CHAPTER I.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF ESMOND OF CASTLEWOOD HALL.
When Francis, fourth Viscount Castlewood, came to his title, andpresently after to take possession of his house of Castlewood, countyHants, in the year 1691, almost the only tenant of the place besidesthe domestics was a lad of twelve years of age, of whom no one seemed totake any note until my Lady Viscountess lighted upon him, going over thehouse with the housekeeper on the day of her arrival. The boy was in theroom known as the Book-room, or Yellow Gallery, where the portraits ofthe family used to hang, that fine piece among others of Sir Antonio VanDyck of George, second Viscount, and that by Mr. Dobson of my lord thethird Viscount, just deceased, which it seems his lady and widow did notthink fit to carry away, when she sent for and carried off to her houseat Chelsey, near to London, the picture of herself by Sir Peter Lely, inwhich her ladyship was represented as a huntress of Diana's court.
The new and fair lady of Castlewood found the sad, lonely, littleoccupant of this gallery busy over his great book, which he laid downwhen he was aware that a stranger was at hand. And, knowing who thatperson must be, the lad stood up and bowed before her, performing a shyobeisance to the mistress of his house.
She stretched out her hand--indeed when was it that that hand wouldnot stretch out to do an act of kindness, or to protect grief andill-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 sortof delight 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,the housekeeper (an old tyrant whom Henry Esmond plagued more than hehated), and the old gentlewoman looked significantly towards the latelord's picture, as it now is in the family, noble and severe-looking,with his hand on his sword, and his order on his cloak, which he hadfrom the Emperor 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,and with 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), atthe notion that she should do anything unkind to any mortal, great orsmall; for, when she returned, she had sent away the housekeeper upon anerrand by the door at the farther end of the gallery; and, coming backto the lad, with a look of infinite pity and tenderness in her eyes, shetook his hand again, placing her other fair hand on his head, and sayingsome words to him, which were so kind, and said in a voice so sweet,that the boy, who had never looked upon so much beauty before, felt asif the touch of a superior being or angel smote him down to the ground,and kissed the fair protecting hand as he knelt on one knee. To the verylast hour of his life, Esmond remembered the lady as she then spoke andlooked, the rings on her fair hands, the very scent of her robe, thebeam of her eyes lighting up with surprise and kindness, her lipsblooming in a smile, the sun 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, withhis little 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 upto her papa's knees; and my lord burst out into another great laugh atthis, and kinsman Henry looked very silly. He invented a half-dozen ofspeeches in reply, but 'twas months afterwards when he thought of thisadventure: 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 bythis diminutive, looked at Henry Esmond solemnly, with a pair of largeeyes, and then a smile shone over her face, which was as beautiful asthat of a cherub, and she came up and put out a little hand to him. Akeen and delightful pang of gratitude, happiness, affection, filled theorphan child's heart, as he received from the protectors, whom heavenhad sent to him, these touching words and tokens of friendliness andkindness. But an hour since, he had felt quite alone in the world: whenhe heard the great peal of bells from Castlewood church ringing thatmorning to welcome the arrival of the new lord and lady, it had rungonly terror and anxiety to him, for he knew not how the new owner woulddeal with him; and those to whom he formerly looked for protection wereforgotten or dead. Pride and doubt too had kept him within-doors, whenthe Vicar and the people of the village, and the servants of the house,had gone out to welcome my Lord Castlewood--for Henry Esmond was noservant, though a dependant; no relative, though he bore the name andinherited the blood of the house; and in the midst of the noise andacclamations attending the arrival of the new lord (for whom, you maybe sure, a feast was got ready, and guns were fired, and tenants anddomestics huzzahed when his carriage approached and rolled into thecourt-yard of the hall), no one ever took any notice of young HenryEsmond, who sat unobserved and alone in the Book-room, until theafternoon 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.They passed thence through the music-gallery, long since dismantled, andQueen Elizabeth's Rooms, in the clock-tower, and out into the terrace,where was a fine prospect of sunset and the great darkling woods witha cloud of rooks returning; and the plain and river with Castlewoodvillage beyond, and purple hills beautiful to look at--and the littleheir of Castlewood, a child of two years old, was already here on theterrace in his nurse's arms, from whom he ran across the grass instantlyhe 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," saysMiss Beatrix, with a toss of her little head; at which the mothersmiled, and the good-natured father laughed, and the little trotting boylaughed, not knowing why--but because he was happy, no doubt--as everyone seemed to be there. How those trivial incidents and words, thelandscap
e 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 hisnurse to bed, whither he went howling; but little Trix was promised tosit to supper 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't refuse a lady, shall he, Trix?"--and they all wondered at Harry'sperformance as a trencher-man, in which character the poor boy acquittedhimself very remarkably; for the truth is he had 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 punch-bowl; and wentaway home with rather a reeling gait, and declaring a dozen of times,that his lordship's affability surpassed every kindness he had ever hadfrom his lordship'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 historiesof the house (which he had been taught in the old lord's time), andto which she listened with great interest; and then he told her, withrespect to the night before, that he understood French, and thanked herfor her protection.
"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.