Notwithstanding all this, there were a number of Acadians who at last consented to take the oath of allegiance to King George. When the French Governor at Quebec heard of their doing so, he issued a proclamation that all the Acadians must swear loyalty to France and be enrolled in the Canadian militia, or suffer the penalty of fire and sword. By way of rejoinder, the English Governor of Nova Scotia proclaimed that if any Acadian, taking the oath of allegiance to King George, should afterwards be found fighting amongst the French soldiers, he would be shot. Thus were the poor Acadians between two fires. A considerable number of them removed their settlements to the Canadian side of the boundary. Some travelled even as far as Quebec. But the majority who remained continued to cause great anxiety to the English authorities in Nova Scotia.
In 1754 the French planned an invasion of Nova Scotia, and Halifax was filled with alarm. For they knew that in the absence of the English fleet, Cape Breton could send a force in a few hours to overrun the country. As for provisions, were not the Acadians there to furnish them to the French invaders? In forty-eight hours 15,000 armed Acadians could be summoned to Fort Beauséjour. The outlying English forts would be destroyed andHalifax starved into surrender. When this had been captured, New England would be the next victim. So reasoned Lawrence and Governor Shirley of Massachusetts. Taking counsel together, they resolved to strike a blow instantly before troops from France or Quebec could arrive. They would seize Fort Beauséjour and drive the French out of the isthmus. Two thousand men were raised and the command given to an English officer, Colonel Monckton. On the 1st June 1755 the English war-party arrived in Chignecto Bay.
No longer was the gallant La Corne commandant at Fort Beauséjour; another, dishonest and incompetent, ruled the French stronghold. His name was Vergor. Vergor thought little of patriotism, but only of his purse and how much money he could make by defrauding his King. When he saw the English ships approach, Vergor issued a proclamation to the Acadians round about to hasten to his defence. Fifteen hundred responded, and three hundred of these he took into the fort. The others he ordered to retire into the woods and stealthily harass the enemy.
While the New Englanders prepared to launch their force, the French spent the time trying to strengthen their bastions. The strong, simple Acadians, accustomed to hard labour, were set to work. Over them stood Le Loutre in his shirt-sleeves with a pipe in his mouth, encouraging them to toil. But in spite of his zeal and his promises, so huddled and exposed was their condition inside the fort, that many Acadians deserted.
Duly the bombardment began. When it was at its height, and Vergor was hourly expecting help from Louisburg, a letter arrived to say that assistance could not come from that quarter. An English squadron was cruising in front of Louisburg harbour, and so prevented the French frigates from putting out to sea.
When this disquieting news leaked out at Beauséjour, more Acadians became disheartened, and in spite of the threats launched against them, deserted by dozens. The bombardment continued. Next morning at breakfast a shell from an English mortar crashed through the ceiling of a casemate, killing three French officers and an English captain who had been taken prisoner. Vergor saw that he had begun to strengthen his fort too late. There was now no hope—the guns of the English were too near. He despatched a flag of truce and surrendered Fort Beauséjour.
Having got Fort Beauséjour, henceforward to be known as Fort Cumberland, into his hands, the victorious Monckton sent summonses to the other French stronghold at Baie Verte to surrender. Seeing the situation hopeless, the French commandant complied, and the campaign was over. Immediate danger to English settlers in Nova Scotia was happily removed for ever.
And now we come to a tragedy—the most pathetic passage in Canada's history. It is known as the expulsion of the Acadians. You have seen the dilemma in which the English found themselves. They could not trust the Acadians, nor could theyspare an army large enough to render treachery harmless. On the other hand, they could not treat all those thousands of people as rebels, for the great majority of them had not fought against them at Beauséjour and elsewhere, but had remained quiet in their villages. The long patience of the English was now almost worn out. Yet once again Governor Lawrence urged them to take the oath. Once again they stubbornly refused.
What else could be done? Nothing. So the decree of exile went forth. Ignorant of the trades and callings by which they could earn a livelihood in those countries, the Acadians could not be sent to France or England. Colonists they were, and the sons of colonists, suited only for a colonial life. On banishment they would be distributed in batches amongst the English colonies along the Atlantic coast.
It was a terrible thing to do, and many hearts, even among the rude soldiers, beat warmly for the fate of the unhappy Acadians. Those who had taken the oath were safe in their homesteads. A number escaped into the woods. As for the rest, the military officers were given their instructions. At Beauséjour 400 men were seized. Without warning the people, Colonel Winslow marched rapidly to Grandpré. He summoned the men of the village to meet him in the chapel, and there he read them the decree of banishment. In vain they tried to escape; the doors were shut and guarded by English soldiers. The people of village after village were seized, until 6000 souls had been gatheredtogether. Many of the Acadians never believed that the threat would be carried out. For a long time they had to wait for transports to bear them away. Many had to be placed on the ships by force. Old and young, men, women, and children, were marched to the beach. Sometimes members of the same family became separated from each other, never to meet again. But the soldiers did their best to perform their painful duty as humanely as they could. No unnecessary harshness was permitted.
From Minas, Chignecto, and Annapolis ship after ship carried away their weeping burdens to Massachusetts, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, New York, Virginia, North and South Carolina, and Georgia. One of the vessels, hailing from Annapolis, was captured by its cargo of exiles, who overpowered the crew and made themselves masters of the ship. This they sailed up the river St. John, where they ran it ashore and escaped to Quebec. A few decided to struggle southwards, however, until they reached Louisiana, where some of their descendants are to this day. Others, after months and even years, returned again to Acadia, where, when Quebec and the French flag had fallen, they were no longer a danger to the Government. Such of the Acadians who reached Quebec were treated very coldly and almost died of famine. It is said that they were reduced to four ounces of bread per day, and sought in the gutters of Quebec to appease their hunger. Many were forced to eat boiled leather during the greater part of the winter. As if this were not enough, smallpox broke out amongst them, andmany entire families were destroyed. Such, alas! was the fate of men "whose attachment to their mother-country was only equalled by her indifference."
The expulsion of the Acadians may seem to us a cruel act, but it was forced upon the English by the hardest necessity—the necessity of self-protection.
The Marquis de Jonquière was released at last from his English prison and sailed away to succeed Galissonière as Governor of Canada.
Jonquière's term of office is looked back upon with shame by the people of Canada, but is it strange that the servants of King Louis the Fifteenth in any quarter of the world where the French flag yet flew should be animated by low motives and a desire for gain? See what an example their monarch set them! Jonquière was an able man, but he was mercenary, and thought only of lining his own pockets and those of his creatures with the profits of the Canadian fur trade. With him went Francis Bigot to fill the important office of Intendant. Bigot's is one of the most infamous names in French Canadian annals. He was a lawyer, ambitious, intelligent, and fond of luxury and display. Yet with all his intelligence he fell easily a prey to the wiles of a certain Madame Péan, who turned the King's service to her private advantage. Servants, lackeys, upstarts were, by her influence, placed in responsible positions. If they happened to be ignorant and dishonest, it was no bar to their promotion. Taxes were multiplied and thepoor people of Canada were made to suffer. Bigot and his official band of robbers held office to the last moment of French dominion in Canada, but Jonquière died in the midst of his peculations and money-making schemes.
