The Virginians Read online

  CHAPTER V. Family Jars

  As Harry Warrington related to his new-found relative the simple storyof his adventures at home, no doubt Madam Bernstein, who possessed agreat sense of humour and a remarkable knowledge of the world, formedher judgment respecting the persons and events described; and if heropinion was not in all respects favourable, what can be said but thatmen and women are imperfect, and human life not entirely pleasant orprofitable? The court and city-bred lady recoiled at the mere thought ofher American sister's countrified existence. Such a life would be ratherwearisome to most city-bred ladies. But little Madam Warrington knew nobetter, and was satisfied with her life, as indeed she was with herselfin general. Because you and I are epicures or dainty feeders, it doesnot follow that Hodge is miserable with his homely meal of bread andbacon. Madam Warrington had a life of duties and employments which mightbe humdrum, but at any rate were pleasant to her. She was a brisk littlewoman of business, and all the affairs of her large estate came underher cognisance. No pie was baked at Castlewood but her little finger wasin it. She set the maids to their spinning, she saw the kitchen wenchesat their work, she trotted afield on her pony, and oversaw the overseersand the negro hands as they worked in the tobacco-and corn-fields. If aslave was ill, she would go to his quarters in any weather, and doctorhim with great resolution. She had a book full of receipts after the oldfashion, and a closet where she distilled waters and compounded elixirs,and a medicine-chest which was the terror of her neighbours. Theytrembled to be ill, lest the little lady should be upon them with herdecoctions and her pills.

  A hundred years back there were scarce any towns in Virginia; theestablishments of the gentry were little villages in which theyand their vassals dwelt. Rachel Esmond ruled like a little queen inCastlewood; the princes, her neighbours, governed their estates roundabout. Many of these were rather needy potentates, living plentifullybut in the roughest fashion, having numerous domestics whose liverieswere often ragged; keeping open houses, and turning away no strangerfrom their gates; proud, idle, fond of all sorts of field sportsas became gentlemen of good lineage. The widow of Castlewood was ashospitable as her neighbours, and a better economist than most ofthem. More than one, no doubt, would have had no objection to share herlife-interest in the estate, and supply the place of papa to her boys.But where was the man good enough for a person of her ladyship's exaltedbirth? There was a talk of making the Duke of Cumberland viceroy, oreven king, over America. Madam Warrington's gossips laughed, and saidshe was waiting for him. She remarked, with much gravity and dignity,that persons of as high birth as his Royal Highness had made offers ofalliance to the Esmond family.

  She had, as lieutenant under her, an officer's widow who has been beforenamed, and who had been Madam Esmond's companion at school, as her latehusband had been the regimental friend of the late Mr. Warrington. Whenthe English girls at the Kensington Academy, where Rachel Esmond had hereducation, teased and tortured the little American stranger, and laughedat the princified airs which she gave herself from a very early age,Fanny Parker defended and befriended her. They both married ensignsin Kingsley's. They became tenderly attached to each other. It was "myFanny" and "my Rachel" in the letters of the young ladies. Then, myFanny's husband died in sad out-at-elbowed circumstances, leavingno provision for his widow and her infant; and, in one of his annualvoyages, Captain Franks brought over Mrs. Mountain, in the Young Rachel,to Virginia.

  There was plenty of room in Castlewood House, and Mrs. Mountain servedto enliven the place. She played cards with the mistress: she had someknowledge of music, and could help the eldest boy in that way: shelaughed and was pleased with the guests: she saw to the strangers'chambers, and presided over the presses and the linen. She was a kind,brisk, jolly-looking widow, and more than one unmarried gentleman of thecolony asked her to change her name for his own. But she chose to keepthat of Mountain, though, and perhaps because, it had brought her nogood fortune. One marriage was enough for her, she said. Mr. Mountainhad amiably spent her little fortune and his own. Her last trinkets wentto pay his funeral; and, as long as Madam Warrington would keep her atCastlewood, she preferred a home without a husband to any which asyet had been offered to her in Virginia. The two ladies quarrelledplentifully; but they loved each other: they made up their differences:they fell out again, to be reconciled presently. When either of the boyswas ill, each lady vied with the other in maternal tenderness and care.In his last days and illness, Mrs. Mountain's cheerfulness and kindnesshad been greatly appreciated by the Colonel, whose memory MadamWarrington regarded more than that of any living person. So that, yearafter year, when Captain Franks would ask Mrs. Mountain, in his pleasantway, whether she was going back with him that voyage? she would decline,and say that she proposed to stay a year more.

