We must leave Wolfe for a while to take a brief review of the position
of affairs in his enemy's camp. Montcalm's difficulties were also great.
He knew not where to turn for a ray of hope, except, indeed, to the now
rapidly advancing winter. The toils were spread on every side: the
stately fleet riding below the town cut off all supplies from France;
the fall of Niagara and Fort of Frontenac broke off the chain of
communication with the distant West; Amherst, with an overwhelming
force, hung over the weakest point of the Canadian frontier; Montreal,
with neither army nor fortification, lay exposed to the British advance.
But, worst of all, distrust of his colleague, and contempt of the
prowess of his militia, paralyzed Montcalm's vigor and destroyed his
confidence. "You have sold your country," exclaimed he, in
uncontrollable indignation, to M. de Vaudreuil, when the latter opposed
his views; "but, while I live, I will not deliver it up." And of the
Canadian levies he writes to M. de Berryer, "My Canadians without
discipline, deaf to the sound of the drum, and badly armed, nothing
remains for them but to fly; and behold me--beaten without resource!"
"But," continued he, in the same remarkable letter,[181] "of one thing I
can assure you, I shall not survive the probable loss of the colony.
There are times when a general's only resource is to die with honor;
this is such a time. No stain shall rest on my memory. But in defeat and
death there is consolation left. The loss of the colony will one day be
of more value to my country than a victory. The conqueror shall here
find a tomb; his aggrandizement shall prove his ultimate ruin."
Montcalm's utmost exertions failed to prevent desertion among the
Canadians; he scourged some offenders, hanged others, threatened their
villages with the vengeance of the savages, but still the unhappy
peasantry were with difficulty held together. At the camp they were
badly supplied with provisions, while their families almost starved at
home. Their harvest, that which the English had not destroyed, remained
unreaped. At length the general was obliged to yield to the urgent
necessity of the case, and at a most critical period of the campaign he
allowed 2000 of the militia to depart for the purpose of getting in
their crops.
The Indians, however, still remained faithful: as long as a chance of
blood and plunder offered, they were sure to be present; but in a
pitched battle they were nearly useless, and the increased experience of
the British troops rendered even their forest warfare now less
dangerous.
Not only provisions, but even ammunition, were becoming scarce in
Montcalm's camp: there was no hope of supplies from any quarter. The
Lower Town and a large portion of the Upper Town were laid in ruins by
the English artillery: the defenses, it was true, still remained
uninjured; but, except in natural advantages, they were by no means
formidable. The repulse of the besiegers at Montmorency had for a time
raised the spirits of the French, and given them a better opinion of
Canadian prowess, for upon that occasion the peasantry had fired with
great steadiness from behind their breast-works. But the daring though
misdirected valor of the British Grenadiers, and the imposing front of
their supports, failed not to confirm Montcalm's deep forebodings of the
probable result of a battle. Then the incessant activity of the
invaders, their pertinacious retention of any point which offered an
apparent advantage, and their seemingly inexhaustible resources, showed
that no stone would be left unturned for his destruction.
One only hope remained to the French general: the winter approached. In
a few weeks the northern blast would scare away the stubborn enemy,
against whom his arms and skill were ineffectual. Could he struggle on a
little longer, the fate of Canada might be thrown upon the chances of
another campaign, and a turn in European affairs yet preserve the
splendid colony of France. "Unless Wolfe lands above the town, and
forces me to a battle, I am safe," writes Montcalm. But while, on the
night of the 12th of September, he watched in confident expectation the
deceitful preparations of the fleet below the town, the ebbing tide
silently floated down the British army toward that position the
occupation of which he knew must be his ruin.
Silently and swiftly, unchallenged by the French sentries,[182] Wolfe's
flotilla dropped down the stream in the shade of the overhanging
cliffs. The rowers scarcely stirred the waters with their oars; the
soldiers sat motionless. Not a word was spoken save by the young
general; he, as a midshipman on board his boat afterward related,[183]
repeated, in a low voice to the officers by his side, "Gray's Elegy in a
Country Churchyard;" and as he concluded the beautiful verses, said,
"Now, gentlemen, I would rather be the author of that poem than take
Quebec!" But while Wolfe thus, in the poet's words, gave vent to the
intensity of his feelings, his eye was constantly bent upon the dark
outline of the heights under which he hurried past. He recognized at
length the appointed spot, and leaped ashore. Some of the leading boats,
conveying the light company of the 78th Highlanders, had in the mean
time been carried about 200 yards lower down by the strength of the
tide. These Highlanders, under Captain Donald M'Donald, were the first
to land. Immediately over their heads hung a woody precipice, without
path or track upon its rocky face; at the summit a French sentinel
marched to and fro, still unconscious of their presence. Without a
moment's hesitation, M'Donald and his men dashed at the height. They
scrambled up, holding on by rocks and branches of trees, guided only by
the stars that shone over the top of the cliff; half the ascent was
already won, when for the first time "Qui vive?" broke the silence of
the night. "La France," answered the Highland captain, with ready
self-possession, and the sentry shouldered his musket and pursued his
round. In a few minutes, however, the rustling of the trees close at
hand at length alarmed the French guard; they hastily turned out, fired
one irregular volley down the precipice, and fled in panic. The captain,
M. de Vergor, alone, though wounded, stood his ground. When summoned to
surrender, he fired at one of the assailants, but was instantly
overpowered; the Highlanders, incensed at his vain valor, tore from his
breast a decoration which he bore, and sent him a prisoner to the rear.
In the mean time, nearly 500 men landed and made their way up the
height; those who had first reached the summit then took possession of
the intrenched post at the top of that path which Wolfe had selected
for the ascent of his army.
Wolfe, Monckton, and Murray landed with the first division; as fast as
each boat was cleared, it put back for re-enforcements to the ships,
which had now also floated down with the tide nearly opposite to the
point of disembarkation. The battalions formed on the narrow beach at
the foot of the winding path, and, as soon as completed, each ascended
the cliff, when they again formed upon the plains above. There all was
quiet; the Light Infantry, under Lieutenant-colonel Howe, brother of the
gallant Lord Howe who fell at Ticonderoga, had driven away the enemy's
pickets. The boats plied busily; company after company was quickly
landed, and, as soon as the men touched the shore, they swarmed up the
steep ascent with ready alacrity. When morning broke, the whole
disposable force of Wolfe's army stood in firm array upon the table-land
above the cove. Only one gun, however, could be carried up the hill, and
even that was not got into position without incredible difficulty.
After a few minutes' anxious observation of the face of the country,
Wolfe marched the army by files to the right in the direction of the
city, leaving two companies of the 58th Regiment to guard the landing
place; he then formed his line of battle upon the Plains of Abraham, and
resolved there to cast the die for Canada. The 35th Regiment held the
extreme right over the precipice, at the distance of three quarters of a
mile from the ramparts, where, to adapt themselves to the shape of a
slight elevation which rises from the plains, they were ranged in a
semicircle on its slope. Next came the Grenadiers of Louisburg. The 28th
prolonged the line to the 43d, which formed the center. The 58th, upon
the left, occupied the brow of the ridge which overlooks the Valley of
the St. Charles; the 78th Highlanders extended over the plain to the
right, and the 47th completed the front to the place where the 43d were
formed. Wolfe, with Monckton, commanded the right of the first line,
Murray the left.
Townshend took charge of the second line. The 15th Regiment rested their
right flank upon the precipice over the river; the two battalions of
the 60th or Royal Americans held the plains to the left. Colonel Burton,
with the 48th Regiment, in four columns of two companies each, formed
the reserve in a third line, and Colonel Howe, with the Light Infantry,
some in houses, others in the neighboring coppices, covered the flank
and rear.
At about six o'clock some small parties of the enemy appeared upon the
slopes under the ramparts of the city; at seven they mustered in greater
force, and brought up two field-guns, which caused some annoyance.
Shortly afterward they threw a body of Canadians and Indians into the
brushwood on the face of the precipice over the river, into a field of
corn in front of the 35th Regiment, and into a coppice opposite the
British center: those skirmishers caused considerable mischief, but were
speedily routed by Colonel Howe, with a detachment of the 47th. The
whole line then received orders to lie upon their arms, while Light
Infantry videttes covered their position at some distance in advance.
Meanwhile Montcalm had been completely deceived by the demonstrations of
the fleet below the town. Through the whole of that anxious night boats
were approaching the shore and again retiring, on various points of the
line between the Montmorency and the St. Charles. The English ships of
war had worked up as near as they could find depth of water, and their
guns played incessantly upon the beach, as if to prepare the way for a
debarkation. Day broke before Montcalm even suspected that another
struggle awaited him on his eastern lines; then, however, a stray cannon
shot, and the distant echo of musketry from above the town, caught his
ear; while he yet doubled, a horseman reached him at full speed with
tidings that the English had landed on the Plains of Abraham. The news
spread like lightning through the Canadian camp. Aids-de-camp galloped
to and fro in fiery haste: trumpets and drums aroused the sleeping
soldiery. As fast as the battalions could be mustered, they were hurried
across the Valley of the St. Charles, over the bridge, and along the
front of the northern ramparts of Quebec to the battle ground. M. de
Vaudreuil, with some Canadian militia, were left to guard the lines.
Under some mysterious and incomprehensible impulse, Montcalm at once
determined to meet his dangerous enemy in the open field.
To account for this extraordinary resolution is impossible. Had the
French general thrown himself into Quebec, he might have securely defied
his assailants from behind its ramparts till winter drove them away. But
a short time before he had recorded his deliberate conviction that he
could not face the British army in a general engagement. He was well
aware that all the efforts of his indefatigable enemy had been
throughout exerted to bring on an action upon any terms; and yet at
length, on an open plain, without even waiting for his artillery,
unaided by any advantage of position, he threw the rude Canadian militia
against the veterans of England. Once, and once only, in a successful
and illustrious career, did this gallant Frenchman forget his wisdom and
military skill; but that one tremendous error led him to defeat and
death.
Even when the alarming news of Wolfe's landing reached Montcalm, he
professed confidence--confidence which he could not have felt. When the
position of the English army was pointed out to him, he said, "Yes, I
see them where they ought not to be;" and he afterward added, "If we
must fight, I will crush them." He, however, altogether failed to
communicate to the Canadian troops the sanguine spirit which he himself
professed.
At eight o'clock the heads of French columns began to appear ascending
the hill from the St. Charles to the Plains of Abraham; the only piece
of artillery which Wolfe had been able to bring into action then opened
with some effect, and caused them slightly to alter their line of march.
As they arrived, they formed in three separate masses upon a slope to
the northwest of the city, where they were sheltered from the solitary
but mischievous gun.
At nine o'clock, Montcalm moved some distance to the front, and
developed his line of battle; at the same time, M. de Bougainville, who
was hastening down the left bank of the St. Lawrence, made a
demonstration with some light cavalry upon Wolfe's extreme left.
Townshend checked this movement by throwing the third battalion of the
60th into a line extending from the threatened flank to the post over
the landing place.
Montcalm was already worsted as a general; it was, however, still left
him to fight as a soldier. His order of battle was steadily and promptly
arrayed. The center column, under Montcalm in person, consisted of the
regiments of Bearne and Guienne, numbering together no more than 720
bayonets; with them were formed 1200 of the Canadian militia. On the
right stood the regiments of La Sarre and Languedoc, and a battalion of
the marine or colony troops, in all 1600 veterans; 400 of the militia,
with one light field-piece, completed this wing. On the left, the Royal
Roussillon and a battalion of the Marine mustered 1300 bayonets, while
these disciplined regiments were supported by no less than 2300 of the
Canadian levies. The total force, therefore, actually engaged, amounted
to 7520 men, besides Indians; of these, however, not more than one half
were regular troops: it was on them the brunt of the battle fell, and
almost the whole loss. Wolfe's "field state" on the morning of the 13th
of September, showed only 4828 men of all ranks from the generals
downward, but of these every man was a trained soldier.
