n some degree under a cloud; for though he be not in truth an
illegitimate offshoot of the noble family which is his, and though he
knows that he is not so, still he has to live as though he were. He
becomes a soldier, and it was just then that our army was accustomed "to
swear horribly in Flanders." But Esmond likes his books, and cannot
swear or drink like other soldiers. Nevertheless he has a sort of liking
for fast ways in others, knowing that such are the ways of a gallant
cavalier. There is a melancholy over his life which makes him always,
to himself and to others, much older than his years. He is well aware
that, being as he is, it is impossible that Beatrix should love him. Now
and then there is a dash of lightness about him, as though he had taught
himself in his philosophy that even sorrow may be borne with a
smile,--as though there was something in him of the Stoic's doctrine,
which made him feel that even disappointed love should not be seen to
wound too deep. But still when he smiles, even when he indulges in some
little pleasantry, there is that garb of melancholy over him which
always makes a man a prig. But he is a gentleman from the crown of his
head to the sole of his foot. Thackeray had let the whole power of his
intellect apply itself to a conception of the character of a gentleman.
This man is brave, polished, gifted with that old-fashioned courtesy
which ladies used to love, true as steel, loyal as faith himself, with a
power of self-abnegation which astonishes the criticising reader when he
finds such a virtue carried to such an extent without seeming to be
unnatural. To draw the picture of a man and say that he is gifted with
all the virtues is easy enough,--easy enough to describe him as
performing all the virtues. The difficulty is to put your man on his
legs, and make him move about, carrying his virtues with a natural gait,
so that the reader shall feel that he is becoming acquainted with flesh
and blood, not with a wooden figure. The virtues are all there with
Henry Esmond, and the flesh and blood also, so that the reader believes
in them. But still there is left a flavour of the character which
Thackeray himself tasted when he called his hero a prig.

The two heroines, Lady Castlewood and Beatrix, are mother and daughter,
of whom the former is in love with Esmond, and the latter is loved by
him. Fault has been found with the story, because of the unnatural
rivalry,--because it has been felt