The Virginians Read online

  CHAPTER VII. Preparations for War

  Surely no man can have better claims to sympathy than bravery, youth,good looks, and misfortune. Madam Esmond might have had twenty sons, andyet had a right to admire her young soldier. Mr. Washington's roomwas more than ever Mr. Washington's room now. She raved about himand praised him in all companies. She more than ever pointed out hisexcellences to her sons, contrasting his sterling qualities with Harry'slove of pleasure (the wild boy!) and George's listless musings over hisbooks. George was not disposed to like Mr. Washington any better forhis mother's extravagant praises. He coaxed the jealous demon within himuntil he must have become a perfect pest to himself and all the friendsround about him. He uttered jokes so deep that his simple mother did notknow their meaning, but sate bewildered at his sarcasms, and powerlesswhat to think of his moody, saturnine humour.

  Meanwhile, public events were occurring which were to influence thefortunes of all our homely family. The quarrel between the French andEnglish North Americans, from being a provincial, had grown to be anational, quarrel. Reinforcements from France had already arrived inCanada; and English troops were expected in Virginia. "Alas! my dearfriend!" wrote Madame la Presidente de Mouchy, from Quebec, to her youngfriend George Warrington. "How contrary is the destiny to us! I see youquitting the embrace of an adored mother to precipitate yourself in thearms of Bellona. I see you pass wounded after combats. I hesitate almostto wish victory to our lilies when I behold you ranged under thebanners of the Leopard. There are enmities which the heart does notrecognise--ours assuredly are at peace among the tumults. All here loveand salute you, as well as Monsieur the Bear-hunter, your brother (thatcold Hippolyte who preferred the chase to the soft conversation of ourladies!) Your friend, your enemy, the Chevalier de la Jabotiere, burnsto meet on the field of Mars his generous rival. M. Du Quesne spokeof you last night at supper. M. Du Quesne, my husband, send affectuousremembrances to their young friend, with which are ever joined those ofyour sincere Presidente de Mouchy."

  "The banner of the Leopard," of which George's fair correspondent wrote,was, indeed, flung out to the winds, and a number of the king's soldierswere rallied round it. It was resolved to wrest from the French all theconquests they had made upon British dominion. A couple of regimentswere raised and paid by the king in America, and a fleet with a couplemore was despatched from home under an experienced commander. InFebruary, 1755, Commodore Keppel, in the famous ship Centurion, in whichAnson had made his voyage round the world, anchored in Hampton Roadswith two ships of war under his command, and having on board GeneralBraddock, his staff, and a part of his troops. Mr. Braddock wasappointed by the Duke. A hundred years ago the Duke of Cumberland wascalled The Duke par excellence in England--as another famous warrior hassince been called. Not so great a Duke certainly was that first-namedPrince as his party esteemed him, and surely not so bad a one as hisenemies have painted him. A fleet of transports speedily followed PrinceWilliam's general, bringing stores, and men, and money in plenty.

  The great man landed his troops at Alexandria on the Potomac river, andrepaired to Annapolis in Maryland, where he ordered the governors of thedifferent colonies to meet him in council, urging them each to call upontheir respective provinces to help the common cause in this strait.

  The arrival of the General and his little army caused a mightyexcitement all through the provinces, and nowhere greater than atCastlewood. Harry was off forthwith to see the troops under canvas atAlexandria. The sight of their lines delighted him, and the inspiringmusic of their fifes and drums. He speedily made acquaintance with theofficers of both regiments; he longed to join in the expedition uponwhich they were bound, and was a welcome guest at their mess.

  Madam Esmond was pleased that her sons should have an opportunity ofenjoying the society of gentlemen of good fashion from England. She hadno doubt their company was improving, that the English gentlemen werevery different from the horse-racing, cock-fighting Virginiansquires, with whom Master Harry would associate, and the lawyers, andpettifoggers, and toad-eaters at the lieutenant-governor's table. MadamEsmond had a very keen eye for detecting flatterers in other folks'houses. Against the little knot of official people at Williamsburg shewas especially satirical, and had no patience with their etiquettes andsquabbles for precedence.

