CHAPTER VI.
_The Duke Visits Hauteville_
PARLIAMENT assembled, the town filled, and every moment in the day ofthe Duke of St. James was occupied. Sir Carte and his tribe filledup the morning. Then there were endless visits to endless visitors;dressing; riding, chiefly with Lady Caroline; luncheons, and the bowwindow at White's. Then came the evening with all its crash and glare;the banquet, the opera, and the ball.
The Duke of St. James took the oaths and his seat. He was introducedby Lord Fitz-pompey. He heard a debate. We laugh at such a thing,especially in the Upper House; but, on the whole, the affair isimposing, particularly if we take part in it. Lord Ex-Chamberlainthought the nation going on wrong, and he made a speech full of currencyand constitution. Baron Deprivyseal seconded him with great effect,brief but bitter, satirical and sore. The Earl of Quarterday answeredthese, full of confidence in the nation and in himself. When the debatewas getting heavy, Lord Snap jumped up to give them something light. TheLords do not encourage wit, and so are obliged to put up with pertness.But Viscount Memoir was very statesmanlike, and spouted a sortof universal history. Then there was Lord Ego, who vindicated hischaracter, when nobody knew he had one, and explained his motives,because his auditors could not understand his acts. Then there was amaiden speech, so inaudible that it was doubted whether, after all, theyoung orator really did lose his virginity. In the end, up started thePremier, who, having nothing to say, was manly, and candid, and liberal;gave credit to his adversaries and took credit to himself, and then themotion was withdrawn.
While all this was going on, some made a note, some made a bet, someconsulted a book, some their ease, some yawned, a few slept; yet, on thewhole, there was an air about the assembly which can be witnessed in noother in Europe. Even the most indifferent looked as if he would comeforward if the occasion should demand him, and the most imbecile as ifhe could serve his country if it required him. When a man raises hiseyes from his bench and sees his ancestor in the tapestry, he begins tounderstand the pride of blood.
The young Duke had not experienced many weeks of his career before hebegan to sicken of living in an hotel. Hitherto he had not reaped any ofthe fruits of the termination of his minority. He was a _cavalier seul_,highly considered, truly, but yet a mere member of society. He had beenthis for years. This was not the existence to enjoy which he had hurriedto England. He aspired to be society itself. In a word, his tastes wereof the most magnificent description, and he sighed to be surrounded bya court. As Hauteville House, even with Sir Carte's extraordinaryexertions, could not be ready for his reception for three years,which to him appeared eternity, he determined to look about for anestablishment. He was fortunate. A nobleman who possessed an hereditarymansion of the first class, and much too magnificent for his resources,suddenly became diplomatic, and accepted an embassy. The Duke of St.James took everything off his hands: house, furniture, wines, cooks,servants, horses. Sir Carte was sent in to touch up the gilding and makea few temporary improvements; and Lady Fitz-pompey pledged herself toorganise the whole establishment ere the full season commenced and theearly Easter had elapsed, which had now arrived.
It had arrived, and the young Duke had departed to his chief familyseat, Hauteville Castle, in Yorkshire. He intended at the same timeto fulfil his long-pledged engagement at Castle Dacre. He arrived atHauteville amid the ringing of bells, the roasting of oxen, and thecrackling of bonfires. The Castle, unlike most Yorkshire castles, was aGothic edifice, ancient, vast, and strong; but it had received numerousadditions in various styles of architecture, which were at the same timegreat sources of convenience and great violations of taste. The youngDuke was seized with a violent desire to live in a genuine Gothiccastle: each day his refined taste was outraged by discovering Romanwindows and Grecian doors. He determined to emulate Windsor, and he sentfor Sir Carte.
Sir Carte came as quick as thunder after lightning. He was immediatelystruck with Hauteville, particularly with its capabilities. It was asuperb place, certainly, and might be rendered unrivalled. The situationseemed made for the pure Gothic. The left wing should decidedly bepulled down, and its site occupied by a Knight's hall; the old terraceshould be restored; the donjon keep should be raised, and a gallery,three hundred feet long, thrown through the body of the castle.Estimates, estimates, estimates! But the time? This was a greater pointthan the expense. Wonders should be done. There were now five hundredmen working for Hauteville House; there should be a thousand forHauteville Castle. Carte Blanche, Carte Blanche, Carte Blanche!
On his arrival in Yorkshire the Duke had learnt that the Dacres werein Norfolk on a visit. As the Castle was some miles off, he saw nonecessity to make a useless exertion, and so he sent his jaeger with hiscard. He had now been ten days in his native county. It was dull, and hewas restless. He missed the excitement of perpetual admiration, and hiseye drooped for constant glitter. He suddenly returned to town, justwhen the county had flattered itself that he was about to appoint hispublic days.