NATURE.
"Glorious Campaign in the Netherlands, Siege of Tournay, final ruin
of the Dutch Barrier!" this is the French program for Season 1745,--no
Belleisle to contradict it; Belleisle secure at Windsor, who might have
leant more towards German enterprises. And to this his Britannic Majesty
(small gain to him from that adroitness in the Harz, last winter!) has
to make front. And is strenuously doing so, by all methods; especially
by heroic expenditure of money, and ditto exposure of his Martial Boy.
Poor old Wade, last year,--perhaps Wade did suffer, as he alleged,
from "want of sufficient authority in that mixed Army"? Well, here is a
Prince of the Blood, Royal Highness of Cumberland, to command in
chief. With a Konigseck to dry-nurse him, may not Royal Highness, luck
favoring, do very well? Luck did not favor; Britannic Majesty, neither
in the Netherlands over seas, nor at home (strange new domestic wool, of
a tarry HIGHLAND nature, being thrown him to card, on the sudden!), made
a good Campaign, but a bad. And again a bad (1746) and again (1747),
ever again, till he pleased to cease altogether. Of which distressing
objects we propose that the following one glimpse be our last.
BATTLE OF FONTENOY (11th May, 1745).
... "In the end of April, Marechal de Saxe, now become very famous for
his sieges in the Netherlands, opened trenches before Tournay; King
Louis, with his Dauphin, not to speak of mistresses, play-actors and
cookery apparatus (in wagons innumerable), hastens to be there. A
fighting Army, say of 70,000, besides the garrisons; and great things,
it is expected, will be done; Tournay, in spite of strong works and
Dutch garrison of 9,000, to be taken in the first place.
"Of the Siege, which was difficult and ardent, we will remember nothing,
except the mischance that befell a certain 'Marquis de Talleyrand'
and his men, in the trenches, one night. Night of the 8th-9th May, by
carelessness of somebody, a spark got into the Marquis's powder, two
powder-barrels that there were; and, with horrible crash, sent eighty
men, Marquis Talleyrand and Engineer Du Mazis among them, aloft into the
other world; raining down their limbs into the covered way, where
the Dutch were very inhuman to them, and provoked us to retaliate.
[Espagnac, ii. 27.] Du Mazis I do not know; but Marquis de Talleyrand
turns out, on study of the French Peerages, to be Uncle of a lame little
Boy, who became Right Reverend Tallyrand under singular conditions, and
has made the name very current in after-times!--
"Hearing of this Siege, the Duke of Cumberland hastened over from
England, with intent to raise the same. Mustered his 'Allied Army' (once
called 'Pragmatic'),--self at the head of it; old Count Konigseck,
who was NOT burnt at Chotusitz, commanding the small Austrian quota
[Austrians mainly are gone laggarding with D'Ahremberg up the Rhine];
and a Prince of Waldeck the Dutch,--on the plain of Anderlecht near
Brussels, May 4th; [Anonymous, _Life of Cumberland,_ p. 180; Espagnac,
ii. 26.] and found all things tolerably complete. Upon which,
straightway, his Royal Highness, 60,000 strong let us say, set forth; by
slowish marches, and a route somewhat leftward of the great Tournay Road
[no place on it, except perhaps STEENKERKE, ever heard of by an English
reader]; and on Sunday, 9th May, [Espagnac, ii. 27.] precisely on the
morrow after poor Talleyrand had gone aloft, reached certain final
Villages: Vezon, Maubray, where he encamps, Briffoeil to rear; Camp
looking towards Tournay and the setting sun,--with Fontenoy short
way ahead, and Antoine to left of it, and Barry with its Woods to
right:--small peaceable Villages, which become famous in the Newspapers
shortly after. [Patch of Map at p. 440.] Royal Highness, resting here
at Vezon, is but some six or seven miles from Tournay; in low undulating
Country, woody here and there, not without threads of running water,
and with frequent Villages and their adjuncts: the part of it now
interesting to us lies all between the Brussels-Tournay Road and
the Scheld River,--all in immediate front of his Royal Highness,--to
southeastward from beleaguered Tournay, where said Road and River
intersect. How shall he make some impression on the Siege of Tournay?
That is now the question; and his Royal Highness struggles to manoeuvre
accordingly.
