The Young Duke

by Earl of Beaconsfield Benjamin Disraeli

  CHAPTER IV.

  _The Bird is Caged_

  HITHERTO the Duke of St. James had been a celebrated personage, but hisfame had been confined to the two thousand Brahmins who constitute theworld. His patronage of the Signora extended his celebrity in a mannerwhich he had not anticipated; and he became also the hero of the ten, ortwelve, or fifteen millions of pariahs for whose existence philosophershave hitherto failed to adduce a satisfactory cause.

  The Duke of St. James was now, in the comprehensive sense of the phrase,a public character. Some choice spirits took the hint from the publicfeeling, and determined to dine on the public curiosity. A Sundayjournal was immediately established. Of this epic our Duke was the hero.His manners, his sayings, his adventures, regularly regaled, on eachholy day, the Protestant population of this Protestant empire, who inFrance or Italy, or even Germany, faint at the sight of a peasantrytestifying their gratitude for a day of rest by a dance or a tune.'Sketches of the Alhambra,' '_Soupers_ in the Regent's Park,' 'The Courtof the Caliph,' 'The Bird Cage,' &c, &c, &c, were duly announced andduly devoured. This journal, being solely devoted to the illustrationof the life of a single and a private individual, was appropriatelyentitled 'The Universe.' Its contributors were eminently successful.Their pure inventions and impure details were accepted as delicatetruth; and their ferocious familiarity with persons with whom they weretotally unacquainted demonstrated at the same time their knowledge bothof the forms and the personages of polite society.

  At the first announcement of this hebdomadal his Grace was a littleannoyed, and 'Noctes Hautevillienses' made him fear treason; but whenhe had read a number, he entirely acquitted any person of a breach ofconfidence. On the whole he was amused. A variety of ladies in time wereintroduced, with many of whom the Duke had scarcely interchanged a bow;but the respectable editor was not up to Lady Afy.

  If his Grace, however, were soon reconciled to this not very agreeablenotoriety, and consoled himself under the activity of his libellersby the conviction that their prolusions did not even amount to acaricature, he was less easily satisfied with another performance whichspeedily advanced its claims to public notice.

  There is an unavoidable reaction in all human affairs. The Duke ofSt. James had been so successfully attacked that it became worth whilesuccessfully to defend him, and another Sunday paper appeared, theobject of which was to maintain the silver side of the shield. Hereeverything was _couleur de rose_. One week the Duke saved a poor manfrom the Serpentine; another a poor woman from starvation; now an orphanwas grateful; and now Miss Zouch, impelled by her necessity and hisreputation, addressed him a column and a half, quite heart-rending.Parents with nine children; nine children without parents; clergymenmost improperly unbeneficed; officers most wickedly reduced; widows ofyounger sons of quality sacrificed to the Colonies; sisters of literarymen sacrificed to national works, which required his patronage toappear; daughters who had known better days, but somehow or otherhad not been so well acquainted with their parents; all advanced withmultiplied petitions, and that hackneyed, heartless air of misery whichdenotes the mumper. His Grace was infinitely annoyed, and scarcelycompensated for the inconvenience by the prettiest little creature inthe world, who one day forced herself into his presence to solicit thehonour of dedicating to him her poems.

  He had enough on his hands, so he wrote her a cheque and, with acourtesy which must have made Sappho quite desperate, put her out of theroom.

  We forgot to say that the name of the new journal was 'The New World.'The new world is not quite so big as the universe, but then it is aslarge as all the other quarters of the globe together. The worst of thisbusiness was, 'The Universe' protested that the Duke of St. James, likea second Canning, had called this 'New World' into existence, which wastoo bad, because, in truth, he deprecated its discovery scarcely lessthan the Venetians.

  Having thus managed, in the course of a few weeks, to achieve thereputation of an unrivalled roue, our hero one night betook himself toAlmack's, a place where his visits, this season, were both shorter andless frequent.

  Many an anxious mother gazed upon him, as he passed, with an eye whichlonged to pierce futurity; many an agitated maiden looked exquisitelyunembarrassed, while her fluttering memory feasted on the sweet thoughtthat, at any rate, another had not captured this unrivalled prize.Perhaps she might be the Anson to fall upon this galleon. It was worth along cruise, and even a chance of shipwreck.

