CHAPTER LIV. During which Harry sits smoking his Pipe at Home
The maternal grandfather of our Virginians, the Colonel Esmond of whomfrequent mention has been made, and who had quitted England to reside inthe New World, had devoted some portion of his long American leisureto the composition of the memoirs of his early life. In these volumes,Madame de Bernstein (Mrs. Beatrice Esmond was her name as aspinster) played a very considerable part; and as George had read hisgrandfather's manuscript many times over, he had learned to know hiskinswoman long before he saw her,--to know, at least, the lady, young,beautiful, and wilful, of half a century since, with whom he now becameacquainted in the decline of her days. When cheeks are faded and eyesare dim, is it sad or pleasant, I wonder, for the woman who is a beautyno more, to recall the period of her bloom! When the heart is withered,do the old love to remember how it once was fresh and beat with warmemotions? When the spirits are languid and weary, do we like to thinkhow bright they were in other days, the hope how buoyant, the sympathieshow ready, the enjoyment of life how keen and eager? So they fall--thebuds of prime, the roses of beauty, the florid harvests of summer,--falland wither, and the naked branches shiver in the winter.
"And that was a beauty once!" thinks George Warrington, as his aunt,in her rouge and diamonds, comes in from her rout, "and that ruin wasa splendid palace. Crowds of lovers have sighed before those decrepitfeet, and been bewildered by the brightness of those eyes." Heremembered a firework at home, at Williamsburg, on the King's birthday,and afterwards looking at the skeleton-wheel and the sockets of theexploded Roman candles. The dazzle and brilliancy of Aunt Beatrice'searly career passed before him, as he thought over his grandsire'sjournals. Honest Harry had seen them, too, but Harry was no bookman,and had not read the manuscript very carefully: nay, if he had, he wouldprobably not have reasoned about it as his brother did, being by nomeans so much inclined to moralising as his melancholy senior.
Mr. Warrington thought that there was no cause why he should tell hisaunt how intimate he was with her early history, and accordingly heldhis peace upon that point. When their meal was over, she pointed withher cane to her escritoire, and bade her attendant bring the letterwhich lay under the inkstand there; and George, recognising thesuperscription, of course knew the letter to be that of which he hadbeen the bearer from home.
"It would appear by this letter," said the old lady, looking hard at hernephew, "that ever since your return, there have been some differencesbetween you and my sister."
"Indeed? I did not know that Madam Esmond had alluded to them," Georgesaid.
The Baroness puts a great pair of glasses upon eyes which shot fire andkindled who knows how many passions in old days, and, after glancingover the letter, hands it to George, who reads as follows:--
"RICHMOND, VIRGINIA, December 26th, 1756.
"HONOURED MADAM! AND SISTER!--I have received, and thankfullyacknowledge, your ladyship's favour, per Rose packet, of October 23ult.; and straightway answer you at a season which should be one ofgoodwill and peace to all men: but in which Heaven hath neverthelessdecreed we should still bear our portion of earthly sorrow and trouble.My reply will be brought to you by my eldest son, Mr. Esmond Warrington,who returned to us so miraculously out of the Valley of the Shadow ofDeath (as our previous letters have informed my poor Henry), and who isdesirous, not without my consent to his wish, to visit Europe, though hehas been amongst us so short a while. I grieve to think that my dearestHarry should have appeared at home--I mean in England--under falsecolours, as it were; and should have been presented to his Majesty, toour family, and his own, as his father's heir, whilst my dear son Georgewas still alive, though dead to us. Ah, madam! During the eighteenmonths of his captivity, what anguish have his mother's, his brother's,hearts undergone! My Harry's is the tenderest of any man's now alive. Inthe joy of seeing Mr. Esmond Warrington returned to life, he willforget the worldly misfortune which befalls him. He will return to(comparative) poverty without a pang. The most generous, the mostobedient of human beings, of sons, he will gladly give up to his elderbrother that inheritance which had been his own but for the accident ofbirth, and for the providential return of my son George.
