The Virginians

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER LXVI. In which we go a-courting

  Some of my amiable readers no doubt are in the custom of visiting thatfamous garden in the Regent's Park, in which so many of our finned,feathered, four-footed fellow-creatures are accommodated with board andlodging, in return for which they exhibit themselves for our instructionand amusement: and there, as a man's business and private thoughtsfollow him everywhere, and mix themselves with all life and nature roundabout him, I found myself, whilst looking at some fish in the aquarium,still actually thinking of our friends the Virginians.

  One of the most beautiful motion-masters I ever beheld, sweeping throughhis green bath in harmonious curves, now turning his black glisteningback to me, now exhibiting his fair white chest, in every movementactive and graceful, turned out to be our old homely friend theflounder, whom we have all gobbled up out of his bath of water souchy atGreenwich, without having the slightest idea that he was a beauty.

  As is the race of man, so is the race of flounders. If you can but seethe latter in his right element, you may view him agile, healthy, andcomely: put him out of his place, and behold his beauty is gone, hismotions are disgraceful: he flaps the unfeeling ground ridiculouslywith his tail, and will presently gasp his feeble life out. Take himup tenderly, ere it be too late, and cast him into his native Thamesagain----But stop: I believe there is a certain proverb about fish outof water, and that other profound naturalists have remarked on thembefore me. Now Harry Warrington had been floundering for ever so longa time past, and out of his proper element. As soon as he found it,health, strength, spirits, energy, returned to him, and with the tap ofthe epaulet on his shoulder he sprang up an altered being. He delightedin his new profession; he engaged in all its details, and mastered themwith eager quickness. Had I the skill of my friend Lorrequer, I wouldfollow the other Harry into camp, and see him on the march, at themess, on the parade-ground; I would have many a carouse with him and hiscompanions; I would cheerfully live with him under the tents; I wouldknowingly explain all the manoeuvres of war, and all the details of thelife military. As it is, the reader must please, out of his experienceand imagination, to fill in the colours of the picture of which I cangive but meagre hints and outlines, and, above all, fancy Mr. HarryWarrington in his new red coat and yellow facings, very happy to bearthe King's colours, and pleased to learn and perform all the duties ofhis new profession.

  As each young man delighted in the excellence of the other, andcordially recognised his brother's superior qualities, George, we may besure, was proud of Harry's success, and rejoiced in his returning goodfortune. He wrote an affectionate letter to his mother in Virginia,recounting all the praises which he had heard of Harry, and which hisbrother's modesty, George knew, would never allow him to repeat. Hedescribed how Harry had won his own first step in the army, and howhe, George, would ask his mother leave to share with her the expense ofpurchasing a higher rank for him.

  Nothing, said George, would give him a greater delight, than to be ableto help his brother, and the more so, as, by his sudden return intolife, as it were, he had deprived Harry of an inheritance which he hadlegitimately considered as his own. Labouring under that misconception,Harry had indulged in greater expenses than he ever would have thoughtof incurring as a younger brother; and George thought it was but fair,and as it were, as a thank-offering for his own deliverance, that heshould contribute liberally to any scheme for his brother's advantage.

