CHAPTER IV.
I AM PLACED UNDER A POPISH PRIEST AND BRED TO THATRELIGION.--VISCOUNTESS CASTLEWOOD.
Had time enough been given, and his childish inclinations been properlynurtured, Harry Esmond had been a Jesuit priest ere he was a dozen yearsolder, and might have finished his days a martyr in China or a victimon Tower Hill: for, in the few months they spent together at Castlewood,Mr. Holt obtained an entire mastery over the boy's intellect andaffections; and had brought him to think, as indeed Father Holtthought with all his heart too, that no life was so noble, no death sodesirable, as that which many brethren of his famous order were readyto undergo. By love, by a brightness of wit and good-humor that charmedall, by an authority which he knew how to assume, by a mystery andsilence about him which increased the child's reverence for him, he wonHarry's absolute fealty, and would have kept it, doubtless, if schemesgreater and more important than a poor little boy's admission intoorders had not called him away.
After being at home for a few months in tranquillity (if theirs might becalled tranquillity, which was, in truth, a constant bickering), my lordand lady left the country for London, taking their director with them:and his little pupil scarce ever shed more bitter tears in his life thanhe did for nights after the first parting with his dear friend, as helay in the lonely chamber next to that which the Father used to occupy.He and a few domestics were left as the only tenants of the great house:and, though Harry sedulously did all the tasks which the Father set him,he had many hours unoccupied, and read in the library, and bewilderedhis little brains with the great books he found there.
After a while, the little lad grew accustomed to the loneliness of theplace; and in after days remembered this part of his life as aperiod not unhappy. When the family was at London the whole of theestablishment travelled thither with the exception of the porter--whowas, moreover, brewer, gardener, and woodman--and his wife and children.These had their lodging in the gate-house hard by, with a door into thecourt; and a window looking out on the green was the Chaplain's room;and next to this a small chamber where Father Holt had his books, andHarry Esmond his sleeping closet. The side of the house facing theeast had escaped the guns of the Cromwellians, whose battery was on theheight facing the western court; so that this eastern end bore few marksof demolition, save in the chapel, where the painted windows survivingEdward the Sixth had been broke by the Commonwealthmen. In Father Holt'stime little Harry Esmond acted as his familiar and faithful littleservitor; beating his clothes, folding his vestments, fetching hiswater from the well long before daylight, ready to run anywhere for theservice of his beloved priest. When the Father was away, he locked hisprivate chamber; but the room where the books were was left to littleHarry, who, but for the society of this gentleman, was little lesssolitary when Lord Castlewood was at home.
The French wit saith that a hero is none to his valet-de-chambre, andit required less quick eyes than my lady's little page was naturallyendowed with, to see that she had many qualities by no means heroic,however much Mrs. Tusher might flatter and coax her. When Father Holtwas not by, who exercised an entire authority over the pair, my lordand my lady quarrelled and abused each other so as to make the servantslaugh, and to frighten the little page on duty. The poor boy trembledbefore his mistress, who called him by a hundred ugly names, who madenothing of boxing his ears, and tilting the silver basin in his facewhich it was his business to present to her after dinner. She hathrepaired, by subsequent kindness to him, these severities, which it mustbe owned made his childhood very unhappy. She was but unhappy herself atthis time, poor soul! and I suppose made her dependants lead her own sadlife. I think my lord was as much afraid of her as her page was, and theonly person of the household who mastered her was Mr. Holt. Harry wasonly too glad when the Father dined at table, and to slink away andprattle with him afterwards, or read with him, or walk with him.Luckily my Lady Viscountess did not rise till noon. Heaven help the poorwaiting-woman who had charge of her toilet! I have often seen the poorwretch come out with red eyes from the closet where those long andmysterious rites of her ladyship's dress were performed, and thebackgammon-box locked up with a rap on Mrs. Tusher's fingers when sheplayed ill, or the game was going the wrong way.
