7. Heroes and Villains of the French and Indian War: French Victories in North America

My Name is Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville: Founder of New Orleans

I was born in Montreal in 1680, the son of Charles Le Moyne, a man of service and ambition who had already made his mark in New France. My brothers and I were raised to carry the family’s name into the wilderness and onto the waters of North America. Among them was Pierre Le Moyne d’Iberville, whose courage and skill in exploration and war became a model for me. I knew from the start that my life would not remain in the safety of cities but would be tied to discovery, leadership, and the building of new worlds.

Following My Brother

As a young man, I joined Iberville on his expeditions to the Gulf of Mexico. These journeys were difficult, filled with storms, hostile encounters, and endless uncertainty. Yet they were also filled with promise, as we sought to secure France’s claim over the lands drained by the Mississippi. I learned quickly to adapt, to work with sailors, soldiers, and Native peoples, and to face the unknown with determination. My brother’s leadership lit the path, and I followed with resolve.

Founding of Louisiana

When Iberville died in 1706, much of the responsibility for France’s southern colony fell upon me. I was only in my twenties, but I accepted the challenge. In 1718, I founded the city of New Orleans, a place chosen for its position along the Mississippi, though at first it seemed little more than swamp and marsh. The work was brutal, the settlers often disheartened, but I believed in the vision. That city, born of mud and sweat, would one day grow into the beating heart of Louisiana.

Governor of Louisiana

I served as governor for many years, though not without interruptions and challenges. I worked to balance the needs of settlers with the demands of the French crown and the realities of life in the colony. We faced hunger, disease, and attacks, yet through it all I held firm. I sought alliances with Native nations, for I knew that survival depended on cooperation. Though mistrust and conflict sometimes flared, these relationships often saved the colony when supplies from France were slow or absent.

Struggles and Opposition

My time as governor was not without controversy. Powerful men in France and in the colony often opposed me. They criticized my policies, accused me of favoritism, and sometimes removed me from office. Yet I always returned, for I could not turn my back on the land and people I had fought to establish. New Orleans, in particular, felt like my child, and I defended it with all the energy I could muster.

The Later Years

In 1743, I finally left Louisiana for good. I returned to France, where I lived out the rest of my days far from the swamps and the river that had defined my life. Yet in my heart, I never left. I thought often of the Mississippi, of the forts and towns, of the people who struggled to build lives in a harsh but promising land. I knew that my work had left a mark, one that would endure long after I was gone.

Legacy of a Builder

I died in 1767, an old man of eighty-seven years, one of the last of my generation of explorers. Though time and war would change Louisiana, my name remains tied to New Orleans. I am remembered as its founder, but also as one who carried France’s vision into the southern wilderness of North America. My life was one of service, hardship, and perseverance, but above all, it was a life devoted to creation.

Foundations of French Exploration & Settlement in North America – By Bienville

When France first looked westward across the Atlantic, it was not certain what would be found. Some dreamed of a passage to Asia, while others sought wealth in fish, furs, and land. Early explorers such as Jacques Cartier charted the St. Lawrence River, opening the door to a land filled with rivers, forests, and nations whose ways were unlike anything in Europe. These first steps were fragile, yet they laid the groundwork for what would become New France.

Champlain and the St. Lawrence Settlements

It was Samuel de Champlain who gave permanence to our presence in North America. He founded Quebec in 1608, a small settlement clinging to the cliffs above the great river. From this base, France began to weave alliances with the Huron and Algonquin, learning that survival depended as much on diplomacy as on steel. These settlements were not easy to maintain, plagued by hunger and the long winters, but they stood as symbols of France’s determination to remain.

The Fur Trade and the Wilderness

The true wealth of New France lay not in gold but in fur. Beaver pelts became the lifeblood of our colony, desired in Europe for their use in fine hats. To gather them, French traders pushed deep into the wilderness, traveling by canoe along rivers and lakes that stretched farther than the eye could see. Native allies guided us, taught us the paths, and carried trade to our posts. Without their knowledge, we could never have built such networks.

Missions and Forts

Alongside trade, we built forts and missions. Forts were our anchors, places of defense and commerce, while missions brought priests who sought to teach the Catholic faith. Each fort was more than wood and stone; it was a signal that France claimed the land around it. Each mission was both a place of worship and a meeting ground between peoples. Together they formed the skeleton of New France’s expansion.

The Lower Mississippi and Louisiana

By the time of my generation, France’s reach had extended beyond the St. Lawrence and the Great Lakes. My brother Iberville and I carried the king’s banner to the Gulf of Mexico, claiming Louisiana for France in 1699. The Mississippi became the spine of our southern colony, connecting Canada to the Gulf. When I founded New Orleans in 1718, I believed it would one day grow into the jewel of the French empire in America.

A Delicate Balance

Yet our foundations were never secure. The English and Spanish pressed against us, their colonies larger and wealthier. We were fewer in number, and our survival depended upon alliances, fortifications, and the bravery of those who crossed the ocean to settle here. Still, our settlements endured, proof that France could carve a place for itself in the New World.

My Name is Jean-Baptiste de La Vérendrye: Explorer of New France

I was born in 1713 into a family already tied to the wild frontiers of New France. My father, Pierre Gaultier de Varennes, Sieur de La Vérendrye, was a man of vision who sought to expand France’s reach far beyond the St. Lawrence Valley. From childhood, I grew up hearing stories of rivers that seemed endless, forests that stretched beyond the horizon, and Native peoples who knew the land in ways we could only imagine. It was clear that my life would follow in his footsteps.

