1755
Dieskau
The next stroke of the campaign was to be the capture of Crown Point,
that dangerous neighbor which, for a quarter of a century, had
threatened the northern colonies. Shirley, in January, had proposed an
attack on it to the Ministry; and in February, without waiting their
reply, he laid the plan before his Assembly. They accepted it, and
voted money for the pay and maintenance of twelve hundred men, provided
the adjacent colonies would contribute in due proportion.[290]
Massachusetts showed a military activity worthy of the reputation she
had won. Forty-five hundred of her men, or one in eight of her adult
males, volunteered to fight the French, and enlisted for the various
expeditions, some in the pay of the province, and some in that of the
King.[291] It remained to name a commander for the Crown Point
enterprise. Nobody had power to do so, for Braddock was not yet come;
but that time might not be lost, Shirley, at the request of his
Assembly, took the responsibility on himself. If he had named a
Massachusetts officer, it would have roused the jealousy of the other
New England colonies; and he therefore appointed William Johnson of New
York, thus gratifying that important province and pleasing the Five
Nations, who at this time looked on Johnson with even more than usual
favor. Hereupon, in reply to his request, Connecticut voted twelve
hundred men, New Hampshire five hundred, and Rhode Island four hundred,
all at their own charge; while New York, a little later, promised eight
hundred more. When, in April, Braddock and the Council at Alexandria
approved the plan and the commander, Shirley gave Johnson the commission
of major-general of the levies of Massachusetts; and the governors of
the other provinces contributing to the expedition gave him similar
commissions for their respective contingents. Never did general take the
field with authority so heterogeneous.
[Footnote 290: _Governor Shirley's Message to his Assembly, 13 Feb.
1755. Resolutions of the Assembly of Massachusetts, 18 Feb. 1755_.
Shirley's original idea was to build a fort on a rising ground near
Crown Point, in order to command it. This was soon abandoned for the
more honest and more practical plan of direct attack.]
[Footnote 291: _Correspondence of Shirley, Feb. 1755_. The number was
much increased later in the season.]
He had never seen service, and knew nothing of war. By birth he was
Irish, of good family, being nephew of Admiral Sir Peter Warren, who,
owning extensive wild lands on the Mohawk, had placed the young man in
charge of them nearly twenty years before. Johnson was born to prosper.
He had ambition, energy, an active mind, a tall, strong person, a rough,
jovial temper, and a quick adaptation to his surroundings. He could
drink flip with Dutch boors, or Madeira with royal governors. He liked
the society of the great, would intrigue and flatter when he had an end
to gain, and foil a rival without looking too closely at the means; but
compared with the Indian traders who infested the border, he was a model
of uprightness. He lived by the Mohawk in a fortified house which was a
stronghold against foes and a scene of hospitality to friends, both
white and red. Here--for his tastes were not fastidious--presided for
many years a Dutch or German wench whom he finally married; and after
her death a young Mohawk squaw took her place. Over his neighbors, the
Indians of the Five Nations, and all others of their race with whom he
had to deal, he acquired a remarkable influence. He liked them, adopted
their ways, and treated them kindly or sternly as the case required, but
always with a justice and honesty in strong contrast with the
rascalities of the commission of Albany traders who had lately managed
their affairs, and whom they so detested that one of their chiefs called
them "not men, but devils." Hence, when Johnson was made Indian
superintendent there was joy through all the Iroquois confederacy. When,
in addition, he was made a general, he assembled the warriors in council
to engage them to aid the expedition.
This meeting took place at his own house, known as Fort Johnson; and as
more than eleven hundred Indians appeared at his call, his larder was
sorely taxed to entertain them. The speeches were interminable. Johnson,
as master of Indian rhetoric, knew his audience too well not to contest
with them the palm of insufferable prolixity. The climax was reached on
the fourth day, and he threw down the war-belt. An Oneida chief took it
up; Stevens, the interpreter, began the war-dance, and the assembled
warriors howled in chorus. Then a tub of punch was brought in, and they
all drank the King's health.[292] They showed less alacrity, however, to
fight his battles, and scarcely three hundred of them would take the
war-path. Too many of their friends and relatives were enlisted for the
French.
[Footnote 292: _Report of Conference between Major-General Johnson and
the Indians, June, 1755_.]
While the British colonists were preparing to attack Crown Point, the
French of Canada were preparing to defend it. Duquesne, recalled from
his post, had resigned the government to the Marquis de Vaudreuil, who
had at his disposal the battalions of regulars that had sailed in the
spring from Brest under Baron Dieskau. His first thought was to use them
for the capture of Oswego; but the letters of Braddock, found on the
battle-field, warned him of the design against Crown Point; while a
reconnoitring party which had gone as far as the Hudson brought back
news that Johnson's forces were already in the field. Therefore the plan
was changed, and Dieskau was ordered to lead the main body of his
troops, not to Lake Ontario, but to Lake Champlain. He passed up the
Richelieu, and embarked in boats and canoes for Crown Point. The veteran
knew that the foes with whom he had to deal were but a mob of
countrymen. He doubted not of putting them to rout, and meant never to
hold his hand till he had chased them back to Albany.[293] "Make all
haste," Vaudreuil wrote to him; "for when you return we shall send you
to Oswego to execute our first design."[294]
[Footnote 293: _Bigot au Ministre, 27 Août, 1755. Ibid., 5 Sept. 1755_.]
[Footnote 294: _Mémoire pour servir d'Instruction à M. le Baron de
Dieskau, Maréchal des Camps et Armées du Roy, 15 Août, 1755_.]
