CHAPTER XV.
GENERAL WEBB WINS THE BATTLE OF WYNENDAEL.
By the besiegers and besieged of Lille, some of the most brilliant featsof valor were performed that ever illustrated any war. On the Frenchside (whose gallantry was prodigious, the skill and bravery of MarshalBoufflers actually eclipsing those of his conqueror, the Prince ofSavoy) may be mentioned that daring action of Messieurs de Luxembourgand Tournefort, who, with a body of horse and dragoons, carried powderinto the town, of which the besieged were in extreme want, each soldierbringing a bag with forty pounds of powder behind him; with whichperilous provision they engaged our own horse, faced the fire of thefoot brought out to meet them: and though half of the men were blown upin the dreadful errand they rode on, a part of them got into the townwith the succors of which the garrison was so much in want. A Frenchofficer, Monsieur du Bois, performed an act equally daring, andperfectly successful. The Duke's great army lying at Helchin, andcovering the siege, and it being necessary for M. de Vendosme to getnews of the condition of the place, Captain Dubois performed his famousexploit: not only passing through the lines of the siege, but swimmingafterwards no less than seven moats and ditches: and coming back thesame way, swimming with his letters in his mouth.
By these letters Monsieur de Boufflers said that he could undertaketo hold the place till October; and that if one of the convoys of theAllies could be intercepted, they must raise the siege altogether.
Such a convoy as hath been said was now prepared at Ostend, and about tomarch for the siege; and on the 27th September we (and the Frenchtoo) had news that it was on its way. It was composed of 700 wagons,containing ammunition of all sorts, and was escorted out of Ostend by2,000 infantry and 300 horse. At the same time M. de la Mothe quittedBruges, having with him five-and-thirty battalions, and upwards of sixtysquadrons and forty guns, in pursuit of the convoy.
Major-General Webb had meanwhile made up a force of twenty battalionsand three squadrons of dragoons at Turout, whence he moved to cover theconvoy and pursue La Mothe: with whose advanced guard ours came up uponthe great plain of Turout, and before the little wood and castle ofWynendael; behind which the convoy was marching.
As soon as they came in sight of the enemy, our advanced troops werehalted, with the wood behind them, and the rest of our force brought upas quickly as possible, our little body of horse being brought forwardto the opening of the plain, as our General said, to amuse the enemy.When M. de la Mothe came up, he found us posted in two lines in front ofthe wood; and formed his own army in battle facing ours, in eight lines,four of infantry in front, and dragoons and cavalry behind.
The French began the action, as usual, with a cannonade which lastedthree hours, when they made their attack, advancing in eight lines, fourof foot and four of horse, upon the allied troops in the wood where wewere posted. Their infantry behaved ill; they were ordered to chargewith the bayonet, but, instead, began to fire, and almost at the veryfirst discharge from our men, broke and fled. The cavalry behavedbetter; with these alone, who were three or four times as numerous asour whole force, Monsieur de la Mothe might have won victory: but onlytwo of our battalions were shaken in the least; and these speedilyrallied: nor could the repeated attacks of the French horse cause ourtroops to budge an inch from the position in the wood in which ourGeneral had placed them.
After attacking for two hours, the French retired at nightfall entirelyfoiled. With all the loss we had inflicted upon him, the enemy was stillthree times stronger than we: and it could not be supposed that ourGeneral could pursue M. de la Mothe, or do much more than hold ourground about the wood, from which the Frenchman had in vain attemptedto dislodge us. La Mothe retired behind his forty guns, his cavalryprotecting them better than it had been enabled to annoy us; andmeanwhile the convoy, which was of more importance than all our littleforce, and the safe passage of which we would have dropped to the lastman to accomplish, marched away in perfect safety during the action, andjoyfully reached the besieging camp before Lille.
Major-General Cadogan, my Lord Duke's Quarter-Master-General, (andbetween whom and Mr. Webb there was no love lost), accompanied theconvoy, and joined Mr. Webb with a couple of hundred horse just as thebattle was over, and the enemy in full retreat. He offered, readilyenough, to charge with his horse upon the French as they fell back; buthis force was too weak to inflict any damage upon them; and Mr. Webb,commanding as Cadogan's senior, thought enough was done in holdingour ground before an enemy that might still have overwhelmed us had weengaged him in the open territory, and in securing the safe passage ofthe convoy. Accordingly, the horse brought up by Cadogan did not drawa sword; and only prevented, by the good countenance they showed, anydisposition the French might have had to renew the attack on us. And noattack coming, at nightfall General Cadogan drew off with his squadron,being bound for head-quarters, the two Generals at parting grimlysaluting each other.
"He will be at Roncq time enough to lick my Lord Duke's trenchers atsupper," says Mr. Webb.
Our own men lay out in the woods of Wynendael that night, and ourGeneral had his supper in the little castle there.
"If I was Cadogan, I would have a peerage for this day's work," GeneralWebb said; "and, Harry, thou shouldst have a regiment. Thou hast beenreported in the last two actions: thou wert near killed in the first. Ishall mention thee in my despatch to his Grace the Commander-in-Chief,and recommend thee to poor Dick Harwood's vacant majority. Have you evera hundred guineas to give Cardonnel? Slip them into his hand to-morrow,when you go to head-quarters with my report."
In this report the Major-General was good enough to mention CaptainEsmond's name with particular favor; and that gentleman carried thedespatch to head-quarters the next day, and was not a little pleasedto bring back a letter by his Grace's secretary, addressed toLieutenant-General Webb. The Dutch officer despatched by Count NassauWoudenbourg, Vaelt-Mareschal Auverquerque's son, brought back also acomplimentary letter to his commander, who had seconded Mr. Webb in theaction with great valor and skill.
Esmond, with a low bow and a smiling face, presented his despatch, andsaluted Mr. Webb as Lieutenant-General, as he gave it in. The gentlemenround about him--he was riding with his suite on the road to Menin asEsmond came up with him--gave a cheer, and he thanked them, and openedthe despatch with rather a flushed, eager face.
He slapped it down on his boot in a rage after he had read it. "'Tis noteven writ with his own hand. Read it out, Esmond." And Esmond read itout:--
"SIR,--Mr. Cadogan is just now come in, and has acquainted me with thesuccess of the action you had yesterday in the afternoon against thebody of troops commanded by M. de la Mothe, at Wynendael, which must beattributed chiefly to your good conduct and resolution. You may be sureI shall do you justice at home, and be glad on all occasions to own theservice you have done in securing this convoy.--Yours, &c., M."
