory, and was still full of towns bearing Slavonic names, such as
Korela, Ojeshek, Ladoga, Koporie, Iamy, and Ivangrod. It was not till 1616
that the Czar Michael Feodorovitch, during his struggle with Gustavus
Adolphus, finally abandoned the seacoast for the sake of keeping his hold
on Novgorod. But so strong was the hope of recovering the lost territory,
in the hearts of his descendants, that, after the failure of an attempt on
Livonia, in Alexis' reign, a boyar named Ordin-Nashtchokin set to work to
build a number of warships at Kokenhausen, on the Dvina, which vessels were
intended for the conquest of Riga. Peter had an impression, confused it may
be, but yet powerful, of these historic traditions. This is proved by the
direction in which he caused his armies to march after he had thrown down
the gauntlet to Sweden. He strayed off the path, swayed, as he often was,
by sudden impulses, but he always came back to the traditional aim of his
forefathers--access to the sea, a Baltic port, "a window open upon Europe."

His interview with Augustus II at Rawa definitely settled his wavering
mind. The _pacta conventa_, signed by the King of Poland when he ascended
his throne, bound him to claim from the King of Sweden the territories
which had formerly belonged to the republic of Poland. For this end the
help of Denmark could be reckoned on. The Treaty of Roeskilde (1658), which
had been forced on Frederick III, weighed heavily on his successors, and
the eager glances fixed by the neighboring states on Holstein, after the
death of Christian Albert, in 1694, threatened to end in quarrel. There
were fair hopes, too, of the help of Brandenburg. When Sweden made alliance
with Louis XIV and Madame de Maintenon, that country abandoned its historic
position in Germany to Prussia. But Sweden still kept some footing, and was
looked on as a rival.

Further, Augustus had a personal charm for Peter sufficient in itself to
prove how much simplicity, inexperience, and boyish thoughtlessness still
existed in that half-polished mind. The Polish Sovereign, tall, strong,
and handsome, an adept in all physical exercises, a great hunter, a hard
drinker, and an indefatigable admirer of the fair sex, in whose person
debauch of every kind took royal proportions, delighted the Czar and
somewhat overawed him. He was more than inclined to think him a genius, and
was quite ready to bind up his fortunes with his friend's. At the end of
four days of uninterrupted feasting, they had agreed on the division of the
spoils of Sweden, and had made a preliminary exchange of arms and clothing.
The Czar appeared at Moscow a few weeks later wearing the King of Poland's
waistcoat and belted with his sword.

In the beginning of 1700 Augustus and Frederick of Denmark attacked Sweden;
but Peter, though bound by treaty to follow their example, neither moved
nor stirred. Frederick was beaten, his very capital was threatened. So much
the worse for him! Augustus seized on Dunamunde, but utterly failed before
Riga. All the better for the Russians; Riga was left for them! Another
envoy came hurrying to Moscow. The Czar listened coolly to his reproaches,
and replied that he would act as soon as news from Constantinople permitted
it. Negotiations there were proceeding satisfactorily, and he hoped shortly
to fulfil his promise, and to attack the Swedes in the neighborhood of
Pskof. This was a point on which the allies had laid great stress, and
Peter had studiously avoided contradicting them. It was quite understood
between them that the Czar was not to lay a finger on Livonia. At last on
August 8, 1700, a courier arrived with the longed-for dispatch. Peace with
Turkey was signed at last, and that very day the Russian troops received
their marching orders. But they were not sent toward Pskof. They marched on
Narva, in the very heart of the Livonian country.

The army destined to lay siege to Narva consisted of three divisions of
novel formation, under the orders of three generals--Golovin, Weyde, and
Repnin--with 10,500 Cossacks, and some irregular troops--63,520 men in all.
Repnin's division, numbering 10,834 men, and the Little Russian Cossacks,
stopped on the way, so that the actual force at disposal was reduced to
about 40,000 men. But Charles XII, the new King of Sweden, could not bring
more than 5300 infantry and 3130 cavalry to the relief of the town. And,
being obliged, when he neared Wesemburg, to throw himself in flying
column across a country which was already completely devastated, and,
consequently, to carry all his supplies with him, his troops arrived in
presence of an enemy five times as numerous as themselves, worn out, and
completely exhausted by a succession of forced marches.

Peter never dreamed that he would find the King of Sweden in Livonia. He
believed his hands were more than full enough elsewhere with the King of
Denmark; he was quite unaware that the Peace of Travendal, which had been
signed on the very day of the departure of the Russian troops, had been
already forced upon his ally. He started off gayly at the head of his
bombardier company, full of expectation of an easy victory. When he
arrived before the town, on September 23d, he was astounded to find any
preparations for serious defence. A regular siege had to be undertaken, and
when, after a month of preparations, the Russian batteries at last opened
fire, they made no impression whatever. The artillery was bad, and yet more
badly served. A second month passed, during which Peter waited and hoped
for some piece of luck, either for an offer to capitulate or for the
arrival of Repnin's force. What did happen was that on the night of
November 17th news came that within twenty-four hours the King of Sweden
would be at Narva. That very night Peter fled from his camp, leaving the
command to the Prince de Croy.

None of the arguments brought forward by the sovereign and his apologists
in justification of this step appears to me to hold water. The necessity
pleaded for an interview with the Duke of Poland, the Czar's desire to
hasten on Repnin's march, are mere pitiful excuses. Langen and Hallart, the
generals sent by Augustus to observe the military operations in Livonia,
gravely reported that the Czar had been obliged to go to Moscow to receive
a Turkish envoy--who was not expected for four months! The Emperor's envoy,
Pleyer, is nearer the mark when he says the sovereign obeyed the entreaties
of his advisers, who considered the danger too great for him to be
permitted to remain. And Hallart himself, speaking of these same
counsellors, whether ministers or generals, does not hesitate to declare,
in his rough soldierly language, that "they have about as much courage as
a frog has hair on his belly." The Russian army, disconcerted by the
unexpected resistance of the Swedes, ill-prepared for resistance,
ill-commanded, ill-lodged, and ill-fed, was already demoralized to the last
extent. The arrival of Charles caused a panic, and from that panic Peter,
the most impressionable of men, was the first to suffer.

The startling rapidity with which Charles had rid himself of the weakest of
his three adversaries, under the very walls of Copenhagen, would have been
less astonishing to Peter if the young sovereign had better realized the
conditions under which he and his allies had begun a struggle in which, at
first sight, their superiority appeared so disproportionate. King Frederick
had reckoned without the powers which had guaranteed the recent Treaty of
Altona, by which the safety of Holstein was insured; without the Hanoverian
troops, and those of Luneburg, which at once brought succor to Toeningen;
without the Anglo-Dutch fleet, which forced his to seek shelter under the
walls of Copenhagen, and thus permitted the King of Sweden to cross
the Sound unmolested, and land quietly in Zealand; and finally, he
reckoned--and for this he may well be excused--without that which was
soon to fill all Europe with terror and amazement: the lucky star and the
military genius of Charles XII.

This monarch, born in 1682, who had slain bears when he was sixteen, and at
eighteen was a finished soldier, greedy for glory and battle and blood, was
the last representative of that race of men who, between the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, held all Central Europe in their iron grip; fierce
warriors who steeped Germany and Italy in fire and blood, fought their way
from town to town, and hamlet to hamlet; giving no truce and showing no
mercy; who lived for war and by war; grew old and died in harness in a very
atmosphere of carnage, with bodies riddled with wounds, with hands stained
with abominable crimes, but with spirits calm and unflinching to the last.
Standing on the threshold of the new period he was the superb and colossal
incarnation of that former one, which, happily for mankind, was to
disappear in his person.

Count Guiscard, who as envoy from the King of France accompanied him on his
first campaign, describes him thus: "The King of Sweden is of tall stature;
taller than myself by almost a head; he is very handsome, he has fine eyes
and a good complexion, his face is long, his speech a little thick. He
wears a small wig tied behind in a bag, a plain stock, without cravat, a
very tight jerkin of plain cloth, with sleeves as narrow as our waistcoat
sleeves, a narrow belt above his jerkin, with a sword of extraordinary
length and thickness, and almost perfectly flat-soled shoes--a very strange
style of dress for a prince of his age."

