Chapter XI. I Come Home For A Holiday To Castlewood, And Find A SkeletonIn The House
At his third long vacation, Esmond came as usual to Castlewood, alwaysfeeling an eager thrill of pleasure when he found himself once more in thehouse where he had passed so many years, and beheld the kind familiar eyesof his mistress looking upon him. She and her children (out of whosecompany she scarce ever saw him) came to greet him. Miss Beatrix was grownso tall that Harry did not quite know whether he might kiss her or no; andshe blushed and held back when he offered that salutation, though she tookit, and even courted it, when they were alone. The young lord was shootingup to be like his gallant father in look, though with his mother's kindeyes: the Lady of Castlewood herself seemed grown, too, since Harry sawher--in her look more stately, in her person fuller, in her face, still asever most tender and friendly, a greater air of command and decision thanhad appeared in that guileless sweet countenance which Harry remembered sogratefully. The tone of her voice was so much deeper and sadder when shespoke and welcomed him, that it quite startled Esmond, who looked up ather surprised as she spoke, when she withdrew her eyes from him; nor didshe ever look at him afterwards when his own eyes were gazing upon her. Asomething hinting at grief and secret, and filling his mind with alarmundefinable, seemed to speak with that low thrilling voice of hers, andlook out of those dear sad eyes. Her greeting to Esmond was so cold thatit almost pained the lad (who would have liked to fall on his knees andkiss the skirt of her robe, so fond and ardent was his respect and regardfor her), and he faltered in answering the questions which she, hesitatingon her side, began to put to him. Was he happy at Cambridge? Did he studytoo hard? She hoped not. He had grown very tall, and looked very well.
"He has got a moustache!" cries out Master Esmond.
"Why does he not wear a peruke like my Lord Mohun?" asked Miss Beatrix."My lord says that nobody wears their own hair."
"I believe you will have to occupy your old chamber," says my lady. "Ihope the housekeeper has got it ready."
"Why, mamma, you have been there ten times these three days yourself!"exclaims Frank.
"And she cut some flowers which you planted in my garden--do you remember,ever so many years ago?--when I was quite a little girl," cries out MissBeatrix, on tiptoe. "And mamma put them in your window."
"I remember when you grew well after you were ill that you used to likeroses," said the lady, blushing like one of them. They all conducted HarryEsmond to his chamber; the children running before, Harry walking by hismistress hand-in-hand.
The old room had been ornamented and beautified not a little to receivehim. The flowers were in the window in a china vase; and there was a finenew counterpane on the bed, which chatterbox Beatrix said mamma had madetoo. A fire was crackling on the hearth, although it was June. My ladythought the room wanted warming; everything was done to make him happy andwelcome: "And you are not to be a page any longer, but a gentleman andkinsman, and to walk with papa and mamma," said the children. And as soonas his dear mistress and children had left him to himself, it was with aheart overflowing with love and gratefulness that he flung himself down onhis knees by the side of the little bed, and asked a blessing upon thosewho were so kind to him.
The children, who are always house tell-tales, soon made him acquaintedwith the little history of the house and family. Papa had been to Londontwice. Papa often went away now. Papa had taken Beatrix to Westlands,where she was taller than Sir George Harper's second daughter, though shewas two years older. Papa had taken Beatrix and Frank both to Bellminster,where Frank had got the better of Lord Bellminster's son in aboxing-match--my lord, laughing, told Harry afterwards. Many gentlemen cameto stop with papa, and papa had gotten a new game from London, a Frenchgame, called a billiard--that the French king played it very well: and theDowager Lady Castlewood had sent Miss Beatrix a present; and papa hadgotten a new chaise, with two little horses, which he drove himself,beside the coach, which mamma went in; and Dr. Tusher was a cross oldplague, and they did not like to learn from him at all; and papa did notcare about them learning, and laughed when they were at their books, butmamma liked them to learn, and taught them; and "I don't think papa isfond of mamma", said Miss Beatrix, with her great eyes. She had come quiteclose up to Harry Esmond by the time this prattle took place, and was onhis knee, and had examined all the points of his dress, and all the goodor bad features of his homely face.
