 Book 3 Chapter 9 of the History of Henry Asmond Esquire by William MacPhee Stackeray. The original of the portrait comes to England. It was announced in the family that my Lord Castlewood would arrive having a confidential French gentleman in his suite who acted as secretary to his lordship, and who, being a papist and a foreigner of a good family, though now in rather a menial place, would have his meals served in his chamber, and not with the domestics of the house. The viscountess gave up her bed-chamber contiguous to her daughters, and having a large convenient closet attached to it, in which a bed was put up, ostensibly for Monsieur Baptiste, the Frenchman, though it is needless to say when the doors of the apartments were locked and the two guests retired within it, the young viscount became the servant of the illustrious prince whom he entertained, and gave up gladly the more convenient and airy chamber and bed to his master. Madame Beatrix also retired to the upper region, her chamber being converted into a sitting room for my Lord. The better to carry the deceit, Beatrix affected to grumble before the servants and to be jealous that she was turned out of her chamber to make way for my Lord. No small preparations were made, you may be sure, and no slight tremor of expectation caused the hearts of the gentle ladies of Castlewood to flutter before the arrival of the persinges who were about to honour their house. The chamber was ornamented with flowers, the bed covered with the very finest of linen, the two ladies insisting on making it themselves and kneeling down at the bedside and kissing the sheets out of respect for the web that was to hold the sacred person of a king. The toilet was of silver and crystal, there was a copy of Icon Baselike laid on the writing-table, a portrait of the martyred king hung always over the mantel, having a sword of my poor Lord Castlewood underneath it, and a little picture or emblem which the widow loved always to have before her eyes on waking, and in which the hair of her Lord and her two children was worked together. Her books of private devotions, as they were all of the English Church, she carried away with her to the upper apartment which she destined for herself. The ladies showed Mr. Esmond when they were completed the fawn preparations they had made. It was then Beatrix knelt down and kissed the linen sheets. As for her mother, Lady Castlewood made a curtsy at the door as she would have done to the altar on entering a church, and owned that she considered the chamber in a manner sacred. The company in the servants' hall never for a moment supposed that these preparations were made for any other person than the young Biscount, the Lord of the House, whom his fawn mother had been for so many years without seeing. Both ladies were perfect housewives, having the greatest skill in the making of confections, scented waters and so on, and keeping a notable superintendence over the kitchen. Cavs enough were killed to feed an army of prodigal sons, Esmond thought, and laughed when he came to wait on the ladies on the day when the guests were to arrive, to find two pairs of the finest and roundest arms to be seen in England. My Lady Castlewood was remarkable for this beauty of her person, covered with flower up above the elbows and preparing paste and turning rolling pins in the housekeeper's closet. The guest would not arrive till supper time, and my Lord would prefer having that deal in his own chamber. You may be sure the brightest plate of the house was laid out there, and can understand why it was that the ladies insisted that they alone would wait upon the young chief of the family. Taking horse, Colonel Esmond rode rapidly to Rochester, and there awaited the king in that very town where his father had last set his foot on the English shore. A room had been provided at an inn there for my Lord Castlewood and his servant, and Colonel Esmond timed his ride so well that he had scarce been half an hour in the place, and was looking over the balcony into the yard of the inn when two travelers rode in at the inn gate, and the Colonel running down the next moment embraced his dear young Lord. My Lord's companion, acting the part of a domestic, dismounted, and was foreholding the discount stirrup, but Colonel Esmond, calling to his own man who was in the court, made him take the horses and settle with the lad who had ridden the post along with the two travelers, crying out in a cavalier tone in the French language to my Lord's companion, and affecting to grumble that my Lord's fellow was a Frenchman and did not know the money or habits of the country. My man will see to the horses, baptized, says Colonel Esmond. Do you understand English? So follow my Lord and wait upon him at dinner in his own room. The landlord and his people came up presently, bearing the dishes. It was well they made a noise and stir in the gallery, or they might have found Colonel Esmond on his knee before Lord Castlewood's servant, welcoming his majesty to his kingdom, and kissing the hand of the king. We told the landlord that the Frenchman would wait on his master, and Esmond's man was ordered to keep sentry in the gallery without the door. The prince dined with a good appetite, laughing and talking very gaily and condescendingly bidding his two companions to sit with him at table. He was in better spirits than poor Frank Castlewood, who Esmond thought might be woe-begone on account of partying with his divine clotilda. But the prince, wishing to take a short siesta after dinner and retiring to an inner chamber where there was a bed, the cause of poor Frank's discomforture came out, and bursting into tears with many expressions of fondness, friendship and humiliation, the faithful lad gave his kinsmen to understand that he now knew all the truth and the sacrifices which Colonel Esmond had made for him. Seeing no good in acquainting poor Frank with that secret, Mr. Esmond had entreated his mistress also not to reveal it to her son. The prince had told the poor lad all as they were riding from Dover. I had as leaf he had shot me, cousin, Frank said. I knew you were the best and the bravest and the kindest of all men. So the enthusiastic young fellow went on. But I never thought I owed you what I do, and can scarce bear the weight of the obligation. I stand in the place of your father, says Mr. Esmond kindly, and sure a father may dispossess himself in favor of his son. I abdicate the two-penny crown and invest you with the kingdom of Brentford. Don't be a fool and cry. You make a much taller and handsomer discount than ever I could. But the fond boy, with oaths and protestations, laughter and incoherent outbreaks of passionate emotion, could not be got, for some little time, to put up with Esmond's railery, wanted to kneel down to him and kissed his hand, asked him and implored him to order something. De Bidcastle would give his own life, or take somebody else's, anything so that he might show his gratitude for the generosity Esmond showed him. "'The K!' he laughed,' Frank said, pointing to the door where the sleeper was, and speaking in a low tone. I don't think he should have laughed as he told me the story. As we rode along from Dover, talking in French, he spoke about you, and you're coming to him at Bar, and called you Le Grand Syro. Don Bellionnes of Greece, and I don't know what names, mimicking your manner. Here Castle would laugh to himself. And he did it very well. He seems to sneer at everything. He is not like a king. Somehow, Harry, I fancy you are like a king. He does not seem to think what a stake we are all playing. He would have stopped at Canterbury to run after a barmaid there. Had I not implored him to come on. He had a house at Chalot, where he used to go and bury himself for weeks away from the Queen, and with all sorts of bad company, says Frank, with a demure look. You may smile, but I am not the wild fellow I was. No, no, I have been taught better, says Castlewood devoutly, making a sign on his breast. Though art my dear brave boy, says Colonel Esmond, touched at the young fellow's simplicity, and there will be a noble gentleman at Castlewood as so long as my Frank is there. The impetuous young lad was foregoing down on his knees again, with another explosion of gratitude. But that we heard the voice from the next chamber of the August sleeper just walking, calling out, Elle fure, un ver et deux. His Majesty came out yawning. A pest, says he, upon your English ale, is so strong that, ma foie, it had turned my head. The effect of the ale was like a spur upon our horses, and we rode very quickly to London, reaching Kensington at nightfall. Mr. Esmond's servant was left behind at Rochester to take care of the tired horses, whilst he had fresh beasts provided along the road, and galloping by the Prince's side the Colonel explained to the Prince of Wales what his movements had been, who the friends were that knew of the expedition, whom, as Esmond concede, the Prince should trust, in treating him, above all, to maintain the very closest secrecy until the time should come when his Royal Highness should appear. The town swarmed with friends of the Prince's cause. There were scores of correspondence with St. Germain's, Jacobites known and secret, great in station and humble, about the court and the Queen, in the Parliament, Church, and among the merchants in the city. The Prince had friends numberless in the army, in the Privy Council and the officers of State. The great object, as it seemed, to the small band of persons who had concerted that bold stroke who had brought the Queen's brother into his native country, was that his visit should remain unknown till the proper time came, when his presence should surprise friends and enemies alike, and the latter should be found so unprepared and disunited that they should not find time to attack him. He feared more from his friends than from his enemies. The lies and tittle-tattles sent over to St. Germain's, by the Jacobite agents about London, had done an incalculable mischief to his cause, and woefully misguided him. And it was from these especially that the