Chapter II: The Caswalls of Castra Regis

by Bram Stoker

　　Mr. Salton had all his life been an early riser, and necessarily anearly waker. But early as he woke on the next morning--and althoughthere was an excuse for not prolonging sleep in the constant whirrand rattle of the "donkey" engine winches of the great ship--he metthe eyes of Adam fixed on him from his berth. His grand-nephew hadgiven him the sofa, occupying the lower berth himself. The old man,despite his great strength and normal activity, was somewhat tiredby his long journey of the day before, and the prolonged andexciting interview which followed it. So he was glad to lie stilland rest his body, whilst his mind was actively exercised in takingin all he could of his strange surroundings. Adam, too, after thepastoral habit to which he had been bred, woke with the dawn, andwas ready to enter on the experiences of the new day whenever itmight suit his elder companion. It was little wonder, then, that,so soon as each realised the other's readiness, they simultaneouslyjumped up and began to dress. The steward had by previousinstructions early breakfast prepared, and it was not long beforethey went down the gangway on shore in search of the carriage.They found Mr. Salton's bailiff looking out for them on the dock,and he brought them at once to where the carriage was waiting in thestreet. Richard Salton pointed out with pride to his youngcompanion the suitability of the vehicle for every need of travel.To it were harnessed four useful horses, with a postillion to eachpair."See," said the old man proudly, "how it has all the luxuries ofuseful travel--silence and isolation as well as speed. There isnothing to obstruct the view of those travelling and no one tooverhear what they may say. I have used that trap for a quarter ofa century, and I never saw one more suitable for travel. You shalltest it shortly. We are going to drive through the heart ofEngland; and as we go I'll tell you what I was speaking of lastnight. Our route is to be by Salisbury, Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham,Worcester, Stafford; and so home."Adam remained silent a few minutes, during which he seemed all eyes,for he perpetually ranged the whole circle of the horizon."Has our journey to-day, sir," he asked, "any special relation towhat you said last night that you wanted to tell me?""Not directly; but indirectly, everything.""Won't you tell me now--I see we cannot be overheard--and ifanything strikes you as we go along, just run it in. I shallunderstand."So old Salton spoke:"To begin at the beginning, Adam. That lecture of yours on 'TheRomans in Britain,' a report of which you posted to me, set methinking--in addition to telling me your tastes. I wrote to you atonce and asked you to come home, for it struck me that if you werefond of historical research--as seemed a fact--this was exactly theplace for you, in addition to its being the home of your ownforbears. If you could learn so much of the British Romans so faraway in New South Wales, where there cannot be even a tradition ofthem, what might you not make of the same amount of study on thevery spot. Where we are going is in the real heart of the oldkingdom of Mercia, where there are traces of all the variousnationalities which made up the conglomerate which became Britain.""I rather gathered that you had some more definite--more personalreason for my hurrying. After all, history can keep--except in themaking!""Quite right, my boy. I had a reason such as you very wiselyguessed. I was anxious for you to be here when a rather importantphase of our local history occurred.""What is that, if I may ask, sir?""Certainly. The principal land-owner of our part of the county ison his way home, and there will be a great home-coming, which youmay care to see. The fact is, for more than a century the variousowners in the succession here, with the exception of a short time,have lived abroad.""How is that, sir, if I may ask?""The great house and estate in our part of the world is CastraRegis, the family seat of the Caswall family. The last owner wholived here was Edgar Caswall, grandfather of the man who is cominghere--and he was the only one who stayed even a short time. Thisman's grandfather, also named Edgar--they keep the tradition of thefamily Christian name--quarrelled with his family and went to liveabroad, not keeping up any intercourse, good or bad, with hisrelatives, although this particular Edgar, as I told you, did visithis family estate, yet his son was born and lived and died abroad,while his grandson, the latest inheritor, was also born and livedabroad till he was over thirty--his present age. This was thesecond line of absentees. The great estate of Castra Regis has hadno knowledge of its owner for five generations--covering more than ahundred and twenty years. It has been well administered, however,and no tenant or other connected with it has had anything of whichto complain. All the same, there has been much natural anxiety tosee the new owner, and we are all excited about the event of hiscoming. Even I am, though I own my own estate, which, thoughadjacent, is quite apart from Castra Regis.--Here we are now in newground for you. That is the spire of Salisbury Cathedral, and whenwe leave that we shall be getting close to the old Roman county, andyou will naturally want your eyes. So we shall shortly have to keepour minds on old Mercia. However, you need not be disappointed. Myold friend, Sir Nathaniel de Salis, who, like myself, is a free-holder near Castra Regis--his estate, Doom Tower, is over the borderof Derbyshire, on the Peak--is coming to stay with me for thefestivities to welcome Edgar Caswall. He is just the sort of manyou will like. He is devoted to history, and is President of theMercian Archaeological Society. He knows more of our own part ofthe country, with its history and its people, than anyone else. Iexpect he will have arrived before us, and we three can have a longchat after dinner. He is also our local geologist and naturalhistorian. So you and he will have many interests in common.Amongst other things he has a special knowledge of the Peak and itscaverns, and knows all the old legends of prehistoric times."They spent the night at Cheltenham, and on the following morningresumed their journey to Stafford. Adam's eyes were in constantemployment, and it was not till Salton declared that they had nowentered on the last stage of their journey, that he referred to SirNathaniel's coming.As the dusk was closing down, they drove on to Lesser Hill, Mr.Salton's house. It was now too dark to see any details of theirsurroundings. Adam could just see that it was on the top of a hill,not quite so high as that which was covered by the Castle, on whosetower flew the flag, and which was all ablaze with moving