"Two lines by that d--d Cardonnel, and no more, for the taking ofLille--for beating five times our number--for an action as brilliantas the best he ever fought," says poor Mr. Webb. "Lieutenant-General!That's not his doing. I was the oldest major-general. By ----, I believehe had been better pleased if I had been beat."
The letter to the Dutch officer was in French, and longer and morecomplimentary than that to Mr. Webb.
"And this is the man," he broke out, "that's gorged with gold--that'scovered with titles and honors that we won for him--and that grudgeseven a line of praise to a comrade in arms! Hasn't he enough? Don'twe fight that he may roll in riches? Well, well, wait for the Gazette,gentlemen. The Queen and the country will do us justice if his Gracedenies it us." There were tears of rage in the brave warrior's eyes ashe spoke; and he dashed them off his face on to his glove. He shook hisfist in the air. "Oh, by the Lord!" says he, "I know what I had ratherhave than a peerage!"
"And what is that, sir?" some of them asked.
"I had rather have a quarter of an hour with John Churchill, on a fairgreen field, and only a pair of rapiers between my shirt and his--"
"Sir!" interposes one.
"Tell him so! I know that's what you mean. I know every word goes to himthat's dropped from every general officer's mouth. I don't say he's notbrave. Curse him! he's brave enough; but we'll wait for the Gazette,gentlemen. God save her Majesty! she'll do us justice."
The Gazette did not come to us till a month afterwards; when my Generaland his officers had the honor to dine with Prince Eugene in Lille; hisHighness being good enough to say that we had brought the provisions,and ought to share in the banquet. 'Twas a great banquet. His Grace ofMarlborough was on his Highness's right, and on his left the Mareschalde Boufflers, who had so bravely defended the place. The chief officersof either army were present; and you may be sure Esmond's General wassplendid this day: his tall noble person, and manly beauty of face, madehim remarkable anywhere; he wore, for the first time, the star of theOrder of Generosity, that his Prussian Majesty had sent to him forhis victory. His Highness the Prince of Savoy called a toast to theconqueror of Wynendael. My Lord Duke drank it with rather a sicklysmile. The aides-de-camp were present: and Harry Esmond and his dearyoung lord were together, as they always strove to be when duty wouldpermit: they were over against the table where the generals were, andcould see all that passed pretty well. Frank laughed at my Lord Duke'sglum face: the affair of Wynendael, and the Captain-General's conduct toWebb, had been the talk of the whole army. When his Highness spoke, andgave--"Le vainqueur de Wynendael; son armee et sa victoire," adding,"qui nous font diner a Lille aujourd'huy"--there was a great cheerthrough the hall; for Mr. Webb's bravery, generosity, and veryweaknesses of character caused him to be beloved in the army.
"Like Hector, handsome, and like Paris, brave!" whispers FrankCastlewood. "A Venus, an elderly Venus, couldn't refuse him a pippin.Stand up, Harry. See, we are drinking the army of Wynendael. Ramilliesis nothing to it. Huzzay! huzzay!"
At this very time, and just after our General had made hisacknowledgment, some one brought in an English Gazette--and was passingit from hand to hand down the table. Officers were eager enough to readit; mothers and sisters at home must have sickened over it. There scarcecame out a Gazette for six years that did not tell of some heroic deathor some brilliant achievement.
"Here it is--Action of Wynendael--here you are, General," says Frank,seizing hold of the little dingy paper that soldiers love to read so;and, scrambling over from our bench, he went to where the Generalsat, who knew him, and had seen many a time at his table his laughing,handsome face, which everybody loved who saw. The generals in theirgreat perukes made way for him. He handed the paper over General Dohna'sbuff-coat to our General on the opposite side.
He came hobbling back, and blushing at his feat: "I thought he'd likeit, Harry," the young fellow whispered. "Didn't I like to read my nameafter Ramillies, in the London Gazette?--Viscount Castlewood serving avolunteer--I say, what's yonder?"
Mr. Webb, reading the Gazette, looked very strange--slapped it downon the table--then sprang up in his place, and began to--"Will yourHighness please to--"
His Grace the Duke of Marlborough here jumped up too--"There's somemistake, my dear General Webb."
"Your Grace had better rectify it," says Mr. Webb, holding out theletter; but he was five off his Grace the Prince Duke, who, besides,was higher than the General (being seated with the Prince of Savoy,the Electoral Prince of Hanover, and the envoys of Prussia and Denmark,under a baldaquin), and Webb could not reach him, tall as he was.
"Stay," says he, with a smile, as if catching at some idea, and then,with a perfect courtesy, drawing his sword, he ran the Gazette throughwith the point, and said, "Permit me to hand it to your Grace."
The Duke looked very black. "Take it," says he, to his Master of theHorse, who was waiting behind him.
The Lieutenant-General made a very low bow, and retired and finished hisglass. The Gazette in which Mr. Cardonnel, the Duke's secretary, gave anaccount of the victory of Wynendael, mentioned Mr. Webb's name, but gavethe sole praise and conduct of the action to the Duke's favorite, Mr.Cadogan.
There was no little talk and excitement occasioned by this strangebehavior of General Webb, who had almost drawn a sword upon theCommander-in-Chief; but the General, after the first outbreak ofhis anger, mastered it outwardly altogether; and, by hissubsequent behavior, had the satisfaction of even more angering theCommander-in-Chief, than he could have done by any public exhibition ofresentment.
On returning to his quarters, and consulting with his chief adviser, Mr.Esmond, who was now entirely in the General's confidence, and treated byhim as a friend, and almost a son, Mr. Webb writ a letter to his Gracethe Commander-in-Chief, in which he said:--
"Your Grace must be aware that the sudden perusal of the LondonGazette, in which your Grace's secretary, Mr. Cardonnel, hath mentionedMajor-General Cadogan's name as the officer commanding in the lateaction of Wynendael, must have caused a feeling of anything but pleasureto the General who fought that action.
"Your Grace must be aware that Mr. Cadogan was not even present at thebattle, though he arrived with squadrons of horse at its close, and puthimself under the command of his superior officer. And as the result ofthe battle of Wynendael, in which Lieutenant-General Webb had the goodfortune to command, was the capture of Lille, the relief of Brussels,then invested by the enemy under the Elector of Bavaria, the restorationof the great cities of Ghent and Bruges, of which the enemy (by treasonwithin the walls) had got possession in the previous year, Mr. Webbcannot consent to forego the honors of such a success and service, forthe benefit of Mr. Cadogan, or any other person.
