CHAPTER 18
1693-1697.
FRENCH AND ENGLISH RIVALRY.
LE MOYNE D'IBERVILLE, HIS EXPLOITS IN NEWFOUNDLAND, IN HUDSON'S BAY, THE GREAT PRIZE, THE COMPETITORS, FATAL POLICY OF THE KING,  THE IROQUOIS QUESTION, NEGOTIATION, FIRMNESS OF FRONTENAC, ENGLISH INTERVENTION, WAR RENEWED, STATE OF THE WEST, INDIAN DIPLOMACY,  CRUEL MEASURES, A PERILOUS CRISIS, AUDACITY OF FRONTENAC.
No Canadian, under the French rule, stands in a more conspicuous or more deserved eminence than Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville.  In the seventeenth century, most of those who acted a prominent part in the colony were born in Old France; but Iberville was a true son of the soil.  He and his brothers, Longueuil, Serigny, Assigny, Maricourt, Sainte-Helene, the two Chateauguays, and the two Bienvilles, were, one and all, children worthy of their father, Charles Le Moyne of Montreal, and favorable types of that Canadian noblesse, to whose adventurous hardihood half the continent bears witness.  Iberville was trained in the French navy, and was already among its most able commanders.  The capture of Pemaquid was, for him, but the beginning of greater things; and, though the exploits that followed were outside the main theatre of action, they were too remarkable to be passed in silence.

The French had but one post of any consequence on the Island of Newfoundland, the fort and village at Placentia Bay; while the English fishermen had formed a line of settlements two or three hundred miles along the eastern coast.  Iberville had represented to the court the necessity of checking their growth, and to that end a plan was settled, in connection with the expedition against Pemaquid.  The ships of the king were to transport the men; while Iberville and others associated with him were to pay them, and divide the plunder as their compensation.  The chronicles of the time show various similar bargains between the great king and his subjects.

Pemaquid was no sooner destroyed, than Iberville sailed for Newfoundland, with the eighty men he had taken at Quebec; and, on arriving, he was joined by as many more, sent him from the same place.  He found Brouillan, governor of Placentia, with a squadron formed largely of privateers from Saint Malo, engaged in a vain attempt to seize Saint John, the chief post of the English.  Brouillan was a man of harsh, jealous, and impracticable temper; and it was with the utmost difficulty that he and Iberville could act in concert.  They came at last to an agreement, made a combined attack on Saint John, took it, and burned it to the ground.  Then followed a new dispute about the division of the spoils.  At length it was settled.  Brouillan went back to Placentia, and Iberville and his men were left to pursue their conquests alone.

There were no British soldiers on the island.  The settlers were rude fishermen without commanders, and, according to the French accounts, without religion or morals.  In fact, they are described as "worse than Indians." Iberville now had with him a hundred and twenty-five soldiers and Canadians, besides a few Abenakis from Acadia.  It was mid-winter when he began his march.  For two months he led his hardy band through frost and snow, from hamlet to hamlet, along those forlorn and desolate coasts, attacking each in turn and carrying havoc everywhere.  Nothing could exceed the hardships of the way, or the vigor with which they were met and conquered.  The chaplain Baudoin gives an example of them in his diary.  "January 18th.  The roads are so bad that we can find only twelve men strong enough to beat the path.  Our snow-shoes break on the crust, and against the rocks and fallen trees hidden under the snow, which catch and trip us; but, for all that, we cannot help laughing to see now one, and now another, fall headlong.  The Sieur de Martigny fell into a river, and left his gun and his sword there to save his life." A panic seized the settlers, many of whom were without arms as well as without leaders.  They imagined the Canadians to be savages, who scalped and butchered like the Iroquois.  Their resistance was feeble and incoherent, and Iberville carried all before him.  Every hamlet was pillaged and burned; and, according to the incredible report of the French writers, two hundred persons were killed and seven hundred captured, though it is admitted that most of the prisoners escaped.  When spring opened, all the English settlements were destroyed, except the post of Bonavista and the Island of Carbonniere, a natural fortress in the sea.  Iberville returned to Placentia, to prepare for completing his conquest, when his plans were broken by the arrival of his brother Serigny, with orders to proceed at once against the English at Hudson's Bay.  

