The History of Henry Esmond, Esq.

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"I think we had best go to-day, my dear," says my Lady Castlewood; "we
might have the coach and sleep at Hounslow, and reach home to-morrow.
'Tis twelve o'clock; bid the coach, cousin, be ready at one."

"For shame!" burst out Beatrix, in a passion of tears and mortification.
"You disgrace me by your cruel precautions; my own mother is the first
to suspect me, and would take me away as my gaoler. I will not go with
you, mother; I will go as no one's prisoner. If I wanted to deceive, do
you think I could find no means of evading you? My family suspects me.
As those mistrust me that ought to love me most, let me leave them; I
will go, but I will go alone: to Castlewood, be it. I have been unhappy
there and lonely enough; let me go back, but spare me at least the
humiliation of setting a watch over my misery, which is a trial I can't
bear. Let me go when you will, but alone, or not at all. You three can
stay and triumph over my unhappiness, and I will bear it as I have borne
it before. Let my gaoler-in-chief go order the coach that is to take me
away. I thank you, Henry Esmond, for your share in the conspiracy. All
my life long I'll thank you, and remember you, and you, brother, and
you, mother, how shall I show my gratitude to you for your careful
defence of my honor?"

She swept out of the room with the air of an empress, flinging glances
of defiance at us all, and leaving us conquerors of the field, but
scared, and almost ashamed of our victory. It did indeed seem hard and
cruel that we three should have conspired the banishment and humiliation
of that fair creature. We looked at each other in silence: 'twas not the
first stroke by many of our actions in that unlucky time, which, being
done, we wished undone. We agreed it was best she should go alone,
speaking stealthily to one another, and under our breaths, like persons
engaged in an act they felt ashamed in doing.

In a half-hour, it might be, after our talk she came back, her
countenance wearing the same defiant air which it had borne when
she left us. She held a shagreen-case in her hand; Esmond knew it as
containing his diamonds which he had given to her for her marriage with
Duke Hamilton, and which she had worn so splendidly on the inauspicious
night of the Prince's arrival. "I have brought back," says she, "to
the Marquis of Esmond the present he deigned to make me in days when he
trusted me better than now. I will never accept a benefit or a kindness
from Henry Esmond more, and I give back these family diamonds, which
belonged to one king's mistress, to the gentleman that suspected I would
be another. Have you been upon your message of coach-caller, my Lord
Marquis? Will you send your valet to see that I do not run away?" We
were right, yet, by her manner, she had put us all in the wrong; we
were conquerors, yet the honors of the day seemed to be with the poor
oppressed girl.

That luckless box containing the stones had first been ornamented with
a baron's coronet, when Beatrix was engaged to the young gentleman from
whom she parted, and afterwards the gilt crown of a duchess figured
on the cover, which also poor Beatrix was destined never to wear. Lady
Castlewood opened the case mechanically and scarce thinking what she
did; and behold, besides the diamonds, Esmond's present, there lay in
the box the enamelled miniature of the late Duke, which Beatrix had laid
aside with her mourning when the King came into the house; and which the
poor heedless thing very likely had forgotten.

"Do you leave this, too, Beatrix?" says her mother, taking the miniature
out, and with a cruelty she did not very often show; but there are some
moments when the tenderest women are cruel, and some triumphs which
angels can't forego.*

* This remark shows how unjustly and contemptuously even the
best of men will sometimes judge of our sex. Lady
Castlewood had no intention of triumphing over her daughter;
but from a sense of duty alone pointed out her deplorable
wrong.--H. E.

Having delivered this stab, Lady Castlewood was frightened at the effect
of her blow. It went to poor Beatrix's heart: she flushed up and passed
a handkerchief across her eyes, and kissed the miniature, and put it
into her bosom:--"I had forgot it," says she; "my injury made me forget
my grief: my mother has recalled both to me. Farewell, mother; I think I
never can forgive you; something hath broke between us that no tears
nor years can repair. I always said I was alone; you never loved me,
never--and were jealous of me from the time I sat on my father's knee.
Let me go away, the sooner the better: I can bear to be with you no
more."

"Go, child," says her mother, still very stern; "go and bend your
proud knees and ask forgiveness; go, pray in solitude for humility and
repentance. 'Tis not your reproaches that make me unhappy, 'tis your
hard heart, my poor Beatrix; may God soften it, and teach you one day to
feel for your mother."

