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- Author: William Makepeace Thackeray
Book online «The Virginians by William Makepeace Thackeray (kiss me liar novel english txt) 📖». Author William Makepeace Thackeray
“I am told you saved yourself, sir, mainly by your knowledge of the French language,” the Royal Duke then affably observed. Mr. Warrington modestly mentioned how he had been in the French colonies in his youth, and had opportunities of acquiring that tongue.
The Prince (who had a great urbanity when well pleased, and the finest sense of humour) condescended to ask who had taught Mr. Warrington the language; and to express his opinion, that, for the pronunciation, the French ladies were by far the best teachers.
The young Virginian gentleman made a low bow, and said it was not for him to gainsay his Royal Highness; upon which the Duke was good enough to say (in a jocose manner) that Mr. Warrington was a sly dog.
Mr. W. remaining respectfully silent, the Prince continued, most kindly: “I take the field immediately against the French, who, as you know, are threatening his Majesty's Electoral dominions, If you have a mind to make the campaign with me, your skill in the language may be useful, and I hope we shall be more fortunate than poor Braddock!” Every eye was fixed on a young man to whom so great a Prince offered so signal a favour.
And now it was that Mr. George thought he would make his very cleverest speech. “Sir,” he said, “your Royal Highness's most kind proposal does me infinite honour, but——”
“But what, sir?” says the Prince, staring at him.
“But I have entered myself of the Temple, to study our laws, and to fit myself for my duties at home. If my having been wounded in the service of my country be any claim on your kindness, I would humbly ask that my brother, who knows the French language as well as myself, and has far more strength, courage, and military genius, might be allowed to serve your Royal Highness; in the place of——”
“Enough, enough, sir!” cried out the justly irritated son of the monarch. “What? I offer you a favour, and you hand it over to your brother? Wait, sir, till I offer you another!” And with this the Prince turned his back upon Mr. Warrington, just as abruptly as he turned it on the French a few months afterwards.
“Oh, George! oh, George! Here's a pretty kettle of fish!” groaned General Lambert, as he and his young friend walked home together.
CHAPTER LXI. In which the Prince marches up the Hill and down again
We understand the respectful indignation of all loyal Britons when they come to read of Mr. George Warrington's conduct towards a gallant and gracious Prince, the beloved son of the best of monarchs, and the Captain-General of the British army. What an inestimable favour has not the young man slighted! What a chance of promotion had he not thrown away! Will Esmond, whose language was always rich in blasphemies, employed his very strongest curses in speaking of his cousin's behaviour, and expressed his delight that the confounded young Mohock was cutting his own throat. Cousin Castlewood said that a savage gentleman had a right to scalp himself if he liked; or perhaps, he added charitably, our cousin Mr. Warrington heard enough of the war-whoop in Braddock's affair, and has no more stomach for fighting. Mr. Will rejoiced that the younger brother had gone to the deuce, and he rejoiced to think that the elder was following him. The first time he met the fellow, Will said, he should take care to let Mr. George know what he thought of him.
“If you intend to insult George, at least you had best take care that his brother Harry is out of hearing!” cried Lady Maria—on which we may fancy more curses uttered by Mr. Will, with regard to his twin kinsfolk.
“Ta, ta, ta!” says my lord. “No more of this squabbling! We can't be all warriors in the family!”
“I never heard your lordship laid claim to be one!” says Maria.
“Never, my dear; quite the contrary! Will is our champion, and one is quite enough in the house. So I dare say with the two Mohocks;—George is the student, and Harry is the fighting man. When you intended to quarrel, Will, what a pity it was you had not George, instead of t'other, to your hand!”
“Your lordship's hand is famous—at piquet,” says Will's mother.
“It is a pretty one,” says my lord, surveying his fingers, with a simper. “My Lord Hervey's glove and mine were of a size. Yes, my hand, as you say, is more fitted for cards than for war. Yours, my Lady Castlewood, is pretty dexterous, too. How I bless the day when you bestowed it on my lamented father!” In this play of sarcasm, as in some other games of skill, his lordship was not sorry to engage, having a cool head, and being able to beat his family all round.
Madame de Bernstein, when she heard of Mr. Warrington's bevue, was exceedingly angry, stormed, and scolded her immediate household; and would have scolded George but she was growing old, and had not the courage of her early days. Moreover, she was a little afraid of her nephew, and respectful in her behaviour to him. “You will never make your fortune at court, nephew!” she groaned, when, soon after his discomfiture, the young gentleman went to wait upon her.
“It was never my wish, madam,” said Mr. George, in a very stately manner.
“Your wish was to help Harry? You might hereafter have been of service to your brother, had you accepted the Duke's offer. Princes do not love to have their favours refused, and I don't wonder that his Royal Highness was offended.”
“General Lambert said the same thing,” George confessed, turning rather red; “and I see now that I was wrong. But you must please remember that I had never seen a court before, and I suppose I am scarce likely to shine in one.”
“I think possibly not, my good nephew,” says the aunt, taking snuff.
“And what then?” asked George. “I never had ambition for that kind of glory, and can make myself quite easy without it. When his Royal Highness spoke to me—most kindly, as I own—my thought was, I shall make a very bad soldier, and my brother would be a very good one. He has a hundred good qualities for the profession, in which I am deficient; and would have served a Commanding Officer far better than I ever could. Say the Duke is in battle, and his horse is shot, as my poor chief's was at home, would he not be better for a beast that had courage and strength to bear him anywhere, than with one that could not carry his weight?”
“Au fait. His Royal Highness's charger must be a
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