  And now, having concluded his statement respecting Harry's affairs,George took occasion to speak of his own, and addressed his honouredmother on a point which very deeply concerned himself. She was awarethat the best friends he and his brother had found in England were thegood Mr. and Mrs. Lambert, the latter Madam Esmond's schoolfellow ofearlier years. Where their own blood relations had been worldly andunfeeling, these true friends had ever been generous and kind. TheGeneral was respected by the whole army, and beloved by all who knewhim. No mother's affection could have been more touching than Mrs.Lambert's for both Madam Esmond's children; and now, wrote Mr. George,he himself had formed an attachment for the elder Miss Lambert, on whichhe thought the happiness of his life depended, and which he besought hishonoured mother to approve. He had made no precise offers to the younglady or her parents; but he was bound to say that he had made littledisguise of his sentiments, and that the young lady, as well as herparents, seemed favourable to him. She had been so admirable andexemplary a daughter to her own mother, that he felt sure she would doher duty by his. In a word, Mr. Warrington described the young lady as amodel of perfection, and expressed his firm belief that the happinessor misery of his own future life depended upon possessing or losing her.Why do you not produce this letter? haply asks some sentimental reader,of the present Editor, who has said how he has the whole Warringtoncorrespondence in his hands. Why not? Because 'tis cruel to babble thesecrets of a young man's love; to overhear his incoherent vows andwild raptures, and to note, in cold blood, the secrets--it may be,the follies--of his passion. Shall we play eavesdropper at twilightembrasures, count sighs and hand-shakes, bottle hot tears: lay ourstethoscope on delicate young breasts, and feel their heart-throbs? Iprotest, for one, love is sacred. Wherever I see it (as one sometimesmay in this world) shooting suddenly out of two pair of eyes; orglancing sadly even from one pair; or looking down from the mother tothe baby in her lap; or from papa at his girl's happiness as she iswhirling round the room with the captain; or from John Anderson, as hisold wife comes into the room--the bonne vieille, the ever peerless amongwomen; wherever we see that signal, I say, let us salute it. It is notonly wrong to kiss and tell, but to tell about kisses. Everybody whohas been admitted to the mystery,--hush about it. Down with him qui Deaesacrum vulgarit arcanae. Beware how you dine with him, he will printyour private talk: as sure as you sail with him, he will throw you over.

  Whilst Harry's love of battle has led him to smell powder--to rush uponreluctantes dracones, and to carry wounded comrades out of fire, Georgehas been pursuing an amusement much more peaceful and delightful tohim; penning sonnets to his mistress's eyebrow, mayhap; pacing in thedarkness under her window, and watching the little lamp which shone uponher in her chamber; finding all sorts of pretexts for sending littlenotes which don't seem to require little answers, but get them; cullingbits out of his favourite poets, and flowers out of Covent Gardenfor somebody's special adornment and pleasure; walking to St. James'sChurch, singing very likely out of the same Prayer-book, and neverhearing one word of the sermon, so much do other thoughts engross him;being prodigiously affectionate to all Miss Theo's relations--to herlittle brother and sister at school; to the elder at college; to MissHetty, with whom he engages in gay passages of wit; and to mamma, who ishalf in love with him herself, Martin Lambert says; for if fathers aresometimes sulky at the appearance of the destined son-in-law, is it nota fact that mothers become sentimental and, as it were, love their ownloves over again?

  Gumbo and Sady are for ever on the trot between Southampton Row andDean Street. In the summer months all sorts of junketings andpleasure-parties are devised; and there are countless proposals to goto Ranelagh, to Hampstead, to Vauxhall, to Marylebone Gardens, and whatnot. George wants the famous tragedy copied out fair for the stage, andwho can write such a beautiful Italian hand as Miss Theo? As the sheetspass to and fro they are accompanied by little notes of thanks, ofinterrogation, of admiration, always. See, here is the packet, markedin Warrington's neat hand, "T's letters, 1758-9." Shall we open them andreveal their tender secrets to the public gaze? Those virgin words werewhispered for one ear alone. Years after they were written, thehusband read, no doubt, with sweet pangs of remembrance, the fond linesaddressed to the lover. It were a sacrilege to show the pair to publiceyes: only let kind readers be pleased to take our word that the younglady's letters are modest and pure, the gentleman's most respectful andtender. In fine, you see, we have said very little about it; but, inthese few last months, Mr. George Warrington has made up his mind thathe has found the woman of women. She mayn'
t be the most beautiful. Why,there is Cousin Flora, there is Coelia, and Ardelia, and a hundredmore, who are ever so much more handsome: but her sweet face pleases himbetter than any other in the world. She mayn't be the most clever, buther voice is the dearest and pleasantest to hear; and in her company heis so clever himself; he has such fine thoughts; he uses such eloquentwords; he is so generous, noble, witty, that no wonder he delights init. And, in regard to the young lady,--as thank Heaven I never thoughtso ill of women as to suppose them to be just, we may be sure that thereis no amount of wit, of wisdom, of beauty, of valour, of virtue withwhich she does not endow her young hero.

