cluded, fell; General Monkton, the next to him in command, fell immediately after, and both were convey ed out of the line; the command now devolved on General Town shend. It was at a very critical time. For, though the enemy began to fill back, and were much broken, the loss of the two generals was a very discouraging circumstance, and it required great temper and great exertions to support the advantages that had been gained, and to push them to their proper extent. General Townshend shewed himself equal to so arduous a duty; the troops preserved their spirit, and each corps seemed to exert itself with a view to its peculiar character. The grenadiers with their bayonets, the Highlanders with their broad swords, and the rest of the forces, with a steady and continued fire, drove the enemy in great disorder from every post, and compleated their defeat. During the whole action, Colonel Howe with his light infantry covered the left wing in such a manner, as entirely to frustrate the attempts of the enemies Indians and Canadians upon that flank.

The field now seemed to be compleatly decided, when a new enemy appeared, which threatened to bring on a fresh engagement, and to put all again to the hazard. M. de Bougainville, whom the feigned movements of the English troops had drawn up the river, turned back on discovering their real design, and now appeared on the rear of the army, with a body of 2000 men. But fortunately the main body of the French was by this time so broken and dispersed, that the general was able to establish his rear, and to turn such an opposition on that side, that the enemy retired after a very feeble attempt.

In this decisive action our troops lost about 500 men; on the side of the enemy, at least 1500 were killed. But however glorious this victory was, and however important in its consequences, it must be admitted that it was very dearly bought. Soldiers may be raised; officers will be formed by experience; but the loss of a genius in war, is a loss which we know not how to repair. The death of Wolfe was indeed grievous to his country, but to himself the most happy that can be imagined; and the most to be envied by all those who have a true relish for military glory. Unindebted to family, or connections, unsupported by intrigue or faction, he had accomplished the whole business of life at a time, when others are only beginning to appear; and at the age of thirty-five, without feeling the weakness of age or the vicissitude of fortune, having satisfied his honest ambition, having compleated his character, having fulfilled the expectations of his country, he fell at the head of his conquering troops, and expired in the arms of victory.

The circumstances that attended the death of such a person, are too interesting to be passed over in silence, and they were indeed such as spoke the whole tenor of his life. He first received a wound in the head; but, that be might not discourage his troops, he wrapped it up in his handkerchief, and encouraged his men to advance; soon after he received another ball in his belly; this also he dissembled, and exerted himself as before; when he received a third in his breast, under which he at last sunk, and suffered himself, unwillingly, to be carried behind the ranks. As he lay struggling with the anguish and weakness

of

of three grievous wounds, he seemed only solicitous about the fortune of the battle. He begged one, who attended him, to support him to view the field; but as he found that the approach of death had dimmed and confused his sight, he desired an officer, who was by him, to give him an account of what he saw. The officer answered, that the enemy seemed broken; he repeated his question a few minutes after with much anxiety, when he was told that the enemy was totally routed, and that they fled in all parts. Then, said he, "I am satisfied;" and immediately he expired.

1

Without the same advantages, the enemy also had an heavy loss in this battle, which, no doubt, contributed to their defeat. M. de Montcalm, commander in chief, was killed on the spot; an officer who had done the highest services to his country, throughout the whole American war, and perfectly supported his reputation in this last scene of it, having made the most perfect dispositions that human prudence could suggest, both before the battle and in the engagement. It is something remarkable that in both armies, the first in command should be killed, and the second dangerously wounded. But General Monkton happily recovered, the French officer died a little after the battle.

Five days after the action, the enemy seeing that the communication between the town Sept. 18. and the army was cut off, and that the English fleet and troops were preparing with all vigour for a siege, surrendered the city of Quebec upon terms of honour to the garrison, and advantage to the inhabitants, who were preserved in the free exercise of their

religion, and the possession of their civil rights, until a general peace should decide their future condition. The fortifications of the city were in tolerable order; the houses almost totally demolished. A garrison of 5000 men under General Murray, were put into the place, with a plenty of provisions and ammunition for the winter. The fleet sailed to England soon after, fearing lest the setting in of the frosts should lock them up in the river St. Laurence.

Thus the capital of French America was rendered to the English, after a most severe campaign, of near three months; and perhaps, if the whole be considered, there never was an enterprise of such difficulty carried on with a more gallant perseverance, or accomplished with more vigour and ability. A city strong in situation and fortifications, was to be attacked. An army greatly superior in number to the besiegers, was posted under the walls of that city in an impregnable situation. That army was to be forced to battle against the inclinations of a wise and cautious commander. A theatre of more than five leagues was to be filled, and operations of that extent to be carried on in the eye of the superior army, by less than 7000 men. In this contest with so many difficulties, one may say with nature itself, the genius of the commander shewed itself superior to every thing. All the dispositions to that daring but judicious attempt, near Sillery, which at last drew Montcalm from his entrenchments, were so many master pieces in the art of war. But it is certain, that these things, notwithstanding the extraordinary abilities of the general, could never have been compassed, had not the marine co-operated with an unani

mity,

mity, diligence, and skill, which never could have taken place, but from that perfect love to their country, that animated all those that were concerned in this expedition. Here was no murmuring nor discontent, nor absurd jealou sy; no mean competition between the land and sea service; but the most zealous endeavours to second each others efforts, and the most generous inclinations on each side, to give a due praise to their mutual

services.