In order to reach Narva with his eight thousand men, Charles, after
having crossed a tract of desert country, was obliged, at a place called
Pyhaioggi, to cross a narrow valley divided by a stream, which, if it had
been fortified, must have stopped him short. The idea occurred to Gordon,
but Peter would not listen to him, and it was not till the very last moment
that he sent Sheremetief, who found the Swedes just debouching into the
valley, received several volleys of grape-shot and retired in disorder.
The mad venture had succeeded. But Charles' farther advance involved the
playing of a risky game. His men were worn out, his horses had not been fed
for two whole days. Still he went on; he reached Narva, formed his Swedes
into several attacking columns, led one himself, and favored by a sudden
hurricane which drove showers of blinding snow into his adversaries' faces,
threw himself into their camp and mastered the place in half an hour. The
only resistance he met was offered by the two regiments of the guard. All
the rest fled or surrendered. A few Russians were drowned in the Narva. "If
the river had been frozen," said Charles discontentedly, "I do not know
that we should have contrived to kill a single man."

It was a total breakdown; the army had disappeared, and the artillery. The
very sovereign was gone, and with him the country's honor. That had sunk
out of sight amid the scornful laughter with which Europe hailed this
undignified defeat. The Czar was in full flight. All Peter's plans of
conquest, his dreams of European expansion and of navigating the northern
seas, his hopes of glory, his faith in his civilizing mission, had utterly
faded. And he himself had collapsed upon their heaped-up ruins. Onward
he fled, feeling the Swedish soldiers on his heels. He wept, he sued for
peace, vowing he would treat at once and submit to any sacrifice; he sent
imploring appeals to the States-General of Holland, to England and to the
Emperor, praying for mediation.

But swiftly he recovered possession of his faculties. Then, raising his
head--through the golden haze with which his insufficient education, the
infatuation inherent to his semi-oriental origin, and his inexperience, had
filled his eyes, through the rent of that mighty catastrophe and that cruel
lesson--he saw and touched the truth at last! He realized what he must set
himself to do if he was to become that which he fain would be. There must
be no more playing at soldiers and sailors; no more of that farce of power
and glory, in which, till now, he had been the chief actor; no more aimless
adventure, undertaken in utter scorn of time and place. He must toil now
in downright earnest; he must go forward, step by step; measure each day's
effort, calculate each morrow's task, let each fruit ripen ere he essayed
to pluck it; learn patience and dogged perseverance. He did it all. He
found means within him and about him to carry out his task. The strong,
long-enduring, long-suffering race of which he came endowed him with the
necessary qualities, and gave him its own inexhaustible and never-changing
devotion and self-sacrifice.

Ten armies may be destroyed, he will bring up ten others to replace them,
no matter what the price. His people will follow him and die beside him to
the last man, to the last morsel of bread snatched from its starving
jaws. A month hence, the fugitive from Narva will belong to a vanished,
forgotten, almost improbable past; the future victor of Poltava will have
taken his place.

Of the Russian army, as it had originally taken the field, about
twenty-three thousand men remained--a certain number of troops--the cavalry
under Sheremetief's command, and Repnin's division. The Czar ordered fresh
levies. He melted the church-bells into cannon. In vain the clergy raised
the cry of sacrilege; he never faltered for a moment. He went hither and
thither giving orders and active help; rating some, encouraging others,
inspiring everyone with some of his own energy--that energy which his
misfortune had spurred and strengthened. Yet, Byzantine as he was by
nature, he could not resist the temptation to endeavor to mislead public
opinion. Matvieief was given orders to draw up his own special description
of the battle of Narva and its consequences, for the benefit of the
readers of the _Gazette de Hollande_ and of the memoranda which he himself
addressed to the States-General.

The Swedes, according to this account, had been surrounded by a superior
force within the Russian camp, and had there been forced to capitulate;
after which event, certain Russian officers, who had desired to pay their
respects to the King of Sweden, had been treacherously seized by
his orders. Europe only laughed, but in later years this pretended
capitulation, and the supposed Swedish violation of it, were to serve
Peter as a pretext for violating others, to which he himself had willingly
consented. At Vienna, too, Count Kaunitz listened with a smile while Prince
Galitzin explained that the Czar "needed no victories to prove his military
glory." Yet, when the vice-chancellor inquired what conditions the Czar
hoped to obtain from his victorious adversary, the Russian diplomat calmly
claimed the greater part of Livonia, with Narva, Ivangrod, Kolyvan,
Koporie, and Derpt--and future events were to prove that he had not asked
too much.

Before long this boldness began to reap its own reward. To begin with,
Charles XII made no immediate attempt to pursue his advantage on Russian
soil; Peter had the joy of seeing him plunge into the depths of the Polish
plains. The King of Sweden's decision, which, we are told, did not tally
with his generals' opinion, has been severely criticised. Guiscard thought
it perfectly justifiable, so long as the King had not rid himself of
Augustus, by means of the peace which this Prince appeared more than
willing to negotiate, through the mediation of Guiscard himself.
But Charles turned a deaf ear to the French diplomat's prayers and
remonstrances. He feared, declared Guiscard, "he might run short of
enemies," and as he could not advance on Russia and leave the Saxons and
Poles in his rear, he desired--and here doubtless he was right--first of
all to insure his line of communication, and of possible retreat. Thus, by
his own deed, he strengthened and cemented an alliance which had already
been shaken by common defeat.

Augustus, repulsed by the Swedish King, threw himself into Peter's arms,
and in February, 1701, the common destinies of the Czar and the King of
Poland were once more bound together. A fresh treaty was signed at the
Castle of Birze, close to Dunaburg.

The year 1701 was a hard one for Peter. The junction between the army,
which he had contrived after some fashion to put on a war footing, and
the Saxon troops of Augustus, only resulted in the complete defeat of the
allied forces under the walls of Riga, on July 3d. In the month of June
the Moscow Kremlin caught fire; the state offices (_prikaz_) with their
archives, the provision-stores, and palaces, were all devoured by the
flames. The bells fell from the tower of Ivan the Great, and the heaviest,
which weighed over a hundred tons, was broken in the fall. But in midwinter
Sheremetief contrived to surprise Schlippenbach with a superior force, and
defeated him at Erestfer, December 29th.

Peter's delight, and his wild manifestations of triumph, may easily be
imagined. He did not content himself with exhibiting the few Swedish
prisoners who had fallen into his hands at Moscow, in a sort of imitation
Roman triumph; his practical mind incited him to make use of them in
another way, and Cornelius von Bruyn, who had lived long enough in the
country to be thoroughly acquainted with its customs, calmly reports that
the price of war captives, which had originally been three or four florins
a head, rose as high as twenty and thirty florins. Even foreigners now
ventured to purchase them, and entered into competition in the open market.

On July 18, 1702, Sheremetief won a fresh victory over
Schlippenbach--30,000 Russians defeated 8000 Swedes. According to Peter's
official account of the battle, 5000 of his enemies were left dead on the
field, while Sheremetief lost only 400 men. This report made Europe smile,
but the Livonians found it no laughing matter. Volmar and Marienburg fell
into the hands of the victor, who ravaged the country in the most frightful
fashion. The Russians had not as yet learned any other form of warfare,
and, as we may suppose, the idea that he might ever possess these
territories had not yet occurred to Peter. His mind, indeed, was absorbed
elsewhere. His old fancies and whims were strong upon him, and he left
Apraxin to rage on the banks of the Neva, in Ingria, on the very spot where
his future capital was to stand, while he himself gave all his time and
strength to the building of a few wretched ships at Archangel. It was not
till September, when the ice had driven him out of the northern port, that
he returned to the west and took up his former course. He reached the Lake
of Ladoga, sent for Sheremetief, and the end he was to pursue for many a
long year seems at last to have taken firm root in his hitherto unstable
mind. He laid siege to Noteburg, where he found a garrison of only four
hundred fifty men, and on December 11, 1702, he rechristened the little
fortress he had captured, by a new and symbolic name, "Schluesselburg" (Key
of the Sea).

Next came the capture of Nienschantz, at the very mouth of the Neva, in
April, 1703, a personal success for the captain of Bombardiers, Peter
Mikhailoff, who there brought his batteries into play. A month later the
artilleryman had become a sailor, and had won Russia's first naval victory.
Two regiments of the guard manned thirty boats, surrounded two small
Swedish vessels, which, in their ignorance of the capture of Nienschantz,
had ventured close to the town, took possession of them, and murdered their
crews. The victor's letters to his friends are full of the wildest and most
childish delight, and there was, we must admit, some reason for this joy.
He had reconquered the historic estuary, through which, in the ninth
century, the first Varegs had passed southward, toward Grecian skies. On
the 16th of the following May wooden houses began to rise on one of the
neighboring islets. These houses were to multiply, to grow into palaces,
and finally to be known as St. Petersburg.