In 1752 his successor, the Marquis Duquesne, appeared on the scene. Before setting out from France, the new Governor had been ordered to arrest the pretensions of the English to the Ohio and western region and drive them from the territory. No English were to be allowed to carry on trade there. Duquesne began by sending out 300 Canadian Militia to build a French fort on Lake Erie, the command of which was afterwards given to Legardeur de St. Pierre. A second fort was built twenty miles away.
In the meantime the English colonists continued to cast their eyes lovingly on this great and fertile region to the west. Almost every month exploring parties went out, and returned full of enthusiastic reports of its commercial advantages. By and by a body was formed called the Ohio Company, including amongst its members many of the leading men of Virginia. To this Company King George granted 500,000 acres, on condition that 100 families should be settled on the territory within seven years and that a fort should be built.
Seeing this, the Pennsylvanians became jealous of Virginia and formed plans to secure the Ohio region for themselves. Each told different and conflicting stories to the Indians. The Virginians tried to stir up suspicion against the Pennsylvanians,and the Pennsylvanians retorted by creating distrust of the Virginians. The result of all this was that the tribes, who up to now had been faithful to England, began to look suspiciously upon the actions and the policy of both these colonies. All this, of course, was playing into the hands of the French. An English fort or two was built, but in spite of the efforts of the Governors of New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, very little was done for several years to assert English sovereignty. The qualities the Indians admire are vigour and courage. When the tribes saw the bold and daring efforts of Canada to Frenchify the western country, they were naturally led to range themselves on the Canadian side.
All that happened during the next few years, of the battles and skirmishes, the forts that were taken, and the massacres that were carried out, does not properly belong to Canadian history. It must, however, be mentioned that it was at this time, when Governor Duquesne in his citadel at Quebec was rejoicing at the prospect of bringing the western region under French rule, that we first hear of a young Virginian whose name was destined to be world famous. The name of this youth was George Washington. He was only twenty-one years of age when Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia sent him to expostulate with a party of French Canadians who had just captured an English trading fort. Getting no satisfaction from the Commandant there, young Washington went on to Fort Le Breuf, where, as we have seen, Legardeur de St. Pierre was in charge.St. Pierre received Washington courteously, but could not give him any satisfaction. The French were there, and there they meant to stay, in spite of all the English protests. It was now plain that there was serious trouble looming ahead. All these proceedings being reported to England, at last, after many delays, King George's ministers decided to send a large force to America to drive the French back across the Canadian border. The command of this force was given to General Braddock, a stern and peppery old soldier, wholly ignorant of Indian warfare. Before Braddock could cross the Atlantic with his regiments, English and French were at each other's throats in earnest. The French had built Fort Duquesne, and Colonel Washington, with a force of regulars and backwoodsmen, was sent to capture it. A bloody battle was fought, in which Washington was defeated; and now the Indians were more than ever on the French side. But the schemes and labour of the last three years had undermined Governor Duquesne's health, and a new Viceroy appeared in Quebec. This was the Marquis de Vaudreuil, a native of Canada, whose father had formerly also been Governor.
Vaudreuil entered with spirit upon the duties of his office. He needed all his faculties, for stirring times were in prospect. General Braddock and his Englishmen were in the north awaiting soldiers who were crossing the Atlantic. The French were also resolved to maintain what their Canadian advance guard had won. Field-Marshal Baron Dieskau was appointed to command six regiments of Frenchsoldiers who left their native shores in a squadron of fourteen battleships, four frigates, and many transports.
You must remember that during all this time there had been no war. If you had asked any of the French courtiers or ambassadors they would have told you that perfect peace existed between the two nations. But that was only a diplomatic fiction. At all events, whatever was happening in Europe between Old France and Old England, on the other side of the great ocean New France and New England were engaged in a life-and-death conflict. It was not strange that the hand of both mother-countries was extended to help them. Only if England could have looked into the future five-and-twenty years and seen her ungrateful American children tearing down her noble old flag with taunts and insults, perhaps she might not have given her help or spilt her blood so freely to protect America from the French. After all, it may be as well that nations do not know all the evils that are to happen. Their course is to do their duty manfully and honestly for the present; posterity can take care of itself. Moreover, the separation of America from England was no real evil, because that separation was to build the foundation of Canada's greatness in the British Empire and loyalty to the British crown and flag.
On the arrival of General Braddock the various colonial Governors held a consultation. They decided that the three forts, Duquesne, Niagara, and Crown Point, at the head of Lake Champlain, should be captured. We have already seen that anotherFrench fort, Beauséjour, was doomed to destruction. It was while Beauséjour was being surrounded by Monckton and his New Englanders that the other expeditions were setting out for their destinations. Braddock decided to take Fort Duquesne himself. Governor Shirley led the expedition against Niagara, and Colonel William Johnson was ordered to take Crown Point. Braddock took 1000 English veterans and 1200 Virginian Militia into the heart of the wilderness. The commander of Fort Duquesne was Contrecoeur. When he was told the size of Braddock's army he saw little hope of standing a siege, but he might intercept the English soldiers in the woods. It was a splendid opportunity for the kind of warfare Indians loved. Two hundred Frenchmen and 500 redskins were sent to lie in ambush on the trail which Braddock would take with drums beating and fifes playing. On a beautiful July day the scarlet-coated regiments of Braddock moved on unconscious to their doom. Every moment they looked to see the great walls of the Fort Duquesne burst upon their gaze. Through the forest they came to the river, the Monongahela, and forded it. Hardly had they crossed, when a strange apparition sprang into the middle of the wide woodland path. He wore war-paint and flaming feathers, but in spite of this dress he was really a French officer. He flung his right arm into the air as a signal, and instantly the forest rang with savage yells. A shower of bullets, fired by unseen hands, fell upon the advancing English. Astonished and taken at such a disadvantage, they yet did not hesitate to return the fire. The intrepid French leader who had given thesignal so openly, paid for that act with his life; but it was not easy to fight, however valiantly, against a hidden foe. Braddock and his officers thought it cowardly to fight behind trees; they charged hither and thither in pursuit of the enemy, and were mowed down like grass. The troops became at length huddled together in a panic, shooting, if they shot at all, blindly and without aim. In vain did the General's aide-de-camp, Washington, urge him to scatter his men singly under cover. Braddock, on horseback, galloped fearlessly in every direction ordering the ranks to advance. Not until four horses had been shot dead beneath him did he order a retreat. The command had scarcely passed his lips ere a bullet pierced his body, and he fell, to rise no more. His last words were, "We shall know better how to deal with them another time." The retreat soon became a disgraceful flight. Arms, baggage, and artillery were abandoned. Yelling Indians pursued them, only stopping in order to scalp the helpless wounded. Had it not been for the hope of plunder, very few of the British forces would have escaped death or captivity. Cannons, stores, arms, and papers fell into the hands of the victorious French. Upwards of sixty British officers had been killed, and of all Braddock's army less than half took refuge in the English Fort Cumberland.