"Marechal de Saxe, whose habit is much that of vigilance, forethought,
sagacious precaution, singular in so dissolute a man, has neglected
nothing on this occasion. He knows every foot of the ground, having
sieged here, in his boyhood, once before. Leaving the siege-trenches at
Tournay, under charge of a ten or fifteen thousand, he has taken camp
here; still with superior force (56,000 as they count, Royal Highness
being only 50,000 ranked), barring Royal Highness's way. Tournay, or
at least the Marechal's trenches there, are on the right bank of the
Scheld; which flows from southeast, securing all on that hand. The broad
Brussels Highway comes in to him from the east;--north of that he has
nothing to fear, the ground being cut with bogs; no getting through
upon him, that way, to Tournay and what he calls the 'Under Scheld.' The
'Upper Scheld' too, avail them nothing. There is only that triangle
to the southeast, between Road and River, where the Enemy is now
manoeuvring in front of him, from which damage can well come; and he has
done his best to be secure there. Four villages or hamlets, close to
the Scheld and onwards to the Great Road,--Antoine, Fontenoy, Barry,
Ramecroix, with their lanes and boscages,--make a kind of circular base
to his triangle; base of some six or eight miles; with hollows in it,
brooks, and northward a considerable Wood [BOIS DE BARRY, enveloping
Barry and Ramecroix, which do not prove of much interest to us, though
the BOIS does of a good deal]. In and before each of those villages
are posts and defences; in Antoine and Fontenoy elaborate redoubts,
batteries, redans connecting: in the Wood (BOIS DE BARRY), an abattis,
or wall of felled trees, as well as cannon; and at the point of the
Wood, well within double range of Fontenoy, is a Redoubt, called of Eu
(REDOUTE D'EU, from the regiment occupying it), which will much concern
his Royal Highness and us. Saxe has a hundred pieces of cannon [say the
English, which is correct], consummately disposed along this space; no
ingress possible anywhere, except through the cannon's throat; torrents
of fire and cross-fire playing on you. He is armed to the teeth, as they
say; and has his 56,000 arranged according to the best rules of tactics,
behind this murderous line of works. If his Royal Highness think of
breaking in, he may count on a very warm reception indeed.
"Saxe is only afraid his Royal Highness will not. Outside of these
lines, with a 50,000 dashing fiercely round us, under any kind of
leading; pouncing on our convoys; harassing and sieging US,--our siege
of Toumay were a sad outlook. And this is old Austrian Konigseck's
opinion, too; though, they say, Waldeck and the Dutch (impetuous in
theory at least) opined otherwise, and strengthened Royal Highness's
view. Two young men against one old: 'Be it so, then!' His Royal
Highness, resolute for getting in, manoeuvres and investigates,
all Monday 10th; his cannon is not to arrive completely till night;
otherwise he would be for breaking in at once: a fearless young man,
fearless as ever his poor Father was; certainly a man SANS PEUY, this
one too; whether of much AVIS, we shall see anon.
"Tuesday morning early, 11th May, 1745, cannon being up, and
dispositions made, his Royal Highness sallies out; sees his men taking
their ground: Dutch and Austrians to the left, chiefly opposite Antoine;
English, with some Hanoverians, in the centre and to the right;
infantry in front, facing Fontenoy, cavalry to rear flanking the Wood
of Barry,--Konigseck, Ligonier and others able, assisting to plant
them advantageously; cannon going, on both sides, the while; radiant
enthusiasm, SANS PEUR ET SANS AVIS, looking from his Royal Highness's
face. He has been on horseback since two in the morning; cannon started
thundering between five and six,--has killed chivalrous Grammont over
yonder (the Grammont of Dettingen), almost at the first volley. And
now about the time when ploughers breakfast (eight A.M., no ploughing
hereabouts to-day!), begins the attack, simultaneously or in swift
succession, on the various batteries which it will be necessary to
attack and storm.
