Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
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So Prince Florestan was invited to Lady Roehampton's receptions, and he
came; and he never missed one. His visits were brief. He appeared, made
his bow, had the pleasure of some slight conversation with her, and then
soon retired. Received by Lady Roehampton, in time, though sluggishly,
invitations arrived from other houses, but he rarely availed himself of
them. He maintained in this respect great reserve, and was accustomed to
say that the only fine lady in London who had ever been kind to him was
Lady Roehampton.
All this time Endymion, who was now thoroughly planted in society, saw a
great deal of the Neuchatels, who had returned to Portland Place at
the beginning of February. He met Adriana almost every evening, and was
frequently invited to the house--to the grand dinners now, as well as
the domestic circle. In short, our Endymion was fast becoming a young
man of fashion and a personage. The brother of Lady Roehampton had now
become the private secretary of Mr. Sydney Wilton and the great friend
of Lady Montfort. He was indeed only one of the numerous admirers
of that lady, but he seemed not the least smiled on. There was never
anything delightful at Montfort House at which he was not present, or
indeed in any other place, for under her influence, invitations from
the most distinguished houses crowded his mantelpiece and were stuck all
round his looking-glass. Endymion in this whirl of life did not forget
his old friends. He took care that Seymour Hicks should have a frequent
invitation to Lady Roehampton's assemblies. Seymour Hicks only wanted a
lever to raise the globe, and this introduction supplied him with
one. It was astonishing how he made his way in society, and though,
of course, he never touched the empyrean regions in which Endymion now
breathed, he gradually, and at last rapidly, planted himself in a world
which to the uninitiated figures as the very realm of nobility and
fashion, and where doubtless is found a great fund of splendour,
refinement, and amusement. Seymour Hicks was not ill-favoured, and was
always well dressed, and he was very civil, but what he really owed his
social advancement to was his indomitable will. That quality governs all
things, and though the will of Seymour Hicks was directed to what many
may deem a petty or a contracted purpose, life is always interesting
when you have a purpose and live in its fulfilment. It appeared from
what he told Endymion that matters at the office had altered a good deal
since he left it. The retirement of St. Barbe was the first brick out
of the wall; now, which Endymion had not yet heard, the brother of
Trenchard had most unexpectedly died, and that gentleman come into a
good estate. "Jawett remains, and is also the editor of the 'Precursor,'
but his new labours so absorb his spare time that he is always at the
office of the paper. So it is pretty well all over with the table at
Joe's. I confess I could not stand it any longer, particularly after
you left. I have got into the junior Pan-Ionian; and I am down for
the senior; I cannot get in for ten years, but when I do it will be a
_coup_; the society there is tiptop, a cabinet minister sometimes, and
very often a bishop."
CHAPTER LVI
Endymion was glad to meet Baron Sergius one day when he dined with
Prince Florestan. There were several distinguished foreigners among the
guests, who had just arrived. They talked much, and with much emphasis.
One of them, the Marquis of Vallombrosa, expatiated on the Latin
race, their great qualities, their vivacity, invention, vividness of
perception, chivalrous valour, and sympathy with tradition. The northern
races detested them, and the height of statesmanship was to combine the
Latin races into an organised and active alliance against the barbarism
which menaced them. There had been for a short time a vacant place next
to Endymion, when Baron Sergius, according to his quiet manner, stole
into the room and slipped into the unoccupied seat. "It is some time
since we met," he said, "but I have heard of you. You are now a public
man, and not a public character. That is a not unsatisfactory position."
The prince listened apparently with much interest to the Marquis of
Vallombrosa, occasionally asked him a question, and promoted discussion
without himself giving any opinion. Baron Sergius never spoke except
to Endymion, and then chiefly social inquiries about Lord and Lady
Roehampton, their good friends the Neuchatels, and frequently about
Mr. Sidney Wilton, whom, it appeared, he had known years ago, and
intimately. After dinner the guests, on the return to the saloon, ranged
themselves in a circle, but not too formally, and the prince moving
round addressed each of them in turn. When this royal ceremony was
concluded, the prince motioned to the Marquis of Vallombrosa to
accompany him, and then they repaired to an adjacent salon, the door of
which was open, but where they could converse without observation. The
Duke of St. Angelo amused the remaining guests with all the resources of
a man practised in making people feel at their ease, and in this he was
soon greatly assisted by Mr. Waldershare, who was unable to dine with
the prince to-day, but who seemed to take much interest in this arrival
of the representatives of the Latin race.
