The History of Henry Esmond, Esq., a Colonel in the Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne

ittle doubt, that not one of the great personages about the Queen had a defined scheme of policy, independent of that private and selfish interest which each wa

weapon, for fear of that one which his neighbor also carried in his pocket. Think of the great Marlborough, the greatest subject in all the world, a conqueror of princes, that had marched victorious over Germany, Flanders, and France, that had given the law to sovereigns abroad, and been worshipped as a divinity at home, forced to sneak out of England-his credit, honors, places, all taken from him; his friends in the army broke a

on should declare for. Whichever the King was, Harley's object was to reign over him; and to this end he supplanted the former famous favorite, decried the actions of the war which had made Marlborough's name illustrious, and disdained no more than the great fallen competitor of his, the meanest arts, flatteries, intimidations, that would secure his power. If the greatest satirist the wor

fty patriot was on his knees at Hanover and St. Germains too; notoriously of no religion, he toasted Church and Queen as boldly as the stupid Sacheverel, whom he used and laughed at; and to serve his turn, and to overthrow his enemy, he could intrigue, coax, bully, wheedle, fawn on the Court favorite and creep up the back-stair as silently as Oxford, who supplanted Marlborough

ered and disciplined, was known to be in Scotland too) was notoriously unshaken in their King. A very great body of Tory clergy, nobility, and gentry, were public partisans of the exiled Prince; and the indifferents might be counted on to cry King George or King James, according as either should prevail. The Queen, especially in her latter days, inclined towards her own family. The Prince was lying actually in London, wi

her did not wish to close with the Whig candidate till they could make terms with him. The quarrels of her Ministers before her face at the Council board, the pricks of conscience very likely, the importunities of her Ministers, and constant turmoil and agitation round about her, had weakened and irritated the Princess extremely; her strength was giving way under these continual trials of her temper, and from day to day it was expected she must come to a speedy end of them. Just before Viscount Castlewood and his companion came from France, her Majesty was taken ill. The St. Anthony's fire broke o

Square intelligence of the very highest importance. The final blow had been struck, and my Lord of Oxford and Mortimer was no longer Treasurer. The staff was as yet given to no succe

e presence of a man whose desires towards her were expressed only too clearly; and who was no more scrupulous in seeking to gratify them than his father had been before him. I suppose Esmond's mistress, her son, and the Colonel himself, had been all secretly debating this matter in their minds, for when Frank broke

of sarcasm in her tone: "Beatrix is best out of this house whilst we have our gues

fact the stroke next in importance to that of bringing the Prince, and of having him acknowle

plan proposed by Colonel Esmond had been agreed to by all parties, which was that on some rather private day, when there were not many persons about the Court, the Prince should appear there as my Lord Castlewood, should be greeted by his sister in waiting, and led by that other lady into the closet of the Queen. And according to her Majesty's health or humor, and the ci

ghter had had words in the morning in respect to the transactions of that supper, and other adventures perhaps, and on the day succeeding. Beatrix's haughty spirit brooked remonstrances from no superior, much less from her mother, the gentlest of creatures, whom the girl commanded rather than obeyed. And feeling she was wro

away the fumes of his wine, the Doctor came, and by the urgent and startling nature of his news, diss

tiste go up to his master instantly, and requested that MY LORD VISCOUNT CASTLEWOOD wo

ER, MY LORD VISCOUNT CASTLEWOOD, will be walking in the private garden, (here is Lady Masham's key,) and will come unawares upon the Royal party. The man that draws the chair will retire, and leave the Queen, the favorite, and the maid of honor and her brother together; Mistress B

bout to leave the garden just when the party reached it; the Doctor, the Bishop, the maid of honor and her brother we

coach returned; the Bishop descended from it first, and gave his arm to Beatrix, who now came out. His lordship went back into the carriage again, and the maid of hono

in the Cedar-walk, accompanied only by Lady --, when we entered by the private wicket from the west side of the garden, and turned towards her, the Doctor following us. They waited in a side walk hidden by the shrubs, as we advanced towards the chair. My heart throbbed so I scarce could speak;

d then flushed up; the favorite made us a signal to advance, and I went up, leading my Prince by the hand, quite close to the chair: 'Your Majesty will give my Lord Vi

