TWO HEROES
Late one evening Loïs was startled by an Indian youth creeping round the
house. Going out to him, he gave her a folded paper, which proved to be a
letter from Charles. It ran thus:--
“Yes, Loïs, I have found the boy, and I have placed him in safety
in the Ursuline Convent in Quebec, with Mercèdes Montcalm. When
the war is over, if you will have him he shall be conveyed to you;
at present it would be impossible to do so with any safety. After
my assurance to you that I would separate myself from the Indians,
you will be surprised to hear that at General Montcalm’s entreaty
I have retained my command. He represented to me, and I think
justly, that I had no right for any private consideration, any
personal quarrel, to bring disunion into his army, which, by
throwing up my Indian command, and attaching myself to the
Canadian contingent, I should most assuredly do. It would be a
breach of honour. My first engagement was made to him. The Indians
are only held in check by my influence; if that were removed,
their cruelty and licence would be unbounded.
“All this I know to be true, and therefore I have decided not to
inflict further wrong on others; what is done I must abide by.
Bitterly as I deplore the past, at the present moment I feel bound
to those who, knowing nothing of my private life, have placed
confidence in me. It cannot last long. General Wolfe is pushing on
towards Quebec, but our positions are strong. It is now July. In
less than three months the winter will force the English to
retreat, probably to return to England; the Indians will then
disperse and I shall be released. In the meantime, I am almost
face to face with Roger. I am stationed with General Levis on the
heights of Montmorenci, and I have every reason to believe that
Roger, with his Rangers, is in the forest, trying to discover a
ford across the river. We are on the same search. If it be so, we
can scarcely do otherwise than meet one day. Pray for us, Loïs,
and that this cruel war may end, and that we may once more all
dwell together in peace!
“Your loving brother,
Charles Langlade.
“P.S.--An Indian will be the bearer of this letter; you may trust
him to send me back news of what is going on at the Marshes. I am
watching over you; you need fear no fresh aggression.”
The question of this ford, alluded to in the above letter, was of great
importance, and it was only discovered after many days of close watching by
the French. Early one morning, General Levis’s _aide-de-camp_, a Scotchman,
appeared in his tent bringing with him a peasant, who explained that he had
crossed a ford a few hours earlier.
“Then you shall serve us as guide,” said Levis, and he told off eleven
thousand Canadians under their officer, Repentigny, with orders to intrench
themselves opposite the ford. Charles Langlade, with four hundred Indians,
went in advance, crossed the ford, and discovered the English in the forest;
not considering himself sufficiently strong to attack, he returned and told
Repentigny, who sent to Levis, who again sent to Vaudreuil!
The Indians, thinking they would be baulked of their prey, became mutinous at
the delay, and Langlade found it impossible to restrain them; they declared
that if he would not lead them, they would attack the Rangers without him,
and, to avoid this, he recrossed the ford.
So savage was their onset that they drove the Rangers back on the regulars,
who, however, stood their ground and repulsed the Indians with considerable
loss. Nevertheless, they carried off thirty-six scalps. Montcalm and Vaudreuil
determined to remain on the defensive; the English were powerless to injure
them. Wolfe’s position was a dangerous one; his army was separated into three
parts, at such distances that it would have been impossible for any one of
them to come to the assistance of the other.
The deep and impassable Montmorenci flowed between the two camps, but from the
cliffs on either side a gunshot might easily reach and hit a man.
The Canadians were also growing daily more and more dispirited. They were
ready for active service, but the inaction to which they were condemned tried
their patience severely.
It was summer-time. The harvest was at hand, and the militia men thought of
the crops waiting to be gathered in. Many deserted and went home to their
villages, notwithstanding the exhortations of their priests; what was found
most efficacious to keep them from so doing was the Governor’s threat to let
the Indians loose upon any who should waver in their allegiance.
But in the midst of all these difficulties it was the characters of the men
who stood at the helm which filled those around them, and indeed their
enemies, with admiration.
Montcalm’s career in Canada was a struggle against an inexorable destiny. He
bore hunger, thirst, and fatigue without a murmur, caring for his soldiers,
but with no thought for himself. In the midst of general corruption he stood
forth immaculate, having but one thought, the good of the colony; the savages
themselves declared they learnt from him patience in suffering.
