FIRE, MASSACRE, AND SIEGE
At Quebec, Frontenac did what he could to promote the bold designs of
La Salle. Nevertheless, the explorer had been forced to furnish his
own men and supplies, getting trading privileges in return--an
arrangement by which the King had all the glory without any of the
risk. There were those in Quebec, indeed, who suspected the Governor
of having a personal interest in La Salle's adventures, and enemies
were not slow to credit him further with a share in profits from
illegal trade in furs. The Intendant Duchesneau fomented these
suspicions, and his letters to the King and the minister were filled
with black charges against Frontenac. The latter, in his turn, called
the Intendant to account; and Quebec was then ranged into two
camps--the Bishop and the Jesuits siding with the Intendant, while the
Récollet friars and the merchants supported Frontenac. Every ship
carried home to France a budget of letters filled with charges and
countercharges, until it became apparent to the Court that a bitter
civil strife was raging in the distant colony; and the King, unable to
judge between the antagonists, finally recalled them both.
The new Governor, La Barre, met with ill-omens on arrival. His
predecessor had scarce departed when Quebec was visited by the first
of those destructive fires which were destined to rage so often
through its winding streets. The summer of 1682 had been exceptionally
dry, and on the night of the 4th of August a fire began in the house
of Étienne Planchon and spread with dreadful speed over the whole of
Lower Town. Fifty-five houses were burnt to the ground on this
occasion, and Lower Town became a heap of ashes. One house alone
escaped, that of the merchant Aubert de la Chesnaye; and more than
half the wealth of Canada was destroyed.
If so be that misfortunes ever come singly, the history of Quebec at
least has never been able to afford an example; and as if destructive
fire were an insufficient visitation of angry fate, other misfortunes,
no less cruel, now came upon the city. In these years, indeed, it
seemed that Nature herself was leagued with the enemies of Quebec; for
in the _Jesuit Relations_ we have a circumstantial if highly
imaginative account of a violent earthquake which visited the
Province in 1663:--
"Many of the French inhabitants and Indians," says the
writer, "who were eye-witnesses to the scene, state that
a great way up the river of Trois Rivières, about
eighteen miles below Quebec, the hills which bordered the
river on either side, and which were of a prodigious
height, were torn from their foundations and plunged into
the river, causing it to change its course and spread
itself over a large tract of land recently
cleared;...lakes appeared where none ever existed before;
mountains were overthrown, swallowed up by the gaping
earth, or precipitated into adjacent rivers, leaving in
their place frightful chasms or level plains....Rivers in
many parts of the country sought other beds, or totally
disappeared. The earth and mountains were violently split
and rent in innumerable places, creating chasms and
precipices whose depths have never yet been ascertained.
Such devastation was also occasioned in the woods, that
more than a thousand acres in one neighbourhood were
completely overturned."
Another account of this event is given by an Ursuline sister:--
"The first shock of earthquake took place on 5th
February, 1663, about half-past five in the evening. The
weather was calm and serene, when we heard a terrible
noise and humming sound like that of a great number of
heavy carriages rolling over a paved floor swiftly. After
this one heard, both above and below the earth and on all
sides, as it were a confused mingling of waves and
billows, which caused sensations of horror. Sounds were
heard as of stones upon the roof, in the garrets, and
chambers; a thick dust spread around; doors opened and
shut of themselves. The bells of all our churches and
clocks sounded of themselves; and the steeples as well as
the houses swayed to and fro, like trees in a great wind.
And all this in the midst of a horrible confusion of
furniture turned over, stones falling, boards breaking,
walls cracking, and the cries of domestic animals, of
which some entered the houses and some went out; in a
word, it seemed to be the eve of the Day of Judgment
whose signs were witnessed. Very different impressions
were made on us. Some went forth for fear of being buried
in the ruins of our house, which was seen to jog as if
made of cards; others prostrated themselves at the foot
of the altar, as if to die there. One good lay sister was
so terrified that her body trembled for an hour without
ability to stop the agitation. When the second shock
came, at eight o'clock the same evening, we were all
ranged in our stalls at the choir. It was very violent,
and we all expected death every moment, and to be
engulfed in the ruins of the building....No person was
killed. The conversions were extraordinary, and one
ecclesiastic assured me that he had taken more than eight
hundred confessions."