"Your beneficent intentions towards dearest Harry will be more than everwelcome, now he is reduced to a younger brother's slender portion! Manyyears since, an advantageous opportunity occurred of providing for himin this province, and he would by this time have been master of a nobleestate and negroes, and have been enabled to make a figure with mosthere, could his mother's wishes have been complied with, and hisfather's small portion, now lying at small interest in the Britishfunds, have been invested in this most excellent purchase. But the formsof the law, and, I grieve to own, my elder son's scruples, prevailed,and this admirable opportunity was lost to me! Harry will find thesavings of his income have been carefully accumulated--long, long mayhe live to enjoy them! May Heaven bless you, dear sister, for what yourladyship may add to his little store! As I gather from your letter, thatthe sum which has been allowed to him has not been sufficient for hisexpenses in the fine company which he has kept (and the grandson of theMarquis of Esmond--one who had so nearly been his lordship's heir--maysure claim equality with any other nobleman in Great Britain), andhaving a sum by me which I had always intended for the poor child'sestablishment, I entrust it to my eldest son, who, to do him justice,hath a most sincere regard for his brother, to lay it out for Harry'sbest advantage."
"It took him out of prison yesterday, madam. I think that was the bestuse to which we could put it," interposed George, at this stage of hismother's letter.
"Nay, sir, I don't know any such thing! Why not have kept it to buya pair of colours for him, or to help towards another estate and somenegroes, if he has a fancy for home?" cried the old lady. "Besides, Ihad a fancy to pay that debt myself."
"I hope you will let his brother do that. I ask leave to be my brother'sbanker in this matter, and consider I have borrowed so much from mymother, to be paid back to my dear Harry."
"Do you say so, sir? Give me a glass of wine! You are an extravagantfellow! Read on, and you will see your mother thinks so. I drink to yourhealth, nephew George! 'Tis good Burgundy. Your grandfather never lovedBurgundy. He loved claret, the little he drank."
And George proceeded with the letter:
"This remittance will, I trust, amply cover any expenses which, owing tothe mistake respecting his position, dearest Harry may have incurred.I wish I could trust his elder brother's prudence as confidently asmy Harry's! But I fear that, even in his captivity, Mr. Esmond W. haslearned little of that humility which becomes all Christians, and whichI have ever endeavoured to teach to my children. Should you by chanceshow him these lines, when, by the blessing of Heaven on those who godown to the sea in ships, the Great Ocean divides us! he will know thata fond mother's blessing and prayers follow both her children, andthat there is no act I have ever done, no desire I have ever expressed(however little he may have been inclined to obey it!) but hath beendictated by the fondest wishes for my dearest boys' welfare."
"There is a scratch with a penknife, and a great blot upon the letterthere, as if water had fallen on it. Your mother writes well, George. Isuppose you and she had a difference?" said George's aunt, not unkindly.
"Yes, ma'am, many," answered the young man, sadly. "The last was abouta question of money--of ransom which I promised to the old lieutenant ofthe fort who aided me to make my escape. I told you he had a mistress, apoor Indian woman, who helped me, and was kind to me. Six weeks after myarrival at home, the poor thing made her appearance at Richmond, havingfound her way through the wood by pretty much the same track which I hadfollowed, and bringing me the token which Museau had promised to send mewhen he connived to my flight. A commanding officer and a considerablereinforcement had arrived at Duquesne. Charges, I don't know of whatpeculation (for his messenger could not express herself very clearly),had been brought against this Museau. He had been put under arrest, andhad tried to escape; but, less for
tunate than myself, he had beenshot on the rampart, and he sent the Indian woman to me, with mygrandfather's watch, and a line scrawled in his prison on his deathbed,begging me to send ce que je scavais to a notary at Havre de Grace inFrance to be transmitted to his relatives at Caen in Normandy. My friendSilverheels, the hunter, had helped my poor Indian on her way. I don'tknow how she would have escaped scalping else. But at home they receivedthe poor thing sternly. They hardly gave her a welcome. I won't saywhat suspicions they had regarding her and me. The poor wretch fell todrinking whenever she could find means. I ordered that she should havefood and shelter, and she became the jest of our negroes, and formed thesubject of the scandal and tittle-tattle of the old fools in our littletown. Our Governor was, luckily, a man of sense, and I made interestwith him, and procured a pass to send her back to her people. Her verygrief at parting with me only served to confirm the suspicions againsther. A fellow preached against me from the pulpit, I believe; I hadto treat another with a cane. And I had a violent dispute with MadamEsmond--a difference which is not healed yet--because I insisted uponpaying to the heirs Museau pointed out the money I had promised formy deliverance. You see that scandal flourishes at the borders of thewilderness, and in the New World as well as the Old."