  As for the company of the king's officers, Mr. Harry and his elderbrother both smiled at their mamma's compliments to the elegance andpropriety of the gentlemen of the camp. If the good lady had but knownall, if she could but have heard their jokes and the songs which theysang over their wine and punch, if she could have seen the conditionof many of them as they were carried away to their lodgings, she wouldscarce have been so ready to recommend their company to her sons. Menand officers swaggered the country round, and frightened the peacefulfarm and village folk with their riot: the General raved and stormedagainst his troops for their disorder; against the provincials for theirtraitorous niggardliness; the soldiers took possession almost as of aconquered country, they scorned the provincials, they insulted the wiveseven of their Indian allies, who had come to join the English warriors,upon their arrival in America, and to march with them against theFrench. The General was compelled to forbid the Indian women hiscamp. Amazed and outraged their husbands retired, and but a few monthsafterwards their services were lost to him, when their aid would havebeen most precious.

  Some stories against the gentlemen of the camp, Madam Esmond might haveheard, but she would have none of them. Soldiers would be soldiers, thateverybody knew; those officers who came over to Castlewood on her son'sinvitation were most polite gentlemen, and such indeed was the case. Thewidow received them most graciously, and gave them the best sport thecountry afforded. Presently, the General himself sent polite messagesto the mistress of Castlewood. His father had served with hers underthe glorious Marlborough, and Colonel Esmond's name was still known andrespected in England. With her ladyship's permission, General Braddockwould have the honour of waiting upon her at Castlewood, and paying hisrespects to the daughter of so meritorious an officer.

  If she had known the cause of Mr. Braddock's politeness, perhapshis compliments would not have charmed Madam Esmond so much. TheCommander-in-Chief held levees at Alexandria, and among the gentry ofthe country, who paid him their respects, were our twins of Castlewood,who mounted their best nags, took with them their last London suits,and, with their two negro-boys, in smart liveries behind them, rodein state to wait upon the great man. He was sulky and angry with theprovincial gentry, and scarce took any notice of the young gentlemen,only asking, casually, of his aide-de-camp at dinner, who the youngSquire Gawkeys were in blue and gold and red waistcoats?

  Mr. Dinwiddie, the Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia, the Agent fromPennsylvania, and a few more gentlemen, happened to be dining withhis Excellency. "Oh!" says Mr. Dinwiddie, "those are the sons of thePrincess Pocahontas;" on which, with a tremendous oath, the Generalasked, "Who the deuce was she?"

  Dinwiddie, who did not love her, having indeed undergone a hundredpertnesses from the imperious little lady, now gave a disrespectful andridiculous account of Madam Esmond, made merry with her pomposity andimmense pretensions, and entertained General Braddock with anecdotesregarding her, until his Excellency fell asleep.

  When he awoke, Dinwiddie was gone, but the Philadelphia gentleman wasstill at table, deep in conversation with the officers there present.The General took up the talk where it had been left when he fell asleep,and spoke of Madam Esmond in curt, disrespectful terms, such as soldierswere in the habit of using in those days, and asking, again, what wasthe name of the old fool about whom Dinwiddie had been talking? He thenbroke into expressions of contempt and wrath against the gentry, and thecountry in general.

  Mr. Franklin of Philadelphia repeated the widow's name, took quitea different view of her character from that Mr. Dinwiddie had given,seemed to know a good deal about her, her father, and her estate; as,indeed, he did about every man or subject which came under discussion;explained to the Ge
neral that Madam Esmond had beeves, and horses, andstores in plenty, which might be very useful at the present juncture,and recommended him to conciliate her by all means. The Generalhad already made up his mind that Mr. Franklin was a very shrewd,intelligent person, and graciously ordered an aide-de-camp to invite thetwo young men to the next day's dinner. When they appeared he was verypleasant and good-natured; the gentlemen of the General's family mademuch of them. They behaved, as became persons of their name, withmodesty and good-breeding; they returned home delighted with theirentertainment, nor was their mother less pleased at the civilities whichhis Excellency had shown to her boys. In reply to Braddock's message,Madam Esmond penned a billet in her best style, acknowledging hispoliteness, and begging his Excellency to fix the time when she mighthave the honour to receive him at Castlewood.

  We may be sure that the arrival of the army and the approaching campaignformed the subject of continued conversation in the Castlewood family.To make the campaign was the dearest wish of Harry's life. Hedreamed only of war and battle; he was for ever with the officers atWilliamsburg; he scoured and cleaned and polished all the guns andswords in the house; he renewed the amusements of his childhood, and hadthe negroes under arms. His mother, who had a gallant spirit, knew thatthe time was come when one of her boys must leave her and serve theking. She scarce dared to think on whom the lot should fall. She admiredand respected the elder, but she felt that she loved the younger boywith all the passion of her heart.

