Henry Esmond; The English Humourists; The Four Georges

  Chapter XV. General Webb Wins The Battle Of Wynendael

  By the besiegers and besieged of Lille, some of the most brilliant featsof valour were performed that ever illustrated any war. On the French side(whose gallantry was prodigious, the skill and bravery of MarshalBoufflers actually eclipsing those of his conqueror, the Prince of Savoy)may be mentioned that daring action of Messieurs de Luxembourg andTournefort, who, with a body of horse and dragoons, carried powder intothe town, of which the besieged were in extreme want, each soldierbringing a bag with forty pounds of powder behind him; with which perilousprovision they engaged our own horse, faced the fire of the foot broughtout to meet them: and though half of the men were blown up in the dreadfulerrand they rode on, a part of them got into the town with the succours ofwhich the garrison was so much in want. A French officer, Monsieur duBois, performed an act equally daring, and perfectly successful. Theduke's great army lying at Helchin, and covering the siege, and it beingnecessary for Monsieur de Vendosme to get news of the condition of theplace, Captain du Bois performed his famous exploit: not only passingthrough the lines of the siege, but swimming afterwards no less than sevenmoats and ditches: and coming back the same way, swimming with his lettersin his mouth.

  By these letters Monsieur de Boufflers said that he could undertake tohold the place till October; and that, if one of the convoys of the Alliescould 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 French too)had news that it was on its way. It was composed of 700 waggons,containing ammunition of all sorts, and was escorted out of Ostend by2,000 infantry and 300 horse. At the same time Monsieur de la Mothequitted Bruges, having with him five-and-thirty battalions, and upwards ofsixty squadrons and forty guns, in pursuit of the convoy.

  Major-General Webb had meanwhile made up a force of twenty battalions, andthree 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 up asquickly as possible, our little body of horse being brought forward to theopening of the plain, as our general said, to amuse the enemy. WhenMonsieur la Mothe came up he found us posted in two lines in front of thewood; and formed his own army in battle facing ours, in eight lines, fourof infantry in front, and dragoons and cavalry behind.

  The French began the action, as usual, with a cannonade which lasted threehours, when they made their attack, advancing in twelve lines, four offoot and four of horse, upon the allied troops in the wood where we wereposted. Their infantry behaved ill; they were ordered to charge with thebayonet, but, instead, began to fire, and almost at the very firstdischarge from our men, broke and fled. The cavalry behaved better; withthese alone, who were three or four times as numerous as our whole force,Monsieur de la Mothe might have won victory: but only two of ourbattalions were shaken in the least; and these speedily rallied: nor couldthe repeated attacks of the French horse cause our troops to budge an inchfrom the position in the wood in which our general had placed them.

  After attacking for two hours, the French retired at night-fall 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 our groundabout the wood, from which the Frenchman had in vain attempted to dislodgeus. La Mothe retired behind his forty guns, his cavalry protecting thembetter than it had been enabled to annoy us; and meanwhile the convoy,which was of more importance than all our little force, and the safepassage of which we would have dropped to the last man to accomplish,marched away in perfect safety during the action, and joyfully reached thebesieging camp before Lille.

  Major-General Cadogan, my lord duke's quartermaster-general (and betweenwhom and Mr. Webb there was no love lost), accompanied the convoy, andjoined Mr. Webb with a couple of hundred horse just as the battle wasover, and the enemy in full retreat. He offered, readily enough, to chargewith his horse upon the French as they fell back; but his force was tooweak to inflict any damage upon them; and Mr. Webb, commanding asCadogan's senior, thought enough was done in holding our ground before anenemy that might still have overwhelmed us had we engaged him in the openterritory, and in securing the safe passage of the convoy. Accordingly,the horse brought up by Cadogan did not draw a sword; and only prevented,by the good countenance they showed, any disposition the French might havehad to renew the attack on us. And no attack coming, at nightfall GeneralCadogan drew off with his squadron, being bound for head quarters, the twogenerals at parting grimly saluting 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 our generalhad 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 dispatch to his grace the commander-in-chief, andrecommend thee to poor Dick Harwood's vacant majority. Have you ever ahundred guineas to give Cardonnel? Slip them into his hand to-morrow, whenyou go to head quarters with my report."

  In this report the major-general was good enough to mention CaptainEsmond's name with particular favour; and that gentleman carried thedispatch to head quarters the next day, and was not a little pleased tobring back a letter by his grace's secretary, addressed toLieutenant-General Webb. The Dutch officer dispatched 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 valour and skill.