  And when suitors came to Madam Warrington, as come they would, she wouldreceive their compliments and attentions kindly enough, and asked morethan one of these lovers whether it was Mrs. Mountain he came after? Shewould use her best offices with Mountain. Fanny was the best creature,was of a good English family, and would make any gentleman happy. Didthe Squire declare it was to her and not her dependant that he paid hisaddresses; she would make him her gravest curtsey, say that she reallyhad been utterly mistaken as to his views, and let him know that thedaughter of the Marquis of Esmond lived for her people and her sons,and did not propose to change her condition. Have we not read how QueenElizabeth was a perfectly sensible woman of business, and was pleased toinspire not only terror and awe, but love in the bosoms of her subjects?So the little Virginian princess had her favourites, and accepted theirflatteries, and grew tired of them, and was cruel or kind to them assuited her wayward imperial humour. There was no amount of complimentwhich she would not graciously receive and take as her due. Her littlefoible was so well known that the wags used to practise upon it.Rattling Jack Firebrace of Henrico county had free quarters for monthsat Castlewood, and was a prime favourite with the lady there, becausehe addressed verses to her which he stole out of the pocket-books. TomHumbold of Spotsylvania wagered fifty hogsheads against five that hewould make her institute an order of knighthood, and won his wager.

  The elder boy saw these freaks and oddities of his good mother'sdisposition, and chafed and raged at them privately. From very earlydays he revolted when flatteries and compliments were paid to the littlelady, and strove to expose them with his juvenile satire; so thathis mother would say gravely, "The Esmonds were always of a jealousdisposition, and my poor boy takes after my father and mother in this."George hated Jack Firebrace and Tom Humbold, and all their like;whereas Harry went out sporting with them, and fowling, and fishing, andcock-fighting, and enjoyed all the fun of the country.

  One winter, after their first tutor had been dismissed, Madam Esmondtook them to Williamsburg, for such education as the schools and collegethere afforded, and there it was the fortune of the family to listen tothe preaching of the famous Mr. Whitfield, who had come into Virginia,where the habits and preaching of the established clergy were not veryedifying. Unlike many of the neighbouring provinces, Virginia was aChurch of England colony: the clergymen were paid by the State and hadglebes allotted to them; and, there being no Church of England bishop asyet in America, the colonists were obliged to import their divines fromthe mother-country. Such as came were not, naturally, of the very bestor most eloquent kind of pastors. Noblemen's hangers-on, insolventparsons who had quarrelled with justice or the bailiff, brought theirstained cassocks into the colony in the hopes of finding a living there.No wonder that Whitfield's great voice stirred those whom harmless Mr.Broadbent, the Williamsburg chaplain, never could awaken. At first theboys were as much excited as their mother by Mr. Whitfield: they sanghymns, and listened to him with fervour, and, could he have remainedlong enough among them, Harry and George had both worn black coatsprobably instead of epaulettes. The simple boys communicated theirexperiences to one another, and were on the daily and nightly look-outfor the sacred "call," in the hope or the possession of which
such avast multitude of Protestant England was thrilling at the time.

  But Mr. Whitfield could not stay always with the little congregation ofWilliamsburg. His mission was to enlighten the whole benighted people ofthe Church, and from the East to the West to trumpet the truth and bidslumbering sinners awaken. However, he comforted the widow with preciousletters, and promised to send her a tutor for her sons who should becapable of teaching them not only profane learning, but of strengtheningand confirming them in science much more precious.