  He danced with Lady Aphrodite, because, since the affair of the Signora,he was most punctilious in his attentions to her, particularly inpublic. That affair, of course, she passed over in silence, though itwas bitter. She, however, had had sufficient experience of man to feelthat remonstrance is a last resource, and usually an ineffectual one. Itwas something that her rival--not that her ladyship dignified the Birdby that title--it was something that she was not her equal, that she wasnot one with whom she could be put in painful and constant collision.She tried to consider it a freak, to believe only half she heard, andto indulge the fancy that it was a toy which would soon tire. As forSir Lucius, he saw nothing in this adventure, or indeed in the Alhambrasystem at all, which militated against his ulterior views. No one moreconstantly officiated at the ducal orgies than himself, both because hewas devoted to self-gratification, and because he liked ever to havehis protege in sight. He studiously prevented any other individual frombecoming the Petronius of the circle. His deep experience also taughthim that, with a person of the young Duke's temper, the mode of lifewhich he was now leading was exactly the one which not only wouldinsure, but even hurry, the catastrophe his faithful friend so eagerlydesired. His pleasures, as Sir Lucius knew, would soon pall; for heeasily perceived that the Duke was not heartless enough for a roue. Whenthorough satiety is felt, young men are in the cue for desperate deeds.Looking upon happiness as a dream, or a prize which, in life's lottery,they have missed; worn, hipped, dissatisfied, and desperate, they oftenhurry on a result which they disapprove, merely to close a miserablecareer, or to brave the society with which they cannot sympathise.

  The Duke, however, was not yet sated. As after a feast, when we havedespatched a quantity of wine, there sometimes, as it were, arises asecond appetite, unnatural to be sure, but very keen; so, in a career ofdissipation, when our passion for pleasure appears to be exhausted, thefatal fancy of man, like a wearied hare, will take a new turn, throw offthe hell-hounds of ennui, and course again with renewed vigour.

  And to-night the Duke of St. James was, as he had been for some weeks,all life, and fire, and excitement; and his eye was even now wanderinground the room in quest of some consummate spirit whom he might summonto his Saracenic Paradise.

  A consummate spirit his eye lighted on. There stood May Dacre. He gaspedfor breath. He turned pale. It was only for a moment, and his emotionwas unperceived. There she stood, beautiful as when she first glancedbefore him; there she stood, with all her imperial graces; and allsurrounding splendour seemed to fade away before her dazzling presence,like mournful spirits of a lower world before a radiant creature of thesky.

  She was speaking with her sunlight smile to a young man whose appearanceattracted his notice. He was dressed entirely in black, rather short,but slenderly made; sallow, but clear, with long black curls and aMurillo face, and looked altogether like a young Jesuit or a Venetianofficial by Giorgone or Titian. His countenance was reserved and hismanner not easy: yet, on the whole, his face indicated intellect and hisfigure blood. The features haunted the Duke's memory. He had met thisperson before. There are some countenances which when once seen cannever be forgotten, and the young man owned one of these. The Dukerecalled him to his memory with a pang.

  Our hero--let him still be ours, for he is rather desolate, and herequires the backing of his friends--our hero behaved pretty well. Heseized the first favourable opportunity to catch Miss Dacre's eye, andwas grateful for her bow. Emboldened, he accosted her, and asked afterMr. Dacre. She was courteous, but unembarrassed. Her calmness, however,piqued him suffi
ciently to allow him to rally. He was tolerably easy,and talked of calling. Their conversation lasted only for a few minutes,and was fortunately terminated without his withdrawal, which would havebeen awkward. The young man whom we have noticed came up to claim herhand.

  'Arundel Dacre, or my eyes deceive me?' said the young Duke. 'I alwaysconsider an old Etonian a friend, and therefore I address you withoutceremony.'

  The young man accepted, but not with readiness, the offered hand. Heblushed and spoke, but in a hesitating and husky voice. Then he clearedhis throat, and spoke again, but not much more to the purpose. Then helooked to his partner, whose eyes were on the ground, and rose as heendeavoured to catch them. For a moment he was silent again; then hebowed slightly to Miss Dacre and solemnly to the Duke, and then hecarried off his cousin.

  'Poor Dacre!' said the Duke; 'he always had the worst manner in theworld. Not in the least changed.'

  His Grace wandered into the tea-room. A knot of dandies were in deepconverse. He heard his own name and that of the Duke of Burlington; thencame 'Doncaster beauty.' 'Don't you know?' 'Oh! yes.' 'All quite mad,'&c, &c, &c. As he passed he was invited in different ways to join thecoterie of his admirers, but he declined the honour, and passed themwith that icy hauteur which he could assume, and which, judiciouslyused, contributed not a little to his popularity.

