The Virginians

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER LI. Conticuere Omnes

  Across the way, if the gracious reader will please to step over withus, he will find our young gentlemen at Lord Wrotham's house, whichhis lordship has lent to his friend the General, and that littlefamily party assembled, with which we made acquaintance at Oakhurst andTunbridge Wells. James Wolfe has promised to come to dinner; but Jamesis dancing attendance upon Miss Lowther, and would rather have a glancefrom her eyes than the finest kickshaws dressed by Lord Wrotham's cook,or the dessert which is promised for the entertainment at which youare just going to sit down. You will make the sixth. You may take Mr.Wolfe's place. You may be sure he won't come. As for me, I will stand atthe sideboard and report the conversation.

  Note first, how happy the women look! When Harry Warrington was takenby those bailiffs, I had intended to tell you how the good Mrs. Lambert,hearing of the boy's mishap, had flown to her husband, and had begged,implored, insisted, that her Martin should help him. "Never mind hisrebeldom of the other day; never mind about his being angry that hispresents were returned--of course anybody would be angry, much more sucha high-spirited lad as Harry! Never mind about our being so poor, andwanting all our spare money for the boys at college; there must be someway of getting him out of the scrape. Did you not get Charles Watkinsout of the scrape two years ago; and did he not pay you back everyhalfpenny? Yes; and you made a whole family happy, blessed be God! andMrs. Watkins prays for you and blesses you to this very day, and I thinkeverything has prospered with us since. And I have no doubt it has madeyou a major-general--no earthly doubt," says the fond wife.

  Now, as Martin Lambert requires very little persuasion to do a kindaction, he in this instance lets himself be persuaded easily enough, andhaving made up his mind to seek for friend James Wolfe, and give bailfor Harry, he takes his leave and his hat, and squeezes Theo's hand, whoseems to divine his errand (or perhaps that silly mamma has blabbed it),and kisses little Hetty's flushed cheek, and away he goes out of theapartment where the girls and their mother are sitting, though he isfollowed out of the room by the latter.

  When she is alone with him, that enthusiastic matron cannot controlher feelings any longer. She flings her arms round her husband's neck,kisses him a hundred and twenty-five times in an instant--calls God tobless him--cries plentifully on his shoulder; and in this sentimentalattitude is discovered by old Mrs. Quiggett, my lord's housekeeper, whois bustling about the house, and, I suppose, is quite astounded at theconjugal phenomenon.

  "We have had a tiff, and we are making it up! Don't tell tales out ofschool, Mrs. Quiggett!" says the gentleman, walking off.

  "Well, I never!" says Mrs. Quiggett, with a shrill, strident laugh, likea venerable old cockatoo--which white, hook-nosed, long-lived bird Mrs.Quiggett strongly resembles. "Well, I never!" says Quiggett, laughingand shaking her old sides till all her keys, and, as one may fancy, herold ribs clatter and jingle.

  "Oh, Quiggett!" sobs out Mrs. Lambert, "what a man that is!"

  "You've been a-quarrelling, have you, mum, and making it up? That'sright."

  "Quarrel with him? He never told a greater story. My General is anangel, Quiggett. I should like to worship him. I should like to falldown at his boots and kiss 'em, I should! There never was a man so goodas my General. What have I done to have such a man? How dare I have sucha good husband?"

  "My dear, I think there's a pair of you," says the old cockatoo; "andwhat would you like for your supper?"

  When Lambert comes back very late to that meal, and tells what hashappened, how Harry is free, and how his brother has come to life, andrescued him, you may fancy what a commotion the whole of those peopleare in! If Mrs. Lambert's General was an angel before, what is he now!If she wanted to embrace his boots in the morning, pray what furtheroffice of wallowing degradation would she prefer in the evening? LittleHetty comes and nestles up to her father quite silent, and drinksa little drop out of his glass. Theo's and mamma's faces beam withhappiness, like two moons of brightness.... After supper, those four ata certain signal fall down on their knees--glad homage paying in awfulmirth-rejoicing, and with such pure joy as angels do, we read, for thesinner that repents. There comes a great knocking at the door whilstthey are so gathered together. Who can be there? My lord is in thecountry miles off. It is past midnight now; so late have they been, solong have they been talking! I think Mrs. Lambert guesses who is there.

