Revisiting the Château Saint-Louis (Part 2): The Fight for (and of!) a Canadian Governor in New France
Originally, I had planned for this story to be included in Part 1 of this two-part series on the Château Saint-Louis in Québec. After all, both halves have a central running theme: the role the Château and its inhabitants, the Governors General of New France, played in their original historical context - and the legacies they have left behind in the Canada of today.
However, while doing the research and outlining for it, I discovered that, rather than one story, I actually had two - and each (especially this one) would need its own space for me to really do it justice.
The first post, if you will recall, focused on the Château Saint-Louis's material culture, based on research conducted by Philippe Halbert using the personal inventories of two such Governors General. My contribution then had been on how the colonial aristocracy's attempts to emulate the lifestyles of their French counterparts called into question my own understanding of Canadian cultural values.
This second part, though, flips all of that on its head. This time, my focus will be on those two individuals - the elder and younger Marquis de Vaudreuil - and their unique distinction as New France's first, and only, truly Canadian Governors General. Father and son, the elder Vaudreuil was originally from a French aristocratic family, but stunned the establishment by his choice to make his home in the colony, while the younger Vaudreuil was born in Québec and spent decades working his way up to the top of the colonial administration - only to lose it all to the British.
Or, did he?
See, while there is no doubt that the younger Marquis de Vaudreuil was the one who ultimately surrendered New France to the British during the Seven Years War, I think the extent to which that could actually be considered a loss is debatable. From the French imperial perspective, and in terms of territory, it definitely was; there's no denying that. But it's also worth noting what else was saved - possibly even gained - in the process and what that says both about the complex relationship between empires and colonies at this point in history and the complex nature of leadership itself.
Now, I will admit that I recognize the irony that, after critiquing "great man history" in a previous post, I will now be dabbling in it myself. But then again, I will also admit that I am not a historian. I do not know all the different factors and forces that must have been in play during the events here, nor can I ever hope to research or discuss any of these people to the level of depth that an actual historian would.
What I am, however, is a storyteller, and it is this story that I wish to tell.
(Note: Most of the information in this blog post comes from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, quotes from which also served as the inspiration for the subheadings you will see. Hyperlinks to the relevant pages will be included throughout the post and in a master list at the end for further reading.)
He Did Not Wish to Live in Canada; Indeed, Few Frenchman Did
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| Tableau representing a salon in a French hôtel particulier during the 1730s at the Royal Ontario Museum |
The statement that makes up the title of this segment was not in reference to either of the Governors General in question, but to François Bigot, who served alongside the younger Marquis de Vaudreuil as the Intendant of New France (i.e. the chief financial minister) during the Seven Years War. But, be that as it may, it offers insight into the social, cultural and political environment that forms an important backdrop to our story: why it was so difficult for New France to have a Canadian Governor General in the first place; and why the colonial administration during the Seven Years War collapsed in on itself due to conflicts between the French and Canadian commanders.
Once again, as with the last post, it all began at Versailles.
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| Bust of Louis XIV at the Place-Royale, Québec |
Many of you may already know that Louis XIV styled himself as le roi soleil - the sun king, drawing inspiration from the sun's position at the centre of the universe and its role as the source of light and life for humanity. However, this was not just a symbolic gesture: although it may have started that way, he did eventually seize sole control of the entire government, creating a system where all administration revolved around him and all policies must be given his express approval.
This led France's aristocracy to turn inward. Under this absolute monarchy, power and prestige could only come by earning royal favour at Versailles. Thus, all eyes were drawn there. Noble families spent years trying to find some entrée, some position, at court - and even those who did make it fought against each other in hopes of edging ever closer to the person of the King. Not only that, but Versailles also became France's social and cultural hub. Open to the public at large, it was the place where everyone who was anyone gathered to see and be seen, with entire reputations and careers resting upon one's ability to secure ministerial - or, even better, royal - patronage in the face of ever-shifting intrigue.
So, what does this have to do with Canada?
While Versailles' centralized system of government certainly streamlined much of the country's administration, focusing it squarely on the King's favour rather than patronage from other noble houses, it did have an unfortunate (and, I hope, unintended) consequence.
See, while the link between land ownership and aristocratic status still existed in France during this period, as it did throughout much of Europe, the French nobility - unlike their British counterparts, who did take immense pride in their country estates - preferred to stay as close to the royal court as possible: whether at Versailles, in Paris, or the other official residences the King frequented at different times of year. However, by extension, the opposite would hold true: nobles could scarce afford to stay at their home estates for long, lest they find themselves forgotten - or worse, fallen from favour. And while holding a government position in a provincial city or region, with the local authority and still-easy access to centralized power that came with it, was still acceptable, it doesn't take much stretch of the imagination to realize that that sentiment would not extend to a post in a place as far-removed as a colony.
