Chapter I. An Account Of The Family Of Esmond Of Castlewood Hall
When Francis, fourth Viscount Castlewood, came to his title, and presentlyafter to take possession of his house of Castlewood, county Hants, in theyear 1691, almost the only tenant of the place besides the domestics was alad of twelve years of age, of whom no one seemed to take any note untilmy lady viscountess lighted upon him, going over the house, with thehousekeeper on the day of her arrival. The boy was in the room known asthe book-room, or yellow gallery, where the portraits of the family usedto hang, that fine piece among others of Sir Antonio Van Dyck of George,second viscount, and that by Mr. Dobson of my lord the third viscount,just deceased, which it seems his lady and widow did not think fit tocarry away, when she sent for and carried off to her house at Chelsey,near to London, the picture of herself by Sir Peter Lely, in which herladyship was represented as a huntress of Diana's court.
The new and fair lady of Castlewood found the sad lonely little occupantof this gallery busy over his great book, which he laid down when he wasaware that a stranger was at hand. And, knowing who that person must be,the lad stood up and bowed before her, performing a shy obeisance to themistress of his house.
She stretched out her hand--indeed when was it that that hand would notstretch out to do an act of kindness, or to protect grief and ill-fortune?"And this is our kinsman,'" she said; "and what is your name, kinsman?"
"My name is Henry Esmond," said the lad, looking up at her in a sort ofdelight and wonder, for she had come upon him as a _Dea certe_, andappeared the most charming object he had ever looked on. Her golden hairwas shining in the gold of the sun; her complexion was of a dazzlingbloom; her lips smiling, and her eyes beaming with a kindness which madeHarry Esmond's heart to beat with surprise.
"His name is Henry Esmond, sure enough, my lady," says Mrs. Worksop thehousekeeper (an old tyrant whom Henry Esmond plagued more than he hated),and the old gentlewoman looked significantly towards the late lord'spicture, as it now is in the family, noble and severe-looking, with hishand on his sword, and his order on his cloak, which he had from theemperor during the war on the Danube against the Turk.
Seeing the great and undeniable likeness between this portrait and thelad, the new viscountess, who had still hold of the boy's hand as shelooked at the picture, blushed and dropped the hand quickly, and walkeddown the gallery, followed by Mrs. Worksop.
When the lady came back, Harry Esmond stood exactly in the same spot, andwith his hand as it had fallen when he dropped it on his black coat.
Her heart melted I suppose (indeed she hath since owned as much) at thenotion that she should do anything unkind to any mortal, great or small;for, when she returned, she had sent away the housekeeper upon an errandby the door at the farther end of the gallery; and, coming back to thelad, with a look of infinite pity and tenderness in her eyes, she took hishand again, placing her other fair hand on his head, and saying some wordsto him, which were so kind and said in a voice so sweet, that the boy, whohad never looked upon so much beauty before, felt as if the touch of asuperior being or angel smote him down to the ground, and kissed the fairprotecting hand as he knelt on one knee. To the very last hour of hislife, Esmond remembered the lady as she then spoke and looked, the ringson her fair hands, the very scent of her robe, the beam of her eyeslighting up with surprise and kindness, her lips blooming in a smile, thesun making a golden halo round her hair.
As the boy was yet in this attitude of humility, enters behind him aportly gentleman, with a little girl of four years old in his hand. Thegentleman burst into a great laugh at the lady and her adorer, with hislittle queer figure, his sallow face, and long black hair. The ladyblushed, and seemed to deprecate his ridicule by a look of appeal to herhusband, for it was my lord viscount who now arrived, and whom the ladknew, having once before seen him in the late lord's lifetime.
"So this is the little priest!" says my lord, looking down at the lad;"welcome, kinsman."
"He is saying his prayers to mamma," says the little girl, who came up toher papa's knee; and my lord burst out into another great laugh at this,and kinsman Henry looked very silly. He invented a half-dozen of speechesin reply, but 'twas months afterwards when he thought of this adventure:as it was, he had never a word in answer.
"_Le pauvre enfant, il n'a que nous_," says the lady, looking to her lord;and the boy, who understood her, though doubtless she thought otherwise,thanked her with all his heart for her kind speech.
"And he shan't want for friends here," says my lord, in a kind voice,"shall he, little Trix?"