"You shouldn't say that papa is not fond of mamma," said the boy, at thisconfession. "Mamma never said so; and mamma forbade you to say it, MissBeatrix."
'Twas this, no doubt, that accounted for the sadness in Lady Castlewood'seyes, and the plaintive vibrations of her voice. Who does not know ofeyes, lighted by love once, where the flame shines no more?--of lampsextinguished, once properly trimmed and tended? Every man has such in hishouse. Such mementoes make our splendidest chambers look blank and sad;such faces seen in a day cast a gloom upon our sunshine. So oaths mutuallysworn, and invocations of Heaven, and priestly ceremonies, and fondbelief, and love, so fond and faithful that it never doubted but that itshould live for ever, are all of no avail towards making love eternal: itdies, in spite of the banns and the priest; and I have often thought thereshould be a visitation of the sick for it, and a funeral service, and anextreme unction, and an _abi in pace_. It has its course, like all mortalthings--its beginning, progress, and decay. It buds and it blooms out intosunshine, and it withers and ends. Strephon and Chloe languish apart; joinin a rapture: and presently you hear that Chloe is crying, and Strephonhas broken his crook across her back. Can you mend it so as to show nomarks of rupture? Not all the priests of Hymen, not all the incantationsto the gods, can make it whole!
Waking up from dreams, books, and visions of college honours, in which,for two years, Harry Esmond had been immersed, he found himself instantly,on his return home, in the midst of this actual tragedy of life, whichabsorbed and interested him more than all his tutor taught him. Thepersons whom he loved best in the world, and to whom he owed most, wereliving unhappily together. The gentlest and kindest of women was sufferingill-usage and shedding tears in secret: the man who made her wretched byneglect, if not by violence, was Harry's benefactor and patron. In houseswhere, in place of that sacred, inmost flame of love, there is discord atthe centre, the whole, household becomes hypocritical, and each lies tohis neighbour. The husband (or it may be the wife) lies when the visitorcomes in, and wears a grin of reconciliation or politeness before him. Thewife lies (indeed, her business is to do that, and to smile, however muchshe is beaten), swallows her tears, and lies to her lord and master; liesin bidding little Jacky respect dear papa; lies in assuring grandpapa thatshe is perfectly happy. The servants lie, wearing grave faces behind theirmaster's chair, and pretending to be unconscious of the fighting; and so,from morning till bedtime, life is passed in falsehood. And wiseacres callthis a proper regard of morals, and point out Baucis and Philemon asexamples of a good life.
If my lady did not speak of her griefs to Harry Esmond, my lord was by nomeans reserved when in his cups, and spoke his mind very freely, biddingHarry in his coarse way, and with his blunt language, beware of all womenas cheats, jades, jilts, and using other unmistakable monosyllables inspeaking of them. Indeed, 'twas the fashion of the day as I must own; andthere's not a writer of my time of any note, with the exception of poorDick Steele, that does not speak of a woman as of a slave, and scorn anduse her as such. Mr. Pope, Mr. Congreve, Mr. Addison, Mr. Gay, every oneof 'em, sing in this key, each according to his nature and politeness; andlouder and fouler than all in abuse is Dr. Swift, who spoke of them as hetreated them, worst of all.
