UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES ^ v^>^ cs^ ^5 M. ^ L T H A I E . VOL. I. I.ONDOIf : PRINTKl) BY sruniswooDE and CO., NKW-STKKKT SQCABE ^y!x> rAUT.iAsnjNT street L O T H A I R BY THE EIGHT HONORABLE B. DISRAELI. ' Nosse omnia larcc sains est adolescentnlis.' Terkntius. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. L J J > > , , » ■■ , LONDON : LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 1870. AU righls referral. « • » ^ ♦ • • * u 00 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF AUMALE WITH RESPECT AND AFFECTION & 1.8'7462 L T H A I E. CHAPTER I. ' I REMEMBER HIM a little boy,' said the Duchess, ' a pretty little boy, but very shy. His mother brought him to us one day. She was a dear friend of mine; you know she was one of my bridesmaids? ' ' And you have never seen him since, mamma ? ' enquired a married daughter, who looked like the younger sister of her mother. ' Never ; he was an orphan shortly after: I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys. Then, he never went to school, but was brought up in the High- lands with a rather savage uncle; and if he VOL. I. B 2 LOTH AIR. « and Bertram had not become friends at Christchurch, I do not well see how we ever could have kno"\^Ti him.' These remarks were made in the morning- room of Brentham, where the mistress of the mansion sate surrounded by her daughters, all occupied with various works. One knitted a purse, another adorned a slipper, a third emblazoned a page. Beautiful forms in counsel leant over frames glowing with embroiderv, while two fair sisters more remote occasionally burst into melody, as they tried the passages of a new air, which had been communicated to them in the manuscrij^t of some devoted friend. The Duchess, one of the greatest heiresses of Britain, singularly beautiful and gifted with native grace, had married in her teens one of the wealthiest and most powerful of our nobles, and scarcely older than herself. Her husband was as distinguished for his appearance and his manners as his bride, and those who speculate on race were interested in watching the developement of LOTHAIR. 3 their progeny, who m form, and colour, and voice, and manner, and mind were a reproduction of their parents, who seemed only the elder brother and sister of a gifted circle. The daughters with one exception came first, and all met the same fate. After seventeen years of a delicious home they were presented, and immediately married; and all to personages of high consideration. After the first conquest, this fate seemed as regular as the order of nature. Then came a son, who was now at Christchurch, and then several others, some at school, and some scarcely out of the nursery. There was one daughter unmarried, and she was to be presented next season. Though the family likeness was still apparent in Lady Corisande, in general expression she differed from her sisters. They were all alike with their delicate aquUine noses, bright com- plexions, short upper lips, and eyes of sunny light. The beauty of Lady Corisande was even more distinguished and more regular, but whether it were the effect of her dark- B 2 ■4 LOTIIAIR. bro^vn hair and darker eyes, her countenance had not the histre of the rest, and its expression was grave and perhaps pensive. The Duke thouo:h still younof and natu- rally of a gay and joyous temperament, had a high sense of duty, and strong domestic feelings. He was never wanting in his public place, and he was fond of his wife and his children ; still more proud of them. Every day when he looked into the glass, and gave the last touch to his consummate toilette, he offered liis grateful thanks to Providence that his family was not unworthv of him. His Grace was accustomed to say that he had only one misfortune, and it was a great one ; he had no home. His family had married so many heiresses, and he, consequently, possessed so many halls and castles, at all of which, periodically, he wished, from a right feehng, to reside, that there was no sacred spot identified with his life in which his heart, in the bustle and tumult of existence, could take refuge. Brentham was the original LOTHAIR. O seat of his family, and he was even pas- sionately fond of it ; but it was remarkable how very short a period of his yearly life was passed under its stately roof. So it was his custom always to repair to Bren- tham the moment the season was over, and he would exact from his children, that, however short might be the time, they would be his companions under those cir- cumstances. The daughters loved Bren- tham, and they loved to please their father ; but the sons-in-law, though they were what is called devoted to their T^ives, and, unusual as it may seem, scarcely less attached to their legal parents, did not fall very easily into this arrangement. The country in August without sport was unquestionably to them a severe trial : nevertheless, they rarely omitted making their appearance, and if they did occa- sionally vanish, sometimes to Cowes, some- times to Switzerland, sometimes to Norway, they always MTote to their wives, and always alluded to their immediate or ap- proaching return ; and their letters grace- 6 LOTHAIR. fully contributed to the fund of domestic amusement. And vet it would be difficult to find a fairer scene than Brentham offered, es- pecially in the lustrous effulgence of a glorious English summer. It was an Italian palace of freestone ; vast, ornate, and in scrupulous condition ; its spacious and graceful chambers filled with treasures of art, and rising itself from statued and stately terraces. At their foot spread a gardened domain of considerable extent, bright with flowers, dim with coverts of rare shrubs, and musical with fountains. Its limit reached a park, with timber such as the midland counties only can produce. The fallow deer trooped among its ferny solitudes and gigantic oaks ; but beyond the waters of the broad and winding lake, the scene became more savage, and the eye caught the dark form of the red deer on some jutting mount, shrinking with scorn from communion with his gentler brethren. LOTHAIK. CHAPTER 11. LoTHAiR was the little boy whom the Duchess remembered. He was a posthu- mous child, and soon lost a devoted mother. His only relation was one of his two guar- dians, a Scotch noble — a Presbyterian and a Whig. This uncle was a widower with some children, but they were girls, and, though Lothair was attached to them, too young to be his companions. Their father was a keen, hard man, honourable and just, but with no softness of heart or manner. He guarded with precise knowledge and with unceasing vigilance over Lothair's vast inheritance, which was in many coun- ties and in more than one kingdom ; but he educated him in a lligliland home, and when he had reached ])oyhood thought fit to send him to the Higli Sch(X)l of Edin- 8 LOTHAIE. burgh. Lothair passed a monotonous, if not a dull, life; but he found occasional solace in the scenes of a wild and beautiful nature, and delight in all the sports of the field and forest, in which he was early initiated and completely indulged. Al- though an Englishman, he was fifteen be- fore he revisited his country, and then his glimpses of England were brief, and to him scarcely satisfactory. He was hurried some- times to vast domains, which he heard were his oA^ai; and sometimes whisked to the huge metropolis, where he was shown St. Paul's and the British Museum. These visits left a vague impression of bustle without kindness, and exhaustion without excitement; and he was glad to get back to his glens, to the moor and the mountain- stream. His father, in the selection of his guar- dians, had not contemplated this system of education. While he secured, by the ap- pointment of his brother-in-law, the most competent and trustworthy steward of his LOTIIAIR. y son's fortune, he had depended on another for that mfluence which should mould the character, guide the opinions, and form the tastes of his child. The other gTiardian was a clergyman, his father's private tutor and heart-friend; scarcely his parent's senior, but exercising over him irresistible influence, for he was a man of shining talents and abounding knowledge, brilliant and profound. But unhappily, shortly after Lothair became an orphan, this distin- guished man seceded from the Anglican communion, and entered the Church of Rome. From this moment there was war between the guardians. The uncle endea- voured to drive his colleague from the trust : in this he failed, for the priest would not renounce his office. The Scotch noble succeeded, however, in making it a fruitless one : he thwarted every suggestion that emanated from the obnoxious quarter ; and, indeed, the secret reason of the almost con- stant residence of Lothair in Scotland, and of his harsh education, was the fear of his 10 LOTHAIR. relative, that the moment he crossed the border he might, by some mysterious pro- cess, fall under the influence that his guar- dian so much dreaded and detested. There was, however, a limit to these severe precautions even before Lothair should reach his majority. His father had expressed in his will that his son should be educated at the University of Oxford, and at the same college of which he had been a member. His uncle was of opinion he complied with the spirit of this instruction by sending Lothair to the University of Edinburgh, which would give the last tonic to his moral system ; and then com- menced a celebrated chancery suit, instituted by the Roman Catholic guardian, in order to enforce a literal compliance with the educational condition of the will. The uncle looked upon this movement as a Popish plot, and had recourse to every available allegation and argument to baffle it : but ultimately in vain. With every pre- caution to secure his Protestant principles, LOTHAIR. 11 and to guard against the influence, or even personal interference, of his Roman CathoHc guardian, the Lord Chancellor decided that Lothair should be sent to Christchurch. Here Lothair, who had never been favoured with a companion of his own age and station, soon found a congenial one in the heir of Brentham. Inseparable in pastime, not dissociated even in study, sympathising companionship soon ripened into fervent friendship. They lived so much together that the idea of separation became not only painful but impossible; and, when vacation arrived, and Brentham was to be visited by its future lord, what more natural than that it should be ar- ranged that Lothair should be a visitor to his domain? 12 LOTHAIR. CHAPTER III. Although Lothair was the possessor of as many palaces and castles as the Duke hmi- self, it is curious that his first dinner at Brentham was almost his introduction into refined society. He had been a guest at the occasional banquets of his uncle ; but these were festivals of the Picts and Scots ; rude plenty and coarse splendour, with noise instead of conversation, and a tumult of obstructive dependants, who impeded, by their want of skill, the very convenience which they were purposed to facilitate. How difierent the surrounding scene ! A table covered with flowers, bright with fanciful crystal, and porcelain that had belonged to sovereigns, who had given a name to its colour or its form. As for those present all seemed grace and gentle- LOTHAIR. 13 ness, from tlie radiant daughters of the house to the noiseless attendants that anticipated all his wants, and sometimes seemed to suggest his wishes. Lothair sat between two of the married daughters. They addressed him with so much s}Tnpathy that he was quite en- chanted. When they asked their pretty questions and made their sparkling re- marks, roses seemed to drop from their lips, and sometimes diamonds. It was a rather large party, for the Brentham family were so numerous that they themselves made a festival. There were four married daugh- ters, the Duke and two sons-in-law, a clergjmian or two, and some ladies and gentlemen who were seld'om absent from this circle, and who, by their useful talents and various accomplishments, alleviated the toil or cares of life from which even princes are not exempt. When the ladies had retired to the Duchesss drawing-room, all the married dau£!;hters clustered round their mother. 