Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges Part 35

"For mamma?" says Beatrix. "Is it mamma your honour wants, and that I should have the happiness of calling you papa?"

Esmond blushed again. "I spoke of a Rachel that a shepherd courted five thousand years ago; when shepherds were longer lived than now. And my meaning was, that since I saw you first after our separation-a child you were then--"

"And I put on my best stockings to captivate you, I remember, sir."

"You have had my heart ever since then, such as it was; and such as you were, I cared for no other woman. What little reputation I have won, it was that you might be pleased with it: and, indeed, it is not much; and I think a hundred fools in the army have got and deserved quite as much. Was there something in the air of that dismal old Castlewood that made us all gloomy, and dissatisfied, and lonely under its ruined old roof? We were all so, even when together and united, as it seemed, following our separate schemes, each as we sat round the table."

"Dear, dreary old place!" cries Beatrix. "Mamma hath never had the heart to go back thither since we left it, when-never mind how many years ago,"

and she flung back her curls, and looked over her fair shoulder at the mirror superbly, as if she said, "Time, I defy you."

"Yes," says Esmond, who had the art, as she owned, of divining many of her thoughts. "You can afford to look in the gla.s.s still; and only be pleased by the truth it tells you. As for me, do you know what my scheme is? I think of asking Frank to give me the Virginia estate King Charles gave our grandfather." (She gave a superb curtsy, as much as to say, "Our grandfather, indeed! Thank you, Mr. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.") "Yes, I know you are thinking of my bar-sinister, and so am I. A man cannot get over it in this country; unless, indeed, he wears it across a king's arms, when 'tis a highly honourable coat: and I am thinking of retiring into the plantations, and building myself a wigwam in the woods, and perhaps, if I want company, suiting myself with a squaw. We will send your ladys.h.i.+p furs over for the winter; and, when you are old, we'll provide you with tobacco. I am not quite clever enough, or not rogue enough-I know not which-for the Old World. I may make a place for myself in the new, which is not so full; and found a family there. When you are a mother yourself, and a great lady, perhaps I shall send you over from the plantation some day a little barbarian that is half Esmond half Mohock, and you will be kind to him for his father's sake, who was, after all, your kinsman; and whom you loved a little."

"What folly you are talking, Harry!" says Miss Beatrix, looking with her great eyes.

"'Tis sober earnest," says Esmond. And, indeed, the scheme had been dwelling a good deal in his mind for some time past, and especially since his return home, when he found how hopeless, and even degrading to himself, his pa.s.sion was. "No," says he, then, "I have tried half a dozen times now. I can bear being away from you well enough; but being with you is intolerable" (another low curtsy on Mrs. Beatrix's part), "and I will go. I have enough to buy axes and guns for my men, and beads and blankets for the savages; and I'll go and live amongst them."

"_Mon ami_," she says, quite kindly, and taking Esmond's hand, with an air of great compa.s.sion. "You can't think that in our position anything more than our present friends.h.i.+p is possible. You are our elder brother-as such we view you, pitying your misfortune, not rebuking you with it. Why, you are old enough and grave enough to be our father. I always thought you a hundred years old, Harry, with your solemn face and grave air. I feel as a sister to you, and can no more. Isn't that enough, sir?" And she put her face quite close to his-who knows with what intention?

"It's too much," says Esmond, turning away. "I can't bear this life, and shall leave it. I shall stay, I think, to see you married, and then freight a s.h.i.+p, and call it the _Beatrix_, and bid you all--"

Here the servant, flinging the door open, announced his grace the Duke of Hamilton, and Esmond started back with something like an imprecation on his lips, as the n.o.bleman entered, looking splendid in his star and green ribbon. He gave Mr. Esmond just that gracious bow which he would have given to a lackey who fetched him a chair or took his hat, and seated himself by Miss Beatrix, as the poor colonel went out of the room with a hang-dog look.

Esmond's mistress was in the lower room as he pa.s.sed downstairs. She often met him as he was coming away from Beatrix; and she beckoned him into the apartment.

"Has she told you, Harry?" Lady Castlewood said.

"She has been very frank-very," says Esmond.

"But-but about what is going to happen?"

"What is going to happen?" says he, his heart beating.

"His grace the Duke of Hamilton has proposed to her," says my lady. "He made his offer yesterday. They will marry as soon as his mourning is over; and you have heard his grace is appointed amba.s.sador to Paris; and the amba.s.sadress goes with him."