Training in Hardship

From a young age, I joined my father’s expeditions, learning the craft of survival. We traveled by canoe across stormy lakes, portaged over rocky ground, and faced the bitter cold of northern winters. Every journey tested my strength and my patience. I came to understand that exploring was not about glory alone but about endurance, trust in companions, and respect for those who called the wilderness home. These lessons shaped me more than any classroom could have done.

The Call of the West

In 1731, I set out with my father and brothers on one of our boldest missions: to push into the heart of the continent, seeking a route to the western sea. This dream of reaching the Pacific was tied to hopes of trade and wealth for France. But more than trade, I felt a pull to the unknown, a hunger to see what lay beyond the maps we carried. Each river we followed seemed to whisper that the world was larger than we could imagine.

Journeys of Discovery

We built forts to hold France’s claim—Fort St. Pierre, Fort St. Charles, and later Fort Maurepas. I helped scout trails, meet with Native nations, and carry goods for hundreds of miles. Every fort was a small victory, a fragile foothold in an ocean of wilderness. The Native guides we traveled with showed us lands rich in furs, and their friendship often meant the difference between life and death. Without them, our journeys would have failed.

Struggles Along the Way

The work was grueling, and dangers were never far. Storms could overturn a canoe in moments, and hunger often gnawed at our stomachs when supplies ran short. Disease swept through camps, taking men who had once been full of strength. Even when the land was quiet, there was the constant worry of conflict between rival tribes or with distant English traders. I came to realize that exploration carried a price, one paid in sweat, blood, and sometimes lives.

My Final Journey

In 1736, I led a small group traveling from Fort Michilimackinac to Fort St. Charles. It was a routine journey, one I had made many times before. But fate had other plans. Near the Lake of the Woods, our party was ambushed. I and nearly all my companions were killed, our lives ended far from the stone houses of Quebec or the safety of France. I was only twenty-three years old. My story ended too soon, yet my path was bound to the frontier from the beginning.

Legacy in the Wilderness

Though I did not live long, my efforts helped extend France’s presence deep into the interior of North America. The forts I helped establish and the trails I traveled became stepping stones for others. My father’s dream of reaching the western sea lived on, even if I was not there to see it fulfilled. I remain remembered as one of the sons who carried France’s banner into lands few Europeans had ever seen. My life was short, but it was lived with purpose, in service to discovery and to New France.

Expansion into the Interior: The La Vérendrye Expeditions – Told by La Vérendrye

My father believed that the strength of New France did not lie only along the St. Lawrence or the Mississippi but deep within the lands that no European had yet seen. He dreamed of finding a route to the Western Sea, a passage that might lead to Asia and open new worlds of trade. From childhood, my brothers and I were part of this dream. We knew that the rivers stretching westward carried both opportunity and danger, and we were eager to follow them.

The First Journeys

In 1731, we set out from Montreal, a small band of men paddling heavily loaded canoes into the wilderness. I was still young, but I already understood the hardships that lay ahead. The waters of Lake Superior, the storms, the rocky portages, and the endless forests tested every ounce of strength. Yet step by step, lake by lake, we pressed forward. We were not alone, for Native guides showed us the paths and shared their knowledge of the land, without which our efforts would have failed.

Building Forts in the Wilderness

To hold the ground we gained, we built forts. Fort St. Pierre rose on Rainy Lake, followed by Fort St. Charles on the Lake of the Woods, and later Fort Maurepas on the Red River. These were not grand castles but wooden outposts, humble yet vital. Each fort served as a trading post, a shelter, and a claim of France’s presence in lands that seemed endless. For us, they were beacons of hope in a sea of wilderness.

Life on the Frontier

Our lives were marked by hardship. Supplies were scarce, winters were harsh, and sickness could sweep through our men without warning. At times, weeks of travel brought us no closer to our goals. Yet there was wonder, too, in seeing lands that no Frenchman had described before, and in meeting Native nations whose alliances and trade enriched our journey. We learned their languages, shared their food, and often depended on their goodwill for survival.

The Push Toward the Unknown

Each new expedition took us farther westward. Rivers stretched on without end, and each horizon promised that the sea might be just beyond the next ridge. We gathered maps, stories, and trade, hoping one day to break through to the Pacific. Though we never reached it, our steps carried French influence deep into the heart of North America, into lands that would later shape the course of history.

My Short Journey’s End

For me, the path ended too soon. In 1736, while returning to Fort St. Charles, I was ambushed and killed near the Lake of the Woods. I was only twenty-three years old. Yet even in death, I remained part of a larger vision. The forts I helped build, the trails I helped open, and the journeys I undertook carried France farther than it had ever gone into the continent.

Legacy of the Expeditions

Though I did not live to see the dream fulfilled, our expeditions laid the foundations for others to follow. Traders, soldiers, and explorers would travel the same rivers and stay in the same forts. The name La Vérendrye became tied to the expansion of New France into the interior. My life was brief, but it was devoted to discovery, and in that devotion, I helped shape the story of exploration in North America.

My Name is Pierre de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil: Governor of New France

I was born in Quebec in 1698, the son of Philippe de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil, who also served as governor of New France. From my earliest days, I was surrounded by the weight of responsibility and the example of my father’s leadership. I grew up knowing that my life would be tied to the fortunes of France across the Atlantic, in a land of rivers, forests, and peoples who lived very differently than in Europe. Service to king and colony became the measure of my life.

Rising Through the Ranks

As a young man, I entered military service, eager to prove myself. I learned the ways of the land and the importance of alliance with Native peoples, who were not merely partners but essential allies in survival and war. Step by step, I earned recognition until I was appointed governor of Louisiana in 1742, where I spent over a decade strengthening French influence on the Mississippi and the Gulf Coast. These experiences prepared me for the greatest responsibility of my life.

