Our young Virginian having won these sums of money from his cousin and
the chaplain, was in duty bound to give them a chance of recovering
their money, and I am afraid his mamma and other sound moralists would
scarcely approve of his way of life. He plays at cards a great deal too
much. Besides the daily whist or quadrille with the ladies, which set in
soon after dinner at three o'clock, and lasted until supper-time, there
occurred games involving the gain or loss of very considerable sums of
money, in which all the gentlemen, my lord included, took part. Since
their Sunday's conversation, his lordship was more free and confidential
with his kinsman than he had previously been, betted with him quite
affably, and engaged him at backgammon and piquet. Mr. William and the
pious chaplain liked a little hazard; though this diversion was enjoyed
on the sly, and unknown to the ladies of the house, who had exacted
repeated promises from cousin Will that he would not lead the Virginian
into mischief, and that he would himself keep out of it. So Will
promised as much as his aunt or his mother chose to demand from him,
gave them his word that he would never play--no, never; and when the
family retired to rest, Mr. Will would walk over with a dice-box and
a rum-bottle to cousin Harry's quarters, where he, and Hal, and his
reverence would sit and play until daylight.
When Harry gave to Lord Castlewood those flourishing descriptions of the
maternal estate in America, he had not wished to mislead his kinsman,
or to boast, or to tell falsehoods, for the lad was of a very honest and
truth-telling nature; but, in his life at home, it must be owned
that the young fellow had had acquaintance with all sorts of queer
company,--horse-jockeys, tavern loungers, gambling and sporting men,
of whom a great number were found in his native colony. A landed
aristocracy, with a population of negroes to work their fields, and
cultivate their tobacco and corn, had little other way of amusement
than in the hunting-field, or over the cards and the punch-bowl. The
hospitality of the province was unbounded: every man's house was his
neighbour's; and the idle gentlefolks rode from one mansion to another,
finding in each pretty much the same sport, welcome, and rough plenty.
The Virginian squire had often a barefooted valet, and a cobbled saddle;
but there was plenty of corn for the horses, and abundance of drink and
venison for the master within the tumble-down fences, and behind the
cracked windows of the hall. Harry had slept on many a straw mattress,
and engaged in endless jolly night-bouts over claret and punch in
cracked bowls till morning came, and it was time to follow the hounds.
His poor brother was of a much more sober sort, as the lad owned with
contrition. So it is that Nature makes folks; and some love books and
tea, and some like Burgundy and a gallop across country. Our young
fellow's tastes were speedily made visible to his friends in England.
None of them were partial to the Puritan discipline; nor did they like
Harry the worse for not being the least of a milksop. Manners, you see,
were looser a hundred years ago; tongues were vastly more free-and-easy;
names were named, and things were done, which we should screech now to
hear mentioned. Yes, madam, we are not as our ancestors were. Ought we
not to thank the Fates that have improved our morals so prodigiously,
and made us so eminently virtuous?
So, keeping a shrewd keen eye upon people round about him, and fancying,
not incorrectly, that his cousins were disposed to pump him, Harry
Warrington had thought fit to keep his own counsel regarding his own
affairs, and in all games of chance or matters of sport was quite a
match for the three gentlemen into whose company he had fallen. Even in
the noble game of billiards he could hold his own after a few days' play
with his cousins and their revered pastor. His grandfather loved the
game, and had over from Europe one of the very few tables which existed
in his Majesty's province of Virginia. Nor, though Mr. Will could
beat him at the commencement, could he get undue odds out of the young
gamester. After their first bet, Harry was on his guard with Mr. Will,
and cousin William owned, not without respect, that the American was his
match in most things, and his better in many. But though Harry played so
well that he could beat the parson, and soon was the equal of Will, who
of course could beat both the girls, how came it, that in the contests
with these, especially with one of them, Mr. Warrington frequently
came off second? He was profoundly courteous to every being who wore a
petticoat; nor has that traditional politeness yet left his country. All
the women of the Castlewood establishment loved the young gentleman.
The grim housekeeper was mollified by him: the fat cook greeted him with
blowsy smiles; the ladies'-maids, whether of the French or the English
nation, smirked and giggled in his behalf; the pretty porter's daughter
at the lodge had always a kind word in reply to his. Madame de Bernstein
took note of all these things, and, though she said nothing, watched
carefully the boy's disposition and behaviour.