14 LOTHAIR. ' Do you know, mamma, we all think him very good-looking,' said the yomigest married daughter, the wife of the listless and handsome St. Aldegonde. ' And not at all shy ' said Lady Mon- tairv, ' thouo;h reserved.' ' I admire deep blue eyes with dark lashes,' said the Duchess. Notwithstanding the decision of Lady Montairy, Lothair was scarcely free from embarrassment when he rejoined the ladies; and was so afraid of standing alone, or talk- ing only to men, that he was almost on the point of finding refuge in his dinner com- panions, had not he instinctively felt that this would have been a social blunder. But the Duchess relieved him: her gracious glance caught his at the right moment, and she rose and met him some way as he ad- vanced. The friends had arrived so late, that Lothafr had had only time to make a reverence of ceremony before dinner. ' It is not our first meeting,' said her Grace ; ' but that you cannot remember.' LOTHAIR. 15 ' Indeed I do ' said Lothair, ' and vour Grace gave me a golden heart.' ' How can you remember such things,' exclaimed the Duchess, ' which I had my- self forgotten ! ' ' I have rather a good memory,' replied Lothair; ' and it is not wonderful that 1 should remember this, for it is the only present that ever was made me.' The evenings at Brentham were short, but they were sweet. It was a musical family, without being fanatical on the sub- ject. There was always music, but it was not permitted that the guests should be de- prived of other amusements. But music was the basis of the evening's campaign. The Duke himself sometimes took a second; the four married daughters warbled sweetly ; but the great performer was Lady Corisande. When her impassioned' tones sounded, there was a hushed silence in every cham- ber ; otherwise, many things were said and done amid accompanying melodies, that animated without distracting even a 16 LOTH AIR. whistplayer. The Duke himself rather preferred a game of piquet or ecarte with Captain Mildmay, and sometimes retired with a troop to a distant, but still visible, apartment, where they played with bil- liard balls games which were not billiards. The ladies had retired, the Duke had taken his glass of seltzer water, and had disappeared. The gentlemen lingered and looked at each other, as if they were an assembly of poachers gathering for an ex- pedition, and then Lord St. Aldegonde, tall, fair, and languid, said to Loth air, ' Do you smoke ? ' 'No!' ' I should have thought Bertram would have seduced you by this time. Then let us try. Montairy will give you one of his cigarettes, so mild that his wife never finds him out.* LOTH AIR. .1 7 CHAPTER lY. The breakfast-room at Brentham was very bright. It opened on a garden of its own, which, at this season, was so glowing, and cultured into patterns so fanciful and finished, that it had the resemblance ot a vast mosaic. The walls of the cham- ber were covered with bright drawings and sketches of our modern masters, and frames of interesting miniatures, and the meal was served on half-a-dozen or more round tables, Avhich vied with each other in grace and merriment ; brilliant as a cluster of Greek or Italian republics, instead of a great metropolitan table, like a central government absorbing all the genius and resources of the society. Every scene in this life at Brentham charmed Lothair, who, though not conscious VOL. I. C 18 LOTHAIll of being of a particularly gloomy temper j often felt that he had, somehow or other, hitherto passed through life rarely with pleasure, and never with joy. After breakfast the ladies retired to their morning-room, and the gentlemen strolled to the stables, Lord St. Aldegonde light- ing a Manilla cheroot of enormous length. As Lothair was very fond of horses this delighted him. The stables at Bren- tham were rather too far from the house, but they were magnificent, and the stud worthy of them. It was numerous and choice, and, above all, it was useful. It could supply a readier number of capital riding horses than any stable in England. Brentham was a great riding family. In the summer season the Duke delighted to head a numerous troop, penetrate far into the country, and scamper home to a nine o'clock dinner. All the ladies of the house were fond and fine horsewomen. The mount of one of these riding parties was magical. The dames and damsels vaulted on their barbs, and LOTHAIR. 1.9 genets, and thorough-bred hacks, with such airy majesty; they were absolutely over- whelming with their bewildering^ habits and their bewitching hats. Everything was so new in this life at Brentham to Lothair, as well as so agree- able, that the first days passed by no means rapidly ; for, though it sounds strange, time moves with equal slowness whether we experience many impressions or none. In a new circle every character is a study, and every incident an adven- ture ; and the multiplicity of the images and emotions restrains the hours. But after a few days, though Lothair was not less delighted, for he was more so, he was astonished at the rapidity of time. The life was exactly the same, but equally pleasant; the same charming companions, the same refined festivity, the same fas- cinating amusements ; but to his dismay Lothair recollected that nearly a fortnight had elapsed since his arrival. Lord St. Aldegonde also was on the wing ; he was c 2 20 LOTHAIR. obliged to go to Cowes to see a sick friend, though he considerately left Bertha behind him. The other son-in-law remained, for he could not tear himself away from his wife. He was so distractedly fond of Lady Montairy that he would only smoke cigarettes. Lothair felt it was time to go, and he broke the circumstance to his friend Bertram. These two ' old fellows,' as they mutually described each other, could not at all agree as to the course to be pursued. Bertram looked upon Lothair's suggestion as an act of desertion from himself At their time of life, the claims of friendship are para- mount. And where could Lothair go to ? And what was there to do ? Nowhere, and nothing. Whereas, if he would re- main a little longer, as the Duke expected and also the Duchess, Bertram would go with him anywhere he liked, and do any- thing he chose. So Lothair remained. In the evening, seated by Lady Mon- tairy, Lothair observed on her sister's LOTHAIR. 21 singing, and said, ' I never heard any of our great singers, but I cannot believe there is a finer voice in existence.' ' Corisande's is a fine voice,' said Ladv Montairy, ' but I admire her expression more than her tone ; for there are certainly many finer voices, and some day you will hear them.' ' But I prefer expression,' said Lothair very decidedly. ' Ah, yes ! doubtless,' said Lady Mon- tairy, who was working a purse, ' and that's what we all want, I believe ; at least we married daughters, they say. My brother, Granville St. Aldegonde, says, we are all too much alike, and that Bertha St. Alde- gonde would be perfect if she had no sisters.' ' I don't at all agree with Lord St. Alde- gonde,' said Lothair with energy. ' I do not think it is possible to have too many re- latives like you and your sisters.' Lady Montairy looked up with a smile, but she did not meet a smiling counte- 22 LOTHAIR. nance. He seemed, what is called, an ear- nest young man, this friend of her brother Bertram. At this moment the Duke sent swift messengers for all to come, even the Duchess, to partake in a new game just arrived from Russia, some miraculous combination of billiard-balls. Some rose directly, some lingering a moment arrang- ing their work, but all were in motion. Corisande was at the piano, and disen- cumbering herself of some music. Lothair went up to her rather abruptly : ' Your singing,' he said, ' is the finest thing I ever heard. I am so happy that I am not going to leave Brentham to-mor- row. There is no place in the world that 1 think equal to Brentham.' ' And I love it too, and no other place,' she replied ; ' and I should be quite happy if I never left it.' LOTHAIR. 23 CHAPTER V. Lord Montairy was passionately devoted to croquet. He flattered himself that he was the most accomplished male performer existing. He would have thought abso- lutely the most accomplished, were it not for the unrivalled feats of Lady Montairy. She was the queen of croquet. Her sisters also used the mallet Avith admirable skill, but not like Georgina. Lord Montairy always looked forward to his summer cro- quet at Brentham. It was a great croquet family, the Brentham family; even listless Lord St. Aldegonde would sometimes play with a cigar never out of his mouth. They did not object to his Bmoking in the air. On the contrary, ' they rather liked it.' Captain Mddmay too was a brilliant hand, 24 LOTHAIR. and had written a treatise on croquet — the best going. There was a great croquet party one morning at Brentham. Some neighbours had been invited who loved the sport. Mr, Blenkinsop, a grave young gentleman, whose countenance never relaxed while he played, and who was understood to give his mind entirely up to croquet. He was the owner of the largest estate in the county, and it was thought would have very much liked to have allied himself with one of the young ladies of the House of Brentham ; but these flowers were always plucked so quickly, that his relations with the distinguished circle never grew more intimate than croquet. He drove over with some fine horses and several cases and bags containing instruments and weapons for the fray. His sister came with him, who had forty thousand pounds, but, they said, in some mysterious manner dependent on his consent to her marriage; and it was added that Mr. Blenkinsop LOTHAIE. 25 would not allow his sister to marry because he would miss her so much in his favourite pastime. There were some other morning visitors, and one or two young curates in cassocks. It seemed to Lothair a game of great deliberation and of more interest than gaiety, though sometimes a cordial cheer, and sometimes a ringing laugh of amiable derision, notified a signal triumph or a disastrous failure. But the scene was bril- liant: a marvellous lawn, the Duchess's Turkish tent with its rich hano-incTs, and the players themselves, the prettiest of all the spectacle, with their coquettish hats, and their half-veiled and half-revealed under-raiment, scarlet and silver, or blue and gold, made up a sparkling and modish scene. Lothair who had left the players for awhile, and was regaining the lawn, met the Duchess. ' Your Grace is not going to leave us, T hope?' he said, rather anxiously. 26 LOTHAIR. ' For a moment. I have long promised to visit the new dairy ; and I think this a good opportunity.' ' I wish I might be your companion,' said Lothair ; and, invited, he was by her Grace's side. They turned into a winding walk of thick and fragrant shrubs, and, after a while, they approached a dell, surrounded with high trees that environed it with per- petual shade ; in the centre of the dell was apparently a Gothic shrine, fair in design and finished in execution, and this was the Duchess's new dairy. A pretty sight is a firstrate dairy, with its flooring of fanciful tiles, and its cool and shrouded chambers, its stained windows and its marble slabs, and porcelain pans of cream, and plenteous platters of fantastically formed butter. ' Mrs. AVoods and her dairymaids look like a Dutch picture,' said the Duchess. ' Were you ever in Holland ? ' ' I have never been anywhere,' said Lo- thair.' LOTH AIR. ' 27 ' You should travel,' said the Duchess. ' I have no wish,' said Lothair. ' The Duke has given me some Coreean fowls,' said the Duchess to Mrs. Woods, when they had concluded their visit. ' Do you think you could take care of them for me ? ' ' Well, Grace, I am sure I will do my best; but then they are very troublesome, and I was not fortunate with my Cochin. I had rather they were sent to the aviary, Grace, if it were all the same.' ' I should so like to see the aviary,' said Lothair. ' Well, we will go.' And this rather extended their walk, and withdrew them more from the great amusement of the day. ' I wish your Grace would do me a great favour,' said Lothair, abruptly breaking a rather prolonged silence. ' And what is that? ' said the Duchess. ' It is a very great favour,' repeated Lothair. 28 LOTHAIR. ' If it be in my power to grant it, its magnitude would only be an additional recommendation.' 'Well,' said Lothair, blushing deeply, and speaking with much agitation, ' I would ask your Grace's permission to offer my hand to your daughter.' The Duchess looked amazed. ' Cori- sande ! ' she exclaimed. ' Yes, to Lady Corisande.' ' Corisande,' replied the Duchess, after a pause, ' has absolutely not yet entered the world. Corisande is a child; and you — you, my dear friend — I am sure you will pardon me if I say so — you are not very much older than Corisande.' ' I have no wish to enter the world,' said Lothair, with much decision. ' I am not an enemy to youthful mar- riages,' said the Duchess. ' I married early myself, and my children married early; and I am very happy, and I hope they are ; but some experience of society before we settle is most desirable, and is one of the LOTHAIE. 