Such things as these seemed not to dampen the ardour of those whose
fortunes were cast in New France. Personal prowess and force of
character were the natural result of trouble and disaster. La Barre,
however, proved a dire exception to the rule. His hands shook in the
hour of trial; he weakly grasped occasion. The magnificent but
tragical career of La Salle had annexed a vast domain to the French
possessions in North America, while Du Lhut, La Durantaye, Nicolas
Perrot, and the rest of the _coureurs de bois_ had, by their
adventurous trading, given even the remote Sioux and Assiniboins an
interest in the fur trade of France. By this rapid expansion of French
influence the Five Nation Indians at last saw themselves hemmed in by
tribes under the influence of Quebec, their hunting grounds limited to
a small and now partly exhausted area. In order to procure guns and
ammunition from their English friends they were compelled to take
thought for the decreasing peltries. A destructive raid into the
Illinois valley was the first step in their new policy, which was the
annihilation of all those tribes which traded with the French, and the
diversion of the beaver trade to the wealthier merchants of New
England.
At all hazards New France was bound to prevent this dire blow from
falling upon her allies, whose adherence to the pact rested upon the
ability of French arms to protect them. But French prestige among the
Indians so suffered under the weak-kneed administration of La Barre,
that the Iroquois became bolder in contravening the treaty of peace,
while the Western tribes were on the point of going over to the
English. These circumstances prompted the expedition of 1684.
With a hundred regulars, an equal number of Canadians, and a composite
band of Indians, La Barre set out from Quebec to destroy the Senecas.
News had been sent to the French trading posts of the north, and it
was arranged that the main column should be joined at Niagara by a
force of Hurons, Ottawas, Ojibwas, Pottawattamies, and Foxes, whom the
_coureurs de bois_ had rallied for a last supreme effort. But in spite
of the strength of this array, it was not expected by those who knew
the vacillating Governor that he would be successful. Even the most
sceptical, however, were not prepared for the woeful fiasco which
followed. Instead of advancing to destroy his enemies, La Barre
summoned them to a council, where the Seneca deputies were not slow to
perceive the weakness of their foe, and contemptuously dictated terms
of peace. Thus the French were degraded in the eyes of their Indian
allies, who returned disgusted to their homes. The event being taken
seriously in France, La Barre was recalled, and the Marquis de
Denonville appointed in his place.
It was now becoming clearer that English intrigue was behind all these
troubles with the Iroquois. Dongan, the Catholic Governor of New York
at this period, a resourceful and adroit politician, formed the design
of absorbing the territory of the Iroquois into the domain of James
II. of England; and the Indians, while they resisted his ulterior
purpose, were yet glad enough to get English guns for their warfare
against the French. Besides this direct official action, Dongan
encouraged English traders to go among the Canadian Indians and wean
them from their alliance with Quebec.
At first the rivalry was but a diplomatic duel between Denonville and
Dongan, England and France being then at peace. Soon, however, the
colonies of the two nations were waging a border warfare of their own.
While the English were urging the Iroquois against their rivals, the
furtive hand of the French was evident in the raids of the Abenakis
upon the woods of Acadie; but at this early stage of the dispute the
two Powers disclaimed all approval of these savage reprisals.
In 1687 Governor Denonville, mustering a strong force at Quebec, moved
quickly up the St. Lawrence upon the Senecas. Like La Barre he invited
a number of chiefs to a conference, but when they came he
treacherously seized and sent them to the galleys of France. He then
crossed from Fort Frontenac, ravaging and burning their villages and
towns. Not only the Senecas but the whole Iroquois confederacy burned
to avenge the terrible warfare of Denonville. In small bands they
ranged the woods round about Quebec and the river settlements, darting
to and fro like silent shadows, so that for months the French suffered
daily the anguish of battle, murder, and sudden death. Disciplined
soldiers were helpless against this stealthy warfare, and a man walked
in danger of his life even within the palisades.
Great as was their distress, however, it was but a prelude to one of
the cruellest incidents in Canadian history. The night of the 4th of
August, 1689, being heavy with thunderclouds, fifteen hundred Iroquois
warriors, under cover of the darkness, crept upon the settlement of
Lachine, at the western end of the Island of Montreal. They scattered
stealthily among the cabins, and at a given signal surprised the
victims in their beds. More than two hundred men, women, and children
were tomahawked in cold blood or carried off to a lingering death, the
lurid flames of the burning seigneury telling their bitter tale to the
watchers at Montreal. New France was faint with horror; and once more
she sighed for the strong protecting arm of Frontenac.