Who can say how old Lady Maria Esmond was? Books of the Peerage were
not so many in those days as they are in our blessed times, and I cannot
tell to a few years, or even a lustre or two. When Will used to say she
was five-and-thirty, he was abusive, and, besides, was always given
to exaggeration. Maria was Will's half-sister. She and my lord were
children of the late Lord Castlewood's first wife, a German lady, whom,
'tis known, my lord married in the time of Queen Anne's wars. Baron
Bernstein, who married Maria's Aunt Beatrix, Bishop Tusher's widow, was
also a German, a Hanoverian nobleman, and relative of the first Lady
Castlewood. If my Lady Maria was born under George I., and his Majesty
George II. had been thirty years on the throne, how could she be
seven-and-twenty, as she told Harry Warrington she was? “I am old,
child,” she used to say. She used to call Harry “child” when they were
alone. “I am a hundred years old. I am seven-and-twenty. I might be your
mother almost.” To which Harry would reply, “Your ladyship might be the
mother of all the cupids, I am sure. You don't look twenty, on my word
you do Dot!”
Lady Maria looked any age you liked. She was a fair beauty with a
dazzling white and red complexion, an abundance of fair hair which
flowed over her shoulders, and beautiful round arms which showed to
uncommon advantage when she played at billiards with cousin Harry. When
she had to stretch across the table to make a stroke, that youth caught
glimpses of a little ankle, a little clocked stocking, and a little
black satin slipper with a little red heel, which filled him with
unutterable rapture, and made him swear that there never was such a
foot, ankle, clocked stocking, satin slipper in the world. And yet, oh,
you foolish Harry! your mother's foot was ever so much more slender, and
half an inch shorter, than Lady Maria's. But, somehow, boys do not look
at their mammas' slippers and ankles with rapture.
No doubt Lady Maria was very kind to Harry when they were alone. Before
her sister, aunt, stepmother, she made light of him, calling him a
simpleton, a chit, and who knows what trivial names? Behind his back,
and even before his face, she mimicked his accent, which smacked
somewhat of his province. Harry blushed and corrected the faulty
intonation, under his English monitresses. His aunt pronounced that they
would soon make him a pretty fellow.
Lord Castlewood, we have said, became daily more familiar and friendly
with his guest and relative. Till the crops were off the ground there
was no sporting, except an occasional cock-match at Winchester, and a
bull-baiting at Hexton Fair. Harry and Will rode off to many jolly fairs
and races round about the young Virginian was presented to some of the
county families--the Henleys of the Grange, the Crawleys of Queen's
Crawley, the Redmaynes of Lionsden, and so forth. The neighbours came
in their great heavy coaches, and passed two or three days in country
fashion. More of them would have come, but for the fear all the
Castlewood family had of offending Madame de Bernstein. She did not like
country company; the rustical society and conversation annoyed her. “We
shall be merrier when my aunt leaves us,” the young folks owned. “We
have cause, as you may imagine, for being very civil to her. You know
what a favourite she was with our papa? And with reason. She got him his
earldom, being very well indeed at Court at that time with the King and
Queen. She commands here naturally, perhaps a little too much. We are
all afraid of her: even my elder brother stands in awe of her, and my
stepmother is much more obedient to her than she ever was to my papa,
whom she ruled with a rod of iron. But Castlewood is merrier when our
aunt is not here. At least we have much more company. You will come to
us in our gay days, Harry, won't you? Of course you will: this is your
home, sir. I was so pleased--oh, so pleased--when my brother said he
considered it was your home!”
A soft hand is held out after this pretty speech, a pair of very well
preserved blue eyes look exceedingly friendly. Harry grasps his cousin's
hand with ardour. I do not know what privilege of cousinship he would
not like to claim, only he is so timid. They call the English selfish
and cold. He at first thought his relatives were so: but how mistaken he
was! How kind and affectionate they are, especially the Earl,--and
dear, dear Maria! How he wishes he could recall that letter which he
had written to Mrs. Mountain and his mother, in which he hinted that his
welcome had been a cold one! The Earl his cousin was everything that was
kind, had promised to introduce him to London society, and present him
at Court, and at White's. He was to consider Castlewood as his English
home. He had been most hasty in his judgment regarding his relatives
in Hampshire. All this, with many contrite expressions, he wrote in his
second despatch to Virginia. And he added, for it hath been hinted
that the young gentleman did not spell at this early time with especial
accuracy, “My cousin, the Lady Maria, is a perfect Angle.”
