QUEBEC
1759
Having decided to stay in Canada Montcalm did all he
could to come to terms with Vaudreuil, so that the French
might meet with a united front the terrible dangers of
the next campaign. He spoke straight out in a letter
written to Vaudreuil on August 2, less than a month after
his victory at Ticonderoga: 'I think the real trouble
lies with the people who compose your letters, and with
the mischief-makers who are trying to set you against
me. You may be sure that none of the things which are
being done against me will ever lessen my zeal for the
good of the country or my respect towards you, the
governor. Why not change your secretary's style? Why not
give me more of your confidence? I take the liberty of
saying that the king's service would gain by it, and we
should no longer appear so disunited that even the British
know all about it. I enclose a newspaper printed in New
York which mentions it. False reports are made to you.
Efforts are made to embitter you against me. I think you
need not suspect my military conduct, when I am really
doing all I can. After my three years of command under
your orders what need is there for your secretary to tell
me about the smallest trifles and give me petty orders
that I should myself blush to give to a junior captain?'
When Montcalm wrote this he had not yet heard the bad
news from Louisbourg and the Ohio, and he was still
anxious to be recalled to France. Vaudreuil, of course,
was delighted at the prospect of getting rid of him: 'I
beseech you,' he wrote home to France, 'to ask the king
to recall the Marquis of Montcalm. He desires it himself.
The king has confided Canada to my own care, and I cannot
help thinking that it would be a very bad thing for the
marquis to remain here any longer!' There spoke the owl.
And here the lion, when the bad news came: 'I had asked
for my recall after Ticonderoga. But since the affairs
of Canada are getting worse, it is my duty to help in
setting them right again, or at least to stave off ruin
so long as I can.'
Vaudreuil and Montcalm met and talked matters over. Even
the governor began to see that the end was near, unless
France should send out help in the spring of 1759. He
was so scared at the idea of losing his governorship in
such an event that he actually agreed with Montcalm to
send two honest and capable men to France to tell the
king and his ministers the truth. Two officers, Bougainville
and Doreil, were chosen. They sailed in November with
letters from both Montcalm and Vaudreuil. Nothing could
have been better or truer than the letters Vaudreuil gave
them to present at court. 'Colonel Bougainville is, in
all respects, better fitted than anybody else to inform
you of the state of the colony. I have given him my
orders, and you can trust entirely in everything he tells
you.' 'M. Doreil, the commissary of war, may be entirely
trusted. Everybody likes him here.' But, by the same
ship, the same Vaudreuil wrote a secret letter against
these officers and against Montcalm. 'In order to condescend
to the Marquis of Montcalm and do all I can to keep on
good terms with him I have given letters to Colonel
Bougainville and M. Doreil. But I must tell you that they
do not really know Canada well, and I warn you that they
are nothing but creatures of the Marquis of Montcalm.'
The winter of 1758-59 was like the two before it, only
very much worse. The three might be described, in so many
words, as bad, worse, and worst of all. Doreil had seen
the stores and provisions of the army plundered by the
Bigot gang, the soldiers half starved, the supposed
presents for the Indians sold to them at the highest
possible price, and the forts badly built of bad materials
by bad engineers, who made a Bigot-gang profit out of
their work. A report was also going home from a French
inspector who had been sent out to see why the cost of
government had been rising by leaps and bounds. Things
were cheap in those days, and money was scarce and went
a long way. When this was the case the whole public
expense of Canada for a year should not have been more
than one million dollars. But in Montcalm's first year
it had already passed two millions. In his second it had
passed four. And now, in his third, it was getting very
near to eight.
Where did the money go? Just where all public money always
goes when parasites govern a country. The inspector found
out that many items of cost for supplies to the different
posts had a cipher added to them. The officials told him
why: 'We have to do it because the price of living has
gone up ten times over.' But how did such an increase
come about? The goods were sold from favourite to favourite,
each man getting his wholly illegal profit, till the
limit was reached beyond which Bigot thought it would
not be safe to go. By means of false accounts, by lying
reports and by the aid of accomplices in France who
stopped letters from Montcalm and other honest men, the
game went on for two years. Now it was found out. But
the gang was still too strong in Canada to be broken up.
In France it was growing weak. Another couple of years
and all its members would have been turned out by the
home government. They knew this; and, seeing that their
end was coming in one way or another, they thought a
British conquest could not be much worse than a French
prison; indeed, it might be better, for a complete and
general ruin might destroy proof of their own guilt. The
lions would die fighting--and a good thing too! But the
owls and foxes might escape with the spoils. 'What a
country, where knaves grow rich and honest men are ruined!'