,' says the Queen: 'why were you not here

if the Queen desires me,' says

ord, and a foreign religion; was not

Prince, 'I do not love my mother the less, nor

re, now clasping his hands together on his heart, now opening them as though to say: 'I am here, your brother, in your power.' Lady Masham ran round on the other side of the chair, kneeling too, and speaking with great energy. She clasped the Queen's hand on her side, and picked up the paper her Majesty had let fall. The Prince rose and made a further speech as though he would go; the favorite on the other hand urging her mistress, and then, running back to the Prince, brought him back once more close to the chair. Again he knelt down and took the Queen's hand, which she did not withdraw, kissing it a hundred times; my lady all the time, with sobs and supplications, speaking over the chair. This while the Queen sat with a stupefied look, crumpling the paper wit

was absent with Bishop Atterbury, and were informed that 'twas likely he might remain abroad the whole day. Beatrix's th

and looked towards Esmond; the Colonel bit his lips, and fairly beat a retreat into the window: it was

daughter's hand, and speaking in a g

ree, and as if divining a danger. "Why glad?" says she, her

ilishly too fond of him,"

my health? or is it the head of the family" (here she turned with an imperious l

ou are too free

ys Beatrix, with a toss

east we have not said so, though we might, were it possible for a mo

no better than other persons' fathers."

o or three French words; her manner was exa

month ago, Beatrix," says her mother, s

ushed crimson: "I have learnt to honor the King," says she, drawing up,

little more," Frank said, "Trix,

ther now. Why does not the head of the house speak?" she went on; "he rules everything here. When his chaplain has done singing the psalms, will his lordship deli

istress, "Did your guest use these words in your ladyship's hearing, or was it to Beat

y lord, starting up with an oath:

, for your wife; we are not used here to such language. Till you came, there used to be kindness between me and mamma, and

ther oath, "Clotilda is an angel; how

ncy Clotilda is not the subject in hand," says Mr. Esmond, rather scornfully; "her ladyship is at Paris, a hundr

s of my claim, I have no claim. If my father acknowledged no heir, yours was his lawful successor, and my Lord Castlewood hath as good a right to his rank and small estate as any man in England. But that again is not the question, as you know very well; let us bring our talk back to it, as you will have me meddle in it. And I will give you frankly my opinion, that

shown to women,* his mistress stood by him on one side of the table, and Frank Castlewood on the othe

ith quite truly, th

ly courteous. From

an extreme gentlene

scarce remember (

a rough word from

is manner to the hu

familiar with no on

ul to witness up to

een them. He was ob

other and all her h

o please him, and qu

d offend him. He w

he least exactin

Benson, our ministe

he last, ever sai

ctrine was, but his

evout Christ

rother, my mother, and you. What have I done, that you should speak and look so unkindly at me? Is it my fault that the Prince should, as you say, admire me? Did I bring him here? Did I do aught but what you bade me, in making him welcome? Did you not tell me that our duty was to die for him?

of it. Your honor needs no guardian, please God, but his imprudence doth. He is so far removed from all women by his rank, that his pursuit of them cannot

ing handsome, Trix; no more can the Prince help following you. My counsel is that you go out of harm's way; for, by the Lo

says Beatrix, something sorrowfully; "sure, wit

" says Colonel Esmond; "nor if t

Let us go, dearest Beatrix. Shall we go to Walcote or to Castlewood? We are best away from the city; and when the Prince is acknowledged, and our c

thought with her

ittle pale; "Lady Masham is to give me warnin

"we might have the coach and sleep at Hounslow, and reach home to-m

those mistrust me that ought to love me most, let me leave them; I will go, but I will go alone: to Castlewood, be it. I have been unhappy there and lonely enough; let me go back, but spare me at least the humiliation of setting a watch over my misery, which is a trial I can't bear. Let me go when you will, but alone, or not at all. You three can stay and tri

d and cruel that we three should have conspired the banishment and humiliation of that fair creature. We looked at each other in silence: 'twas not the first stroke by many of our actions in that unlucky

inauspicious night of the Prince's arrival. "I have brought back," says she, "to the Marquis of Esmond the present he deigned to make me in days when he trusted me better than now. I will never accept a benefit or a kindness from Henry Esmond more, and I give back these family diamonds, which belonged to one king's mistress, t

igured on the cover, which also poor Beatrix was destined never to wear. Lady Castlewood opened the case mechanically and scarce thinking what she did; and behold, besides the diamonds, Esmond's present,

and with a cruelty she did not very often show; but there are some moments whe

how unjustly and con

sometimes judge

tention of triumphin

duty alone pointed

g.-H

into her bosom:-"I had forgot it," says she; "my injury made me forget my grief: my mother has recalled both to me. Farewell, mother; I think I never can forgive you; something hath broke between us that no tears

o, pray in solitude for humility and repentance. 'Tis not your reproaches that make me unhappy, 'tis

much. Her haughtiness quite overtopped Beatrix's; and, if the girl