CONCLUSION
Six days after the battle on the Plains of Abraham, General Levis appeared
before Quebec, to find that the fortress had capitulated. His indignation knew
no bounds. He had been educated in General Montcalm’s school, and would not
recognise that France was defeated. With a handful of about three thousand
men, the remnant of the French army, he retired at first to Jacques Cartier,
and afterwards to Montreal, and coolly decided that he would continue the war
and re-conquer Quebec. Of such stuff heroes are made. They do not know when
they are vanquished!
In the month of April 1760, two French ships, the _Atalanta_ and _Pomona_,
having on board ammunition and the necessary siege materials, slowly descended
the St. Lawrence, profiting by a narrow channel which a sudden thaw had opened
out right through the middle of the river. The troops, consisting of three
thousand regulars and two thousand Canadians and savages, marched with great
difficulty through the half-melted snow, until one morning they reached that
very Plain of Abraham where Wolfe and Montcalm had fought their mortal duel.
General Murray, Governor of Quebec, immediately ordered a sortie, and offered
battle to the little French army. He had at his command four or five thousand
men and twenty-two pieces of artillery.
It was the 28th of April, 1760.
The assault of the French was terrific, the very impetus of despair. The
Canadians charged, having fastened knives into the ends of their guns to
supply the want of bayonets. The English artillery mowed down their ranks, but
still they advanced with drums beating furiously to the charge. To repair
their defeat, to die or to conquer, that was their sole object, and, thus
animated, they threw themselves on the English with such fury that they forced
them to retreat, and take refuge in Quebec; but not before they had left
twelve hundred dead upon that fatal field. The French themselves had their
brave general, Bourlamaque, severely wounded, and lost eight hundred men, the
whole corps of Grenadiers!
Nothing daunted, General Levis laid siege to Quebec. The cannon which had been
taken from the English served him well, but he lacked ammunition.
“If only one ship would come from France to our assistance before the English
fleet arrives, Quebec would once more be ours, and the white lilies of France
would float from her ramparts,” exclaimed General Levis, gazing out to sea,
watching with the yearning of his heroic heart for the succour which would
restore his lost prestige.
It was on the evening of the 15th of May when in the distant horizon sails
were visible. Besieged and besiegers alike strained their eyes to recognise
from whence they came. Were they English or French ships? It is easy to
conceive the agonising suspense which filled every heart. The English
historian and eye-witness, Knox, has graphically described it as follows:--
“We stood gazing for some time up the river in an inexpressible state of
anxiety, until the sails became clearly visible, and we knew they were the
advance ships of the English fleet! It is impossible to describe the scene
which followed. Men and officers leapt on to the ramparts facing the French
army, and, waving their hats, gave vent for upwards of an hour to hurrahs and
shouts of delight. We had suffered much during the siege, and our deliverance
was therefore doubly welcome.”
The news was greeted in England with almost equal enthusiasm.
“Happy, happy day!” wrote Pitt. “My joy and satisfaction are beyond all
expression.”
But still, though forced to raise the siege, having lost their two solitary
ships, and obliged to retire once more to Montreal, the remaining handful of
French soldiers and Canadians would not yield. Under the influence of a fixed
idea these last defenders of Canada seemed literally to have gone mad. Three
English armies of forty thousand men surrounded General Levis and his three
thousand six hundred soldiers who had taken refuge in Montreal. Montreal was
an open town, having round it only a low wall, originally intended to defend
it from the attacks of the savages. Of course all idea of defence was
impossible. Vaudreuil consented therefore to capitulate.
But Levis, indignant at a clause in the capitulation in which General Amherst
refused the honours of war to his heroic troops, would not lay down his sword,
and retired with two thousand men to the Island of St. Helen; and only upon
the Governor Vaudreuil’s formal command did he at last yield, and laid down
his arms on September 8th, 1760, protesting to the last against the treatment
of the French troops, who, he declared, “merited more attention from Monsieur
de Vaudreuil, and more esteem from General Amherst.”
Thus this terrible war, which had caused such a fearful sacrifice of human
life, and such great suffering, was over. The unhappy French soldiers were
sent on board English ships, and, in the midst of one of the most terrific
storms on record, bade adieu to the land they had fought so bravely to retain
for their own. But they left behind them a reputation which, as time goes on,
and events are seen through the halo of the past, grows in magnitude. England
herself glories in having vanquished such almost unconquerable defenders of
the soil; and their beloved General Montcalm lies in no unhonoured grave. In
raising a monument to their own victorious Hero, the conquerors did not forget
the great _vanquished Hero_. Side by side they stand in the fair city of
Quebec, telling of noble deeds and spotless fame--“Wolfe and Montcalm. With
courage they faced death. History has united them in glory, and Posterity has
erected this monument to their memory.” A noble epitaph, for noble men!
ROBERTS & JACKSON, PRINTERS, GRIMSBY.