The Virginians

  CHAPTER XLII. Fortunatus Nimium

  Though Harry Warrington persisted in his determination to keep thatdismal promise which his cousin had extracted from him, we trust nobenevolent reader will think so ill of him as to suppose that theengagement was to the young fellow's taste, and that he would not beheartily glad to be rid of it. Very likely the beating administered topoor Will was to this end; and Harry may have thought, "A boxing-matchbetween us is sure to bring on a quarrel with the family; in the quarrelwith the family, Maria may take her brother's side. I, of course,will make no retraction or apology. Will, in that case, may call me toaccount, when I know which is the better man. In the midst of the feud,the agreement may come to an end, and I may be a free man once more."

  So honest Harry laid his train, and fired it: but, the explosion over,no harm was found to be done, except that William Esmond's nose wasswollen, and his eye black for a week. He did not send a challenge tohis cousin, Harry Warrington; and, in consequence, neither killed Harry,nor was killed by him. Will was knocked down, and he got up again. Howmany men of sense would do the same, could they get their little accountsettled in a private place, with nobody to tell how the score was paid!Maria by no means took her family's side in the quarrel, but declaredfor her cousin, as did my lord, when advised of the disturbance. Willhad struck the first blow, Lord Castlewood said, by the chaplain'sshowing. It was not the first or the tenth time he had been foundquarrelling in his cups. Mr. Warrington only showed a proper spirit inresenting the injury, and it was for Will, not for Harry, to ask pardon.

  Harry said he would accept no apology as long as his horse was notreturned or his bet paid. The chronicler has not been able to find out,from any of the papers which have come under his view, how that affairof the bet was finally arranged; but 'tis certain the cousins presentlymet in the houses of various friends, and without mauling each other.

  Maria's elder brother had been at first quite willing that his sister,who had remained unmarried for so many years, and on the train of whoserobe, in her long course over the path of life, so many briars, so muchmud, so many rents and stains had naturally gathered, should marrywith any bridegroom who presented himself, and if with a gentleman fromVirginia, so much the better. She would retire to his wigwam in theforest, and there be disposed of. In the natural course of things, Harrywould survive his elderly bride, and might console himself or not, as hepreferred, after her departure.

  But, after an interview with Aunt Bernstein, which his lordship had onhis coming to London, he changed his opinion: and even went so far asto try and dissuade Maria from the match; and to profess a pity for theyoung fellow who was made to undergo a life of misery on account of asilly promise given at one-and-twenty!

  Misery, indeed! Maria was at a loss to know why he was to be miserable.Pity, forsooth! My lord at Castlewood had thought it was no pity at all.Maria knew what pity meant. Her brother had been with Aunt Bernstein:Aunt Bernstein had offered money to break this match off. She understoodwhat my lord meant, but Mr. Warrington was a man of honour, and shecould trust him. Away, upon this, walks my lord to White's, or towhatever haunts he frequented. It is probable that his sister hadguessed too accurately what the nature of his conversation wit MadameBernstein had been.

  "And so," thinks he, "the end of my virtue is likely to be that theMohock will fall a prey to others, and that there is no earthly use inmy sparing him. 'Quem deus vult'--what was that schoolmaster's adage? IfI don't have him, somebody else will, that is clear. My brother has hada slice; my dear sister wants to swallow the whole of him bodily.Here have I been at home respecting his youth and innocence forsooth,declining to play beyond the value of a sixpence, and acting guardianand Mentor to him. Why, I am but a fool to fatten a goose for otherpeople to feed off! Not many a good action have I done in this life,and here is this one, that serves to benefit whom?--other folks. Talk ofremorse! By all the fires and furies, the remorse I have is for things Ihaven't done and might have done! Why did I spare Lucretia? She hated meever after, and her husband went the way for which he was predestined.Why have I let this lad off?--that March and the rest, who don't wanthim, may pluck him! And I have a bad repute; and I am the man peoplepoint at, and call the wicked lord, and against whom women warn theirsons! Pardi, I am not a penny worse, only a great deal more unluckythan my neighbours, and 'tis only my cursed weakness that has been mygreatest enemy!" Here, manifestly, in setting down a speech which agentleman only thought, a chronicler overdraws his account withthe patient reader, who has a right not to accept this draft on hiscredulity. But have not Livy, and Thucydides, and a score more ofhistorians, made speeches for their heroes, which we know the latternever thought of delivering? How much more may we then, knowing my LordCastlewood's character so intimately as we do, declare what was passingin his mind, and transcribe his thoughts on this paper? What? a wholepack of the wolves are on the hunt after this lamb, and will make a mealof him presently, and one hungry old hunter is to stand by, and not havea single cutlet? Who has not admired that noble speech of my Lord Clive,when reproached on his return from India with making rather too freewith jaghires, lakhs, gold mohurs, diamonds, pearls, and what not? "Uponmy life," said the hero of Plassy, "when I think of my opportunities, Iam surprised I took so little!"

