chapter 6.

the duke visits hauteville

parliament assembled, the town filled, and every moment in the day of the duke of st. james was occupied. sir carte and his tribe filled up the morning. then there were endless visits to endless visitors; dressing; riding, chiefly with lady caroline; luncheons, and the bow window 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 introduced by lord fitz-pompey. he heard a debate. we laugh at such a thing, especially in the upper house; but, on the whole, the affair is imposing, particularly if we take part in it. lord ex–chamberlain thought the nation going on wrong, and he made a speech full of currency and constitution. baron deprivyseal seconded him with great effect, brief but bitter, satirical and sore. the earl of quarterday answered these, full of confidence in the nation and in himself. when the debate was getting heavy, lord snap jumped up to give them something light. the lords do not encourage wit, and so are obliged to put up with pertness. but viscount memoir was very statesmanlike, and spouted a sort of universal history. then there was lord ego, who vindicated his character, when nobody knew he had one, and explained his motives, because his auditors could not understand his acts. then there was a maiden speech, so inaudible that it was doubted whether, after all, the young orator really did lose his virginity. in the end, up started the premier, who, having nothing to say, was manly, and candid, and liberal; gave credit to his adversaries and took credit to himself, and then the motion was withdrawn.

while all this was going on, some made a note, some made a bet, some consulted a book, some their ease, some yawned, a few slept; yet, on the whole, there was an air about the assembly which can be witnessed in no other in europe. even the most indifferent looked as if he would come forward if the occasion should demand him, and the most imbecile as if he could serve his country if it required him. when a man raises his eyes from his bench and sees his ancestor in the tapestry, he begins to understand the pride of blood.

the young duke had not experienced many weeks of his career before he began to sicken of living in an hotel. hitherto he had not reaped any of the fruits of the termination of his minority. he was a cavalier seul, highly considered, truly, but yet a mere member of society. he had been this for years. this was not the existence to enjoy which he had hurried to england. he aspired to be society itself. in a word, his tastes were of the most magnificent description, and he sighed to be surrounded by a court. as hauteville house, even with sir carte’s extraordinary exertions, could not be ready for his reception for three years, which to him appeared eternity, he determined to look about for an establishment. he was fortunate. a nobleman who possessed an hereditary mansion 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 make a few temporary improvements; and lady fitz-pompey pledged herself to organise the whole establishment ere the full season commenced and the early easter had elapsed, which had now arrived.

it had arrived, and the young duke had departed to his chief family seat, hauteville castle, in yorkshire. he intended at the same time to fulfil his long-pledged engagement at castle dacre. he arrived at hauteville amid the ringing of bells, the roasting of oxen, and the crackling of bonfires. the castle, unlike most yorkshire castles, was a gothic edifice, ancient, vast, and strong; but it had received numerous additions in various styles of architecture, which were at the same time great sources of convenience and great violations of taste. the young duke was seized with a violent desire to live in a genuine gothic castle: each day his refined taste was outraged by discovering roman windows and grecian doors. he determined to emulate windsor, and he sent for sir carte.

sir carte came as quick as thunder after lightning. he was immediately struck with hauteville, particularly with its capabilities. it was a superb place, certainly, and might be rendered unrivalled. the situation seemed made for the pure gothic. the left wing should decidedly be pulled down, and its site occupied by a knight’s hall; the old terrace should 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 point than the expense. wonders should be done. there were now five hundred men working for hauteville house; there should be a thousand for hauteville castle. carte blanche, carte blanche, carte blanche!

on his arrival in yorkshire the duke had learnt that the dacres were in norfolk on a visit. as the castle was some miles off, he saw no necessity to make a useless exertion, and so he sent his j?ger with his card. he had now been ten days in his native county. it was dull, and he was restless. he missed the excitement of perpetual admiration, and his eye drooped for constant glitter. he suddenly returned to town, just when the county had flattered itself that he was about to appoint his public days.