The History of Henry Esmond | Page 5

the company went away; it was always the same; as he was
always dressed the same, whether for a dinner by ourselves or for a
great entertainment. They say he liked to be the first in his company;
but what company was there in which he would not be first? When I
went to Europe for my education, and we passed a winter at London
with my half-brother, my Lord Castlewood and his second lady, I saw
at her Majesty's Court some of the most famous gentlemen of those
days; and I thought to myself none of these are better than my papa;
and the famous Lord Bolingbroke, who came to us from Dawley, said
as much, and that the men of that time were not like those of his
youth:--"Were your father, Madam," he said, "to go into the woods, the
Indians would elect him Sachem;" and his lordship was pleased to call
me Pocahontas.
I did not see our other relative, Bishop Tusher's lady, of whom so much
is said in my papa's memoirs--although my mamma went to visit her in
the country. I have no pride (as I showed by complying with my
mother's request, and marrying a gentleman who was but the younger
son of a Suffolk Baronet), yet I own to A DECENT RESPECT for my
name, and wonder how one who ever bore it, should change it for that
of Mrs. THOMAS TUSHER. I pass over as odious and unworthy of
credit those reports (which I heard in Europe and was then too young to
understand), how this person, having LEFT HER FAMILY and fled to
Paris, out of jealousy of the Pretender betrayed his secrets to my Lord
Stair, King George's Ambassador, and nearly caused the Prince's death
there; how she came to England and married this Mr. Tusher, and
became a great favorite of King George the Second, by whom Mr.
Tusher was made a Dean, and then a Bishop. I did not see the lady,

who chose to remain AT HER PALACE all the time we were in
London; but after visiting her, my poor mamma said she had lost all her
good looks, and warned me not to set too much store by any such gifts
which nature had bestowed upon me. She grew exceedingly stout; and I
remember my brother's wife, Lady Castlewood, saying--"No wonder
she became a favorite, for the King likes them old and ugly, as his
father did before him." On which papa said--"All women were alike;
that there was never one so beautiful as that one; and that we could
forgive her everything but her beauty." And hereupon my mamma
looked vexed, and my Lord Castlewood began to laugh; and I, of
course, being a young creature, could not understand what was the
subject of their conversation.
After the circumstances narrated in the third book of these Memoirs,
my father and mother both went abroad, being advised by their friends
to leave the country in consequence of the transactions which are
recounted at the close of the volume of the Memoirs. But my brother,
hearing how the FUTURE BISHOP'S LADY had quitted Castlewood
and joined the Pretender at Paris, pursued him, and would have killed
him, Prince as he was, had not the Prince managed to make his escape.
On his expedition to Scotland directly after, Castlewood was so
enraged against him that he asked leave to serve as a volunteer, and
join the Duke of Argyle's army in Scotland, which the Pretender never
had the courage to face; and thenceforth my Lord was quite reconciled
to the present reigning family, from whom he hath even received
promotion.
Mrs. Tusher was by this time as angry against the Pretender as any of
her relations could be, and used to boast, as I have heard, that she not
only brought back my Lord to the Church of England, but procured the
English peerage for him, which the JUNIOR BRANCH of our family at
present enjoys. She was a great friend of Sir Robert Walpole, and
would not rest until her husband slept at Lambeth, my papa used
laughing to say. However, the Bishop died of apoplexy suddenly, and
his wife erected a great monument over him; and the pair sleep under
that stone, with a canopy of marble clouds and angels above them--the
first Mrs. Tusher lying sixty miles off at Castlewood.
But my papa's genius and education are both greater than any a woman
can be expected to have, and his adventures in Europe far more exciting

than his life in this country, which was passed in the tranquil offices of
love and duty; and I shall say no more by way of introduction to his
Memoirs, nor keep my children from the perusal of a story