  To tell disagreeable stories of a gentleman, until one is in a mannerforced to impart them, is always painful to a feeling mind. Hence,though I have known, before the very first page of this history waswritten, what sort of a person my Lord Castlewood was, and in whatesteem he was held by his contemporaries, I have kept back much that wasunpleasant about him, only allowing the candid reader to perceive thathe was a nobleman who ought not to be at all of our liking. It is truethat my Lord March, and other gentlemen of whom he complained, wouldhave thought no more of betting with Mr. Warrington for his lastshilling, and taking their winnings, than they would scruple to pick thebones of a chicken; that they would take any advantage of the game, ortheir superior skill in it, of the race, and their private knowledgeof the horses engaged; in so far, they followed the practice of allgentlemen: but when they played, they played fair; and when they lost,they paid.

  Now Madame Bernstein was loth to tell her Virginian nephew all she knewto his family's discredit; she was even touched by my lord's forbearancein regard to Harry on his first arrival in Europe; and pleased with hislordship's compliance with her wishes in this particular. But in theconversation which she had with her nephew Castlewood regarding Maria'sdesigns on Harry, he had spoken his mind out with his usual cynicism,voted himself a fool for having spared a lad whom no sparing wouldeventually keep from ruin; pointed out Mr. Harry's undeniableextravagances and spendthrift associates, his nights at faro and hazard,and his rides to Newmarket, and asked why he alone should keep his handsfrom the young fellow? In vain Madame Bernstein pleaded that Harry waspoor. Bah! he was heir to a principality which ought to have been his,Castlewood's, and might have set up their ruined family. (Indeed MadameBernstein thought Mr. Warrington's Virginian property much greater thanit was.) Were there not money-lenders in the town who would give himmoney on postobits in plenty? Castlewood knew as much to his cost: hehad applied to them in his father's lifetime, and the cursed crewhad eaten up two-thirds of his miserable income. He spoke with suchdesperate candour and ill-humour, that Madame Bernstein began to bealarmed for her favourite, and determined to caution him at the firstopportunity.

  That evening she began to pen a billet to Mr. Warrington: but all herlife long she was slow with her pen, and disliked using it. "I neverknew any good come of writing more than bon jour or business," she usedto say. "What is the use of writing ill, when there are so many cleverpeople who can do it well? and even then it were best left alone." Soshe sent one of her men to Mr. Harry's lodgings, bidding him come anddrink a dish of tea with her next day, when she proposed to warn him.

  But the next morning she was indisposed, and could not receive Mr. Harrywhen he came: and she kept her chamber for a couple of days, and thenext day there was
a great engagement, and the next day Mr. Harry wasoff on some expedition of his own. In the whirl of London life, what mansees his neighbour, what brother his sister, what schoolfellow his oldfriend? Ever so many days passed before Mr. Warrington and his aunt hadthat confidential conversation which the latter desired.

  She began by scolding him mildly about his extravagance and madcapfrolics (though, in truth, she was charmed with him for both)--hereplied that young men will be young men, and that it was in dutifullywaiting in attendance on his aunt, he had made the acquaintance withwhom he mostly lived at present. She then with some prelude, began towarn him regarding his cousin, Lord Castlewood; on which he broke into abitter laugh, and said the good-natured world had told him plenty aboutLord Castlewood already. "To say of a man of his lordship's rank, orof any gentleman, 'Don't play with him,' is more than I like to do,"continued the lady; "but..."

  "Oh, you may say on, aunt!" said Harry, with something like animprecation on his lips.

  "And have you played with your cousin already?" asked the young man'sworldly old monitress.

  "And lost and won, madam!" answers Harry, gallantly. "It don't become meto say which. If we have a bout with a neighbour in Virginia, a bottle,or a pack of cards, or a quarrel, we don't go home and tell our mothers.I mean no offence, aunt!" And, blushing, the handsome young fellow wentup and kissed the old lady. He looked very brave and brilliant, with hisrich lace, his fair face and hair, his fine new suit of velvet and gold.On taking leave of his aunt he gave his usual sumptuous benefaction toher servants, who crowded round him. It was a rainy wintry day, and mygentleman, to save his fine silk stockings, must come in a chair. "ToWhite's!" he called out to the chairmen, and away they carried him tothe place where he passed a great deal of his time.

