staid burgher circles of old New York. He was a small, shrimpish
man, we are told, and inordinately vain. Being a cousin to her most
Christian Majesty, Queen Anne, to which circumstance he owed his
appointment, and having been assured that he resembled her hugely
in appearance, he was in the habit of dressing himself like a woman
and posing upon the balcony of his home--that New Yorkers might be
thrilled by a reflection of royalty. Despite his royal connections
his household was most impecunious and his wife gained a reputation
for borrowing things which she had no intention of ever giving
back. Whenever the executive coach would be seen going the round of
the streets on social duties bent, the good wives who might expect
visits from her ladyship would say, it is said, “Quick, put away
that fancy work and that vase” (or this and that), “Kathrine! Her
ladyship is about to call upon us.”
Father Time strolled on through the terms of the various royal
governors noting their idiosyncrasies and continually hearing the
cry that Governor’s Island should be fortified, but not by any of
these gentlemen did he discover action taken. It was not until
after the Continental Congress, October 6, 1775, directed that
means should be immediately devised to make New York defensible
that the little city one morning woke up to find that there were
rudimentary fortifications on Governor’s Island. Of course these
fortifications were supplementary to the fort on the main island
upon which the city chiefly depended, Fort George. This was the
name the English had given to Fort Amsterdam’s successor, an
enlarged and strengthened edition of its original.
Of little avail did all of these works prove, however, for the
English, after the battle of Long Island, August 27, 1776, were
easily masters of the Americans in that part of the world. On
August 30th, Admiral Howe sailed up New York Bay and anchored
near the island, and the city of New York passed into British
possession, not to be surrendered until the close of the war.
The little force of men on Governor’s Island under the command
of Colonel Prescott abandoned the place on the approach of the
British. One man was injured by a bullet in the arm as they were
pulling away from the island. The place was garrisoned by the
British during their occupancy of New York and was fortified more
extensively than it ever had been before.
The site of all of these works was the site of present-day Fort
Columbus or Fort Jay.
After the Revolution the value of Governor’s Island as a place of
fortification was not taken advantage of and the works were allowed
to fall into decay. In 1784 Governor Clinton leased the spot to a
certain Dr. Price as the site for a hotel and race course. This
course was open during 1785 and 1786 and had staged upon it many
exciting trials of speed.
We have seen Governor’s Island as a flowery retreat for the
governors of New York from the cares of office, and we have looked
in upon it in the charge of the rough soldiery of England. We now
see it as the scene of the dissipations of the rabble and the lusty
young sports of the old city. Yet another day is in store for the
historic spot.
After the retirement of Washington from the presidency the
irritation between France and this country became intense, and
fears were entertained of conflict between the European nation and
its young former protégé. Agitation began once more in New York
for the building up of the defensive works on Governor’s Island.
Pressing recommendations were made to the federal authorities.
The story may be taken up and carried on here in the words of a
government report:
“The Secretary of War reported, December 19, 1794, that one
bastion commanding two low batteries had been undertaken and was
in a considerable state of forwardness, but observed that the
works being only sodded would not stand very long. On January 18,
1796, the Secretary reported to the Senate that Governor’s Island
had been fortified with a fort made of earth and two batteries,
under its protection, partly lined with brick masonry; that there
had been erected two hot air furnaces, a large powder magazine
and a barracks for the garrison; on February 10, 1797, that no
alterations had been made since January 1796, except in the repairs
and such additions as could he made to the garrison. During this
time there had been expended by the general government on the
fortifications of the island as follows: 1794, $1,327; in 1795,
$6,866.54; in 1796, $1,124.
“But now the apprehension of a French invasion caused such clamor
for protection among the people that immediate attention by the
general government was bestowed upon properly fortifying Governor’s
Island. Thirty thousand one hundred and seventeen dollars was
at once appropriated to be expended upon the fort, which now
became known as Fort Jay. Such was the fervor of the day that the
professors and students of Columbia College went in a body to
Governor’s Island and worked on the fortifications with shovels and
wheelbarrows.