"I have suffered from it myself, my dear!" said Madame Bernstein,demurely. "Fill thy glass, child! A little tass of cherry-brandy! 'Twilldo thee all the good in the world."
"As for my poor Harry's marriage," Madam Esmond's letter went on,"though I know too well, from sad experience, the dangers to which youthis subject, and would keep my boy, at any price, from them, though Ishould wish him to marry a person of rank, as becomes his birth, yet myLady Maria Esmond is out of the question. Her age is almost the same asmine; and I know my brother Castlewood left his daughters with the verysmallest portions. My Harry is so obedient that I know a desire from mewill be sufficient to cause him to give up this imprudent match. Somefoolish people once supposed that I myself once thought of a secondunion, and with a person of rank very different from ours. No! I knewwhat was due to my children. As succeeding to this estate after me, Mr.Esmond W. is amply provided for. Let my task now be to save for his lessfortunate younger brother: and, as I do not love to live quite alone,let him return without delay to his fond and loving mother.
"The report which your ladyship hath given of my Harry fills my heartwith warmest gratitude. He is all indeed a mother may wish. A year inEurope will have given him a polish and refinement which he couldnot acquire in our homely Virginia. Mr. Stack, one of our invaluableministers in Richmond, hath a letter from Mr. Ward--my darlings' tutorof early days--who knows my Lady Warrington and her excellent family,and saith that my Harry has lived much with his cousins of late. I amgrateful to think that my boy has the privilege of being with his goodaunt. May he follow her counsels, and listen to those around him whowill guide him on the way of his best welfare! Adieu, dear madam andsister! For your kindness to my boy accept the grateful thanks of amother's heart. Though we have been divided hitherto, may these kindlyties draw us nearer and nearer. I am thankful that you should speak ofmy dearest father so. He was, indeed, one of the best of men! He, too,thanks you, I know, for the love you have borne to one of his children;and his daughter subscribes herself,--With sincere thanks, yourladyship's most dutiful and grateful sister and servant, RACHEL ESMONDWN.
"P.S.--I have communicated with my Lady Maria; but there will no need totell her and dear Harry that his mother or your ladyship hope to be ableto increase his small fortune. The match is altogether unsuitable."
"As far as regards myself, madam," George said, laying down the paper,"my mother's letter conveys no news to me. I always knew that Harry wasthe favourite son with Madam Esmond, as he deserves indeed to be. He hasa hundred good qualities which I have not the good fortune to possess.He has better looks----"
"Nay, that is not your fault," said the old lady, slily looking at him;"and, but that he is fair and you are brown, one might almost pass forthe other."
Mr. George bowed, and a faint blush tinged his pale cheek.
"His disposition is bright, and mine is dark," he continued; "Harryis cheerful, and I am otherwise, perhaps. He knows how to make himselfbeloved by every one, and it has been my lot to find but few friends."
"My sister and you have pretty little quarrels. There were such in olddays in our family," the Baroness said; "and if Madam Esmond takes afterour mother----"
"My mother has always described hers as an angel upon earth," interposedGeorge.