In this, New France's, particularly Canada's, own geography worked against it. Not only was it on the other side of the Atlantic, an expanse that took upwards of a month to cross during the 17th and 18th centuries, but the St. Lawrence River, the colony's main artery, annually froze over from late autumn to early spring. Thus, with transportation, trade and correspondence between France and Québec only possible for about a third of the year, it is little wonder that appointment to a government position there would have felt, for many colonial officials, akin to a form of exile to a cold and hospitable land (Voltaire, after all, did famously refer to the colony as quelques arpents de neige - a few acres of snow - in his novel, Candide, for good reason).
That may not have been the King's intent - since France was an empire and empires needed people to run it - but it is what happened. Service in Canada, then, became something of a last resort for aristocrats whose prospects had run out in Europe: younger sons or impoverished nobility whose primary hope was that their time spent there would be over as quickly as possible, ending in a recall and reappointment to a more prestigious posting in France.
And that is where our family in question, the Rigauds de Vaudreuil, found themselves at the end of the 17th century.
His Canadian Connections Make It Difficult for Him to Rule Impartially
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| Philippe de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil 1923; copy by Henri Beau of a 1714-1716 portrait (c) Library and Archives Canada |
Instead, left to fend for himself and seek his own fortunes, Philippe de Rigaud did what many young aristocrats did under similar circumstances: join the Musketeers. There, in the first signs of what was to come, he served ably as a junior officer and aide de camp for 15 years, with accounts from his contemporaries citing his personal bravery on the front. However, without personal wealth or capital, he also had no real chances for further advancement in Europe. The alternative was to accept the offer of the less prestigious, but higher ranking, position of a command in Canada, and that is what he did in 1687.
Originally, his task was simple enough: manage the disparate French troops sent over to defend the colony from the Haudenosaunee. However, it wasn't long before he was handed more responsibility: made acting Governor of Montréal in 1689 while the real one was in France.
The position, as it turns out, was premature. From what I could tell thus far, Philippe de Rigaud, accustomed to military life in Europe, was likely still unfamiliar with the Indigenous peoples' guerrilla-style warfare - most notably, its frequent use of small skirmishes and lightning raids on settlements. Instead, this was a lesson he ultimately had to learn the hard way: having learned from their English American allies of war against France having broken out in Europe, a Haudenosaunee war band launched a deadly raid on the settlement of Lachine in August 1689, catching both the town's inhabitants and Philippe de Rigaud himself entirely off guard. Then, after learning of the incident, he made no move to launch an immediate counter-attack in the absence of direct orders to do so, leading to further loss of the lives of some civilian captives.
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| Depiction of the Attack on Lachine (c) Musée McCord |
(These were also strategies that he passed down to his son, the younger Marquis de Vaudreuil, which ultimately put the latter at direct odds with his French counterparts during the Seven Years War - but more on that when we get there.)
The adoption of Indigenous war tactics, however, was not the only way in which Philippe de Rigaud slowly came to be at home in Canada. Indeed, the single greatest move he made in that direction came in 1690 when, rather counterintuitively for a French officer of his time, he married a Canadian woman: Louise Élisabeth de Joybert. Over the course of their marriage, the couple had nine surviving children - six sons and three daughters - and, when the time came, they became the first actual family to inhabit Québec's Château Saint-Louis, expanding it in the 1720s, as described in my previous post. At the same time, the family also had a private residence, the Château Vaudreuil, built in Montréal. Although it was not completed until after Philippe de Rigaud's death in 1725, it ultimately served as the official Montréal residence for the Governors General of New France until the British Conquest.
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| Plans for the Façade of the Château Vaudreuil in Montréal |
Not that achieving any of this was easy, though. Like many of his contemporaries, Philippe de Rigaud never lost awareness of the fact that the only way to stay relevant in patronage-driven 17th- and 18th-century society was to work his way up the ranks. The only difference in his case was that he sought to do so in Canada rather than in France. Thus, when the opportunity presented itself in the form of the death of the Comte de Frontenac, then-Governor General, in 1698, Philippe de Rigaud immediately sent an application to France to be named his successor. Unfortunately, he was not alone: Louis-Hector de Callière, the Governor of Montréal, had also applied for the position, and in this instance, the importance of patronage really comes to the fore. Both Rigaud and Callière had their respective backers in France - and Callière's managed to be just a step quicker.