persons engaged in the present venture were anxious to defend the chief actor in it. The managers were the Bishop, who cannot be hurt by having his name mentioned, a very active and loyal nonconformist divine, a lady in the highest favour at court, with whom Beatrix Esmond had communication, and two noblemen of the greatest rank, and a member of the House of Commons, who was implicated in more transactions than one in behalf of the steward family. The party reached London by nightfall, leaving their horses at the posting-house over against Westminster, and being ferried over the water where Lady Esmond's coach was already in waiting. In another hour we were all landed at Kensington, and the mistress of the House had that satisfaction which her heart had yearned after for many years, once more to embrace her son, who, on his side, with all his waywardness, ever retained a most tender affection for his parent. She did not refrain from this expression of her feeling, though the domestics were by, and my Lord Castlewood's attendance stood in the hall. Esmond had to whisper to him in French to take his hat off. Monsieur Baptiste was constantly neglecting his part with an inconceivable levity. More than once on the ride to London, little observations of the stranger, light remarks, and words betokening the greatest ignorance of the country the Prince came to govern, had hurt the susceptibility of the two gentlemen forming his escort. Or could either help awning in his secret mind that they would have had his behavior otherwise, and that the laughter and the lightness, not to say license, which characterized his talk, scarce befitted such a great Prince, and such a solemn occasion. Not but that he could act at proper times with spirit and dignity. He had behaved, as we all knew, in a very courageous manner in the field. Esmond had seen a copy of the letter the Prince had ripped with his own hand, when urged by his friends in England to abjure his religion, and admired that manly and magnanimous reply by which he refused to yield to the temptation. Monsieur Baptiste took off his hat, blushing at the hint Colonel Esmond ventured to give him, and said, Tenet, elle est jojée, la petite mire, foie dix chevalier, elle est charmante, mais la terre qui est, c'est nympha, si t'es l'est qui brille, c'est l'étienne qui descendu sur nous. And he started back and pushed forward, as Beatrix was descending the stair. She was in colours for the first time at her own house. She wore the diamonds Esmond gave her. It had been agreed between them that she should wear these brilliance on the day when the king should enter the house, and a queen she looked radiant in charms and magnificent and imperial in beauty. Castlewood himself was startled by that beauty and splendour. He stepped back and gazed at his sister as though he had not been aware before, nor was he very likely, how perfectly lovely she was. And I thought, blessed as he embraced her, the Prince could not keep his eyes off her. He quite forgot his menial part, though he had been schooled to it, and a little light portment to oak prepared expressly that he should carry it. He pressed forward before my Lord Biscount. It was lucky the servants' eyes were busy in other directions, or they must have seen that this was no servant, or at least a very insolent and rude one. Again Colonel Esmond was obliged to cry out, at least in a loud, imperious voice, have a care to the Belize at which hint the wilful young man ground his teeth together with something very like a curse between them, and then gave a brief look of anything but pleasure to his mentor. Being reminded, however, he shouldered the little portment tall and carried it up the stair. Esmond preceding him and a servant with lighted tapers. He flung down his burdens subtly in the bed-chamber, a prince that will wear a crown must wear a mask, says Mr. Esmond in French. Ah, piste, I see how it is, says Monsieur Baptiste, continuing the talk in French. The great Sirius is seriously alarmed for Monsieur Baptiste, broke in the Colonel. Esmond neither liked the tone with which the prince spoke of the ladies, nor the eyes with which he regarded them. The bed-chamber and the two rooms adjoining it, the closet, and the apartment, which was to be called my Lord's parlor, were already lighted and awaiting their occupier, and the collation laid for my Lord's supper. Lord Castlewood and his mother and sister came up the stair a minute afterwards, and so soon as the domestics had quitted the apartment, Castlewood and Esmond uncovered, and the two ladies went down on their knees before the prince, who graciously gave a hand to each. He looked as part of Prince much more naturally than that of a servant, which he had just been trying, and raised them both with a great deal of nobility as well as kindness in his air. Madame, says he, my mother will thank your ladyship for your hospitality to her son. For you, madame, turning to Beatrix, I cannot bear to see so much beauty in such a posture. You will betray Monsieur Baptiste if you kneel to him. Art is his place, rather, to kneel to you. A light shone out of her eyes, a gleam bright enough to kindle passion in any breast. There were times when this creature was so handsome that she seemed, as it were, like Venus revealing herself a goddess in a flash of brightness. She appeared so now, radiant and with eyes bright, with a wonderful luster, a pang as of rage and jealousy shot through Esmond's heart. As he caught the look she gave the Prince, and he clenched his hand involuntarily and looked across to Castlewood, whose eyes answered his alarm signal and were also on the alert. The Prince gave his subjects an audience of a few minutes, and then the two ladies and Colonel Esmond quitted the chamber. Lady Castlewood pressed his hand as they descended the stair, and the three went down to the lower rooms, where they waited a while till the travellers above should be refreshed and ready for their meal. Esmond looked at Beatrix, blazing with her jewels on her beautiful neck. I have kept my words, says he, and I mine, says Beatrix, looking down on the diamonds. Where I, the mogul emperor, says the Colonel, you should have all that were dug out of gold-conda. These are a great deal too good for me, says Beatrix, dropping her head on her beautiful breast. So are you all, all? And when she looked up again, as she did in a moment, and after a sigh, wore that melancholy an inscrutable look which was always impossible to sound. When the time came for the supper, of which we were advertised by a knocking overhead, Colonel Esmond and the two ladies went to the upper apartment, where the Prince already was, and by his side the young discount of exactly the same age, shape, and with features not dissimilar, though Franks were the handsomer of the two. The Prince sat down and bade the ladies sit. The gentlemen remained standing. There was indeed but one more cover laid at the table. Which of you will take it, says he. The head of our house, says Lady Castlewood, taking her son's hand, and looking towards Colonel Esmond with a bow and a great tremor of the voice, the Marquis of Esmond will have the honour of serving the king. I shall have the honour of waiting on his royal highness, says Colonel Esmond, filling a cup of wine, and as the fashion of that day was, he presented it to the king on his knee. I drink to my hostess and her family, says the Prince, with no very well-pleased air, but the cloud passed immediately off his face, and he talked to the ladies in a lively, rattling strain, quite undisturbed by poor Esmond's yellow countenance, that I dare say looked very glum. When the time came to leave Esmond marched homewards to his lodgings, and met Mr. Addison on the road that night, walking to a cottage he had at Fulham, the moon shining on his handsome serene face. What cheer, brother, says Addison, laughing. I thought it was a footpad advancing in the dark, and behold, it is an old friend. We may shake hands, Colonel, in the dark. It is better than fighting by daylight. Why should we quarrel? Because I am a wig and thou art a tory? Turn thy steps and walk with me to Fulham, where there is a nightingale still singing in the garden, and a cool bottle in a cave I know of. You shall drink to the pretender, if you like, and I will drink my liquor my own way. I have had enough of good liquor, no never. There is no such word as enough as a stopper for good wine. Thou wilt not come? How many day! Come soon! You know I remember Samoy and the Seguia telus and the Prelia mixta maro, mixta maro, he repeated, with ever so slight a touch of marum in his voice, and walked back a little way on the road with Esmond, bidding the other remember he was always his friend, and indebted to him for his aid in the campaign poem. And very likely Mr. Undersecretary would have stepped in and taken another bottle at the Colonel's lodging, had the latter invited him. But Esmond's mood was none of the gayest, and he bade his friend an inhospitable good-night at the door. I have done the deed, thought he, sleepless, and looking out into the night. He is here, and I have brought him. He and Beatrix are sleeping under the same roof now. Whom did I mean to serve in bringing him? Was it the Prince? Was it Henry Esmond? Would I not best have joined the manly creed of Addison Yonder that scouts the old doctrine of right divine, that boldly declares that Parliament and people consecrate the sovereign, not bishops, nor genealogies, nor oils, nor coronations? The eager gaze of the young Prince watching every movement of Beatrix haunted Esmond and pursued him. The Prince's figure appeared before him in his feverish dreams many times that night. He wished the deed undone for which he had labored so. He was not the first that has regretted his own act, or brought about his own undoing. Undoing? Should he write that word in his late years? No, on his knees before heaven, rather be thankful for what then he deemed his misfortune, and which hath caused the whole subsequent happiness of his life. Esmond's man, honest John Lockwood, had served his master and the family all his