Meanwhile, the English Revolution of 1688 had driven James II. from
the throne, and the French king had taken up the cause of the Stuarts
against William of Orange. England and France were face to face in
Europe, and in the New World the veiled conflict between the rival
colonies now gave place to open war. The King by this time realised
that Frontenac, for all his seventy years and his reputation for
rashness, was the only man qualified to fill the difficult post of
Governor, and accordingly sent him again to New France. He reached
Quebec about the middle of October. It was evening, and the citizens
had gathered at the quay with torches of welcome, while fireworks and
illuminations blazed in his honour over the streets of the Upper Town.
Vigorous in spite of his years, the grizzled hero of the siege of
Arras stood once more on the soil of New France, and notwithstanding
the perfunctory homage of the Jesuits and the studied reserve of the
Intendant Champigny, a feeling of relief thrilled Quebec. An
enterprise of almost incredible difficulty was to be laid upon the
shoulders of the veteran ruler. This was nothing less than an attack
upon New York as a preliminary step to the overthrow of all New
England. A land force was to descend on Albany, proceeding by way of
the Richelieu, Lake Champlain, and the Hudson, while two frigates were
to assail New York from the sea. The naval project, however, was so
feeble and uncertain, so ill-starred, that adverse winds on the
Atlantic brought it to an untimely end.
Having abandoned for the moment the expedition against New York,
Frontenac turned his attention first to the ever-present Indian
problem. The defection of the north-western tribes was becoming more
and more probable notwithstanding the strenuous efforts of the
_coureurs de bois_. Indians were fast losing faith in French
protection, and before all else it was necessary to make the Iroquois
understand that the great _Onontio_[15] had returned to chastise them.
Aiming therefore at the revival of French prestige, the Governor
organised "The three war-parties," a step which may be considered as
the initial move in that desperate conflict which left the flag of
England floating over the citadel of Quebec.
The three war-parties, each consisting of regulars, _coureurs de
bois_, and Indians, were now despatched from Montreal, Three Rivers,
and Quebec. The deep snows of a Canadian winter lay upon the ground as
these forces of destruction sallied forth. Leaving Montreal, the first
party passed down the frozen St. Lawrence, and into the wintry ravines
of the Richelieu, and after a march of terrible hardship, now plunging
through snow-drifts, now benumbed by frost, wading knee-deep through
the melting swamps, they came at last to the unguarded palisades of
the Dutch settlement of Corlaer, or Schenectady. It was midnight as
they stole through the streets of the sleeping village, now suddenly
wakened by a hideous war-whoop, the signal for a massacre as terrible
as that of Lachine.
[Footnote 15: The Indian name for Count Frontenac.]
With a similarity of grim details the other two war-parties attacked
the rival colonies of New England. Under cover of the night the band
from Three Rivers fell upon Salmon Falls, a village on the borders of
New Hampshire, and put its inhabitants to the sword. The victors then
joined the column which Portneuf had led from Quebec, and together
they moved down Casco Bay to Fort Loyal, where the settlers of the
district had assembled for a vigorous defence. The New Englanders held
out for several days against the French and the Abenakis, but at
length agreed to surrender with the honours of war. Portneuf's pledge
of protection, however, was shamelessly broken, and the Indian allies
fell upon the helpless captives without restraint.
Such success amply fulfilled the expectations of Frontenac, and the
wavering tribes of the West now hastened to Quebec to confirm their
allegiance. In New France elation took the place of gloom, and
bonfires burned among the settlements along the St. Lawrence. In New
England, however, the threefold atrocity produced an effect that
boded ill for Canada. In their eagerness to avenge this outrage, the
Atlantic colonies, up to this time disunited and isolated, now pledged
themselves to union against a common peril, and planned the conquest
of the country. A force of colonial militia set out from Albany
against Montreal, while a naval attack was directed against Port Royal
and Quebec. Sir William Phipps sailed from Nantasket with a fleet of
seven vessels, appearing on the 11th of May before Port Royal, whose
commandant surrendered without a blow.