Much of the quarrels and hatred which arise between married people come inmy mind from the husband's rage and revolt at discovering that his slaveand bedfellow, who is to minister to all his wishes, and is church-swornto honour and obey him--is his superior; and that _he_, and not she, oughtto be the subordinate of the twain; and in these controversies, I think,lay the cause of my lord's anger
against his lady. When he left her, shebegan to think for herself, and her thoughts were not in his favour. Afterthe illumination, when the love-lamp is put out that anon we spoke of, andby the common daylight we look at the picture, what a daub it looks! whata clumsy effigy! How many men and wives come to this knowledge, think you?And if it be painful to a woman to find herself mated for life to a boor,and ordered to love and honour a dullard; it is worse still for the manhimself perhaps, whenever in his dim comprehension the idea dawns that hisslave and drudge yonder is, in truth, his superior; that the woman whodoes his bidding, and submits to his humour, should be his lord; that shecan think a thousand things beyond the power of his muddled brains; andthat in yonder head, on the pillow opposite to him, lie a thousandfeelings, mysteries of thought, latent scorns and rebellions, whereof heonly dimly perceives the existence as they look out furtively from hereyes: treasures of love doomed to perish without a hand to gather them;sweet fancies and images of beauty that would grow and unfold themselvesinto flower; bright wit that would shine like diamonds could it be broughtinto the sun: and the tyrant in possession crushes the outbreak of allthese, drives them back like slaves into the dungeon and darkness, andchafes without that his prisoner is rebellious, and his sworn subjectundutiful and refractory. So the lamp was out in Castlewood Hall, and thelord and lady there saw each other as they were. With her illness andaltered beauty my lord's fire for his wife disappeared; with hisselfishness and faithlessness her foolish fiction of love and reverencewas rent away. Love!--who is to love what is base and unlovely?Respect!--who is to respect what is gross and sensual? Not all the marriageoaths sworn before all the parsons, cardinals, ministers, muftis, andrabbins in the world, can bind to that monstrous allegiance. This couplewas living apart then; the woman happy to be allowed to love and tend herchildren (who were never of her own goodwill away from her) and thankfulto have saved such treasures as these out of the wreck in which the betterpart of her heart went down.
These young ones had had no instructors save their mother, and DoctorTusher for their theology occasionally, and had made more progress thanmight have been expected under a tutor so indulgent and fond as LadyCastlewood. Beatrix could sing and dance like a nymph. Her voice was herfather's delight after dinner. She ruled over the house with littleimperial ways, which her parents coaxed and laughed at. She had longlearned the value of her bright eyes, and tried experiments in coquetry,_in corpore vili_, upon rustics and country squires, until she shouldprepare to conquer the world and the fashion. She put on a new ribbon towelcome Harry Esmond, made eyes at him, and directed her young smiles athim, not a little to the amusement of the young man, and the joy of herfather, who laughed his great laugh, and encouraged her in her thousandantics. Lady Castlewood watched the child gravely and sadly: the littleone was pert in her replies to her mother, yet eager in her protestationsof love and promises of amendment; and as ready to cry (after a littlequarrel brought on by her own giddiness) until she had won back hermamma's favour, as she was to risk the kind lady's displeasure by freshoutbreaks of restless vanity. From her mother's sad looks she fled to herfather's chair and boozy laughter. She already set the one against theother: and the little rogue delighted in the mischief which she knew howto make so early.
The young heir of Castlewood was spoiled by father and mother both. Hetook their caresses as men do, and as if they were his right. He had hishawks and his spaniel dog, his little horse and his beagles. He hadlearned to ride and to drink, and to shoot flying: and he had a smallcourt, the sons of the huntsman and woodman, as became the heir-apparent,taking after the example of my lord his father. If he had a headache, hismother was as much frightened as if the plague were in the house: my lordlaughed and jeered in his abrupt way--(indeed, 'twas on the day after NewYear's Day, and an excess of mince-pie)--and said with some of his usualoaths--"D----n it, Harry Esmond--you see how my lady takes on about Frank'smegrim. She used to be sorry about me, my boy (pass the tankard, Harry),and to be frightened if I had a headache once. She don't care about myhead now. They're like that--women are--all the same, Harry, all jilts intheir hearts. Stick to college--stick to punch and buttery ale: and neversee a woman that's handsomer than an old cinder-faced bedmaker. That's mycounsel."