Governor of New France

In 1755, I was named Governor General of New France, the highest office in this vast colony. I inherited a fragile situation: Britain pressed at our borders, their settlers multiplying far faster than ours, their armies eager for conquest. Yet I believed strongly that with strategy, strong forts, and the loyalty of our Native allies, we could hold our ground. I devoted myself to defending New France, balancing military needs with the demands of everyday colonial life.

Early Victories and Pride

At first, fortune favored us. Under my command and with the bravery of our soldiers and Native warriors, France won great victories. The capture of Fort Oswego in 1756 and Fort William Henry in 1757 strengthened our confidence. For a time, it seemed as if France could dominate North America. I took pride in knowing I had upheld my father’s legacy and served my king with honor.

Struggles and Division

But the path grew harder. Supplies from France were slow to arrive, our population too small to sustain prolonged war, and disputes with Montcalm, our military commander, weakened our unity. I often found myself torn between defending colonial interests and obeying the distant ministers in Versailles. The British, with their superior numbers and resources, began to press harder. The balance shifted, and despite all we had built, cracks spread through our defenses.

Defeat and Surrender

By 1760, Quebec had fallen, and Montreal could not be held. I was forced to surrender New France to the British. It was the most painful act of my life, to hand over the colony my father and I had devoted our lives to protect. Though I was later accused in France of mismanagement and betrayal, I knew in my heart that I had done all I could with the men, weapons, and supplies given to me.

Final Years and Reflection

I returned to France in disgrace, though later I was acquitted of the charges against me. I lived out my final years away from the land that had defined me. Yet my thoughts often drifted back to the rivers of Canada, the walls of Quebec, and the alliances forged in the forests of North America. My name remains tied to a time when France stood tall in the New World, and though we lost, I remember with pride the courage of those who fought beside me.

The Strategic Value of the Ohio Valley – Told by Pierre de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil

The Ohio Valley was more than a stretch of forested land; it was the heart of a river system that tied together the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, and the interior of the continent. Whoever controlled it could move men, goods, and messages swiftly between Canada and Louisiana. For France, this valley was the bridge that bound together our northern and southern colonies. Without it, New France would be divided, unable to defend itself as one body.

A Land Rich in Promise

The valley itself was fertile, with soil that promised abundant crops and forests that provided furs for trade. Hunters and traders knew it as a land of wealth, and settlers began to see its future as one of prosperity. The British, too, saw its value, and their colonists began to press westward, eager to claim the valley’s riches. For us, it became a frontier that could not be left undefended, for its loss would mean the slow strangling of New France.

Native Nations at the Center

The Ohio Valley was not empty land but the home of powerful Native nations—the Shawnee, Delaware, and Mingo, among others. Their friendship or hostility could decide the fate of both France and Britain. For this reason, diplomacy was as vital as forts or soldiers. I knew that by respecting their independence and offering trade, we could win their loyalty, and with their warriors beside us, the valley could be held against English encroachment.

The Struggle for Control

To secure the Ohio Valley, France began building a chain of forts—Presque Isle, Le Boeuf, and Venango—stretching from Lake Erie down toward the Forks of the Ohio. These were not just posts of wood and stone but statements of claim, warning Britain that this land belonged to France. Fort Duquesne, built at the very point where the Allegheny and Monongahela meet, became the keystone of our defense. With it, we could command the valley and block the English from advancing.

The Coming of War

But the English would not stand aside. Their colonists, driven by hunger for land, pushed across the Alleghenies. Their traders sought to win the Native nations to their side with promises and goods. Skirmishes soon followed, and the Ohio Valley became the spark that set the larger war aflame. I saw with my own eyes how this land, fertile and full of promise, also became the battlefield upon which the future of North America was decided.

Native Diplomacy: Maintaining Partnerships with Indigenous – Told by Bienville

From the first days of French settlement, it was clear that we could not endure in North America without strong alliances. The land was too vast, our numbers too few, and our enemies too determined. The Algonquin, Huron, and Ottawa became not just partners in trade but allies in survival. Their knowledge of the rivers and forests, their skill in war, and their loyalty in times of need made them essential to the defense of New France.

The Algonquin Connection

The Algonquin were among the first nations to welcome us. Living along the Ottawa River and beyond, they guided us through the waterways that linked the St. Lawrence to the interior. They became key partners in the fur trade, bringing pelts from deep within the forests. Our friendship was sealed not by words alone but through exchanges of gifts, shared hunts, and mutual defense. In times of war, their warriors stood beside us, their presence turning small French forces into armies capable of striking fear into our enemies.

The Huron Alliance

The Huron, or Wendat, played another vital role. Champlain himself had fought alongside them in the early 1600s, and their alliance became one of the cornerstones of New France. The Huron were master traders, linking the Great Lakes to the French posts along the St. Lawrence. Through them, pelts from far to the west flowed into our markets. Their friendship was tested often, especially during wars with the Iroquois, but through hardship and loss they remained connected to us, bound by shared struggle and shared hope.

The Ottawa Bridge

The Ottawa people served as a bridge between many nations. They carried goods along trade routes stretching from the western lakes to the French settlements. Their canoes linked tribes together, and through them, France reached lands that would have otherwise been closed to us. Their role as middlemen in trade gave them great influence, and we respected them for the strength and stability they brought to our alliances.