life, and the Colonel knew that he could answer for John's fidelity as for his own. John returned with the horses from Rochester betimes the next morning, and the Colonel gave him to understand that on going to Kensington, where he was free of the Servants' Hall, and indeed courting Miss Beatrix's maid, he was to ask no questions and betray no surprise, but to vouch stoutly that the young gentleman he should see in a red coat there was my Lord Biscount Castlewood, and that his attendant in grave was Monsieur Baptiste, the Frenchman. He was to tell his friends in the kitchen such stories as he remembered of my Lord Biscount's youth at Castlewood. What a wild boy he was, how he used to drill Jack and cane him, before ever he was a soldier. Everything and fine he knew respecting my Lord Biscount's early days. Jack's ideas of painting had not been much cultivated during his residence in Flanders with his master, and before my young Lord's return he had been easily got to believe that the picture brought over from Paris and now hanging in Lady Castlewood's drawing-room was a perfect likeness of her son, the young Lord. And the domestics, having all seen the picture many times, in catching but a momentary imperfect glimpse of the two strangers on the night of their arrival, never had a reason to doubt the fidelity of the portrait. The next day when they saw the original of the piece habited exactly as he was represented in the painting, with the same periwig, ribbons, and uniform of the guard, quite naturally addressed the gentleman as my Lord Castlewood, my Lady Biscountess's son. The secretary of the night previous was now the Biscount. The Biscount wore the secretary's gray frock, and John Lockwood was instructed to hint to the world below stairs that my Lord being a paperst, and very devout in that religion, his attendant might be no other than his chaplain from Ruxels. Hence if he took his meals in my Lord's company there was little reason for surprise. Frank was further cautioned to speak English with a foreign accent, which task he performed indifferently well, and this caution was the more necessary because the prince himself scarce spoke our language like a native of the island, and John Lockwood laughed with the folks below stairs at the manner in which my Lord, after five years abroad, sometimes forgot his own tongue and spoke it like a Frenchman. I warrant, says he, that with the English beef and beer his lordship will soon get back the proper use of his mouth, and to do his new lordship justice he took to beer and beef very kindly. The prince drank so much, and was so loud and imprudent in his talk after his drink, that Esmond often trembled for him. His meals were served as much as possible in his own chamber, though frequently he made his appearance in Lady Castlewood's parlor and drawing-room, calling Beatrix, sister, and her ladyship mother, or madame, before the servants, and choosing to act entirely up to the part of brother and son. The prince sometimes saluted Mrs. Beatrix and Lady Castlewood with a freedom which his secretary did not like, and which for his part set Colonel Esmond tearing with rage. The guests had not been three days in the house when poor Jack Lockwood came with a rueful countenance to his master and said, my Lord, that is the gentleman, has been tampering with Mrs. Lucy, Jack sweetheart, and given her guineas and a kiss. I fear that Colonel Esmond's mind was rather relieved than otherwise when he found that the ancillary beauty was the one whom the prince had selected. His royal tastes were known to lie that way, and continued so in afterlife. The heir of one of the greatest names of the greatest kingdoms and of the greatest misfortunes in Europe was often content to lay the dignity of his birth and grief at the wooden shoes of a French chambermaid, and to repent afterwards, for he was very devout, in ashes taken from the dustpan, just for mortals such as these that nations suffer, that parties struggle, that warriors fight and bleed. A year afterwards gallant heads were falling, and Nistdale in escape and derwent water on the scaffold, whilst the heedless ingrate for whom they risked and lost all was tippling with his suraglio of mistresses in his petite maison of shallow. Being to be forced to bear such an errand, Esmond had to go to the prince and warn him that the girl, whom his highness was bribing, was John Lockwood's sweetheart, an honest, resolute man, who had served in six campaigns and feared nothing, and who knew that the person calling himself Lord Castlewood was not his young master. And the Colonel besought the prince to consider what the effect of a single man's jealousy might be, and to think of other designs he had in mind, more important than the seduction of a waiting maid and the humiliation of a brave man. Ten times perhaps in the course of as many days Mr. Esmond had to warn the royal young adventurer of some imprudence or some freedom. He received these remonstrances very testily, save perhaps in this affair of poor Lockwood's, when he deigned to burst out a laughing and said, What! the soubray has preached to the amourot, and Crispin is angry, and Crispin has served, and Crispin has been a corporal, has he? Tell him we will reward his bowler with a pair of colours, and recompense his fidelity. Colonel Esmond ventured to utter some other words of entreaty, but the prince, stamping him periously, cried out, Assez-mi-lord, Je me ne vous y l'appuie riche. I am not come to London to go to the sermon, and he complained afterwards to Castlewood that L'Épétit Jean-Lenois-Cunard, L'Émoquer Michel Perot, by which facetious names his royal highness was pleased to designate Colonel Esmond, fatigued him with his grand heirs and virtuous homilies. The bishop of Rochester and other gentlemen engaged in the transaction which had brought the prince over, waited upon his royal highness, constantly asking for my Lord Castlewood on their arrival at Kensington, and being openly conducted to his royal highness in that character, who received them either in my lady's drawing-room below or above in his own apartment, and all implored him to quit the house as little as possible, and to wait there till the signal should be given for him to appear. The ladies entertained him at cards, over which amusement he spent many hours in each day and night. He passed many hours more in drinking during which time he would rattle and talk very agreeably, and especially if the Colonel was absent, whose presence always seemed to frighten him, and the poor Colonel Noix took that hint as a command accordingly, and seldom intruded his black face upon the convivial hours of this august young prisoner. Except for those few persons of whom the porter had the list, Lord Castlewood was denied to all friends of the house who waited on his lordship. The wound he had received had broke out again from his journey on horseback, so the world and the domestics were informed. And Dr. A., his physician, I shall not mention his name, but he was a physician to the Queen of the Scots of Nation, and a man remarkable for his benevolence as well as his wit, gave orders that he should be kept perfectly quiet until the wound should heal. With this gentleman, who was one of the most active and influential of our party, and the others before spoken of, the whole secret lay. And it was kept with so much faithfulness and the story we told so simple and natural that there was no likelihood of a discovery except from the imprudence of the Prince himself, and an adventurous levity that we had the greatest difficulty to control. As for Lady Castlewood, although she scarce spoke a word, it was easy to gather from her demeanor and one or two hints she dropped how deep her mortification was at finding the hero whom she had chosen to worship all her life, and whose restoration had formed almost the most sacred part of her prayers, no more than a man and not a good one. She thought misfortune might have chastened him, but that instructress had rather rendered him callous than humble. His devotion, which was quite real, kept him from no sin he had a mind to. His talk showed good humor, gaiety, even with enough. But there was a levity in his acts and words that he had brought from among those libertine devotees with whom he had been bred, and that shocked the simplicity and purity of the English lady, whose guest he was. Esmond spoke his mind to Beatrix pretty freely about the Prince, getting her brother to put in a word of warning. Beatrix was entirely of their opinion. She thought he was very light, very light and reckless. She could not even see the good looks Colonel Esmond had spoken of. The Prince had bad teeth and a decided squint. How could we say he did not squint? His eyes were fine, but there was certainly a cast in them. She rallied him at table with wonderful wit. She spoke of him invariably as of a mere boy. She was more fond of Esmond than ever, praised him to her brother, praised him to the Prince, when his royal highness was pleased to snare at the Colonel, and warmly espoused his cause. And if your Majesty does not give him the garter his father had, when the marquee of Esmond comes to your Majesty's court, I will hang myself in my own garters, or will cry my eyes out. Rather than lose those, says the Prince, he shall be made Archbishop and Colonel of the Guard. It was Frank Castlewood who told me of this conversation over their supper. There can be very little doubt that the doctor mentioned, by my dear father, was the famous Dr. Arbonaut. Yes, cries she, with one of her laughs, I fancy I hear it now. Thirty years afterwards I hear that delightful music. Yes, he shall be Archbishop of Esmond and marquee of Canterbury. And what will your ladyship be, says the Prince? You have but to choose your place. I, says Beatrix, will be mother of the mage to the queen of his Majesty King James III, Viva Le Roy, and she made him a great curtsy, and drank a part of a glass of wine in his honour. The Prince seized hold of the glass and drank the last drop of it, Castlewood said, and my mother, looking very anxious, rose up and asked leave to retire. But