Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges. William Makepeace Thackeray

      “That's not Mohun's fault,” says my lord, “and I will be revenged on him, as God's in heaven, I will.”

      “For a light word or two, will you risk your lady's honour and your family's happiness, my lord?” Esmond interposed beseechingly.

      “Psha—there shall be no question of my wife's honour,” said my lord; “we can quarrel on plenty of grounds beside. If I live, that villain will be punished; if I fall, my family will be only the better: there will only be a spendthrift the less to keep in the world: and Frank has better teaching than his father. My mind is made up, Harry Esmond, and whatever the event is I am easy about it. I leave my wife and you as guardians to the children.”

      Seeing that my lord was bent upon pursuing this quarrel, and that no entreaties would draw him from it, Harry Esmond (then of a hotter and more impetuous nature than now, when care, and reflection, and grey hairs have calmed him) thought it was his duty to stand by his kind generous patron, and said—“My lord, if you are determined upon war, you must not go into it alone. 'Tis the duty of our house to stand by its chief: and I should neither forgive myself nor you if you did not call me, or I should be absent from you at a moment of danger.”

      “Why, Harry, my poor boy, you are bred for a parson,” says my lord, taking Esmond by the hand very kindly: “and it were a great pity that you should meddle in the matter.”

      “Your lordship thought of being a churchman once,” Harry answered, “and your father's orders did not prevent him fighting at Castlewood against the Roundheads. Your enemies are mine, sir: I can use the foils, as you have seen, indifferently well, and don't think I shall be afraid when the buttons are taken off 'em.” And then Harry explained with some blushes and hesitation (for the matter was delicate, and he feared lest, by having put himself forward in the quarrel, he might have offended his patron), how he had himself expostulated with the Lord Mohun, and proposed to measure swords with him if need were, and he could not be got to withdraw peaceably in this dispute. “And I should have beat him, sir,” says Harry, laughing. “He never could parry that botte I brought from Cambridge. Let us have half an hour of it, and rehearse—I can teach [pg 155] it your lordship: 'tis the most delicate point in the world, and if you miss it your adversary's sword is through you.”

      “By George, Harry! you ought to be the head of the house,” says my lord gloomily. “You had been better Lord Castlewood than a lazy sot like me,” he added, drawing his hand across his eyes, and surveying his kinsman with very kind and affectionate glances.

      “Let us take our coats off and have half an hour's practice before nightfall,” says Harry, after thankfully grasping his patron's manly hand.

      “You are but a little bit of a lad,” says my lord good-humouredly; “but, in faith, I believe you could do for that fellow. No, my boy,” he continued, “I'll have none of your feints and tricks of stabbing: I can use my sword pretty well too, and will fight my own quarrel my own way.”

      “But I shall be by to see fair play,” cries Harry.

      “Yes, God bless you—you shall be by.”

      “When is it, sir?” says Harry, for he saw that the matter had been arranged privately, and beforehand, by my lord.

      “'Tis arranged thus: I sent off a courier to Jack Westbury to say that I wanted him specially. He knows for what, and will be here presently, and drink part of that bottle of sack. Then we shall go to the theatre in Duke Street, where we shall meet Mohun; and then we shall all go sup at the ‘Rose’ or the ‘Greyhound’. Then we shall call for cards, and there will be probably a difference over the cards—and then, God help us!—either a wicked villain and traitor shall go out of the world, or a poor worthless devil, that doesn't care to remain in it. I am better away, Hal—my wife will be all the happier when I am gone,” says my lord, with a groan, that tore the heart of Harry Esmond so that he fairly broke into a sob over his patron's kind hand.

      “The business was talked over with Mohun before he left home—Castlewood I mean”—my lord went on. “I took the letter in to him, which I had read, and I charged him with his villany, and he could make no denial of it, only he said that my wife was innocent.”

      “And so she is; before Heaven, my lord, she is!” cries Harry.

      “No doubt, no doubt. They always are,” says my lord. “No doubt, when she heard he was killed, she fainted from accident.”

      [pg 156]

      “But, my lord, my name is Harry,” cried out Esmond, burning red. “You told my lady, ‘Harry was killed!’ ”

      “Damnation! shall I fight you too?” shouts my lord, in a fury. “Are you, you little serpent, warmed by my fire, going to sting—you?—No, my boy, you're an honest boy; you are a good boy.” (And here he broke from rage into tears even more cruel to see.) “You are an honest boy, and I love you; and, by Heavens, I am so wretched that I don't care what sword it is that ends me. Stop, here's Jack Westbury. Well, Jack! Welcome, old boy! This is my kinsman, Harry Esmond.”

      “Who brought your bowls for you at Castlewood, sir,” says Harry, bowing; and the three gentlemen sat down and drank of that bottle of sack which was prepared for them.

      “Harry is number three,” says my lord. “You needn't be afraid of him, Jack.” And the colonel gave a look, as much as to say, “Indeed, he don't look as if I need.” And then my lord explained what he had only told by hints before. When he quarrelled with Lord Mohun he was indebted to his lordship in a sum of sixteen hundred pounds, for which Lord Mohun said he proposed to wait until my lord viscount should pay him. My lord had raised the sixteen hundred pounds and sent them to Lord Mohun that morning, and before quitting home had put his affairs into order, and was now quite ready to abide the issue of the quarrel.

      When we had drunk a couple of bottles of sack, a coach was called, and the three gentlemen went to the Duke's Playhouse, as agreed. The play was one of Mr. Wycherley's—Love in a Wood.

      Harry Esmond has thought of that play ever since with a kind of terror, and of Mrs. Bracegirdle, the actress who performed the girl's part in the comedy. She was disguised as a page, and came and stood before the gentlemen as they sat on the stage, and looked over her shoulder with a pair of arch black eyes, and laughed at my lord, and asked what ailed the gentlemen from the country, and had he had bad news from Bullock Fair?

      Between the acts of the play the gentlemen crossed over and conversed freely. There were two of Lord Mohun's party, Captain Macartney, in a military habit, and a gentleman in a suit of blue velvet and silver in a fair periwig, with a rich fall of point of Venice lace—my lord the Earl of [pg 157] Warwick and Holland. My lord had a paper of oranges, which he ate and offered to the actresses, joking with them. And Mrs. Bracegirdle, when my Lord Mohun said something rude, turned on him, and asked him what he did there, and whether he and his friends had come to stab anybody else, as they did poor Will Mountford? My lord's dark face grew darker at this taunt, and wore a mischievous fatal look. They that saw it remembered it, and said so afterward.

      When the play was ended the two parties joined company; and my Lord Castlewood then proposed that they should go to a tavern and sup. Lockit's, the “Greyhound”, in Charing Cross, was the house selected. All six marched together that way; the three lords going ahead, Lord Mohun's captain, and Colonel Westbury, and Harry Esmond, walking behind them. As they walked, Westbury told Harry Esmond about his old friend Dick the Scholar, who had got promotion, and was cornet of the Guards, and had wrote a book called the Christian Hero, and had all the Guards to laugh at him for his pains, for the Christian Hero was breaking the commandments constantly, Westbury said, and had fought one or two duels already. And, in a lower tone, Westbury besought young Mr. Esmond to take no part in the quarrel. “There was no need for more seconds than one,” said the colonel, “and the captain or Lord Warwick might easily withdraw.” But Harry said no; he was bent on going through with the business. Indeed, he had a plan in his head, which, he thought, might prevent my lord viscount from engaging.

      They went in at the bar of the tavern, and desired a private room and wine and cards,