"Eh! That is a common character for people when they are dead!" criedthe Baroness; "and Rachel Castlewood was an angel, if you like--at leastyour grandfather thought so. But let me tell you, sir, that angels aresometimes not very commodes a vivre. It may be they are too good to livewith us sinners, and the air down below here don't agree with them. Mypoor mother was so perfect that she never could forgive me for beingotherwise. Ah, mon Dieu! how she used to oppress me with those angelicalairs!"
George cast down his eyes, and thought of his own melancholy youth.He did not care to submit more of his family secrets to the cynicalinquisition of this old worldling, who seemed, however, to understandhim in spite of his reticence.
"I quite comprehend you, sir, though you hold your tongue," the Baronesscontinued. "A sermon in the morning: a sermon at night: and two or threeof a Sunday. That is what people call being good. Every pleasure criedfie upon; all us worldly people excommunicated; a ball an abomination ofdesolation; a play a forbidden pastime; and a game of cards perdition!What a life! Mon Dieu, what a life!"
"We played at cards every night, if we were so inclined," said George,smiling; "and my grandfather loved Shakspeare so much, that my motherhad not a word to say against her father's favourite author."
"I remember. He could say whole pages by heart; though, for my part,I like Mr. Congreve a great deal better. And then, there was thatdreadful, dreary Milton, whom he and Mr. Addison pretended to admire!"cried the old lady, tapping her fan.
"If your ladyship does not like Shakspeare, you will not quarrel withmy mother for being indifferent to him, too," said George. "And indeed Ithink, and I am sure, that you don't do her justice. Wherever there areany poor she relieves them; wherever there are any sick she----"
"She doses them with her horrible purges and boluses!" cried theBaroness. "Of course, just as my mother did!"
"She does her best to cure them! She acts for the best, and performs herduty as far as she knows it."
"I don't blame you, sir, for doing yours, and keeping your own counselabout Madam Esmond," said the old lady. "But at least there is onepoint upon which we all three agree--that this absurd marriage must beprevented. Do you know how old the woman is? I can tell you, though shehas torn the first leaf out of the family Bible at Castlewood."
"My mother has not forgotten her cousin's age, and is shocked at thedisparity between her and my poor brother. Indeed, a city-bred lady ofher time of life, accustomed to London gaiety and luxury, would find buta dismal home in our Virginian plantation. Besides, the house, such asit is, is not Harry's. He is welcome there, Heaven knows; more welcome,perhaps, than I, to whom the property comes in natural reversion; but,as I told him, I doubt how his wife would--would like our colony,"George said, with a blush, and a hesitation in his sentence.
The old lady laughed shrilly. "He, he! nephew Warrington!" she said,"you need not scruple to speak your mind out. I shall tell no tales toyour mother: though 'tis no news to me that she has a high temper, andloves her own way. Harry has held his tongue, too; but it needed noconjurer to see who was the mistress at home, and what sort of a lifemy sister led you. I love my niece, my Lady Molly, so well, that I couldwish her two or three years of Virginia, with your mother reigning overher. You may well look alarmed, sir! Harry has said quite enough to showme who governs the family."
"Madam," said George, smiling, "I may say as much as this, that I don'tenvy any woman coming into our house against my mother's will: and mypoor brother knows th
is perfectly well."
"What? You two have talked the matter over? No doubt you have. And thefoolish child considers himself bound in honour--of course he does, thegaby!"
"He says Lady Maria has behaved most nobly to him. When he was sent toprison, she brought him her trinkets and jewels, and every guinea shehad in the world. This behaviour has touched him so, that he feels moredeeply than ever bound to her ladyship. But I own my brother seems boundby honour rather than love--such at least is his present feeling."
