[175] "That admiral (Saunders) was a pattern of most sturdy bravery, united with the most unaffected modesty. No man said less or deserved more. Simplicity in his manners, generosity, and good nature adorned his genuine love of his country."—Walpole's Memoirs of George II., p. 394.
[176] "The sides of the river began immediately to show a most dismal appearance of fire and smoke; and (as the troops employed on this service were the remains of those who escaped the massacre of Fort William Henry, where they killed and scalped every wounded officer and common man) they spared little or nothing that came in their way."—Gentleman's Magazine vol. xxix., p. 556.
CHAPTER XI.
Wolfe had now been five weeks before Quebec; not a few lives had been lost, a vast quantity of ammunition expended, and, above all, the season of action was already half consumed. But, as yet, no important step, in a military point of view, had been gained. The high grounds which he occupied beyond Montmorency and Point Levi had scarcely been disputed by the enemy. From day to day the hostile parapets were strengthened and extended. He had carefully examined the north bank of the Great River above and below the city, and could discover no one spot where either nature or art did not forbid his landing. Whatever discontent or distress might exist in the Canadian camp, there appeared no diminution of numbers or slackening of zeal in the defense. Montcalm had neither suffered himself to be provoked by insult or to be tempted by brilliant but dangerous opportunity. He rendered assurance doubly sure by keeping his superior force in a superior position; his raw provincial levies, when behind breast-works, were far from inefficient, and his numerous savage allies were terrible in their forest warfare; with the first he manned his lines, with the latter he lost no opportunity of harassing the invaders. On the other hand, the state of affairs in the British camp was by no means promising: under Wolfe's circumstances, inaction was almost equivalent to defeat.
It was true that, before leaving England, he was instructed that his expedition was only auxiliary to that of Amherst. To the main army, which was advancing by the inland lakes, England looked for the conquest of the country. Wolfe had already occupied the most important points in the neighborhood of Quebec, and might well be excused had he awaited the arrival of the general-in-chief for an attack upon the great stronghold. In this situation, many a brave and experienced veteran would probably have written "a most eloquent and conclusive apology for being beaten or for standing still."[177] But Wolfe had been happily chosen. He deeply felt that his unusual selection should be justified by unusual achievements, and that it was his duty to risk his reputation, as well as his life, rather than fail the sanguine hopes of his country.
Before narrating Wolfe's determination in this crisis, and the events consequent thereupon, it will, perhaps, be well to recall the reader's attention to the position of the Canadian army. The north shore of the basin of Quebec is a curve of about eight miles long. The waters shoal as they approach this shore, and at low tide a muddy bank is exposed, in some places nearly half a mile in breadth. The long-crested height, mentioned in a former description, at some parts of the line overhangs high-water mark, at others recedes into the country, and leaves some rich alluvial fields between its base and the river's banks. Wherever this height was not sufficiently precipitous to form a natural defense, the face was scarped, the summit crowned with a parapet, and the foot pallisadoed or armed with abattis. The irregular line of this formidable front shaped itself here and there into projections and inclinations, as if traced in flank and ravelin by the skill of the engineer. The extreme left of the French army rested on the rocky banks of the Montmorency. The beautiful cataract, and the foaming rapids for three miles up the stream, forbade the passage of an enemy: there was, indeed, a ford, but it was well defended; beyond that, the tangled bush defied the strength of battalions. Below the falls, however, the waters spread themselves in numerous shallow channels over the sands, and the stream is fordable except at high tide. To strengthen this weak point, Montcalm had thrown up a four-gun redoubt at the foot of the overhanging cliff. Although defiladed from the British artillery, these cliffs were altogether exposed to that of the French, and therefore untenable in case of falling into the assailants' hands.
Toward the right of the French position the crested ridge subsides in a gentle slope upon a valley, through the center of which winds the St. Charles or Little River. The entrance to this stream is deep, and forms a small harbor; here the French had run their ships of war aground, and these powerful wooden batteries, with their heavy guns, swept the slopes on either side, both toward the city walls and the right shoulder of the crested height.
The almost desperate course upon which Wolfe at length determined, was that of attacking the enemy in these intrenchments. He maturely weighed his plans; the skill and caution of the execution could alone justify the temerity of the resolve. The redoubt on the low ground, in front of the French left, and near the Falls of Montmorency, offered the most vulnerable point; detached from the main defenses, and within reach of guns from the shipping, he doubted not that he could easily master it, or bring on a general action for its possession. On the other hand, this redoubt could not be held when taken, for it lay exposed to the artillery of the French. However, there were difficulties on every side; Wolfe chose that which he considered the least. He well knew that, even were he to carry the crested hill over the redoubt, and to force the enemy from their works, the River St. Charles and the inner intrenchments still lay between him and the city; "But," said he, "a victorious army meets with no difficulties."
Wolfe's available force was less by one third than that of the defenders of this almost impregnable position. He had to risk the confusion of a debarkation, the despotism of the tides, and the caprice of the winds. The undertaking was all but desperate, and yet an overweening confidence in their chief and in themselves was more fatal to the British troops than the guns and parapets of the enemy.