MURRAY AND DE LÉVIS
Within the beleaguered city the sights and sounds of battle caused
sickening excitement. An enemy who had gained the heights by such
determined valour was destined for victory; and the weary garrison and
townsfolk, as they watched and waited anxiously on the ramparts, were
more than half prepared for the view presently to meet their eyes. A
fresh wind lifting the thick clouds of smoke from the battlefield
revealed the scattered legions of France in flight before a conquering
army, wildly dashing towards the city gates or the bridge of boats
crossing the St. Charles. Montcalm sought in vain to rally his
stricken battalions, and was borne backward in the confusion of their
mad retreat, until suddenly, pierced by a bullet, he sank in the
saddle. Bravely keeping his seat with support from a soldier on either
side, he succeeded in entering the city by the St. Louis Gate. Here
the excited crowd, which had gathered to hear the latest news from the
field, raised a troubled cry at sight of their vanquished chief pale
and streaming with blood. "_Mon Dieu, O mon Dieu! le Marquis est
tué!_" they wailed. "It is nothing, it is nothing, do not distress
yourselves for me, my good friends," responded the broken hero.
His black charger slowly bore him down the _Grande Allée_ and along
the Rue St. Louis, leading a sad procession to the house of Arnoux the
surgeon. Being carried inside, he was told that his wound was mortal.
"How long have I to live?" he asked. "Twelve hours perhaps," responded
the surgeon. "So much the better," said Montcalm; "I am happy that I
shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec." Then, turning to
Commandant de Ramézay and the colonel of the Regiment of Royal
Roussillon, who stood by, he said: "Gentlemen, to your keeping I
commend the honour of France. Endeavour to secure the retreat of my
army to-night beyond Cap Rouge. As for myself, I shall pass the night
with God, and prepare for death."
[Illustration: _General Gage_
_1st Military Governor of Montreal_]
Yet ever mindful of the wretched people who hung upon him, he
addressed this note to the commander of the English army--
"Monsieur, the humanity of the English sets my
mind at peace concerning the fate of the French
prisoners and the Canadians, Feel towards them as
they have caused me to feel. Do not let them perceive
that they have changed masters. Be their
protector as I have been their father."
[Illustration: NEW KENT GATE]
By dawn the next morning his gallant soul had fled. And when another
day had gone, and night came again, a silent funeral passed, by the
light of a flambeau, to the chapel of the Ursulines for the lonely
obsequies. A bursting shell had ploughed a deep trench along the wall
of the convent, and there they sadly laid him--fitting rest for one
whose life had been spent amid the din and doom of war. In 1833 his
skull was exhumed; and to-day it is reverently exposed in the
almoners' room of the Ursuline convent--all that remains of as fine a
figure, as noble a son of his race as the years have seen.
Here also an interesting tablet, erected by Lord Aylmer in 1835, bears
the sympathetic inscription--
HONNEUR
A
MONTCALM
LE DESTIN EN LUI DEROBANT
LA VICTOIRE
L'A RÉCOMPENSÉ PAR
UNE MORTE GLORIEUSE.
Besides Montcalm, the French army lost its second and third in
command, De Sénézergues having expired on one of the English ships,
while M. de Saint-Ours was killed in the same bloody charge in which
Wolfe also met his death. The French losses in killed and wounded
numbered almost fifteen hundred officers and men, the British record
being fifty-eight killed, and five hundred and ninety-seven wounded.
When Wolfe was slain the chief command of the British army in Canada
had passed to Brigadier Townshend.[31] Expecting every moment to be
attacked by Bougainville, Townshend called back his battalions from
the charge, and drew them up anew, a movement scarcely accomplished
before Bougainville's army was seen advancing from Cap Rouge.
Bougainville, however, soon perceived signs of Montcalm's defeat, and
unwilling to risk an engagement with a wholly victorious enemy, he
retreated without a blow.
[Footnote 31: Afterwards Marquis of Townshend.]
