Chapter 6
From these incidents it may be clearly seen that Madame Esmond besides being a brisk little woman at business and ruling like a little queen in Castlewood was also a victim of many freaks and oddities, among them one of the most prominent being a great desire for flattery. There was no amount of compliment which she could not graciously receive and take as her due, and it was her greatest delight to receive attention from suitors of every degree. Her elder boy saw this peculiarity of his mother's disposition and chafed privately under it. From a very early day he revolted when compliments were paid to the little lady, and strove to expose them with his youthful satire; so that his mother would say gravely, "the Esmonds were always of a jealous disposition, and my poor boy takes after my father and mother in this."
One winter after their first tutor had been dismissed Madame Esmond took them to Williamsburg for such education as the schools and colleges there afforded, and there they listened to the preaching and became acquainted with the famous Mr. Whitfield, who, at Madame Esmond's request, procured a tutor for the boys, by name Mr. Ward. For weeks Madame Esmond was never tired of hearing Mr. Ward's utterances of a religious character, and according to her wont she insisted that her neighbours should come and listen to him and ordered them to be converted to the faith which he represented. Her young favourite, Mr. George Washington, she was especially anxious to influence; and again and again pressed him to come and stay at Castlewood and benefit by the spiritual advantages there to be obtained. But that young gentleman found he had particular business which called him home or away from home, and always ordered his horse of evenings when the time was coming for Mr. Ward's exercises. And--what boys are just towards their pedagogue?--the twins grew speedily tired and even rebellious under their new teacher.
They found him a bad scholar, a dull fellow, and ill-bred to boot. George knew much more Latin and Greek than his master; Harry, who could take much greater liberties than were allowed to his elder brother, mimicked Ward's manner of eating and talking, so that Mrs. Mountain and even Madame Esmond were forced to laugh, and little Fanny Mountain would crow with delight. Madame Esmond would have found the fellow out for a vulgar quack but for her son's opposition, which she, on her part, opposed with her own indomitable will.
George now began to give way to a sarcastic method, took up Ward's pompous remarks and made jokes of them so that that young divine chafed and almost choked over his great meals. He made Madame Esmond angry, and doubly so when he sent off Harry into fits of laughter. Her authority was defied, her officer scorned and insulted, her youngest child perverted by the obstinate elder brother. She made a desperate and unhappy attempt to maintain her power.
The boys were fourteen years of age, Harry being now taller and more advanced than his brother, who was delicate and as yet almost childlike in stature and appearance. The flogging method was quite a common mode of argument in these days. Our little boys had been horsed many a day by Mr. Dempster, their Scotch tutor, in their grandfather's time; and Harry, especially, had got to be quite accustomed to the practice, and made very light of it. But since Colonel Esmond's death, the cane had been laid aside, and the young gentlemen at Castlewood had been allowed to have their own way. Her own and her lieutenant's authority being now spurned by the youthful rebels, the unfortunate mother thought of restoring it by means of coercion. She took counsel of Mr. Ward. That athletic young pedagogue could easily find chapter and verse to warrant the course he wished to pursue,--in fact, there was no doubt about the wholesomeness of the practice in those days. He had begun by flattering the boys, finding a good berth and snug quarters at Castlewood, and hoping to remain there. But they laughed at his flattery, they scorned his bad manners, they yawned soon at his sermons; the more their mother favoured him, the more they disliked him; and so the tutor and the pupils cordially hated each other.
Mrs. Mountain warned the lads to be prudent, and that some conspiracy was hatching against them; saying, "You must be on your guard, my poor boys. You must learn your lessons and not anger your tutor. Your mamma was talking about you to Mr. Washington the other day when I came into the room. I don't like that Major Washington, you know I don't. He is very handsome and tall, and he may be very good, but show me his wild oats I say--not a grain! Well, I happened to step in last Tuesday when he was here with your mamma, and I am sure they were talking about you, for he said, 'Discipline is discipline, and must be preserved. There can be but one command in a house, ma'am, and you must be the mistress of yours.'"
