The Virginians

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XXXVI. Which seems to mean Mischief

  Though she had clearly had the worst of the battle described in the lastchapter, the Baroness Bernstein, when she next met her niece showedno rancour or anger. "Of course, my Lady Maria," she said, "you can'tsuppose that I, as Harry Warrington's near relative, can be pleased atthe idea of his marrying a woman who is as old as his mother, and hasnot a penny to her fortune; but if he chooses to do so silly a thing,the affair is none of mine; and I doubt whether I should have beenmuch inclined to be taken au serieux with regard to that offer of fivethousand pounds which I made in the heat of our talk. So it was alreadyat Castlewood that this pretty affair was arranged? Had I known how farit had gone, my dear, I should have spared some needless opposition.When a pitcher is broken, what railing can mend it?"

  "Madam!" here interposed Maria.

  "Pardon me--I mean nothing against your ladyship's honour or character,which, no doubt, are quite safe. Harry says so, and you say so--whatmore can one ask?"

  "You have talked to Mr. Warrington, madam?"

  "And he has owned that he made you a promise at Castlewood: that youhave it in his writing."

  "Certainly I have, madam!" says Lady Maria.

  "Ah!" (the elder lady did not wince at this). "And I own, too, that atfirst I put a wrong construction upon the tenor of your letters to him.They implicate other members of the family----"

  "Who have spoken most wickedly of me, and endeavoured to prejudice mein every way in my dear Mr. Warrington's eyes. Yes, madam, I own I havewritten against them, to justify myself."

  "But, of course, are pained to think that any wretch should getpossession of stories to the disadvantage of our family, and make thempublic scandal. Hence your disquiet just now."

  "Exactly so," said Lady Maria. "From Mr. Warrington I could have nothingconcealed henceforth, and spoke freely to him. But that is a verydifferent thing from wishing all the world to know the disputes of anoble family."

  "Upon my word, Maria, I admire you, and have done you injustice.These--these twenty years, let us say."

  "I am very glad, madam, that you end by doing me justice at all," saidthe niece.

  "When I saw you last night, opening the ball with my nephew, can youguess what I thought of, my dear?"

  "I really have no idea what the Baroness de Bernstein thought of," saidLady Maria, haughtily.

  "I remembered that you had performed to that very tune with thedancing-master at Kensington, my dear!"

  "Madam, it was an infamous calumny."

  "By which the poor dancing-master got a cudgelling for nothing!"

  "It is cruel and unkind, madam, to recall that calumny--and I shallbeg to decline living any longer with any one who utters it," continuedMaria, with great spirit.

  "You wish to go home? I can fancy you won't like Tunbridge. It will bevery hot for you if those letters are found."

  "There was not a word against you in them, madam: about that I can makeyour mind easy."

  "So Harry said, and did your ladyship justice. Well, my dear, we aretired of one another, and shall be better apart for a while."

  "That is precisely my own opinion," said Lady Maria, dropping a curtsey.

  "Mr. Sampson can escort you to Castlewood. You and your maid can take apostchaise."

  "We can take a postchaise, and Mr. Sampson can escort me," echoed theyounger lady. "You see, madam, I act like a dutiful niece."

  "Do you know, my dear, I have a notion that Sampson has got theletters?" said the Baroness, frankly.

  "I confess that such a notion has passed through my own mind."

  "And you want to go home in the chaise, and coax the letters from him!Delilah! Well, they can be no good to me, and I trust you may get them.When will you go? The sooner the better, you say? We are women of theworld, Maria. We only call names when we are in a passion. We don't wanteach other's company; and we part on good terms. Shall we go to my LadyYarmouth's? 'Tis her night. There is nothing like a change of sceneafter one of those little nervous attacks you have had, and cards driveaway unpleasant thoughts better than any doctor."

  Lady Maria agreed to go to Lady Yarmouth's cards, and was dressed andready first, awaiting her aunt in the drawing-room. Madame Bernstein, asshe came down, remarked Maria's door was left open. "She has theletters upon her," thought the old lady. And the pair went off to theirentertainment in their respective chairs, and exhibited towards eachother that charming cordiality and respect which women can show after,and even during, the bitterest quarrels.

  That night, on their return from the Countess's drum, Mrs. Brett, MadameBernstein's maid, presented herself to my Lady Maria's call, when thatlady rang her hand-bell upon retiring to her room. Betty, Mrs. Brett wasashamed to say, was not in a fit state to come before my lady. Betty hadbeen a-junketing and merry-making with Mr. Warrington's black gentleman,with my Lord Bamborough's valet, and several more ladies and gentlemenof that station, and the liquor--Mrs. Brett was shocked to own it--hadproved too much for Mrs. Betty. Should Mrs. Brett undress my lady? Mylady said she would undress without a maid, and gave Mrs. Brett leave towithdraw. "She has the letters in her stays," thought Madame Bernstein.They had bidden each other an amicable good-night on the stairs.

