The point to be assailed was approachable only by one narrow bridge; this the French destroyed, and, not caring to encounter a very superior force, fell back toward their stronghold. Bradstreet was not to be deterred by difficulties. Accustomed to the necessity of finding resources, the stream was soon spanned by a temporary arch. With unwearied zeal he urged on the exertions of his men, and that very night, not only his own command, but the whole British army, was once more advanced across the stream, and established in an advantageous position near Ticonderoga.
At earliest light, Colonel Clark, chief engineer, and several officers of rank, reconnoitered the enemy's position to the best of their power. They could discover but little: a dense forest and a deep morass lay between them and Ticonderoga. They observed, indeed, a breast-work, with some felled trees in front, rising out of the only accessible part of the dreary swamp, but as to its nature, strength, and disposition for defense, their military skill and experience could afford them no light. Their report included a variety of opinions: some treated the defenses as slight and inconsiderable, and presenting only a deceptive show of strength; others, and they far better qualified to judge, acknowledged their formidable strength. Abercromby unfortunately adopted the former opinion, and rashly resolved to attack without waiting the essential aid of his artillery: his penalty was severe.
Prisoners informed the English chief that his enemies had assembled eight battalions, with some Canadians and Indians, and that they mustered altogether a force of 6000 men. They were encamped at a place called Carillon, in front of the fort, and busily occupied in strengthening their position, that they might make good their defense till the arrival of M. de Levi, who hastened to their aid, with 3000 men, from the banks of the Mohawk River, where he had been making an incursion against the British Indian allies. General Abercromby was determined by this information, which, however, subsequently proved much exaggerated. M. de Levi's force had in fact already arrived, and was only 800 strong, and the French regular troops in the position barely reached 3000 men, although battalions of the splendid, but then much reduced regiments of La Reine, La Sarre, Bearn, Guienne, Berry, Languedoc, and Royal Roussillon were present in their camp.
On the morning of the 8th of July the French garrison was called to arms, and marched into the threatened intrenchments. The regiments of Bearn, La Reine, and Guienne, under M. de Levi, occupied the right of the defenses; those of La Sarre, Languedoc, and two strong detachments under M. de Bourlemaque, the left. In the center Montcalm held under his own command the regiments of Berry, Royal Roussillon, and the light troops. The colonial militia and Canadian irregulars, with the Indians, were posted behind some field-works in the plain on the flanks of the main defense, supported by a small reserve. The French intrenchment presented in front, as was too late discovered, an almost impassable barrier: a solid earthen breast-work of eight feet in height protected the defenders from the hostile shot, and the gradual slope from its summit was covered for nearly 100 yards with abattis of felled trees laid close together, the branches sharpened and turned toward the foe. However, on either flank this grim position was open; no obstacle presented itself that could have stopped the stride of an English grenadier. Of this the hapless Abercromby was ignorant or unobservant. The French chief knew it well, and gave orders that, in case of the assailants appearing on either of these weak points, his troops should abandon the field and retreat to their boats as they best might.
With the rashness that bears no relation to courage, the British general determined to throw the flower of his force upon the very center of the enemy's strength. While the army was forming for the ill-starred attack, Sir William Johnson arrived with 440 Indians, who were at once pushed forward into the woods to feel the way and occupy the enemy. The American Rangers formed the left of Abercromby's advance, Bradstreet's boatmen were in the center, and on the right some companies of Light Infantry. Behind these, a line of the Massachusetts militia extended its ranks on either side toward Lake Champlain and Lake George. Next were ranged the British battalions of the line, with the 42d, Murray's Highlanders,[129] and the 55th, the corps trained by Lord Howe, in reserve: on them fell the brunt of this desolating day. A numerous mass of the Connecticut and New Jersey Provincial regiments formed the rear guard. Strict orders were issued that no man should fire a shot till he had surmounted the breast-work; then the arrangements were complete. During these formations and through the forenoon, some French detachments came forward and skirmished with the advance, but they were always overpowered with ease, and driven hurriedly back to shelter.
