THE ANGLO-SAXONS IN AMERICA. WITH A PORTRAIT OF MAJOR-GENERAL WOLFE. THREE European languages have contended for the proud superiority of becoming the language of the New World. One was the tongue in which Cervantes and Calderon wrote and thought; another was the tongue of Bossuet and Corneille; the third was the language of Shakespeare and Milton. This is the conqueror. Already is our Anglo-Saxon race predominant throughout North America, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the northern realms of eternal ice, to the tropics; and it is plainly manifest, that ere long it must spread its triumphant influence through Central and Southern America, even to the Straits of Magellan. The Spanish race is giving way. The late Mexican War determined its inferiority. The Hispano-Americans know and feel themselves to be doomed. They are conscious, that even as the native Indians quailed and decayed before them, so they must recede and wither before the superior energy of the men of the United States. Their downfall is only a question of time; and no one can securely estimate how gradual or how rapid may be the ongrowth and the assault of the vigorous Anglo-American Republicans on the effete relics of Spanish and Portuguese transatlantic grandeur. The rivalry between the English and the French races in America, is now, for us, mere matter of history. We Englishmen feel comparatively little interest in regarding it; and our thoughts dwell more frequently and fervently on other contests between ourselves and France, that have been waged nearer to our own homes, and on the issue of which our national existence has been perilled. But to the Anglo-American the struggle between his race and that of the French settlers in America, is a subject that he never can slight or neglect. He feels that the mighty commonwealth, of which he boasts to be a member, owes its very existence to the conquest of Canada, which the genius of Chatham planned, and the genius of Wolfe achieved, in the third year of the Seven Years' War. A century ago France seemed more likely than England to become the ascendant power in America. The Canadas and, Cape Breton belonged to her in the North of the American Continent; she possessed Louisiana southward and her rulers were labouring zealously, and, as it appeared, successfully, to extend their colonies and dependencies along the whole course of the Mississippi, so as to gird in, with a band of hostile provinces, the thirteen British Colonies that were scattered along the Atlantic coast, and finally to subjugate and exterminate their inhabitants. The battle of Quebec crushed at once, and for ever, these projects of French ambition. It made the Franco-Celtic inhabitants of America the inferiors and dependants, instead of becoming the lords and masters of the English settlers. It ensured truth to the announcement which Montesquieu, a few years before, had made to the European world, "That a free, prosperous, and great people, was forming in the forests of America, which England had sent forth her sons to inhabit."* : Well, therefore, does the recent historian of American independence make the American scenes of the Seven Years' War prominent in his * See Bancroft's History of the American Revolution. Vol. I. VOL. XXXI. CC early pages. Mr. Bancroft rightly blends the names of Wolfe and Washington, as the heroes of his tale. If his country owes to the last, that she was elevated from being a dependency of England, into the rank of a self-ruling commonwealth; she is indebted to the former, for having rescued her from sinking into the ignominious wretchedness of becoming a province of France. If Wolfe had not defeated Montcalm, Washington would never have received the surrender of Cornwallis. : There is, also, this additional attraction to the early history of Ameri-` can Independence, that its perusal awakens no feelings of party triumph or animosity between the two great branches of the Anglo-Saxon family. On the contrary, it forms an enduring bond of national union between us. The name of Wolfe is one which the liegeman of Queen Victoria and the citizen of the United States may equally delight to honour and Mr. Bancroft, by presenting us, at the very outset of his work, with a highlywrought and picturesque narrative of the last campaigns between English and French troops westward of the Atlantic, enlists our sympathies, far more than would have been the case, if he had commenced his History of the American Revolution with the Boston riots, and the bloodshed at Bunker's Hill and Lexington. A series of disgraceful reverses, in every part of the globe, had darkened the fortunes of the English race, at the time when the Great Commoner, William Pitt, came forward to direct our councils, and to restore energy and glory to our arms. Nowhere was the change, which that master-spirit introduced, more especially displayed than in America. Braddock had been shamefully and disastrously defeated; and Oswego, and Fort William Henry had been captured. Montcalm seemed to be the ruling spirit of the white men; and the Indian warriors had begun to scorn the name of Englishman, and to deem our soldiers mere women compared with the victorious troops of King Louis. At this juncture, Pitt resolved not only that the English colonies should be saved, but that the French colonies should be