  In due course, a chosen vessel arrived from England. Young Mr. Ward hada voice as loud as Mr. Whitfield's, and could talk almost as readilyand for as long a time. Night and evening the hall sounded with hisexhortations. The domestic negroes crept to the doors to listen to him.Other servants darkened the porch windows with their crisp heads to hearhim discourse. It was over the black sheep of the Castlewood flock thatMr. Ward somehow had the most influence. These woolly lamblings wereimmensely affected by his exhortations, and, when he gave out the hymn,there was such a negro chorus about the house as might be heard acrossthe Potomac--such a chorus as would never have been heard in theColonel's time--for that worthy gentleman had a suspicion of allcassocks, and said he would never have any controversy with a clergymanbut upon backgammon. Where money was wanted for charitable purposes noman was more ready, and the good, easy Virginian clergyman, who lovedbackgammon heartily, too, said that the worthy Colonel's charity mustcover his other shortcomings.

  Ward was a handsome young man. His preaching pleased Madam Esmond fromthe first, and, I daresay, satisfied her as much as Mr. Whitfield's. Ofcourse it cannot be the case at the present day when they are so finelyeducated, but women, a hundred years ago, were credulous, eager toadmire and believe, and apt to imagine all sorts of excellences in theobject of their admiration. For weeks, nay, months, Madam Esmondwas never tired of hearing Mr. Ward's great glib voice and volublecommonplaces: and, according to her wont, she insisted that herneighbours should come and listen to him, and ordered them to beconverted. Her young favourite, Mr. Washington, she was especiallyanxious to influence; and again and again pressed him to come andstay at Castlewood and benefit by the spiritual advantages there tobe obtained. But that young gentleman found he had particular businesswhich called him home or away from home, and always ordered his horseof evenings when the time was coming for Mr. Ward's exercises. And--whatboys are just towards their pedagogue?--the twins grew speedily tiredand 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, and caught himin perpetual blunders and false quantities. Harry, who could take muchgreater liberties than were allowed to his elder brother, mimickedWard's manner of eating and talking, so that Mrs. Mountain and evenMadam Esmond were forced to laugh, and little Fanny Mountain would crowwith delight. Madam Esmond would have found the fellow out for a vulgarquack but for her sons' opposition, which she, on her part, opposed withher own indomitable will. "What matters whether he has more or less ofprofane learning?" she asked; "in that which is most precious, Mr. W.is able to be a teacher to all of us. What if his manners are a littlerough? Heaven does not choose its elect from among the great andwealthy. I wish you knew one book, children, as well as Mr. Ward does.It is your wicked pride--the pride of all the Esmonds--which preventsyou from listening to him. Go down on your knees in your chamber andpray to be corrected of that dreadful fault." Ward's discourse thatevening was about Naaman the Syrian, and the pride he had in his nativerivers of Abana and Pharpar, which he vainly imagined to be superior tothe healing waters of Jordan--the moral being, that he, Ward, was thekeeper and guardian of the undoubted waters of Jordan, and that theunhappy, conceited boys must go to perdition unless they came to him.

  George now began to give way to a wicked sarcastic method, which,perhaps, he had inherited from his grandfather, and with which, when aquiet, skilful young person chooses to employ it, he can make a wholefamily uncomfortable. He took up Ward's pompous remarks and made jokesof them, so that that young divine chafed and almost choked over hisgreat meals. He made Madam Esmond angry, and doubly so when he sentoff Harry into fits of laughter. Her authority was defied, her officerscorned and insulted, her youngest child perverted, by the obstinateelder brother. She made a desperate and unhappy attempt to maintain herpower.

  The boys were fourteen years of age, Harry being taller and much moreadvanced than his brother, who was delicate, and as yet almost childlikein stature and appearance. The baculine method was a quite common modeof argument in those days. Sergeants, schoolmasters, slave-overseers,used the cane freely. 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 madevery light of it. But, in the interregnum after Colonel Esmond's death,the cane had been laid aside, and the young gentlemen of Castlewoodhad been allowed to have their own way. Her own and her lieutenant'sauthority being now spurned by the youthful rebels, the unfortunatemother thought of restoring it by means of coercion. She took counselof Mr. Ward. That athletic young pedagogue could easily find chapter andverse to warrant the course which he wished to pursue--in fact, therewas no doubt about the wholesomeness of the practice in those clays. Hehad begun by flattering the boys, finding a good berth and snug quartersat Castlewood, and hoping to remain there.

