Part 8 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Rich Montgomery]
One year from the fall of Montgomery, the event was celebrated by special religious services and social functions in Quebec, the city he had never succeeded in entering. ”At nine o'clock grand ma.s.s was celebrated by the Bishop in the Cathedral. On this occasion those who had shown sympathy with the Congress troops had to perform public penance. The officers of the garrison and the militia, with the British inhabitants, met at 10 o'clock, waited upon Carleton, and then proceeded to the English Church. After the service a parade took place when a _feu de joie_ was fired. Carleton himself gave a dinner to sixty people, and a public _fete_ was given at seven o'clock, which ended with a ball.”
About fifty years later, at Montgomery Place, on the banks of the Hudson, an aged face, with eyes dimmed with the tears of long years of waiting, looked sadly at the vessel that was bringing back to her the dust of her young soldier husband, which had so long lain in the gorge, near the fatal bastion. Forty-three years before, he had buckled on his sword to fight for what he considered a righteous cause, at the command of his leader, Was.h.i.+ngton. Expecting a speedy return, he marched away as she listened to the drum beats growing fainter and fainter in the distance, and, after half a century had pa.s.sed, he was still to her the young soldier in his brave, blue coat, who had kissed her for that long farewell. All that is left on Canadian soil to recall this gallant though luckless soldier is the low-ceiled cottage where his body was laid out, a small tablet on the precipice, which reads, ”Here Montgomery fell, 1775,” and another of white marble, in the courtyard of the military prison in the Citadel, recently erected by two patriotic American girls in memory of the volunteers who fell with him.
One hundred New Year's Eves came and pa.s.sed away, and, on Dec. 31st, 1875,
”There was a sound of revelry by night, And Canada's Capital had gathered there Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.”
It was with no desire to re-kindle the rancours and strifes of that distant period, but to properly celebrate an event of such importance, and commemorate that night of bl.u.s.tering storm, gallant attack and sore defeat a century before, that the Centennial Montgomery Ball was given.
Soldiers and citizens, in the costumes of 1775, some in the identical dress worn by their ancestors in that memorable repulse; and the ladies in toilettes of the same period, received their guests as they entered the ball-room, the approaches to which were tastefully decorated. ”Half way between the dancing and receiving rooms was a grand, double staircase, the sides of which were draped with the white and golden lilies of France, our Dominion Ensign, and the Stars and Stripes of the neighbouring Republic. On the other side of the broad steps were stacks of arms and warlike implements. Facing the guests as they ascended the stairs, among the huge banners which fell gracefully about the dark musketry, and parted to right and left above the drums and trumpets, there hung from the centre a red and black pennant--the American colours of 1775. Immediately underneath was the escutcheon of the United States, on which, heavily c.r.a.ped, was suspended the hero's sword--the weapon by which, one hundred years before, the dead, but honoured and revered hero had beckoned on his men, and which only left his hand when he like 'a soldier fell.'
”Underneath the kindly tribute to the dead General were the solemn prayerful initials of _Requiescat in Pace_.
”At the foot of the trophy were piled two sets of old flint-lock muskets and accoutrements, and in the centre a bra.s.s cannon, which was captured from the Americans in 1775, and which bore the 'Lone Star' and the figure of an Indian--the Arms of the State of Ma.s.sachusetts. This military tableau vividly recalled the troublous times of long ago, and spoke of the patience and pluck, the bravery and st.u.r.dy manhood of a bygone century.
”On the stroke of the hour of midnight, the clear, clarion notes of a trumpet thrilled all hearts present. A panel in the wainscotting of the lower dancing-room flew open as if by magic, and out jumped a jaunty little trumpeter with a slashed and decorated jacket and the busby of a hussar. The blast he blew rang in tingling echoes far and wide, and a second later the weird piping and drumming of an unfamiliar music were heard in a remote part of the barracks.
”Nearer and nearer every moment came the sharp shrill notes of the fifes and the quick detonation of the drum-stick taps. The rattle of the drums came closer and closer, when two folding-doors opened, and through them stalked in grim solemnity the 'Phantom Guard,' led by the intrepid Sergeant Hugh McQuarters.
”Regardless of the festive decorations and the bright faces around them, the 'Guard' pa.s.sed through the a.s.sembly as if they were not. On through salon and pa.s.sage--past ball-room and conversation parlor--they glided with measured step, and halting in front of the 'Montgomery Trophy,'
paid military honours to the memento of a hero's valiant, if unsuccessful act. Upon their taking close order, the Bombardier, who personated the dead Sergeant, and who actually wore the blood-stained sword-belt of a man who was killed in the action commemorated, advanced and delivered an address to the Commander of the Quebec Garrison, of which the concluding words were:--
'We ask of you to pay us now one tribute, By firing from these heights one last salute.'
”The grave, sonorous words of the martial request were hardly uttered, ere through the darkness of the night the great cannon boomed,--a soldier's welcome and a brave man's requiem,--which caused women's hearts to throb and men's to beat exultingly.” While the whole air trembled with the sullen reverberations, which echoed from crag to crag, the glare of rockets lit up the path of Pres-de-Ville, as the signal lights had done one hundred winters before.
At the suggestion of the American Consul, the old house on St. Louis street, in which the body of Montgomery was laid out January 1st, 1776, was decorated with the American flag, and brilliantly illuminated, in honour of him who had so n.o.bly tried to do what he considered his duty.
And thus the years of the century, as they rolled around, have in a great measure smoothed away the animosities which marked those days that tried men's souls, when the sons of those who had played around the same old English hearths fought to the death for liberty or loyalty. That the angry strifes are forgotten, leaving only the memory of the bravery which distinguished the star actors in the great drama, needs no further proof than can be found on a green hill near the Palisades, in the State of New York, where one hundred and twenty years ago a warm young heart, beating beneath the soldier's red coat, was stilled by American justice.
The granite shaft on the spot tells its sad and sombre story:--
Here died, October 2nd, 1780, Major John Andre, of the British Army, who, entering the American lines on a Secret Mission to Benedict Arnold for the Surrender of West Point, was taken prisoner, tried and condemned as a spy.
His death, though according to the stern code of war, moved even his enemies to pity, and both armies mourned the fate of one so young and so brave.
In 1821 his remains were removed to Westminster Abbey.
A hundred years after his execution this stone was placed above the spot where he lay, by a citizen of the States against which he fought; not to perpetuate a record of strife, but in token of those better feelings which have since united two nations, one in race, in language and religion, with the earnest hope that this friendly union will never be broken.
”He was more unfortunate than criminal, An accomplished man and a gallant officer.”
--George Was.h.i.+ngton.
An American visitor to Quebec was recently shown the cannon used in the trophy, which the British Corporal proudly explained had been taken at Bunker Hill.
”Ah! yes, friend,” the stranger replied, ”you have the cannon, but we have the hill.”