He could not sit still a moment. He found no quiet, not even in Grandfather"s chair, but hurried to-and-fro, and up and down the staircase of the Province House. Now, he mounted to the cupola, and looked sea-ward, straining his eyes to discover if there were a sail upon the horizon. Now, he hastened down the stairs, and stood beneath the portal, on the red freestone steps, to receive some mud-bespattered courtier, from whom he hoped to hear tidings of the army.
A few weeks after the departure of the troops, Commodore Warren sent a small vessel to Boston, with two French prisoners. One of them was Monsieur Bouladrie, who had been commander of a battery, outside of the walls of Louisbourg. The other was the Marquis de la Maison Forte, captain of a French frigate, which had been taken by Commodore Warren"s fleet.
These prisoners a.s.sured Governor Shirley, that the fortifications of Louisbourg were far too strong ever to be stormed by the provincial army.
Day after day, and week after week, went on. The people grew almost heart-sick with anxiety; for the flower of the country was at peril in this adventurous expedition. It was now day-break, on the morning of the third of July.
But, hark! what sound is this? The hurried clang of a bell! There is the Old North, pealing suddenly out!-there, the Old South strikes in!-now, the peal comes from the church in Brattle street!-the bells of nine or ten steeples are all flinging their iron voices, at once, upon the morning breeze! Is it joy or alarm? There goes the roar of a cannon, too! A royal salute is thundered forth. And, now, we hear the loud exulting shout of a mult.i.tude, a.s.sembled in the street. Huzza, Huzza! Louisbourg has surrendered! Huzza!
"O Grandfather, how glad I should have been to live in those times!" cried Charley. "And what reward did the king give to General Pepperell and Governor Shirley?"
"He made Pepperell a baronet; so that he was now to be called Sir William Pepperell," replied Grandfather. "He likewise appointed both Pepperell and Shirley to be colonels in the royal army. These rewards, and higher ones, were well deserved; for this was the greatest triumph that the English met with, in the whole course of that war. General Pepperell became a man of great fame. I have seen a full length portrait of him, representing him in a splendid scarlet uniform, standing before the walls of Louisbourg, while several bombs are falling through the air."
"But, did the country gain any real good by the conquest of Louisbourg?"
asked Laurence. "Or was all the benefit reaped by Pepperell and Shirley?"
"The English Parliament," said Grandfather, "agreed to pay the colonists for all the expenses of the siege. Accordingly, in 1749, two hundred and fifteen chests of Spanish dollars, and one hundred casks of copper coin, were brought from England to Boston. The whole amount was about a million of dollars. Twenty-seven carts and trucks carried this money from the wharf to the provincial treasury. Was not this a pretty liberal reward?"
"The mothers of the young men, who were killed at the siege of Louisbourg, would not have thought it so," said Laurence.
"No, Laurence," rejoined Grandfather; "and every warlike achievement involves an amount of physical and moral evil, for which all the gold in the Spanish mines would not be the slightest recompense. But, we are to consider that this siege was one of the occasions, on which the colonists tested their ability for war, and thus were prepared for the great contest of the Revolution. In that point of view, the valor of our forefathers was its own reward."
Grandfather went on to say, that the success of the expedition against Louisbourg, induced Shirley and Pepperell to form a scheme for conquering Canada. This plan, however, was not carried into execution.
In the year 1746, great terror was excited by the arrival of a formidable French fleet upon the coast. It was commanded by the Duke d"Anville, and consisted of forty ships of war, besides vessels with soldiers on board.
With this force, the French intended to retake Louisbourg, and afterwards to ravage the whole of New England. Many people were ready to give up the country for lost.
But the hostile fleet met with so many disasters and losses, by storm and shipwreck, that the Duke d"Anville is said to have poisoned himself in despair. The officer next in command threw himself upon his sword and perished. Thus deprived of their commanders, the remainder of the ships returned to France. This was as great a deliverance for New England, as that which old England had experienced in the days of Queen Elizabeth, when the Spanish Armada was wrecked upon her coast.
