USA > Pennsylvania > Philadelphia County > Philadelphia > Annals of Philadelphia, and Pennsylvania in the olden time; being a collection of the memoirs, anecdotes, and incidents of the earliest settlements of the inland part of Pennsylvania, Vol. II > Part 16
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Since royal Shingass dwelt upon the cliff, Which overlooks the foot of Brunot's isle, And angled in his little barken skiff, Where now for wood a steamer stops awhile.
When Shingass gave him his advice about The best and nearest route to Fort Venango, And then decided for the higher route, Against the route by Beaver and Shenango.
But good king Shingass, it is very clear, Was but a royal archer after all, And not by any means an engineer, And never heard or dreamt of a canal.
Monakatoocha, and the Delaware band, Then held their council fires of war and peace, Where RAPP now cultivates the peaceful land, And sheers his sheep, and wins the golden fleece.
How changed the scene, since merry Jean Baptiste, Paddled his pereogue on the Belle Riviere, And from its banks some lone Loyola priest Echo'd the night hymn of the voyageur!
Since Ensign Ward saw coming' down yon stream, Where all was peace and solitude before, A thousand paddles in the sunshine gleam, And countless pereogues that stretch from shore to snore
The lily flag waved o'er the foremost boat, And old St. Pierre the motly host commanded . Then here the flag of France was first afloat, And here the Gallic cannon first were landed.
Then here began that fatal war, which cost The lily banner many a bloody stain ; In which a wide empire was won and lost, And Wolf and Montcalm fell on Abraham's plain
Since a subaltern in old Fort Du Quesne Begg'd of his chief, ere yet he quit the post, To give him but a handful of his men To venture out and meet the British host: VOL. II -R
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When his red allies hail'd him with a shout, Who led them on with Indian enterprise, When Braddock's confidence was put to rout And all, but wary Washington, surprised.
But jealousy suppress'd the Frenchman's fame, And when his chief sent home his base report, He cast a stigma on his rival's name, And got the credit to himself at court.
How changed the scene, from all that Grant did see. When from his bivouac on yonder height, He waked the French with his proud reveillé, And challenged them to sally forth and fight.
One Highland officer that bloody day, Retreated up the Allegheny's side, Wounded and faint, he miss'd his tangled way, And near some water laid him down and died.
'Twas in a furrow of a sandy swell Which overlooks that clear and pebbled wave, Shrouded in leaves, none found him where he fell, And mouldering nature gave the youth a grave
Last year a plough pass'd o'er the quiet spot, And brought to light frail vestiges of him Whose unknown fate perhaps is not forgot, And fills with horror yet a sister's dream.
His plaited button, stamp'd with proofs of rank, His pocket gold, which still untouch'd remains, Do show, at least, no savage captor drank As gentle blood as flow'd in Scottish veins.
I think I see him from his sleep arise, And gaze on yonder tower with admiration! Lo! on its battlements a banner flies, An unknown flag of some unheard-of nation !
Of all the features of the scene around, The neighbouring stream alone he recognizes ; Another such can no where else be found ; The sun upon no river like it rises.
Does he retrace what was a blood-stain'd route; Through thickets of the thorny crab and sloe, He lists again to hear the savage shout, Where every trace is lost of fort and foe.
But still a shorter time has pass'd away, Since on the Allegheny's western beach, The lurking Shawanee in ambush lay, In hopes some white would cross within his reach.
Thence to the lake no white had settled yet, And Indian tribes still held their ancient statior When the first carrier of the old GAZETTE Took round that little humble publication.
The Muse, when she another year is older, May give a present picture of this place, Which from the canvass will but rise the bolder That now its fading back-ground we retrace.
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On the 17th of April, 1754, the French commander, Contre- cœur, with three hundred and sixty canoes, one thousand men and eighteen pieces of cannon, arrived at the " Forks," where Pittsburg now stands, and compelled Ensign Ward to surrender. This inva- sion is very properly called, in the poetry, the commencement of the war, which terminated in the loss by France of all her posses -. sions in America, east of the Mississippi.
Some incidents in relation to the subaltern who commanded the French and Indians at Braddock's defeat were derived from La Fayette, during his late visit to this country.