When the news of this decisive action arrived in England, we all remember, though it is very difficult to describe, the various and mixed emotions with which every one was affected. But two days before this came, was received the express which General Wolfe had sent off after the affair of Montmorenci. When, the general doubted, the public thought they had reason to despair. But whilst this gloom was fresh, and in the midst of the general despondency, a second express arrives, and brings all at once an account of the victory, the taking of Quebec, and the death of General Wolfe. The effect of 60 joyful news, immediately on such a dejection, and then the mixture of grief and pity, which attended the public congratulations and applauses, was very singular and affecting. The sort of mourning triumph, that manifested itself on that occasion, did equal honour to the memory of the general, and to the humanity of the nation.

A little circumstance was talked of at that time, and it deserves to be recorded, as it shews a fineness of sentiment, and a justness of thinking, in the lower kind of people, that is rarely met with

even amongst persons of education. The mother of General Wolfe was an object marked out for pity by great and peculiar distress; the public wound pierced her mind with a particular affliction, who had experienced the dutiful son, the amiable domestic character, whilst the world admired the accomplished officer. Within a few months she had lost her husband; she now lost this son, her only child. The populace of the village where she lived unanimously agreed to admit no illuminations or firings, or any other sign of rejoicing whatsoever near her house, lest they should seem by an ill-timed triumph, to insult over her grief. There was a justness in this, and whoever knows the people, knows that they made no small sacrifice on this occasion.

The nation, which never suffers any public service to pass unrewarded, proceeded to honour the merits of the living and of the dead. The minister himself made the motion for this purpose in the house of commons, and all the force of eloquence was displayed in setting off these services in their proper light. A magnificent monument was voted for the deceased general in Westminster Abbey; the living generals and admirals received the greatest of honours, the thanks of their country by their representatives.

It is not known with certainty in what manner the French dis posed of the remainder of their army after the battle of Quebec. It is probable that they retired towards Montreal and Trois Rivieres, the only places of any consequence which they have left in Canada. In order to deprive them of sub

sistence

sistence in any attempt they might be induced to make towards the recovery of Quebec in the winter, the country along the river was laid waste for a very considerable extent. A measure, which for the sake of humanity, we could have wished not to have been found ne

cessary.

Whilst the operations were thus successfully carried on in the river St. Laurence, General Amherst was not wanting in his endeavours on the side of Lake Champlain. Though the retreat of the French from Crown Point and Ticonderoga had left him entirely master of Lake George, he found that the command of Lake Champlain was still an object of some difficulty. Mr. Bourlemaque, who commanded in that part, had retired to the Isle de Noix, at the bottom of the lake, where he had three thousand five hundred men strongly entrenched; he had likewise four stout armed sloops, by which he could easily defeat any attempt by boats.

General Amherst found it necessary to attain a naval superiority upon the Champlain, before he could hope to push his operations any further; but this was a work of so much time, that it made it absolutely impossible to attain the great end of the campaign, the communication with General Wolfe, who was left in the manner we, have seen to the exertion of his single strength. The naval preparations were not perfectly accomplished before the 10th of October. They consisted of a great radeau, eighty-four feet in length, and twenty in breadth, which carried six twenty-four pounders; the rest consisted of a brigantine and a sloop.

Oct.11.

Covered by these the army was embarked in boats in a most excellent disposition, and proceeded a considerable way upon the lake; but ays the season was far advanced, and the weather growing cold and tempestuous; he judged it highly dangerous to venture his troops much upon the water in open batteaux; for the waves run as high on this lake as at sea in an hard gale of wind. Besides, he could not hope at this advanced season to act at such a distance as the Isle de Noix with any effect; he therefore wisely postponed his operations on that side to another year, and contented himself for the present with the efforts, of his little marine, which exerted itself with great activity; they blocked up two of the enemies strongest vessels in a bay, but the French Oct. 15. abandoned them in the night, and sunk them in a deep water, the crews making their escape; these they were in hopes to weigh up. The French appearing no where to oppose them, the armed Oct. 21. sloops returned to Crown Point soon after the troops, which were disposed in winter quarters.

The memorable and vigorous campaign of 1759, which made full amends for the inactivity of the former, was thus happily closed. By the taking of Niagara, Ticonderoga, and above all Quebec, the French, in the little remaining part of Canada, are invested upon every side. The troops. which they have under Mr. Levy at Montreal, and those under Mr. Bourlemaque at Isle de Noix, can neither be recruited with men, nor properly supplied with military stores, all communication with France being cut off. So that in the opening of

the

of that movement of the King of Prussia, by which he got between the Russians and Great Glogau, and thereby baffled their design upon that important place. This move ment, at once daring, prudent, and necessary, hindered the Russians from taking winter quarters in his dominions; but at the same time it unavoidably cut off all communication with the army of Prince Henry.

That Prince seeing that he could not second the operations of the King his brother on the side of Silesia, contrived another expedient of co-operating with him, which was immediately to direct his march towards Saxony. There was no object, the possession of which was more interesting; on that account it was very proper; but this march answered also another end; for it drew the attention of M. Daun to the side of Saxony, and disabled him from assisting the designs of the Russians against Glogau, either

with his whole army, or with any

The whole country of Lusatia, through which this projected march lay, was in a manner overspread with the enemy: M. Daun with the main army of the Austrians lay at a place called Sorau, opposite to the Prince's camp. Five bodies of Russians occupied as many advantageous posts between the Bober and the Neiss. General Laudohn possessed the whole country along the Spree with several Austrian corps. To get round M. Daun it was necessary to make a vast circuit, and to march between the Austrian and Russian armies for more than sixty English miles.

Before the Prince entered upon this arduous design, by several bold movements he obliged M. Daun to retreat from Sorau to Gorlitz, and from Gorlitz as far as Bautzen, keeping himself as much as possible between the Prince and Saxony. But his royal highness having perceived the direction in which M. Daun was moving, made

a com