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Montreal, 1535-1914. Vol. 2. Under British Rule, 1760-1914 — A Closer Reading

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Authors: Atherton, William H. (William Henry), 1867-1950 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2015 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Montréal (Québec) -- History; Montréal (Québec) -- Biography; Montréal (Québec) -- Maps -- Bibliography Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

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Words 328,679

Reading time 1430 min

Text sections 44

This digital edition of Montreal, 1535-1914. Vol. 2. Under British Rule, 1760-1914 — A Closer Reading is described by source-level measurements including 328,679 words, 23 hr 50 min estimated reading time, and 44 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 18.7 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Montréal (Québec) -- History,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #48244

Atherton's second volume examines Montreal's dual French-English society under British rule (1760-1914), using institutional histories like McGill's early struggles to illustrate tensions between racial, linguistic, and religious identities, framed by the city's motto 'Concordia Salus.'

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rdingly Signed by him and me and Exchanged Yesterday when Colonel Haldimand, with the Grenadiers and the Light Infantry of the Army took Possession of One of the Gates of the town and is this day to proceed in fulfilling the Articles of the Capitulation; By which the French Troops are all to lay down their arms; are not to serve during the Continuance of the Present War and are to be sent back to Old France as are also the Governors and Principal Officers of the Legislature of the Whole Country, Which I have now the Satisfaction to inform You is entirely Yielded to the Dominion of His Majesty. On which Interesting and happy Event I most Sincerely Congratulate you.

Governor Murray, with the Troops from Quebec, landed below the Town on Sunday last & Colonel Haviland with his Corps (that took possession of the Isle aux Noix, Abandoned by the enemy on the 28th) Arrived Yesterday at the South Shore Opposite to My Camp. I am, with great regard,

Sir, Your most Obedient, Humble Servant JEFF AMHERST.

The Honourable Lt. Governor Hamilton.

(Endorsed by Hamilton, Camp Montreal, 7 ber, 1776. General Amherst, received by Post Tuesday, 23d September.)”[1]

Haldimand, as directed by Amherst on the 9th, received the submission of the troops of France.

In the French camp, de Lévis reviewed his forces--2,132 of all ranks. In his Journal they are thus summarized:

Officers present 179 Soldiers 1953 ---- 2132

Officers returned to France 46 Soldiers invalided 241 ---- 287 ---- Total 2419 Soldiers described as absent from their regiments 927 ---- 3346

There on the Place d’Armes yielded up their arms, all that was left of the brave French warriors who had no dishonour in their submission, surrendering only to the overwhelming superior numbers of the English conquerors. With de Lévis was the able de Bourlamaque and the scholarly soldier de Bougainville, with Dumas, Rocquemaure, Pouchot, Luc de la Corne and so many of the heroes of Ticonderoga and Carillon. There too was de Vaudreuil, the Governor General, Commander-in-Chief, and last governor of New France, with his brother, the last Governor of Montreal under the Old Régime. Haviland’s entourage and the British troops present could not but admire their late opponents.

The only jarring note of the ceremony was the absence of the French flags from the usual paraphernalia to be delivered up. The omission is thus signaled by Amherst, in his official report of the submission, who after mentioning the surrender of the two captured British American stands of colours goes on to say that there were no French colours forthcoming: “The Marquis de Vaudreuil, generals and commanding officers of the regiment, giving their word of honour that the battalions had not any colours; they had brought them with them six years ago; they were torn to pieces and finding them troublesome in this country they had destroyed them.”

They had however been but recently destroyed, for the “Journal” of de Lévis, written by him Cæsar-like in the third person, tells how, after being unable to shake the determination of de Vaudreuil to capitulate without the honours of war, de Lévis, in order to spare his troops a portion of the humiliation they were to undergo, had ordered them to burn their colours to avoid the hard condition of handing them over to the enemy. “_M. le Chevalier de Lévis voyant avec douleur que rien ne pouvoit faire changer la determination de M. le Marquis de Vaudreuil voulant épargner aux troupes une partie de l’humiliation quelles alloient subir, leur ordonna de brûler leurs drapeaux pour se soustraire à la dure condition de les remettre aux ennemis._”[2] (_Cf. Journal des Campagnes du Chevalier de Lévis en Canada, 1756-1760. Edited by l’Abbé H.R. Casgrain, Montreal, C.O. Beauchemin et fils, 1889._)