[Illustration: FORT LAFAYETTE FROM FORT HAMILTON, NEW YORK]
“Liberal appropriations were made by Congress in the three
succeeding years for completing and improving the fort. In 1799,
Congress appropriated $30,116.18; in 1800, $20,124; in 1801,
$10,338.05. No further improvements were made until 1806, when
Fort Jay with the whole of its buildings was demolished except
the walled counterscarp, the gate, the sally-port, the magazine,
and two barracks; all the rest was removed to give place for a
work of durable materials. On the site of the old fort a new one,
Fort Columbus, was erected, an inclosed pentagonal work with four
bastions of masonry, calculated for one hundred guns, being of
the same shape on three sides as Fort Jay, with the addition of
fourteen feet on each side, and on the north side of a ravelin,
with two retired casemates. Such was Fort Columbus when it was
completed in 1809.”
Despite the flurried haste of New Yorkers to have the fort
completed, despite the unprecedented exertions of the Columbia
students with shovels and wheelbarrows, Fort Columbus, or Jay as it
has been rebaptized of recent years in military circles, has never
been in active service.
Indeed, during the war of 1812, only three years after its
completion, the need of a post farther out to sea than this called
for the erection of that quaint little brick strong-box just off
present-day Fort Hamilton known as Fort Lafayette. It was called
originally Fort Diamond but was renamed in honor of the great
Frenchman on his visit to this country in 1824. Overshadowed by its
great modern neighbor (Fort Hamilton), the little fortification is
rarely observed, but it is still in active service and might give
good account of itself if called upon to do so, better account in
fact than its sire nestling close to America’s greatest city.
Not far from Fort Jay on Governor’s Island is a little work whose
name is not unfamiliar to New Yorkers. It is Castle Williams.
Begun in 1807, it was completed in 1811 and as a military weapon
has never been of service to the city which it was created to help
protect. As a landmark in the harbor, however, it has acquired some
little distinction solely through merit of the years, just as some
men live through an entirely commonplace youth and middle age to
become in their last years notable figures in their communities as
classmates of Father Time.
At about the time that Castle Williams was being constructed, a
similar work was in erection just off the Battery, Manhattan, on
a ledge of rocks now a part of the city itself. This was Fort
Clinton, which is the Castle Garden, or Aquarium, of the present
day. Fort Jay and Castle Williams, Fort Clinton and the Battery
were the outing places of New Yorkers before the Civil War. To the
Island or the Battery did the residents of the city repair for air
and recreation on holidays and Sundays. An illuminating picture of
this phase of the city’s life is drawn by Abram C. Dayton in his
“Last Days of Knickerbocker Life in New York.”
“Castle Garden, the legend says,” he writes, “was created to
protect the city against invasion. Whether these invaders were to
be New Jersey Indians armed with bows and arrows or Staten Island
pirates bent upon destruction with popguns and firecrackers is not
related; but it is certain a very limited force would have been
required to effect an entrance through its brick walls. About the
time we write of its loud-mouthed armament had been removed” (about
1860): “it had been placed by special orders from somewhere on a
peace footing. It was neither a concert saloon, an opera house, nor
a receptacle for needy immigrants; but the old white-washed barn
was devoted to the restaurant business on a very limited scale,
as ice cream, lemonade, and sponge cake constituted the list of
delicacies from which to select. The ticket of admission required
to pass its portcullis cost one shilling; but that was a mere form
instituted to guarantee perfect decorum, for it was redeemed as
cash in exchange for either of the above specified articles of
refreshment. At the close of a summer day its frowning battlements
were crowded with listeners eager to catch a strain of martial
music wafted from Governor’s Island.
“Rabineau’s swimming bath was moored to the wooden bridge which
connected the old fort with the Battery grounds; and on its roof
protected by an awning might be seen, after banking hours on summer
afternoons, substantial citizens comfortably seated and refreshing
themselves after their bath with the sea breeze, accompanied by
mint julep and sherry cobblers.”
Prior to 1852, Fort Columbus was for several different short
periods of time empty of troops, but since that year it has always
contained a garrison. In addition to being the head-quarters of
the Department of the East, the old post is now used as a military
prison and as a landing-place for the aërial branch of the army.