Tidings of Braddock's defeat were carried by the swiftest couriers to Canada, and there caused much rejoicing. The Marquis de Vaudreuil sent the good news off at once to his King, but his letter never reached its destination. The ship that bore it,LePierre Alexandre, was overhauled by an English man-of-war in August, and the captain threw overboard the bag of Canadian letters. Not till nearly two months after the battle had been fought did the news of the victory reach France by way of England. But it was otherwise on the American side of the border. It put an end at once to Shirley's expedition against Niagara. For a time it was thought that the attack on Crown Point would also be given up. It might have been had it been entrusted to another man than Sir William Johnson. Johnson was a settler on the Upper Hudson River. He had married Mollie Brant, sister of the celebrated Chief Brant of the Mohawks, who had acquired great influence with the Iroquois tribes in his locality, and it was on his account that the Mohawks refrained from joining the French. Johnson was not a skilled soldier, but he was wise and daring. Braddock's papers, which had fallen into the hands of Governor Vaudreuil at Quebec, convinced him that Crown Point would be attacked.
Baron Dieskau was sent with 3500 men, half of them Canadian farmers, to go to the defence of Crown Point. Johnson had behind him some 5000 men, raw Militia from Massachusetts and Connecticut. Before attacking Crown Point, Johnson deemed it prudent to build another fort on the Hudson, known as Fort Edward; from this fort he marched to the foot of a large lake, to which he gave the name of his sovereign, and there built Fort George. He was still engaged in building it when the French general marched upon Fort Edward. A scout broughtJohnson the news, and immediately he despatched 1000 men to oppose his defence. Dieskau, remembering the success of the manoeuvres against the hapless Braddock, thought to repeat them here. He arranged to keep his own men out of sight amongst the trees and bushes until the enemy should pass by. Had this plan been carried out it is probable that none of the English forces would have escaped alive. But the redskins set up their war-whoops a little too soon, and the English, seeing that they were about to fall into an ambuscade, beat an instant retreat upon Fort Edward. Dieskau now made a hasty resolve to bring the whole strength of his forces to bear upon Fort George. Johnson had made this fort of great strength, protecting it by forming trees into a sort of breastwork, from behind which his cannons and musketry could be used with fatal effect, but Dieskau was not to be turned aside. He ordered his troops to fling themselves on the fort. Legardeur de St. Pierre was killed. Dieskau led forth the French veterans unsupported, leaving the Canadians and Indians scattered behind the trees. These, you will remember, were precisely the tactics which had led to Braddock's defeat. The soldiers advanced gallantly, and, like the English before Fort Duquesne, were mowed down like grass. Dieskau's body was pierced by three bullets. A Canadian who attempted to drag him from under the walls of the fort was shot dead, falling across his General's legs. None now came to his assistance. The French were beaten back and Fort George was saved. The New England troops left their defences. General Dieskau, while leaningagainst a tree, suffering from the wounds he had received, was fired at and again wounded by a renegade French Canadian, who some years before had deserted. Dieskau reproached him for firing on a wounded man, but the fellow answered that it was better to kill the devil than be killed by him. The French commander was carried to Johnson's own tent and treated kindly. The Iroquois wanted to torture him to death, but Johnson sternly refused. For this victory Johnson was made a Baronet and presented with a purse of £5000. He had begun his career as a private in the army, and had risen to distinction from sheer force of character. As for Dieskau, he never recovered from his wounds, and although he was carried back to France, it was only as a bedridden invalid, to die.
The French still held the positions at Niagara and Crown Point. Three out of the four English expeditions had failed to achieve their purpose, the French remained undisputed masters of the Ohio valley, and their victory over Braddock enabled them to attack the undefended frontiers of Virginia and Pennsylvania. During the winter of 1755-6 French war-parties from Fort Duquesne repeatedly attacked the settlements of the English, behaving very cruelly, and killing or carrying away as prisoners more than 1000 souls. In spite of these temporary successes of the French, Vaudreuil and the Indians were not happy. All this fighting had drawn the farmers away from the soil, and the harvest was very scanty. The necessaries of life became very dear, but, worse than all, dishonesty and corruption were eating outthe very heart of Canada. The Intendant Bigot was at the height of his infamy; he descended to every trick of rascality to achieve his ends.
Trade had almost ceased, the supply of beef given out, and the people were reduced to eat horseflesh. As the famine increased the Governor ordered flour to be given to the people; crowds attended at the bakers' shops struggling to be served. At first they were given one pound apiece, afterwards only half a pound. Owing to the scarcity of money, the promises to pay, written on cards, were made to pass as currency. Bigot began to issue what were called ordinances; he issued these notes recklessly. Money was sent from time to time from France, but it was not enough to fill the need. The value of the paper money went down and down, and when England finally acquired Canada it was found that 41,000,000 livres of ordinances were in circulation. Bigot got up a Company to import commodities from France and to buy up all the grain in the country districts. The poor people had to deal with this Company and to pay their charges. The supplies for the King's service had to be bought from the Company in Quebec. The citizens could procure bread only through the Company's stores, which in the two leading cities were known as "La Friponne" or "The Cheat." It was in this way that gigantic frauds were committed which paralysed the colony only to enrich a few individuals. Canada was costing France 15,000,000 francs a year, and France had already spent upon her 80,000,000 francs, but, distressed as she herself was, she did not grudge these sums to her colony.
In the spring of 1756 the people welcomed with joy the arrival of a fresh fleet bearing 1000 soldiers, a supply of food and ammunition, and a large sum of money. Almost as great a boon King Louis bestowed upon Canada when he sent her the new Commander-in-Chief of the Canadian army, the Marquis de Montcalm. This hero was forty-six years old, a splendid soldier, of high character, culture, and determination. Could Canada be saved to the flag of the lilies? If so, surely it was the virtuous Montcalm who could achieve this great task.
If we were to tell the story of Canada faithfully for the next few years, it would be only of further battles, sieges, skirmishes, and massacres between the French and English colonists, aided by savage Indian warriors.
Never before had Canada boasted so many French soldiers as were now arrayed under the command of Montcalm. He fell upon Oswego and destroyed it, taking 1400 prisoners and great booty. Against him was sent the English Earl of Loudoun, no match for the French commander, and afraid to strike an overwhelming blow. Loudoun at last sailed away for Halifax with his army, thinking to make another attack by and by on Louisburg, still in French hands. A terrible mistake this of Loudoun's, and just the opportunity Montcalm looked for. The French had built a strong fortress at Ticonderoga, and now that the danger of Loudoun's army was removed, 6000 of their troops moved swiftly out of the fortress and attacked Fort William Henry.
Undaunted by the great force brought against him, the commander, Colonel Munro, answered Montcalm's summons to surrender by saying that he woulddefend his post to the death. The French planted their guns and the siege commenced. Day and night the wooden ramparts of Fort William Henry were splintered by Montcalm's cannon balls. Munro, brave Scotsman that he was, hoped vainly that the English garrison at Fort Edward would come to his rescue, but their commander was afraid to send them over. He knew that there were nearly 2000 bloodthirsty redskins roaming at large in the woods. They dreaded the tomahawk and scalping-knife more than the sword and musket. Well did they know what their fate would be if they fell into the hands, wounded or prisoners, of those relentless savages.
So at last one sweltering August day Munro realised that no hope remained. He could hold out no longer. His fort was nearly a mass of ruins, and reluctantly he hoisted the white flag asking Montcalm for terms of capitulation.