  Esmond, with a low bow and a smiling face, presented his dispatch, 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 opened thedispatch 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 the success of the action you had yesterday in the afternoon against the body of troops commanded by Monsieur de la Mothe, at Wynendael, which must be attributed chiefly to your good conduct and resolution. You may be sure I shall do you justice at home, and be glad on all occasions to own the service 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 brilliant as thebest he ever fought," says poor Mr. Webb. "Lieutenant-General! That's nothis doing. I was the oldest major-general. By ----, I believe he had beenbetter 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 honours that we won for him--and that grudges evena line of praise to a comrade in arms! Hasn't he enough? Don't we fightthat he may roll in riches? Well, well, wait for the _Gazette_, gentlemen.The queen and the country will do us justice if his grace denies it us."There were tears of rage in the brave warrior's eyes as he spoke; and hedashed them off his face on to his glove. He shook his fist in the air."Oh, by the Lord!" says he, "I know what I had rather have than apeerage!"

  "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 rapier
s 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 honour to dine with Prince Eugene in Lille; hishighness being good enough to say that we had brought the provisions, andought to share in the banquet. 'Twas a great banquet. His grace ofMarlborough was on his highness's right, and on his left the Mareschal deBoufflers, who had so bravely defended the place. The chief officers ofeither 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 for hisvictory. His Highness, the Prince of Savoy, called a toast to theconqueror of Wynendael. My lord duke drank it with rather a sickly smile.The aides de camp were present; and Harry Esmond and his dear young lordwere together, as they always strove to be when duty would permit: theywere over against the table where the generals were, and could see allthat passed pretty well. Frank laughed at my lord duke's glum face: theaffair of Wynendael, and the captain-general's conduct to Webb, had beenthe talk of the whole army. When his highness spoke, and gave--"_Levainqueur de Wynendael; son armee et sa victoire_," adding, "_qui nousfont diner a Lille aujourdhuy_"--there was a great cheer through the hall;for Mr. Webb's bravery, generosity, and very weaknesses of charactercaused him to be beloved in the army.

  "Like Hector, handsome, and like Paris, brave!" whispers Frank Castlewood."A Venus, an elderly Venus, couldn't refuse him a pippin. Stand up, Harry.See, we are drinking the army of Wynendael. Ramillies is nothing to it.Huzzay! Huzzay!"

  At this very time, and just after our general had made hisacknowledgement, 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 general sat, who knewhim, and had seen many a time at his table his laughing, handsome face,which everybody loved who saw. The generals in their great perukes madeway for him. He handed the paper over General Dohna's buff coat to ourgeneral on the opposite side.

  He came hobbling back, and blushing at his feat: "I thought he'd like it,Harry," the young fellow whispered. "Didn't I like to read my name afterRamillies, in the _London Gazette_?--Viscount Castlewood serving avolunteer--I say, what's yonder?"

  Mr. Webb, reading the _Gazette_, looked very strange--slapped it down onthe table--then sprung up in his place, and began,--"Will your highnessplease 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 the letter;but he was five off his grace the prince duke, who, besides, was higherthan the general (being seated with the Prince of Savoy, the ElectoralPrince of Hanover, and the envoys of Prussia and Denmark, under abaldaquin), and Webb could not reach him, tall as he was.

  "Stay," says he, with a smile, as if catching at some idea, and then, witha perfect courtesy, drawing his sword, he ran the _Gazette_ through withthe 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 favourite, Mr.Cadogan.

  There was no little talk and excitement occasioned by this strangebehaviour of General Webb, who had almost drawn a sword upon thecommander-in-chief; but the general, after the first outbreak of hisanger, mastered it outwardly altogether; and, by his subsequent behaviour,had the satisfaction of even more angering the commander-in-chief, than hecould have done by any public exhibition of resentment.

  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 grace thecommander-in-chief, in which he said:--

  Your grace must be aware that the sudden perusal of the _London Gazette_, in which your grace's secretary, Mr. Cardonnel, hath mentioned Major-General Cadogan's name, as the officer commanding in the late action of Wynendael, must have caused a feeling of anything but pleasure to the general who fought that action.