Blessed be the king who introduced cards, and the kind inventorsof piquet and cribbage, for they employed six hours at least of herladyship's day, during which her family was pretty easy. Without thisoccupation my lady frequently declared she should die. Her dependantsone after another relieved guard--'twas rather a dangerous post to playwith her ladyship--and took the cards turn about. Mr. Holt would sitwith her at piquet during hours together, at which time she behavedherself properly; and as for Dr. Tusher, I believe he would have left aparishioner's dying bed, if summoned to play a rubber with his patronessat Castlewood. Sometimes, when they were pretty comfortable together,my lord took a hand. Besides these my lady had her faithful poor Tusher,and one, two, three gentlewomen whom Harry Esmond could recollect inhis time. They could not bear that genteel service very long; one afteranother tried and failed at it. These and the housekeeper, and littleHarry Esmond, had a table of their own. Poor ladies their life was farharder than the page's. He was sound asleep, tucked up in his littlebed, whilst they were sitting by her ladyship reading her to sleep, withthe "News Letter" or the "Grand Cyrus." My lady used to have boxes ofnew plays from London, and Harry was forbidden, under the pain of awhipping, to look into them. I am afraid he deserved the penalty prettyoften, and got it sometimes. Father Holt applied it twice or thrice,when he caught the young scapegrace with a delightful wicked comedy ofMr. Shadwell's or Mr. Wycherley's under his pillow.
These, when he took any, were my lord's favorite reading. But hewas averse to much study, and, as his little page fancied, to muchoccupation of any sort.
It always seemed to young Harry Esmond that my lord treated him withmore kindness when his lady was not present, and Lord Castlewood wouldtake the lad sometimes on his little journeys a-hunting or a-birding;he loved to play at cards and tric-trac with him, which games the boylearned to pleasure his lord: and was growing to like him better daily,showing a special pleasure if Father Holt gave a good report of him,patting him on the head, and promising that he would provide for theboy. However, in my lady's presence, my lord showed no such marks ofkindness, and affected to treat the lad roughly, and rebuked him sharplyfor little faults, for which he in a manner asked pardon of young Esmondwhen they were private, saying if he did not speak roughly, she would,and his tongue was not such a bad one as his lady's--a point whereof theboy, young as he was, was very well assured.
Great public events were happening all this while, of which the simpleyoung page took little count. But one day, riding into the neighboringtown on the step of my lady's coach, his lordship and she and FatherHolt being inside, a great mob of people came hooting and jeering roundthe coach, bawling out "The Bishops for ever!" "Down with the Pope!" "NoPopery! no Popery! Jezebel, Jezebel!" so that my lord began to laugh,my lady's eyes to roll with anger, for she was as bold as a lioness,and feared nobody; whilst Mr. Holt, as Esmond saw from his place on thestep, sank back with rather an alarmed face, crying out to her ladyship,"For God's sake, madam, do not speak or look out of window; sit still."But she did not obey this prudent injunction of the Father; she thrusther head out of the coach window, and screamed out to the coachman,"Flog your way through them, the brutes, James, and use your whip!"
The mob answered with a roaring jeer of laughter, and fresh cries of"Jezebel! Jezebel!" My lord only laughed the more: he was a languidgentleman: nothing seemed to excite him commonly, though I have seenhim cheer and halloo the hounds very briskly, and his face (which wasgenerally very yellow and calm) grow quite red and cheerful during aburst over the Downs after a hare, and laugh, and swear, and huzzah at acockfight, of which sport he was very fond. And now, when the mob beganto hoot his lady, he laughed with something of a mischievous look, asthough he expected sport, and thought that she and they were a match.
Ja
mes the coachman was more afraid of his mistress than the mob,probably, for he whipped on his horses as he was bidden, and thepost-boy that rode with the first pair (my lady always rode with hercoach-and-six,) gave a cut of his thong over the shoulders of one fellowwho put his hand out towards the leading horse's rein.
It was a market-day, and the country-people were all assembled withtheir baskets of poultry, eggs, and such things; the postilion had nosooner lashed the man who would have taken hold of his horse, but agreat cabbage came whirling like a bombshell into the carriage, at whichmy lord laughed more, for it knocked my lady's fan out of her hand, andplumped into Father Holt's stomach. Then came a shower of carrots andpotatoes.
"For Heaven's sake be still!" says Mr. Holt; "we are not ten paces fromthe 'Bell' archway, where they can shut the gates on us, and keep outthis canaille."