"The very words he used to me," cries Harry. "He told me that he did not like to meddle with other folks' affairs, but that our mother was very angry, and he begged me to obey Mr. Ward, and to press George to do so."
"Let him manage his own house, not mine," says George very haughtily. And the caution, far from benefiting him, only made the lad more scornful and rebellious.
On the next day the storm broke. Words were passed between George and Mr. Ward during the morning study. The boy was quite disobedient and unjust. Even his faithful brother cried out, and owned that he was in the wrong. Mr. Ward bottled up his temper until the family met at dinner, when he requested Madame Esmond to stay, and laid the subject of discussion before her.
He asked Master Harry to confirm what he had said; and poor Harry was obliged to admit all his statements.
George, standing under his grandfather's portrait by the chimney, said haughtily that what Mr. Ward had said was perfectly correct.
"To be a tutor to such a pupil is absurd," said Mr. Ward, making a long speech containing many scripture phrases, at each of which young George smiled scornfully; and at length Ward ended by asking her honour's leave to retire.
"Not before you have punished this wicked and disobedient child," said Madame Esmond.
"Punish!" exclaimed George.
"Yes, sir, punish! If means of love and entreaty fail, other means must be found to bring you to obedience. I punish you now, rebellious boy, to guard you from greater punishment hereafter. The discipline of this family must be maintained. There can be but one command in a house, and I must be the mistress of mine. You will punish this refractory boy, Mr. Ward, as we have agreed, and if there is the least resistance on his part my overseer and servants will lend you aid."
In the midst of his mother's speech George Esmond felt that he had been wronged. "There can be but one command in the house and you must be mistress. I know who said those words before you," George said slowly, and looking very white, "and--and I know, mother, that I have acted wrongly to Mr. Ward."
"He owns it! He asks pardon!" cries Harry. "That's right, George! That's enough, isn't it?"
"No, it is _not_ enough! I know that he who spares the rod spoils the child, ungrateful boy!" says Madame Esmond, with more references of the same nature, which George heard, looking very pale and desperate.
Upon the mantelpiece stood a china cup, by which the widow set great store, as her father had always been accustomed to drink from it. George suddenly took it, and a strange smile passed over his pale face.
"Stay one minute. Don't go away yet," he cried to his mother, who was leaving the room. "You are very fond of this cup, mother?" and Harry looked at him wondering. "If I broke it, it could never be mended, could it? My dear old grandpapa's cup! I have been wrong. Mr. Ward, I ask pardon. I will try and amend."
The widow looked at her son indignantly. "I thought," she said, "I thought an Esmond had been more of a man than to be afraid, and--" Here she gave a little scream, as Harry uttered an exclamation and dashed forward with his hands stretched out towards his brother.
George, after looking at the cup, raised it, opened his hand and let it fall on the marble slab before him. Harry had tried in vain to catch it.
"It is too late, Hal," George said. "You will never mend that again--never. Now, mother, I am ready, as it is your wish. Will you come and see whether I am afraid? Mr. Ward, I am your servant. Your servant? Your slave! And the next time I meet Mr. Washington, Madame, I will thank him for the advice which he gave you."
"I say, do your duty, sir!" cried Mrs. Esmond, stamping her little foot. And George, making a low bow to Mr. Ward, begged him to go first out of the room to the study.
"Stop! For God's sake, mother, stop!" cried poor Hal. But passion was boiling in the little woman's heart, and she would not hear the boy's petition. "You only abet him, sir!" she cried. "If I had to do it myself, it should be done!" And Harry, with sadness and wrath in his countenance, left the room by the door through which Mr. Ward and his brother had just issued.
The widow sank down in a great chair near it, and sat a while vacantly looking at the fragments of the broken cup. Then she inclined her head towards the door. For a while there was silence; then a loud outcry, which made the poor mother start.