"As soon as the military operations of the year are over,Lieutenant-General Webb will request permission to leave the army, andreturn to his place in Parliament, where he gives notice to his Gracethe Commander-in Chief, that he shall lay his case before the House ofCommons, the country, and her Majesty the Queen.
"By his eagerness to rectify that false statement of the Gazette, whichhad been written by his Grace's secretary, Mr. Cardonnel, Mr. Webb, notbeing able to reach his Grace the Commander-in-Chief on account of thegentlemen seated between them, placed the paper containing the falsestatement on his sword, so that it might more readily arrive in thehands of his Grace the Duke of Marlborough, who surely would wish to dojustice to every officer of his army.
"Mr. Webb knows his duty too well to think of insubordination to hissuperior officer, or of using his sword in a campaign against any butthe enemies of her Majesty. He solicits permission to return to Englandimmediately the military duties will permit, and take with him toEngland Captain Esmond, of his regiment, who acted as his aide-de-camp,and was present during the entire action, and noted by his watch thetime when Mr. Cadogan arrived at its close."
The Commander-in-Chief could not but grant this permission, nor couldhe take notice of Webb's letter, though it was couched in terms the mostinsulting. Half the army believed that the cities of Ghent and Brugeswere given up by a treason, which some in our army very well understood;that the Commander-in-Chief would not have relieved Lille if he couldhave helped himself; that he would not have fought that year had not thePrince of Savoy forced him. When the battle once began, then, for hisown renown, my Lord Marlborough would fight as no man in the world everfought better; and no bribe on earth could keep him from beating theenemy.*
* Our Grandfather's hatred of the Duke of Marlborough appears all through his account of these campaigns. He always persisted that the Duke was the greatest traitor and soldier history ever told of: and declared that he took bribes on all hands during the war. My Lord Marquis (for so we may call him here, though he never went by any other name than Colonel Esmond) was in the habit of telling many stories which he did not set down in his memoirs, and which he had from his friend the Jesuit, who was not always correctly informed, and who persisted that Marlborough was looking for a bribe of two millions of crowns before the campaign of Ramillies.
And our Grandmother used to tell us children, t
hat on his first presentation to my Lord duke, the Duke turned his back upon my Grandfather; and said to the Duchess, who told my lady dowager at Chelsey, who afterwards told Colonel Esmond --"Tom Esmond's bastard has been to my levee: he has the hang-dog look of his rogue of a father"--an expression which my Grandfather never forgave. He was as constant in his dislikes as in his attachments; and exceedingly partial to Webb, whose side he took against the more celebrated general. We have General Webb's portrait now at Castlewood, Va.
But the matter was taken up by the subordinates; and half the army mighthave been by the ears, if the quarrel had not been stopped. GeneralCadogan sent an intimation to General Webb to say that he was ready ifWebb liked, and would meet him. This was a kind of invitation ourstout old general was always too ready to accept, and 'twas with greatdifficulty we got the General to reply that he had no quarrel with Mr.Cadogan, who had behaved with perfect gallantry, but only with those athead-quarters, who had belied him. Mr. Cardonnel offered General Webbreparation; Mr. Webb said he had a cane at the service of Mr. Cardonnel,and the only satisfaction he wanted from him was one he was not likelyto get, namely, the truth. The officers in our staff of Webb's, andthose in the immediate suite of the General, were ready to come toblows; and hence arose the only affair in which Mr. Esmond ever engagedas principal, and that was from a revengeful wish to wipe off an oldinjury.
My Lord Mohun, who had a troop in Lord Macclesfield's regiment of theHorse Guards, rode this campaign with the Duke. He had sunk by this timeto the very worst reputation; he had had another fatal duel in Spain; hehad married, and forsaken his wife; he was a gambler, a profligate, anddebauchee. He joined just before Oudenarde; and, as Esmond feared, assoon as Frank Castlewood heard of his arrival, Frank was for seeking himout, and killing him. The wound my lord got at Oudenarde prevented theirmeeting, but that was nearly healed, and Mr. Esmond trembled daily lestany chance should bring his boy and this known assassin together. Theymet at the mess-table of Handyside's regiment at Lille; the officercommanding not knowing of the feud between the two noblemen.
Esmond had not seen the hateful handsome face of Mohun for nine years,since they had met on that fatal night in Leicester Field. It wasdegraded with crime and passion now; it wore the anxious look of a manwho has three deaths, and who knows how many hidden shames, and lusts,and crimes on his conscience. He bowed with a sickly low bow, and slunkaway when our host presented us round to one another. Frank Castlewoodhad not known him till then, so changed was he. He knew the boy wellenough.
'Twas curious to look at the two--especially the young man, whose faceflushed up when he heard the hated name of the other; and who said inhis bad French and his brave boyish voice--"He had long been anxious tomeet my Lord Mohun." The other only bowed, and moved away from him. I dohim justice, he wished to have no quarrel with the lad.
Esmond put himself between them at table. "D--- it," says Frank, "whydo you put yourself in the place of a man who is above you in degree? MyLord Mohun should walk after me. I want to sit by my Lord Mohun."
Esmond whispered to Lord Mohun, that Frank was hurt in the leg atOudenarde; and besought the other to be quiet. Quiet enough he was forsome time; disregarding the many taunts which young Castlewood flung athim, until after several healths, when my Lord Mohun got to be rather inliquor.
"Will you go away, my lord?" Mr. Esmond said to him, imploring him toquit the table.
"No, by G--," says my Lord Mohun. "I'll not go away for any man;" he wasquite flushed with wine by this time.
The talk got round to the affairs of yesterday. Webb had offered tochallenge the Commander-in-Chief: Webb had been ill-used: Webb was thebravest, handsomest, vainest man in the army. Lord Mohun did not knowthat Esmond was Webb's aide-de-camp. He began to tell some storiesagainst the General; which, from t'other side of Esmond, youngCastlewood contradicted.
"I can't bear any more of this," says my Lord Mohun.