However, all was not lost for Rigaud as, by virtue of Callière's move upward, he became the new Governor of Montréal in his place. This gave him the opportunity to gain valuable experience managing civil administrative affairs - knowledge he would not have had as simply a military officer - and the understanding was that should the new Governor General die in office, he would subsequently assume the post unless notified otherwise.
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| Image of the Royal Arms of France at Château Ramezay, Montréal |
Now, by our 21st century standards, this must sound completely counter-intuitive. After all, as someone with years of experience defending and managing parts of the colony, a reputation for caring deeply for its inhabitants and a young homegrown family to boot, why wouldn't Philippe de Rigaud be a good choice for Governor General?
Yet, to base standards of governance on our own modern values would be to forget that at that time, in the 18th century, France was an empire, with an empire's needs to consider. From the perspective of the French crown, appointing a colonist to be the King's representative was a significant gamble; indeed, it was his Canadian connections that almost ruled Rigaud out as a candidate, as there were concerns that he would find it, to quote the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, "difficult to rule impartially."
Difficult to rule impartially. What does that mean?
On the one hand, although the Governor General of New France was primarily responsible for Canada - other colonies like Louisiana or Acadia had their own Governors due to New France's vast size - he was ultimately supposed to take the interests of all of the colonies into consideration. And, from that perspective, it's fair to say that, as Governor General, Philippe de Rigaud was unable to "rule impartially"; he clearly favoured Canada over Louisiana in his economic policies and most of his family's efforts in France (more on that later) were for Canada's benefit as well.
Yet, on the other hand, there's another possible interpretation of that statement, which I personally think was more likely to be the French government's actual concern. In my opinion, their worry was not so much that, as a Canadian, Rigaud would favour Canada over the other colonies, but that, if push came to shove, he would prioritize it over France.
Should that turn out to be the case, this Canadian Governor General would, whether intentionally or inadvertently, shake the entire institution of the Governor General as the King's representative to the core. And what would be the consequences for the empire, then?
This time, it was France's fears that were premature - but only by a little bit. Although Philippe de Rigaud's appointment as Governor General did cause the beginning of a rift between pro-French and pro-Canadian colonial officials, the feared conflict of interest did not ultimately arise during his term. It did come, though, a generation later, during the governorship of his son - with massive consequences for everyone involved.
His Great Ambition was to One Day Succeed to the Governor Generalship of New France
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| Pierre de Rigaud de Vaudreuil de Cavagnial, Marquis de Vaudreuil 1753-1755; attributed to Donat Nonotte (c) Library and Archives Canada |
Now, I don't think there is sufficient evidence to say that the fourth son, Pierre de Rigaud de Vaudreuil (1698-1778), was earmarked to be his father's successor from the start. However, events do suggest that whether this was a path that was set for him, or whether he chose it voluntarily, it was clear from quite a young age that his career would be in Canada rather than in France.
From what I could tell, Philippe de Rigaud never did entirely lose the Old World belief that service in France would be more prestigious than service in Canada. Thus, with his own standing having much improved with his appointment as Governor General, he also had the leverage needed to give his own sons better career prospects than he'd had in his youth.
Realizing this, as well as his need to have some direct representation in France to fend off any potential political rivals, he sent his wife, Louise-Élisabeth de Joybert, there in 1709, where she was able to land a position as under-governess to the children of the Duc de Berry, a grandson of King Louis XIV. This placed her firmly at Versailles, with direct access both to key government officials - particularly the Minister of Marine, who took charge of most colonial administration - and the royal family.
Thus, the stage was set for the Rigaud de Vaudreuil family's larger plan. All six sons were given nominal commissions in the colonial military in childhood, but as they each reached adulthood, the time came for them to pursue better things. In turn, the brothers were sent back to France to be properly introduced at court; from there, it was up to their mother to use her connections to help them find more suitable permanent positions as military officers, preferably in Europe.
Compared to his brothers, Pierre de Rigaud was quite young when his turn came: not quite 15 when he was sent over with his father's dispatches in 1713. By then, he would have seen how his three older brothers - Louis-Philippe, Philippe-Antoine, and Jean - wound up staying in France after making their respective voyages there; and perhaps (although I confess I'm guessing here) it was expected that he would do the same. Yet, somehow, the young Pierre returned to Québec two years later - and this time, he was determined to stay.