The French commander allowed the brave Munro and his soldiers to march out with the honours of war, pledging himself to protect them from his savage followers. Alas! Montcalm had reckoned without his host. He might as well have tried to fetter the summer breeze that blew across Lake George as to balk his redskin allies of their destined prey. They thirsted for the blood of the English. They could not understand the French code of honour. Of terms of capitulation they knew nothing. The soldiers of the garrison, with their wives and children, with a French escort, filed slowly through the woods on their way to a refuge at Fort Edward. Suddenly the Indians, sending up a terrible war-yell, dartedupon them. One of the most dreadful massacres in history now took place. The soldiers could do nothing to defend themselves, because they had given up their muskets to the French. They were scalped by dozens and hundreds. Helpless women were brained by hatchets and little children were dashed to death against the trunks of trees.
At the risk of their lives, Montcalm and his officers strove to save the fugitives, but not until nearly 1000 had been slain did they succeed. Montcalm was pale with horror at the awful disgrace which had stained the French name. He had given his word that the garrison should march out unharmed, and now his brave foes were lying in heaps of mangled corpses in the heart of this once peaceful forest.
In fear lest he should punish them in his great anger, the treacherous redskins slunk away with their scalps and plunder. Such was the massacre of Fort William Henry. Afterwards the fort itself was levelled to the ground.
This was not the only disaster the English suffered. Twelve thousand soldiers and eighteen battleships were sent to capture Louisburg, but after cruising about for many weeks and losing several vessels, the weak and cowardly Lord Loudoun did not venture upon an attack, and sailed back to England to meet the contempt of his fellow-countrymen.
You can see what a critical period this was in the history of Canada. To many it seemed a critical period in the life of the English colonists in America.But the French triumph was soon to be cut short. A new and vigorous minister was called by King George to his councils. The energy and fire of the great William Pitt put new life into the hearts of the English people in every part of the Empire. Crushing his right hand down upon the map of the New World, Pitt decreed that French dominion in Canada must be brought to a close. Easy it was to say this. Other English ministers had said it before, but their misfortune was that they did not know how to make the right plans, or to find the right men to carry out their plans. They could not kindle the soldiers into a flame of enthusiasm by their zeal and eloquence. Pitt could do this. He could choose his generals for their worth and fighting qualities, and when he wanted a live ardent soldier, upon whom he could rely, he chose James Wolfe. Who would have dreamt that in the long, gaunt figure, with pale face and straight red hair, that shuffled into the minister's ante-chamber in the spring of 1758, was the future conqueror of Quebec!
General Wolfe was then thirty-two years old. His appearance little revealed his character. A born soldier, he had already distinguished himself on the battlefields of Europe. In those sleepy days, before Pitt came, his fellow-officers could not understand Wolfe's enthusiasm. One of them told King George that he believed Wolfe was mad. "Then," cried the King, remembering the defeats his army had suffered, "I only hope he will bite some of my generals!"
Court influence succeeded in giving the nominal command to General Amherst, but Wolfe was thereal leader. With Amherst and Wolfe sailed a powerful fleet under Admiral Boscawen. By June 1758 the whole of this great force drew up before the fortress of Louisburg, within whose walls was a population of 4000 souls. The garrison consisted of the bravest men the French could furnish, veterans of many battlefields. The Commandant was Drucour. But it was in vain now that the French defended their splendid fortress. After an heroic defence, Drucour was at last obliged to surrender, and all the garrison were sent to England as prisoners of war. Louisburg would give the English trouble and anxiety no more. As if it were but a tiny sandcastle built by children on the seashore, these mighty stone bastions were swept away. After the surrender the English soldiers were ordered to the duty of destroying the stronghold of France in Cape Breton, pulling it to pieces with pickaxe and crowbar, filling the crevices with gunpowder, until at last hardly a vestige remained. If you ask to see Louisburg to-day, you will be shown only a rolling meadow upon which sheep graze peacefully.
Wolfe was now eager to push on to Quebec, but he had to wait nearly a year. In the meantime the French had triumphed on Lake Champlain. General Abercrombie had tried to take Fort Ticonderoga with 15,000 men, but Abercrombie was no such soldier as James Wolfe. He had, however, with him Lord Howe, a brave and able young officer, who was the second in command. Had not a stray bullet struck him down on his way to the battlefield, the story of Ticonderoga might have had a different ending. Hewas beloved and trusted by his soldiers, and when he died their courage seemed to die away also.
Abercrombie foolishly thought that by his superior numbers he could force Ticonderoga without cannon, but Montcalm knew his strength. He was surprised when he saw the English general hurling his soldiers in four strong columns upon the front of his fort. It was a battle in which superior numbers, bravery, and perseverance were thrown away. Six times did the English doggedly come on, and six times did the cannon of the French sow carnage amongst them. There was a regiment of Highlanders fighting like tigers, some of them hacking the wooden stocks of the outposts with their claymores until a cannon-ball carried away their limbs. When at last, at the close of that long bloody day, Abercrombie drew off his troops, he left 2000 English corpses in the glacis outside the walls of the French fort.
Was it strange that the hearts of the survivors turned against him? that they did not conceal their rejoicing when the King, after this fearful defeat, relieved Abercrombie of his command?
It was not, however, all a tale of repulses and humiliation for the English. Colonel Bradstreet had crossed Lake Ontario and captured Fort Frontenac. General Forbes had made the French abandon Fort Duquesne. On its site a new stronghold arose, to which the name of Fort Pitt was given. Here in our day is the great and flourishing city of Pittsburg. This was not all. In the spring of the fateful year 1759, Fort Niagara fell.
The news of the capture of Louisburg, which caused such rejoicings in America and England, cast a terrible gloom over French Canada. Quebec, that splendid stronghold which had defied the English, was now their last hope. The town and citadel on the summit of Cape Diamond which Champlain had founded and Frontenac guarded so well, seemed to laugh at cannon and bayonet. Stern was the task set before the man who should presume to scale those heights and force the proud city to surrender. Behind its confident aspect Quebec was the scene of despair and corruption. Amongst the officials reckless extravagance reigned. While Canada's fate was trembling in the balance, the Intendant Bigot, who should have been a pattern to the community, spent his nights in riot and gambling. Although the King had forbidden games of hazard, Bigot would often play amongst a party of forty people, losing many thousands of francs in a few hours. The King sent out his gold to help Canada, the people crushed by taxation gave theirs, but all the money found its way into the pocket of Bigot and his accomplices.
Provisions and clothing that should have gone to the hungry, shivering French soldiers were sold at La Friponne to reap a profit. Distant forts held bravely for the French cried aloud for succour, but the scoundrelly Intendant put them off with excuses, and the money intended for them was devoted to gaming and dissipation. In two years alone Bigot's robberies amounted to nearly a million pounds sterling. A time of retribution was at hand. Montcalm wept at the vices and irregularities around him, but,being only military commander, he could do little or nothing. The Governor, De Vaudreuil, answered his warnings haughtily, for he was jealous of Montcalm. So the end approached.
Never had England sent out an army so full of zeal, courage, and discipline as the army which sailed away from her shores under Wolfe to take Quebec. Their commander well knew that he had to attack one of the strongest forts in the world, defended by all the soldiers that Montcalm could muster, fighting in defence of their country, their flag, and their religion. Wolfe had only 9000 men against the 18,000 French Canadians, but he rejoiced in his Englishmen. "If valour could make amends for want of numbers," he wrote to Pitt, "we shall succeed."