  Our Virginian's friends might have wished that he had been a lesssedulous frequenter of that house of entertainment; but so much may besaid in favour of Mr. Warrington that, having engaged in play, he foughthis battle like a hero. He was not flustered by good luck, and perfectlycalm when the chances went against him. If Fortune is proverbiallyfickle to men at play, how many men are fickle to Fortune, run awayfrightened from her advances; and desert her, who, perhaps, had neverthought of leaving them but for their cowardice. "By George, Mr.Warrington," said Mr. Selwyn, waking up in a rare fit of enthusiasm,"you deserve to win! You treat your luck as a gentleman should, andas long as she remains with you, behave to her with the most perfectpoliteness. Si celeres quatit pennas--you know the rest--no? Well, youare not much the worse off--you will call her ladyship's coach, and makeher a bow at the step. Look at Lord Castlewood yonder, passing the box.Did you ever hear a fellow curse and swear so at losing five or sixpieces? She must be a jade indeed, if she long give her favours to sucha niggardly canaille as that!"

  "We don't consider our family canaille, sir," says Mr. Warrington, "andmy Lord Castlewood is one of them."

  "I forgot. I forgot, and ask your pardon! And I make you my complimentupon my lord, and Mr. Will Esmond, his brother," says Harry's neighbourat the hazard-table. "The box is with me. Five's the main! Deuce Ace! myusual luck. Virtute mea me involvo!" and he sinks back in his chair.

  Whether it was upon this occasion of taking the box, that Mr. Harrythrew the fifteen mains mentioned in one of those other letters of Mr.Walpole's, which have not come into his present learned editor's hands,I know not; but certain it is, that on his first appearance at White's,Harry had five or six evenings of prodigious good luck, and seemed morethan ever the Fortunate Youth. The five hundred pounds withdrawn fromhis patrimonial inheritance had multiplied into thousands. He boughtfine clothes, purchased fine horses, gave grand entertainments, madehandsome presents, lived as if he had been as rich as Sir James Lowther,or his Grace of Bedford, and yet the five thousand pounds never seemedto diminish. No wonder that he gave where giving was so easy; no wonderthat he was generous with Fortunatus's purse in his pocket. I say nowonder that he gave, for such was his nature. Other Fortunati tie up theendless purse, drink small beer, and go to bed with a tallow candle.

  During this vein of his luck, what must Mr. Harry do, but find out fromLady Maria what her ladyship's debts were, and pay them off to thelast shilling. Her stepmother and half-sister, who did not love her, hetreated to all sorts of magnificent presents. "Had you not better getyourself arrested, Will?" my lord sardonically said to his brother."Although you bit him in that affair of the horse, the Mohock willcertainly take you out of pawn." It was then that Mr. William felt atrue remorse, although not of that humble kind which sent the repentantProdigal to his knees. "Confound it," he groaned, "to think that I havelet this fellow slip for such a little matter as forty pound! Why, hewas good for a thousand at least."

  As for Maria, that generous creature accepted the good fortune senther with a grateful heart; and was ready to accept as much more as youpleased. Having paid off her debts to her various milliners, tradesmen,and purveyors, she forthwith proceeded to contract new ones. Mrs. Betty,her ladyship's maid, went round informing the tradespeople that hermistress was about to contract a matrimonial alliance with a younggentleman of immense fortune; so that they might give my lady creditto any amount. Having heard the same story twice or thrice before, thetradesfolk might not give it entire credit, but their bills were paid:even to Mrs. Pincott, of Kensington, my lady showed no rancour, andaffably ordered fresh supplies from her: and when she drove about fromthe mercer to the toy-shop, and from the toy-shop to the jeweller ina coach, with her maid and Mr. Warrington inside, they thought her afortunate woman indeed, to have secured the Fortunate Youth, though theymight wonder at the taste of this latter in having selected so elderly abeauty. Mr. Sparks, of Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, took the libertyof waiting upon Mr. Warrington at his lodgings in Bond Street, with thepearl necklace and the gold etwee which he had bought in Lady Maria'scompany the day before; and asking whether he, Sparks, should leave themat his honour's lodging, or send them to her ladyship with his honour'scompliments? Harry added a ring out of the stock which the jewellerhappened to bring with him, to the necklace and the etwee; andsumptuously bidding that individual to send him in the bill, took amajestic leave of Mr. Sparks, who retired, bowing even to Gumbo, as hequitted his honour's presence.

  Nor did his bounties end here. Ere many days the pleased young fellowdrove up in his phaeton to Mr. Sparks' shop, and took a couple oftrinkets for two young ladies, whose parents had been kind to him, andfor whom he entertained a sincere regard. "Ah!" thought he, "how I wishI had my poor George's wit, and genius for poetry! I would send thesepresents with pretty verses to Hetty and Theo. I am sure, if goodwilland real regard could make a poet of me, I should have no difficulty infinding rhymes." And so he called in Parson Sampson, and they concocteda billet together.