The Virginians

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XLIII. In which Harry flies High

  So Mr. Harry Warrington, of Virginia, had his lodgings in Bond Street,London, England, and lived upon the fat of the land, and drank bumpersof the best wine thereof. His title of Fortunate Youth was prettygenerally recognised. Being young, wealthy, good-looking, and fortunate,the fashionable world took him by the hand and made him welcome.And don't, my dear brethren, let us cry out too loudly against theselfishness of the world for being kind to the young, handsome, andfortunate, and frowning upon you and me, who may be, for argument'ssake, old, ugly, and the miserablest dogs under the sun. If I have aright to choose my acquaintance, and--at the club, let us say prefer thecompany of a lively, handsome, well-dressed, gentleman like youngman, who amuses me, to that of a slouching, ill-washed, misanthropicH-murderer, a ceaselessly prating coxcomb, or what not; has notsociety--the aggregate you and I--a right to the same choice? Harry wasliked because he was likeable; because he was rich, handsome, jovial,well-born, well-bred, brave; because, with jolly topers, he liked ajolly song and a bottle; because, with gentlemen sportsmen, he lovedany game that was a-foot or a-horseback; because, with ladies, he had amodest blushing timidity which rendered the lad interesting; because,to those humbler than himself in degree he was always magnificentlyliberal, and anxious to spare annoyance. Our Virginian was verygrand, and high and mighty, to be sure; but, in those times, when thedistinction of ranks yet obtained, to be high and distant with hisinferiors, brought no unpopularity to a gentleman. Remember that, inthose days, the Secretary of State always knelt when he went to the kingwith his despatches of a morning, and the Under-Secretary never dared tosit down in his chief's presence. If I were Secretary of State (and suchthere have been amongst men of letters since Addison's days) I shouldnot like to kneel when I went in to my audience with my despatch-bog. IfI were Under-Secretary, I should not like to have to stand, whilst theRight Honourable Benjamin or the Right Honourable Sir Edward looked overthe papers. But there is a modus in rebus: there are certain lineswhich must be drawn: and I am only half pleased for my part, when BobBowstreet, whose connection with letters is through Policeman X andY, and Tom Garbage, who is an esteemed contributor to the KennelMiscellany, propose to join fellowship as brother literary men, slap meon the back, and call me old boy, or by my Christian name.

  As much pleasure as the town could give in the winter season of 1756-57,Mr. Warrington had for the asking. There were operas for him, in whichhe took but moderate delight. (A prodigious deal of satire was broughtto bear against these Italian Operas, and they were assailed for beingfoolish, Popish, unmanly, unmeaning; but people went, nevertheless.)There were the theatres, with Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Pritchard at onehouse, and Mrs. Clive at another. There were masquerades and ridottosfrequented by all the fine society; there were their lordships' andladyships' own private drums and assemblies, which began and ended withcards, and which Mr. Warrington did not like so well as White's, becausethe play there was neither so high nor so fair as at the club-table.

  One day his kinsman, Lord Castlewood, took him to court, and presentedHarry to his Majesty, who was now come to town from Kensington. But thatgracious sovereign either did not like Harry's introducer, or had otherreasons for being sulky. His Majesty only said, "Oh, heard of you fromLady Yarmouth. The Earl of Castlewood" (turning to his lordship, andspeaking in German) "shall tell him that he plays too much!" And sosaying, the Defender of the Faith turned his royal back.

  Lord Castlewood shrank back quite frightened at this cold reception ofhis august master.

  "What does he say?" asked Harry.

  "His Majesty thinks they play too high at White's, and is displeased,"whispered the nobleman.

  "If he does not want us, we had better not come again, that is all,"said Harry, simply. "I never, somehow, considered that German fellow areal King of England."

  "Hush! for Heaven's sake, hold your confounded colonial tongue!" criesout my lord. "Don't you see the walls here have ears!"

  "And what then?" asks Mr. Warrington. "Why, look at the people! Hang me,if it is not quite a curiosity! They were all shaking hands with me, andbowing to me, and flattering me just now; and at present they avoid meas if I were the plague!"

  "Shake hands, nephew," said a broad-faced, broad-shouldered gentleman,in a scarlet-laced waistcoat, and a great old-fashioned wig. "I heardwhat you said. I have ears like the wall, look you. And, now, if otherpeople show you the cold shoulder, I'll give you my hand;" and sosaying, the gentleman put out a great brown hand, with which he graspedHarry's. "Something of my brother about your eyes and face. Though Isuppose in your island you grow more wiry and thin like. I am thineuncle, child. My name is Sir Miles Warrington. My lord knows me wellenough."

  My lord looked very frightened and yellow. "Yes, my dear Harry. This isyour paternal uncle, Sir Miles Warrington."