Mr. Ward came out bleeding from a great wound on his head, and behind him Harry, with flaring eyes, and brandishing a little ruler of his grandfather, which hung, with others of the Colonel's weapons, on the library wall.
"I don't care. I did it," says Harry. "I couldn't see this fellow strike my brother; and as he lifted his hand, I flung the great ruler at him. I couldn't help it. I won't bear it; and if one lifts a hand to me or my brother, I'll have his life," shouts Harry, brandishing the hanger.
The widow gave a great gasp and a sigh as she looked at the young champion and his victim. She must have suffered terribly during the few minutes of the boys' absence; and the stripes which she imagined had been inflicted on the elder had smitten her own heart. She longed to take both boys to it. She was not angry now. Very likely she was delighted with the thought of the younger's prowess and generosity. "You are a very naughty, disobedient child," she said in an exceedingly peaceable voice. "My poor Mr. Ward! What a rebel to strike you! Let me bathe your wound, my good Mr. Ward, and thank Heaven it was no worse. Mountain! Go fetch me some court-plaster. Here comes George. Put on your coat and waistcoat, child! You were going to take your punishment, sir, and that is sufficient. Ask pardon, Harry, of good Mr. Ward, for your wicked, rebellious spirit. I do, with all my heart, I am sure. And guard against your passionate nature, child, and pray to be forgiven. My son, oh my son!"
Here with a burst of tears which she could no longer control the little woman threw herself on the neck of her first born, whilst Harry went up very feebly to Mr. Ward, and said, "Indeed, I ask your pardon, sir. I couldn't help it; on my honour, I couldn't; nor bear to see my brother struck."
The widow was scared, as after her embrace she looked up at George's pale face. In reply to her eager caresses, he coldly kissed her on the forehead, and separated from her. "You meant for the best, mother," he said, "and I was in the wrong. But the cup is broken; and all the king's horses and all the king's men cannot mend it. There--put the fair side outwards on the mantelpiece, and the wound will not show."
Then George went up to Mr. Ward, who was still piteously bathing his eye and forehead in the water. "I ask pardon for Hal's violence, sir," he said in great state. "You see, though we are very young, we are gentlemen, and cannot brook an insult from strangers. I should have submitted, as it was mamma's desire; but I am glad she no longer entertains it."
"And pray, sir, who is to compensate me?" says Mr. Ward; "who is to repair the insult done to _me_?"
"We are very young," says George, with another of his old-fashioned bows. "We shall be fifteen soon. Any compensation that is usual amongst gentlemen--"
"This, sir, to a minister of the Word!" bawls out Ward, starting up, and who knew perfectly well the lad's skill in fence, having a score of times been foiled by the pair of them.
"You are not a clergyman yet. We thought you might like to be considered as a gentleman. We did not know."
"A gentleman! I am a Christian, sir!" says Ward, glaring furiously, and clenching his great fists.
"Well, well, if you won't fight, why don't you forgive?" says Harry. "If you won't forgive, why don't you fight? That's what I call the horns of a dilemma." And he laughed his jolly laugh.
But this was nothing to the laugh a few days afterwards, when, the quarrel having been patched up along with poor Mr. Ward's eye, the unlucky tutor was holding forth according to his custom, but in vain. The widow wept no more at his harangues, was no longer excited by his eloquence. Nay, she pleaded headache, and would absent herself of an evening, on which occasions the remainder of the little congregation were very cold indeed. One day Ward, still making desperate efforts to get back his despised authority, was preaching on the necessity of obeying our spiritual and temporal rulers. "For why, my dear friends," he asked, "why are the governors appointed, but that we should be governed? Why are tutors engaged, but that children should be taught?" (Here a look at the boys.) "Why are rulers--" Here he paused, looking with a sad, puzzled face at the young gentlemen. He saw in their countenances the double meaning of the unlucky word he had uttered, and stammered and thumped the table with his fist. "Why, I say are rulers--rulers--"
"_Rulers_," says George, looking at Harry.
