Volume 12 — VOLUME XII (continued 7)

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

FRANCOIS 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 Quebec. 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. Francois 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. Francois, 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 Callieres, 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 reenforce 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 Callieres, 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 Quebec on October 18th, at 8 P.M., accompanied by De Callieres, 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 reenforcement 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 reenforcement 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 reenforcement 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 reenforced 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, a 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 reenforced 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.