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| A Conference between French and Indigenous Leaders 19th century Print by Émile Louis Vernier Public Domain; Accessed via Wikimedia Commons |
Yet, at the time of his father's death, no one - including Pierre de Rigaud himself - held any illusions that he'd simply be able to step into the governorship immediately. He was, after all, still in his 20s then: far too young and inexperienced to realistically qualify for the job. However, although similar changes in circumstances might be taken as setbacks by some, it appears they were not for him.
Instead, his responsibilities - and the skills needed to fulfill them - only increased. Since his three older brothers were firmly based in Europe, he was the de facto patriarch in Canada and placed in charge of the family's holdings within the colony. In the meantime, he also continued on as an officer in the service of the new Governor General, taking an active role in wilderness warfare as needed. Finally, after a failed attempt to obtain an appointment as Governor of Montréal, he succeeded in becoming that of Trois-Rivières in 1733, where, according to the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, his capable governance could best be observed from the fact that, "his nine years [there] were singularly lacking in untoward incidents."
(It was also, to the best of my knowledge, during this period when Pierre de Rigaud began styling himself as the Marquis de Vaudreuil. Technically, the title was his eldest brother's, but since they were on opposite sides of the Atlantic, I doubt anyone was counting. And I, too, will refer to him as such for the rest of the post.)
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| Madame Pierre Rigaud de Vaudreuil, née Jeanne-Charlotte de Fleury d'Eschambault 1753-1755; attributed to Donat Nonotte (c) Library and Archives Canada |
And a capable partner was certainly what Vaudreuil needed. While he initially decried the poor state of affairs he found upon first arriving to what was admittedly a far newer colony than Canada was, he soon came to realize that the real problem was, in fact, the imperial system itself. Like most empires, France was predominantly interested in its own wealth - and its colonies' profitability. It was, therefore, unwilling to invest in a colony that held key strategic, but little economic, value. This created a vicious cycle (and a portent of things to come): colonies that received insufficient investment to develop their own economies were unable to contribute much to France's, which gave the imperial government little incentive to invest any further.
As a colonist himself, it's clear that Vaudreuil felt strongly that something needed to be done, but the help would have to come from within Louisiana itself rather than from France.
In that, both fair credit and criticism must be given to the means he employed to strengthen the colony and boost its economy during his ten years there. In terms of credit, I would point to the policies he enacted for securing Indigenous alliances; negotiating with Canada for a clearer distribution of goods produced in the Illinois region near the colonies' shared border; and developing a trade network with the Spanish colonies to the south. Even Madame la Marquise took part in this: owning stock in a large-scale female-owned retail business and shocking her fellow social elite by running one of her own. As for criticism, that needs to be for Vaudreuil's open support of smuggling with the aforementioned Spanish colonies alongside legitimate trade and, even more so, his promotion of the indigo plantation economy, which was only possible via the Transatlantic Slave Trade. And like many of the colonial elite, he, too, owned a plantation during this period, with all that that implies.
But whatever my thoughts may be on the ethics of these measures now, they did their job in boosting Louisiana's economy. The single greatest testament to this was that over Vaudreuil's ten-year term, the annual budget - i.e. the allotment of funds from France - tripled, with the majority being spent back on the colonists themselves. And while conspicuous consumption and lavish spending were still common fixtures among the colony's elite - including Vaudreuil, as noted in my previous post - this does go to show what could happen when a colony is run by a colonist.
However, even in the midst of all these efforts for Louisiana, Vaudreuil never lost sight of his ultimate goal of returning to Québec. Twice, he thought the chance had come for him to be appointed as the Governor General; twice, he found himself being passed over in favour of someone else. Finally, in 1752, just when he was beginning to believe it would never happen, he received the notice he'd been waiting for: that he was next in line for the post and now only had to wait out the rest of the current Governor General's term. Those interim years were spent in France, and he formally assumed the position of Governor General of New France in 1755.
It was, Vaudreuil knew, not going to be an easy post, by any means. Because now, once again, New France was under threat, and this war would put everything he knew - everything he was - to the test.
The Lines of Command were Hopelessly Confused Between Two Men Who Could Not Abide Each Other
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Nobody planned for New France to be at war at the exact same time that Vaudreuil finally achieved his lifelong dream of becoming Governor General of New France. In fact, when he first received word of the appointment in 1752, things were still more or less normal in the colony. However, in 1754, the continuous small skirmishes fought between French and English settlers along the Appalachian Mountains and in the Ohio River valley - the natural land boundaries dividing their lands - finally boiled over into something larger, and by the time Vaudreuil officially assumed his post in 1755, New France and the Thirteen Colonies were in a state of open warfare...and their respective European empires along with them.