Johnson on his part was preparing to advance. In July about three
thousand provincials were encamped near Albany, some on the "Flats"
above the town, and some on the meadows below. Hither, too, came a swarm
of Johnson's Mohawks,--warriors, squaws, and children. They adorned the
General's face with war-paint, and he danced the war-dance; then with
his sword he cut the first slice from the ox that had been roasted
whole for their entertainment. "I shall be glad," wrote the surgeon of a
New England regiment, "if they fight as eagerly as they ate their ox and
drank their wine."
Above all things the expedition needed promptness; yet everything moved
slowly. Five popular legislatures controlled the troops and the
supplies. Connecticut had refused to send her men till Shirley promised
that her commanding officer should rank next to Johnson. The whole
movement was for some time at a deadlock because the five governments
could not agree about their contributions of artillery and stores.[295]
The New Hampshire regiment had taken a short cut for Crown Point across
the wilderness of Vermont; but had been recalled in time to save them
from probable destruction. They were now with the rest in the camp at
Albany, in such distress for provisions that a private subscription was
proposed for their relief.[296]
[Footnote 295: _The Conduct of Major-General Shirley briefly stated_
(London, 1758).]
[Footnote 296: _Blanchard to Wentworth, 28 Aug. 1755_, in _Provincial
Papers of New Hampshire_, VI. 429.]
Johnson's army, crude as it was, had in it good material. Here was
Phineas Lyman, of Connecticut, second in command, once a tutor at Yale
College, and more recently a lawyer,--a raw soldier, but a vigorous and
brave one; Colonel Moses Titcomb, of Massachusetts, who had fought with
credit at Louisbourg; and Ephraim Williams, also colonel of a
Massachusetts regiment, a tall and portly man, who had been a captain in
the last war, member of the General Court, and deputy-sheriff. He made
his will in the camp at Albany, and left a legacy to found the school
which has since become Williams College. His relative, Stephen Williams,
was chaplain of his regiment, and his brother Thomas was its surgeon.
Seth Pomeroy, gunsmith at Northampton, who, like Titcomb, had seen
service at Louisbourg, was its lieutenant-colonel. He had left a wife at
home, an excellent matron, to whom he was continually writing
affectionate letters, mingling household cares with news of the camp,
and charging her to see that their eldest boy, Seth, then in college at
New Haven, did not run off to the army. Pomeroy had with him his brother
Daniel; and this he thought was enough. Here, too, was a man whose name
is still a household word in New England,--the sturdy Israel Putnam,
private in a Connecticut regiment; and another as bold as he, John
Stark, lieutenant in the New Hampshire levies, and the future victor of
Bennington.
The soldiers were no soldiers, but farmers and farmers' sons who had
volunteered for the summer campaign. One of the corps had a blue uniform
faced with red. The rest wore their daily clothing. Blankets had been
served out to them by the several provinces, but the greater part
brought their own guns; some under the penalty of a fine if they came
without them, and some under the inducement of a reward.[297] They had
no bayonets, but carried hatchets in their belts as a sort of
substitute.[298] At their sides were slung powder-horns, on which, in
the leisure of the camp, they carved quaint devices with the points of
their jack-knives. They came chiefly from plain New England
homesteads,--rustic abodes, unpainted and dingy, with long well-sweeps,
capacious barns, rough fields of pumpkins and corn, and vast kitchen
chimneys, above which in winter hung squashes to keep them from frost,
and guns to keep them from rust.
[Footnote 297: _Proclamation of Governor Shirley, 1755_.]
[Footnote 298: _Second Letter to a Friend on the Battle of Lake
George_.]
As to the manners and morals of the army there is conflict of evidence.
In some respects nothing could be more exemplary. "Not a chicken has
been stolen," says William Smith, of New York; while, on the other hand,
Colonel Ephraim Williams writes to Colonel Israel Williams, then
commanding on the Massachusetts frontier: "We are a wicked, profane
army, especially the New York and Rhode Island troops. Nothing to be
heard among a great part of them but the language of Hell. If Crown
Point is taken, it will not be for our sakes, but for those good people
left behind."[299] There was edifying regularity in respect to form.
Sermons twice a week, daily prayers, and frequent psalm-singing
alternated with the much-needed military drill.[300] "Prayers among us
night and morning," writes Private Jonathan Caswell, of Massachusetts,
to his father. "Here we lie, knowing not when we shall march for Crown
Point; but I hope not long to tarry. Desiring your prayers to God for me
as I am going to war, I am Your Ever Dutiful son."[301]
[Footnote 299: _Papers of Colonel Israel Williams_.]
[Footnote 300: _Massachusetts Archives_.]
[Footnote 301: _Jonathan Caswell to John Caswell, 6 July, 1755_.]
To Pomeroy and some of his brothers in arms it seemed that they were
engaged in a kind of crusade against the myrmidons of Rome. "As you have
at heart the Protestant cause," he wrote to his friend Israel Williams,
"so I ask an interest in your prayers that the Lord of Hosts would go
forth with us and give us victory over our unreasonable, encroaching,
barbarous, murdering enemies."
Both Williams the surgeon and Williams the colonel chafed at the
incessant delays. "The expedition goes on very much as a snail runs,"
writes the former to his wife; "it seems we may possibly see Crown Point
this time twelve months." The Colonel was vexed because everything was
out of joint in the department of transportation: wagoners mutinous for
want of pay; ordnance stores, camp-kettles, and provisions left behind.
"As to rum," he complains, "it won't hold out nine weeks. Things appear
most melancholy to me." Even as he was writing, a report came of the
defeat of Braddock; and, shocked at the blow, his pen traced the words:
"The Lord have mercy on poor New England!"