that trick is my mother's daughter, Harry, Frank continued. I don't know what a horrid fear I should have of her. I wish this business were over. You are older than I am, and wiser and better, and I owe you everything and would die for you, before George I would, but I wish the end of this were come. Neither of us very likely passed a tranquil night. Horrible doubts and torments racked Esmond's soul. It was a scheme of personal ambition, a daring stroke for a selfish end. He knew it. What cared he, in his heart, who was king, were not his very sympathies and secret convictions on the other side, on the side of people, parliament, freedom, and here was he engaged for a prince that had scarce heard the word liberty, that priests and women, tyrants by nature, both made it too alone. The misanthrope was in no better humour after hearing that story, and his grim face more black and yellow than ever. End of Book 3, Chapter 9, Recording by Ralph Snelson Book 3, Chapter 10 of the History of Henry Esmond This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org The History of Henry Esmond by William Make-P. Stackeray Book 3 The End of Mr. Esmond's Adventures in England Chapter 10 We entertain a very distinguished guest at Kensington Should any clue be found to the dark intrigues at the latter end of Queen Anne's time, or any historian be inclined to follow it, to be discovered, I have little doubt, that not one of the great personages about the Queen had a defined scheme of policy, independent of that private and selfish interest which each was bent on pursuing. St. John was for St. John, and Harley for Oxford, and Marlborough for John Churchill, always, and according as they could get help from Sancher Mann or Hanover, they sent over proffers of allegiance to the princes there, or betrayed one to the other. One cause, or one sovereign, was as good as another to them, so that they could hold the best place under him, and like Lockett and Peachum, the Newgate chiefs in the rogue's opera, Mr. Gay wrote afterwards, had each in his hand documents and proofs of treason which would hang the other, only he did not dare to use the weapon for fear of that one which his neighbour also carried in his pocket. Think of the great Marlborough, the greatest subject in all the world, a conqueror of princes that had marched victorious over Germany, Flanders, and France, that had given the law to sovereigns abroad, had been worshipped as a divinity at home, forced to sneak out of England, his credit, honours, places, all taken from him, his friends and the army broke and ruined, and flying before Harley as abject and powerless as a poor debtor before a bailiff with a writ. A paper of which Harley got possession, and showing beyond doubt that the Duke was engaged with the Stuart family, was the weapon with which the treasurer drove Marlborough out of the kingdom. He fled to Antwerp, and began intriguing instantly on the other side, and came back to England, as all know, a Whig, and a Hanoverian. Though the treasurer turned out of the army and office every man, military or civil, known to be the Duke's friend, and gave the vacant posts among the Tory party, he too was playing the double game between Hanover and Saint-Germain, awaiting the expected catastrophe of the Queen's death to be a master of the State, and offer it to either family that should bribe him best, or that the nation should declare for. Whichever the King was, Harley's object was to reign over him, and to this end he supplanted the former famous favourite, decried the actions of the war which had made Marlborough's name illustrious, and disdained no more than the great fallen competitor of his, the meanest arts, flatteries, intimidations that would secure his power. If the greatest satirist the world ever hath seen had writ against Harley, and not for him, what a history had he left behind of the last years of Queen Anne's reign. But swift, that scorned all mankind, and himself not the least of all, had this merit of a faithful partisan, that he loved those chiefs who treated him well, and stuck by Harley bravely in his fall, as he gallantly had supported him in his better fortune. More brilliantly, more brilliant, more splendid, alacant, accomplished than his rival, the great Saint John could be as selfish as Oxford was, and could act the double part as skillfully as ambidextrous Churchill. He whose talk was always of liberty no more shrunk from using persecution and the pillory against his opponents than if he had been at Lisbon and Grand Inquisitor. This lofty patriot was on his knees at Hanover and Saint Germain, too. Notoriously of no religion, he toasted Church and Queen as boldly as the stupid Cekeverell, whom he used and laughed at, and to serve his turn and to overthrow his enemy, he could intrigue, coax, bully, weedle, fawn on the court-favorite, and creep up the back-stare as silently as Oxford, who supplanted Marlboro, and whom he himself supplanted. The crash of my Lord Oxford happened at this very time whereat my history is now arrived. He was come to the very last days of his power, and the agent whom he employed to overthrow the conqueror of Blenheim, was now engaged to upset the conqueror's conqueror, and hand over the staff of government to Bolingbroke, who had been panting to hold it. An expectation of the stroke that was now preparing the Irish regiments in the French service were all brought round about Boulogne to Picardie, to pass over, if need were, with the Duke of Berwick. The soldiers of France no longer, but subjects of James III of England and Ireland King. The fidelity of the great mass of the Scots, though a most active Resolute and Gallant Whig party, admirably and energetically ordered and disciplined, was known to be in Scotland too, was notoriously unshaken in their King. A very great body of Tory clergy, nobility, and gentry were public partisans of the exiled Prince, and the indifference might be counted on to cry King George or King James, according as either should prevail. The Queen, especially in her latter days, inclined towards her own family. The Prince was lying actually in London, within a stone's cast of his sister's palace, the First Minister toppling to his fall, and so tottering that the weakest push of a woman's finger would send him down. And as for Bolingbroke, his successor, we know on whose side his power and his splendid eloquence would be on the day when the Queen should appear openly before her council and say, This, my lords, is my brother, here is my father's heir, and mine after me. During the whole of the previous year the Queen had had many and repeated fits of sickness, fever, and lethargy, and her death had been constantly looked for by all her attendants. The Elector of Hanover had wished to send his son, the Duke of Cambridge, to pay his court to his cousin the Queen, the Elector said, in truth to be on the spot when death should close her career. Frightened perhaps to have such a memento morey under her royal eyes, her Majesty had angrily forbidden the young Prince's coming into England. Either she desired to keep the chances for her brother open yet, or the people about her did not wish to close with the Whig candidate till they could make terms with him. The quarrels of her ministers behoor her face at the council board, the pricks of conscience very likely, the importunities of her ministers, and constant turmoil and agitation round about her, had weakened and irritated the Princess extremely. Her strength was giving way under these continual trials of her temper, and from day to day it was expected she must come to a speedy end of them. Just before Viscount Castlewood and his companion came from France, her Majesty was taken ill. The St. Anthony's fire broke out on the royal legs, there was no hurry for the presentation of the young Lord at court, or that person who should appear under his name, and my Lord Viscount's wound breaking out opportunely, he was kept conveniently in his chamber until such time as his physician would allow him to bend his knee before the Queen. At the commencement of July, that influential lady, with whom it has been mentioned that our party had relations, came frequently to visit her young friend, the maid of honour at Kensington, and my Lord Viscount, the real or suppositious, who was an invalid at Lady Castlewood's house. On the twenty-seventh day of July, the lady in question, who held the most intimate post about the Queen, came in her chair from the palace hard by, bringing to the little party in Kensington Square intelligence of the very highest importance. The final blow had been struck, and my Lord of Oxford and Mortimer was no longer treasurer. The staff was as yet given to no successor, though my Lord bowling-broke would undoubtedly be the man. And now the time was come, the Queen's Abigail said, and now my Lord Castlewood ought to be presented to the Sovereign. After that scene which Lord Castlewood witnessed and described to his cousin, who passed such a miserable night of mortification and jealousy as he thought over the transaction, no doubt the three persons who were set by nature as protectors over Beatrix came to the same conclusion, that she must be removed from the presence of a man whose desires toward her were expressed only too clearly, and who was no more scrupulous in seeking to gratify them than his father had been before him. I suppose Esmond's mistress, her son, and the Colonel himself had been all secretly debating this matter in their minds, for when Frank broke out in his blunt way with, I think Beatrix had best be anywhere but here, Lady Castlewood said, I thank you, Frank, I have thought so too. And Mr. Esmond, though he only remarked that it was not for him to speak, showed plainly by the delight on his countenance how very agreeable that proposal was to him. One sees, you think with us, Henry, says the Vicontess, with ever so little of sarcasm in her tone, Beatrix is best out of this house whilst we have our guest in it, and as soon as this morning's business is done she ought to quit London. What morning's business? asked Colonel Esmond, not knowing what had been