“Ille praeter omnes angulus ridet,” muttered little Mr. Dempster, at
home in Virginia.
“The child can't be falling in love with his angle, as he calls her!”
cries out Mountain.
“Pooh, pooh! my niece Maria is forty!” says Madam Esmond. “I perfectly
well recollect her when I was at home--a great, gawky, carroty creature,
with a foot like a pair of bellows.” Where is truth, forsooth, and who
knoweth it? Is Beauty beautiful, or is it only our eyes that make it
so? Does Venus squint? Has she got a splay-foot, red hair, and a crooked
back? Anoint my eyes, good Fairy Puck, so that I may ever consider the
Beloved Object a paragon! Above all, keep on anointing my mistress's
dainty peepers with the very strongest ointment, so that my noddle may
ever appear lovely to her, and that she may continue to crown my honest
ears with fresh roses!
Now, not only was Harry Warrington a favourite with some in the
drawing-room, and all the ladies of the servants'-hall, but, like master
like man, his valet Gumbo was very much admired and respected by very
many of the domestic circle. Gumbo had a hundred accomplishments. He
was famous as a fisherman, huntsman, blacksmith. He could dress hair
beautifully, and improved himself in the art under my lord's own Swiss
gentleman. He was great at cooking many of his Virginian dishes, and
learned many new culinary secrets from my lord's French man. We have
heard how exquisitely and melodiously he sang at church; and he sang not
only sacred but secular music, often inventing airs and composing rude
words after the habit of his people. He played the fiddle so charmingly,
that he set all the girls dancing in Castlewood Hall, and was ever
welcome to a gratis mug of ale at the Three Castles in the village, if
he would but bring his fiddle with him. He was good-natured and loved
to play for the village children: so that Mr. Warrington's negro was a
universal favourite in all the Castlewood domain.
Now it was not difficult for the servants'-hall folks to perceive that
Mr. Gumbo was a liar, which fact was undoubted in spite of all his good
qualities. For instance, that day at church, when he pretended to read
out of Molly's psalm-book, he sang quite other words than those which
were down in the book, of which he could not decipher a syllable. And
he pretended to understand music, whereupon the Swiss valet brought him
some, and Master Gumbo turned the page upside down. These instances of
long-bow practice daily occurred, and were patent to all the Castlewood
household. They knew Gumbo was a liar, perhaps not thinking the worse
of him for this weakness; but they did not know how great a liar he
was, and believed him much more than they had any reason for doing, and
because, I suppose, they liked to believe him.
Whatever might be his feelings of wonder and envy on first viewing the
splendour and comforts of Castlewood, Mr. Gumbo kept his sentiments
to himself, and examined the place, park, appointments, stables, very
coolly. The horses, he said, were very well, what there were of them;
but at Castlewood in Virginia they had six times as many, and let
me see, fourteen eighteen grooms to look after them. Madam Esmond's
carriages were much finer than my lord's,--great deal more gold on the
panels. As for her gardens, they covered acres, and they grew every kind
of flower and fruit under the sun. Pineapples and peaches? Pineapples
and peaches were so common, they were given to pigs in his country. They
had twenty forty gardeners, not white gardeners, all black gentlemen,
like hisself. In the house were twenty forty gentlemen in
livery, besides women-servants--never could remember how
many women-servants,--dere were so many: tink dere were fifty
women-servants--all Madam Esmond's property, and worth ever so many
hundred pieces of eight apiece. How much was a piece of eight? Bigger
than a guinea, a piece of eight was. Tink, Madam Esmond have twenty
thirty thousand guineas a year,--have whole rooms full of gold and
plate. Came to England in one of her ships; have ever so many ships,
Gumbo can't count how many ships; and estates, covered all over with
tobacco and negroes, and reaching out for a week's journey. Was Master
Harry heir to all this property? Of course, now Master George was killed
and scalped by the Indians. Gumbo had killed ever so many Indians, and
tried to save Master George, but he was Master Harry's boy,--and Master
Harry was as rich,--oh, as rich as ever he like. He wore black now,
because Master George was dead; but you should see his chests full of
gold clothes, and lace, and jewels at Bristol. Of course, Master
Harry was the richest man in all Virginia, and might have twenty sixty
servants; only he liked travelling with one best, and that one, it need
scarcely be said, was Gumbo.