"The attacks took place; but none of them succeeded. Dutch and
Austrians, on the extreme left, were to have stormed Antoine by the edge
of the River; that was their main task; right skirt of them to help US
meanwhile with Fontenoy. And they advanced, accordingly; but found
the shot from Antoine too fierce: especially when a subsidiary battery
opened from across the River, and took them in flank, the Dutch and
Austrians felt astonished; and hastily drew aside, under some sheltering
mound or earthwork they had found for themselves, or prudently thrown
up the night before. There, under their earthwork, stood the Dutch
and Austrians; patiently expecting a fitter time,--which indeed never
occurred; for always, the instant they drew out, the batteries from
Antoine, and from across the River, instantly opened upon them, and they
had to draw in again. So that they stood there, in a manner, all day;
and so to speak did nothing but patiently expect when it should be time
to run. For which they were loudly censured, and deservedly. Antoine is
and remains a total failure on the part of the Dutch and Austrians.
"Royal Highness in person, with his English, was to attack
Fontenoy;--and is doing so, by battery and storm, at various points;
with emphasis, though without result. As preliminary, at an early stage
he had sent forward on the right, by the Wood of Barry, a Brigadier
Ingoldsby 'with Semple's Highlanders' and other force, to silence 'that
redoubt yonder at the point of the Wood,'--redoubt, fort, or whatever it
be (famous REDOUTE D'EU, as it turned out!),--which guards Fontenoy to
north, and will take us in flank, nay in rear, as we storm the cannon of
the Village. Ingoldsby, speed imperative on him, pushed into the Wood;
found French light-troops ('God knows how many of them!') prowling
about there; found the Redoubt a terribly strong thing, with ditch,
drawbridge, what not; spent thirty or forty of his Highlanders, in
some frantic attempt on it by rule of thumb;--and found 'He would need
artillery' and other things. In short, Ingoldsby, hasten what he might,
could not perfect the preparations to his mind, had to wait for this and
for that; and did not storm the Redoubt d'Eu at all; but hung fire, in
an unaccountable manner. For which he had to answer (to Court-Martial,
still more to the Newspapers) afterwards; and prove that it was
misfortune merely, or misfortune and stupidity combined. Too evident,
the REDOUTE D'EU was not taken, then or thenceforth; which might have
proved the saving of the whole affair, could Ingoldsby have managed it.
Royal Highness attacked Fontenoy, and re-attacked, furiously, thrice
over; and had to desist, and find Fontenoy impossible on those terms.
"Here is a piece of work. Repulsed at all those points; and on the left
and on the right, no spirit visible but what deserves repulse! His Royal
Highness blazes into resplendent PLATT-DEUTSCH rage, what we may call
spiritual white-heat, a man SANS PEUR at any rate, and pretty much SANS
AVIS; decides that he must and will be through those lines, if it please
God; that he will not be repulsed at his part of the attack, not he for
one; but will plunge through, by what gap there is [900 yards Voltaire
measures it (_OEuvres,_ xxviii. 150 (SIECLE DE LOUIS QUINZE, c. xv.
"BATAILLE DE FONTENOI,"--elaborately exact on all such points).)]
between Fontenoy and that Redoubt with its laggard Ingoldsby; and see
what the French interior is like! He rallies rapidly, rearranges;
forms himself in thin column or columns [three of them, I think,--which
gradually got crushed into one, as they advanced, under cannon-shot on
both hands),--wheeling his left round, to be rear, his right to be head
of said column or columns. In column, the cannon-shot from Fontenoy
on the left, and Redoubt d'Eu on our right, will tell less on us; and
between these two death-dealing localities, by the hollowest, least
shelterless way discoverable, we mean to penetrate: (Forward, my men,
steady and swift, till we are through the shot-range, and find men to
grapple with, instead of case-shot and projectile iron!' Marechal de
Saxe owned afterwards, 'He should have put an additional redoubt in that
place, but he did not think any Army would try such a thing' (cannon
batteries playing on each hand at 400 yards distance);--nor has any Army
since or before!