arranged, though in fact the stroke next in importance to that of bringing the Prince and of having him acknowledged by the Queen, was now being performed at the very moment we three were conversing together. The court lady with whom our plan was concerted and who was a chief agent in it, the court physician, and the Bishop of Rochester, who were the other two most active participators in our plan, had held many councils in our house at Kensington and elsewhere, as to the means best to be adopted for presenting our young adventure to his sister the Queen. The simple and easy plan proposed by Colonel Esmond had been agreed to by all parties, which was that on some rather private day, when there were not many persons about the court, the Prince should appear there as my Lord Castlewood, should be greeted by his sister in waiting, and led by that other lady into the closet of the Queen. And according to Her Majesty's health or humour and the circumstances that might arise during the interview, it was to be left to the discretion of those present at it, and to the Prince himself, whether he should declare that it was the Queen's own brother, or the brother of Beatrix Esmond, who kissed her royal hand. And this plan being determined on, we were all waiting and very much anxiety for the day and signal of execution. Two mornings after that supper, it being the twenty-seventh day of July, the Bishop of Rochester breakfasting with Lady Castlewood and her family, and the meal scarce over, Dr. A's coat drove up to our house at Kensington, and the doctor appeared amongst the party there, enlivening a rather gloomy company, for the mother and daughter had had words in the morning in respect to the transactions of that supper, and the other adventures perhaps, and on the day succeeding. Beatrix's haughty spirit brooked remonstruses from no superior, much less from her mother, the gentlest of creatures, whom the girl commanded rather than obeyed, and feeling she was wrong, and that by a thousand coquetry's, which she could no more help exercising on every man that came near her, than the sun can help shining on great and small, she had provoked the Prince's dangerous admiration, and allured him to the expression of it. She was only the more willful and imperious the more she felt her error. To this party, the Prince being served with chocolate in his bed chamber where he lay late, sleeping away the fumes of his wine, the doctor came, and by the urgent and startling nature of his news, dissipated instantly that private and minor unpleasantry under which the family of Castlewood was laboring. He asked for the guest. The guest was above in his own apartment. He bade Monsieur Baptiste to go up to his master instantly, and requested that my Lord Viscount Castlewood would straightaway put his uniform on, and come away in the doctor's coach now at the door. He then informed Madame Beatrix what her part of the comedy was to be. In half an hour, says he, her Majesty and her favourite lady will take the air in the cedar-walk behind the new banqueting-house. Her Majesty will be drawn in a garden-chair. Madame Beatrix Esmond and her brother, my Lord Viscount Castlewood, will be walking in the private garden. Here is Lady Mushum's key, and will come unaware as upon the royal party. The man that draws the chair will retire and leave the queen, the favourite, and the maid of honour and her brother together. Mistress Beatrix will present her brother, and then—and then, my Lord Bishop, will pray for the result of the interview, and his scots-clerk will say, Amen. Quick, put on your hood, Madame Beatrix, why doth not his Majesty come down? Such another chance may not present itself for months again. The prince was late and lazy, and indeed had all but lost that chance through his indolence. The queen was actually about to leave the garden just when the party reached it. The doctor, the bishop, the maid of honour and her brother went off together in the physician's coach, and had been gone half an hour when Colonel Esmond came to Kensington Square. The news of this errand, on which Beatrix was gone, of course for a moment put all thoughts of private jealousy out of Colonel Esmond's head. And half an hour more the coach returned, the bishop descended from it first, and gave his arm to Beatrix, who now came out. His lordship went back into the carriage again, and the maid of honour entered the house alone. We were all gazing at her from the upper window, trying to read from her countenance the result of the interview from which she had just come. She came into the drawing-room in a great tremor and very pale. She asked for a glass of water, as her mother went to meet her, and after drinking that and putting off her hood, she began to speak. We may all hope for the best, says she. It has cost the queen a fit. Her majesty was in her chair in the cedar-walk, accompanied only by a lady-blank, when we entered by the private wicket from the west side of the garden, and turned towards her, the doctor following us. They waited in a sidewalk hidden by the shrubs, as we advanced towards the chair. My heart throbbed, so I scarce could speak, but my prince whispered, Courage, Beatrix, and marched on with a steady step. His face was a little flushed, but he was not afraid of the danger. He who fought so bravely at Malplaqué fears nothing. The prince uncovered. Beatrix continued, and I saw the queen turning round to Lady Masham, as if asking who these two were. Her majesty looked very pale and ill, and then flushed up. The favourite made us a signal to advance, and I went up, leading my prince by the hand, quite close to the chair. Your majesty will give my lord Viscount your hand to kiss? says her lady, and the queen put out her hand, which the prince kissed. She said to the prince, and the queen put out her hand, which the prince kissed, kneeling on his knee, he who should kneel to know mortal man or woman. You have been long from England, my lord, says the queen. Why were you not here to give a home to your mother and sister? I am come, madam, to stay now, if the queen desires me, says the prince, with another low bow. You have taken a foreign wife, my lord, in a foreign religion. Was not that of England good enough for you? In returning to my father's church, says the prince, I do not love my mother the less, nor am I the less faithful servant of your majesty. Here, says Beatrix, the favourite gave me a little signal with her hand to fall back, which I did, though I died to hear what should pass, and whispered something to the queen which made her majesty start and utter one or two words in a hurried manner, looking towards the prince, and catching hold with her hand of the arm of her chair. He advanced still nearer towards it. He began to speak very rapidly. I caught the words, father, blessing, forgiveness, and then presently the prince fell on his knees, took from his breast a paper he had there, handed it to the queen, who, as soon as she saw it, flung up both her arms with a scream, and took away that hand nearest the prince in which he had endeavoured to kiss. He went on speaking with great animation of gesture, now clasping his hands together on his heart, now opening them as though to say, I am here, your brother, in your power. Lady Masham ran round on the other side of the chair, kneeling too and speaking with great energy. She clasped the queen's hand on her side, and picked up the paper her majesty had let fall. The prince rose and made a further speech as though he would go, the favourite on the other hand, urging her mistress, and then, running back to the prince, brought him back once more close to the chair. Again he knelt down and took the queen's hand, which she did not withdraw, kissing it a hundred times, my lady all the time, with sobs and supplications, speaking over the chair. This while the queen sat with a stupefied look, crumpling the paper with one hand, as my prince embraced the other. Then, of a sudden, she uttered several piercing shrieks and birthed into a great fit of hysteric tears and laughter. Enough, enough, sir, for this time, I heard Lady Masham say, and the chairman, who had withdrawn round the manqueting-room, came back, alarmed by the cries. Quick, says Lady Masham, get some help. But I ran towards the doctor, who, with the Bishop of Rochester, came up instantly. Lady Masham whispered the prince he might hope for the very best, and to be ready to-morrow, and he had gone away to the Bishop of Rochester's house to meet several of his friends there. And so the great stroke is struck, said Beatrix, going down on her knees and clasping her hands. God save the king! God save the king!" Beatrix's tale told, and the young lady herself calmed somewhat of her agitation. We asked, with regard to the prince, who was absent with Bishop Atterbury, and were informed that it was likely he might remain abroad the whole day. Beatrix's three kinsfolk looked at one another at this intelligence. It was clear the same thought was passing through the minds of all. But who should begin to break the news? Monsieur Baptiste, that is, Frank Castlewood, turned very red, and looked toward Esmond. The colonel bit his lips and fairly beat a retreat into the window. It was Lady Castlewood that opened upon Beatrix with the news which we knew would do anything but please her. We are glad, says she, taking her daughter's hand and speaking in a gentle voice, that the guest is away. Beatrix drew back in an instant, looking round her at us three as if defining a danger. Why, glad, says she, her breast beginning to heave. Are you so soon tired of him? We think one of us is devilishly too fond of him, cries out Frank Castlewood. And which is it, you, my lord, or is it Mamma, who is jealous because he drinks my health, or is it the head of the family? Here she turned with an imperious look towards Colonel Esmond, who has taken of late to preach the king's sermons. We do not say you are too free with his majesty. I thank you, madam, says Beatrix, with the toss of the head in a curtsy. But her mother continued, with very great calmness and dignity. At least we have not said so, though