  Eager as Harry was to be a soldier, and with all his thoughts bent onthat glorious scheme, he too scarcely dared to touch on the subjectnearest his heart. Once or twice when he ventured on it with George, thelatter's countenance wore an ominous look. Harry had a feudal attachmentfor his elder brother, worshipped him with an extravagant regard, and inall things gave way to him as the chief. So Harry saw, to his infiniteterror, how George, too, in his grave way, was occupied with militarymatters. George had the wars of Eugene and Marlborough down from hisbookshelves, all the military books of his grandfather, and the mostwarlike of Plutarch's lives. He and Dempster were practising with thefoils again. The old Scotchman was an adept in the military art, thoughsomewhat shy of saying where he learned it.

  Madam Esmond made her two boys the bearers of the letter in reply to hisExcellency's message, accompanying her note with such large and handsomepresents for the General's staff and the officers of the two RoyalRegiments, as caused the General more than once to thank Mr. Franklinfor having been the means of bringing this welcome ally into the camp."Would not one of the young gentlemen like to see the campaign?"the General asked. "A friend of theirs, who often spoke of them--Mr.Washington, who had been unlucky in the affair of last year--had alreadypromised to join him as aide-de-camp, and his Excellency would gladlytake another young Virginian gentleman into his family." Harry's eyesbrightened and his face flushed at this offer. "He would like with allhis heart to go!" he cried out. George said, looking hard at his youngerbrother, that one of them would be proud to attend his Excellency,whilst it would be the other's duty to take care of their motherat home. Harry allowed his senior to speak. His will was even stillobedient to George's. However much he desired to go, he would notpronounce until George had declared himself. He longed so for thecampaign, that the actual wish made him timid. He dared not speak on thematter as he went home with George. They rode for miles in silence, orstrove to talk upon indifferent subjects; each knowing what was passingin the other's mind, and afraid to bring the awful question to an issue.

  On their arrival at home the boys told their mother of GeneralBraddock's offer. "I knew it must happen," she said; "at such a crisisin the country our family must come forward. Have you--have you settledyet which of you is to leave me?" and she looked anxiously from one toanother, dreading to hear either name.

  "The youngest ought to go, mother; of course I ought to go!" criesHarry, turning very red.

  "Of course he ought," said Mrs. Mountain, who was present at their talk.

  "There! Mountain says so! I told you so!" again cries Harry, with asidelong look at George.

  "The head of the family ought to go, mother," says George, sadly.

  "No! no! you are ill, and have never recovered your fever. Ought he togo, Mountain?"

  "You would make the best soldier, I know that, dearest Hal. You andGeorge Washington are great friends, and could travel well together, andhe does not care for me, nor I for him, however much he is admired inthe family. But, you see, 'tis the law of Honour, my Harry." (Hehere spoke to his brother with a voice of extraordinary kindness andtenderness.) "The grief I have had in this matter has been that I mustrefuse thee. I must go. Had Fate given you the benefit of that extrahalf-hour of life which I have had before you, it would have been yourlot, and you would have claimed your right to go first, you know youwould."

  "Yes, George," said poor Harry, "I own I should."

  "You will stay at home, and take care of Castlewood and our mother. Ifanything happens to me, you are here to fill my place. I would like togive way, my dear, as you, I know, would lay down your life to serve me.But each of us must do his duty. What would our grandfather say if hewere here?"

  The mother looked proudly at her two sons. "My papa would say that hisboys were gentlemen," faltered Madam Esmond, and left the young men, notchoosing, perhaps, to show the emotion which was filling her heart. Itwas speedily known amongst the servants that Mr. George was going on thecampaign. Dinah, George's foster-mother, was loud in her lamentationsat losing him; Phillis, Harry's old nurse, was as noisy because MasterGeorge, as usual, was preferred over Master Harry. Sady, George'sservant, made preparations to follow his master, bragging incessantlyof the deeds which he would do, while Gumbo, Harry's boy, pretended towhimper at being left behind, though, at home, Gumbo was anything but afire-eater.

  But, of all in the house, Mrs. Mountain was the most angry at George'sdetermination to go on the campaign. She had no patience with him. Hedid not know what he was doing by leaving home. She begged, implored,insisted that he should alter his determination; and vowed that nothingbut mischief would come from his departure.

  George was surprised at the pertinacity of the good lady's opposition."I know, Mountain," said he, "that Harry would be the better soldier;but, after all, to go is my duty."

