Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges by William Makepeace Thackeray
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 victim onTower Hill: for, in the few months they spent together at Castlewood, Mr.Holt obtained an entire mastery over the boy's intellect and affections;and had brought him to think, as indeed Father Holt thought with all hisheart too, that no life was so noble, no death so desirable, as that whichmany brethren of his famous order were ready to undergo. By love, by abrightness of wit and good humour that charmed all, by an authority whichhe knew how to assume, by a mystery and silence about him which increasedthe child's reverence for him, he won Harry's absolute fealty, and wouldhave kept it, doubtless, if schemes greater and more important than a poorlittle boy's admission into orders 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: andhis little pupil scarce ever shed more bitter tears in his life than hedid for nights after the first parting with his dear friend, as he lay inthe lonely chamber next to that which the father used to occupy. He and afew 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 hadmany hours unoccupied, and read in the library, and bewildered his littlebrains 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 a period notunhappy. When the family was at London the whole of the establishmenttravelled thither with the exception of the porter, who was, moreover,brewer, gardener, and woodman, and his wife and children. These had theirlodging in the gate-house hard by, with a door into the court; and awindow looking out on the green was the chaplain's room; and next to thisa small chamber where Father Holt had his books, and Harry Esmond hissleeping-closet. The side of the house facing the east had escaped theguns of the Cromwellians, whose battery was on the height facing thewestern court; so that this eastern end bore few marks of demolition, savein the chapel, where the painted windows surviving Edward the Sixth hadbeen broke by the Commonwealth men. In Father Holt's time little HarryEsmond acted as his familiar, and faithful little servitor; beating hisclothes, folding his vestments, fetching his water from the well longbefore daylight, ready to run anywhere for the service of his belovedpriest. When the father was away he locked his private chamber; but theroom where the books were was left to little Harry, who, but for thesociety of this gentleman, was little less solitary when Lord Castlewoodwas at home.
The French wit saith that a hero is none to his valet de chambre, and itrequired less quick eyes than my lady's little page was naturally endowedwith, to see that she had many qualities by no means heroic, however muchMrs. Tusher might flatter and coax her. When Father Holt was not by, whoexercised an entire authority over the pair, my lord and my ladyquarrelled and abused each other so as to make the servants laugh, and tofrighten the little page on duty. The poor boy trembled before hismistress, who called him by a hundred ugly names, who made nothing ofboxing his ears--and tilting the silver basin in his face which it was hisbusiness to present to her after dinner. She hath repaired, by subsequentkindness to him, these severities, which it must be owned made hischildhood very unhappy. She was but unhappy herself at this time, poorsoul, and I suppose made her dependants lead her own sad life. I think mylord was as much afraid of her as her page was, and the only person of thehousehold who mastered her was Mr. Holt. Harry was only too glad when thefather dined at table, and to slink away and prattle with him afterwards,or read with him, or walk with him. Luckily my lady viscountess did notrise till noon. Heaven help the poor waiting-woman who had charge of hertoilet! I have often seen the poor wretch come out with red eyes from thecloset, where those long and mysterious rites of her ladyship's dress wereperformed, and the backgammon-box locked up with a rap on Mrs. Tusher'sfingers when she played ill or the game was going the wrong way.
Blessed be the king who introduced cards, and the kind inventors of piquetand cribbage, for they employed six hours at least of her ladyship's day,during which her family was pretty easy. Without this occupation my ladyfrequently declared she should die. Her dependants one after anotherrelieved guard--'twas rather a dangerous post to play with her ladyship--andtook the cards turn about. Mr. Holt would sit with her at piquet duringhours together, at which time she behaved herself properly; and, as forDr. Tusher, I believe he would have left a parishioner's dying bed, ifsummoned to play a rubber with his patroness at Castlewood. Sometimes,when they were pretty comfortable together, my lord took a hand. Besidesthese my lady had her faithful poor Tusher, and one, two, threegentlewomen whom Harry Esmond could recollect in his time. They could notbear that genteel service very long; one after another tried and failed atit. These and the housekeeper, and little Harry Esmond, had a table oftheir own. Poor ladies! their life was far harder than the page's. He wasfound asleep tucked up in his little bed, whilst they were sitting by herladyship reading her to sleep, with the _News Letter_ or the _GrandCyrus_. My lady used to have boxes of new plays from London, and Harry wasforbidden, under the pain of a whipping, to look into them. I am afraid hedeserved the penalty pretty often, and got it sometimes. Father Holtapplied it twice or thrice, when he caught the young scapegrace with adelightful wicked comedy of Mr. Shadwell's or Mr. Wycherley's under hispillow.
These, when he took any, were my lord's favourite reading. But he wasaverse to much study, and, as his little page fancied, to much occupationof any sort.