29 conditions, I cannot but believe, of that felicity which we all seek.' ' I hate society,' said Lothair. ' I would never go out of my domestic circle, if it were the circle I contemplate.' * My dear young friend,' said the Duchess, ' you could hardly have seen enough of society to speak with so much decision.' ' I have seen quite enough of it,' said Lothair. ' I went to an evening party last season — I came up from Christchurch on purpose for it — and if ever they catch me at another, they shall inflict any penalty they please.' ' I fear it was a stupid party,' said the Duchess, smiling, and glad to turn, if possible, the conversation into a lighter vein. ' No, it was a very grand party, I be- lieve, and not exactly stupid — it was not that; but I was disgusted with all I saw and all I heard. It seemed to me a mass of affectation, falsehood, and malignity.' * Oh ! dear,' said the Duchess, ' how very so LUTHAIK. dreadful ! But I did not mean merely going to parties for society; I meant knowledge of the world, and that experience which enables us to form sound opinions on the affairs of life.' ' Oh ! as for that/ said Lothair, ' my opinions are already formed on every sub- ject; that is to say, every subject of im- portance; and, what is more, they will never change.' ' I could not say that of Corisande,' said the Duchess. ' I think we agree on all the great things,' said Lothair, musingly. ' Her Church views may be a little higher than mine, but I do not anticipate any perma- nent difficulty on that head. Although my uncle made me go to kirk, I always hated it, and always considered myself a churchman. Then, as to churches them- selves, she is in favour of building churches, and so am I; and schools — there is no quantity of schools I would not establish. My opinion is, you cannot have too much LOTHAIR. 31 education, provided it be founded on a reli2:ious basis. I would sooner renounce the whole of ray inheritance than consent to secular education.' ' I should be sorry to see any edu- cation but a religious education,' remarked the Duchess. ' ^\^ell, then,' said Lothair, ' that is our life, or a great part of it. To complete it, there is that to which I really wish to devote my existence, and in which I instinctively feel Lady Corisande would sympathise with me — the extinction of pauperism.' ' That is a vast subject,' said the Duchess. ' It is the terror of Europe and the dis- grace of Britain,' said Lothair ; ' and I am resolved to grapple "v^'ith it. It seems to me that pauperism is not an affair so much of wages as of dwellings. If the working classes were properly lodged, at their pre- sent rate of wages, they would be richer. They would be healthier and happier at 32 LOTHAIR. the same cost. I am so convinced of this, that, the moment I am master, I shall build 2,000 cottages on my estates. I have the designs already.' ' I am much in favour of improved dwellings for the poor,' said the Duchess; ' but then you must take care that your dwellmgs are cottages, and not villas like my cousin's, the Duke of Luton.' ' I do not think I shall make that mis- take,' replied Lothair. ' It constantly en- gages my thought. I am wearied of hearing of my wealth, and I am conscious it has never brought me any happiness. I have lived a great deal alone, dearest Duchess, and thought much of these things, but I feel now I should be hardly equal to the effort, unless I had a happy home to fall back upon.' ' And you will have a happy home in due time,' said the Duchess ; ' and with such good and great thoughts you deserve one. But take the advice of one who loved your mother, and who would extend to vou the LOTHAIR. 33 same affection as to her own children : before you take a step which cannot be recalled, see a little more of the world.' Lothair shook his head. ' No,' he said, after a pause. ' My idea of perfect society is being married as I propose, and paying visits to Brentham; and when the visits to Brentham ceased, then I sliould like you and the Duke to pay visits to us.' ' But that would be a fairy tale,' said the Duchess. So they walked on in silence. Suddenly, and abruptly, Lothair turned to the Duchess and said, ' Does your Grace see any objection to my speaking to your daughter ?' ' Dear friend, indeed yes. What you would say Avould only agitate and disturb Corisande. Her character is not yet formed, and its future is perplexing, at least to me,' murmured the mother. ' Slie has not the simple nature of her sisters. It is a deeper and more coiiipli- VOL. I. D 34 LOTHAIE. catecl mind, and I Avatch its develope- rnent with fond but anxious interest.' Then in a lighter tone she added, ' You do not know very much of us. Try to know more. Everybody under this roof ■views you with regard, and you are the brother friend of our eldest son» Wherever we are, you will always find a home; but do not touch again upon this subject, at least at present, for it distresses me.' And then she took his arm and pressed it, and by this time they had gained the croquet ground. LOTHAIE. 35 CHAPTER VI. One of the least known squares in London is Hexham Square, though it is one of the oldest. Xot that it is very remote from the throng of existence, but it is isolated in a dingy district of silent and decaying streets. Once it was a favoured residence of opulence and power, and its architecture still indicates its former and prouder destiny. But its noble mansions are now divided and broken up into separate dwell- ings, or have been converted mto chambers and offices. Lawyers, and architects, and agents dwell in apartments where the riclily- sculptured chimneypieces, the carved and gilded pediments over the doors, and some- times even the painted ceilings, tell a tale of vanished stateliness and splendour. A considerable portion of the north side D 2 36 LOTHAIR. of the square is occupied by one house standing in a courtyard, with iron gates to the thoroughfare. This is Hexham House, and where Lord Hexham lived in the days of the first Georges. It is reduced in size since his time, two considerable wings hav- ing been pulled do^Mi about sixty years ago, and their materials employed in build- ing some residences of less pretension. But the bodv of the dwelling-house re- mains, and the courtyard, though reduced in size, has been retamed. Hexham House has an old oak entrance hall panelled with delicacy, and which has escaped the rifling arts of specidators in furniture ; and out of it rises a staircase of the same material, of a noble character, adorned occasionally with figures ; armorial animals holding shields, and sometimes a grotesque form rising from fruits and flowers, all doubtless the Avork of some famous carver. The staircase leads to a corridor, on which several doors open, and throuo:h one of these, at the moment of our LOTHAIR. 37 history, a man, dressed m a dark cassock and holding a card in his hand, was enter- ing a spacious chamber, meagerly, but not shabbily, furnished. There was a rich cabinet and a fine picture. In the next room, not less spacious, but which had a more inhabited look ; a cheerful fire, tables covered with books and papers, and two- individuals busily at work with their pens; he gave the card to a 2:entleman who w^ore also the cassock, and who stood before the fire with a book in his hand and apparently dictating to one of the writers. 'Impossible!' said the gentleman, shak- ing liis head ; ' I could not even go in as Monsijrnore Berwick is with his Eminence.' 'But what shall I do?' said the attendant; 'his Eminence said that when Mr. Giles called he never was to be denied.' ' The Monsignore has been here a long time; you must beg Mr. Giles to wait. Make him comfortable ; give him a news- paper; not the "Tablet," the "Times;" men like Mr. Giles love reading the adver- »-8> 462 38 LOTHAIE. tisements. Or stop, give him this, his Eminence's lecture on geology; it will show him the Church has no fear of science. Ah! there's my bell, Mr. Giles will not have to wait long.' So saying the gentle- man put down his volume and disappeared, through an antechamber, into a further apartment. It was a library, of moderate dimensions, and yet its well-filled shelves contained all the weapons of learning and controversy which the deepest and the most active of ec- clesiastical champions could require. It was unlike modern libraries, for it was one in which folios greatly predominated; and they stood in solemn and sometimes masriiificent array, for they bore, many of them, on their ancient though costly bindings, the proofs that they had belonged to many a prince and even sovereign of the Church. Over the mantelpiece hung a portrait of his Holi- ness, Pius IX., and on the table, in the midst of many papers, was an ivory crucifix. The master of the library had risen from LOTHAIR. 39 his seat when the chief secretary entered, and was receix'ing an obeisance. Above the middle height, his stature seemed magnified by the attenuation of his form. It seemed that the soul never had so frail and fragile a tenement. He was dressed in a dark cas- sock with a red border, and wore scarlet stockings; and over his cassock a purple tippet, and on his breast a small golden cross. His countenance was naturally of an extreme pallor, though at this moment slightly flushed with the animation of a. deeply m- teresting conference. His cheeks were hol- low, and his grey eyes seemed sunk into his clear and noble brow, but they flashed with irresistible penetration. Such was Cardinal Grandison. ' All that I can do is,' said his Eminence when his visitor was ushered out, and slightly shrugging his shoulders, ' is to get it postponed until I go to Home, and even then I must not delay my visit. This cross- ing tlic Al])s in winter is a trial ; but we must never repine ; and there is nothing which 40 LOTHAIR. we must not encounter to prevent incal- culable mischief. The publication of the Scotch hierarchy at this moment mil destroy the labours of years. And yet they will not see it ! I cannot conceive who is urging- them, for I am sure they must have some authority from home. ' You have something for me, Chidiock,' he added enquiringly, for his keen eye caught the card. ' I regTet to trouble your Eminence when you need repose, but the bearer of this card seems to have been importunate and to have appealed to your name and personal orders ; ' and he gave the Cardinal the card. ' Yes,' said the Cardinal looking at the card with much interest ; ' this is a person I must always see.' And so, in due course, they ushered into the library a gentleman with a crimson and well-stuffed bag, of a composed yet cheerful aspect, who addressed the Cardinal with respect but without embarrassment, sayings ' I am ashamed to trouble your Eminence with only matters of form — absolutely mere LOTHAIR. 41 matters of form; but I obey, sir, your o"\vii instructions.' ' It is not for me to depreciate form,' re- plied the Cardinal ; ' and in business there are no mere matters of form.' ' Merely the wood accounts,' continued the \dsitor; 'they must be approved by both the guardians, or the money cannot be received by the bankers. Your Eminence, you see, has sanctioned the felling, and authorized the sales, and these are the final accounts, which must be signed before we pay in.' ' Give them to me,' said the Cardinal, stretching out Iwth his hands as he received a mass of paper folios. His Eminence re- sumed his chair, and hastily examined the sheets. 'Ah!' he said, 'no ordinary fel- ling — it reaches over seven counties. By the bye, Bracewood Forest — what about the enclosure? I have heard no more of it.' Then, nun'inuring to himself — ' Grentham Wood — how well I remember Grentliam Wood, witli his dear father!' 42 LOTHAIR. * If we could sign to-day,' said the visitor in a tone of professional cajolery : ' time is important.' ' And it shall not be wasted,' replied the Cardinal. ' But I must look over the ac- counts. I doubt not all is quite regular, but I wish to make myself a little familiar with the scene of action ; perhaps to recall the past,' he added. ' You shall have them to-morrow, Mr. Giles.' ' Your Eminence will have very different accounts to settle in a short time,' said Mr. Giles smiling. 'We are hard at work; it takes three of our clerks constantly occupied.' ' But you have yet got time.' ' I don't know that,' said Mr. Giles. ' The affairs are very large. And the mines — they give us the greatest trouble. Our Mr. James Roundell was two months in Wales last year about them. It took up the whole of his vacation. And your Emi- nence must remember that time flies. In less than eight months he will be of age.' ' Very true,' said the Cardinal, 'time indeed flies, and so much to be done ! By LOTHAIE. 