Vaudreuil was no fool. He, along with the French ministry that appointed him, knew that this upcoming war would not be one where New France could expect to make any significant incursions into English American territory - nor, to be frank, was that ever their goal in the first place. Instead, their goal was simply to prevent the British from overwhelming New France's defences and taking the entire North American continent for itself.
In some ways, New France was at a distinct disadvantage: it had a far smaller population than the Thirteen Colonies; little access to a sea coast that could allow year-round shipments of supplies and reinforcements from Europe; and a far larger geographical area that needed to be protected. However, in terms of military strategy, it is possible for a smaller and poorer-equipped force to prevail - if it could harness what little it did have to full advantage. From this standpoint, I don't think there was anyone better qualified than Vaudreuil was. As the first Governor General to be born and raised in Canada, the fact that almost all of his formative years - both militarily and administratively - were spent in the colony meant that he was intimately familiar with both the land and its people. And if he knew their weaknesses, he also knew their strengths.
He knew, for instance, that despite the sparse population, colonial regiments, Canadian militia and Indigenous allies could easily be organized into small raiding parties at short notice; he also knew that the Canadian landscape, with its extensive natural network of rivers and lakes, provided its own rapid means of transporting supplies and men. Both of these helped New France to even the odds against the Thirteen Colonies during the first years of the Seven Years War (1754-1763) as Vaudreuil repeatedly deployed the guerrilla tactics he had learned, keeping the British and American colonists so focused on protecting their own settlements and frontier forts that they were often unable to mount a serious attack.
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| Diorama depicting a meeting between French, Canadian, and Indigenous representatives at the Château Ramezay, Montréal |
However, neither Vaudreuil nor his guerrilla forces were alone in the defence of New France. Several regiments had also been sent over from Europe, under the command of European officers. Said officers received clear orders from the start that they were to defer to Vaudreuil's authority as the Governor General - and, hence, the chief commander of the armed forces in New France - but actually obeying such orders was a challenge in itself. See, while modern wartime laws and ethics (things like the Geneva Conventions or the Rome Statute) did not exist at this time, European militaries had developed their own unwritten code of conduct over the centuries. The Canadian style of warfare that these French regiments encountered upon arrival, though, was one that had evolved out of a completely different set of circumstances and, thus, was completely foreign to them - and vice-versa.
This may not be an issue in and of itself if the French commander sent over by the ministry was able to collaborate with Vaudreuil. And the first one, Jean-Armand, Baron de Dieskau, did appear promising; if nothing else, he was willing to incorporate the militia and Indigenous warriors into his ranks and to utilize the ambush tactics that they were accustomed to. However, just a few months into the war, a reconnaissance error led him to go against Vaudreuil's advice: launching a preemptive strike on a British position with far fewer soldiers than would actually be needed, leading both to his failure and his capture by the British.
Vaudreuil, now convinced that he needed sole command of the troops to defend New France according to the ways he felt best suited the colony, suggested that a replacement for Dieskau not be sent from France. However, his request was ignored, at the recommendation of the financial commissary posted in New France at the time. In the relevant dispatch, a replacement was explicitly asked for on the grounds that "[Vaudreuil] needs an advisor who is free of personal bias and who could strengthen his resolve" - a rather telling echo of the similar comment made about his father's "difficulty to rule impartially". The rest, as we know, is history, and in the spring of 1756, Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm, arrived in Québec.
Now, this is a name you would probably all recognize - I have, after all, mentioned Montcalm in passing in a number of posts before. However, this time, he takes on a central role in the rest of the events in our story - mostly for his clashes with Vaudreuil.
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| Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm c. 1865; copy by Théophile Hamel of an 18th century portrait (c) Canadian House of Commons Heritage Collection |
This sharp difference in opinion regarding defensive strategies also combined with what we would now know in hindsight were clearly clashing personalities. Contemporaries describe - and their own writings confirm - Vaudreuil as being kind, affable and protective of those he cares about, but prone to secret anxiety and self-doubt; and Montcalm as being vivacious and witty, but stubborn, opinionated and pessimistic with a sharp tongue to match.
All told, it is little wonder that New France's colonial administration rapidly fell apart.
