CHAPTER LXXVIII. Pyramus and Thisbe
In examining the old papers at home, years afterwards, I found, docketedand labelled with my mother's well-known neat handwriting, "From London,April, 1760. My son's dreadful letter." When it came to be mine Iburnt the document, not choosing that that story of domestic grief anddisunion should remain amongst our family annals for future Warringtonsto gaze on, mayhap, and disobedient sons to hold up as examples offoregone domestic rebellions. For similar reasons, I have destroyed thepaper which my mother despatched to me at this time of tyranny, revolt,annoyance, and irritation.
Maddened by the pangs of separation from my mistress, and not unrightlyconsidering that Mrs. Esmond was the prime cause of the greatest griefand misery which had ever befallen me in the world, I wrote home toVirginia a letter, which might have been more temperate, it is true, butin which I endeavoured to maintain the extremest respect and reticence.I said I did not know by what motives she had been influenced, but thatI held her answerable for the misery of my future life, which shehad chosen wilfully to mar and render wretched. She had occasioned aseparation between me and a virtuous and innocent young creature,whose own hopes, health, and happiness were cast down for ever by Mrs.Esmond's interference. The deed was done, as I feared, and I would offerno comment upon the conduct of the perpetrator, who was answerable toGod alone; but I did not disguise from my mother that the injury whichshe had done me was so dreadful and mortal, that her life or mine couldnever repair it; that the tie of my allegiance was broken towards her,and that I never could be, as heretofore, her dutiful and respectfulson.
Madam Esmond replied to me in a letter of very great dignity (her styleand correspondence were extraordinarily elegant and fine). She utterednot a single reproach or hard word, but coldly gave me to understandthat it was before that awful tribunal of God she had referred the casebetween us, and asked for counsel; that, in respect of her own conduct,as a mother, she was ready, in all humility, to face it. Might I, as ason, be equally able to answer for myself, and to show, when the GreatJudge demanded the question of me, whether I had done my own duty, andhonoured my father and mother! O popoi! My grandfather has quoted in hismemoir a line of Homer, showing how in our troubles and griefs thegods are always called in question. When our pride, our avarice, ourinterest, our desire to domineer, are worked upon, are we not forever pestering Heaven to decide in their favour? In our great Americanquarrel, did we not on both sides appeal to the skies as to thejustice of our causes, sing Te Deum for victory, and boldly express ourconfidence that the right should prevail? Was America right becauseshe was victorious? Then I suppose Poland was wrong because she wasdefeated?--How am I wandering into this digression about Poland,America, and what not, and all the while thinking of a little woman nowno more, who appealed to Heaven and confronted it with a thousand textsout of its own book, because her son wanted to make a marriage not ofher liking? We appeal, we imprecate, we go down on our knees, we demandblessings, we shriek out for sentence according to law; the great courseof the great world moves on; we pant, and strive, and struggle; we hate;we rage; we weep passionate tears; we reconcile; we race and win; werace and lose; we pass away, and other little strugglers succeed; ourdays are spent; our night comes, and another morning rises, which shineson us no more.
My letter to Madam Esmond, announcing my revolt and disobedience(perhaps I myself was a little proud of the composition of thatdocument), I showed in duplicate to Mr. Lambert, because I wished himto understand what my relations to my mother were, and how I wasdetermined, whatever of threats or quarrels the future might bring,never for my own part to consider my separation from Theo as other thana forced one. Whenever I could see her again I would. My word givento her was in secula seculorum, or binding at least as long as my lifeshould endure. I implied that the girl was similarly bound to me, andher poor father knew indeed as much. He might separate us; as he mightgive her a dose of poison, and the gentle, obedient creature would takeit and die; but the death or separation would be his doing: let himanswer them. Now he was tender about his children to weakness, and couldnot have the heart to submit any one of them--this one especially--totorture. We had tried to part: we could not. He had endeavoured toseparate us: it was more than was in his power. The bars were up, butthe young couple--the maid within and the knight without--were lovingeach other all the same. The wall was built, but Pyramus and Thisbe werewhispering on either side. In the midst of all his grief and perplexity,Uncle Lambert had plenty of humour, and could not but see that his rolewas rather a sorry one. Light was beginning to show through that limeand rough plaster of the wall: the lovers were getting their handsthrough, then their heads through--indeed, it was wall's best businessto retire.