If my mistress was cruel, at least she never could be got to own as
much. Her haughtiness quite overtopped Beatrix's; and, if the girl had a
proud spirit, I very much fear it came to her by inheritance.




CHAPTER XI.

OUR GUEST QUITS US AS NOT BEING HOSPITABLE ENOUGH.


Beatrix's departure took place within an hour, her maid going with her
in the post-chaise, and a man armed on the coach-box to prevent any
danger of the road. Esmond and Frank thought of escorting the carriage,
but she indignantly refused their company, and another man was sent to
follow the coach, and not to leave it till it had passed over Hounslow
Heath on the next day. And these two forming the whole of Lady
Castlewood's male domestics, Mr. Esmond's faithful John Lockwood came
to wait on his mistress during their absence, though he would have
preferred to escort Mrs. Lucy, his sweetheart, on her journey into the
country.

We had a gloomy and silent meal; it seemed as if a darkness was over the
house, since the bright face of Beatrix had been withdrawn from it. In
the afternoon came a message from the favorite to relieve us somewhat
from this despondency. "The Queen hath been much shaken," the note said;
"she is better now, and all things will go well. Let MY LORD CASTLEWOOD
be ready against we send for him."

At night there came a second billet: "There hath been a great battle in
Council; Lord Treasurer hath broke his staff, and hath fallen never to
rise again; no successor is appointed. Lord B----receives a great Whig
company to-night at Golden Square. If he is trimming, others are true;
the Queen hath no more fits, but is a-bed now, and more quiet. Be ready
against morning, when I still hope all will be well."

The Prince came home shortly after the messenger who bore this billet
had left the house. His Royal Highness was so much the better for the
Bishop's liquor, that to talk affairs to him now was of little service.
He was helped to the Royal bed; he called Castlewood familiarly by his
own name; he quite forgot the part upon the acting of which his crown,
his safety, depended. 'Twas lucky that my Lady Castlewood's servants
were out of the way, and only those heard him who would not betray
him. He inquired after the adorable Beatrix, with a royal hiccup in his
voice; he was easily got to bed, and in a minute or two plunged in that
deep slumber and forgetfulness with which Bacchus rewards the votaries
of that god. We wished Beatrix had been there to see him in his cups. We
regretted, perhaps, that she was gone.

One of the party at Kensington Square was fool enough to ride to
Hounslow that night, coram latronibus, and to the inn which the family
used ordinarily in their journeys out of London. Esmond desired my
landlord not to acquaint Madam Beatrix with his coming, and had the grim
satisfaction of passing by the door of the chamber where she lay with
her maid, and of watching her chariot set forth in the early morning. He
saw her smile and slip money into the man's hand who was ordered to ride
behind the coach as far as Bagshot. The road being open, and the other
servant armed, it appeared she dispensed with the escort of a second
domestic; and this fellow, bidding his young mistress adieu with many
bows, went and took a pot of ale in the kitchen, and returned in company
with his brother servant, John Coachman, and his horses, back to London.

They were not a mile out of Hounslow when the two worthies stopped for
more drink, and here they were scared by seeing Colonel Esmond gallop by
them. The man said in reply to Colonel Esmond's stern question, that his
young mistress had sent her duty; only that, no other message: she had
had a very good night, and would reach Castlewood by nightfall. The
Colonel had no time for further colloquy, and galloped on swiftly to
London, having business of great importance there, as my reader very
well knoweth. The thought of Beatrix riding away from the danger soothed
his mind not a little. His horse was at Kensington Square (honest Dapple
knew the way thither well enough) before the tipsy guest of last night
was awake and sober.

The account of the previous evening was known all over the town early
next day. A violent altercation had taken place before the Queen in
the Council Chamber; and all the coffee-houses had their version of the
quarrel. The news brought my Lord Bishop early to Kensington Square,
where he awaited the waking of his Royal master above stairs, and spoke
confidently of having him proclaimed as Prince of Wales and heir to
the throne before that day was over. The Bishop had entertained on the
previous afternoon certain of the most influential gentlemen of the
true British party. His Royal highness had charmed all, both Scots and
English, Papists and Churchmen: "Even Quakers," says he, "were at our
meeting; and, if the stranger took a little too much British punch and
ale, he will soon grow more accustomed to those liquors; and my Lord
Castlewood," says the Bishop with a laugh, "must bear the cruel charge
of having been for once in his life a little tipsy. He toasted your
lovely sister a dozen times, at which we all laughed," says the Bishop,
"admiring so much fraternal affection.--Where is that charming nymph,
and why doth she not adorn your ladyship's tea-table with her bright
eyes?"