The account of the remains of a deceased officer which were ploughed up during the last summer, near the arsenal, are in part founded on fact. It is true that such remains were discovered, and that money and marks of military rank were found with them.
There were still some remains of the old Fort du Quesne to be found in 1834. Its site was in part occupied by a brew-house erected upwards of thirty years ago, by General O'Hara, the first brew-house in " the great west." The rest of the site is now filled with dwell- ings. It was on the point formed by the two rivers. Forty years ago the walls were still entire. A part of the brew-house premises fills the place which was a bastion; at a little distance from it is still there a small brick five-sided edifice, called the guard-house, erected by the British after the capture from the French. T has two ranges of loop holes through sticks of timber, let into the walls, which are a foot thick. In one of its sides, near the top, is a relic, a tablet of stone of two feet by fourteen inches, on which is inscribed " A. D. 1764, Col. Boquet." Adjoining to this guard-house are now two small brick houses, which were built from the bricks taken from the walls of Fort Pitt. I saw these things in 1804. Then the area of the fort, excepting the said brew-house premises, of Shiras, was all a nearly levelled grass field, from General O'Hara's residence, where I dwelt, down to the point. In 1833, when they were excavating the ground for the foundation of the building above mentioned, which occupies the site of the bastion, they dug up several ends of the oak palisadoes, which were once a part of the defence on the Allegheny river side. They were of course seventy years of age or more, and yet were perfectly sound !
Braddock's battle field is seven miles from Pittsburg, on the right bank of the Monongahela. None who read of it ever think of it, as being a place near a river, or as so near to the end of the intended expedition !
"How cnang'd the scene, since Indian men and manners reign'd!"
The late Morgan Neville, Esq., whose acquaintance I had formed in our youth, was pleased to write some very pleasant recollections of his native place, and especially of some individuals and incidents, which it will be gratifying to preserve in these pages, to wit :
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It was about the year 1796, that the Duke of Orleans, now Louis Philippe, king of France, accompanied by his two brothers, Montpen sier and Beaujolais, came to the western country. On arriving in Pittsburg, then a small village, they found one or two emigres. who had formerly filled prominent stations under the ancienne regime, but who were now earning a scanty subsistence in carrying on some little business of merchandise. One of them, the Chevalier du B-c, one of the worthiest of men, and an admirable philosopher, kept a little shop, then denominated, par excellence, a confectionery. The articles, and the only ones, by the way, entitling the chevalier's establishment to this attractive name, were the kernels of hazelnuts, walnuts and peach stones, enclosed in an envelope of burnt maple sugar, fabricated by the skilful hands of the chevalier himself. Du B-c was the most popular citizen of the village; he had a monkey of admirable qualities, and his pointer (Sultan) could, like the dog in the Arabian Nights, tell counterfeit money from good ; at least, the honest folks who supplied our little market with chickens and butter thought so, and that was the same thing. It was amusing to hear the master of the shop calling his two familiars to aid him in selecting the good from the bad " 'leven-penny-bits." "Allons Sultan, tell dese good ladie de good money from de counterfait." Then followed the important consultation between the dog and the monkey ; pug grinned and scratched his sides; Sultan smelled, and in due ume scraped the money into the drawer. As there was no counterfeit " 'leven-pences," Sultan seldom failed. "Madame," would my friend say, to the blowzy country lass, "Sultan is like de pope, he is infallible." Sultan and Bijou laid the foundation of this excellect man's fortune. They brought crowds of custom to the shop, and in two or three years he was enabled to convert his little business into a handsome fancy store. An attraction was then added to the establishment, that diverted a portion of the public admiration from Sultan and the monkey ; this was a Dutch clock, with a goodly portion of gilding, and two or three white and red figures in front,- before striking it played a waltz. It was inestimable, this music had never before been heard in the west, and those who have been brought up amidst the everlasting grinding of our present museums, can have no conception of the excitement caused by our chevalier's clock. In those days every unique piece of furniture, or rare toy, was believed to have formed a part of the spolia optima of the French revolution, and most generally they were set down as the property of the queen of France. It was soon insinuated abroad, that the chevalier's clock formed one of the rare ornaments of the boudoir of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette. When he was asked how much it cost, he evaded the question with admirable casuistry. “ Ah, mon ami," he would say with sincere tristesse, " the French revolution produce some terrible effect ; it was great sacrifice, it is worth fifteen hundred franche guiney." That, and the dog and the monkey were worth, to the chevalier, 15,000 dollars, for he realized this sum
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In a few years, from a foundation of a few pounds of sugar, and a peck of hazelnuts.
