THE
CAMPAIGN of 1760 in CANADA
A NARRATIVE ATTRIBUTED TO
CHEVALIER JOHNSTONE.
Published under the Auspices of the
Literary and Historical Society of Quebec
QUEBEC:
PRINTED AT THE "MORNING CHRONICLE" OFFICE
1887.
[Published under the Auspices of the Literary and Historical Society
of Quebec.]
The Campaign of 1760 in Canada.
A Sequel
ATTRIBUTED TO CHEVALIER JOHNSTONE.
Hope that heavenly, healing balm, that gift from Providence, blendedwith persecutions to blunt the sharpness of their sting and hinder theunfortunate from being overwhelmed, and sinking under the load oftheir afflictions, never dies out—never abandons the distressed. "Wedon't believe in dangers," says Machiavel, "until they are over ourheads; but we entertain hopes of escaping them when at a greatdistance." Hope does not abandon the pale, dying man: in his agony hestill fells life, and in his thoughts he does not detach himself fromit. Death strikes, before his heart has realized that he could ceaseto live. Search in the prisons: hope dwells there with the wretch whonext day is to undergo his sentence of death. Every time the boltsrattle, he believes his deliverance entering with the jailer. Wholeyears of slavery have not been able to wear out this consolingsentiment. These contradictions,—these differences of seeing,—thesereturns,—this stormy flow and ebb, are so many effects of hope, whichplays upon us and never ceases. It is inherent in human nature to hopein adversity for a favorable change of fate, however the appearancesmay be ill-grounded of an end to its pain and suffering.
The Canadians, without the least apparent reason, still flatteredthemselves to save their country, and did not lose the hope ofretaking Quebec, though without artillery and warlike stores. Allminds were occupied during the winter in forming projects of capturingthat town, which were entirely chimerical, void of common sense, andnowise practicable. No country ever hatched a greater number—neverprojects more ridiculous and extravagant; everybody meddled. Thecontagion spread even to my Lord Bishop and his seminary of priests,who gave their plan, which, like all the others, lacked only commonsense and judgment. In short, a universal insanity prevailed atMontreal. Amongst thousands of the productions of these distemperedbrains, that of surprising Quebec by a forced march in winter andtaking it by escalade, was the only one where there was the leastchance of success. This project was for some time agitated soseriously, that workmen were employed in making wooden ladders; buthaving always looked upon it as a wild and extravagant fancy ofpriests and old women, I constantly argued against it whenever theyspoke of it, and it was continually the topic of conversation.
The Upper Town of Quebec lies upon the top of a rock, about twohundred feet high, almost perpendicular in some parts of it, andeverywhere extremely steep and inaccessible, excepting towards theHauteurs d'Abraham, which is a continuation of the same hill, thatbegins at Quebec and ends at Cap Rouge, diminishing gradually inheight in the space of these three leagues. The Lower Town is a narrowpiece of ground, from a hundred to four or five paces[A] broad,between the foot of the rock and the St. Lawrence.
There is a street which goes up to the U