Chapter IV. Beatrix's New Suitor

The gentleman whom Beatrix had selected was, to be sure, twenty years older than the colonel, with whom she quarrelled for being too old; but this one was but a nameless adventurer, and the other the greatest duke in Scotland, with pretensions even to a still higher t.i.tle. My Lord Duke of Hamilton had, indeed, every merit belonging to a gentleman, and he had had the time to mature his accomplishments fully, being upwards of fifty years old when Madam Beatrix selected him for a bridegroom. Duke Hamilton, then Earl of Arran, had been educated at the famous Scottish University of Glasgow, and, coming to London, became a great favourite of Charles the Second, who made him a lord of his bedchamber, and afterwards appointed him amba.s.sador to the French king, under whom the earl served two campaigns as his Majesty's aide de camp; and he was absent on this service when King Charles died.

King James continued my lord's promotion-made him master of the wardrobe, and colonel of the Royal Regiment of Horse; and his lords.h.i.+p adhered firmly to King James, being of the small company that never quitted that unfortunate monarch till his departure out of England; and then it was, in 1688, namely, that he made the friends.h.i.+p with Colonel Francis Esmond, that had always been, more or less, maintained in the two families.

The earl professed a great admiration for King William always, but never could give him his allegiance; and was engaged in more than one of the plots in the late great king's reign, which always ended in the plotters'

discomfiture, and generally in their pardon, by the magnanimity of the king. Lord Arran was twice prisoner in the Tower during this reign, undauntedly saying, when offered his release, upon parole not to engage against King William, that he would not give his word, because "he was sure he could not keep it"; but, nevertheless, he was both times discharged without any trial; and the king bore this n.o.ble enemy so little malice, that when his mother, the d.u.c.h.ess of Hamilton, of her own right, resigned her claim on her husband's death, the earl was, by patent signed at Loo, 1690, created Duke of Hamilton, Marquis of Clydesdale, and Earl of Arran, with precedency from the original creation. His grace took the oaths and his seat in the Scottish Parliament in 1700: was famous there for his patriotism and eloquence, especially in the debates about the Union Bill, which Duke Hamilton opposed with all his strength, though he would not go the length of the Scottish gentry, who were for resisting it by force of arms. 'Twas said he withdrew his opposition all of a sudden, and in consequence of letters from the king at St. Germains, who entreated him on his allegiance not to thwart the queen, his sister, in this measure; and the duke, being always bent upon effecting the king's return to his kingdom through a reconciliation between his Majesty and Queen Anne, and quite averse to his landing with arms and French troops, held aloof, and kept out of Scotland during the time when the Chevalier de St.

George's descent from Dunkirk was projected, pa.s.sing his time in England in his great estate of Staffords.h.i.+re.

When the Whigs went out of office in 1710, the queen began to show his grace the very greatest marks of her favour. He was created Duke of Brandon and Baron of Dutton in England; having the Thistle already originally bestowed on him by King James the Second, his grace was now promoted to the honour of the Garter-a distinction so great and ill.u.s.trious, that no subject hath ever borne them hitherto together. When this objection was made to her Majesty, she was pleased to say, "Such a subject as the Duke of Hamilton has a pre-eminent claim to every mark of distinction which a crowned head can confer. I will henceforth wear both orders myself."

At the Chapter held at Windsor in October, 1712, the duke and other knights, including Lord-Treasurer, the new-created Earl of Oxford and Mortimer, were installed; and a few days afterwards his grace was appointed Amba.s.sador-Extraordinary to France, and his equipages, plate, and liveries commanded, of the most sumptuous kind, not only for his excellency the amba.s.sador, but for her excellency the amba.s.sadress, who was to accompany him. Her arms were already quartered on the coach panels, and her brother was to hasten over on the appointed day to give her away.

His lords.h.i.+p was a widower, having married, in 1698, Elizabeth, daughter of Digby, Lord Gerard, by which marriage great estates came into the Hamilton family; and out of these estates came, in part, that tragic quarrel which ended the duke's career.

From the loss of a tooth to that of a mistress there's no pang that is not bearable. The apprehension is much more cruel than the certainty; and we make up our mind to the misfortune when 'tis irremediable, part with the tormentor, and mumble our crust on t'other side of the jaws. I think Colonel Esmond was relieved when a ducal coach-and-six came and whisked his charmer away out of his reach, and placed her in a higher sphere. As you have seen the nymph in the opera-machine go up to the clouds at the end of the piece where Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, and all the divine company of Olympians are seated, and quaver out her last song as a G.o.ddess: so when this portentous elevation was accomplished in the Esmond family, I am not sure that every one of us did not treat the divine Beatrix with special honours; at least, the saucy little beauty carried her head with a toss of supreme authority, and a.s.sumed a touch-me-not air, which all her friends very good-humouredly bowed to.