It always seemed to young Harry Esmond that my lord treated him with morekindness when his lady was not present, and Lord Castlewood would take thelad sometimes on his little journeys a-hunting or a-birding; he loved toplay at cards and tric-trac with him, which games the boy learned topleasure his lord: and was growing to like him better daily, showing aspecial pleasure if Father Holt gave a good report of him, patting him onthe head, and promising that he would provide for the boy. However, in mylady's presence, my lord showed no such marks of kindness, and affected totreat the lad roughly, and rebuked him sharply for little faults--for whichhe in a manner asked pardon of young Esmond when they were private, sayingif he did not speak roughly, she would, and his tongue was not such a badone as his lady's--a point whereof the boy, young as he was, was very wellassured.
Great public events were happening all this while, of which the simpleyoung page took little count. But one day, riding into the neighbouringtown on the step of my lady's coach, his lordship and she and Father Holtbeing inside, a great mob of people came hooting and jeering round thecoach, bawling out, "The bishops for ever!" "Down with the Pope!" "NoPopery! no Popery! Jezebel, Jezebel!" so that my lord began to laugh, mylady's eyes to roll with anger, for she was as bold as a lioness, andfeared nobody; whilst Mr. Holt, as Esmond saw from his place on the step,sank back with rather an alarmed face, crying out to her ladyship, "ForGod's sake, madam, do not speak or look out of window, sit still." But shedid not obey this prudent injunction of the father; she thrust her headout of the coach window, and screamed out to the coachman, "Flog your waythrough 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 seen himcheer and halloo the hounds very briskly, and his face (which wasgenerally very yellow and calm) grow quite red and cheerful during a burstover the Downs after a hare, and laugh, and swear, and huzza at acockfight, of which sport he was very fond. And now, when the mob began tohoot his lady, he laughed with something of a mischievous look, as thoughhe expected sport, and thought that she and they were a match.
James the coach
It was a market day and the country people were all assembled with theirbaskets of poultry, eggs, and such things; the postilion had no soonerlashed the man who would have taken hold of his horse, but a great cabbagecame whirling like a bombshell into the carriage, at which my lord laughedmore, for it knocked my lady's fan out of her hand, and plumped intoFather Holt's stomach. Then came a shower of carrots and potatoes.
"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 out this_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," hesaid, and stooped to pick up another; the crowd had gathered quite betweenthe horses and in the inn door by this time, and the coach was brought toa dead standstill. My lord jumped as briskly as a boy out of the door onhis side of the coach, squeezing little Harry behind it; had hold of thepotato-thrower's collar in an instant, and the next moment the brute'sheels were in the air, and he fell on the stones with a thump.
"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, "Huzza, my lord!" for they knew him, and thesaddler's man was a known bruiser, near twice as big as my lord viscount.
"Make way, there," says he (he spoke in a high shrill voice, but with agreat air of authority). "Make way, and let her ladyship's carriage pass."The men that were between the coach and the gate of the "Bell" actuallydid make way, and the horses went in, my lord walking after them with hishat 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. "Who daresabuse the king's religion? You, you d----d psalm-singing cobbler, as sure asI'm a magistrate of this county I'll commit you!" The fellow shrunk back,and my lord retreated with all the honours of the day. But when the littleflurry caused by the scene was over, and the flush passed off his face, herelapsed into his usual languor, trifled with his little dog, and yawnedwhen my lady spoke to him.
This mob was one of many thousands that were going about the country atthat time, huzzaing 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 my lord;and a judge in a red gown, who seemed a very great personage, especiallycomplimented him and my lady, who was mighty grand. Harry remembers hertrain borne up by her gentlewoman. There was an assembly and ball at thegreat room at the "Bell", and other young gentlemen of the county familieslooked on as he did. One of them jeered him for his black eye, which wasswelled by the potato, and another called him a bastard, on which he andHarry fell to fisticuffs. My lord's cousin, Colonel Esmond of Walcote, wasthere, and separated the two lads, a great tall gentleman with a handsome,good-natured face. The boy did not know how nearly in after-life he shouldbe allied to Colonel Esmond, and how much kindness he should have to owehim.
There was little love between the two families. My lady used not to spareColonel Esmond in talking of him, for reasons which have been hintedalready; but about which, at his tender age, Henry Esmond could beexpected 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 great houseof 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 stanch 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 even oldSievewright, the republican blacksmith, along with them: for my lady,though she was a Papist, and had many odd ways, was kind to the tenantry,and there was always a plenty of beef, and blankets, and medicine for thepoor at Castlewood Hall.
A kingdom was changing hands whilst my lord and lady were away. King Jameswas flying, the Dutchmen were coming; awful stories about them and thePrince of Orange used old Mrs. Worksop to tell to the idle little page.
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 hundred childishpursuits and pastimes, without doors and within, which made this time verypleasant.