Chapter XII. My Lord Mohun Comes Among Us For No Good
There had ridden along with this old princess's cavalcade, two gentlemen;her son, my Lord Firebrace, and his friend, my Lord Mohun, who both weregreeted with a great deal of cordiality by the hospitable Lord ofCastlewood. My Lord Firebrace was but a feeble-minded and weak-limbedyoung nobleman, small in stature and limited in understanding--to judgefrom the talk young Esmond had with him; but the other was a person of ahandsome presence, with the _bel air_, and a bright daring warlike aspect,which, according to the chronicle of those days, had already achieved forhim the conquest of several beauties and toasts. He had fought andconquered in France, as well as in Flanders; he had served a couple ofcampaigns with the Prince of Baden on the Danube, and witnessed the rescueof Vienna from the Turk. And he spoke of his military exploits pleasantly,and with the manly freedom of a soldier, so as to delight all his hearersat Castlewood, who were little accustomed to meet a companion soagreeable.
On the first day this noble company came, my lord would not hear of theirdeparture before dinner, and carried away the gentlemen to amuse them,whilst his wife was left to do the honours 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 old court,where my Lord Castlewood beat my Lord Mohun, who said he loved ball of allthings, and would quickly come back to Castlewood for his revenge. Afterdinner they played bowls, and drank punch in the green alley; and whenthey parted they were sworn friends, my Lord Castlewood kissing the otherlord before he mounted on horseback, and pronouncing him the bestcompanion he had met for many a long day. All night long, over histobacco-pipe Castlewood did not cease to talk to Harry Esmond in praise ofhis new friend, and in fact did not leave off speaking of him until hislordship was so tipsy that he could not speak plainly any more.
At breakfast next day it was the same talk renewed; and when my lady saidthere was something free in the Lord Mohun's looks and manner of speechwhich caused her to mistrust him, her lord burst out with one of hislaughs and oaths; said that he never liked man, woman, or beast, but whatshe was sure to be jealous of it; that Mohun was the prettiest fellow inEngland; that he hoped to see more of him whilst in the country; and thathe would let Mohun know what my Lady Prude said of him.
"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; "and youhave 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 hold that'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, rising anddropping him a curtsy, in which stately action, if there was obedience,there was defiance too; and in which a bystander, deeply interested in thehappiness of that pair as Harry Esmond was, might see how hopelesslyseparated they were; what a great gulf of difference and discord had runbetween 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 as itis, Harry? That's the way she treats me," he broke out, storming, and hisface growing red as he clenched his fists and went on. "I'm nobody in myown house. I'm to be the humble servant of that parson's daughter. ByJove! I'd rather she should fling the dish at my head than sneer at me asshe does. She puts me to shame before the children with her d----d airs;and, I'll swear, tells Frank and Beaty that papa's a reprobate, and thatthey ought to despise me."
"Indeed and indeed, sir, I never heard her say a word out of respectregarding you," Harry Esmond interposed.
"No, curse it! I wish she would speak. But she never does. She scorns me,and holds her tongue. She keeps off from me, as if I was a pestilence. ByGeorge! she was fond enough of her pestilence once. And when I camea-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 jokedwith her about her d--d smiling red cheeks: ''Tis as they do at St.James's; I put up my red flag when my king comes.' I was the king, yousee, she meant. But now, sir, look at her! I believe she would be glad ifI was dead; and dead I've been to her these five years--ever since you allof you had the small-pox: and she never forgave me for going away."
"Indeed, my lord, though 'twas hard to forgive, I think my mistressforgave it," Harry Esmond said; "and remember how eagerly she watched yourlordship's return, and how sadly she turned away when she saw your coldlooks."
"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--younod your head, and I know very well, Parson Harry, what you mean. Therewas the--the other affair to make her angry. But is a woman never toforgive a husband who goes a-tripping? Do you take me for a saint?"
"Indeed, sir, I do not," says Harry, with a smile.
"Since that time my wife's as cold as the statue at Charing Cross. I tellthee she has no forgiveness in her, Henry. Her coldness blights my wholelife, and sends me to the punch-bowl, or driving about the country. Mychildren are not mine, but hers, when we are together. 'Tis only when sheis out of sight with her abominable cold glances, that run through me,that they'll come to me, and that I dare to give them so much as a kiss;and that's why I take 'em and love 'em in other people's houses, Harry.I'm killed by the very virtue of that proud woman. Virtue! give me thevirtue that can forgive; give me the virtue that thinks not of preservingitself, but of making other folks happy. Damme, what matters a scar or twoif 'tis got in helping a friend in ill fortune?"
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 so muchdisunion in the lives of all in this house. "How well men preach," thoughtthe young man, "and each is the example in his own sermon. How each has astory in a dispute, and a true one, too, and both are right, or wrong asyou will!" Harry's heart was pained within him, to watch the struggles andpangs that tore the breast of this kind, manly friend and protector.