The Language of Diplomacy

Diplomacy with these nations was not like diplomacy in Europe. It was carried out through feasts, councils, and the exchange of wampum belts that carried deep meaning. We learned to listen to their words, to show respect through ceremony, and to understand that alliances were living things, renewed each time gifts were exchanged or treaties spoken aloud. Without this constant care, even the strongest partnership could wither.

Unity Against Common Enemies

Together, the Algonquin, Huron, and Ottawa helped us hold against the growing power of the British. They were our eyes and ears in the wilderness, warning of danger, and our strength in battle when numbers were against us. Their loyalty was not given lightly but earned through years of respect and cooperation. With them at our side, France was able to extend its reach far beyond what its small colonial population might have allowed.

My Name is Jean-Baptiste Nicolas Roch de Ramezay: Officer of New France

I was born in Quebec in 1708, the son of Claude de Ramezay, who had also served the French crown as governor of Montreal. From my earliest years, I was surrounded by the traditions of duty and loyalty to New France. My family’s position carried weight, but it also brought responsibility. I knew that my life would not be lived in ease but in the service of France, often in difficult and dangerous times.

Entering Military Life

As a young man, I entered the military and learned the ways of command. Service in New France was unlike service in Europe. The wilderness demanded adaptation, and our enemies often struck from the shadows of forests rather than the open fields of battle. I learned to respect the tactics of our Native allies and to combine their methods with French discipline. Each campaign hardened me, and I grew into my role as both soldier and leader.

The Shadow of War

By the 1750s, tensions between France and Britain had reached a breaking point. Their colonies grew larger and pressed against our borders, while we relied on forts, alliances, and determination to hold our ground. I took part in the defense of New France as the conflict erupted into full war. Each campaign demanded more from us, and every victory or loss seemed to shape the future of the colony.

Fort William Henry and the Defense of the Colony

I was deeply involved in the events surrounding Fort William Henry in 1757, a French victory that showed our strength but also revealed the fragile balance of power in North America. I watched as alliances held us together and as the courage of our soldiers brought success. Yet I also knew how thin our defenses truly were, stretched across vast lands and supplied only by what France could send across the sea.

The Fall of Quebec

In 1759, when the British came against Quebec, I was left with the defense of the city while General Montcalm prepared for battle. The situation was desperate, supplies were low, and the enemy’s fleet was strong. I did all I could to maintain the defenses and the spirit of those within the walls, but the city was doomed. When Montcalm fell at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, I bore the responsibility of surrendering Quebec. It was not an act of cowardice but of necessity, for the lives of thousands hung in the balance.

The Last Stand at Montreal

Even after Quebec was lost, the struggle continued. By 1760, Montreal stood as the last defense of New France. Surrounded on all sides by British forces, we could no longer resist. I witnessed the final surrender of the colony that my family and I had served for generations. It was a bitter moment, one that marked the end of France’s presence as a great power in North America.

Return to France

After the war, I returned to France, carrying the memories of both victory and loss. Though I had done all I could, accusations and criticisms followed me, as they did many who had served in New France. Still, I held my head high, knowing that I had fulfilled my duty with honor. I lived out my final years in France, far from the rivers and forests of Canada, but never without remembering the land that had shaped my life.

A Soldier’s Legacy

I died in 1777, a soldier who had given his life to the service of New France. My name remains tied to the defense of Quebec and the memory of a colony that once stood proudly against the tide of empire. Though we lost, I take pride in the courage, endurance, and loyalty that defined my years. My story is not just one of defeat but of devotion to a land and a people I was proud to serve.

The Role of Native Warriors in Early Successes – Told by Bienville

From the earliest years of French settlement, we knew that our survival depended upon the strength of our alliances with Native nations. Their warriors were not auxiliaries but partners, fighting alongside us as equals in battles that determined the fate of New France. In the forests and rivers of North America, their skill, courage, and knowledge often meant the difference between victory and defeat.

Strength in the Wilderness

European armies were trained for battles on open fields, but the North American wilderness demanded different skills. Native warriors moved silently through forests, struck quickly, and disappeared before the enemy could respond. These tactics unsettled British troops who were unprepared for such warfare. By adopting Native methods and fighting beside them, our forces could match the terrain in ways that European training alone never could.

The Battle of Fort Necessity

In 1754, when George Washington retreated to Fort Necessity, it was the presence of Native warriors that gave our forces an edge. Their knowledge of the terrain allowed us to surround the fort, fire from cover, and maintain pressure while the British struggled in the open meadow. Their contributions were vital in forcing Washington to surrender, making the first French victory of the war possible.

Fear Among the British

To the English colonists, the sight of Native warriors in battle was a source of fear. They spread tales of ambushes, raids, and sudden strikes that made frontier settlements uneasy. This fear itself became a weapon, weakening the morale of the British and reminding them that the land they sought to claim was defended not only by French forts but by Native nations with centuries of knowledge of the land.

A Bond Beyond War

These alliances were not built only on military need but also on trust and shared interest. We exchanged goods, respected ceremonies, and stood beside one another in council as well as on the battlefield. Every victory in the early years of the war was a testament to this bond. The Algonquin, Huron, Ottawa, and many others gave their strength to France, and together we stood against the growing tide of English expansion.

Lessons for the Future

The role of Native warriors in our successes shows how the fate of New France was never shaped by numbers alone. It was shaped by partnership, by the joining of European and Native strengths into a single force. Without them, our forts would have fallen quickly, and our victories would have been few. With them, we proved that even a smaller nation could stand tall against a greater enemy, at least for a time.