Baron Sergius and Endymion were sitting together rather apart from the
rest. The baron said, "You have heard to-day a great deal about the
Latin race, their wondrous qualities, their peculiar destiny, their
possible danger. It is a new idea, or rather a new phrase, that I
observe is now getting into the political world, and is probably
destined to produce consequences. No man will treat with indifference
the principle of race. It is the key of history, and why history is
often so confused is that it has been written by men who were ignorant
of this principle and all the knowledge it involves. As one who may
become a statesman and assist in governing mankind, it is necessary that
you should not be insensible to it; whether you encounter its influence
in communities or in individuals, its qualities must ever be taken into
account. But there is no subject which more requires discriminating
knowledge, or where your illustrating principle, if you are not deeply
founded, may not chance to turn out a will-o'-the-wisp. Now this great
question of the Latin race, by which M. de Vallombrosa may succeed in
disturbing the world--it might be well to inquire where the Latin race
is to be found. In the North of Italy, peopled by Germans and named
after Germans, or in the South of Italy, swarming with the descendants
of Normans and Arabs? Shall we find the Latin race in Spain, stocked by
Goths, and Moors, and Jews? Or in France, where there is a great Celtic
nation, occasionally mingled with Franks? Now I do not want to go into
the origin of man and nations--I am essentially practical, and only
endeavour to comprehend that with which I have personally to deal, and
that is sufficiently difficult. In Europe I find three great races with
distinct qualities--the Teutons, the Sclaves, and the Celts; and their
conduct will be influenced by those distinctive qualities. There is
another great race which influences the world, the Semites. Certainly,
when I was at the Congress of Vienna, I did not believe that the Arabs
were more likely to become a conquering race again than the Tartars, and
yet it is a question at this moment whether Mehemet Ali, at their
head, may not found a new empire in the Mediterranean. The Semites are
unquestionably a great race, for among the few things in this world
which appear to be certain, nothing is more sure than that they invented
our alphabet. But the Semites now exercise a vast influence over affairs
by their smallest though most peculiar family, the Jews. There is no
race gifted with so much tenacity, and such skill in organisation.
These qualities have given them an unprecedented hold over property
and illimitable credit. As you advance in life, and get experience
in affairs, the Jews will cross you everywhere. They have long been
stealing into our secret diplomacy, which they have almost appropriated;
in another quarter of a century they will claim their share of open
government. Well, these are races; men and bodies of men influenced in
their conduct by their particular organisation, and which must enter
into all the calculations of a statesman. But what do they mean by the
Latin race? Language and religion do not make a race--there is only one
thing which makes a race, and that is blood."
"But the prince," said Endymion inquiringly; "he seemed much interested
in what M. de Vallombrosa was saying; I should like to know what his
opinions are about the Latin race."
"The prince rarely gives an opinion," said the baron. "Indeed, as you
well know, he rarely speaks; he thinks and he acts."
"But if he acts on wrong information," continued Endymion, "there will
probably be only one consequence."
"The prince is very wise," said the baron; "and, trust me, knows as
much about mankind, and the varieties of mankind, as any one. He may not
believe in the Latin race, but he may choose to use those who do believe
in it. The weakness of the prince, if he have one, is not want of
knowledge, or want of judgment, but an over-confidence in his star,
which sometimes seduces him into enterprises which he himself feels at
the time are not perfectly sound."
CHAPTER LVII
The interest of the town was now divided between the danger of the
government and the new preacher who electrified the world at St.
Rosicrucius. The Rev. Nigel Penruddock was not at all a popular preacher
according to the vulgar acceptation of the term. He disdained all cant
and clap-trap. He preached Church principles with commanding eloquence,
and he practised them with unceasing devotion. His church was always
open, yet his schools were never neglected; there was a perfect choir,
a staff of disciplined curates, young and ascetic, while sacred sisters,
some of patrician blood, fearless and prepared for martyrdom, were
gliding about all the back slums of his ferocious neighbourhood. How
came the Whigs to give such a church to such a person? There must have
been some mistake. But how came it that all the Whig ladies were among
the most devoted of his congregation? The government whips did not like
it; at such a critical period too, when it was necessary to keep
the Dissenters up to the mark! And there was Lady Montfort and Lady
Roehampton never absent on a Sunday, and their carriages, it was
whispered, were often suspiciously near to St. Rosicrucius on week-days.
