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 of early 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 and children, 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. Palliser too, who figures in history as Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser, was on board the frigate Mercury. 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 the Mercury was 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.