Johnson had sent four Mohawk scouts to Canada. They returned on the
twenty-first of August with the report that the French were all astir
with preparation, and that eight thousand men were coming to defend
Crown Point. On this a council of war was called; and it was resolved to
send to the several colonies for reinforcements.[302] Meanwhile the main
body had moved up the river to the spot called the Great Carrying Place,
where Lyman had begun a fortified storehouse, which his men called Fort
Lyman, but which was afterwards named Fort Edward. Two Indian trails led
from this point to the waters of Lake Champlain, one by way of Lake
George, and the other by way of Wood Creek. There was doubt which course
the army should take. A road was begun to Wood Creek; then it was
countermanded, and a party was sent to explore the path to Lake George.
"With submission to the general officers," Surgeon Williams again
writes, "I think it a very grand mistake that the business of
reconnoitring was not done months agone." It was resolved at last to
march for Lake George; gangs of axemen were sent to hew out the way; and
on the twenty-sixth two thousand men were ordered to the lake, while
Colonel Blanchard, of New Hampshire, remained with five hundred to
finish and defend Fort Lyman.
[Footnote 302: _Minutes of Council of War, 22 Aug. 1755. Ephraim
Williams to Benjamin Dwight, 22 Aug. 1755_.]
The train of Dutch wagons, guarded by the homely soldiery, jolted slowly
over the stumps and roots of the newly made road, and the regiments
followed at their leisure. The hardships of the way were not without
their consolations. The jovial Irishman who held the chief command made
himself very agreeable to the New England officers. "We went on about
four or five miles," says Pomeroy in his Journal, "then stopped, ate
pieces of broken bread and cheese, and drank some fresh lemon-punch and
the best of wine with General Johnson and some of the field-officers."
It was the same on the next day. "Stopped about noon and dined with
General Johnson by a small brook under a tree; ate a good dinner of cold
boiled and roast venison; drank good fresh lemon-punch and wine."
That afternoon they reached their destination, fourteen miles from Fort
Lyman. The most beautiful lake in America lay before them; then more
beautiful than now, in the wild charm of untrodden mountains and virgin
forests. "I have given it the name of Lake George," wrote Johnson to the
Lords of Trade, "not only in honor of His Majesty, but to ascertain his
undoubted dominion here." His men made their camp on a piece of rough
ground by the edge of the water, pitching their tents among the stumps
of the newly felled trees. In their front was a forest of pitch-pine; on
their right, a marsh, choked with alders and swamp-maples; on their
left, the low hill where Fort George was afterwards built; and at their
rear, the lake. Little was done to clear the forest in front, though it
would give excellent cover to an enemy. Nor did Johnson take much pains
to learn the movements of the French in the direction of Crown Point,
though he sent scouts towards South Bay and Wood Creek. Every day stores
and bateaux, or flat boats, came on wagons from Fort Lyman; and
preparation moved on with the leisure that had marked it from the first.
About three hundred Mohawks came to the camp, and were regarded by the
New England men as nuisances. On Sunday the gray-haired Stephen Williams
preached to these savage allies a long Calvinistic sermon, which must
have sorely perplexed the interpreter whose business it was to turn it
into Mohawk; and in the afternoon young Chaplain Newell, of Rhode
Island, expounded to the New England men the somewhat untimely text,
"Love your enemies." On the next Sunday, September seventh, Williams
preached again, this time to the whites from a text in Isaiah. It was a
peaceful day, fair and warm, with a few light showers; yet not wholly a
day of rest, for two hundred wagons came up from Fort Lyman, loaded with
bateaux. After the sermon there was an alarm. An Indian scout came in
about sunset, and reported that he had found the trail of a body of men
moving from South Bay towards Fort Lyman. Johnson called for a volunteer
to carry a letter of warning to Colonel Blanchard, the commander. A
wagoner named Adams offered himself for the perilous service, mounted,
and galloped along the road with the letter. Sentries were posted, and
the camp fell asleep.
While Johnson lay at Lake George, Dieskau prepared a surprise for him.
The German Baron had reached Crown Point at the head of three thousand
five hundred and seventy-three men, regulars, Canadians, and
Indians.[303] He had no thought of waiting there to be attacked. The
troops were told to hold themselves ready to move at a moment's notice.
Officers--so ran the order--will take nothing with them but one spare
shirt, one spare pair of shoes, a blanket, a bearskin, and provisions
for twelve days; Indians are not to amuse themselves by taking scalps
till the enemy is entirely defeated, since they can kill ten men in the
time required to scalp one.[304] Then Dieskau moved on, with nearly all
his force, to Carillon, or Ticonderoga, a promontory commanding both the
routes by which alone Johnson could advance, that of Wood Creek and that
of Lake George.
[Footnote 303: _Vaudreuil au Ministre, 25 Sept. 1755_.]
[Footnote 304: _Livre d'Ordres, Août, Sept. 1755_.]
The Indians allies were commanded by Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, the
officer who had received Washington on his embassy to Fort Le Boeuf.
These unmanageable warriors were a constant annoyance to Dieskau, being
a species of humanity quite new to him. "They drive us crazy," he says,
"from morning till night. There is no end to their demands. They have
already eaten five oxen and as many hogs, without counting the kegs of
brandy they have drunk. In short, one needs the patience of an angel to
get on with these devils; and yet one must always force himself to seem
pleased with them."[305]
[Footnote 305: _Dieskau à Vaudreuil, 1 Sept. 1755_.]