I forget what happened stage by stage and day by day; nor, for theinstruction of future ages, does it much matter. When my descendantshave love scrapes of their own, they will find their own means ofgetting out of them. I believe I did not go back to Dean Street, butthat practice of driving in the open air was considered most healthfulfor Miss Lambert. I got a fine horse, and rode by the side of hercarriage. The old woman at Tottenham Court came to know both of us quitewell, and nod and wink in the most friendly manner when we passed by.I fancy the old goody was not unaccustomed to interest herself in youngcouples, and has dispensed the hospitality of her roadside cottage tomore than one pair.
The doctor and the country air effected a prodigious cure upon MissLambert. Hetty always attended as duenna, and sometimes of his holiday,Master Charley rode my horse when I got into the carriage. What a dealof love-making Miss Hetty heard!--with what exemplary patience shelistened to it! I do not say she went to hear the Methodist sermons anymore, but 'tis certain that when we had a closed carriage she would verykindly and considerately look out of the window. Then, what heaps ofletters there were!--what running to and fro! Gumbo's bandy legs werefor ever on the trot from my quarters to Dean Street; and, on my accountor her own, Mrs. Molly, the girl's maid, was for ever bringing backanswers to Bloomsbury. By the time when the autumn leaves began to turnpale, Miss Theo's roses were in full bloom again, and my good DoctorHeberden's cure was pronounced to be complete. What else happened duringthis blessed period? Mr. Warrington completed his great tragedy ofPocahontas, which was not only accepted by Mr. Garrick this time (hisfriend Dr. Johnson having spoken not unfavourably of the work), but myfriend and cousin, Hagan, was engaged by the manager to perform the partof the hero, Captain Smith. Hagan's engagement was not made before itwas wanted. I had helped him and his family with means disproportioned,perhaps, to my power, especially considering my feud with Madam Esmond,whose answer to my angry missive of April came to me towards autumn,and who wrote back from Virginia with war for war, controlment forcontrolment. These menaces, however, frightened me little: my poormother's thunder could not reach me; and my conscience, or casuistry,supplied me with other interpretations for her texts of Scripture, sothat her oracles had not the least weight with me in frightening me frommy purpose. How my new loves speeded I neither informed her, nor anyother members of my maternal or paternal family, who, on both sides, hadbeen bitter against my marriage. Of what use wrangling with them? It wasbetter to carpere diem and its sweet loves and pleasures, and to leavethe railers to grumble, or the seniors to advise, at their ease.
Besides Madam Esmond I had, it must be owned, in the frantic rage of mytemporary separation, addressed notes of wondrous sarcasm to my UncleWarrington, to my Aunt Madame de Bernstein, and to my Lord or Ladyof Castlewood (I forget to which individually), thanking them for thetrouble which they had taken in preventing the dearest happiness of mylife, and promising them a corresponding gratitude from their obligedrelative. Business brought the jovial Baronet and his family to Londonsomewhat earlier than usual, and Madame de Bernstein was never sorryto get back to Clarges Street and her cards. I saw them. They found meperfectly well. They concluded the match was broken off, and I did notchoose to undeceive them. The Baroness took heart at seeing how cheerfulI was, and made many sl
y jokes about my philosophy, and my prudentbehaviour as a man of the world. She was, as ever, bent upon finding arich match for me: and I fear I paid many compliments at her house toa rich young soap-boiler's daughter from Mile End, whom the worthyBaroness wished to place in my arms.