conquered, and the House of Bourbon stripped of the Transatlantic empire, which the ablest French statesmen, from the days of Colbert downwards, had toiled so unremittingly to secure. Three several expeditions against Canada were set on foot, but the chief one was entrusted to the guidance of Wolfe, whose genius Pitt had discovered, and drawn forth into its fitting station of command. "James Wolfe," says Mr. Bancroft, "but thirty-one years old, had already been eighteen years in the army was at Dettingen and Fontenoy, and had won laurels at Laffeldt. Merit made him at two-and-twenty a lieutenant-colonel, and his active genius improved the discipline of his battalion. He was at once authoritative and humane, severe yet indefatigably kind; modest, but aspiring and secretly conscious of ability. The brave soldier dutifully loved and obeyed his widowed mother, and his gentle nature saw visions of happiness in scenes of domestic love, even while he kindled at the prospect of glory, as 'gunpowder at fire.'" This was in 1757; and the capture of Louisburg in that year, which was mainly due to the gallantry of Wolfe, ratified the judgment of Pitt, and made the young brigadier-general's name a watchword full of hope and gladness throughout England and her colonies. In 1769, the Great Minister determined that a still more decided blow against the French power in Canada should be struck; and that "the boundless West" of the American continent should be a conquest for his country. For this he again relied on his favourite young general. "The command of the army in the river St. Lawrence was conferred on Wolfe, who, like Washington, could have found happiness in retirement. His nature, at once affectionate and aspiring, mingled the kindliest gentleness with an impetuous courage, which was never exhausted or appalled. He loved letters and wrote well; he had studied the science of war profoundly, joining to experience a creative mind; and the vehement passion for immortal glory overcame his motives to repose. I feel called upon,' he had once written on occasion of his early promotion, to justify the notice taken of me by such exertions and exposure of myself as will probably lead to my fall.' And the day before departing for his command, in the inspiring presence of Pitt, he forgot danger, glory, everything but the overmastering purpose to devote himself for his country." The events of this celebrated campaign have often been described, but we have no hesitation in saying that Mr. Bancroft far surpasses all his predecessors. After describing the first operations of the fleet and army in their advance up the St. Laurence, and the vain attempts to force the French defences below Quebec, Mr. Bancroft thus relates the crowning glories of the enterprise : "But, in the mean time, Wolfe applied himself intently to reconnoitring the north shore above Quebec. Nature had given him good eyes, as well as a warmth of temper to follow first impressions. He himself discovered the cove which now bears his name, where the bending promontories almost form a basin with a very narrow margin, over which the hill rises precipitously. He saw the path that wound up the steep, though so narrow that two men could hardly march in it abreast; and he knew, by the number of tents which he counted on the summit, that the Canadian post which guarded it could not exceed a hundred. Here he resolved to land his army by surprise. To mislead the enemy, his troops were kept far above the town, while Saunders, as if an attack was intended at Beauport, set Cook, the great mariner, with others, to sound the water and plant buoys along that shore. "The day and night of the 12th were employed in preparations. The autumn evening was bright; and the General, under the clear starlight, visited his stations, to make his final inspection, and utter his last words of encouragement. As he passed from ship to ship, he spoke to those in the boat with him of the poet Gray, and the "Elegy in a Country Churchyard." I,' said he,' would prefer being the author of that poem to the glory of beating the French to-morrow; and while the oars struck the river as it rippled in the silence of the night air under the flowing tide, he repeated: 6 "The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour; The paths of glory lead but to the grave.' "Every officer knew his appointed duty, when at one o'clock in the morning of the 13th September, Wolfe, with Monckton and Murray, and about half the forces, set off in boats, and, without sail or oars, glided down with the tide. In threequarters of an hour the ships followed, and, though the night had become dark, aided by the rapid current, they reached the cove just in time to cover the landing. Wolfe and the troops with him leaped on shore; the light infantry, who found themselves borne by the current a little below the intrenched path, clambered up the steep hill, staying themselves with the roots and boughs of the maple and spruce and ash trees that covered the precipitous declivity, and, after a little firing, dispersed the picket which guarded the height. The rest ascended safely by the pathway. A battery of four guns on the left was abandoned to Colonel Howe. When Townshend's division disembarked, the English had already gained one of the roads to Quebec, and, advancing in front of the forest, Wolfe stood