  "This is George," says a young gentleman, leading in another. "We havebeen to Aunt Bernstein. We couldn't go to bed, Aunt Lambert, withoutcoming to thank you too. You dear, dear, good----" There is no morespeech audible. Aunt Lambert is kissing Harry, Theo has snatched upHetty who is as pale as death, and is hugging her into life again.George Warrington stands with his hat off, and then (when Harry'stransaction is concluded) goes up and kisses Mrs. Lambert's hand: theGeneral passes his across his eyes. I protest they are all in a verytender and happy state. Generous hearts sometimes feel it, when Wrongis forgiven, when Peace is restored, when Love returns that had beenthought lost.

  "We came from Aunt Bernstein's; we saw lights here, you see; we couldn'tgo to sleep without saying good-night to you all," says Harry. "Couldwe, George?"

  "'Tis certainly a famous nightcap you have brought us, boys," says theGeneral. "When are you to come and dine with us? To-morrow?" No, theymust go to Madame Bernstein's to-morrow.

  The next day, then? Yes, they would come the next day--and that is thevery day we are writing about: and this is the very dinner, at which, inthe room of Lieutenant-Colonel James Wolfe, absent on private affairs,my gracious reader has just been invited to sit down.

  To sit down, and why, if you please? Not to a mere Barmecide dinner--no,no--but to hear MR. GEORGE ESMOND WARRINGTON'S STATEMENT, which ofcourse he is going to make. Here they all sit--not in my lord's granddining-room, you know, but in the snug study or parlour in front. Thecloth has been withdrawn, the General has given the King's health, theservants have left the room, the guests sit conticent, and so, after alittle hemming and blushing, Mr. George proceeds:--

  "I remember, at the table of our General, how the little Philadelphiaagent, whose wit and shrewdness we had remarked at home, made the veryobjections to the conduct of the campaign of which its disastrous issueshowed the justice. 'Of course,' says he, 'your Excellency's troops oncebefore Fort Duquesne, such a weak little place will never be able toresist such a general, such an army, such artillery, as will there befound attacking it. But do you calculate, sir, on the difficulty ofreaching the place? Your Excellency's march will be through woods almostuntrodden, over roads which you will have to make yourself, and yourline will be some four miles long. This slender line, having to make itsway through the forest, will be subject to endless attacks in front, inrear, in flank, by enemies whom you will never see, and whose constantpractice in war is the dexterous laying of ambuscades.'--'Psha, sir!'says the General, 'the savages may frighten your raw American militia'(Thank your Excellency for the compliment, Mr. Washington seems tosay, who is sitting at the table), 'but the Indians will never makeany impression on his Majesty's regular troops.'--'I heartily hope not,sir,' says Mr. Franklin, with a sigh; and of course the gentlemen of theGeneral's family sneered at the postmaster, as at a pert civilian whohad no call to be giving his opinion on matters entirely beyond hiscomprehension.

  "We despised the Indians on our own side, and our commander made lightof them and their service. Our officers disgusted the chiefs who werewith us by outrageous behaviour to their women. There were not aboveseven or eight who remained with our force. Had we had a couple ofhundred in our front on that fatal 9th of July, the event of the daymust have been very different. They would have flung off the attack ofthe French Indians; they would have prevented the surprise and panicwhich ensued. 'Tis known now that the French had even got ready to giveup their fort, never dreaming of the possibility of a defence, andthat the French Indians themselves remonstrated against the audacity ofattacking such an overwhelming force as ours.