It was the nineteenth of May, when Serigny appeared with five ships of war, the "Pelican," the "Palmier," the "Wesp," the "Profond," and the "Violent." The important trading-post of Fort Nelson, called Fort Bourbon by the French, was the destined object of attack.  Iberville and Serigny had captured it three years before, but the English had retaken it during the past summer, and, as it commanded the fur-trade of a vast interior region, a strong effort was now to be made for its recovery.  Iberville took command of the "Pelican," and his brother of the "Palmier." They sailed from Placentia early in July, followed by two other ships of the squadron, and a vessel carrying stores.  Before the end of the month they entered the bay, where they were soon caught among masses of floating ice.  The store-ship was crushed and lost, and the rest were in extreme danger.  The "Pelican" at last extricated herself, and sailed into the open sea; but her three consorts were nowhere to be seen.  Iberville steered for Fort Nelson, which was several hundred miles distant, on the western shore of this dismal inland sea.  He had nearly reached it, when three sail hove in sight; and he did not doubt that they were his missing ships.  They proved, however, to be English armed merchantmen: the "Hampshire" of fifty-two guns, and the "Daring" and the "Hudson's Bay" of thirty-six and thirty-two.  The "Pelican" carried but forty-four, and she was alone.  A desperate battle followed, and from half past nine to one o'clock the cannonade was incessant.  Iberville kept the advantage of the wind, and, coming at length to close quarters with the "Hampshire," gave her repeated broadsides between wind and water, with such effect that she sank with all on board.  He next closed with the "Hudson's Bay," which soon struck her flag; while the "Daring" made sail, and escaped.  The "Pelican" was badly damaged in hull, masts, and rigging; and the increasing fury of a gale from the east made her position more critical every hour.  She anchored, to escape being driven ashore; but the cables parted, and she was stranded about two leagues from the fort.  Here, racked by the waves and the tide, she split amidships; but most of the crew reached land with their weapons and ammunition.  The northern winter had already begun, and the snow lay a foot deep in the forest.  Some of them died from cold and exhaustion, and the rest built huts and kindled fires to warm and dry themselves.  Food was so scarce that their only hope of escape from famishing seemed to lie in a desperate effort to carry the fort by storm, but now fortune interposed.  The three ships they had left behind in the ice arrived with all the needed succors.  Men, cannon, and mortars were sent ashore, and the attack began.  Fort Nelson was a palisade work, garrisoned by traders and other civilians in the employ of the English fur company, and commanded by one of its agents, named Bailey.  Though it had a considerable number of small cannon, it was incapable of defence against any thing but musketry; and the French bombs soon made it untenable.  After being three times summoned, Bailey lowered his flag, though not till he had obtained honorable terms; and he and his men marched out with arms and baggage, drums beating and colors flying.  Iberville had triumphed over the storms, the icebergs, and the English.  The north had seen his prowess, and another fame awaited him in the regions of the sun; for he became the father of Louisiana, and his brother Bienville founded New Orleans.  

These northern conflicts were but episodes.  In Hudson's Bay, Newfoundland, and Acadia, the issues of the war were unimportant, compared with the momentous question whether France or England should be mistress of the west; that is to say, of the whole interior of the continent.  There was a strange contrast in the attitude of the rival colonies towards this supreme prize: the one was inert, and seemingly indifferent; the other, intensely active.  The reason is obvious enough.  The English colonies were separate, jealous of the crown and of each other, and incapable as yet of acting in concert.  Living by agriculture and trade, they could prosper within limited areas, and had no present need of spreading beyond the Alleghanies.  Each of them was an aggregate of persons, busied with their own affairs, and giving little heed to matters which did not immediately concern them.  Their rulers, whether chosen by themselves or appointed in England, could not compel them to become the instruments of enterprises in which the sacrifice was present, and the advantage remote.  The neglect in which the English court left them, though wholesome in most respects, made them unfit for aggressive action; for they had neither troops, commanders, political union, military organization, nor military habits.  In communities so busy, and governments so popular, much could not be done, in war, till the people were roused to the necessity of doing it; and that awakening was still far distant.  Even New York, the only exposed colony, except Massachusetts and New Hampshire, regarded the war merely as a nuisance to be held at arm's length.  