"You court her with infinite wit and esprit, my dear," says my pleasedkinswoman, "but she does not understand half you say, and the otherhalf, I think, frightens her. This ton de persiflage is very well in oursociety, but you must be sparing of it, my dear nephew, amongst theseroturiers."
Miss Badge married a young gentleman of royal dignity, though shatteredfortunes, from a neighbouring island; and I trust Mrs. Mackshane hasere this pardoned my levity. There was another person besides Miss at myaunt's house, who did not understand my persiflage much better than Missherself; and that was a lady who had seen James the Second's reign, andwho was alive and as worldly as ever in King George's. I loved to bewith her: but that my little folks have access to this volume, I couldput down a hundred stories of the great old folks whom she had known inthe great old days--of George the First and his ladies, of St. John andMarlborough, of his reigning Majesty and the late Prince of Wales, andthe causes of the quarrel between them--but my modest muse pipes forboys and virgins. Son Miles does not care about court stories, or if hedoth, has a fresh budget from Carlton House, quite as bad as the worstof our old Baroness. No, my dear wife, thou hast no need to shake thypowdered locks at me! Papa is not going to scandalise his nursery withold-world gossip, nor bring a blush over our chaste bread-and-butter.
But this piece of scandal I cannot help. My aunt used to tell it withinfinite gusto; for, to do her justice, she hated your would-be goodpeople, and sniggered over the faults of the self-styled righteous withuncommon satisfaction. In her later days she had no hypocrisy, at least;and in so far was better than some whitewashed... Well, to the story.My Lady Warrington, one of the tallest and the most virtuous of her sex,who had goodness for ever on her lips and "Heaven in her eye," like thewoman in Mr. Addison's tedious tragedy (which has kept the stage, fromwhich some others, which shall be nameless, have disappeared), had theworld in her other eye, and an exceedingly shrewd desire of pushingherself in it. What does she do, when my marriage with your ladyshipyonder was supposed to be broken off, but attempt to play off on methose arts which she had tried on my poor Harry with such signal illsuccess, and which failed with me likewise! It was not the Beauty--MissFlora was for my master--(and what a master! I protest I take off my hatat the idea of such an illustrious connexion!)--it was Dora, the Muse,was set upon me to languish at me and to pity me, and to read even mygodless tragedy, and applaud me and console me. Meanwhile, how was theBeauty occupied? Will it be believed that my severe aunt gave a greatentertainment to my Lady Yarmouth, presented her boy to her, and placedpoor little Miles under her ladyship's august protection? That, sofar, is certain; but can it be that she sent her daughter to stay at mylady's house, which our gracious lord and master daily visited, and withthe views which old Aunt Bernstein attributed to her? "But for thatfit of apoplexy, my dear," Bernstein said, "that aunt of yours intendedthere should have been a Countess in her own right in the Warringtonfamily!" [Compare Walpole's letters in Mr. Cunningham's excellent newedition. See the story of the supper at N. House, to show what greatnoblemen would do for a king's mistress, and the pleasant account ofthe waiting for the Prince of Wales before Holland House.-EDITOR.] Myneighbour and kinswoman, my Lady Claypole, is dead and buried. Growwhite, ye daisies, upon Flora's tomb! I can see my pretty Miles, in agay little uniform of the Norfolk Militia, led up by his parent to thelady whom the King delighted to honour, and the good-natured old Jezebellaying her hand upon the boy's curly pate. I am accused of being but alukewarm royalist; but sure I can contrast those times with ours, andacknowledge the difference between the late sovereign and the present,who, born a Briton, has given to every family in the empire an exampleof decorum and virtuous life. [The Warrington MS. is dated 1793.-ED.]