"Rulers!" says Hal, putting his hand to his eye, where the poor tutor still bore marks of the late scuffle. "Rulers, o-ho!" It was too much. The boys burst out in an explosion of laughter. Mrs. Mountain, who was full of fun, could not help joining in the chorus; and little Fanny Mountain, who had always behaved very demurely and silently at these ceremonies, crowed again, and clapped her little hands at the others laughing, not in the least knowing the reason why.
This could not be borne. Ward shut down the book before him; in a few angry but eloquent and manly words said he would speak no more in that place; and left Castlewood not in the least regretted by Madame Esmond, who had doted on him three months before.
After the departure of her unfortunate spiritual adviser and chaplain, Madame Esmond and her son seemed to be quite reconciled: but although George never spoke of the quarrel with his mother, it must have weighed upon the boy's mind very painfully, for he had a fever soon after the last recounted domestic occurrences, during which illness his brain once or twice wandered, when he shrieked out, "Broken! Broken! It never, never, can be mended!" to the silent terror of his mother, who sat watching the poor child as he tossed wakeful upon his midnight bed. That night, and for some days afterwards, it seemed very likely that poor Harry would become heir of Castlewood; but by Mr. Dempster's skilful treatment the fever was got over, the intermittent attacks diminished in intensity, and George was restored almost to health again. A change of air, a voyage even to England, was recommended, but the widow had quarrelled with her children's relatives there, which made that trip impossible. A journey to the north and east was determined upon, and the two young gentleman, with Mr. Dempster reinstated as their tutor, and a couple of servants to attend them, took a voyage to New York, and thence up the beautiful Hudson River to Albany, where they were received by the first gentry of the province; and thence into the French provinces, where they were hospitably entertained by the French gentry. Harry camped with the Indians and took furs and shot bears. George, who never cared for field sports, and whose health was still delicate, was a special favourite with the French ladies, who were accustomed to see very few young English gentlemen speaking the French language so readily as our young gentleman. He danced the minuet elegantly. He learned the latest imported French catches and songs and played them beautifully on his violin; and to the envy of poor Harry, who was absent on a bear-hunt, he even had an affair of honour with a young ensign, whom he pinked on the shoulder, and with whom he afterwards swore an eternal friendship.
When the lads returned home at the end of ten delightful months, their mother was surprised at their growth and improvement. George especially was so grown as to come up to his younger-born brother. The boys could hardly be distinguished one from another, especially when their hair was powdered; but that ceremony being too cumbrous for country-life, each of the lads commonly wore his own hair, George his raven black, and Harry his light locks, tied with a ribbon.
Now Mrs. Mountain had a great turn for match-making, and fancied that everybody had a design to marry everybody else. As a consequence of this weakness she was able to persuade George Warrington that Mr. Washington was laying siege to Madame Esmond's heart, which idea was anything but agreeable to George's jealous disposition.
"I beg you to keep this quiet, Mountain," said George, with great dignity. "Or you and I shall quarrel, too. Never to any one must you mention such an absurd suspicion."
"Absurd! Why absurd? Mr. Washington is constantly with the widow. She never tires of pointing out his virtues as an example to her sons. She consults him on every question respecting her estate and its management. There is a room at Castlewood regularly called Mr. Washington's room. He actually leaves his clothes here, and his portmanteau when he goes away. Ah, George, George! The day will come when he won't go away!" groaned Mrs. Mountain, and in consequence of the suspicions which her words aroused in him Mr. George adopted toward his mother's favourite a frigid courtesy, at which the honest gentleman chafed but did not care to remonstrate; or a stinging sarcasm which he would break through as he would burst through so many brambles on those hunting excursions in which he and Harry Warrington rode so constantly together; while George, retreating to his tents, read mathematics and French and Latin, or sulked in his book-room.
