“Oh, Harry! why didn’t you kill the villain?” young Castlewood asked.  “I can’t walk without a crutch:  but I could have met him on horseback with sword and pistol.”  But Harry Esmond said, “’Twas best to have no man’s life on one’s conscience, not even that villain’s.”  And this affair, which did not occupy three minutes, being over, the gentlemen went back to their wine, and my Lord Mohun to his quarters, where he was laid up with a fever which had spared mischief had it proved fatal.  And very soon after this affair Harry Esmond and his General left the camp for London; whither a certain reputation had preceded the Captain, for my Lady Castlewood of Chelsey received him as if he had been a conquering hero.  She gave a great dinner 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 kind General was graciously pleased to bear the strongest testimony:  and took down a mob of at least forty coaches to cheer our General as he came out of the House of Commons, the day when he received the thanks of Parliament for his action.  The mob huzza’d and applauded him, as well as the fine company:  it was splendid to see him waving his hat, and bowing, and laying his hand upon his Order of Generosity.  He introduced Mr. Esmond to Mr. St. John and the Right Honorable Robert Harley, Esquire, as he came out of the House walking between them; and was pleased to make many flattering observations regarding 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 heard of 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, and so, perhaps, it may be—­though for my part I think there are twenty beautiful lines, but all the rest is commonplace, and Mr. Addison’s hymn worth a thousand such poems.

All the town was indignant at my Lord Duke’s unjust treatment of General Webb, and applauded the vote of thanks which the House of Commons gave to the General for his victory at Wynendael.  ’Tis certain that the capture of Lille was the consequence of that lucky achievement, and the humiliation of the old French King, who was said to suffer more at the loss of this great city, than from any of the former victories our troops had won over him.  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 great bribe the French King had promised him, should the siege be raised.  The very sum of money offered to him was mentioned by the Duke’s enemies; and honest Mr. Webb chuckled at the notion, not only of beating the French, but of beating Marlborough too, and intercepting a convoy