"Nor can I, my lord," says Mr. Esmond, starting up. "The story my LordMohun has told respecting General Webb is false, gentlemen--false, Irepeat," and making a low bow to Lord Mohun, and without a single wordmore, Esmond got up and left the dining-room. These affairs were commonenough among the military of those days. There was a garden behindthe house, and all the party turned instantly into it; and the twogentlemen's coats were off and their points engaged within two minutesafter Esmond's words had been spoken. If Captain Esmond had put Mohunout of the world, as he might, a villain would have been punishedand spared further villanies--but who is one man to punish another? Ideclare upon my honor that my only thought was to prevent Lord Mohunfrom mischief with Frank, and the end of this meeting was, that afterhalf a dozen passes my lord went home with a hurt which prevented himfrom lifting his right arm for three months.
"Oh, Harry! why didn't you kill the villain?" young Castlewood asked. "Ican't walk without a crutch: but I could have met him on horseback withsword and pistol." But Harry Esmond said, "'Twas best to have no man'slife on one's conscience, not even that villain's." And this affair,which did not occupy three minutes, being over, the gentlemen went backto their wine, and my Lord Mohun to his quarters, where he was laid upwith a fever which had spared mischief had it proved fatal. And verysoon after this affair Harry Esmond and his General left the camp forLondon; whither a certain reputation had preceded the Captain, for myLady Castlewood of Chelsey received him as if he had been a conqueringhero. She gave a great dinner to Mr. Webb, where the General's chairwas crowned with laurels; and her ladyship called Esmond's health ina toast, to which my kind General was graciously pleased to bear thestrongest testimony: and took down a mob of at least forty coaches tocheer our General as he came out of the House of Commons, the day whenhe received the thanks of Parliament for his action. The mob huzza'd andapplauded him, as well as the fine company: it was splendid to seehim waving his hat, and bowing, and laying his hand upon his Orderof Generosity. He introduced Mr. Esmond to Mr. St. John and the RightHonorable Robert Harley, Esquire, as he came out of the House walkingbetween them; and was pleased to make many flattering observationsregarding Mr. Esmond's behavior during the three last campaigns.
Mr. St. John (who had the most winning presence of any man I ever saw,excepting always my peerless young Frank Castlewood) said he had heardof Mr. Esmond before from Captain Steele, and how he had helped Mr.Addison to write his famous poem of the "Campaign."
"'Twas as great an achievement as the victory of Blenheim itself," Mr.Harley said, who was famous as a judge and patron of letters, andso, perhaps, it may be--though for my part I think there are twentybeautiful lines, but all the rest is commonplace, and Mr. Addison's hymnworth a thousand such poems.
All the town was indignant at my Lord Duke's unjust treatment of GeneralWebb, and applauded the vote of thanks which the House of Commons gaveto the General for his victory at Wynendael. 'Tis certain that thecapture of Lille was the consequence of that lucky achievement, and thehumiliation of the old French King, who was said to suffer more atthe loss of this great city, than from any of the former victoriesour troops had won over him. And, I think, no small part of Mr. Webb'sexultation at his victory arose from the idea that Marlborough had beendisappointed of a great bribe the French King had promised him, shouldthe siege be raised. The very sum of money offered to him was mentionedby the Duke's enemies; and honest Mr. Webb chuckled at the notion,not only of beating the French, but of beating Marlborough too, andintercepting a convoy of three millions of French crowns, that were ontheir way to the Generalissimo's insatiable pockets. When the General'slady went to the Queen's drawing-room, all the Tory women crowded roundher with congratulations, and made her a train greater than the Duchessof Marlborough's own. Feasts were given to the General by all the chiefsof the Tory party, who vaunted him as the Duke's equal in militaryskill; and perhaps used the worthy soldier as their instrument, whilsthe thought they were but acknowledging his merits as a commander. As theGeneral's aide-de-camp and favorite officer, Mr. Esmond came
in for ashare of his chief's popularity, and was presented to her Majesty,and advanced to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, at the request of hisgrateful chief.
We may be sure there was one family in which any good fortune thathappened to Esmond caused such a sincere pride and pleasure, that he,for his part, was thankful he could make them so happy. With these fondfriends, Blenheim and Oudenarde seemed to be mere trifling incidents ofthe war; and Wynendael was its crowning victory. Esmond's mistress nevertired to hear accounts of the battle; and I think General Webb's ladygrew jealous of her, for the General was for ever at Kensington, andtalking on that delightful theme. As for his aide-de-camp, though, nodoubt, Esmond's own natural vanity was pleased at the little shareof reputation which his good fortune had won him, yet it was chieflyprecious to him (he may say so, now that he hath long since outlivedit,) because it pleased his mistress, and, above all, because Beatrixvalued it.
As for the old Dowager of Chelsey, never was an old woman in all Englandmore delighted nor more gracious than she. Esmond had his quarters inher ladyship's house, where the domestics were instructed to considerhim as their master. She bade him give entertainments, of which shedefrayed the charges, and was charmed when his guests were carried awaytipsy in their coaches. She must have his picture taken; and accordinglyhe was painted by Mr. Jervas, in his red coat, and smiling upon abomb-shell, which was bursting at the corner of the piece. She vowedthat unless he made a great match, she should never die easy, and wasfor ever bringing young ladies to Chelsey, with pretty faces and prettyfortunes, at the disposal of the Colonel. He smiled to think how timeswere altered with him, and of the early days in his father's lifetime,when a trembling page he stood before her, with her ladyship's basin andewer, or crouched in her coach-step. The only fault she found withhim was, that he was more sober than an Esmond ought to be; and wouldneither be carried to bed by his valet, nor lose his heart to anybeauty, whether of St. James's or Covent Garden.