  Your grace must be aware that Mr. Cadogan was not even present at the battle, though he arrived with squadrons of horse at its close, and put himself under the command of his superior officer. And as the result of the battle of Wynendael, in which Lieutenant-General Webb had the good fortune to command, was the capture of Lille, the relief of Brussels, then invested by the enemy under the Elector of Bavaria, the restoration of the great cities of Ghent and Bruges, of which the enemy (by treason within the walls) had got possession in the previous year: Mr. Webb cannot consent to forgo the honours of such a success and service, for the 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, and return to his place in Parliament, where he gives notice to his grace the commander-in-chief, that he shall lay his case before the House of Commons, the country, and her majesty the queen.

  By his eagerness to rectify that false statement of the _Gazette_, which had been written by his grace's secretary, Mr. Cardonnel, Mr. Webb, not being able to reach his grace the commander-in-chief on account of the gentlemen seated between them, placed the paper containing the false statement on his sword, so that it might more readily arrive in the hands of his Grace the Duke of Marlborough, who surely would wish to do justice to every officer of his army.

  Mr. Webb knows his duty too well to think of insubordination to his superior officer, or of using his sword in a campaign against any but the enemies of her majesty. He solicits permission to return to England immediately the military duties will permit, and take with him to England Captain Esmond, of his regiment, who acted as his aide de camp, and was present during the entire action, and noted by his watch the time when Mr. Cadogan arrived at its close.

  The commander-in-chief could not but grant this permission, nor could hetake notice of Webb's letter, though it was couched in terms the mostinsulting. Half the army believed that the cities of Ghent and Bruges weregiven up by a treason, which some in our army very well understood; thatthe commander-in-chief would not have relieved Lille if he could havehelped himself; that he would not have fought that year had not the Princeof Savoy forced him. When the battle once began, then, for his own renown,my Lord Marlborough would fight as no man in the world ever fought better;and no bribe on earth could keep him from beating the enemy.(11)

  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 our stoutold 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 Webbr
eparation; 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 likely toget, namely, the truth. The officers in our staff of Webb's, and those inthe immediate suite of the general, were ready to come to blows; and hencearose the only affair in which Mr. Esmond ever engaged as principal, andthat was from a revengeful wish to wipe off an old injury.

  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, as soonas Frank Castlewood heard of his arrival, Frank was for seeking him out,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. They metat the mess-table of Handyside's regiment at Lille; the officer commandingnot 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 was degradedwith crime and passion now; it wore the anxious look of a man who hasthree deaths--and who knows how many hidden shames and lusts, and crimes,on his conscience. He bowed with a sickly low bow, and slunk away when ourhost presented us round to one another. Frank Castlewood had not known himtill then, so changed was he. He knew the boy well enough.

  '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 in hisbad French and his brave boyish voice--"He had long been anxious to meet myLord Mohun." The other only bowed, and moved away from him. I do himjustice, he wished to have no quarrel with the lad.

  Esmond put himself between them at table. "D---- it," says Frank, "why doyou put yourself in the place of a man who is above you in degree? My LordMohun 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 to quitthe 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 know thatEsmond was Webb's aide de camp. He began to tell some stories against thegeneral; which, from t'other side of Esmond, young Castlewoodcontradicted.

  "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 behind thehouse, and all the party turned instantly into it; and the two gentlemen'scoats were off and their points engaged within two minutes after Esmond'swords had been spoken. If Captain Esmond had put Mohun out of the world,as he might, a villain would have been punished and spared furthervillanies--but who is one man to punish another? I declare upon my honourthat my only thought was to prevent Lord Mohun from mischief with Frank,and the end of this meeting was, that after half a dozen passes my lordwent home with a hurt which prevented him from lifting his right arm forthree 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, whichdid not occupy three minutes, being over, the gentlemen went back to theirwine, and my Lord Mohun to his quarters, where he was laid up with a feverwhich had spared mischief had it proved fatal. And very soon after thisaffair Harry Esmond and his general left the camp for London; whither acertain reputation had preceded the captain, for my Lady Castlewood ofChelsea received him as if he had been a conquering hero. She gave a greatdinner to Mr. Webb, where the general's chair was crowned with laurels;and her ladyship called Esmond's health in a toast, to which my kindgeneral was graciously pleased to bear the strongest testimony: and tookdown a mob of at least forty coaches to cheer our general as he came outof the House of Commons, the day when he received the thanks of Parliamentfor his action. The mob huzza'ed and applauded him, as well as the finecompany: it was splendid to see him waving his hat, and bowing, and layinghis hand upon his Order of Generosity. He introduced Mr. Esmond to Mr. St.John and the Right Honourable Robert Harley, Esquire, as he came out ofthe House walking between them; and was pleased to make many flatteringobservations regarding Mr. Esmond's behaviour during the three lastcampaigns.