Meanwhile, Governor Vaudreuil had held a council of war in the
hornwork which protected the St. Charles bridge. Roused now to
intelligent action, he was for making an immediate junction with
Bougainville and attacking Townshend before the English position could
be strengthened. Bigot recommended the same course; but all the other
officers were against it, and the brave but vacillating Vaudreuil was
overborne by their counsel. A despairing note was despatched to the
little garrison at Quebec; and an army that still outnumbered the
British forces began a march thus described by one of the
participants: "It was not a retreat, but an abominable flight, with
such disorder and confusion that, had the English known it, three
hundred men sent after us would have been sufficient to cut all our
army to pieces. The soldiers were all mixed, scattered, dispersed, and
running as hard as they could, as if the English army were at their
heels." Their tents were left standing at the Beauport camp, where in
their inglorious haste they had even abandoned their heavy baggage.
Passing through Charlesbourg, Lorette, and St. Augustin, by the
evening of the 15th they had covered the thirty miles intervening
between Quebec and the Jacques-Cartier river.
This desertion by the army was a cruel blow to those who still manned
the ramparts of the city. For more than two months they had mended the
breaches and fought the fires kindled by the guns of Point Lévi; they
had stood by their feeble batteries for weary weeks, toiling night and
day on half-rations. And now ignominious abandonment was their
reward! Of the total population within the walls, twenty-six hundred
were women and children, ten hundred were invalids, while the
able-bodied defenders, all told, numbered less than a thousand, and
even these were worn out by privations.
De Ramézay, the commandant, called a council of war which fourteen
officers attended, and all of these but one were in favour of
capitulation. The citizens assembled at the house of M. Daine the
Mayor, and drew up a petition praying that De Ramézay would not expose
the city and its inhabitants to the further horrors of assault. The
citizens' memorial recited the tribulations they had already
undergone, and pointed out that neither a bombardment continued for
sixty-three days, nor ceaseless fatigue and anxiety had sufficed to
kill their spirit; that though exhausted by famine, yet in the
constant hope of final victory they had forgotten the gnawings of
their hunger. But now, deserted by the army, they were not justified
in making further sacrifices. Even with the most careful distribution,
only eight days' rations remained in the city. Moreover, a conquering
army was encamped between Quebec and its source of supply. While there
was yet time, they pleaded, honourable terms of capitulation should be
demanded.
All this time the _milice de la ville_, naturally brave, but unwisely
led, were fleeing to their neglected homesteads. Some even crossed
over to the enemy's camp; and a sergeant actually deserted with the
keys of the city gates in his pockets. Meantime Townshend, fully aware
of the danger of his position, determined to force the city without
delay if the enemy should show a resolute face. In a few weeks at the
most, the approach of winter would compel the fleet to leave the
river, and should the English army then find itself outside the walls,
the fruits of the Battle of the Plains would be entirely lost.
Accordingly, he was ready to grant almost any terms of capitulation.
The English trenches drew closer and closer to the walls, and on the
evening of the 17th the fleet made a movement as if to bombard the
Lower Town, while a column of troops threatened Palace Gate. The drums
of the garrison beat the alarm; but the citizens failed to rally, and
in despair De Ramézay at last resolved to surrender. A white flag
showed upon the ramparts, and as the stars came out, an envoy appeared
in the English camp to ask for terms. At eight o'clock the next
morning, September 18th, the articles of capitulation had been signed
by De Ramézay, Townshend, and Admiral Saunders. Their provisions were,
in brief: That the garrison should be accorded the honours of war, and
march out bearing their arms and baggage, with flying colours and
beating drums; that the troops should be conveyed to France; that the
inhabitants, on laying down their arms, should retain their houses,
property, and privileges, at least until the treaty of peace should be
signed by the sovereigns of England and France. Artillery and military
stores were to be surrendered; the sick were to be cared for, and
guards were to be posted to protect the convents and churches against
possible outrage.