Peter's conquests and newly founded cities disturbed Charles XII but
little. "Let him build towns; there will be all the more for us to take!"
Peter and his army had so far, where Charles was concerned, had to do only
with small detachments of troops, scattered apart and thus foredoomed to
destruction. The Russians took advantage of this fact to pursue their
successes, strengthening and intrenching themselves both in Ingria and
Livonia. In July, 1704, Peter was present at the taking of Derpt. In August
he had his revenge for his disaster at Narva, and carried the town after
a murderous assault. Already in November, 1703, a longed-for guest had
appeared in the mouth of the Neva, a foreign trading-vessel laden with
brandy and salt. Menshikoff, the Governor of _Piterburg_, entertained the
captain at a banquet, and presented him with five hundred florins for
himself, and thirty crowns for each of his sailors.

Meanwhile Charles XII tarried in Poland, where Augustus' affairs were going
from bad to worse. A diet convened at Warsaw in February, 1704, proclaimed
his downfall. After the disappearance of James Sobieski, whose candidature
was put a stop to by an ambuscade, into which the dethroned King lured the
son of the deliverer of Vienna, Charles, who was all-powerful, put forward
that of Stanislaus Lesczynski. Though he gave little thought just then to
Russia and to the Russian sovereign, the Czar was beginning to be alarmed
as to the consequences which the Swedish King's position in Poland and in
Saxony might entail on himself. Charles was sure to end by retracing
his steps, and an encounter between Sheremetief and Loewenhaupt, at
Hemauerthorf in Courland (July 15, 1705), clearly proved that the Russian
army, unless in the case of disproportionate numerical superiority over the
enemy, was not yet capable of resisting well-commanded Swedish troops. On
this occasion Sheremetief lost all his infantry and was himself severely
wounded.

What then was Peter to do? He must work on, increase his resources, and add
to his experience. If Sheremetief and his likes proved unequal to their
task, he must find foreign generals and instructors, technical and other;
he must keep patience, he must avoid all perilous encounters, he must
negotiate, and try to obtain peace, even at the price of parting with some
of the territory he had conquered. The years between 1705 and 1707 were
busy ones for him.

A treaty of peace among his enemies took him by surprise and found him
quite unprepared. He soon made good his mistakes, took a swift decision,
and adopted the course which was infallibly to bring him final victory. He
evacuated Poland, retired backward, and, pushing forward the preparations
which Charles' long stay in Saxony had permitted him to carry on with great
activity, he resolved that the battle should be fought on his ground, and
at his chosen time. He took fresh patience, he resolved to wait, to wear
out his adversary, to draw back steadily and leave nothing but a void
behind him. Thus he would force the enemy to advance across the desert
plains he had deliberately devastated, and run the terrible risk, which had
always driven back the ancient foes of his country, whether Turks, Tartars,
or Poles--a winter sojourn in the heart of Russia. This was to be the final
round of the great fight. The Czar, as he expressed it, was to set ten
Russians against every Swede, and time and space and cold and hunger were
to be his backers.

Charles, the most taciturn general who ever lived, never revealed the
secret inspiration which drove him to play his adversary's game, by
marching afresh on Grodno. During 1707 he seemed to give the law to Europe,
from his camp in Saxony. France, which had been vanquished at Blenheim
and Ramillies, turned a pleading glance toward him, and the leader of the
victorious allies, Marlborough himself, solicited his help.

Charles may have had an idea of making Grodno his base for a spring attack
on the Czar's new conquests in the North. This supposition would seem to
have been the one accepted by Peter, if we may judge by the orders
given, just at this time, to insure the safety of Livonia and Ingria, by
completing their devastation; and these very orders may have induced the
King of Sweden to abandon his original design, in favor of another, the
wisdom of which is still contested by experts, but which, it cannot be
denied, was of noble proportions. Charles, too, had found an ally to set
against those natural ones with which Russia had furnished the Czar, and he
had found him within the borders of the Czar's country. The name of this
ally was Mazeppa.

The stormy career of the famous hetman, so dramatic, both from the historic
and domestic point of view--from that adventure with the _pan_ Falbowski,
so naively related by Pasek, down to the romance with Matrena Kotchoubey,
which colored the last and tragic incidents of his existence--is so well
known that I will not narrate it here, even in the concisest form. Little
Russia was then passing through a painful crisis--the consequence of
Shmielnicki's efforts at emancipation, which had been warped and perverted
by Russian intervention. The Polish lords, who formerly oppressed the
country, had been replaced by the Cossacks, who not only ground down the
native population, but railed at and quarrelled with their own chief. The
hetmans and the irregular troops were at open war, the first striving
to increase their authority and make their power hereditary, the others
defending their ancient democratic constitution.

The Swedish war increased Mazeppa's difficulties. He found himself taken
at a disadvantage between the claims of the Czar, who would fain have his
Cossacks on every battle-field in Poland, Russia, and Livonia, and the
resistance of the Cossacks themselves, who desired to remain in their own
country. Being himself of noble Polish birth, brought up by the Jesuits,
having served King John Casimir of Poland, and sworn allegiance to the
Sultan, he saw no reason for sacrificing his interests, much less his life,
for Peter's benefit. The approach of Charles XII made him fear he might,
like his predecessor Nalevaiko, be deserted by his own followers, and given
up to the Poles.

The appearance of Charles on the Russian frontier forced him to a definite
resolution, and, in the spring of 1708, his emissaries appeared at
Radoshkovitse, southeast of Grodno, where Charles had established his
head-quarters. The King of Sweden's idea, at that decisive moment, would
seem to have been to take advantage of the hetman's friendly inclination,
to find his way into the heart of Russia, using the rich Southern Provinces
as his base, to stir up, with Mazeppa's help, the Don Cossacks, the
Astrakhan Tartars, and, it may have been, the Turks themselves, and thus
attack the Muscovite power in the rear. Then Peter would have been forced
back upon his last intrenchments, at Moscow or elsewhere, while General
Luebecker, who was in Finland with fourteen thousand men, fell on Ingria
and on St. Petersburg, and Leszcynski's Polish partisans, with General
Krassow's Swedes, held Poland.

It was a mighty plan, indeed, but at the very outset it was sharply
checked. Mazeppa insisted on certain conditions, and these conditions
Charles thought too heavy. The hetman agreed that Poland should take the
Ukraine and White Russia, and that the Swedes should have the fortresses of
Mglin, Starodoub, and Novgorod-Sievierski, but he himself insisted on being
apportioned Polotsk, Vitebsk, and the whole of Courland, to be held in
fief. Thus the negotiations were delayed. Meanwhile Charles, perceiving
that he was not strong enough to make a forward movement, made up his mind
to send for Loewenhaupt, who was in Livonia, and who was to bring him
sixteen thousand men and various stores. But the Swedish hero had not
reckoned fairly with distance and with time. Many precious days, the best
of the season, fled by before his orders could be obeyed. And, for the
first time, he showed signs of uncertainty and irresolution which were
all too quickly communicated to those under his command. Loewenhaupt grew
slower than usual. Luebecker slackened his activity, and Mazeppa began to
play his double game again: prudently preparing his Cossacks to revolt,
in the name of the ancient customs, national privileges, and church laws,
which Peter's reforms had infringed; fortifying his own residence at
Batourin, and accumulating immense stores there, but still continuing to
pay court to the Czar, wearing the German dress, flattering the sovereign's
despotic taste by suggesting plans which would have annihilated the last
vestiges of local independence, and accepting gifts sent him by Menshikoff.

And so the summer passed away. A winter campaign became inevitable, and the
abyss which Peter's unerring eye had scanned began to gape.

It was not till June that Charles XII left Radoshkovitse, and marched
eastward to Borisov, where he crossed the Berezina. Menshikoff and
Sheremetief made an attempt to stop him, on July 3d, as he was crossing a
small river called the Bibitch, near Holovtchin. A night manoeuvre, and
a wild bayonet charge, led by the King himself, carried him once more to
victory. The town of Mohilef opened its gates to the Swedes, but there
Charles was forced to stay, and lose more time yet waiting for Loewenhaupt.
He marched again, early in August, in a southerly direction, and his
soldiers soon found themselves in the grip of one of Peter's allies. They
were driven to support themselves by gathering ears of corn, which they
ground between two stones. Sickness began to thin their ranks. Their three
doctors, so the fierce troopers said, were "brandy, garlic, and death"!
Loewenhaupt had reached Shklof, and was separated from the invading army by
two streams, the Soja and the Dnieper, between which Peter had taken up
his position. The Swedish general, after having successfully passed the
Dnieper, was met at Liesna, on October 9th, by a force three times as large
as his own, and Peter was able, on the following day, to report a complete
victory to his friends: "8500 men dead on the field, without mentioning
those the Kalmucks have hunted into the forest, and 700 prisoners!"
According to this reckoning, Loewenhaupt, who could not have brought more
than 11,000 troops into action, should have been left without a man; as a
matter of fact, he reached Charles with 6700, after a flank march which all
military experts consider a marvel. But, not being able to find a bridge
across the Soja, he was forced to abandon his artillery and all his
baggage, and he led his starving troops into a famine-stricken camp.