It was my lord's custom to fling out many jokes of this nature, inpresence of his wife and children, at meals--clumsy sarcasms which my ladyturned many a time, or which, sometimes, she affected not to hear, orwhich now and again would hit their mark and make the poor victim wince(as you could see by her flushing face and eyes filling with tears), orwhich again worked her up to anger and retort, when, in answer to one ofthese heavy bolts, she would flash back with a quivering reply. The pairwere not happy; nor indeed was it happy to be with them. Alas thatyouthful love and truth should end in bitterness and bankruptcy! To see ayoung couple loving each other is no wonder; but to see an old coupleloving each other is the best sight of all. Harry Esmond became theconfidant of one and the other--that is, my lord told the lad all hisgriefs and wrongs (which were indeed of Lord Castlewood's own making), andHarry divined my lady's; his affection leading him easily to penetrate thehypocrisy under which Lady Castlewood generally chose to go disguised, andsee her heart aching whilst her face wore a smile. 'Tis a hard task forwomen in life, that mask which the world bids them wear. But there is nogreater crime than for a woman who is ill used and unhappy to show thatshe is so. The world is quite relentless about bidding her to keep acheerful face; and our women, like the Malabar wives, are forced to gosmiling and painted to sacrifice themselves with their husbands; theirrelations being the most eager to push them on to their duty, and, undertheir shouts and applauses, to smother and hush their cries of pain.
So, into the sad secret of his patron's household, Harry Esmond becameinitiated, he scarce knew how. It had passed under his eyes two yearsbefore, when he could not understand it; but reading, and thought, andexperience of men, had oldened him; and one of the deepest sorrows of alife which had never, in truth, been very happy, came upon him now, whenhe was compelled to understand and pity a grief which he stood quitepowerless to relieve.
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It hath been said my lord would never take the oath of allegiance, nor hisseat as a peer of the kingdom of Ireland, where, indeed, he had but anominal estate; and refused an English peerage which King William'sGovernment offered him as a bribe to secure his loyalty.
He might have accepted this, and would doubtless, but for the earnestremonstrances of his wife (who ruled her husband's opinions better thanshe could govern his conduct), and who being a simple-hearted woman, withbut one rule of faith and right, never thought of swerving from herfidelity to the exiled family, or of recognizing any other sovereign butKing James; and, though she acquiesced in the doctrine of obedience to thereigning power, no temptation, she thought, could induce her toacknowledge the Prince of Orange as rightful monarch, nor to let her lordso acknowledge him. So my Lord Castlewood remained a nonjuror all his lifenearly, though his self-denial caused him many a pang, and left him sulkyand out of humour.
The year after the Revolution, and all through King William's life, 'tisknown there were constant intrigues for the restoration of the exiledfamily; but if my Lord Castlewood took any share of these, as is probable,'twas only for a short time, and when Harry Esmond was too young to beintroduced into such important secrets.
But in the year 1695, when that conspiracy of Sir John Fenwick, ColonelLowick, and others, was set on foot, for waylaying King William as he camefrom Hampton Court to London, and a secret plot was formed, in which avast number of the nobility and people of honour were engaged; Father Holtappeared at Castlewood, and brought a young friend with him, a gentlemanwhom 'twas easy to see that both my lord and the father treated withuncommon deference. Harry Esmond saw this gentleman, and knew andrecognized him in after-life, as shall be shown in its place; and he haslittle doubt now that my lord viscount was implicated somewhat in thetransactions which always kept Fa
ther Holt employed and travelling hitherand thither under a dozen of different names and disguises. The father'scompanion went by the name of Captain James; and it was under a verydifferent name and appearance that Harry Esmond afterwards saw him.
It was the next year that the Fenwick conspiracy blew up, which is amatter of public history now, and which ended in the execution of Sir Johnand many more, who suffered manfully for their treason, and who wereattended to Tyburn by my lady's father, Dean Armstrong, Mr. Collier, andother stout nonjuring clergymen, who absolved them at the gallows' foot.
'Tis known that when Sir John was apprehended, discovery was made of agreat number of names of gentlemen engaged in the conspiracy; when, with anoble wisdom and clemency, the prince burned the list of conspiratorsfurnished to him, and said he would know no more. Now it was, after this,that Lord Castlewood swore his great oath, that he would never, so helphim Heaven, be engaged in any transaction against that brave and mercifulman; and so he told Holt when the indefatigable priest visited him, andwould have had him engage in a farther conspiracy. After this my lord everspoke of King William as he was--as one of the wisest, the bravest, and thegreatest of men. My Lady Esmond (for her part) said she could never pardonthe king, first, for ousting his father-in-law from his throne, andsecondly, for not being constant to his wife, the Princess Mary. Indeed, Ithink if Nero were to rise again, and be king of England, and a goodfamily man, the ladies would pardon him. My lord laughed at his wife'sobjections--the standard of virtue did not fit him much.