The French attacked. At about ten o'clock a crowd of Canadians and
Indians emerged from the bush on the slope which falls toward the Valley
of the St. Charles; as they advanced they opened fire upon the English
pickets of the extreme left, and drove them into their supports. Under
cover of the cloud of smoke which rose above the scene of this attack,
the French veterans of the right wing passed swiftly round the left of
Murray's Brigade, and turned his flank; then, throwing aside their
irregulars, they fell upon Howe's Light Infantry. This gallant officer
felt the importance of his post: the houses and the line of coppice
which he occupied formed almost a right angle with the front of the
British army, covering it in flank and rear. He was hardly pressed; his
men fell fast under the overpowering fire of the French; but, in a few
minutes, Townshend, with the 15th, came to his aid: soon afterward the
two battalions of the 60th joined the line, and turned the tide of
battle.
In the mean time swarms of skirmishers advanced against the right and
center of the British army; their stinging fire immediately dislodged
the few Light Infantry which Wolfe had posted in his front, and forced
them back in confusion upon the main body. This first impression was not
without danger: the troops who were in the rear, and could not see the
real state of affairs, became alarmed at the somewhat retrograde
movements in front. Wolfe perceived this: he hurried along the line,
cheered the men by his voice and presence, and admonished them on no
account to fire without orders. He succeeded: confidence was restored.
The spirited advance of the skirmishers was but the mask of a more
formidable movement. The whole of the French center and left, with loud
shouts and arms at the recover, now bore down to the attack. Their light
troops then ceased firing and passed to the rear. As the view cleared,
their long, unbroken lines were seen rapidly approaching Wolfe's
position. When they reached within 150 yards, they advanced obliquely
from the left of each formation, so that the lines assumed the
appearance of columns, and chiefly threatened the British right. And now
from flank to flank of the assailing battalions rolled a murderous and
incessant fire. The 35th and the Grenadiers fell fast. Wolfe, at the
head of the 28th, was struck in the wrist, but not disabled. Wrapping a
handkerchief round the wound, he hastened from one rank to another,
exhorting the men to be steady and to reserve their fire. No English
soldier pulled a trigger: with matchless endurance they sustained the
trial. Not a company wavered; their arms shouldered as if on parade, and
motionless, save when they closed up the ghastly gaps, they waited the
word of command.
When the head of the French attack had reached within forty yards, Wolfe
gave the order to "fire." At once the long row of muskets was leveled,
and a volley, distinct as a single shot, flashed from the British line.
For a moment the advancing columns still pressed on, shivering like
pennons in the fatal storm; but a few paces told how terrible had been
the force of the long-suspended blow. Numbers of the French soldiers
reeled and fell; some staggered on for a little, then dropped silently
aside to die; others burst from the ranks shrieking in agony. The
Brigadier de St. Ours was struck dead, and De Senezergues, the second in
command, was left mortally wounded upon the field. When the breeze
carried away the dense clouds of smoke, the assailing battalions stood
reduced to mere groups among the bodies of the slain. Never before or
since has a deadlier volley burst from British infantry.
Montcalm commanded the attack in person. Not fifteen minutes had elapsed
since he had first moved on his line of battle, and already all was
lost! The Canadian militia, with scarcely an exception, broke and fled.
The right wing, which had recoiled before Townshend and Howe, was
overpowered by a counter attack of the 58th and 78th; his veteran
battalions of Bearne and Guienne were shattered before his eyes under
the British fire; on the left the Royal Roussillon was shrunk to a mere
skeleton, and, deserted by their Provincial allies, could hardly retain
the semblance of a formation. But the gallant Frenchman, though ruined,
was not dismayed; he rode through the broken ranks, cheered them with
his voice, encouraged them by his dauntless bearing, and, aided by a
small redoubt, even succeeded in once again presenting a front to his
enemy.
Meanwhile Wolfe's troops had reloaded. He seized the opportunity of the
hesitation in the hostile ranks, and ordered the whole British line to
advance. At first they moved forward in majestic regularity, receiving
and paying back with deadly interest the volleys of the French. But soon
the ardor of the soldiers broke through the restraints of discipline:
they increased their pace to a run, rushing over the dying and the dead,
and sweeping the living enemy off their path. On the extreme right, the
35th, under the gallant Colonel Fletcher, carried all before them, and
won the white plume which for half a century afterward they proudly
bore.[184] Wolfe himself led the 28th and the diminished ranks of the
Louisburg Grenadiers, who that day nobly redeemed their error at
Montmorency. The 43d, as yet almost untouched, pressed on in admirable
order, worthy of their after-fame in that noble Light Division which
"never gave a foot of ground but by word of command." On the left, the
58th and 78th overcame a stubborn and bloody resistance; more than 100
of the Highlanders fell dead and wounded; the weak battalion by their
side lost a fourth part of their strength in the brief struggle. Just
now Wolfe was a second time wounded, in the body; but he dissembled his
suffering, for his duty was not yet accomplished. Again a ball from the
redoubt struck him on the breast:[185] he reeled on one side, but, at
the moment, this was not generally observed. "Support me," said he to a
Grenadier officer who was close at hand, "that my brave fellows may not
see me fall." In a few seconds, however, he sank, and was borne a little
to the rear. Colonel Carleton was desperately wounded in the head at a
few paces from Wolfe; the aid-de-camp who hastened for Monckton, to call
him to the command, found him also bleeding on the field, beside the
47th Regiment. At length Townshend, now the senior officer, was brought
from the left flank to this bloody scene to lead the army.
The brief struggle fell heavily upon the British, but was ruinous to the
French. They wavered under the carnage; the columns which death had
disordered were soon broken and scattered. Montcalm, with a courage
that rose above the wreck of hope, galloped through the groups of his
stubborn veterans, who still made head against the advancing enemy, and
strove to show a front of battle. His efforts were vain; the head of
every formation was swept away before that terrible musketry; in a few
minutes, the French gave way in all directions. Just then their gallant
general fell with a mortal wound: from that time all was utter rout.
The English followed fiercely in the pursuit; the 47th and 58th, with
fixed bayonets, pressed on close to the St. Louis and St. John's gates,
till the first were checked by grape-shot from the ramparts, and the
latter by the artillery of the hulks which were grounded in the river.
But foremost in the advance, and most terrible to the flying enemy, were
the 78th Highlanders; active and impetuous in their movements, and armed
with the broadsword, they supplied in this case the want of cavalry to
the British army. Numbers of the French fell beneath their vigorous
blows;[186] others saved themselves by timely surrender, piteously
craving mercy, and declaring that they had not been at Fort William
Henry.[187] The remainder of Montcalm's right wing only found shelter
beyond the bridge over the St. Charles. The survivors of the right and
center soon placed the ramparts of Quebec between themselves and their
pursuers.
While some of the British battalions were disordered in the rapid
advance, a body of about 800 French and Canadians collected in a coppice
near the St. Charles, and assumed a somewhat threatening appearance on
the left flank of the pursuers. Perceiving this, Townshend ordered
Colonel Hunt Walsh, with the 28th and 43d, to crush the new resistance.
These two battalions were well in hand; Walsh wheeled them promptly to
the left, and, after a sharp struggle, cleared the coppice.
The battle was now over, but the general of the victorious army had
still to guard against another antagonist, as yet untouched and
unbroken. It has been related, that, before the commencement of the
action, the extreme left of the British position had been threatened by
some light cavalry--the advance guard of De Bougainville's formidable
corps. The main body and their chief had now arrived upon the scene;
but, so rapid and complete had been the ruin of Montcalm's army, that
his lieutenant found not a single unbroken company remaining in the
field with which to co-operate. He himself, however, was still strong;
besides 350 cavalry--an arm in which the invaders were altogether
deficient--he had with him nearly 1500 men, a large proportion of whom
were Grenadiers and Light Infantry.
Townshend hastened to recall his disordered battalions, but he
determined not to imperil the victory by seeking another engagement with
fresh troops. His arrangements were strictly defensive; while re-forming
a line of battle, he dispatched the 35th and the 48th with two
field-pieces to meet De Bougainville, and, if possible, check his
advance. The demonstration sufficed; the French soldiers, demoralized by
the defeat of their general-in-chief, were in no condition to meet a
victorious enemy; they recoiled before the resolute front of the British
force, and retreated with precipitation up the left bank of the St.
Lawrence. There Townshend did not deem it prudent to follow; the ground
was swampy, and, for the most part, still covered with the primeval
forest, affording every advantage to a retreating enemy.
As soon as the action was over, Townshend began to intrench his camp,
and to widen the road up the cliff for the convenience of the artillery
and stores. De Bougainville did not halt till he reached Cape Rouge, and
M. de Vaudreuil,[188] with his 1500 Canadians, deserted the lines west
of the Montmorency, left all his artillery, ammunition, tents, and
stores behind him, and made a hurried retreat toward Jacques Cartier.
The loss of the English in this memorable battle amounted to 55 killed
and 607 wounded of all ranks; that of the French has never been clearly
ascertained, but it was not probably less than 1500 in killed and
wounded and prisoners. Moreover, a very large proportion of the Canadian
militia dispersed and never rejoined their colors. On the British side,
the Louisburg Grenadiers upon the right, and the 58th and 78th upon the
left, suffered the most severely. The five regular French battalions
were almost destroyed, and one of the two pieces of artillery which they
had brought into action was captured by the victors.[189]
While the British troops were carrying all before them, their young
general's life was ebbing fast away. When struck for the third time, he
sank down; he then supported himself for a few minutes in a sitting
posture, with the assistance of Lieutenant Brown, Mr. Henderson, a
volunteer, and a private soldier, all of the Grenadier company of the
22d; Colonel Williamson, of the Royal Artillery, afterward went to his
aid. From time to time, Wolfe tried, with his faint hand, to clear away
the death-mist that gathered on his sight; but the effort seemed vain;
for presently he lay back, and gave no signs of life beyond a heavy
breathing and an occasional groan. Meantime the French had given way,
and were flying in all directions. The grenadier officers, seeing this,
called out to those around him, "See, they run." The words caught the
ear of the dying man; he raised himself, like one aroused from sleep,
and asked eagerly, "Who runs?" "The enemy, sir," answered the officer:
"they give way every where." "Go one of you to Colonel Burton," said
Wolfe: "tell him to march Webbe's (the 48th) regiment with all speed
down to the St. Charles River, to cut off the retreat." His voice grew
faint as he spoke, and he turned as if seeking an easier position on his
side; when he had given this last order, he seemed to feel that he had
done his duty, and added feebly, but distinctly, "Now, God be praised, I
die happy." His eyes then closed, and, after a few convulsive movements,
he became still.[190] Despite the anguish of his wounds, he died happy;
for through the mortal shades that fell upon his soul, there rose, over
the unknown world's horizon, the dawn of an eternal morning.
"GENERAL ORDERS.
"_14th of September, 1759. Plains of Abraham._
"Parole--WOLFE. Countersign--ENGLAND.
"The remaining general officers fit to act take the earliest opportunity
to express the praise which is due to the conduct and bravery of the
troops; and the victory, which attended it, sufficiently proves the
superiority which this army has over any number of such troops as they
engaged yesterday. They wish that the person who lately commanded them
had survived so glorious a day, and had this day been able to give the
troops their just encomiums. The fatigues which the troops will be
obliged to undergo, to reap the advantage of this victory, will be
supported with a true spirit, as this seems to be the period which will
determine, in all probability, our American labors."
Deep and sincere was the sorrow of the English army for the loss of
their chief; they almost grieved over their dearly-purchased victory.
Late on the evening of the 14th of September Montcalm also died. When
his wound was first examined, he asked the surgeon if it was mortal; and
being answered that it was, he said, "I am glad of it: how long can I
survive?" "Perhaps a day, perhaps less," replied the surgeon. "So much
the better," rejoined Montcalm; "I shall not live to see the surrender
of Quebec." When his wound was dressed, M. de Ramsay, the governor of
the city, visited him, and desired to receive his commands for the
defense; but he refused to occupy himself any longer with worldly
affairs: "My time is very short," continued he, "so pray leave me. I
wish you all comfort, and to be happily extricated from your present
perplexities." He then called for his chaplain, who, with the bishop of
the colony, administered the last offices of religion, and remained with
him till he expired.
