[178] "Captain Ochterlony, who is wounded and a prisoner, had the good fortune to be protected from the savages by a French Grenadier, to whom it is confidently reported that General Wolfe sent twenty guineas as a reward for his humanity. M. Montcalm returned the money, saying the man had not particularly merited such a gratuity, having done no more than his duty, and what he hoped every Frenchman in his army would do under the like circumstances.... A flag of truce came down to-day (August 24th) with an account of the death of the gallant Captain Ochterlony, who was wounded and taken prisoner, July 31st; his baggage, that had been forwarded to him at his request, was faithfully returned."—Knox's Historical Journal, vol. ii., p. 31.
[179] "In short, you must not be surprised that we have failed at Quebec, as we certainly shall. You may say, if you please, in the style of modern politics, that your court[180] never supposed it could be taken; the attempt was really made to draw off the Russians from the King of Prussia, and leave him at liberty to attack Daun. Two days ago came letters from Wolfe, despairing, as much as heroes can despair. The town is well victualed; Amherst is not arrived, and 15,000 men encamped defend it. We have lost many men by the enemy, and some by our friends—that is, we now call our 9000 only 7000. How this little army will get away from a much larger, and in this season, and in that country, I don't guess—Yes I do."—- Walpole's Letters to Sir H. Mann, Oct. 16, 1759.
[180] Sir Horace Mann was then British envoy to the court of Tuscany.
CHAPTER XII.
We must leave Wolfe for a while to take a brief review of the position of affairs in his enemy's camp. Montcalm's difficulties were also great. He knew not where to turn for a ray of hope, except, indeed, to the now rapidly advancing winter. The toils were spread on every side: the stately fleet riding below the town cut off all supplies from France; the fall of Niagara and Fort of Frontenac broke off the chain of communication with the distant West; Amherst, with an overwhelming force, hung over the weakest point of the Canadian frontier; Montreal, with neither army nor fortification, lay exposed to the British advance. But, worst of all, distrust of his colleague, and contempt of the prowess of his militia, paralyzed Montcalm's vigor and destroyed his confidence. "You have sold your country," exclaimed he, in uncontrollable indignation, to M. de Vaudreuil, when the latter opposed his views; "but, while I live, I will not deliver it up." And of the Canadian levies he writes to M. de Berryer, "My Canadians without discipline, deaf to the sound of the drum, and badly armed, nothing remains for them but to fly; and behold me—beaten without resource!" "But," continued he, in the same remarkable letter,[181] "of one thing I can assure you, I shall not survive the probable loss of the colony. There are times when a general's only resource is to die with honor; this is such a time. No stain shall rest on my memory. But in defeat and death there is consolation left. The loss of the colony will one day be of more value to my country than a victory. The conqueror shall here find a tomb; his aggrandizement shall prove his ultimate ruin."
Montcalm's utmost exertions failed to prevent desertion among the Canadians; he scourged some offenders, hanged others, threatened their villages with the vengeance of the savages, but still the unhappy peasantry were with difficulty held together. At the camp they were badly supplied with provisions, while their families almost starved at home. Their harvest, that which the English had not destroyed, remained unreaped. At length the general was obliged to yield to the urgent necessity of the case, and at a most critical period of the campaign he allowed 2000 of the militia to depart for the purpose of getting in their crops.
The Indians, however, still remained faithful: as long as a chance of blood and plunder offered, they were sure to be present; but in a pitched battle they were nearly useless, and the increased experience of the British troops rendered even their forest warfare now less dangerous.
Not only provisions, but even ammunition, were becoming scarce in Montcalm's camp: there was no hope of supplies from any quarter. The Lower Town and a large portion of the Upper Town were laid in ruins by the English artillery: the defenses, it was true, still remained uninjured; but, except in natural advantages, they were by no means formidable. The repulse of the besiegers at Montmorency had for a time raised the spirits of the French, and given them a better opinion of Canadian prowess, for upon that occasion the peasantry had fired with great steadiness from behind their breast-works. But the daring though misdirected valor of the British Grenadiers, and the imposing front of their supports, failed not to confirm Montcalm's deep forebodings of the probable result of a battle. Then the incessant activity of the invaders, their pertinacious retention of any point which offered an apparent advantage, and their seemingly inexhaustible resources, showed that no stone would be left unturned for his destruction.
One only hope remained to the French general: the winter approached. In a few weeks the northern blast would scare away the stubborn enemy, against whom his arms and skill were ineffectual. Could he struggle on a little longer, the fate of Canada might be thrown upon the chances of another campaign, and a turn in European affairs yet preserve the splendid colony of France. "Unless Wolfe lands above the town, and forces me to a battle, I am safe," writes Montcalm. But while, on the night of the 12th of September, he watched in confident expectation the deceitful preparations of the fleet below the town, the ebbing tide silently floated down the British army toward that position the occupation of which he knew must be his ruin.