Mr. Sidney Wilton too was frequently in Lady Roehampton's pew, and one
day, absolutely my lord himself, who unfortunately was rarely seen at
church--but then, as is well known, critical despatches always arrive on
a Sunday morning--was successfully landed in her pew by Lady Roehampton,
and was very much struck indeed by what he heard. "The fact is," as he
afterwards observed, "I wish we had such a fellow on our bench in the
House of Commons."
About this time also there was another event, which, although not of so
general an interest, much touched the feelings of Endymion, and this was
the marriage of the Earl of Beaumaris with Imogene. It was solemnised in
as private and quiet a manner as possible. Waldershare was the best man,
and there were no bridesmaids. The only other persons invited by Mr.
Rodney, who gave away the bride, were Endymion and Mr. Vigo.
One morning, a few days before the wedding, Sylvia, who had written
to ask Lady Roehampton for an interview, called by appointment in St.
James' Square. Sylvia was received by Lady Roehampton in her boudoir,
and the interview was long. Sylvia, who by nature was composed, and
still more so by art, was pale and nervous when she arrived, so much so
that her demeanour was noticed by the groom of the chambers; but when
she departed, her countenance was flushed and radiant, though it was
obvious that she had been shedding tears. On the morning of the wedding,
Lady Roehampton in her lord's brougham called for Endymion at the
Albany, and then they went together to the vestry of St. James' Church.
Lord Beaumaris and Mr. Waldershare had arrived. The bridegroom was a
little embarrassed when he was presented to Lady Roehampton. He had made
up his mind to be married, but not to be introduced to a stranger, and
particularly a lady; but Mr. Waldershare fluttered over them and put
all right. It was only the perplexity of a moment, for the rest of the
wedding party now appeared. Imogene, who was in a travelling dress, was
pale and serious, but transcendently beautiful. She attempted to touch
Lady Roehampton's hand with her lips when Myra welcomed her, but Lady
Roehampton would not permit this, and kissed her. Everybody was calm
during the ceremony except Endymion, who had been silent the whole
morning. He stood by the altar with that convulsion of the throat and
that sickness of the heart which accompany the sense of catastrophe.
He was relieved by some tears which he easily concealed. Nobody noticed
him, for all were thinking of themselves. After the ceremony, they all
returned to the vestry, and Lady Roehampton with the others signed the
registry. Lord and Lady Beaumaris instantly departed for the continent.
"A strange event!" exclaimed Lady Roehampton, as she threw herself back
in the brougham and took her brother's hand. "But not stranger than what
has happened to ourselves. Fortune seems to attend on our ruined home. I
thought the bride looked beautiful."
Endymion was silent.
"You are not gay this morning, my dear," said Lady Roehampton; "they say
that weddings are depressing. Now I am in rather high spirits. I am
very glad that Imogene has become Lady Beaumaris. She is beautiful, and
dangerously beautiful. Do you know, my Endymion, I have had some uneasy
moments about this young lady. Women are prescient in these matters, and
I have observed with anxiety that you admired her too much yourself."
"I am sure you had no reason, Myra," said Endymion, blushing deeply.
"Certainly not from what you said, my dear. It was from what you did
not say that I became alarmed. You seldom mentioned her name, and when
I referred to her, you always turned the conversation. However, that is
all over now. She is Countess of Beaumaris," added Myra, dwelling slowly
and with some unction on the title, "and may be a powerful friend to
you; and I am Countess of Roehampton, and am your friend, also not quite
devoid of power. And there are other countesses, I suspect, on whose
good wishes you may rely. If we cannot shape your destiny, there is no
such thing as witchcraft. No, Endymion, marriage is a mighty instrument
in your hands. It must not be lightly used. Come in and lunch; my lord
is at home, and I know he wants to see you."
CHAPTER LVIII
What was most remarkable, and most interesting, in the character of
Berengaria was her energy. She had the power of exciting others to
action in a degree rarely possessed. She had always some considerable
object in contemplation, occasionally more than one, and never foresaw
difficulties. Her character was, however, singularly feminine; she never
affected to be a superior woman. She never reasoned, did not read much,
though her literary taste was fine and fastidious. Though she required
constant admiration and consequently encouraged it, she was not a
heartless coquette. Her sensibility was too quick, and as the reign of
her favourites was sometimes brief, she was looked upon as capricious.