  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 heard ofMr. Esmond before from Captain Steele, and how he had helped Mr. Addisonto 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, and so,perhaps, it may be--though for my part I think there are twenty beautifullines, but all the rest is commonplace, and Mr. Addison's hymn worth athousand 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 gave tothe general for his victory at Wynendael. 'Tis certain that the capture ofLille was the consequence of that lucky achievement, and the humiliationof the old French king, who was said to suffer more at the loss of thisgreat city, than from any of the former victories our troops had won overhim. And, I think, no small part of Mr. Webb's exultation at his victory,arose from the idea that Marlborough had been disappointed of a greatbribe the French king had promised him, should the siege be raised. Thevery sum of money offered to him was mentioned by the duke's enemies; andhonest Mr. Webb chuckled at the notion, not only of beating the French,but of beating Marlborough too, and intercepting a convoy of threemillions of French crowns, that were on their way to the generalissimo'sinsatiable pockets. When the general's lady went to the queen'sdrawing-room, all the Tory women crowded round her with congratulations,and made her a train greater than the Duchess of Marlborough's own. Feastswere given to the general by all the chiefs of the Tory party, who vauntedhim as the duke's equal in military skill; and perhaps used the worthysoldier as their instrument, whilst he thought they were but acknowledginghis merits as a commander. As the general's aide de camp, and favouriteofficer, Mr. Esmond came in for a share of his chief's popularity, and waspresented to her Majesty, and advanced to the rank of lieutenant-colonel,at the request of his grateful 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, forhis 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 lady grewjealous of her, for the general was for ever at Kensington, and talking onthat delightful theme. As for his aide de camp, though, no doubt, Esmond'sown natural vanity was pleased at the little share of reputation which hisgood fortune had won him, yet it was chiefly precious to him (he may sayso, now that he hath long since outlived it) because it pleased hismistress, and, above all, because Beatrix valued it.

  As for the old dowager of Chelsea, never was an old woman in all Englandmore delighted nor more gracious tha
n she. Esmond had his quarters in herladyship's house, where the domestics were instructed to consider him astheir master. She bade him give entertainments, of which she defrayed thecharges, and was charmed when his guests were carried away tipsy in theircoaches. She must have his picture taken; and accordingly he was paintedby Mr. Jervas, in his red coat, and smiling upon a bombshell, which wasbursting at the corner of the piece. She vowed that unless he made a greatmatch, she should never die easy, and was for ever bringing young ladiesto Chelsea, with pretty faces and pretty fortunes, at the disposal of thecolonel. He smiled to think how times were altered with him, and of theearly days in his father's lifetime, when a trembling page he stood beforeher, with her ladyship's basin and ewer, or crouched in her coach-step.The only fault she found with him was, that he was more sober than anEsmond ought to be; and would neither be carried to bed by his valet, norlose his heart to any beauty, whether of St. James's or Covent Garden.

  What is the meaning of fidelity in love, and whence the birth of it? 'Tisa state of mind that men fall into, and depending on the man rather thanthe woman. We love being in love, that's the truth on't. If we had not metJoan, we should have met Kate, and adored her. We know our mistresses areno better than many other women, nor no prettier, nor no wiser, nor nowittier. 'Tis not for these reasons we love a woman, or for any specialquality or charm I know of; we might as well demand that a lady should bethe tallest woman in the world, like the Shropshire giantess,(12) as thatshe should be a paragon in any other character, before we began to loveher. Esmond's mistress had a thousand faults beside her charms: he knewboth perfectly well! She was imperious, she was light-minded, she wasflighty, she was false, she had no reverence in her character; she was ineverything, even in beauty, the contrast of her mother, who was the mostdevoted and the least selfish of women. Well, from the very first momenthe saw her on the stairs at Walcote, Esmond knew he loved Beatrix. Theremight be better women--he wanted that one. He cared for none other. Was itbecause she was gloriously beautiful? Beautiful as she was, he had heardpeople say a score of times in their company, that Beatrix's mother lookedas young, and was the handsomer of the two. Why did her voice thrill inhis ear so? She could not sing near so well as Nicolini or Mrs. Tofts;nay, she sang out of tune, and yet he liked to hear her better than St.Cecilia. She had not a finer complexion than Mrs. Steele (Dick's wife,whom he had now got, and who ruled poor Dick with a rod of pickle), andyet to see her dazzled Esmond; he would shut his eyes, and the thought ofher dazzled him all the same. She was brilliant and lively in talk, butnot so incomparably witty as her mother, who, when she was cheerful, saidthe finest 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 could inany other company, where he hath generally passed for being moody, orsupercilious and silent. This society(13) was more delightful than that ofthe greatest wits to him. May Heaven pardon him the lies he told thedowager at Chelsea, in order to get a pretext for going away toKensington; the business at the Ordnance which he invented; the interviewwith his general, the courts and statesman's levees which he _didn't_frequent and describe; who wore a new suit on Sunday at St. James's or atthe queen's birthday; how many coaches filled the street at Mr. Harley'slevee; how many bottles he had had the honour to drink overnight with Mr.St. John at the "Cocoa Tree," or at the "Garter" with Mr. Walpole and Mr.Steele.