The last conference which Mr. Holt had with his lordship took place whenHarry was come home for his first vacation from college (Harry saw his oldtutor but for a half-hour, and exchanged no private words with him), andtheir talk, whatever it might be, left my lord viscount very muchdisturbed in mind--so much so, that his wife, and his young kinsman, HenryEsmond, could not but observe his disquiet. After Holt was gone, my lordrebuffed Esmond, and again treated him with the greatest deference; heshunned his wife's questions and company, and looked at his children withsuch a face of gloom and anxiety, muttering, "Poor children--poorchildren!" in a way that could not but fill those whose life it was towatch him and obey him, with great alarm. For which gloom, each personinterested in the Lord Castlewood, framed in his or her own mind aninterpretation.
My lady, with a laugh of cruel bitterness, said, "I suppose the person atHexton has been ill, or has scolded him" (for my lord's infatuation aboutMrs. Marwood was known only too well). Young Esmond feared for his moneyaffairs, into the condition of which he had been initiated; and that theexpenses, always greater than his revenue, had caused Lord Castlewooddisquiet.
One of the causes why my lord viscount had taken young Esmond into hisspecial favour was a trivial one, that hath not before been mentioned,though it was a very lucky accident in Henry Esmond's life. A very fewmonths after my lord's coming to Castlewood, in the winter-time--the littleboy, being a child in a petticoat, trotting about--it happened that littleFrank was with his father after dinner, who fell asleep over his wine,heedless of the child, who crawled to the fire; and, as good fortune wouldhave it, Esmond was sent by his mistress for the boy just as the poorlittle screaming urchin's coat was set on fire by a log; when Esmond,rushing forward, tore the dress off the infant, so that his own hands wereburned more than the child's, who was frightened rather than hurt, by thisaccident. But certainly 'twas providential that a resolute person shouldhave come in at that instant, or the child had been burned to deathprobably, my lord sleeping very heavily after drinking, and not waking socool as a man should who had a danger to face.
Ever after this the father, loud in his expressions of remorse andhumility for being a tipsy good-for-nothing, and of admiration for HarryEsmond, whom his lordship would style a hero for doing a very triflingservice, had the tenderest regard for his son's preserver, and Harrybecame quite as one of the family. His burns were tended with the greatestcare by his kind mistress, who said that Heaven had sent him to be theguardian of her children, and that she would love him all her life.
And it was after this, and from the very great love and tenderness whichhad grown up in this little household, rather than to the exhortations ofDean Armstrong (though these had no small weight with him), that Harrycame to be quite of the religion of his house and his dear mistress, ofwhich he has ever since been a professing member. As for Dr. Tusher'sboasts that he was the cause of this conversion--even in these young daysMr. Esmond had such a contempt for the doctor, that had Tusher bade himbelieve anything (which he did not--never meddling at all), Harry wouldthat instant have questioned the truth on't.
My lady seldom drank wine; but on certain days of the year, such asbirthdays (poor Harry had never a one) and anniversaries, she took alittle; and this day, the 29th December, was one. At the end, then, ofthis year, '96, it might have been a fortnight after Mr. Holt's lastvisit, Lord Castlewood being still very gloomy in mind, and sitting attable--my lady bidding a servant bring her a glass of wine, and looking ather husband with one of her sweet smiles, said--
"My lord, will you not fill a bumper too, and let me call a toast?"
"What is it, Rachel?" says he, holding out his empty glass to be filled.
"'Tis the 29th of December," says my lady, with her fond look ofgratitude; "and my toast is, 'Harry--and God bless him, who saved my boy'slife!' "
My lord looked at Harry hard, and drank the glass, but clapped it down onthe table in a moment, and, with a sort of groan, rose up, and went out ofthe room. What was the matter? We all knew that some great grief was overhim.
