Pitt had for some time past had his eye on a man who had already distinguished himself at the siege of Louisburg, James Wolfe. After the taking of that fortress he had desired to push on at once to Quebec; but he was overruled by the other generals, and a far more disagreeable task was allotted to him. It was considered necessary to destroy all the French settlements on the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and he was deputed to carry out the order.
It is difficult for us now to realise the extent of misery this decision entailed; certainly it was more especially repugnant to a sensitive, humane nature such as Wolfe’s. It meant laying waste hundreds of pleasant homesteads, driving their inhabitants forth shelterless! The wailing of women and children, the low, bitter curses of the men—all this had to be borne with apparent stoicism. Always delicate, already suffering from the disease to which he was to succumb, Wolfe’s health entirely broke down under the severe mental and moral strain, and it was found necessary to grant him a prolonged leave of absence. He immediately set sail for England, hoping in the quiet of his home and his much-loved mother’s society to recruit his shattered health. His was a peculiar nature, a strange mixture of tenderness and passion; loving and sensitive beyond measure, yet at times strangely fierce and stern. His mother was wont to say he was a living barometer, his spirits rising and falling with every change of weather.
With such a character it was hardly possible for him to have been what we generally term a happy man; there were too many contradictions in his nature. When still quite young he either was, or imagined himself to be, in love; the result was a bitter disappointment, and for some time afterwards he plunged into a life of dissipation. At the early age of twenty-three he was already lieutenant-colonel (he had entered the army at fourteen), and was sent in garrison to Inverness. Here he remained five years, a great favourite with both his men and fellow-officers, but so entirely isolated from society that, as he expressed it himself, “He feared lest he should become a ruffian.” Once more he went to the other extreme, like a pendulum, and for six months took up his residence in Paris, devoting himself to the study of the French language and to the acquirement of every social accomplishment.
He was, we are told by those who knew him most intimately, possessed of only moderate abilities; but his diligence and perseverance were so remarkable that he accomplished anything he set his heart upon. Effeminacy was hateful to him; he was essentially a high-principled man, with a strong sense of duty, ever faithful to his ideal of what a true soldier ought to be—“always ready to meet the fate we cannot shun, and die gracefully when my hour comes,” he said on one occasion, and truly he carried this axiom out through life unto death!
In personal appearance he might almost have been considered an ugly man. He had a retreating forehead and chin; his nose was upturned, and formed with other features the point of an obtuse triangle. His mouth was by no means shaped to express resolution. The redeeming point in his face was his eyes; they were clear, bright, and piercing, full of spirit. His hair was red, and, according to the custom of the time, tied in a queue, and he always wore a black three-cornered hat. His physique denoted less than ordinary strength. He is represented with narrow shoulders, slender body, long thin limbs cased in scarlet frock-coat with broad cuffs and ample skirts, which reached down to his knees. Such was the outward seeming and character of the man who played so conspicuous a part in a war which ultimately gave to England one of her richest and most loyal colonies.
It was with a sense of relief that after the capture of Louisburg Wolfe set sail for England. His experiences of the last few months had impressed him so painfully that he hoped never to return to Canada. He had strong domestic tastes, his affection for his mother was the dominant passion of his life, and he had been but a few weeks in England when he proposed to and was accepted by a Miss Lowther; and so life seemed to be dawning for him in roseate hues. He was only thirty-three years of age, and was beloved both at home and abroad; his delicate health was the only shadow on his horizon, but it was hoped that perfect rest and good nursing would restore that. Therefore, throughout that winter Wolfe remained at home, perfectly happy, ignoring the fact that William Pitt’s eagle eye had already marked him out, and that his name was destined to be handed down to posterity among those men who have deserved well of their country.
But, whilst physically Wolfe was being thus strengthened for the fray, his great opponent was losing heart. Throughout that winter Montcalm recognised more than ever the many discordant elements by which he was surrounded.
The Governor’s jealousy had increased; he took every opportunity in his power for disparaging Montcalm, even going the length of demanding from the Court at Versailles that he should be recalled. But indifferent as the French king and his ministers were to the real interests of Canada, they were still sufficiently clear-sighted to know that General Montcalm was the right man in the right place, and to a certain extent to appreciate the services he had rendered the state. They therefore raised his rank to that of lieutenant-general, as also his officers Bourlamaque and Levis, who were made colonel and major-general.
But in his own heart Montcalm knew that when the Forts of Niagara, Crown Point, and Duquesne fell into the hands of the English, the end could not be far off. Little by little he was becoming isolated and cut off on the St. Lawrence, the British holding the command of the seas. He was possessed, however, of great military genius, and displayed to the last extraordinary skill in defending the French possessions.
During the winter the social life at Montreal was wholly in contradiction to the General’s feelings, so that he withdrew himself entirely from society, remaining in his own quarters, occupied with combining plans for the spring campaign, which he foresaw would decide the fate of Canada. This conduct was of itself a cause of complaint against him, being a reproach to Bigot and his associates, in whose palace at Quebec every night high revelry reigned. Supper parties, dances, and masquerades were of nightly occurrence; and worse still, gambling was carried to such a pitch that the results had in many cases to be hushed up.