"My good creature," cries Madame Bernstein, "don't you see that Mariabrings a few twopenny trinkets and a half-dozen guineas to Mr. Esmond,the heir of the great estate in Virginia,--not to the second son, who isa beggar, and has just squandered away every shilling of his fortune?I swear to you, on my credit as a gentlewoman, that, knowing Harry'sobstinacy, and the misery he had in store for himself, I tried to bribeMaria to give up her engagement with him, and only failed because Icould not bribe high enough! When he was in prison, I sent my lawyer tohim, with orders to pay his debts immediately, if he would but part fromher, but Maria had been beforehand with us, and Mr. Harry chose not togo back from his stupid word. Let me tell you what has passed in thelast month!" And here the old lady narrated at length the history whichwe know already, but in that cynical language which was common in hertimes, when the finest folks and the most delicate ladies called thingsand people by names which we never utter in good company nowadays. Andso much the better on the whole. We mayn't be more virtuous, but itis something to be more decent: perhaps we are not more pure, but of asurety we are more cleanly.
Madame Bernstein talked so much, so long, and so cleverly, that she wasquite pleased with herself and her listener; and when she put herselfinto the hands of Mrs. Brett to retire for the night, informed thewaiting-maid that she had changed her opinion about her eldest nephew,and that Mr. George was handsome, that he was certainly much wittierthan poor Harry (whom Heaven, it must be confessed, had not furnishedwith a very great supply of brains), and that he had quite the belair--a something melancholy--a noble and distinguished je ne scaisquoy--which reminded her of the Colonel. Had she ever told Brett aboutthe Colonel? Scores of times, no doubt. And now she told Brett about theColonel once more. Meanwhile, perhaps, her new favourite was not quiteso well pleased with her as she was with him. What a strange picture oflife and manners had the old lady unveiled to her nephew! How she railedat all the world round about her! How unconsciously did she paint herown family--her own self; how selfish, one and all; pursuing whatmean ends; grasping and scrambling frantically for what petty prizes;ambitious for what shabby recompenses; trampling--from life's beginningto its close--through what scenes of stale dissipations and fadedpleasures! "Are these the inheritors of noble blood?" thought George, ashe went home quite late from his aunt's house, passing by doors whencethe last guests of fashion were issuing, and where the chairmen wereyawning over their expiring torches. "Are these the proud possessors ofancestral honours and ancient names, and were their forefathers, when inlife, no better? We have our pedigree at home with noble coats-of-armsemblazoned all over the branches, and titles dating back before theConquest and the Crusaders. When a knight of old found a friend in want,did he turn his back upon him, or an unprotected damsel, did he deludeher and leave her? When a nobleman of the early time received a youngkinsman, did he get the better of him at dice, and did the ancientchivalry cheat in horseflesh? Can it be that this wily woman of theworld, as my aunt has represented, has inveigled my poor Harry into anengagement, that her tears are false, and that as soon as she finds himpoor she will desert him? Had we not best pack the trunks and take acabin in the next ship bound for home?" George reached his own doorrevolving these thoughts, and Gumbo came up yawning with a candle, andHarry was asleep before the extinguished fire, with the ashes of hisemptied pipe on the table beside him.
He starts up; his eyes, for a moment dulled by sleep, lighten withpleasure as he sees his dear George. He puts his arm round his brotherwith a boyish laugh.
"There he is in flesh and blood, thank God!" he says; "I was dreaming ofthee but now, George, and that Ward was hearing us our lesson! Dostthou remember the ruler, Georgy? Why, bless my soul, 'tis three o'clock!Where have you been a-gadding, Mr. George? Hast thou supped? I supped atWhite's, but I'm hungry again. I did not play, sir,--no, no; no more ofthat for younger brothers! And my Lord March paid me fifty he lost tome. I bet against his horse and on the Duke of Hamilton's! They bothrode the match at Newmarket this morning, and he lost because he wasunder weight. And he paid me, and he was as sulky as a bear. Let us haveone pipe, Georgy!--just one."
And after the smoke the young men went to bed, where I, for one, wishthem a pleasant rest, for sure it is a good and pleasant thing to seebrethren who love one another.
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