we might were it possible for a mother to say such words to her own daughter, your father's daughter. Eh! Mon pair, breaks out Beatrix, was no better than other person's father's. And again she looked towards the Colonel. We all felt a shock as she uttered those two or three French words. Her manner was exactly imitated from that of our foreign guest. You had not learned to speak French a month ago, Beatrix, says her mother, sadly, nor to speak ill of your father. Beatrix, no doubt, saw that slip she had made in her flurry before she blushed crimson. I have learned to honour the king, says she, drawing up, and to her as well that others suspected neither his majesty nor me. If you respected your mother a little more, Frank said, Tricks, you would do yourself no hurt. I am no child, says she, turning round on him. We have lived very well these five years without the benefit of your advice or example, and I intend to take neither now. Why does not the head of the house speak? She went on. He rules everything here. When his chaplain has done singing the Psalms, when his lordship delivered a sermon, I am tired of the Psalms. The prince had used almost the very same words in regard to Colonel Esmond that the imprudent girl repeated in her wrath. You show yourself a very apt scholar, madam, says the Colonel, and turning to his mistress. Did your guest use these words in your ladyship's hearing, or was it to Beatrix in private that he was pleased to impart his opinion regarding my tiresome sermon? Have you seen him alone, cries my lord, starting up with an oath? By God! Have you seen him alone? Were he here, you would not dare so to insult me? No, you would not dare, cries Frank's sister. Keep your oaths, my lord, for your wife. We are not used here to such language. Till you came there used to be kindness between me and mamma, and I cared for her when you never did, when you were away for years with your horses and your mistress and your poopish wife. By— says my lord, wrapping out another oath, Clotilda is an angel. How dare you say a word against Clotilda? Colonel Esmond could not refrain from a smile to see how easy Frank's attack was drawn off by that faint. Fancy Clotilda is not the subject in hand, says Mr. Esmond, rather scornfully. Her ladyship is at Paris, a hundred leagues off, preparing baby linen. It is about my lord Castlewood's sister and not his wife—the question is. He is not my lord Castlewood, says Beatrix, and he knows he is not. He is Colonel Francis Esmond's son and no more, and he wears a false title, and he lives on another man's land, here was another desperate sally of the poor beleaguered garrison and an alert in another quarter. Again, I beg your pardon, says Esmond. If there are no proofs of my claim, I have no claim. If my father acknowledged no heir, yours was his lawful successor, and my lord Castlewood hath as good a right to his rank and small estate as any man in England. But that, again, is not the question, as you know very well. Let us bring our talk back to it, as you will have me meddling it, and I will give you frankly my opinion, that a house where a prince lies all day who respects no woman is no house for a young unmarried lady, that you were better in the country than here, that he is here on a great end from which no folly should divert him, and that having nobly done your part of this morning, Beatrix, you should retire off a scene awhile and leave it to the other actors of the play. As the Colonel spoke with a perfect calmness and politeness, such as his to be hoped he hath always shown to women, his mistress stood by him on one side of the table, and Frank Castlewood on the other, hemming in poor Beatrix that was behind it, and as it were, surrounded her with our approaches. Footnote. My dear father saith quite truly that his manner towards our sex was uniformly courteous. From my infancy upwards he treated me with an extreme gentleness as though I was a little lady. I can scarce remember, though I tried him often, ever hearing a rough word from him, nor was he less grave and kind in his manner to the humblest regresses on his estate. He was familiar with no one excepting my mother, and it was delightful to witness, up to the very last days, the confidence between them. He was obeyed eagerly by all under him, and my mother and all her household lived in a constant emulation to please him, and quite a terror lasted any way they should offend him. He was the humblest man with all this, the least exacting, the more easily contented, and Mr. Benson, our minister at Castlewood, who attended him at the last, ever said, I know not what Colonel Esmond's doctrine was, but his life and death were those of a devout Christian. R. E. W. Having twice sallied out and been beaten back, she now, as I expected, tried the ultima ratio of women and had recourse to tears. Her beautiful eyes filled with them. I never could bear in her nor in any woman that expression of pain. I am alone, sobbed she. You are three against me, my brother, my mother, and you. What have I done that you should speak and looks unkindly at me? Is it my fault that the prince should, as you say, admire me? Did I bring him here? Did I do odd but what you bade me in making him welcome? Did you not tell me that our duty was to die for him? Did you not teach me, mother, night and morning, to pray for the king before even ourselves? What would you have of me, cousin, the chief of the conspiracy against me? I know you are, sir, and that my mother and brother are acting, but as you bid them, whether would you have me go? I would but remove from the prince, says Esmond gravely, a dangerous temptation. Heaven forbid I should say you would yield. I would only have him free of it. Your honour needs no guardian, please God, but his imprudence doth. He is so far removed from all women by his rank that his pursuit of them cannot but be unlawful. We would remove the dearest and fairest of our family from the chance of that insult, and that is why we would have you go, dear Beatrix. He speaks like a book, says Frank, with one of his oaks, and by every word he saith is true. You can't help being handsome, Tricks. No more can the prince help following you. My counsel is that you go out of harm's way. For by the Lord would the prince to play any tricks with you, king as he is, or is to be. Harry Esmond and I would have justice of him. Are not two such champions enough to guard me? says Beatrix, something sorrowfully. Sure, with you two watching, no evil could happen to me. In faith, I think not, Beatrix, says Colonel Esmond, nor if the prince knew us would he try. But does he know you? interposed Lady Castlewood, very quiet. He comes of a country where the pursuit of kings is thought no dishonour to a woman. Let us go, dearest Beatrix. Shall we go to Walcote or to Castlewood? We are best away from the city, and when the princes acknowledged and our champion sabre stored him and he had his own house at St. James's or Windsor, we can come back to ours here. Do you not think so, Harry and Frank?" Frank and Harry thought with her, you may be sure. We will go then, says Beatrix, turning a little pale. Lady Masham is to give me warning to-night how her majesty is, and to-morrow. 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. The 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 jailer. I will not go with you, mother. I will go as no one's prisoner. If I wanted to decide, do you think I could find no means of evading you? My family suspects me. As this 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 jailer and 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 honour?" 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 scarred, 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. It was 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 had had borne when she left us. She held a shea-green 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 marquee of Esmond the present he deigned to make me and days when he trusted me better than now. I will never accept a benefit of 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 marquee? Would you send to our valet to see it 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 corvette 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 enameled miniature of the late Duke, which Beatrix had laid aside with her morning 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 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. End footnote. Having delivered this stab Lady Castlewood was frightened at the effect of her blow. It went to pull her 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 pray in solitude for humility and repentance. It is not your reproaches that make me unhappy. It is 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. End of chapter. Recorded by Rachel Allen at Yosemite, California, March 27th, 2008. Book III. Chapter 11 of The History of Henry Esmond. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The History of Henry Esmond by William Makepeace-Dakare. Book III. The End of Mr. Esmond's Adventures in England. Chapter 11. 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-chase, and a man armed on the coach-box to prevent any danger on 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 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 Queen. The Queen hath been much shaken, the note said, she is better now, and all things go well. Let my Lord Castlewood be ready against we send for him. At night there came a second B.A. There hath been a great battle in counsel. Lord Treasurer hath broke his staff, and hath fallen never to rise again. No successor is appointed. Lord B. receives a great wig company to-night at the Golden Square. He 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 B.A. 