The Virginians

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XV. A Sunday at Castlewood

  The second day after Harry's arrival at Castlewood was a Sunday. Thechapel appertaining to the castle was the village church. A door fromthe house communicated with a great state pew which the family occupied,and here after due time they all took their places in order, whilst arather numerous congregation from the village filled the seats below. Afew ancient dusty banners hung from the church roof; and Harry pleasedhimself in imagining that they had been borne by retainers of his familyin the Commonwealth wars, in which, as he knew well, his ancestors hadtaken a loyal and distinguished part. Within the altar-rails was theeffigy of the Esmond of the time of King James the First, the commonforefather of all the group assembled in the family pew. Madame deBernstein, in her quality of Bishop's widow, never failed in attendance,and conducted her devotions with a gravity almost as exemplary as thatof the ancestor yonder, in his square beard and red gown, for everkneeling on his stone hassock before his great marble desk andbook, under his emblazoned shield of arms. The clergyman, a tall,high-coloured, handsome young man, read the service in a lively,agreeable voice, giving almost a dramatic point to the chapters ofScripture which he read. The music was good--one of the young ladiesof the family touching the organ--and would have been better but for aninterruption and something like a burst of laughter from the servants'pew, which was occasioned by Mr. Warrington's lacquey Gumbo, who,knowing the air given out for the psalm, began to sing it in a voice soexceedingly loud and sweet, that the whole congregation turned towardsthe African warbler; the parson himself put his handkerchief to hismouth, and the liveried gentlemen from London were astonished out of allpropriety. Pleased, perhaps, with the sensation which he had created,Mr. Gumbo continued his performance until it became almost a solo, andthe voice of the clerk himself was silenced. For the truth is, thatthough Gumbo held on to the book, along with pretty Molly, the porter'sdaughter, who had been the first to welcome the strangers to Castlewood,he sang and recited by ear and not by note, and could not read asyllable of the verses in the book before him.

  This choral performance over, a brief sermon in due course followed,which, indeed, Harry thought a deal too short. In a lively, familiar,striking discourse the clergyman described a scene of which he hadbeen witness the previous week--the execution of a horse-stealer afterAssizes. He described the man and his previous good character, hisfamily, the love they bore one another, and his agony at parting fromthem. He depicted the execution in a manner startling, terrible,and picturesque. He did not introduce into his sermon the Scripturephraseology, such as Harry had been accustomed to hear it from thosesomewhat Calvinistic preachers whom his mother loved to frequent, butrather spoke as one man of the world to other sinful people, who mightbe likely to profit by good advice. The unhappy man just gone, had begunas a farmer of good prospects; he had taken to drinking, card-playing,horse-racing, cock-fighting, the vices of the age; against which theyoung clergyman was generously indignant. Then he had got to poachingand to horse-stealing, for which he suffered. The divine rapidly drewstriking and fearful pictures of these rustic crimes. He startled hishearers by showing that the Eye of the Law was watching the poacherat midnight, and setting traps to catch the criminal. He galloped thestolen horse over highway and common, and from one county into another,but showed Retribution ever galloping after, seizing the malefactor inthe country fair, carrying him before the justice, and never unlockinghis manacles till he dropped them at the gallows-foot. Heaven be pitifulto the sinner! The clergyman acted the scene. He whispered in thecriminal's ear at the cart. He dropped his handkerchief on the clerk'shead. Harry started back as that handkerchief dropped. The clergyman hadbeen talking for more than twenty minutes. Harry could have heardhim for an hour more, and thought he had not been five minutes in thepulpit. The gentlefolks in the great pew were very much enlivened by thediscourse. Once or twice, Harry, who could see the pew where the houseservants sate, remarked these very attentive; and especially Gumbo, hisown man, in an attitude of intense consternation. But the smockfrocksdid not seem to heed, and clamped out of church quite unconcerned.Gaffer Brown and Gammer Jones took the matter as it came, and therosy-cheeked, red-cloaked village lasses sate under their broadhats entirely unmoved. My lord, from his pew, nodded slightly to theclergyman in the pulpit, when that divine's head and wig surged up fromthe cushion.

  "Sampson has been strong to-day," said his lordship. "He has assaultedthe Philistines in great force."

  "Beautiful, beautiful!" says Harry.

  "Bet five to four it was his Assize sermon. He has been over to Wintonto preach, and to see those dogs," cries William.