They would scarcely even go out as scouts. At last, however, on the
fourth of September, a reconnoitring party came in with a scalp and an
English prisoner caught near Fort Lyman. He was questioned under the
threat of being given to the Indians for torture if he did not tell the
truth; but, nothing daunted, he invented a patriotic falsehood; and
thinking to lure his captors into a trap, told them that the English
army had fallen back to Albany, leaving five hundred men at Fort Lyman,
which he represented as indefensible. Dieskau resolved on a rapid
movement to seize the place. At noon of the same day, leaving a part of
his force at Ticonderoga, he embarked the rest in canoes and advanced
along the narrow prolongation of Lake Champlain that stretched southward
through the wilderness to where the town of Whitehall now stands. He
soon came to a point where the lake dwindled to a mere canal, while two
mighty rocks, capped with stunted forests, faced each other from the
opposing banks. Here he left an officer named Roquemaure with a
detachment of troops, and again advanced along a belt of quiet water
traced through the midst of a deep marsh, green at that season with
sedge and water-weeds, and known to the English as the Drowned Lands.
Beyond, on either hand, crags feathered with birch and fir, or hills
mantled with woods, looked down on the long procession of canoes.[306]
As they neared the site of Whitehall, a passage opened on the right, the
entrance to a sheet of lonely water slumbering in the shadow of woody
mountains, and forming the lake then, as now, called South Bay. They
advanced to its head, landed where a small stream enters it, left the
canoes under a guard, and began their march through the forest. They
counted in all two hundred and sixteen regulars of the battalions of
Languedoc and La Reine, six hundred and eighty-four Canadians, and above
six hundred Indians.[307] Every officer and man carried provisions for
eight days in his knapsack. They encamped at night by a brook, and in
the morning, after hearing Mass, marched again. The evening of the next
day brought them near the road that led to Lake George. Fort Lyman was
but three miles distant. A man on horseback galloped by; it was Adams,
Johnson's unfortunate messenger. The Indians shot him, and found the
letter in his pocket. Soon after, ten or twelve wagons appeared in
charge of mutinous drivers, who had left the English camp without
orders. Several of them were shot, two were taken, and the rest ran off.
The two captives declared that, contrary to the assertion of the
prisoner at Ticonderoga, a large force lay encamped at the lake. The
Indians now held a council, and presently gave out that they would not
attack the fort, which they thought well supplied with cannon, but that
they were willing to attack the camp at Lake George. Remonstrance was
lost upon them. Dieskau was not young, but he was daring to rashness,
and inflamed to emulation by the victory over Braddock. The enemy were
reported greatly to outnumber him; but his Canadian advisers had assured
him that the English colony militia were the worst troops on the face of
the earth. "The more there are," he said to the Canadians and Indians,
"the more we shall kill;" and in the morning the order was given to
march for the lake.
[Footnote 306: I passed this way three weeks ago. There are some points
where the scene is not much changed since Dieskau saw it.]
[Footnote 307: _Mémoire sur l'Affaire du 8 Septembre_.]
They moved rapidly on through the waste of pines, and soon entered the
rugged valley that led to Johnson's camp. On their right was a gorge
where, shadowed in bushes, gurgled a gloomy brook; and beyond rose the
cliffs that buttressed the rocky heights of French Mountain, seen by
glimpses between the boughs. On their left rose gradually the lower
slopes of West Mountain. All was rock, thicket, and forest; there was no
open space but the road along which the regulars marched, while the
Canadians and Indians pushed their way through the woods in such order
as the broken ground would permit.
They were three miles from the lake, when their scouts brought in a
prisoner who told them that a column of English troops was approaching.
Dieskau's preparations were quickly made. While the regulars halted on
the road, the Canadians and Indians moved to the front, where most of
them hid in the forest along the slopes of West Mountain, and the rest
lay close among the thickets on the other side. Thus, when the English
advanced to attack the regulars in front, they would find themselves
caught in a double ambush. No sight or sound betrayed the snare; but
behind every bush crouched a Canadian or a savage, with gun cocked and
ears intent, listening for the tramp of the approaching column.
The wagoners who escaped the evening before had reached the camp about
midnight, and reported that there was a war-party on the road near Fort
Lyman. Johnson had at this time twenty-two hundred effective men,
besides his three hundred Indians.[308] He called a council of war in
the morning, and a resolution was taken which can only be explained by a
complete misconception as to the force of the French. It was determined
to send out two detachments of five hundred men each, one towards Fort
Lyman, and the other towards South Bay, the object being, according to
Johnson "to catch the enemy in their retreat."[309] Hendrick, chief of
the Mohawks, a brave and sagacious warrior, expressed his dissent after
a fashion of his own. He picked up a stick and broke it; then he picked
up several sticks, and showed that together they could not be broken.
The hint was taken, and the two detachments were joined in one. Still
the old savage shook his head. "If they are to be killed," he said,
"they are too many; if they are to fight, they are too few."
Nevertheless, he resolved to share their fortunes; and mounting on a
gun-carriage, he harangued his warriors with a voice so animated and
gestures so expressive, that the New England officers listened in
admiration, though they understood not a word. One difficulty remained.
He was too old and fat to go afoot; but Johnson lent him a horse, which
he bestrode, and trotted to the head of the column, followed by two
hundred of his warriors as fast as they could grease, paint, and
befeather themselves.
[Footnote 308: _Wraxall to Lieutenant-Governor Delancey, 10 Sept. 1755_.
Wraxall was Johnson's aide-de-camp and secretary. The _Second Letter to
a Friend_ says twenty-one hundred whites and two hundred or three
hundred Indians. Blodget, who was also on the spot, sets the whites at
two thousand.]
[Footnote 309: _Letter to the Governors of the several Colonies, 9 Sept.