An officer of the 43d regiment, whose carefully-kept journal furnishes
much valuable information on the subject of this campaign, states that
Montcalm paid the English army the following compliment after the
battle: "Since it was my misfortune to be discomfited and mortally
wounded, it is a great consolation to me to be vanquished by so great
and generous an enemy. If I could survive this wound, I would engage to
beat three times the number of such forces as I commanded this morning
with a third of their number of British troops."
Townshend, on the day succeeding the battle, busied himself incessantly
in pushing on works against the city, and cutting off from the besieged
all communication with the country. On the 17th, Admiral Saunders moved
the whole of the British fleet into the basin, and prepared to attack
the Lower Town; and by that evening no less than sixty-one pieces of
heavy, and fifty-seven of light ordnance, were mounted on the British
batteries and ready to open fire. The besieged had endeavored to retard
these proceedings by constantly plying all their available guns, but
did not succeed in inflicting any annoyance of importance. Before
nightfall, an officer, bearing a flag of truce, approached the English
camp, and was conducted to the general; to him he gave the governor, M.
de Ramsay's, proposition to surrender if not relieved by the following
morning.
In the mean time, M. de Vaudreuil, who had, with his disorganized
followers, joined De Bougainville at Cape Rouge on the evening of the
13th, dispatched a courier to M. de Levi,[191] at Montreal, with tidings
of the disaster, and to require his immediate presence to command the
army in Montcalm's room. This done, the marquis summoned his principal
officers to a council of war, and gave his opinion "that they should
take their revenge on the morrow, and endeavor to wipe off the disgrace
of that fatal day." But this bold proposition met with no more support
in the council than it really possessed in De Vaudreuil's own mind. The
officers were unanimously of opinion "that there was an absolute
necessity for the army to retire to Jacques Cartier, and that no time
should be lost." In consequence of this decision, the French immediately
resumed their retreat, leaving every thing behind them, and marched all
night to gain Point aux Trembles, which was fixed as the rendezvous of
the whole remaining force.
On the receipt of the disastrous news of Montcalm's defeat and death, M.
de Levi instantly departed from Montreal to take the command of the
shattered army. On the 16th he arrived; after a few hours' conference
with the Marquis de Vaudreuil, it was agreed to send the following
message to M. de Ramsay: "We exhort you, by all means, to hold out to
the last extremity. On the 18th the whole army shall be in motion: a
disposition is made to throw in a large supply of provisions, and to
relieve the town." The courier reached the besieged early on the 18th,
but it was too late; the governor was already in treaty with Townshend,
and on that morning, the 18th day of September, 1759, QUEBEC
SURRENDERED.[192] In the evening the keys of the city were delivered up,
and the Louisburg Grenadiers marched in, preceded by a detachment of
artillery and one gun, with the British flag hoisted on a staff upon the
carriage: this flag was then placed upon the highest point of the
citadel. Captain Palliser, of the navy, with a body of seamen, at the
same time took possession of the Lower Town.
The news of these great events reached England but two days later than
Wolfe's discouraging dispatch of the 9th of September;[193] an
extraordinary Gazette was immediately published and circulated
throughout the country, and a day of thanksgiving was appointed by
proclamation through all the dominions of Great Britain.
"Then the sounds of joy and grief from her people wildly rose:"
never, perhaps, have triumph and lamentation been so strangely
intermingled. Astonishment and admiration at the splendid victory, with
sorrow for the loss of the gallant victor, filled every breast.
Throughout all the land were illuminations and public rejoicings, except
in the little Kentish village of Westerham, where Wolfe was born, and
where his widowed mother[194] now mourned her only child.
Wolfe's body was embalmed, and borne to the river for conveyance to
England. The army escorted it in solemn state to the beach: they mourned
their young general's death as sincerely as they had followed him in
battle bravely. Their attachment to him had softened their toils, their
confidence in him had cheered them in disasters, and his loss now turned
their triumph into sadness. When his remains arrived at Plymouth they
were landed with the highest honors; minute guns were fired; the flags
were hoisted half-mast high, and an escort, with arms reversed, received
the coffin on the shore. He was then conveyed to Greenwich, and buried
beside his father, who had died but a few months before.
The House of Commons, on the motion of Mr. Pitt, unanimously voted that
a monument should be erected to Wolfe's memory in Westminster Abbey[195]
at the public expense. The monument was accordingly executed, and
inscribed with a eulogistic memorial in Latin. Not many years since, a
pillar was erected by Lord Dalhousie, on a lofty situation in the city
of Quebec, to Wolfe and Montcalm, bearing a remarkably graceful Latin
inscription by Dr. Fisher, of Quebec. Lord Aylmer has also placed a
small and simple monument on the Plains of Abraham, on which the date
and the following words only are engraved:
"HERE WOLFE DIED VICTORIOUS."
[Footnote 181: See Appendix, No. LXXII.]
[Footnote 182: "The following circumstance had nearly proved fatal to
the general's scheme of landing where he did. In the twilight of the
evening preceding the battle, two French deserters from the Regiment of
La Sarre came in, and, being carried on board a ship of war, commanded
by Captain Smith, then lying near the north shore, gave information that
that very night the garrison of Quebec expected a convoy of provisions
from M. de Bougainville's detachment, which was higher up the river.
These deserters, some time after, perceiving the English boats gliding
down the river in the dark, supposed them to be the expected convoy; and
on this a noise ensued, which General Wolfe fortunately heard time
enough to prevent the resolution which occasioned it; for Captain Smith,
not having been informed of the general's intentions, was making
preparations to fire into the boats, believing that they were the convoy
the deserters had been speaking of; and had he done so, would have not
only considerably hurt his friends, but sufficiently alarmed the French
to frustrate the attempt. Again, the French sentries posted along the
shore were in expectation of the convoy, and, therefore, when the
English boats came near their posts, and properly answered their usual
challenge, they suffered them to pass without the least
suspicion."--Mante's _History of the Late Wars in America_, p. 262.]
[Footnote 183: Graham's _History of the United States_, vol. iv., p.
51.]
[Footnote 184: "At the late presentation of colors to the 30th Regiment,
in Dublin garrison, on the 21st of July, 1834, their colonel-in-chief,
Lieutenant-general Sir John Oswald, G.C.B., mentioned in the course of
his address, that when he first joined the regiment in 1791, he found in
it several of the companions of Wolfe. The colonel-in-chief was
Fletcher, of a distinguished Scottish family. He led the 35th, under
General Wolfe, through the surf of Louisburg, placed them first after
the British Grenadiers in line on the Plains of Abraham, and there,
during the contest, charging the French Grenadiers, carried off the
_white plume_ which for half a century this battalion bore. His majesty,
George III., was so pleased with Colonel Fletcher's conduct, that when a
lieutenant-colonel of only four years' standing, he gave him the
colonelcy-in-chief."--_Picture of Quebec._]
[Footnote 185: When Wolfe was shot, "The Treasury of Fortification," by
John Barker, Esq., was found in his pocket. On the spare leaf is
written, in his own hand-writing, "This is an exceeding book of
Fortification.--WOLFE." This book is now in the Royal Artillery Library
at Woolwich.]
[Footnote 186: "Ewen Cameron, a Highlander, killed nine Frenchmen, two
being officers. When his sword-arm was carried off by a shot, he seized
a bayonet and wounded several men, but a bullet in his throat slew
him."--Letter from an Officer in Lascelles's Regiment, Quebec, 20th
September, 1759; _Gentleman's Mag._, 1759, p. 553.]
[Footnote 187: "There is one incident very remarkable, and which I can
affirm from my own personal knowledge, that the enemy were extremely
apprehensive of being rigorously treated; for, conscious of their
inhuman behavior to our troops upon a former occasion, the officers who
fell into our hands, most piteously, with hats off, sued for quarter,
repeatedly declaring they were not at Fort William Henry (by them called
Fort St. George) in the year 1757."--Knox's _Historical Journal_, vol.
ii., p. 72.]
[Footnote 188: "Had he (M. de Vaudreuil) fallen into our hands, our men
were determined to scalp him, he having been the chief and blackest
author of the cruelties exercised on our countrymen. Some of his letters
were taken, in which he explicitly and basely said that 'Peace was the
best time for making war on the English.'"--Walpole's _Memoirs of George
II._, p. 387.]
[Footnote 189: "Tandis que les Anglais entraient dans Surate a
l'embouchure du fleuve Indus, ils prenoient Quebec et tout le Canada au
fonds de l'Amerique septentrionale; les troupes qui ont hasarde un
combat pour sauver Quebec ont ete battues et presque detruites, malgre
les efforts du General Montcalm, tue dans cette journee et tres regrette
en France. On a perdu ainsi en un seul jour quinze cents lieues de
pays."--Voltaire's _Precis du Siecle de Louis XV._, p. 291.]
[Footnote 190: "The horror of the night, the precipice scaled by Wolfe,
the empire he with a handful of men added to England, and the glorious
catastrophe of contentedly terminating life where his fame began ...
ancient story may be ransacked, and ostentatious philosophy thrown into
the account, before an episode can be found to rank with
Wolfe's."--Pitt's Speech on the Motion for erecting a Monument to Wolfe,
related in Walpole's _Memoirs of George II._, p. 393.]
[Footnote 191: "You know they pique themselves much upon their Jewish
name, and call cousins with the Virgin Mary. They have a picture in the
family, where she is made to say to the founder of the houses,
'Couvrez-vous, mon cousin.' He replies, 'Non pas, mas tres sainte
cousine, je sais trop bien le respect que je vous dois.' There is said
to have been another equally absurd picture in the same family, in which
Noah is represented going into the ark, carrying under his arm a small
trunk, on which was written, 'Papiers de la Maison deLevis.'"--Walpole's
_Letters to Sir H. Mann_, August 17th, 1749.]
[Footnote 192: See Appendix, No. LXXI.]
[Footnote 193: "The notification of a probable disappointment at Quebec
came only to heighten the pleasure of the conquest. You may now give
yourself what airs you please; you are master of East and West Indies.
An embassador is the only man in the world whom bullying becomes. I beg
your pardon, but you are spies, if you are not bragadocios. All
precedents are on your side: Persians, Greeks, Romans, always insulted
their neighbors when they had taken Quebec. It was a very singular
affair, the generals on both sides slain, and on both sides the second
in command wounded--in short, very near what battles should be, in which
only the principals ought to suffer. If their army has not ammunition
and spirit enough to fall again upon ours before Amherst comes up, all
North America is ours! Poetic justice could not have been executed with
more rigor than it has been on the perjury, treachery, and usurpations
of the French.... It appears that the victory was owing to the
impracticability, as the French thought, and to desperate resolution on
our side. What a scene! an army in the night dragging itself up a
precipice by stumps of trees to assault a town and attack an army
strongly intrenched and double in numbers. Adieu! I think I shall not
write to you again this twelvemonth; for, like Alexander, we have no
more worlds left to conquer.
"P.S.--Monsieur Fleurot is said to be sailed with his tiny squadron; but
can the lords of America be afraid of half a dozen canoes? Mr. Chute is
sitting by me, and says nobody is more obliged to Mr. Pitt than you are:
he has raised you from a very uncomfortable situation to hold your head
above the Capitol."--Walpole's _Letters to Sir H. Mann_, October 19,
1759.]
[Footnote 194: "The late Mrs. Wolfe, the mother of the brave general of
that name, has very humanely left the residue of her estate and effects,
after debts and legacies are paid, to be disposed of among the widows
and families of the officers who were employed in the military land
service under her son, General Wolfe.
"The executors of the late Mrs. Henrietta Wolfe, mother of the brave
General Wolfe, have paid a legacy of L1000, left by her, to the
Incorporated Society in Dublin for promoting English Protestant working
schools in Ireland."--_Annual Register_, 1765.]
[Footnote 195: See Appendix, No. LXVII.]
CONCLUSION.