Although Montcalm was definitely more overt about it, he and Vaudreuil were both clearly hostile towards each other, making a host of accusations about each other and their respective sides of the command. While I am certainly not qualified to call who was right or wrong in all of the barbs exchanged, I will say that Montcalm's criticisms of Vaudreuil's preference for guerrilla tactics, lavish lifestyle in a time of war, and failure to stop corruption within the administration were most definitely valid. Equally so was Vaudreuil's counter that Montcalm and some of his fellow French officers treated the Canadian colonists with an air of contempt and superiority: an attitude he would have observed them displaying toward his father in the past and echoed now in their assertion that his favouring the colonists was a sign of bias.
Such was the state of affairs when a series of events - some unfortunate and others just plain baffling - in 1758 and the beginning of 1759 made them inexorably worse. The first related directly to the war: Britain was finally beginning to mount serious offensive action against New France, and it succeeded in capturing the French fortress of Louisbourg in the summer of 1758. While it was too late in the campaigning season for the attack to continue onward to Québec, this did give the British control of the St. Lawrence River, thus effectively circumventing Vaudreuil's border defences.
The second involved Montcalm's request for a recall at some point during the same year. For once, both Vaudreuil and Montcalm were in agreement: given their differences, they both deemed that it would be best for Montcalm to return to Europe and that command of the troops in New France be given to his second, François-Gaston, Chevalier de Lévis, instead. Doing so would have been a wise choice: Lévis had a reputation for being both a capable and level-headed officer who, by carefully juggling between his two superiors and giving each the benefit of the doubt instead of getting involved with their feud, had somehow managed to get along well with them both. This request was even cleared by the Minister of the Marine and should have proceeded without incident - except that, to everyone's surprise (mine included), it was vetoed by King Louis XV.
Not only that, but instead of being recalled, Montcalm was promoted to Lieutenant-General. This was a higher rank than what Vaudreuil held, meaning that Montcalm was now the superior in terms of the military command. Yet Vaudreuil, as Governor General, was still ultimately in charge of the colony and expected to be responsible for keeping it safe from the British. Thus, with both commanders simultaneously outranking each other in different aspects of New France's administration and defence, confusion over red tape was added on top of their existing animosity.
Finally, as if any of this was not enough, France itself was starting to lose interest in defending this colony. In the wake of the loss of Louisbourg, both Vaudreuil and Montcalm were aware that New France would desperately need reinforcements if it was to survive the full-on British invasion they expected would begin in the spring of 1759. However, while Vaudreuil sent in an earnest plea for aid, Montcalm's innate pessimism ultimately backfired on them both: his bleak description of the colony's situation led France to conclude that further attempts at defending it would be futile. Thus, at the same time that the British now invested some 8,500 soldiers and a quarter of its navy on taking Québec, the French government only agreed to send several hundred as reinforcements, retaining the bulk of its force in Europe.
Vaudreuil - and New France - would simply have to make do.
He Now Had to Make a Cruel Decision
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There are several different manners of war, and among them, a defensive war has to be one of the worst. It's one thing to fight to expand territory, or even to secure it, but it's quite another when a nation (or, in this case, a colony) is simply trying to repel an invasion from a larger, more powerful opponent and survival itself constitutes a victory.
Given the situation, it is entirely understandable that Montcalm, now the ranking military officer, decided that the thousands of French troops he did have scattered across New France's vast territory should abandon the border defences and focus solely on the key settlements in the St. Lawrence River valley: Québec and Montréal. At the same time, it is equally understandable why Vaudreuil, still the Governor General and, thus, still the one in charge of the safety of the colony as a whole, disagreed. However, ultimately, the choice was neither of theirs to make as the British forces sailed up the St. Lawrence River from their winter base in Louisbourg - and by June 1759, the British, under the command of James Wolfe, were firmly entrenched on the south bank facing the city.
"Much ink has been spilled," to borrow the Dictionary of Canadian Biography's wording, on the conquest of Québec, and particularly its culmination in the Battle of the Plains of Abraham on September 13, 1759. However, my focus won't be on the battle itself - but on the siege surrounding it. Because while the battle is Montcalm's story, my story is Vaudreuil's and it's how a siege works - and the massive gamble it entails - that will ultimately matter here.
This, however, is all only possible if the defenders capitulate. If they do not, and they choose to hold out, there are two main possible outcomes. The first is that the attackers choose to give up their siege, leaving the defenders still in control of their position. However, there is also the second: should the attackers somehow manage to breach the defences, the city will be taken by assault. And under those specific conditions - and here is where 18th century norms contrast sharply with modern humanitarian law - the attackers were under no obligation to give quarter: either to defending soldiers or to civilians.
