Library of the Worlds Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 4 | Page 3

the rapid
current, they reached the cove just in time to cover the landing. Wolfe
and the troops with him leaped on shore; the light infantry, who found
themselves borne by the current a little below the intrenched path,
clambered up the steep hill, staying themselves by the roots and boughs

of the maple and spruce and ash trees that covered the precipitous
declivity, and, after a little firing, dispersed the picket which guarded
the height; the rest ascended safely by the pathway. A battery of four
guns on the left was abandoned to Colonel Howe. When Townshend's
division disembarked, the English had already gained one of the roads
to Quebec; and, advancing in front of the forest, Wolfe stood at
daybreak with his invincible battalions on the Plains of Abraham, the
battle-field of the Celtic and Saxon races.
"It can be but a small party, come to burn a few houses and retire," said
Montcalm, in amazement as the news reached him in his intrenchments
the other side of the St. Charles; but, obtaining better information,
"Then," he cried, "they have at last got to the weak side of this
miserable garrison; we must give battle and crush them before
mid-day." And, before ten, the two armies, equal in numbers, each
being composed of less than five thousand men, were ranged in
presence of one another for battle. The English, not easily accessible
from intervening shallow ravines and rail fences, were all regulars,
perfect in discipline, terrible in their fearless enthusiasm, thrilling with
pride at their morning's success, commanded by a man whom they
obeyed with confidence and love. The doomed and devoted Montcalm
had what Wolfe had called but "five weak French battalions," of less
than two thousand men, "mingled with disorderly peasantry," formed
on commanding ground. The French had three little pieces of artillery;
the English, one or two. The two armies cannonaded each other for
nearly an hour; when Montcalm, having summoned De Bougainville to
his aid, and dispatched messenger after messenger for De Vaudreuil,
who had fifteen hundred men at the camp, to come up before he should
be driven from the ground, endeavored to flank the British and crowd
them down the high bank of the river. Wolfe counteracted the
movement by detaching Townshend with Amherst's regiment, and
afterward a part of the Royal Americans, who formed on the left with a
double front.
Waiting no longer for more troops, Montcalm led the French army
impetuously to the attack. The ill-disciplined companies broke by their
precipitation and the unevenness of the ground; and fired by platoons,

without unity. Their adversaries, especially the Forty-third and the
Forty-seventh, where Monckton stood, of which three men out of four
were Americans, received the shock with calmness; and after having, at
Wolfe's command, reserved their fire till their enemy was within forty
yards, their line began a regular, rapid, and exact discharge of musketry.
Montcalm was present everywhere, braving danger, wounded, but
cheering by his example. The second in command, De Sennezergues,
an associate in glory at Ticonderoga, was killed. The brave but untried
Canadians, flinching from a hot fire in the open field, began to waver;
and, so soon as Wolfe, placing himself at the head of the Twenty-eighth
and the Louisburg grenadiers, charged with bayonets, they everywhere
gave way. Of the English officers, Carleton was wounded; Barré, who
fought near Wolfe, received in the head a ball which made him blind of
one eye, and ultimately of both. Wolfe, also, as he led the charge, was
wounded in the wrist; but still pressing forward, he received a second
ball; and having decided the day, was struck a third time, and mortally,
in the breast. "Support me," he cried to an officer near him; "let not my
brave fellows see me drop." He was carried to the rear, and they
brought him water to quench his thirst. "They run! they run!" spoke the
officer on whom he leaned. "Who run?" asked Wolfe, as his life was
fast ebbing. "The French," replied the officer, "give way everywhere."
"What," cried the expiring hero, "do they run already? Go, one of you,
to Colonel Burton; bid him march Webb's regiment with all speed to
Charles River to cut off the fugitives." Four days before, he had looked
forward to early death with dismay. "Now, God be praised, I die
happy." These were his words as his spirit escaped in the blaze of his
glory. Night, silence, the rushing tide, veteran discipline, the sure
inspiration of genius, had been his allies; his battle-field, high over the
ocean river, was the grandest theatre for illustrious deeds; his victory,
one of the most momentous in the annals of mankind, gave to the
English tongue and the institutions of the Germanic race the unexplored
and seemingly