At one o'clock, when the mid-day sun poured down its burning rays upon the scene of strife, Abercromby gave the fatal order to attack. As his advance felt the fire, the light troops and the militia were moved aside, and the regular battalions called to the front. The Grenadier companies of the line led the way, Murray's Highlanders followed close behind. With quick but steady step, these intrepid men pressed on through the heavy swamp and tangled underwood, their ranks now broken by the uneven ground, now shattered by the deliberate fire of the French: impeded, though not confused, they passed the open ground, and, without one faltering pause or random shot, the thinned but unshaken column dashed against the abattis.
Then began a cruel and hopeless slaughter. With fiery valor the British Grenadiers forced themselves through the almost impenetrable fence; but still new obstacles appeared; and while, writhing among the pointed branches, they threatened the inaccessible enemy in impotent fury, the cool fire of the French from behind the breast-work smote them one by one. The Highlanders, who should have remained in reserve, were not to be restrained, and rushed to the front; they were apparently somewhat more successful; active, impetuous, lightly clad and armed, they won their way through the felled trees, and died upon the very parapet;[130] ere long, half of these gallant men[131] and nearly all their officers were slain or desperately wounded. Then fresh troops pressed on to the deadly strife, rivaling the courage and sharing the fate of those who had led the way. For nearly four hours, like the succeeding waves of an ebb tide, they attacked again and again, each time losing somewhat of their vantage-ground, now fiercely rushing on, unflinchingly enduring the murderous fire, then sullenly falling back to re-form their broken ranks for a fresh effort. It was vain at last as it was at first: the physical difficulties were impassable, and upon that rude barrier—which the simplest maneuver would have avoided, or one hour of well-plied artillery swept away[132]—the flower of British chivalry was crushed and broken. The troops that strove with this noble constancy were surely worthy of a better fate than that of sacrificing their lives and honor to the blind presumption of such a general.
An accident at length arrested this melancholy carnage. One of the British columns, in a hurried advance, lost their way, and became bewildered in the neighboring forest. When, after a time, they emerged upon the open country, a heavy fire was perceived close in front, as they thought, from the French intrenchments. With unhappy promptitude, they poured a deadly volley upon the supposed enemy; but when a breeze from the lake lifted the curtain of the smoke from the bloody scene, they saw that their shot had fallen with fatal precision among the red coats of their countrymen. Then indeed hesitation, confusion, and panic arose in the English ranks; their desperate courage had proved vain; a frightful loss had fallen upon their best and bravest; most of their officers were struck down; the bewildered general gave them no orders, sent them no aid; their strength was exhausted by repeated efforts under the fiery sun; and still, from behind the inaccessible breast-work, the French, steady and almost unharmed, poured a rolling fire upon their defenseless masses. The painful tale must now be told: the English Infantry turned and fled. The disorder in a few minutes became irretrievable; those who had been foremost in the fierce assault were soon the first in the disgraceful flight. Highlanders and Provincials, Rangers and Grenadiers, scarce looked behind them in their terror, nor saw that no man pursued. In this hour of greatest need, General Abercromby remained at the saw-mills, nearly two miles from the field of battle.[133]
When the fugitives found that the French did not venture to press upon their rear, they in some measure rallied upon a few still unbroken battalions that were posted around the position occupied by the general. Scarcely, however, had any thing of confidence been restored, when an unaccountable command[134] from Abercromby, to retreat to the landing-place, renewed the panic. The soldiers instantly concluded that they were to embark with every speed to escape the pursuit of the victorious enemy, and, breaking from all order and control, crowded toward the boats. Happily, the brave Bradstreet still held together a small force, like himself, unshaken by this groundless terror: with prompt decision, he threw himself before the landing place, and would not suffer a man to embark. To this gallant officer may be attributed the preservation of Abercromby's army: had the disordered masses been allowed to crowd into the boats, thousands must have perished in the waters of the lake. By this wise and spirited step, regularity was in a little time again restored, and the troops held their ground for the night.
The loss remains to be recorded: 1950 of the English army was slain, wounded, and missing; of these, 1642 were regular troops, with a large proportion of officers. The French had nearly 390 killed and disabled; but, as their heads only were exposed above the breast-work, few of those who were hit recovered. It is unnecessary to speak of their admirable conduct and courage, or of the merit of their chief: their highest praise is recorded with the deeds of those they conquered.[135]