Such was the Chevalier du B-c in his magazine; and he was a perfect illustration of the French character of that day; it would accommodate itself to any situation in life, it enabled the minister of marine to become, like Bedredden, a pastry cook, and young Egalité, the present king of France, a schoolmaster in Canada. But this is only one side of the picture ; Du B-c, when he closed his shop, and entered into society, was the delight of his auditory. He was an accomplished scholar, possessed the most polished manners and habits of " la vieille cour." He was a younger son, or as the French people call it, he was the "cadet" of a noble family. He had travelled much, and observed profoundly. He had been to the 'Holy Land,' not exactly as a palmer, but being ' attaché a la léga- tion Francaise' at Constantinople, of which his relation, Sauf Bœuf, was the head, he took the opportunity of travelling through as much of Asia as was usually examined by European travellers. Such was my early friend Du B-c, to whose instructions and fine belles-let- tres acquirements, I am indebted for some of the most unalloyed en- joyments of my life, by opening to me some of the richest treasures of French literature ; and such was the man whom the sons of Or- leans found in a frontier American village. I do not remember the definite destination of the interesting strangers ; but certain it is, that the Chevalier du B-c induced them to while away a much longer period in Pittsburg than could have been their original intention. He proposed to General N-, whose house was always the temple of hospitality, where he was in the habit of dining every Sunday, and at whose table and fireside the unfortunate emigre was sure to find a hearty welcome, to introduce the travellers. The general at first received the proposition with coldness. He said he had been a soldier of the revolution, the intimate of Rochambeau and La Fa- yette, and of course entertained a feeling of the deepest respect for the memory of the unfortunate Louis, not as a monarch, but as a most amiable and virtuous man .- He insisted that no good could spring from the infamous exciter of the jacobins, the profligate Egalité. " Mais, mon Général, (said the chevalier, with a shrug of the shoul- ders, and most melancholy contortion of his wrinkled features,) ils sont dans les plus grande misère, et ils ont été chassé, comme nous autres, par ces vilains sans culottes." The chevalier knew his man, and the bon hommie of the General prevailed. "Eh, bien! cheva- lier, allez, rendre nos devoirs aux voyageurs, et qu'ils dinent chez nous demain." The strangers accepted the courtesy and became in- timate with and attached to the family of the kind hearted Ameri- can : the charms of the conversation of the Duke of Orleans, and his various literary attainments, soon obliterated for the moment the hor- rible career of his father, from the minds of his hearers. If my boy- ish recollection is faithful, he was rather taciturn, and melancholy ; he would be perfectly abstrated from conversation, sometimes for
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half an hour, looking steadfastly at the coal fire that blazed in the grate, and when roused from his reverie, he would apologize for this breach of bienséance, and call one of the children who were learn- ing French to read to him. On these occasions I have read to him many passages selected by him from Télémaque : the beautiful man- ner in which he read the description of Calypso's Grotto is still fresh in my memory. He seldom adverted to the scenes of the revolution, but he criticized the battles of that period, particularly that of Jem- mapes, with such discrimination, as to convince the military men of Pittsburg, of whom there were several, that he was peculiarly fitted to shine in the profession of arms.
Montpensier, the second brother, has left no mark on the tablet of memory by which I can recall him ; but Beaujolais, the young and interesting Beaujolais, is still before " my mind's eye." There was something romantic in his character, and Madame de Genlis' romance, the " Knights of the Swan," in which that charming writer so beautifully apostrophizes her young ward, had just prepared every youthful bosom to lean towards this accomplished boy. He was tall and graceful, and playful as a child. He was a universal favourite. He was a few years older than myself, but when together we ap- peared to be of the same age. A transient cloud of melancholy. would occasionally pass over his fine features, in the midst of his gayest amusements; but it disappeared quickly, like the white cloud of summer. We then ascribed it to a boyish recollection of the luxu- ries and splendours of the Palais Royal, in which he had passed his early life, which he might be contrasting with the simple domestic scene which was passing before him. It was, however, probably in some measure imputable to the first sensation of that disease, which. in a few short years afterwards, carried him to the grave.