  "I was with our Gene
ral with the main body of the troops when thefiring began in front of us, and one aide-de-camp after another was sentforwards. At first the enemy's attack was answered briskly by our ownadvanced people, and our men huzzaed and cheered with good heart. Butvery soon our fire grew slacker, whilst from behind every tree and bushround about us came single shots, which laid man after man low. We weremarching in orderly line, the skirmishers in front, the colours and twoof our small guns in the centre, the baggage well guarded bringing upthe rear, and were moving over a ground which was open and clear for amile or two, and for some half mile in breadth, a thick tangled covertof brushwood and trees on either side of us. After the firing hadcontinued for some brief time in front, it opened from both sides of theenvironing wood on our advancing column. The men dropped rapidly, theofficers in greater number than the men. At first, as I said, thesecheered and answered the enemy's fire, our guns even opening on thewood, and seeming to silence the French in ambuscade there. But thehidden rifle-firing began again. Our men halted, huddled up together, inspite of the shouts and orders of the General and officers to advance,and fired wildly into the brushwood--of course making no impression.Those in advance came running back on the main body frightened, and manyof them wounded. They reported there were five thousand Frenchmen and alegion of yelling Indian devils in front, who were scalping our peopleas they fell. We could hear their cries from the wood around as ourmen dropped under their rifles. There was no inducing the people to goforward now. One aide-de-camp after another was sent forward, and neverreturned. At last it came to be my turn, and I was sent with a messageto Captain Fraser of Halkett's in front, which he was never to receivenor I to deliver.

  "I had not gone thirty yards in advance when a rifle-ball struck myleg, and I fell straightway to the ground. I recollect a rush forwardof Indians and Frenchmen after that, the former crying their fiendishwar-cries, the latter as fierce as their savage allies. I was amazed andmortified to see how few of the whitecoats there were. Not above a scorepassed me; indeed there were not fifty in the accursed action in whichtwo of the bravest regiments of the British army were put to rout.

  "One of them, who was half Indian half Frenchman, with mocassins anda white uniform coat and cockade, seeing me prostrate on the ground,turned back and ran towards me, his musket clubbed over his head to dashmy brains out and plunder me as I lay. I had my little fusil whichmy Harry gave me when I went on the campaign; it had fallen by me andwithin my reach, luckily: I seized it, and down fell the Frenchman deadat six yards before me. I was saved for that time, but bleeding from mywound and very faint. I swooned almost in trying to load my piece,and it dropped from my hand, and the hand itself sank lifeless to theground.

  "I was scarcely in my senses, the yells and shots ringing dimly inmy ears, when I saw an Indian before me, busied over the body of theFrenchman I had just shot, but glancing towards me as I lay on theground bleeding. He first rifled the Frenchman, tearing open his coat,and feeling in his pockets: he then scalped him, and with his bleedingknife in his mouth advanced towards me. I saw him coming as through afilm, as in a dream--I was powerless to move, or to resist him.

  "He put his knee upon my chest: with one bloody hand he seized my longhair and lifted my head from the ground, and as he lifted it, he enabledme to see a French officer rapidly advancing behind him.

  "Good God! It was young Florac, who was my second in the duel at Quebec.'A moi, Florac!' I cried out. 'C'est Georges! aide moi!'

  "He started; ran up to me at the cry, laid his hand on the Indian'sshoulder, and called him to hold. But the savage did not understandFrench, or choose to understand it. He clutched my hair firmer, andwaving his dripping knife round it, motioned to the French lad to leavehim to his prey. I could only cry out again and piteously, 'A moi!'

  "'Ah, canaille, tu veux du sang? Prends!' said Florac, with a curse; andthe next moment, and with an ugh, the Indian fell over my chest dead,with Florac's sword through his body.

  "My friend looked round him. 'Eh!' says he, 'la belle affaire! Where artthou wounded? in the leg?' He bound my leg tight round with his sash.'The others will kill thee if they find thee here. Ah, tiens! Put me onthis coat, and this hat with the white cockade. Call out in French ifany of our people pass. They will take thee for one of us. Thou artBrunet of the Quebec Volunteers. God guard thee, Brunet! I must goforward. 'Tis a general debacle, and the whole of your redcoats are onthe run, my poor boy.' Ah, what a rout it was! What a day of disgracefor England!

