(A.D. 1759)
THE closing scene of French dominion in Canada was marked by circumstances of deep and peculiar interest. The pages of romance can furnish no more striking episode than the Battle of Quebec. The skill and daring of the plan which brought on the combat, and the success and fortune of its execution, are unparalleled. A broad, open plain, offering no advantages to either party, was the field of fight. The contending armies were nearly equal in military strength, if not in numbers. The chiefs of both were men already of honourable fame. France trusted firmly in the wise and chivalrous Montcalm: England trusted hopefully in the young and heroic Wolfe. The magnificent stronghold which was staked upon the issue of the strife stood close at hand. For miles and miles around, the prospect extended over as fair a land as ever rejoiced the sight of man-mountain and valley, forest and waters, city and solitude, grouped together in forms of almost ideal beauty.
Quebec stands on the slope of a lofty eminence on the left bank of the St. Lawrence. A table-land extends westward fromQUEBECthe citadel for about nine miles. The portion of the heights nearest the town on the west is called the Plains of Abraham. Wolfe had discovered a narrow path winding up the side of the steep precipice from the river. For miles on either side there was no other possible access to the heights. Up this narrow path Wolfe decided to lead secretly his whole army, and make the plains his battle-ground!
The extraordinary daring of the enterprise was its safety. Thewise and cautious Montcalm had guarded against all the probable chances of war; but he was not prepared against an attempt for which the pages of romance can scarcely furnish a parallel.
Great preparations were made throughout the fleet and the army for the decisive movement; but the plans were still kept secret. A wise caution was observed in this respect; for the treachery of a single deserter might have imperilled the success of the expedition had its exact object been known. At nine o"clock at night, on the 13th of September, 1759, the first division of the army, 1600 strong, silently removed into flat- bottomed boats. The soldiers were in high spirits: Wolfe led inperson. About an hour before day-light, the flotilladropt downwith the ebb-tide, "Weather favourable; a star light night." Silently and swiftly, unchallenged by the French sentries,Wolfe"s flotilla dropped down the stream in the shade of the overhanging cliffs. The rowers scarcely stirred the waters withtheir oars; the soldiers sat motionless. Not a word was spoken, save by the young general. He, as a midshipman on board of his boat afterwards related, repeated, in a low voice, to the officers by his side, Gray"s "Elegy in a Country Churchyard;" and as he concluded the beautiful verses, he said, "Now, gentlemen, I would rather be the author of that poem than take Quebec!"But while Wolfe thus in the poet"s words gave vent to the intensity of his feelings, his eye was constantly bent upon the dark outline of the heights under which he was hurrying. He recognised at length the appointed spot (now called Wolfe"s Cove), and leaped ashore. Some of the leading boats, conveying the light company of the 78th Highlander, had, in the meantime, been carried about two hundred yards lower down by the strength of the tide. These Highlanders, under Captain Donald MacDonald, were the first to land. Immediately over their heads hung a woody precipice, without path or track upon its rocky face. On the summit, a French sentinel marched to and fro, still unconscious of their presence.
Without a moment"s hesitation, MacDonald and his men dashed at the height. They scrambled up, holding on by rocks and branches of trees, guided only by the stars that shone over the top of the cliff. Half the ascent was already won, when, for the first time, "Qui vive?" broke the silence of the night. "La France," answered the Highland captain, with ready self-possession, and the sentry shouldered his musket and pursued his round.
In a few minutes, however, the rustling of the trees close at hand alarmed the French guard. They hastily turned out, fired one irregular volley down the precipice, and fled in panic. The captain, M. de Vergor, alone, though wounded, stood his ground. When summoned to surrender, he fired at one ofthe leading assailants, but was instantly overpowered. In the meantime, nearly five hundred men landed and made their way up the height. Those who had first reached the summit then took possession of the intrenched post at the top of the path which Wolfe had selected for the ascent of his army.
Wolfe, Monckton, and Murray landed with the first division. As fast as each boat was cleared, it put back for reinforcements to the ships, which had now also floated down with the tide to a point nearly opposite that of disembarkation. The battalions formed on the narrow beach at the foot of the winding path; and as soon as completed, each ascended the cliff, when they again formed upon the plains above.
The boats plied busily; company after company was quickly landed; and as soon as the men touched the shore, they swarmed up the steep ascent with ready alacrity. When morning broke, the whole disposable force of Wolfe"s army stood in firm array upon the table-land above the cove. Only one gun, however, could be carried up the hill; and even that was not got into position without incredible difficulty.
Montcalm was already worsted as a general: it was still, however, left him to fight as a soldier. His order of battle was steadily and promptly made. He commanded the centre column in person. His total force engaged was 7520, besides Indians. Wolfe showed only a force of 4828 of all ranks; but every man was a trained soldier.
The French attacked. After a spirited advance made by a swarm of skirmishers, their main body, in long unbroken lines, was seen approaching Wolfe"s position. Soon a murderous and incessant fire began. The British troops fell fast. Wolfe, at the head of the 28th, was struck in the wrist, but was not disabled. Wrapping a handkerchief round the wound, he hastened from one rank to another, exhorting the men to be steady and to reserve their fire. No English soldier pulled a trigger: with matchless endurance they sustained the trial. Nota company wavered: their arms shouldered as if on parade, and motionless, save when they closed up the ghastly gaps, they waited the word of command.