Her ladyship said, dryly, that Beatrix was not at home that morning;
my Lord Bishop was too busy with great affairs to trouble himself much
about the presence or absence of any lady, however beautiful.

We were yet at table when Dr. A---- came from the Palace with a look of
great alarm; the shocks the Queen had had the day before had acted on
her severely; he had been sent for, and had ordered her to be blooded.
The surgeon of Long Acre had come to cup the Queen, and her Majesty was
now more easy and breathed more freely. What made us start at the name
of Mr. Ayme? "Il faut etre aimable pour etre aime," says the merry
Doctor; Esmond pulled his sleeve, and bade him hush. It was to Ayme's
house, after his fatal duel, that my dear Lord Castlewood, Frank's
father, had been carried to die.

No second visit could be paid to the Queen on that day at any rate; and
when our guest above gave his signal that he was awake, the Doctor, the
Bishop, and Colonel Esmond waited upon the Prince's levee, and
brought him their news, cheerful or dubious. The Doctor had to go away
presently, but promised to keep the Prince constantly acquainted with
what was taking place at the Palace hard by. His counsel was, and the
Bishop's, that as soon as ever the Queen's malady took a favorable turn,
the Prince should be introduced to her bedside; the Council summoned;
the guard at Kensington and St. James's, of which two regiments were to
be entirely relied on, and one known not to be hostile, would declare
for the Prince, as the Queen would before the Lords of her Council,
designating him as the heir to her throne.

With locked doors, and Colonel Esmond acting as secretary, the Prince
and his Lordship of Rochester passed many hours of this day, composing
Proclamations and Addresses to the Country, to the Scots, to the Clergy,
to the People of London and England; announcing the arrival of the exile
descendant of three sovereigns, and his acknowledgment by his sister as
heir to the throne. Every safeguard for their liberties, the Church and
People could ask, was promised to them. The Bishop could answer for the
adhesion of very many prelates, who besought of their flocks and brother
ecclesiastics to recognize the sacred right of the future sovereign, and
to purge the country of the sin of rebellion.

During the composition of these papers, more messengers than one came
from the Palace regarding the state of the august patient there lying.
At mid-day she was somewhat better; at evening the torpor again seized
her, and she wandered in her mind. At night Dr. A---- was with us again,
with a report rather more favorable: no instant danger at any rate was
apprehended. In the course of the last two years her Majesty had had
many attacks similar, but more severe.

By this time we had finished a half-dozen of Proclamations, (the wording
of them so as to offend no parties, and not to give umbrage to Whigs or
Dissenters, required very great caution,) and the young Prince, who had
indeed shown, during a long day's labor, both alacrity at seizing the
information given him, and ingenuity and skill in turning the phrases
which were to go out signed by his name, here exhibited a good-humor and
thoughtfulness that ought to be set down to his credit.

"Were these papers to be mislaid," says he, "or our scheme to come to
mishap, my Lord Esmond's writing would bring him to a place where I
heartily hope never to see him; and so, by your leave, I will copy the
papers myself, though I am not very strong in spelling; and if they are
found they will implicate none but the person they most concern;" and
so, having carefully copied the Proclamations out, the Prince burned
those in Colonel Esmond's handwriting: "And now, and now, gentlemen,"
says he, "let us go to supper, and drink a glass with the ladies. My
Lord Esmond, you will sup with us to-night; you have given us of late
too little of your company."

The Prince's meals were commonly served in the chamber which had been
Beatrix's bedroom, adjoining that in which he slept. And the dutiful
practice of his entertainers was to wait until their Royal guest bade
them take their places at table before they sat down to partake of the
meal. On this night, as you may suppose, only Frank Castlewood and his
mother were in waiting when the supper was announced to receive the
Prince; who had passed the whole of the day in his own apartment, with
the Bishop as his Minister of State, and Colonel Esmond officiating as
Secretary of his Council.

