HOW LOUISBURG SURRENDERED AND WAS GIVEN BACK
Twenty-seven years of peace! It was a long respite, but long as it
was, French and English were ready to fly at each other's throats
with renewed vigour when war broke out again. Quickly did the flames
of the conflict spread to the New World.
Looking out from the ramparts of his strong fortress of Louisburg, it
seemed to the Governor that the moment was a most favourable one to
recapture Nova Scotia for France. The iron was struck while it was
hot. One thousand men, led by Duvivier, were despatched to
Annapolis, which, under the name of Port Royal, has been the scene of
so many vicissitudes.
On the way thither the French easily took Canso, at the entrance of
the strait of that name, and sent its garrison prisoners to
Louisburg. Flushed with this victory, Duvivier marched by land to
Annapolis, held for the English by Paul Mascarene. But if the French
thought they would frighten Mascarene into surrendering, they were
mistaken. Of Huguenot extraction, Mascarene was yet a brave and
sturdy Englishman. "We are expecting," wrote Duvivier, "the arrival
of three ships of war, carrying respectively {170} seventy, sixty,
and forty guns, and a regiment of soldiers. Not that we need these,
for I have already sufficient forces to storm your fort." "Really,"
ran Mascarene's reply, "it will be time to consider the question of
surrender when your French fleet is in the harbour." Then it was
Duvivier sent his brother proposing a truce and asking for the
conditional capitulation of the garrison. The brave Mascarene called
his officers together and found that they were not disinclined to
accept the French terms.
"We have no chance," they said; "we are abandoned and our men losing
heart; let us capitulate while we can." They spoke so strongly, that
Mascarene allowed three of them to confer with the French commander
and obtain his proffered terms in writing. But no sooner had he cast
his eye over the paper than Mascarene steadfastly refused to sign.
In vain his officers implored him to put his name to the deed of
surrender. He rebuked them and set about with tact and energy to
raise the spirits of his men and reanimate them with courage. The
French renewed their attack on the fort. Day after day and night
after night they tried to wear out the garrison, but Mascarene had
now, by his patience and good spirits, brought all to his way of
thinking. Try as they would, the French could make no impression on
the sturdy ramparts of Annapolis.
Duvivier sickened of the siege, and during October returned to
Louisburg. No sooner had he gone than the French Acadians were
filled with fear. They had supposed that all Acadia would have been
won for King Louis, and, realising their mistake, they {171} hastened
to send deputies to Mascarene declaring that they had refused to take
any part in the expedition. At the same time they wrote to the
defeated French commander to say, "We live under a mild and tranquil
government, and we have good reason to be faithful to it. We hope,
therefore, that you will not separate us from it, and that you will
grant us the favour not to plunge us into utter misery."
Soon I will have to tell you how these same Acadians, because of
their continued treachery to the English Government, had to be
transported from this land of their birth or adoption. A great deal
has been written about the poor Acadians to excite our sympathy for
them at the fate which shortly awaited them. You will see that they
brought it upon themselves, or rather that their leaders and
ill-advisers brought it upon them. Perfectly happy and contented
were they under English rule, but base priests and agitators amongst
them tried hard to instil into their minds the idea of a grievance
and stirred up treachery and disaffection in their hearts. Bitterest
and most unscrupulous of these agitators was a priest named Le
Loutre. Although an able man, he was a terrible coward, and shrank
from no crime, no falsehood, to gain his ends. Of Le Loutre and the
results of his policy we will speak hereafter.
The English prisoners taken at Canso spent many weeks shut up in
Louisburg. They did not wholly idle away their time, but, examining
all they saw with such care and to such purpose, they were able on
{172} regaining their freedom to describe with accuracy the plan and
condition of this great fortress. Once a French officer had said
that Louisburg was so strong that it might be held against any
assault by an army of women. Yet these English prisoners thought
they saw how Louisburg might be taken, and their hopes were eagerly
seized upon and shared by the Governor of Massachusetts.
Governor William Shirley was a lawyer by profession, full of energy
and enterprise, and once he had set his mind to do a thing,
difficulties seemed to fade away. He now set his mind to the capture
of Louisburg. He believed that unless the English had control of the
whole coast from Cape Sable to the mouth of the St. Lawrence, the
safety, nay, the very existence of New England was in constant
jeopardy. Shirley listened eagerly to what the returned prisoners
had to tell him. They had observed the discontent and the bad
discipline of the Louisburg garrison, which consisted of 1300 men.
Their plan of the fort showed him that it was built on a point of
land jutting out into the Atlantic, while all behind it on the land
side was treacherous marsh. From 30 to 36 feet high were the walls
on the other side of a ditch 80 feet wide. One hundred and
sixty-four guns were mounted on the walls, besides many mortars and
cohorns. On a little island opposite Louisburg there was a battery
mounted with thirty-two heavy cannon. The ramparts were, however,
seen to be defective in more than one place, and, besides this, if
the French ships which came over sea with provisions and
reinforcements could {173} be intercepted, Shirley felt there was a
fair chance of success. He wrote instantly to London asking King
George to help him with ships, but without waiting for a reply a
little fleet was raised and a land force of 4000 men hastily got
together. It was not a very imposing army in appearance, as you may
imagine. It was chiefly composed of artisans, farmers, fishermen,
and labourers, commanded by a merchant named William Pepperell.
