Wolfe's Illness and Despondency

WOLFE soon heard, with joy, news of the capture of Fort Niagara and the expulsion of the French from Lake Champlain. He sent Murray above Quebec to destroy the French shipping, and open communication with Amherst. But that general did not appear, for reasons already mentioned.

Chagrin because of his failure at Montmorenci, fatigue, anxiety, disappointed hopes, and the extreme heat of the weather, prostrated Wolfe with fever and dysentery. For almost a month his life was in great peril. Early in September he was able to hold a council of war at his bedside, and on the 9th he wrote a desponding letter to the Earl of Holderness, in which he mentioned the critical situation of the army and of himself. "My constitution," he wrote, "is entirely ruined, without the consolation of having done any considerable service to the state, or without any prospect of it." But he had told the earl that a council of war had decided that his shattered army should attack the foe. His letter reached London at the middle of October. The result of the promised attack was awaited with intense anxiety, for the young commander's epistle had created anger and consternation in England. It was followed three days later by news of that result, and the hearts of Wolfe's countrymen throbbed quickly with emotions of joy and grief.

It was determined to land a large body of troops above Quebec, for the purpose of drawing Montcalm from his entrenchment's into an open field fight, in which the English would have the advantage. Wolfe, with some companions, in a boat, reconnoitered the shores, and selected the cove that yet bears his name, for the landing-place. From that cove a narrow path through a ravine tangled with vines and brambles led up to the Plains of Abraham; and along that perilous way it was resolved the troops should climb stealthily in darkness, if possible. The fleet was prepared to cooperate with the army, and on the 12th of September (1759) everything was ready for the execution of the dangerous and even desperate enterprise.

In the afternoon of that day, a feint was made in the direction of Montcalm's camp by the ships and some troops, to divert the attention of the foe from the real point of attack. At nine o'clock in the evening Wolfe and his main army were embarked on flat-boats above Point Levi, and floated up the river with the flood-tide, some distance above the selected landing-place, followed by the ships. There was joy in Quebec and the French camp, for it was believed the English were retreating.

The evening was warm and star-lit. Wolfe seemed in better spirits than usual, and at the evening mess, with a glass of wine in his hand, and in the light of a lantern, he sang impromptu that little campaigning song which has been often chanted in the tents of British soldiers since, beginning--

But a cloud of presentiment that his end was near evidently shadowed the young hero's thoughts; and when, at past midnight, black clouds had gathered in the sky, and the boats were floating silently back, with muffled but unused oars, upon the ebb tide, to land the troops under cover of the darkness at the selected place, he repeated, in a low musing tone to the officers around him, that touching stanza in Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard"--

"Now, gentlemen," said Wolfe, as he closed the verse, "I would prefer being the author of that poem to the glory of beating the French to-morrow."

In the darkness, sixteen hundred troops landed at Wolfe's Cove, and others speedily followed. The general led the way, with Monckton and Murray, and Lieutenant-Colonel Howe. They hastened up the acclivity in the face of shots from startled sentinels along the brow of the cliff, and reached the Plains of Abraham at early dawn, three hundred feet above the St. Lawrence. At sunrise, about five thousand British troops were standing in battle array, on the open plain before Quebec. News of the surprising apparition had gone into the city like the wind, and thence to Montcalm at Beaufort. He supposed, from the first account received, that it was only a small party who had come to burn a few houses and retire; but when later information reached him, he marched a greater portion of his army from his camp to attack the British, saying: "If it is necessary to fight them, it is necessary to crush them."

At ten o'clock the two armies stood face to face on that lofty plateau, the French on the higher ground near the city wall. Neither party had much artillery-the English only a six-pounder, which some sailors had dragged up the ravine. They were stronger than Montcalm imagined. He sent a messenger to his camp for fifteen hundred reserves, and another after a detachment that had gone up the river. The two armies were about equal in numbers then, and the impatient Montcalm began the attack without waiting for his reinforcements. Wolfe was at the head of the grenadiers who had been repulsed at the Montmorenci. They burned with a desire to wipe out the stain of that event, for their beloved commander had censured them for their rashness. He ordered his soldiers to double-shot their muskets and reserve their fire until the enemy should be very near.