The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XII.

  MY LORD MOHUN COMES AMONG US FOR NO GOOD.

  There had ridden along with this old Princess's cavalcade, twogentlemen: her son, my Lord Firebrace, and his friend, my Lord Mohun,who both were greeted with a great deal of cordiality by the hospitableLord of Castlewood. My Lord Firebrace was but a feeble-mindedand weak-limbed young nobleman, small in stature and limited inunderstanding to judge from the talk young Esmond had with him; butthe other was a person of a handsome presence, with the bel air, and abright daring warlike aspect, which, according to the chronicle of thosedays, had already achieved for him the conquest of several beauties andtoasts. He had fought and conquered in France, as well as in Flanders;he had served a couple of campaigns with the Prince of Baden on theDanube, and witnessed the rescue of Vienna from the Turk. And he spokeof his military exploits pleasantly, and with the manly freedom of asoldier, so as to delight all his hearers at Castlewood, who were littleaccustomed to meet a companion so agreeable.

  On the first day this noble company came, my lord would not hear oftheir departure before dinner, and carried away the gentlemen to amusethem, whilst his wife was left to do the honors of her house to the oldMarchioness and her daughter within. They looked at the stables where myLord Mohun praised the horses, though there was but a poor show there:they walked over the old house and gardens, and fought the siege ofOliver's time over again: they played a game of rackets in the oldcourt, where my Lord Castlewood beat my Lord Mohun, who said he lovedball of all things, and would quickly come back to Castlewood for hisrevenge. After dinner they played bowls and drank punch in the greenalley; and when they parted they were sworn friends, my Lord Castlewoodkissing the other lord before he mounted on horseback, and pronouncinghim the best companion he had met for many a long day. All night long,over his tobacco-pipe, Castlewood did not cease to talk to Harry Esmondin praise of his new friend, and in fact did not leave off speaking ofhim until his lordship was so tipsy that he could not speak plainly anymore.

  At breakfast next day it was the same talk renewed; and when my ladysaid there was something free in the Lord Mohun's looks and manner ofspeech which caused her to mistrust him, her lord burst out with one ofhis laughs and oaths; said that he never liked man, woman, or beast,but what she was sure to be jealous of it; that Mohun was the prettiestfellow in England; that he hoped to see more of him whilst in thecountry; and that he would let Mohun know what my Lady Prude said ofhim.

  "Indeed," Lady Castlewood said, "I liked his conversation well enough.'Tis more amusing than that of most people I know. I thought it, I own,too free; not from what he said, as rather from what he implied."

  "Psha! your ladyship does not know the world," said her husband; "andyou have always been as squeamish as when you were a miss of fifteen."

  "You found no fault when I was a miss at fifteen."

  "Begad, madam, you are grown too old for a pinafore now; and I holdthat 'tis for me to judge what company my wife shall see," said my lord,slapping the table.

  "Indeed, Francis, I never thought otherwise," answered my lady, risingand dropping him a curtsy, in which stately action, if there wasobedience, there was defiance too; and in which a bystander, deeplyinterested in the happiness of that pair as Harry Esmond was, might seehow hopelessly separated they were; what a great gulf of difference anddiscord had run between them.

  "By G-d! Mohun is the best fellow in England; and I'll invite him here,just to plague that woman. Did you ever see such a frigid insolence asit is, Harry? That's the way she treats me," he broke out, storming, andhis face growing red as he clenched his fists and went on. "I'm nobodyin my own house. I'm to be the humble servant of that parson's daughter.By Jove! I'd rather she should fling the dish at my head than sneer atme as she does. She puts me to shame before the children with her d--dairs; and, I'll swear, tells Frank and Beaty that papa's a reprobate,and that they ought to despise me."

  "Indeed and indeed, sir, I never heard her say a word but of respectregarding you," Harry Esmond interposed.

  "No, curse it! I wish she would speak. But she never does. Shescorns me, and holds her tongue. She keeps off from me, as if I was apestilence. By George! she was fond enough of her pestilence once. Andwhen I came a-courting, you would see miss blush--blush red, by George!for joy. Why, what do you think she said to me, Harry? She said herself,when I joked with her about her d--d smiling red cheeks: ''Tis as theydo at St. James's; I put up my red flag when my king comes.' I was theking, you see, she meant. But now, sir, look at her! I believe she wouldbe glad if I was dead; and dead I've been to her these five years--eversince you all of you had the small-pox: and she never forgave me forgoing away."

  "Indeed, my lord, though 'twas hard to forgive, I think my mistressforgave it," Harry Esmond said; "and remember how eagerly she watchedyour lordship's return, and how sadly she turned away when she saw yourcold looks."