On the 18th of October, Admiral Saunders, with the whole fleet--the
Race-horse of twenty, and the Porcupine of eighteen guns,
excepted--weighed anchor and dropped down the river to Isle aux Coudres,
there to await a fair wind to sail for Halifax and England. Brigadier
Monckton embarked at the same time for New York, where he soon recovered
from his wound, and Brigadier Townshend proceeded direct to London. The
government of Quebec was intrusted to Brigadier Murray, with Colonel
Burton as lieutenant-governor, and all the soldiers of the several
regiments engaged in the campaign, who were still fit for duty, remained
to form the garrison: the number of all ranks and arms now only amounted
to 7300 men. The sick and wounded, whose recovery was remote or
improbable, were sent home with the admiral. Having left a squadron at
Halifax, the fleet reached England in safety ere the severity of the
winter had set in.
Before the close of the navigation, the French governor and intendant of
Canada intrusted their melancholy dispatches to M. Cannon, who succeeded
in passing Quebec unobserved, by taking advantage of a favorable wind
and a thick fog. Having escaped the many other dangers which beset his
voyage, he arrived safely in France. These dispatches were filled with
criminations and recriminations: M. de Vaudreuil animadverted bitterly
upon M. de Ramsay for his "precipitate surrender" of Quebec, while from
other quarters heavy complaints were put forward against M. de
Vaudreuil for his retreat, or rather flight, from the lines of
Montmorency.
The condition of the once splendid colony of France was now very
lamentable. To the east, Quebec; to the west, Niagara; to the south,
Crown Point and Ticonderoga--all the strongest positions in the northern
continent of America, had passed from their hands in one disastrous
campaign. Many of their veteran soldiers had found graves in the land
which they had bravely but vainly striven to defend, or had been borne
away as prisoners across the Atlantic. Provisions of all kinds were
scarce, almost to famine; the prices during winter rose to an enormous
height: wheat was commonly sold at 30 or 40 livres a bushel; a cow was
worth 900 livres; a pair of oxen, 1500 or 2000; and sheep from 200 to
300 livres apiece. Many people actually died of want; and at length no
money would induce the farmers to part with their produce, when life
itself depended upon their retaining such supplies as they possessed.
The politic Indians were quick to observe the fallen condition of the
French, their poverty, and their weakness: a general defection among
doubtful allies was the consequence, increased activity of enemies, and
a more measured assistance from friends.
As the winter approached, the Chevalier de Levi retreated to Montreal,
where he put the greater part of his army into cantonments. He, however,
busied himself during that period of forced military inaction in
preparations for a bold attempt to wipe out the memory of last year's
disasters by the reconquest of Quebec. At the first opening of spring he
began to refit such of the shipping as still bore the French flag,
repaired the small craft, built galleys, and at Sorel embarked the
necessary stores and ammunition, which he had drawn from the depots of
St. John's and Chambly. M. de Vaudreuil seconded these exertions by the
publication of an address to the Canadian people, representing in a
highly colored style the imaginary cruelties and oppressions of the
British governor of Quebec. He also endeavored to raise their hopes
while he stimulated their animosity. "We have a numerous and gallant
army," said he, "and well-grounded assurances of powerful assistance
from France." His appeal met with no echo from a starving and
discontented people.
During the winter the French made several demonstrations against the
British outposts at Point Levi, Cape Rouge, St. Foy, and Lorette,
without, however, any result beyond bloodshed and mutually inflicted
suffering; but on the 6th of April, M. de Bourlemaque, with three
battalions of regular troops and a body of militia, marched from Jacques
Cartier upon Cape Rouge, with the hope of surprising the English
detachment at that place. His troops lay on their arms that night, with
the exception of two companies of Grenadiers, whom he sent to
reconnoiter. On their return the main body became alarmed, supposing
them to be English troops, and fired among them; the Grenadiers returned
the fire, and the disastrous mistake was not discovered until twenty-two
of their men were killed and wounded. Before dawn the unlucky expedition
returned to their quarters at Jacques Cartier.
On the 17th of April, 1760, De Levi left Montreal with all his available
force, and, collecting on his way the several detached corps, arrived in
the neighborhood of Cape Rouge with eight battalions of regular troops,
recruited to 4500 men, 6000 Canadians, of whom 200 were cavalry and 250
Indians. His heavy artillery, ammunition, and stores, followed his march
by the river in bateaux and other vessels.
Meanwhile Murray lost no time in strengthening his position at Quebec.
He erected eight timber redoubts outside the works of the city, and
armed them with artillery; he broke up the neighboring roads, laid in
eleven months' provision, and repaired 500 of the houses, which the
English shot had ruined, for quarters for his troops. The outposts which
he had established in the country round Quebec proved of considerable
advantage: by them his movements were concealed, and those of the enemy
watched. The inhabitants of eleven parishes in the vicinity placed
themselves under British protection, and swore allegiance to the British
crown: they subsequently proved very useful in supplying fresh
provisions and firewood for the army to their utmost ability.
Nevertheless, Murray's troops were obliged to undergo great hardship in
collecting fuel for themselves: no less than a fourth of the whole army
had to march ten miles each day, for many successive days, to cut timber
in the forests, and numbers of the men were frost-bitten, or sank
altogether under the trial. The scurvy raged also with extraordinary
violence in the garrison; many fell victims to that dreadful disease;
but a decoction of the hemlock spruce, recommended by an old Canadian,
was at length successfully employed as a remedy. The severity of the
duty and the monotony of the winter proved intolerable to not a few of
the British soldiers; designing Frenchmen were at hand to profit by this
opportunity; they persuaded many of the soldiers to leave their colors,
and the spirit of desertion was not checked till some of those taken in
the act were hanged, and their abettors subjected to a like punishment.
When Murray was apprized of the approach of the French army, he marched
out on the 27th of April with the whole disposable force to cover the
retreat of his advanced posts: in this he succeeded with the loss of
only two men. He then broke down all the bridges, and retired into the
city the same evening. De Levi crossed the little stream at Cape Rouge,
and cantoned his army, upward of 10,000 strong, in and about the village
of St. Foy; at nine the following morning he advanced within three miles
of Quebec.
The British general, unwarned by Montcalm's fate, formed the
unaccountable resolution of giving battle to the French in the open
field with his feeble army, which was now reduced by sickness,
desertion, and the sword to 3000 available men. In his letter to the
Secretary of State reporting the consequent events, he states the
following not very conclusive reasons for having taken this unfortunate
step: "Well weighing my peculiar position, and well knowing that, in
shutting myself up within the walls of the city, I should risk the whole
stake on the chance of defending a wretched fortification, which could
not be lessened by an action in the field."
At daylight on the 28th of April, Murray marched out to the Plains of
Abraham with his ten skeleton battalions and twenty pieces of
artillery. His light troops easily drove in those of the French; he then
proceeded to form his line of battle. On the right, Colonel Burton led
the 15th, the 48th, and the second battalion of the 60th. The center
consisted of the 43d and 58th, under Colonel James, and the left of the
28th, 47th, and 78th, under Colonel Fraser. The 35th, and the third
battalion of the 60th, formed the reserve. Major Dalling's Light
Infantry covered the right flank, and some Volunteers and the Rangers
the left. The guns were distributed in the most suitable positions.
When the formations were completed, Murray rode to the front to
reconnoiter the enemy's position: he found them occupied in putting
their arms, which had been damaged by heavy rains during the night, in
order, and in other respects unprepared for action. This seemed to
afford a favorable opportunity for striking a blow, and accordingly he
returned in all speed, and gave orders to attack without delay. The
little army joyfully obeyed, and moved forward in admirable order over
the brow of the heights, thence down the slope into the plains beyond.
At first De Levi could not bring himself to believe that the British
were abandoning their vantage-ground to grapple with his overwhelming
force; but when he perceived their colors still steadily advancing
almost within gunshot range, he called his men "to arms." The French
hurried together, and formed their front of battle, not, however,
without some confusion and alarm. Two companies of Grenadiers were in
the mean time pushed forward into the woods above Sillery as a covering
party; here they came in collision with the volunteers and Rangers of
the British left, and, after a short encounter, they retired leisurely
upon the main body. Murray's irregulars, now joined by the Light
Infantry, pursued with unlucky zeal: this hasty advance exposed them to
the fire of their own artillery, and compelled its silence; finally they
were repulsed and broken by the French battalions, which had by that
time attained to a steady formation. They then fell to the rear, and
showed no more during the combat.
De Levi's army was by this time ranged in battle array. Bourlemaque,
with three battalions of Regulars, held the right; the general in
person, with a like force, held the left; and M. Dumas, with two
battalions, occupied the center. The lines were formed three deep, and
in the intervals between the bodies of veteran troops the Canadian
levies were formed. Some companies of the Marine or Colony troops, with
the Indians, were posted in a wood somewhat in advance of the right of
the position. The French had no artillery.
When the flight of the light troops opened the front of battle, a column
of French Infantry was seen winding up through the suburbs of St. Roch,
so as to threaten Murray's right. Major Morris, with the 35th from the
reserve, were quickly called into action, and they checked this
movement. But, in the mean time, the British left was altogether
over-matched. Fraser, with his brigade, had boldly attacked the French
right, and at first gained some advantage, having, by an impetuous
charge, driven Bourlemaque from two redoubts; but the superior weight of
the enemy's fire soon told upon his weak battalions, and they were
speedily reduced to a mere handful of men. The 43d from the center and
the 3d battalion of the 60th from the reserve, now came to his aid, and
still he bravely held his own ground against the overwhelming numbers of
the French. At this critical time the Royal Roussillon from De Levi's
center, who had not, as yet, fired a shot, charged in upon the British
left, and bore down all resistance. The whole of Fraser's brigade then
gave way, and retired in confusion; Burton's men, on the right, already
hardly pressed, soon followed; all the artillery was lost; and, had it
not been for the firm front presented by the 15th and 58th, the disaster
might have proved irreparable. Even as it was, the carnage was almost
unexampled in proportion to the numbers engaged: Murray left no less
than 300 dead upon the field, and upward of 700 more of his men were
wounded.[196]
The triumph of the French was sullied by unusual cruelty to their
gallant but unfortunate foes. Quarter was in vain asked by some of the
British officers: four of them, being conducted to the officers of the
Regiment of La Sarre, were received with a wave of the hand, and
"Allez-vous-en," which speedily decided their bloody fate. Of the great
number of wounded Englishmen who were unavoidably abandoned in the
retreat, twenty-eight only were sent to the hospitals; the rest were
given up to glut the rage of the Indians. Murray's artillery, and the
steady fire of his veterans, caused the French to purchase victory at a
very heavy cost: by their own computation, 1800 of their men were killed
and wounded.
De Levi followed up his success by intrenching himself before the city
and preparing for the siege. Murray was not idle. No more than 2200 of
the British troops were now fit for duty; but even the wounded assisted
as far as they were able; nearly 600 men, unable to walk without
crutches, seated themselves on the ramparts, made sand-bags for the
works, and cartridges for the cannon. The women were also active in
tending the wounded, and cooking rations for the soldiers, who were now
too much occupied to perform those offices for themselves. By
unremitting exertion, 132 guns were soon mounted on the ramparts; and,
as many of the Infantry had during the winter been trained by the
artillerymen, Murray was enabled to keep up a fire which altogether
overpowered that of the French.
But the hopes of the besieged rested alone for final delivery on the
arrival of the fleet. On the 9th of May the Leostoffe frigate rounded
the headland of Point Levi, and stood over for the city. For a time an
intense anxiety reigned in both armies, as the French also expected a
squadron with supplies. At length, when the red-cross flag ran up to
the mizen peak of the strange ship, and a boat put off for the Lower
Town, the joy of the garrison knew no bounds; officers and soldiers
together mounted the parapets in the face of the enemy, and for nearly
an hour together made the air ring with hearty British cheers. On the
16th, Commodore Swainton arrived with the Vanguard and the Diana
frigate; the next day he passed the town, and destroyed or captured the
whole of the French armament upon the river.[197]
De Levi, upon this, raised the siege with inglorious haste. His camp,
guns, ammunition, stores, provisions, and intrenching tools were all
abandoned, and his retreat was almost a flight. Murray pushed out his
Grenadiers and Light Infantry in pursuit, and succeeded in taking some
of the rear guard prisoners. The French then took up their old quarters
at Jacques Cartier. This attempt upon Quebec, the results of which were
so disproportionate to the means employed, was called by the Canadians
"De Levi's folly."