There was bad news, too, from Ingria, where Luebecker had also been
defeated, losing all his baggage and three thousand first-class troops.
Charles grew so disconcerted that he is reported to have confessed to
Gyllenkrook, his quartermaster-general, that he was all at sea, and no
longer had any definite plan. On October 22d he reached Mokoshin on the
Desna, on the borders of the Ukraine, where he had expected to meet
Mazeppa. But the old leader broke his appointment. He still desired to
temporize and was loath to take any decisive resolution. He was driven to
take one at last, by the Cossacks about him, who were alarmed at the idea
of the Russians following the Swedes into the Ukraine. It would be far
better, so they thought, to join the latter against the former. One of
these Cossacks, Voinarovski, who had been sent by the hetman to Menshikoff,
had returned with most terrifying news. He had overheard the German
officers on the favorite's staff, speaking of Mazeppa and his followers,
say: "God pity those poor wretches; to-morrow they will all be in chains!"
Mazeppa, when he heard this report, "raged like a whirlwind," hurried to
Batourin to give the alarm, and then crossed the Desna and joined the
Swedish army.

It was too late. The popular sentiment, on which both he and Charles
had reckoned to promote an insurrectionary movement, confused by the
tergiversations and the ambiguous actions of the hetman, had quite gone
astray and lost all consistency. All Mazeppa could reckon upon was a body
of two thousand faithful troops; not enough even to defend Batourin, which
Menshikoff snatched from him a few days later--thus depriving the Swedish
army of its last chance of revictualling. When the fortresses of Starodoub
and Novgorod-Sievierski closed their gates against him, the whole of the
Ukraine slipped from the grasp of the turncoat chief and his new allies.
His effigy was first hung and then dragged through the streets of Glouhof
in Peter's presence; another hetman, Skoropadski, was appointed in his
place, and then came winter--a cruel winter, during which the very birds
died of cold.

By the beginning of 1709 Charles' effective strength had dwindled to nearly
twenty thousand men. The Russians did not dare to attack him as yet, but
they gathered round him in an ever-narrowing circle. They carried his
advanced posts, they cut his lines of communication. The King of Sweden, to
get himself mere elbow-room, was driven to begin his campaign in the month
of January. He lost one thousand men and forty-eight officers in taking the
paltry town of Wespjik (January 6th). By this time the game, in Mazeppa's
view, was already lost, and he made an attempt to turn his coat again;
offering to betray Charles into Peter's hands if Peter would restore him
his office. The bargain was struck, but a letter from the old traitor,
addressed to Leszcynski, chanced to fall into the Czar's hands, and made
him draw back, in the conviction that Mazeppa was utterly unreliable.

In March, the near approach of the Swedish army, then advancing on Poltava,
induced the Zaporoje Cossacks to join it. But the movement was a very
partial one, and Peter soon put it down, by means of a series of military
executions, mercilessly carried out by Menshikoff, and of various
manifestoes against the foreign heretics, "who deny the doctrines of the
true religion, and spit on the picture of the Blessed Virgin." The capture
of Poltava thus became the last hope of Charles and his army. If they could
not seize the town, they must all die of hunger.

The fortifications of the place were weak, but the besieging army was
sorely changed from that which had fought under the walls of Narva. It had
spent too long a time in fat quarters, in Saxony and Poland, to be fit
to endure this terrible campaign. Like the Russian army at Narva, it
was sapped by demoralization before it was called on to do any serious
fighting. Even among the Swedish staff, and in the King's intimate circle,
all confidence in his genius and his lucky star had disappeared.

His best generals, Rehnskold and Gyllenkrook, his chancellor Piper, and
Mazeppa himself were against any prolongation of the siege, which promised
to be a long one. "If God were to send down one of his angels," he said,
"to induce me to follow your advice, I would not listen to him!" An
ineradicable illusion, the fruit of the too easy victories of his early
career, prompted him to undervalue the forces opposed to him. He knew,
and would acknowledge, nothing of that new Russia, the mighty upstanding
colossus, which Peter had at last succeeded in raising up in his path.
According to some authorities, Mazeppa, in his desire to replace Batourin
by Poltava, as his own personal appanage, encouraged him in this fatal
resolution. But it may well have been that retreat had already become
impossible.

It was long before Peter made up his mind to intervene; he was still
distrustful of himself, desperately eager to increase his own resources,
and with them his chances of victory. On his enemy's side, everything
contributed to this result. By the end of June all the Swedish ammunition
was exhausted, the invaders could use none of their artillery and hardly
any of their fire-arms, and were reduced to fighting with cold steel. On
the very eve of the decisive struggle, they were left without a leader.
During a reconnaissance on the banks of the Vorskla, which ran between
the hostile armies, Charles, always rash and apt to expose himself
unnecessarily, was struck by a bullet. "It is only in the foot," he said,
smiling, and continued his examination of the ground. But, when he returned
to camp he fainted, and Peter, reckoning on the moral effect of the
accident, at once resolved to cross the river. A report, as a matter
of fact, ran through the Swedish camp that the King, convinced of the
hopelessness of the situation, had deliberately sought death.

Yet ten more days passed by, in the expectation of an attack which the
Russians did not dare to make. It was Charles who took action at last,
informing his generals, on June 26th (July 7th) that he would give battle
on the following morning. He himself was still in a very suffering
condition, and made over the command to Rehnskold, a valiant soldier but
a doubtful leader, for he did not possess the army's confidence, and,
according to Lundblad, "hid his lack of knowledge and strategical powers
under gloomy looks and a fierce expression." After the event, as was so
commonly the case with vanquished generals, he was accused of treachery.

The truth would seem to be that Charles' obstinate reserve, and habit of
never confiding his plans and military arrangements to any third person,
had ended by gradually depriving his lieutenants of all power of
independent action. In his presence they were bereft of speech and almost
of ideas. All Rehnskold did was to rage and swear at everyone. Peter,
meanwhile, neglected nothing likely to insure success. He even went so far
as to dress the Novgorod regiment--one of his best--in the coarse cloth
_(siermiaga)_ generally reserved for newly joined recruits, in the hope of
thus deceiving the enemy. This stratagem, however, completely failed. In
the very beginning of the battle, Rehnskold fell on the regiment, and cut
it to pieces.

The Russian centre was confided to Sheremetief, the right wing to General
Ronne, the left to Menshikoff. Bruce commanded the artillery, and the Czar,
as usual, retired modestly to the head of a single regiment. But this was a
mere disguise; in real fact, he was everywhere, going hither and thither,
in the forefront of the battle, and lavishing effort in every direction. A
bullet passed through his hat, another is said to have struck him full
on the breast. It was miraculously stopped by a golden cross, set with
precious stones, given by the monks on Mount Athos to the Czar Feodor, and
which his successor habitually wore. This cross, which certainly bears the
mark of some projectile, is still preserved in the Ouspienski monastery, at
Moscow.

The heroism and sovereign contempt of death betrayed by Charles were worthy
of himself. Unable to sit a horse, he caused himself to be carried on a
litter, which, when it was shattered by bullets, was replaced by another
made of crossed lances. But he was nothing but a living standard, useless,
though sublime. The once mighty military leader had utterly disappeared.
The battle was but a wild conflict, in which the glorious remnants of one
of the most splendid armies that had ever been brought together; unable to
use its arms, leaderless, hopeless of victory, and soon overwhelmed and
crushed by superior numbers, struggled for a space, with the sole object
of remaining faithful to its king. At the end of two hours Charles himself
left the field of battle. He had been lifted onto the back of an old horse
which his father had formerly ridden, and which was called _Brandklepper_
("Run to the Fire"), because he was always saddled when a fire broke out in
the city.

This charger followed the vanquished hero into Turkey, was taken by the
Turks at Bender, sent back to the King, taken again at Stralsund in 1715,
returned to its owner once more, and died in 1718--the same year as his
master--at the age of forty-two. Poniatowski, the father of the future
King of Poland, who was following the campaign as a volunteer--Charles had
refused to take any Polish troops with him on account of their want of
discipline--rallied one of Colonel Horn's squadrons to escort the King, and
received seventeen bullets through his leather kaftan while covering the
royal retreat. Field Marshal Rehnskold, Piper the chancellor, with all his
subordinates, over one hundred fifty officers, and two thousand soldiers
fell into the victor's hands.