Thus my life sped in the pleasantest of all occupation; and, being sohappy myself, I could afford to be reconciled to those who, after all,had done me no injury, but rather added to the zest of my happiness bythe brief obstacle which they had placed in my way. No specific planswere formed, but Theo and I knew that a day would come when we needsay Farewell no more. Should the day befall a year hence--ten yearshence--we were ready to wait. Day after day we discussed our littleplans, with Hetty for our confidante. On our drives we spied out prettycottages that we thought might suit young people of small means; wedevised all sorts of delightful schemes and childish economies. We wereStrephon and Chloe to be sure. A cot and a brown loaf should content us!Gumbo and Molly should wait upon us (as indeed they have done from thatday until this). At twenty, who is afraid of being poor? Our trialswould only confirm our attachment. The "sweet sorrow" of every day'sparting but made the morrow's meeting more delightful; and when weseparated we ran home and wrote each other those precious letters whichwe and other young gentlemen and ladies write under such circumstances;but though my wife has them all in a great tin sugar-box in the closetin her bedroom, and, I own, I myself have looked at them once, and eventhought some of them pretty,--I hereby desire my heirs and executorsto burn them all, unread, at our demise; specially desiring my son theCaptain (to whom I know the perusal of MSS. is not pleasant) to performthis duty. Those secrets whispered to the penny-post, or deliveredbetween Molly and Gumbo, were intended for us alone, and no ears of ourdescendants shall overhear them.
We heard in successive brief letters how our dear Harry continued withthe army, as Mr. General Amherst's aide-de-camp, after the death of hisown glorious general. By the middle of October there came news of theCapitulation of Montreal and the whole of Canada, and a brief postscriptin which Hal said he would ask for leave now, and must go and see theold lady at home, who wrote as sulky as a bare, Captain Warringtonremarked. I could guess why, though the claws could not reach me. I hadwritten pretty fully to my brother how affairs were standing with me inEngland.
Then, on the 25th October, comes the news that his Majesty has fallendown dead at Kensington, and that George III. reigned over us. I fear wegrieved but little. What do those care for the Atridae whose hearts arestrung only to erota mounon? A modest, handsome, brave new Prince, wegladly accept the common report that he is endowed with every virtue;and we cry huzzay with the loyal crowd that hails his accession:it could make little difference to us, as we thought, simple youngsweethearts, whispering our little love-stories in our corner.
But who can say how great events affect him? Did not our little Charley,at the Chartreux, wish impiously for a new king immediately, because onhis gracious Majesty's accession Doctor Crusius gave his boys a holiday?He and I, and Hetty, and Theo (Miss Theo was strong enough to walkmany a delightful mile now), heard the Heralds proclaim his new Majestybefore Savile House in Leicester Fields, and a pickpocket got the watchand chain of a gentleman hard by us, and was caught and carried toBridewell, all on account of his Majesty's accession. Had the king notdied, the gentleman would not have been in the crowd; the chain wouldnot have been seized; the thief would not have been caught and soundlywhipped: in this way many of us, more or less remotely, were implicatedin the great change which ensued, and even we humble folks were affectedby it presently.
As thus. My Lord Wrotham was a great friend of the august family ofSavile House, who knew and esteemed his many virtues. Now, of allliving men, my Lord Wrotham knew and loved best his neighbour and oldfellow-soldier, Martin Lambert, declaring that the world contained fewbetter gentlemen. And my Lord Bute, being all potent, at first, with hisMajesty, and a nobleman, as I believe, very eager at the commencement ofhis brief and luckless tenure of power, to patronise merit wherever hecould find it, was strongly prejudiced in Mr. Lambert's favour by thelatter's old and constant friend.