  "To stay is your duty!" says Mountain, with a stamp of her foot.

  "Why did not my mother own it when we talked of the matter just now?"

  "Your mother!" says Mrs. Mountain, with a most gloomy, sardonic laugh;"your mother, my poor child!"

  "What is the meaning of that mournful countenance, Mountain?"

  "It may be that your mother wishes you away, George!" Mrs. Mountaincontinued, wagging her head. "It may be, my poor deluded boy, that youwill find a father-in-law when you come back."

  "What in heaven do you mean?" cried George, the blood rushing into hisface.

  "Do you suppose I have no eyes, and cannot see what is going on? I tellyou, child, that Colonel Washington wants a rich wife. When you aregone, he will ask your mother to marry him, and you will find him masterhere when you come back. That is why you ought not to go away, you poor,unhappy, simple boy! Don't you see how fond she is of him? how muchshe makes of him? how she is always holding him up to you, to Harry, toeverybody who comes here?"

  "But he is going on the campaign, too," cried George.

  "He is going on the marrying campaign, child!" insisted the widow.

  "Nay; General Braddock himself told me that Mr. Washington had acceptedthe appointment of aide-de-camp."

  "An artifice! an artifice to blind you, my poor child!" cries Mountain."He will be wounded and come back--you will see if he does not. I haveproofs of what I say to you--proofs under his own hand--look here!" Andshe took from her pocket a piece of paper in Mr. Washington's well-knownhandwriting.

  "How came you by this paper?" asked George, turning ghastly pale.

  "I--I found it in the Major's chamber!" says Mrs. Mountain, with ashamefaced look.

/>   "You read the private letters of a guest staying in our house?" criedGeorge. "For shame! I will not look at the paper!" And he flung it fromhim on to the fire before him.

  "I could not help it, George; 'twas by chance, I give you my word, bythe merest chance. You know Governor Dinwiddie is to have the Major'sroom, and the state-room is got ready for Mr. Braddock, and we areexpecting ever so much company, and I had to take the things whichthe Major leaves here--he treats the house just as if it was his ownalready--into his new room, and this half-sheet of paper fell out of hiswriting-book, and I just gave one look at it by the merest chance, andwhen I saw what it was it was my duty to read it."

  "Oh, you are a martyr to duty, Mountain!" George said grimly. "I daresay Mrs. Bluebeard thought it was her duty to look through the keyhole."

  "I never did look through the keyhole, George. It's a shame you shouldsay so! I, who have watched, and tended, and nursed you, like a mother;who have sate up whole weeks with you in fevers, and carried you fromyour bed to the sofa in these arms. There, sir, I don't want you therenow. My dear Mountain, indeed! Don't tell me! You fly into a passion,and, call names, and wound my feelings, who have loved you like yourmother--like your mother?--I only hope she may love you half as well. Isay you are all ungrateful. My Mr. Mountain was a wretch, and every oneof you is as bad."

  There was but a smouldering log or two in the fireplace, and no doubtMountain saw that the paper was in no danger as it lay amongst theashes, or she would have seized it at the risk of burning her ownfingers, and ere she uttered the above passionate defence of herconduct. Perhaps George was absorbed in his dismal thoughts; perhapshis jealousy overpowered him, for he did not resist any further when shestooped down and picked up the paper.

  "You should thank your stars, child, that I saved the letter," criedshe. "See! here are his own words, in his great big handwriting likea clerk. It was not my fault that he wrote them, or that I found them.Read for yourself, I say, George Warrington, and be thankful that yourpoor dear old Mounty is watching over you!"

  Every word and letter upon the unlucky paper was perfectly clear.George's eyes could not help taking in the contents of the documentbefore him. "Not a word of this, Mountain," he said, giving her afrightful look. "I--I will return this paper to Mr. Washington."

  Mountain was scared at his face, at the idea of what she had done, andwhat might ensue. When his mother, with alarm in her countenance, askedhim at dinner what ailed him that he looked so pale? "Do you suppose,madam," says he, filling himself a great bumper of wine, "that to leavesuch a tender mother as you does not cause me cruel grief?"

  The good lady could not understand his words, his strange, fierce looks,and stranger laughter. He bantered all at the table; called to theservants and laughed at them, and drank more and more. Each time thedoor was opened, he turned towards it; and so did Mountain, with aguilty notion that Mr. Washington would step in.