The general orders for the 18th of September describe, prospectively,
the formal cession of the fortress town--
"The gates to be taken possession of by Colonel Murray
and three companies of Grenadiers, after which the hour
will be appointed when the army should march in. Fifty of
the Royal Artillery, officers in proportion, one
field-piece with a lighted match following them, will
march to the Grand Parade, followed by the Commanding
Officer and his party, sent to take possession of the
town, to whom all the keys of the forts will be
delivered, from which party officers' guards will
immediately be sent to take possession of all ports and
outlets from the town....During this time the Commanding
Officer of Artillery will hoist the Union flag of Great
Britain at the most conspicuous place of the garrison;
the flag-gun will be left on the Grand Parade, fronting
the main guard."
[Illustration: _The Hon. Robert Monckton Major General_
_Sometime Governor of New York under Wolfe at Quebec 1759_.]
Thus passed Quebec into British hands. And the surrender was made none
too soon; for even as the garrison yielded, horsemen dashed up to the
city gates to announce the return of the French army. M. de Lévis,
hurrying from Montreal, when the danger of Amherst's advance no
longer threatened, had come upon the retreating army of Vaudreuil soon
after its arrival at Jacques-Cartier. Notwithstanding their appalling
want of discipline, he soon made his presence felt among the
fugitives, and despatching courtiers to De Ramézay to admonish him
against surrender, this worthy successor of Montcalm marched on to the
relief of Quebec. But it was now too late; for when, having made a
junction with Bougainville at Cap Rouge, De Lévis drew near the city,
he saw the red flag of Britain floating from the bastion of Cape
Diamond.
On the 19th of September, the day after the capitulation, a fast
frigate left for England, bearing the news of victory, together with
the embalmed body of the gallant general to whom it was due. Though
the event was celebrated there with bonfires and shouts of triumph,
yet the nation's tears could not be restrained. "The incidents of
dramatic fiction," writes Walpole in his _Memoirs of George II._,
"could not be conducted with more address to lead an audience from
despondency to sudden exultation, than accident prepared to excite the
passions of a whole people. They despaired, they triumphed, and they
wept; for Wolfe had fallen in the hour of conquest. Joy, curiosity,
astonishment was painted on every countenance. The more they inquired,
the more their admiration rose. Not an incident but was heroic and
affecting." Wolfe's body was laid beside that of his father in
Greenwich church; and Parliament erected a monument to his honour in
Westminster Abbey. On the Plains of Abraham, also, a large stone was
set up to mark the spot where he had fallen; but in 1835 this
primitive memorial was superseded by a beautiful pillar, upon which
Lord Aylmer, then Governor-General, caused to be inscribed the simple
legend--
"HERE DIED
WOLFE
VICTORIOUS."
Eight years before, in 1827, Lord Dalhousie laid the first stone of
the beautiful obelisk overlooking what is now known as Dufferin
Terrace, to commemorate the heroism of Wolfe and Montcalm, and bearing
this impartial inscription--
WOLFE MONTCALM
MORTEM VIRTUS COMMUNEM
FAMAM HISTORIA
MONUMENTUM POSTERITAS
DEDIT
A.D. 1827.
But to return to the newly conquered city. It was indeed a scene of
desolation. The Lower Town was a heap of ruins, and the streets were
all but impassable. In the Upper Town, the Bishop's Palace was in
ruins, and of the Cathedral only the shattered walls remained. The
Church of the Récollets, which faced upon the Place d'Armes, was a
wreck of masonry, while that of the Jesuits was battered beyond
repair. The three convents, Ursuline, Hôtel-Dieu, and Hospital
Général, although further removed, had not escaped the terrific
cannonade. The Jesuit College, situated in the midst of the town,
seemed to have suffered least. As for the inhabitants, they had seen
their possessions dissolve in smoke, and were now for the most part
dependent upon the English garrison for provisions; in truth, it is
difficult to exaggerate the misery and ruin which became the care of
the new garrison.
[Illustration: CHURCH OF THE RÉCOLLETS AND LA GRANDE PLACE]
Nor were the French the only sufferers. At the first sign of winter
the English fleet departed for home, Admiral Saunders and General
Townshend sailing away on the 22nd of October, followed four days
later by the wounded Brigadier Monckton with the remaining ships. All
available stores had been landed, but General Murray was compelled to
limit the number of his garrison owing to the scarcity of supplies;
and now, with about seven thousand men on short rations, he must hold
Quebec until English ships could return to his relief in spring. Such
was the doubtful situation in which Murray stood in November; and to
add to his danger, De Lévis and Bougainville lay encamped only a few
leagues away, with a force far more numerous than his own, and
untroubled by anxiety as to supplies.