  The organist had played the little congregation out into the sunshine.Only Sir Francis Esmond, temp. Jac. I., still knelt on his marblehassock, before his prayer-book of stone. Mr. Sampson came out of hisvestry in his cassock, and nodded to the gentlemen still lingering inthe great pew.

  "Come up, and tell us about those dogs," says Mr. William, and thedivine nodded a laughing assent.

  The gentlemen passed out of the church into the gallery of their house,which connected them with that sacred building. Mr. Sampson made hisway through the court, and presently joined them. He was presented by mylord to the Virginian cousin of the family, Mr. Warrington: the chaplainbowed very profoundly, and hoped Mr. Warrington would benefit by thevirtuous example of his European kinsmen. Was he related to Sir MilesWarrington of Norfolk? Sir Miles was Mr. Warrington's father's elderbrother. What a pity he had a son! 'Twas a pretty estate, and Mr.Warrington looked as if he would become a baronetcy, and a fine estatein Norfolk.

  "Tell me about my uncle," cried Virginian Harry.

  "Tell us about those dogs!" said English Will, in a breath.

  "Two more jolly dogs, two more drunken dogs, saving your presence, Mr.Warrington, than Sir Miles and his son, I never saw. Sir Miles was astaunch friend and neighbour of Sir Robert's. He can drink down any manin the county, except his son and a few more. The other dogs about whichMr. William is anxious, for Heaven hath made him a prey to dogs and allkinds of birds, like the Greeks in the Iliad----"

  "I know that line in the Iliad," says Harry, blushing. "I only know fivemore, but I know that one." And his head fell. He was thinking, "Ah, mydear brother George knew all the Iliad and all the Odyssey, and almostevery book that was ever written besides!"

  "What on earth" (only he mentioned a place under the earth) "are youtalking about now?" asked Will of his reverence.

  The chaplain reverted to the dogs and their performance. He thought Mr.William's dogs were more than a match for them. From dogs they went offto horses. Mr. William was very eager about the Six Year Old Plate atHuntingdon. "Have you brought any news of it, Parson?"

  "The odds are five to four on Brilliant against the field," says theparson, gravely, "but, mind you, Jason is a good horse."

  "Whose horse?" asks my lord.

  "Duke of Ancaster's. By Cartouche out of Miss Langley," says the divine."Have you horse-races in Virginia, Mr. Warrington?"

  "Haven't we!" cries Harry; "but oh! I long to see a good English race!"

  "Do you--do you--bet a little?" continues his reverence.

  "I have done such a thing," replies Harry with a smile.

  "I'll take Brilliant even against the field, for ponies with you,cousin!" shouts out Mr. William.

  "I'll give or take three to one against Jason!" says the clergyman.

  "I don't bet on horses I don't know," said Harry, wondering to hear thechaplain now, and remembering his sermon half an hour before.

  "Hadn't you better write home, and ask your mother?" says Mr. William,with a sneer.

  "Will, Will!" calls out my lord, "our cousin Warrington is free to bet,or not, as he likes. Have a care how you venture on either of them,Harry Warrington. Will is an old file, in spite of his smooth face, andas for Parson Sampson, I defy our ghostly enemy to get the better ofhim."

  "Him and all his works, my lord!" said Mr. Sampson, with a bow.

  Harry was highl
y indignant at this allusion to his mother. "I'll tellyou what, cousin Will," he said, "I am in the habit of managing my ownaffairs in my own way, without asking any lady to arrange them for me.And I'm used to make my own bets upon my own judgment, and don't needany relations to select them for me, thank you. But as I am yourguest, and, no doubt, you want to show me hospitality, I'll take yourbet--there. And so Done and Done."

  "Done," says Will, looking askance.

  "Of course it is the regular odds that's in the paper which you give me,cousin?"

  "Well, no, it isn't," growled Will. "The odds are five to four, that'sthe fact, and you may have 'em, if you like."

  "Nay, cousin, a bet is a bet; and I take you, too, Mr. Sampson."

  "Three to one against Jason. I lay it. Very good," says Mr. Sampson.

  "Is it to be ponies too, Mr. Chaplain?" asks Harry with a superb air, asif he had Lombard Street in his pocket.

  "No, no. Thirty to ten. It is enough for a poor priest to win."

  "Here goes a great slice out of my quarter's hundred," thinks Harry."Well, I shan't let these Englishmen fancy that I am afraid of them. Ididn't begin, but for the honour of Old Virginia I won't go back."

