Esme

Flashcards

"All hunting stories are the same," said Clovis; "just as all Turf stories are the same, and all--"

"My hunting story isn't a bit like any you've ever heard," said the Baroness. "It happened quite a while ago, when I was about twenty-three. I wasn't living apart from my husband then; you see, neither of us could afford to make the other a separate allowance. In spite of everything that proverbs may say, poverty keeps together more homes than it breaks up. But we always hunted with different packs. All this has nothing to do with the story."

"We haven't arrived at the meet yet. I suppose there was a meet," said Clovis.

"Of course there was a meet," said the Baroness; "all the usual crowd were there, especially Constance Broddle. Constance is one of those strapping florid girls that go so well with autumn scenery or Christmas decorations in church. 'I feel a presentiment that something dreadful is going to happen,' she said to me; 'am I looking pale?'

"She was looking about as pale as a beetroot that has suddenly heard bad news.

" 'You're looking nicer than usual,' I said, 'but that's so easy for you.' Before she had got the right bearings of this remark we had settled down to business; hounds had found a fox lying out in some gorse-bushes."

"I knew it," said Clovis; "in every fox-hunting story that I've ever heard there's been a fox and some gorse-bushes."

"Constance and I were well mounted," continued the Baroness serenely, "and we had no difficulty in keeping ourselves in the first flight, though it was a fairly stiff run. Towards the finish, however, we must have held rather too independent a line, for we lost the hounds, and found ourselves plodding aimlessly along miles away from anywhere. It was fairly exasperating, and my temper was beginning to let itself go by inches, when on pushing our way through an accommodating hedge we were gladdened by the sight of hounds in full cry in a hollow just beneath us.

" 'There they go,' cried Constance, and then added in a gasp, 'In Heaven's name, what are they hunting?'

"It was certainly no mortal fox. It stood more than twice as high, had a short, ugly head, and an enormous thick neck.

" 'It's a hyena,' I cried; 'it must have escaped from Lord Pabham's Park.'

"At that moment the hunted beast turned and faced its pursuers, and the hounds (there were only about six couple of them) stood round in a half-circle and looked foolish. Evidently they had broken away from the rest of the pack on the trail of this alien scent, and were not quite sure how to treat their quarry now they had got him.

"The hyena hailed our approach with unmistakable relief and demonstrations of friendliness. It had probably been accustomed to uniform kindness from humans, while its first experience of a pack of hounds had left a bad impression. The hounds looked more than ever embarrassed as their quarry paraded its sudden intimacy with us, and the faint toot of a horn in the distance was seized on as a welcome signal for unobtrusive departure. Constance and I and the hyena were left alone in the gathering twilight.

" 'What are we to do?' asked Constance.

" 'What a person you are for questions,' I said.

" 'Well, we can't stay here all night with a hyena,' she retorted.

" 'I don't know what your ideas of comfort are,' I said; 'but I shouldn't think of staying here all night even without a hyena. My home may be an unhappy one, but at least it has hot and cold water laid on, and domestic service, and other conveniences which we shouldn't find here. We had better make for that ridge of trees to the right; I imagine the Crowley road is just beyond.'

"We trotted off slowly along a faintly marked cart-track, with the beast following cheerfully at our heels.

" 'What on earth are we to do with the hyena?' came the inevitable question.

" 'What does one generally do with hyenas?' I asked crossly.

" 'I've never had anything to do with one before,' said Constance.

" 'Well, neither have I. If we even knew its sex we might give it a name. Perhaps we might call it Esme. That would do in either case.

"There was still sufficient daylight for us to distinguish wayside objects, and our listless spirits gave an upward perk as we came upon a small half-naked gipsy brat picking blackberries from a low-growing bush. The sudden apparition of two horsewomen and a hyena set it off crying, and in any case we should scarcely have gleaned any useful geographical information from that source; but there was a probability that we might strike a gipsy encampment somewhere along our route. We rode on hopefully but uneventfully for another mile or so.

" 'I wonder what the child was doing there,' said Constance presently.

" 'Picking blackberries. Obviously.'

" 'I don't like the way it cried,' pursued Constance; 'somehow its wail keeps ringing in my ears.'

"I did not chide Constance for her morbid fancies; as a matter of fact the same sensation, of being pursued by a persistent fretful wail, had been forcing itself on my rather over-tired nerves. For company's sake I hulloed to Esme, who had lagged somewhat behind. With a few springy bounds he drew up level, and then shot past us.