The admiral who won this bloodless victory is one of the most notable
figures in New World history. William Phipps was born on the Kennebec
in 1650, and spent his early life tending sheep in the rude border
settlement of New England. But ambition and love of adventure not
being satisfied by a pastoral life, the youth soon adopted the trade
of a ship-carpenter and came to Boston. Here fortune in the form of a
wealthy widow smiled upon him, and he is next found searching for a
wrecked treasure-ship in the Spanish Main. The romantic sailor was,
however, at first unsuccessful in his quest; but as he had awakened
the interest of the Duke of Albemarle, he obtained from this nobleman
a frigate for a similar adventure off the coast of Hispaniola. In the
course of this latter voyage his buccaneer crew rebelled, and
single-handed the powerful Phipps drove them from the quarter-deck.
Success at length rewarded him, the treasure-ship was raised, and
through the influence of his illustrious patron the bucolic New
Englander received a knighthood. Sir William Phipps thus returned to
his castle in the Green Lane of North Boston with the glamour of the
court upon him, and was chosen by the colonists of Massachusetts to
carry out their bold designs against Quebec.
Meanwhile, Frontenac anticipated coming danger by strengthening the
city. Nature had made the position impregnable on the river side, but
in the rear it was still open to attack. All through the winter gangs
of men were employed in cutting timber in the forest, and dragging
hewn palisades to the city, where Frontenac superintended the erection
of stout barricades. While the Governor was thus engaged news reached
him that Winthrop was marching upon Montreal, and thither he hastened
with all speed. Circumstances, however, had conspired to render futile
the expedition from New York and Connecticut; and intestine quarrels,
followed by Iroquois defection, wrecked the English enterprise before
it had come within striking distance of Montreal.
[Illustration: SIR WILLIAM PHIPPS]
In the meantime Sir William Phipps had sailed for Quebec with a fleet
of more than thirty sail, two thousand men, and four months' supplies.
The hope of receiving help from England had somewhat delayed the
expedition, and it was the 9th of August before the admiral slipped
his cables in the harbour of Nantasket. As this American armada
comprised vessels ranging in size from the flag-ship _Six Friends_,
with forty-four guns, down to the fishing smacks of Gloucester, its
progress was slow. The most serious difficulty, however, was the
absence of a pilot who knew the dangerous navigation of the St.
Lawrence. Nevertheless, Phipps decided to grope his way up the river.
However, news of the invasion had already reached Quebec, and Prévost,
the town Mayor, despatched a messenger to Frontenac at Montreal,
pressing on meanwhile with the fortifications already so well under
way.
Nature had left the cliffs of Quebec accessible at only those three
points where later stood Prescott, Hope and Palace Gates, and Prévost
secured these by means of barricades and earthworks. The strand of the
St. Charles, from the Palace of the Intendant to the Sault-au-Matelot,
was protected by a continuous palisade, and the fortifications begun
by Frontenac in the previous winter having since been completed, now
afforded adequate protection upon the landward side of the town.
Moreover, several batteries were disposed at salient points. In the
garden which flanks the present Dufferin Terrace was a battery of
eight guns; while the high cliff of the Sault-au-Matelot and the
barricade at Palace Hill were each defended by six guns. The windmill
on Mount Carmel was converted into a small battery, a number of light
pieces also being collected in the square opposite the Jesuits'
College, to serve as a reserve battery for any weak spot in the
defences. Six, eighteen, and twenty-four pounders were mounted on the
wharves of Lower Town. For several days the men from the surrounding
parishes had been flocking into the city, and by the evening of the
15th of October about twenty-seven hundred regulars and militia were
gathered within the fortifications. Next day the sun rose upon the New
England fleet moored in the expansive basin of Quebec.
[Illustration: PLAN OF FORT ST. LOUIS, 1683]
All that was possible in the way of defence had been accomplished, but
in the face of such imposing naval strength the assault was awaited
with anxiety. The women and children repaired to the stone convents
for refuge, and the men stood by the guns. The siege, however, was not
to open with a cannonade, but a parley. A boat put out from the _Six
Friends_ with a flag of truce, and soon an English lieutenant landed
at the Cul-de-sac, bearing a letter for the commander of the garrison.
Before receiving the missive, Frontenac devised a useful and whimsical
stratagem to raise the prestige of the beleaguered city. Phipps's
messenger was first of all blindfolded. Then two sergeants led the
bewildered envoy by a devious route from the quay up to Fort St.
Louis, and over the triple barricades of Mountain Hill, while the
noisy soldiers thronged him, and the din of the streets was designedly
increased. Finally they took the bandage from his eyes. Before him
stood the haughty Frontenac in the brilliant uniform of a French
marshal, and the council-room of the Château was crowded with the
officers of his staff, tricked off in laces of gold and silver with
ribbons and plumes, powder and perukes.