"These columns advance, however; through bushy hollows, water-courses,
through what defiles or hollowest grounds there are; endure the
cannon-shot, while they must; trailing their own heavy guns by hand, and
occasionally blasting out of them where the ground favors;--and do, with
indignant patience, wind themselves through, pretty much beyond direct
shot-range of either d'Eu or Fontenoy. And have actually got into the
interior mystery of the French Line of Battle,--which is not a little
astonished to see them there! It is over a kind of blunt ridge, or
rising ground, that they are coming: on the crown of this rising ground,
the French regiment fronting it (GARDES FRANCAISES as it chanced to
be) notices, with surprise, field-cannon pointed the wrong way; actual
British artillery unaccountably showing itself there. Regiment of GARDES
rushes up to seize said field-pieces: but, on the summit, perceives with
amazement that it cannot; that a heavy volley of musketry blazes into
it (killing sixty men); that it will have to rush back again, and report
progress: Huge British force, of unknown extent, is readjusting itself
into column there, and will be upon us on the instant. Here is news!
"News true enough. The head of the English column comes to sight, over
the rising ground, close by: their officers doff their hats, politely
saluting ours, who return the civility: was ever such politeness seen
before? It is a fact; and among the memorablest of this Battle. Nay
a certain English Officer of mark--Lord Charles Hay the name of him,
valued surely in the annals of the Hay and Tweeddale House--steps
forward from the ranks, as if wishing something. Towards whom [says the
accurate Espagnac] Marquis d'Auteroche, grenadier-lieutenant, with air
of polite interrogation, not knowing what he meant, made a step or two:
'Monsieur,' said Lord Charles (LORD CHARLES-HAY), 'bid your people fire
(FAITES TIRER VOS GENS)!' 'NON, MONSIEUR, NOUS NE TIRONS JAMAIS LES
PREMIERS (We never fire first).' [Espagnac, ii. 60 (of the ORIGINAL,
Toulouse, 1789); ii. 48 of the German Translation (Leipzig, 1774), our
usual reference. Voltaire, endlessly informed upon details this time,
is equally express: "MILORD CHARLES HAY, CAPITAINE AUX GARDES ANGLAISES,
CRIA: 'MESSIEURS DES GARDES FRANCAISES, TIREZ!' To which Count
d'Auteroche with a loud voice answered" &c. (_OEuvres,_ vol. xxviii.
p. 155.) See also _Souvenirs du Marquis de Valfons_ (edited by a
Grand-Nephew, Paris, 1860), p. 151;--a poor, considerably noisy and
unclean little Book; which proves unexpectedly worth looking at, in
regard to some of those poor Battles and personages and occurrences: the
Bohemian Belleisle-Broglio part, to my regret, if to no other person's,
has been omitted, as extinct, or undecipherable by the Grand-Nephew.]
After YOU, Sirs! Is not this a bit of modern chivalry? A supreme
politeness in that sniffing pococurante kind; probably the highest point
(or lowest) it ever went to. Which I have often thought of."
It is almost pity to disturb an elegant Historical Passage of this kind,
circulating round the world, in some glory, for a century past: but
there has a small irrefragable Document come to me, which modifies it a
good deal, and reduces matters to the business form. Lord Charles
Hay, "Lieutenant-Colonel," practical Head, "of the First Regiment
of Foot-guards," wrote, about three weeks after (or dictated in sad
spelling, not himself able to write for wounds), a Letter to his
Brother, of which here is an Excerpt at first hand, with only the
spelling altered:... "It was our Regiment that attacked the French
Guards: and when we came within twenty or thirty paces of them, I
advanced before our Regiment; drank to them [to the French, from the
pocket-pistol one carries on such occasions], and told them that we were
the English Guards, and hoped that they would stand till we came quite
up to them, and not swim the Scheld as they did the Mayn at Dettingen
[shameful THIRD-BRIDGE, not of wood, though carpeted with blue cloth
there]! Upon which I immediately turned about to our own Regiment;
speeched them, and made them huzza,"--I hope with a will. "An Officer
[d'Auteroche] came out of the ranks, and tried to make his men huzza;
however, there were not above three or four in their Brigade that did."
["Ath, May ye 20th, o.s." (to John, Fourth Marquis of Tweeddale, last
"Secretary of State for Scotland," and a man of figure in his day):
Letter is at Yester House, East Lothian; Excerpt PENES ME.]...
Very poor counter-huzza. And not the least whisper of that sublime
"After you, Sirs!" but rather, in confused form, of quite the reverse;
Hay having been himself fired into ("fire had begun on my left;" Hay
totally ignorant on which side first),--fired into, rather feebly, and
wounded by those D'Auteroche people, while he was still advancing with
shouldered arms;--upon which, and not till which, he did give it them:
in liberal dose; and quite blew them off the ground, for that day.
