The Monuments We’re Keeping
On what made French Canadian history and the meaning of what remains.
On James Wolfe and his column
On September 13, 1759, a 20-minute battle forever changed the face of North America. The Battle of the Plains of Abraham, during which the British army defeated the French in Quebec City, was a catalyst for the end of the French ruling over a significant part of the continent and later marked the beginning of British North America — the ancestor of modern-day Canada. New France was no more; the territory surrounding the St. Lawrence River, and later on the Great Lakes, would be known as the Province of Quebec under British rule.
The British invasion of Quebec City was led by major general James Wolfe, who had already proven to be a skilled military leader even at the young age of 32. After a difficult and lengthy siege around Quebec City, Wolfe and his men carried out an audacious plan to draw out the French into battle right where they wanted them: on the Plains of Abraham, a vast stretch of land outside the walls of the city. The general courageously guided his troops to battle, but he was wounded early on. He died on the Plains of Abraham with the knowledge that the French had retreated and that his operation had been successful. His French counterpart, the Marquis de Montcalm, also died in the morning after the battle from his own wounds.
This significant victory for the British ensured James Wolfe’s reputation as a hero and martyr. Ever since, monuments to his memory have been erected all across Canada, as well as in England. Streets, institutions and towns have been named after him. However, there was one place where Wolfe’s glory was not openly celebrated right away — that is, on the very territory he had conquered.
The Seven Years’ War, a complicated conflict that saw many repercussions around the globe, was a painful episode as well for the 70,000 French Canadians and the numerous Indigenous people living in New France at the time. Thousands died from diseases and famine brought on by the war. Then, with the Treaty of Paris in 1763, not only was New France officially handed to the British, but it was abandoned by France, who made no attempt through diplomatic negotiations to retain their North American colony.
At the end of the 18th century, British subjects living in Quebec City were still quite timid about commemorating James Wolfe’s victory on the Plains of Abraham, which was a pity to some of them. However, a monument to his memory, a rock, was apparently placed at the spot where he died by soldiers shortly after the battle. Then, in 1790, it was replaced by a benchmark.
By the 19th century, some English Canadians felt the lack of monuments for Wolfe was disrespectful to who they believed was a hero of the Empire. In 1827, an obelisk commemorating both generals who fought and died on the Plains of Abraham was erected in the Governor’s Garden [today in the Parc des Gouverneurs, next to the Frontenac Castle]. This was an attempt to improve tense relations between French and English Canadians, but it did not satisfy the English.
In 1832, a real monument was placed on the spot where Wolfe died: a column with a plaque on which was written “Here died Wolfe, victorious” in English. It should be noted that the timing of this installation is quite interesting in itself. A few years later came the Lower Canada Rebellion (1837–1838), also known as the Patriots’ War, which was the result of years of tensions between francophones and anglophones living in the colony. The historical context gave the monument a symbolic significance, which only encouraged visitors to take a piece of it as a souvenir. It thus had to be completely taken down in 1849 and replaced by a Doric column, this time protected by an iron fence.
After years of deterioration, a new Wolfe monument was installed in 1913. But its fate was not much better than its predecessors’. On March 29th, 1963, a separatist extremist group called Front de libération du Québec [Quebec Liberation Front, I’ve mentioned them in a previous article] destroyed it. On May 24, 1965, a Wolfe monument in Montreal was also defaced with paint during a riot.
Finally, in July 1965, a fifth Wolfe monument was erected on the Plains of Abraham. This time, though, the plaques were written in both French and English. On the first one, the word “victorious” was omitted, so it simply read “Here died Wolfe”. While this was done to show sensitivity to the French Canadian population of Quebec, it was still a controversial change according to the Anglophone community. This monument is still standing to this day on the Plains of Abraham, right in front of one of the entrances to the Musée des beaux-arts du Québec [Quebec’s Fine Arts Museum].
On seeing one’s fate
As you may have guessed from the beginning of this story, or from studying history, or from actually being Canadian, French Canadians have a complicated relationship with the English part of their heritage. As I’ve mentioned previously, explaining this situation would make for a long article. Nevertheless, the unfortunate truth is right there: it is part of their heritage. If you do come to Quebec (which I highly recommend!) to visit Montreal and Quebec City, you will see plenty of institutions, streets and monuments named after British historical figures. Heck, even my hometown was named after Queen Victoria!
Nowadays, I feel that most people in Quebec don’t really mind the English names, unless they hold very nationalistic views, or if they discover that said historical figure was very controversial. This was the case notably for Jeffery Amherst, a British commander who attacked Montreal in 1760. He was highly criticized even during his days for his handling of the Indigenous people during Pontiac’s War. In 1763, before going back to England, he suggested in a letter that blankets infected with smallpox should be handed to Native Americans to kill them. Recently, in 2019, a street named Amherst in Montreal was renamed Atateken, a word that means “brothers and sisters” in the Mohawk language.
