THE CONTRAST,

BY THE AUTHOR OF “MATILDA,” “YES AND NO,” &c. &c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1832.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. CHAPTER II. CHAPTER III. CHAPTER IV. CHAPTER V. CHAPTER VI. CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VIII. CHAPTER IX. CHAPTER X. CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV. CHAPTER XV. CHAPTER XVI. CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER I.

Some years had passed over Sir North Saunders’ head since we were last in his company, and yet we shall find him much as we left him, neither richer nor poorer, wiser nor better, nor, except “quoad” baptismal register, much older than when, upon first establishing himself for the summer season at Hornscliff Abbey, he had accompanied Castleton and Lady Madelina to Morden Bay. He still looked much the same; he could still eat as much, and walk as little. True, in the interval one great epoch had occurred in the life of a politician of his calibre; he had sworn off, or, to explain it in other words to the uninitiated, he was now turned sixty: a fact which, when sworn to, gives a member of Parliament an exemption from attendance on committees, it being “in the wisdom of the legislature” thought that to rise by ten o’clock in the forenoon would be very injurious at that advanced age, though to sit up all night, and decide the most important questions at five o’clock in the morning, is a duty constantly exacted.

Coeval, however, with this survival of part of his senatorial functions, he had assumed new provincial duties. He had lately acted as a justice of the peace! in the jargon of the sessions, he had sued out his dedimus, and become one of the quorum, a phraseology probably retained to contradict the proverbial assertion, that translation of the dead languages is of benefit to country gentlemen.

It may be thought a little late for an elderly gentleman, turned sixty, to take upon himself, for the first time, the complicated duties of administering the laws; but then it should be recollected that he had passed the last forty in making them, and from the singular ease with which he had, during that period, executed his part in the former process, it is no wonder that he thought himself perfectly adequate to the subordinate department he now undertook. It may not be understood with what sort of “hocus pocus” facility most of the enactments, on the construction of which Sir North had undertaken to decide, had become the law of the land. Provided they touched not the interests of any one within hearing, the whole process seems to consist in a bit of parchment being subjected to the magic touch of a certain number of men with wigs on their heads and gowns on their backs, a certain number of times; true, it is also said to be read a certain number of times, which, however, consists in one of the gownsmen mumbling the first unmeaning half line in a tone

somewhat lower than that in which every voice is talking around him. The chief of the gownsmen then, in somewhat the same tone, invites all of one opinion to say “ay,” and all of the other “no;” an invitation to which, whilst all are equally unconscious to what it alludes, no one can pay the slightest attention. Having undergone this mystic touch the prescribed number of times in one room, it for once gets into the hands of a man without either gown or wig, who, with sundry “kotous,” carries it into another room, where it is again subject, a similar number of times, to the same touching process, when at last all the wigs being now collected in one room, one of them stands in the middle, produces a few strange sounds of barbarous French, and the magic parchment at once becomes the law of the land, without ninety-nine in a hundred, upon whose authority it has so become, ever having heard more of it than the cabalistic syllable, equally applicable to all, of “Whereas.”

The fact is, from the day of the Druids down to our own inclusive, there never was any mummery more unmeaning than that with which an unopposed law is passed through the British legislature. Therefore, though from being constantly at the beck of every succeeding whipper-in of the Treasury, Sir North had, perhaps, more frequently than any other individual, bowed bills up to the bar of the House of Lords; he was not by any means aware how much he had by that contributed to complicate the new duties he had undertaken, off hand, and expected to execute by intuition. But here, let not the reader be alarmed: I am not going to start off with one of the sweeping invectives, with some so popular, against the “great unpaid;” such a digression would be out of place here, if I thought it in reason anywhere. But my own opinion is, that it is a system which rather requires to be regulated than superseded. I by no means think that all is obtained that is required, because the magistrate is unpaid: but neither do I think that all would be remedied if he was paid. I do not think it by any

means certain, that this change alone would at once insure oracles of wisdom, and miracles of wit, all over the country. If, too, their appointments are all to emanate from the crown, I am much surprised that any, who entertain a constitutional jealousy of the executive, should tolerate a plan, which either must be made the means of increased patronage to the dependants of Government and their supporters amongst the local aristocracy, or if there ever should be a minister who should be disposed to drill all under him into a sort of military subordination, would enable him to organize a system, if not of police espionage, at least, of ministerial surveillance. “Surveillance!” The word is not English; because the thing itself has never been naturalized amongst us. And next to the consideration of how the stipendiary magistrates are to be appointed, comes that of from what class are they to be selected. Probably from amongst those educated for the profession of the law. But you could never expect that the infinite number of appointments necessary, would be such as

