The day Sir William died there died the greatest American of his day. Because, on that mid-summer evening, His Excellency was still only a Virginia gentleman not yet famous, and best known because of courage and sagacity displayed in that bloody business of Braddock. Indeed, all Americans then living, and who since have become famous, were little ...
The day Sir William died there died the greatest American of his day. Because, on that mid-summer evening, His Excellency was still only a Virginia gentleman not yet famous, and best known because of courage and sagacity displayed in that bloody business of Braddock. Indeed, all Americans then living, and who since have become famous, were little celebrated, excepting locally, on the day Sir William Johnson died. Few were known outside a single province; scarcely one among them had been heard of abroad. But Sir William was a world figure; a great constructive genius; the greatest land-owner in North America; a wise magistrate, a victorious soldier, a builder of cities amid a wilderness; a redeemer of men. He was a Baronet of the British Realm; His Majesty's Superintendent of Indian Affairs for all North America. He was the only living white man implicitly trusted by the savages of this continent, because he never broke his word to them. He was, perhaps, the only representative of royal authority in the Western Hemisphere utterly believed in by the dishonest, tyrannical, and stupid pack of Royal Governors, Magistrates and lesser vermin that afflicted the colonies with the British plague. He was kind and great. All loved him. All mourned him. For he was a very perfect gentleman who practiced truth and honour and mercy; an unassuming and respectable man who loved laughter and gaiety and plain people. He saw the conflict coming which must drench the land in blood and dry with fire the blackened cinders. Torn betwixt loyalty to his King whom he had so tirelessly served, and loyalty to his country which he so passionately loved, it has been said that, rather than choose between King and Colony, he died by his own hand. But those who knew him best know otherwise. Sir William died of a broken heart, in his great Hall at Johnstown, all alone.
HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO BE THERE? AS AN OBSERVER OR PARTICIPANT? GET INSIGHT INTO THE LIFE AND TIMES THAT SHAPED THE HISTORY OF THIS GREAT COUNTRY? THE LITTLE RED FOOT ALTHOUGH WRITTEN 85 YEARS AGO STILL TAKES YOU THERE INTO THE MINDS, HEARTS AND BEGINNINGS OF THE EPISODES THAT CHANGED THE FACE OF WORLD HISTORY IN 1776 FOREVER. WHEN JOHN DROGUE, WHO IS SIR WILLIAM JOHNSON'S OVERSEER IS INSERTED INTO THAT TEMPESTUOUS PERIOD WHEN SIR WILLIAM JOHNSON DIES, HE WITHOUT HESITATION CHOOSES THE SIDE OF THE REBELS IN UPPER NEW YORK'S MOHAWK VALLEY. HE IS AMONG THE REAL PARTICIPANTS WHO LIVED AND DIED DURING THAT PERIOD. HE IS THE EPITOMY OF THE LEADERS WHO STRUGGLE TO GRASP FREEDOM FIRMLY AND CAUSE MEN AND WOMEN , AKIN TO FREEDOM, TO ASPIIRE TO DO GREAT THINGS. HE IS A YOUNG MAN OF CHARACTER, WHO DENIES THAT TRUE LOVE IS KNOCKING ON THE DOOR OF HIS HEART. UNTIL HE MEETS A YOUNG STRONG WILLED INDENTURED SERVANT PENELOPE, WHO PRESENTS AN UNEXPECTED CHALLANGE. INSPITE OF THE CHALLENGES OF THE BRITISH, IROQUOIS AND LOYALIST WE GET AN INSIGHT ON WHAT SETS HIM, PENELOPE AND THE EARLY AMERICANS APART FROM THEIR ADVERSARIES. IF YOU ENJOY AMERICAN HISTORY, THE LITTLE RED FOOT WILL TREAT YOU TO THE TIME THAT TRIED MENS SOULS IN THEIR STRUGGLE FOR FREEDOM. MANY OF THE CHARACTERS IN THE ROBERT CHAMBERS SAGA LIVED IN THE MOHAWK VALLEY IN JOHNSTOWN AND AT JOHNSON HALL, BARONAL HOME OF SIR WILLIAM JOHNSON AND HIS FAMILY.
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