  Mrs. Betty had a scolding the next morning, when she came to wait onher mistress, from the closet adjoining Lady Maria's apartment, in whichBetty lay. She owned, with contrition, her partiality for rum-punch,which Mr. Gumbo had the knack of brewing most delicate. She took herscolding with meekness, and, having performed her usual duties about herlady's person, retired.

  Now Betty was one of the Castlewood girls who had been so fascinated byGumbo, and was a very good-looking, blue-eyed lass, upon whom Mr.Case, Madame Bernstein's confidential man, had also cast the eyesof affection. Hence, between Messrs. Gumbo and Case, there had beenjealousies and even quarrels; which had caused Gumbo, who was of apeaceful disposition, to be rather shy of the Baroness's gentlemen, thechief of whom vowed he would break the bones, or have the life of Gumbo,if he persisted in his attentions to Mrs. Betty.

  But on the night of the rum-punch, though Mr. Case found Gumbo and Mrs.Betty whispering in the doorway, in the cool breeze, and Gumbo wouldhave turned pale with fear had he been able so to do, no one could bemore gracious than Mr. Case. It was he who proposed the bowl of punch,which was brewed and drunk in Mrs. Betty's room, and which Gumboconcocted with exquisite skill. He complimented Gumbo on his music.Though a sober man ordinarily, he insisted upon more and more drinking,until poor Mrs. Betty was reduced to the state which occasioned herladyship's just censure.

  As for Mr. Case himself, who lay out of the house, he was so ill withthe punch, that he kept his bed the whole of the next day, and didnot get strength to make his appearance, and wait on his ladies, untilsupper-time; when his mistress good-naturedly rebuked him, saying thatit was not often he sinned in that way.

  "Why, Case, I could have made oath it was you I saw on horseback thismorning galloping on the London road," said Mr. Warrington, who wassupping with his relatives.

  "Me! law bless you, sir! I was a-bed, and I thought my head would comeoff with the aching. I ate a bit at six o'clock, and drunk a deal ofsmall beer, and I am almost my own man again now. But that Gumbo, savingyour honour's presence, I won't taste none of his punch again." And thehonest major-domo went on with his duties among the bottles and glasses.

  As they sate after their meal, Madame Bernstein was friendly enough. Sheprescribed strong fortifying drinks for Maria, against the recurrence ofher fainting fits. The lady had such attacks not unfrequently. She urgedher to consult her London physician, and to send up an account of hercase by Harry. By Harry! asked the lady. Yes. Harry was going for twodays on an errand for his aunt to London. "I do not care to tell you, mydear, that it is on business which will do him good. I wish Mr. Draperto put him into my will, and as I am going travelling upon a roundof visits when you and I part, I think, for security, I shall ask Mr.Warrington to take my trinket-box in his postchaise to
London with him,for there have been robberies of late, and I have no fancy for beingstopped by highwaymen."

  Maria looked blank at the notion of the young gentleman's departure,but hoped that she might have his escort back to Castlewood, whither herelder brother had now returned. "Nay," says his aunt, "the lad hath beentied to our apron-strings long enough. A day in London will do him noharm. He can perform my errand for me and be back with you by Saturday."

  "I would offer to accompany Mr. Warrington, but I preach on Fridaybefore her ladyship," says Mr. Sampson. He was anxious that my LadyYarmouth should judge of his powers as a preacher; and Madame Bernsteinhad exerted her influence with the king's favourite to induce her tohear the chaplain.

  Harry relished the notion of a rattling journey to London, and a day ortwo of sport there. He promised that his pistols were good, and thathe would hand the diamonds over in safety to the banker's strong-room.Would he occupy his aunt's London house? No, that would be a drearylodging with only a housemaid and a groom in charge of it. He would goto the Star and Garter in Pall Mall, or to an inn in Covent Garden."Ah! I have often talked over that journey," said Harry, his countenancesaddening.

  "And with whom, sir?" asked Lady Maria.

  "With one who promised to make it with me," said the young man,thinking, as he always did, with an extreme tenderness of the lostbrother.

  "He has more heart, my good Maria, than some of us!" says Harry'saunt, witnessing his emotion. Uncontrollable gusts of grief would,not unfrequently, still pass over our young man. The parting from hisbrother; the scene and circumstances of George's fall last year; therecollection of his words, or of some excursion at home which they hadplanned together; would recur to him and overcome him. "I doubt, madam,"whispered the chaplain, demurely, to Madame Bernstein, after one ofthese bursts of sorrow, "whether some folks in England would sufferquite so much at the death of their elder brother."

