History of Henry Esmond

Thackeray William Makepeace

Description

Can't get enough historical fiction? Immerse yourself in this imaginative retelling of the events that led up to and followed the restoration of the British monarchy in the late seventeenth century. Thackeray's sweeping epic encompasses a huge cast of fascinating historical characters, but focuses on the perspective of Henry Esmond, a military officer serving in Queen Anne's personal militia.

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 novembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775450009
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE HISTORY OF HENRY ESMOND
A COLONEL IN THE SERVICE OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN ANNE
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WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
 
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The History of Henry Esmond A Colonel in the Service of Her Majesty Queen Anne First published in 1852 ISBN 978-1-775450-00-9 © 2010 The Floating Press
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
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Contents
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Dedication Preface BOOK I Chapter I - An Account of the Family of Esmond of Castlewood Hall Chapter II - Relates How Francis, Fourth Viscount, Arrives at Castlewood Chapter III - Whither in the Time of Thomas, Third Viscount, I Had Preceded Him as Page to Isabella Chapter IV - I Am Placed Under a Popish Priest and Bred to that Religion—Viscountess Castlewood Chapter V - My Superiors Are Engaged in Plots for the Restoration of King James II Chapter VI - The Issue of the Plots—The Death of Thomas, Third Viscount of Castlewood; And the Imprisonment of His Viscountess Chapter VII - I Am Left at Castlewood an Orphan, and Find Most Kind Protectors There Chapter VIII - After Good Fortune Comes Evil Chapter IX - I Have the Small-Pox, and Prepare to Leave Castlewood Chapter X - I Go to Cambridge, and Do but Little Good There Chapter XI - I Come Home for a Holiday to Castlewood, and Find a Skeleton in the House Chapter XII - My Lord Mohun Comes Among Us for No Good Chapter XIII - My Lord Leaves Us and His Evil Behind Him Chapter XIV - We Ride After Him to London BOOK II Chapter I - I Am in Prison, and Visited, but Not Consoled There Chapter II - I Come to the End of My Captivity, but Not of My Trouble Chapter III - I Take the Queen's Pay in Quin's Regiment Chapter IV - Recapitulations Chapter V - I Go on the Vigo Bay Expedition, Taste Salt-Water and Smell Powder Chapter VI - The 29th December Chapter VII - I Am Made Welcome at Walcote Chapter VIII - Family Talk Chapter IX - I Make the Campaign of 1704 Chapter X - An Old Story About a Fool and a Woman Chapter XI - The Famous Mr. Joseph Addison Chapter XII - I Get a Company in the Campaign of 1706 Chapter XIII - I Meet an Old Acquaintance in Flanders, and Find My Mother's Grave and My Own Cradle There Chapter XIV - The Campaign of 1707, 1708 Chapter XV - General Webb Wins the Battle of Wynendael BOOK III Chapter I - I Come to an End of My Battles and Bruises Chapter II - I Go Home, and Harp on the Old String Chapter III - A Paper Out of the "Spectator" Chapter IV - Beatrix's New Suitor Chapter V - Mohun Appears for the Last Time in this History Chapter VI - Poor Beatrix Chapter VII - I Visit Castlewood Once More Chapter VIII - I Travel to France and Bring Home a Portrait of Rigaud Chapter IX - The Original of the Portrait Comes to England Chapter X - We Entertain a Very Distinguished Guest at Kensington Chapter XI - Our Guest Quits Us as Not Being Hospitable Enough Chapter XII - A Great Scheme, and Who Balked It Chapter XIII - August 1st, 1714 Endnotes
Dedication
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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
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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