[Illustration: THE CITADEL TO-DAY (FROM DUFFERIN TERRACE)]
Withal, the English envoy was equal to the occasion. If the strength
of Quebec and its garrison filled him with surprise, he gave no sign
of it, but with a dignity rivalling that of the French Governor
delivered his admiral's summons to surrender. "Your answer positive
in an hour," recited the postscript, "returned by your own trumpet
with the return of mine, is required upon the peril that will ensue."
Frontenac and his _aides_ were not in the least prepared to accept the
brusque demands of Sir William Phipps. Fort Royal, it is true, had
been cowed into an immediate surrender, but the blustering sailor of
New England had mistaken Quebec and its commandant.
For a moment the fiery Count controlled his temper, then it blazed
forth with wonted ardour. "Tell your General," he exclaimed, "that I
will answer him only by the mouths of my cannon, that he may learn
that the fortress of Quebec is not to be summoned after this fashion.
Let him do his best, and I shall do mine."
Blindfolded once more, the bearer of the flag of truce again scrambled
over the barricades, and was led down to the river's brink.
To Phipps, the challenge of Frontenac seemed to outdo his own in
boldness, and he was filled with doubt by the envoy's accounts of the
strength of Quebec. The black rock of Cape Diamond now seemed to tower
above him more grimly than ever, and with some misgiving he at length
adopted a bold plan of assault. The infantry, under Major Walley, were
to land on the flats of Beauport, cross the St. Charles when the tide
was out, and assail the flank of the town on the side of the Côte Ste.
Geneviève; while Phipps himself was to cannonade the city from the
river, land a storming party, and gain the Upper Town by way of the
barricades.
For two more days he delayed putting this plan into operation; and
when attempted it was badly managed. Frontenac had despatched
Sainte-Hélène[16] with three hundred sharpshooters to oppose any
landing on the Beauport shore, a force which was unequal to the task;
for Major Walley, though harassed by their fire, succeeded in making
his way at the head of 1300 men to the ford on the river St. Charles.
Phipps, however, instead of co-operating with the land force, had made
a premature movement, and leaving his moorings had sailed up the
channel opposite the city, there to engage in a terrific duel with the
guns of Fort St. Louis and the several batteries of Upper Town. Cannon
and mortars belched forth their missiles with the rapidity of
musketry, making an uproar as of a great battle. The English gunners
made poor practice, however, and the projectiles falling within the
city did almost no damage. Twenty-six cannon-balls dropped harmlessly
in the garden of the Ursuline convent, and furnished new ammunition
for the garrison. On the other hand, the decks of the attacking
vessels were swept by fire from the cliffs. One shot carried away the
ensign of the flag-ship, and another tore away her rigging and
shattered her mizzen, and the rest of the fleet was similarly
battered.
[Footnote 16: Of the gallant Le Moyne family, of whom also was
d'Iberville, the soldier, explorer, and governor.]
This unequal cannonade continued for two days before Phipps realised
its futility. On shore, Walley persisted for three days in attempting
to force his way across the St. Charles; but his field-pieces were
half buried in the mud, sickness had attacked his camp, and the rain
and sleet of an early winter completed his discomfiture. Seeing,
moreover, that their admiral had now ceased to fight, and that
Frontenac was thus able to concentrate defence upon the landward side,
the militiamen felt the hopelessness of further assault and returned
to the ships. After this rebuff Phipps weighed anchor and dropped down
stream with his battered armada.
[Illustration: NOTRE DAME DE LA VICTOIRE]
Quebec had been saved, though not without dire peril and sore straits;
for before the withdrawal of the enemy the crowded city had already
felt the pinch of famine, and the violence of the batteries had all
but emptied her magazines. Throughout the bombardment a picture of the
Holy Family had hung inviolate on the spire of the Basilica, defying
the heretical cannonade; and in cloister and chapel the beleaguered
citizens had ceaselessly invoked their favourite saints. To one and
all the victory was of Heaven, and in the midst of her rejoicing
Quebec did not forget to redeem her vows. The little chapel of Notre
Dame de la Victoire, hidden among the quaint windings of the streets
below the Terrace, still stands as a monument to that religious
fidelity with which the citizens of Quebec had faced another of their
many perils.