French Strategy: Defense through Forts and Indigenous Allies – Told by Vaudreuil

In North America, France faced challenges unlike those in Europe. Our population was small compared to the British colonies, and our settlements were scattered along the St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi. To hold such vast lands, we could not rely on numbers alone. We needed a strategy that would use the strength we did possess—our network of forts and the loyalty of our Indigenous allies.

The Forts as Anchors

Forts were the backbone of our defense. They were not only military positions but also centers of trade and diplomacy. From Niagara to Crown Point, from Duquesne to Detroit, each fort served as both shield and outpost, extending French influence deep into the interior. They allowed us to control waterways, supply routes, and trade networks. Each fort stood as a reminder to our enemies that the land they coveted was already claimed and defended.

The Role of Indigenous Allies

Yet forts alone could not defend New France. The true strength of our position lay in the alliances we nurtured with Native nations. The Algonquin, Huron, Ottawa, and many others stood with us, bound by trade, kinship, and shared enemies. Their warriors gave us knowledge of the forests and skill in battle that European troops did not possess. In times of war, they were not auxiliaries but partners, their presence multiplying the strength of every French detachment.

The Balance of Diplomacy and War

These alliances demanded respect and constant attention. Diplomacy was as important as muskets. Councils, feasts, and the exchange of wampum sealed bonds that were as binding as any treaty in Europe. To break faith with our allies was to invite disaster. By honoring these traditions, we held their loyalty, and together we presented a united front against British expansion.

A Strategy of Flexibility

The combination of forts and allies gave France flexibility. Our forts served as bases for supply and coordination, while our Indigenous allies gave us mobility and reach. Where the British depended on sheer numbers, we relied on speed, surprise, and knowledge of the terrain. This strategy allowed us to win victories early in the conflict, striking fear into the enemy and proving that New France, though small, was far from weak.

The Challenge Ahead

I knew, however, that this strategy was also fragile. If supply lines failed, forts could be isolated. If alliances faltered, our armies would be greatly diminished. It was a delicate balance, requiring vigilance and wisdom. Yet for a time, it gave France an advantage, one that allowed us to stand against a foe whose population outnumbered ours many times over.

French Victory at Fort Oswego (1756) – Told by Ramezay

Fort Oswego was one of Britain’s strongest positions on the southern shore of Lake Ontario. From there, they threatened our control of the Great Lakes and interfered with our trade and alliances with Native nations. To us, it was a constant danger, a reminder that the British sought to push their power into lands long held by France. To strike Oswego was not simply to capture a fort but to break the enemy’s hold on the lake and restore our dominance in the region.

The French Prepare

In the summer of 1756, under the command of General Montcalm, French forces gathered with the support of Indigenous allies. I was among those who took part, and I remember well the determination that filled our camp. We knew that victory would strengthen France’s position and inspire confidence throughout New France. Supplies and artillery were prepared, and we moved swiftly to surprise the enemy before reinforcements could arrive.

The Siege Begins

When we reached Oswego, we laid siege to the fortifications that stood there. British defenses were spread across three forts, but they were poorly coordinated. Our artillery opened fire, pounding their walls and breaking their resolve. Indigenous allies harassed the enemy, cutting off communication and striking fear into the garrison. The British soon found themselves surrounded, with no escape and dwindling morale.

The Fall of the Fort

On August 14, 1756, the British surrendered. More than 1,700 soldiers laid down their arms, along with cannon, supplies, and ships that now belonged to France. It was a resounding victory, one that silenced British ambitions on Lake Ontario for a time. The news spread quickly, lifting the spirits of our people and showing that France could still command the strength of arms against a powerful foe.

The Meaning of Oswego

The capture of Oswego was more than a single victory. It demonstrated the effectiveness of our strategy—forts to anchor our defenses, Indigenous allies to extend our reach, and French courage to carry the day. It disrupted British plans and secured our control of the Great Lakes, at least for the moment. For me, it stood as proof that even in a war where numbers favored the enemy, discipline and unity could bring success.

The Shadow of What Was to Come

Yet even as we celebrated, I could not ignore the larger struggle. Britain’s colonies were vast, their resources deep, and their determination strong. Oswego was a triumph, but it was only one step in a long and costly war. Still, I will always remember it as a moment when France stood proud, and the flag of our king flew high over the ruins of our enemy’s fort.

Guerrilla Tactics and the Wilderness Advantage – Told by Bienville

The forests, rivers, and swamps of North America were unlike the battlefields of Europe. Armies trained to fight in open fields found themselves trapped by thick woods, narrow paths, and sudden storms. In this environment, numbers alone did not decide victory. The land itself favored those who could move quickly, strike without warning, and vanish before the enemy could recover.

Lessons from Native Allies

From the beginning, we learned from our Native allies. They understood the rhythm of the forest, how to track silently, how to ambush, and how to use the land as both shield and weapon. Fighting beside them, we discovered that speed and surprise were worth more than muskets lined in perfect rows. Their tactics became ours, and soon the British found themselves facing an enemy who did not fight by the rules they expected.

The Ambush as a Weapon

One of the most effective methods was the ambush. Hidden along forest trails or near rivers, warriors could wait for an enemy column to pass before striking with sudden force. Panic spread quickly among British soldiers unused to such attacks. Confusion, fear, and disorder often destroyed their formations before a true battle even began. These ambushes weakened the enemy’s spirit as much as their numbers.

Hit and Run Raids

Guerrilla tactics also allowed us to strike settlements and outposts, taking supplies and cutting communication lines before melting back into the wilderness. Such raids kept the enemy constantly uneasy, never sure where the next attack would come. For small French forces, supported by Native warriors, this meant that we could fight against larger numbers without being crushed.