The truth is, what seemed whimsical in her affections was occasioned
by the subtlety of her taste, which was not always satisfied by the
increased experience of intimacy. Whenever she made a friend not
unworthy of her, she was constant and entirely devoted.
At present, Berengaria had two great objects; one was to sustain the
Whig government in its troubles, and the other was to accomplish an
unprecedented feat in modern manners, and that was no less than to hold
a tournament, a real tournament, in the autumn, at the famous castle of
her lord in the North of England.
The lord-lieutenant had not been in his county for two years; he had
even omitted to celebrate Christmas at his castle, which had shocked
everybody, for its revelry was looked upon almost as the tenure by which
the Montforts held their estates. His plea of ill health, industriously
circulated by all his agents, obtained neither sympathy nor credence.
His county was rather a weak point with Lord Montfort, for though he
could not bear his home, he was fond of power, and power depended on his
territorial influence. The representation of his county by his
family, and authority in the local parliamentary boroughs, were the
compensations held out to him for the abolition of his normal seats. His
wife dexterously availed herself of this state of affairs to obtain
his assent to her great project, which, it would appear, might not only
amuse him, but, in its unprecedented magnificence and novelty, must
sweep away all discontents, and gratify every class.
Lord Montfort had placed unlimited resources at the disposal of
Berengaria for the fulfilment of her purpose, and at times even showed
some not inconsiderable though fitful interest in her progress. He
turned over the drawings of the various costumes and armour with a
gracious smile, and, having picked up on such subjects a great deal of
knowledge, occasionally made suggestions which were useful and sometimes
embarrassing. The heralds were all called into council, and Garter
himself deigned to regulate the order of proceedings. Some of the finest
gentlemen in London, of both parties in the state, passed the greater
part of their spring mornings in jousting, and in practising all the
manoeuvres of the lists. Lady Montfort herself was to be the Queen of
the Tournament, and she had prevailed on Lady Roehampton to accept the
supreme office of Queen of Beauty.
It was the early part of May, and Zenobia held one of her great
assemblies. Being in high good humour, sanguine and prophetic of power,
she had asked all the great Whig ladies, and, the times being critical,
they had come. Berengaria seemed absorbed by the details of her
tournament. She met many of her knights, and she conferred with them
all; the Knight of the Bleeding Heart, the Knight of Roses, the Knight
of the Crystal Shield.
Endymion, who was not to be a knight, but a gentleman-at-arms in
attendance on the Queen of the Tournament, mentioned that Prince
Florestan much wished to be a jouster; he had heard this from the
Duke of St. Angelo, and Lady Montfort, though she did not immediately
sanction, did not absolutely refuse, the request.
Past midnight, there was a sudden stir in the saloons. The House of
Commons had broken up and many members were entering. There had been a
division on the Jamaica question, and the ministers had only a majority
of five. The leader of the House of Commons had intimated, not to say
announced, their consequent resignation.
"Have you heard what they say?" said Endymion anxiously to Lady
Montfort.
"Yes, I heard; but do not look so grave."
"Do I look grave?"
"As if it were the last day."
"I fear it is."
"I am not so sure. I doubt whether Sir Robert thinks it ripe enough;
and after all, we are not in a minority. I do not see why we should have
resigned. I wish I could see Lord Roehampton."
Affairs did not proceed so rapidly as the triumphant Zenobia expected.
They were out, no question about that; but it was not so certain who was
in. A day passed and another day, and even Zenobia, who knew everything
before anybody, remained in the dark. The suspense became protracted and
even more mysterious. Almost a week had elapsed; noble lords and right
honourable gentlemen were calling on Sir Robert every morning, according
to the newspapers, but no one could hear from any authority of any
appointments being really made. At last, there was a whisper very late
one night at Crockford's, which was always better informed on these
matters than the political clubs, and people looked amazed, and stared
incredulously in each other's face. But it was true; there was a hitch,
and in four-and-twenty hours the cause of the hitch was known. It seemed
that the ministry really had resigned, but Berengaria, Countess of
Montfort, had not followed their example.
What a dangerous woman! even wicked! Zenobia was for sending her to
the Tower at once. "It was clearly impossible," she declared, "for Sir
Robert to carry on affairs with such a Duchesse de Longueville always
at the ear of our young Queen, under the pretence forsooth of being the
friend of Her Majesty's youth."
