CHAPTER III.
WHITHER IN THE TIME OF THOMAS, THIRD VISCOUNT, I HAD PRECEDED HIM ASPAGE TO ISABELLA.
Coming up to London again some short time after this retreat, the LordCastlewood despatched a retainer of his to a little Cottage in thevillage of Ealing, near to London, where for some time had dwelt anold French refugee, by name Mr. Pastoureau, one of those whom thepersecution of the Huguenots by the French king had brought over to thiscountry. With this old man lived a little lad, who went by the name ofHenry Thomas. He remembered to have lived in another place a short timebefore, near to London too, amongst looms and spinning-wheels, and agreat deal of psalm-singing and church-going, and a whole colony ofFrenchmen.
There he had a dear, dear friend, who died, and whom he called Aunt. Sheused to visit him in his dreams sometimes; and her face, though it washomely, was a thousand times dearer to him than that of Mrs. Pastoureau,Bon Papa Pastoureau's new wife, who came to live with him after auntwent away. And there, at Spittlefields, as it used to be called, livedUncle George, who was a weaver too, but used to tell Harry that he wasa little gentleman, and that his father was a captain, and his mother anangel.
When he said so, Bon Papa used to look up from the loom, where he wasembroidering beautiful silk flowers, and say, "Angel! she belongs to theBabylonish scarlet woman." Bon Papa was always talking of the scarletwoman. He had a little room where he always used to preach andsing hymns out of his great old nose. Little Harry did not like thepreaching; he liked better the fine stories which aunt used to tell him.Bon Papa's wife never told him pretty stories; she quarrelled with UncleGeorge, and he went away.
After this, Harry's Bon Papa and his wife and two children of her ownthat she brought with her, came to live at Ealing. The new wife gave herchildren the best of everything, and Harry many a whipping, he knew notwhy. Besides blows, he got ill names from her, which need not be setdown here, for the sake of old Mr. Pastoureau, who was still kindsometimes. The unhappiness of those days is long forgiven, though theycast a shade of melancholy over the child's youth, which will accompanyhim, no doubt, to the end of his days: as those tender twigs are bentthe trees grow afterward; and he, at least, who has suffered as a child,and is not quite perverted in that early school of unhappiness, learnsto be gentle and long-suffering with little children.
Harry was very glad when a gentleman dressed in black, on horseback,with a mounted servant behind him, came to fetch him away from Ealing.The noverca, or unjust stepmother, who had neglected him for her owntwo children, gave him supper enough the night before he went away, andplenty in the morning. She did not beat him once, and told the childrento keep their hands off him. One was a girl, and Harry never could bearto strike a girl; and the other was a boy, whom he could easily havebeat, but he always cried out, when Mrs. Pastoureau came sailing to therescue with arms like a flail. She only washed Harry's face the day hewent away; nor ever so much as once boxed his ears. She whimpered ratherwhen the gentleman in black came for the boy; and old Mr. Pastoureau, ashe gave the child his blessing, scowled over his shoulder at the strangegentleman, and grumbled out something about Babylon and the scarletlady. He was grown quite old, like a child almost. Mrs. Pastoureauused to wipe his nose as she did to the children. She was a great, big,handsome young woman; but, though she pretended to cry, Harry thought'twas only a sham, and sprung quite delighted upon the horse upon whichthe lackey helped him.
He was a Frenchman; his name was Blaise. The child could talk to him inhis own language perfectly well: he knew it better than English indeed,having lived hitherto chiefly among French people: and being called theLittle Frenchman by other boys on Ealing Green. He soon learnt to speakEnglish perfectly, and to forget some of his French: children forgeteasily. Some earlier and fainter recollections the child had of adifferent country; and a town with tall white houses: and a ship. Butthese were quite indistinct in the boy's mind, as indeed the memory ofEaling soon became, at least of much that he suffered there.
The lackey before whom he rode was very lively and voluble, and informedthe boy that the gentleman riding before him was my lord's chaplain,Father Holt--that he was now to be called Master Harry Esmond--that myLord Viscount Castlewood was his parrain--that he was to live at thegreat house of Castlewood, in the province of ----shire, where he wouldsee Madame the Viscountess, who was a grand lady. And so, seated on acloth before Blaise's saddle, Harry Esmond was brought to London, and toa fine square called Covent Garden, near to which his patron lodged.