"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 of mindwas, and that he really had a great deal of that love left in his heart,and ready for his wife's acceptance if she would take it, whether he couldnot be a means of reconciliation between these two persons, whom herevered the most in the world. And he cast about how he should break apart of his mind to his mistress, and warn her that in his, Harry'sopinion, at least, her husband was still her admirer, and even her lover.
But he found the subject a very difficult one to handle, when he venturedto remonstrate, which he did in the very gravest tone (for long confidenceand reiterated proofs of devotion and loyalty had given him a sort ofauthority in the house, which he resumed as soon as ever he returned toit); and with a speech that should have some effect, as, indeed, it wasuttered with the speaker's own heart, he ventured most gently to hint tohis ador
ed mistress, that she was doing her husband harm by her illopinion of him, and that the happiness of all the family depended uponsetting her right.
She, who was ordinarily calm and most gentle, and full of smiles and softattentions, flushed up when young Esmond so spoke to her, and rose fromher chair, looking at him with a haughtiness and indignation that he hadnever before known her to display. She was quite an altered being for thatmoment; 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 favour is graciously restored to his handmaid? He is wearyof Covent Garden, is he, that he comes home and would have the fatted calfkilled?"
"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 to repairit. It was he who showed himself to me at last, as he was, not as I hadthought him. It is he who comes before my children stupid and senselesswith wine--who leaves our company for that of frequenters of taverns andbagnios--who goes from his home to the city yonder and his friends there,and when he is tired of them returns hither, and expects that I shallkneel and welcome him. And he sends _you_ as his chamberlain! What a proudembassy! Monsieur, I make you my compliment of the new place."
"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 pretty onefor you to undertake. I don't know whether 'tis your Cambridge philosophy,or time, that has altered your ways of thinking," Lady Castlewoodcontinued, still in a sarcastic tone. "Perhaps you too have learned tolove drink, and to hiccup over your wine or punch;--which is your worship'sfavourite liquor? Perhaps you too put up at the 'Rose' on your way throughLondon, and have your acquaintances in Covent Garden. My services to you,sir, to principal and ambassador, to master and--and lackey."
"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 to beproud of, that I lived on your bounty? Next to doing you a service (whichmy life would pay for), you know that to receive one from you is myhighest pleasure. What wrong have I done you that you should wound me so,cruel woman?"
"What wrong?" she said, looking at Esmond with wild eyes. "Well, none--nonethat you know of, Harry, or could help. Why did you bring back thesmall-pox," she added, after a pause, "from Castlewood village? You couldnot help it, could you? Which of us knows whither fate leads us? But wewere all happy, Henry, till then." And Harry went away from this colloquy,thinking still that the estrangement between his patron and his belovedmistress was remediable, and that each had at heart a strong attachment tothe 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. Theysported 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 to allpersons, having a joke or a new game at romps for the children, all thetalk of the town for my lord, and music and gallantry and plenty of the_beau langage_ for my lady, and for Harry Esmond, who was never tired ofhearing his stories of his campaigns and his life at Vienna, Venice,Paris, and the famous cities of Europe which he had visited both in peaceand war. And he sang at my lady's harpsichord, and played cards orbackgammon, or his new game of billiards with my lord (of whom heinvariably got the better); always having a consummate good humour, andbearing himself with a certain manly grace, that might exhibit somewhat ofthe camp and Alsatia perhaps, but that had its charm and stamped him agentleman: 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. With hermy lord talked of reform, of settling into quiet life, quitting the Courtand town, and buying some land in the neighbourhood--though it must beowned that, when the two lords were together over their burgundy afterdinner, their talk was very different, and there was very little questionof conversion on my Lord Mohun's part. When they got to their secondbottle, Harry Esmond used commonly to leave these two noble topers, who,though they talked freely enough, Heaven knows, in his presence (GoodLord, what a set of stories, of Alsatia and Spring Garden, of the tavernsand gaming-houses, of the ladies of the Court, and mesdames of thetheatres, he can recall out of their godly conversation!)--although I saythey talked before Esmond freely, yet they seemed pleased when he wentaway, and then they had another bottle, and then they fell to cards, andthen my Lord Mohun came to her ladyship's drawing-room; leaving his booncompanion to sleep off his wine.
'Twas a point of honour with the fine gentlemen of those days to lose orwin magnificently at their horse-matches, or games of cards and dice--andyou could never tell, from the demeanour of these two lords afterwards,which had been successful and which the loser at their games. And when mylady hinted to my lord that he played more than she liked, he dismissedher with a "pish", and swore that nothing was more equal than play betwixtgentlemen, if they did but keep it up long enough. And these kept it uplong enough you may be sure. A man of fashion of that time often passed aquarter of his day at cards, and another quarter at drink: I have knownmany a pretty fellow, who was a wit too, ready of repartee, and possessedof a thousand graces, who would be puzzled if he had to write more thanhis name.