1755_.]
Captain Elisha Hawley was in his tent, finishing a letter which he had
just written to his brother Joseph; and these were the last words: "I am
this minute agoing out in company with five hundred men to see if we can
intercept 'em in their retreat, or find their canoes in the Drowned
Lands; and therefore must conclude this letter." He closed and directed
it; and in an hour received his death-wound.
It was soon after eight o'clock when Ephraim Williams left the camp with
his regiment, marched a little distance, and then waited for the rest of
the detachment under Lieutenant-Colonel Whiting. Thus Dieskau had full
time to lay his ambush. When Whiting came up, the whole moved on
together, so little conscious of danger that no scouts were thrown out
in front or flank; and, in full security, they entered the fatal snare.
Before they were completely involved in it, the sharp eye of old
Hendrick detected some sign of an enemy. At that instant, whether by
accident or design, a gun was fired from the bushes. It is said that
Dieskau's Iroquois, seeing Mohawks, their relatives, in the van, wished
to warn them of danger. If so, the warning came too late. The thickets
on the left blazed out a deadly fire, and the men fell by scores. In the
words of Dieskau, the head of the column "was doubled up like a pack of
cards." Hendrick's horse was shot down, and the chief was killed with a
bayonet as he tried to rise. Williams, seeing a rising ground on his
right, made for it, calling on his men to follow; but as he climbed the
slope, guns flashed from the bushes, and a shot through the brain laid
him dead. The men in the rear pressed forward to support their comrades,
when a hot fire was suddenly opened on them from the forest along their
right flank. Then there was a panic; some fled outright, and the whole
column recoiled. The van now became the rear, and all the force of the
enemy rushed upon it, shouting and screeching. There was a moment of
total confusion; but a part of Williams's regiment rallied under command
of Whiting, and covered the retreat, fighting behind trees like Indians,
and firing and falling back by turns, bravely aided by some of the
Mohawks and by a detachment which Johnson sent to their aid. "And a very
handsome retreat they made," writes Pomeroy; "and so continued till they
came within about three quarters of a mile of our camp. This was the
last fire our men gave our enemies, which killed great numbers of them;
they were seen to drop as pigeons." So ended the fray long known in New
England fireside story as the "bloody morning scout." Dieskau now
ordered a halt, and sounded his trumpets to collect his scattered men.
His Indians, however, were sullen and unmanageable, and the Canadians
also showed signs of wavering. The veteran who commanded them all,
Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, had been killed. At length they were
persuaded to move again, the regulars leading the way.
About an hour after Williams and his men had begun their march, a
distant rattle of musketry was heard at the camp; and as it grew nearer
and louder, the listeners knew that their comrades were on the retreat.
Then, at the eleventh hour, preparations were begun for defence. A sort
of barricade was made along the front of the camp, partly of wagons, and
partly of inverted bateaux, but chiefly of the trunks of trees hastily
hewn down in the neighboring forest and laid end to end in a single row.
The line extended from the southern slopes of the hill on the left
across a tract of rough ground to the marshes on the right. The forest,
choked with bushes and clumps of rank ferns, was within a few yards of
the barricade, and there was scarcely time to hack away the intervening
thickets. Three cannon were planted to sweep the road that descended
through the pines, and another was dragged up to the ridge of the hill.
The defeated party began to come in; first, scared fugitives both white
and red, then, gangs of men bringing the wounded; and at last, an hour
and a half after the first fire was heard, the main detachment was seen
marching in compact bodies down the road.
Five hundred men were detailed to guard the flanks of the camp. The rest
stood behind the wagons or lay flat behind the logs and inverted
bateaux, the Massachusetts men on the right, and the Connecticut men on
the left. Besides Indians, this actual fighting force was between
sixteen and seventeen hundred rustics, very few of whom had been under
fire before that morning. They were hardly at their posts when they saw
ranks of white-coated soldiers moving down the road, and bayonets that
to them seemed innumerable glittering between the boughs. At the same
time a terrific burst of war-whoops rose along the front; and, in the
words of Pomeroy, "the Canadians and Indians, helter-skelter, the woods
full of them, came running with undaunted courage right down the hill
upon us, expecting to make us flee."[310] Some of the men grew uneasy;
while the chief officers, sword in hand, threatened instant death to any
who should stir from their posts.[311] If Dieskau had made an assault at
that instant, there could be little doubt of the result.
[Footnote 310: _Seth Pomeroy to his Wife, 10 Sept. 1755_.]
[Footnote 311: _Dr. Perez Marsh to William Williams, 25 Sept. 1755_.]
This he well knew; but he was powerless. He had his small force of
regulars well in hand; but the rest, red and white, were beyond control,
scattering through the woods and swamps, shouting, yelling, and firing
from behind trees. The regulars advanced with intrepidity towards the
camp where the trees were thin, deployed, and fired by platoons, till
Captain Eyre, who commanded the artillery, opened on them with grape,
broke their ranks, and compelled them to take to cover. The fusillade
was now general on both sides, and soon grew furious. "Perhaps," Seth
Pomeroy wrote to his wife, two days after, "the hailstones from heaven
were never much thicker than their bullets came; but, blessed be God!
that did not in the least daunt or disturb us." Johnson received a
flesh-wound in the thigh, and spent the rest of the day in his tent.