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 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 the 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—Corum La Tronibus— and to the inn which the family used ordinarily in their journeys out of London. Esmond desired my landlord not to acquaint Madame 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 worthy's stopped for more drink, and here they were scared of seeing Colonel Esmond gallop by them. The man said and replied 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 Dappel knew the way fither well enough, before the tipsy guest of last night was awake and sober. The account of the previous evening was known all over 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 gentleman 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 Hasslewood, says the bishop with a laugh, must bear the cruel charge of having men 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 does 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 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 he ordered her to be blooded. The surgeon of Longacre had come to cup the queen, and her majesty was now more easy and breathed more freely. What made a start at the name of Mr. Aime? Il faut être pour être pour être, says the merry doctor. Esmond pulled his sleeve, and beat him hush. It was to Aime'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 to the royal 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 bishops, that as soon as ever the queen's malady took a favourable 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, 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 acknowledgement 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 rite 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 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 favourable, 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 wigs or dissenters required for a great caution. And the young prince who had indeed shown during a long day's labour 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 humour 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 Usman's writing would bring him to a place where he would 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 Usman's handwriting. And now, and now gentlemen, says he, let us go to supper and drink the glass with the ladies, my Lord Usman, you will sup with us tonight, you have it. 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 to 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 the bishop as his minister of state, and Colonel Usman, 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 Usman 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 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 gaiety their doubt or their grief or their terror? Our guest swallowed his supper very silkily, it was not till the second bottle his highness began to rally. When Lady Castlewood asked to 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 visit her. 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 someone. 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 but he was a clumsy disimpler at that time, and when out of humour 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 but 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. Footnote. In London we addressed the prince as royal highness invariably though the women persisted in giving him the title of king. End footnote. 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, said Frank very nobly, only of our house in the country which he hath given to us this is my mother's house and Walkout 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 jail, 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 Madame Beatrix to your royal highness. Ba-ba, 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 honour cannot look at another face without yours beginning to scowl. That which you do is unworthy, monsieur, it is unhospitable. It is it is lâcher, yes, lâcher. 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 sermons or the conversations that of an adorable young lady, and you take her from me. In you, you rest. Merci, monsieur, I shall thank you when I have the means. I shall know how to recompense a devotion a little important it, my lord, a little important it. For a month past your heirs 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 Bastille of the province. I enter your house, and you mistrust me. I will leave it, monsieur, from tonight 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 I 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 arangue 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 broken him across their knee, and in half a minute struggle put an end to him, and here he was insulting us both, and scare staining to hide from the two, whose honour at 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 honour. Honour! Boss, sir, whoever thought of hurting your honour! says the prince with a peevish air. We importune 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 saying 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 here's that man. Après, 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 III, for whose capture Parliament hath offered a reward of five hundred pounds 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 honour's sake, 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, vowing 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 to 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 on his behalf. I wish you a good night, and I shall go to bed, unless it pleases the Marquis of Esmond to call his own guard. Fare you well, be sure I remember you. My lord Castlewood, I could go to bed to night without the 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. In the morning the bishop arrived, and was closeted for some time with his master in his own apartment, where the prince laid open to his counselor the wrongs which, according to his version, he had received from the gentleman of the Esmond family. The worthy prelate came out of the conference with an air of great satisfaction. He was a man full of resources, and of a most assured fidelity, and possessive genius, and a hundred good qualities, but captious, and of a most jealous feeling at the downfall of any favourite, and he was pleased in spite of himself to hear that the Esmond ministry was at an end. I have soothed your guest," said he, coming out to the two gentlemen and the widow, who had been made acquainted with somewhat of the dispute the night before. By the version we gave her the prince only made to exhibit anger because we doubted his intentions and respect the Beatrix, and to leave us because we questioned his honour. She 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. You shall have your title, Esmond, that I promise you," says the good bishop, assuming the heirs of a prime minister. The prince hath expressed himself most nobly in regard of the little difference of last night, and I promise you he hath listened to my sermon, as well says the doctor, archly. He hath every great and generous quality with perhaps a weakness for the sex which belongs to his family, and hath been known in scores of popular sovereigns from King David downwards. My lord, my lord! breaks out Lady Esmond, the levity with which you speak of such conduct towards our sex shocks me, and what you call weakness I call deplorable sin. Sin it is, my dear creature, says the bishop, with a shrug enough, but consider what a sinner King Solomon was, and in spite of a thousand wives, too. Enough of this, my lord! says Lady Castlewood, with a fine blush, and walked out of the room very stately. The prince entered at presently with a smile on his face, and if he felt any offence against us on the previous night, at present exhibited none. He offered a hand to each gentleman with great courtesy. If all your money, says he, I don't know, gentlemen, what may happen to me? I spoke very hastily, my lords, last night, and ask pardon of both of you, but I must not stay any longer, says he, giving umbrage to good friends, or keeping pretty girls away from their homes. My lord, bishop hath found a safe place for me, hard by at a curate's house, whom the bishop can trust, and whose wife is so ugly as to be beyond all danger. We will whereas my hostess that I may bid her farewell to welcome her in house of my own soon, I trust, where my friends shall have no cause to quarrel with me. Lady Castlewood arrived presently, blushing with great grace, and tears filling her eyes as the prince graciously saluted her. She looked so charming and young that the doctor, in his bantering way, could not help speaking of her beauty to the prince, whose compliment made her blush, and look more charming as the prince. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The History of Henry Esmond by William Make P. Stackeray. Book 3. The End of Mr. Esmond's Adventures in England. Chapter 12. The History of Henry Esmond. As characters, written with a secret ink, come out with the application of fire, and disappear again and leave the paper white, as soon as it is cool, a hundred names of men high in repute and favouring the prince's cause that were written in our private lists would have been visible enough on the great role of the conspiracy had it ever been laid over by the prince. What crowds would have pressed forward and subscribed their names and protested their loyalty when the danger was over? What a number of wigs, now high in place and creatures of the all-powerful minister scorned Mr. Walpole then. If ever a match was gained by the manliness and decision of a few at a moment of danger, if ever one was lost by the treachery and imbecility of those that had cards in their hands and might have played them, it was in that momentous game which was enacted in the next three days, and of which the noblest crown in the world was the stake. From the conduct of my Lord Bowlingbroke, those who were interested in the scheme we had in hand, saw pretty well that he was not to be trusted. Should the prince prevail it was his lordship's gracious intention to declare to go on his knee and cry God save King George, and he betrayed the one prince and the other, but exactly at the wrong time. When he should have struck for King James, he faltered and coquetted with the wigs, and having committed himself by the most monstrous professions of devotion which the elector rightly scorned, he proved the justness of their contempt for him