"The wailing accompaniment was explained. The gipsy child was firmly, and I expect painfully, held in his jaws.

" 'Merciful Heaven!' screamed Constance, 'what on earth shall we do? What are we to do?'

"I am perfectly certain that at the Last Judgment Constance will ask more questions than any of the examining Seraphs.

" 'Can't we do something?' she persisted tearfully, as Esme cantered easily along in front of our tired horses.

"Personally I was doing everything that occurred to me at the moment. I stormed and scolded and coaxed in English and French and gamekeeper language; I made absurd, ineffectual cuts in the air with my thongless hunting-crop; I hurled my sandwich case at the brute; in fact, I really don't know what more I could have done. And still we lumbered on through the deepening dusk, with that dark uncouth shape lumbering ahead of us, and a drone of lugubrious music floating in our ears. Suddenly Esme bounded aside into some thick bushes, where we could not follow; the wail rose to a shriek and then stopped altogether. This part of the story I always hurry over, because it is really rather horrible. When the beast joined us again, after an absence of a few minutes, there was an air of patient understanding about him, as though he knew that he had done something of which we disapproved, but which he felt to be thoroughly justifiable.

" 'How can you let that ravening beast trot by your side?' asked Constance. She was looking more than ever like an albino beetroot.

" 'In the first place, I can't prevent it,' I said; 'and in the second place, whatever else he may be, I doubt if he's ravening at the present moment.'

"Constance shuddered. 'Do you think the poor little thing suffered much?' came another of her futile questions.

" 'The indications were all that way,' I said; 'on the other hand, of course, it may have been crying from sheer temper. Children sometimes do.'

"It was nearly pitch-dark when we emerged suddenly into the high road. A flash of lights and the whir of a motor went past us at the same moment at uncomfortably close quarters. A thud and a sharp screeching yell followed a second later. The car drew up, and when I had ridden back to the spot I found a young man bending over a dark motionless mass lying by the roadside.

" 'You have killed my Esme,' I exclaimed bitterly.

" 'I'm so awfully sorry,' said the young man; 'I keep dogs myself, so I know what you must feel about it. I'll do anything I can in reparation.'

" 'Please bury him at once,' I said; 'that much I think I may ask of you.

" 'Bring the spade, William,' he called to the chauffeur. Evidently hasty roadside interments were contingencies that had been provided against.

"The digging of a sufficiently large grave took some little time. 'I say, what a magnificent fellow,' said the motorist as the corpse was rolled over into the trench. 'I'm afraid he must have been rather a valuable animal.'

" 'He took second in the puppy class at Birmingham last year,' I said resolutely.

Constance snorted loudly.

" 'Don't cry, dear,' I said brokenly; 'it was all over in a moment. He couldn't have suffered much.'

" 'Look here,' said the young fellow desperately, 'you simply must let me do something by way of reparation.'

"I refused sweetly, but as he persisted I let him have my address.

"Of course, we kept our own counsel as to the earlier episodes of the evening. Lord Pabham never advertised the loss of his hyena; when a strictly fruit-eating animal strayed from his park a year or two previously he was called upon to give compensation in eleven cases of sheep-worrying and practically to re-stock his neighbours' poultry-yards, and an escaped hyena would have mounted up to something on the scale of a Government grant. The gipsies were equally unobtrusive over their missing offspring; I don't suppose in large encampments they really know to a child or two how many they've got."

The Baroness paused reflectively, and then continued:

"There was a sequel to the adventure, though. I got through the post a charming little diamond broach, with the name Esme set in a sprig of rosemary. Incidentally, too, I lost the friendship of Constance Broddle. You see, when I sold the brooch I quite properly refused to give her any share of the proceeds. I pointed out that the Esme part of the affair was my own invention, and the hyena part of it belonged to Lord Pabham, if it really was his hyena, of which, of course, I've no proof."


Esme was featured as The Short Story of the Day on Mon, Aug 24, 2015

Frequently Asked Questions

What is "Esme" by Saki about?