Harry was away from home with some other sporting friends when Mr. Washington came to pay a visit at Castlewood. He was so peculiarly tender and kind to the mistress there, and received by her with such special cordiality, that George Warrington's jealousy had well-nigh broken out into open rupture. But the visit was one of adieu, as it appeared. Major Washington was going on a long and dangerous journey, quite to the western Virginia frontier and beyond it. The French had been for some time past making inroads into our territory. The government at home, as well as those of Virginia and Pennsylvania, were alarmed at this aggressive spirit of the lords of Canada and Louisiana. Some of our settlers had already been driven from their holdings by Frenchmen in arms, and the governors of the British provinces were desirous of stopping their incursions, or at any rate to protest against their invasion.
We chose to hold our American colonies by a law that was at least convenient for its framers. The maxim was, that whoever possessed the coast had a right to all the territory in hand as far as the Pacific; so that the British charters only laid down the limits of the colonies from north to south, leaving them quite free from east to west. The French, meanwhile, had their colonies to the north and south, and aimed at connecting them by the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence, and the great intermediate lakes and waters lying to the westward of the British possessions. In the year 1748, though peace was signed between the two European kingdoms, the colonial question remained unsettled, to be opened again when either party should be strong enough to urge it. In the year 1753 it came to an issue on the Ohio River where the British and French settlers met.
A company called the Ohio Company, having grants from the Virginia government of lands along that river, found themselves invaded in their settlement's by French military detachments, who roughly ejected the Britons from their holdings. These latter applied for protection to Mr. Dinwiddie, lieutenant governor of Virginia, who determined upon sending an ambassador to the French commanding officer on the Ohio demanding that the French should desist from their inroads upon the territories of his Majesty King George.
Young Mr. Washington jumped eagerly at the chance of distinction which this service afforded him, and volunteered to leave his home and his rural and professional pursuits in Virginia, to carry the governor's message to the French officer. Taking a guide, an interpreter, and a few attendants, and following the Indian tracks, in the fall of the year 1753 the intrepid young envoy made his way from Williamsburg almost to the shores of Lake Erie, and found the French commander at Fort Le Boeuf. That officer's reply was brief; his orders were to hold the place and drive all the English from it. The French avowed their intention of taking possession of the Ohio. And with this rough answer the messenger from Virginia had to return through danger and difficulty, across lonely forest and frozen river, shaping his course by the compass, and camping at night in the snow by the forest fires.
On his return from this expedition, which he had conducted with an heroic energy and simplicity, Major Washington was a greater favourite than ever with the lady of Castlewood. She pointed him out as a model to both of her sons. "Ah, Harry!" she would say, "think of you, with your cock-fighting and your racing matches, and the Major away there in the wilderness, watching the French, and battling with the frozen rivers! Ah, George! learning may be a very good thing, but I wish my elder son were doing something in the service of his country!"
Mr. Washington on his return home began at once raising such a regiment as, with the scanty pay and patronage of the Virginian government, he could get together, and proposed with the help of these men-of-war to put a more peremptory veto upon the French invaders than the solitary ambassador had been enabled to lay. A small force under another officer, Colonel Trent, had already been despatched to the west, with orders to fortify themselves so as to be able to resist any attack of the enemy. The French troops greatly outnumbering ours, came up with the English outposts, who were fortifying themselves at a place on the confines of Pennsylvania where the great city of Pittsburg now stands. A Virginian officer with but forty men was in no condition to resist twenty times that number of Canadians who appeared before his incomplete works. He was suffered to draw back without molestation; and the French, taking possession of his fort, strengthened it and christened it by the name of the Canadian governor, Du Quesne. Up to this time no actual blow of war had been struck. It was strange that in a savage forest of Pennsylvania a young Virginian officer should fire a shot and waken up a war which was to last for sixty years, which was to cover his own country and pass into Europe, to cost France her American colonies, to sever ours from us, and create the great Western Republic; to rage over the old world when extinguished in the new; and of all the myriads engaged in the vast contest, to leave the prize of the greatest fame with him who struck the first blow!