A visit to Governor’s Island to-day is a pleasant excursion for a
stranger in new New York and the port would be a new sight for most
New Yorkers, so unfamiliar are familiar places to those who are
closest to them. One must have a pass from the military authorities
at the island to go through the old works, but this can be secured
upon written application without great difficulty by any citizen of
the United States.
A fine figure of a place Fort Columbus seems to be,--rather a
braggart in its way! It spreads out, girded by its “dry moat,” over
the crest of the hill on which it is placed, in a truly threatening
attitude. But one does not need to be told that this is hollow
sham. A single shell from a modern engine of war would, no doubt,
finish all of its pretensions.
Looking from its sunny interior beyond its battlemented walls one
can see the airy fabric of New York’s marvellous sky-scrapers
against the eastern sky, a poignant contrast to the old stronghold.
Age and youth! In this comparison the fort has that advantage which
always inheres in years, it has seen youth grow from infancy and it
knows the quick passing of all things.
TICONDEROGA
LAKE CHAMPLAIN--NEW YORK
One could desire to be at the bold promontory of Ticonderoga in
1609, when the virgin woodside gazed anxiously at Samuel Champlain,
that intrepid French adventurer, as he fired his bell-mouthed
musket against the mystified Iroquois. The echoes of the discharge
of this ancient firearm were seldom allowed to die in these
wildernesses until the beginning of the Nineteenth Century, until
the complete ascendency of white man over red had been established.
Standing upon the ramparts of the old fort one may to-day easily
imagine himself in a virgin forest world. Civilization has set her
hand upon Lake Champlain, but her work is not obtrusively near to
the fort. The hills to the rear are still wooded; the waters, to
front and sides, are clear; and the same blue bends over all. The
immediate surroundings are little different from those in which
Champlain fought his opera-bouffe fight and inaugurated the long
struggle between red men and white in this part of the world.
We must remember that in 1609 the French had already taken hold of
New France. They had a querulous, contumacious baby of a colony on
the Saint Lawrence at Quebec and to this point came many curious
red men. With some of these red men the French had formed alliance.
One tribe of these allies had seen the thunderous cannon and guns
of the French and had suggested that these weapons be taken out and
turned upon some of the ancient enemies of that tribe. The idea had
appealed to Champlain as eminently a clever one, and with eleven
other Frenchmen armed with arquebuses and clad in light armor he
had set out, on the 28th of June, with three hundred amiable red
people. The party proceeded up the Saint Lawrence as far as the
river which afterward became known as the Richelieu and here paused
for feasting and a carouse. During the course of this ceremony
three-quarters of the Indians became huffy over a trifle and left
for their homes in a hurry, reducing the expedition to eleven
Frenchmen and seventy-five Indians.
As the expedition proceeded the Indians consulted their tutelary
spirits. A small circular tent would be raised of skins over
saplings and into this would crawl the medicine man with shudders
and groans. A grand commotion would be heard and then the voice of
the spirit would speak in a thin, treble squeak. The tent structure
would dance violently around and the savage spectators would feel
that their divinity was having a very busy time.
[Illustration: FORT TICONDEROGA, LAKE CHAMPLAIN, N. Y.]
At length the French and Indians approached the lake which was
to bear the name of the white chief, and made their way upon it
in canoes. They came to a promontory of land which bore the
resounding Iroquois name of Ticonderoga, or “meeting of waters,”
in recognition of the fact that the waters of Lakes George and
Champlain come together at the base of the eminence. Here they met
a flotilla of skin canoes bearing a large war party of Iroquois and
the issue of this little trip of Champlain’s may now be said to
have been fairly joined.
The Iroquois, not being much given to fighting on water, paddled
to land, while the invaders decided to spend the night in their
canoes. All night long the air resounded with yells and epithets
and bandied menaces, but, at length, morning broke and put an end
to the unseemly clamor. The Frenchmen were concealed in the bottoms
of canoes until a dramatic moment should arrive to show themselves.
