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The Virginians
by
“Books, papa, I can fancy to be a good choice,” she replied to her father, who tried to convince her that George had a right to his opinion, “though I am sure you must have pretty nigh all the books in the world already. But I never can desire–I may be wrong–but I never can desire, that my son, and the grandson of the Marquis of Esmond, should be a fiddler.”
“Should be a fiddlestick, my dear,” the old Colonel answered. “Remember that Heaven’s ways are not ours, and that each creature born has a little kingdom of thought of his own, which it is a sin in us to invade. Suppose George loves music? You can no more stop him than you can order a rose not to smell sweet, or a bird not to sing.”
“A bird! A bird sings from nature; George did not come into the world with a fiddle in his hand,” says Mrs. Warrington, with a toss of her head. “I am sure I hated the harpsichord when a chit at Kensington school, and only learned it to please my mamma. Say what you will, I cannot believe that this fiddling is work for persons of fashion.”
“And King David who played the harp, my dear?”
“I wish my papa would read him more, and not speak about him in that way,” said Mrs. Warrington.
“Nay, my dear, it was but by way of illustration,” the father replied gently. It was Colonel’s Esmond’s nature always to be led by a woman, and he spoiled his daughter; laughing at her caprices, but humouring them; making a joke of her prejudices, but letting them have their way; indulging, and perhaps increasing, her natural imperiousness of character, which asserted itself to an unusual degree after her father’s death.
The Colonel’s funeral was the most sumptuous one ever seen in the country. The little lads of Castlewood, almost smothered in black trains and hat bands, headed the procession, followed by Madame Esmond Warrington (as she called herself after her father’s death), by my Lord Fairfax, by his Excellency the Governor of Virginia, by the Randolphs, the Careys, the Harrisons, the Washingtons, and many others, for the whole county esteemed the departed gentleman whose goodness, whose high talents, whose unobtrusive benevolence had earned for him the just respect of his neighbours.
The management of the house of Castlewood had been in the hands of his daughter long before the Colonel slept the sleep of the just, for the truth is little Madame Esmond never came near man or woman but she tried to domineer over them. If people obeyed, she was their very good friend; if they resisted, she fought and fought until she or they gave in, and without her father’s influence to restrain her she was now more despotic than ever. She exercised a rigid supervision over the estate; dismissed Colonel Esmond’s English factor and employed a new one; built, improved, planted, grew tobacco, appointed a new overseer, and imported a new tutor for her boys. The little queen domineered over her little dominion, and over the princes her sons as well, thereby falling out frequently with her neighbours, with her relatives, and with her sons also.
A very early difference which occurred between the queen and crown prince arose out of the dismissal of the lad’s tutor, Mr. Dempster, who had also been the late Colonel’s secretary. Upon his retirement George vowed he never would forsake his old tutor, and kept his promise. Another cause of dispute between George and his mother presently ensued.
By the death of an aunt, the heirs of Mr. George Warrington became entitled to a sum of six thousand pounds, of which their mother was one of the trustees. She never could be made to understand that she was not the proprietor, but merely the trustee of this money; and was furious with the London lawyer who refused to send it over at her order. “Is not all I have my sons’?” she cried, “and would I not cut myself into little pieces to serve them? With the six thousand pounds I would have bought Mr. Boulter’s estate and negroes, which would have given us a good thousand pounds a year, and made a handsome provision for my Harry.” Her young friend and neighbour, Mr. Washington of Mount Vernon, could not convince her that the London agent was right, and must not give up his trust except to those for whom he held it.