In Canada, all was different.  Living by the fur trade, she needed free range and indefinite space.  Her geographical position determined the nature of her pursuits; and her pursuits developed the roving and adventurous character of her people, who, living under a military rule, could be directed at will to such ends as their rulers saw fit.  The grand French scheme of territorial extension was not born at court, but sprang from Canadian soil, and was developed by the chiefs of the colony, who, being on the ground, saw the possibilities and requirements of the situation, and generally had a personal interest in realizing them.  The rival colonies had two different laws of growth.  The one increased by slow extension, rooting firmly as it spread; the other shot offshoots, with few or no roots, far out into the wilderness.  It was the nature of French colonization to seize upon detached strategic points, and hold them by the bayonet, forming no agricultural basis, but attracting the Indians by trade, and holding them by conversion.  A musket, a rosary, and a pack of beaver skins may serve to represent it, and in fact it consisted of little else.

Whence came the numerical weakness of New France, and the real though latent strength of her rivals? Because, it is answered, the French were not an emigrating people; but, at the end of the seventeenth century, this was only half true.  The French people were divided into two parts, one eager to emigrate, and the other reluctant.  The one consisted of the persecuted Huguenots, the other of the favored Catholics.  The government chose to construct its colonies, not of those who wished to go, but of those who wished to stay at home.  From the hour when the edict of Nantes was revoked, hundreds of thousands of Frenchmen would have hailed as a boon the permission to transport themselves, their families, and their property to the New World.  The permission was fiercely refused, and the persecuted sect was denied even a refuge in the wilderness.  Had it been granted them, the valleys of the west would have swarmed with a laborious and virtuous population, trained in adversity, and possessing the essential qualities of self-government.  Another France would have grown beyond the Alleghanies, strong with the same kind of strength that made the future greatness of the British colonies.  British America was an asylum for the oppressed and the suffering of all creeds and nations, and population poured into her by the force of a natural tendency.  France, like England, might have been great in two hemispheres, if she had placed herself in accord with this tendency, instead of opposing it; but despotism was consistent with itself, and a mighty opportunity was for ever lost.

As soon could the Ethiopian change his skin as the priest-ridden king change his fatal policy of exclusion.  Canada must be bound to the papacy, even if it blasted her.  The contest for the west must be waged by the means which Bourbon policy ordained, and which, it must be admitted, had some great advantages of their own, when controlled by a man like Frontenac.  The result hung, for the present, on the relations of the French with the Iroquois and the tribes of the lakes, the Illinois, and the valley of the Ohio, but, above all, on their relations with the Iroquois; for, could they be conquered or won over, it would be easy to deal with the rest.  Frontenac was meditating a grand effort to inflict such castigation as would bring them to reason, when one of their chiefs, named Tareha, came to Quebec with overtures of peace.  The Iroquois had lost many of their best warriors.  The arrival of troops from France had discouraged them; the war had interrupted their hunting; and, having no furs to barter with the English, they were in want of arms, ammunition, and all the necessaries of life.  Moreover, Father Milet, nominally a prisoner among them, but really an adopted chief, had used all his influence to bring about a peace; and the mission of Tareha was the result.  Frontenac received him kindly.  "My Iroquois children have been drunk; but I will give them an opportunity to repent.  Let each of your five nations send me two deputies, and I will listen to what they have to say." They would not come, but sent him instead an invitation to meet them and their friends, the English, in a general council at Albany; a proposal which he rejected with contempt.  Then they sent another deputation, partly to him and partly to their Christian countrymen of the Saut and the Mountain, inviting all alike to come and treat with them at Onondaga.  Frontenac, adopting the Indian fashion, kicked away their wampum belts, rebuked them for tampering with the mission Indians, and told them that they were rebels, bribed by the English; adding that, if a suitable deputation should be sent to Quebec to treat squarely of peace, he still would listen, but that, if they came back with any more such proposals as they had just made, they should be roasted alive.  A few weeks later, the deputation appeared.  It consisted of two chiefs of each nation, headed by the renowned orator Decanisora, or, as the French wrote the name, Tegannisorens.  The council was held in the hall of the supreme council at Quebec.  The dignitaries of the colony were present, with priests, Jesuits, Recollets, officers, and the Christian chiefs of the Saut and the Mountain.  The appearance of the ambassadors bespoke their destitute plight; for they were all dressed in shabby deerskins and old blankets, except Decanisora, who was attired in a scarlet coat laced with gold, given him by the governor of New York.  Colden, who knew him in his old age, describes him as a tall, well-formed man, with a face not unlike the busts of Cicero.  "He spoke," says the French reporter, "with as perfect a grace as is vouchsafed to an uncivilized people;" buried the hatchet, covered the blood that had been spilled, opened the roads, and cleared the clouds from the sun .  In other words, he offered peace; but he demanded at the same time that it should include the English.  Frontenac replied, in substance: "My children are right to come submissive and repentant.  I am ready to forgive the past, and hang up the hatchet; but the peace must include all my other children, far and near.  Shut your ears to English poison.  The war with the English has nothing to do with you, and only the great kings across the sea have power to stop it.  You must give up all your prisoners, both French and Indian, without one exception.  I will then return mine, and make peace with you, but not before." He then entertained them at his own table, gave them a feast described as "magnificent," and bestowed gifts so liberally, that the tattered ambassadors went home in embroidered coats, laced shirts, and plumed hats.  They were pledged to return with the prisoners before the end of the season, and they left two hostages as security.  

