Lionel paused, in melancholy, as his friend attempted to jest at his misfortune, and then, by a very natural transition for a young man in his situation, he exclaimed—
“But we gained the day, Polwarth! and drove the rebels from their entrenchments, like chaff before a whirlwind!”
“Humph!” ejaculated the captain, laying his wooden leg carefully over its more valuable fellow, and regarding it ruefully—“had we made a suitable use of the bounties of nature, and turned their position, instead of running into the jaws of the beast, many might have left the field better supplied with appurtenances than are some among us at present. But dark William loves a brush, and he enjoyed it, on that occasion, to his heart’s content!”
“He must be grateful to Clinton for his timely presence?”
“Does the devil delight in martyrdom! The presence of a thousand rebels would have been more welcome, even at that moment; nor has he smiled once, on his good-natured assistant, since he thrust himself, in that unwelcome manner, between him and his enemy. We had enough to think of with our dead and wounded, and in maintaining our conquest, or something more than black looks and unkind eyes would have followed the deed.”
“I fear to inquire into the fortunes of the field, so many names of worth must be numbered in the loss.”
“Twelve or fifteen hundred men are not to be knocked on the head out of such an army and all the clever fellows escape. Gage, I know, calls the loss something like eleven hundred; but after vaporing so much about the yankees, their prowess is not to be acknowledged in its bloom at once. A man seldom goes on one leg, but he halts a little at first, as I can say from experience—put down thirteen, Leo, as a medium, and you’ll not miscalculate largely—yes, indeed, there were some brave young men amongst them! those rascally light-footed gentry that I gave up so opportunely, were finely peppered—and there were the Fusileers; they had hardly men enough left to saddle their goat!”*
“And the marines! they must have suffered heavily; I saw Pitcairn fall before me;” said Lionel, speaking with hesitation—“I greatly fear our old comrade, the grenadier, did not escape with better fortune.”
“Mac!” exclaimed Polwarth, casting a furtive glance at his companion.—“Ay, Mac was not as lucky in that business as he was in Germany—he-em—Mac—had an obstinate way with him, Leo, a damn’d obstinate fellow in military matters, but as generous a heart and as free in sharing a mess-bill as any man in his majesty’s service! I crossed the river in the same boat with him, and he entertained us with his queer thoughts on the art of war. According to Mac’s notions of things, the grenadiers were to do all the fighting—a damn’d odd way with him had Mac!”
“There are few of us without peculiarities, and I could wish that none of them were more offensive than the trifling prejudices of poor Dennis M’Fuse.”
“Yes, yes,” added Polwarth, hemming violently, as if determined to clear his throat at every hazard; “he was a little opinionated in trifles, such as a knowledge of war, and matters of discipline, but in all important things as tractable as a child. He loved his joke, but it was impossible to have a less difficult or a more unpretending palate in one’s mess! The greatest evil I can wish him is breath in his body, to live and enjoy, in these hard times, when things become excellent by comparison, the sagacious provision which his own ingenuity contrived to secure out of the cupidity of our ancient landlord, Mister Seth Sage.”
“Then that notable scheme did not entirely fall to the ground,” said Lionel, with a feverish desire to change the subject once more. “I had thought the Americans were too vigilant to admit the intercourse.”
“Seth has been too sagacious to permit them to obstruct it. The prices acted like a soporific on his conscience, and, by using your name I believe, he has formed some friend of sufficient importance amongst the rebels to protect him in his trade. His supplies make their appearance twice a-week as regularly as the meats follow the soups in a well-ordered banquet.”
“You then can communicate with the country, and the country with the town! Although Washington may wink at the proceeding, I should fear the scowl of Howe.”
“Why, in order to prevent suspicions of unfair practices, and at the same time to serve the cause of humanity, so the explanation reads, you know, our sapient host, has seen fit to employ a fool as his agent in the intercourse. A fellow, as you may remember, of some notoriety; a certain simpleton, who calls himself Job Pray.”
Lionel continued silent for many moments, during which time his recollections began to revive, and his thoughts glanced over the scenes that had occurred in the first months of his residence in Boston. It is quite possible that a painful, though still general and indefinite feeling mingled with his musings, for he evidently strove to expel some such unwelcome intruder, as he resumed the discourse with an appearance of forced gayety.
“Ay, I well remember Job—a fellow once seen and known, not easily to be forgotten. He used, of old, to attach himself greatly to my person, but I suppose, like the rest of the world, I am neglected when in adversity.”
“You do the lad injustice; he not only makes frequent inquiries, after his slovenly manner I acknowledge, concerning your condition, but sometimes he seems better informed in the matter than myself, and can requite my frequent answers to his questions, by imparting, instead of receiving, intelligence of your improvement; more especially since the ball has been extracted.”
“That should be very singular, too,” said Lionel, with a still more thoughtful brow.
“Not so very remarkable, Leo, as one would at first imagine—the lad is not wanting in sagacity, as he manifested by his choice of dishes at our old mess-table—Ah! Leo, Leo, we may see many a discriminating palate, but where shall we go to find another such a friend! one who could eat and joke—drink and quarrel with a man in a breath, like poor Dennis, who is gone from among us for ever! There was a piquancy about Mac that acted on the dullness of life like condiments on the appetite!”