This story was not invented at once, but gradually elicited from Mr.
Gumbo, who might have uttered some trifling contradictions during the
progress of the narrative, but by the time he had told his tale twice or
thrice in the servants'-hall or the butler's private apartment, he
was pretty perfect and consistent in his part, and knew accurately the
number of slaves Madam Esmond kept, and the amount of income which she
enjoyed. The truth is, that as four or five blacks are required to do
the work of one white man, the domestics in American establishments
are much more numerous than in ours; and, like the houses of most other
Virginian landed proprietors, Madam Esmond's mansion and stables swarmed
with negroes.
Mr. Gumbo's account of his mistress's wealth and splendour was carried
to my lord by his lordship's man, and to Madame de Bernstein and my
ladies by their respective waiting-women, and, we may be sure, lost
nothing in the telling. A young gentleman in England is not the
less liked because he is reputed to be the heir to vast wealth and
possessions; when Lady Castlewood came to hear of Harry's prodigious
expectations, she repented of her first cool reception of him, and of
having pinched her daughter's arm till it was black-and-blue for having
been extended towards the youth in too friendly a manner. Was it too
late to have him back into those fair arms? Lady Fanny was welcome to
try, and resumed the dancing-lessons. The Countess would play the music
with all her heart. But, how provoking! that odious, sentimental Maria
would always insist upon being in the room; and, as sure as Fanny walked
in the gardens or the park, so sure would her sister come trailing after
her. As for Madame de Bernstein, she laughed, and was amused at the
stories of the prodigious fortune of her Virginian relatives. She knew
her half-sister's man of business in London, and very likely was aware
of the real state of Madame Esmond's money matters; but she did not
contradict the rumours which Gumbo and his fellow-servants had set
afloat; and was not a little diverted by the effect which these reports
had upon the behaviour of the Castlewood family towards their young
kinsman.
“Hang him! Is he so rich, Molly?” said my lord to his elder sister.
“Then good-bye to our chances with your aunt. The Baroness will be sure
to leave him all her money to spite us, and because he doesn't want
it. Nevertheless, the lad is a good lad enough, and it is not his fault
being rich, you know.”
“He is very simple and modest in his habits for one so wealthy,” remarks
Maria.
“Rich people often are so,” says my lord. “If I were rich, I often think
I would be the greatest miser, and live in rags and on a crust. Depend
on it there is no pleasure so enduring as money-getting. It grows on
you, and increases with old age. But because I am as poor as Lazarus, I
dress in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day.”
Maria went to the book-room and got the History of Virginia, by R. B.
Gent--and read therein what an admirable climate it was, and how all
kinds of fruit and corn grew in that province, and what noble rivers
were those of Potomac and Rappahannoc, abounding in all sorts of fish.
And she wondered whether the climate would agree with her, and whether
her aunt would like her? And Harry was sure his mother would adore
her, so would Mountain. And when he was asked about the number of his
mother's servants, he said, they certainly had more servants than are
seen in England--he did not know how many. But the negroes did not do
near as much work as English servants did hence the necessity of keeping
so great a number. As for some others of Gumbo's details which were
brought to him, he laughed and said the boy was wonderful as a romancer,
and in telling such stories he supposed was trying to speak out for the
honour of the family.
So Harry was modest as well as rich! His denials only served to confirm
his relatives' opinion regarding his splendid expectations. More and
more the Countess and the ladies were friendly and affectionate with
him. More and more Mr. Will betted with him, and wanted to sell him
bargains. Harry's simple dress and equipage only served to confirm his
friends' idea of his wealth. To see a young man of his rank and means
with but one servant, and without horses or a carriage of his own--what
modesty! When he went to London he would cut a better figure? Of course
he would. Castlewood would introduce him to the best society in the
capital, and he would appear as he ought to appear at St. James's. No
man could be more pleasant, wicked, lively, obsequious than the worthy
chaplain, Mr. Sampson. How proud he would be if he could show his young
friend a little of London life!--if he could warn rogues off him, and
keep him out of the way of harm! Mr. Sampson was very kind: everybody
was very kind. Harry liked quite well the respect that was paid to him.