On the 11th Amherst turned out his whole force and received Vaudreuil on parade. Between these two, friendly relations had been established. Place d’Armes was again a scene of colour with the presence of the British regiments led by Murray, Haviland, Burton, Gage, Fraser the gallant Highlander, Guy Carleton, who was to become the famous viceroy of Canada and to die Lord Dorchester, Lord Howe, and the scholarly Swiss soldier Haldimand. There were present, too, Sir William Johnston, the baronet of the Mohawk Valley and leader of the six nations, Major Robert Rogers of the famous rangers,[3] with his two brothers, and others of note. No doubt de Vaudreuil’s suite was not far off with de Lévis, de Bourlamaque, de Bougainville, Dumas, Roquemaure, Pouchot, Luc de la Corne, with the nefarious Intendant Bigot and all the principal officers of the colony who had been in Montreal, the headquarters of government since the fall of Quebec.

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Atherton opens his preface by characterizing Montreal's history under British rule as a "Tale of Two Cities," a phrase that signals his central concern: the coexistence of French-Canadian and English-speaking populations. He describes a "dual civilization" defined by "two main racial origins, two mentalities, two main languages, and two main religions," and notes that while these groups have lived "in marvelous harmony," they have not always been in unison. The author explicitly adopts the stance of a "dispassionate onlooker," aiming for an equipoise that he acknowledges may disappoint partisans. This framing sets up a work that is as much about the challenge of writing balanced history as it is about the events themselves.

The Preface as Methodological Statement

Atherton's preface is unusually candid about the historian's predicament. He admits that Montreal's French-Canadian majority makes it "necessary to give especial attention to the history of two-thirds of the people," while also pledging to "respect the rights of the minority." This balancing act is not merely rhetorical; he invokes the city's motto, "Concordia Salus" (safety through harmony), as a guiding principle. The preface also includes a telling quotation from Charles Dickens, who in 1842 called Montreal a "heart-burning town." Atherton expresses hope that his work will not renew that reputation, implicitly acknowledging the tensions that underlie his narrative. Readers should note that the preface is the only place where Atherton directly addresses his own methodology; the body of the volume proceeds largely without such reflexive commentary.

McGill College: A Case Study in Institutional Strife

The excerpt on McGill College illustrates the kind of conflict Atherton documents. A letter from the governor general criticizes the combination of the roles of principal, professor of divinity, and rector of Montreal in one person, calling it an "incongruity." The college's financial troubles are stark: in 1851 its income was £540 against expenditures of £742, leading to a debt that was relieved by a committee of Montreal merchants—a pattern of private intervention that Atherton notes "has never failed to be followed." The arrival of Principal William Dawson in 1855 marked a turning point. Dawson's own description of the campus—"unfinished and partly ruined buildings," "a wilderness of excavators and masons' rubbish," cattle grazing on unfenced grounds—gives a vivid sense of the institution's precarious state. This concrete detail grounds the broader narrative of institutional development in material conditions.

The Texture of Evidence: Letters, Speeches, and Official Documents

Atherton's method relies heavily on quoted primary sources. The McGill section includes a lengthy extract from a governor general's letter, reproduced with its original formal phrasing and parenthetical qualifications. This choice gives readers direct access to the language of authority, but also means that the narrative sometimes proceeds by accretion of documents rather than by synthesis. The author's own voice is most present in transitional phrases and in the selection of which documents to include. For instance, the list of notable medical school graduates—"Duncan McCallum, George E. Fenwick, Robert Palmer Howard"—reads like a roll call intended to establish the institution's pedigree. Readers should be alert to how Atherton uses such lists to imply continuity and prestige, even when the institution itself was struggling.

Atherton's volume is best approached as a documentary history that weaves together official correspondence, institutional records, and biographical sketches. The author's professed neutrality is a lens through which to read his selections: what he includes and what he omits are themselves evidence of the tensions he describes. Readers interested in the texture of nineteenth-century Canadian governance and education will find rich material, but should be prepared for a narrative that proceeds by accumulation rather than argument. The work rewards attention to its quoted voices, which often speak more directly than Atherton's own prose.

Reading about McGill’s early, faltering steps under a divided city’s gaze, I found myself thinking how identity is often forged in stubbornness rather than harmony. That same quiet, persistent push against circumstance seems to echo in the story of Patrick, that other exile building something lasting from fragments. The book sits nearby now: The life of St. Patrick and his place in history — Reading Companion. Both leave me with a similar, wistful ache for what survives its own beginnings.