  "Might as well have come to see us in Norfolk, as dangle about playingthe fool at Tunbridge Wells, Mr. Warrington, or Mr. Esmond,--which doyou call yourself?" said the Baronet. "The old lady calls herself MadamEsmond, don't she?"

  "My mother is not ashamed of her father's name, nor am I, uncle," saidMr. Harry, rather proudly.

  "Well said, lad! Come home and eat a bit of mutton with Lady Warrington,at three, in Hill Street,--that is if you can do without your White'skickshaws. You need not look frightened, my Lord Castlewood! I shalltell no tales out of school."

  "I--I am sure Sir Miles Warrington will act as a gentleman!" says mylord, in much perturbation.

  "Belike, he will," growled the Baronet, turning on his heel. "And thouwilt come, young man, at three; and mind, good roast mutton waits fornobody. Thou hast a great look of thy father. Lord bless us, how we usedto beat each other! He was smaller than me, and in course younger; butmany a time he had the best of it. Take it he was henpecked when hemarried, and Madam Esmond took the spirit out of him when she got him inher island. Virginia is an island. Ain't it an island?"

  Harry laughed, and said "No!" And the jolly Baronet, going off, said,"Well, island or not, thou must come and tell all about it to my lady.She'll know whether 'tis an island or not."

  "My dear Mr. Warrington," said my lord, with an appealing look, "I neednot tell you that, in this great city, every man has enemies, and thatthere is a great, great deal of detraction and scandal. I never spoketo you about Sir Miles Warrington, precisely because I did know him,and because we have had differences together. Should he permit himselfremarks to my disparagement, you will receive them cum grano, andremember that it is from an enemy they come." And the pair walked outof the King's apartments and into Saint James's Street. Harry found thenews of his cold reception at court had already preceded him to White's.The King had turned his back upon him. The King was jealous of Harry'sfavour with the favourite. Harry was au mieux with Lady Yarmouth. Ascore of gentlemen wished him a compliment upon his conquest. Beforenight it was a settled matter that this was amongst the other victoriesof the Fortunate Youth.

  Sir Miles told his wife and Harry as much, when the young man appearedat the appointed hour at the Baronet's dinner-table, and he ralliedHarry in his simple rustic fashion. The lady, at first a grand andstately personage, told Harry, on their further acquaintance, that thereputation which the world had made for him was so bad, that at firstshe had given him but a frigid welcome. With the young ladies, SirMiles's daughters, it was "How d'ye do, cousin?" and "No, thank you,cousin," and a number of prim curtseys to the Virginian, as they greetedhim and took leave of him. The little boy, the heir of the house, dinedat table, under the care of his governor; and, having his glass of portby papa after dinner, gave a loose to his innocent tongue, and askedmany questions of his cousin. At last the innocent youth said, afterlooking hard in Harry's face, "Are you wicked, cousin Harry? You don'tlook very wicked!"

  "My dear Master Miles!" expostulates the tutor, turning very red.

  "But you know you said he was wicked!" cried the child.

  "We are all miserable sinners, Miley," explains papa. "Haven't y
ou heardthe clergyman say so every Sunday?"

  "Yes, but not so very wicked as cousin Harry. Is it true that yougamble, cousin, and drink all night with wicked men, and frequent thecompany of wicked women? You know you said so, Mr. Walker--and mammasaid so, too, that Lady Yarmouth was a wicked woman."

  "And you are a little pitcher," cries papa: "and my wife, nephew Harry,is a staunch Jacobite--you won't like her the worse for that. Take Milesto his sisters, Mr. Walker, and Topsham shall give thee a ride in thepark, child, on thy little horse." The idea of the little horse consoledMaster Miles; for, when his father ordered him away to his sisters, hehad begun to cry bitterly, bawling out that he would far rather staywith his wicked cousin.

  "They have made you a sad reputation among 'em, nephew!" says the jollyBaronet. "My wife, you must know, of late years, and since the death ofmy poor eldest son, has taken to,--to, hum!--to Tottenham Court Road andMr. Whitfield's preaching: and we have had one Ward about the house, afriend of Mr. Walker's yonder, who has recounted sad stories about youand your brother at home."

  "About me, Sir Miles, as much as he pleases," cries Harry, warm withport: "but I'll break any man's bones who dares say a word against mybrother! Why, sir, that fellow was not fit to buckle my dear George'sshoe; and if I find him repeating at home what he dared to say in ourhouse in Virginia, I promise him a second caning."

  "You seem to stand up for your friends, nephew Harry," says the Baronet."Fill thy glass, lad, thou art not as bad as thou hast been painted.I always told my lady so. I drink Madam Esmond Warrington's health, ofVirginia, and will have a full bumper for that toast."