  But they laughed at his flattery, they scorned his bad manners, theyyawned soon at his sermons; the more their mother favoured him, the morethey disliked him; and so the tutor and the pupils cordially hated eachother. Mrs. Mountain, who was the boys' friend, especially George'sfriend, whom she thought unjustly treated by his mother, warned the ladsto be prudent, and that some conspiracy was hatching against them. "Wardis more obsequious than ever to your mamma. It turns my stomach, itdoes, to hear him flatter, and to see him gobble--the odious wretch! Youmust be on your guard, my poor boys--you must learn your lessons, andnot anger your tutor. A mischief will come, I know it will. Your mammawas talking about you to Mr. Washington the other day, when I came intothe room. I don't like that Major Washington, you know I don't. Don'tsay--O Mounty! Master Harry. You always stand up for your friends, youdo. The Major is very handsome and tall, and he may be very good, but heis much too old a young man for me. Bless you, my dears, the quantityof wild oats your father sowed and my own poor Mountain when they wereensigns in Kingsley's, would fill sacks full! Show me Mr. Washington'swild 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 aboutyou, 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 themistress of yours.'"

  "The very words he used to me," cries Harry. "He told me that he did notlike to meddle with other folks' affairs, but that our mother was veryangry, dangerously angry, he said, and he begged me to obey Mr. Ward,and specially 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 rendered the lad moresupercilious and refractory.

  On the next day the storm broke, and vengeance fell on the littlerebel's head. Words passed between George and Mr. Ward during themorning study. The boy was quite insubordinate and unjust: even hisfaithful brother cried out, and owned that he was in the wrong. Mr. Wardkept his temper--to compress, bottle up, cork down, and prevent youranger from present furious explosion, is called keeping your temper--andsaid he should speak upon this business to Madam Esmond. When the familymet at dinner, Mr. Ward requested her ladyship to stay, and, temperatelyenough, laid the subject of dispute before her.

  He asked Master Harry to confirm what he had said: and poor Harry wasobliged to admit all the dominie's statements.

  George, standing under his grandfather's portrait by the chimney, saidhaughtily that what Mr. Ward had said was perfectly correct.

  "To be a tutor to such a pu
pil is absurd," said Mr. Ward, making a longspeech, interspersed with many of his usual Scripture phrases, at eachof which, as they occurred, that wicked young George smiled, and pishedscornfully, and at length Ward ended by asking her honour's leave toretire.

  "Not before you have punished this wicked and disobedient child," saidMadam Esmond, who had been gathering anger during Ward's harangue, andespecially at her son's behaviour.

  "Punish!" says George.

  "Yes, sir, punish! If means of love and entreaty fail, as they have withyour proud heart, other means must be found to bring you to obedience.I punish you now, rebellious boy, to guard you from greater punishmenthereafter. The discipline of this family must be maintained. There canbe but one command in a house, and I must be the mistress of mine. Youwill punish this refractory boy, Mr. Ward, as we have agreed that youshould do, and if there is the least resistance on his part, my overseerand servants will lend you aid."

  In some such words the widow no doubt must have spoken, but with manyvehement Scriptural allusions, which it does not become thischronicler to copy. To be for ever applying to the Sacred Oracles, andaccommodating their sentences to your purpose--to be for ever takingHeaven into your confidence about your private affairs, andpassionately calling for its interference in your family quarrels anddifficulties--to be so familiar with its designs and schemes as to beable to threaten your neighbour with its thunders, and to know preciselyits intentions regarding him and others who differ from your infallibleopinion--this was the schooling which our simple widow had received fromher impetuous young spiritual guide, and I doubt whether it brought hermuch comfort.