43 the bye, Mr. Giles, have you by any chance heard anythmg latel}' of my child?' ' I have heard of him a good deal of late, for a client of ours, Lord Montairy, met him at Brentham this summer, and was a long' time there with him. After that, I hear, he went deer-stalking with some of his young friends ; l)ut he is not very fond of Scotland ; had rather too much of it, I sus- pect; but the truth is, sir, 1 saw him this very day.' ' Indeed ! ' ' Some affairs ha^e brought him up to town, and I rather doubt whether he will return to Oxford — at least, so he talks.' 'Ah ! I have never seen him since he was an infant I might say,' said the CardhiaL * I suppose I shall see him again, if only when I resign my trust ; but I know not. And yet few things would be more inter- esting to me than to meet him ! ' Mr. Giles seemed moved, for him almost a little embarrassed; he seemed to blush, and then he cleared his throat. ' It would be too great a liberty,' said Mr. Giles, ' I 44 LOTHAIR. feel that very much — and yet, if your Emmence would condescend, though I hardly suppose it possible, his Lordship is really going to do us the honour of dining with us to-day; only a few friends, and if your Eminence could make the sacrifice^ and it were not an act of too great pre- sumption, to ask your Eminence to join our party.' ' I never eat and I never drink,' said the Cardinal. ' I am sorry to say I cannot. I like dinner society very much. You see the world, and you liear things which you do not hear otherwise. For a time I pre- sumed to accept invitations, though I sat with an empty plate ; but though the world was indulgent to me, I felt that my habits were an embarrassment to the happier feasters : it was not fair, and so I gave it up. But I tell you what, Mr. Giles : I shall be in your quarter this evening : perhaps you would permit me to drop in and pay my respects to Mrs. Giles — T have wished to do so before.' LOTHAIR. 45 CHAPTER YII. Mr. Giles was a leading partner in the firm of Roundells, Giles, and Roundell, among the most eminent solicitors of Lin- coln's Inn. He, in these days of prolonged maturity, might be described as still a young man. He had inherited from his father not only a large share in a firstrate business, but no inconsideral)le fortune ; and though he had, in her circles, a celebrated wife, he had no children. He was opulent and prosperous, with no cares and anxieties of liis own, and loved liis ])rofession, for which he was peculiarly qualified, being a man of luicommon sagacit}', very difficult to deceive, and yet one who sympathised with his clients, who were all })ersonally attached to liiin, and many oi" whom were among the distniguished personages of the realm. 46 LOTHAIR. During an important professional visit to Ireland, Mr. Giles had made the acquaint- ance of Miss Apollonia Smylie, the niece of an Irish peer; and though the lady was much admired and courted, had succeeded, after a time, in inducing her to become the partner of his life. Mrs. Giles, or as she described herself Mrs. Putney Giles, taking advantage of a second and territorial Christian name of her husband, was a showy woman; decidedly handsome, unquestionably accomplished, and gifted with energy and enthusiasm which far exceeded even her physical ad- vantages. Her principal mission was to destroy the Papacy and to secure Italian unity. Her lesser impulses were to become acquainted with the aristocracy, and to be herself surrounded by celebrities. Having a fine house in Tyburnia, almost as showy as herself, and a husband who was never so happy as when gratifying her wishes, she did not find it difficult in a considerable degree to pursue and even accomplish her LOTH AIR. 47 objects. The Putney Giles gave a great many dinners, and Mrs. Putney received her world frequently, if not periodically. As they entertained with profusion, her well-lighted saloons were considerably at- tended. These assemblies were never dull ; the materials not being ordinary, often startling, sometimes even brilliant, occa- sionally rather heterogeneous. For though being a violent Protestant and of extreme conservative opinions, her antipapal anti- pathies and her Italian predilections fre- quently involved her with acquaintances not so distinguished as she deemed herself for devotion to the cause of order and orthodoxy. It was rumoured that the brooding brow of Mazzini had been observed in her rooms, and there was no sort of ques- tion that she had thro^vn herself in ecstatic idolatry at the feet of the hero of Caprera. On the morning of the day on which he intended to visit Cardinal Grandison, Mr. Giles, in his chambers at Lincoln's Inn, was suddenly apprised by a clerk, that an inter- 48 LOTHAIR. view with him was sought by a client no less distinguished than Lothair. Although Mr. Giles sat opposite two rows of tin boxes, each of which was numbered, and duly inscribed with the name of Lothair and that of the particular estate to which it referred, Mr. Giles, though he had had occasional communications witli his client, was personally unacquainted with him. He viewed, therefore, with no ordi- nary curiosity the young man who was ushered into his room; a shapely youth slightly above the middle height ; of simple, but distinguished mien, with a countenance naturally pale, though somewhat bronzed by a life of air and exercise, and a profusion of dark auburn hair. ./Vnd for what could Lothair be calling on Mr. Giles? It seems that one of Lothair's intimate companions had got into a scrape, and under these circumstances had what is styled ' made a friend ' of Lothair ; that is to say, confided to him his trouble, and LOTHAIR. 49 asked his advice, Tvith a ^-iew, when given, of its being followed by an offer of assist- ance. Lothair, though inexperienced and very ingenuous, was not devoid of a certain in- stinctive perception of men and things, which rendered it difficult for him to be an easy. prey. His natural disposition, and his comparatively solitary education, had made him a keen observer, and he was one who meditated over his observations. But he was naturally ii:enerous and sensible of kind-- ness ; and this was a favourite companion — next to Bertram his most intimate. Lothair was quite happy in the opportu- nity of soothing a perturbed spirit whose society had been to him a source of so much gratification. It was not until Lothair had promised to extricate his friend from Ids overwhelmini": difficulties, that, upon reflection and exam- ination, he found tlie act on his part was not so simple and so easy as he had assumed it to be. His guardians had apportioned to VOL. I. E 50 LOTHAIR. him an allowance in every sense adequate to his position; and there was no doubt, had he wished to exceed it for any legitimate purpose, not the slightest difficulty on their part would have been experienced. Such a conjuncture had never occurred. Lothair was profuse, but he was not prodi- gal. He gratified all his fancies, but they were not ignoble ones ; and he was not only sentimentally, but systematically, charitable. He had a great number of fine horses, and he had just paid for an expensive yacht. In a word, he spent a great deal of money, and until he called at his bankers to learn what sums were at his disposition he was not aware that he had overdrawn his ac- count. This was rather awkward. Lothair wanted a considerable sum, and he wanted it at once. Irrespective of the consequent delay, he shrimk from any communication with his guardians. From his uncle he had become, almost insensibly, estranged, and with his other guardian he had never had LOTHAIR. 51 the slightest communication. Under these circumstances he recalled the name of the solicitor of the trustees, between whom and himself there had been occasional corre- spondence ; and being of a somewhat im- petuous disposition, he rode off at once from his hotel to Lincoln's Inn. Mr. Giles listened to the narrative with mibroken interest and unswerving patience, with his eyes fixed on his client, and occa- sionally giving a sympathetic nod. ' And so,' concluded Lothair, ' I thought I would come to you.' ' We are honoured,' said Mr. Giles. ' And, certainly, it is quite absurd that your Lordship should want mone}', and for a worthy purpose, and not be able to com- mand it. Why ! the balance in the name of the trustees never was so great as at this moment ; and this very day, or to-morrow at furthest, I shall pay no less than eight- and-thirty thousand pounds timber money to the account.' 52 LOTHAIR. ' Well, I don't want a fifth of that,' said Lothair. ' Your Lordship has an objection to ap- ply to the trustees ? ' inquired Mr. Giles.' ' That is the point of the whole of my statement,' said Lothair, somewhat im- patiently. ' And yet it is the right and regular thing,' said Mr. Giles. ' It may be right and it may be regular, but it is out of the question.' ' Then we will say no more about it. What I want to prevent,' said Mr. Giles^ musingly, ' is anything absurd happening. There is no doubt if your Lordship went into the street and said you wanted ten thousand pounds, or a hundred thousand, fifty people would supply you immediately — but you would have to pay for it. Some enormous usury! That would be bad; but the absurdity of the thing would be greater than the mischief. Roundells, Giles, and Koundell could not help you in that man- ner. That is not our business. We are LOTHAin. 53 glad to find money for our clients at a legal rate of interest, and the most moderate rate feasible. But then there must be security, and the best security. But here we must not conceal it from ourselves, my Lord, we have no securitv whatever. At this mo- ment your Lordship has no property. An insurance office might do it with a policy. They might consider that they had a moral security ; but still it would be absurd. There is something absurd in your Lordship having to raise money. Don't you think I could see these people,' said Mr. Giles, ' and talk to them, and gain a little time. We only want a little time,' ' No,' said Lothair in a peremptory tone. ' I said I would do it, and it must be done, and at once. Sooner than tliere should be dela}', I would rather go into the street, as you suggest, and ask the first man I met to lend me the money. My word has been given, and I do not care what 1 pay to fulfil mv word.' ' We must not think of such things,' said VOL. I, • E 3 54 LOTHAIE. Mr. Giles, shaking his head. ' All I want your Lordship to understand is the exact position. In this case we have no security. Roundells, Giles, and Roundell cannot move without security. It would be against our articles of partnership. But Mr. Giles, as a private individual, may do what he likes. I will let your Lordship have the money, and I will take no security whatever — not even a note of hand. All that I will ask for is that your Lordship should write me a letter, saying you have urgent need for a sum of money (mentioning amount) for an honourable purj^ose, in which your feehngs are deeply interested — and that will do. If anything happens to your Lordship before this time next year, why, I think, the trus- tees could hardly refuse repaying the money; and if they did, why then,' added Mr. Giles, ' I suppose it "svill be all the same a hundred years hence.' ' You have conferred on me the greatest obligation,' said Lothair, with much earnest- ness. ' Language cannot express what I LOTH AIR. 55 feel. I am not too much used to kindness, and I only hope that I may live to show my sense of yours.' ' It is really no great affair, my Lord,' said Mr. Gdes. ' I did not wish to make difficulties, but it was my duty to put the matter clearly before you. What I propose to do is really nothing. I could do no less; I should have felt quite absurd if your Lord- ship had gone mto the money market.' ' I only hope,' repeated Lothair, rismg and offering Mr, Giles his hand, ' that life may give me some occasion to prove my gratitude.' ' Well, my Lord,' replied Mr. Giles, ' if your Lordship wish to repay me for any little interest I have shown m your affairs, you can do that, over and over again, and at once.' ' How so ? ' * By a very great favour, by which Mrs. Giles and myself would be deeply gratified. We have a few friends Avho honour us by dining with us to-day in Hyde Park Gar- 56 LOTH AIR. dens. If your Lordship would add the great distmction of your presence ' ' I should only be too much honoured,' exclaimed Lothair : ' I suppose about eight,' and he left the room ; and Mr. Giles tele- graphed instantly the impending event to Apollonia. LOTHAIR. 