Although the siege of Quebec lasted but a short time, it gave
opportunity to the French officers of departments to indulge in enormous
peculation.[198] The public money was squandered with the utmost
profusion and with the most unblushing dishonesty. False estimates were
authorized by the engineers, and paid by the intendant at Montreal.
Among other charges against the French government was put forward a bill
for 300,000 moccasins for the Indians; the infamous Cadet managed this
contract himself, in the name of his clerk, and charged the crown no
less than 300,000 livres for the fraudulent supply. Large stores were
constantly furnished to the army, the greater part of which became the
property of the contractors, and was resold by them to the government at
an exorbitant rate: meanwhile the soldiers were miserably supplied, and
the people almost perishing with want.
But this reign of peculation and oppression was fast drawing to a close.
The successful action at Sillery was "Fortune's parting smile" upon the
French in Canada. On the 3d of May, General, now Sir Jeffery Amherst,
the commander-in-chief, embarked at New York and proceeded to
Schenectady; from thence, with part of his army, he pursued his route to
Oswego, where he encamped on the 9th of July. General Gage and the rest
of the force was ordered to follow with all diligence: accordingly, they
also reached Oswego on the 22d, and Sir William Johnson, with his
Indians, arrived the following day. In the mean time, Captain Loring, of
the navy, with two armed vessels, had cleared the Lake Ontario of the
French cruisers, and driven them for refuge to the beautiful labyrinth
of the "Thousand Isles."
Amherst's army, now assembled on the shores of Lake Ontario, consisted
of a detachment of the Royal Artillery, six complete battalions and
thirteen companies of regular troops, a corps of Grenadiers, and another
of Light Infantry, with some Rangers, and eight battalions of
Provincials, in all 10,142 men of all ranks; Johnson's Indians numbered
706.
The plan of the campaign was again founded on combined movements. The
general-in-chief, warned by the untoward delays which he had experienced
in the preceding year, himself chose to descend upon the enemy's capital
by Lake Ontario and the Upper St. Lawrence, leaving the route of Lake
Champlain to Colonel Haviland, with a force of some artillery, 1500
regular troops, 1800 Provincials, and a few Indians, which were
assembled at Crown Point. At the same time, Murray, with the disposable
portion of the gallant garrison of Quebec, aided by Lord Rollo and two
battalions from Louisburg, was to push up the St. Lawrence, and, if
possible, meet the other two corps under the general-in-chief and
Haviland on the island of Montreal. Their movements were as follows:
Amherst embarked the grenadiers and light troops, with a battalion of
Highlanders, on the 7th of August, and dispatched them, under Colonel
Haldimand, to take post at that end of Lake Ontario from whence issues
the River St. Lawrence. On the 10th, he himself, with the artillery, the
remainder of the regular troops, and the Indians, followed in
whale-boats. The Provincials, under Gage, joined the flotilla on the
12th, and the following day the whole army reached La Galette, on the
banks of the Great River. They then dropped down the stream to Isle
Royale without any occurrence worth record, except the gallant capture
of an armed vessel by Colonel Williamson with a detachment of troops in
row-boats.
Upon Isle Royale there was a French post of some strength, called Fort
Levi, which Amherst determined to subdue, partly because he was
unwilling to leave an enemy in his rear, but principally because among
the little garrison were several men well skilled in the dangerous
navigation of the St. Lawrence, whose services might prove of great
value to the expedition; accordingly, the fort was completely invested
by the 20th. On the 23d the British batteries were in readiness, and the
armed vessels placed in a favorable position, while a detachment of
grenadiers with scaling-ladders were told off to storm the works. A
cannonade was opened upon the fort; but the gallant little garrison
returned the fire with such spirit, that one of the British vessels
which had got aground was obliged to strike her colors, and was
abandoned by her crew. Amherst, astonished at this vigorous resistance,
deferred his contemplated assault to another day. The delay proved
fortunate in preventing further bloodshed; for M. Pouchot, the French
commandant, seeing that there was no hope of a successful defense,
surrendered at discretion on the 25th.
When the fort was delivered up, a circumstance occurred which reflects
far more honor upon Englishmen than the triumph of their arms. Johnson's
Indians had secretly determined to seize their opportunity of vengeance,
and to massacre the gallant band of Frenchmen as soon as they gained
admission within the works. Happily, Amherst was made aware of this
atrocious scheme. He immediately gave orders to Sir William to dissuade
the savages, if possible, from their intention; at the same time, he
promised them all the stores which might be found in the fort, and
warned them that if they persisted he would restrain them by force. The
Indians sullenly submitted and returned to their camp, but they bitterly
resented the interference, and Johnson informed the general that they
would probably quit the army in anger. Amherst answered, "Although I
wish to retain their friendship, I will not purchase it at the expense
of countenancing barbarity; and tell them that, if they commit any acts
of cruelty on their return home from the army, I will assuredly chastise
them." Amherst lost his Indians, but he preserved his honor. Nearly all
abandoned him; they did not, however, dare to perpetrate any violence on
their way home.
The British leveled the works at Fort Levi, and continued their route
down the stream with little difficulty till they reached the dangerous
passage of the Cedars. About noon on the 4th of September the van of the
army entered the rapids. Here the vast flood of the St. Lawrence dashes
swiftly through a comparatively narrow channel; broken rocks, eddies,
and surging waves render the appearance of this navigation terrible to
the unaccustomed eye, but under the guidance of experienced pilots light
boats constantly pass with little or no danger. Amherst expected that
the enemy would have opposed him at this critical point; he therefore
did not deem it prudent to permit the boats to descend in the successive
order which would have best suited the navigation, but, himself leading
the way, he ordered on a number of boats filled with artillery,
grenadiers, and light infantry at the same time. Scarcely had they
entered the boisterous waters when the boats became crowded together;
some were stove in against each other, and many were dashed to pieces
upon the rocks. No less than eighty-eight men and sixty-four boats, with
some artillery and stores, were lost by this lamentable disaster.
On the 6th of September the British army landed on the island of
Montreal, nine miles from the town; the French retired before them
within the walls, and the same evening the place was invested in form.
In pursuance of the plan of the campaign, Murray had sailed from Quebec
on the 14th of June, to co-operate with the expeditions under Amherst
and Haviland. His army consisted of 2450 men of all ranks, the veterans
who had conquered under Wolfe. His voyage up the river was an almost
continuous skirmish. Whenever his vessels approached the shore, they
were assailed with musketry, and by cannon at all suitable points;
however, he met with no resistance of a nature materially to delay his
progress. On the 8th of August the fleet passed Three Rivers, and on the
12th anchored opposite to Sorel, where M. de Bourlemaque was posted with
about 4000 men. Here Murray judged it prudent to await Lord Rollo with
the regiment from Louisburg, and, being joined by this re-enforcement,
he again sailed upward on the 27th. On the 7th of September the troops
were disembarked upon the island of Montreal, and on the following day
they encamped to the northeast of the city. M. de Bourlemaque had
retired before them within the walls.
Colonel Haviland embarked upon Lake Champlain on the 11th of August; on
the 16th he encamped opposite the French port at Isle aux Noix, and by
the 24th opened a fire of mortars upon it. On the night of the 27th, M.
de Bougainville, the commandant, retired from the fort, leaving a
garrison of only thirty men, who surrendered the next morning. Without
any further interruption, Haviland also arrived upon the island of
Montreal by the 8th of September. A British force of 16,000 men was then
assembled under the walls of the defenseless city. On the same day the
Marquis de Vaudreuil signed the capitulation which severed Canada from
France forever.
All Canada was included in this capitulation, from the fishing stations
on the coast of the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the unknown wilderness of
the West. The regular troops were permitted to march out from their
several posts with the honors of war, and were then conveyed to France
in British ships, under an engagement that they were not again to serve
before the conclusion of the first peace. The Provincial militia were
allowed to return unmolested to their homes. The free exercise of
religion was granted, and private property was held sacred. All the
civil officers were also conveyed to France, with their families,
baggage, and papers, except such of the latter as might be deemed useful
to the conquerors for the future government of the country. The French
colonists were guaranteed the same civil and commercial privileges as
British subjects, and were to be allowed to retain their slaves. The
Indians who had supported the cause of France were to be unmolested in
person, and the possession of their lands was secured to them.
The total effective force of the French included in the capitulation was
eight battalions of the line, and two of the colony or marine, being
4011 regular troops; sixty-four companies of the Quebec militia, 7976;
nineteen of Three Rivers, 1115, and eighty-seven of Montreal, 7331;
altogether, 20,433 men. The French had destroyed all their colors, but
the English regained possession of two of their own, which had been
taken from Shirley's and Pepperel's Provincial regiments at the capture
of Oswego.
Although the campaign of 1760 was unmarked by many events of stirring
interest, its conduct was most creditable to the officers and men of the
British army. Amherst's plans were as ably executed as they were
judiciously conceived. By descending the St. Lawrence from Ontario, he
rendered it impossible for the French to retire westward from Montreal,
and to prolong the war on the shores of the great lakes. His
combinations were arranged with admirable accuracy, and carried out by
his lieutenants with almost unparalleled success. With scarcely any
loss, three considerable bodies of troops had accomplished journeys of
uncommon difficulty, by routes of dangerous and almost unknown
navigation, in the face of a vigilant and still formidable enemy, and
all three had arrived at the place of meeting within forty-eight hours
of each other.
While we dwell with pleasure upon the achievements of this British army
and of their generals, we may not forget the merits of the gallant men
against whom they fought. With a noble patriotism that no neglect could
damp, Montcalm and his veterans strove for the honor of their country.
From first to last they persevered almost against hope; destitute, and
well-nigh deserted by France, they never for a moment wavered in their
loyalty; all that skill could accomplish, they accomplished; all that
devotion could endure, they endured; and all that chivalry could dare,
they dared. In these later times, when the intoxication of triumph and
the sting of defeat have long since passed away, the soldiers of France
and England may alike look back with honest pride to the brave deeds of
their ancestors in the Canadian war.
* * * * *
One of the most momentous political questions that has ever yet moved
the human race was decided in this struggle. When a few English and
French emigrants first landed among the Virginian and Canadian forests,
it began; when the British flag was hoisted on the citadel of Quebec, it
was decided. From that day the hand of Providence pointed out to the
Anglo-Saxon race that to them was henceforth intrusted the destiny of
the New World.
[Footnote 196: "Who the deuse was thinking of Quebec? America was like a
book one has read and done with, or, at least, if one looked at the
book, one just recollected that there was a supplement promised, to
contain a chapter on Montreal, the starving and surrender of it; but
here we are on a sudden reading our book backward. An account came two
days ago that the French, on their march to besiege Quebec, had been
attacked by General Murray, who got into a mistake and a morass,
attacked two bodies that were joined when he hoped to come up with one
of them before he was inclosed, embogged, and defeated. By the list of
officers killed and wounded, I believe there has been a rueful
slaughter, and the place, I suppose, will be retaken."--Walpole's
_Letters to Sir H. Mann_, June 20th, 1760.]
[Footnote 197: "The Pomona, one of the French frigates, was driven on
shore above Cape Diamond; the other frigate, the Atalanta, ran ashore,
and was burned at Point aux Trembles."--_Gentleman's Magazine_, vol.
xxx., p. 297.]
[Footnote 198: "Pour comble de malheur, on accusait des plus horribles
brigandages presque tous ceux qui etaient employes au nom du roi dans
cette malheureuse colonie. Ils ont ete juges au Chatelet de Paris,
tandis que le Parlement informait contre Lalli, 1764. Celui-ci, apres
avoir cent fois expose sa vie, l'a perdue par la main d'un bourreau,
tandis que les concussionnaires du Canada n'ont ete condamnes qu'a des
restitutions et des amendes: tant il est de difference entre les
affaires qui semblent les memes."--Voltaire's _Precis du Siecle de Louis
XV._, p. 291.]