  "Florac's rough application stopped the bleeding of my leg, and the kindcreature helped me to rest against a tree, and to load my fusil, whichhe placed within reach of me, to protect me in case any other maraudershould have a mind to attack me. And he gave me the gourd of thatunlucky French soldier, who had lost his own life in the deadly gamewhich he had just played against me, and the drink the gourd containedserved greatly to refresh and invigorate me. Taking a mark of the treeagainst which I lay, and noting the various bearings of the country, soas to be able again to find me, the young lad hastened on to the front.'Thou seest how much I love thee, George,' he said, 'that I stay behindin a moment like this.' I forget whether I told thee Harry, that Floracwas under some obligation to me. I had won money of him at cards,at Quebec--only playing at his repeated entreaty--and there was adifficulty about paying, and I remitted his debt to me, and lightedmy pipe with his note-of-hand. You see, sir, that you are not the onlygambler in the family.

  "At evening, when the dismal pursuit was over, the faithful fellow cameback to me, with a couple of Indians, who had each reeking scalps attheir belts, and whom he informed that I was a Frenchman, his brother,who had been wounded early in the day, and must be carried back to thefort. They laid me in one of their blankets, and carried me, groaning,with the trusty Florac by my side. Had he left me, they would assuredlyhave laid me down, plundered me, and added my hair to that of thewretches whose bleeding spoils hung at their girdles. He promised thembrandy at the fort, if they brought me safely there: I have but a dimrecollection of the journey: the anguish of my wound was extreme: Ifainted more than once. We came to the end of our march at last. I wastaken into the fort, and carried to the officer's log-house, and laidupon Florac's own bed.

  "Happy for me was my insensibility. I had been brought into the fortas a wounded French soldier of the garrison. I heard afterwards, thatduring my delirium the few prisoners who had been made on the day of ourdisaster, had been brought under the walls of Duquesne by their savagecaptors, and there horribly burned, tortured, and butchered by theIndians, under the eyes of the garrison."

  As George speaks, one may fancy a thrill of horror running through hissympathising audience. Theo takes Hetty's hand, and looks at George ina very alarmed manner. Harry strikes his fist upon the table, and cries,"The bloody, murderous, red-skinned villains! There will never be peacefor us until they are all hunted down!"

  "They were offering a hundred and thirty dollars apiece for Indianscalps in Pennsylvania, when I left home," says George, demurely, "andfifty for women."

  "Fifty for women, my love! Do you hear that, Mrs. Lambert?" cries theColonel, lifting up his wife's hair.

  "The murderous villains!" says Harry, again. "Hunt 'em down, sir! Hunt'em down!"

  "I know not how long I lay in my fever," George resumed. "When I awoketo my senses, my dear Florac was gone. He and his company had beendespatched on an enterprise against an English fort on the Pennsylvanianterritory, which the French claimed, too. In Duquesne, when I came tobe able to ask and understand what was said to me, there were not abovethirty Europeans left. The place might have been taken over and overagain, had any of our people had the courage to return after theirdisaster.

  "My old enemy the ague-fever set in again upon me as I lay here by theriver-side. 'Tis a wonder how I ever survived. But for the goodness ofa half-breed woman in the fort, who took pity on me, and tended me, Inever should have recovered, and my poor Harry would be what he fanciedhimself yesterday, our grandfather's heir, our mother's only son.
/>
  "I remembered how, when Florac laid me in his bed, he put under mypillow my money, my watch, and a trinket or two which I had. When Iwoke to myself these were all gone; and a surly old sergeant, the onlyofficer left in the quarter, told me, with a curse, that I was luckyenough to be left with my life at all; that it was only my white cockadeand coat had saved me from the fate which the other canaille of Rosbifshad deservedly met with.

  "At the time of my recovery the fort was almost emptied of the garrison.The Indians had retired enriched with British plunder, and the chiefpart of the French regulars were gone upon expeditions northward. Mygood Florac had left me upon his service, consigning me to the care ofan invalided sergeant. Monsieur de Contrecoeur had accompanied one ofthese expeditions, leaving an old lieutenant, Museau by name, in commandat Duquesne.

  "This man had long been out of France, and serving in the colonies. Hischaracter, doubtless, had been indifferent at home; and he knew that,according to the system pursued in France, where almost all promotion isgiven to the noblesse, he never would advance in rank. And he had madefree with my guineas, I suppose, as he had with my watch, for I saw itone day on his chest when I was sitting with him in his quarter.