  Harry, as in duty bound, emptied his glass, filled again, and drank LadyWarrington and Master Miles.

  "Thou wouldst be heir to four thousand acres in Norfolk, did he die,though," said the Baronet.

  "God forbid, sir, and be praised that I have acres enough in Virginiaof my own!" says Mr. Warrington. He went up presently and took a dish ofcoffee with Lady Warrington: he talked to the young ladies of the house.He was quite easy, pleasant, and natural. There was one of them somewhatlike Fanny Mountain, and this young lady became his special favourite.When he went away, they all agreed their wicked cousin was not near sowicked as they had imagined him to be: at any rate, my lady had stronghopes of rescuing him from the pit. She sent him a good book thatevening, whilst Mr. Harry was at White's; with a pretty note, prayingthat Law's Call might be of service to him: and, this despatched, sheand her daughters went off to a rout at the house of a minister's lady.But Harry, before he went to White's, had driven to his friend Mr.Sparks, in Tavistock Street, and purchased more trinkets for his femalecousins--"from their aunt in Virginia," he said. You see, he was full ofkindness: he kindled and warmed with prosperity. There are men on whomwealth hath no such fortunate influence. It hardens base hearts: itmakes those who were mean and servile, mean and proud. If it shouldplease the gods to try me with ten thousand a year, I will, of course,meekly submit myself to their decrees, but I will pray them to give mestrength enough to bear the trial. All the girls in Hill Street weredelighted at getting the presents from Aunt Warrington in Virginia andaddressed a collective note, which must have astonished that good ladywhen she received it in spring-time, when she and Mountain and Fannywere on a visit to grim deserted Castlewood, when the snows had clearedaway and a thousand peach-trees flushed with blossoms. "Poor boy!" themother thought "This is some present he gave his cousins in my name,in the time of his prosperity--nay, of his extravagance and folly. Howquickly his wealth has passed away! But he ever had a kind heart for thepoor Mountain; and we must not forget him in his need. It behoves us tobe more than ever careful of our own expenses, my good people!" And so,I dare say, they warmed themselves by one log, and ate of one dish, andworked by one candle. And the widow's servants, whom the good soul beganto pinch more and more I fear, lied, stole, and cheated more and more:and what was saved in one way, was stole in another.

  One afternoon, Mr. Harry sate in his Bond Street lodgings, arrayed inhis dressing-gown, sipping his chocolate, surrounded by luxury, encasedin satin, and yet enveloped in care. A few weeks previously when theluck was with him, and he was scattering his benefactions to and fro,he had royally told Parson Sampson to get together a list of his debtswhich he, Mr. Warrington, would pay. Accordingly Sampson had gone towork, and had got together a list, not of all his debts--no man everdoes set down all,--but such a catalogue as he thought sufficient tobring in to Mr. Warrington, at whose breakfast-table the divine hadhumbly waited until his honour should choose to attend it.

  Harry appeared at length, very pale and languid, in curl-papers, andscarce any appetite for his breakfast; and the chaplain, fumbling withhis schedule in his pocket, humbly asked if his patron had had a badnight? He had been brought home from White's by two chairmen at fiveo'clock in the morning; had caught a confounded cold, for one of thewindows of the chair would not shut, and the rain and snow came in,finally, was in such a bad humour, that all poor Sampson's quirks andjokes could scarcely extort a smile from him.

  At last, to be sure, Mr. Warrington burst into a loud laugh. It was whenthe poor chaplain, after a sufficient discussion of muffins, eggs, tea,the news, the theatres, and so forth, pulled a paper out of his pocketand in a piteous tone said, "Here is that schedule of debts which yourhonour asked for--two hundred and forty-three pounds--every shilling Iowe in the world, thank Heaven!--that is--ahem!--every shilling of whichthe payment will in the least inconvenience me--and I need not tell mydearest patron that I shall consider him my saviour and benefactor!"

  It was then that Harry, taking the paper and eyeing the chaplain withrather a wicked look, burst into a laugh, which was, however, anythingbut jovial. Wicked execrations, moreover, accompanied this outbreak ofhumour, and the luckless chaplain felt that his petition had come at thewrong moment.

  "Confound it, why didn't you bring it on Monday?" Harry asked.

  "Confound me, why did I not bring it on Monday?" echoed the chaplain'stimid soul. "It is my luck--my usual luck. Have the cards been againstyou, Mr. Warrington?"

  "Yes: a plague on them. Monday night, and last night, have both goneagainst me. Don't be frightened, chaplain, there's money enough in thelocker yet. But I must go into the City and get some."

  "What, sell out, sir?" asks his reverence, with a voice that wasreassured, though it intended to be alarmed.