Mr. Holt, the priest, took the child by the hand, and brought him tothis nobleman, a grand languid nobleman in a great cap and floweredmorning-gown, sucking oranges. He patted Harry on the head and gave himan orange.
"C'est bien ca," he said to the priest after eying the child, and thegentleman in black shrugged his shoulders.
"Let Blaise take him out for a holiday," and out for a holiday the boyand the valet went. Harry went jumping along; he was glad enough to go.
He will remember to his life's end the delights of those days. He wastaken to see a play by Monsieur Blaise, in a house a thousand timesgreater and finer than the booth at Ealing Fair--and on the next happyday they took water on the river, and Harry saw London Bridge, with thehouses and booksellers' shops thereon, looking like a street, and theTower of London, with the Armor, and the great lions and bears in themoat--all under company of Monsieur Blaise.
Presently, of an early morning, all the party set forth for the country,namely, my Lord Viscount and the other gentleman; Monsieur Blaiseand Harry on a pillion behind them, and two or three men with pistolsleading the baggage-horses. And all along the road the Frenchman toldlittle Harry stories of brigands, which made the child's hair standon end, and terrified him; so that at the great gloomy inn on the roadwhere they lay, he besought to be allowed to sleep in a room with oneof the servants, and was compassionated by Mr. Holt, the gentlemanwho travelled with my lord, and who gave the child a little bed in hischamber.
His artless talk and answers very likely inclined this gentleman in theboy's favor, for next day Mr. Holt said Harry should ride behind him,and not with the French lacky; and all along the journey put a thousandquestions to the child--as to his foster-brother and relations atEaling; what his old grandfather had taught him; what languages he knew;whether he could read and write, and sing, and so forth. And Mr. Holtfound that Harry could read and write, and possessed the two languagesof French and English very well; and when he asked Harry about singing,the lad broke out with a hymn to the tune of Dr. Martin Luther, whichset Mr. Holt a-laughing; and even caused his grand parrain in the lacedhat and periwig to laugh too when Holt told him what the child wassinging. For it appeared that Dr. Martin Luther's hymns were not sung inthe churches Mr. Holt preached at.
"You must never sing that song any more: do you hear, little mannikin?"says my Lord Viscount, holding up a finger.
"But we will try and teach you a better, Harry," Mr. Holt said; andthe child answered, for he was a docile child, and of an affectionatenature, "That he loved pretty songs, and would try and learn anythingthe gentleman would tell him." That day he so pleased the gentlemen byhis talk, that they had him to dine with them at the inn, and encouragedhim in his prattle; and Monsieur Blaise, with whom he rode and dined theday before, waited upon him now.
"'Tis well, 'tis well!" said Blaise, that night (in his own language)when they lay again at an inn. "We are a little lord here; we are alittle lord now: we shall see what we are when we come to Castlewood,where my lady is."
"When shall we come to Castlewood, Monsieur Blaise?" says Harry.
"Parbleu! my lord does not press himself," Blaise says, with a grin;and, indeed, it seemed as if his lordship was not in a great hurry, forhe spent three days on that journey which Harry Esmond hath often sinceridden in a dozen hours. For the last two of the days Harry rode withthe priest, who was so kind to him, that the child had grown to bequite fond and familiar with him by the journey's end, and had scarcea thought in his little heart which by that time
he had not confided tohis new friend.
At length, on the third day, at evening, they came to a village standingon a green with elms round it, very pretty to look at; and the peoplethere all took off their hats, and made curtsies to my Lord Viscount,who bowed to them all languidly; and there was one portly person thatwore a cassock and a broad-leafed hat, who bowed lower than any one--andwith this one both my lord and Mr. Holt had a few words. "This, Harry,is Castlewood church," says Mr. Holt, "and this is the pillar thereof,learned Doctor Tusher. Take off your hat, sirrah, and salute Dr.Tusher!"