Lyman took command; and it is a marvel that he escaped alive, for he was
four hours in the heat of the fire, directing and animating the men. "It
was the most awful day my eyes ever beheld," wrote Surgeon Williams to
his wife; "there seemed to be nothing but thunder and lightning and
perpetual pillars of smoke." To him, his colleague Doctor Pynchon, one
assistant, and a young student called "Billy," fell the charge of the
wounded of his regiment. "The bullets flew about our ears all the time
of dressing them; so we thought best to leave our tent and retire a few
rods behind the shelter of a log-house." On the adjacent hill stood one
Blodget, who seems to have been a sutler, watching, as well as bushes,
trees, and smoke would let him, the progress of the fight, of which he
soon after made and published a curious bird's-eye view. As the wounded
men were carried to the rear, the wagoners about the camp took their
guns and powder-horns, and joined in the fray. A Mohawk, seeing one of
these men still unarmed, leaped over the barricade, tomahawked the
nearest Canadian, snatched his gun, and darted back unhurt. The brave
savage found no imitators among his tribesmen, most of whom did nothing
but utter a few war-whoops, saying that they had come to see their
English brothers fight. Some of the French Indians opened a distant
flank fire from the high ground beyond the swamp on the right, but were
driven off by a few shells dropped among them.
Dieskau had directed his first attack against the left and center of
Johnson's position. Making no impression here, he tried to force the
right, where lay the regiments of Titcomb, Ruggles, and Williams. The
fire was hot for about an hour. Titcomb was shot dead, a rod in front of
the barricade, firing from behind a tree like a common soldier. At
length Dieskau, exposing himself within short range of the English line,
was hit in the leg. His adjutant, Montreuil, himself wounded, came to
his aid, and was washing the injured limb with brandy, when the
unfortunate commander was again hit in the knee and thigh. He seated
himself behind a tree, while the Adjutant called two Canadians to carry
him to the rear. One of them was instantly shot down. Montreuil took his
place; but Dieskau refused to be moved, bitterly denounced the Canadians
and Indians, and ordered the Adjutant to leave him and lead the regulars
in a last effort against the camp.
It was too late. Johnson's men, singly or in small squads, already
crossing their row of logs; and in a few moments the whole dashed
forward with a shout, falling upon the enemy with hatchets and the butts
of their guns. The French and their allies fled. The wounded General
still sat helpless by the tree, when he saw a soldier aiming at him. He
signed to the man not to fire; but he pulled trigger, shot him across
the hips, leaped upon him, and ordered him in French to surrender. "I
said," writes Dieskau, "'You rascal, why did you fire? You see a man
lying in his blood on the ground, and you shoot him!' He answered: 'How
did I know that you had not got a pistol? I had rather kill the devil
than have the devil kill me.' 'You are a Frenchman?' I asked. 'Yes,' he
replied; 'it is more than ten years since I left Canada;' whereupon
several others fell on me and stripped me. I told them to carry me to
their general, which they did. On learning who I was, he sent for
surgeons, and, though wounded himself, refused all assistance till my
wounds were dressed."[312]
[Footnote 312: _Dialogue entre le Maréchal de Saxe et le Baron de
Dieskau aux Champs Élysées_. This paper is in the Archives de la Guerre,
and was evidently written or inspired by Dieskau himself. In spite of
its fanciful form, it is a sober statement of the events of the
campaign. There is a translation of it in _N.Y. Col. Docs._, X. 340.]
It was near five o'clock when the final rout took place. Some time
before, several hundred of the Canadians and Indians had left the field
and returned to the scene of the morning fight, to plunder and scalp the
dead. They were resting themselves near a pool in the forest, close
beside the road, when their repose was interrupted by a volley of
bullets. It was fired by a scouting party from Fort Lyman, chiefly
backwoodsmen, under Captains Folsom and McGinnis. The assailants were
greatly outnumbered; but after a hard fight the Canadians and Indians
broke and fled. McGinnis was mortally wounded. He continued to give
orders till the firing was over; then fainted, and was carried, dying,
to the camp. The bodies of the slain, according to tradition, were
thrown into the pool, which bears to this day the name of Bloody Pond.
The various bands of fugitives rejoined each other towards night, and
encamped in the forest; then made their way round the southern shoulder
of French Mountain, till, in the next evening, they reached their
canoes. Their plight was deplorable; for they had left their knapsacks
behind, and were spent with fatigue and famine.
Meanwhile their captive general was not yet out of danger. The Mohawks
were furious at their losses in the ambush of the morning, and above all
at the death of Hendrick. Scarcely were Dieskau's wounds dressed, when
several of them came into the tent. There was a long and angry dispute
in their own language between them and Johnson, after which they went
out very sullenly. Dieskau asked what they wanted. "What do they want?"
returned Johnson. "To burn you, by God, eat you, and smoke you in their
pipes, in revenge for three or four of their chiefs that were killed.
But never fear; you shall be safe with me, or else they shall kill us
both."[313] The Mohawks soon came back, and another talk ensued, excited
at first, and then more calm; till at length the visitors, seemingly
appeased, smiled, gave Dieskau their hands in sign of friendship, and
quietly went out again. Johnson warned him that he was not yet safe; and
when the prisoner, fearing that his presence might incommode his host,
asked to be removed to another tent, a captain and fifty men were
ordered to guard him. In the morning an Indian, alone and apparently
unarmed, loitered about the entrance, and the stupid sentinel let him
pass in. He immediately drew a sword from under a sort of cloak which he
wore, and tried to stab Dieskau; but was prevented by the Colonel to
whom the tent belonged, who seized upon him, took away his sword, and
pushed him out. As soon as his wounds would permit, Dieskau was carried
on a litter, strongly escorted, to Fort Lyman, whence he was sent to
Albany, and afterwards to New York. He is profuse in expressions of
gratitude for the kindness shown him by the colonial officers, and
especially by Johnson. Of the provincial soldiers he remarked soon after
the battle that in the morning they fought like good boys, about noon
like men, and in the afternoon like devils.[314] In the spring of 1757
he sailed for England, and was for a time at Falmouth; whence Colonel
Matthew Sewell, fearing that he might see and learn too much, wrote to
the Earl of Holdernesse: "The Baron has great penetration and quickness
of apprehension. His long service under Marshal Saxe renders him a man
of real consequence, to be cautiously observed. His circumstances
deserve compassion, for indeed they are very melancholy, and I much
doubt of his being ever perfectly cured." He was afterwards a long time
at Bath, for the benefit of the waters. In 1760 the famous Diderot met
him at Paris, cheerful and full of anecdote, though wretchedly shattered
by his wounds. He died a few years later.