  "Damme!" cries out my lord; "would you have had me wait and catch thesmall-pox? Where the deuce had been the good of that? I'll bear dangerwith any man--but not useless danger--no, no. Thank you for nothing.And--you nod your head, and I know very well, Parson Harry, what youmean. There was the--the other affair to make her angry. But is a womannever to forgive a husband who goes a-tripping? Do you take me for asaint?"

  "Indeed, sir, I do not," says Harry, with a smile.

  "Since that time my wife's as cold as the statue at Charing Cross. Itell thee she has no forgiveness in her, Henry. Her coldness blightsmy whole life, and sends me to the punch-bowl, or driving about thecountry. My children are not mine, but hers, when we are together. 'Tisonly when she is out of sight with her abominable cold glances, thatrun through me, that they'll come to me, and that I dare to give them somuch as a kiss; and that's why I take 'em and love 'em in other people'shouses, Harry. I'm killed by the very virtue of that proud woman.Virtue! give me the virtue that can forgive; give me the virtue thatthinks not of preserving itself, but of making other folks happy.Damme, what matters a scar or two if 'tis got in helping a friend in illfortune?"

  And my lord again slapped the table, and took a great draught from thetankard. Harry Esmond admired as he listened to him, and thought how thepoor preacher of this self-sacrifice had fled from the small-pox, whichthe lady had borne so cheerfully, and which had been the cause of somuch disunion in the lives of all in this house. "How well men preach,"thought the young man, "and each is the example in his own sermon. Howeach has a story in a dispute, and a true one, too, and both are rightor wrong as you will!" Harry's heart was pained within him, to watch thestruggles and pangs that tore the breast of this kind, manly friend andprotector.

  "Indeed, sir," said he, "I wish to God that my mistress could hear youspeak as I have heard you; she would know much that would make her lifethe happier, could she hear it." But my lord flung away with one of hisoaths, and a jeer; he said that Parson Harry was a good fellow; but thatas for women, all women were alike--all jades and heartless. So a mandashes a fine vase down, and despises it for being broken. It may beworthless--true: but who had the keeping of it, and who shattered it?

  Harry, who would have given his life to make his benefactress and herhusband happy, bethought him, now that he saw what my lord's state ofmind was, and that he really had a great deal of that love left in hisheart, and ready for his wife's acceptance if she would take it, whetherhe could not be a means of reconciliation between these two persons,whom he revered the most in the world. And he cast about how he shouldbreak a part of his mind to his mistress, and warn her that in his,Harry's opinion, at least, her husband was still her admirer, and evenher lover.

  But he found the subject a very difficult one to handle, when heventured to remonstrate, which he did in the very gravest tone, (forlong confidence and reiterated proofs of devotion and loyalty had givenhim a sort of authority in the house, which he resumed as soon as everhe returned to it,) and with a speech that should have some effect, as,indeed, it was uttered with the speaker's own heart, he ventured mostgently to hint to his
adored mistress that she was doing her husbandharm by her ill opinion of him, and that the happiness of all the familydepended upon setting her right.

  She, who was ordinarily calm and most gentle, and full of smiles andsoft attentions, flushed up when young Esmond so spoke to her, and rosefrom her chair, looking at him with a haughtiness and indignation thathe had never before known her to display. She was quite an altered beingfor that moment; and looked an angry princess insulted by a vassal.

  "Have you ever heard me utter a word in my lord's disparagement?" sheasked hastily, hissing out her words, and stamping her foot.

  "Indeed, no," Esmond said, looking down.

  "Are you come to me as his ambassador--YOU?" she continued.

  "I would sooner see peace between you than anything else in the world,"Harry answered, "and would go of any embassy that had that end."

  "So YOU are my lord's go-between?" she went on, not regarding thisspeech. "You are sent to bid me back into slavery again, and inform methat my lord's favor is graciously restored to his handmaid? He is wearyof Covent Garden, is he, that he comes home and would have the fattedcalf killed?"

  "There's good authority for it, surely," said Esmond.

  "For a son, yes; but my lord is not my son. It was he who cast me awayfrom him. It was he who broke our happiness down, and he bids me torepair it. It was he who showed himself to me at last, as he was, notas I had thought him. It is he who comes before my children stupid andsenseless with wine--who leaves our company for that of frequenters oftaverns and bagnios--who goes from his home to the City yonder and hisfriends there, and when he is tired of them returns hither, and expectsthat I shall kneel and welcome him. And he sends YOU as his chamberlain!What a proud embassy! Monsieur, I make you my compliment of the newplace."