Although without any military experience, Pepperell had courage and
good judgment, and was anxious to distinguish himself. On the 24th
March 1745 the ships left Boston, and reached Canso ten days later.
Here they remained three weeks, waiting for the ice to melt in the
bays and harbours. It was at Canso that Pepperell and his brave New
Englanders were joined by the English commodore, Warren, whom King
George had sent to help him in the capture of Louisburg. Instantly
Pepperell and his army set off, while Warren cruised about with a
fleet of ten ships to prevent any news or assistance from reaching
the fortress.
The Governor of Louisburg was M. Duchambon. On the fateful night a
ball was given in the town, which the Governor, his officers, and
soldiers attended. Before the people had got to sleep it was almost
dawn, and their slumbers were quickly disturbed. A captain, attired
in his night-clothes, came rushing into the Governor's chamber to
report that a strange fleet had been sighted by the sentries entering
Gabarus Bay, five miles distant. "French ships?" cried Duchambon.
"No, sir," answered the officer, {174} "I fear the English are upon
us." Next moment the cannons were booming loudly from the walls and
a peal of bells rang through the town. Pepperell made a pretence of
landing his troops at a certain point, so as to deceive the French.
A skirmish took place, in which the French were beaten back and some
of them taken prisoners. Before nightfall 2000 of the New Englanders
had planted foot on the shore, and the next day they were joined by
the rest of their comrades. The siege of Louisburg was begun. A
hard and dangerous task was the landing of the artillery and stores,
owing to the rolling surf. There being no wharf, the men had to wade
through the sea to bring the guns, ammunition, and provisions on
shore. This alone took an entire fortnight. Batteries were thrown
up, in spite of sallies made from the town by French and Indians to
prevent them. An outside battery was captured, mounted with
twenty-eight heavy guns, which now belched forth shot and shell
amongst the besieged. Warehouses and other places took fire, and
great columns of smoke hid the fort from view for days at a time.
The walls were at last seen to crumble, and when the guns of the
Americans began to close up on the fortress, Duchambon was summoned
to surrender. He replied that he would surrender when forced to by
the cannon of the foe. The New Englanders at last silenced the
island battery, so that the English fleet could enter the harbour and
turn upon him its 500 guns. The expected supply ship from France,
the _Vigilant_, had been captured, and Duchambon's supply of
gunpowder was exhausted. {175} He gave himself up to despair, and
now it was that the flag of truce was sent to the British camp asking
for terms of capitulation.
The terms offered by Pepperell were accepted. For forty-nine days
Duchambon had defended Louisburg bravely. He had done his best, and
when the time came to surrender he was permitted to march out his
soldiers with colours flying and drums beating. While he abandoned
the fortress by one gate, Pepperell at the head of the victorious
besiegers entered by another. The day wound up with a great banquet;
all was rejoicing at so glorious a victory. But terrible was the
defeat and humiliation for more than 4000 of the French in Louisburg.
They were embarked on ships and sent back to France.
Meanwhile the French flag was not lowered from the parapets, so as to
lure in any French ships approaching those waters. The ruse was
successful. Two East Indiamen and one South Sea vessel fell into the
trap, and these prizes were afterwards found to be worth six hundred
thousand pounds. In prize money the share of an ordinary seaman is
said to have been eight hundred guineas.
No wonder the bells in Boston and Salem rang out with jubilation when
the tidings of the capture of Louisburg arrived. Nor were King
George II. and his ministers less pleased. From palace and tower
cannons fixed their salute of rejoicing; many bonfires were lit in
London, and whole streets were illuminated. Pepperell was created a
baron and a colonel in the Army. Shirley was also rewarded. {176}
Warren was promoted to be an admiral. There is, however, a
melancholy side to this picture. The troops left in possession of
Louisburg were too elated by success to behave themselves properly.
Many men can stand defeat who cannot endure success. The stores of
liquor in the fort were stolen, and in spite of all the efforts of
the English commandant 1000 men were found every day intoxicated. A
terrible illness raged throughout the garrison, and when spring came
it was found that out of 3000 men 1200 had died.