The hardships of that winter are detailed in the journals of General
Murray and Captain Knox. The first distress was a famine of firewood,
to meet which detachments of soldiers were detailed to fell trees in
the woods of Ste. Foye. They harnessed themselves to the timber like
horses, and dragged it thence over the snow to the city. The storms
and keen frosts of a Canadian winter were a painful experience for the
ill-clothed soldiery, who adopted the most eccentric devices to keep
themselves from freezing. "Our guards at the grand parade," writes
Knox, "make a most grotesque appearance in their different dresses;
and our inventions to guard us against the extreme rigours of this
climate are various beyond imagination. The uniformity, as well as
the nicety, of the clean, methodical soldiers is buried in the rough,
fur-wrought garb of the frozen Laplander; and we rather resemble a
masquerade than a body of regular troops, insomuch that I have
frequently been accosted by my acquaintances, whom, though their
voices were familiar to me, I could not discover, or conceive who they
were." So long as the troops relied upon their regimental uniforms,
the Highlanders necessarily suffered most of all from cold, until the
nuns of the Hospital took pity upon them and fell to knitting long
woollen hose.
By the first week in December it became necessary to relieve the guard
every hour instead of every two hours; but even then frozen ears and
fingers and toes were common casualties. Discipline relaxed, and the
soldiers began to solace themselves by debauch. Drunkenness became so
frequent that Murray cancelled the tavern licenses; and any man
convicted of that offence received twenty lashes every morning until
he divulged the name of the liquor-seller. Theft and pillage were
strenuously dealt with, one man expiating his offence upon the citadel
gibbet. Finding that many of his soldiers were deserting, the General
banished from the city certain priests whom he suspected of intrigue.
On the other hand, he proved a generous friend to those well-disposed
Canadians who had laid down their arms and maintained their
neutrality, allowing them all the liberty and freedom consistent with
the dangers of his own predicament. No French inhabitants, however,
were allowed to work upon the batteries or fortifications, to walk
upon the ramparts, or to frequent the streets after dark without a
lantern; and if found abroad after tattoo-beating they were arrested.
So great was the fear of treason and surprise that a strong force
constantly held the gates, the guard-houses always containing about a
thousand men, who permitted none to pass without a permit from the
General. To protect the approaches of the town, strong outposts were
maintained at Ste. Foye and Lorette; and on the other side of the
river, at Point Lévi, a detachment of two hundred men held the south
shore against surprises. As the winter wore away, it became
increasingly evident that an attempt to recapture Quebec would not
long be delayed. But although more than a thousand of the garrison
were on the sick list, owing mainly to the tainted water of the wells,
the laborious commandant kept good heart for the struggle, being in
temperament cheerful, generous, and full of resource. Events proved,
moreover, that he was daring even to the point of indiscretion.
It was now March, and the campaign opened with a series of skirmishes
round the newly-fortified English outposts. Sharp fights took place at
Point Lévi and at Lorette; and Captain M'Donald, with five hundred
men, even ventured as far up the river as St. Augustin to attack the
strong post which Bougainville had established at Le Calvaire. Within
the walls of Quebec, fever, dysentery, and scurvy grew so malignant
that by the middle of April hardly more than three thousand men were
fit for duty; and all the while evidence of the concentration of the
French forces grew more apparent. So long before as the 26th of
January, Lieutenant Montresor had been despatched over the snow with
twelve rangers to apprise General Amherst of the plight of the city;
and on the 21st of April the battered schooner _Lawrence_, the only
craft upon which Murray could lay hands, was sent eastward to hasten
Lord Colville's fleet when it should arrive in the river.