37 CHAPTER VIII. It was a great day for ApoUonia ; not only to have Lothair at her right hand at dinner, but the prospect of receiving a Cardinal in the evening. But she was equal to it ; though so engrossed, indeed, in the immediate gratification of her liopes and wishes, that she could scarcely dwell sufficiently on the coming scene of triumph and social excitement. The repast was sumptuous ; Lothair thought the dinner would never end, there were so many dishes, and apparently all of the highest pretension. ]>ut if his simple tastes had permitted hiui to take an in- terest in these details, which they did not, he would have ])ecn assisted by a gorgeous menu of gold and \vliit(; typogra])hy, that was by the side of each guest. The table 58 LOTHAIR. seemed literally to groan under vases and gigantic flagons, and, in its midst, rose a mountain of silver, on which apparently all the cardinal virtues, several of the pagan deities, and Britannia herself, illus- trated with many lights a glowing in- scription, which described the fervent feelino-s of a o-rateful client. There were many guests : the Dowager of Farringford, a lady of quality, Apol- lonia's great lady, who exercised under this roof much social tyranny; in short, was rather fine ; but who, on this occasion, was somewhat cowed by the undreamt-of presence of Lothair. She had not yet met him, and probably never would have met him, had she not had the good fortune of dining at his lawyer's. However, Lady* Farringford was placed a long way from Lothair, having been taken down to dinner by Mr. Giles, and so, by the end of the first course. Lady Farringford had nearly resumed her customary despotic vein, and was beginning to indulge in several kind LOTHAIR. 59 observations, cheapening to her host and hostess and indirectly exalting herself; upon which Mr. Giles took an early easy opportunity of apprising Lady Farringford, that she had nearly met Cardinal Gran- dison at dinner, and that his Eminence would certainly pay his respects to Mrs. Putney Giles in the evening. As Lady Farringford was at present a high ritualist, and had even been talked of as 'going to Rome,' this intelligence was stunning, and it was observed that her Ladyship was un- usually subdued during the whole of the second course. On the right of Lothair sate the wife of a Vice-Chancellor, a quiet and pleasing lady, to whom Lothair, with natural good breeding, paid snatches of happy attention, when he could for a moment with propriety withdraw himself from the blaze of Apol- lonia's coruscating conversation. Then there was a rather fierce-looking Red Rib- bon, medalled as well as be-starred, and the Red Ribbon's wife, with a blushin"" dau<'hter. 60 " LOTHAIR. in spite of her parentage not yet accustomed to stand fire. A partner and his unusually numerous family had the pleasure also of seeing Lothair for the first tune, and there were no less than four M.P.s, one of whom was even in office. Apollonia was stating to Lothair, with brilliant perspicuity, the reasons which quite induced her to believe that the Gulf Stream had changed its course, and the political and social consequences that might accrue. ' The religious sentiment of the Southern races must be wonderfully affected by a more rigorous climate,' said Apollonia. ' I cannot doubt,' she continued, ' that a series of severe winters at Eome might put an end to Romanism.' ' But is there any fear that a reciprocal influence might be exercised on the Nor- thern nations ? ' enquired Lothair. ' Would there be any apprehension of our Pro- testantism becoming proportionately re- laxed.' LOTHAIR. 61 ' Of course not,' said Apollonia. ' Truth cannot be affected by climate. Truth is truth ahke in Palestine and Scandinavia.' ' I wonder what the Cardinal would think of this,' said Lothair, ' who, you tell me, is coming to you this evening.' ' Yes, I am most interested to see him, though he is the most puissant of our foes. Of course he would take refusre in so- phistry ; and science, you know, they deny.' ' Cardinal Grandison is giving some lectures on science,' said the Vice-Chan- cellor's lady quietly. ' It is remorse,' said Apollonia. ' Their clever men can never forc^et tliat unfor- tunate affair of Galileo, and think they can divert the indignation of tlie nineteenth century by mock zeal about red sandstone or the origin of species.' 'And are you afraid of the Gulf Stream,' enquired Lotliair of his calmer neigh- bour. ' I think we want more evidence of a change. The Vice-Chancellor and myself 62 LOTHAIR. went down to a place we have near town on Saturday, where there is a very nice piece of water ; indeed, some people call it a lake ; but it was quite fi-ozen, and my boys wanted to skate, but that I would not permit.' ' You beheve in the Gulf Stream to that extent,' said Lothair, — ' no skating.' The Cardinal came early ; the ladies had not long left the dining-room. They were agitated when his name was announced; even Apollonia's heart beat; but then that might be accounted for by the inopportune recollection of an occasional correspondence with Caprera. Nothing could exceed the simple suavity with which the Cardinal appeared, ap- proached, and greeted them. He thanked ApoUonia for her permission to pay his respects to her, which he had long wished to do ; and then they were all presented, and he said exactly the right thing to everyone. He must have heard of them all before, or read their characters in their LOTHAIR. 63 countenances. In a few minutes tliev were all listening to his Eminence with enchanted ease, as, sitting on the sofa by his hostess, he described to them the ambassadors who had just arrived from Japan, and -with whom he had relations of interesting affairs. The Japanese Go- vernment had exhibited enlisfhtened kind- ness to some of his poor people who had barely escaped martyrdom. Much might be expected from the Mikado, e^d- dently a man of smgular penetration and elevated views; and his Eminence looked as if the mission of Yokohama would speedily end in an episcopal see; but he knew where he was, and studiously avoided all controversial matter. After all the Mikado himself was not more remarkable than this Prince of the Church in a Tyburnian drawing-room, habited in his pink cassock and cape, and waving, as he spoke, with careless grace, his pink l)arrette. The ladies thought the gentlemen re- 64 LOTHAIR. joined them too soon; hut Mr. Giles, wlien he was apprised of the arrival of the Car- dinal, thought it right to precipitate the symposinm. With great tact, when the Cardinal rose to greet him, Mr. Giles with- drew his Eminence from those surrounding, and, after a l)rief interchange of whispered words, quitted him, and then brought for- ward and presented Lothair to the Cardinal, and left them. ' This is not the first time that we should have met,' said the Cardinal; 'but my hap- piness is so great at this moment that, though I deplore, I ^^dll not dwell on, the past.' ' I am, nevertheless, grateful to you, sir, for many services, and have more than once contemplated taking the liberty of personally assuring your Eminence of my gratitude.' ' I think we might sit do^vn,' said the Cardinal, looking around ; and then he led Lothair into an open but interior saloon, where none were yet present, and where they seated themselves on a sofa, and were LOTHAIR. 65 soon engaged in apparently interesting converse. In the meantime the world gradually filled the principal saloon of ApoUonia, and when it approached overflo"\^dng, occasion- ally some persons passed the line, and entered the room in which the Cardinal and his ward were seated, and then, as if conscious of violating some sacred place, drew back. Others on the contrary, with coarser curiosity, were induced to invade the chamber from the mere fact that the Cardinal was to be seen there. ' My geographical instinct,' said the Car- dinal to Lothair, ' assures me that I can reo:ain the staircase throucch these rooms, without rejoining the busy world; so I shall bid you good night, and even pre- sume to give you my blessing ; ' and liis Eminence glided away. When Lothair returned to the saloon it was so crowded that lie was not observed ; exactly what he liked ; and he stood against the wall watching all that passed, not with- VOL. I. F 66 LOTHAIR. out amusement. A lively, social parasite, who had dined there, and had thanked his stars at dinner that fortune had decreed he should meet Lothair, had been cruising for his prize all the time that Lothair had been conversing with the Cardinal, and was soon at his side. ' A strange scene this ! ' said the para- site. ' Is it unusual ? ' enquired Lothair. ' Such a medley ! How they can be got together, I marvel, — priests and philoso- phers, legitimists and carbonari ! Won- derful woman, Mrs. Putney Giles ! ' ' She is very entertaining,' said Lothair, ' and seems to me clever.' ' Remarkably so,' said the parasite, who had been on the point of satirising his hostess, but, observing the quarter of the wind, with rapidity went in for praise. ' An extraordinary woman. Your Lordship had a long talk with the Cardinal.' ' I had the honour of some conversation with Cardinal Grandison,' said Lothair, drawing up. LOTHAIR. 67 ' I wonder what the Cardmal would have said if he had met Mazzini here ? ' ' Mazzini ! Is he here? ' ' Not now ; but I have seen him here,' said the parasite, 'and our host such a Tory ! That makes the thing so amusing ; ' and then the parasite went on making small personal observations on the surrounding scene, and every now and then telling little tales of great people with whom, it ap- peared, he was intimate — all concerted fire to gain the very great social fortress he was now besieging. The parasite was so full of himself, and so anxious to display him- self to advantage, that with all his practice it was some time before he perceived he did net make all the way he could wish with Lothair; who was courteous, but somewhat monosyllabic and absent. ' Your Lordship is struck by that face ? ' said the parasite. Was Lothair struck by tliat face ? And what was it? He had exchanged glances with that G8 LOTHAIR. face during the last ten minutes, and the mutual expression was not one of sympathy l)ut curiosity blended, on the part of the face, with an expression, if not of disdain, of extreme reserve. It was the face of a matron, apparently of not many summers, for her shapely figure was still slender, though her mien was stately. But it was the countenance that had commanded the attention of Lothair : pale, but perfectly Attic in outline, with the short upper lip and the round chin, and a profusion of dark chesnut hair bound by a Grecian fillet, and on her brow a star. ' Yes, I am struck by that face. Who is it?' ' If your Lordsliip could only get a five francpiece of the last French Republic, 1850, you would know. I dare say the moneychangers could get you one. All the artists of Paris, painters, and sculptors, and medalists, were competing to produce a face worthy of representing " La Republique LOTHAIR. 69 fran9aise ; " nobody was satisfied, when Ou- dine caught a girl of not seventeen, and, with a literal reproduction of nature, gained the prize with unanimity.' 'Ah!' ' And though years have passed, the countenance, has not changed ; perhaps im- proved.' ' It is a countenance that will bear, per- haps even would require, maturity,' said Lothair ; ' but she is no longer " La Re- publique fran9aise ; " what is she now ? ' ' She is called Theodora, though married, I believe, to an Englishman, a friend of Garibaldi. Her birth unknown; some say an Italian, some a Pole ; all sorts of stories. But she speaks every language, is ultra- cosmopolitan, and has invented a new reli- gion.' ' A new religion ! ' ' Would your Lordship care to be in- troduced to her? I know her enou^rh for that. Shall we go up to her? ' 70 LOTHAIE. ' I have made so many new acquaintances to-day,' said Lothair, as it were starting from a reverie, ' and indeed heard so many new things, that I think I had better say good night;' and he graciously retired. LOTHAIR. 