-in-Chief's levee, his Grace had
not the least remembrance of General Lumley's aide-de-camp, and though
he knew Esmond's family perfectly well, having served with both lords
(my Lord Francis and the Viscount Esmond's father) in Flanders, and in
the Duke of York's Guard, the Duke of Marlborough, who was friendly
and serviceable to the (so-styled) legitimate representatives of the
Viscount Castlewood, took no sort of notice of the poor lieutenant
who bore their name. A word of kindness or acknowledgment, or a single
glance of approbation, might have changed Esmond's opinion of the great
man; and instead of a satire, which his pen cannot help writing, who
knows but that the humble historian might have taken the other side of
panegyric? We have but to change the point of view, and the greatest
action looks mean; as we turn the perspective-glass, and a giant appears
a pigmy. You may describe, but who can tell whether your sight is clear
or not, or your means of information accurate? Had the great man said
but a word of kindness to the small one (as he would have stepped out
of his gilt chariot to shake hands with Lazarus in rags and sores, if he
thought Lazarus could have been of any service to him), no doubt Esmond
would have fought for him with pen and sword to the utmost of his might;
but my lord the lion did not want master mouse at this moment, and so
Muscipulus went off and nibbled in opposition.

So it was, however, that a young gentleman, who, in the eyes of his
family, and in his own, doubtless, was looked upon as a consummate hero,
found that the great hero of the day took no more notice of him than
of the smallest drummer in his Grace's army. The Dowager at Chelsey was
furious against this neglect of her family, and had a great battle with
Lady Marlborough (as Lady Castlewood insisted on calling the Duchess).
Her Grace was now Mistress of the Robes to her Majesty, and one of the
greatest personages in this kingdom, as her husband was in all Europe,
and the battle between the two ladies took place in the Queen's
drawing-room.

The Duchess, in reply to my aunt's eager clamor, said haughtily, that
she had done her best for the legitimate branch of the Esmonds, and
could not be expected to provide for the bastard brats of the family.

"Bastards!" says the Viscountess, in a fury. "There are bastards among
the Churchills, as your Grace knows, and the Duke of Berwick is provided
for well enough."

"Madam," says the D