  But, of course, this sorrow was not to be perpetual; and we can fancyMr. Warrington setting out on his London journey eagerly enough, andvery gay and happy, if it must be owned, to be rid of his elderlyattachment. Yes. There was no help for it. At Castlewood, on one unluckyevening, he had made an offer of his heart and himself to his maturecousin, and she had accepted the foolish lad's offer. But the marriagenow was out of the question. He must consult his mother. She was themistress for life of the Virginian property. Of course she would refuseher consent to such a union. The thought of it was deferred to a lateperiod. Meanwhile, it hung like a weight round the young man's neck, andcaused him no small remorse and disquiet.

  No wonder that his spirits rose more gaily as he came near London, andthat he looked with delight from his postchaise windows upon the cityas he advanced towards it. No highwayman stopped our traveller onBlackheath. Yonder are the gleaming domes of Greenwich, canopied withwoods. There is the famous Thames, with its countless shipping; thereactually is the Tower of London. "Look, Gumbo! There is the Tower!""Yes, master," says Gumbo, who has never heard of the Tower; but Harryhas, and remembers how he has read about it in Howell's Medulla, and howhe and his brother used to play at the Tower, and he thinks with delightnow, how he is actually going to see the armour and the jewels and thelions. They pass through Southwark and over that famous London Bridge,which was all covered with houses like a street two years ago. Now thereis only a single gate left, and that is coming down. Then the chaiserolls through the city; and, "Look, Gumbo, that is Saint Paul's!" "Yes,master; Saint Paul's," says Gumbo, obsequiously, but little struck bythe beauties of the architecture. And so by the well-known course wereach the Temple, and Gumbo and his master look up with awe at the rebelheads on Temple Bar.

  The chaise drives to Mr. Draper's chambers in Middle Temple Lane, whereHarry handed the precious box over to Mr. Draper, and a letter fromhis aunt, which the gentleman read with some interest seemingly, andcarefully put away. He then consigned the trinket-box to his strongcloset, went into the adjoining room, taking his clerk with him, andthen was at Mr. Warrington's service to take him to an hotel. An hotelin Covent Garden was fixed upon as the best place for his residence."I shall have to keep you for two or three days, Mr. Warrington," thelawyer said. "I don't think the papers which the Baroness wants can beready until then. Meanwhile, I am at your service to see the town. Ilive out of it myself, and have a little box at Camberwell, where Ishall be proud to have the honour of entertaining Mr. Warrington; but ayoung man, I suppose, will like his inn and his liberty best, sir?"

  Harry said yes, he thought the inn would be best; and the postchaise,and a clerk of Mr. Draper's inside, was despatched to the Bedford,whither the two gentlemen agreed to walk on foot.

  Mr. Draper and Mr. Warrington sat and talked for a while. The Drapers,father and son, had been lawyers time out of mind to the Esmond family,and the attorney related to the young gentleman numerous storiesregarding his ancestors of Castlewood. Of the present Earl Mr.Draper was no longer the agent: his father and his lordship had haddifferences, and his lordship's business had been taken elsewhere: butthe Baroness was still their honoured client, and very happy indeed wasMr. Draper to think that her ladyship was so well disposed towards hernephew.

  As they were taking their hats to go out, a young clerk of the housestopped his principal in the passage, and said: "If you please, sir,them papers of the Baroness was given to her ladyship's man, Mr. Case,two days ago."

  "Just please to mind your own business, Mr. Brown," said the lawyer,rather sharply. "This way, Mr. Warrington. Our Temple stairs are ratherdark. Allow me to show you the way."

  Harry saw Mr. Draper darting a Parthian look of anger at Mr. Brown. "Soit was Case I saw on the London Road two days ago," he thought. "Whatbusiness brought the old fox to London?" Wherewith, not choosing to beinquisitive about other folks' affairs, he dismissed the subject fromhis mind.

  Whither should they go first? First, Harry was for going to see theplace where his grandfather and Lord Castlewood had fought a duelfifty-six years ago, in Leicester Field. Mr. Draper knew the place well,and all about the story. They might take Covent Garden on their way toLeicester Field, and see that Mr. Warrington was comfortably lodged."And order dinner," says Mr. Warrington. No, Mr. Draper could notconsent to that. Mr. Warrington must be so obliging as to honour him onthat day. In fact, he had made so bold as to order a collation from theCock. Mr. Warrington could not decline an invitation so pressing, andwalked away gaily with his friend, passing under that arch wherethe heads were, and taking off his hat to them, much to the lawyer'sastonishment.

  "They were gentlemen who died for their king, sir. My dear brotherGeorge and I always said we would salute 'em when we saw 'em," Mr.Warrington said.

  "You'll have a mob at your heels if you do, sir," said the alarmedlawyer.