What is the meaning of fidelity in love, and whence the birth of it?'Tis a state of mind that men fall into, and depending on the man ratherthan the woman. We love being in love, that's the truth on't. If wehad not met Joan, we should have met Kate, and adored her. We know ourmistresses are no better than many other women, nor no prettier, nor nowiser, nor no wittier. 'Tis not for these reasons we love a woman, orfor any special quality or charm I know of; we might as well demand thata lady should be the tallest woman in the world, like the Shropshiregiantess,* as that she should be a paragon in any other character,before we began to love her. Esmond's mistress had a thousand faultsbeside her charms; he knew both perfectly well! She was imperious, shewas light-minded, she was flighty, she was false, she had no reverencein her character; she was in everything, even in beauty, the contrastof her mother, who was the most devoted and the least selfish of women.Well, from the very first moment he saw her on the stairs at Walcote,Esmond knew he loved Beatrix. There might be better women--he wantedthat one. He cared for none other. Was it because she was gloriouslybeautiful? Beautiful as she was, he had heard people say a score oftimes in their company that Beatrix's mother looked as young, and wasthe handsomer of the two. Why did her voice thrill in his ear so? Shecould not sing near so well as Nicolini or Mrs. Tofts; nay, she sang outof tune, and yet he liked to hear her better than St. Cecilia. She hadnot a finer complexion than Mrs. Steele, (Dick's wife, whom he had nowgot, and who ruled poor Dick with a rod of pickle,) and yet to see herdazzled Esmond; he would shut his eyes, and the thought of her dazzledhim all the same. She was brilliant and lively in talk, but not soincomparably witty as her mother, who, when she was cheerful, said thefinest things; but yet to hear her, and to be with her, was Esmond'sgreatest pleasure. Days passed away between him and these ladies, hescarce knew how. He poured his heart out to them, so as he never couldin any other company, where he hath generally passed for being moody, orsupercilious and silent. This society** was more delightful than thatof the greatest wits to him. May heaven pardon him the lies he toldthe Dowager at Chelsey, in order to get a pretext for going awayto Kensington: the business at the Ordnance which he invented; theinterview with his General, the courts and statesmen's levees whichhe DIDN'T frequent and describe; who wore a new suit on Sunday at St.James's or at the Queen's birthday; how many coaches filled the streetat Mr. Harley's levee; how many bottles he had had the honor to drinkover-night with Mr. St. John at the "Cocoa-Tree," or at the "Garter"with Mr. Walpole and Mr. Steele.
* 'Tis not thus WOMAN LOVES: Col. E. hath owned to this folly for a SCORE OF WOMEN besides.--R.
** And, indeed, so was his to them, a thousand thousand times more charming, for where was his equal?--R.
Mistress Beatrix Esmond had been a dozen times on the point of makinggreat matches, so the Court scandal said; but for his part Esmond neverwould believe the stories against her; and came back, after three years'absence from her, not so frantic as he had been perhaps, but stillhungering after her and no other; still hopeful, still kneeling, withhis heart in his hand for the young lady to take. We were now got to1709. She was near twenty-two years old, and three years at Court, andwithout a husband.
"'Tis not for want of being asked," Lady Castlewood said, looking intoEsmond's heart, as she could, with that perceptiveness affection gives."But she will make no mean match, Harry: she will not marry as I wouldhave her; the person whom I should like to call my son, and Henry Esmondknows who that is, is best served by my not pressing his claim. Beatrixis so wilful, that what I would urge on her, she would be sure toresist. The man who would marry her, will not be happy with her, unlesshe be a great person, and can put her in a great position. Beatrix lovesadmiration more than love; and longs, beyond all things, for command.Why should a mother speak so of her child? You are my son, too, Harry.You should know the truth about your sister. I thought you might cureyourself of your passion," my lady added, fondly. "Other people cancure themselves of that folly, you know. But I see you are still asinfatuated as ever. When we read your name in the Gazette, I pleadedfor you, my poor boy. Poor boy, indeed! You are growing a grave oldgentleman, now, and I am an old woman. She likes your fame wellenough, and she likes your person. She says you have wit, and fire,and good-breeding, and are more natural than the fine gentlemen of theCourt. But this is not enough. She wants a commander-in-chief, and nota colonel. Were a duke to ask her, she would leave an earl whom shehad promised. I told you so before. I know not how my poor girl is soworldly."
"Well," says Esmond, "a man can but give his best and his all. She hasthat from me. What little reputation I have won, I swear I cared for itbecause I thought Beatrix would be pleased with it. What care I to be acolonel or a general? Think you 'twill matter a few score years hence,what our foolish honors to-day are? I would have had a little fame, thatshe might wear it in her hat. If I had anything better, I would endowher with it. If she wants my life, I would give it her. If she marriesanother, I will say God bless him. I make no boast, nor no complaint. Ithink my fidelity is folly, perhaps. But so it is. I cannot help myself.I love her. You are a thousand times better: the fondest, the fairest,the dearest of women. Sure, my dear lady, I see all Beatrix's faults aswell as you do. But she is my fate. 'Tis endurable. I shall not diefor not having her. I think I should be no happier if I won her. Quevoulez-vous? as my Lady of Chelsey would say. Je l'aime."
"I wish she would have you," said Harry's fond mistress, giving a handto him. He kissed the fair hand ('twas the prettiest dimpled little handin the world, and my Lady Castlewood, though now almost forty years old,did not look to be within ten years of her age). He kissed and kept herfair hand, as they talked together.
"Why," says he, "should she hear me? She knows what I would say. Far ornear, she knows I'm her slave. I have sold myself for nothing, it maybe. Well, 'tis the price I choose to take. I am worth nothing, or I amworth all."
"You are such a treasure," Esmond's mistress was pleased to say, "thatthe woman who has your love, shouldn't change it away against a kingdom,I think. I am a co
untry-bred woman, and cannot say but the ambitions ofthe town seem mean to me. I never was awe-stricken by my Lady Duchess'srank and finery, or afraid," she added, with a sly laugh, "of anythingbut her temper. I hear of Court ladies who pine because her Majestylooks cold on them; and great noblemen who would give a limb thatthey might wear a garter on the other. This worldliness, which I can'tcomprehend, was born with Beatrix, who, on the first day of her waiting,was a perfect courtier. We are like sisters, and she the eldest sister,somehow. She tells me I have a mean spirit. I laugh, and say she adoresa coach-and-six. I cannot reason her out of her ambition. 'Tis naturalto her, as to me to love quiet, and be indifferent about rank andriches. What are they, Harry? and for how long do they last? Our homeis not here." She smiled as she spoke, and looked like an angel that wasonly on earth on a visit. "Our home is where the just are, and where oursins and sorrows enter not. My father used to rebuke me, and say thatI was too hopeful about heaven. But I cannot help my nature, and growobstinate as I grow to be an old woman; and as I love my children so,sure our Father loves us with a thousand and a thousand times greaterlove. It must be that we shall meet yonder, and be happy. Yes, you--andmy children, and my dear lord. Do you know, Harry, since his death, ithas always seemed to me as if his love came back to me, and that we areparted no more. Perhaps he is here now, Harry--I think he is. ForgivenI am sure he is: even Mr. Atterbury absolved him, and he died forgiving.Oh, what a noble heart he had! How generous he was! I was but fifteenand a child when he married me. How good he was to stoop to me! He wasalways good to the poor and humble." She stopped, then presently, with apeculiar expression, as if her eyes were looking into heaven, and sawmy lord there, she smiled, and gave a little laugh. "I laugh to see you,sir," she says; "when you come, it seems as if you never were away." Onemay put her words down, and remember them, but how describe her sweettones, sweeter than music!
