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

  Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger

  THE HISTORY OF HENRY ESMOND, ESQ.

  A COLONEL IN THE SERVICE OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN ANNE

  WRITTEN BY HIMSELF

  By William Makepeace Thackeray

  Boston, Estes and Lauriat, Publishers

  TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE

  WILLIAM BINGHAM, LORD ASHBURTON.

  MY DEAR LORD,

  The writer of a book which copies the manners and language of QueenAnne's time, must not omit the Dedication to the Patron; and I ask leaveto inscribe this volume to your Lordship, for the sake of the greatkindness and friendship which I owe to you and yours.

  My volume will reach you when the Author is on his voyage to a countrywhere your name is as well known as here. Wherever I am, I shallgratefully regard you; and shall not be the less welcomed in Americabecause I am,

  Your obliged friend and servant,

  W. M. THACKERAY.

  LONDON, October 18, 1852.

  PREFACE.

  THE ESMONDS OF VIRGINIA.

  The estate of Castlewood, in Virginia, which was given to our ancestorsby King Charles the First, as some return for the sacrifices made inhis Majesty's cause by the Esmond family, lies in Westmoreland county,between the rivers Potomac and Rappahannock, and was once as great asan English Principality, though in the early times its revenues werebut small. Indeed, for near eighty years after our forefathers possessedthem, our plantations were in the hands of factors, who enrichedthemselves one after another, though a few scores of hogsheads oftobacco were all the produce that, for long after the Restoration, ourfamily received from their Virginian estates.

  My dear and honored father, Colonel Henry Esmond, whose history, writtenby himself, is contained in the accompanying volume, came to Virginiain the year 1718, built his house of Castlewood, and here permanentlysettled. After a long stormy life in England, he passed the remainderof his many years in peace and honor in this country; how beloved andrespected by all his fellow-citizens, how inexpressibly dear to hisfamily, I need not say. His whole life was a benefit to all who wereconnected with him. He gave the best example, the best advice, themost bounteous hospitality to his friends; the tenderest care tohis dependants; and bestowed on those of his immediate family such ablessing of fatherly love and protection as can never be thought of,by us, at least, without veneration and thankfulness; and my sons'children, whether established here in our Republic, or at home inthe always beloved mother country, from which our late quarrel hathseparated us, may surely be proud to be descended from one who in allways was so truly noble.

  My dear mother died in 1736, soon after our return from England, whithermy parents took me for my education; and where I made the acquaintanceof Mr. Warrington, whom my children never saw. When it pleased heaven,in the bloom of his youth, and after but a few months of a most happyunion, to remove him from me, I owed my recovery from the grief whichthat calamity caused me, mainly to my dearest father's tenderness, andthen to the blessing vouchsafed to me in the birth of my two belovedboys. I know the fatal differences which separated them in politicsnever disunited their hearts; and as I can love them both, whetherwearing the King's colors or the Republic's, I am sure that they loveme and one another, and him above all, my father and theirs, the dearestfriend of their childhood, the noble gentleman who bred them from theirinfancy in the practice and knowledge of Truth, and Love and Honor.

  My children will never forget the appearance and figure of their reveredgrandfather; and I wish I possessed the art of drawing (which my papahad in perfection), so that I could leave to our descendants a portraitof one who was so good and so respected. My father was of a darkcomplexion, with a very great forehead and dark hazel eyes, overhung byeyebrows which remained black long after his hair was white. His nosewas aquiline, his smile extraordinary sweet. How well I remember it, andhow little any description I can write can recall his image! He was ofrather low stature, not being above five feet seven inches in height; heused to laugh at my sons, whom he called his crutches, and say theywere grown too tall for him to lean upon. But small as he was, he hada perfect grace and majesty of deportment, such as I have never seen inthis country, except perhaps in our friend Mr. Washington, and commandedrespect wherever he appeared.

  In all bodily exercises he excelled, and showed an extraordinaryquickness and agility. Of fencing he was especially fond, and made mytwo boys proficient in that art; so much so, that when the French cameto this country with Monsieur Rochambeau, not one of his officers wassuperior to my Henry, and he was not the equal of my poor George,who had taken the King's side in our lamentable but glorious war ofindependence.

  Neither my father nor my mother ever wore powder in their hair; boththeir heads were as white as silver, as I can remember them. My dearmother possessed to the last an extraordinary brightness and freshnessof complexion; nor would people believe that she did not wear rouge. Atsixty years of age she still looked young, and was quite agile. It wasnot until after that dreadful siege of our house by the Indians, whichleft me a widow ere I was a mother, that my dear mother's health broke.She never recovered her terror and anxiety of those days which ended sofatally for me, then a bride scarce six months married, and died in myfather's arms ere my own year of widowhood was over.

  From that day, until the last of his dear and honored life, it wasmy delight and consolation to remain with him as his comforter andcompanion; and from those little notes which my mother hath made hereand there in the volume in which my father describes his adventuresin Europe, I can well understand the extreme devotion with which sheregarded him--a devotion so passionate and exclusive as to prevent her,I think, from loving any other person except with an inferior regard;her whole thoughts being centred on this one object of affection andworship. I know that, before her, my dear father did not show the lovewhich he had for his daughter; and in her last and most sacred moments,this dear and tender parent owned to me her repentance that she hadnot loved me enough: her jealousy even that my father should give hisaffection to any but herself: and in the most fond and beautiful wordsof affection and admonition, she bade me never to leave him, and tosupply the place which she was quitting. With a clear conscience, and aheart inexpressibly thankful, I think I can say that I fulfilled thosedying commands, and that until his last hour my dearest father never hadto complain that his daughter's love and fidelity failed him.