From all which, one has to infer, That the mutual salutation by hat was
probably a fact; that, for certain, there was some slight preliminary
talk and gesticulation, but in the Homeric style, by no means in the
Espagnac-French,--not chivalrous epigram at all, mere rough banter, and
what is called "chaffing;"--and in short, that the French Mess-rooms
(with their eloquent talent that way) had rounded off the thing into the
current epigrammatic redaction; the authentic business-form of it being
ruggedly what is now given. Let our Manuscript proceed.
"D'Auteroche declining the first fire,"--or accepting it, if ever
offered, nobody can say,--"the three Guards Regiments, Lord Charles's on
the right, give it him hot and heavy, 'tremendous rolling fire;' so that
D'Auteroche, responding more or less, cannot stand it; but has at once
to rustle into discontinuity, he and his, and roll rapidly out of the
way. And the British Column advances, steadily, terribly, hurling back
all opposition from it; deeper and deeper into the interior mysteries
of the French Host; blasting its way with gunpowder;--in a magnificent
manner. A compact Column, slowly advancing,--apparently of some 16,000
foot. Pauses, readjusts itself a little, when not meddled with; when
meddled with, has cannon, has rolling fire,--delivers from it, in fact,
on both hands such a torrent of deadly continuous fire as was rarely
seen before or since. 'FEU INFERNAL,' the French call it. The French
make vehement resistance. Battalions, squadrons, regiment after
regiment, charge madly on this terrible Column; but rush only on
destruction thereby. Regiment This storms in from the right, regiment
That from the left; have their colonels shot, 'lose the half of their
people;' and hastily draw back again, in a wrecked condition. The
cavalry-horses cannot stand such smoke and blazing; nor indeed, I think,
can the cavaliers. REGIMENT DU ROI rushing on, full gallop, to charge
this Column, got one volley from it [says Espagnac] which brought to the
ground 460 men. Natural enough that horses take the bit between
their teeth; likewise that men take it, and career very madly in such
circumstances!
MAP Chap. VIII, Book 15, PAGE 440 GOES ABOUT HERE--------
"The terrible Column with slow inflexibility advances; cannon (now in
reversed position) from that Redoubt d'Eu ('Shame on you, Ingoldsby!'),
and irregular musketry from Fontenoy side, playing upon it; defeated
regiments making barriers of their dead men and firing there; Column
always closing its gapped ranks, and girdled with insupportable fire.
It ought to have taken Fontenoy and Redoubt d'Eu, say military men; it
ought to have done several things! It has now cut the French fairly in
two;--and Saxe, who is earnestly surveying it a hundred paces ahead,
sends word, conjuring the King to retire instantly,--across the Scheld,
by Calonne Bridge and the strong rear-guard there,--who, however, will
not. King and Dauphin, on horseback both, have stood 'at the Justice
(GALLOWS, in fact) of our Lady of the Woods,' not stirring much,
occasionally shifting to a windmill which is still higher,--ye Heavens,
with what intrepidity, all day!--'a good many country-folk in trees
close behind them.' Country-folk, I suppose, have by this time seen
enough, and are copiously making off: but the King will not, though
things do look dubious.
"In fact, the Battle hangs now upon a hair; the Battle is as good as
lost, thinks Marechal de Saxe. His battle-lines torn in two in that
manner, hovering in ragged clouds over the field, what hope is there in
the Battle? Fontenoy is firing blank, this some time; its cannon-balls
done. Officers, in Antoine, are about withdrawing the artillery,--then
again (on new order) replacing it awhile. All are looking towards the
Scheld Bridge; earnestly entreating his Majesty to withdraw. Had the
Dutch, at this point of time, broken heartily in, as Waldeck was urging
them to do, upon the redoubts of Antoine; or had his Royal Highness the
Duke, for his own behoof, possessed due cavalry or artillery to act upon
these ragged clouds, which hang broken there, very fit for being swept,
were there an artillery-and-horse besom to do it,--in either of these
cases the Battle was the Duke's. And a right fiery victory it would
have been; to make his name famous; and confirm the English in their mad
method of fighting, like Baresarks or Janizaries rather than strategic
human creatures. [See, in Busching's _Magazin,_ xvi. 169 ("Your
illustrious 'Column,' at Fontenoy? It was fortuitous, I say; done like
janizaries;" and so forth), a Criticism worth reading by soldiers.]