Whether my lord's prudence had made him richer, or legacies had fallen tohim, which enabled him to support a greater establishment than that frugalone which had been too much for his small means, Harry Esmond knew not;but the house of Castlewood was now on a scale much more costly than ithad been during the first year of his lordship's coming to the title.There were more horses in the stable and more servants in the hall, andmany more guests coming and going now than formerly, when it was founddifficult enough by the strictest economy to keep the house as befittedone of his lordship's rank, and the estate out of debt. And it did notrequire very much penetration to find, that many of the new acquaintancesat Castlewood were not agreeable to the lady there: not that she evertreated them or any mortal with anything but courtesy; but they werepersons who could not be welcome to her; and whose society a lady sorefined and reserved could scarce desire for her children. There camefuddling squires from the country round, who bawled their songs under herwindows and drank themselves tipsy with my lord's punch and ale: therecame officers from Hexton, in whose company our little lord was made tohear talk and to drink, and swear too in a way that made the delicate ladytremble for her son. Esmond tried to console her by saying what he knew ofhis college experience; that with this sort of company and conversation aman must fall in sooner or later in his course through the world: and itmattered very little whether he heard it at twelve years old or twenty--theyouths who quitted mother's apron-strings the latest being not uncommonlythe wildest rakes. But it was about her daughter that Lady Castlewood wasthe most anxious, and the danger which she thought menaced the littleBeatrix from the indulgences which her father gave her (it must be ownedthat my lord, since these unhappy domestic differences especially, was atonce violent in his language to the children when angry, as he was toofamiliar, not to say coarse, when he was in a good humour), and from thecompany into which the careless lord brought the child.
Not very far off from Castlewood is Sark Castle, where the Marchioness ofSark lived, who was known to have been a mistress of the late KingCharles--and to this house, whither indeed a great part of the countrygentry went, my lord insisted upon going, not only himself, but on takinghis little daughter and son to play with the children there. The childrenwere nothing loath, for the house was splendid, and the welcome kindenough. But my lady, justly no doubt, thought that the children of such amother as that noted Lady Sark had been, could be no good company for hertwo; and spoke h
er mind to her lord. His own language when he was thwartedwas not indeed of the gentlest: to be brief, there was a family dispute onthis, as there had been on many other points--and the lady was not onlyforced to give in, for the other's will was law--nor could she, on accountof their tender age, tell her children what was the nature of herobjection to their visit of pleasure, or indeed mention to them anyobjection at all--but she had the additional secret mortification to findthem returning delighted with their new friends, loaded with presents fromthem, and eager to be allowed to go back to a place of such delights asSark Castle. Every year she thought the company there would be moredangerous to her daughter, as from a child Beatrix grew to a woman, andher daily increasing beauty, and many faults of character too, expanded.
It was Harry Esmond's lot to see one of the visits which the old lady ofSark paid to the lady of Castlewood Hall: whither she came in state withsix chestnut horses and blue ribbons, a page on each carriage step, agentleman of the horse, and armed servants riding before and behind her.And, but that it was unpleasant to see Lady Castlewood's face, it wasamusing to watch the behaviour of the two enemies: the frigid patience ofthe younger lady, and the unconquerable good humour of the elder--who wouldsee no offence whatever her rival intended, and who never ceased to smileand to laugh, and to coax the children, and to pay compliments to everyman, woman, child, nay dog, or chair and table, in Castlewood, so bent wasshe upon admiring everything there. She lauded the children, and wished--asindeed she well might--that her own family had been brought up as well asthose cherubs. She had never seen such a complexion as dearBeatrix's--though to be sure she had a right to it from father andmother--Lady Castlewood's was indeed a wonder of freshness, and Lady Sarksighed to think she had not been born a fair woman; and remarking HarryEsmond, with a fascinating superannuated smile, she complimented him onhis wit, which she said she could see from his eyes and forehead; andvowed that she would never have _him_ at Sark until her daughter were outof the way.