APPENDIX.
No. I.
"GENEVA, NOV. 6.--Two days after the news arrived here of the taking of
Quebec, Monsieur de Voltaire gave a grand entertainment at his house in
the country. In the evening the company retired into a noble gallery, at
the end of which was erected an elegant theater, and a new piece, called
Le Patriot Insulaire, was performed, in which all the genius and fire of
that celebrated poet were exhausted in the cause of liberty. M. de
Voltaire himself appeared in the principal character, and drew tears
from the whole audience. The scenes were decorated with emblems of
liberty, and over the stage was this inscription in Latin and English:
'Libertati quieti
Musis Sacrum
S P of the F.'
The English line means 'Spite of the French.'
"After the play the windows of the gallery flew open, and presented a
spacious court finely illuminated and adorned with savage trophies. In
the middle of the court a magnificent fire-work was played off,
accompanied with martial music; the star of St. George shedding forth
innumerable rockets, and underneath a lively representation, by
girandoles, of the cataract of Niagara."--_Public Advertiser_, Nov. 23,
1759.
No. II.
"One of the most singular geographical illusions on record is that which
for a long while haunted the imaginations of the inhabitants of the
Canaries. They fancied they beheld a mountainous island, of about ninety
leagues in length, lying far to the westward. It was only seen at
intervals, though in perfectly clear and serene weather. To some it
seemed one hundred leagues distant, to others forty, to others only
fifteen or eighteen.[199]
"On attempting to reach it, however, it somehow or other eluded the
search, and was nowhere to be found. Still, there were so many persons
of credibility who concurred in testifying to their having seen it, and
the testimony of the inhabitants of different islands agreed so well as
to its form and position, that its existence was generally believed;
and geographers inserted it in their maps. It is laid down on the globe
of Martin Behrm, projected in 1492, as delineated by M. de Murr, and it
will be found in most of the maps of the time of Columbus, placed
commonly about 200 leagues west of the Canaries. During the time that
Columbus was making his proposition to the court of Portugal, an
inhabitant of the Canaries applied to King John II. for a vessel to go
in search of this island. In the archives of the Torre di Tombo,[200]
also, there is a record of a contract made by the crown of Portugal with
Fernando de Ulmo, cavalier of the royal household, and captain of the
Island of Terceira, wherein he undertakes to go, at his own expense, in
quest of an island, or islands, or terra firma, supposed to be the
Island of the Seven Cities, on condition of having jurisdiction over the
same for himself and his heirs, allowing one tenth of the revenues to
the king. This Ulmo, finding the expedition above his capacity,
associated one Juan Alphonso del Estreito in the enterprise. They were
bound to be ready to sail with two caravels in the month of March,
1487.[201] The fate of their enterprise is unknown.
"The name of St. Brandan, or Borondan, given to this imaginary island
from time immemorial, is said to be derived from a Scotch abbot, who
flourished in the sixth century, and who is called sometimes by the
foregoing appellations, sometimes St. Blandano or St. Blandanus. In the
Martyrology of the order of St. Augustine, he is said to have been the
patriarch of 3000 monks. About the middle of the sixth century, he
accompanied his disciple, St. Maclovio or St. Malo, in search of certain
islands, possessing the delights of paradise, which they were told
existed in the midst of the ocean, and were inhabited by infidels. After
these most adventurous saints-errant had wandered for a long time upon
the ocean, they at length landed upon an island called Ima. Here St.
Malo found the body of a giant lying in a sepulcher. He resuscitated
him, and had much interesting conversation with him, the giant informing
him that the inhabitants of that island had some notions of the Trinity,
and, moreover, giving him an account of the torments which Jews and
pagans suffered in the infernal regions. Finding the giant so docile and
reasonable, St. Malo expounded to him the doctrines of the Christian
religion, converted him, and baptized him by the name of Mildum. The
giant, however, either through weariness of life, or eagerness to enjoy
the benefits of his conversion, begged permission, at the end of fifteen
days, to die again, which was granted him.
"According to another account, the giant told them he knew of an island
in the ocean, defended by walls of burnished gold, so resplendent that
they shone like crystal, but to which there was no entrance. At their
request he undertook to guide them to it, and, taking the cable of their
ship, threw himself into the sea. He had not proceeded far, however,
when a tempest arose and obliged them all to return, and shortly after
the giant died.[202] A third legend makes the saint pray to Heaven, on
Easter day, that they may be permitted to find land where they may
celebrate the offices of religion with becoming state: an island
immediately appears, on which they land, perform a solemn mass, and the
sacrament of the Eucharist; after which, reembarking and making sail,
they behold to their astonishment the supposed island suddenly plunge to
the bottom of the sea, being nothing else than a monstrous _whale_.[203]
When the rumor circulated of an island seen from the Canaries, which
always eluded the search, the legends of St. Brandan were revived, and
applied to this unapproachable land. We are told, also, that there was
an ancient Latin manuscript in the archives of the cathedral church of
the Grand Canary in which the adventures of these saints were recorded.
Through carelessness, however, this manuscript disappeared.[204] Some
have maintained that this island was known to the ancients, and was the
same mentioned by Ptolemy among the Fortunate or Canary Islands by the
name of Aprositus,[205] a Greek word signifying 'inaccessible,' and
which, according to Friar Diego Philipo, in his book on the Incarnation
of Christ, shows that it possessed the same quality in ancient times of
deluding the eye, and being unattainable to the feet of mortals.[206]
But, whatever belief the ancients may have had on the subject, it is
certain that it took a strong hold on the faith of the moderns during
the prevalent rage for discovery; nor did it lack abundant testimonials.
Don Joseph de Viera y Clavijo says there never was a more difficult
paradox or problem in the science of geography, since to affirm the
existence of this island is to trample upon sound criticism, judgment,
and reason, and to deny it, one must abandon tradition and experience,
and suppose that many persons of credit had not the proper use of their
senses.[207]
"The belief in this island has continued long since the time of
Columbus. It was repeatedly seen, and by various persons at a time,
always in the same place and the same form. In 1626, an expedition set
off for the Canaries in quest of it, commanded by Fernando de Troya and
Fernando Alvarez. They cruised in the wonted direction, but in vain; and
their failure ought to have undeceived the public. 'The phantasm of the
island, however,' says Viera, 'had such a secret enchantment for all who
beheld it, that the public preferred doubting the good conduct of the
explorers than their own senses.' In 1570 the appearances were so
repeated and clear, that there was a universal fever of curiosity
awakened among the people of the Canaries, and it was determined to send
forth another expedition. That they might not appear to act upon light
grounds, an exact investigation was previously made of all the persons
of talent and credibility who had seen these apparitions of land, or who
had other proofs of its existence.
"Alonzode Espinosa, governor of the island of Ferro, accordingly made a
report, in which more than one hundred witnesses, several of them
persons of the highest respectability, deposed that they had beheld the
unknown island about forty leagues to the northwest of Ferro; that they
had contemplated it with calmness and certainty, and had seen the sun
set behind one of its points.
"Testimonials of still greater force came from the islands of Palma and
Teneriffe. There were certain Portuguese who affirmed that, being driven
about by a tempest, they had come upon the island of St. Borondon. Pedro
Vello, who was the pilot of the vessel, asserted that, having anchored
in a bay, he landed with several of the crew. They drank fresh water in
a brook, and beheld in the sand the print of footsteps, double the size
of those of an ordinary man, and the distance between them was in
proportion. They found a cross nailed to a neighboring tree, near to
which were three stones placed in form of a triangle, with signs of fire
having been made among them, probably to cook shell-fish. Having seen
much cattle and sheep grazing in the neighborhood, two of their party,
armed with lances, went into the woods in pursuit of them. The night was
approaching, the heavens began to lower, and a harsh wind arose. The
people on board the ship cried out that she was dragging her anchor,
whereupon Vello entered the boat and hurried on board. In an instant
they lost sight of land, being, as it were, swept away in the hurricane.
When the storm had passed away, and sea and sky were again serene, they
searched in vain for the island; not a trace of it was to be seen, and
they had to pursue their voyage, lamenting the loss of their two
companions who had been abandoned in the wood.[208]
"A learned licentiate, Pedro Ortez de Funez, inquisitor of the Grand
Canary, while on a visit at Teneriffe, summoned several persons before
him who testified having seen the island. Among them was one Marcos
Verde, a man well known in those parts. He stated that, in returning
from Barbary, and arriving in the neighborhood of the Canaries, he
beheld land, which, according to his maps and calculations, could not be
any of the known islands. He concluded it to be the far-famed St.
Borondon. Overjoyed at having discovered this land of mystery, he
coasted along its spell-bound shores until he anchored in a beautiful
harbor, formed by the mouth of a mountain ravine. Here he landed with
several of his crew. 'It was now,' he said, 'the hour of Ave Maria, or
of vespers. The sun being set, the shadows began to spread over the
land. The navigators, having separated, wandered about in different
directions, until out of hearing of each other's shouts. Those on board,
seeing the night approaching, made signals to summon back the wanderers
to the ship. They re-embarked, intending to resume their investigations
on the following day. Scarcely were they on board, however, when a
whirlwind came rushing down the ravine with such violence as to drag the
vessel from her anchor and hurry her out to sea, and they never saw any
thing more of this hidden and inhospitable island.'
"Another testimony remains on record in a manuscript of one Abreu
Galindo, but whether taken at this time does not appear. It was that of
a French adventurer, who, many years before, making a voyage among the
Canaries, was overtaken by a violent storm, which carried away his
masts. At length the furious winds drove him to the shores of an unknown
island covered with stately trees. Here he landed with part of his crew,
and, choosing a tree proper for a mast, cut it down, and began to shape
it for his purpose. The guardian power of the island, however, resented,
as usual, this invasion of his forbidden shores. The heavens assumed a
dark and threatening aspect; the night was approaching; and the
mariners, fearing some impending evil, abandoned their labor, and
returned on board. They were borne away, as usual, from the coast, and
the next day arrived at the island of Palma.[209]
"The mass of testimony collected by official authority in 1570 seemed so
satisfactory that another expedition was fitted out in the same year in
the island of Palma. It was commanded by Fernando de Villalobos, regidor
of the island, but was equally fruitless with the preceding. St.
Borondon seemed disposed only to tantalize the world with distant and
serene glimpses of his ideal paradise, or to reveal it amid storms to
tempest-tossed mariners, but to hide it completely from the view of all
who diligently sought it. Still, the people of Palma adhered to their
favorite chimera. Thirty-four years afterward, in 1605, they sent
another ship on the quest, commanded by Gaspar Perez de Acosta, an
accomplished pilot, accompanied by the Padre Lorenzo Pinedo, a holy
Franciscan friar, skilled in natural science. San Borondon, however,
refused to reveal his island to either monk or mariner. After cruising
about in every direction, sounding, observing the skies, the clouds, the
winds, every thing that could furnish indications, they returned without
having seen any thing to authorize a hope.
"Upward of a century now elapsed without any new attempt to seek this
fairy island. Every now and then, it is true, the public mind was
agitated by fresh reports of its having been seen. Lemons and other
fruits, and the green branches of trees, which floated to the shores of
Gomara and Ferro, were pronounced to be from the enchanted groves of San
Borondon. At length, in 1721, the public infatuation again rose to such
a height that a fourth expedition was sent, commanded by Don Gaspar
Dominguez, a man of probity and talent. As this was an expedition of
solemn and mysterious import, he had two holy friars as apostolical
chaplains. They made sail from the island of Teneriffe toward the end of
October, leaving the populace in an indescribable state of anxious
curiosity. The ship, however, returned from its cruise as unsuccessful
as all its predecessors.