Thus, in short, Québec's administration had two main options: capitulate or try to outwait the British siege. On the one hand, capitulation was a sure defeat, but it was also the "safe" route as it allowed a clearly defined opportunity to negotiate for the people's safety. Waiting, on the other hand, could result in a victory for the defenders...or a massacre.
There were, of course, other factors to consider. For instance, both sides knew that time was the French's greatest advantage. Because the St. Lawrence froze over annually, the British realistically only had a few months to take Québec before the weather would force them to retreat back downstream to their winter quarters. Thus, it is no surprise that Montcalm, chose to wait, believing that the city's defences should be able to last that long, at least.
And Québec did hold out at first, with Montcalm's forces successfully fending off a British attack in July. However, as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Wolfe grew increasingly desperate...and increasingly violent.
Signs of this were already clear from the start: throughout the siege, the British maintained a steady artillery bombardment of Québec, destroying both military infrastructure and civilian-populated areas with a mixture of cannonballs and incendiary bombs. But this desperation becomes even more apparent when we consider the second major strategy Wolfe adopted after his failed attack: extensive raids along the southern shore of the St. Lawrence, during which British troops were ordered to destroy all the farms and villages in their path. And here, we also see Montcalm's initial fear concerning Vaudreuil's use of guerrilla tactics becoming a horrible reality. While the aim of these raids was predominantly the destruction of property and the colony's food supply, there are known instances of atrocities committed against civilians, with the perpetrators' argument being that since the "savage Canadians" (their words, not mine) had emulated the "Indian" manner of warfare, they had forfeited the right to be treated with the mercy due "civilized" people.
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| Cannonball lodged under the roots of a tree in Québec. (Although the truth is uncertain, local legend is that it was one of the more than 13,000 fired by the British during the siege of 1759.) |
It is this backdrop, I think, that we need to keep in mind when we consider what must have gone through Montcalm's mind when, on the morning of September 13, 1759, he received word that Wolfe's forces had somehow circumvented Québec's defences in the middle of the night and were now amassed near the city gates. We know that, had he waited for Vaudreuil's reinforcements from the main encampment outside of the city, the French would have easily outnumbered those Wolfe had been able to bring to the Plains of Abraham. Yet, perhaps Montcalm feared that this would be that dreaded aforementioned attempt at an assault; that, to me, seems the most reasonable explanation why he chose to attack immediately instead, with disastrous consequences for both his force - and himself.
Vaudreuil was left to pick up the pieces. The battle itself had happened so quickly that by the time he arrived with his troops, the only thing he could do was cover the French retreat. He relayed orders to those still inside Québec to try to hold out, but to capitulate if an assault appeared imminent using terms that he and Montcalm had drafted in advance. Lévi's arrival from Montréal several days later would have tipped the balance back again in the French's favour, but Vaudreuil's message with that new information was just slightly too late, only reaching Québec a few hours after the garrison surrendered on September 18.
Understandably, Vaudreuil was furious with Québec's decision to capitulate. After all, given the information and newly regrouped troops he and Lévis had had, he would have known, even if those inside did not, that repelling the British would have been entirely possible. However, life can be a cruel instructor, and we would be wise not to state too proudly that we "would not have done" as someone else did. Sure enough, within a year of Québec's surrender, Vaudreuil found himself in the exact same position as those he'd criticized - and this time, I imagine that his view of them must have been very different.
By September 6, 1760, Montréal was the last French outpost in Canada - and it was surrounded. Although an attempt by Lévis to retake Québec in the spring had initially been successful, the lack of reinforcements from France meant that what was left of the defenders had eventually been forced to retreat. Now, the city was being besieged by a massive British and American force - the result of a coordinated attack from both the troops in Québec and those come overland from the Thirteen Colonies.
Unlike in Québec, it was obvious to everyone involved that capitulation would be the best course of action for Montréal. However, the situation was also far more complicated, with much higher stakes: surrendering Montréal wouldn't just be about giving up a city; it would be about giving up the entire colony.
As previously discussed, such terms were fairly standard according to military custom at the time. Save the clause regarding the retention of Catholicism in Canada - which, to be fair, was something of a stretch - Vaudreuil's terms should have been accepted by the British without incident. However, the British commander, Jeffery Amherst, replied with a shocking counteroffer: citing French failures to protect surrendered British troops from Indigenous raiders earlier in the war, he refused to allow the French soldiers due honours now. If Vaudreuil wanted clemency for the Canadians, the French would have to give up their arms entirely.