"But neither of these contingencies had befallen. The Dutch-Austrian
wing did evince some wish to get possession of Antoine; and drew out a
little; but the guns also awoke upon them; whereupon the Dutch-Austrians
drew in again, thinking the time not come. As for the Duke, he had taken
with him of cannon a good few; but of horse none at all (impossible for
horse, unless Fontenoy and the Redoubt d'Eu were ours!)--and his horse
have been hanging about, in the Wood of Barry all this while, uncertain
what to do; their old Commander being killed withal, and their new a
dubitative person, and no orders left. The Duke had left no orders;
having indeed broken in here, in what we called a spiritual white-heat,
without asking himself much what he would do when in: 'Beat the French,
knock them to powder if I can!'--Meanwhile the French clouds are
reassembling a little: Royal Highness too is readjusting himself, now
got '300 yards ahead of Fontenoy,'--pauses there about half an hour, not
seeing his way farther.
"During which pause, Duc de Richelieu, famous blackguard man, gallops
up to the Marechal, gallops rapidly from Marechal to King; suggesting,
'were cannon brought AHEAD of this close deep Column, might not they
shear it into beautiful destruction; and then a general charge be made?'
So counselled Richelieu: it is said, the Jacobite Irishman, Count Lally
of the Irish Brigade, was prime author of this notion,--a man of tragic
notoriety in time coming. ["Thomas Arthur Lally Comte de Tollendal,"
patronymically "O'MULALLY of TULLINDALLY" (a place somewhere in
Connaught, undiscoverable where, not material where): see our
dropsical friend (in one of his wheeziest states), _King James's Irish
Army-List_ (Dublin, 1855), pp. 594-600.] Whoever was author of it,
Marechal de Saxe adopts it eagerly, King Louis eagerly: swift it becomes
a fact. Universal rally, universal simultaneous charge on both flanks
of the terrible Column: this it might resist, as it has done these two
hours past; but cannon ahead, shearing gaps through it from end to end,
this is what no column can resist;--and only perhaps one of Friedrich's
columns (if even that) with Friedrich's eye upon it, could make its
half-right-about (QUART DE CONVERSION), turn its side to it, and
manoeuvre out of it, in such circumstances. The wrathful English
column, slit into ribbons, can do nothing at manoeuvring; blazes and
rages,--more and more clearly in vain; collapses by degrees, rolls into
ribbon-coils, and winds itself out of the field. Not much chased,--its
cavalry now seeing a job, and issuing from the Wood of Barry to cover
the retreat. Not much chased;--yet with a loss, they say, in all, of
7,000 killed and wounded, and about 2,000 prisoners; French loss being
under 5,000.
"The Dutch and Austrians had found that the fit time was now come, or
taken time by the forelock,--their part of the loss, they said, was a
thousand and odd hundreds. The Battle ended about two o'clock of the
day; had begun about eight. Tuesday, 11th May, 1745: one of the hottest
half-day's works I have known. A thing much to be meditated by the
English mind.--King Louis stept down from the Gallows-Hill of Our Lady;
and KISSED Marechal de Saxe. Saxe was nearly dead of dropsy; could not
sit on horseback, except for minutes; was carried about in a wicker bed;
has had a lead bullet in his mouth, all day, to mitigate the intolerable
thirst. Tournay was soon taken; the Dutch garrison, though strong, and
in a strong place, making no due debate.
"Royal Highness retired upon Ath and Brussels; hovered about, nothing
daunted, he or his: 'Dastard fellows, they would not come out into the
open ground, and try us fairly!' snort indignantly the Gazetteers and
enlightened Public. [Old Newspapers.] Nothing daunted;--but, as it
were, did not do anything farther, this Campaign; except lose Gand, by
negligence VERSUS vigilance, and eat his victuals,--till called home
by the Rebellion Business, in an unexpected manner! Fontenoy was the
nearest approach he ever made to getting victory in a battle; but a
miss too, as they all were. He was nothing like so rash, on subsequent
occasions; but had no better luck; and was beaten in all his
battles--except the immortal Victory of Culloden alone. Which latter
indeed, was it not itself (in the Gazetteer mind) a kind of apotheosis,
or lifting of a man to the immortal gods,--by endless tar-barrels and
beer, for the time being?