This was the famous Bed-Chamber Plot, in which the Conservative leaders,
as is now generally admitted, were decidedly in error, and which
terminated in the return of the Whigs to office.
"But we must reconstruct," said Lady Montfort to the prime minister.
"Sidney Wilton must be Secretary of State. And you," she said to
Endymion, when she communicated to him the successful result of her
interference, "you will go with him. It is a great thing at your age to
be private secretary to a Secretary of State."
CHAPTER LIX
Montfort Castle was the stronghold of England against the Scotch
invader. It stood on a high and vast table-land, with the town of
Montfort on one side at its feet, and on the other a wide-spreading and
sylvan domain, herded with deer of various races, and terminating in
pine forests; beyond them moors and mountains. The donjon keep, tall and
grey, that had arrested the Douglas, still remained intact, and many
an ancient battlement; but the long list of the Lords of Montfort had
successively added to the great structure according to the genius of the
times, so that still with the external appearance generally of a
feudal castle, it combined in its various courts and quadrangle all the
splendour and convenience of a modern palace.
But though it had witnessed many scenes and sights, and as strange ones
as any old walls in this ancient land, it may be doubted whether the
keep of Montfort ever looked down on anything more rare than the life
that was gathering and disporting itself in its towers and halls, and
courts and parks, and forest chase, in the memorable autumn of this
year.
Berengaria had repaired to her castle full of triumph; her lord, in high
good humour, admiring his wife for her energy, yet with a playful malice
apparently enjoying the opportunity of showing that the chronology
of her arrangements was confused, and her costume incorrect. They had
good-naturedly taken Endymion down with them; for travelling to the
Border in those times was a serious affair for a clerk in a public
office. Day after day the other guests arrived; the rivals in the
tourney were among the earliest, for they had to make themselves
acquainted with the land which was to be the scene of their exploits.
There came the Knights of the Griffin, and the Dragon, and the Black
Lion and the Golden Lion, and the Dolphin and the Stag's Head, and they
were all always scrupulously addressed by their chivalric names, instead
of by the Tommys and the Jemmys that circulated in the affectionate
circle of White's, or the Gusseys and the Regys of Belgravian
tea-parties. After a time duly appeared the Knight of the White Rose,
whose armour shielded the princely form of Florestan; and this portion
of the company was complete when the Black Knight at length reached the
castle, who had been detained by his attendance on a conference at St.
James', in the character of the Count of Ferroll.
If anything could add to the delight and excitement of Berengaria, it
would seem to be the arrival of the Count of Ferroll.
Other guests gradually appeared, who were to sustain other characters in
the great pageant. There was the Judge of Peace, and the Knight Marshal
of the Lists, and the Jester, who was to ride on a caparisoned mule
trapped with bells, and himself bearing a sceptre. Mr. Sidney Wilton
came down, who had promised to be King of the Tournament; and, though
rather late, for my lord had been detained by the same cause as the
Count of Ferroll, at length arrived the Queen of Beauty herself.
If the performance, to which all contiguous Britain intended to
repair--for irrespective of the railroads, which now began sensibly
to affect the communications in the North of England, steamers were
chartering from every port for passengers to the Montfort tournament
within one hundred miles' distance--were equal to the preparation, the
affair must be a great success. The grounds round the castle seemed to
be filled every day with groups of busy persons in fanciful costume,
all practising their duties and rehearsing their parts; swordsmen and
bowmen, and seneschals and esquires, and grooms and pages, and heralds
in tabards, and pursuivants, and banner-bearers. The splendid pavilions
of the knights were now completed, and the gorgeous throne of the
Queen of Beauty, surrounded by crimson galleries, tier above tier, for
thousands of favoured guests, were receiving only their last stroke of
magnificence. The mornings passed in a feverish whirl of curiosity,
and preparation, and excitement, and some anxiety. Then succeeded the
banquet, where nearly one hundred guests were every day present; but the
company were so absorbed in the impending event that none expected
or required, in the evenings, any of the usual schemes or sources of
amusement that abound in country houses. Comments on the morning, and
plans for the morrow, engrossed all thought and conversation, and my
lord's band was just a due accompaniment that filled the pauses when
perplexities arrested talk, or deftly blended with some whispered phrase
almost as sweet or thrilling as the notes of the cornet-a-piston.