71 CHAPTER IX. About the same time that Lothair had repaired to the residence of Mr. Giles, Monsignore Bermck, whose audience of the Cardinal in the morning had preceded that of the legal adviser of the trustees, made his way towards one of the noblest mansions in St. James's Square, where resided Lord St. Jerome. It was a mild winter evening ; a little fog still hanging about, but vanquished by the cheerful lamps, and the voice of the muffin bell was just heard at intervals; a genial sound that calls up visions of trim and happy hearths. If we could only so contrive our lives as to go into the country for the first note of the nightingale, and return to town for the first note of the 72 LOTHAIR. muffin bell, existence, it is humbly pre- sumed, might be more enjoyable. Monsignore Berwick "was a young man, but looking younger from a countenance almost of childhood; fair, with light blue eyes, and flaxen hair and delicate features. He was the last person you would have fixed upon as a born Roman ; but nature, in one of the freaks of race, had resolved that his old Scottish blood should be re-asserted, though his ancestors had sedulously blended it, for many generations, with that of the princely houses of the eternal city. The Monsignore was the greatest statesman of Rome, formed and favoured by Antonelli, and probably his successor. The mansion of Lord St. Jerome was a real family mansion, built by his ancestors a century and a half ago, when they believed that from its central position, its happy contiguity to the Court, the senate, and the seats of Government, they at last in St. James's Square had discovered a site which could defy the vicissitudes of fashion, • LOTHAIR. 73 and not share the fate of their river palaces, which they had been obliged in turn to relinquish. And in a considerable degree they were right in their anticipation, for although they have somewhat unwisely permitted the Clubs to invade too success- fully their territory, St. James's Square may be looked upon as our Faubourg St. Ger- main, and a great patrician residing there dwells in the heart of that free and noble life of which he ought to be a part. A marble hall and a marble staircase, lofty chambers with silk or tapestried hang- ings, gilded cornices, and painted ceilings, gave a glimpse of almost A'^enetian splen- dour, and rare in our metropolitan houses of this age; but the first dwellers in St. James's Square had tender and inspiring recollections of the Adrian bride, had frolicked in St. Mark's, and glided in ad- venturous gondolas. The Monsignore was ushered into a chamber bright with lights and a blazing fire, and welcomed with ex- treme cordiality by his hostess, who was 74 LOTHAIR. then alone. Lady St. Jerome was still the young wife of a nobleman not old. She was the daughter of a Protestant house, but, during a residence at Rome after her- marriage, she had reverted to the ancient faith, which she professed with the enthu- siastic convictions of a convert. Her whole life was dedicated to the triumph of the Catholic cause ; and being a woman of con- siderable intelligence and of an ardent mind, she had become a recognised power in the great confederacy which has so much influenced the human race, and which has yet to play perhaps a mighty part in the fortunes of the world. ' I was in great hopes that the Cardinal would have met you at dinner,' said Lady St. Jerome, ' but he wrote only this after- noon to say unexpected business would prevent him, but he would be here in the evenino; thouo-h late.' ' It must be something sudden, for I was with his Eminence this morning, and he then contemplated our meeting here.' LOTHAIR. 75 ' Xothing from abroad ? ' ' I should think not, or it would be known to me. There is nothing new from abroad this afternoon : my time has been spent in writing, not receiving, despatches.' ' And all well, I hope ? ' ' This Scotch business plagues us. So far as Scotland is concerned it is quite ripe ; but the Cardinal counsels delay on account of this country, and he has such a consum- mate knowledge of England, that ' At this moment Lord St. Jerome en- tered the room — a grave but gracious per- sonage, polished but looking silent, though he immediately turned the conversation to the weather. The Monsignore began denoun- cing English fogs; but Lord St. Jerome maintained that, on the whole, there were not more fogs in England tlian in any other country ; ' and as for the French,' he added, ' I like their audacity, for when they revolutionised the calendar, they called one of their months Brumaire.' Then came in one of his Lordship's chap- 76 LOTHAIR. kins who saluted the Monsignore with rever- ence, and immediately afterwards a beauti- ful young lady, his niece, Clare Arundel. The family were li\dng in a convenient suite of small rooms on the ground-floor, called the winter rooms, so dinner was announced by the doors of an adjoining chamber being thrown open, and there they saw, in the midst of a chamber hung with green silk and adorned with some fine cabinet-pictures, a small round table bright and glowing. It was a lively dinner. Lord St. Jerome loved conversation, though he never con- versed. ' There must be an audience,' he would say, ' and I am the audience.' The partner of his life, whom he never ceased admiring, had originally fascinated him by her conversational talents ; and even if nature had not impelled her, Lady St. Jerome was too wise a woman to relin- quish the spell. The Monsignore could always, when necessary, sparkle with anec- dote or blaze with repartee; and all the LOTHAIR. 77 chaplains, who abounded in this house, were men of bright abilities, not merely men of reading but of the world, learned in the world's ways, and trained to govern mankind by the versatility of their sjTQpa- thies. It was a dinner where there could not be two conversations going on, and where even the silent take their share in the talk by their sympathy. And among the silent, as silent even as Lord St. Jerome, was Miss Arundel; and yet her large ^'iolet eyes, darker even than her dark brown hair, and gleaming with intelligence, and her rich face man- tling "R-ith emotion, proved she was not insensible to the witty passages and the bright and interesting narratives that were sparkling and flowing about her. The gentlemen left the dining-room with the ladies in the continental manner. Lady St. Jerome, who was leanino' on the arm of the ]\Ionsignore, guided him into a saloon further than the one they had re-entered, and then seating herself said, ' You were 78 , LOTHAIR. telling me about Scotland, that you yourself thought it ripe.' ' Unquestionably. The original plan was to have established our hierarchy when the Kirk split up; but that would have been a mistake, it was not then ripe. There would have been a fanatical re- action. There is always a tendency that way in Scotland : as it is, at this moment, the Establishment and the Free Kirk are mutually sighing for some compromise which may bring them together again; and if the proprietors would give up theu* petty patronage, some flatter themselves it might be arranged. But we are thoroughly well- informed, and have provided for all this. We sent two of our best men into Scotland some time ago, and they have invented a new church, called the United Presbyterians. John Knox himself was never more violent, or more mischievous. The United Presby- terians will do the business : they will ren- der Scotland simply impossible to live in; and then, when the crisis arrives, the dis- LOTHAIR. 79 tracted and despairing millions will find refuge in the bosom of their only mother. That is why, at home, we wanted no delay in the pubHcation of the bull and the estab- lishment of the hierarchy.' ' But the Cardinal says no ? ' ' And must be followed. For these islands he has no equal. He wishes great reserve at present. Affairs here are progressing, gradually but surely. But it is Ireland where matters are critical, or will be soon.' ' Ireland ! I thought there was a sort of understanding there — at least for the pre- sent.' The Monsignore shook his head, ' What do you think of an American invasion of Ireland ? ' ' An American invasion ! ' ' Even so ; nothing more probaljle, and nothing more to be deprecated by us. Now that the civil war in America is over, the Irish soldiery are resolved to employ tlieir experience and their weapons in their own land ; but they have no thought 80 LOTHAIE. • for the interest of the Hoi}' See, or the weL^re of our Holy religion. Their secret organisation is tampering with the people and tampering with the priests. The diffi- culty of Ireland is that the priests and the people will consider everything in a purely Irish point of view. To gain some local object, they will encourage the principles of the most lawless liberahsm, which natu- rallv land them in Fenianism and Atheism. And the danger is not foreseen, because the Irish pohtical object of the moment is alone looked to.' ' But surelv thev can be cruided ? ' ml .1 O ' TVe want a statesman ia Ireland. AVe hare never been able to find one ; we want a man like the Cardinal. But the Irish will have a native for their chief. We caught Churchill young, and educated him iu the Propaganda ; but he has disappointed us. At first all seemed well; he was re- served and austere; and we heard with satisfection that he was unpopular. But now that critical times are arriving, his LOTHAIE. 81 peasant blood cannot resist the contagion. He proclaims the absolute equahty of all religions, and of the power of the state to confiscate ecclesiastical property, and not restore it to us, but alienate it for ever. For the chance of subvertins; the Ano:hcan Establislnnent, he is favoui'ing a pohcy which will subvert rehaion itself. In his eagerness he cannot see that the Anglicans have only a lease of our property, a lease which is rapidly expiring.' ' This is sad.' ' It is perilous, and difficult to deal with. But it must be dealt with. The problem is to suppress Fenianism, and not to streng- then the Protestant confederacy.' ' And you left Rome for this ? We un- derstood you were coming for somethuig else,' said Lady St. Jerome in a significant tone. ' Yes, yes, I have been there, and I have seen him.' ' And have you succeeded ? ' No ; and no one will ; at lea&t at present.' VOL. I. G 82 LOTHAIK. ' Is all lost then ? Is the Malta scheme again on the carpet ? ' ' Our Holy Church is built upon a rock,' said the Monsignore, ' but not upon the rock of Malta. Nothing is lost ; Antonelli is calm and sanguine, though, rest assured, there is no doubt about what I teU you. France has washed her hands of us.' ' Where then are we to look for aid ? ' exclaimed Lady St. Jerome, ' against the assassins and atheists ? Austria, the alter- native ally, is no longer near you ; and if she were — that I should ever live to say it —even Austria is our foe.' ' Poor Austria ! ' said the Monsignore with an unctuous sneer. ' Two things made her a nation ; she was German and she was Catholic, and now she is neither.' ' But you alarm me, my dear Lord, with your terrible news. We once thought that Spain would be our protector, but we hear bad news from Spain.' ' Yes,' said the Monsignore, ' I think it highly probable that, before a few years LOTHAIE. 83 have eULf)sed, every government in Europe will be atheistical except France. Vanity will always keep France the eldest son of the Church, even if she wear a bonnet rouge. But if the Holy Father keep Rome, these strange changes will only make the occupier of the chair of St. Peter more powerful. His subjects will be in every clime and every country, and then they will be only his subjects. We shall get rid of the difficulty of the divided allegiance, Lady St. Jerome, Avhicli plagued our poor forefathers so much.' 'If we keep Rome,' said Lady St. Jerome. ' And we shall. Let Christendom give us her prayers for the next few years, and Pio Nono will become the most powerful monarch in Europe, and perhaps the only one.' 'I hear a sound,' exclahned Lady St. Jerome. 