Montcalm wrote home to his family by every ship. He might
not have long to do so. Just after Ticonderoga he wrote
to his wife: 'Thank God! it is all over now until the
beginning of May. We shall have desperate work in the
next campaign. The enemy will have 50,000 men in the
field, all together; and we, how many? I dare not tell
it. Adieu, my heart, I long for peace and you. When shall
I see my Candiac again?' On November 21, 1758, the last
ship left for France. He wrote to his old mother, to whom
he had always told the story of his wars, from the time
when, thirty-one years before, as a stripling of fifteen,
he had joined his father's regiment in the very year that
Wolfe was born: 'You will be glad to hear from me up to
the last moment and know, for the hundredth time, that
I am always thinking of you all at home, in spite of the
fate of New France and my duty with the army and the
state. We did our best these last three years; and so,
God helping us, we shall in 1759--unless you can make a
peace for us in Europe.'
The wretched winter dragged on. The French were on half
rations, the Canadians worse off still. In January Montcalm
wrote in his diary: 'terrible distress round Quebec.'
Then, the same day: 'balls, amusements, picnics, and
tremendous gambling.' Another entry: 'in spite of the
distress and impending ruin of the colony pleasure parties
are going on the whole time.' He himself had only plain
fare--horse-flesh and the soldier's half ration of
bread--on his table. No wonder the vampires hated him!
May came; but not a word from France. For eight whole
months no French ship had been able to cross the sea, to
bring aid for the needy colony. Day by day the half-starved
people scanned the St Lawrence for sight of a sail. At
last, on the 10th, they had their reward. A French ship
arrived; more ships followed; and by the 20th there were
twenty-three in the harbour, all laden with provisions,
stores, and men. The help was inadequate. There were only
326 soldiers for Montcalm on board, and there were not
enough provisions to keep the soldiers and people on full
rations through the summer, even with the help of what
crops might be harvested while the farmers remained under
arms. But Montcalm made the best of it: 'a little is
precious to those who have nothing.'
Bougainville brought out plenty of promotions and honours
for the victory at Ticonderoga. Montcalm was made
lieutenant-general of the king in Canada. Bougainville
told him his name was known all over France; 'even the
children use it in their games.' Old Marshal Belle Isle,
a gallant veteran, now at the head of the French army,
and a great admirer of Montcalm, had sent out the king's
last orders: 'No matter how small the space may be that
you can retain, you must somehow keep a foothold in
America; for, if we once lose the whole country, we shall
never get it back again. The king counts upon your zeal,
your courage, and your firmness to spare no pains and no
exertion. You must hold out to the very last, whatever
happens. I have answered for you to the king.' Montcalm
replied: 'I shall do everything to maintain a foothold in
New France, or die in its defence'; and he kept his word.
There was both joy and sorrow in the news from Candiac.
His eldest daughter was happily married. His eldest son
was no less happily engaged. But, at the last minute,
Bougainville had heard that another daughter had died
suddenly; he did not know which one. 'It must be poor
Mirete,' said Montcalm, 'I love her so much.' His last
letters home show with what a brave despair he faced the
coming campaign. 'Can we hope for another miracle to save
us? God's will be done! I await news from France with
impatience and dread. We had none for eight months, and
who knows if we shall have any more this year. How dearly
I have to pay for the dismal privilege of figuring in
the Gazette. I would give up all my honours to see you
again. But the king must be obeyed. Adieu, my heart, I
believe I love you more than ever!'
Bougainville had also brought out the news that Pitt was
sending enormous forces to conquer Canada for good and
all. One army was to attack the last French posts on the
Lakes. Another was to come up Lake Champlain and take
Montreal. A combined fleet and army, under Saunders and
Wolfe, was to undertake the most difficult task and to
besiege Quebec. There was no time to lose. Even Vaudreuil
saw that. Pouchot was left at Niagara with 1,000 men. De
la Corne had another 1,000 on the shores of Lake Ontario.
Bourlamaque held Lake Champlain with 3,000. But the key
of all Canada was Quebec; and so every man who could be
spared was brought down to defend it. Saunders and Wolfe
had 27,000 men of all kinds, 9,000 soldiers and 18,000
sailors, mostly man-of-war's-men. The total number which
the French could collect to meet them was 17,000. Of
these 17,000 only 4,000 were French regulars. There were
over 1,000 Canadian regulars; less than 2,000 sailors,
very few of whom were man-of-war's-men; about 10,000
Canadian militia, and a few hundred Indians. The militia
included old men and young boys, any one, in fact, who
could fire off a musket. The grand totals, all over the
seat of war, were 44,000 British against 22,000 French.