  And it is since I knew him entirely--for during my mother's life henever quite opened himself to me--since I knew the value and splendor ofthat affection which he bestowed upon me, that I have come to understandand pardon what, I own, used to anger me in my mother's lifetime, herjealousy respecting her husband's love. 'Twas a gift so precious, thatno wonder she who had it was for keeping it all, and could part withnone of it, even to her daughter.

  Though I never heard my father use a rough word, 'twas extraordinarywith how much awe his people regarded him; and the servants on ourplantation, both those assigned from England and the purchased negroes,obeyed him with an eagerness such as the most severe taskmasters roundabout us could never get from their people. He was never familiar,though perfectly simple and natural; he was the same with the meanestman as with the greatest, and as courteous to a black slave-girl as tothe Governor's wife. No one ever thought of taking a liberty with him(except once a tipsy gentleman from York, and I am bound to own thatmy papa never forgave him): he set the humblest people at once on theirease with him, and brought down the most arrogant by a grave satiricway, which made persons excee
dingly afraid of him. His courtesy was notput on like a Sunday suit, and laid by when the company went away; itwas always the same; as he was always dressed the same, whether for adinner by ourselves or for a great entertainment. They say he likedto be the first in his company; but what company was there in whichhe would not be first? When I went to Europe for my education, and wepassed a winter at London with my half-brother, my Lord Castlewood andhis second lady, I saw at her Majesty's Court some of the most famousgentlemen of those days; and I thought to myself none of these arebetter than my papa; and the famous Lord Bolingbroke, who came to usfrom Dawley, said as much, and that the men of that time were not likethose of his youth:--"Were your father, Madam," he said, "to go into thewoods, the Indians would elect him Sachem;" and his lordship was pleasedto call me Pocahontas.

  I did not see our other relative, Bishop Tusher's lady, of whom so muchis said in my papa's memoirs--although my mamma went to visit her inthe country. I have no pride (as I showed by complying with my mother'srequest, and marrying a gentleman who was but the younger son of aSuffolk Baronet), yet I own to A DECENT RESPECT for my name, and wonderhow one who ever bore it, should change it for that of Mrs. THOMASTUSHER. I pass over as odious and unworthy of credit those reports(which I heard in Europe and was then too young to understand), how thisperson, having LEFT HER FAMILY and fled to Paris, out of jealousy ofthe Pretender betrayed his secrets to my Lord Stair, King George'sAmbassador, and nearly caused the Prince's death there; how she came toEngland and married this Mr. Tusher, and became a great favorite ofKing George the Second, by whom Mr. Tusher was made a Dean, and then aBishop. I did not see the lady, who chose to remain AT HER PALACE allthe time we were in London; but after visiting her, my poor mamma saidshe had lost all her good looks, and warned me not to set too muchstore by any such gifts which nature had bestowed upon me. She grewexceedingly stout; and I remember my brother's wife, Lady Castlewood,saying--"No wonder she became a favorite, for the King likes them oldand ugly, as his father did before him." On which papa said--"All womenwere alike; that there was never one so beautiful as that one; and thatwe could forgive her everything but her beauty." And hereupon my mammalooked vexed, and my Lord Castlewood began to laugh; and I, of course,being a young creature, could not understand what was the subject oftheir conversation.

  After the circumstances narrated in the third book of these Memoirs, myfather and mother both went abroad, being advised by their friends toleave the country in consequence of the transactions which are recountedat the close of the volume of the Memoirs. But my brother, hearing howthe FUTURE BISHOP'S LADY had quitted Castlewood and joined the Pretenderat Paris, pursued him, and would have killed him, Prince as he was, hadnot the Prince managed to make his escape. On his expedition to Scotlanddirectly after, Castlewood was so enraged against him that he askedleave to serve as a volunteer, and join the Duke of Argyle's armyin Scotland, which the Pretender never had the courage to face; andthenceforth my Lord was quite reconciled to the present reigning family,from whom he hath even received promotion.

  Mrs. Tusher was by this time as angry against the Pretender as any ofher relations could be, and used to boast, as I have heard, that shenot only brought back my Lord to the Church of England, but procuredthe English peerage for him, which the JUNIOR BRANCH of our family atpresent enjoys. She was a great friend of Sir Robert Walpole, and wouldnot rest until her husband slept at Lambeth, my papa used laughing tosay. However, the Bishop died of apoplexy suddenly, and his wife erecteda great monument over him; and the pair sleep under that stone, witha canopy of marble clouds and angels above them--the first Mrs. Tusherlying sixty miles off at Castlewood.

  But my papa's genius and education are both greater than any a woman canbe expected to have, and his adventures in Europe far more exciting thanhis life in this country, which was passed in the tranquil offices oflove and duty; and I shall say no more by way of introduction to hisMemoirs, nor keep my children from the perusal of a story which is muchmore interesting than that of their affectionate old mother,

  RACHEL ESMOND WARRINGTON.

  CASTLEWOOD, VIRGINIA,

  November 3, 1778.