Montreal, next to Quebec, is the oldest looking and most aristocratic
city in all North America. Lofty houses, with narrow streets, prove
antiquity. After Quebec and Montreal, New Orleans is said to take the
next rank, all three of them having been built by the French. It is
pleasant to look upon any structure in this new hemisphere which bears
the mark of time upon it. The ruins of Fort Putnam are one of the
curiosities of America.
Montreal is all alive--mustering here, drilling there, galloping every
where; and, moreover, Montreal is knee-deep in snow, and the thermometer
below zero. Every hour brings fresh intelligence of the movements of
the rebels, or patriots--the last term is doubtful, yet it may be
correct. When they first opened the theatre at Botany Bay, Barrington
spoke the prologue, which ended with these two lines:--
"True _Patriots_ we, for be it understood,
We left our country, for our country's good."
In this view of the case, some of them, it is hoped, will turn out
patriots before they die, if they have not been made so already.
Every hour comes in some poor wretch, who, for refusing to join the
insurgents, has been made a beggar; his cattle, sheep, and pigs driven
away; his fodder, his barns, his house, all that he possessed, now
reduced to ashes. The cold-blooded, heartless murder of Lieutenant Weir
has, however, sufficiently raised the choler of the troops, without any
further enormities on the part of the insurgents being requisite to that
end: when an English soldier swears to shew no mercy, he generally keeps
his word. Of all wars, a civil war is the most cruel, the most
unrelenting, and the most exterminating; and deep indeed must be the
responsibility of those, who, by their words or their actions, have
contrived to set countryman against countryman, neighbour against
neighbour, and very often brother against brother, and father against
child.
On the morning of the -- the ice on the branch of the Ottawa river,
which we had to cross, being considered sufficiently strong to bear the
weight of the artillery, the whole force marched out, under the command
of Sir John Colborne in person, to reduce the insurgents, who had
fortified themselves at St Eustache and St Benoit, two towns of some
magnitude in the district of Bois Brule. The snow, as I before
observed, lay very deep; but by the time we started, the road had been
well beaten down by the multitudes which had preceded us.
The effect of the whole line of troops, in their fur caps and
great-coats, with the trains of artillery, ammunition, and
baggage-waggons, as they wound along the snow-white road, was very
beautiful. It is astonishing how much more numerous the force, and how
much larger the men and horses appeared to be, from the strong contrast
of their colours with the wide expanse of snow.
As we passed one of the branches of the Ottawa, one of the
ammunition-waggons falling through the ice, the horses were immediately
all but choaked by the drivers--a precaution which was novel to me, and
a singular method of saving their lives: but such was the case: the air
within them, rarified by heat, inflated their bodies like balloons, and
they floated high on the water. In this state they were easily
disengaged from their traces, and hauled out upon the ice; the cords
which had nearly strangled them were then removed, and, in a few
minutes, they recovered sufficiently to be led to the shore.
Let it not be supposed that I am about to write a regular dispatch. I
went out with the troops, but was of about as much use as the fifth
wheel of a coach; with the exception, that as I rode one of Sir John
Colborne's horses, I was, perhaps, so far supplying the place of a groom
who was better employed.
The town of St Eustache is very prettily situated on the high banks of
the river, the most remarkable object being the Catholic church, a very
large massive building, raised about two hundred yards from the river
side, upon a commanding situation. This church the insurgents had
turned into a fortress, and perhaps, for a fortress "_d'occasion_,"
there never was one so well calculated for a vigorous defence, it being
flanked by two long stone-built houses, and protected in the rear by
several lines of high and strong palisades, running down into the river.
The troops halted about three hundred yards from the town, to
reconnoitre; the artillery were drawn up and opened their fire, but
chiefly with a view that the enemy, by returning the fire, might
demonstrate their force and position. These being ascertained, orders
were given by Sir John Colborne, so that in a short time the whole town
would be invested by the troops. The insurgents perceiving this, many
of them escaped, some through the town, others by the frozen river.
Those who crossed on the ice were chased by the volunteer dragoons, and
the slipping and tumbling of the pursued and the pursuers, afforded as
much merriment as interest; so true it is, that any thing ludicrous will
make one laugh, in opposition to the feelings of sympathy, anxiety, and
fear. Some of the runaways were cut down, and many more taken
prisoners.