Their companions landed and now that they had come to their desire
were filled with terror of the Iroquois, calling loudly for
Champlain to come forth and destroy his opponents with thunder
and lightning. The doughty Frenchman, feeling secure in his armor
and his arms, threw aside the skins which covered him, and strode
forth like a white god in shining raiment. The gallant Iroquois
were filled with consternation at the sight of him. Raising his
arquebus, into which he had stuffed four balls, he fired at short
range, slaying two chiefs and wounding one. A second shot caused
the defenders to break and flee, and this gave Champlain’s allies
opportunity to kill and capture to their hearts’ content.
The expedition made its way back to Quebec filled with exultation.
Thus did Ticonderoga come upon the pages of history.
This engagement of Champlain’s--incidental as it seems--had
far-reaching consequences in the destiny of France in the New
World. By the slaughter of the Iroquois Champlain mortally offended
the Five Nations, which was an all-powerful Indian confederation,
incurring an enmity never remitted. The alliance of the Long House
with the English was one of the factors that helped to turn the
scale in their favor in the long contest for balance of power which
the years brought about between France and England in the New World.
On this very same day of July, 1609, while Champlain’s arquebus
was frightening the solitudes of this leafy part of the wild New
World, a little vessel known as the _Half Moon_ was in anchor on
the New England coast while the carpenter fitted a new foremast. A
few Weeks later the _Half Moon_ was in the Hudson and had come to
anchor above present Troy in the precincts over which the warriors
of the Long House kept watch. Thus does the Muse of History play
different parts with two hands.
Time passed and French and Indian war parties again and again
went by the point of land on which Ticonderoga now stands, bent
on marauding and harrying the English villages. Lake Champlain
and Lake George had become part of the great highway between
French world and English world. Finally, in 1735, Crown Point, the
fore-runner of Ticonderoga, was established by the French as an
organized centre of power and an outpost thrown toward the English.
Twenty years after this Ticonderoga came into prominence.
The year 1755 was a doleful one for the English colonies. It was
the year of Braddock’s defeat. In January, Shirley, governor
of Massachusetts, proposed an attack on Crown Point. The other
colonies were taken with the idea and raised levies of men and
funds. A heterogeneous army was the result under the leadership
of William Johnson, of New York, with the rank of Major-general,
separately bestowed upon him by each of the colonies taking part.
His selection was due not only to his immense personal popularity
but to his influence in the Long House of the Five Nations as well,
no other white man of his time having so much authority with the
dwellers in the forest. Of white men he had altogether about eight
thousand and he had his Indian allies.
That in an army which included men from Massachusetts, New York,
Connecticut, Rhode Island and New Hampshire there should be some
bickering and disagreements was inevitable, but, at length, the
column reached the foot of Lake George, which had become known to
its French acquaintances as Lac le Sacrement. Now it received a new
baptism. “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 (assert) his undoubted dominion here.” Lake George it has
been ever since. A camp was made where, after a time, Fort William
Henry was built, and a most unmilitary camp it was, if we can
believe the accounts of contemporaries. Though a dense forest gave
cover for an enemy to its very borders, no effort was made to clear
away the trees. Painted Indians lounged around, traders squabbled
together, and New England clergymen preached to the savages long
Calvinistic sermons.
Meanwhile the French at Crown Point were preparing a surprise for
Johnson. Large forces under the German Baron Dieskau had come
up, and Dieskau had assumed command of the united troops. He had
no thought of waiting to be attacked. He told his men to be in
readiness to move at a moment’s notice. Officers were to take
nothing with them but one spare shirt, one spare pair of shoes, a
blanket, a bearskin and provisions for twelve days. The Indians
were to make up their minds not to take scalps until the enemy
had been entirely defeated, because the operation of taking a
scalp was too lengthy a proceeding, and kept them from killing
other men. Then Dieskau moved on to a promontory which commanded
both Lake Champlain and Lake George. It was a high wooden mount
with a magnificent view of the waters; in short, our old friend
Ticonderoga.