  In the midst of his mother's harangue, in spite of it, perhaps, GeorgeEsmond felt he had been wrong. "There can be but one command in thehouse, and you must be mistress--I know who said those words beforeyou," 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'senough: isn't it?"

  "No, it is not enough!" cried the little woman. "The disobedient boymust pay the penalty of his disobedience. When I was headstrong, as Isometimes was as a child before my spirit was changed and humbled, mymamma punished me, and I submitted. So must George. I desire you will doyour duty, Mr. Ward."

  "Stop, mother!--you don't quite know what you are doing," George said,exceedingly agitated.

  "I know that he who spares the rod spoils the child, ungrateful boy!"says Madam Esmond, with more references of the same nature, which Georgeheard, looking very pale and desperate.

  Upon the mantelpiece, under the Colonel's portrait, stood a chinacup, by which the widow set great store, as her father had always beenaccustomed to drink from it. George suddenly took it, and a strangesmile passed over his pale face.

  "Stay one minute. Don't go away yet," he cried to his mother, who wasleaving the room. "You--you are very fond of this cup, mother?"--andHarry looked at him, wondering. "If I broke it, it could never bemended, could it? All the tinkers' rivets would not make it a whole cupagain. My dear old grandpapa's cup! I have been wrong. Mr. Ward, I askpardon. I will try and amend."

  The widow looked at her son indignantly, almost scornfully. "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 itfall on the marble slab below him. Harry had tried in vain to catch it.

  "It is too late, Hal," George said. "You will never mend thatagain--never. Now, mother, I am ready, as it is your wish. Will you comeand see whether I am afraid? Mr. Ward, I am your servant. Your servant?Your slave! And the next time I meet Mr. Washington, madam, I will thankhim 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 ofthe room to the study.

  "Stop! For God's sake, mother, stop!" cried poor Hal. But passion wasboiling in the little woman's heart, and she would not hear the boy'spetition. "You only abet him, sir!" she cried.--"If I had to do itmyself, it should be done!" And Harry, with sadness and wrath in hiscountenance, left the room by the door through which Mr. Ward and hisbrother had just issued.

  The widow sank down on a great chair near it, and sat a while vacantlylooking at the fragments of the broken cup. Then she inclined her headtowards the door--one of half a dozen of carved mahogany which theColonel had brought from Europe. For a while there was silence: then aloud outcry, which made the poor mother start.

  In another minute Mr. Ward came out bleeding, from a great wound on hishead, and behind him Harry, with flaring eyes, and brandishing a littlecouteau-de-chasse of his grandfather, which hung, with others of theColonel's weapons, on the library wall.

  "I don't care. I did it," says Harry. "I couldn't see this fellow strikemy 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 ormy 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 youngchampion and his victim. She must have suffered terribly during the fewminutes of the boys' absence; and the stripes which she imagined hadbeen inflicted on the elder had smitten her own heart. She longedto take both boys to it. She was not angry now. Very likely she wasdelighted with the thought of the younger's prowess and generosity."You are a very naughty disobedient child," she said, in an exceedinglypeaceable voice. "My poor Mr. Ward! What a rebel, to strike you! Papa'sgreat ebony ruler, was it? Lay down that hanger, child. 'Twas GeneralWebb gave it to my papa after the siege of Lille. Let me bathe yourwound, my good Mr. Ward, and thank Heaven it was no worse. Mountain!Go fetch me some court-plaster out of the middle drawer in the japancabinet. Here comes George. Put on your coat and waistcoat, child! Youwere going to take your punishment, sir, and that is sufficient. Askpardon, Harry, of good Mr. Ward, for your wicked rebellious spirit,--Ido, with all my heart, I am sure. And guard against your passionatenature, child--and pray to be forgiven. My son, O my son!" Here, with aburst of tears which she could no longer control, the little woman threwherself on the neck of her eldest-born; whilst Harry, laying the hangerdown, went up very feebly to Mr. Ward, and said, "Indeed, I ask yourpardon, sir. I couldn't help it; on my honour I couldn't; nor bear tosee my brother struck."