  "Monsieur Museau and I managed to be pretty good friends. If I could beexchanged, or sent home, I told him that my mother would pay liberallyfor my ransom; and I suppose this idea excited the cupidity of thecommandant, for a trapper coming in the winter, whilst I still lay veryill with fever, Museau consented that I should write home to my mother,but that the letter should be in French, that he should see it, andthat I should say I was in the hands of the Indians, and should not beransomed under ten thousand livres.

  "In vain I said I was a prisoner to the troops of his Most ChristianMajesty, that I expected the treatment of a gentleman and an officer.Museau swore that letter should go, and no other; that if I hesitated,he would fling me out of the fort, or hand me over to the tender merciesof his ruffian Indian allies. He would not let the trapper communicatewith me except in his presence. Life and liberty are sweet. I resistedfor a while, but I was pulled down with weakness, and shuddering withfever; I wrote such a letter as the rascal consented to let pass, andthe trapper went away with my missive, which he promised, in threeweeks, to deliver to my mother in Virginia.

  "Three weeks, six, twelve, passed. The messenger never returned. Thewinter came and went, and all our little plantations round the fort,where the French soldiers had cleared corn-ground and planted gardensand peach- and apple-trees down to the Monongahela, were in fullblossom. Heaven knows how I crept through the weary time! When I waspretty well, I made drawings of the soldiers of the garrison, and of thehalf-breed and her child (Museau's child), and of Museau himself, whom,I am ashamed to say, I flattered outrageously; and there was an oldguitar left in the fort, and I sang to it, and played on it some Frenchairs which I knew, and ingratiated myself as best I could with mygaolers; and so the weary months passed, but the messenger neverreturned.

  "At last news arrived that he had been shot by some British Indians inMaryland: so there was an end of my hope of ransom for some months more.This made Museau very savage and surly towards me; the more so as hissergeant inflamed his rage by telling him that the Indian woman waspartial to me--as I believe, poor thing, she was. I was always gentlewith her, and grateful to her. My small accomplishments seemed wondersin her eyes; I was ill and unhappy, too, and these are always claims toa woman's affection.

  "A captive pulled down by malady, a ferocious gaoler, and a young womantouched by the prisoner's misfortunes--sure you expect that, with thesethree prime characters in a piece, some pathetic tragedy is going to beenacted? You, Miss Hetty, are about to guess that the woman saved me?"

  "Why, of course she did!" cries mamma.

  "What else is she good for?" says Hetty.

  "You, Miss Theo, have painted her already as a dark beauty--is it notso? A swift huntress--"

  "Diana with a baby," says the Colonel.

  "--Who scours the plain with her nymphs, who brings down the game withher unerring bow, who is queen of the forest--and I see by your looksthat you think I am madly in love with her?"

  "Well, I suppose she is an interesting creature, Mr. George?" says Theo,with a blush.

  "What think you of a dark beauty, the colour of new mahogany with longstraight black hair, which was usually dressed with a hair-oil orpomade by no means pleasant to approach, with little eyes, with highcheek-bones, with a flat nose, sometimes ornamented with a ring, withrows of glass beads round her tawny throat, her cheeks and foreheadgracefully tattooed, a great love of finery, and inordinate passionfor--oh! must I own it?"

  "For coquetry. I know you are going to say that!" says Miss Hetty.

  "For whisky, my dear Miss Hester--in which appetite my gaoler partook;so that I have often sate by, on the nights when I was in favour withMonsieur Museau, and seen him and his poor companion hob-and-nobbingtogether until they could scarce hold the noggin out of which theydrank. In these evening entertainments, they would sing, they woulddance, they would fondle, they would quarrel, and knock the cans andfurniture about; and, when I was in favour, I was admitted to sharetheir society, for Museau, jealous of his dignity, or not willing thathis men should witness his behaviour, would allow none of them to befamiliar with him.