This was not even the first time Amherst had done this; two years earlier, the capitulation at Louisbourg had played out along similar lines. And in fact, as a result, both Vaudreuil and Montcalm had received express orders from France not to allow the same to happen again, no matter what. Thus, several times over the course of the negotiations on September 7, Vaudreuil asked Amherst to reconsider, but each time, the latter refused.
After numerous failed attempts, tensions were starting to mount within the French command - and evidence of that comes from a rather unexpected source. That evening, Lévis - the very same Lévis who had managed to stay calmly above Vaudreuil and Montcalm's feud in the past - finally lost his patience. Insisting that surrendering under such terms, without having even lost in a battle, would be far too humiliating for his troops and far too great a loss for France, he demanded that Vaudreuil call off the negotiations altogether and grant him permission to make one last stand against the British.
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| François-Gaston de Lévis 19th century; Unknown Artist (c) Musée Stewart |
However, this wasn't just about France; it was also about Canada. And Vaudreuil knew that any possible gains for France that could be made by Lévis's proposal would be paid for by an equal loss for the Canadians. See, in my discussion of the possible outcomes from an 18th century siege, there is one final option that I had left out: a breakdown in negotiations. Should the French launch an attack against the British now, they would be violating the truce that was currently in place. Under those circumstances, not only would the British be well within their rights to take Montréal by assault, they would no longer have to show quarter even should the French attempt to capitulate a second time.
Lévis's attempt to secure France's honour, then, would not only cost him his life and the lives of his men, but those of the Canadian civilians as well.
Vaudreuil's choice, then, would not only have significant consequences for both France and New France, but would be the single greatest test of, and testament to, his priorities and character. On the one hand, making a stand now would not only preserve France's honour as an empire, but his own as the Governor General for obeying the orders he had been given. On the other hand, surrendering would allow him to force the British to adhere to his terms protecting the Canadians, but he himself would have to bear sole responsibility for losing the colony - and the inevitable shame and dishonour that would result. In short, he would save the people, but lose everything he, and his father before him, had spent years working to achieve.
Yet, knowing all of this, when he had to make that choice, he chose capitulation. Refusing to grant Lévis permission to attack, Vaudreuil agreed to Amherst's terms: giving up the honours of war for the French in order to buy Britain's leniency towards the Canadian civilians.
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| 19th century depiction of the Capitulation of Montréal on September 8, 1760 (c) Musée Virtuel du Canada (Not the absence of colours - i.e. flags - on the French side (right). Rather than hand them over to the British, Lévis had ordered them burned instead.) |
For some observers, particularly in France at the time, this was certainly a clear instance of bias from a colonist official. If nothing else, I do believe that a French-born Governor General would not have capitulated - or, at least, would not have done so as quickly or with as little resistance as Vaudreuil did. However, I also think there is more to his decision than that.
Over the course of this war, Vaudreuil had continuously advocated for the Canadian guerrilla style of warfare and situated himself as the Canadian voice in the administration. And, in some ways, that has been a good thing: if for no other reason than as a counterpoint to France's top-down stance as a major European empire. But Amherst's terms, presented as they were as direct retribution for those same tactics, also reveal that, grassroots and for the underdog as it was, Vaudreuil's stance also had its wrongs. And if he truly loved his people, as he said he did, he would have to pay the price for that himself now - or else, they would.
And so, in that last crucial moment, I like to think that rather than fighting for some great, noble cause, Vaudreuil had just come to a simple - but no less important - realization: a government's honour is only as good as its ability to protect its people.
"I Glory in Having been Accused of Warmth and Firmness in Protecting the King's Canadian Subjects" |
| Flowerbed showing the Coat of Arms of Montréal (The four quadrants allude to Canada's early colonial history, with its combination of French, English, Scottish and Irish emblems.) |
Interestingly, the quote with which I open this section was not, in fact, from either Marquis de Vaudreuil I've discussed today, nor any of their French counterparts. Instead, it comes from a statement made by James Murray, Canada's first British Governor General, when, several years after the events described in this blog post, he too was accused of being overly biased toward the French Canadians. It is, however, a fitting way to sum up this blog post because it touches upon something I hinted at in the beginning.
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| Sculptures of James Wolfe and Louis-Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm on the front façade of Québec's National Assembly (The façade includes depictions of a number of key individuals from Québec's history. Interestingly, Lévis is featured as well (see my photo of his below), but not Vaudreuil.) |
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| Sculpture of Lévis from Québec's National Assembly |
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