to tempt men of eminence or ambition to accept them, so that everywhere you must be content with mediocrity of talent and attainments. Added to this, is the name of lawyer, whether deservedly or not, so popular among the lower orders, as to make such a change desired by those for whose advantage it is supposed to be proposed? Whatever the defects of the present system may be, I am sure much good is frequently effected by the attention willingly paid to the amicable recommendations of him who is looked up to in his immediate neighbourhood, as uniting the character of magistrate with that of kind protector, or benevolent landlord. Far, however, am I from thinking that the present system is perfect. Many, I am aware, are the instances both of injustice and ignorance, which it has fostered under the head of injustice. The “game laws,” administered by the very persons most interested against the accused party, have led to much capricious tyranny. But abolish the game laws (as you have begun to do); destroy the unjust law, and you remove the temptation

to injustice in the administration. As to ignorance, too, I am afraid that there are but too many lamentable instances; but why, then, is the most complicated and important business of administering the laws, supposed to be the only one for which no previous practice or preparation is required? A diploma is expected for medicine; a degree or examination, for taking orders as a priest. Why, as most of our magistrates are of the class usually educated at one of the Universities, why should not a course of English law be engrafted upon the many less useful things exacted as necessary to a degree? or why should not a certificate from a separate college, established for that purpose, be required from every one wishing to act as a magistrate? Would it be very unreasonable to expect that some little fitness should be ascertained, before duties were undertaken, in which the interests of so many, and amongst them those the least able to defend themselves, are involved. But nothing of this kind was required of Sir North Saunders; and he had entered upon the whole

career of “summoning, passing, committing, and certifying,” without undergoing any other test than the one then exacted from all, for the preservation of religious intolerance. Through life it had been the maxim of Sir North Saunders, to unite as much as possible the outward appearance of a dissipated man of pleasure, with the solid advantages of a shrewd man of business; and as a principal ingredient in maintaining his first character, he was always very conspicuous in his devotion to some one of the reigning beauties of the day. Not that his gallantries were ever of a nature either to endanger the character of their object, or at all to interfere with any more serious affair in which she might at the time be engaged;—on the contrary, his gratification always seemed complete when his house was proposed for any little flirting assignation, on the part of the person whom he for the time admired. And this was a favour not unfrequently granted to him, being on many accounts found particularly convenient; for whilst the decorous character of the society, which he united both in

town and country, was maintained by the tutelary presence of some of the most rigid dowagers of his own party and connexion, always anxious for the support of splendid establishments, whether domestic or political, and attracted by the orthodoxy of his creed and kitchen, there was a most complete absence of all constraint in a society where every one thought they rather honoured the host, by condescending to partake of his hospitalities. Not that Sir North was without his “toad-eaters;”—where is the man of forty thousand a-year that ever was?—but it was so completely the tone of the house to take every thing Sir North did for his friends, as a matter of course, and as their due, that there was never any openly avowed admiration of any thing, and his veriest creatures only carried on a contraband trade in flattery, smuggling their contingent of subserviency at a favourable moment, when unobserved; and even these, to whom his hospitality was a convenience, and who had no alternative between the Baronet and his Grace Humphrey, would, without scruple, criticise

the most recherché of his entrées, and make believe a bottle was corked to show they were not obliged to drink it.

The party at present assembled consisted, as usual, of a strange melange, composed of well-paid placemen in search of amusement during the recess, and needy men of fashion seeking subsistence through the dead months; of dowagers hunting marrying men, and dandies hunting married women; but amongst those were to be found, some whom Sir North had contrived to persuade to visit him, who were rather above the class usually collected at a house whose ostentatious hospitality was too much ridiculed to be very recherché. And in this list was to be placed Lady Gayland, the young widow mentioned in Castleton’s letter to his friend, as a continental acquaintance. She had lately returned to her native country, and had accepted the invitation to Hornscliff Abbey, eagerly pressed by Sir North. As she possessed too much good spirits to be really bored anywhere; and too much good sense to affect to be so at the caprice of others, and quite wit enough to avail herself, as a matter of amusement, and in a good-natured way, of the ridicule of Sir North’s character; she found such

a residence for a short time, well calculated to suit her easy humour, and independent situation.

CHAPTER II.

It will be equally impossible, I fear, to give the reader of these pages an idea of the charm of Lady Gayland’s character, whether he is allowed to guess his way to its developement through the mazes of contradictory traits which the events themselves may incidentally present, and so be left puzzled and perplexed, as Lord Castleton himself was in his former acquaintance with her; or whether the more arduous task shall be undertaken of giving him a clue through the medium of introductory description. Yet, how to tie down to terms of fixed description, that which, if it was as brilliant, was also as changeful as the sun-beam! How to exemplify that which, at all times, was unlike any thing else, or how to describe that which was often most unlike itself! I might, it is true, vaunt the undeniable beauty of her fine features, expatiate on the brilliancy of her full dark eye; or detail the form of that noble brow which seemed the chosen throne of thought. Yet how, even by this means, to give any idea of that strength of varied expression, which, as the occasion required, even

before the ready words had risen to her lips, stamped upon her countenance the perfect prototype of indignation, ridicule, or sympathy! If I were even to recall some of the sallies of her playful wit, they might, thus stiffly recorded, no longer be the same as when flowing forth the spontaneous burst of high spirits and buoyant fancy; and seem, perhaps, abrupt and harsh when deprived of the accompanying sweet smile and soft tone, which could even blunt the sting of satire.