"Esme" by Saki (H.H. Munro) is a darkly comic hunting story narrated by the Baroness to her companion Clovis. During a fox hunt, the Baroness and her friend Constance Broddle become separated from the pack and encounter an escaped hyena from Lord Pabham's estate. They name the creature Esme and ride on with it following at their heels. When they pass a young Romani child picking blackberries, the hyena snatches and kills the child. Eventually a motorist accidentally strikes and kills the hyena, and the Baroness convinces him it was a valuable dog. She later receives a diamond brooch as compensation, which she sells, refusing to share the proceeds with Constance. The story is a masterclass in Saki's signature style of horror concealed beneath elegant social comedy.

What are the main themes of "Esme" by Saki?

The central themes of "Esme" include:

Class Hypocrisy and Moral Indifference — The Baroness and Constance witness a child's death but are wholly unconcerned, prioritizing their own comfort and profit. The Romani child's life is treated as worthless by the upper-class narrators, exposing the callous indifference beneath Edwardian gentility.

Misdirected Empathy — The Baroness shows more emotion over the hyena's death than the child's, exclaiming "You have killed my Esme!" to the motorist. Her grief is entirely performative and self-serving.

Greed and Self-Interest — The story ends with the Baroness selling the diamond brooch and refusing to share proceeds with Constance, who herself wanted a cut. Both women see the tragedy only as a business opportunity.

Deception — The Baroness lies about the hyena being a prize-winning dog, Lord Pabham conceals his escaped animal, and the Romani community never reports the missing child. Every social class participates in cover-ups. These themes of aristocratic selfishness and dark social comedy recur throughout Saki's work, particularly in Tobermory and Sredni Vashtar.

What is the significance of the hyena in "Esme"?

The hyena in "Esme" operates on multiple levels. On the surface, it is literally an escaped exotic animal from Lord Pabham's private park—a detail inspired by Lord Rothschild's real estate at Tring, which kept exotic animals. Symbolically, the hyena represents the predatory nature lurking beneath civilized Edwardian society. The Baroness and Constance are just as predatory as the hyena—they simply express their appetites through social manipulation and financial exploitation rather than physical violence.

The hyena also functions as an agent of dark comedy. Its friendliness toward the women, its casual snatching of the child, and its "air of patient understanding" after killing the child all mirror the cool detachment with which the Baroness narrates these events. Saki uses animals as mirrors of human nature throughout his fiction, most famously in Tobermory, where a talking cat exposes upper-class secrets, and Gabriel-Ernest, where a werewolf preys on children.

What literary devices does Saki use in "Esme"?

Saki employs several distinctive literary devices in "Esme":

Dramatic Irony — The reader grasps the horror of the situation long before the characters acknowledge it. When Constance says "I don't like the way it cried," the reader already suspects what the Baroness will confirm moments later.

Understatement — The Baroness's narration is relentlessly understated. She describes the child's death by saying "This part of the story I always hurry over," and when asked if the child suffered, replies that "on the other hand, of course, it may have been crying from sheer temper." This technique transforms genuine horror into dark comedy.

Frame Narrative — The story-within-a-story structure, with Clovis as the skeptical audience, adds layers of irony. Clovis's interruptions ("I knew it—in every fox-hunting story there's been a fox") prime the reader to expect a conventional tale, making the dark twist more shocking.

Unreliable Narration — The Baroness shapes events to her advantage, and her breezy tone invites the reader to question whether she is as detached as she pretends. This device is characteristic of Saki's work, echoing the deceptive storytelling in The Open Window.

What happens to the child in "Esme" by Saki?

In "Esme," the Baroness and Constance pass a young Romani child picking blackberries by the roadside. The child screams at the sight of the horsewomen and the hyena. Shortly after, the women realize the persistent wailing they hear is coming from behind them—the hyena has seized the child in its jaws. Despite the Baroness's attempts to intervene ("I stormed and scolded and coaxed in English and French and gamekeeper language"), the hyena bounds into thick bushes where the horses cannot follow. "The wail rose to a shriek and then stopped altogether." The Baroness hurries over this part, saying only that it is "really rather horrible."

What makes the scene so chilling is not the violence itself—which happens offstage—but the Baroness's moral indifference afterward. She speculates the child "may have been crying from sheer temper," and notes that the Romani community never reported the disappearance because "in large encampments they really know to a child or two how many they've got." Saki uses this same technique of placing horror just beyond the reader's sight in Sredni Vashtar, where a child's revenge also unfolds off-page.