Having done all he could for Niagara, Ontario, and Lake
Champlain, Montcalm hurried down to Quebec on May 22.
Vaudreuil followed on the 23rd. On the same day the
advance guard of the British fleet arrived at Bic on the
lower St Lawrence. From that time forward New France was
sealed up as completely as if it had shrunk to a single
fort. Nothing came in and nothing went out. The strangling
coils of British sea-power were all round it. But still
Montcalm stood defiantly at bay. 'You must maintain your
foothold to the very last.'--'I shall do it or die.'
His plan was to keep the British at arm's length as long
as possible. The passage known as the 'Traverse' from
the north channel to the south, at the lower end of the
Island of Orleans, was a good place to begin. Strong
batteries there might perhaps sink enough of the fleet
to block the way for the rest. These Montcalm was eager
to build, but Vaudreuil was not. Had not Vaudreuil's
Canadian pilots prophesied that no British fleet could
possibly ascend the river in safety, even without any
batteries to hinder it? And was not Vaudreuil so sure of
this himself that he had never had the Traverse properly
sounded at all? He would allow no more than a couple of
useless batteries, which the first British men-of-war
soon put to silence. The famous Captain Cook, who was
sailing master of a frigate on this expedition, made the
necessary soundings in three days; and the fleet of forty
warships and a hundred transports went through without
a scratch.
Vaudreuil's second chance was with seven fireships, which,
having been fitted out by the Bigot gang at ten times
the proper cost, were commanded by a favoured braggart
called Delouche. The night after the British fleet had
arrived in the Orleans Channel, the whole French camp
turned out to watch what it was hoped would be a dramatic
and effective attack on the mass of shipping which lay
at anchor near the head of the island. The fireships were
sent down with the ebb-tide, straight for the crowded
British fleet. But Delouche lost his nerve, fired his
ship too soon, jumped into a boat and rowed away. Five
of the others did the same. The seventh was a hero, Dubois
de la Milletiere, who stuck to his post, but was burned
to death there in a vain effort to get among the enemy.
Had the six others waited longer the whole of the seven
French crews might have escaped together and some damage
might have been done to the British. As it was there was
nothing but splendid fireworks for both sides. The best
man on the French side was killed for nothing; no harm
was done to the British; and for equipping the fireships
the Bigot gang put another hundred thousand stolen dollars
into their thievish pockets. 'What a country, where knaves
grow rich and honest men are ruined!'
Vaudreuil's third chance was to defend the shore opposite
Quebec, Point Levis, which Montcalm wished to hold as
long as possible. If the French held it the British fleet
could not go past Quebec, between two fires, and Wolfe
could not bombard the town from the opposite heights.
But, early in July, Vaudreuil withdrew the French troops
from Point Levis, and Wolfe at once occupied the shore
and began to build his batteries. As soon as the British
had made themselves secure Vaudreuil thought it time to
turn them out. But he sent only 1,500 men; and so many
of these were boys and youths at school and college that
the French troops dubbed them 'The Royal Syntax.' These
precious 1,500 went up the north shore, crossed over
after dark, and started to march, in two separate columns,
down the south shore towards Levis. Presently the first
column heard a noise in the woods and ran back to join
the second. But the second, seeing what it mistook for
the enemy, fired into the first and ran for dear life.
Then the first, making a similar mistake, blazed into
the second, and, charmed with its easy victory, started
hotfoot in pursuit. After shooting at each other a little
more, just to make sure, the two lost columns joined
together again and beat a hasty retreat.
With the opposite shore lost Montcalm had now no means
of keeping Wolfe at any distance. But Montcalm had chosen
his position with skill, and it was so strong by nature
that it might yet be held till the autumn, if only he
was allowed to defend it in his own way. His left was
protected by the Montmorency river, narrow, but deep and
rapid, with only two fords, one in thick bush, where the
British regulars would have least chance, and another at
the mouth, directly under the fire of the French left.
His centre was the six miles of ground stretching towards
Quebec between the Montmorency and the little river St
Charles. Here the bulk of his army was strongly entrenched,
mostly on rising ground, just beyond the shore of the
great basin of the St Lawrence, the wide oozy tidal flats
of which the British would have to cross if they tried
to attack him in front. His right was Quebec itself and
the heights of the north shore above.