"We have no account of any expedition being since undertaken, though the
island still continued to be a subject of speculation, and occasionally
to reveal its shadowy mountains to the eyes of favored individuals. In a
letter written from the island of Gomara, 1759, by a Franciscan monk to
one of his friends, he relates having seen it from the village of
Alaxera, at six in the morning of the third of May. It appeared to
consist of two lofty mountains, with a deep valley between, and on
contemplating it with a telescope, the valley or ravine appeared to be
filled with trees. He summoned the curate, Antonio Joseph Manrique, and
upward of forty other persons, all of whom beheld it plainly.[210]
"Nor is this island delineated merely in ancient maps of the time of
Columbus. It is laid down as one of the Canary Islands in a French map
published in 1704; and Mons. Gautier, in a geographical chart annexed to
his Observations on Natural History, published in 1759, places it five
degrees to the west of the Island of Ferro, in the 29th degree of north
latitude.[211]
"Such are the principal facts existing relative to the island of St.
Brandan. Its reality was for a long time a matter of firm belief. It was
in vain that repeated voyages and investigations proved its
non-existence: the public, after trying all kinds of sophistry, took
refuge in the supernatural to defend their favorite chimera. They
maintained that it was rendered inaccessible to mortals by divine
providence or by diabolical magic. Most inclined to the former. All
kinds of extravagant fancies were indulged concerning it:[212] some
confounded it with the fabled island of the Seven Cities, situated
somewhere in the bosom of the ocean, where, in old times, seven bishops
and their followers had taken refuge from the Moors. Some of the
Portuguese imagined it to be the abode of their last king, Sebastian.
The Spaniards pretended that Roderic, the last of their Gothic kings,
had fled thither from the Moors after the disastrous battle of the
Guadalete. Others suggested that it might be the seat of the terrestrial
paradise--the place where Enoch and Eliiah remained in a slate of
blessedness until the final day; and that it was made at times apparent
to the eyes, but invisible to the search of mortals. Poetry, it is said,
has owed to this popular belief one of its beautiful fictions; and the
garden of Armida, where Rinaldo was detained enchanted, and which Tasso
places in one of the Canary Islands, has been identified with the
imaginary San Borondon.[213]
"The learned father Feyjoo[214] has given a philosophical solution to
this geographical problem. He attributes all these appearances, which
have been so numerous and so well authenticated as not to admit of
doubt, to certain atmospherical deceptions, like that of the Fata
Morgana, seen at times in the Straits of Messina, where the city of
Reggio and its surrounding country is reflected in the air above the
neighboring sea; a phenomenon which has likewise been witnessed in front
of the city of Marseilles. As to the tales of the mariners who had
landed on these forbidden shores, and been hurried from thence in
whirlwinds and tempests, he considers them as mere fabrications.
"As the populace, however, reluctantly give up any thing that partakes
of the marvelous and mysterious, and as the same atmospherical phenomena
which first gave birth to the illusion may still continue, it is not
improbable that a belief in the island of St. Brandan may still exist
among the ignorant and credulous of the Canaries, and that they at times
behold its fairy mountains rising above the distant horizon of the
Atlantic."--Washington Irving, _Life of Columbus_.
[Footnote 199: Feyjoo, _Theatro Critico_, tom. iv., ch. x., s. xx.]
[Footnote 200: Lib. iv. de la Chancelaria del Rey Don Juan II., fol.
101.]
[Footnote 201: Torre di Tombo, _Lib. das Yihas_, fol. 119.]
[Footnote 202: Fr. Gregorio Garcia, _Origen de los Indios_, lib. i.,
cap. ix.]
[Footnote 203: Sigeberto, _Epist. ad Fritmar Abbat._]
[Footnote 204: Nunez de la Pena, _Conquist. de la Gran Canaria_.]
[Footnote 205: Ptolemy, tom. iv., lib. iv.]
[Footnote 206: Fr. D. Philipo, lib. viii., fol. 25.]
[Footnote 207: _Hist. Isl. Can._, lib. i., cap. xxviii.]
[Footnote 208: Nunez de la Pena, lib. i., cap. i.; Viera, _Hist. Isl.
Can._, tom. i., cap. xxviii.]
[Footnote 209: Nunez, _Conquist. de la Gran Canaria_; Viera, _Hist. Isl.
Can._]
[Footnote 210: Viera, _Hist. Isl. Can._, lib. i., cap. xxvi.]
[Footnote 211: Id. ib., tom. i., cap. xxviii.]
[Footnote 212: Id. ib.]
[Footnote 213: Viera, _Hist. Isl. Can._]
[Footnote 214: _Theatro Critico_, tom. lv., d. x.]
No. III.
The following lines in Pulci's "Morgante Maggiore" afford probably the
most circumstantial prediction that is to be found of the existence of a
Western World. The devil, alluding to the vulgar superstition respecting
the Pillars of Hercules, thus addresses Rinaldo:
"Know that this theory is false; his bark
The daring mariner shall urge far o'er
The western wave, a smooth and level plain,
Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel.
Man was in ancient days of grosser mold,
And Hercules might blush to learn how far
Beyond the limits he had vainly set,
The dullest sea-bird soon shall wing her way.
Men shall descry another hemisphere,
Since to one common center all things tend.
So earth, by curious mystery divine,
Well-balanced hangs amid the starry spheres.
At our antipodes are cities, states,
And thronged empires, ne'er divined of yore.
But see, the sun speeds on his western path,
To glad the nations with expected light."
_Canto_ xxv., st. 229, 230.
Dante, two centuries before, had indicated more vaguely his belief in an
undiscovered quarter of the globe:
"De' vostri sensi, ch'e del rimanente
Non vogliate negar l'esperienza
Diretro al sol, del mondo senza gente."
_Inferno, Canto_ xxvi., st. 115.
The prophetic lines of Seneca are well known:
"Nil, qua fuerat sede, reliquit
Pervius orbis.
Indus gelidum potat Araxem,
Albim Persae, Rhenumque bibunt
Venient annis saecula seris
Quibus Oceanus vincula rerum
Laxet, et ingens pateat tellus,
Tethysque novos detegat orbes,
Nec sit terris ultima Thule."
_Medea_, Act II., v. 371, _et seq._ _Chorus in Fine._ Ed. Bip.
On which the learned Acosta remarks:
"Sed utrum divinarit Seneca, an fortuito ac temere cecinerit, quaeri
potest. Mihi vero divinasse videtur, sed eo genere divinationis, quod
prudentes viri familiare habent."
Acosta further on writes thus:
"Scribit Hieronymus in epistolam ad Ephesios--'Quaerirmus quoque quid
sit. In quibus aliquando ambulastis secundum saeculum sit mundi hujus
utrumnam et aliud quod non pertineat ad mundum istum, sed ad mundos
alios, de quibus et Clemens in epistola sua scribit, oceanus et mundi
qui transipsum sunt.'"--J. Acosta, Societatis Jesu, _De Natura Novi
Orbis_, lib. i., cap. xi.
"Lorsq' Alfonso V. permit en 1461 a Dom Henry de peupler les iles
Acores, on trouva en celle de Cuervo une statue representant un cavalier
qui, de la main gauche, tenoit la bride de son cheval, et de la droite
montroit l'occident, precisement du cote d'Amerique--on voyoit sur le
roc une inscription en caracteres inconnus, dont il seroit a souhaiter
qu'on eut pris soin d'aporter l'empreinte en Europe; mais ces premiers
navigateurs cherchoient des tresors et non des nouvelles
lumieres."--_Histoire de France_, par M. de Villaret, vol. xvi., p. 376.
No. IV.
The fable of Welsh Indians is of very old date. In the time of Sir
Walter Raleigh, a confused report was spread over England that on the
coast of Virginia the Welsh salutation had been heard; has, honi, iach.
Owen Chapelain relates that in 1669, by pronouncing some Celtic words,
he saved himself from the hands of the Indians of Tuscarora, by whom he
was on the point of being scalped. The same thing, it is pretended,
happened to Benjamin Beatty, in going from Virginia to Carolina. This
Beatty asserts that he found a whole Welsh tribe, who preserved the
tradition of the voyage of Madoc ap Owen, which took place in 1170. John
Filson, in his "History of Kentucky," has revived these tales of the
first travelers. According to him, Captain Abraham Chaplain saw Indians
arrive at the post of Kaskasky, and converse in the Welsh language with
some soldiers, who were natives of Wales. Captain Isaac Stewart asserts
that on the Red River of Natchitoches, at the distance of 700 miles
above its mouth, in the Mississippi, he discovered Indians with a fair
skin and red hair, who conversed in Welsh, and possessed the titles of
their origin. "They produced, in proof of what they said of their
arrival on the eastern coast, rolls of parchment, carefully wrapped up
in otter skins, and on which great characters were written in blue,
which neither Stewart, nor his fellow-traveler, Davey, a native of
Wales, could decipher." We may observe, first, that all these
testimonies are extremely vague for the indication of places. The last
letter of Mr. Owen, repeated in the journals of Europe (of the 11th
February, 1819), places the posts of the Welsh Indians on the Madwaga,
and divides them into two tribes, the Brydones and the Chadogians. "They
speak Welsh with greater purity than it is spoken in the principality of
Wales(!), since it is exempt from Anglicisms; they profess Christianity,
strongly mixed with Druidism." We can not read such assertions without
recollecting that all those fabulous stories which flatter the
imagination are renewed periodically under new forms. The learned and
judicious geographer of the United States, Mr. Warden, inquires justly,
why all the traces of Welsh colonies and the Celtic tongue have
disappeared, since less credulous travelers, and who, in some sort,
control one another, have visited the country situated between the Ohio
and the Rocky Mountains. Mackenzie, Barton, Clarke, Lewis, Pike, Drake,
Mitchill, and the editors of the "New Archaeologia Americana," have found
nothing, absolutely nothing, which denotes the remains of European
colonies of the 12th century.--Humboldt's _Personal Narrative_, vol.
vi., p. 326. See Hakluyt, vol. iii., p. 1; Powell's _History of Wales_,
p. 196, &c.
Lord Lyttleton, in his notes to the 5th book of his "History of Henry
II.," p. 371, has invalidated the story of Madoc's discoveries by
arguments of great weight; and Mr. Pennant, in "Philosophical
Transactions," vol. lviii., p. 91, has overthrown many of the arguments
upon which the existence of a Welsh settlement among the Indians was
founded. General Bowles, the Cherokee, was questioned when in England as
to the locality of the supposed descendants of Madoc: he laid his finger
on one of the branches of the Missouri. Pike's "Travels" had lessened
the probability of finding such a tribe; and Lewis and Clarke's "Travels
to the Source of the Missouri" have entirely destroyed it, as
acknowledged by Mr. Southey in his "Madoc."--See note to the Preface of
_Madoc_.
"It is much to be wished, that in our days, when a healthy tone of
criticism is very much in use, without assuming a scornful character,
the ancient inquiries of Powell ('Powell's History of Wales,' p. 196)
and Richard Hakluyt ('Voyages and Navigations,' vol. iii., p. 4) might
again be taken up in England. I do not participate in the notion of
rejecting inquiries, by which the traditions of nations are frequently
observed; I prefer much to hold the firm conviction that, with more
diligence and perseverance, many of the historical problems which have
hitherto remained unknown to us will one day be cleared up by actual
discoveries."--Humboldt's _Cosmos_, vol. ii., p. 456.