On the other hand, it might be difficult to persuade those who felt not that her movements were the result of some higher impulse, which spurned the usual rules of drawing-room refinement—how impossible it was that under any circumstances she could ever be ungraceful; and such as she was, when most unlike every one else, she seemed least aware of it herself. Her’s was the singularity of genius; not the genius of singularity. If she was often in word and deed what some might say they would not imitate, still oftener was she what others owned they could not emulate. And whilst many who knew her slightly, thought it was well for the world that there was no second Lady Gayland; all who knew her well, thought there was nothing which the world could not better spare than that one.

The morning after the events, described in the last Chapter, had happened at Morden Bay, a large party was assembled round the breakfast-table at Sir North’s, and in the full enjoyment of the social meal; for though, contrary to his usual custom, their host had not yet appeared, his authority had been put in commission, as amongst the guests there were many who considered themselves quite at liberty to treat his servants as if they were their own.

“How I envy you your spirits, Lady Gayland!” drawled out that beshawled and draperied anatomy, Mrs. M‘Angle, as she sat coiled up in one corner of the easy fauteuil, which, as an invalid, had been provided for her. “I shan’t be half awake these three hours yet; and you talk as gaily as if it was after midnight, instead of before noon.”

“For my part,” said Lady Gayland, “I never feel more alive than with the freshness of the morning dew upon my thoughts; I enjoy, above all the other agrémens of a country party, a social breakfast-table. But where is he ‘who is the cause of mirth in others?’”

“Our host has undertaken the part of Banquo,” rejoined his humble friend, Mr. Spencer, pointing to the vacant chair of Sir North.

“Perhaps we are too noisy for him; he is accustomed ten months in the year to a solitary meal, dividing his attention between his sodden muffin, and newspaper done dry at a quick fire; but, after all, I believe here he is.”

But it was not Sir North, but an individual whose entrance was likely to produce, amongst the other guests, a much stronger sensation than “one so common hacknied in the eyes of men,” as their much despised host. The person in question was equipped, as to his lower man, in the most correct shooting costume; but the jacket had not as yet replaced the accustomed blue coat with royal buttons, crossed up to his chin, many loops for sundry stars being seen on his left breast. He was well known to all the half-fed placemen, who now officiously, perhaps officially, cleared him his place at the breakfast-table, and who, though they would gladly have picked up HIS crumbs, brushed THEIR OWN out of his way. Indeed, though all there might not previously have come in personal contact with him, who did not know, by name, The Right Honourable the Earl of Stayinmore, K.G., G.C.B., G.G.C., the proprietor of the three snug little boroughs of Singlecot, Bankcumwall, and Old Summertemple, and one of the confidential advisers of the Crown at that day? His Lordship

had, through life, observed great judgment in establishing the reputation of his wisdom by his silence—and of his consequence, by his civility. But he contrived by his silence often to place more restraint upon opinion than others by a direct negative, looking the while as “if I could contradict if it was worth my while;” and his civility was so ostentatiously condescending, that to some it was more offensive than would have been the actual assumption of superiority. One of those who saw it in this light was Lady Gayland; and it was evident to the blindest of bystanders, even whilst the diplomatic assurances, &c. of the morning acknowledgements, were going on between them, that there would very soon be a “war of opinion.” The serviles formed a royalist militia round Lord S. whilst all the unquiet spirits looked to Lady Gayland for encouragement.

Lord Stayinmore was, however, determined if possible to propitiate his beautiful antagonist by the studied courtesy of his morning address to her; and disregarding the attempts of his satellites to fix him in their system by offering vacant chairs as he bowed his way up the table, he at last deposited himself in one just opposite Lady Gayland, saying, with a curvature of the body and an inflexion of the voice, which became so substantial an impersonation of the shade of Chesterfield, “Here’s metal more attractive.”

“New and true,” muttered Lady Gayland; adding more loudly, and in a manner it was impossible to say positively was meant for ridicule: “‘I kiss thy hand, but not flattery, Cæsar,’” “There,” said she, turning to her neighbour Mr. Spencer; “there is a quotation repaid in kind, as original, and more sincere.”

As there was nothing in the world, next to the loss of his three Boroughs of Singlecot, Bankcumwall, and Old Summertemple, which Lord Stayinmore so particularly dreaded as the idea of being laughed at, warned by a certain “lurking devil in her eye,” he did not again address Lady Gayland, but confined himself for some time to condescending commonplaces amongst his other neighbours. But this prolonged armistice was, as other prolonged armistices may (not a thousand years ago) have been, displeasing to these bystanders, who thought they might gain, and could not lose, by the actual conflict of the contending parties. And Mr. Spencer, who was sitting next her, viewed it peculiarly in this light.