The Prince's countenance wore an expression by no means pleasant; when
looking towards the little company assembled, and waiting for him, he
did not see Beatrix's bright face there as usual to greet him. He asked
Lady Esmond for his fair introducer of yesterday: her ladyship only cast
her eyes down, and said quietly, Beatrix could not be of the supper that
night; nor did she show the least sign of confusion, whereas Castlewood
turned red, and Esmond was no less embarrassed. I think women have an
instinct of dissimulation; they know by nature how to disguise their
emotions far better than the most consummate male courtiers can do. Is
not the better part of the life of many of them spent in hiding their
feelings, in cajoling their tyrants, in masking over with fond smiles
and artful gayety, their doubt, or their grief, or their terror?

Our guest swallowed his supper very sulkily; it was not till the second
bottle his Highness began to rally. When Lady Castlewood asked leave to
depart, he sent a message to Beatrix, hoping she would be present at the
next day's dinner, and applied himself to drink, and to talk afterwards,
for which there was subject in plenty.

The next day, we heard from our informer at Kensington that the Queen
was somewhat better, and had been up for an hour, though she was not
well enough yet to receive any visitor.

At dinner a single cover was laid for his Royal Highness; and the two
gentlemen alone waited on him. We had had a consultation in the morning
with Lady Castlewood, in which it had been determined that, should his
Highness ask further questions about Beatrix, he should be answered by
the gentlemen of the house.

He was evidently disturbed and uneasy, looking towards the door
constantly, as if expecting some one. There came, however, nobody,
except honest John Lockwood, when he knocked with a dish, which those
within took from him; so the meals were always arranged, and I believe
the council in the kitchen were of opinion that my young lord had
brought over a priest, who had converted us all into Papists, and that
Papists were like Jews, eating together, and not choosing to take their
meals in the sight of Christians.

The Prince tried to cover his displeasure; he was but a clumsy
dissembler at that time, and when out of humor could with difficulty
keep a serene countenance; and having made some foolish attempts at
trivial talk, he came to his point presently, and in as easy a manner
as he could, saying to Lord Castlewood, he hoped, he requested, his
lordship's mother and sister would be of the supper that night. As
the time hung heavy on him, and he must not go abroad, would not Miss
Beatrix hold him company at a game of cards?

At this, looking up at Esmond, and taking the signal from him, Lord
Castlewood informed his Royal Highness* that his sister Beatrix was not
at Kensington; and that her family had thought it best she should quit
the town.

* In London we addressed the Prince as Royal Highness
invariably, though the women persisted in giving him the
title of King.

"Not at Kensington!" says he; "is she ill? she was well yesterday;
wherefore should she quit the town? Is it at your orders, my lord, or
Colonel Esmond's, who seems the master of this house?"

"Not of this, sir," says Frank very nobly, "only of our house in the
country, which he hath given to us. This is my mother's house, and
Walcote is my father's, and the Marquis of Esmond knows he hath but to
give his word, and I return his to him."

"The Marquis of Esmond!--the Marquis of Esmond," says the Prince,
tossing off a glass, "meddles too much with my affairs, and presumes
on the service he hath done me. If you want to carry your suit with
Beatrix, my lord, by blocking her up in gaol, let me tell you that is
not the way to win a woman."

"I was not aware, sir, that I had spoken of my suit to Madam Beatrix to
your Royal Highness."

"Bah, bah, Monsieur! we need not be a conjurer to see that. It makes
itself seen at all moments. You are jealous, my lord, and the maid of
honor cannot look at another face without yours beginning to scowl. That
which you do is unworthy, Monsieur; is inhospitable--is, is lache, yes,
lache:" (he spoke rapidly in French, his rage carrying him away with each
phrase:) "I come to your house; I risk my life; I pass it in ennui; I
repose myself on your fidelity; I have no company but your lordship's
sermons or the conversations of that adorable young lady, and you take
her from me, and you, you rest! Merci, Monsieur! I shall thank you
when I have the means; I shall know to recompense a devotion a little
importunate, my lord--a little importunate. For a month past your airs
of protector have annoyed me beyond measure. You deign to offer me the
crown, and bid me take it on my knees like King John--eh! I know my
history, Monsieur, and mock myself of frowning barons. I admire your
mistress, and you send her to a Bastile of the Province; I enter your
house, and you mistrust me. I will leave it, Monsieur; from to-night I
will leave it. I have other friends whose loyalty will not be so ready
to question mine. If I have garters to give away, 'tis to noblemen who
are not so ready to think evil. Bring me a coach and let me quit this
place, or let the fair Beatrix return to it. I will not have your
hospitality at the expense of the freedom of that fair creature."