  When George's letter reached home, we may fancy that it created no smallexcitement in the little circle round Madam Esmond's fireside. So he wasin love, and wished to marry! It was but natural, and would keep himout of harm's way. If he proposed to unite himself with a well-bredChristian young woman, Madam saw no harm.

  "I knew they would be setting their caps at him," says Mountain. "Theyfancy that his wealth is as great as his estate. He does not say whetherthe young lady has money. I fear otherwise."

  "People would set their caps at him here, I dare say," says MadamEsmond, grimly looking at her dependant, "and try and catch Mr. EsmondWarrington for their own daughters, who are no richer than Miss Lambertmay be."

  "I suppose your ladyship means me!" says Mountain. "My Fanny is poor, asyou say; and 'tis kind of you to remind me of her poverty!"

  "I said people would set their caps at him. If the cap fits you, tantpis! as my papa used to say."

  "You think, madam, I am scheming to keep George for my daughter? I thankyou, on my word! A good opinion you seem to have of us after the yearswe have lived together!"

  "My dear Mountain, I know you much better than to suppose you could everfancy your daughter would be a suitable match for a gentleman of Mr.Esmond's rank and station," says Madam, with much dignity.

  "Fanny Parker was as good as Molly Benson at school, and Mr. Mountain'sdaughter is as good as Mr. Lambert's!" Mrs. Mountain cries out.

  "Then you did think of marrying her to my son! I shall write toMr. Esmond Warrington, and say how sorry I am that you should bedisappointed!" says the mistress of Castlewood. And we, for our parts,may suppose that Mrs. Mountain was disappointed, and had some ambitiousviews respecting her daughter--else, why should she have been so angryat the notion of Mr. Warrington's marriage?

  In reply to her son, Madam Esmond wrote back that she was pleased withthe fraternal love George exhibited; that it was indeed but right insome measure to compensate Harry, whose expectations had led him toadopt a more costly mode of life than he would have entered on had heknown he was only a younger son. And with respect to purchasing hispromotion, she would gladly halve the expense with Harry's elderbrother, being thankful to think his own gallantry had won him his firststep. This bestowal of George's money, Madam Esmond added, was at leastmuch more satisfactory than some other extravagances to which she wouldnot advert.

  The other extravagance to which Madam alluded was the payment of theransom to the French captain's family, to which tax George's mothernever would choose to submit. She had a determined spirit of her own,which her son inherited. His persistence she called pride and obstinacy.What she thought of her own pertinacity, her biographer, who lives sofar from her time, does not pretend to say. Only I dare say peoplea hundred years ago pretty much resembled their grandchildren of thepresent date, and loved to have their own way, and to make others followit.

  Now, after paying his own ransom, his brother's debts, and half theprice for his promotion, George calculated that no inconsiderableportion of his private patrimony would be swallowed up: neverthelesshe made the sacrifice with a perfect good heart. His good mother alwaysenjoined him in her letters to remember who his grandfather was, andto support the dignity of his family accordingly. She gave him variouscommissions to purchase goods in England, and though she as yet had senthim very trifling remittances, she alluded so constantly to the exaltedrank of the Esmonds, to her desire that he should do nothing unworthy ofthat illustrious family; she advised him so peremptorily and frequentlyto appear in the first society of the country, to frequent the courtwhere his ancestors had been accustomed to move, and to appear always inthe world in a manner worthy of his name, that George made no doubthis mother's money would be forthcoming when his own ran short, andgenerously obeyed her injunctions as to his style of life. I find in theEsmond papers of this period, bills for genteel entertainments, tailors'bills for court suits supplied, and liveries for his honour's negroservants and chairmen, horse-dealers' receipts, and so forth; and amthus led to believe that the elder of our Virginians was also after awhile living at a considerable expense.

