The Virginians

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER LXXIV. News from Canada

  Our Castlewood relatives kept us with them till the commencement of thenew year, and after a fortnight's absence (which seemed like an ageto the absurd and infatuated young man) he returned to the side of hischarmer. Madame de Bernstein was not sorry to leave the home of herfather. She began to talk more freely as we got away from the place.What passed during that interview in which the battle-royal between herand her niece occurred, she never revealed. But the old lady talkedno more of forming cette petite, and, indeed, when she alluded to her,spoke in a nervous, laughing way, but without any hostility towards theyoung Countess. Her nephew Eugene, she said, was doomed to be henpeckedfor the rest of his days that she saw clearly. A little order broughtinto the house would do it all the good possible. The little oldvulgar American gentleman seemed to be a shrewd person, and would actadvantageously as a steward. The Countess's mother was a convict, shehad heard, sent out from England, where no doubt she had beaten hemp inmost of the gaols; but this news need not be carried to the town-crier;and, after all, in respect to certain kind of people, what mattered whattheir birth was? The young woman would be honest for her own sake now:was shrewd enough, and would learn English presently; and the name towhich she had a right was great enough to get her into any society. Agrocer, a smuggler, a slave-dealer, what mattered Mr. Van den Bosch'spursuit or previous profession? The Countess of Castlewood could affordto be anybody's daughter, and as soon as my nephew produced her, saysthe old lady, it is our duty to stand by her.

  The ties of relationship binding Madame de Bernstein strongly to hernephew, Mr. Warrington hoped that she would be disposed to be equallyaffectionate to her niece; and spoke of his visit to Mr. Hagan and hiswife, for whom he entreated her aunt's favour. But the old lady wasobdurate regarding Lady Maria; begged that her name might never bementioned, and immediately went on for two hours talking about no oneelse. She related a series of anecdotes regarding her niece, which, asthis book lies open virginibus puerisque, to all the young people of thefamily, I shall not choose to record. But this I will say of the kindcreature, that if she sinned, she was not the only sinner of the family,and if she repented, that others will do well to follow her example.Hagan, 'tis known, after he left the stage, led an exemplary life,and was remarkable for elegance and eloquence in the pulpit. His ladyadopted extreme views, but was greatly respected in the sect which shejoined; and when I saw her last, talked to me of possessing a peculiarspiritual illumination, which I strongly suspected at the time to beoccasioned by the too free use of liquor: but I remember when she andher husband were good to me and mine, at a period when sympathy wasneedful, and many a Pharisee turned away.

  I have told how easy it was to rise and fall in my fickle aunt's favour,and how each of us brothers, by turns, was embraced and neglected. Myturn of glory had been after the success of my play. I was introducedto the town-wits; held my place in their company tolerably well;was pronounced to be pretty well bred by the macaronis and people offashion, and might have run a career amongst them had my purse been longenough; had I chose to follow that life; had I not loved at that timea pair of kind eyes better than the brightest orbs of the Gunnings orChudleighs, or all the painted beauties of the Ranelagh ring. Because Iwas fond of your mother, will it be believed, children, that my tasteswere said to be low, and deplored by my genteel family? So it was, and Iknow that my godly Lady Warrington and my worldly Madame Bernstein bothlaid their elderly heads together and lamented my way of life. "Why,with his name, he might marry anybody," says meek Religion, who had everone eye on Heaven and one on the main chance. "I meddle with no man'saffairs, and admire genius," says uncle, "but it is a pity you consortwith those poets and authors, and that sort of people, and that, whenyou might have had a lovely creature, with a hundred thousand pounds,you let her slip and make up to a country girl without a penny-piece."

  "But if I had promised her, uncle?" says I.