  He could not conquer his depression; and, although it was scarcelypast midnight, he determined to disappear. Fortunately his carriage waswaiting. He was at a loss what to do with himself. He dreaded even to bealone. The Signora was at a private concert, and she was the lastperson whom, at this moment, he cared to see. His low spirits rapidlyincreased. He got terribly nervous, and felt miserable. At last he droveto White's.

  The House had just broken up, and the political members had justentered, and in clusters, some standing and some yawning, somestretching their arms and some stretching their legs, presented symptomsof an escape from boredom. Among others, round the fire, was a young mandressed in a rough great coat all cords and sables, with his hat bentaside, a shawl tied round his neck with boldness, and a huge oaken staffclenched in his left hand. With the other he held the 'Courier,' andreviewed with a critical eye the report of the speech which he had madethat afternoon. This was Lord Darrell.

  We have always considered the talents of younger brothers as anunanswerable argument in favour of a Providence. Lord Darrell was theyounger son of the Earl of Darleyford, and had been educated for adiplomatist. A report some two years ago had been very current thathis elder brother, then Lord Darrell, was, against the consent of hisfamily, about to be favoured with the hand of Mrs. Dallington Vere.Certain it is he was a devoted admirer of that lady. Of that lady,however, a less favoured rival chose one day to say that which staggeredthe romance of the impassioned youth. In a moment of rashness, impelledby sacred feelings, it is reported, at least, for the whole is amystery, he communicated what he had heard with horror to the mistressof his destinies. Whatever took place, certain it is Lord Darrellchallenged the indecorous speaker, and was shot through the heart. Theaffair made a great sensation, and the Darleyfords and their connectionssaid bitter things of Mrs. Dallington, and talked much of rash youth andsubtle women of discreeter years, and passions shamefully inflamed andpurposes wickedly egged on. We say nothing of all this; nor will wedwell upon it. Mrs. Dallington Vere assuredly was no slight sufferer.But she conquered the cabal that was formed against her, for the dandieswere her friends, and gallantly supported her through a trial underwhich some women would have sunk. As it was, at the end of the seasonshe did travel, but all is now forgotten; and Hill Street, BerkeleySquare, again contains, at the moment of our story, its brightestornament.

  The present Lord Darrell gave up all idea of being an ambassador, but hewas clever; and though he hurried to gratify a taste for pleasurewhich before had been too much mortified, he could not relinquish theambitious prospects with which he had, during the greater part of hislife, consoled himself for his cadetship. He piqued himself upon beingat the same time a dandy and a statesman. He spoke in the House, and notwithout effect. He was one of those who make themselves masters of greatquestions; that is to say, who read a great many reviews and newspapers,and are full of others' thoughts without ever having thought themselves.He particularly prided himself upon having made his way into theAlhambra set. He was the only man of business among them. The Dukeliked him, for it is agreeable to be courted by those who are themselvesconsidered.

  Lord Darrell was a favourite with women. They like a little intellect.He talked fluently on all subjects. He was what is called 'a talentedyoung man.' Then he had mind, and soul, and all that. The miracles ofcreation have long agreed that body without soul will not do; and evena coxcomb in these days must be original, or he is a bore. No longer issuch a character the mere creation of his tailor and his perfumer. LordDarrell was an avowed admirer of Lady Caroline St. Maurice, and a greatfavourite with her parents, who both considered him an oracle onthe subjects which respectively interested them. You might dine atFitz-pompey House and hear his name quoted at both ends of the table; bythe host upon the state of Europe, and by the hostess upon the state ofthe season. Had it not been for the young Duke, nothing would havegiven Lady Fitz-pompey greater pleasure than to have received him asa son-in-law; but, as it was, he was only kept in store for the secondstring to Cupid's bow.

  Lord Darrell had just quitted the House in a costume which, thoughrough, was not less studied than the finished and elaborate toiletwhich, in the course of an hour, he will exhibit in the enchanted hallsof Almack's. There he will figure to the last, the most active and themost remarked; and though after these continued exertions he will notgain his couch perhaps till seven, our Lord of the Treasury, for heis one, will resume his official duties at an earlier hour than anyfunctionary in the kingdom.

  Yet our friend is a little annoyed now. What is the matter? He dilatesto his uncle, Lord Seymour Temple, a greyheaded placeman, on theprofligacy of the press. What is this? The Virgilian line our oratorintroduced so felicitously is omitted. He panegyrizes the 'Mirror ofParliament,' where, he has no doubt, the missing verse will appear. Thequotation was new, 'Timeo Danaos.'

  Lord Seymour Temple begins a long story about Fox and GeneralFitzpatrick. This is a signal for a general retreat; and the bore, asSir Boyle Roche would say, like the last rose of summer, remains talkingto himself.