The Young Duke Part 40

Lord Grey speaks with feeling, and is better to hear than to read, though ever strong and impressive. Lord Holland's speeches are like a _refacimento_ of all the suppressed pa.s.sages in Clarendon, and the notes in the new edition of Bishop Burnet's Memoirs: but taste throws a delicate hue over the curious medley, and the candour of a philosophic mind shows that in the library of Holland House he can sometimes cease to be a partisan.

One thing is clear, that a man may speak very well in the House of Commons, and fail very completely in the House of Lords. There are two distinct styles requisite: I intend, in the course of my career, if I have time, to give a specimen of both. In the Lower House Don Juan may perhaps be our model; in the Upper House, Paradise Lost.

BOOK V [CONTINUED]

CHAPTER VII.

_'To See Ourselves as Others See Us.'_

NOTHING was talked of in Yorkshire but Mr. Arundel Dacre's speech. All the world flocked to Castle Dacre to compliment and to congratulate; and an universal hope was expressed that he might come in for the county, if indeed the success of his eloquence did not enable his uncle to pre-occupy that honour. Even the calm Mr. Dacre shared the general elation, and told the Duke of St. James regularly every day that it was all owing to him. May Dacre was enthusiastic; but her grat.i.tude to him was synonymous with her love for Arundel, and valued accordingly. The Duke, however, felt that he had acted at once magnanimously, generously, and wisely. The consciousness of a n.o.ble action is itself enn.o.bling.

His spirit expanded with the exciting effects which his conduct had produced; and he felt consolation under all his misery from the conviction that he had now claims to be remembered, and perhaps regarded, when he was no more among them.

The Bill went swimmingly through the Commons, the majority of two gradually swelling into eleven; and the important night in the Lords was at hand.

'Lord Faulconcourt writes,' said Mr. Dacre, 'that they expect only thirty-eight against us.'

'Ah! that terrible House of Lords!' said Miss Dacre. 'Let us see: when does it come on, the day after to-morrow? Scarcely forty-eight hours and all will be over, and we shall be just where we were. You and your friends manage very badly in your House,' she added, addressing herself to the Duke.

'I do all I can,' said his Grace, smiling. 'Burlington has my proxy.'

'That is exactly what I complain of. On such an occasion, there should be no proxies. Personal attendance would indicate a keener interest in the result. Ah! if I were Duke of St. James for one night!'

'Ah! that you would be d.u.c.h.ess of St. James!' thought the Duke; but a despairing lover has no heart for jokes, and so he did not give utterance to the wish. He felt a little agitated, and caught May Dacre's eye. She smiled, and slightly blushed, as if she felt the awkwardness of her remark, though too late.

The Duke retired early, but not to sleep. His mind was busied on a great deed. It was past midnight before he could compose his agitated feelings to repose, and by five o'clock he was again up. He dressed himself, and then put on a rough travelling coat, which, with a shawl, effectually disguised his person; and putting in one pocket a shirt, and in the other a few articles from his dressing-case, the Duke of St. James stole out of Castle Dacre, leaving a note for his host, accounting for his sudden departure by urgent business at Hauteville, and promising a return in a day or two.

The fresh morn had fully broke. He took his hurried way through the long dewy gra.s.s, and, crossing the Park, gained the road, which, however, was not the high one. He had yet another hour's rapid walk, before he could reach his point of destination; and when that was accomplished, he found himself at a small public-house, bearing for a sign his own arms, and situated in the high road opposite his own Park. He was confident that his person was unknown to the host, or to any of the early idlers who were lingering about the mail, then breakfasting.

'Any room, guard, to London?'

'Room inside, sir: just going off.'

The door was opened, and the Duke of St. James took his seat in the Edinburgh and York Mail. He had two companions: the first, because apparently the most important, was a hard-featured, grey-headed gentleman, with a somewhat supercilious look, and a mingled air of acuteness and conceit; the other was a humble-looking widow in her weeds, middle-aged, and sad. These persons had recently roused themselves from their nocturnal slumbers, and now, after their welcome meal and hurried toilet, looked as fresh as birds.

'Well! now we are off,' said the gentleman. 'Very neat, cleanly little house this, ma'am,' continued he to his companion. 'What is the sign?'

'The Hauteville Arms.' 'Oh! Hauteville; that is--that is, let me see!

the St. James family. Ah! a pretty fool that young man has made of himself, by all accounts. Eh! sir?'

'I have reason to believe so,' said the Duke.

'I suppose this is his park, eh? Hem! going to London, sir?'

'I am.'

'Ah! hem! Hauteville Park, I suppose, this. Fine ground wasted. What the use of parks is, I can't say.'

'The place seems well kept up,' said the widow.

'So much the worse; I wish it were in ruins.'

'Well, for my part,' continued the widow in a low voice, 'I think a park nearly the most beautiful thing we have. Foreigners, you know, sir----'

'Ah! I know what you are going to say,' observed the gentleman in a curt, gruffish voice. 'It is all nonsense. Foreigners are fools. Don't talk to me of beauty; a mere word. What is the use of all this? It produces about as much benefit to society as its owner does.'

'And do you think his existence, then, perfectly useless?' asked the Duke.

'To be sure, I do. So the world will, some day or other. We are opening our eyes fast. Men begin to ask themselves what the use of an aristocracy is. That is the test, sir.'

'I think it not very difficult to demonstrate the use of an aristocracy,' mildly observed the Duke.

'Pooh! nonsense, sir! I know what you are going to say; but we have got beyond all that. Have you read this, sir? This article on the aristocracy in "The Screw and Lever Review?"'

'I have not, sir.'

'Then I advise you to make yourself master of it, and you will talk no more of the aristocracy. A few more articles like this, and a few more n.o.blemen like the man who has got this park, and people will open their eyes at last.'

'I should think,' said his Grace, 'that the follies of the man who had got this park have been productive of evil only to himself. In fact, sir, according to your own system, a prodigal n.o.ble seems to be a very desirable member of the commonwealth and a complete leveller.'

'We shall get rid of them all soon, sir,' said his companion, with a malignant smile.

'I have heard that he is very young, sir,' remarked the widow.

'What is that to you or me?'

'Ah! youth is a trying time. Let us hope the best! He may turn out well yet, poor soul!'

'I hope not. Don't talk to me of poor souls. There is a poor soul,' said the utilitarian, pointing to an old man breaking stones on the highway.

'That is what I call a poor soul, not a young prodigal, whose life has been one long career of infamous debauchery.'

'You appear to have heard much of this young n.o.bleman,' said the Duke; 'but it does not follow, sir, that you have heard truth.'

'Very true, sir,' said the widow. 'The world is very foul-mouthed. Let us hope he is not so very bad.'

'I tell you what, my friends; you know nothing about what you are talking of. I don't speak without foundation. You have not the least idea, sir, how this fellow has lived. Now, what I am going to tell you is a fact: I know it to be a fact. A very intimate friend of mine, who knows a person, who is a very intimate friend of an intimate friend of a person, who knows the Duke of St. James, told me himself, that one night they had for supper--what do you think ma'am?--Venison cutlets, each served up in a hundred pound note!'

'Mercy!' exclaimed the widow.

'And do you believe it?' asked the Duke.

'Believe it! I know it!'

'He is very young,' said the widow. 'Youth is a very trying time.'