  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, with hisheart in his hand for the young lady to take. We were now got to 1709. Shewas near twenty-two years old, and three years at Court, and without ahusband.

  "'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. Beatrix isso wilful, that what I would urge on her, she would be sure to resist. Theman who would marry her will not be happy with her, unless he be a greatperson, and can put her in a great position. Beatrix loves admiration morethan love; and longs, beyond all things, for command. Why should a motherspeak so of her child? You are my son, too, Harry. You should know thetruth about your sister. I thought you might cure yourself of yourpassion," my lady added fondly. "Other people can cure themselves of thatfolly, you know. But I see you are still as infatuated as ever. When weread your name in the _Gazette_, I pleaded for you, my poor boy. Poor boy,indeed! You are growing a grave old gentleman now, and I am an old woman.She likes your fame well enough, and she likes your person. She says youhave wit, and fire, and good breeding, and are more natural than the finegentlemen of the Court. But this is not enough. She wants acommander-in-chief, and not a colonel. Were a duke to ask her, she wouldleave an earl whom she had promised. I told you so before. I know not howmy poor girl is so worldly."

  "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 honours to-day are? I would have had a little fame, thatshe might wear it in her hat. If I had anything better, I would endow herwith 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. Ilove her. You are a thousand times better: the fondest, the fairest, thedearest, of women. Sure, my dear lady, I see all Beatrix's faults as wellas you do. But she is my fate. 'Tis endurable. I shall not die for nothaving her. I think I should be no happier if I won her. _Quevoulez-vous?_ as my lady of Chelsea would say. _Je l'aime_."

  "I wish she would have you," said Harry's fond mistress, giving a hand tohim. He kissed the fair hand ('twas the prettiest dimpled little hand inthe world, and my Lady Castlewood, though now almost forty years old, didnot look to be within ten years of her age). He kissed and kept her fairhand, 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 may be.Well, 'tis the price I choose to take. I am worth nothing, or I am worthall."

  "You are such a treasure," Esmond's mistress was pleased to say, "that thewoman who has your love, shouldn't change it away against a kingdom, Ithink. I am a country-bred woman, and cannot say but the ambitions of thetown seem mean to me. I never was awe-stricken by my lady duchess's rankand finery, or afraid," she added, with a sly laugh, "of anything but hertemper. I hear of Court ladies who pine because her Majesty looks cold onthem; and great noblemen who would give a limb that they might wear agarter on the other. This worldliness, which I can't comprehend, was bornwith Beatrix, who, on the first day of her waiting, was a perfectcourtier. We are like sisters, and she the eldest sister, somehow. Shetells me I have a mean spirit. I laugh, and say she adores acoach-and-six. I cannot reason her out of her ambition. 'Tis natural toher, as to me to love quiet, and be indifferent about rank and riches.What are they, Harry? and for how long do they last? Our home is nothere." She smiled as she spoke, and looked like an angel that was only onearth on a visit. "Our home is where the just are, and where our sins andsorrows enter not. My father used to rebuke me, and say that I was toohopeful about Heaven. But I cannot help my nature, and grow obstinate as Igrow to be an old woman; and as I love my children so, sure our Fatherloves us with a thousand and a thousand times greater love. It must bethat we shall meet yonder, and be happy. Yes, you--and my children, and mydear lord. Do you know, Harry, since his death, it has always
seemed to meas if his love came back to me, and that we are parted no more. Perhaps heis here now, Harry--I think he is. Forgiven I am sure he is: even Mr.Atterbury absolved him, and he died forgiving. Oh, what a noble heart hehad! How generous he was! I was but fifteen, and a child when he marriedme. How good he was to stoop to me! He was always good to the poor andhumble." She stopped, then presently, with a peculiar expression, as ifher eyes were looking into Heaven, and saw my lord there, she smiled, andgave a little laugh. "I laugh to see you, sir," she says; "when you come,it seems as if you never were away." One may put her words down, andremember them, but how describe her sweet tones, sweeter than music.

