Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges. William Makepeace Thackeray

      And here he may relate, though he was then too young to know all that was happening, what the papers contained, of which Captain Westbury had made a seizure, and which papers had been transferred from the japan-box to the bed when the officers arrived.

      There was a list, of gentlemen of the county in Father Holt's handwriting—Mr. Freeman's (King James's) friends—a similar paper being found among those of Sir John Fenwick and Mr. Coplestone, who suffered death for this conspiracy.

      There was a patent conferring the title of Marquis of Esmond on my Lord Castlewood, and the heirs male of his body; his appointment as lord lieutenant of the county, and major-general.7

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      There were various letters from the nobility and gentry, some ardent and some doubtful, in the king's service; and (very luckily for him) two letters concerning Colonel Francis Esmond; one from Father Holt, which said, “I have been to see this colonel at his house at Walcote near to Wells, where he resides since the king's departure, and pressed him very eagerly in Mr. Freeman's cause, showing him the great advantage he would have by trading with that merchant, offering him large premiums there as agreed between us. But he says no: he considers Mr. Freeman the head of the firm, will never trade against him or embark with any other trading company, but considers his duty was done when Mr. Freeman left England. This colonel seems to care more for his wife and his beagles than for affairs. He asked me much about young H. E., ‘that bastard,’ as he called him: doubting my lord's intentions respecting him. I reassured him on this head, stating what I knew of the lad, and our intentions respecting him, but with regard to Freeman he was inflexible.”

      And another letter was from Colonel Esmond to his kinsman, to say that one Captain Holton had been with him offering him large bribes to join, you know who, and saying that the head of the house of Castlewood was deeply engaged in that quarter. But for his part he had broke his sword when the K. left the country, and would never again fight in that quarrel. The P. of O. was a man, at least, of a noble courage, and his duty and, as he thought, every Englishman's, was to keep the country quiet, and the French out of it: and, in fine, that he would have nothing to do with the scheme.

      Of the existence of these two letters and the contents of the pillow, Colonel Frank Esmond, who became Viscount Castlewood, told Henry Esmond afterwards, when the letters were shown to his lordship, who congratulated himself, as he had good reason, that he had not joined in the scheme which proved so fatal to many concerned in it. But, naturally, the lad knew little about these circumstances when they happened under his eyes: only being aware that his patron and his mistress were in some trouble, which had caused the flight of the one, and the apprehension of the other by the officers of King William.

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      The seizure of the papers effected, the gentlemen did not pursue their further search through Castlewood house very rigorously. They examined Mr. Holt's room, being led thither by his pupil, who showed, as the father had bidden him, the place where the key of his chamber lay, opened the door for the gentlemen, and conducted them into the room.

      When the gentlemen came to the half-burned papers in the brazier, they examined them eagerly enough, and their young guide was a little amused at their perplexity.

      “What are these?” says one.

      “They're written in a foreign language,” says the lawyer. “What are you laughing at, little whelp?” adds he, turning round as he saw the boy smile.

      “Mr. Holt said they were sermons,” Harry said, “and bade me to burn them;” which indeed was true of those papers.

      “Sermons, indeed—it's treason, I would lay a wager,” cries the lawyer.

      “Egad! it's Greek to me,” says Captain Westbury. “Can you read it, little boy?”

      “Yes, sir, a little,” Harry said.

      “Then read, and read in English, sir, on your peril,” said the lawyer. And Harry began to translate:—

      “Hath not one of your own writers said, ‘The children of Adam are now labouring as much as he himself ever did, about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, shaking the boughs thereof, and seeking the fruit, being for the most part unmindful of the tree of life.’ O blind generation! 'tis this tree of knowledge to which the serpent has led you”—and here the boy was obliged to stop, the rest of the page being charred by the fire: and asked of the lawyer—“Shall I go on, sir?”

      The lawyer said—“This boy is deeper than he seems: who knows that he is not laughing at us?”

      “Let's have in Dick the Scholar,” cried Captain Westbury, laughing; and he called to a trooper out of the window—“Ho, Dick, come in here and construe.”

      A thick-set soldier, with a square good-humoured face, came in at the summons, saluting his officer.

      “Tell us what is this, Dick,” says the lawyer.

      “My name is Steele, sir,” says the soldier. “I may be Dick for my friends, but I don't name gentlemen of your cloth amongst them.”

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      “Well then, Steele.”

      “Mr. Steele, sir, if you please. When you address a gentleman of his Majesty's Horse Guards, be pleased not to be so familiar.”

      “I didn't know, sir,” said the lawyer.

      “How should you? I take it you are not accustomed to meet with gentlemen,” says the trooper.

      “Hold thy prate, and read that bit of paper,” says Westbury.

      “'Tis Latin,” says Dick, glancing at it, and again saluting his officer, “and from a sermon of Mr. Cudworth's,” and he translated the words pretty much as Henry Esmond had rendered them.

      “What a young scholar you are,” says the captain to the boy.

      “Depend on't, he knows more than he tells,” says the lawyer. “I think we will pack him off in the coach with old Jezebel.”

      “For construing a bit of Latin?” said the captain very good-naturedly.

      “I would as lief go there as anywhere,” Harry Esmond said, simply, “for there is nobody to care for me.”

      There must have been something touching in the child's voice, or in this description of his solitude—for the captain looked at him very good-naturedly, and the trooper, called Steele, put his hand kindly on the lad's head, and said some words in the Latin tongue.

      “What does he say?” says the lawyer.

      “Faith, ask Dick himself,” cried Captain Westbury.

      “I said I was not ignorant of misfortune myself, and had learned to succour the miserable, and that's not your trade, Mr. Sheepskin,” said the trooper.

      “You had better leave Dick the Scholar alone, Mr. Corbet,” the captain said. And Harry Esmond, always touched by a kind face and kind word, felt very grateful to this good-natured champion.

      The horses were by this time harnessed to the coach; and the countess and Victoire came down and were put into the vehicle. This woman, who quarrelled with Harry Esmond all day, was melted at parting with him, and called him “dear angel”, and “poor infant”, and a hundred other names.

      The viscountess, giving him her lean hand to kiss, bade him always be faithful to the house of Esmond. “If evil [pg 064] should happen to my lord,” says she, “his successor I trust will be found, and give you protection. Situated as I am, they will not dare wreak their vengeance on me now.” And she kissed a medal she wore with great fervour, and Henry Esmond knew not in the least what her meaning was; but hath since learned that, old as she was, she was for ever expecting, by the good offices of saints and relics, to have an heir to the title of Esmond.

      Harry Esmond was too young to have been introduced into the secrets