When the head of the French attack had reached within forty yards, Wolfe gave the order to "fire." At once the long row of muskets was levelled, and a volley, distinct as a single shot, flashed from the British line. For a moment the advancing columns still pressed on, shivering like pennons in the fatal storm; but a few paces told how terrible had been the force of the long-suspended blow.
Montcalm commanded the attack in person. Not fifteenminutes had elapsed since he had first moved on his line of battle, and already all was lost! But the gallant Frenchman, though ruined, was not dismayed. He rode though the broken ranks, cheered them with his voice, encouraged them by his dauntless bearing, and, aided by a small redoubt, even succeeded in once again presenting a front to his enemy.
Meanwhile Wolfe"s troops bad reloaded. He seized the opportunity of the hesitation in the hostile ranks, and ordered the whole British line to advance. At first they moved forward with majestic regularity, receiving and paying back with deadly interest the volleys of the French; but soon the ardour of the soldiers broke through the restraints of discipline-they increased their pace to a run, rushing over the dying and the dead, and sweeping the living enemy off their path.
Wolfe was then wounded in the body; but he concealed his suffering, for his duty was not yet accomplished. Again a ball from the redoubt struck him on the breast. He reeled on one side; but at the moment that was not generally observed.
"Support me," said he to a grenadier
officer who was close
THE DEATH OF WOLFE
at hand, "that my brave fellows may not see me fall." In a few seconds, however, he sank, and was borne a little to the rear.
The brief struggle fell heavily upon the British, but was ruinous to the French. They wavered under the carnage the columns which death had disordered were soon broken and scattered. Montcalm, with a courage that rose above the wreck of hope, galloped through the groups of his stubborn veterans, who still made head against the enemy, and strove to show a front of battle. His efforts were vain. The head of every formation was swept away before that terrible musketry. In a few minutes the French gave way in all directions. Just then their gallant general fell with a mortal wound: from that time all was utter rout.
While the British troops were carrying all before them, their young general"s life was ebbing fast away. From time to time he tried, with his faint hand, to clear away the death-mist that gathered on his sight, but the efforts seemed vain, for presently he lay back, and gave no signs of life beyond a heavy breathing and an occasional groan.
Meantime the French had given way, and were flying in all directions. A grenadier officer seeing this, called out to those around him, "See! they run!" The words caught the ear of the dying man. He raised himself, like one aroused from sleep, and asked eagerly, "Who run?" "The enemy, sir," answered the officer; "they give way everywhere." "Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," said Wolfe: "tell him to march Webbe"s (the 48th) regiment with all speed down to the St. Charles river, to cut off the retreat." His voice grew faint as he spoke, and he turned on his side, as if seeking an easier position. When he had given this last order, his eyes closed in death.
When the news reached England, triumph and lamentation were strangely intermingled. Astonishment and admiration at the splendid victory, with sorrow for the loss of the gallant victor, filled every breast. Throughout all the land were illuminations and public rejoicings, except in the little Kentish village of Westerham, where Wolfe had been born, and where his widowed mother now mourned her only child.
Wolfe"s body was embalmed, and borne to the river for conveyance to England. The army escorted it in solemn state to the beach. They mourned their young general"s death as sincerely as they had followed him in battle bravely. His remains were landed at Plymouth with the highest honours: minute-guns were fired, flags were hoisted half-mast high, and an escort with arms reversed received the coffin on the shore. They were then conveyed to Greenwich, and buried beside those of his father, who had died but a few months before.
After further successes of the British in other parts of Canada. under Generals Amherst, Haviland, and Sir William Johnson, the French cause became utterly hopeless. On the 8th of September, 1760, a British force of 16,000 men assembledbefore Montreal; and on the same day a capitulation was signed which severed Canada from France for ever.
One of the most momentous political questions that have ever moved the human race was decided in this struggle. When a few English and French emigrants first landed among the Virginian and Canadian forests it began: when the British flag was hoisted on the citadel of Quebec it was decided. From that day Providence pointed out to the Anglo-Saxon race that to them was henceforth intrusted the destiny of the New World.
- WARBURTON
QUESTIONS
Where does Quebec stand? Where are the Plains of Abraham? What plan did Wolfe form for reaching them? How did the safety of the plan depend upon its daring? At what time did the expedition start? What poem did Wolfe repeat as they floated down? What is the place where he leaped ashore now called? Where were the 78th Highlanders carried? How did their captain deceive the sentry? What did the soldiers who first reached the summit do? By what time had Wolfe his army marshalled on the table-land? How strong was it? How many were in the French army? Who commanded the latter? Which began the attack? What order did Wolfe give which tried the endurance of his men? What was the result of this plan? What order did Wolfe give when the French wavered? What happened to him soon after? What did Montcalm do when the French ranks were broken? What happened to Montcalm? What was Wolfe"s last order? How was the news received in England? where was Wolfe buried?