Still, the vigilant defenders of Quebec were only half aware of the
threatening danger; and even as the _Lawrence_ raced down the stream
to bring help, the French army was advancing upon the city. Starting
at Montreal in a fleet of bateaux, the forces of De Lévis and
Vaudreuil had picked up the river garrisons as they advanced; and by
the time they arrived at Pointe-aux-Trembles, their numbers had
swelled to nine thousand men, while no word of their approach had as
yet reached Quebec. On the night of the 26th of April, however, a
remarkable incident brought timely warning.
Darkness lay upon the river, and as they saw the creaking ice-floes
sweeping up and down with stream or tide--a condition of the river
known in Quebec as "the chariot,"--the watchmen shivered, and thanked
the fates which kept them on dry land on such a night. Suddenly a cry
of distress blew up from the river--the moaning of the wind, thought
the guard who paced the quay of the Cul-de-sac. But again the plaint
fell upon his ears; and as he peered through the darkness, holding his
breath to listen, he knew it was a human voice. A boat put out amid
the drifting ice, and guided by the cries, the sailors found a man
half dead upon a tiny floe. With difficulty he was rescued and carried
ashore; and when cordials had revived him he told his story. He was a
sergeant of artillery in the army come to retake Quebec. In attempting
to land at Cap Rouge his boat had come to grief; all his companions
had been drowned before his eyes; but he had contrived to drag himself
upon the drifting ice.[32] It was three o'clock in the morning when
General Murray was awakened to receive this disturbing news. At once
the reveille was sounded, and while it was yet dark the troops stood
under arms. At dawn a strong detachment marched out through the St.
John and St. Louis gates, skirted along the plains, and came to the
declivity in which, at Ste. Foye, the plateau of Quebec falls away to
the lowlands. Here, in a strong position, they awaited the enemy. On
swept De Lévis to the city he had sworn to recapture; and as his army
emerged from the wood, the strengthened outpost of Ste. Foye opened
its guns upon them. Discouraged by the brisk cannonade and musketry
fire, De Lévis, who was ignorant of the comparative weakness of the
English force, made no attempt to storm the heights, but ordered his
men to fall back, his new plan being to outflank the enemy by a night
march. As for the English, seeing how impossible it was to hold the
outpost against so large an army, they spiked their guns, destroyed
their works, and finally withdrew to the city.
[Footnote 32: This romantic story is not fully established. Parkman
cites it as historical, but Kingsford considers it disproved by
General Murray's _Journal_. Its original source is the diary of the
Chevalier de Lévis, but it also appears in _The Campaign of 1760_,
attributed to the Chevalier Johnstone, Montcalm's Scotch
_aide-de-camp_.]
[Illustration: OLD FRENCH HOUSE, ST. JOHN STREET]
Once again Quebec was on the eve of invasion, and as Murray
contemplated his serious position, it is hardly a matter of wonder
that his plan of defence savoured more of boldness than of prudence.
The breached ramparts offered but a feeble defence; the frost-bound
earth made it impossible to protect the city by an intrenched camp;
and the commissariat department could not sustain a long investment.
The situation is well summarised in the General's letter to Pitt: "The
enemy was greatly superior in number, it is true; but when I
considered that our little army was in the habit of beating the enemy,
and had a very fine train of field artillery; that shutting ourselves
at once within the walls was putting all upon the single chance of
holding out for a considerable time in a wretched fortification, I
resolved to give them battle; and half an hour after six in the
morning we marched with all the force I could muster, namely, three
thousand men."
[Illustration: General Sir A. P. Irving,
2nd Governor of Canada 1766.]
It was the 28th of April, and the snow still lay upon the ground.
Murray's army marched out through the gates in two columns, and
took up a strong position on that rolling mound upon the Plains which
was known as _Les Buttes-à-Neveu_. The force was disposed as follows:
The right wing, consisting of the divisions of Amherst, Anstruther,
and Webb, with the second battalion Royal Americans, was commanded by
Colonel Burton; Colonel Fraser was in charge of the left, which
comprised Kennedy's and Bragg's divisions, and Lascelles' Highlanders;
while Otway's and the third battalion Royal Americans, commanded by
Colonel Young, formed a corps of reserve. Major Dalling, with the
Light Infantry, covered the right; and Hazen's Rangers and a company
of volunteers, under Captain Donald M'Donald, were on the left. Each
battalion had two field-pieces.