Meanwhile, the authorities of New York tried to prevent the threatened peace.  First, Major Peter Schuyler convoked the chiefs at Albany, and told them that, if they went to ask peace in Canada, they would be slaves for ever.  The Iroquois declared that they loved the English, but they repelled every attempt to control their action.  Then Fletcher, the governor, called a general council at the same place, and told them that they should not hold councils with the French, or that, if they did so, they should hold them at Albany in presence of the English.  Again they asserted their rights as an independent people.  "Corlaer," said their speaker, "has held councils with our enemies, and why should not we hold councils with his?" Yet they were strong in assurances of friendship, and declared themselves "one head, one heart, one blood, and one soul, with the English." Their speaker continued: "Our only reason for sending deputies to the French is that we are brought so low, and none of our neighbors help us, but leave us to bear all the burden of the war.  Our brothers of New England, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, all of their own accord took hold of the covenant chain, and called themselves our allies; but they have done nothing to help us, and we cannot fight the French alone, because they are always receiving soldiers from beyond the Great Lake.  Speak from your heart, brother: will you and your neighbors join with us, and make strong war against the French? If you will, we will break off all treaties, and fight them as hotly as ever; but, if you will not help us, we must make peace." Nothing could be more just than these reproaches; and, if the English governor had answered by a vigorous attack on the French forts south of the Saint Lawrence, the Iroquois warriors would have raised the hatchet again with one accord.  But Fletcher was busy with other matters; and he had besides no force at his disposal but four companies, the only British regulars on the continent, defective in numbers, ill-appointed, and mutinous.  Therefore he answered not with acts, but with words.  The negotiation with the French went on, and Fletcher called another council.  It left him in a worse position than before.  The Iroquois again asked for help: he could not promise it, but was forced to yield the point, and tell them that he consented to their making peace with Onontio.  It is certain that they wanted peace, but equally certain that they did not want it to be lasting, and sought nothing more than a breathing time to regain their strength.  Even now some of them were for continuing the war; and at the great council at Onondaga, where the matter was debated, the Onondagas, Oneidas, and Mohawks spurned the French proposals, and refused to give up their prisoners.  The Cayugas and some of the Senecas were of another mind, and agreed to a partial compliance with Frontenac's demands.  The rest seem to have stood passive in the hope of gaining time.  They were disappointed.  In vain the Seneca and Cayuga deputies buried the hatchet at Montreal, and promised that the other nations would soon do likewise.  Frontenac was not to be deceived.  He would accept nothing but the frank fulfilment of his conditions, refused the proffered peace, and told his Indian allies to wage war to the knife.  There was a dog-feast and a war-dance, and the strife began anew.

In all these conferences, the Iroquois had stood by their English allies, with a fidelity not too well merited.  But, though they were loyal towards the English, they had acted with duplicity towards the French, and, while treating of peace with them, had attacked some of their Indian allies, and intrigued with others.  They pursued with more persistency than ever the policy they had adopted in the time of La Barre, that is, to persuade or frighten the tribes of the west to abandon the French, join hands with them and the English, and send their furs to Albany instead of Montreal; for the sagacious confederates knew well that, if the trade were turned into this new channel, their local position would enable them to control it.  The scheme was good; but with whatever consistency their chiefs and elders might pursue it, the wayward ferocity of their young warriors crossed it incessantly, and murders alternated with intrigues.  On the other hand, the western tribes, who since the war had been but ill supplied with French goods and French brandy, knew that they could have English goods and English rum in great abundance, and at far less cost; and thus, in spite of hate and fear, the intrigue went on.  Michillimackinac was the focus of it, but it pervaded all the west.  The position of Frontenac was one of great difficulty, and the more so that the intestine quarrels of his allies excessively complicated the mazes of forest diplomacy.  This heterogeneous multitude, scattered in tribes and groups of tribes over two thousand miles of wilderness, was like a vast menagerie of wild animals; and the lynx bristled at the wolf, and the panther grinned fury at the bear, in spite of all his efforts to form them into a happy family under his paternal rule.