"Come up to supper, Doctor," says my lord; at which the Doctor madeanother low bow, and the party moved on towards a grand house thatwas before them, with many gray towers and vanes on them, and windowsflaming in the sunshine; and a great army of rooks, wheeling over theirheads, made for the woods behind the house, as Harry saw; and Mr. Holttold him that they lived at Castlewood too.
They came to the house, and passed under an arch into a court-yard, witha fountain in the centre, where many men came and held my lord's stirrupas he descended, and paid great respect to Mr. Holt likewise. And thechild thought that the servants looked at him curiously, and smiled toone another--and he recalled what Blaise had said to him when they werein London, and Harry had spoken about his godpapa, when the Frenchmansaid, "Parbleu, one sees well that my lord is your godfather;"words whereof the poor lad did not know the meaning then, though heapprehended the truth in a very short time afterwards, and learned it,and thought of it with no small feeling of shame.
Taking Harry by the hand as soon as they were both descended from theirhorses, Mr. Holt led him across the court, and under a low door to roomson a level with the ground; one of which Father Holt said was to bethe boy's chamber, the other on the other side of the passage being theFather's own; and as soon as the little man's face was washed, and theFather's own dress arranged, Harry's guide took him once more to thedoor by which my lord had entered the hall, and up a stair, and throughan ante-room to my lady's drawing-room--an apartment than which Harrythought he had never seen anything more grand--no, not in the Towerof London which he had just visited. Indeed, the chamber was richlyornamented in the manner of Queen Elizabeth's time, with great stainedwindows at either end, and hangings of tapestry, which the sun shiningthrough the colored glass painted of a thousand lines; and here instate, by the fire, sat a lady to whom the priest took up Harry, who wasindeed amazed by her appearance.
My Lady Viscountess's face was daubed with white and red up to the eyes,to which the paint gave an unearthly glare: she had a tower of lace onher head, under which was a bush of black curls--borrowed curls--so thatno wonder little Harry Esmond was scared when he was first presented toher--the kind priest acting as master of the ceremonies at that solemnintroduction--and he stared at her with eyes almost as great as her own,as he had stared at the player woman who acted the wicked tragedy-queen,when the players came down to Ealing Fair. She sat in a great chair bythe fire-corner; in her lap was a spaniel-dog that barked furiously; ona little table by her was her ladyship's snuff-box and her sugar-plumbox. She wore a dress of black velvet, and a petticoat of flame-coloredbrocade. She had as many rings on her fingers as the old woman ofBanbury Cross; and pretty small feet which she was fond of showing, withgreat gold clocks to her stockings, and white pantofles with red heels;and an odor of musk was shook out of her garments whenever she movedor quitted the room, leaning on her tortoise-shell stick, little Furybarking at her heels.
Mrs. Tusher, the parson's wife, was with my lady. She had beenwaiting-woman to her ladyship in the late lord's time, and, having hersoul in that business, took naturally to it when the Viscountess ofCastlewood returned to inhabit her father's house.
"I present to your ladyship your kinsman and little page of honor,Master Henry Esmond," Mr. Holt said, bowing lowly, with a sort ofcomical humility. "Make a pretty bow to my lady, Monsieur; and thenanother little bow, not so low, to Madame Tusher--the fair priestess ofCastlewood."
"Where I have lived and hope to die, sir," says Madame Tusher, giving ahard glance at the brat, and then at my lady.
Upon her the boy's whole attention was for a time directed. He could notkeep his great eyes off from her. Since the Empress of Ealing, he hadseen nothing so awful.
"Does my appearance please you, little page?" asked the lady.
"He would be very hard to please if it didn't," cried Madame Tusher.
"Have done, you silly Maria," said Lady Castlewood.
"Where I'm attached, I'm attached, Madame--and I'd die rather than notsay so."
"Je meurs ou je m'attache," Mr. Holt said with a polite grin. "The ivysays so in the picture, and clings to the oak like a fond parasite as itis."
"Parricide, sir!" cries Mrs. Tusher.
"Hush, Tusher--you are always bickering with Father Holt," cried mylady. "Come and kiss my hand, child;" and the oak held out a BRANCH tolittle Harry Esmond, who took and dutifully kissed the lean old hand,upon the gnarled knuckles of which there glittered a hundred rings.