One little circumstance made a singular impression on me. I was standing one day with this group of Frenchmen, on the bank of the Monongahela, when a countrymen of theirs, employed in the quarter master's department, as a labourer in taking care of the flat boats, passed by. Pierre Cabot, or as he was familiarly called, French Peter, was dressed in a blanket capot, with a hood in place of a hat, in the manner of the Canadian boatmen, and in moccasons. Du B-c called after him, and introduced him to the French princes. The scene presented a subject for moralizing, even for a boy : on the banks of the Ohio, and in exile, the representative of the first family of a nation who held rank of higher importance than an other nation in Europe, took by the hand in a friendly and familiar conversation his countryman, whose lot was cast among the dregs of the people, and who would not have aspired to the honour of letting down the steps of the carriage of the man with whom he here stood on a level.
Peter was no jacobin-he had emigrated from France before the philosophic Robespierre and his colleagues had enlightened their fel- .ow citizens, and opened their eyes to the propriety of vulgar bru
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tality and ferocity. Honest Cabot, therefore, felt all the love and veneration for the princes, which Frenchmen under the old regime never failed to cherish for members of the " grand monarque." I was a great favourite with old Peter .- The next time I met him, he took me in his arms, and exclaimed with tears in his eyes,-' Savez- vous, mon enfant, ce qui m'est arrivé j'ai eu l'honneur de causer avec monseigneur, en pleine rue. Ah ! bon Dieu, quelle chose af- freuse que la revolution.'
The brothers, on quitting Pittsburg, left a most favourable impres sion on the minds of the little circle in which they were received so kindly. The recollection of the amiable Beaujolais was particularly cherished; and when the news of his death in Sicily, a few years after, reached the west, the family circle of General N- expressed the sincerest sorrow.
The Chevalier du B-c, after realizing a snug fortune by indus try and economy, removed to Philadelphia, to have the opportunity of mingling more with his countrymen. On the restoration of the Bourbons, his friends induced him to return to France, to resume the former rank of his family .- But it was too late; the philosophical emigrant had lived too long in American seclusion to relish the so- ciety of Paris, or habits had changed there too much to be recog- nized by him. The following is a translation of a paragraph from one of his letters to his old friend, the late General N -- , soon after his arrival in Paris.
" I must bear witness to the improvement and advancement of my country since the revolution ; as a man, however, I cannot but mourn; the storm has not left a single shrub of my once numerous family ; the guillotine has drunk the blood of all my race ; and I now stand on the verge of the grave, the dust of a name whose pride it once was to trace its history through all the distinguished scenes of French history, for centuries back. With the eloquent savage, Logan, whose speech you have so often read to me, I can say, that ' not a drop of my blood runs in the veins of any living creature.' 1 must return to America, and breathe my last on that soil, where my most contented days were passed."
The chevalier never returned however; he lingered away his time in the different seaports of France, and he died at last in the city of Bordeaux.
We had the peculiarity and honour, in 1804, to go from Pittsburg in charge of the first sea vessel built at that place. It was then a wonder to many, that such an enterprise should be undertaken. We thought still less then of seeing a day arrive when steam vessels should navigate those waters. They did not even then think of running stages from Philadelphia, and far less of ever seeing steam cars and canals passing the mountains.
It was something in itself, to have made the voyage to New Orleans in such a period. It took forty-five days from the starting before reaching that city-then so different from its present character
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and estimation. My MS. notitia, while there and on the way, migat make a book even now, if I was so minded. What I saw and observed in the descent of the river is expressed much to my mina finał feelings in the words of another explorer, the celebrated Audu- bon. He says: " When I think of those times, and call back to my mind the grandeur and beauty of those then almost uninhabited shores ; the dense and lofty forests, then unmolested by the axe of the settler ; when I think of the blood spilt by many a worthy Vir- ginian to purchase the free use of the noble rivers; when I see that no longer are to be found there any of the aborigines, and that the herds of elk, deer and buffaloes, which once pastured on those hills and valleys,-making for themselves great roads to the salt springs, have ceased to exist; now all is covered with towns, villages, and farms, where the din of hammers and machinery is constantly heard; now hundreds of steamboats glide to and fro, forcing commerce to take root and prosper in every spot; when I consider that these extraordinary changes have all taken place so recently, I pause, wonder, and can scarcely believe its reality ! It is strange-passing strange, indeed !"