Wolfe pitched his camp on the far side of the cliffs near
the Falls of Montmorency; and one day tried to cross the
upper fords, four miles above the falls, to attack Montcalm
in the rear. But Montcalm was ready for him in the bush
and beat him back.
The next British move was against the left of Montcalm's
entrenchments. On July 31 Wolfe's army was busy at an
early hour; and all along the French front men-of-war
were under way with their decks cleared for action. At
ten o'clock, when the tide was high, two small armed
ships were run aground opposite the French redoubt on
the beach a mile from the falls; and they, the men-of-war,
and Wolfe's batteries beyond the falls, all began to fire
on the redoubt and the trenches behind it. Montcalm fired
back so hard at the two armed ships that the British had
to leave them. Then he gave orders for his army to be
ready to come at a moment's notice, but to keep away from
the threatened point for the present. By this means, and
from the fact that his trenches had been very cleverly
made by his own French engineers, he lost very few men,
even though the British kept up a furious fire.
The British kept cannonading all day. By four o'clock
one British brigade was trying to land beside the two
stranded armed ships, and the two other brigades were
seen to be ready to join it from their camp at Montmorency.
The redcoats had plenty of trouble in landing; and it
was not till six that their grenadiers, a thousand strong,
were forming up to lead the attack. Suddenly there was
an outburst of cheering from the British sailors. The
grenadiers mistook this for the commencement of the
attack. They broke their ranks and dashed madly at the
redoubt. The garrison at once left it and ran back, up
the hill, into the trenches. The grenadiers climbed into
it, pell-mell; but, as it was open towards its rear, it
gave them no cover from the terrific fire that the French,
on Montcalm's signal, now poured into them. Again they
made a mad charge, this time straight at the trenches.
Montcalm had called in every man there was room for, and
such a storm of bullets, grape-shot, cannon-balls, and
shells now belched forth that even British grenadiers
could not face it. A thunderstorm burst, with a deluge
of rain; and, amid the continued roar of nature's and
man's artillery, half the grenadiers were seen retreating,
while half remained dead or wounded on the field.
The two redcoat brigades from Montmorency had now joined
the remnant of the first, which had had such a rough
experience. Montcalm kept his men well in hand to meet
this more formidable attack. But Wolfe had had enough.
The first brigade went back to its boats. The second and
third brigades marched back to Montmorency along the
beach in perfect order, the men waving their hats in
defiance at the French, who jumped up on top of their
earthworks and waved defiance back. Before retiring the
British set fire to the two stranded ships. The day had
been as disastrous for Wolfe as glorious for Montcalm.
August was a hard month for both armies. Montcalm had
just won his fourth victory over the British; and he
would have saved Canada once more if only he could keep
Wolfe out of Quebec till October. Wolfe was ill, weak,
disappointed, defeated. But his army was at least perfectly
safe from attack. With a powerful fleet to aid him Wolfe
was never in any danger in the positions he occupied.
His army was always well provisioned; even luxuries could
be bought in the British camp. The fleet patrolled the
whole course of the St Lawrence; convoys of provision
ships kept coming up throughout the siege, and Montcalm
had no means of stopping a single vessel.
Montcalm could not stop the ships; but the ships could
stop him. He was completely cut off from the rest of the
world, except from the country above Quebec; and now that
was being menaced too. The St Lawrence between Quebec
and Montreal was the only link connecting the different
parts of New France, and the only way by which Quebec
could be provisioned. The course of the campaign could
not have been foretold; and Montcalm had to keep provisions
in several places along the river above Quebec, in case
he had to retreat. It would have been foolish to put all
the food into Quebec, as he would not be able to take
enough away with him, should he be obliged to leave for
Montreal or perhaps for the Great Lakes, or even for a
last desperate stand among the swamps of New Orleans.
'You must keep a foothold in America.'--'I shall do
everything to keep it, or die.' Quebec was the best of
all footholds. But if not Quebec, then some other place
not so good: Montreal; an outpost on the Great Lakes;
a camp beyond the Mississippi; or even one beside the
Gulf of Mexico.
So, for every reason, Montcalm was quite as anxious about
the St Lawrence above Quebec as he was about Quebec
itself. Ever since July 18 Admiral Saunders had been
sending more and more ships up the river, under cover of
the fire from the Levis batteries. In August things had
grown worse for Montcalm. Admiral Holmes commanded a
strong squadron in the river above Quebec. Under his
convoy one of Wolfe's brigades landed at Deschambault,
forty miles above Quebec, and burnt a magazine of food
and other stores. This step promised disaster for the
French. Montcalm sent Bougainville up along the north
shore with 1,000 men to watch the enemy and help any of
the French posts there to prevent a landing. Whenever
Saunders and Wolfe sent further forces in that direction
Montcalm did the same. He gave Bougainville more men. He
strengthened both the shore and floating batteries, and
by means of mounted messengers he kept in almost hourly
touch with what was going on.