lights,manifestly used in the preparations for the festivities on themorrow. So Adam deferred his curiosity till daylight. His grand-uncle was met at the door by a fine old man, who greeted him warmly."I came over early as you wished. I suppose this is your grand-nephew--I am glad to meet you, Mr. Adam Salton. I am Nathaniel deSalis, and your uncle is one of my oldest friends."Adam, from the moment of their eyes meeting, felt as if they werealready friends. The meeting was a new note of welcome to thosethat had already sounded in his ears.The cordiality with which Sir Nathaniel and Adam met, made theimparting of information easy. Sir Nathaniel was a clever man ofthe world, who had travelled much, and within a certain area studieddeeply. He was a brilliant conversationalist, as was to be expectedfrom a successful diplomatist, even under unstimulating conditions.But he had been touched and to a certain extent fired by the youngerman's evident admiration and willingness to learn from him.Accordingly the conversation, which began on the most friendlybasis, soon warmed to an interest above proof, as the old man spokeof it next day to Richard Salton. He knew already that his oldfriend wanted his grand-nephew to learn all he could of the subjectin hand, and so had during his journey from the Peak put histhoughts in sequence for narration and explanation. Accordingly,Adam had only to listen and he must learn much that he wanted toknow. When dinner was over and the servants had withdrawn, leavingthe three men at their wine, Sir Nathaniel began."I gather from your uncle--by the way, I suppose we had better speakof you as uncle and nephew, instead of going into exactrelationship? In fact, your uncle is so old and dear a friend,that, with your permission, I shall drop formality with youaltogether and speak of you and to you as Adam, as though you werehis son.""I should like," answered the young man, "nothing better!"The answer warmed the hearts of both the old men, but, with theusual avoidance of Englishmen of emotional subjects personal tothemselves, they instinctively returned to the previous question.Sir Nathaniel took the lead."I understand, Adam, that your uncle has posted you regarding therelationships of the Caswall family?""Partly, sir; but I understood that I was to hear minuter detailsfrom you--if you would be so good.""I shall be delighted to tell you anything so far as my knowledgegoes. Well, the first Caswall in our immediate record is an Edgar,head of the family and owner of the estate, who came into hiskingdom just about the time that George III. did. He had one son ofabout twenty-four. There was a violent quarrel between the two. Noone of this generation has any idea of the cause; but, consideringthe family characteristics, we may take it for granted that thoughit was deep and violent, it was on the surface trivial."The result of the quarrel was that the son left the house without areconciliation or without even telling his father where he wasgoing. He never came back again. A few years after, he died,without having in the meantime exchanged a word or a letter with hisfather. He married abroad and left one son, who seems to have beenbrought up in ignorance of all belonging to him. The gulf betweenthem appears to have been unbridgable; for in time this son marriedand in turn had a son, but neither joy nor sorrow brought thesundered together. Under such conditions no rapprochement was to belooked for, and an utter indifference, founded at best on ignorance,took the place of family affection--even on community of interests.It was only due to the watchfulness of the lawyers that the birth ofthis new heir was ever made known. He actually spent a few monthsin the ancestral home."After this the family interest merely rested on heirship of theestate. As no other children have been born to any of the newergenerations in the intervening years, all hopes of heritage are nowcentred in the grandson of this man."Now, it will be well for you to bear in mind the prevailingcharacteristics of this race. These were well preserved andunchanging; one and all they are the same: cold, selfish, dominant,reckless of consequences in pursuit of their own will. It was notthat they did not keep faith, though that was a matter which gavethem little concern, but that they took care to think beforehand ofwhat they should do in order to gain their own ends. If they shouldmake a mistake, someone else should bear the burthen of it. Thiswas so perpetually recurrent that it seemed to be a part of a fixedpolicy. It was no wonder that, whatever changes took place, theywere always ensured in their own possessions. They were absolutelycold and hard by nature. Not one of them--so far as we have anyknowledge--was ever known to be touched by the softer sentiments, toswerve from his purpose, or hold his hand in obedience to thedictates of his heart. The pictures and effigies of them all showtheir adherence to the early Roman type. Their eyes were full;their hair, of raven blackness, grew thick and close and curly.Their figures were massive and typical of strength."The thick black hair, growing low down on the neck, told of vastphysical strength and endurance. But the most remarkablecharacteristic is the eyes. Black, piercing, almost unendurable,they seem to contain in themselves a remarkable will power whichthere is no gainsaying. It is a power that is partly racial andpartly individual: a power impregnated with some mysteriousquality, partly hypnotic, partly mesmeric, which seems to take awayfrom eyes that meet them all power of resistance--nay, all power ofwishing to resist. With eyes like those, set in that all-commandingface, one would need to be strong indeed to think of resisting theinflexible will that lay behind."You may think, Adam, that all this is imagination on my part,especially as I have never seen any of them. So it is, butimagination based on deep study. I have made use of all I know orcan surmise logically regarding this strange race. With suchstrange compelling qualities, is it any wonder that there is abroadan idea that in the race there is some demoniac possession, whichtends to a more definite belief that certain individuals have in thepast sold themselves to the Devil?"But I think we had better go to bed now. We have a lot to getthrough to-morrow, and I want you to have your brain clear, and allyour susceptibilities fresh. Moreover, I want you to come with mefor an early walk, during which we may notice, whilst the matter isfresh in our minds, the peculiar disposition of this place--notmerely your grand-uncle's estate, but the lie of the country aroundit. There are many things on which we may seek--and perhaps find--enlightenment. The more we know at the start, the more things whichmay come into our view will develop themselves."