Note, the first flat boat that ever descended the Mississippi, went from Redstone, on the Monongahela river, in May 1782. It was owned and conducted by Jacob Yoder, of Reading, Pennsylvania. who died at his farm in Kentucky, in April, 1822, aged sixty-four years !
Pittsburg will for ever be associated with the event and circum- stances of Braddock's defeat, and therefore whatever relates to him will be regarded with interest.
The Walpole Letters speak of Gen. Braddock, and say he had been governor of Gibraltar-speak of him as poor, and prodigal, and brutal, " a very Iroquois in disposition." His sister " had gamed her little fortune away at Bath, and then hung herself-after the same savage sort of temper! Braddock had had a duel with Col. Gumley, and an amour with Mrs. Upton. The ministry in England were much chagrined at Braddock's slow progress to the west, as incommoded by a needless train of artillery and road-making." Sc said Walpole.
In Franklin's Memoirs, there is considerable mention by him of Gen. Braddock,-of his conversation with him in Virginia, before the expedition started. He speaks of advising him as to Indian warfare, and that Braddock treated it as no obstacle; talked confi- dently of making of it a short work, by taking fort Du Quesne in a day; thence going quickly to Erie, and thence along the Canada line, &c. They agreed very well; and it was afterwards found by Franklin, when in London, that Braddock's letters home to the government had spoken favourably of Franklin .- [A gazette story.]
The place of conflict has since been called Braddock's field, and is situate on the north branch of the Monongahela, seven miles
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above Pittsburg, where the crumbling bones of men and horses long remained to mark the fatal spot.
A letter from Winchester, Va., of 3d February, 1755, (published in the New York Mercury,) says, that Sir John St. Clair and Governor Sharpe had been at Wills' creek, (i. e. Fort Cumberland,) where a camp was forming of one thousand men; that a train of artillery was to have arrived in Virginia from England, that trans- ports had gone to Cork for the two regiments there, to go to America with Gen. Braddock.
February 18, Gen. Braddock and three men of war arrived at Hampton, with sixteen transports, having one thousand men. All marched off for Alexandria ; but the officers went to Annapolis first, on the 3d April. At Alexandria, on the 13th April, Braddock and several of the governors met and consulted, before his going to Will's creek, then fortified as Fort Cumberland.
May 22d, 1755, Gen. Braddock and all his forces, are announced as already arrived at Wills' creek. On the 21st June, Gen. Braddock and his army were at Bear camp, near the Great meadows. [This Wills' creek runs into the Potomac, at Cumberland, in Maryland, at about six miles from the Pennsylvania line, and the march appears to have been very much along the line of the present "national road" to Uniontown,-near to which is Braddock's grave, and the Meadows.]
A letter from the camp at Great meadows, of July 1st, 1755, says, cn the 7th ult., Sir John St. Clair marched in advance with six hundred men from Wills' creek, and two days after, the whole army followed,-through the worst roads in the world. Ten days after, they arrived at the Little meadows, where the whole camp was encircled by abatis, and halted three days; from thence they marched for this place. Col. Dunbar was placed in the rear with provisions and ordnance stores, and eighty wagons.
The minutes of council of the 24th of July, 1755, state that an express arrived, bringing a letter from Captain Robert Orme to Governor Morris, dated at Fort Cumberland, July 18th, 1755, from which I give these extracts, to wit: " I am so ill by the wound, that I have employed Captain Dobson to write the present letter for me. I write now, because every superior officer, whose business it was to have written concerning disaster, was either killed or wounded." [He was himself an aid-de-camp to Gen. Braddock.]
" On the 9th instant, we passed and repassed the Monongahela, by advancing first a party of three hundred men; then a second party of two hundred men ; the general, with the column of artillery and the main body, passed the river the last time about one o'clock. As soon as the whole (twelve hundred men) had got on the fort side (seven miles distant,) we heard a very heavy and quick fire in our front ; we immediately advanced to sustain them ; but the aforesaid advance of five hundred men gave way and fell back upon us causing much confusion, and struck so great a panic among our men V
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