at daybreak with his invincible battalions on the plains of Abraham, the battle-field of empire. "It can be but a small party, come to burn a few houses and retire,' said Montcalm, in amazement as the news reached him in his intrenchments the other side of the St. Charles; but, obtaining better information,- Then,' he cried, 'they have at last got to the weak side of this miserable garrison; we must give battle and crush them before mid-day.' And before ten, the two armies, equal in numbers, each being composed of less than five thousand men, were ranged in pre sence of one another for battle. The English, not easily accessible from intervening shallow ravines and rail fences, were all regulars, perfect in discipline, terrible in their fearless enthusiasm, thrilling with pride at their morning's success, commanded by a man whom they obeyed with confidence and love. The doomed and devoted Montcalm had what Wolfe had called but five weak French battalions,' of less than two thousand men, mingled with disorderly peasantry,' formed on ground which commanded the position of the English. The French had three little pieces of artillery; the English one or two. The two armies cannonaded each other for nearly an hour; when Montcalm having summoned Bougainville to his aid, and despatched messenger after messenger for De Vaudreuil, who had fifteen hundred men at the camp, to come up, before he should be driven from the ground, endeavoured to flank the British and crowd them down the high bank of the river. Wolfe counteracted the movement by detaching Townshend with Amherst's regiment, and afterwards a part of the Royal Americans, who formed on the left with a double front. "Waiting no longer for more troops, Montcalm led the French army impetuously to the attack. The ill-disciplined companies broke by their precipitation and the unevenness of the ground, and fired by platoons, without unity. The English, especially the forty-third and forty-seventh, where Monckton stood, received the shock with calmness; and after having, at Wolfe's command, reserved their fire till their enemy was within forty yards, their line began a regular, rapid and exact discharge of musketry. Montcalm was present everywhere, braving danger, wounded, but cheering by his example. The second in command, De Sennezergues, an associate in glory at Ticonderoga, was killed. The brave but untried Canadians, flinching from a hot fire in the open field, began to waver; and, so soon as Wolfe, placing himself at the head of the twenty-eighth and the Louisburg grenadiers, charged with bayonets, they everywhere gave way. Of the English officers, Carleton was wounded; Barre, who fought near Wolfe, received in the head a ball which destroyed the power of vision of one eye, and ultimately made him blind. Wolfe, also, as he led the charge, was wounded in the wrist, but still pressing forward, he received a second ball; and, having decided the day, was struck a third time, and mortally, in the breast. Support me,' he cried to an officer near him: let not my brave fellows see me drop.' He was carried to the rear, and they brought him water to quench his thirst. They run, they run,' spoke the officer on whom he leaned. Who run?' asked Wolfe, as his life was fast ebbing, The French,' replied the officer, give way everywhere.' What!' cried the expiring hero, do they run already? Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton; bid him march Webb's regiment with all speed to Charles River to cut off the fugitives.' Four days before, he had looked forward to early death with dismay, Now, God be praised, I die happy.' These were his words as his spirit escaped in the blaze of his glory. Night, silence, the rushing tide, veteran discipline, the sure inspiration of genius, had been his allies; his battle-field, high over the ocean river, was the grandest theatre on earth for illustrious deeds; his victory, one of the most momentous in the annals of mankind, gave to the English tongue and the institutions of the Germanic race the unexplored and seemingly infinite West and North. He crowded into a few hours actions that would have given lustre to length of life; and filling his day with greatness, completed it before its noon." This victory decided the war, so far, at least, as America was concerned. Truly and eloquently does Mr. Bancroft say of the Peace of Paris, by which the war was formally terminated, that: "In America, the Teutonic race, with its strong tendency to individuality and freedom, was become the master from the Gulf of Mexico to the Poles: and the English tongue which, but a century and a half before, had for its entire world a part only of two narrow islands on the outer verge of Europe, was now to spread more widely than any that had ever given expression to human thought. "Go forth, then, language of Milton and Hampden, language of my country, take possession of the North American continent! Gladden the waste places with every tone that has been rightly struck on the English lyre, with every English word that has been spoken well for liberty and for man! Give an echo to the now silent and solitary mountains; gush out with the fountains that as yet sing their anthems all day long without response; fill the valleys with the voices of love in its purity, the pedges of friendship in its faithfulness; and as the morn |