  My young lord did not come home at the end of the campaign, and wrote thathe was kept at Bruxelles on military duty. Indeed, I believe he wasengaged in laying siege to a certain lady, who was of the suite of Madamede Soissons, the Prince of Savoy's mother, who was just dead, and who,like the Flemish fortresses, was taken and retaken a great number of timesduring the war, and occupied by French, English, and Imperialists. Ofcourse, Mr. Esmond did not think fit to enlighten Lady Castlewoodregarding the young scapegrace's doings: nor had he said a word about theaffair with Lord Mohun, knowing how abhorrent that man's name was to hismistress. Frank did not waste much time or money on pen and ink; and, whenHarry came home with his general, only writ two lines to his mother, tosay his wound in the leg was almost healed, that he would keep his comingof age next year--that the duty aforesaid would keep him at Bruxelles, andthat Cousin Harry would tell all the news.

  But from Bruxelles, knowing how the Lady Castlewood always liked to have aletter about the famous 29th of December, my lord writ her a long and fullone, and in this he must have described the affair with Mohun; for whenMr. Esmond came to visit his mistress one day, early in the new year, tohis great wonderment, she and her daughter both came up and saluted him,and after them the dowager of Chelsea, too, whose chairman had justbrought her ladyship from her village to Kensington across the fields.After this honour, I say, from the two ladies of Castlewood, the dowagercame forward in great state, with her grand tall head-dress of KingJames's reign, that she never forsook, and said, "Cousin Henry, all ourfamily have met; and we thank you, cousin, for your noble conduct towardsthe head of our house." And pointing to her blushing cheek, she made Mr.Esmond aware that he was to enjoy the rapture of an embrace there. Havingsaluted one cheek, she turned to him the other. "Cousin Harry," said boththe other ladies, in a little chorus, "we thank you for your nobleconduct;" and then Harry became aware that the story of the Lille affairhad come to his kinswomen's ears. It pleased him to hear them all salutinghim as one of their family.

  The tables of the dining-room were laid for a great entertainment; and theladies were in gala dresses--my lady of Chelsea in her highest _tour_, mylady viscountess out of black, and looking fair and happy, _a ravir_; andthe maid of honour attired with that splendour 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 as helooked at her, with her beautiful fair hair and an elegant dress,according 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 a beautifulchased 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 you ourknight with this"--and she waved the sword over his head--"my lady dowagerhath given the sword; and I give the ribbon, and mamma hath sewn on thefringe."

  "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 marks downthose wrinkled old roses which Esmond had just been allowed to salute.

  "We had a letter from dearest Frank," his mother said, "three days since,whilst you were on your visit to your friend Captain Steele, at Hampton.He told us all that you had done, and how nobly you had put yourselfbetween 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, shecast her eyes up to the ceiling (the gilt chandelier, and the twelve waxcandles in it, for the party was numerous), and invoked a blessing fromthat quarter upon the newly adopted son.

  "Dear Frank," says the other viscountess, "how fond he is of his militaryprofession! He is studying fortification very hard. I wish he were 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 honour. "Lord Marlborough will be dismissed, and thathorrible duchess turned out of all her places. Her Majesty won't speak toher now. Did you see her at Bushy, Harry? she is furious, and she rangesabout the park like a lioness, and tears people's eyes out."

  "And the Princess Anne will send for somebody," says my lady of Chelsea,taking out her medal and kissing it.

  "Did you see the king at Oudenarde, Harry?" his mistress asked. She was astanch Jacobite, and would no more have thought of denying her king thanher 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 of thehouse almost. It was three o'clock, and the company were arriving; andpresently 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, "Not fromour mansion in Bloomsbury Square," as Mrs. Steele took care to inform theladies. Indeed Harry had ridden away from Hampton that very morning,leaving the couple by the ears; for from the chamber where he lay, in abed that was none of the cleanest, and kept awake by the company which hehad in his own bed, and the quarrel which was going on in the next room,he could hear both night and morning the curtain lecture which Mrs. Steelewas in the habit of administering to poor Dick.