At first the people in France and in Canada could not believe the
news that Louisburg had fallen. They had looked upon it as the key
to French power in North-America. When at length there could be no
doubt that the news was true, one thought, one ambition filled the
minds of all--the fortress must at all hazards be retaken. It was
resolved at Versailles that an expedition should be sent out to Cape
Breton for that purpose. One of the finest fleets that ever left the
shores of France sailed away from Rochelle the following year,
commanded by the Duke d'Anville, which consisted of thirty-nine ships
of war and many of the best soldiers in France. D'Anville had orders
to recapture Louisburg and Nova Scotia, to ravage Boston, and turn
all New England into a scene of desolation. But man proposes, God
disposes. Not only were two of D'Anville's ships captured by English
cruisers, but he encountered such a succession of storms and one
mighty tempest, that the whole squadron was dispersed. When, at
Chebucto, D'Anville arrived with the remnants of his fleet, his
mortification {177} was so great as to bring on an apoplectic stroke,
from which he died.
On an island in what is to-day known as Halifax Harbour, his body was
buried. On the afternoon of the very day on which the French
commander died, his Vice-Admiral, Destournelles, arrived with three
more ships, on board one of which was Canada's new Governor, General
Jonquière. When Destournelles took command the outlook was most
desperate. More than 2000 men were stricken with fever, and
eventually died. Destournelles, seeing no hope for success, proposed
that the expedition should be abandoned and the vessels return to
France. Jonquière and most of the officers resisted this plan. If
they could not take Louisburg, at least they could attack Annapolis
and seize Nova Scotia. Annapolis was weak and had a small garrison,
and once it were captured, Acadia was regained for France. Moreover,
was not the priest, Le Loutre, at hand to give the signal to the
Acadians to rise against their English masters? On seeing that they
were all against him, Admiral Destournelles retired. He thought it
reflected on his character and honour, and next morning they found
him stabbed through the breast. He had lost his reason and flung
himself upon his sword.
It was now Jonquière's turn to lead the forlorn expedition. But ere
he could get to Annapolis another great storm arose, scattering his
fleet, and nothing remained at last but to return dispirited to
France. At least 2500 brave Frenchmen had been lost in this
ill-fated expedition. Still undaunted by these terrible reverses,
next year the Marquis de la {178} Jonquière made another attempt with
another fleet. But the English admirals, Anson and Warren, were on
the watch; a battle was fought off Cape Finisterre, in the Bay of
Biscay, and a signal defeat inflicted on the French. This time
Jonquière himself was captured and carried to London. It seemed as
if he were fated never to reach his Governor's château at Quebec.
Balked in her endeavours to obtain Louisburg again at the point of
the sword, France had now recourse to the arts of diplomacy.
In 1748 was signed the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle. The French, you
may remember, had met with many successes in Europe and in India.
They had, for one thing, captured the province of Madras, and so had
something to offer England in exchange for what they considered to be
a greater prize than all they had won. A bargain was therefore
struck between the diplomatists of France and England, the former to
yield back Madras if the English would give up Louisburg. King
George did not consult the New Englanders who had striven so hard and
so valiantly to win him the prize. He consented to the exchange, and
Louisburg was handed back to France.
Of course when the bargain was known in Massachusetts and New York
there was great indignation. But the wiser heads amongst the
colonists saw that the welfare of a whole empire is greater than the
welfare of any part, and so bided their time, knowing full well that
another and final blow would some day be struck. Meanwhile, all
{179} the money that the colonists had spent on their expedition was
given back to them by Britain.
Although eight years of peace followed the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle,
it was a peace only in name. In Canada and America there were two
nations who could never be free from war until one had conquered the
other. One of the great causes of offence and perpetual squabbling
was that as yet neither knew the precise boundaries of French and
British territory. It seems strange that where so much land existed
and so few people, that there should be any fighting over boundaries;
but if you study the wars of history you will see there is nothing
that nations are so ready to quarrel over as this question of
boundaries. Besides, there was a vast region constantly being
explored, and even surveyed, upon which dwelt tribes of Indians whose
allegiance was claimed by one of the two parties to the dispute. So
while the Marquis de la Jonquière languished in an English prison,
the acting Governor-General of Canada, Galissonière, was kept
extremely busy. It was his idea, and he was never tired of
expressing it, that although Acadia had been surrendered to England,
Acadia meant only the peninsula of Nova Scotia. As for the great
region of the west now known as New Brunswick and Eastern Maine, that
he claimed to belong to France. He sent out several hundred French
agents to conciliate the Indian tribes, to warn off English traders,
and to mark out the boundary line between New England and Canada.
The Governor ordered forts to be built at Gaspereau and Beauséjour,
and another {180} on the St. John River. In the west many other
forts were built, including Fort Ticonderoga, at the head of Lake
George. He asked King Louis to send him 10,000 colonists to settle
along the line of the Alleghany Mountains, and so form a barrier
against the English on the east. But, however anxious he was to keep
New France, by this time King Louis thought he had lost sufficient of
his subjects in the late wars, and refused the request.
The English traders and frontiersmen were meanwhile pressing
westward. If France's title to all the country on the other side of
the Alleghanies was to be something better than waste-paper,
something more must be done to assert it. Galissonière therefore
resolved to take swift and effective action.
And so the curious episode called "The Planting of the Leaden Plates"
began.
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