"To kiss that hand would make many a pretty fellow happy!" cried Mrs.Tusher: on which my lady crying out, "Go, you foolish Tusher!" andtapping her with her great fan, Tusher ran forward to seize her handand kiss it. Fury arose and barked furiously at Tusher; and Father Holtlooked on at this queer scene, with arch, grave glances.
The awe exhibited by the little boy perhaps pleased the lady to whomthis artless flattery was bestowed: for having gone down on his knee (asFather Holt had directed him, and the mode then was) and performed hisobeisance, she said, "Page Esmond, my groom of the chamber will informyou what your duties are, when you wait upon my lord and me; and goodFather Holt will instruct you as becomes a gentleman of our name. Youwill pay him obedience in everything, and I pray you may grow to be aslearned and as good as your tutor."
The lady seemed to have the greatest reverence for Mr. Holt, and to bemore afraid of him than of anything else in the world. If she was everso angry, a word or look from Father Holt made her calm: indeed he hada vast power of subjecting those who came near him; and, among the rest,his new pupil gave himself up with an entire confidence and attachmentto the good Father, and became his willing slave almost from the firstmoment he saw him.
He put his small hand into the Father's as he walked away from his firstpresentation to his mistress, and asked many questions in his artlesschildish way. "Who is that other woman?" he asked. "She is fat andround; she is more pretty than my Lady Castlewood."
"She is Madame Tusher, the parson's wife of Castlewood. She has a son ofyour age, but bigger than you."
"Why does she like so to kiss my lady's hand. It is not good to kiss."
"Tastes are different, little man. Madame Tusher is attached to my lady,having been her waiting-woman before she was married, in the old lord'stime. She married Doctor Tusher the chaplain. The English householddivines often marry the waiting-women."
"You will not marry the French woman, will you? I saw her laughing withBlaise in the buttery."
"I belong to a church that is older and better than the English church,"Mr. Holt said (making a sign whereof Esmond did not then understand themeaning, across his breast and forehead); "in our church the clergy donot marry. You will understand these things better soon."
"Was not Saint Peter the head of your church?--Dr. Rabbits of Ealingtold us so."
The Father said, "Yes, he was."
"But Saint Peter was married, for we heard only last Sunday that hiswife's mother lay sick of a fever." On which the Father again laughed,and said he would understand this too better soon, and talked of otherthings, and took away Harry Esmond, and showed him the great old housewhich he had come to inhabit.
It stood on a rising green hill, with woods behind it, in which wererooks' nests, where the birds at morning and returning home at eveningmade a great cawing. At the foot of the hill was a river, with a steepancient bridge crossing it; and beyond that a large pleasant green flat,where the village of Castlewood stood, and stands, with
the church inthe midst, the parsonage hard by it, the inn with the blacksmith's forgebeside it, and the sign of the "Three Castles" on the elm. The Londonroad stretched away towards the rising sun, and to the west wereswelling hills and peaks, behind which many a time Harry Esmond saw thesame sun setting, that he now looks on thousands of miles away acrossthe great ocean--in a new Castlewood, by another stream, that bears,like the new country of wandering AEneas, the fond names of the land ofhis youth.
The Hall of Castlewood was built with two courts, whereof one only, thefountain-court, was now inhabited, the other having been battered downin the Cromwellian wars. In the fountain-court, still in good repair,was the great hall, near to the kitchen and butteries. A dozen ofliving-rooms looking to the north, and communicating with the littlechapel that faced eastwards and the buildings stretching from that tothe main gate, and with the hall (which looked to the west) into thecourt now dismantled. This court had been the most magnificent of thetwo, until the Protector's cannon tore down one side of it before theplace was taken and stormed. The besiegers entered at the terrace underthe clock-tower, slaying every man of the garrison, and at their head mylord's brother, Francis Esmond.
The Restoration did not bring enough money to the Lord Castlewood torestore this ruined part of his house; where were the morning parlors,above them the long music-gallery, and before which stretched thegarden-terrace, where, however, the flowers grew again which the bootsof the Roundheads had trodden in their assault, and which was restoredwithout much cost, and only a little care, by both ladies who succeededthe second viscount in the government of this mansion. Round theterrace-garden was a low wall with a wicket leading to the wooded heightbeyond, that is called Cromwell's Battery to this day.