Meriton, who was diligently brushing his master’s coat, an office that he performed daily, though the garment had not been worn in so long a period, stole a glance at the averted eye of the Major, and understanding its expression to indicate a determined silence, he ventured to maintain the discourse in his own unworthy person.
“Yes, sir, a nice gentleman was captain M’Fuse, and one as fought as stoutly for the king as any gentleman in the army, all agrees.—It was a thousand pities such a fine figure of a man hadn’t a better idea of dress; it isn’t all, sir, as is gifted in that way! But every body says he’s a detrimental loss, though there’s some officers in town who consider so little how to wear their ornaments, that if they were to be shot I am sure no one would miss them.”
“Ah! Meriton,” cried the full-hearted Polwarth, “you are a youth of more observation than I had suspected! Mac had all the seeds of a man in him, though some of them might not have come to maturity. There was a flavour in his humour that served as a relish to every conversation in which he mingled. Did you serve the poor fellow up in handsome style, Meriton, for his last worldly exhibition?”
“Yes, indeed, sir, we gave him as ornamental a funeral as can be seen out of Lon’non. Besides the Royal Irish, all the grenadiers was out; that is all as wasn’t hurt, which was near half of them. As I knowed the regard Master Lionel had for the captain, I dressed him with my own hands—I trimmed his whiskers, sir, and altered his hair more in front, and seeing that his honour was getting a little grayish, I threw on a sprinkling of powder, and as handsome a corpse was captain M’Fuse as any gentleman in the army, let the other be who he may!”
The eyes of Polwarth twinkled, and he blew his nose with a noise not unlike the sound of a clarion ere he rejoined—
“Time and hardships had given a touch of frost to the head of the poor fellow, indeed; but it is a consolation to know that he died like a soldier, and not by the hands of that vulgar butcher, Nat
ure; and that being dead, he was removed according to his deserts!”
“Indeed, sir,” said Meriton, with solemnity, “we gave him a great procession—a great deal can be made out of his majesty’s uniform, on such festivities, and it had a wonderful look about it!—Did you speak, sir?”
“Yes,” added Lionel, impatiently, “remove the cloth; and go, inquire if there be letters for me.”
The valet submissively obeyed, and after a short pause the dialogue was resumed by the gentlemen on subjects of a less painful nature.
As Polwarth was exceedingly communicative, Lionel soon obtained a very general, and to do the captain suitable justice, an extremely impartial account of the situation of the hostile forces, as well as of all the leading events that had transpired since the day of Breeds. Once or twice the invalid ventured an allusion to the spirit of the rebels, and to the unexpected energy they had discovered; but Polwarth heard them all in silence, answering only by a melancholy smile, and, in the last instance, by a significant gesture towards his unnatural supporter. Of course, after this touching acknowledgment of his former error, his friend waved the subject for others less personal.
He learned that the royal general maintained his hardly-earned conquest on the opposite peninsula, where he was as effectually beleaguered, however, as in the town of Boston itself. In the meantime, while the war was conducted in earnest at the point where it commenced, hostilities had broken out in every one of those colonies south of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lakes, where the presence of the royal troops invited an appeal to force. At first, while the colonists acted under the impulses of the high enthusiasm of a sudden rising, they had been everywhere successful. A general army had been organized, as already related, and divisions were employed at different points to effect conquests, which, in that early stage of the struggle, were thought to be important to the main result. But the effects of their imperfect means and divided power were already becoming visible. After a series of minor victories, Montgomery had fallen in a most desperate but unsuccessful attempt to carry the impregnable fortress of Quebec; and ceasing to be the assailants, the Americans were gradually compelled to collect their resources to meet that mighty effort of the crown which was known to be not far distant. As thousands of their fellow-subjects in the mother country manifested a strong repugnance to the war, the Ministry so far submitted to the influence of that free spirit which first took deep root in Britain, as to turn their eyes to those states of Europe, who made a trade in human life, in quest of mercenaries to quell the temper of the colonists. In consequence, the fears of the timid amongst the Americans were excited by rumours of the vast hordes of Russians and Germans who were to be poured into their country with intent to make them slaves. Perhaps no step of their enemies had a greater tendency to render them odious in the eyes of the Americans, than this measure of introducing foreigners to decide a quarrel purely domestic. So long as none but men who had been educated in those acknowledged principles of justice and law, known to both people, were admitted to the contest, there were visible points common to each, which might render the struggle less fierce, and in time lead to a permanent reconciliation. But they reasoned not inaptly when they asserted that in a contest rendered triumphant by slaves, nothing but abject submission could ensue to the conquered. It was like throwing away the scabbard, and, by abandoning reason, submitting the result to the sword alone. In addition to the estrangement these measures were gradually increasing between the people of the mother-country and the colonies, must be added the change it produced amongst the latter in their habits of regarding the person of their prince.