[Footnote 313: See the story as told by Dieskau to the celebrated
Diderot, at Paris, in 1760. _Mémoires de Diderot_, I. 402 (1830).
Compare _N.Y. Col. Docs._, X. 343.]
[Footnote 314: _Dr. Perez Marsh to William Williams, 25 Sept. 1755_.]
On the night after the battle the yeomen warriors felt the truth of the
saying that, next to defeat, the saddest thing is victory. Comrades and
friends by scores lay scattered through the forest. As soon as he could
snatch a moment's leisure, the overworked surgeon sent the dismal
tidings to his wife: "My dear brother Ephraim was killed by a ball
through his head; poor brother Josiah's wound I fear will prove mortal;
poor Captain Hawley is yet alive, though I did not think he would live
two hours after bringing him in." Daniel Pomeroy was shot dead; and his
brother Seth wrote the news to his wife Rachel, who was just delivered
of a child: "Dear Sister, this brings heavy tidings; but let not your
heart sink at the news, though it be your loss of a dear husband. Monday
the eighth instant was a memorable day; and truly you may say, had not
the Lord been on our side, we must all have been swallowed up. My
brother, being one that went out in the first engagement, received a
fatal shot through the middle of the head." Seth Pomeroy found a moment
to write also to his own wife, whom he tells that another attack is
expected; adding, in quaintly pious phrase: "But as God hath begun to
show mercy, I hope he will go on to be gracious." Pomeroy was employed
during the next few days with four hundred men in what he calls "the
melancholy piece of business" of burying the dead. A letter-writer of
the time does not approve what was done on this occasion. "Our people,"
he says, "not only buried the French dead, but buried as many of them as
might be without the knowledge of our Indians, to prevent their being
scalped. This I call an excess of civility;" his reason being that
Braddock's dead soldiers had been left to the wolves.
The English loss in killed, wounded, and missing was two hundred and
sixty-two;[315] and that of the French by their own account, two hundred
and twenty-eight,[316]--a somewhat modest result of five hours'
fighting. The English loss was chiefly in the ambush of the morning,
where the killed greatly outnumbered the wounded, because those who fell
and could not be carried away were tomahawked by Dieskau's Indians. In
the fight at the camp, both Indians and Canadians kept themselves so
well under cover that it was very difficult for the New England men to
pick them off, while they on their part lay close behind their row of
logs. On the French side, the regular officers and troops bore the brunt
of the battle and suffered the chief loss, nearly all of the former and
nearly half of the latter being killed or wounded.
[Footnote 315: _Return of Killed, Wounded, and Missing at the Battle of
Lake George_.]
[Footnote 316: _Doreil au Ministre, 20 Oct. 1755_. Surgeon Williams
gives the English loss as two hundred and sixteen killed, and ninety-six
wounded. Pomeroy thinks that the French lost four or five hundred.
Johnson places their loss at four hundred.]
Johnson did not follow up his success. He says that his men were tired.
Yet five hundred of them had stood still all day, and boats enough for
their transportation were lying on the beach. Ten miles down the lake, a
path led over a gorge of the mountains to South Bay, where Dieskau had
left his canoes and provisions. It needed but a few hours to reach and
destroy them; but no such attempt was made. Nor, till a week after, did
Johnson send out scouts to learn the strength of the enemy at
Ticonderoga. Lyman strongly urged him to make an effort to seize that
important pass; but Johnson thought only of holding his own position. "I
think," he wrote, "we may expect very shortly a more formidable attack."
He made a solid breastwork to defend his camp; and as reinforcements
arrived, set them at building a fort on a rising ground by the lake. It
is true that just after the battle he was deficient in stores, and had
not bateaux enough to move his whole force. It is true, also, that he
was wounded, and that he was too jealous of Lyman to delegate the
command to him; and so the days passed till, within a fortnight, his
nimble enemy were entrenched at Ticonderoga in force enough to defy him.
The Crown Point expedition was a failure disguised under an incidental
success. The northern provinces, especially Massachusetts and
Connecticut, did what they could to forward it, and after the battle
sent a herd of raw recruits to the scene of action. Shirley wrote to
Johnson from Oswego; declared that his reasons for not advancing were
insufficient, and urged him to push for Ticonderoga at once. Johnson
replied that he had not wagons enough, and that his troops were
ill-clothed, ill-fed, discontented, insubordinate and sickly. He
complained that discipline was out of the question, because the officers
were chosen by popular election; that many of them were no better than
the men, unfit for command, and like so many "heads of a mob."[317] The
reinforcements began to come in, till, in October there were thirty-six
hundred men in the camp; and as most of them wore summer clothing and
had but one thin domestic blanket, they were half frozen in the chill
autumn nights.
[Footnote 317: _Shirley to Johnson, 19 Sept. 1755. Ibid., 24 Sept. 1755.
Johnson to Shirley, 22 Sept. 1755. Johnson to Phipps, 10 Oct. 1755_
(Massachusetts Archives).]