  These pecuniary transactions arranged, William Esmond went away scowlingtowards the stables, where he loved to take his pipe with the grooms;the brisk parson went off to pay his court to the ladies, and partake ofthe Sunday dinner which would presently be served. Lord Castlewood andHarry remained for a while together. Since the Virginian's arrivalmy lord had scarcely spoken with him. In his manners he was perfectlyfriendly, but so silent that he would often sit at the head of histable, and leave it without uttering a word.

  "I suppose yonder property of yours is a fine one by this time?" said mylord to Harry.

  "I reckon it's almost as big as an English county," answered Harry, "andthe land's as good, too, for many things." Harry would not have the OldDominion, nor his share in it, underrated.

  "Indeed!" said my lord, with a look of surprise. "When it belonged to myfather it did not yield much."

  "Pardon me, my lord. You know how it belonged to your father," cried theyouth, with some spirit. "It was because my grandfather did not chooseto claim his right." [This matter is discussed in the Author's previouswork, The Memoirs of Colonel Esmond.]

  "Of course, of course," says my lord, hastily.

  "I mean, cousin, that we of the Virginian house owe you nothing butour own," continued Harry Warrington; "but our own, and the hospitalitywhich you are now showing me."

  "You are heartily welcome to both. You were hurt by the betting justnow?"

  "Well," replied the lad, "I am sort o' hurt. Your welcome, you see, isdifferent to our welcome, and that's the fact. At home we are glad tosee a man, hold out a hand to him, and give him of our best. Here youtake us in, give us beef and claret enough, to be sure, and don't seemto care when we come, or when we go. That's the remark which I have beenmaking since I have been in your lordship's house; I can't help tellingit out, you see, now 'tis on my mind; and I think I am a little easiernow I have said it." And with this, the excited young fellow knockeda billiard-ball across the table, and then laughed, and looked at hiselder kinsman.

  "A la bonne heure! We are cold to the stranger within and without ourgates. We don't take Mr. Harry Warrington into our arms, and cry when wesee our cousin. We don't cry when he goes away--but do we pretend?"

  "No, you don't. But you try to get the better of him in a bet," saysHarry, indignantly.

  "Is there no such practice in Virginia, and don't sporting men there tryto overreach one another? What was that story I heard you telling ouraunt, of the British officers and Tom somebody of Spotsylvania!"

  "That's fair!" cries Harry. "That is, it's usual practice, and astranger must look out. I don't mind the parson; if he wins, he mayhave, and welcome. But a relation! To think that my own blood cousinwants money out of me!"

  "A Newmarket man would get the better of his father. My brother hasbeen on the turf since he rode over to it from Cambridge. If you play atcards with him--and he will if you will let him--he will beat you if hecan."

  "Well, I'm ready!" cries Harry. "I'll play any game with him that Iknow, or I'll jump with him, or I'll ride with him, or I'll row withhim, or I'll wrestle with him, or I'll shoot with him--there--now."

  The senior was greatly entertained, and held out his hand to the boy."Anything, but don't fight with him," said my lord.

  "If I do, I'll whip him! hanged if I don't!" cried the lad. But a lookof surprise and displeasure on the nobleman's part recalled him tobetter sentiments. "A hundred pardons, my lord!" he said, blushing veryred, and seizing his cousin's hand. "I talked of ill manners, beingangry and hurt just now; but 'tis doubly ill-mannered of me to show myanger, and boast about my prowess to my own host and kinsman. It's notthe practice with us Americans to boast, believe me, it's not."

  "You are the first I ever met," says my lord, with a smile, "and I takeyou at your word. And I give you fair warning about the cards, and thebetting, that is all, my boy."

  "Leave a Virginian alone! We are a match for most men, we are," resumedthe boy.

  Lord Castlewood did not laugh. His eyebrows only arched for a moment,and his grey eyes turned towards the ground. "So you can bet fiftyguineas, and afford to lose them? So much the better for you, cousin.Those great Virginian estates yield a great revenue, do they?"

  "More than sufficient for all of us--for ten times as many as we arenow," replied Harry. ("What, he is pumping me," thought the lad.)

  "And your mother makes her son and heir a handsome allowance?"

  "As much as ever I choose to draw, my lord!" cried Harry.

  "Peste! I wish I had such a mother!" cried my lord. "But I have only theadvantage of a stepmother, and she draws me. There is the dinner-bell.Shall we go into the eating-room?" And taking his young friend's arm, mylord led him to the apartment where that meal was waiting.