As soon as that portion of the troops which had entered the town, and
marched up the main street towards the church, arrived within
half-musket shot, they were received with a smart volley, which was
fired from the large windows of the church, and which wounded a few of
the men. The soldiers were then ordered to make their approaches under
cover of the houses; and the artillery being brought up, commenced
firing upon the church: but the walls of the building were much too
solid for the shot to make any impression, and had the insurgents stood
firm they certainly might have given a great deal of trouble, and
probably have occasioned a severe loss of men; but they became alarmed,
and fired one of the houses which abutted upon and flanked the church,--
this they did with the view of escaping under cover of the smoke. In a
few minutes the church itself was obscured by the volumes of smoke
thrown out; and at the same time that the insurgents were escaping, the
troops marched up and surrounded the church. The poor wretches
attempted to get away, either singly or by twos and threes; but the
moment they appeared a volley was discharged, and they fell. Every
attempt was made by the officers to make prisoners, but with indifferent
success; indeed, such was the exasperation of the troops at the murder
of Lieut. Weir, that it was a service of danger to attempt to save the
life of one of these poor deluded creatures. The fire from the house
soon communicated to the church. Chenier, the leader, with ten others,
the remnant of the insurgents who were in the church, rushed out; there
was one tremendous volley, and all was over.
By this time many other parts of the town were on fire, and there was
every prospect of the whole of it being burnt down, leaving no quarters
for the soldiers to protect them during the night. The attention of
everybody was therefore turned to prevent the progress of the flames.
Some houses were pulled down, so as to cut off the communication with
the houses in the centre of the town, and in these houses the troops
were billeted off. The insurgents had removed their families, and most
of their valuables and furniture, before our arrival; but in one house
were the commissariat stores, consisting of the carcases of all the
cattle, sheep, pigs, etcetera, which they had taken from the loyal
farmers; there was a very large supply, and the soldiers were soon
cooking in all directions. The roll was called, men mustered, and order
established.
The night was bitterly cold: the sky was clear, and the moon near to her
full: houses were still burning in every direction, but they were as
mere satellites to the lofty church, which was now one blaze of fire,
and throwing out volumes of smoke, which passed over the face of the
bright moon, and gave to her a lurid reddish tinge, as if she too had
assisted in these deeds of blood. The distant fires scattered over the
whole landscape, which was one snow-wreath; the whirling of the smoke
from the houses which were burning close to us, and which, from the
melting of the snow, were surrounded by pools of water, reflecting the
fierce yellow flames, mingled with the pale beams of the bright moon--
this, altogether, presented a beautiful, novel, yet melancholy panorama.
I thought it might represent, in miniature, the burning of Moscow.
About midnight, when all was quiet, I walked up to the church, in
company with one of Sir John Colborne's aides-de-camp: the roof had
fallen, and the flames had subsided for want of further aliment. As we
passed by a house which had just taken fire we heard a cry, and, on
going up, found a poor wounded Canadian, utterly incapable of moving,
whom the flames had just reached; in a few minutes he would have been
burned alive: we dragged him out, and gave him in charge of the
soldiers, who carried him to the hospital.
But what was this compared to the scene which presented itself in the
church! But a few weeks back, crowds were there, kneeling in adoration
and prayer; I could fancy the Catholic priests in their splendid stoles,
the altar, its candlesticks and ornaments, the solemn music, the
incense, and all that, by appealing to the senses, is so favourable to
the cause of religion with the ignorant and uneducated; and what did I
now behold?--nothing but the bare and blackened walls, the glowing beams
and rafters, and the window-frames which the flames still licked and
flickered through. The floor had been burnt to cinders, and upon and
between the sleepers on which the floor had been laid, were scattered
the remains of human creatures, injured in various degrees, or destroyed
by the fire; some with merely the clothes burnt off, leaving the naked
body; some burnt to a deep brown tinge; others so far consumed that the
viscera were exposed; while here and there the blackened ribs and
vertebra were all that the fierce flames had spared.
Not only inside of the church, but without its walls, was the same
revolting spectacle. In the remains of the small building used as a
receptacle for the coffins previous to interment, were several bodies,
heaped one upon another, and still burning, the trestles which had once
supported the coffins serving as fuel; and further off were bodies still
unscathed by fire, but frozen hard by the severity of the weather.
I could not help thinking, as I stood contemplating this melancholy
scene of destruction, bloodshed, and sacrilege, that if Mr Hume or Mr
Roebuck had been by my side, they might have repented their inflammatory
and liberal opinions, as here they beheld the frightful effects of them.