Why does the Baroness refuse to share the brooch with Constance?

At the end of "Esme," the motorist who killed the hyena sends the Baroness a diamond brooch inscribed with the name "Esme" set in a sprig of rosemary. When the Baroness sells the brooch, Constance Broddle demands a share of the proceeds, but the Baroness refuses on the grounds that "the Esme part of the affair was my own invention, and the hyena part of it belonged to Lord Pabham." In other words, the naming of the hyena was her creative contribution, and the animal itself belonged to someone else entirely—so Constance has no claim.

This ending is pure Saki: the moral outrage is not about a child's death but about the division of spoils. Both women reveal themselves as equally mercenary—Constance's anger at being excluded is no more noble than the Baroness's refusal to share. The story's final irony is that the friendship dissolves over money, not over the horror they witnessed together. This cynical view of social bonds appears throughout Saki's stories, including The Storyteller, where adults fail to grasp the darker realities children instinctively understand.

Who is Clovis in "Esme" and other Saki stories?

Clovis Sangrail is one of Saki's most famous recurring characters—a witty, mischievous young man who appears in dozens of stories collected primarily in The Chronicles of Clovis (1911). In "Esme," Clovis serves as the Baroness's audience, opening the story with his sardonic observation that "all hunting stories are the same." His interjections puncture the Baroness's narrative with irreverent commentary, creating the frame-narrative structure that gives the story its ironic edge.

Clovis is far more than a passive listener in other stories. In Tobermory, he is present when a cat learns to speak. In The Storyteller, a bachelor (often associated with the Clovis archetype) demolishes an aunt's moral tale with a far more compelling and subversive story. Clovis embodies Saki's own worldview: detached, devastatingly witty, and allergic to sentimentality.

Is "Esme" by Saki based on a true story?

While "Esme" is fiction, Saki drew on real elements of Edwardian England. Lord Pabham, whose estate houses the escaped hyena, is widely understood as a satirical portrait of Lord Rothschild, whose real estate at Tring in Hertfordshire was England's first private zoo, home to exotic animals including zebras, kangaroos, and cassowaries. Escapes from private menageries were not uncommon in the period, and landowners dreaded the compensation claims that followed.

The story's fox-hunting setting reflects the world Saki knew intimately as a member of the upper-middle class. The casual attitude toward the Romani child, while shocking to modern readers, reflects genuine Edwardian prejudices that Saki both satirized and, to some degree, shared. Unlike Oscar Wilde, whose satire was tempered by compassion, Saki's comedy maintains an icy detachment that refuses to moralize—leaving readers to supply their own outrage.

How does "Esme" compare to other Saki stories?

"Esme" occupies a distinctive place in Saki's body of work by combining his signature social satire with genuine horror. While many Saki stories feature comeuppance or embarrassment, "Esme" involves the death of a child—placing it alongside his darkest tales.

The closest comparisons within Saki's work are:

Sredni Vashtar — Another story where a child's fate (or a guardian's) unfolds through implication rather than explicit description, and where the emotional response is deliberately inverted.

Gabriel-Ernest — A supernatural story where a werewolf-like figure preys on children, sharing "Esme's" theme of predation hidden behind a charming exterior.

The Open Window — Like "Esme," this story features a brilliantly deceptive narrator who manipulates others through storytelling, though its tone is lighter and more playful.

Tobermory — Uses an animal (a talking cat) to expose the moral bankruptcy of polite society, mirroring how the hyena in "Esme" reveals the characters' true natures.

What is the moral of "Esme" by Saki?

Saki resists offering a simple moral in "Esme," and that resistance is itself the point. The Baroness narrates a story involving a child's gruesome death with the same breezy tone she might use to describe a spoiled luncheon. No character expresses genuine remorse. No one faces consequences. The child's death is not even the climax—the diamond brooch is.

If there is a moral, it is an uncomfortable one: the upper classes in Saki's world view other people—especially those of lower social standing—as scenery at best and inconveniences at worst. The Baroness values the hyena more than the child, and values the brooch most of all. The story forces readers to confront their own complicity: we laugh at the Baroness's wit even as we recognize her moral emptiness.

This refusal to moralize is central to Saki's literary identity. Unlike the didactic children's stories mocked in The Storyteller, Saki's fiction trusts readers to draw their own conclusions—and those conclusions are rarely comfortable.

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