"In 1747," proceeded Grandfather, "Governor Shirley was driven from the Province House, not by a hostile fleet and army, but by a mob of the Boston people. They were so incensed at the conduct of the British Commodore Knowles, who had impressed some of their fellow-citizens, that several thousands of them surrounded the council-chamber, and threw stones and brick-bats into the windows. The governor attempted to pacify them; but, not succeeding, he thought it necessary to leave the town, and take refuge within the walls of Castle William. Quiet was not restored, until Commodore Knowles had sent back the impressed men. This affair was a flash of spirit, that might have warned the English not to venture upon any oppressive measures against their colonial brethren."
Peace being declared between France and England in 1748, the governor had now an opportunity to sit at his ease in Grandfather"s chair. Such repose, however, appears not to have suited his disposition; for, in the following year, he went to England, and thence was dispatched to France, on public business. Meanwhile, as Shirley had not resigned his office, Lieutenant-Governor Phips acted as chief magistrate in his stead.
Chapter IX
In the early twilight of Thanksgiving eve, came Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice, hand in hand, and stood in a semi-circle round Grandfather"s chair. They had been joyous, throughout that day of festivity, mingling together in all kinds of play, so that the house had echoed with their airy mirth.
Grandfather, too, had been happy, though not mirthful. He felt that this was to be set down as one of the good Thanksgivings of his life. In truth, all his former Thanksgivings had borne their part in the present one; for, his years of infancy, and youth, and manhood with their blessings and their griefs, had flitted before him, while he sat silently in the great chair. Vanished scenes had been pictured in the air. The forms of departed friends had visited him. Voices, to be heard no more on earth, had sent an echo from the infinite and the eternal. These shadows, if such they were, seemed almost as real to him, as what was actually present-as the merry shouts and laughter of the children-as their figures, dancing like sunshine before his eyes.
He felt that the past was not taken from him. The happiness of former days was a possession forever. And there was something in the mingled sorrow of his lifetime, that became akin to happiness, after being long treasured in the depths of his heart. There it underwent a change, and grew more precious than pure gold.
And now came the children, somewhat aweary with their wild play, and sought the quiet enjoyment of Grandfather"s talk. The good old gentleman rubbed his eyes, and smiled round upon them all. He was glad, as most aged people are, to find that he was yet of consequence, and could give pleasure to the world. After being so merry, all day long, did these children desire to hear his sober talk? Oh, then, old Grandfather had yet a place to fill among living men,-or at least among boys and girls!
"Begin quick, Grandfather," cried little Alice; "for p.u.s.s.y wants to hear you."
And, truly, our yellow friend, the cat, lay upon the hearth rug, basking in the warmth of the fire, p.r.i.c.king up her ears, and turning her head from the children to Grandfather, and from Grandfather to the children, as if she felt herself very sympathetic with them all. A loud purr, like the singing of a tea-kettle, or the hum of a spinning-wheel, testified that she was as comfortable and happy as a cat could be. For Puss had feasted, and therefore, like Grandfather and the children, had kept a good Thanksgiving.
"Does p.u.s.s.y want to hear me?" said Grandfather, smiling. "Well; we must please p.u.s.s.y, if we can!"
And so he took up the history of the chair, from the epoch of the peace of 1748. By one of the provisions of the treaty, Louisbourg, which the New Englanders had been at so much pains to take, was restored to the king of France.
The French were afraid, that, unless their colonies should be better defended than heretofore, another war might deprive them of the whole.
Almost as soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to build strong fortifications in the interior of North America. It was strange to behold these warlike castles, on the banks of solitary lakes, and far in the midst of woods. The Indian, paddling his birch-canoe on Lake Champlain, looked up at the high ramparts of Ticonderoga, stone piled on stone, bristling with cannon, and the white flag of France floating above.
There were similar fortifications on Lake Ontario, and near the great Falls of Niagara, and at the sources of the Ohio River. And all around these forts and castles lay the eternal forest; and the roll of the drum died away in those deep solitudes.
The truth was, that the French intended to build forts, all the way from Canada to Louisiana. They would then have had a wall of military strength, at the back of the English settlements, so as completely to hem them in.
The king of England considered the building of these forts as a sufficient cause of war, which was accordingly commenced in 1754.
"Governor Shirley," said Grandfather, "had returned to Boston in 1753.