On the first day of June 1759, the ships sailed out of the harbour of Halifax for the river St. Lawrence. The harbour rang with the cheers of the soldiers, and the bands struck up the old melody "The Girl I left behind Me." When they reached the mighty river they ran great danger for want of a pilot. A French prisoner on board began wringing his hands, declaring that they would all go to the bottom. An old British captain of a transport laughed in his face: "I will show you," he roared with an oath, "that an Englishman shall go where a Frenchman dare not show his nose." And he steered his ship through in safety. The boast was no empty one. Vaudreuil wrote to France to say "that the enemy have passed sixty ships of war where we dare not risk a vessel of 100 tons by night or day."
In Quebec, Montcalm during the long days ofearly summer awaited the coming of the English. Not a man was idle. Drilling and building of earthworks filled up nearly every hour of the day. Montcalm's 18,000 men were as strongly entrenched as Nature and the art of war could make them. On the 27th of June the French in Quebec snatched their first glimpse of the masts of the English battleships. A few hours later the English fleet had halted before the Isle of Orleans, and Wolfe and his red-coated infantry landed on its shores. Mounting the point of land to the west, the young general took out a telescope and turned it towards the heights of Quebec, four miles away. As he scanned the mighty rock he felt that it was indeed a hard task which England had sent him to accomplish.
Vaudreuil did not wait for the English commander to make the first move; he attempted to destroy the English fleet with fire-ships. One dark night a number of old vessels, filled with pitch, gunpowder, bombs, and antique cannon, packed to the muzzle, were towed out into the channel and set on fire to float to the English fleet. The whole countryside seemed to burst in lurid flames, and a hail of grapeshot and bullets flew in all directions. But the English soldiers were not frightened; they rowed out in their boats, grappling courageously with the flaming monsters, and towed them to shore. Vaudreuil's explosive experiments proved a total failure. During that very night Wolfe was busy with pen and paper writing his first manifesto to the Canadian people. "We are sent by King George," he said, "to conquer this province, but not to make war upon women andchildren, the ministers of religion, or industrious people. We lament the sufferings which our invasion may inflict upon you, but if you remain neutral we proffer safety to person and property, with freedom in religion. We are masters of the river; no succour can reach you from France; General Amherst with a large army has sailed to the southern frontier. Your cause is hopeless, your valour useless. Your nation has been guilty of great cruelties to our unprotected settlers, but we seek no revenge, we offer you the sweets of peace with the honours of war. England in her strength will befriend you; France in her weakness leaves you to your fate." But although the English commander spoke so confidently, he had many misgivings in his heart. If Amherst did not get through to Montreal and down the St. Lawrence by the autumn, it meant the winter would be lost, and where was he to find food for his troops? How could he face amidst the snow and ice the 18,000 men of Montcalm, as brave and as hardy as his own?
Victory was only to be won by quick and vigorous action. Seizing the heights of Point Lévis opposite Quebec, Wolfe set up his batteries so as to bombard the city. He planted a large force on the north bank of the river St. Lawrence, near the Falls of Montmorency, leaving some regiments encamped on the Isle of Orleans. Fleet and army now only waited a given signal to attack the city. On board the fleet were some, as yet unknown, officers, who were destined to rise to great fame in the world. A young midshipman there was, named Jervis, who became the great English Admiral Earl St. Vincent. Pallisertoo, who figures in history as Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser, was on board the frigateMercury. On another vessel was Robison, destined to be a noted Professor of Science in Edinburgh, and the partner of James Watt, inventor of the steam-engine. The humble sailing master of theMercurywas none other than James Cook, who became the most famous scientific navigator that ever left the shores of England.
Quickly did the fire of the English ships, joined to that of the batteries, work destruction upon the outer walls of the grim fortress. In the lower town the buildings were soon reduced to ruins, and even in the upper town many dangerous fires broke out. Indeed, before the siege was brought to a close, more than 500 buildings fell a prey to the flames, including public and private structures, the Cathedral and other churches. Yet while the summer wore away, in spite of Wolfe's terrible bombardment, Montcalm played a waiting game. Wolfe was in despair. By the end of July half of Quebec was shattered away by his cannon-balls, and still the French commander could not be drawn out to a battle; so the Englishman decided to attack the enemy at close quarters, just on the other side of the river Montmorency. But a fierce repulse awaited him; 12,000 French soldiers poured a storm of bullets against the brave grenadiers, who tried to get a footing on the river slopes. They were beaten back, 500 of Wolfe's best troops having fallen in the fatal charge. Wolfe fretted with impatience; he knew the time was precious. If he could only draw Montcalm out to battle! But Montcalm was wise; he refused to be drawn.
"You may destroy the town," came the French message under the flag of truce, "but you will never get inside it."
"I will take Quebec," replied Wolfe, "if I stay here until November."
One plan only now remained: it was to creep up in the night and scale the heights. It was a desperate move, but the only one that remained that offered a chance of success. In the midst of his plans the young English commander fell ill. He had always been of a delicate constitution, ever struggling with sickness. Days elapsed, but his heroic spirit conquered, and on the 11th of September the English troops were directed to be ready to land and attack the enemy. While a portion of the troops made a feint to the eastward to disguise Wolfe's intentions from the enemy, Wolfe and his troops drifted up stream with the tide. When the tide began to ebb, boats full of soldiers were cast off, reaching in safety a little cove three miles above Quebec.
In the first boat to land was the young general himself, who, as the oarsmen plied their muffled oars, murmured softly to his officers, the famous lines in Gray'sElegy:—
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,Await alike the inevitable hour—The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
"Gentlemen," said Wolfe, "I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec."
As the boat's prow touched the shore, the sentinel'schallenge rang out in the darkness, "Qui vive." To hesitate was to be lost. Instantly a Scotch captain, who spoke French perfectly, answered, "La France!"
"A quel régiment?"
"De la Heine," replied the Highlander boldly.
His quickness averted a calamity. The sentry was satisfied; his comrades had been expecting provision boats from Montreal, and he thought they had arrived. Sentry after sentry was passed by Wolfe and his men with the same result.
Up the dread heights the English soldiers clambered. Day was just dawning when they reached the top. They could see a cluster of French tents close at hand, and, dashing forward, they captured their occupants. This was the first outpost. The victors' huzzas rang out, and at this signal all Wolfe's red-coated battalions began climbing the cliffs, and soon joined their companions on the top. Their eyes beheld a great plain stretched out.
In the early days of the colony Master Abraham Martin had owned this tract of ground, which he had planted with corn. The people called it the Plains of Abraham, and Wolfe now chose it for his battlefield. On one side of him was the garrison of Quebec, startled by hearing of his mad adventure; on the opposite side was another French army under Bougainville; behind was the edge of the steep cliff and the river.
Montcalm, deceived by the firing of the English fleet, was far away. But at six o'clock he mounted and galloped thither as fast as his horse would carryhim. Two miles away he could discern the red ranks of the British soldiers.
"This is a serious business," he said coolly, riding over the bridge of the St. Charles to gather his troops for the fray. Fervently they rallied at his command, never doubting but that they would sweep Wolfe and his men wholly from the heights. The eyes of the Indians, as did their tomahawks, glittered with expectancy; as did too, the eyes and bayonets of the white-coated battalions of Old France and the native Canadians, whose homes were at stake.