The Russians' joy was so extreme that they forgot to pursue the retreating
enemy. Their first impulse was to sit down and banquet. Peter invited the
more important prisoners to his own table, and toasted the health of his
"masters in the art of war." The Swedes, who still numbered thirteen
thousand men, had time to pause for a moment in their own camp, where
Charles summoned Loewenhaupt, and, for the first time in his life, was
heard to ask for advice--"What was to be done?" The general counselled him
to burn all wagons, mount his infantry soldiers on the draught-horses and
beat a retreat toward the Dnieper. On June 30th the Russians came up with
the Swedish army at Perevolotchna, on the banks of the river, and, the
soldiers refusing to fight again, Loewenhaupt capitulated; but the King
had time to cross to the other side. Two boats lashed together carried his
carriage, a few officers, and the war-chests which he had filled in Saxony.
Mazeppa contrived to find a boat for himself, and loaded it with two
barrels of gold.

At Kiev, whither Peter proceeded from Poltava, a solemn thanksgiving was
offered up in the church of St. Sophia, and a Little Russia monk, Feofan
Prokopovitch, celebrated the recent victory in a fine flight of eloquence:
"When our neighbors hear of what has happened, they will say it was
not into a foreign country that the Swedish army and the Swedish power
ventured, but rather into some mighty sea! They have fallen in and
disappeared, even as lead is swallowed up in water!"

The Sweden of Gustavus Adolphus had indeed disappeared. Charles XII was ere
long to be a mere knight-errant at Bender. The Cossack independence, too,
was a thing of the past. Its last and all too untrustworthy representative
was to die in Turkey before many months were out--of despair, according to
Russian testimony--of poison voluntarily swallowed, according to Swedish
historians. The poison story has a touch of likelihood about it, for Peter
certainly proposed to exchange Mazeppa's person for that of the chancellor
Piper. The cause of the Leszcynski, too, was dead. It was to be put
forward again by France, but for the benefit of France alone; and with the
Leszcynski cause, Poland itself had passed away and lay a lifeless corpse
on which the vultures were soon to settle.

Out of all these ruins rose the Russian power, its northern hegemony, and
its new European position, which henceforth were daily to increase and
reach immense, immoderate proportions. Europe played a special part in the
festivities which graced the return of the victors to Moscow, a few months
later. European ideas, traditions, and forms appeared in the triumphal
procession, and served as trappings for the trophies of victory. Peter,
playing the part of Hercules, and conquering a Swedish Juno, in a _cortège_
in which Mars figured, attended by furies and by fauns, was a fit symbol of
the alliance of Russia with the Graeco-Latin civilization of the West. Old
Muscovy--Eastern and Asiatic--was numbered with the dead.



%CAPTURE OF PORT ROYAL[1]%

FRANCE SURRENDERS NOVA SCOTIA TO ENGLAND

A.D. 1710

DUNCAN CAMPBELL

[Footnote 1: From Duncan Campbell's _History of Canada_.]


Each time that England and France quarrelled in Europe their colonies
became engaged in strife. In 1690, when William III fought Louis XIV the
able Governor of Canada, Frontenac, despatched his Indian allies to ravage
New England, while with rare military skill he defended himself and his
province. He could not, however, prevent the capture of Port Royal (now
Annapolis) in Nova Scotia. This great fortress, the pride of Louis XIV, was
attacked by the New England colonists under Sir William Phips, the Governor
of Massachusetts, and was captured by a most dashing attack. When England
and France made peace, Port Royal was restored to the French, much to the
dissatisfaction of the English colonists, who saw clearly that as soon as
another war arose they would have to make the assault again.

During the era of Queen Anne's War (1702-1713) French and Indian forays and
incursions were frequent on the borders of Acadia and New England. Britain,
meanwhile, was desirous of limiting the growth of France in the New World,
and, with the provocation that had been given the New England colonies by
the murderous raids of the French and Abenaquis Indians on her towns and
border settlements, the English colonists retaliated by attempting, in 1704
and 1707, to recapture Acadia. They finally succeeded in 1710 under
General Nicholson. The story of this expedition will be found appended
in Campbell's narrative, as well as the account given of the disastrous
failure of Admiral Sir Hovenden Walker's formidable expedition in 1711 up
the St. Lawrence with the design of assaulting Québec. On the capture by
the New England colonies of Port Royal, and the expulsion of its French
garrison, the place became an English fortress and was renamed Annapolis
Royal, in honor of Queen Anne.

In perusing the history of Nova Scotia, the reader is struck with the
frequency with which the country, or, in other words, the forts, passed
from the French to the English, and _vice versa_. As a rule, permanent
retention was not contemplated. Hence we find that when Port Royal was
taken by Phips, he departed without leaving a solitary man to defend it.
A few days after the expedition had left, the Chevalier de Villebon, the
newly appointed French Governor, arrived, and if accompanied by the means,
had a favorable opportunity of putting it once more in a state of defence
and retaining it as a French stronghold. But Phips was not far off, and he
therefore deemed it prudent, considering the small force at his disposal,
to retire to the river St. John, where he remained for some years,
destroying New England vessels and organizing schemes for the consolidation
of French authority in the province.

In the mean time Villebon showed his temper toward the New Englanders by
building a chapel on the disputed territory, and driving their fishermen
from the coast of Nova Scotia. Villebon was succeeded by Brouillan, in
1700, and not only was an enemy to the fishermen, but actually afforded
protection to pirates who preyed on the trade of Massachusetts, which
inspired a degree of hostility in New England that, on the accession of
Queen Anne, in 1702, the declaration of war which followed was hailed in
that colony with demonstrations of joy.

The New Englanders had a long catalogue of grievances unredressed, hostile
attacks unrevenged, and were more determined than ever to put forth their
strength for the expulsion of the French from the province. In 1704 a
preliminary expedition was despatched by them to the coast of Nova Scotia,
consisting of a ship of forty-two and another of thirty-two guns, a number
of transports and whale-boats, on board of which were upward of five
hundred men, under the command of Colonel Church, whose instructions were
to destroy settlements, and where dams existed to deluge the cultivated
ground and make as many prisoners as possible. One detachment visited
Minas, and spread desolation and ruin in that fertile region, through which
Brouillan passed on his way to Annapolis, representing the people as living
like true republicans, not acknowledging royal or judicial authority, and
able to spare eight hundred hogsheads of wheat yearly for exportation, and
as being supplied with abundance of cattle.

Another detachment went to Port Royal, which they deemed it prudent not to
attack. Brouillan having died in 1706, M. Subercase was appointed governor.
In the spring of 1707 another expedition was sent from New England to
attack Port Royal. It consisted of twenty-three transports and the province
galley, convoyed by a man-of-war of fifty guns, on which were embarked two
regiments of militia, under Colonels Wainwright and Hilton. The expedition
arrived at the entrance to Port Royal on June 6th. A landing was soon
effected; but Subercase's dispositions for resistance were so able that the
English found it impossible to make any impression on the defences, and,
after losing eighty men, the troops were reembarked and proceeded to Casco
Bay, from which place the commanders communicated with the Governor of
New England and waited orders. The failure of the expedition caused great
indignation in New England, and the Governor immediately resolved to
strengthen the army with a hundred recruits and to order a second attack.
Accordingly the expedition again sailed for Port Royal, when Subercase was
in a far more formidable position than formerly. After a siege of fifteen
days, in which the English officers displayed unaccountable cowardice, the
ships retired, having lost sixteen men, while the French had only three men
killed and wounded.

Subercase immediately proceeded to strengthen his position in anticipation
of a third attack. A bomb-proof powder magazine was accordingly
constructed, capable of containing sixty thousand pounds of powder, and the
fort was otherwise improved. This Governor, who had formed a high estimate
of the climate, soil, and general resources of the province, was one of the
ablest appointed under French rule. He made urgent appeals to the French
government to colonize the country on a large scale, pointing out the
advantages that would follow; but all his suggestions were disregarded, and
he had the mortification, notwithstanding his zeal and personal sacrifices
in the service of his country, to receive less encouragement and support
from the home government than any of his predecessors.

In the year 1710 great preparations were made for the conquest of Canada
and Nova Scotia. The New York House of Assembly sent a petition to Queen
Anne, praying for such assistance as would expel the French entirely from
the country. Colonel Vetch is said to have inspired this application, and
to have submitted to the British government a plan of attack. Promises of
liberal support are said to have been made, which, however, the government
was tardy in affording.

The command of the New England forces was intrusted to Francis Nicholson,
who was appointed Governor of New England, under Sir Edmund Andros, in
1688, being Governor of New York in 1689, and in the following year
Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia. In 1692 he was transferred to
the government of Maryland, and in 1698 sent back to Virginia as
Governor-in-Chief, at which time he held the rank of colonel in the army.
Nicholson was an earnest advocate of a confederation of the British North
American provinces for purposes of defence, to which the people of Virginia
were popularly opposed.