As the English troops were thus forming, Murray rode ahead to
reconnoitre the enemy's position. Their vanguard had already reached
the brink of the cliff above the _Anse du Foulon_, where they were
hastily engaged in throwing up redoubts; and further away, the main
body was moving along the road from Ste. Foye. Even as he looked, the
two foremost brigades swung across the plateau towards Sillery woods.
Now, thought Murray, was the most favourable moment for attack, De
Lévis being still on the march; and hurrying back, he ordered his
columns to the attack. With a cheer the red lines swept forward,
dragging their howitzers and field-pieces through the heavy slush of
mud and snow; and when at length they halted and opened fire at short
range, their artillery caused such disorder in the forming French
lines, that De Lévis was forced to withdraw the brigades composing the
left wing to the cover of the woods upon their flank. The English
mistook this movement for a retreat, and pressing forward Murray soon
found himself on less advantageous ground. His right division stood
knee-deep in a meadow of melting snow, where the guns could only be
served with the greatest difficulty, and upon this disabled wing the
French left once more swept out of the woods. Before their impetuous
rush the Light Infantry gave way, and so great was the disorder of
this brigade that it could take no further part in the action. The
English left was meeting a similar repulse, and from Sillery wood,
where the French had taken temporary cover, there issued such a storm
of musketry, that Fraser's column recoiled before it. Murray was
outnumbered all along the line, and when De Lévis overlapped both left
and right and threatened his enemy's flank, the English General gave
the order to retire. The guns, however, being immovably fixed in the
snow and mud, had to be spiked and abandoned. With muttered curses the
grisly veterans retreated unwillingly towards the city walls; but they
had inflicted on De Lévis so decided a check that he judged it
prudent to refrain from pursuit.
[Illustration: MANOR HOUSE, SILLERY]
Such was the battle of Ste. Foye, without doubt the most severe of the
campaign. The English lost more than a thousand, or more than a third
of the whole army; the losses of the French have been variously
estimated, but they were probably as heavy as those of their foe.
Officially reported by De Lévis, they numbered eight hundred and
thirty-three.
It is a pretty walk to-day, out through St. John's Gate and along the
Ste. Foye road. For a mile or two the leafy avenue is lined with
villas till the picturesque heights are reached, overlooking the
valley of the St. Charles, where Murray and De Lévis met in fateful
conflict. Here, where the April snow was dyed by the blood of two
valorous armies, is set up a tall pillar of iron, surmounted by a
statue of Bellona, the gift of Prince Napoleon Bonaparte in 1855.
+-----------------+
| |
| AUX BRAVES[33] |
| |
+-----------------+
This is its simple inscription--to the brave of both nations whose
sons contended for the mastery of a wide dominion. The heroes of
Quebec, French and English, have shared more than one common monument,
and this community of interest and tradition, nursed from wise
beginnings, and accepted as a matter of course for a century and a
half of good understanding, has with a subtle and gracious alchemy
helped to solve a national problem.
[Footnote 33: Aux braves de 1760, érigé par la Société St. Jean
Baptiste de Québec.]
The defeat of Murray at Ste. Foye is sometimes called the Second
Battle of the Plains. Its issue was so far from decisive that De Lévis
no longer thought of redeeming Quebec by assault, believing that if
the city was again to fall into the hands of France, it could only be
through regular investment and siege. Accordingly, moving his lines
forward to the high ground of _Les Buttes-à-Neveu_, he there began his
intrenchments. Meanwhile, the soldiers in the city were working night
and day to better its defences. Barricades were erected in the
streets, fascines strengthened the ramparts, the St. Jean and St.