While in Paris, he had married a second wife, a young French girl, and now brought her to the Province House. But, when war was breaking out, it was impossible for such a bustling man to stay quietly at home, sitting in our old chair, with his wife and children round about him. He therefore obtained a command in the English forces."
"And what did Sir William Pepperell do?" asked Charley.
"He staid at home," said Grandfather, "and was general of the militia. The veteran regiments of the English army, which were now sent across the Atlantic, would have scorned to fight under the orders of an old American merchant. And now began what aged people call the Old French War. It would be going too far astray from the history of our chair, to tell you one half of the battles that were fought. I cannot even allow myself to describe the b.l.o.o.d.y defeat of General Braddock, near the sources of the Ohio River, in 1755. But, I must not omit to mention, that when the English general was mortally wounded, and his army routed, the remains of it were preserved by the skill and valor of GEORGE WASHINGTON."
At the mention of this ill.u.s.trious name, the children started, as if a sudden sunlight had gleamed upon the history of their country, now that the great Deliverer had arisen above the horizon.
Among all the events of the Old French War, Grandfather thought that there was none more interesting than the removal of the inhabitants of Acadia.
From the first settlement of this ancient province of the French, in 1604, until the present time, its people could scarcely ever know what kingdom held dominion over them. They were a peaceful race, taking no delight in warfare, and caring nothing for military renown. And yet, in every war, their region was infested with iron-hearted soldiers, both French and English, who fought one another for the privilege of ill treating these poor harmless Acadians. Sometimes the treaty of peace made them subjects of one king, sometimes of another.
At the peace of 1748, Acadia had been ceded to England. But the French still claimed a large portion of it, and built forts for its defence. In 1755, these forts were taken, and the whole of Acadia was conquered, by three thousand men from Ma.s.sachusetts, under the command of General Winslow. The inhabitants were accused of supplying the French with provisions, and of doing other things that violated their neutrality.
"These accusations were probably true," observed Grandfather; "for the Acadians were descended from the French, and had the same friendly feelings towards them, that the people of Ma.s.sachusetts had for the English. But their punishment was severe. The English determined to tear these poor people from their native homes and scatter them abroad."
The Acadians were about seven thousand in number. A considerable part of them were made prisoners, and transported to the English colonies. All their dwellings and churches were burnt, their cattle were killed, and the whole country was laid waste, so that none of them might find shelter or food in their old homes, after the departure of the English. One thousand of the prisoners were sent to Ma.s.sachusetts; and Grandfather allowed his fancy to follow them thither, and tried to give his auditors an idea of their situation.
We shall call this pa.s.sage the story of
THE ACADIAN EXILES
A sad day it was for the poor Acadians, when the armed soldiers drove them, at the point of the bayonet, down to the sea-sh.o.r.e. Very sad were they, likewise, while tossing upon the ocean, in the crowded transport vessels. But, methinks, it must have been sadder still, when they were landed on the Long Wharf, in Boston, and left to themselves, on a foreign strand.
Then, probably, they huddled together, and looked into one another"s faces for the comfort which was not there. Hitherto, they had been confined on board of separate vessels, so that they could not tell whether their relatives and friends were prisoners along with them. But, now, at least, they could tell that many had been left behind, or transported to other regions.
Now, a desolate wife might be heard calling for her husband. He, alas! had gone, she knew not whither, or perhaps had fled into the woods of Acadia, and had now returned to weep over the ashes of their dwelling. An aged widow was crying out, in a querulous, lamentable tone, for her son, whose affectionate toil had supported her for many a year. He was not in the crowd of exiles; and what could this aged widow do but sink down and die?
Young men and maidens, whose hearts had been torn asunder by separation, had hoped, during the voyage, to meet their beloved ones at its close.
Now, they began to feel that they were separated forever. And, perhaps, a lonesome little girl, a golden-haired child of five years old, the very picture of our little Alice, was weeping and wailing for her mother, and found not a soul to give her a kind word.
Oh, how many broken bonds of affection were here! Country lost!-friends lost!-their rural wealth of cottage, field, and herds, all lost together!
Every tie between these poor exiles and the world seemed to be cut off at once. They must have regretted that they had not died before their exile; for even the English would not have been so pitiless as to deny them graves in their native soil. The dead were happy; for they were not exiles!