The defence of the north shore above Quebec was of the
last importance. The only safe way of feeding Quebec was
by barges from Montreal, Sorel, and Three Rivers, which
came down without any trouble to the Richelieu rapids, a
swift and narrow part of the St Lawrence near Deschambault,
where some small but most obstructive French frigates
and the natural difficulties in the river would probably
keep Holmes from going any higher. There was further
safety to the French in the fact that Wolfe could not
take his army to this point from Montmorency without
being found out in good time to let Montcalm march up
to meet him.
It was vital to Montcalm to keep the river open. It would
never do to be obliged to land provisions above Deschambault
and to cart them down by road. To begin with, there were
not enough carts and horses, nor enough men to be spared
for driving them; and, in addition, the roads were bad.
Moreover, transport by land was not to be compared with
transport by water; it was easier to carry a hundred tons
by water than one by land. Accordingly, Quebec was fed
by way of the river. The French barges would creep down,
close alongshore, at night, and try to get into the
Foulon, a cove less than two miles above Quebec. Here
they would unload their cargoes, which were then drawn
up the hill, carted across the Plains of Abraham, and
down the other side, over the bridge of boats, into the
French camp.
Montcalm was anxious, but not despairing. Vaudreuil was,
indeed, as mischievous as ever. But now that the two
enemies were facing each other, in much the same way,
for weeks together, there was less mischief for him to
make. He made, however, as much as he could. Everything
that happened in the French camp was likely to be known
next day in the British camp. Vaudreuil could not keep
any news to himself. But he tried to keep news from
Montcalm and to carry out thwarting plans of his own.
Wolfe had no drawbacks like this. News from his camp was
always stale, because the fleet was a perfect screen,
and no one on the French side could tell what was going
on behind it till long after the chance had gone by.
One day Captain Vauquelin, a French naval officer, offered
to board a British man-of-war that was in the way of the
provision boats, if Vaudreuil would let him take five
hundred men and two frigates, which he would bring down
the river in the night. Vauquelin was a patriot hero,
who had done well at Louisbourg the year before, and who
was to do well at Quebec the year after. But, of course,
he was not a member of the Bigot gang. So he was set
aside in favour of a parasite, who made a hopeless bungle
of the whole affair.
The siege dragged on, and every day seemed to tell in
favour of Montcalm, in spite of all the hardships the
French were suffering. Wolfe was pounding the city into
ruins from his Levis batteries; but not getting any nearer
to taking it. He was also laying most of the country
waste. But this was of no use either, unless the French
barges on the river could be stopped altogether, and a
landing in force could be made on the north shore close
to Quebec.
Wolfe was right to burn the farms from which the Canadians
fired at his men. Armies may always destroy whatever is
used to destroy them. But one of his British regular
officers was disgracefully wrong in another matter. The
greatest blackguard on either side, during the whole war,
was Captain Alexander Montgomery of the 43rd Regiment,
brother of the general who led the American invasion of
Canada in 1775 and fell defeated before Quebec. Montgomery
had a fight with the villagers of St Joachim, who had
very foolishly dressed up as Indians. No quarter was
given while the fight lasted, as Indians never gave it
themselves. But some Canadians who surrendered were
afterwards butchered in cold blood, by Montgomery's own
orders, and actually scalped as well.
The siege went on with move and counter-move. Both sides
knew that September must be the closing month of the
drama, and French hopes rose. There was bad news for them
from Lake Champlain; but it might have been much worse.
Amherst was advancing towards Montreal very slowly.
Bourlamaque, an excellent officer, was retreating before
him, but he thought that Montreal would be safe till the
next year if some French reinforcements could be sent up
from Quebec. Only good troops would be of any use, and
Montcalm had too few of them already. But if Amherst took
Montreal the line of the St Lawrence would be cut at
once. So Levis was sent off with a thousand men, a fact
which Wolfe knew the very day they left.
September came. The first and second days passed quietly
enough. But on the third the whole scene of action was
suddenly changed. From this time on, for the next ten
days, Montcalm and his army were desperately trying to
stave off the last and fatal move, which ended with one
of the great historic battles of the world.