This harangue was uttered with rapid gesticulation such as the French
use, and in the language of that nation. The Prince striding up and down
the room; his face flushed, and his hands trembling with anger. He was
very thin and frail from repeated illness and a life of pleasure. Either
Castlewood or Esmond could have broke him across their knee, and in
half a minute's struggle put an end to him; and here he was insulting
us both, and scarce deigning to hide from the two, whose honor it most
concerned, the passion he felt for the young lady of our family. My Lord
Castlewood replied to the Prince's tirade very nobly and simply.

"Sir," says he, "your Royal Highness is pleased to forget that others
risk their lives, and for your cause. Very few Englishmen, please God,
would dare to lay hands on your sacred person, though none would ever
think of respecting ours. Our family's lives are at your service, and
everything we have except our honor."

"Honor! bah, sir, who ever thought of hurting your honor?" says the
Prince with a peevish air.

"We implore your Royal Highness never to think of hurting it," says Lord
Castlewood with a low bow. The night being warm, the windows were open
both towards the Gardens and the Square. Colonel Esmond heard through
the closed door the voice of the watchman calling the hour, in the
square on the other side. He opened the door communicating with the
Prince's room; Martin, the servant that had rode with Beatrix to
Hounslow, was just going out of the chamber as Esmond entered it, and
when the fellow was gone, and the watchman again sang his cry of "Past
ten o'clock, and a starlight night," Esmond spoke to the Prince in a low
voice, and said--"Your Royal Highness hears that man."

"Apres, Monsieur?" says the Prince.

"I have but to beckon him from the window, and send him fifty yards, and
he returns with a guard of men, and I deliver up to him the body of the
person calling himself James the Third, for whose capture Parliament
hath offered a reward of 500L., as your Royal Highness saw on our ride
from Rochester. I have but to say the word, and, by the heaven that made
me, I would say it if I thought the Prince, for his honor's sake, would
not desist from insulting ours. But the first gentleman of England knows
his duty too well to forget himself with the humblest, or peril his
crown for a deed that were shameful if it were done."

"Has your lordship anything to say," says the Prince, turning to Frank
Castlewood, and quite pale with anger; "any threat or any insult, with
which you would like to end this agreeable night's entertainment?"

"I follow the head of our house," says Castlewood, bowing gravely. "At
what time shall it please the Prince that we should wait upon him in the
morning?"

"You will wait on the Bishop of Rochester early, you will bid him bring
his coach hither; and prepare an apartment for me in his own house, or
in a place of safety. The King will reward you handsomely, never fear,
for all you have done in his behalf. I wish you a good night, and
shall go to bed, unless it pleases the Marquis of Esmond to call his
colleague, the watchman, and that I should pass the night with the
Kensington guard. Fare you well, be sure I will remember you. My Lord
Castlewood, I can go to bed to-night without need of a chamberlain." And
the Prince dismissed us with a grim bow, locking one door as he spoke,
that into the supping-room, and the other through which we passed, after
us. It led into the small chamber which Frank Castlewood or MONSIEUR
BAPTISTE occupied, and by which Martin entered when Colonel Esmond but
now saw him in the chamber.

At an early hour next morning the Bishop arrived, and was closeted for
some time with his master in his own apartment, where the Prince laid
open to his counsellor the wrongs which, according to his version, he
had received from the gentlemen of the Esmond family. The worthy prelate
came out from the conference with an air of great satisfaction; he was a
man full of resources, and of a most assured fidelity, and possessed of
genius, and a hundred good qualities; but captious and of a most jealous
temper, that could not help exulting at the downfall of any favorite;
and he was pleased in spite of himself to hear that the Esmond Ministry
was at an end.

"I have soothed your guest," says he, coming out to the two gentlemen
and the widow; who had been made acquainted with somewhat of the dispute
of the night before. (By the version we gave her, the Prince was only
made to exhibit anger because we doubted of his intentions in respect
to Beatrix; and to leave us, because we questioned his honor.) "But I
think, all things considered, 'tis as well he should leave this house;
and then, my Lady Castlewood," says the Bishop, "my pretty Beatrix may
come back to it."

"She is quite as well at home at Castlewood," Esmond's mistress said,
"till everything is over."