The little page was outside the coach on the step, and a fellow in thecrowd aimed a potato at him, and hit him in the eye, at which the poorlittle wretch set up a shout; the man laughed, a great big saddler'sapprentice of the town. "Ah! you d--- little yelling Popish bastard,"he said, and stooped to pick up another; the crowd had gathered quitebetween the horses and the inn door by this time, and the coach wasbrought to a dead stand-still. My lord jumped as briskly as a boy out ofthe door on his side of the coach, squeezing little Harry behind it; hadhold of the potato-thrower's collar in an instant, and the next momentthe brute's heels were in the air, and he fell on the stones with athump.
"You hulking coward!" says he; "you pack of screaming blackguards! howdare you attack children, and insult women? Fling another shot at thatcarriage, you sneaking pigskin cobbler, and by the Lord I'll send myrapier through you!"
Some of the mob cried, "Huzzah, my lord!" for they knew him, andthe saddler's man was a known bruiser, near twice as big as my lordViscount.
"Make way there," says he (he spoke in a high shrill voice, but witha great air of authority). "Make way, and let her ladyship's carriagepass." The men that were between the coach and the gate of the "Bell"actually did make way, and the horses went in, my lord walking afterthem with his hat on his head.
As he was going in at the gate, through which the coach had just rolled,another cry begins, of "No Popery--no Papists!" My lord turns round andfaces them once more.
"God save the King!" says he at the highest pitch of his voice. "Whodares abuse the King's religion? You, you d--d psalm-singing cobbler,as sure as I'm a magistrate of this county I'll commit you!" The fellowshrank back, and my lord retreated with all the honors of the day.But when the little flurry caused by the scene was over, and the flushpassed off his face, he relapsed into his usual languor, trifled withhis little dog, and yawned when my lady spoke to him.
This mob was one of many thousands that were going about the country atthat time, huzzahing for the acquittal of the seven bishops who had beentried just then, and about whom little Harry Esmond at that time knewscarce anything. It was Assizes at Hexton, and there was a great meetingof the gentry at the "Bell;" and my lord's people had their new liverieson, and Harry a little suit of blue and silver, which he wore uponoccasions of state; and the gentlefolks came round and talked to mylord: and a judge in a red gown, who seemed a very great personage,especially complimented him and my lady, who was mighty grand. Harryremembers her train borne up by her gentlewoman. There was an assemblyand ball at the great room at the "Bell," and other young gentlemen ofthe county families looked on as he did. One of them jeered him for hisblack eye, which was swelled by the potato, and another called him abastard, on which he and Harry fell to fisticuffs. My lord's cousin,Colonel Esmond of Walcote, was there, and separated the two lads--agreat tall gentleman, with a handsome good-natured face. The boy did notknow how nearly in after-life he should be allied to Colonel Esmond, andhow much kindness he should have to owe him.
There was little love between the two families. My lady used not tospare Colonel Esmond in talking of him, for reasons which have beenhinted already; but about which, at his tender age, Henry Esmond couldbe expected to know nothing.
Very soon afterwards, my lord and lady went to London with Mr. Holt,leaving, however, the page behind them. The little man had the greathouse of Castlewood to himself; or between him and the housekeeper, Mrs.Worksop, an old lady who was a kinswoman of the family in some distantway, and a Protestant, but a staunch Tory and king's-man, as all theEsmonds were. He used to go to school to Dr. Tusher when he was at home,though the Doctor was much occupied too. There was a great stir andcommotion everywhere, even in the little quiet village of Castlewood,whither a party of people came from the town, who would have brokenCastlewood Chapel windows, but the village people turned out, and evenold Sieveright, the republican blacksmith, along with them: for mylady, though she was a Papist, and had many odd ways, was kind to thetenantry, and there was always a plenty of beef, and blankets, andmedicine for the poor at Castlewood Hall.
A kingdom was changing hands whilst my lord and lady were away. KingJames was flying, the Dutchmen were coming; awful stories about them andthe Prince of Orange used old Mrs. Worksop to tell to the idle littlepage.
He liked the solitude of the great house very well; he had all theplay-books to read, and no Father Holt to whip him, and a hundredchildish pursuits and pastimes, without doors and within, which madethis time very pleasant.
The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne Page 7