'Yes! the Cardinal has come. Let us greet him.' But as they were approaching the saloon o2 84 LOTHAIR. the Cardinal met them, and waved them back. ' We will return,' he said, ' to our friends immediately, hut I want to say one word to you both.' He made them sit down. ' I am a little restless,' he said, and stood before the fire. ' Something interesting has happened ; nothing to do with public affairs. Do not pitch your expectations too high — but still of importance, and certainly of great in- terest — at least to me. I have seen my child — my ward.' ' Indeed an event ! ' said Lady St. Jerome, evidently much interested. ' And what is he like ? ' enquired the Monsio:nore. ' All that one could wish. Extremely good-looking, highly bred, and most in- genuous ; a considerable intelligence and not untrained ; but the most absolutely un- affected person I ever encountered.' ' Ah ! if he had been trained by your Eminence,' sighed Lady St. Jerome. ' Is it too late ? ' LOTH AIR. 85 "Tis an Immense position,' mnrmured Berwick. ' AYhat o'ood mio'lit lie not do ? ' said Lady St. Jerome ; ' and if he be so in- genuous, it seems impossible that he can resist the truth.' ' Your Ladyship is a sort of cousin of his,' said the Cardinal musingly. ' Yes ; but very remote. I dare say he would not acknowledge the tie. But we are kin ; we have the same blood in our veins.' ' You should make his acquaintance,' said the Cardinal. ' I more than desire it. 1 hear he has been terribly neglected, brought up among the most dreadful people, entirely infidels and fanatics.' ' He has been nearly two years at Ox- ford,' said the Cardinal. ' That may have mitigated the evil.' ' Ah ! but you, my Lord Cardiiud, you must interfere. Now that you at last 86 LOTHAIR. know liim, you must undertake the great task ; you must save him.' ' We must all pray, as I pray every morn and every night ' said the Cardinal, ' for the conversion of England.' ' Or the conquest,' murmured Berwick, LOTHAIK. iSV CHAPTER X. As the Cardinal was regaining his carriage on leaving Mrs. Giles' party, there was, about the entrance of the house, the usual gathering under such circumstances ; some zealous linkboys marvellously familiar with London life, and some midnight loungers, who thus take their hmnble share of the social excitement, and their happy chance of becoming acquainted with some of the notables of the wondrous world of which they form the base. This little gathering, ranged at the instant into stricter order by the police to facilitate the passage of his Eminence, prevented the progress of a pas- senger, who exclaimed in an audible, but not noisy, voice, as if he were ejaculating to himself, ' A bas les pretres i ' This exclamation, unintelligible to the 88' LOTHAIK. populace, was noticed only by tlie only person who understood it. The Cardinal, astonished at the unusual sound — for, hi- therto, he had always found the outer world of London civil, or at least indif- ferent — threw his penetrating glance at the passenger, and caught clearly the visage on which the lamplight fully shone. It was a square, sinewy face, closely shaven, with the exception of a small but thick moustache, brown as the well-cropped hair, and blend- ing with the hazel eye ; a calm, but deter- mined countenance ; clearly not that of an Englishman, for he wore ear-rings. The carriage drove off, and the passenger, somewhat forcing his way through the clustering group, continued his course until he reached the cab-stand near the Marble Arch, when he engaged a vehicle and ordered to be driven to Leicester Square. That quarter of the town exhibits an ani- n^ated scene towards the witching hour; many lights and much population, illu- minated coffee-houses, the stir of a large LOTHAIE. ■ 89 theatre, bands of music in the open ah', and other sounds, most of them gay, and some festive. The stranger, whose com- pact figure was shrouded by a long fur cape, had not the appearance of being in- fluenced by the temptation of amusement. As he stopped in the square and looked around him, the expression of his coun- tenance was moody, perhaps even anxious. He seemed to be making observations on the locality, and, after a few minutes, crossed the open space and turned up into a small street which opened into the square. In this street was a coffeehouse of some pretension, connected indeed with an hotel, which had been formed out of two houses, and therefore possessed no inconsiderable accommodation. The coffeeroom was capacious and adorned in a manner which intimated it was not kept by an Englishman, or much used by Englishmen. The walls were painted in frescoed arabesques. There were many guests, principally seated at small 90 LOTHAIR. tables of marble, and on benches and chairs covered with a coarse, crimson velvet. Some were sipping coffee, some were drinking wine, others were smoking or playing dominoes, or doing both ; while many were engaged in reading the foreign jom'nals which abounded. An ever-vigilant waiter was at the side of the stranger the instant he entered, and wished to know his pleasure. The stranger was examining with his keen eye every individual in the room while this question was asked and repeated. ' What would I wish ? ' said the stranger, having concluded his inspection, and as it were summoning back his recollection. ' I would wish to see, and at once, one Mr. Perroni, who, I believe, lives here.' ' Why, 'tis the master ! ' exclaimed the waiter. ' Well, then, go and tell the master that I want him.' ' But the master is much engaged,' said the waiter; ' particularly.' LOTHAIE. 91 ' I dare say ; but you will go and tell him that I particularly want to see him.' The waiter, though prepared to be im- pertinent to any one else, felt that one was speaking to him ayIio must be obeyed, and with a subdued, but hesitating, manner said, ' There is a meeting to-night upstau-s, where the master is secretary, and it is difficult to see him ; but if 1 could see him, what name am I to give ? ' * You will go to him instantly,' said the stranger, ' and you will tell him that he is wanted by Captain Bruges.' The waiter was not long absent, and returning with an obsequious bow, he in- vited the stranger to follow him to a pri- vate room, where lie was alone only for a few seconds, for the door opened and he was joined by Perroni. ' Ah ! my general,' exclaimed the master of tlic coffeehouse, and he kissed the stranger's hand. ' You received my tele- gram ? ' 92 LOTHAIR. ' I am here. Now wliat is vonr l^usi- ness?' ' There is business, and great business, if you will do it; business for you.' ' Well I am a soldier, and soldiering is my trade, and I do not much care what I do in that way, provided it is not against the good cause. But I must tell you at once, friend Perroni, I am not a man who will take a leap in the dark. I must form my own staff, and I must have my com- missariat secure.' ' My General, you will be master of your own terms. The standing committee of the Holy Alliance of Peoples are sitting upstairs at this moment. They were un- animous in sending for you. See them; judge for yourself; and, rest assured, you will be satisfied.' ' I do not much like having to do with committees,' said the General. ' However, let it be as you like — I will see them.' ' I had better just announce your arrival,' said Perroni. ' And mil you not take some- LOTHAIU. 93 m thing, my General, after your travel ; you must be wearied.' ' A glass of sugar and water. You know, I am not easily tired. And, I agree with you, it is better to come to business at once: so prepare them.' 94 LOTHAIR. CHAPTER XL The Standing Committee of the Holy Alliance of Peoples all rose, although they were extreme Republicans, when the General entered. Such is the magical in- fluence of a man of action over men of the pen and the tongue. Had it been, instead of a successful military leader, an orator that had inspired Europe, or a journalist who had established the rights of the human race, the Standing Committee would have only seen men of their own kidney, who having been favoured with happier opportunities than themselves, had reaped a harvest, which, equally favoured, they might here have garnered. ' General,' said FeHx Drolin the presi- dent, who was looked upon by the brother- LOTHAIR. 95 hood as a statesman, for he had been, in his time, a member of a Provisional Go- vernment, ' this seat is for you,' and he pointed to one on his right hand. ' You are ever welcome ; and I hope you bring good tidings, and good fortune.' ' I am glad to be among my friends, and I may say,' looking around, ' my comrades. I hope I may bring you better fortune than my tidings.' ' But now they have left Rome,' said the President, 'every day we expect good news.' ' Ay, ay ! he has left Rome, but he has not left Rome with the door open. I hope it is not on such gossip you have sent for me. You have something on hand. AVhat is it ? ' ' You shall hear it from the fountain head,' said the President, ' fresh from New York,' and he pointed to an individual seated in the centre of the table. ' Ah ! Colonel Finucane,' said the General, ' I have not forgotten James River. You did that well. AVhat is the trick now ? ' 96 LOTHAIR. Whereupon a tall, lean man, with a decided brogue but speaking through his nose, rose from his seat and informed the General that the Irish people were organised and ready to rise; that they had sent their deputies to New York ; all they wanted were arms and officers; that the American brethren had agreed to supply them with both and amply ; and that considerable subscriptions were raising for other pur- poses. What they now required was a commander-in-chief equal to the occasion, and in whom all would have confidence; and therefore they had telegraphed for the General.' ' I doubt not our friends over the water would send us plenty of rifles,' said the General, ' if we could only manage to knd them ; and, I think, I know men now in the States from whom I could form a good staff; but how about the people of Ireland ? What evidence have we that they will rise, if we land ? ' , LOTHAIR. 97 ' The best,' said the President. ' We have a Head-Centre here, Citizen Desmond, who will give you the most recent and the most authentic mtelhgence on that head.' ' The whole country is organised,' said the Head-Centre ; ' we could put 300,000 men in the field at any time in a fortnight. The movement is not sectarian ; it per- vades all classes and all creeds. All that we want are officers and arms.' ' Hem I ' said the General, ' And as to your other supplies ? Any scheme of commissariat ? ' ' There will be no lack of means,' replied the Head-Centre. ' There is no country where so much money is hoarded as in Ireland. But, depend upon it, so far as the commissariat is concerned, the move- ment will be self-supporting.' ' "Well, we shall sec,' said the General; ' I am sorry it is an Irish affair, tliough, to be sure, what else could it be ? I am not fond of Irish affairs : whatever may be said, and however plausible tilings may look, in an VOL. I. H '98 LOTHAIK. Irish business there is always a priest at the bottom of it. I hate priests. By-thet bye, I was stopped on my way here by a Cardinal getting into his carriage. I thought I had burnt all those vehicles when I was at Rome with Garibaldi in '48. A Cardinal in his carriage ! I had no idea you permitted that sort of cattle in London.' ' London is a roost for every bird,' said Felix Drolin. ' Very few of the priests favour this movement,' saicl Desmond. ' Then you have a great power against you,' said the General, ' in addition to England.' ' They are not exactly against ; the bulk of them are too national for that ; but Rome does not sanction — you under- stand ? ' • ' I understand enough,' said the General, ' to see that we must not act with pre- cipitation. An Irish business is a thing ' to be turned over several times.' ' But yet,' said a Pole, ' what hope for LOTIIAlll. 99 liumaiiity except fi'om the rising of an oppresf-ecl nationality. We have offered ourselves on the altar, and in vain ! Greece is too sniaU, and llouniania — though both of them are readv to do anvthing : but they would l^c the mere tools of Russia. Ireland alone remains, and she is at our feet.' ' The peoples will never succeed till they have a fleet,' said a German. ' Then you could land as many rifles as you like, or anything else. To have a fleet we rose against Denmark in my countr}', but we have been betrayed. Nevertheless, Ger- many will yet be miitecl, and she can only be united as a Eepublic. Then she will be the mistress of the seas.' ' Tliat is the mission of Italv,' said Perroni. ' Italy — with the traditions of Genoa, Venice, Pisa, — Italy is plainly indicated as the future mistress of the seas.' ' I beg your pardon,' said the German; 'the future mistress of the seas is the land 31 2 100 LOTHAIR. of tlie Viking. It is the forests of the Baltic that will build the fleet of the future. You have no timber in Italy,' ' Timber is no longer wanted,' said Perroni. ' Kor do I know of Avhat will be formed the fleets of the future. But the sovereignty of the seas depends upon seamen, and the nautical genius of the Italians ' ' Comrades,' said the General, ' we have discussed to-night a great subject. For my part I have travelled rather l^riskly as you wished it. I should like to sleep on this affair.' ' 'Tis most reasonable,' said the President. ' Our refreshment at council is very spare,' he continued, and he pointed to a vase of water and some glasses ranged round it in the middle of the table; ' but we always drink one toast, General, before Ave separate. It is to one whom you love, and whom you have served well. Fill glasses, breth- ren, and now ' To Mary- Anne.' If they had been inspired by the grape LOTHAIR. 101 nothing could be more animated and even excited than all their countenances sud- denly became. The cheer might have been heard in the cofFeeroom, as they expressed, in the phrases of many languages, the never-failino' and never-fla":o;in(T enthusiasm O (DO O invoked by the toast of their mistress. 102 LOTIIAIR. CHAPTER XII. 