An old army acquaintance of Colonel Esmond's, honest Tom Trett, who had sold his company, married a wife, and turned merchant in the city, was dreadfully gloomy for a long time, though living in a fine house on the river, and carrying on a great trade to all appearance. At length Esmond saw his friend's name in the _Gazette_ as a bankrupt; and a week after this circ.u.mstance my bankrupt walks into Mr. Esmond's lodging with a face perfectly radiant with good humour, and as jolly and careless as when they had sailed from Southampton ten years before for Vigo. "This bankruptcy,"

says Tom, "has been hanging over my head these three years; the thought hath prevented my sleeping, and I have looked at poor Polly's head on t'other pillow, and then towards my razor on the table, and thought to put an end to myself, and so give my woes the slip. But now we are bankrupts: Tom Trett pays as many s.h.i.+llings in the pound as he can; his wife has a little cottage at Fulham, and her fortune secured to herself. I am afraid neither of bailiff nor of creditor; and for the last six nights have slept easy." So it was that when Fortune shook her wings and left him, honest Tom cuddled himself up in his ragged virtue, and fell asleep.

Esmond did not tell his friend how much his story applied to Esmond too; but he laughed at it, and used it; and having fairly struck his docket in this love transaction, determined to put a cheerful face on his bankruptcy. Perhaps Beatrix was a little offended at his gaiety. "Is this the way, sir, that you receive the announcement of your misfortune," says she, "and do you come smiling before me as if you were glad to be rid of me?"

Esmond would not be put off from his good humour, but told her the story of Tom Trett and his bankruptcy. "I have been hankering after the grapes on the wall," says he, "and lost my temper because they were beyond my reach; was there any wonder? They're gone now, and another has them-a taller man than your humble servant has won them." And the colonel made his cousin a low bow.

"A taller man, cousin Esmond!" says she. "A man of spirit would have scaled the wall, sir, and seized them! A man of courage would have fought for 'em, not gaped for 'em."

"A duke has but to gape and they drop into his mouth," says Esmond, with another low bow.

"Yes, sir," says she, "a duke _is_ a taller man than you. And why should I not be grateful to one such as his grace, who gives me his heart and his great name? It is a great gift he honours me with; I know 'tis a bargain between us; and I accept it, and will do my utmost to perform my part of it. 'Tis no question of sighing and philandering between a n.o.bleman of his grace's age and a girl who hath little of that softness in her nature. Why should I not own that I am ambitious, Harry Esmond; and if it be no sin in a man to covet honour, why should a woman too not desire it? Shall I be frank with you, Harry, and say that if you had not been down on your knees, and so humble, you might have fared better with me? A woman of my spirit, cousin, is to be won by gallantry, and not by sighs and rueful faces. All the time you are wors.h.i.+pping and singing hymns to me, I know very well I am no G.o.ddess, and grow weary of the incense. So would you have been weary of the G.o.ddess too-when she was called Mrs. Esmond, and got out of humour because she had not pin-money enough, and was forced to go about in an old gown. Eh! cousin, a G.o.ddess in a mob-cap, that has to make her husband's gruel, ceases to be divine-I am sure of it. I should have been sulky and scolded; and of all the proud wretches in the world Mr. Esmond is the proudest, let me tell him that. You never fall into a pa.s.sion; but you never forgive, I think. Had you been a great man, you might have been good humoured; but being n.o.body, sir, you are too great a man for me; and I'm afraid of you, cousin-there; and I won't wors.h.i.+p you, and you'll never be happy except with a woman who will. Why, after I belonged to you, and after one of my tantrums, you would have put the pillow over my head some night, and smothered me, as the black man does the woman in the play that you're so fond of. What's the creature's name?-Desdemona. You would, you little black-eyed Oth.e.l.lo!"

"I think I should, Beatrix," says the colonel.

"And I want no such ending. I intend to live to be a hundred, and to go to ten thousand routs and b.a.l.l.s, and to play cards every night of my life till the year eighteen hundred. And I like to be the first of my company, sir; and I like flattery and compliments, and you give me none; and I like to be made to laugh, sir, and who's to laugh at _your_ dismal face, I should like to know; and I like a coach-and-six or a coach-and-eight; and I like diamonds, and a new gown every week; and people to say-'That's the d.u.c.h.ess-How well her grace looks-Make way for Madame l'Amba.s.sadrice d'Angleterre-Call her excellency's people'-that's what I like. And as for you, you want a woman to bring your slippers and cap, and to sit at your feet, and cry, 'O caro! O bravo!' whilst you read your Shakespeares, and Miltons, and stuff. Mamma would have been the wife for you, had you been a little older, though you look ten years older than she does-you do, you glum-faced, blue-bearded, little old man! You might have sat, like Darby and Joan, and flattered each other; and billed and cooed like a pair of old pigeons on a perch. I want my wings and to use them, sir." And she spread out her beautiful arms, as if indeed she could fly off like the pretty "Gawrie", whom the man in the story was enamoured of.