Brandishing his sword and again putting spurs to his noble war-horse, Montcalm led his ranks against the English infantry.
Wolfe's Army scaling the Cliff at Quebec. 1759Wolfe's Army scaling the Cliff at Quebec. 1759
Wolfe waited until the French were only forty paces away, and then from kilted Highlander and English red-coat poured one tremendous sheet of flame. The French staggered, but still came on. Another fatal volley met them, inflicting awful slaughter. As they wavered, Wolfe flourished his sword, and amidst the weird uproar of the bagpipes, the shrieks and groans of the wounded, the war-whoops of the Indians, the mad shouting of the English, and fierce slogan of the Highlanders, Wolfe pushed on over dead and dying, behind a moving wall of bayonets. A bullet shattered his wrist, another pierced his body, but he kept on; a third lodged in his breast, and Wolfe fell upon the ground.
Two or three stalwart grenadiers bore their beloved general quickly to the rear. "There is no need for a surgeon," he said; "it is all over with me!"
One of the grenadiers looked up and cried out, "They run! See how they run!"
The dying Wolfe opened his eyes and murmured, "Who run?"
"The enemy, sir; they give way everywhere."
The general roused himself by a superhuman effort.
"Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," he said in quick terms of command. "Tell him to march Webb's regiment down to Charles River to cut off their retreat from the bridge." Then, turning on his side, he whispered faintly, "Now, God be praised, I die in peace."
In a few moments the gallant Wolfe was no more.
How fared it meanwhile with his brave enemy, Montcalm? As he galloped about on horseback the tide of French fugitives pressed him back towards the gates of Quebec. He was nearing the walls when a shot passed through his body. Mortally wounded though he was, he kept himself seated in the saddle, two soldiers supporting him on either side.
As his life-blood streamed from Montcalm's body down his horse's limbs, the frightened crowd of women within the gates exclaimed in grief and terror, "The Marquis is killed! the Marquis is killed!"
"It is nothing, it is nothing," replied the dying Montcalm: "do not be troubled for me, my good friends."
When, some hours later, his spirit had breathed his last, Montcalm was buried under the floor of the Ursuline Convent. No workman could be found during the panic to make a coffin, and so anold servant gathered a few boards and nailed them together into a rough box. No bell tolled, no cannon fired a salute as Montcalm was laid to eternal rest.
Not thus was the funeral of the victorious Wolfe. His body was embalmed and borne across the sea to England, where the greatest and most powerful gathered to do him honour and reverence at his funeral in Westminster Abbey.
Yet history has struck the balance. To-day in Quebec, marking the scene of the death-struggle on that fateful September day, a single shaft of stone rises to heaven to commemorate at the same time a victory and a defeat. On the one side is graven the single word "MONTCALM" and on the other "WOLFE."
It was while Montcalm, high-spirited and valorous, yet lay dying, that Vaudreuil, now quartered on the Beauport Road, called a council of war. Tumult, fear, and confusion reigned. Montcalm, seeing the sands of his life fast running out, despatched a brief reply. "You have a threefold choice," he said: "to fight the English again, to retreat to Jacques Cartier, or to surrender the colony."
Over which choice to make, Vaudreuil hesitated. With Bougainville's troops he could muster 3000 men. These added to the Quebec garrison, the Canadian militia and artillery at Beauport, would give him a force far larger than that which had been mustered by the heroic Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham. When he asked the advice of the council of war he found, to his chagrin, that all his officers voted for retreat. "In vain," he reported to the King, "I told these gentlemen that we were superior to the enemy, and should beat them if we mustered. Still I could not at all change their opinion, and my love for the service and for the colony made me subscribe to the voice of the council. In fact, if I had attacked the English against the advice of the principal officers,their ill-will would have exposed me to the risk of losing the battle and the colony also." But the real reason why the officers were against fighting afterwards appeared. It was that they thought their commander, Vaudreuil, unfit to lead them to the fray. So Quebec, which might even now have been prevented from falling into the hands of the English, was left to its fate. Weary and footsore, almost dead for want of sleep, leaving their cannon, tents, and provisions behind them, Vaudreuil and the Beauport army set out for the distant hill of Jacques Cartier, where they were certain of a refuge that very night. Never was such disorder seen before. "It was not a retreat," wrote one of the officers afterwards, "but an abominable flight, with such disorder and confusion that, had the English but known it, 300 men sent after us would have been sufficient to cut all our army to pieces. The soldiers were all mixed, scattered, dispersed, and running as hard as they could, as if the English army were at their heels."
But the English, under General Townsend, were not so foolish as to risk the fruits of their victory by making an attempt to pursue the French across the St. Charles River. The people of Quebec, realising that they were deserted by the army, without provisions or munitions of war, and that the defences were insufficient to repulse a bombardment and assault, wished to surrender at once. Seeing that they refused to fight the enemy, the commandant, Ramésay, could only send out a flag of truce to the hostile camp and begin negotiations for capitulation.
But within the walls of Quebec dwelt a doughty patriot, the town-major, named Joannès. He called upon the soldiers and citizens to fight with their last breath, to die as Montcalm had done rather than let Quebec pass into the hands of the enemy. In his rage at the cowardice about him he beat two of the garrison with the flat of his sword. When the white flag was raised Joannès, the bravest man in the city, instantly hauled it down with his own hands. But alas! it was but fighting a battle against fate. His superior officer, Ramésay, commanded him sternly to repair to the English camp and get the best terms of peace he could. Through the pelting rain the town-major of Quebec, his head thrown back defiantly, his hand on his empty scabbard, sought the quarters of General Townsend. There he spun out the hours in a parley, hoping against hope that the recreant Vaudreuil would return and try to succour the city. Joannès kept up the negotiations as long as he could. Losing patience at last, Townsend sent him back to the French general with the message that if Quebec were not surrendered before eleven o'clock, he would capture it by assault. Ramésay, seeing all was lost, put his name to the articles of capitulation, and Joannès, with a heavy heart, carried the document back to the English commander. Scarcely had he put the walls of the city he loved behind him, when a troop of sixty Canadian horsemen appeared with the news that the Chevalier de Lévis was on the way with troops and provisions to rescue Quebec. The tidings came too late! The French general had surrendered; he would not now break his word.Ramésay dreaded too much the vengeance of the English in case the news borne by the sixty horsemen was not true, but false. How shall we picture the feelings of the town-major Joannès? When he returned he hid himself in a cellar and wept, while the blood-red cross of St. George was flaunted from the summit of the citadel. Thus at length, on the 18th September 1759, the capital town and rock-bound fortress of New France fell into the hands of the English.
General Townsend recognised too well the danger of his position not to grant favourable terms to the enemy, whose troops and sailors were allowed to march out of the garrison with the honours of war and granted passage in English ships to France. The persons and property of the inhabitants were promised protection, and their religion was not to be interfered with.
But now the question was with the English, should they keep Quebec or destroy it, as they had destroyed Louisburg? For a moment the city's fate trembled in the balance, and then it was resolved to keep it. Ten battalions of the artillery and a company of Rangers were ordered to remain behind and through the long Canadian winter hold the ruins of Quebec against the efforts of Lévis and the French, for little more than ruins much of Quebec now was. It needed enormous labour to make the town secure against the enemy, or even habitable.