  "Sell out, sir? Yes! I borrowed a hundred off Mackreth in counters lastnight, and must pay him at dinner-time. I will do your business for younevertheless, and never fear, my good Mr. Sampson. Come to breakfastto-morrow, and we will see and deliver your reverence from thePhilistines." But though he laughed in Sampson's presence, and stroveto put a good face upon the matter, Harry's head sank down on his chestwhen the parson quitted him, and he sate over the fire, beating thecoals about with the poker, and giving utterance to many disjointednaughty words, which showed, but did not relieve, the agitation of hisspirit.

  In this mood, the young fellow was interrupted by the appearance of afriend, who, on any other day--even on that one when his conscience wasso uneasy--was welcome to Mr. Warrington. This was no other than Mr.Lambert, in his military dress, but with a cloak over him, who had comefrom the country, had been to the Captain-General's levee that morning,and had come thence to visit his young friend in Bond Street.

  Harry may have thought Lambert's greeting rather cold; but beingoccupied with his own affairs, he put away the notion. How were theladies of Oakhurst, and Miss Hetty, who was ailing when he passedthrough in the autumn? Purely? Mr. Warrington was very glad. They werecome to stay a while in London with their friend, Lord Wrotham? Mr.Harry was delighted--though it must be confessed his face did notexhibit any peculiar signs of pleasure when he heard the news.

  "And so you live at White's, and with the great folks; and you faresumptuously every day, and you pay your court at St. James's, and makeone at my Lady Yarmouth's routs, and at all the card-parties in theCourt end of the town?" asks the Colonel.

 
"My dear Colonel, I do what other folks do," says Harry, with rather ahigh manner.

  "Other folks are richer folks than some folks, my dear lad."

  "Sir!" says Mr. Warrington, "I would thank you to believe that I owenothing for which I cannot pay!"

  "I should never have spoken about your affairs," said the other, notnoticing the young man's haughty tone, "but that you yourself confidedthem to me. I hear all sorts of stories about the Fortunate Youth. Onlyat his Royal Highness's even today, they were saying how rich you werealready, and I did not undeceive them----"

  "Colonel Lambert, I cannot help the world gossiping about me!" cries Mr.Warrington, more and more impatient.

  "--And what prodigious sums you had won. Eighteen hundred one night--twothousand another--six or eight thousand in all! Oh! there were gentlemenfrom White's at the levee too, I can assure you, and the army can flinga main as well as you civilians!"

  "I wish they would meddle with their own affairs," says Harry, scowlingat his old friend.

  "And I, too, you look as if you were going to say. Well, my boy, it ismy affair and you must let Theo's father and Hetty's father, and HarryWarrington's father's old friend say how it is my affair." Here theColonel drew a packet out of his pocket, whereof the lappets and thecoat-tails and the general pocket accommodations were much more amplethan in the scant military garments of present warriors. "Look you,Harry. These trinkets which you sent with the kindest heart in the worldto people who love you, and would cut off their little hands to spareyou needless pain, could never be bought by a young fellow with two orthree hundred a year. Why, a nobleman might buy these things, or a richCity banker, and send them to his--to his daughters, let us say."

  "Sir, as you say, I meant only kindness," says Harry, blushingburning-red.

  "But you must not give them to my girls, my boy. Hester and TheodosiaLambert must not be dressed up with the winnings off the gaming-table,saving your presence. It goes to my heart to bring back the trinkets.Mrs. Lambert will keep her present, which is of small value, and sendsyou her love and a God bless you--and so say I, Harry Warrington, withall my heart." Here the good Colonel's voice was much moved, and hisface grew very red, and he passed his hand over his eyes ere he held itout.

  But the spirit of rebellion was strong in Mr. Warrington. He rose upfrom his seat, never offering to take the hand which his senior held outto him. "Give me leave to tell Colonel Lambert," he said, "that I havehad somewhat too much advice from him. You are for ever volunteering it,sir, and when I don't ask it. You make it your business to inquire aboutmy gains at play, and about the company I keep. What right have you tocontrol my amusements or my companions? I strive to show my senseof your former kindness by little presents to your family, and youfling--you bring them back."

  "I can't do otherwise, Mr. Warrington," says the Colonel, with a verysad face.

  "Such a slight may mean nothing here, sir, but in our country it meanswar, sir!" cries Mr. Warrington. "God forbid I should talk of drawing asword against the father of ladies who have been as mother and sisterto me: but you have wounded my heart, Colonel Lambert--you have, I won'tsay insulted, but humiliated me, and this is a treatment I will bearfrom no man alive! My servants will attend you to the door, sir!" Sayingwhich, and rustling in his brocade dressing-gown, Mr. Warrington, withmuch state, walked off to his bedroom.