A story is told of an Indian chief, when presented to Montcalm, expressing his
astonishment that a man who was capable of such great deeds should be so
diminutive in stature.
“Ah! how small thou art!” he exclaimed; then added, “but I see reflected in
thy eyes the height of the oak and the vivacity of the eagle.”
His own soldiers and his officers worshipped him, but such men as the Governor
Vaudreuil and his satellites, Bigot, Cadet, and the rest, both hated and
feared him, as the evil man hates and fears the just one.
In the opposite camp a dying man held sway. James Wolfe knew that he was
doomed; and his heart sank within him as the days went by, and at the end of
July he found himself no nearer taking Quebec than upon the first day on which
he landed. He could not move Montcalm to attack. On the 31st of July he made a
desperate attempt on the French camp, on the heights of Montmorenci; but
notwithstanding acts of the most daring courage, the English were driven back
with enormous loss. The blow was such a severe one that Wolfe, thoroughly
disheartened, meditated fortifying the Île-aux-Coudres, and then sailing for
England with the remainder of his army, to return the following year. But the
following year! could he even reckon on a month of life? and he had so hoped,
when he accepted his office from William Pitt, to return triumphant, having
blotted out and repaired the faults of his predecessors. Imbued with an ardent
love of glory, what must have been the feelings of such a man at the prospect
of issuing the order for the army he had expected to lead to victory to sail
homewards--if not conquered, at least foiled! He could not make up his mind to
such a step as long as there still remained the shadow of a chance.
In the middle of August he issued another proclamation, couched in the
following terms:--
“Seeing that the people of Canada have shown so little appreciation of my
mercy, I am resolved to listen no longer to the sentiments of humanity which
have so far ruled me. It is a cause of bitter sorrow to me to be obliged even
remotely to imitate the acts of barbarity perpetrated by the Canadians and
Indians; yet in justice to myself and my army, I feel bound to chastise the
Canadian people. From henceforth therefore any village or settlement which
offers resistance to British rule will be razed to the ground.”
The churches were to be respected, and women and children treated with due
honour. “If any violence is offered to a woman, the offender shall be punished
with death.”
The Rangers and Light Infantry were charged to carry out these orders, and
soon on the sunny plains around Quebec flames and smoke arose from many a
farmhouse and peaceful village, and the population went forth in flocks,
victims of the scourge of war. The Governor Vaudreuil wrote despatches home in
which he dilated at great length upon the barbarity of the English, utterly
ignoring the fact that for years past he had sent his savages the length and
breadth of the English colonies to waste and murder at will, without regard to
either age or sex. Quebec was itself greatly injured; many families had
forsaken the city, and taken refuge at Pointe-aux-Trembles, some eighteen
miles up the river on the north shore. Colonel Carleton landed here with six
hundred men, and took upwards of a hundred ladies, old men, and children
prisoners. They were conducted to Wolfe’s camp, where they were courteously
treated, the ladies being invited to dine at his table, and the following day
they were sent under escort back to Quebec.
The general aspect of affairs grew daily more and more serious for English and
French alike. Dysentery and fever broke out in the English camp. On the French
side the Canadians were deserting in great numbers, and food was becoming
daily so scarce that the rations had to be again and again reduced. English
ships prevented food arriving from Montreal by the river, and the conveyance
by land was both slow and expensive. In Quebec there was real suffering.
To add to the English troubles, General Wolfe became so seriously ill that it
was feared the end could not be far off. He was utterly prostrate, and could
only at times rouse himself to attend to business. But in his own mind he was
maturing long-conceived plans; and when at last an alleviation to his
sufferings had been obtained, he dictated a letter to Brigadier-Generals
Monckton, Townshend, and Murray, laying three different plans for attacking
the enemy before them. They answered that they considered none of them
feasible, but proposed placing part of the English army between Quebec and its
means of supply, thus forcing Montcalm either to fight or surrender. Wolfe
accepted this alternative; but he was utterly dependent even for the power to
act upon his physician.
“I know you cannot cure me,” he said; “but pray make me up so that I may be
without pain for a few days, and able to do my duty. That is all I ask.”
“I will do my best,” answered the physician; and he so far succeeded, that by
the first days of September Wolfe was able to mount his horse and show himself
to his men. But the difficulty still remained unsolved. How could they land
the troops so as to surprise the French and approach Quebec? As Montcalm had
said, only by treason could it be accomplished.