  "It would be a proud embassy, and a happy embassy too, could I bring youand my lord together," Esmond replied.

  "I presume you have fulfilled your mission now, sir. 'Twas a prettyone for you to undertake. I don't know whether 'tis your Cambridgephilosophy, or time, that has altered your ways of thinking," LadyCastlewood continued, still in a sarcastic tone. "Perhaps you too havelearned to love drink, and to hiccup over your wine or punch;--which isyour worship's favorite liquor? Perhaps you too put up at the 'Rose'on your way to London, and have your acquaintances in Covent Garden. Myservices to you, sir, to principal and ambassador, to master and--andlackey."

  "Great heavens! madam," cried Harry. "What have I done that thus, for asecond time, you insult me? Do you wish me to blush for what I used tobe proud of, that I lived on your bounty? Next to doing you a service(which my life would pay for), you know that to receive one from you ismy highest pleasure. What wrong have I done you that you should wound meso, cruel woman?"

  "What wrong?" she said, looking at Esmond with wild eyes. "Well,none--none that you know of, Harry, or could help. Why did you bringback the small-pox," she added, after a pause, "from Castlewood village?You could not help it, could you? Which of us knows whither fate leadsus? But we were all happy, Henry, till then." And Harry went away fromthis colloquy, thinking still that the estrangement between his patronand his beloved mistress was remediable, and that each had at heart astrong attachment to the other.

  The intimacy between the Lords Mohun and Castlewood appeared to increaseas long as the former remained in the country; and my Lord of Castlewoodespecially seemed never to be happy out of his new comrade's sight.They sported together, they drank, they played bowls and tennis: my LordCastlewood would go for three days to Sark, and bring back my Lord Mohunto Castlewood--where indeed his lordship made himself very welcome toall persons, having a joke or a new game at romps for the children, allthe talk of the town for my lord, and music and gallantry and plenty ofthe beau langage for my lady, and for Harry Esmond, who was never tiredof hearing his stories of his campaigns and his life at Vienna, Venice,Paris, and the famous cities of Europe which he had visited both inpeace and war. And he sang at my lady's harpsichord, and played cardsor backgammon, or his new game of billiards with my lord (of whom heinvariably got the better) always having a consummate good-humor, andbearing himself with a certain manly grace, that might exhibit somewhatof the camp and Alsatia perhaps, but that had its charm, and stampedhim a gentleman: and his manner to Lady Castlewood was so devoted andrespectful, that she soon recovered from the first feelings of dislikewhich she had conceived against him--nay, before long, began to beinterested in his spiritual welfare, and hopeful of his conversion,lending him books of piety, which he promised dutifully to study. Withher my lord talked of reform, of settling into quiet life, quitting thecourt and town, and buying some land in the neighborhood--though itmust be owned that, when the two lords were together over their Burgundyafter dinner, their talk was very different, and there was very littlequestion of conversion on my Lord Mohun's part. When they got to theirsecond bottle, Harry Esmond used commonly to leave these two nobletopers, who, though they talked freely enough, heaven knows, in hispresence (Good Lord, what a set of stories, of Alsatia and SpringGarden, of the taverns and gaming-houses, of the ladies of thecourt, and mesdames of the theatres, he can recall out of their godlyconversation!)--although, I say, they talked before Esmond freely, yetthey seemed pleased when he went away, and then they had anotherbottle, and then they fell to cards, and then my Lord Mohun came to herladyship's drawing-room; leaving his boon companion to sleep off hiswine.

  'Twas a point of honor with the fine gentlemen of those days to loseor win magnificently at their horse-matches, or games of cards anddice--and you could never tell, from the demeanor of these two lordsafterwards, which had been successful and which the loser at theirgames. And when my lady hinted to my lord that he played more than sheliked, he dismissed her with a "pish," and swore that nothing was moreequal than play betwixt gentlemen, if they did but keep it up longenough. And these kept it up long enough, you may be sure. A man offashion of that time often passed a quarter of his day at cards, andanother quarter at drink: I have known many a pretty fellow, who wasa wit too, ready of repartee, and possessed of a thousand graces, whowould be puzzled if he had to write more than his name.

  There is scarce any thoughtful man or woman, I suppose, but can lookback upon his course of past life, and remember some point, triflingas it may have seemed at the time of occurrence, which has neverthelessturned and altered his whole career. 'Tis with almost all of us, asin M. Massillon's magnificent image regarding King William, a grain desable that perverts or perhaps overthrows us; and so it was but a lightword flung in the air, a mere freak of perverse child's temper, thatbrought down a whole heap of crushing woes upon that family whereofHarry Esmond formed a part.