By some antiquarians traces have been supposed to have been found of the
discovery of America by the Irish before the year 1000. The Esquimaux
related to the Normans who were settled in Winland, that further
southward, on the other side of Chesapeake Bay, there dwelt "white men,
who walked about in long white clothes, before them sticks to which
white cloths were attached, and crying with a loud voice." This account
was interpreted by the Christian Normans to signify processions, in
which they carried flags and sang hymns. In the oldest traditions, and
in the historical narrative of Thorfinn Karlsefue, and the Iceland
Landnama Book, these southern coasts, between Virginia and Florida, are
indicated by the name of "Whiteman's Land." They were, in the country
itself, certainly called "Great Ireland" (Irland it Mikla), and it was
supposed that they were peopled by the Irish. According to testimony
extending as far back as the year 1064, before Leif discovered Winland,
Ari Marsson, of the powerful Iceland race of Ulf, on a voyage southward
from Iceland, was driven by a storm upon the coasts of "Great Ireland,"
and there baptized as a Christian, and not being allowed to go away, was
subsequently recognized there by people from the Orkneys and Iceland. It
is the present opinion of some northern antiquarians that Iceland was
not peopled immediately from Europe, but from Virginia and Carolina
(that is, from Great Ireland), by the Irish, who had early migrated to
America.... The assiduous attempt to diffuse religious doctrines paved
the way, at one time, for warlike undertakings, at another for the
spread of peaceful ideas and commercial intercourse. The zeal which is
so peculiar to the religions systems of India, Palestine, and Arabia,
and which is altogether free from the indifference of Grecian and Roman
polytheism, kept alive the study of geography in the first half of the
Middle Ages. Letronne, the commentator of the Irish monk Dicuil, has
proved, in an acute way, that after the Irish missionaries were driven
out of the Faeroee Islands by the Normans, they began to visit Iceland
about the year 795. The Normans, when they came to Iceland, found there
Irish books, bells for ringing for mass, and other objects, which former
strangers, who were called Papar, had left behind. These Papae (fathers)
were the Clerici of Dicuil. Now if, as we must suppose from his
testimony, those objects belonged to the Irish monks, who came from the
Faeroee Islands, the question is, why are the monks (Papar) called in
their native traditions "Westmen"--men who have come from the west over
the sea? Respecting the connection of Prince Madoc's voyage to a great
western country in 1170, with the "Great Ireland" of the Iceland
traditions, all accounts are enveloped in deep obscurity. Compare the
inquiries in _Rafn Antiq. Amer._, p. 203, 206, 446, 451; and Wilhelmi
upon Iceland, _Hvitramannaland_, the Land of White Men, p. 75, 81;
Letronne, _Recherches Geog. et Crit. sur le Livre de Mensura Orbis
Terrae, compose en Irelande par Dicuil_, 1814, p. 129, 146.
The celebrated stone of Taunton River may date its hieroglyphics from
the time that Norwegian navigators visited the shores of "Great
Ireland." "Anglo-American antiquaries have made known an inscription,
supposed to be Phoenician, and which is engraved on the rocks of
Dighton, near the banks of Taunton River, twelve leagues south of
Boston.... The natives who inhabited these countries at the time of the
first European settlements preserved an ancient tradition, according to
which strangers in wooden houses had sailed up Taunton River, formerly
called Assoonet. These strangers, having conquered the red men, had
engraved marks on the rock, which is now covered by the waters of the
river. Count de Gebelin does not hesitate, with the learned Dr. Stiles,
to regard these marks as a Carthaginian inscription. He says, with that
enthusiasm which is natural to him, but which is highly injurious in
discussions of this kind, that this inscription comes happily at the
moment from the New World to confirm his ideas on the origin of nations,
and that it is clearly demonstrated to be a Phoenician monument, a
picture which in the foreground represents an alliance between the
American people and the foreign nation, coming by the winds of the north
from a rich and industrious country. I have carefully examined the four
drawings of the celebrated stone of Taunton River, which M. Loot
published in England in the Memoirs of the Antiquarian Society."
(_Archaeologia_, vol. viii., p. 296.) "Far from recognizing a symmetrical
arrangement of simple letters and syllabic characters, I discover a
drawing scarcely traced, like those that have been found on the rocks of
Norway, and in almost all the countries inhabited by the Scandinavian
nations." (Suhm, _Samlinger til ten Danske Historic_, b. ii., p. 215.)
"In the sketch we distinguish, from the form of the heads, five human
figures surrounding an animal with horns, much higher in the fore than
in the hind part of the body."--Humboldt's _Researches in America_, vol.
i., p. 153.
No. V.
"The great and splendid work of Marco Polo (Il Milione di Messer Marco
Polo), as we see in the corrected edition of Count Baldelli, is wrongly
called a book of travels: it is chiefly a descriptive, and, we may add,
a statistical work, in which it is difficult to distinguish what the
traveler himself saw and what he derived from others, or gathered from
the topographical descriptions which are so plenty in Chinese
literature, and which he had an opportunity of attaining through his
Persian interpreter. The striking similarity of the report of the
travels of Hinan-tschang, the Buddhist pilgrim of the seventh century,
with that of Marco Polo, of the Pamir Highlands, in 1277, early
attracted my attention.... However much the more recent travelers have
been inclined to enter into an account of their own personal adventures,
Marco Polo, on the other hand, endeavors to mix up his own observations
with the official accounts communicated to him, which were probably
numerous, as he held the post of governor of the town of Zangui. The
plan of compiling adopted by the famous traveler renders it intelligible
how he was able to dictate his book to his fellow-prisoner and friend,
Messer Rustigielo, of Pisa, from the documents before him, while in
prison in Genoa in 1295."--Humboldt's _Cosmos_, vol. ii., p. 400.
Humboldt elsewhere says, that "it has frequently been supposed, and
declared with remarkable decision, that the truthful Marco Polo had a
great influence upon Columbus, and even that he was in possession of a
copy of Marco Polo's work upon his first voyage of discovery."--Navarrete,
_Collecion de los Viajos y Descubrimientos que hicieron por mar los
Espanoles_, vol. i., p. 261.
Marco Polo is called by Malte Brun "the creator of modern Oriental
geography--the Humboldt of the thirteenth century."
"The work of Marco Polo is stated by some to have been originally
written in Latin, though the most probable opinion is that it was
written in Italian. Copies of it in manuscript were multiplied, and
rapidly circulated; translations were made into various languages, until
the invention of printing enabled it to be widely diffused throughout
Europe. In the course of these translations and successive editions, the
original text, according to Purchas, has been much vitiated, and it is
probable many extravagances in numbers and measurements with which Marco
Polo is charged may be the errors of translators and printers. Francis
Pepin, author of the Brandenburgh version, styles Polo a man commendable
for his devoutness, prudence, and fidelity. Athanasius Kircher, in his
account of China, says that none of the ancients have described the
kingdoms of the remote parts of the East with more exactness. Various
other learned men have borne testimony to his character, and most of the
substantial points of his work have been authenticated by subsequent
travelers. It is manifest, however, that he dealt much in exaggeration.
The historical part of his work is full of errors and fables. He
confuses the names of places, is very inexact as to distances, and gives
no latitude of the places he visited."--Washington Irving's _Columbus_,
vol. iv., p. 294.
Marco Polo returned from Tartary to his native city, Venice, in 1295,
having pursued his mercantile peregrinations in Asia upward of
twenty-six years.
No. VI.
"Sir John Mandeville was born in the town of St. Alban's. He was devoted
to study from his earliest childhood, and, after finishing his general
education, applied himself to medicine. He left England in 1332, and,
according to his own account, visited Turkey, Armenia, Egypt, Upper and
Lower Libya, Syria, Persia, Chaldea, Ethiopia, Tartary, Amazonia, and
the Indies, residing in their principal cities. He wrote a history of
his travels in three languages, English, French, and Latin. The
descriptions given by Mandeville of the Grand Khan, of the province of
Cathay, and the city of Camhalee, are scarcely less extravagant than
those of Marco Polo. The royal palace was more than two leagues in
circumference; the grand hall had twenty-four columns of copper and
gold; there were more than 300,000 men occupied, and living in and about
the palace, of which more than 100,000 were employed in taking care of
the elephants, of which there were 10,000, &c., &c.
"Mandeville has become proverbial for indulging in a traveler's
exaggerations; yet his accounts of the countries which he visited have
been found far more veracious than had been imagined. His descriptions
of Cathay and the wealthy province of Mangi, agreeing with those of
Marco Polo, had great authority with Columbus."--Washington Irving's
_Columbus_, vol. iv., p. 308.
No. VII.
"The Western nations, the Greeks, and the Romans, knew that magnetism
could be communicated for a length of time to iron ('sola haec materia
ferri vires a magneti lapide accipit, retinetque longo tempore.'--Plin.,
xxxiv., 14). The great discovery of the terrestrial directive force,
therefore, depended alone on this, that no one in the West happened to
observe that a longish piece of magnetic iron ore, or a magnetized iron
rod, floated at liberty upon water by means of a piece of wood, or
balanced and suspended freely in the air by means of a thread. But a
thousand years and more before the commencement of our era, in the dark
epoch of Codru, and the return of the Heraclidae to the Peloponnesus, the
Chinese had already magnetic cars, upon which the movable arm of a human
figure pointed invariably to the south, as a means of finding the way
through the boundless grassy plains of Tartary. In the third century,
indeed, of the Christian era, at least 700 years, therefore, before the
introduction of the ship's compass upon European seas, Chinese craft
were sailing the Indian Ocean under the guidance of magnetic southern
indication. This early knowledge and application of the magnetic needle
gave the Chinese geographers great advantages over those of early Greece
and Rome, to whom, for example, the true course of the Apennines and
Pyrenees was never known.
"Magnetism is one of the numerous forms in which electricity manifests
itself. The ancient suspicion of the identity of electrical and
magnetical attraction has been demonstrated in the present age. 'If
electrum (amber),' says Pliny, in the sense of the Ionic natural
philosophy of Thales, 'becomes inspired by friction and warmth, it
attracts bark and dried leaves, exactly like the magnetic iron
stone.'[215] The same words occur in the discourse laudatory of the
magnet of the Chinese natural philosopher Kuopho, who lived in the
fourth century. It was not without surprise that I myself observed,
among the children at play on the woody banks of the Orinoco, the
offspring of native tribes in the lowest grade of civilization, that the
excitement of electricity by friction was known. The boys rubbed the
dry, flat, and shining seeds of a creeping leguminous plant (probably a
negretia) until they attracted fibers of cotton wool and chips of the
bamboo. This amusement of these coppery children is calculated to leave
a deep and solemn impression behind it. What a chasm lies between the
electrical play of these savages and the discovery of the lightning
conductor, of the chemically decompounding pile, of the light-evoking
mechanical apparatus! In such gulfs, millenniums in the history of the
intellectual progress of mankind lie buried."--Humboldt's _Cosmos_, vol.
i., p. 180; Klaproth, _Lettre a M.A. de Humboldt, sur l'Invention de la
Boussole_, p. 125. 1834.
"The application of the magnetic needle's direction toward the north and
south, that is, the use of the mariner's compass in Europe, is probably
due to the Arabs, who have to thank the Chinese for their knowledge of
it. The Arabic words 'Zohron' and 'Aphron,' meaning north and south,
like the numerous Arabic names of the stars in use at the present day,
testify the route through which the West became acquainted with it. In
European Christendom, the use of the magnetic needle is spoken of as
something well known, first in a political and satirical poem, entitled
'La Bible,' written by Guyot of Provence in 1190, and in the description
of Palestine, by Jacob of Vitry, bishop of Ptolemais, between the years
1204 and 1215. Also Dante (_Paradiso_, xii., 29) mentions in a simile
the needle (ajo) 'which points southward.' The discovery of the
mariner's compass was for a long time attributed to Flavius Gioja: he
probably made some improvements in the apparatus for managing it in
1302. A much earlier employment of the compass in the European seas is
seen in a naval work by Raymundus Lullus of Majorca, a wonderfully
talented and scientific man. In his book, entitled 'Fenix de las
Maravillas del Orbe,' published in 1286, Lullus says that the mariners
of his times made use of the magnetic needle. Navarrete, in his
'Discurso Historico sobre los Progressos del Arte de Navegar en Espana,'
p. 28, 1802, records a remarkable passage in the Leyes de las Partidas
of the middle of the thirteenth century: 'The needle which guides the
mariner in the dark night, and shows him in good and bad weather the
direction which he must take, is the mediatrix (medianera) between the
magnetic stone (la piedra) and the north star."--Humboldt's _Cosmos_,
vol. ii., p. 291, 462.
[Footnote 215: Plin., lib. xxxvii., p. 3; Plato, in _Timao_, p. 80;
Martin, _Etudes sur le Timee_, tom. II., p. 343-346; Strabo, lib. xv.,
p. 703, Casaub.; Clemens Alex., _Strom._, li., p. 370. When Thales, in
Aristot., _De Anima_, lib. i., p. 2, and Hippias, in _Diag. Laertio_,
lib. i., p. 24, attribute a soul to the magnet and to amber, this
animation only refers to a moving principle.]
No. VIII.