There is scarce any thoughtful man or woman, I suppose, but can look backupon his course of past life, and remember some point, trifling as it mayhave seemed at the time of occurrence, which has nevertheless turned andaltered his whole career. 'Tis with almost all of us, as in MonsieurMassillon's magnificent image regarding King William, a _grain de sable_that perverts or perhaps overthrows us; and so it was but a light wordflung in the air, a mere freak of a perverse child's temper, that broughtdown a whole heap of crushing woes upon that family whereof Harry Esmondformed a part.
Coming home to his dear Castlewood in the third year of his academicalcourse (wherein he had now obtained some distinction, his Latin Poem onthe 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 out of azure,with waving bronze hair clustered about the fairest young forehead everseen: and a mien and shape haughty and beautiful, such as that of thefamous antique statue of the huntress Diana--at one time haughty, rapid,imperious, with eyes and arrows that dart and kill. Harry watched andwondered at this young creature, and likened her in his mind to Artemiswith the ringing bow and shafts flashing death upon the children of Niobe;at another time she was coy and melting as Luna shining tenderly uponEndymion. This fair creature, this lustrous Phoebe, was only young as yet,nor had nearly reached her full splendour: but crescent and brilliant, ouryoung gentleman of the University, his head full of poetical fancies, hisheart perhaps throbbing with desires undefined, admired this rising youngdivinity; and gazed at her (though only as at some "bright particularstar", far above his earth) with endless delight and wonder. She had beena coquette from the earliest times almost, try
ing her freaks andjealousies, her wayward frolics and winning caresses, upon all that camewithin her reach; she set her women quarrelling in the nursery, andpractised her eyes on the groom as she rode 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 them withtears, smiles, kisses, cajolements;--when the mother was angry, as happenedoften, flew to the father, and sheltering behind him, pursued her victim;when both were displeased, transferred her caresses to the domestics, orwatched until she could win back her parents' good graces, either bysurprising them into laughter and good humour, or appeasing them bysubmission and artful humility. She was _saevo laeta negotio_, like thatfickle goddess Horace describes, and of whose "malicious joy" a great poetof our own has written so nobly--who, famous and heroic as he was, was notstrong enough to resist the torture of women.
It was but three years before, that the child, then but ten years old, hadnearly managed to make a quarrel between Harry Esmond and his comrade,good-natured, phlegmatic Thomas Tusher, who never of his own seekingquarrelled with anybody: by quoting to the latter some silly joke whichHarry had made regarding him--(it was the merest, idlest jest, though itnear drove two old friends to blows, and I think such a battle would havepleased her)--and from that day Tom kept at a distance from her; and sherespected him, and coaxed him sedulously whenever they met. But Harry wasmuch more easily appeased, because he was fonder of the child: and whenshe made mischief, used cutting speeches, or caused her friends pain, sheexcused herself for her fault, not by admitting and deploring it, but bypleading not guilty, and asserting innocence so constantly, and with suchseeming artlessness, that it was impossible to question her plea. In herchildhood, they were but mischiefs then which she did; but her powerbecame more fatal as she grew older--as a kitten first plays with a ball,and then pounces on a bird and kills it. 'Tis not to be imagined thatHarry Esmond had all this experience at this early stage of his life,whereof he is now writing the history--many things here noted were butknown to him in later days. Almost everything Beatrix did or undid seemedgood, or at least pardonable, to him then, and years afterwards.
It happened, then, that Harry Esmond came home to Castlewood for his lastvacation, with good hopes of a fellowship at his college, and a contentedresolve to advance his fortune that way. 'Twas in the first year of thepresent century, Mr. Esmond (as far as he knew the period of his birth)being then twenty-two years old. He found his quondam pupil shot up intothis beauty of which we have spoken, and promising yet more: her brother,my lord's son, a handsome high-spirited brave lad, generous and frank, andkind to everybody, save perhaps his sister, with whom Frank was at war(and not from his but her fault)--adoring his mother, whose joy he was: andtaking her side in the unhappy matrimonial differences which were nowpermanent, while of course Mistress Beatrix ranged with her father. Whenheads of families fall out, it must naturally be that their dependantswear the one or the other party's colour; and even in the parliaments inthe servants' hall or the stables, Harry, who had an early observant turn,could see which were my lord's adherents and which my lady's, andconjecture pretty shrewdly how their unlucky quarrel was debated. Ourlackeys sit in judgement on us. My lord's intrigues may be ever sostealthily conducted, but his valet knows them; and my lady's womancarries her mistress's private history to the servants' scandal-market,and exchanges it against the secrets of other abigails.