La Motte-Cadillac commanded at Michillimackinac, Courtemanche was stationed at Fort Miamis, and Tonty and La Foret at the fortified rock of Saint Louis on the Illinois; while Nicolas Perrot roamed among the tribes of the Mississippi, striving at the risk of his life to keep them at peace with each other, and in alliance with the French.  Yet a plot presently came to light, by which the Foxes, Mascontins, and Kickapoos were to join hands, renounce the French, and cast their fortunes with the Iroquois and the English.  There was still more anxiety for the tribes of Michillimackinac, because the results of their defection would be more immediate.  This important post had at the time an Indian population of six or seven thousand souls, a Jesuit mission, a fort with two hundred soldiers, and a village of about sixty houses, occupied by traders and coureurs de bois.  The Indians of the place were in relations more or less close with all the tribes of the lakes.  The Huron village was divided between two rival chiefs: the Baron, who was deep in Iroquois and English intrigue; and the Rat, who, though once the worst enemy of the French, now stood their friend.  The Ottawas and other Algonquins of the adjacent villages were savages of a lower grade, tossed continually between hatred of the Iroquois, distrust of the French, and love of English goods and English rum.  

La Motte-Cadillac found that the Hurons of the Baron's band were receiving messengers and peace belts from New York and her red allies, that the English had promised to build a trading house on Lake Erie, and that the Iroquois had invited the lake tribes to a grand convention at Detroit.  These belts and messages were sent, in the Indian expression, "underground," that is, secretly; and the envoys who brought them came in the disguise of prisoners taken by the Hurons.  On one occasion, seven Iroquois were brought in; and some of the French, suspecting them to be agents of the negotiation, stabbed two of them as they landed.  There was a great tumult.  The Hurons took arms to defend the remaining five; but at length suffered themselves to be appeased, and even gave one of the Iroquois, a chief, into the hands of the French, who, says La Potherie, determined to "make an example of him." They invited the Ottawas to "drink the broth of an Iroquois." The wretch was made fast to a stake, and a Frenchman began the torture by burning him with a red-hot gun-barrel.  The mob of savages was soon wrought up to the required pitch of ferocity; and, after atrociously tormenting him, they cut him to pieces, and ate him.  It was clear that the more Iroquois the allies of France could be persuaded to burn, the less would be the danger that they would make peace with the confederacy.  On another occasion, four were tortured at once; and La Motte-Cadillac writes, "If any more prisoners are brought me, I promise you that their fate will be no sweeter

The same cruel measures were practised when the Ottawas came to trade at Montreal.  Frontenac once invited a band of them to "roast an Iroquois," newly caught by the soldiers; but as they had hamstrung him, to prevent his escape, he bled to death before the torture began.  In the next spring, the revolting tragedy of Michillimackinac was repeated at Montreal, where four more Iroquois were burned by the soldiers, inhabitants, and Indian allies.  "It was the mission of Canada," says a Canadian writer, "to propagate Christianity and civilization." 

Every effort was vain.  La Motte-Cadillac wrote that matters grew worse and worse, and that the Ottawas had been made to believe that the French neither would nor could protect them, but meant to leave them, to their fate.  They thought that they had no hope except in peace with the Iroquois, and had actually gone to meet them at an appointed rendezvous.  One course alone was now left to Frontenac, and this was to strike the Iroquois with a blow heavy enough to humble them, and teach the wavering hordes of the west that he was, in truth, their father and their defender.  Nobody knew so well as he the difficulties of the attempt; and, deceived perhaps by his own energy, he feared that, in his absence on a distant expedition, the governor of New York would attack Montreal.  Therefore, he had begged for more troops.  About three hundred were sent him, and with these he was forced to content himself.