'Did you read that paragraph, mamma?' enqiured Lady Corisande of the Duchess, in a tone of some seriousness. ' I did; ' And what did you think of it ? ' ' It tilled me with so much amazement that I have hardly begun to think.' ' And Bertram never gave a hint of such thino's ! ' ' Let us believe they are quite untrue.' ' I hope Bertram is in no danger,' said his sister, ' Heaven forbid ! ' exclaimed the mother, with unaffected alarm. ' I know not how it is,' said Lady Cori- sande, 'but I frequently feel that some great woe is hanging over our country.' ; LOTH AIR. 103 ' You must dismiss such thoughts, my child; they are fonciful.' ' But it will come, and when least ex- pected — frequently in church, l)ut also in the sunshine : and when I am ridino- too, when, once, everything seemed gay. But now I often think of strife, and struo'2"le, and war — civil war : the stir of our caval- cade seems like the tramp of cavalry.' ' You indulge your miagination too much, dear Corisande. When you return to Lon- don, and enter the world, these anxious tlioughts will fly.' ' Is it imagination? I should rather have doubted my behig of an imaginative nature. It seems to me that I am rather literal. But I cannot help hearhig things, and reading things, and observing things, and they fill me with disquietude. AH seems doubt and change, when it would appear that we require both faith and firmness.' ' The Duke is not alarmed about afiairs,' said his wife. ' And if all did tlieir duty like papa, 104 LOTHAIIl. there might be less, or no cause,' said Cori- sande. ' But when I hear of young nobles, the natural leaders of the land, going over to the Roman Catholic Church, I confess I lose heart and patience. It seems so un- patriotic, so effeminate.' ' It may not be true,' said the Duchess. ' It may not be true of him, but it is true of others,' said Lady Corisande. ' And why should he escape? He is very young, rather friendless, and surrounded by wily })ersons. I am disappointed about Bertram too. He ought to have prevented this, if it be true. Bertram seemed to me to have such excellent principles, and so completely to feel that he was born to maintain the great country which his ancestors had created, that I indulged in dreams. I sup- pose you are right, mamma; I supj^ose I am imaginative without knowing it; but I have always thought, and hoped, that wdien the troubles came the country might, perhaps, rally round Bertram.' ' I wish to see Bertram in Parliament,' LOTHAIR. 105 said the Duchess. ' That will be the best, thmg for him. The Duke has some plans.' This conversation had. been occasioned by a paragraph in the ' Morning Post,' cir- culating a rumour that a young noble, obviously Lothair, on the impending com- pletion of his minority, was about to enter the Roman Church. The Duchess and her daughter were sitting in a chamber of their northern castle, and .speculating on their return to London, which was to take place after the Easter which had just arrived. It v/as an important social season for Cori- sande, for she was to be formallv introduced into the great world, and to be presented at Court. In tlie meanwliile, Avas there any truth in the report about Lothair? After their meeting at their lawyer's, a certain intimacy had occurred between the Cardinal and his w\ard. They met again immediately and frequently, and their mu- tual feelings were cordial. Tlie maimers of his Eminence were refined and affectionate; 106 LOTHAIR. his conversational powers were distin- guished; there was not a subject on which his mind did not teem with interesting suggestions; his easy knowledge seemed always ready and always full ; and Avhether it were art, or letters, or manners, or even- political affairs, Lothair seemed to listen to one of the wisest, most enlightened, and most agreeable of men. There was only one subject on which his Eminence seemed scrupulous never to touch, and that was religion ; or so indirectly, that it was only when alone that Lothair frequently found himself musing over the happy influence on the arts, and morals, and happiness of mankind — of the Church. •In due time, not too soon, but when he was attuned to the initiation, the Cardinal presented Lothair to Lady St. Jerome. The impassioned eloquence of that lady ger- minated the seed which the Cardinal had seemed so carelessly to scatter. She was a woman to inspire crusaders. Xot that she ever condescended to vindicate her own ''. LOTHAIR. 107 particular faith, or spoke as if she were conscious that Lothair did not possess it. Assumino; that religion was true, for other- wise man would be in a more degraded position than the beasts of the field, which are not aware of their own wretchedness, then religion should be the principal occu- pation of man, to which all other pursuits should be subservient. The doom of eter- nity, and the fortunes of life, cannot be ])laced in competition. Our days should be pure, and holy, and heroic — full of noble thou2"hts and solemn sacrifice. Providence, in its wisdom, had decreed that the world sliould be divided between the faithful and atheists ; the latter even seemed to pre- dominate. There was no doubt that, if they prevailed, all that cle^'ated man would become extinct. It was a great trial ; but liappy was the man who was privileged even to endure the awful test. It might develope the highest qualities and the most sublime conduct. If he were equal to the occasion, and could control and even sub- 108 LOTHAIR. due these sons of Corah, he would rank with Michael the Archangel. This was the text on which frequent dis- courses were delivered to Lothair, and to which he listened at hrst ^^-ith eager, and soon with enraptured attention. The priestess was worthy of the shrme. Few persons were ever gifted with more natural eloquence ; a command of language, choice without being pedantic ; beautiful hands that fluttered with irresistible grace; flash- ing eyes and a voice of melody. Lothair bea'an to examine himself, and to ascertain whether he possessed the neces- sary qualities, and was capable of sublime conduct. His natural modesty and his strong religious feeling struggled together. He feared he was not an archangel, and yet he longed to struggle with the powers of darkness. One day he ventured to express to Miss Arundel a somewhat hopeful view of the future, but Miss Arundel shook her head. ' I do not ao-ree with mv aunt, at least as ; LOTHAIE. 109 regards this country,' said Miss Arundel ; ' I think our sins are too great. We left His church, and God is now leaving us.' Lothair looked grave, but Avas silent. Weeks had passed since his introduction to the family of Lord St. Jerome, and it was remarkable how large a portion of his sub- sequent time had passed under tliat roof. At first there were few persons in town, and really of these Lothair knew none : and then the house in St. James's Square was not only an interesting, but it was an agree- able, house. All Lady St. Jerome's family connections were persons of much foshion, so there was more variety and entertain- ment than sometimes are to be found under a Roman Catholic roof. Lady St. Jerome was at home every evening before Easter. Few dames can venture successfully on so decided a step; but her saloons were always attended, and by ' nice people.' Occasionally the Cardinal stepped in, and, to a certain degree, the saloon was the rendezvous of the Catholic party ; but it was also generally 110 LOTHAIR. social and distinguished. Many bright dames and damsels, and many influential men, were there, who little deemed tliat deep and daring thoughts were there masked by many a gracious countenance. The social atmosphere infinitely pleased Lothair. The mixture of solemn duty and graceful diversion, high purposes and charming manners, seemed to realise some youthful dreams of elegant existence. All too was enhanced by the historic character of the roof and bv the recollection that their mutual ancestors, as Clare Arundel more than once intimated to him, had created England. Having had so many pleasant dinners in St. James's Square, and spent there so many evening hours, it was not wonderful that Lothair had accepted an invitation from Lord St Jerome to pass Easter at his countrv seat. LOTHAIK- 111 CHAPTER XIII. Vauxe, the seat of the St. Jeromes, avus the finest specimen of the old English resi- dence extant. It was the perfection of the style, which had gradually arisen after the wars of the Roses had alike destroyed all the castles and the purpose of those stern erections. People said Vauxe looked like a college : the truth is, colleges looked like Vauxe, for when those fair and civil build- ings rose, the wise and liberal spirits who endowed them, intended that thev should resemble as much as possible the residence of a great noble. There were two quadrangles at Vauxe of grey stone ; the outer one of larger dimensions and much covered with i\y ; the inner one not so extensive, but more ornate, with a loftv tower, a linll, and a 112 LOTHAIR. cliapel. The house was full of galleries, and they were full of portraits. Indeed there was scarcely a chamber in this vast edifice of which the walls were not breath- ing with English liistory in this interesting form. Sometimes more ideal art asserted a triumphant claim — transcendental Holy Families, seraphic saints, and gorgeous scenes by Tintoret and Paul of Yerona. The furniture of the house seemed never to have been changed. It was very old, somewhat scanty, but very rich — tapestry and velvet hangings, marvellous cabinets, and crystal girandoles. Here and there a group of ancient plate ; ewers and flagons and tall saltcellars, a foot high and richly chiselled ; sometimes a state bed shadowed with a huge pomp of stiff brocade and borne by silver poles. Vauxe stood in a large park, studded with stately trees ; here and there an avenue of Spanish chesnuts or a grove of oaks : sometunes a gorsy dell and sometimes a great spread of antlered fern, taller than the tallest man. LOTHAIR. 113 It was only twenty miles from town, and Lord St. Jerome drove Lothair down ; the last ten miles through a pretty land, which, at the right season, would have been bright with orchards, oak woods, and hop gardens. Lord St. Jerome loved horses and was an eminent whip. He had driven four-in-hand when a boy, and he went on driving four- in-hand; not because it was the fashion, but because he loved it. Towards the close of Lent, Lady St. Jerome and Clare Arundel had been at a convent in retreat, but they always passed Holy Week at home, and they were to welcome Lord St. Jerome a^'ain at Vauxe. The day was bright, the mode of move- ment exhilarating, all the anticipated inci- dents delightful, and Lothair felt the happi- ness of health and youth. ' There is Vauxe,' said Lord St. Jerome in a tone of proud humility, as a turn in the road first displayed the stately i)ile. 'How beautiful!' said Lothair; 'Ah! our ancestors understood the country.' VOL. I. I 114 LOTHAIR. ' I used to think when I was a boy,' said Lord St. Jerome, 'that I lived in the prettiest village in the world, but these railroads have so changed everything, that Vauxe seems to me now only a second town house.' The ladies were in a garden, where they were consulting with the gardener and Father Coleman about the shape of some new beds, for the critical hour of filling them was approaching. The gardener, like aU head- gardeners, was opiniated. Living always at Vauxe, he had come to believe that the gardens belonged to him, and that the family were only occasional visitors ; and he treated them accordingly. The lively and impetuous Lady St. Jerome had a thousand bright fancies, but her morose attendant never indulged them. She used to deplore his tyranny with piteous playful- ness. ' I suppose,' she would say, ' it is useless to resist, for I observe 'tis the same everywhere. Lady Roehampton says she never has her way with her gardens. It is LOTH AIR. 115 110 use speaking to Lord St. Jerome, for though he 'is afraid of nothing else, I am sure he is afraid of Hawkins.' The only way that Lady St. Jerome could manage Hawkins was through Father Coleman. Father Coleman, who kneAv every- thing, knew a great deal aljout gardens ; from the days of Le Notre to those of the fine gentlemen who now travel about, and when diseno'a2:ed deisin to oive us ad^-ice. Father Coleman had only just entered middle-age, was imperturbable and mild in his manner. He passed his life very much at Vauxe, and imparted a great deal of knowledge to Mr. Hawkins, without appa- rently being conscious of so doing. At the bottom of his mind, Mr. Hawknis felt assured that he had gained several disthi- guishcd prizes, mainly through the hints and guidance of Father Coleman; and thus, though on the surface a little surly, he was ruled 1)y Father Coleman, under the com- bined influence of .