Louis gates were closed, the latter being placed under the protection
of an outwork. Men and officers alike toiled ceaselessly, harnessing
themselves to the guns, and working on the batteries with pickaxe and
spade. Even the wounded demanded employment, the convalescent filling
sand-bags for the fortifications, while those in the hospitals made
wadding for the cannon which night and day belched shot and shell upon
the besiegers' trenches. When, however, the enemy's field-pieces were
in position, the city once more tasted the horror of bombardment. But
within the walls, in spite of scurvy, fever, and short rations, the
most resolute spirit prevailed. Murray's energy and resource fired the
enthusiasm of his men, who saw that only the failure of food and
ammunition could bring them to defeat. Both besiegers and besieged
dwelt in hourly expectation of ships from Europe--De Lévis, because he
had sent to France for help at once upon Montcalm's defeat, and Murray
because the return of the English fleet was part of the first plan of
campaign. Both knew that the fate of Quebec belonged to the fleet
arriving first.
At last, on the 9th of May, a ship of war was descried in the river.
The gaunt and toil-worn garrison were almost prostrate with
excitement. Slowly the frigate beat up into the basin before the town,
not yet displaying her ensign. Through a mishap to the halyards, no
flag floated over the high bastion of Cape Diamond; but to make the
stranger declare herself, Murray ordered a sailor to climb up the
citadel flag-staff with the colours. Immediately the Union Jack ran up
to the frigate's masthead, and the pent-up feelings of the garrison
found relief. It was the _Leostaff_, no stranger, indeed, to Quebec;
and she brought news that Colville's fleet was already in the river.
"The gladness of the troops," writes Captain Knox, "is not to be
expressed. Both officers and soldiers mounted the parapets in the face
of the enemy, and huzzaed with their hats in the air for almost an
hour. The garrison, the enemy's camp, the bay, and circumjacent
country resounded with our shouts and the thunder of our artillery,
for the gunners were so elated that they did nothing but fire and load
for a considerable time."
The French commander, however, was not the man to abandon the siege on
account of a single warship, for as yet he did not know that the
_Leostaff_ was but the herald of further arrivals; and his guns
continued to hurl grenades and roundshot into the city. The English
batteries returned their fire with so much violence that De Lévis
again determined to try and carry the place by direct assault.
Scaling-ladders and battering-rams were made ready, but no opportunity
came to use them. Another week of vigorous siege passed; and at
nightfall, on the 15th of May, to the unspeakable joy of the harassed
garrison, the _Vanguard_ and the _Diana_, British ships of war, came
to anchor in the basin. Next morning the three vessels made their way
up the river past Quebec, and attacked the French squadron which had
brought the army of De Lévis from Montreal. These were the ships, it
will be remembered, which withdrew up the river on the approach of
Holmes's fleet in the summer of 1759. The naval engagement was fierce
but decisive, the French commander Vauquelin behaving with the utmost
gallantry, and refusing to strike his flag even when his powder was
spent and his ship a wreck. "Our ships," says Knox, in describing the
battle, "forced _La Pomone_ ashore and burned her, then pursued the
others; drove _l'Atalanta_ ashore near Pointe-aux-Trembles, and set
her on fire; took and destroyed all the rest, except a small sloop of
war which escaped to Lake St. Peter." On the English side, the
_Leostaff_ wrecked on the rocks.
To De Lévis the destruction of the French squadron was the greatest
possible catastrophe, for the ships carried his supplies. No
alternative but retreat remained; and next morning, when Murray
marched out for a sortie, he found the French camp deserted by all
save the sick and wounded, whom in a letter left behind De Lévis had
commended to his care. Their tents still stood upon the Plains, and
their guns and mortars gaped silently in the trenches; but the French
army had already passed over the Cap Rouge, and the fourth siege of
Quebec had come to an end.
So, too, had the _ancien régime_: for although Bougainville still held
his strong position at Isle-aux-Noix, and Montreal, whither Vaudreuil
had transferred his government, was not subdued till the 8th of
September, 1760, when three British columns under Amherst, Murray, and
Haviland compelled Vaudreuil to make a formal surrender of that city
and of the whole of Canada; still, the key of New France had passed
into English hands. Quebec, the Gibraltar of America, was never more
to salute the Bourbon lilies, and French empire in the Western world
had ceased to be.