The little girl, whose name was Beatrix, and whom her papa called by thisdiminutive, looked at Henry Esmond solemnly, with a pair of large eyes,and then a smile shone over her face, which was as beautiful as that of acherub, and she came up and put out a little hand to him. A keen anddelightful pang of gratitude, happiness, affection, filled the orphanchild's heart, as he received from the protectors, whom Heaven had sent tohim, these touching words, and tokens of friendliness and kindness. But anhour since he had felt quite alone in the world: when he heard the greatpeal of bells from Castlewood church ringing that morning to welcome thearrival of the new lord and lady, it had rung only terror and anxiety tohim, for he knew not how the new owner would deal with him; and those towhom he formerly looked for protection were forgotten or dead. Pride anddoubt too had kept him within doors: when the vicar and the people of thevillage, and the servants of the house, had gone out to welcome my LordCastlewood--for Henry Esmond was no servant, though a dependant; norelative, though he bore the name and inherited the blood of the house;and in the midst of the noise and acclamations attending the arrival ofthe new lord (for whom you may be sure a feast was got ready, and gunswere fired, and tenants and domestics huzzaed when his carriage approachedand rolled into the courtyard of the hall), no one ever took any notice ofyoung Henry Esmond, who sat unobserved and alone in the book-room, untilthe afternoon of that day, when his new friends found him.
When my lord and lady were going away thence, the little girl, stillholding her kinsman by the hand, bade him to come too. "Thou wilt alwaysforsake an old friend for a new one, Trix," says her father to hergood-naturedly; and went into the gallery, giving an arm to his lady. Theypassed thence through the music-gallery, long since dismantled, and QueenElizabeth's rooms, in the clock-tower, and out into the terrace, where wasa fine prospect of sunset, and the great darkling woods with a cloud ofrooks returning; and the plain and river with Castlewood village beyond,and purple hills beautiful to look at--and the little heir of Castlewood, achild of two years old, was already here on the terrace in his nurse'sarms, from whom he ran across the grass instantly he perceived his mother,and came to her.
"If thou canst not be happy here," says my lord, looking round at thescene, "thou art hard to please, Rachel."
"I am happy where you are," she said, "but we were happiest of all atWalcote Forest." Then my lord began to describe what was before them tohis wife, and what indeed little Harry knew better than he--viz., thehistory of the house: how by yonder gate the page ran away with theheiress of Castlewood, by which the estate came into the present family,how the Roundheads attacked the clock-tower, which my lord's father wasslain in defending. "I was but two years old then," says he, "but takeforty-six from ninety, and how old shall I be, kinsman Harry?"
"Thirty," says his wife, with a laugh.
"A great deal too old for you, Rachel," answers my lord, looking fondlydown at her. Indeed she seemed to be a girl; and was at that time scarcetwenty years old.
"You know, Frank, I will do anything to please you," says she, "and Ipromise you I will grow older every day."
"You mustn't call papa Frank; you must call papa my lord, now," says MissBeatrix, with a toss of her little head; at which the mother smiled, andthe good-natured father laughed, and the little, trotting boy laughed, notknowing why--but because he was happy no doubt--as every one seemed to bethere. How those trivial incidents and words, the landscape and sunshine,and
the group of people smiling and talking, remain fixed on the memory!
As the sun was setting, the little heir was sent in the arms of his nurseto bed, whither he went howling; but little Trix was promised to sit tosupper that night--"and you will come too, kinsman, won't you?" she said.
Harry Esmond blushed: "I--I have supper with Mrs. Worksop," says he.
"D--n it," says my lord, "thou shalt sup with us, Harry, to-night! Shan'trefuse a lady, shall he, Trix?"--and they all wondered at Harry'sperformance as a trencherman, in which character the poor boy acquittedhimself very remarkably; for the truth is he had no dinner, nobodythinking of him in the bustle which the house was in, during thepreparations antecedent to the new lord's arrival.
"No dinner! poor dear child!" says my lady, heaping up his plate withmeat, and my lord filling a bumper for him, bade him call a health; onwhich Master Harry, crying "The King", tossed off the wine. My lord wasready to drink that, and most other toasts: indeed, only too ready. Hewould not hear of Doctor Tusher (the Vicar of Castlewood, who came tosupper) going away when the sweetmeats were brought: he had not had achaplain long enough, he said, to be tired of him: so his reverence keptmy lord company for some hours over a pipe and a punchbowl; and went awayhome with rather a reeling gait, and declaring a dozen of times, that hislordship's affability surpassed every kindness he had ever had from hislordship's gracious family.
As for young Esmond, when he got to his little chamber, it was with aheart full of surprise and gratitude towards the new friends whom thishappy day had brought him. He was up and watching long before the housewas astir, longing to see that fair lady and her children--that kindprotector and patron; and only fearful lest their welcome of the pastnight should in any way be withdrawn or altered. But presently littleBeatrix came out into the garden, and her mother followed, who greetedHarry as kindly as before. He told her at greater length the histories ofthe house (which he had been taught in the old lord's time), and to whichshe listened with great interest; and then he told her, with respect tothe night before, that he understood French, and thanked her for herprotection.
"Do you?" says she, with a blush; "then, sir, you shall teach me andBeatrix." And she asked him many more questions regarding himself, whichhad best be told more fully and explicitly, than in those brief replieswhich the lad made to his mistress's questions.
Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges Page 7