  The widow was scared, as after her embrace she looked up at George'spale face. In reply to her eager caresses, he coldly kissed her on theforehead, and separated from her. "You meant for the best, mother," hesaid, "and I was in the wrong. But the cup is broken; and all the king'shorses and all the king's men cannot mend it. There--put the fair sideoutwards on the mantelpiece, and the wound will not show."

  Again Madam Esmond looked at the lad, as he placed the fragments of thepoor cup on the ledge where it had always been used to stand. Her powerover him was gone. He had dominated her. She was not sorry for thedefeat; for women like not only to conquer, but to be conquered; andfrom that day the young gentleman was master at Castlewood. His motheradmired him as he went up to Harry, graciously and condescendingly gaveHal his hand, and said, "Thank you, brother!" as if he were a prince,and Harry a general who had helped him in a great battle.

  Then George went up to Mr. Ward, who was still piteously bathing hiseye and forehead in the water. "I ask pardon for Hal's violence, sir,"George said, in great state. "You see, though we are very young, weare gentlemen, and cannot brook an insult from strangers. I shouldhave submitted, as it was mamma's desire; but I am glad she no longerentertains it."

  "And pray, sir, who is to compensate me?" says Mr. Ward; "who is torepair the insult done to me?"

  "We are very young," says George, with another of his old-fashionedbows. "We shall be fifteen soon. Any compensation that is usual amongstgentlemen"

  "This, sir,
to a minister of the Word!" bawls out Ward, starting up,and who knew perfectly well the lads' skill in fence, having a score oftimes been foiled by the pair of them.

  "You are not a clergyman yet. We thought you might like to be consideredas a gentleman. We did not know."

  "A gentleman! I am a Christian, sir!" says Ward, glaring furiously, andclenching his great fists.

  "Well, well, if you won't fight, why don't you forgive?" says Harry. "Ifyou don't forgive, why don't you fight? That's what I call the horns ofa dilemma;" and he laughed his frank, jolly laugh.

  But this was nothing to the laugh a few days afterwards, when, thequarrel having been patched up, along with poor Mr. Ward's eye, theunlucky tutor was holding forth according to his custom. He tried topreach the boys into respect for him, to reawaken the enthusiasm whichthe congregation had felt for him; he wrestled with their manifestindifference, he implored Heaven to warm their cold hearts again, and tolift up those who were falling back. All was in vain. The widow wept nomore at his harangues, was no longer excited by his loudest tropes andsimiles, nor appeared to be much frightened by the very hottest menaceswith which he peppered his discourse. Nay, she pleaded headache, andwould absent herself of an evening, on which occasion the remainder ofthe little congregation was very cold indeed. One day, then, Ward,still making desperate efforts to get back his despised authority, waspreaching on the beauty of subordination, the present lax spirit of theage, and the necessity of obeying our spiritual and temporal rulers."For why, my dear friends," he nobly asked (he was in the habit ofasking immensely dull questions, and straightway answering them withcorresponding platitudes), "why are governors appointed, but that weshould be governed? Why are tutors engaged, but that children should betaught?" (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 theircountenances the double meaning of the unlucky word he had uttered,and stammered, and thumped the table with his fist. "Why, I say, arerulers----"

  "Rulers," says George, looking at Harry.

  "Rulers!" says Hal, putting his hand to his eye, where the poor tutorstill bore marks of the late scuffle. Rulers, o-ho! It was too much. Theboys burst out in an explosion of laughter. Mrs. Mountain, who was fullof fun, could not help joining in the chorus; and little Fanny, who hadalways behaved very demurely and silently at these ceremonies, crowedagain, and clapped her little hands at the others laughing, not in theleast knowing the reason why.

  This could not be borne. Ward shut down the book before him; in a fewangry, but eloquent and manly words, said he would speak no more in thatplace; and left Castlewood not in the least regretted by Madam Esmond,who had doted on him three months before.