My young lord did not come home at the end of the campaign, and wrotethat he was kept at Bruxelles on military duty. Indeed, I believe hewas engaged in laying siege to a certain lady, who was of the suite ofMadame de Soissons, the Prince of Savoy's mother, who was just dead, andwho, like the Flemish fortresses, was taken and retaken a greatnumber of times during the war, and occupied by French, English, andImperialists. Of course, Mr. Esmond did not think fit to enlighten LadyCastlewood regarding the young scapegrace's doings: nor had he said aword about the affair with Lord Mohun, knowing how abhorrent that man'sname was to his mistress. Frank did not waste much time or money on penand ink; and, when Harry came home with his General, only writ two linesto his mother, to say his wound in the leg was almost healed, that hewould keep his coming of age next year--that the duty aforesaid wouldkeep him at Bruxelles, and that Cousin Harry would tell all the news.
But from Bruxelles, knowing how the Lady Castlewood always liked to havea letter about the famous 29th of December, my lord writ her a long andfull one, and in this he must have described the affair with Mohun; forwhen Mr. Esmond came to visit his mistress one day, early in the newyear, to his great wonderment, she and her daughter both came up andsaluted him, and after them the Dowager of Chelsey, too, whose chairmanhad just brought her ladyship from her village to Kensington across thefields. After this honor, I say, from the two ladies of Castlewood, theDowager came forward in great state, with her grand tall head-dress ofKing James's reign, that, she never forsook, and said, "Cousin Henry,all our family have met; and we thank you, cousin, for your nobleconduct towards the head of our house." And pointing to her blushingcheek, she made Mr. Esmond aware that he was to enjoy the rapture of anembrace there. Having saluted one cheek, she turned to him the other."Cousin Harry," said both the other ladies, in a little chorus, "wethank you for your noble conduct;" and then Harry became aware that thestory of the Lille affair had come to his kinswomen's ears. It pleasedhim to hear them all saluting him as one of their family.
The tables of the dining-room were laid for a great entertainment; andthe ladies were in gala dresses--my Lady of Chelsey in her highest tour,my Lady Viscountess out of black, and looking fair and happy a ravir;and the Maid of Honor attired with that splendor which naturallydistinguished her, and wearing on her beautiful breast the Frenchofficer's star which Frank had sent home after Ramillies.
"You see, 'tis a gala day with us," says she, glancing down to the starcomplacently, "and we have our orders on. Does not mamma look charming?'Twas I dressed her!" Indeed, Esmond's dear mistress, blushing ashe looked at her, with her beautiful fair hair, and an elegant dressaccording to the mode, appeared to have the shape and complexion of agirl of twenty.
On the table was a fine sword, with a red velvet scabbard, and abeautiful chased silver handle, with a blue ribbon for a sword-knot."What is this?" says the Captain, going up to look at this pretty piece.
Mrs. Beatrix advanced towards it. "Kneel down," says she: "we dub youour knight with this"--and she waved the sword over his head. "My LadyDowager hath given the sword; and I give the ribbon, and mamma hath sewnon the fringe."
"Put the sword on him, Beatrix," says her mother. "You are our knight,Harry--our true knight. Take a mother's thanks and prayers for defendingher son, my dear, dear friend." She could say no more, and even theDowager was affected, for a couple of rebellious tears made sad marksdown those wrinkled old roses which Esmond had just been allowed tosalute.
"We had a letter from dearest Frank," his mother said, "three dayssince, whilst you were on your visit to your friend Captain Steele, atHampton. He told us all that you had done, and how nobly you had putyourself between him and that--that wretch."
"And I adopt you from this day," says the Dowager, "and I wish I wasricher, for your sake, son Esmond," she added with a wave of her hand;and as Mr. Esmond dutifully went down on his knee before her ladyship,she cast her eyes up to the ceiling, (the gilt chandelier, and thetwelve wax-candles in it, for the party was numerous,) and invoked ablessing from that quarter upon the newly adopted son.
"Dear Frank," says the other viscountess, "how fond he is of hismilitary profession! He is studying fortification very hard. I wish hewere here. We shall keep his coming of age at Castlewood next year."
"If the campaign permit us," says Mr. Esmond.
"I am never afraid when he is with you," cries the boy's mother. "I amsure my Henry will always defend him."
"But there will be a peace before next year; we know it for certain,"cries the Maid of Honor. "Lord Marlborough will be dismissed, and thathorrible duchess turned out of all her places. Her Majesty won't speakto her now. Did you see her at Bushy, Harry? She is furious, and sheranges about the park like a lioness, and tears people's eyes out."
"And the Princess Anne will send for somebody," says my Lady of Chelsey,taking out her medal and kissing it.
"Did you see the King at Oudenarde, Harry?" his mistress asked. She wasa staunch Jacobite, and would no more have thought of denying her kingthan her God.
"I saw the young Hanoverian only," Harry said. "The Chevalier de St.George--"
"The King, sir, the King!" said the ladies and Miss Beatrix; and sheclapped her pretty hands, and cried, "Vive le Roy."
By this time there came a thundering knock, that drove in the doors ofthe house almost. It was three o'clock, and the company were arriving;and presently the servant announced Captain Steele and his lady.
Captain and Mrs. Steele, who were the first to arrive, had driven toKensington from their country-house, the Hovel at Hampton Wick. "Notfrom our mansion in Bloomsbury Square," as Mrs. Steele took care toinform the ladies. Indeed Harry had ridden away from Hampton that verymorning, leaving the couple by the ears; for from the chamber wherehe lay, in a bed that was none of the cleanest, and kept awake by thecompany which he had in his own bed, and the quarrel which was goingon in the next room, he could hear both night and morning the curtainlecture which Mrs. Steele was in the habit of administering to poorDick.
At night it did not matter so much for the culprit; Dick was fuddled,and when in that way no scolding could interrupt his
benevolence. Mr.Esmond could hear him coaxing and speaking in that maudlin manner, whichpunch and claret produce, to his beloved Prue, and beseeching her toremember that there was a distiwisht officer ithe rex roob, who wouldoverhear her. She went on, nevertheless, calling him a drunken wretch,and was only interrupted in her harangues by the Captain's snoring.