During the whole of the angry discussion, and the recriminations which preceded the drawing of blood, the colonists had admitted, to the fullest extent, not only in their language, but in their feelings, that fiction of the British law which says “the king can do no wrong.” Throughout the wide extent of an empire, on which the sun was never known to set, the English monarch could boast of no subjects more devoted to his family and person, than the men who now stood in arms against what they honestly believed to be the unconstitutional encroachments of his power. Hitherto the whole weight of their resentment had justly fallen on the advisers of the Prince, who himself was thought to be ignorant, as he was probably innocent, of the abuses practised in his name. But as the contest thickened, the natural feelings of the man were found to savour of the political acts he was required to sanction. It was soon whispered amongst those who had the best means of intelligence, that the feelings of the sovereign were deeply interested in the maintenance of what he deemed his prerogative, and the ascendency of that body of the representatives of his empire, which he met in person and influenced by his presence. Ere long this opinion was rumoured abroad, and as the minds of men began to loosen from their ancient attachments and prejudices, they confounded, by a very natural feeling, the head with the members; forgetting that “Liberty and Equality” formed no part of the trade of Princes. The name of the monarch was daily falling into disrepute; and as the colonial writers ventured to allude more freely to his person and power, the glimmerings of that light were seen, which was a precursor of the rise of ‘the stars of the west’ amongst the national symbols of the earth. Until then, few had thought, and none had ventured to speak very openly of independence, though events had been silently preparing the colonists for such a final measure.
Allegiance to the Prince was the last and only tie to be severed, for the colonies already governed themselves in all matters, whether of internal or foreign policy, as effectually as any people could, whose right to do so was not generally acknowledged. But as the honest nature of George IIId. admitted of no disguise, mutual disgust and alienation were the natural consequences of the reaction of sentiment between the Prince and his western people.†
All this, and much more of minute detail, was hastily commented on by Polwarth, who possessed, in the midst of his epicurean propensities, sterling good-sense, and great integrity of intention. Lionel was chiefly a listener, nor did he cease the greedy and interesting employment until warned by his weakness, and the stroke of a neighbouring clock, that he was trespassing too far on prudence. His friend then assisted the exhausted invalid to his bed, and after giving him a world of good advice, together with a warm pressure of the hand, he stumped his way out of the room, with a noise that brought, at every tread, an echo from the heart of Major Lincoln.
* This regiment, in consequence of some tradition, kept a goat, with gilded horns. Once a year it celebrated a festival in which the bearded quadruped acted a conspicuous part. In the battle of Bunker-hill, the corps was distinguished alike for its courage and its losses.
† Note.—The prejudices of the king of England were unavoidable in his insulated situation, but his virtues and integrity were exclusively the property of the man. His speech to our first minister after the peace cannot be too often recorded. “I was the last man in my kingdom to acknowledge your independence, and I shall be the last to violate it.”
Chapter XIX
“God never meant that man should scale the heavens
By strides of human wisdom.”
Cowper.
* * *
A VERY FEW days of gentle exercise in the bracing air of the season, were sufficient to restore the strength of the invalid, whose wounds had healed while he lay slumbering under the influence of the anodynes. Polwarth, in consideration of the dilapidated state of his own limbs, together with the debility of Lionel, had so far braved the ridicule of the army, as to set up one of those comfortable and easy conveyances, which, in the good old times of colonial humility, were known by the quaint and unpretending title of tom-pungs. To equip this establishment, he had been compelled to impress one of the fine hunters of his friend. The animal had been taught, by virtue of much training, aided a little, perhaps, by the low state of the garners of the place, to amble through the snow as quietly as if conscious of the altered condition of his mas
ter’s health. In this safe vehicle the two gentlemen might be seen daily gliding along the upper streets of the town, and moving through the winding paths of the common, receiving the congratulations of their friends; or, in their turn, visiting others, who, like themselves, had been wounded in the murderous battle of the preceding summer, but who, less fortunate than they, were still compelled to submit to the lingering confinement of their quarters.
It was not difficult to persuade Cecil and Agnes to join in their short excursions, though no temptation could induce the latter to still the frown that habitually settled on her beautiful brow, whenever chance or intention brought them in contact with any other gentlemen of the army. Miss Dynevor was, however, much more conciliating in her deportment, and even at times, so gracious as to incur the private reproaches of her friend.
“Surely, Cecil, you forget how much our poor countrymen are suffering in miserable lodgings without the town, or you would be less prodigal of your condescension to these butterflies of the army,” cried Agnes, pettishly, while they were uncloaking after one of these rides, during which the latter thought her cousin had lost sight of that tacit compact, by which most of the women of the colonies deemed themselves bound to exhibit their feminine resentments to their invaders—“were a chief from our own army presented to you, he could not have been received in a sweeter manner than you bestowed your smile to-day on that sir Digby Dent!”
“I can say nothing in favour of its sweetness, my acid cousin, but that sir Digby Dent is a gentleman—”
“A gentleman! yes—so is every Englishman who wears a scarlet coat, and knows how to play off his airs in the colonies!”
James Fenimore Cooper's Five Novels Page 75