  "Confound the mob, sir," said Mr. Harry, loftily, but the passers-by,thinking about their own affairs, did not take any notice of Mr.Warrington's conduct; and he walked up the thronging Strand, gazingwith delight upon all he saw, remembering, I dare say, for all hislife after, the sights and impressions there presented to him, butmaintaining a discreet reserve; for he did not care to let the lawyerknow how much he was moved, or the public perceive that he was astranger. He did not hear much of his companion's talk, though thelatter chattered ceaselessly on the way. Nor was Mr. Draper displeasedby the young Virginian's silent and haughty demeanour. A hundred yearsago a gentleman was a gentleman, and his attorney his very humbleservant.

  The chamberlain at the Bedford showed Mr. Warrington to his rooms,bowing before him with delightful obsequiousness, for Gumbo had alreadytrumpeted his master's greatness, and Mr. Draper's clerk announced thatthe new-comer was a "high fellar." Then, the rooms surveyed, the twogentlemen went to Leicester Field, Mr. Gumbo strutting behind hismaster: and, having looked at the scene of his grandsire's wound, andpoor Lord Castlewood's tragedy, they returned to the Temple to Mr.Draper's chambers.

  Who was that shabby-looking big man Mr. Warrington bowed to as they wentout after dinner for a walk in the gardens?
That was Mr. Johnson, anauthor, whom he had met at Tunbridge Wells. "Take the advice of a man ofthe world, sir," says Mr. Draper, eyeing the shabby man of letters verysuperciliously; "the less you have to do with that kind of person, thebetter. The business we have into our office about them literary men isnot very pleasant, I can tell you." "Indeed!" says Mr. Warrington. Hedid not like his new friend the more as the latter grew more familiar.The theatres were shut. Should they go to Sadler's Wells? or MaryboneGardens? or Ranelagh? or how? "Not Ranelagh," says Mr. Draper, "becausethere's none of the nobility in town;" but, seeing in the newspaper thatat the entertainment at Sadler's Wells, Islington, there would be themost singular kind of diversion on eight hand-bells by Mr. Franklyn, aswell as the surprising performances of Signora Catherina, Harry wiselydetermined that he would go to Marybone Gardens, where they had aconcert of music, a choice of tea, coffee, and all sorts of wines,and the benefit of Mr. Draper's ceaseless conversation. The lawyer'sobsequiousness only ended at Harry's bedroom door, where, with haughtygrandeur, the young gentleman bade his talkative host good night.

  The next morning Mr. Warrington, arrayed in his brocade bedgown, tookhis breakfast, read the newspaper, and enjoyed his ease in his inn. Heread in the paper news from his own country. And when he saw the words,Williamsburg, Virginia, June 7th, his eyes grew dim somehow. He hadjust had letters by that packet of June 7th, but his mother did nottell how--"A great number of the principal gentry of the colony haveassociated themselves under the command of the Honourable PeytonRandolph, Esquire, to march to the relief of their distressedfellow-subjects, and revenge the cruelties of the French and theirbarbarous allies. They are in a uniform: viz., a plain blue frock,nanquin or brown waistcoats and breeches, and plain hats. They are armedeach with a light firelock, a brace of pistols, and a cutting sword."

  "Ah, why ain't we there, Gumbo?" cried out Harry.

  "Why ain't we dar?" shouted Gumbo.

  "Why am I here, dangling at women's trains?" continued the Virginian.

  "Think dangling at women's trains very pleasant, Master Harry!" says thematerialistic Gumbo, who was also very little affected by some furtherhome news which his master read, viz., that The Lovely Sally, Virginiaship, had been taken in sight of port by a French privateer.

  And now, reading that the finest mare in England, and a pair of verygenteel bay geldings, were to be sold at the Bull Inn, the lower endof Hatton Garden, Harry determined to go and look at the animals, andinquired his way to the place. He then and there bought the genteel baygeldings, and paid for them with easy generosity. He never said whathe did on that day, being shy of appearing like a stranger; but it isbelieved that he took a coach and went to Westminster Abbey, from whichhe bade the coachman drive him to the Tower, then to Mrs. Salmon'sWaxwork, then to Hyde Park and Kensington Palace; then he had givenorders to go to the Royal Exchange, but catching a glimpse of CoventGarden, on his way to the Exchange, he bade Jehu take him to hisinn, and cut short his enumeration of places to which he had been, byflinging the fellow a guinea.

  Mr. Draper had called in his absence, and said he would come again; butMr. Warrington, having dined sumptuously by himself, went off nimbly toMarybone Gardens again, in the same noble company.

  As he issued forth the next day, the bells of St. Paul's, Covent Garden,were ringing for morning prayers, and reminded him that friend Sampsonwas going to preach his sermon. Harry smiled. He had begun to have ashrewd and just opinion of the value of Mr. Sampson's sermons.