My (and Harry's) old friend Parson Sampson, who had been in and outof gaol I don't know how many times of late years, and retained anever-enduring hatred for the Esmonds o
f Castlewood, and as lasting aregard for me and my brother, was occupying poor Hal's vacant bed atmy lodgings at this time (being, in truth, hunted out of his own bythe bailiffs). I liked to have Sampson near me, for a more amusingJack-friar never walked in cassock; and, besides, he entered into all myrhapsodies about Miss Theo; was never tired (so he vowed) of hearingme talk of her; admired Pocahontas and Carpezan with, I do believe, anhonest enthusiasm; and could repeat whole passages of those tragedieswith an emphasis and effect that Barry or cousin Hagan himself could notsurpass. Sampson was the go-between between Lady Maria and such of herrelations as had not disowned her; and, always in debt himself, wasnever more happy than in drinking a pot, or mingling his tears with hisfriends in similar poverty. His acquaintance with pawnbrokers' shops wasprodigious. He could procure more money, he boasted, on an article thanany gentleman of his cloth. He never paid his own debts, to be sure,but he was ready to forgive his debtors. Poor as he was, he always foundmeans to love and help his needy little sister, and a more prodigal,kindly, amiable rogue never probably grinned behind bars. They say thatI love to have parasites about me. I own to have had a great liking forSampson, and to have esteemed him much better than probably much bettermen.
When he heard how my Lord Bute was admitted into the cabinet, Sampsonvowed and declared that his lordship--a great lover of the drama, whohad been to see Carpezan, who had admired it, and who would act the partof the king very finely in it--he vowed, by George! that my lord mustgive me a place worthy of my birth and merits. He insisted upon it thatI should attend his lordship's levee. I wouldn't? The Esmonds were allas proud as Lucifer; and, to be sure, my birth was as good as that ofany man in Europe. Demmy! Where was my lord himself when the Esmondswere lords of great counties, warriors, and Crusaders? Where were they?Beggarly Scotchmen, without a rag to their backs--by George! tearingraw fish in their islands. But now the times were changed. The Scotchmenwere in luck. Mum's the word! "I don't envy him," says Sampson, "but heshall provide for you and my dearest, noblest, heroic captain! He SHALL,by George!" would my worthy parson roar out. And when, in the monthafter his accession, his Majesty ordered the play of Richard III. atDrury Lane, my chaplain cursed, vowed, swore, but he would have him toCovent Garden to see Carpezan too. And now, one morning, he bursts intomy apartment, where I happened to lie rather late, waving the newspaperin his hand, and singing "Huzza!" with all his might.
"What is it, Sampson?" says I. "Has my brother got his promotion?"
"No, in truth: but some one else has. Huzzay! huzzay! His Majestyhas appointed Major-General Martin Lambert to be Governor andCommander-in-Chief of the Island of Jamaica."
I started up. Here was news, indeed! Mr. Lambert would go to hisgovernment: and who would go with him? I had been supping with somegenteel young fellows at the Cocoa-Tree. The rascal Gumbo had a note forme from my dear mistress on the night previous, conveying the same newsto me, and had delayed to deliver it. Theo begged me to see her at theold place at midday the next day without fail. [In the WarringtonMS. there is not a word to say what the "old place" was. Perhaps someobliging reader of Notes and Queries will be able to inform me, and whoMrs. Goodison was.-ED.]
There was no little trepidation in our little council when we reachedour place of meeting. Papa had announced his acceptance of theappointment, and his speedy departure. He would have a frigate givenhim, and take his family with him. Merciful powers! and were we to beparted? My Theo's old deathly paleness returned to her. Aunt Lambertthought she would have swooned; one of Mrs. Goodison's girls had abottle of salts, and ran up with it from the workroom. "Going away?Going away in a frigate, Aunt Lambert? Going to tear her away from me?Great God! Aunt Lambert, I shall die!" She was better when mamma cameup from the workroom with the young lady's bottle of salts. You see thewomen used to meet me: knowing dear Theo's delicate state, how couldthey refrain from compassionating her! But the General was so busywith his levees and his waiting on Ministers, and his outfit, and thesettlement of his affairs at home, that they never happened to tell himabout our little walks and meetings; and even when orders for the outfitof the ladies were given, Mrs. Goodison, who had known and workedfor Miss Molly Benson as a schoolgirl (she remembered Miss Esmond ofVirginia perfectly, the worthy lady told me, and a dress she made forthe young lady to be presented at her Majesty's Ball)--"even when theoutfit was ordered for the three ladies," says Mrs. Goodison, demurely,"why, I thought I could do no harm in completing the order."