In the morning, the unhappy victim awoke to a headache, andconsciousness, and the dialogue of the night was resumed. "Why do youbring captains home to dinner when there's not a guinea in the house?How am I to give dinners when you leave me without a shilling? How amI to go traipsing to Kensington in my yellow satin sack before all thefine company? I've nothing fit to put on; I never have:" and so thedispute went on--Mr. Esmond interrupting the talk when it seemed to begrowing too intimate by blowing his nose as loudly as ever he could,at the sound of which trumpet there came a lull. But Dick was charming,though his wife was odious, and 'twas to give Mr. Steele pleasure, thatthe ladies of Castlewood, who were ladies of no small fashion, invitedMrs. Steele.
Besides the Captain and his lady, there was a great and notableassemblage of company: my Lady of Chelsey having sent her lackeysand liveries to aid the modest attendance at Kensington. There wasLieutenant-General Webb, Harry's kind patron, of whom the Dowagertook possession, and who resplended in velvet and gold lace; there wasHarry's new acquaintance, the Right Honorable Henry St. John, Esquire,the General's kinsman, who was charmed with the Lady Castlewood, evenmore than with her daughter; there was one of the greatest noblemen inthe kingdom, the Scots Duke of Hamilton, just created Duke of Brandonin England; and two other noble lords of the Tory party, my LordAshburnham, and another I have forgot; and for ladies, her Grace theDuchess of Ormonde and her daughters, the Lady Mary and the Lady Betty,the former one of Mistress Beatrix's colleagues in waiting on the Queen.
"What a party of Tories!" whispered Captain Steele to Esmond, as we wereassembled in the parlor before dinner. Indeed, all the company present,save Steele, were of that faction.
Mr. St. John made his special compliments to Mrs. Steele, and so charmedher that she declared she would have Steele a Tory too.
"Or will you have me a Whig?" says Mr. St. John. "I think, madam, youcould convert a man to anything."
"If Mr. St. John ever comes to Bloomsbury Square I will teach him whatI know," says Mrs. Steele, dropping her handsome eyes. "Do you knowBloomsbury Square?"
"Do I know the Mall? Do I know the Opera? Do I know the reigning toast?Why, Bloomsbury is the very height of the mode," says Mr. St. John."'Tis rus in urbe. You have gardens all the way to Hampstead, andpalaces round about you--Southampton House and Montague House."
"Where you wretches go and fight duels," cries Mrs. Steele.
"Of which the ladies are the cause!" says her entertainer. "Madam, isDick a good swordsman? How charming the 'Tatler' is! We all recognizedyour portrait in the 49th number, and I have been dying to know youever since I read it. 'Aspasia must be allowed to be the first ofthe beauteous order of love.' Doth not the passage run so? 'In thisaccomplished lady love is the constant effect, though it is never thedesign; yet though her mien carries much more invitation than command,to behold her is an immediate check to loose behavior, and to love heris a liberal education.'"
"Oh, indeed!" says Mrs. Steele, who did not seem to understand a word ofwhat the gentleman was saying.
"Who could fail to be accomplished under such a mistress?" says Mr. St.John, still gallant and bowing.
"Mistress! upon my word, sir!" cries the lady. "If you mean me, sir, Iwould have you know that I am the Captain's wife."
"Sure we all know it," answers Mr. St. John, keeping his countenancevery gravely; and Steele broke in saying, "'Twas not about Mrs. Steele Iwrit that paper--though I am sure she is worthy of any compliment I canpay her--but of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings."
"I hear Mr. Addison is equally famous as a wit and a poet," says Mr.St. John. "Is it true that his hand is to be found in your 'Tatler,' Mr.Steele?"
"Whether 'tis the sublime or the humorous, no man can come near him,"cries Steele.
"A fig, Dick, for your Mr. Addison!" cries out his lady: "a gentlemanwho gives himself such airs and holds his head so high now. I hope yourladyship thinks as I do: I can't bear those very fair men with whiteeyelashes--a black man for me." (All the black men at table applauded,and made Mrs. Steele a bow for this compliment.) "As for this Mr.Addison," she went on, "he comes to dine with the Captain sometimes,never says a word to me, and then they walk up stairs both tipsy, to adish of tea. I remember your Mr. Addison when he had but one coat to hisback, and that with a patch at the elbow."
"Indeed--a patch at the elbow! You interest me," says Mr. St. John."'Tis charming to hear of one man of letters from the charming wife ofanother."
"La, I could tell you ever so much about 'em," continues the volublelady. "What do you think the Captain has got now?--a little hunchbackfellow--a little hop-o'-my-thumb creature that he calls a poet--a littlePopish brat!"
"Hush, there are two in the room," whispers her companion.
"Well, I call him Popish because his name is Pope," says the lady."'Tis only my joking way. And this little dwarf of a fellow has wrote apastoral poem--all about shepherds and shepherdesses, you know."
"A shepherd should have a little crook," says my mistress, laughing fromher end of the table: on which Mrs. Steele said, "She did not know, butthe Captain brought home this queer little creature when she was in bedwith her first boy, and it was a mercy he had come no sooner; and Dickraved about his genus, and was always raving about some nonsense orother."
"Which of the 'Tatlers' do you prefer, Mrs. Steele?" asked Mr. St. John.
"I never read but one, and think it all a pack of rubbish, sir," saysthe lady. "Such stuff about Bickerstaffe, and Distaff, and Quarterstaff,as it all is! There's the Captain going on still with the Burgundy--Iknow he'll be tipsy before he stops--Captain Steele!"
"I drink to your eyes, my dear," says the Captain, who seemed to thinkhis wife charming, and to receive as genuine all the satiric complimentswhich Mr. St. John paid her.
All this while the Maid of Honor had been trying to get Mr. Esmond totalk, and no doubt voted him a dull fellow. For, by some mistake, justas he was going to pop into the vacant place, he was placed far awayfrom Beatrix's chair, who sat between his Grace and my Lord Ashburnham,and shrugged her lovely white shoulders, and cast a look as if to say,"Pity me," to her cousin. My Lord Duke and his young neighbor werepresently in a very animated and close conversation. Mrs. Beatrix couldno more help using her eyes than the sun can help shining, and settingthose it shines on a-burning. By the time the first course was done thedinner seemed long to Esmond; by the time the soup came he fancied theymust have been hours at table: and as for the sweets and jellies hethought they never would be done.