"Old Marechal de Noailles was in this Battle; busy about the redans, and
proud to see his Saxe do well. Chivalrous Grammont, too, as we saw,
was there,---killed at the first discharge. Prince de Soubise too (not
killed); a certain Lord George Sackville (hurt slightly,--perhaps had
BETTER have been killed!)--and others known to us, or that will
be known. Army-Surgeon La Mettrie, of busy brain, expert with his
tourniquets and scalpels, but of wildly blusterous heterodox tongue and
ways, is thrice-busy in Hospital this night,--'English and French all
one to you, nay, if anything, the English better!' those are the Royal
orders:--La Mettrie will turn up, in new capacity, still blusterous, at
Berlin, by and by.
"The French made immense explosions of rejoicing over this Victory of
Fontenoy; Voltaire (now a man well at Court) celebrating it in prose and
verse, to an amazing degree (21,000 copies sold in one day); the whole
Nation blazing out over it into illuminations, arcs of triumph and
universal three-times-three:--in short, I think, nearly the heartiest
National Huzza, loud, deep, long-drawn, that the Nation ever gave in
like case. Now rather curious to consider, at this distance of time.
Miraculous Anecdotes, true and not true, are many. Not to mention again
that surprising offer of the first fire to us, what shall we say of the
'two camp-sutlers whom I noticed,' English females of the lowest degree;
'one of whom was busy slitting the gold-lace from a dead Officer, when a
cannon-ball came whistling, and shore her head away. Upon which, without
sound uttered, her neighbor snatched the scissors, and deliberately
proceeded.' [De Hordt, _Memoires,_ i. 108. A FRENCH OFFICER'S ACCOUNT
(translated in _Gentleman's Magazine,_ 1745; where, pp. 246, 250, 291,
313, &c., are many confused details and speculations on this subject).]
A deliberate gloomy people;--unconquerable except by French prowess,
glory to that same!"
Britannic Majesty is not successful this season; Highland Rebellions
rising on him, and much going awry. He is founding his National Debt,
poor Majesty; nothing else to speak of. His poor Army, fighting never so
well in Foreign quarrels,--and generally itself standing the brunt, with
the co-partners looking on till it is time to run (as at Roucoux again
next season, and at Lauffeld next),--can win nothing but hard knocks and
losses. And is defined by mankind,--in phraseology which we have heard
again since then!--as having "the heart of a Lion and the head of an
Ass." [Old Pamphlets, SOEPIUS.] Portentous to contemplate!--
Cape Breton was besieged this Summer, in a creditable manner; and taken.
The one real stroke done upon France this Year, or indeed (except at
sea) throughout the War. "Ruin to their Fisheries, and a clear loss of
1,400,000 pounds a year." Compared with which all these fine "Victories
in Flanders" are a bottle of moonshine. This was actually a kind of
stroke;--and this, one finds, was accomplished, under presidency of a
small squadron of King's ships, by ('New-England Volunteers," on funds
raised by subscription, in the way of joint-stock. A shining Colonial
feat; said to be very perfectly done, both scrip part of it, and
fighting part;) [Adelung, v. 32-35 ("27th June, 1745, after a siege of
forty-nine days"): see "Gibson, _Journal of the Siege;"_ "Mr. Prince
(of the South Church, Boston), THANKSGIVING SERMON (price fourpence);"
&c. &c.: in the Old Newspapers, 1745, 1748, multifarious Notices about
it, and then about the "repayment" of those excellent "joint-stock"
people.]--and might have yielded, what incalculable dividends in
the Fishery way! But had to be given up again, in exchange for the
Netherlands, when Peace came. Alas, your Majesty! Would it be
quite impossible, then, to go direct upon your own sole errand,
the JENKINS'S-EAR one, instead of stumbling about among the Foreign
chimney-pots, far and wide, under nightmares, in this terrible
manner?--Let us to Silesia again.