  "Promise, promise! these things are matters of arrangement and prudence,and demand a careful look-out. When you first committed yourself withlittle Miss Lambert, you had not seen the lovely American lady whom yourmother wished you to marry, as a good mother naturally would. And yourduty to your mother, nephew,--your duty to the Fifth Commandment, wouldhave warranted your breaking with Miss L., and fulfilling your excellentmother's intentions regarding Miss--What was the Countess's Dutch name?Never mind. A name is nothing; but a plumb, Master George, is somethingto look at! Why, I have my dear little Miley at a dancing-school withMiss Barwell, Nabob Barwell's daughter, and I don't disguise my wishthat the children may contract an attachment which may endure throughtheir lives! I tell the Nabob so. We went from the House of Commonsone dancing-day and saw them. 'Twas beautiful to see the young thingswalking a minuet together! It brought tears into my eyes, for I have afeeling heart, George, and I love my boy!"

  "But if I prefer Miss Lambert, uncle, with twopence to her fortune, tothe Countess, with her hundred thousand pounds?"

  "Why then, sir, you have a singular taste, that's all," says the oldgentleman, turning on his heel and leaving me. And I could perfectlyunderstand his vexation at my not being able to see the world as heviewed it.

  Nor did my Aunt Bernstein much like the engagement which I had made,or the family with which I passed so much of my time. Their simple wayswearied, and perhaps annoyed, the old woman of the world, and she nomore relished their company than a certain person (who is not so blackas he is painted) likes holy water. The old lady chafed at my for everdangling at my sweetheart's lap. Having risen mightily in her favour,I began to fall again: and once more Harry was the favourite, and hisbrother, Heaven knows, not jealous.

  He was now our family hero. He wrote us brief letters from the seat ofwar where he was engaged; Madame Bernstein caring little at firstabout the letters or the writer, for they were simple, and the facts henarrated not over interesting. We had early learned in London the newsof the action on the glorious first of August at Minden, where Wolfe'sold regiment was one of the British six which helped to achieve thevictory on that famous day. At the same hour, the young General lay inhis bed, in sight of Quebec, stricken down by fever, and perhaps rageand disappointment at the check which his troops had just received.

  Arriving in the St. Lawrence in June, the fleet which brought Wolfe andhis army had landed them on the last day of the month on the Island ofOrleans, opposite which rises the great cliff of Quebec. After the greataction in which his General fell, the dear brother who accompanied thechief, wrote home to me one of his simple letters, describing his modestshare in that glorious day, but added nothing to the many descriptionsalready wrote of the action of the 13th of September, save only Iremember he wrote, from the testimony of a brother aide-de-camp who wasby his side, that the General never spoke at all after receiving hisdeath-wound, so that the phrase which has been put into the mouth ofthe dying hero may be considered as no more authentic than an oration ofLivy or Thucydides.

  From his position on the island, which lies in the great channel of theriver to the north of the town, the General was ever hungrily on thelook-out for a chance to meet and attack his enemy. Above the city andbelow it he landed,--now here and now there; he was bent upon attackingwherever he saw an opening. 'Twas surely a prodigious fault on thepart of the Marquis of Montcalm, to accept a battle from Wolfe on equalterms, for the British General had no artillery, and when we had madeour famous scalade of the heights, and were on the Plains of Abraham,we were a little nearer the city, certainly, but as far off as ever frombeing within it.

  The game that was played between the brave chiefs of those two gallantlittle armies, and which lasted from July until Mr. Wolfe won thecrowning hazard in September, must have been as interesting a match asever eager players engaged in. On the very first night after the landing(as my brother has narrated it) the sport began. At midnight the Frenchsent a flaming squadron of fireships down upon the British ships whichwere discharging their stores at Orleans. Our seamen thought it was goodsport to t
ow the fireships clear of the fleet, and ground them on theshore, where they burned out.

  As soon as the French commander heard that our ships had entered theriver, he marched to Beauport in advance of the city and there took upa strong position. When our stores and hospitals were established, ourGeneral crossed over from his island to the left shore, and drew nearerto his enemy. He had the ships in the river behind him, but the wholecountry in face of him was in arms. The Indians in the forest seizedour advanced parties as they strove to clear it, and murdered them withhorrible tortures. The French were as savage as their Indian friends.The Montmorenci River rushed between Wolfe and the enemy. He couldneither attack these nor the city behind them.