Now I need not say in what perturbation of mind Mr. Warrington went homein the evening to his lodgings, after the discussion with the ladies ofthe above news. No, or at least a very few, more walks; no more rides todear, dear Hampstead or beloved Islington; no more fetching and carryingof letters for Gumbo and Molly! The former blubbered so, that Mr.Warrington was quite touched by his fidelity, and gave him a crown-pieceto go to supper with the poor girl, who turned out to be his sweetheart.What, you too unhappy, Gumbo, and torn from the maid you love? I wasready to mingle with him tear for tear.
What a solemn conference I had with Sampson that evening! He knew myaffairs, my expectations, my mother's anger. Psha! that was far off, andhe knew some excellent liberal people (of the order of Melchizedek)who would discount the other. The General would not give his consent?Sampson shrugged his broad shoulders and swore a great roaring oath. Mymother would not relent? What then? A man was a man, and to make hisown way in the world? he supposed. He is only a churl who won't play forsuch a stake as that, and lose or win, by George! shouts the chaplain,over a bottle of Burgundy at the Bedford Head, where he dined. I neednot put down our conversation. We were two of us, and I think there wasonly one mind between us. Our talk was of a Saturday night....
I did not tell Theo, nor any relative of hers, what was being done.But when the dear child faltered and talked, trembling, of thecoming departure, I bade her bear up, and vowed all would be well, soconfidently, that she, who ever has taken her alarms and joys from myface (I wish, my dear, it were sometimes not so gloomy), could not butfeel confidence; and placed (with many fond words that need not here berepeated) her entire trust in me--murmuring those sweet words of Ruththat must have comforted myriads of tender hearts in my dearest maiden'splight; that whither I would go she would go, and that my people shouldbe hers. At last, one day, the General's preparations being made, thetrunks encumbering the passages of the dear old Dean Street lodging,which I shall love as long as I shall remember at all--one day, almostthe last of his stay, when the good man (his Excellency we called himnow) came home to his dinner--a comfortless meal enough it was in thepresent condition of the family--he looked round the table at the placewhere I had used to sit in happy old days, and sighed out: "I wish,Molly, George was here."
"Do you, Martin?" says Aunt Lambert, flinging into his arms.
"Yes, I do; but I don't wish you to choke me, Molly," he says. "I lovehim dearly. I may go away and never see him again, and take his foolishlittle sweetheart along with me. I suppose you will write to each other,children? I can't prevent that, you know; and until he changes his mind,I suppose Miss Theo won't obey papa's orders, and get him out of herfoolish little head. Wilt thou, Theo?"
"No, dearest, dearest, best papa!"
"What! more embraces and kisses! What does all this mean?"
"It means that--that George is in the drawing-room," says mamma.
"Is he! My dearest boy!" cries the General. "Come to me--come in!" Andwhen I entered he held me to his heart, and kissed me.
I confess at this I was so overcome that I fell down on my knees beforethe dear, good man, and sobbed on his own.
"God bless you, my dearest boy!" he mutters hurriedly. "Always loved youas a son--haven't I, Molly? Broke my heart nearly when I quarrelled withyou about this little--What!--odds marrowbones!--all down on your knees!Mrs. Lambert, pray what is the meaning of all this?"
"Dearest, dearest papa! I will go with you all the same!" whimpers oneof the kneeling party. "And I will wait--oh!--as long as ever my dearestfather wants
me!"
"In Heaven's name!" roars the General, "tell me what has happened?"
What had happened was, that George Esmond Warrington and TheodosiaLambert had been married in Southwark that morning, their banns havingbeen duly called in the church of a certain friend of the Reverend Mr.Sampson.