Johnson called a council of war; and as he was suffering from inflamed
eyes, and was still kept in his tent by his wound, he asked Lyman to
preside,--not unwilling, perhaps, to shift the responsibility upon him.
After several sessions and much debate, the assembled officers decided
that it was inexpedient to proceed.[318] Yet the army lay more than a
month longer at the lake, while the disgust of the men increased daily
under the rains, frosts, and snows of a dreary November. On the
twenty-second, Chandler, chaplain of one of the Massachusetts regiments,
wrote in the interleaved almanac that served him as a diary: "The men
just ready to mutiny. Some clubbed their firelocks and marched, but
returned back. Very rainy night. Miry water standing the tents. Very
distressing time among the sick." The men grew more and more unruly, and
went off in squads without asking leave. A difficult question arose: Who
should stay for the winter to garrison the new forts, and who should
command them? It was settled at last that a certain number of soldiers
from each province should be assigned to this ungrateful service, and
that Massachusetts should have the first officer, Connecticut the
second, and New York the third. Then the camp broke up. "Thursday the
27th," wrote the chaplain in his almanac, "we set out about ten of the
clock, marched in a body, about three thousand, the wagons and baggage
in the centre, our colonel much insulted by the way." The soldiers
dispersed to their villages and farms, where in blustering winter
nights, by the blazing logs of New England hearth-stones, they told
their friends and neighbors the story of the campaign.
[Footnote 318: _Reports of Council of War, 11-21 Oct. 1755_.]
The profit of it fell to Johnson. If he did not gather the fruits of
victory, at least he reaped its laurels. He was a courtier in his rough
way. He had changed the name of Lac St. Sacrement to Lake George, in
compliment to the King.
He now changed that of Fort Lyman to Fort Edward, in compliment to one
of the King's grandsons; and, in compliment to another, called his new
fort at the lake, William Henry. Of General Lyman he made no mention in
his report of the battle, and his partisans wrote letters traducing
that brave officer; though Johnson is said to have confessed in private
that he owed him the victory. He himself found no lack of eulogists;
and, to quote the words of an able but somewhat caustic and prejudiced
opponent, "to the panegyrical pen of his secretary, Mr. Wraxall, and the
_sic volo sic jubeo_ of Lieutenant-Governor Delancey, is to be ascribed
that mighty renown which echoed through the colonies, reverberated to
Europe, and elevated a raw, inexperienced youth into a kind of second
Marlborough.[319] Parliament gave him five thousand pounds, and the King
made him a baronet."
[Footnote 319: _Review of Military Operations in North America, in a
Letter to a Nobleman_ (ascribed to William Livingston).
On the Battle of Lake George a mass of papers will be found in the _N.Y.
Col. Docs._, Vols. VI. and X. Those in Vol. VI., taken chiefly from the
archives of New York, consist of official and private letters, reports,
etc., on the English side. Those in Vol. X. are drawn chiefly from the
archives of the French War Department, and include the correspondence of
Dieskau and his adjutant Montreuil. I have examined most of them in the
original. Besides these I have obtained from the Archives de la Marine
and other sources a number of important additional papers, which have
never been printed, including Vaudreuil's reports to the Minister of
War, and his strictures on Dieskau, whom he accuses of disobeying orders
by dividing his force; also the translation of an English journal of the
campaign found in the pocket of a captured officer, and a long account
of the battle sent by Bigot to the Minister of Marine, 4 Oct. 1755.
I owe to the kindness of Theodore Pomeroy, Esq., a copy of the Journal
of Lieutenant-Colonel Seth Pomeroy, whose letters are full of interest;
as are those of Surgeon Williams, from the collection of William L.
Stone, Esq. The papers of Colonel Israel Williams, in the Library of the
Massachusetts Historical Society, contain many other curious letters
relating to the campaign, extracts from some of which are given in the
text. One of the most curious records of the battle is _A
Prospective-Plan of the Battle near Lake George, with an Explanation
thereof, containing a full, though short, History of that important
Affair, by Samuel Blodget, occasionally at the Camp when the Battle was
fought_. It is an engraving, printed at Boston soon after the fight, of
which it gives a clear idea. Four years after, Blodget opened a shop in
Boston, where, as appears by his advertisements in the newspapers, he
sold "English Goods, also English Hatts, etc." The engraving is
reproduced in the _Documentary History of New York_, IV., and
elsewhere. The _Explanation thereof_ is only to be found complete in the
original. This, as well as the anonymous _Second Letter to a Friend_,
also printed at Boston in 1755, is excellent for the information it
gives as to the condition of the ground where the conflict took place,
and the position of the combatants. The unpublished Archives of
Massachusetts; the correspondence of Sir William Johnson; the _Review of
Military Operations in North America_; Dwight, _Travels in New England
and New York_, III.; and Hoyt, _Antiquarian Researches on Indian
Wars,_--should also be mentioned. Dwight and Hoyt drew their information
from aged survivors of the battle. I have repeatedly examined the
localities.
In the odd effusion of the colonial muse called _Tilden's Poems, chiefly
to Animate and Rouse the Soldiers, printed 1756_, is a piece styled _The
Christian Hero, or New England's Triumphs_, beginning with the
invocation,--
"O Heaven, indulge my feeble Muse,
Teach her what numbers for to choose!"
and containing the following stanza:--
"Their Dieskau we from them detain,
While Canada aloud complains
And counts the numbers of their slain
and makes a dire complaint;
The Indians to their demon gods;
And with the French there's little odds,
While images receive their nods,
Invoking rotten saints."]