While Townsend sailed away to England, leaving General Murray in charge, many working parties of soldiers were distributed through the town to clearthe streets of rubbish and to repair the buildings for occupation. The palace of the Intendant was turned into winter quarters for an English regiment, which found there quantities of unused firearms, iron-mongery, blankets, cloths and linen, trinkets and lace, furs, wine, sugar, moccasins, and other stores. These were seized upon with alacrity. Nearly 7000 English, with insufficient food and clothing, made ready to face the approaching winter. Outposts in the neighbourhood of Sillery, St. Foye, and Lorette were established in order to guard against a surprise and to cover the safety of the detachments sent out to gather fuel in the surrounding woods. Canadian winters are cold, and the English soldiers were not yet hardened to their severities, and this gathering of firewood became a very serious business. Each detachment could make only one trip a day to the forest, returning with a fair-sized load on a sled drawn by hand. The soldiers were obliged to go armed as they worked, and keep a sharp lookout for fear of attacks by the Indians, who were always skulking in the neighbourhood. Winter this year set in even earlier than usual, and the brave soldiers who had served in India and Europe were now face to face with an enemy more terrible than the French. Their faces, hands, and feet were often frost-bitten, and on some occasions half the force of a detachment would be borne back entirely disabled. As if this were not enough, fever and scurvy prevailed in the garrison the whole winter long, and the brave fellows perished by scores and hundreds. Those who died were buried in the deep snow to await intermentin the spring, for the ground was fast locked by frost.
Meanwhile the inhabitants of the province were disarmed and required to take the oath of allegiance to King George. But they could not all be trusted. The English lived in constant insecurity, and during the winter many rumours came of a projected attack by the French, and several skirmishes took place. Once in November it was reported that Lévis was about to march upon Quebec with 15,000 men the next month, for had he not sworn an oath to eat his Christmas dinner under the French flag within the walls? So the half-frozen English, each man hugging his musket in his frost-bitten fingers, waited for the enemy. The enemy had a fine sense of humour. In February a party of French and Indians sent a message to the English officers that a large company of expert hairdressers were prepared to wait upon them whenever their services were required! Needless to say, the English took no notice of this handsome offer to deprive them of their scalps.
Not until April did the long-expected battle occur. For months Lévis had been gathering his forces, and now, with an army of 8000 men and many redskins, he set out to recover the lost city of Quebec. At the village of St. Foye, five or six miles away, he halted. So wary had been his approach, that Murray and his garrison were ignorant of danger. They might have learnt it too late but for a strange and fortunate accident. It so happened that a frigate called theRacehorsehad wintered in thedock at Quebec Lower town. On board this frigate soon after midnight the watch heard a faint cry of distress proceeding from the river. He ran at once to the captain, who, believing that some one was drowning, ordered a boat to be put out to save him. Guided by the cries, the sailors found a man lying on a large cake of ice, wet through and half dead with cold. Carrying him to the ship and pouring hot cordials down his throat, the man at last found strength to mutter that he was a soldier in Lévis's army; he and his companions had been trying to land just about Cap Rouge, but the boat had overturned, and he was the sole survivor. His life had been saved by his clambering upon a cake of floating ice. "The army of Lévis?" echoed the puzzled ship captain. "Just so," answered the soldier; "there are 12,000 of us. We are coming to retake Quebec."
Although it was between two and three o'clock in the morning, the rescued soldier was wrapped up warmly, slung in a hammock, and carried straightway up the heights to the commander's quarters. General Murray was fast asleep, but, having risen and heard the man's story, he ordered the troops under arms on the instant. By daybreak half the English garrison, with ten pieces of cannon, were hurled on the French columns at St. Foye. But in his rashness and thirst for renown, Murray had not counted well the cost. The French had thrice as many soldiers, and although the English fought gallantly and doggedly, they were compelled at last to fall back. When the English columns withdrew again to the city, they had left 1000 dead and dying men on the field of St. Foye.
Then began what Murray dreaded most—a new siege of Quebec. Weak his men were with sickness, and feeble with toil, fighting, and hunger, but their spirit was as unquenchable as ever. While Lévis set up his siege guns in position and began a steady bombardment of the city, the English garrison worked unceasingly, officers and privates handling spade and pickaxe in the same trenches together. Not a man of them all was idle. Even the sick in hospital filled sandbags or made wadding for the cannons. The English fire grew hotter every day from the 150 cannon which had been planted upon the walls.
All depended now on the reinforcements of troops expected by both sides from England and from France. Whichever arrived first would settle the question of victory. It was on a bright May morning, as Murray sat pondering over his despatches at headquarters, that an officer burst in to tell him that a ship of war had been sighted far down the river. The news spread through the town; all were divided between hope and fear. Was this warship French or was she English? Every eye was strained on the approaching ship, which displayed no colours at her mast-head. Slowly, slowly she drew near, and then hurrah! there unfurled to the wind the crimson flag of England, and the first boom of a salute of twenty-one guns reverberated across the mighty river. She turned out to be theLowestoftbringing news that a British squadron was at the mouth of the St. Lawrence and would reach Quebec in a few days. "The gladness of the troops," wrote home one of thegarrison, "is not to be expressed. Both officers and soldiers mounted the parapet in the face of the enemy and huzzaed, with their hats in the air, for almost an hour. The garrison, the enemy's camp, the bay resounded with our shouts and the thunder of our artillery, and the gunners were so elated that they did nothing but load and fire for a considerable time."
But if a French squadron had been first, what a shock to their spirits, what a test of their endurance, which they might not have overborne!
On the heart of the gallant Chevalier de Lévis this news fell, and brought a deadly chill. He withdrew his troops hastily, and it was soon seen that the French ships, which had wintered high up the river, were fated to destruction. Of these there were six altogether, two frigates, two small armed ships, and two schooners. Commanding them was a daring officer named Vauquelin. Although Vauquelin fought with dogged determination till all his powder and lead was spent, although he refused to lower his colours, the English mariners overpowered him and made him their prisoner. But the English knew a brave man when they saw one, and Vauquelin they treated with distinguished honour, inviting him to a banquet and toasting him loudly as a hero.
This was the deathblow to the hopes of Lévis. True, he had Montreal still in his hands, but what was Montreal without ammunition and provisions, with the enemy clamouring at the very gates? The Canadian Militia had deserted to their homes, and Vaudreuil and De Lévis had to defend the city with only 2000 disheartened troops; while against themwas ranged a force of 17,000 English. Further resistance was useless, and so on the 8th of September Vaudreuil surrendered to General Murray, and Canada and all its dependencies passed to the British Crown.
Hopeless as the situation had been for a full year past, ever since Wolfe had laid down his life at the moment of victory on the Plains of Abraham, there were some amongst the French to whom the thought of defeat was unbearable pain. Invincible in spirit, we see emerging through the mist of a century and a half, the courtly, stalwart, chivalrous figure of the Chevalier de Lévis. To be conquered while his right arm could grip the handle of a sword was to him unutterable disgrace. When he heard that his superior, Vaudreuil, had agreed that the French troops should lay down their arms and serve no longer during the war, his manly cheek flushed and he insisted that the negotiations should be broken off. "If," he said, "the Marquis de Vaudreuil must surrender, let us at least withdraw with the troops to the Island of St. Helen in order to uphold there, on our own behalf, the honour of the King's army." But this step Vaudreuil could not, of course, permit, and the Chevalier could only grind his teeth in mortification and prepare to bid the Canada he loved an eternal farewell.