That being said, debates about monuments and street names do come up every once in a while in Quebec and in Canada. This year, it is mostly because those debates have come up in the United States first. Obviously, we are all witnessing the tearing down of monuments and statues south of our border, and it is quite difficult not to be carried away with the movement. A petition is now circulating to demand the removal of a monument to John A. MacDonald in Montreal. Sir John A. MacDonald was the first prime minister of Canada. While his important contribution to the development of the country is undeniable, he did enact many controversial policies regarding Indigenous people and Chinese immigrants, and he apparently had a vision of a unified Canadian nation that did not really take into consideration the contribution of its French-speaking communities. At the bottom of the aforementioned petition, it reads:
There are many monuments of racist white nationalists in Montréal- and one by one they will ALL see their fate.
I did not look up which exact monuments this is referring to — I do know of a column in Montreal in honor of Horatio Nelson, a British admiral who died in battle during the Napoleonic Wars, that people once wanted to take down because it represented British imperialism. And apparently, the man had some controversial views on slavery…
Alright.
And then who’s next?
They will ALL see their fate. Surely someone has a plan, right?
On keeping monuments
As French Canadians, as minorities, as First Nations people, as immigrants, how far back are we willing to go to destroy symbols of colonialism? Who shall stand, and who shall fall?
“Well, I guess we can just go and tear down that James Wolfe monument once again,” I half-joked sarcastically to a friend a few days ago.
“The what?” she replied.
“The James Wolfe monument, on the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City.”
“Who’s that?”
I scoffed.
“Uh, James Wolfe was the guy who won the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. Because of that New France was handed to the British, and, uh, you know, history. We’re not French anymore.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
Right. This is why you won’t see me dying on the hill of tearing down monuments. History is complicated, and not all people are passionate about it like I am. Few people know how to analyze historical events from all angles. They see good, they say great. They see evil, they say destruct. Too many people throw out their opinion into the world without first considering the social and historical context that shaped a historical figure, and most importantly, the lessons we have learned from their actions. Before becoming historical figures, they were first people in all their complexities, and that is a story that statues, columns and street signs cannot tell. That is not to say that every historical figure would be deserving of a monument, but there should absolutely be an open discussion about tearing down those who already exist. Whether we agree or not, a petition is at the very least the decent first step towards this kind of change.
Then again, who really gets to decide? Let’s suppose I’ve got this idea to throw a hammer repeatedly into the James Wolfe monument. Wouldn’t that seem hateful to a minority culture in Quebec, the Anglophone community? While they may be the majority in the country, it is definitely the other way around in this province! Then, the debate turns completely different. Is the historic oppression of my people greater than the “privileges” I now enjoy as part of the majority in Quebec? Am I truly justified in destroying this monument? Is history really backing me up? And even then, is that enough?
Obviously, I don’t actually believe we should tear down the James Wolfe monument(or the John A. MacDonald monument, for that matter). I think most Quebecers like myself, when looking at this column, do not only see the humiliating defeat crushing the French army in 1759 and the victory of old enemies. To most of us, I believe the monument is now a symbol of a conquest of the territory that never became a conquest of the people. I don’t feel the need to bow my head when I see streets with English names in my 95%-francophone city. In fact, for every street named Wolfe, Murray, Holland, Cook, Dalhousie, I can point to a dozen named Cartier, Champlain, Jean-Talon, Montcalm, Richelieu, Papineau, Laurier, Calixa-Lavallée, Duplessis, Robert-Bourassa, Henri-Bourassa, René-Lévesque, Honoré-Mercier… And they’re not only streets — they are boulevards, bridges, schools, institutions, neighbourhoods, cities, and of course monuments all across the province. They all coexist within the same territory. They are all part of the same history.
Historians are still debating whether the British invasion of New France was actually the best thing that could have happened to the French Canadian population living in the St. Lawrence Valley. After all, up until that point, they had only known the Old French regime, a monarchy that left them with very few rights and liberties. Through the rights awarded to them by the British through the 1774 Quebec Act, and through the adversity they had to face through political injustice during the 19th century, the French Canadians’ pride and sense of identity only grew stronger. Still, this is not a narrative we tend to be told. We all call British colonization all bad, and then we call it a day.
But maybe we should challenge ourselves a little more.
Ironically, for a province whose motto is Je me souviens, a lot of people like my friend do not remember. They get reminded when it is convenient. To be fair, our collective memory is quite strong, but it’s individuals I don’t completely trust. Destroying monuments, just like erecting them in the first place, is often nothing more than a sign of the times. Whether we like it or not, this is part of what makes monuments and statues so interesting. People have existed, and history was made, and monuments are usually a silent testament to what happened, both regarding the person it commemorates and the reason why it exists. As history professor Jean-Pierre Le Glaunec said:
The monument is like an iceberg. It is the visible part of the history that is underneath.
Before cutting off what is on the surface, shouldn’t we be able to openly and honestly discuss what to do with what’s below?
Other sources / To learn more
Monuments on the Plains of Abraham, The National Battlefields Commission, Government of Canada
On James Wolfe: National Army Museum and Historic UK
The Conquest of New France, The Canadian Encyclopedia