The British Struggle

The British were slow to adapt. Their commanders insisted on marching in heavy columns, drums beating, and banners flying—an invitation to disaster in the deep woods. Time after time, their forces were worn down by smaller groups who moved like shadows. The wilderness gave us the advantage, and their rigid methods made them vulnerable.

The Spirit of the Fight

For me, the wilderness advantage was not just about tactics but about spirit. To fight in this way demanded patience, courage, and trust among allies. It required that we adapt to the land rather than force it to adapt to us. This was the secret of our early successes, and it showed that strength comes not only from numbers but from understanding the world in which one fights.

French Victory at Fort William Henry (1757) – Told by Ramezay

Fort William Henry stood at the southern end of Lake George, guarding the route toward the Hudson River and the heart of the British colonies. To the English, it was a shield against French advances. To us, it was an obstacle to be removed if France was to maintain its strength in the north. Its capture would not only cripple British defenses but also strike fear into their frontier settlements.

The Siege Begins

In the summer of 1757, General Montcalm led a force of French soldiers, Canadian militia, and thousands of Native allies against the fort. I was among those who took part, and I remember the determination that filled our ranks. We surrounded the fort and began a methodical siege, bringing up artillery to pound the walls and trenches to press ever closer. Inside, the British under Colonel George Monro resisted bravely, but they were outnumbered and cut off from relief.

The Strain on the Defenders

For days, cannon fire shook the fort, splintering its defenses and wearing down the morale of its garrison. The British expected reinforcements from nearby Fort Edward, but they never arrived. Disease and hunger gnawed at the defenders, and the sight of our vast allied force surrounding them made their situation hopeless. Still, they held on until further resistance became impossible.

The Surrender

On August 9, 1757, Monro surrendered Fort William Henry to the French. The terms of surrender allowed the British to march out with honor and return to their settlements, on the condition they would not fight for eighteen months. It was a generous agreement, reflecting Montcalm’s desire to maintain discipline and respect even in victory. For us, the fort and its stores became a prize that strengthened French control of the region.

The Tragedy After

Yet not all went as planned. Some of our Native allies, angered by the terms and feeling cheated of spoils, attacked the retreating British column. Lives were lost in the chaos, and the event cast a shadow over the victory. Though Montcalm tried to restore order, the damage to our reputation was done. What should have been a clear triumph was remembered instead with sorrow and controversy.

The Meaning of the Victory

Despite the tragedy, the fall of Fort William Henry marked one of France’s greatest successes in the war. It showed that our strategy of fortifications, alliances, and bold strikes could overcome even strong British defenses. For me, it was a reminder that victories are never simple—they carry both pride and pain, and they shape how allies and enemies alike remember us.

Vaudreuil’s Governance: Balancing Paris and New France – Told by Vaudreuil

When I became Governor General of New France in 1755, I found myself caught between two worlds. On one side stood the ministers in Paris, far across the ocean, issuing commands shaped by politics at court and by wars waged in Europe. On the other side stood the colony itself—its soldiers, settlers, and Native allies—struggling daily to survive in a land of harsh winters and constant threats. My task was to serve both masters, though their needs often pulled me in opposite directions.

The Demands of Paris

Paris expected results: victories in battle, loyalty to the king, and a colony that could sustain itself with limited expense to the crown. Orders came by ship, often months late, demanding plans or policies that no longer matched the realities on the ground. It was my duty to honor these instructions, yet I knew that decisions made in Versailles did not always understand the wilderness, the distances, or the fragile nature of alliances here in North America.

The Needs of the Colony

Meanwhile, the people of New France looked to me for leadership. They needed protection from British incursions, supplies to survive the long winters, and trade to keep their families fed. They also needed reassurance that France would not abandon them. I worked to provide food from royal stores, to encourage farming in the St. Lawrence Valley, and to keep our forts supplied, even when the king’s ships failed to arrive. My governance was as much about sustaining daily life as it was about waging war.

Disputes with Montcalm

One of my greatest challenges came from within. General Montcalm, the brilliant commander sent from France, believed in fighting by European methods, focusing on pitched battles and formal sieges. I, however, trusted in our Canadian militia and our Native allies, who knew the forests and fought with speed and cunning. Our disagreements weakened us, for while we both served the same king, we did not always share the same vision for defending New France.

Holding the Alliance Together

Part of my duty was to maintain the bonds with our Indigenous allies, who expected respect, gifts, and fair treatment. Paris often questioned the cost of these alliances, but I knew they were essential. Without them, our forts would stand isolated, and our armies would be outnumbered. I walked a careful line, balancing the demands of the crown with the traditions of the nations who stood beside us.

The Weight of Leadership

In truth, governance was a constant act of balance—between Paris and Quebec, between soldiers and settlers, between war and survival. Every decision carried risk, and every delay could bring disaster. Though I made mistakes, I always sought to protect the colony entrusted to me. My years as governor were marked by both triumphs and struggles, and though history may judge me harshly, I know I carried the burden of balancing two worlds as best I could.

Logistics and Supply Challenges across the Great Lakes – Told by La Vérendrye

For New France, the St. Lawrence River was our lifeline. All supplies, whether from France or from distant posts in the interior, had to pass along its waters. But this lifeline was fragile. Ships crossing the Atlantic faced storms, blockades, and delays that could stretch for months. Even when goods reached Quebec, the challenge of moving them farther inland was immense. The river froze each winter, halting transport, and the short season of navigation meant that every journey had to be carefully planned or risk failure.