Canada was now a British colony, and those members of the old French Canadian families who were unwilling to become British subjects followed Vaudreuil and Lévis back to France. With them also went the rascally Bigot and the traitors and pilferers who had fattened on the distresses of their country. Nemesis awaited them! No sooner hadthey touched French soil than they were seized and flung into the Bastille. At first the brazen Cadet swore, when he faced his judges, he was innocent, but afterwards he confessed all. Bigot too denied his knavery, until the papers signed by himself put him to silence. His punishment was great, but far less than he deserved; he was banished from France for life, his property confiscated to the King, and he was made to pay a fine of 1,500,000 francs. Cadet was banished for nine years and fined 6,000,000 francs, while the rest were ordered to be imprisoned until their fines were paid, so that many who had betrayed New France languished in the gaols of Old France and died within those bare stone walls.
Canada, as you have seen, had now changed masters. But the red-man, so long the friend and ally of the French, standing at the door of his wigwam or stealing noiselessly in his war-paint through the forest, was puzzled and angered. He could not understand how it had happened; he could not understand why the flag of the lilies should be hauled down from every fort and trading-station, and the flag of the English or the "Boston men," as he called them, unfurled. His mind could not grasp the meek submission of the Canadian pale-faces—the farmers and traders—to the chiefs sent out by King George. "Why do you not," said one of their braves, "leave your towns and villages and set up your lodges in the forest? Then, when the English are lulled into security, return and fall upon and slay them? You can win battles by craft and cunning as well as by numbers and cannon." But although the French Canadians smiled and shooktheir heads at this plan, yet at the western settlements, such as Michilimackinac, Detroit, and Presqu'Isle, they did not scruple to tell the Indians that the English would soon drive them from their forest homes and hunting-grounds, and thereby to kindle hate in their hearts for the new conquerors. The French certainly understood the Indian character far better than the English, who treated them with contemptuous neglect. The vanity of the redskin chiefs was no longer fostered, and the tribes were told plainly that they were regarded as vassals and savages. For the English—the Boston men—could not forget the bloodthirsty cruelty which had been practised upon them and their wives and children for so long, and now that they felt that all power on the continent was in the hollow of their hands, they would not stoop to truckle to its aboriginal masters.
At first the haughty redskin chiefs were taken wholly by surprise at the contempt meted out to them; then all their hot savage blood mounted in their veins. All that they needed was a leader, and they had not long to wait. A leader of their own race, intelligent, daring, treacherous, and vain, suddenly appeared on the scene. Pontiac was a chieftain of the Ottawas, but so greatly had his fame spread that all the braves of the Hurons, the Ojibways, the Sacs, the Wyandots, the Delawares, and the Senecas looked to him as their guide and captain. In the strange drama which was now to thrill the Western world, Pontiac takes the stage as the central figure. In history this drama is called "The Conspiracy of Pontiac."
It was not many months after General Murray was ruling Canada in the name of his young master, King George III., that Pontiac, the chieftain of the Ottawas, saw with a keen eye the danger that threatened his people. Either the red-man and all the tribes would be crushed under the heel of the pale-faces, or else they must take up their dwellings and retreat farther into the western forests. "With the French," said Pontiac, "we can live in friendship, but with the restless English either we must flee afar or we or they must die!"
A plot grew and took shape in Pontiac's mind of uniting all the power of the red-men and driving the English for ever out of the whole country. He told his audacious plot to some of the Western French fur-traders, who expressed their joy, saying that the King of France would surely help him, and was even then sending out fresh hosts to slay the enemy. With the utmost care did Pontiac lay his plans. A day was chosen, a day in May 1763, when all the Indians who looked to Pontiac as their leader would rise in their might and fall with musket and tomahawk upon their unsuspecting victims. At this time the strongest of the western forts was Detroit, and this fort Pontiac had arranged to surprise and seize by strategy. A council of Indians arranged to meet Major Gladwin, the commander, and the other English officers within the fort on that day. They were supposed to be entirely unarmed, but beneath his blanket each conspirator concealed a musket, shortened by its barrel being filed in half. While they conversed pleasantly Pontiac was to give the signal which wouldsound the doom of the garrison. But the plot failed. To the love of an Indian maiden for Gladwin the English owed their lives. This young girl overheard the plot. She could not sleep the whole of one night, and in the morning stole hurriedly to Gladwin and told him of Pontiac's intended treachery. Altogether ignorant of how he had been betrayed, Pontiac and his fellow-conspirators, with faces calm and smiling, for the Indians can wear the most impenetrable mask, arrived at the fort to attend the proposed conference. To Pontiac's astonishment, he saw the English soldiers drawn up with loaded muskets as if for battle. Did he start back cringing and discomfited? Nay, not a change of expression passed his impassive features; he went on with the conference as if nothing had happened, and afterwards, without giving any signal, withdrew. Next morning Pontiac again came; this time he was ordered away from the gates of the fort. Fierce rage filled his heart; he knew then that his plot had been revealed to the English. Strategy had failed at Detroit, he must now fire the torch of Indian hatred and openly assault the stronghold. He attacked, and for months the red-men were kept at bay until succour could come to the heroic Gladwin and his men.
But if the devotion of one Indian maiden had spared Detroit, the treachery of another sacrificed Fort Miami and the garrison of the Maumee River. Captain Holmes, the commandant, had inspired the jealousy of a young squaw. She believed he loved another, and lent herself to Pontiac's schemes to encompass the English chiefs destruction. On thefatal morning she came to tell Holmes that her sister was seriously ill in one of the wigwams and desired to see him. All unsuspecting, he set out on his mission of charity, and was shot dead on the very threshold of the wigwam. As for his fort and company of soldiers, they fell into the hands of the watchful Indians. The same fate was reserved for the forts of De Boeuf, Presqu'Isle, and Sandusky. The blood of the colonists on the frontier of Pennsylvania flowed freely; the scalps of Pontiac's victims adorned many lodges.
It soon began to appear as if Pontiac's threat against the English had not been in vain. At Michilimackinac strategy carried the day for the red conspirators. On King George's birthday, the 4th June, Captain Etherington received an invitation from the Sacs and Ojibways to witness their favourite game of lacrosse by way of celebrating the day. Suspecting no danger, the gate of the fort was allowed to be left open, while the officers and soldiers, clustered in groups outside, became deeply interested in the progress of this most exciting game. The ball was passed and repassed skilfully between the goals, as, seizing their opportunity, a number of squaws, with muskets and tomahawks hidden under their blankets, stole unseen through the gates. Soon the ball bounced against the pallisade, and instantly a swarm of players dashed after it. In the twinkling of an eye they had darted through the open gates and snatched their weapons from the waiting squaws. Before the garrison could realise what had happened, fifteen of them lay weltering in their blood, and the rest weretaken prisoners. Thus in only six weeks from the day of the first attack of Pontiac on Detroit, all the forts in the western country, except three, were seized and destroyed and the garrisons massacred or made prisoners.