Young Harry Esmond learned the domestic part of his duty, which was easyenough, from the groom of her ladyship's chamber: serving the Countess,as the custom commonly was in his boyhood, as page, waiting ather chair, bringing her scented water and the silver basin afterdinner--sitting on her carriage-step on state occasions, or on publicdays introducing her company to her. This was chiefly of the Catholicgentry, of whom there were a pretty many in the country and neighboringcity; and who rode not seldom to Castlewood to partake of thehospitalities there. In the second year of their residence, the companyseemed especially to increase. My lord and my lady were seldom withoutvisitors, in whose society it was curious to contrast the differenceof behavior between Father Holt, the director of the family, and DoctorTusher, the rector of the parish--Mr. Holt moving amongst the veryhighest as quite their equal, and as commanding them all; while poorDoctor Tusher, whose position was indeed a difficult one, having beenchaplain once to the Hall, and still to the Protestant servants there,seemed more like an usher than an equal, and always rose to go awayafter the first course.
Also there came in these times to Father Holt many private visitors,whom, after a little, Henry Esmond had little difficulty in recognizingas ecclesiastics of the Father's persuasion, whatever their dresses(and they adopted all) might be. These were closeted with the Fatherconstantly, and often came and rode away without paying their devoirs tomy lord and lady--to the lady and lord rather--his lordship being littlemore than a cipher in the house, and entirely under his domineeringpartner. A little fowling, a little hunting, a great deal of sleep, anda long dine at cards and table, carried through one day after anotherwith his lordship. When meetings took place in this second year, whichoften would happen with closed doors, the page found my lord's sheet ofpaper scribbled over with dogs and horses, and 'twas said he had muchado to keep himself awake at these councils: the Countess ruling overthem, and he acting as little more than her secretary.
Father Holt began speedily to be so much occupied with these meetingsas rather to neglect the education of the little lad who so gladly puthimself under the kind priest's orders. At first they read much andregularly, both in Latin and French; the Father not neglecting inanything to impress his faith upon his pupil, but not forcing himviolently, and treating him with a delicacy and kindness which surprisedand attached the child, always more easily won by these methods than byany severe exercise of authority. And his delight in their walks was totell Harry of the glories of his order, of its martyrs and heroes, ofits Brethren converting the heathen by myriads, traversing the desert,facing the stake, ruling the courts and councils, or braving thetortures of kings; so that Harry Esmond thought that to belong to theJesuits was the greatest prize of life and bravest end of ambition; thegreatest career here, and in heaven the surest reward; and began tolong for the day, not only when he should enter into the one churchand receive his first communion, but when he might join that wonderfulbrotherhood, which was present throughout all the world, and whichnumbered the wisest, the bravest, the highest born, the most eloquent ofmen among its members. Father Holt bade him keep his views secret,and to hide them as a great treasure which would escape him if it wasrevealed; and, proud of this confidence and secret vested in him,the lad became fondly attached to the master who initiated him intoa mystery so wonderful and awful. And when little Tom Tusher, hisneighbor, came from school for his holiday, and said how he, too, wasto be bred up for an English priest, and would get what he calledan exhibition from his school, and then a college scholarship andfellowship, and then a good living--it tasked young Harry Esmond'spowers of reticence not to say to his young companion, "Church!priesthood! fat living! My dear Tommy, do you call yours a church anda priesthood? What is a fat living compared to converting a hundredthousand heathens by a single sermon? What is a scholarship at Trinityby the side of a crown of martyrdom, with angels awaiting you as yourhead is taken off? Could your master at school sail over the Thames onhis gown? Have you statues in your church that can bleed, speak, walk,and cry? My good Tommy, in dear Father Holt's church these things takeplace every day. You know Saint Philip of the Willows appeared to LordCastlewood, and caused him to turn to the one true church. No saintsever come to you." And Harry Esmond, because of his promise to FatherHolt, hiding away these treasures of faith from T. Tusher, deliveredhimself of them nevertheless simply to Father Holt; who stroked hishead, smiled at him with his inscrutable look, and told him that he didwell to meditate on these great things, and not to talk of them exceptunder direction.
The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne Page 6