Nicholson sailed from Boston on September 18, 1710, with a fleet of about
thirty-six vessels, including five transports from England, conveying
a considerable force, composed of troops supplied by Massachusetts,
Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island, which arrived at Port Royal
on September 24th. Subercase was not in a condition to resist so formidable
a force; hence we find him writing to the French minister that the garrison
is dispirited, and praying for assistance in men and money. The strait to
which he was reduced is indicated by the following passage: "I have had
means," he says, "by my industry to borrow wherewith to subsist the
garrison for these two years. I have paid what I could by selling all my
movables. I will give even to my last shirt, but I fear that all my pains
will prove useless if we are not succored during the month of March or
early in April, supposing the enemy should let us rest this winter."

But it was far from the intention of the enemy to let them rest; for three
days after the despatch of the communication in which the passage quoted
occurred, Nicholson sent a summons to the Governor requiring the immediate
delivery of the fort, and in the event of non-compliance, expressing his
resolution to reduce it by force of her majesty's arms. No reply having
been sent to the summons, Nicholson prepared to land his troops, to which
Subercase offered no resistance, as he could not trust the garrison beyond
the walls of the fort on account of the discontent induced by the universal
conviction of their inability to oppose the English, who mustered to the
number of upward of three thousand, exclusive of seamen, to which force the
Governor could not oppose more than three hundred fighting men. In the mean
time the garrison became disorganized and many desertions took place, when
the Governor, yielding to necessity, opened a communication with Nicholson
with the view to capitulation.

The articles were, in the circumstances, highly favorable to the garrison.
They provided that the soldiers should march out with their arms and
baggage, drums beating and colors flying; that they should be conveyed to
Rochelle, and that the inhabitants within three miles of Port Royal should
be permitted to remain on their lands, with their corn, cattle, and
furniture, for two years, if so disposed, on their taking the oath of
allegiance to the Queen of Great Britain. The destitute condition of
the garrison was manifested by their tattered garments and absence of
provisions necessary to sustain them even for a few days. In conformity
with the terms of the capitulation four hundred eighty men in all were
transported to Rochelle, in France. A garrison, consisting of two hundred
marines and two hundred fifty New England volunteers, was left in Port
Royal, under Colonel Vetch, as governor--General Nicholson returning to
Boston with the fleet.

The English, sensible of the disastrous consequences resulting from the
policy hitherto adopted of abandoning Port Royal after having taken
repeated possession of it, had now resolved to retain it permanently. The
Acadians were alarmed at the indications of permanent occupancy which they
witnessed, and evinced a degree of hostility which caused the Governor to
adopt such measures as were calculated to convince them that they must act
in virtue of their temporary allegiance to the British crown, as became
faithful subjects. The restraints imposed were galling to the French,
and they despatched a messenger with a letter to the Governor of Canada,
referring to their general misery under British rule, and praying to be
furnished with the means of leaving a country where they could not enjoy
absolute freedom, but the letter contained no specific charges.

In the hope of regaining the fort, and impressed with the importance in the
mean time of intensifying Indian hostility to English rule, the Canadian
Governor sent messengers to the French missionaries to exert their
influence in that direction. The consequence was that parties sent out to
cut wood were attacked, and that travelling beyond the fort was rendered
dangerous. Eighty men sent from the garrison on that service were attacked
by the Indians, who killed about thirty of the party, taking the rest
prisoners. Vaudreuil, the Governor of Canada, had made preparations to
assist in the recapture of the fort, but intelligence of a strong force
being in preparation to attack Canada prevented the accomplishment of his
purpose.

General Nicholson, on leaving Port Royal, went to England, for the purpose
of inducing the Government to adopt measures for the thorough conquest of
Canada, preparations for that end being in progress in New England. His
appeal was cordially responded to, and a fleet of twelve line-of-battle
ships, with storeships and transports, and having eight regiments and a
train of artillery on board, the whole commanded by Admiral Walker, left
England on April 28, 1711, arriving in Boston, June 25th. If his formidable
force, which consisted of sixty-eight vessels in all, having about six
thousand fighting-men on board, left Boston on July 30th, arriving at
Gaspé, August 18th, where wood and water were taken in. They sailed thence
on the 20th.

The pilots seem to have been incompetent, for on August 23d the ships got
into difficulties in a fog, losing in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, near Egg
Island, eight transports and eight hundred eighty-four men. At a council of
war it was determined to abandon the enterprise, and intelligence of the
resolution was sent to General Nicholson, who had left Albany with an
army for the purpose of attacking Montreal, and who consequently had the
mortification of being obliged to return immediately. On September 4th the
fleet arrived at Spanish Bay and anchored in front of Lloyd's Cove. It is
questionable if the noble harbor of Sydney has ever since presented so
lively a spectacle as on this occasion.

Admiral Walker was instructed if he succeeded in taking Québec, to attack
Placentia, in Newfoundland, but at a council of war it was declared
impracticable to make any attempt against that place, while from the
condition of the stronghold it could have been easily taken. On his return
Walker was the laughing-stock of the nation. Literary squibs and pamphlets
were showered upon him, and his attempts at a vindication of his conduct
only rendered him the more ridiculous. He stood in the estimation of the
nation in precisely the same position as Sir John Cope, the commander of
the force sent to attack Prince Charles Edward Stuart on his march from the
north of Scotland, in 1745, to Edinburgh, who, after having held a council
of war, resolved to march in the opposite direction from that in which the
enemy was to be found, and whose consummate folly or cowardice in doing so
is a standing national joke.

The severe contests in which France and Britain were almost continually
engaged required occasional breathing-time. Hence, notwithstanding the
series of brilliant victories gained by Marlborough, the war had become
unpopular, and the governmental policy had to be assimilated to the
national will. France was equally desirous of peace, and no great
difficulty was experienced in coming to terms. In the preparation of
previous treaties, France had succeeded in making the cession to her of
any portion of North American territory wrested from her a fundamental
condition of agreement. Great Britain had hitherto shown a degree of
pliability, in yielding to the desire of her great opponent, in this
matter, which seems unaccountable, and certainly incompatible with British
interests; but the representations of the New Englanders as to the impolicy
of such procedure were so urgent and unanswerable that the Government had
resolved that the period of vacillation was past, and that the exercise of
firmness in the permanent retention of Nova Scotia was necessary. Hence, in
the celebrated Treaty of Utrecht, in 1713, it was provided that all Nova
Scotia or Acadia should be yielded and made over to the Queen of Great
Britain and to her crown forever, together with Newfoundland, France
retaining possession of Cape Breton.

General Nicholson, having been appointed governor of Nova Scotia in 1714,
as well as commander-in-chief, Queen Anne addressed a graceful letter to
him, dated June 23, 1713, in which, after alluding to her "good brother,"
the French King, having released from imprisonment on board his galleys
such of his subjects as were detained there professing the Protestant
religion, she desired to show her appreciation of his majesty's compliance
with her wishes by ordering that all Frenchmen in Nova Scotia and
Newfoundland who should desire to remain should be permitted to retain
their property and enjoy all the privileges of British subjects; and if
they chose to remove elsewhere, they were at liberty to dispose of their
property by sale ere they departed.

Meanwhile the Acadians, as well as the inhabitants of Newfoundland, were
pressed by the French Governor of Louisburg, M. de Costabelle, to remove to
Cape Breton, which the great body of the latter did. The Acadians, however,
could not appreciate the advantages to be gained in removing from the
fertile meadows of the Annapolis Valley to a soil which, however excellent,
required much labor to render it fit for cultivation. It appears that they
sent a deputation to examine the island and report as to its adaptability
for agricultural purposes, for one of their missionaries, addressing M.
de Costabelle, the Governor, says that from the visits made they were
satisfied there were no lands in Cape Breton suitable for the immediate
maintenance of their families, since there were not meadows sufficient to
nourish their cattle, from which they derived their principal support.
He at the same time represents the Indians--who had been also desired to
remove--as being of opinion that living as they did by the chase, the
island was quite insufficient for that purpose, as well as from its narrow
limits, equally unfitted for the exercise of their natural freedom.

But while declining to leave Nova Scotia, the Acadians expressed a firm
determination to continue loyal to the King of France, affirming that they
would never take the oath of allegiance to the crown of England, to the
prejudice of what they owed to their King, their country, and their
religion, and intimating their resolution, in the event of any attempt to
make them swerve from their fidelity to France, or to interfere with the
exercise of their religion, to leave the country and betake themselves to
Cape Breton, then called the Ile Royale. And they there remained until
1755, at which time the English and New England colonists finally drove
forth and dispersed them with hateful cruelty.