  He was not wild or extravagant like his brother. There was no talk ofgambling or racehorses against Mr. George; his table was liberal, hisequipages handsome, his purse always full, the estate to which he washeir was known to be immense. I mention these circumstances because theymay probably have influenced the conduct both of George and his friendsin that very matter concerning which, as I have said, he and his motherhad been just corresponding. The young heir of Virginia was travellingfor his pleasure and improvement in foreign kingdoms. The queen, hismother, was in daily correspondence with his Highness, and constantlyenjoined him to act as became his lofty station. There could be nodoubt from her letters that she desired he should live liberally andmagnificently. He was perpetually making purchases at his parent'sorder. She had not settled as yet; on the contrary, she had wrote out bythe last mail for twelve new sets of waggon harness, and an organthat should play fourteen specified psalm-tunes: which articles Georgedutifully ordered. She had not paid as yet, and might not to-day orto-morrow, but eventually, of course, she would: and Mr. Warringtonnever thought of troubling his friends about these calculations, ordiscussing with them his mother's domestic affairs. They, on their side,took for granted that he was in a state of competence and ease, and,without being mercenary folks, Mr. and Mrs. Lambert were no doubtpleased to see an attachment growing up between their daughter anda young gentleman of such good principles, talents, family, andexpectations. There was honesty in all Mr. Esmond Warrington's wordsand actions, and in his behaviour to the world a certain grandeur andsimplicity, which showed him to be a true gentleman. Somewhat cold andhaughty in his demeanour to strangers, especially towards the great, hewas not in the least supercilious: he was perfectly courteous towardswomen, and with those people whom he loved, especially kind, amiable,lively, and tender.

  No wonder that one young woman we know of got to think him the best manin all the world--alas! not even excepting papa. A great love felt bya man towards a woman makes him better, as regards her, than all othermen. We have said that George used to wonder himself when he found howwitty, how eloquent, how wise he was, when he talked with the fair youngcreature whose heart had become all his.... I say we will not againlisten to their love whispers. Those soft words do not bear beingwritten down. If you please--good sir, or madam, who are sentimentallyinclined--lay down the book and think over certain things for yourself.You may be ever so old now; but you remember. It may be all dead andburied; but in a moment, up it springs out of its grave, and looks, andsmiles, and whispers as of yore when it clung to your arm, and droppedfresh tears on your heart. It is here, and alive, did I say? O far, faraway! O lonely hearth and cold ashes! Here is the vase, but the rosesare gone; here is the shore, and yonder the ship was moored; but theanchors are up, and it has sailed away for ever.

  Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. This, however, is mere sentimentality;and as regards George and Theo, is neither here nor there. What I meanto say is, that the young lady's family were perfectly satisfied withthe state of affairs between her and Mr. Warrington; and though he hadnot as yet asked the decisive question, everybody else knew what theanswer would be when it came.

  Mamma perhaps thought the question was a long time coming.

  "Psha! my dear!" says the General. "There is time enough in allco
nscience. Theo is not much more than seventeen; George, if I mistakenot, is under forty; and, besides, he must have time to write toVirginia, and ask mamma."

  "But suppose she refuses?"

  "That will be a bad day for old and young," says the General, "Let usrather say, suppose she consents, my love?--I can't fancy anybody in theworld refusing Theo anything she has set her heart on," adds the father:"and I am sure 'tis bent upon this match."

  So they all waited with the utmost anxiety until an answer from MadamEsmond should arrive; and trembled lest the French privateers shouldtake the packet-ship by which the precious letter was conveyed.