  Bent on seeing whether there was no other point at which his foe mightbe assailable, the General passed round the town of Quebec and skirtedthe left shore beyond. Everywhere it was guarded, as well as in hisimmediate front, and having run the gauntlet of the batteries up anddown the river, he returned to his post at Montmorenci. On the right ofthe French position, across the Montmorenci River, which was fordableat low tide, was a redoubt of the enemy. He would have that. Perhaps,to defend it the French chief would be forced out from his lines, anda battle be brought on. Wolfe determined to play these odds. He wouldfetch over the body of his army from the Island of Orleans, and attackfrom the St. Lawrence. He would time his attack, so that, atshallow water, his lieutenants, Murray and Townsend, might cross theMontmorenci, and, at the last day of July, he played this desperategame.

  He first, and General Monckton, his second in command (setting out fromPoint Levi, which he occupied), crossed over the St. Lawrence from theirrespective stations, being received with a storm of shot and artilleryas they rowed to the shore. No sooner were the troops landed than theyrushed at the French redoubt without order, were shot down before it ingreat numbers, and were obliged to fall back. At the preconcerted signalthe troops on the other side of the Montmorenci avanced across the riverin perfect order. The enemy even evacuated the redoubt and fell back totheir lines; but from these the assailants were received with so severea fire that an impression on them was hopeless, and the General had toretreat.

  The battle of Montmorenci (which my brother Harry and I have foughtagain many a time over our wine) formed the dismal burthen of the firstdespatch from Mr. Wolfe which reached England and plunged us all ingloom. What more might one expect of a commander so rash? What disastersmight one not foretell? Was ever scheme so wild as to bring three greatbodies of men, across broad rivers, in the face of murderous batteries,merely on the chance of inducing an enemy, strongly entrenched andguarded, to leave his position and come out and engage us? 'Twasthe talk of the town. No wonder grave people shook their heads, andprophesied fresh disaster. The General, who took to his bed after thisfailure, shuddering with fever, was to live barely six weeks longer,and die immortal! How is it, and by what, and whom, that Greatness isachieved? Is Merit--is Madness the patron? Is it Frolic or Fortune? Isit Fate that awards successes and defeats? Is it the Just Cause thatever wins? How did the French gain Canada from the savage, and we fromthe French, and after which of the conquests was the right time tosing Te Deum? We are always for implicating Heaven in our quarrels, andcausing the gods to intervene whatever the nodus may be. Does Broughton,after pummelling and beating Slack, lift up a black eye to Jove andthank him for the victory? And if ten thousand boxers are to be soheard, why not one? And if Broughton is to be grateful, what is Slack tobe?

  "By the list of disabled officers (many of whom are of rank) you mayperceive, sir, that the army is much weakened. By the nature of thisriver the most formidable part of the armament is deprived of the powerof acting, yet we have almost the whole force of Canada to oppose. Inthis situation there is such a choice of difficulties, that I ownmyself at a loss how to determine. The affairs of Great Britain, I know,require the most vigorous measures; but then the courage of a handfulof brave men should be exerted only where there is some hope of afavourable event. The admiral and I have examined the town with a viewto a general assault: and he would readily join in this or anyother measure for the public service; but I cannot propose to himan undertaking of so dangerous a nature, and promising so littlesuccess.... I found myself so ill, and am still so weak, that I beggedthe general officers to consult together for the public utility. Theyare of opinion that they should try by conveying up a corps of 4000or 5000 men (which is nearly the whole strength of the army, after thepoints of Levi and Orleans are put in a proper state of defence) to drawthe enemy from their present position, and bring them to an action. Ihave acquiesced in their proposal, and we are preparing to put it intoexecution."

  So wrote the General (of whose noble letters it is clear our dear scribewas not the author or secretary) from his headquarters at MontmorenciFalls on 2nd day of September; and on the 14th of October following,the Rodney cutter arrived with the sad news in England. The attack hadfailed, the chief was sick, the army dwindling, the menaced city sostrong that assault was almost impossible; "the only chance was to fightthe Marquis of Montcalm upon terms of less disadvantage than attackinghis entrenchments, and, if possible, to draw him from his presentposition." Would the French chief, whose great military genius was knownin Europe, fall into such a snare? No wonder there were pale looks inthe City at the news, and doubt and gloom wheresoever it was known.