  At night it did not matter so much for the culprit; Dick was fuddled, andwhen in that way no scolding could interrupt his benevolence. Mr. Esmondcould hear him coaxing and speaking in that maudlin manner, which punchand claret produce, to his beloved Prue, and beseeching her to rememberthat there was a _distiwisht officer ithe nex roob_, who would overhearher. She went on, nevertheless, calling him a drunken wretch, and was onlyinterrupted in her harangues by the captain's snoring.

  In the morning, the unhappy victim awoke to a headache and consciousness,and the dialogue of the night was resumed. "Why do you bring captains hometo dinner when there's not a guinea in the house? How am I to give dinnerswhen you leave me without a shilling? How am I to go trapesing toKensington in my yellow satin sack before all the fine company? I'venothing fit to put on; I never have:" and so the dispute went on--Mr.Esmond interrupting the talk when it seemed to be growing too intimate byblowing his nose as loudly as ever he could, at the sound of which trumpetthere came a lull. But Dick was charming, though his wife was odious, and'twas to give Mr. Steele pleasure, that the ladies of Castlewood, who wereladies of no small fashion, invited Mrs. Steele.

  Besides the captain and his lady, there was a great and notable assemblageof company: my lady of Chelsea having sent her lackeys and liveries to aidthe modest attendance at Kensington. There was Lieute
nant-General Webb,Harry's kind patron, of whom the dowager took possession, and whoresplended in velvet and gold lace; there was Harry's new acquaintance,the Right Honourable Henry St. John, Esquire, the general's kinsman, whowas charmed with the Lady Castlewood, even more than with her daughter;there was one of the greatest noblemen in the kingdom, the Scots Duke ofHamilton, just created Duke of Brandon in England; and two other noblelords of the Tory party, my Lord Ashburnham, and another I have forgot;and for ladies, her grace the Duchess of Ormonde and her daughters, theLady Mary and the Lady Betty, the former one of Mistress Beatrix'scolleagues in waiting on the queen.

  "What a party of Tories!" whispered Captain Steele to Esmond, as we wereassembled in the parlour 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 what Iknow," 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, and palacesround 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, is Dicka good swordsman? How charming the _Tatler_ is! We all recognized yourportrait in the 49th number, and I have been dying to know you ever sinceI read it. 'Aspasia must be allowed to be the first of the beauteous orderof love.' Doth not the passage run so? 'In this accomplished lady love isthe constant effect, though it is never the design; yet though her miencarries much more invitation than command, to behold her is an immediatecheck to loose behaviour, and to love her is 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 countenance verygravely; and Steele broke in, saying, "'Twas not about Mrs. Steele I writthat paper--though I am sure she is worthy of any compliment I can payher--but of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings."(14)

  "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 gentleman whogives 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, andmade 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 aword to me, and then they walk upstairs, both tipsy, to a dish of tea. Iremember your Mr. Addison when he had but one coat to his back, and thatwith a patch at the elbow."

  "Indeed--a patch at the elbow! You interest me," says Mr. St. John. "'Tischarming to hear of one man of letters from the charming wife of another."

  "Law, 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. "'Tisonly my joking way. And this little dwarf of a fellow has wrote a pastoralpoem--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," says thelady. "Such stuff about Bickerstaffe, and Distaff, and Quarterstaff, as itall is! There's the captain going on still with the burgundy--I know he'llbe tipsy before he stops--Captain Steele!"

  "I drink to your eyes, my dear," says the captain, who seemed to think hiswife charming, and to receive as genuine all the satiric compliments whichMr. St. John paid her.

  All this while the maid of honour had been trying to get Mr. Esmond totalk, and no doubt voted him a dull fellow. For, by some mistake, just ashe was going to pop into the vacant place, he was placed far away fromBeatrix's chair, who sat between his grace and my Lord Ashburnham, andshrugged her lovely white shoulders, and cast a look as if to say, "Pityme," to her cousin. My lord duke and his young neighbour were presently ina very animated and close conversation. Mrs. Beatrix could no more helpusing her eyes than the sun can help shining, and setting those it shineson a-burning. By the time the first course was done the dinner seemed longto Esmond: by the time the soup came he fancied they must have been hoursat table: and as for the sweets and jellies he thought they never would bedone.