As Madam Esmond's son he thought perhaps it was his due: and took for
granted that he was the personage which his family imagined him to be.
How should he know better, who had never as yet seen any place but his
own province, and why should he not respect his own condition when other
people respected it so? So all the little knot of people at Castlewood
House, and from these the people in Castlewood village, and from thence
the people in the whole county, chose to imagine that Mr. Harry Esmond
Warrington was the heir of immense wealth, and a gentleman of very
great importance, because his negro valet told lies about him in the
servants'-hall.
Harry's aunt, Madame de Bernstein, after a week or two, began to tire of
Castlewood and the inhabitants of that mansion, and the neighbours who
came to visit them. This clever woman tired of most things and people
sooner or later. So she took to nodding and sleeping over the chaplain's
stories, and to doze at her whist and over her dinner, and to be very
snappish and sarcastic in her conversation with her Esmond nephews and
nieces, hitting out blows at my lord and his brother the jockey, and my
ladies, widowed and unmarried, who winced under her scornful remarks,
and bore them as they best might. The cook, whom she had so praised on
first coming, now gave her no satisfaction; the wine was corked; the
house was damp, dreary, and full of draughts; the doors would not shut,
and the chimneys were smoky. She began to think the Tunbridge waters
were very necessary for her, and ordered the doctor, who came to her
from the neighbouring town of Hexton, to order those waters for her
benefit.
“I wish to heaven she would go!” growled my lord, who was the most
independent member of his family. “She may go to Tunbridge, or she may
go to Bath, or she may go to Jericho, for me.”
“Shall Fanny and I come with you to Tunbridge, dear Baroness?” asked
Lady Castlewood of her sister-in-law.
“Not for worlds, my dear! The doctor orders me absolute quiet, and if
you came I should have the knocker going all day, and Fanny's lovers
would never be out of the house,” answered the Baroness, who was quite
weary of Lady Castlewood's company.
“I wish I could be of any service to my aunt!” said the sentimental Lady
Maria, demurely.
“My good child, what can you do for me? You cannot play piquet so well
as my maid, and I have heard all your songs till I am perfectly tired of
them! One of the gentlemen might go with me: at least make the journey,
and see me safe from highwaymen.”
“I'm sure, ma'am, I shall be glad to ride with you,” said Mr. Will.
“Oh, not you! I don't want you, William,” cried the young man's
aunt. “Why do not you offer, and where are your American manners, you
ungracious Harry Warrington? Don't swear, Will, Harry is much better
company than you are, and much better ton too, sir.”
“Tong, indeed! Confound his tong,” growled envious Will to himself.
“I dare say I shall be tired of him, as I am of other folks,” continued
the Baroness. “I have scarcely seen Harry at all in these last days. You
shall ride with me to Tunbridge, Harry!”
At this direct appeal, and to no one's wonder more than that of his
aunt, Mr. Harry Warrington blushed, and hemmed and ha'd and at length
said, “I have promised my cousin Castlewood to go over to Hexton Petty
Sessions with him to-morrow. He thinks I should see how the Courts here
are conducted--and--and--the partridge-shooting will soon begin, and
I have promised to be here for that, ma'am.” Saying which words, Harry
Warrington looked as red as a poppy, whilst Lady Maria held her meek
face downwards, and nimbly plied her needle.
“You actually refuse to go with me to Tunbridge Wells?” called out
Madame Bernstein, her eyes lightening, and her face flushing up with
anger, too.
“Not to ride with you, ma'am; that I will do with all my heart; but to
stay there--I have promised...”
“Enough, enough, sir! I can go alone, and don't want your escort,” cried
the irate old lady, and rustled out of the room.
The Castlewood family looked at each other with wonder. Will whistled.
Lady Castlewood glanced at Fanny, as much as to say, His chance is over.
Lady Maria never lifted up her eyes from her tambour-frame.