The Burden of Distance

Beyond Quebec, the journey to the Great Lakes and farther into the interior demanded enormous effort. Canoes, laden with goods and supplies, had to cross vast lakes and winding rivers. Portages forced men to carry heavy loads across rocky and muddy ground, often in swarms of insects and under relentless heat or cold. Every mile required sweat and endurance. A single broken canoe or a missed supply train could bring hardship to entire forts far from the St. Lawrence.

Supplying the Forts

Forts like Niagara, Detroit, and those deeper in the wilderness—St. Pierre, St. Charles, and Maurepas—relied completely on these supply lines. Without regular deliveries of food, gunpowder, tools, and trade goods, they could not survive. Traders and soldiers alike depended on flour and salted meat carried over hundreds of miles. When storms, enemy raids, or poor planning interrupted supply runs, hunger and weakness spread quickly. For those of us on expeditions, we often faced days with nothing more than parched corn to keep us alive.

The Role of Native Allies

Our Native allies played an essential part in overcoming these challenges. They guided us along river routes, provided food through hunting and fishing, and taught us how to survive when supplies ran short. Without their aid, many French posts would have been lost to starvation or abandonment. Their knowledge of the land and its resources was as valuable as any shipment from France.

The Cost of War

During times of war, these challenges became even greater. British ships blocked supplies from crossing the Atlantic, and enemy raids threatened the fragile routes into the interior. Forts isolated by distance often stood on the edge of collapse, saved only by the determination of those within. Every campaign depended not just on soldiers but on the men who carried barrels of flour, powder kegs, and trade goods across rivers and portages. Victory or defeat often began long before the battlefield—with the supplies that reached, or failed to reach, the men at the front.

The Lesson of Supply

From my own journeys, I learned that exploration and defense were impossible without strong supply lines. Bold dreams of reaching the Western Sea or holding the Ohio Valley could not be achieved if the men lacked food or powder. Logistics was the hidden war of New France, fought not with muskets but with canoes, paddles, and the will to endure the hardships of the wilderness. It was this struggle, as much as any battle, that decided the fate of our colony.

French Morale and the Role of Catholic Missions in the War – Told by Bienville

In times of war, muskets and forts were not enough to sustain New France. The spirit of the people mattered just as much as weapons. Our settlers were far from their homeland, facing harsh winters, hunger, and the constant threat of attack. To endure these trials, they needed not only courage but also faith. Catholic missions became a source of strength, lifting morale and binding communities together when fear might otherwise have broken them.

The Missionaries’ Work

Priests and missionaries traveled with soldiers, settlers, and explorers alike. They carried not only the sacraments but also a sense of stability. At forts, chapels rose beside barracks, and prayers were offered before and after battle. Missionaries taught that our struggles were not merely political but spiritual, that we were defending both our homes and the faith we carried across the ocean. Their presence reminded us that even in the wilderness, France was not alone.

Faith Among the Natives

The missions also served as bridges between France and Native nations. Jesuit and Récollet priests lived among the tribes, learning their languages and customs, and bringing the Catholic faith to new peoples. For many Native allies, the missions symbolized trust and friendship with France. Baptisms, marriages, and councils were often held under the guidance of priests, making faith a part of diplomacy as well as daily life.

Strength in Hardship

During the sieges and long campaigns, morale could sink quickly. Disease, shortages, and uncertainty weighed heavily on soldiers and settlers. It was in these moments that the ringing of church bells or the words of a missionary restored hope. Faith reminded the weary that their sacrifices had meaning beyond the battlefield. Families clung to the belief that their struggles were seen by God, and this belief helped them endure.

A War of Hearts as Well as Arms

The British often had greater numbers and resources, but France possessed a unity of spirit shaped by faith and community. Catholic missions were not simply places of worship; they were fortresses of morale. They gave courage to those who might otherwise falter and tied together the efforts of soldiers, settlers, and allies into a shared cause.

The Lasting Impact

Even as the war grew darker and defeats multiplied, the missions continued their work. They taught us that battles are not won by armies alone but by the strength of belief, the will to endure, and the unity of purpose. For New France, the Catholic missions were as vital as any cannon or musket, for they kept alive the spirit of a people determined to survive.

European Diplomacy and the Seven Years’ War Connection – Told by Vaudreuil

Though the fighting began in the forests of the Ohio Valley, it was never only a colonial war. The rivalry between France and Britain stretched across oceans, rooted in Europe’s politics, ambitions, and alliances. The skirmishes in North America were only sparks that ignited a far greater conflict. What we called the French and Indian War became part of what Europe knew as the Seven Years’ War, a struggle that spanned continents and seas.

The Shifting of Alliances

The balance of power in Europe shaped the course of war in America. Old alliances broke, and new ones formed in what came to be known as the Diplomatic Revolution. Austria turned to France for support, while Prussia aligned with Britain. These changes meant that battles fought in Germany or on the seas directly affected our fortunes in Canada. Every decision in the courts of Versailles or London rippled across the Atlantic to our forts and settlements.

The Strain on France

For New France, these diplomatic shifts were a double-edged sword. France committed vast resources to fighting Britain in Europe, where the king’s armies faced enormous pressure. But this meant fewer ships, fewer troops, and fewer supplies for us in North America. I pleaded for reinforcements, yet too often the needs of Europe overshadowed the needs of the colony. We were left to rely heavily on Canadian militia and our Native allies to hold back the British tide.

Britain’s Naval Power

Britain’s greatest strength lay in its navy. With it, they controlled trade routes, blockaded ports, and cut off French reinforcements from crossing the Atlantic. Each French ship that sailed carried not only soldiers and supplies but also the hopes of the colony. Too many never arrived. Meanwhile, Britain’s colonies thrived, well supplied and supported, able to send thousands more soldiers into the field.