He had waited, also, for another reason.  In his belief, the re-establishment of Fort Frontenac, abandoned in a panic by Denonville, was necessary to the success of a campaign against the Iroquois.  A party in the colony vehemently opposed the measure, on the ground that the fort would be used by the friends of Frontenac for purposes of trade.  It was, nevertheless, very important, if not essential, for holding the Iroquois in check.  They themselves felt it to be so; and, when they heard that the French intended to occupy it again, they appealed to the governor of New York, who told them that, if the plan were carried into effect, he would march to their aid with all the power of his government.  He did not, and perhaps could not, keep his word.  In the question of Fort Frontenac, as in every thing else, the opposition to the governor, always busy and vehement, found its chief representative in the intendant, who told the minister that the policy of Frontenac was all wrong; that the public good was not its object; that he disobeyed or evaded the orders of the king; and that he had suffered the Iroquois to delude him by false overtures of peace.  The representations of the intendant and his faction had such effect, that Ponchartrain wrote to the governor that the plan of re-establishing Fort Frontenac "must absolutely be abandoned." Frontenac, bent on accomplishing his purpose, and doubly so because his enemies opposed it, had anticipated the orders of the minister, and sent seven hundred men to Lake Ontario to repair the fort.  The day after they left Montreal, the letter of Ponchartrain arrived.  The intendant demanded their recall.  Frontenac refused.  The fort was repaired, garrisoned, and victualled for a year.

A successful campaign was now doubly necessary to the governor, for by this alone could he hope to avert the consequences of his audacity.  He waited no longer, but mustered troops, militia, and Indians, and marched to attack the Iroquois.  

MILITARY INEFFICIENCY OF THE BRITISH COLONIES, "His Majesty has subjects enough in those parts of America to drive out the French from Canada; but they are so crumbled into little governments, and so disunited, that they have hitherto afforded little assistance to each other, and now seem in a much worse disposition to do it for the future." This is the complaint of the Lords of Trade.  Governor Fletcher writes bitterly: "Here every little government sets up for despotic power, and allows no appeal to the Crown, but, by a little juggling, defeats all commands and injunctions from the King." Fletcher's complaint was not unprovoked.  The Queen had named him commander-in-chief, during the war, of the militia of several of the colonies, and empowered him to call on them for contingents of men, not above 350 from Massachusetts, 250 from Virginia, 160 from Maryland, 120 from Connecticut, 48 from Rhode Island, and 80 from Pennsylvania.  This measure excited the jealousy of the colonies, and several of them remonstrated on constitutional grounds; but the attorney-general, to whom the question was referred, reported that the crown had power, under certain limitations, to appoint a commander-in-chief.  Fletcher, therefore, in his character as such, called for a portion of the men; but scarcely one could he get.  He was met by excuses and evasions, which, especially in the case of Connecticut, were of a most vexatious character.  At last, that colony, tired by his importunities, condescended to furnish him with twenty-five men.  With the others, he was less fortunate, though Virginia and Maryland compounded with a sum of money.  Each colony claimed the control of its own militia, and was anxious to avoid the establishment of any precedent which might deprive it of the right.  Even in the military management of each separate colony, there was scarcely less difficulty.  A requisition for troops from a royal governor was always regarded with jealousy, and the provincial assemblies were slow to grant money for their support.  In 1692, when Fletcher came to New York, the assembly gave him 300 men, for a year; in 1693, they gave him an equal number; in 1694, they allowed him but 170, he being accused, apparently with truth, of not having made good use of the former levies.  He afterwards asked that the force at his disposal should be increased to 500 men, to guard the frontier; and the request was not granted.  In 1697 he was recalled; and the Earl of Bellomont was commissioned governor of New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, and captain-general, during the war, of all the forces of those colonies, as well as of Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Jersey.  The close of the war quickly ended this military authority; but there is no reason to believe that, had it continued, the earl's requisitions for men, in his character of captain-general, would have had more success than those of Fletcher.  The whole affair is a striking illustration of the original isolation of communities, which afterwards became welded into a nation.  It involved a military paralysis almost complete.  Sixty years later, under the sense of a great danger, the British colonies were ready enough to receive a commander-in-chief, and answer his requisitions.

A great number of documents bearing upon the above subject will be found in the New York Colonial Documents, IV.