  "Whilst the result of the trapper's mission to my home was yetuncertain, and Museau and I myself expected the payment of my ransom, Iwas treated kindly enough, allowed to crawl about the fort, and even togo into the adjoining fields and gardens, always keeping my parole, andduly returning before gun-fire. And I exercised a piece of hypocrisy,for which, I hope, you will hold me excused. When my leg was sound (theball came out in the winter, after some pain and inflammation, and thewound healed up presently), I yet chose to walk as if I was disabledand a cripple; I hobbled on two sticks, and cried Ah! and Oh! at everyminute, hoping that a day might come when I might treat my limbs to arun.

  "Museau was very savage when he began to give up all hopes of the firstmessenger. He fancied that the man might have got the ransom-money andfled with it himself. Of course he was prepared to disown any part inthe transaction, should my letter be discovered. His treatment of mevaried according to his hopes or fears, or even his mood for the timebeing. He would have me consigned to my quarters for several days at atime; then invite me to his tipsy supper-table, quarrel with me there,and abuse my nation; or again break out into maudlin sentimentalitiesabout his native country of Normandy, where he longed to spend his oldage, to buy a field or two, and to die happy.

  "'Eh, Monsieur Museau!' says I, 'ten thousand livres of your money wouldbuy a pretty field or two in your native country? You can have it forthe ransom of me, if you will but let me go. In a few months you mustbe superseded in your command here, and then adieu the crowns andthe fields in Normandy! You had better trust a gentleman and a man ofhonour. Let me go home, and I give you my word the ten thousand livresshall be paid to any agent you may appoint in France or in Quebec.'

  "'Ah, young traitor!' roars he, 'do you wish to tamper with my honour?Do you believe an officer of France will take a bribe? I have a mind toconsign thee to my black-hole, and to have thee shot in the morning.'

  "'My poor body will never fetch ten thousand livres,' says I; 'and apretty field in Normandy with a cottage...'

  "'And an orchard. Ah, sacre bleu!' says Museau, whimpering, 'and a dishof tripe a la mode du pays!..."

  "This talk happened between us again and again, and Museau would orderme to my quarters, and then ask me to supper the next night, and returnto the subject of Normandy, and cider, and trippes a la mode de Caen. Myfriend is dead now--"

  "He was hung, I trust?" breaks in Colonel Lambert.

  "--And I need keep no secret about him. Ladies, I wish I had to offeryou the account of a dreadful and tragical escape; how I slew all thesentinels of the fort; filed through the prison windows, destroyed ascore or so of watchful dragons, overcame a million of dangers, andfinally effected my freedom. But,
in regard of that matter, I have noheroic deeds to tell of, and own that, by bribery and no other means, Iam where I am."

  "But you would have fought, Georgy, if need were," says Harry; "and youcouldn't conquer a whole garrison, you know!" And herewith Mr. Harryblushed very much.

  "See the women, how disappointed they are!" says Lambert. "Mrs. Lambert,you bloodthirsty woman, own that you are balked of a battle; and look atHetty, quite angry because Mr. George did not shoot the commandant."

  "You wished he was hung yourself, papa!" cries Miss Hetty, "and I amsure I wish anything my papa wishes."

  "Nay, ladies," says George, turning a little red, "to wink at aprisoner's escape was not a very monstrous crime; and to take money?Sure other folks besides Frenchmen have condescended to a bribe beforenow. Although Monsieur Museau set me free, I am inclined, for my part,to forgive him. Will it please you to hear how that business was done?You see, Miss Hetty, I cannot help being alive to tell it."

  "Oh, George!--that is, I mean, Mr. Warrington!--that is, I mean, I begyour pardon!" cries Hester.

  "No pardon, my dear! I never was angry yet or surprised that any oneshould like my Harry better than me. He deserves all the liking thatany man or woman can give him. See, it is his turn to blush now," saysGeorge.

  "Go on, Georgy, and tell them about the escape out of Duquesne!" criesHarry, and he said to Mrs. Lambert afterwards in confidence, "You knowhe is always going on saying that he ought never to have come to lifeagain, and declaring that I am better than he is. The idea of my beingbetter than George, Mrs. Lambert! a poor, extravagant fellow like me!It's absurd!"