Berryer et de la Mole, ecrites dans les Annees 1757,
1758, et 1759, avec une Version Angloise_. They profess to be
observations by Montcalm on the English colonies, their political
character, their trade, and their tendency to independence. They
bear the strongest marks of being fabricated to suit the times,
the colonies being then in revolt. The principal letter is one
addressed to Mole, and bearing date Quebec, Aug. 24, 1759. It
foretells the loss of her colonies as a consequence to England
of her probable conquest of Canada. I laid before the Massachusetts
Historical Society my reasons for believing this letter, like
the rest, an imposture (see the _Proceedings_ of that Society for
1869-1870, pp. 112-128). To these reasons it may be added that
at the date assigned to the letter all correspondence was stopped
between Canada and France. From the arrival of the English fleet,
at the end of spring, till its departure, late in autumn, communication
was completely cut off. It was not till towards the end of
November, when the river was clear of English ships, that the
naval commander Kanon ran by the batteries of Quebec and
carried to France the first news from Canada. Some of the letters
thus sent were dated a month before, and had waited in Canada
till Kanon's departure.

Abbe Verreau--a high authority on questions of Canadian history--tells
me a comparison of the handwriting has convinced him that these pretended
letters of Montcalm are the work of Roubaud.

On the burial of Montcalm, see Appendix J.

Chapter 29

1759, 1760

Sainte-Foy

The fleet was gone; the great river was left a solitude; and
the chill days of a fitful November passed over Quebec in
alternations of rain and frost, sunshine and snow. The troops,
driven by cold from their encampment on the Plains, were all
gathered within the walls. Their own artillery had so battered
the place that it was not easy to find shelter. The Lower Town
was a wilderness of scorched and crumbling walls. As you
ascend Mountain Street, the Bishop's Palace, on the right, was
a skeleton of tottering masonry, and the buildings on the left
were a mass of ruin, where ragged boys were playing at seesaw
among the fallen planks and timbers.[815] Even in the Upper
Town few of the churches and public buildings had escaped.
The Cathedral was burned to a shell. The solid front of the
College of the Jesuits was pockmarked by numberless cannon-balls,
and the adjacent churc