The German baron for a time made camp here, the first formal
military occupation of this point, but at length, being misinformed
by an American prisoner, who had been threatened with torture, as
to the force Johnson had, he prepared to move in haste and with
deadly intent against the American colonials. News of Braddock’s
defeat had just then become general information, and throughout
the ranks of the ignorant white men of the French party and of all
their savage allies ran an unwarranted contempt for English bravery
based on accounts of that lamentable massacre. Dieskau left a part
of his force at Ticonderoga, and embarking with the rest in canoes
and bateaux made his way through the narrow southern part of Lake
Champlain to where the town of Whitehall now stands, a point at
which they pitched camp.
The close of the next day found them well on toward Johnson and
on the day after that the battle of Lake George took place. It is
unnecessary to go into detail about this. The first part of the
day went against the Americans, who had foolishly sent out against
Dieskau, when they received word of his approach, an insufficient
number of white and red forces; but the end of the day found the
Americans victorious. Dieskau was badly wounded and was a prisoner.
The story goes that a delegation of chiefs waited upon Johnson
while Dieskau was in his cabin. The unwilling guest made some
comment about them to his host after their departure. “Yes, they
wish to be allowed to burn you,” was the response. Johnson took
extraordinary pains that the French leader should not fall into the
hands of his savages, and Dieskau died a peaceful death as a result
of his wounds several years later, midst the civilization of Bath,
England, whence he had gone in hopes of being benefited by the
waters.
Johnson commenced now to build Fort William Henry at one end
of Lake George, and the French, quickly recovering from their
set-back, began building at the other end, on the site of Dieskau’s
camp, the famous Fort Ticonderoga. The building of the French fort
consumed the greater part of 1756 and 1757, and was consummated
under the reign, in Canada, of Vaudreuil.
The original plan of Fort Ticonderoga was of a bastion fort, but
afterwards star-shaped outer walls, following plans of the great
Vauban, were added. The French built solidly in their various
military works, and Fort Ticonderoga was an enduring and strong
construction.
We have seen Fort William Henry and Fort Ticonderoga started
as rivals. The survivor of these two was Ticonderoga, and the
destruction of Fort William Henry was the occasion of one of the
saddest and most horrible massacres in American history. In 1757
the Marquis de Montcalm, chief of the French king’s forces in
Canada, was at Ticonderoga and with him was the Chevalier de Levis
with about eight thousand regulars, Canadians and Indians. The
troopers and the irregular forces were camped around the walls of
Ticonderoga near the lake and in the rear of the fort where the
eminence of land on which the fort stands continues in a gentle
plateau before commencing its descent. A colorful, picturesque
camp it was, with its red Indians, its half-breed whites, and its
careless soldiery. The officers and gentlemen of consequence were
lodged in the fort where they ate in the mess hall and lounged and
smoked and drank at leisure.
With his eight thousand men Montcalm set forth on the first of
August, 1757, across the little neck of land which divides Lake
Champlain from Lake George, leaving a small detachment to hold
the fort, and made his way along Lake George to near Fort William
Henry. His Britannic Majesty’s stronghold was solidly built and was
in command of a capable officer, Lieutenant Colonel Munro, a brave
Scotchman, but its garrison was insufficient, and reinforcements
were never sent. Montcalm attacked.
So well did the little band of beleaguered men contest their
position, that when inevitably they surrendered very favorable
terms were offered. It was agreed that the English troops should
march out with the honors of war and be escorted to Fort Edward
by a detachment of French troops; that they should not serve for
eighteen months, and that all French prisoners captured in America
since the war began should be given up within three months. The
stores, munitions, and artillery were to be the prize of the
victors, except that the garrison, in recognition of its bravery,
was to retain one field-piece. The Indian chiefs were consulted
in the making of these terms and agreed to them by shaking of the
hands.
When the capitulation took place, a scene very different from that
which had been anticipated was to be viewed. The Indians, excited
by the presence of so many captives, as they considered the English
prisoners of war, were not to be restrained and, though measures
were taken to hold them in rein, fell upon the helpless men and
women and butchered them mercilessly.