"And what will your Peter Wilkins say to your flight?" says Esmond, who never admired this fair creature more than when she rebelled and laughed at him.

"A d.u.c.h.ess knows her place," says she, with a laugh. "Why, I have a son already made for me, and thirty years old (my Lord Arran), and four daughters. How they will scold, and what a rage they will be in, when I come to take the head of the table! But I give them only a month to be angry; at the end of that time they shall love me every one, and so shall Lord Arran, and so shall all his grace's Scots va.s.sals and followers in the Highlands. I'm bent on it; and, when I take a thing in my head, 'tis done. His grace is the greatest gentleman in Europe, and I'll try and make him happy; and, when the king comes back, you may count on my protection, Cousin Esmond-for come back the king will and shall: and I'll bring him back from Versailles, if he comes under my hoop."

"I hope the world will make you happy, Beatrix," says Esmond, with a sigh.

"You'll be Beatrix till you are my lady d.u.c.h.ess-will you not? I shall then make your grace my very lowest bow."

"None of these sighs and this satire, cousin," she says. "I take his grace's great bounty thankfully-yes, thankfully; and will wear his honours becomingly. I do not say he hath touched my heart; but he has my grat.i.tude, obedience, admiration-I have told him that, and no more; and with that his n.o.ble heart is content. I have told him all-even the story of that poor creature that I was engaged to-and that I could not love; and I gladly gave his word back to him, and jumped for joy to get back my own.

I am twenty-five years old."

"Twenty-six, my dear," says Esmond.

"Twenty-five, sir-I choose to be twenty-five; and, in eight years, no man hath ever touched my heart. Yes-you did once, for a little, Harry, when you came back after Lille, and engaging with that murderer, Mohun, and saving Frank's life. I thought I could like you; and mamma begged me hard, on her knees, and I did-for a day. But the old chill came over me, Henry, and the old fear of you and your melancholy; and I was glad when you went away, and engaged with my Lord Ashburnham, that I might hear no more of you, that's the truth. You are too good for me somehow. I could not make you happy, and should break my heart in trying, and not being able to love you. But if you had asked me when we gave you the sword, you might have had me, sir, and we both should have been miserable by this time. I talked with that silly lord all night just to vex you and mamma, and I succeeded, didn't I? How frankly we can talk of these things! It seems a thousand years ago: and, though we are here sitting in the same room, there's a great wall between us. My dear, kind, faithful, gloomy old cousin! I can like you now, and admire you too, sir, and say that you are brave, and very kind, and very true, and a fine gentleman for all-for all your little mishap at your birth," says she, wagging her arch head.

"And now, sir," says she, with a curtsy, "we must have no more talk except when mamma is by, as his grace is with us; for he does not half like you, cousin, and is as jealous as the black man in your favourite play."

Though the very kindness of the words stabbed Mr. Esmond with the keenest pang, he did not show his sense of the wound by any look of his (as Beatrix, indeed, afterwards owned to him), but said, with a perfect command of himself and an easy smile, "The interview must not end yet, my dear, until I have had my last word. Stay, here comes your mother" (indeed she came in here with her sweet anxious face, and Esmond, going up, kissed her hand respectfully). "My dear lady may hear, too, the last words, which are no secrets, and are only a parting benediction accompanying a present for your marriage from an old gentleman your guardian; for I feel as if I was the guardian of all the family, and an old, old fellow that is fit to be the grandfather of you all; and in this character let me make my lady d.u.c.h.ess her wedding present. They are the diamonds my father's widow left me. I had thought Beatrix might have had them a year ago; but they are good enough for a d.u.c.h.ess, though not bright enough for the handsomest woman in the world." And he took the case out of his pocket in which the jewels were, and presented them to his cousin.

She gave a cry of delight, for the stones were indeed very handsome, and of great value; and the next minute the necklace was where Belinda's cross is in Mr. Pope's admirable poem, and glittering on the whitest and most perfectly-shaped neck in all England.

The girl's delight at receiving these trinkets was so great, that after rus.h.i.+ng to the looking-gla.s.s and examining the effect they produced upon that fair neck which they surrounded, Beatrix was running back with her arms extended, and was perhaps for paying her cousin with a price, that he would have liked no doubt to receive from those beautiful rosy lips of hers, but at this moment the door opened, and his grace the bridegroom elect was announced.

He looked very black upon Mr. Esmond, to whom he made a very low bow indeed, and kissed the hand of each lady in his most ceremonious manner.

He had come in his chair from the palace hard by, and wore his two stars of the Garter and the Thistle.