%CHRONOLOGY OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY EMBRACING THE PERIOD COVERED IN THIS
VOLUME%

A.D. 1661-1715

JOHN RUDD, LL.D.


Events treated at length are here indicated in large type; the numerals
following give volume and page.

Separate chronologies or the various nations, and of the careers of famous
persons, will be found in the INDEX VOLUME, with volume and page references
showing where the several events are fully treated.

A.D.

%1661%. Execution of the Marquis of Argyle. Burning of the _League and
Covenant_ by the hangman, in all parts of England.

Episcopacy restored in Scotland.

In France Louis XIV assumes personal rule; Colbert begins his ministry. See
"Louis XIV ESTABLISHES ABSOLUTE MONARCHY," xii, i.

%1662%. Sale of Dunkirk to the French by Charles II. Passage of a new Act
of Uniformity; ejectment of nonconformist ministers from their livings, in
England.

A charter given the Connecticut and New Haven colonies.

%1663%. Hungary overrun by the Turks under Koprili.

Foundation of the French Academy of Inscriptions.

The Carolinas granted by charter to Clarendon and others.

%1664%. Passage of the Conventicle Act in England, directed against
nonconformists or dissenters.

Victory of the united forces of Germany, France, and Italy, under
Montecucoli, general of Leopold I, at St. Gotthard, Hungary.

Charles II grants the territory between the Connecticut and James rivers to
his brother, James, Duke of York; New Amsterdam occupied and New Netherland
taken by the English; New York is the name given to both province and city.
James sells a portion of his domain, to which the title of "New Caesarea"
was first given, afterward changed to New Jersey. See "NEW YORK TAKEN BY
THE ENGLISH," xii, 19.

East and West India companies formed in France; colonies planted in
Cayenne, Martinique, Guadelupe, Ste. Lucia, and Canada.

1665. Continued persecution of dissenters in England by the passage of the
Five-mile Act.

War between England and Holland.

Newton invents his methods of fluxions.

Completion of the union of the Connecticut and New Haven colonies.

Death of Philip IV; his son, Charles II, ascends the throne of Spain.

"GREAT PLAGUE IN LONDON." See xii, 29.

1666. Great naval victory of the English over the Dutch, in the Downs.

Resort to arms by the Scotch Covenanters; they are defeated.

"DISCOVERY OF GRAVITATION." See xii, 51.

War against England declared by France.

Foundation of the Académie des Sciences, Paris.

Burning of London. See "GREAT FIRE IN LONDON," xii, 45.

William Penn joins the Society of Friends.

1667. Opening of the first fire-insurance office in London. Ravages up the
Medway and Thames, England, by the Dutch, during negotiations for peace.

Treaty of Breda; peace between England, Holland, France, Denmark.
Publication of Milton's _Paradise Lost_.

1668. Triple alliance against France formed by England, Holland, and
Sweden.

Recognition by Spain of the independence of Portugal. Foundation of the
mission of Sault Ste. Marie, by Father Marquette. Introduction of the art
of dyeing into England by Brewer, who fled from Flanders before the French
invaders.

1669. John Locke draws up a constitution for the government of the
Carolinas.

Candia surrenders to the Turks.

Expedition of La Salle from the St. Lawrence to the West.

Discovery of phosphorus by Brandt.

1670. A secret treaty (Dover) between Charles II of England and Louis XIV
of France; Charles basely sells his allies, the Dutch, and engages himself
to become a Catholic.

Incorporation of the Hudson Bay Company.

1671. Leopold attempts the subjugation of the liberties of Hungary; his
drastic methods include the execution of Frangepan, Nadasdy, and Zrinyi.

Attempt of Colonel Blood to steal the English crown and regalia from the
Tower; the King pardons and pensions him.

"MORGAN, THE BUCCANEER, SACKS PANAMA." See xii, 66.

Building of Greenwich Observatory.

1672. William III, Prince of Orange, has supreme power conferred on him
by the Dutch. The De Witts massacred. See "STRUGGLE OF THE DUTCH AGAINST
FRANCE AND ENGLAND," xii, 86.

1673. Passage in England of the Test Act, excluding dissenters and papists
from all offices of government.

Battle of Khotin; defeat of the Turks by John Sobieski.

"DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI." See xii, 108.

Occupation of New York and New Jersey by the Dutch.

Joliet and Marquette make discoveries on the upper Mississippi.

1674. Peace between England and Holland; the former regains New Netherland.

Occupation of Pondicherry by the French.

John Sobieski elected to the Polish throne.

1675. "KING PHILIP'S WAR." See xii, 125.

Battle of Fehrbellin; the Swedes, having invaded Brandenburg, are defeated
by Frederick William. See "GROWTH OF PRUSSIA UNDER THE GREAT ELECTOR," xii,
138.

Beginning of the building of St. Paul's, London, by Sir Christopher Wren.

Leeuwenhoek discovers animalculae in various waters.

1676. Rebellion of Bacon in Virginia.

Defeat of the Dutch admiral, De Ruyter, by the French, under Duquesne, off
the Sicilian coast.

Building of Versailles.

1677. William of Orange defeated by the French at Casel. Freiburg captured
by the French.

Mary, daughter of the Duke of York (James II), marries William of Orange.

1678. Invention of the Popish Plot by Titus Oates.

Peace of Nimeguen between France, Spain, and Holland.

First war between Russia and Turkey.

Struggle of the Hungarians, under Tokolyi, against Austria.

1679. Persecution of the Covenanters in Scotland; they take up arms but are
defeated by Monmouth, at Bothwell Bridge. Murder of the primate, Sharp.

Passage in England of the Habeas Corpus Act.

La Salle builds the Griffon on Niagara River.

Peace of Nimeguen between France and the German Emperor.

1680. Beginning of the captivity of the Man with the Iron Mask. (Date
uncertain.)

Execution of Viscount Strafford for alleged participation in the Popish
Plot.

Alsace incorporated with French territory.

The Whig and Tory parties first so named in England.

1681. Strasburg seized by Louis XIV.

A patent by the crown granted to William Penn. See "WILLIAM PENN RECEIVES
THE GRANT OF PENNSYLVANIA," xii, 153.

Renewed persecution of Protestants in France.

First museum of natural history in London.

1682. Attempt of Louis XIV to seize the Duchy of Luxemburg.

Bossuet, in behalf of the French clergy, draws up a declaration which sets
forth the liberties of the Gallican Church.

Colonizing of Pennsylvania by William Penn; he founds Philadelphia; also,
with other Friends, purchases East Jersey.

Expedition of La Salle to the mouth of the Mississippi. See "DISCOVERY OF
THE MISSISSIPPI," xii, 108.

Death of Czar Feodor III; his sister, Sophia, regent in the name of her
brothers Ivan V, of weak intellect, and Peter I (Peter the Great).

%1683%. A penny-post first established in London, by a private individual.
Execution in England of Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney, for participation
in the Rye House Plot.

Siege of Vienna by the Turks. See "LAST TURKISH INVASION OF EUROPE," xii,
164.

Attack on the Spanish Netherlands by Louis XIV.

%1684%. Forfeiture of the charter of the Massachusetts Bay Company.

Formation of the Holy League by Venice, Poland, Emperor Leopold I, and Pope
Innocent XI against the Turks.

Genoa bombarded by the French. Louis XIV forcibly occupies Luxemburg.

An embassy sent from the King of Siam to France.

Publication by Leibnitz of his invention of the differential calculus. (See
Newton, 1665.)

%1685%. Death of Charles II; his brother, James II, ascends the English
throne. Insurrection of Argyle and Monmouth; they are both executed.
Jeffries' Bloody Assizes. See "MONMOUTH'S REBELLION," xii, 172.

Pillage of the coast of Peru by the buccaneers.

"REVOCATION OF THE EDICT OF NANTES." See xii, 180.

A demand made for the surrender of Connecticut's charter; it is hidden in
Charter Oak.

Bradford's printing-press arrives in Pennsylvania. See "ORIGIN AND PROGRESS
OF PRINTING," viii, i.

%1686%. Attempt of James II to restore Romanism in the British domains; a
camp established by him at Hounslow Heath. Revival of the Court of High
Commission.

League of Augsburg formed by William of Orange, by which the principal
continental states unite to resist French encroachments.

A bloody crusade waged by Louis XIV, and Victor Amadeus II of Savoy,
against the Waldenses of Piedmont.

Recovery of Buda by the Austrians from the Turks.

Appointment of Sir Edmund Andros as Governor over the consolidated New
England colonies.

%1687%. Refusal of the University of Cambridge to admit Francis, a
Benedictine monk, recommended by James II.

Leopold I compels the Hungarian Diet to make the kingdom hereditary in the
Hapsburg family.