The Global Conflict

The war touched every corner of the world. France and Britain fought in the Caribbean, in Africa, and in India, as well as on the European continent. Victories and defeats in those places shifted resources and strategy in North America. For the people of New France, the struggle may have seemed local—forts under siege, fields threatened, villages attacked—but in truth, we were part of a global contest for empire.

The Price of Diplomacy

As governor, I often felt the weight of decisions made far away, decisions I could not control. Paris cared about our survival, but they cared more about their honor in Europe. Diplomacy gave us allies on the continent, yet it left us isolated in America. In the end, New France was sacrificed to preserve France’s position in Europe. This was the true cost of European diplomacy: our fate in the New World was decided not only by battles we fought but also by treaties signed across the sea.

The Height of French Power in North America (1757–1758) – Told by Ramezay

In 1757, after the fall of Fort William Henry, France stood at the height of its power in North America. The British had been checked on multiple fronts, their armies humiliated, and their frontier settlements filled with fear. Our forts stretched from the St. Lawrence down to the Mississippi, and our alliances with Native nations held firm. For a brief moment, it seemed as though New France could withstand the pressure of Britain’s larger colonies and even expand its influence further.

The Role of Alliances

Our Native allies were central to this success. Their warriors guided our movements, struck fear into enemy settlements, and gave us the ability to fight across vast distances with speed and precision. Together, French regulars, Canadian militia, and Native warriors formed a force that was greater than the sum of its parts. Britain’s numerical advantage mattered less when they could not match our adaptability to the wilderness.

Strongholds of Defense

The network of French forts—Duquesne, Niagara, Crown Point, and Carillon—stood strong, each guarding vital regions and supply routes. From these positions, we controlled the Ohio Valley, the Great Lakes, and the approaches to Canada. These forts gave us security and allowed us to launch strikes deep into contested territories. They also served as centers of trade and diplomacy, reinforcing France’s presence across the continent.

British Setbacks

At this time, Britain suffered repeated failures. Their armies, poorly adapted to the terrain, stumbled in the forests and fell prey to our tactics. Fortresses they thought impregnable crumbled under French assault. Colonists grew discouraged, and their leaders quarreled over how best to continue the fight. To us, these defeats were proof of the strength of our strategy and the resilience of our forces.

The Height of Morale

Among the people of New France, there was a sense of pride and hope. Victories filled them with confidence that France could hold the continent despite the odds. Even in the face of shortages and hardships, the triumphs of 1757 inspired courage. We believed that God favored our cause and that the alliance of forts, faith, and friendship would secure our future.

The Turning Point Approaches

Yet beneath this strength lay weakness. Britain’s colonies were vast, their resources deep, and their navy unchallenged at sea. In 1758, they began to recover, reorganizing their forces and launching new campaigns with determination. Though 1757 marked the high point of French power, 1758 would bring the first blows that began to unravel it. Still, I remember those years with pride, for they showed what New France could achieve when unity, courage, and strategy worked together.

Foreshadowing Decline: Strains on Alliances and Resources – Told by Vaudreuil

Though the years 1757 and 1758 brought France its greatest strength in North America, I could already see the cracks forming beneath the surface. Victories on the battlefield inspired hope, but the foundations of our strength—alliances, supplies, and unity—were beginning to weaken. Even as we celebrated, I feared what the future might bring.

The Burden of Supplies

The greatest strain lay in resources. Our colony depended heavily on shipments from France, and too many were lost to storms or British blockades. Grain and powder ran short, and the people of New France faced hunger as often as the soldiers did. We stretched our resources thin, sending what we could to distant forts, but every wagon of flour or barrel of powder carried with it the question of whether there would be enough for tomorrow.

The Fragility of Alliances

Our Indigenous allies remained strong partners, but they too felt the strain. The long years of war brought losses to their people, and trade goods they relied upon became scarcer. Some began to wonder if France could continue to protect and support them, while British agents worked tirelessly to lure them away with promises of plentiful supplies. Maintaining their loyalty demanded endless diplomacy, gifts, and reassurance—tasks made harder as our own resources dwindled.

Divisions Within Leadership

Another weakness came from within our own ranks. General Montcalm and I disagreed often on how to fight this war. He sought European-style battles, while I trusted in the Canadian militia and our Native allies. These disputes reached Paris, where ministers questioned our unity and judged us harshly. The colony needed one clear voice, but too often it was divided by rival visions of strategy.

The Weight of the People

The settlers of New France bore their own burdens. They farmed the land, defended their homes, and sent their sons to fight, yet they faced rising taxes, shortages, and the fear of raids. Morale was tested as winter after winter dragged on with fewer supplies and no promise of relief. Their loyalty never broke, but I saw the weariness in their eyes, a weariness that grew heavier with each passing year.

The Shadow of Britain’s Power

All the while, Britain was gathering its strength. Their colonies poured out soldiers in numbers we could never match, and their navy strangled our lifelines across the sea. Even as we stood at the height of our power, I knew that their resources would eventually overwhelm us if France did not send reinforcements. The shadow of their power grew longer, and our victories seemed more fragile with each campaign.

A Foreshadowing of Defeat

These strains—on resources, alliances, leadership, and morale—were warnings of what was to come. Though New France stood proudly in those years, the foundation beneath us was weakening. The decline had already begun, even if we did not yet see it clearly. History would show that the war was decided not only by battles but by the slow erosion of the very things that sustained us.