by flying and taking renegade servers and that court despised him as the manly and resolute men who established the elector in England had before done. He signed his own name to every accusation of insincerity his enemies made against him, and the king and the pretender alike could show proofs of St. John's treachery under his own hand and seal. Our friends kept a pretty close watch upon his motions, as on those of the brave and hearty wig-party they would have in the elector and used every means in their power to affect their end. My Lord Marlborough was now with him. His expulsion from power by the Tories had thrown that great captain at once on the wig-side. We heard he was coming from Antwerp, and in fact on the day of the Queen's death he once more landed on the English shore. A great part of the army was always with their illustrious leader. Even the Tories in it were indignant that the execution which the wig-officers were made to undergo. The chiefs of these were in London, and at the head of them one of the most intrepid men in the world, the Scots Duke of Argyle, whose conduct on the second day after that to which I have now brought down my history, ended, as such honesty and bravery deserved to end, by establishing the present royal race on the English throne. Meanwhile there was no slight difference of importance as to the plan his Highness should pursue. His female minister at court, fancying she saw some amelioration in the Queen, was for waiting a few days, or hours it might be, until he could be brought to her bedside and acknowledged as her heir. Mr. Esmond was for having him march thither, escorted by a couple of troops of horse-guards, and openly presenting himself to the council. During the whole night of the 29th 30th July the Colonel was marched with gentlemen of the military profession, whom tis needless here to name. Suffice it to say that several of them had exceeding high rank in the army, and one of them in a special was a general, who, when he heard the Duke of Marlborough was coming on the other side, waved his crutch over his head with a hazzah at the idea that he should march out and engage him. Of the three secretaries of state, we knew that one was devoted to us. The governor of the tower was ours. The two companies on duty at Kensington Barrack were safe, and we had intelligence, very speedy and accurate, of all that took place at the palace within. At noon, on the 30th of July, a message came to the Prince's friends that the committee of council was sitting at Kensington Palace, their graces of Ormond and Shrewsbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the three secretaries of state being there assembled. In an hour afterward, hurried news was brought that the two great Whig Dukes, Argyle and Somerset, had broke into the council chamber without a summons and taken their seat at table. After holding a debate there, the whole party proceeded to the chamber of the Queen, who was lying in great weakness, but still sensible, and the lords recommended his grace of Shrewsbury as the fittest person to take the vacant place of the Lord Treasurer. Her Majesty gave him the staff, as all know. And now, writ my messenger from the court, now or never is the time. Now or never was the time indeed. In spite of the Whig Dukes, our side still had the majority in the council, and Esmond, to whom the message had been brought, the personage at court not being aware that the Prince had quitted his lodging in Kensington Square, and Esmond's gallant young Edda Camp, Frank Castlewood, putting on sword and uniform, took a brief leave of their dear lady, who embraced and blessed them both, and went to her chamber to pray for a great event which was then pending. Castlewood sped to the barracks to give warning to the captain of the guard there, and then went to the King's Arms Tavern at Kensington where our friends were assembled, having come by parties of twos and threes, riding or in coaches, and were got together in the upper chamber, fifty-three of them, their servants who had been instructed to bring arms likewise, being below in the garden of the tavern, where they were served with drink. Out of the little door that leads into the road of the palace, and through this it was arranged that masters and servants were to march, when that signal was given, and that personage appeared for whom all were waiting. There was in our company the famous officer next in command to the Captain General of the Forces, his Grace the Duke of Ormond, who was within at the Council. There were with him two more Lieutenant Generals, nine Major Generals and Brigadiers, seven Colonels, eleven Peers Parliament, and twenty-one members of the House of Commons. The Guard was with us within and without the palace, the Queen was with us, the Council saved the two Whig Dukes that must have succumbed, the day was our own, and with a beating heart Esmond walked rapidly to the Mall of Kensington, where he had parted with the Prince on the night before. For three nights the Colonel had not been to bed. The last had been past, summoning the Prince's friends together, of whom the Great Lord he had no sort of inkling of the transaction pending until they were told that he was actually on the spot, and were summoned to strike the blow. The night before and after the altercation with the Prince, my gentlemen, having suspicions of his Royal Highness, and fearing lest he should be minded to give us the slip, and fly off after his fugitive beauty, had spent, if the truth must be told, at the Greyhound Tavern over against my Lady Castlewood's house in Kensington Square, with an hour before lest the Prince should escape from it. The night before that he had passed in his boots at the Crown and Hounslow, where he must watch for Soothe all night, in order to get one moment's glimpse of Beatrix in the morning, and fate had decreed that he was to have a fourth night's ride and wakefulness before his business was ended. He ran to the Curitz House in Kensington Mall and asked for Mr. Bates, the name the Prince went by. The Prince had gone abroad very early in the morning in his boots, saying he was going to the Bishop of Rochester's house at Chelsea. But the Bishop had been at Kensington himself two hours ago to seek for Mr. Bates, and had returned in his coach to his own house, when he heard that the gentleman was gone thither to seek him. This absence was most unpropitious, for an hour's delay might cost a kingdom. Esmond had nothing for it but to hasten to the King's arms and told that Mr. George, as we called the Prince there, was not at home but that Esmond would go fetch him, and taking a general's coach that happened to be there, Esmond drove across the country to Chelsea to the Bishop's house there. The porter said two gentlemen were with his lordship, and Esmond ran past this century up to the locked door of the Bishop's study, at which he rattled, and was admitted presently. Of the Bishop's guest one was a brother prelate, the Archie. Where is Mr. George? says Mr. Esmond, now is the time. The Bishop looked scared. I went to his lodging, he said, and they told me he was come hither. I returned as quick as coach would carry me, and he hath not been here. The Colonel burst out with an oath, that was all he could say to their reverences, ran down the stairs again, and bidding the coachman, an old friend and fellow campaigner, drive as if he were charging the French with his kinsington in half an hour. Again Esmond went to the curate's house. Mr. Bates had not returned. The Colonel had to go with this blank errand to the gentlemen at the king's arms, that were grown very impatient by this time. Out of the window of the tavern, and looking over the garden wall, you can see the green before Kensington Palace, the palace gate round which the minister's coaches were standing, and the barrack building. As we went into a gloomy discourse, we heard presently trumpets blowing, and some of us ran to the window of the front room, looking into the high street of Kensington, and saw a regiment of horse coming. It's Ormone's guards, said one. No by God, it's Argyle's old regiment, says my general, clapping down his crutch. It was indeed Argyle's regiment that was brought from Westminster, and that took the place of the regiment at Kensington on which it was built. Oh, Harry, says one of the generals there present, you were born under an unlucky star. I began to think that there's no Mr. George, nor Mr. Dragon, either. Tis not the peerage I care for, for our name is so ancient and famous that merely to be called Lord Liddiard would do me no good, but tis the chance you promised me of fighting Marlborough. As we were talking, Castlewood entered the room with a blast. Damn him, look here, says Castlewood, holding out a paper. I found it in the book, the what you call it, Icumbecilicum, that villain Martin put it there. He said his young mistress beat him. It was directed to me, but was meant for him, I know, and I broke the seal and read it. The whole assembly of officers seemed to swim away before Esmond's eyes as he read the paper. All that was written on it was. Where she will pray for happier days. Can you guess where he is? said Castlewood. Yes, says Colonel Esmond. He knew full well. Frank knew full well. Our instinct told whether that traitor had fled. He had courage to turn to the company and say, gentlemen, I fear very much that Mr. George will not be here to-day. Something has happened, and, and I very much fear some accident may happen to him, which must keep him out of the way. Having had your noons draft, you had best pay the reckoning and go home. There can be no game where there is no one to play it. Some of the gentlemen went away without a word. Others called to pay their duty to Her Majesty and ask for her health. The little army disappeared into the darkness out of which it had been called. There had been no writings, no paper to implicate any man. Some few officers and members of Parliament of the King's Arms at Kensington, and they had called for their bill and gone home. End of Chapter 12 Recorded by Rachel Allen, Yosemite, California. March 25, 2008