  Parson Sampson formed the delight of the entertainment, and amused theladies with a hundred agreeable stories. Besides being chaplain to hislordship, he was a preacher in London, at the new chapel in Mayfair, forwhich my Lady Whittlesea (so well known in the reign of George I.) hadleft an endowment. He had the choicest stories of all the clubs andcoteries--the very latest news of who had run away with whom--the lastbon-mot of Mr. Selwyn--the last wild bet of March and Rockingham. Heknew how the old king had quarrelled with Madame Walmoden, and the Dukewas suspected of having a new love; who was in favour at Carlton Housewith the Princess of Wales, and who was hung last Monday, and howwell he behaved in the cart. My lord's chaplain poured out all thisintelligence to the amused ladies and the delighted young provincial,seasoning his conversation with such plain terms and lively jokes asmade Harry stare, who was newly arrived from the colonies, and unused tothe elegances of London life. The ladies, old and young, laughed quitecheerfully at the lively jokes. Do not be frightened, ye fair readersof the present day! We are not going to outrage your sweet modesties,or call blushes on your maiden cheeks. But 'tis certain that theirladyships at Castlewood never once thought of being shocked, but satelistening to the parson's funny tales, until the chapel bell, clinkingfor afternoon service, summoned his reverence away for half an hour.There was no sermon. He would be back in the drinking of a bottle ofBurgundy. Mr. Will called a fresh one, and the chaplain tossed off aglass ere he ran out.

  Ere the half-hour was over, Mr. Chaplain was back again bawling foranother bottle. This discussed, they joined the ladies, and a coupleof card-tables were set out, as, indeed, they were for many hours everyday, at which the whole of the family party engaged. Madame de Bernsteincould beat any one of her kinsfolk at piquet, and there was only Mr.Chaplain in the whole circle who was at all a match for her ladyship.

  In this easy manner the Sabbath-day passed. The evening was beautiful,and there was talk of adjourning to a cool tankard and a game of whistin a summer-house; but the company voted to sit indoors, the ladiesdeclaring they thought the aspect of three ho
nours in their hand,and some good court-cards, more beautiful than the loveliest scene ofnature; and so the sun went behind the elms, and still they were attheir cards; and the rooks came home cawing their evensong, and theynever stirred except to change partners; and the chapel clock tolledhour after hour unheeded, so delightfully were they spent over thepasteboard; and the moon and stars came out; and it was nine o'clock,and the groom of the chambers announced that supper was ready.

  Whilst they sate at that meal, the postboy's twanging horn was heard,as he trotted into the village with his letter-bag. My lord's bag wasbrought in presently from the village, and his letters, which he putaside, and his newspaper which he read. He smiled as he came to aparagraph, looked at his Virginian cousin, and handed the paper overto his brother Will, who by this time was very comfortable, having hadpretty good luck all the evening, and a great deal of liquor.

  "Read that, Will," says my lord.

  Mr. William took the paper, and, reading the sentence pointed out by hisbrother, uttered an exclamation which caused all the ladies to cry out.

  "Gracious heavens, William! What has happened?" cries one or the otherfond sister.

  "Mercy, child, why do you swear so dreadfully?" asks the young man'sfond mamma.

  "What's the matter?" inquires Madame de Bernstein, who has fallen into adoze after her usual modicum of punch and beer.

  "Read it, Parson!" says Mr. William, thrusting the paper over to thechaplain, and looking as fierce as a Turk.

  "Bit, by the Lord!" roars the chaplain, dashing down the paper.

  "Cousin Harry, you are in luck," said my lord, taking up the sheet, andreading from it. "The Six Year Old Plate at Huntingdon was won by Jason,beating Brilliant, Pytho, and Ginger. The odds were five to four onBrilliant against the field, three to one against Jason, seven to twoagainst Pytho, and twenty to one against Ginger."

  "I owe you a half-year's income of my poor living, Mr. Warrington,"groaned the parson. "I will pay when my noble patron settles with me."

  "A curse upon the luck!" growls Mr. William; "that comes of betting on aSunday,"--and he sought consolation in another great bumper.

  "Nay, cousin Will. It was but in jest," cried Harry. "I can't think oftaking my cousin's money."

  "Curse me, sir, do you suppose, if I lose, I can't pay?" asks Mr.William; "and that I want to be beholden to any man alive? That is agood joke. Isn't it, Parson?"

  "I think I have heard better," said the clergyman; to which Williamreplied, "Hang it, let us have another bowl."

  Let us hope the ladies did not wait for this last replenishment ofliquor, for it is certain they had had plenty already during theevening.