At length the ladies rose, Beatrix throwing a Parthian glance at herduke as she retreated; a fresh bottle and glasses were fetched, andtoasts were called. Mr. St. John asked his Grace the Duke of Hamiltonand the company to drink to the health of his Grace the Duke of Brandon.Another lord gave General Webb's health, "and may he get the command thebravest officer in the world deserves." Mr. Webb thanked the company,complimented his aide-de-camp, and fought his famous battle over again.
"Il est fatiguant," whispers Mr. St. John, "avec sa trompette deWynendael."
Captain Steele, who was not of our side, loyally gave the health of theDuke of Marlborough, the greatest general of the age.
"I drink to the greatest general with all my heart," says Mr. Webb;"there can be no gainsaying that character of him. My glass goes to theGeneral, and not to the Duke, Mr. Steele." And the stout old gentlemanemptied his bumper; to which Dick replied by filling and emptying a pairof brimmers, one for the General and one for the Duke.
And now his Grace of Hamilton, rising up with flashing eyes (we had allbeen drinking pretty freely), proposed a toast to the lovely, to theincomparable Mrs. Beatrix Esmond; we all drank it with cheers, and myLord Ashbu
rnham especially, with a shout of enthusiasm.
"What a pity there is a Duchess of Hamilton," whispers St. John, whodrank more wine and yet was more steady than most of the others, and weentered the drawing-room where the ladies were at their tea. As for poorDick, we were obliged to leave him alone at the dining-table, where hewas hiccupping out the lines from the "Campaign," in which the greatestpoet had celebrated the greatest general in the world; and Harry Esmondfound him, half an hour afterwards, in a more advanced stage of liquor,and weeping about the treachery of Tom Boxer.
The drawing-room was all dark to poor Harry, in spite of the grandillumination. Beatrix scarce spoke to him. When my Lord Duke went away,she practised upon the next in rank, and plied my young Lord Ashburnhamwith all the fire of her eyes and the fascinations of her wit. Most ofthe party were set to cards, and Mr. St. John, after yawning in the faceof Mrs. Steele, whom he did not care to pursue any more; and talking inhis most brilliant animated way to Lady Castlewood, whom he pronouncedto be beautiful, of a far higher order of beauty than her daughter,presently took his leave, and went his way. The rest of the companyspeedily followed, my Lord Ashburnham the last, throwing fiery glancesat the smiling young temptress, who had bewitched more hearts than hisin her thrall.
No doubt, as a kinsman of the house, Mr. Esmond thought fit to be thelast of all in it; he remained after the coaches had rolled away--afterhis dowager aunt's chair and flambeaux had marched off in the darknesstowards Chelsey, and the town's people had gone to bed, who had beendrawn into the square to gape at the unusual assemblage of chairs andchariots, lackeys, and torchmen. The poor mean wretch lingered yet fora few minutes, to see whether the girl would vouchsafe him a smile, or aparting word of consolation. But her enthusiasm of the morning was quitedied out, or she chose to be in a different mood. She fell to jokingabout the dowdy appearance of Lady Betty, and mimicked the vulgarityof Mrs. Steele; and then she put up her little hand to her mouth andyawned, lighted a taper, and shrugged her shoulders, and dropping Mr.Esmond a saucy curtsy, sailed off to bed.
"The day began so well, Henry, that I hoped it might have ended better,"was all the consolation that poor Esmond's fond mistress could give him;and as he trudged home through the dark alone, he thought with bitterrage in his heart, and a feeling of almost revolt against the sacrificehe had made:--"She would have me," thought he, "had I but a name togive her. But for my promise to her father, I might have my rank and mymistress too."
I suppose a man's vanity is stronger than any other passion in him; forI blush, even now, as I recall the humiliation of those distant days,the memory of which still smarts, though the fever of balked desirehas passed away more than a score of years ago. When the writer'sdescendants come to read this memoir, I wonder will they have lived toexperience a similar defeat and shame? Will they ever have knelt to awoman who has listened to them, and played with them, and laughed withthem--who beckoning them with lures and caresses, and with Yes smilingfrom her eyes, has tricked them on to their knees, and turned herback and left them. All this shame Mr. Esmond had to undergo; and hesubmitted, and revolted, and presently came crouching back for more.
After this feste, my young Lord Ashburnham's coach was for ever rollingin and out of Kensington Square; his lady-mother came to visit Esmond'smistress, and at every assembly in the town, wherever the Maid of Honormade her appearance, you might be pretty sure to see the young gentlemanin a new suit every week, and decked out in all the finery that histailor or embroiderer could furnish for him. My lord was for ever payingMr. Esmond compliments: bidding him to dinner, offering him horses toride, and giving him a thousand uncouth marks of respect andgood-will. At last, one night at the coffee-house, whither my lord cameconsiderably flushed and excited with drink, he rushes up to Mr. Esmond,and cries out--"Give me joy, my dearest Colonel; I am the happiest ofmen."
"The happiest of men needs no dearest colonel to give him joy," says Mr.Esmond. "What is the cause of this supreme felicity?"
"Haven't you heard?" says he. "Don't you know? I thought the family toldyou everything: the adorable Beatrix hath promised to be mine."
"What!" cries out Mr. Esmond, who had spent happy hours with Beatrixthat very morning--had writ verses for her, that she had sung at theharpsichord.
"Yes," says he; "I waited on her to-day. I saw you walking towardsKnightsbridge as I passed in my coach; and she looked so lovely,and spoke so kind, that I couldn't help going down on my knees,and--and--sure I am the happiest of men in all the world; and I'm veryyoung; but she says I shall get older: and you know I shall be of age infour months; and there's very little difference between us; and I'm sohappy. I should like to treat the company to something. Let us have abottle--a dozen bottles--and drink the health of the finest woman inEngland."
Esmond left the young lord tossing off bumper after bumper, and strolledaway to Kensington to ask whether the news was true. 'Twas only toosure: his mistress's sad, compassionate face told him the story; andthen she related what particulars of it she knew, and how my young lordhad made his offer, half an hour after Esmond went away that morning,and in the very room where the song lay yet on the harpsichord, whichEsmond had writ, and they had sung together.
BOOK III.
CONTAINING THE END OF MR. ESMOND'S ADVENTURES IN ENGLAND.
The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne Page 32