  Three days after this first melancholy intelligence, came the famousletters announcing that wonderful consummation of fortune with which Mr.Wolfe's wonderful career ended. If no man is to be styled happy till hisdeath, what shall we say of this one? His end was so glorious, that Iprotest not even his mother nor his mistress ought to have deplored it,or at any rate have wished him alive again. I know it is a hero we speakof; and yet I vow I scarce know whether in the last act of his life Iadmire the result of genius, invention, and daring, or the boldness ofa gambler winning surprising odds. Suppose his ascent discovered ahalf-hour sooner, and his people, as they would have been assuredly,beaten back? Suppose the Marquis of Montcalm not to quit his entrenchedlines to accept that strange challenge? Suppose these points--and noneof them depend upon Mr. Wolfe at all--and what becomes of the gloryof the young hero, of the great minister who discovered him, of theintoxicated nation which rose up frantic with self-gratulation atthe victory? I say, what fate is it that shapes our ends, or those ofnations? In the many hazardous games which my Lord Chatham played,he won this prodigious one. And as the greedy British hand seized theCanadas, it let fall the United States out of its grasp.

  To be sure this wisdom d'apres coup is easy. We wonder at this man'srashness now the deed is done, and marvel at the other's fault. Whatgenerals some of us are upon paper! what repartees come to our mind whenthe talk is finished! and, the game over, how well we see how it shouldhave been played! Writing of an event at a distance of thirty years,'tis not difficult now to criticise and find fault. But at the time whenwe first heard of Wolfe's glorious deeds upon the Plains of Abraham--ofthat army marshalled in darkness and carried silently up the midnightriver--of those rocks scaled by the intrepid leader and his troops--ofthat miraculous security of the enemy, of his present acceptance of ourchallenge to battle, and of his defeat on the open plain by the sheervalour of his conqueror--we were all intoxicated in England by thenews. The whole nation rose up and felt itself the stronger for Wolfe'svictory. Not merely all men engaged in the battle, but those at home whohad condemned its rashness, felt themselves heroes. Our spirit rose asthat of our enemy faltered. Friends embraced each other when they met.Coffee-houses and public places were thronged with people eager to talkthe news. Courtiers rushed to the King and the great Minister by whosewisdom the campaign had been decreed. When he showed himself, the peoplefollowed him with shouts and blessings. People did not deplore the deadwarrior, but admired his euthanasia. Should James Wolfe's friends weepand wear mourning, because a chariot had come from the skies to fetchhim away? Let them watch with wonder, and see him departing, radiant;rising above us superior. To have a friend who had b
een near or abouthim was to be distinguished. Every soldier who fought with him was ahero. In our fond little circle I know 'twas a distinction to beHarry's brother. We should not in the least wonder but that he, from hisprevious knowledge of the place, had found the way up the heights whichthe British army took, and pointed it out to his General. His promotionwould follow as a matter of course. Why, even our Uncle Warrington wroteletters to bless Heaven and congratulate me and himself upon the shareHarry had had in the glorious achievement. Our Aunt Beatrix opened herhouse and received company upon the strength of the victory. I became ahero from my likeness to my brother. As for Parson Sampson, he preachedsuch a sermon that his auditors (some of whom had been warned by hisreverence of the coming discourse) were with difficulty restrained fromhuzzaing the orator, and were mobbed as they left the chapel. "Don'ttalk to me, madam, about grief," says General Lambert to his wife,who, dear soul, was for allowing herself some small indulgence of herfavourite sorrow on the day when Wolfe's remains were gloriously buriedat Greenwich. "If our boys could come by such deaths as James's, youknow you wouldn't prevent them from being shot, but would scale theAbraham heights to see the thing done! Wouldst thou mind dying inthe arms of victory, Charley?" he asks of the little hero from theChartreux. "That I wouldn't," says the little man; "and the doctor gaveus a holiday, too."

  Our Harry's promotion was insured after his share in the famous battle,and our aunt announced her intention of purchasing a company for him.