  Coming home to his dear Castlewood in the third year of his academicalcourse, (wherein he had now obtained some distinction, his Latin Poemon the death of the Duke of Gloucester, Princess Anne of Denmark's son,having gained him a medal, and introduced him to the society of theUniversity wits,) Esmond found his little friend and pupil Beatrix grownto be taller than her mother, a slim and lovely young girl, with cheeksmantling with health and roses: with eyes like stars shining outof azure, with waving bronze hair clustered about the fairest youngforehead ever seen: and a mien and shape haughty and beautiful, suchas that of the famous antique statue of the huntress Diana--at one timehaughty, rapid, imperious, with eyes and arrows that dart and kill.Harry watched and wondered at this young creature, and likened her inhis mind to Artemis with the ringing bow and shafts flashing death uponthe children of Niobe; at another time she was coy and melting asLuna shining tenderly upon Endymion. This fair creature, this lustrousPhoebe, was only young as yet, nor had nearly reached her full splendor:but crescent and brilliant, our young gentleman of the University, hishead full of poetical fancies, his heart perhaps throbbing with desiresundefined, admired this rising young divinity; and gazed at her (thoughonly as at some "bright particular star," far above his earth) withendless delight and wonder. She had been a coquette from the earliesttimes almost, trying her freaks and jealousi
es, her wayward frolics andwinning caresses, upon all that came within her reach; she set her womenquarrelling in the nursery, and practised her eyes on the groom as sherode behind him on the pillion.

  She was the darling and torment of father and mother. She intrigued witheach secretly; and bestowed her fondness and withdrew it, plied themwith tears, smiles, kisses, cajolements;--when the mother was angry, ashappened often, flew to the father, and sheltering behind him, pursuedher victim; when both were displeased, transferred her caresses to thedomestics, or watched until she could win back her parents' good graces,either by surprising them into laughter and good-humor, or appeasingthem by submission and artful humility. She was saevo laeta negotio,like that fickle goddess Horace describes, and of whose "malicious joy"a great poet of our own has written so nobly--who, famous and heroic ashe was, was not strong enough to resist the torture of women.

  It was but three years before that the child, then but ten years old,had nearly managed to make a quarrel between Harry Esmond and hiscomrade, good-natured, phlegmatic Thomas Tusher, who never of his ownseeking quarrelled with anybody: by quoting to the latter some sillyjoke which Harry had made regarding him--(it was the merest idlest jest,though it near drove two old friends to blows, and I think such a battlewould have pleased her)--and from that day Tom kept at a distance fromher; and she respected him, and coaxed him sedulously whenever they met.But Harry was much more easily appeased, because he was fonder of thechild: and when she made mischief, used cutting speeches, or caused herfriends pain, she excused herself for her fault, not by admitting anddeploring it, but by pleading not guilty, and asserting innocence soconstantly, and with such seeming artlessness, that it was impossible toquestion her plea. In her childhood, they were but mischiefs then whichshe did; but her power became more fatal as she grew older--as a kittenfirst plays with a ball, and then pounces on a bird and kills it. 'Tisnot to be imagined that Harry Esmond had all this experience at thisearly stage of his life, whereof he is now writing the history--manythings here noted were but known to him in later days. Almost everythingBeatrix did or undid seemed good, or at least pardonable, to him then,and years afterwards.

  It happened, then, that Harry Esmond came home to Castlewood for hislast vacation, with good hopes of a fellowship at his college, and acontented resolve to advance his fortune that way. 'Twas in the firstyear of the present century, Mr. Esmond (as far as he knew the period ofhis birth) being then twenty-two years old. He found his quondam pupilshot up into this beauty of which we have spoken, and promising yetmore: her brother, my lord's son, a handsome high-spirited brave lad,generous and frank, and kind to everybody, save perhaps his sister,with whom Frank was at war (and not from his but her fault)--adoring hismother, whose joy he was: and taking her side in the unhappy matrimonialdifferences which were now permanent, while of course Mistress Beatrixranged with her father. When heads of families fall out, it mustnaturally be that their dependants wear the one or the other party'scolor; and even in the parliaments in the servants' hall or the stables,Harry, who had an early observant turn, could see which were my lord'sadherents and which my lady's, and conjecture pretty shrewdly how theirunlucky quarrel was debated. Our lackeys sit in judgment on us. Mylord's intrigues may be ever so stealthily conducted, but his valetknows them; and my lady's woman carries her mistress's private historyto the servants' scandal market, and exchanges it against the secrets ofother abigails.