Battle of Mohacs; defeat of the Turks by the Duke of Lorraine.

Capture of Athens by the Venetians.

Appointment of Tyrconnel, a Roman Catholic, as Lord Deputy of Ireland.

Publication of Newton's _Principia_.

Assumption of power by Peter the Great, in Russia.

1688. Louis XIV declares war against Holland: he makes war on Germany.

Capture of Philippsburg by the French.

Battle of Enniskillen in Ireland.

Landing in England of William of Orange, on invitation of the malcontents
in that country. See "THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION," xii, 200.

New York and New Jersey united with New England under Governor-General Sir
Edmund Andros.

1689. William and Mary, she being daughter of the ex-king, are proclaimed
King and Queen of England. Passage of the Bill of Rights.

James II lands in Ireland; he unsuccessfully besieges Londonderry: battle
of Newtown Butler, defeat of the Irish Catholics.

Great Britain joins the League of Augsburg.

Overthrow of Andros in New England. See "TYRANNY OF ANDROS IN NEW ENGLAND,"
xii, 241.

At the instance of Louvois, his war minister, Louis XIV lays waste the
Palatinate.

Battle of Killiecrankie, Scotland; defeat of the government forces by the
Highlanders; Claverhouse, their leader, slain.

"MASSACRE OF LACHINE, CANADA." See xii, 248.

"PETER THE GREAT MODERNIZES RUSSIA." See xii, 223.

1690. Battle of the Boyne. See "SIEGE OF LONDONDERRY," xii, 258.

Presbyterianism reestablished in Scotland.

Defence of Canada by Frontenac.

James II leaves Ireland and returns to France.

Destruction of Schenectady by the French and Indians.

Conquest of Acadia and unsuccessful attempt on Québec by the English.

John Locke publishes his _Essay Concerning the Human Understanding_.

1691. Overthrow of the Jacobites in Scotland.

Battle of Salankeman; victory of Louis of Baden over the Turks.

Execution in New York of Jacob Leisler.

1692. Union of the colonies of Plymouth and Massachusetts.

Beginning of the witchcraft mania in New England. See "SALEM WITCHCRAFT
TRIALS," xii, 268.

The duchies of Hanover and Brunswick become an electorate; Ernest Augustus
elector.

Battle of La Hogue; the attempted French invasion of England defeated by
the victory of the English and Dutch fleets.

Massacre, at Glencoe, of the MacDonalds.

1693. Defeat of the English fleet, off Cape St. Vincent, by Tourville,
admiral of the French fleet.

Distress in France from famine and the expense of the war with England.

Founding of the College of William and Mary, Virginia.

Bradford's printing-press removed from Pennsylvania to New York. See
"ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF PRINTING," viii, i.

1694. Attacks on the coast of France by the English.

Death of Queen Mary, consort of William. Cessation of the censorship of the
press in England.

"ESTABLISHMENT OF THE BANK OF ENGLAND." See xii, 286.

Peter the Great of Russia employs Brant, a Dutch shipwright, to build a
vessel at Archangel.

1695. Peace arranged between France and Savoy.

Azov captured from the Turks by Peter the Great.

1696. On the death of John Sobieski the Polish crown is purchased by
Frederick Augustus, Elector of Saxony.

1697. Barcelona captured by the French.

Peace of Ryswick between France, Holland, England, and Spain.

Election of Francis I as King of Poland.

Battle of Zenta; crushing defeat of the Turks by Leopold I.

1698. Foundation of Calcutta by the English.

A Scotch colony established on the Isthmus of Darien: abandoned in 1700.

Peter the Great recalled from England by a revolt of the Strelitz guards;
he subdues and disbands them.

Society for Propagating Christianity formed in London.

Partition of Spain arranged between England, France, and the Netherlands.

1699. Iberville settles a French colony in Louisiana. See "COLONIZATION OF
LOUISIANA," xii, 297.

Reduction of the Turkish territories in Europe, by nearly one-half,
arranged by the Peace of Carlowitz, between Turkey, Austria, Venice, and
Poland.

Peter the Great introduces the computation of time in Russia by the
Christian era, but adheres to the old style, which still obtains in that
country.

1700. Russia, Poland, and Denmark make joint war against Sweden. The army
of Peter the Great overwhelmed at Narva, by Charles XII of Sweden.

Foundation of the future Yale College, Connecticut.

1701. Frederick III of Brandenburg crowns himself King of Prussia. See
"PRUSSIA PROCLAIMED A KINGDOM," xii, 310.

Passage of the Act of Settlement in England; the Hanoverian succession
founded.

Beginning of the War of the Spanish Succession.

Charles XII defeats the Poles and Saxons.

1702. Death of William III; Queen Anne succeeds to the throne of England.

Command of the army of the States-General given to Marlborough, the English
general.

Battle of Vigo; naval victory of the English and Dutch over the Spaniards
and French.

Beginning of Queen Anne's War in America.

Foundation of a French settlement on the Mobile River, Alabama.

Charles XII occupies Warsaw; he defeats Augustus II at Klissow; Cracow
entered by him.

1703. Methuen Treaty between England and Portugal, for facilitating
commerce between those countries.

Peter the Great lays the foundation of St. Petersburg. See "FOUNDING OF ST.
PETERSBURG," xii, 319.

Defeat of Augustus II by Charles XII at Pultusk.

1704. English conquest of Gibraltar from Spain. "BATTLE OF BLENHEIM." See
xii, 327.

At Boston is published the first newspaper in the American colonies of
England. See "ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF PRINTING," viii, i.

Sack, burning, and massacre of the inhabitants of Deerfield, Massachusetts,
by French and Indians.

Charles XII completes the subjugation of Poland.

1705. Failure of the French and Spaniards in an attempt to recapture
Gibraltar.

Invasion of Spain by the English under the Earl of Peterborough; capture of
Barcelona.

1706. Battle of Ramillies; Marlborough defeats the French under Villeroi.

Unsuccessful attempt of the French and Spaniards on Barcelona. Birth of
Benjamin Franklin.

1707. Sanction of the Union of England and Scotland by the Scotch
Parliament. See "UNION OF ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND," xii, 341.

Charles XII subjugates Saxony; he dictates the Peace of Altranstaedt.

1708. Russia invaded by Charles XII.

Battle of Oudenarde; victory of Marlborough and Prince Eugene over the
Dukes of Burgundy and Venddme.

1709. Annihilation of the army of Charles XII at Poltava See "DOWNFALL OF
CHARLES XII," xii, 352.

Invasion of Sweden by the Danes. Recovery of Poland by Augustus II.

1710. Expulsion of the Danes from Sweden by Stenbock. Request of the Irish
Parliament for union with that of Great Britain. "CAPTURE OF PORT ROYAL,
CANADA." See xii, 373.

1711. After further successes in Flanders, Marlborough is removed from
command; the Whig ministry falls in England.

Under Walker, the English and New England forces make an unsuccessful
attempt on Canada.

Having taken up arms for Charles XII, the Turks nearly achieve the ruin
of Peter the Great, whose army is hemmed in near the Pruth River; peace
arranged, the Turks recovering Azov and other towns.

%1712%. Peace conference at Utrecht.

Newspapers come under the operation of the Stamp Act, in England; so many
discontinue publication that it is called the "Fall of the Leaf."

Second Toggenburg War between the Reformed and Catholic cantons of
Switzerland.

%1713%. Peace of Utrecht ending the War of the Spanish Succession. Great
Britain acquires Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Gibraltar, Minorca, Hudson Bay,
and the Isle of St. Kitts; with the title of king the Duke of Savoy is
ceded Sicily by Spain, and by France, Savoy and Nice with certain fortified
places; the King of Prussia exchanges the principality of Orange and
Châlons for Spanish Gelderland, Neuchâtel, and Valengin; Spain cedes to
Austria, Naples, Milan, Spanish Tuscany, and sovereignty over the Spanish
Netherlands; the harbor and fortifications of Dunkirk to be destroyed.

Charles I issues the Pragmatic Sanction securing succession to the female
line in default of male issue.

%1714%. Establishment of the Clarendon Press at Oxford, from the profits of
Clarendon's _History of the Rebellion_.

Death of Anne and accession in England of George (I), Elector of Hanover.

Capture of Barcelona by the French and Spanish forces; the citizens
deprived of their liberties.

Fahrenheit invents his thermometer.

%1715%. Jacobite rebellion in Britain in behalf of the Pretender.

Death of Louis XIV; he is succeeded by his great-grandson, Louis XV; the
Duke of Orléans regent.

A Barrier Treaty made between Austria, England, and Holland; it gave the
Dutch a right to garrison certain places in the Austrian Netherlands.