  At length the ladies rose, Beatrix throwing a Parthian glance at her dukeas she retreated; a fresh bottle and glasses were fetched, and toasts werecalled. Mr. St. John asked his grace the Duke of Hamilton and the companyto drink to the health of his grace the Duke of Brandon. Another lord gaveGeneral Webb's health, "and may he get the command the bravest officer inthe world deserves." Mr. Webb thanked the company, complimented his aidede 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; "therecan be no gainsaying that character of him. My glass goes to the general,and not to the duke, Mr. Steele." And the stout old gentleman emptied hisbumper; to which Dick replied by filling and emptying a pair of 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 my LordAshburnham especially, with a shout of enthusiasm.

  "What a pity there is a Duchess of Hamilton," whispers St. John, who drankmore wine and yet was more steady than most of the others, and we enteredthe drawing-room where the ladies were at their tea. As for poor Dick, wewere obliged to leave him alone at the dining-table, where he washiccupping out the lines from the _Campaign_, in which the greatest poethad celebrated the greatest general in the world; and Harry Esmond foundhim, half an hour afterwards, in a more advanced stage of liquor, andweeping 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 of theparty were set to cards, and Mr. St. John, after yawning in the face ofMrs. Steele, whom he did not care to pursue any more, and talking in hismost brilliant animated way to Lady Castlewood, whom he pronounced to bebeautiful, of a far higher order of beauty than her daughter, presentlytook his leave, and went his way. The rest of the company speedilyfollowed, my Lord Ashburnham the last, throwing fiery glances at thesmiling young temptr
ess, who had bewitched more hearts than his in herthrall.

  No doubt, as a kinsman of the house, Mr. Esmond thought fit to be the lastof all in it; he remained after the coaches had rolled away--after hisdowager aunt's chair and flambeaux had marched off in the darkness towardsChelsea, and the town's-people had gone to bed, who had been drawn intothe square to gape at the unusual assemblage of chairs and chariots,lackeys and torchmen. The poor mean wretch lingered yet for a few minutes,to see whether the girl would vouchsafe him a smile, or a parting word ofconsolation. But her enthusiasm of the morning was quite died out, or shechose to be in a different mood. She fell to joking about the dowdyappearance of Lady Betty, and mimicked the vulgarity of Mrs. Steele; andthen she put up her little hand to her mouth and yawned, lighted a taper,and shrugged her shoulders, and dropping Mr. Esmond a saucy curtsy, sailedoff to bed.

  "The day began so well, Henry, that I had hoped it might have endedbetter," was all the consolation that poor Esmond's fond mistress couldgive him; and as he trudged home through the dark alone, he thought, withbitter rage in his heart, and a feeling of almost revolt against thesacrifice he had made:--"She would have me," thought he, "had I but a nameto give 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; for Iblush, even now, as I recall the humiliation of those distant days, thememory of which still smarts, though the fever of baulked desire haspassed away more than a score of years ago. When the writer's descendantscome to read this memoir, I wonder will they have lived to experience asimilar defeat and shame? Will they ever have knelt to a woman, who haslistened to them, and played with them, and laughed at them--who beckoningthem with lures and caresses, and with Yes, smiling from her eyes, hastricked them on to their knees, and turned her back and left them? Allthis shame Mr. Esmond had to undergo; and he submitted, and revolted, andpresently 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 honourmade 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 his tailoror embroiderer could furnish for him. My lord was for ever paying Mr.Esmond compliments, bidding him to dinner, offering him horses to ride,and giving him a thousand uncouth marks of respect and goodwill. At last,one night at the coffee-house, whither my lord came considerably flushedand excited with drink, he rushes up to Mr. Esmond, and cries out--"Give mejoy, my dearest colonel; I am the happiest of men."

  "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 Beatrix thatvery 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 spokeso kind, that I couldn't help going down on my knees, and--and--sure I'm thehappiest of men in all the world; and I'm very young; but she says I shallget older: and you know I shall be of age in four months; and there's verylittle difference between us; and I'm so happy. I should like to treat thecompany to something. Let us have a bottle--a dozen bottles--and drink thehealth of the finest woman in England."

  -------------------------------------

  Esmond left the young lord tossing off bumper after bumper, and strolledaway to Kensington to ask whether the news was true. 'Twas only too sure:his mistress's sad, compassionate face told him the story; and then sherelated what particulars of it she knew, and how my young lord had madehis offer, half an hour after Esmond went away that morning, and in thevery room where the song lay yet on the harpsichord, which Esmond hadwrit, and they had sung together.

  Book III. Containing The End Of Mr. Esmond's Adventures In England