THE CHANCELLOR
The Chancellor, a lady now advanced in years, was of humble origin--a
fact to which she often alluded to at public meetings with a curious
mixture of humility and pride: the former, because it did really
humiliate her in a country where so much deference was paid to
hereditary rank, to reflect that she could not be proud of her
ancestors; the latter, because her position was really so splendid, and
her enemies could not but acknowledge it. She had plenty of enemies--as
was, of course, the case with every successful woman in every line of
life--and these were unanimous in declaring that she proclaimed her
humble origin only because, if she attempted to conceal it, other people
would proclaim it for her. And, indeed, without attributing
extraordinary malice to these ladies, the Chancellor's unsuccessful
rivals and enemies, this statement was probably true--nothing being more
common, during an animated debate, than for the ladies to hurl at each
other's heads all such facts procurable as might be calculated to damage
the reputation of a family: and this so much so, that after a lively
night the family trees were as much scotched, broken, and lopped as a
public pleasure-garden in the nineteenth century after the first Monday
in August.
At this time the Chancellor had arrived at a respectable age--being,
that is to say, in her sixty-sixth year. She was a woman of uneven
temper, having been soured by a long life of struggle against rivals who
lost no opportunity of assailing her public and private reputation. She
had remained unmarried, because, said her foes, no man would consent to
link his lot with so spiteful a person; she was no lawyer, they said,
because her whole desire and aim had been to show herself a lawyer of
the highest rank; she was partial--this they said for the same reason,
because she wanted to be remembered as an upright judge. They alluded in
the House to her ignorance of the higher culture--although the poor lady
had taught herself half-a-dozen languages, and was skilled in many arts;
and they taunted her with her friendship for, meaning her dependence
upon, her patron, the Duchess of Dunstanburgh. The last accusation was
the burr that stuck, because the poor Chancellor could not deny its
truth. She was, in fact, the daughter of a very respectable woman--a
tenant-farmer of the Duchess. Her Grace found the girl clever, and
educated her. She acquired over her, by the force of her personal
character, an extraordinary influence--having made her entirely her own
creature. She found the money for her entrance at the Bar, pushed her at
the beginning, watched her upward course, never let her forget that
everything was owing to her own patronage at the outset, and, when the
greatest prize of the profession was in her grasp, and the farmer's girl
became Chancellor, the Duchess of Dunstanburgh--by one of those acts of
hers which upset the debates and resolutions of years--passed a Bill
which made the appointment tenable for life, and so transferred into her
own hands all the power, all the legal skill of the Chancellor. It was
the most brilliant political _coup_ ever made. Those who knew whispered
that the Chancellor had no voice, no authority, no independent action at
all; her patron regulated everything. While this terrible Duchess lived,
the Court of Chancery belonged to her with all its manifold and
complicated powers. She herself was, save at rare intervals, Prime
Minister, Autocrat, and almost Dictator. Certainly it was notorious that
whatever the Duchess of Dunstanburgh wanted she had; and it was also a
fact not to be disputed, that there were many lawyers of higher repute,
more dignified, more learned, more eloquent, and of better birth, who
had been passed over to make room for this protégée of the Duchess--this
'daughter of the plough.'
Lord Chester, accompanied by the Countess of Carlyon and Professor
Ingleby, arrived at the Law Courts at twelve, the hour of the
Chancellor's appointment, and were shown into an ante-room. Here, with a
want of courtesy most remarkable, considering the rank of the ward in
Chancery whose future was to be decided at this interview, they were
kept waiting for half an hour. When at length they were admitted to the
presence, they were astonished to find that, contrary to all precedent,
the Duchess of Dunstanburgh herself was with the Chancellor. In fact she
had been directing her creature in the line she was to take: she
intended to receive the hand of the Earl from her, and to push on the
marriage without an hour's delay. It was sharp practice; but her Grace
was not a woman who considered herself bound by the ordinary rules. Any
lesser person would have made her petition for the hand of a ward, and
waited until she had received in due course official notification of
acceptance, when an interview would have been arranged and the papers
signed. All this, owing to the delays of Chancery, generally took from a
twelvemonth upwards; and in the case of poor people who had no interest,
perhaps their petitions were never decided at all, so that the
unfortunate petitioner waited in vain, until she died of old age, still
unmarried; and the unlucky ward lived on, hoping against hope, till his
time for marriage went by. The Duchess possessed even more than the
dignity which became her rank. She was rather a tall woman, with
aquiline features; her age was sixty-five, and in her make-up she
studiously affected, not the bloom and elasticity of youth, but the
vigour and strength of middle life--say of fifty. All the resources of
art were lavished upon her with this object: her hair showed a touch of
gray upon the temples, but was still abundant, rich, and glossy, and was
so beautifully arranged that it challenged the admiration even of those
who knew that it was a wig; her eyebrows were dark and well defined--her
enemies said she kept a special artist continually employed in making
new eyebrows; her teeth were of pearly whiteness; her cheeks, just
touched with paint, showed none of the wrinkles of time--though no one
knew how that was managed; her forehead strong and broad, was crossed by
three deep lines which could not be effaced by any artist. Some said
they were caused by the successive deaths of three husbands, and
therefore marked the Duchess's profound grief and the goodness of her
heart, because it was known that one of them at least--the third,
youngest, and handsomest of all, upon whom the fond wife lavished all
her affections--had given her the greatest trouble; indeed, it was even
said that--and that--and that--with many other circumstances showing the
blackest ingratitude, so that women held up their hands and wondered
what men wanted. But her Grace's enemies said that her famous wrinkles
were caused by her three great vices of pride, ambition, and avarice;
and they declared that if she developed another such furrow, it would
represent her other great vice of vanity. As for that third
husband--could one expect the poor young man to fall in love with a
woman already fifty-eight when she married him?
The Duchess was richly but plainly dressed in black velvet and lace; her
figure was still full. As she rose to greet the Chancellor's ward, she
leaned upon a gold-headed stick--being somewhat troubled with gout. Her
smile was encouraging and kind towards the Earl; to Constance, as to a
political enemy who was to be treated with all external courtesy, she
bowed low; and she coldly inclined her head in return to the profound
act of deference paid to her by the Professor. The Chancellor, a fussy
little woman with withered cheeks, wrinkled brow, and thin gray locks,
sat at her table. She hardly rose to greet her ward, whom she motioned
to a chair. Then she looked at Constance, and waited for her to explain
her presence.
'I come with Lord Chester on this occasion,' said Constance, 'as his
nearest female relation. As your ladyship is probably aware, I am his
second cousin.'
The Chancellor bowed. Then the Professor spoke.
'I ask your ladyship's permission to appear in support of my pupil on
this important occasion. His guardian, Lady Boltons, is unfortunately
too ill to be present.'
'There is no reason, I suppose,' said the Chancellor, ungraciously, and
with a glance of some anxiety at the Duchess, 'why you should not be
present, Professor Ingleby;--unless, that is, the Earl of Chester would
rather see me alone. But the proceedings are most formal.'
Lord Chester, who was very grave, merely shook his head. Then the
Chancellor shuffled about her papers for a few moments, and addressed
her ward.
'Your lordship will kindly give me your best attention,' she began, with
some approach to blandness. 'I am glad, in the first place, to
congratulate you on your health, your appearance, and your strength. I
have received the best reports on your moral and religious behaviour,
and your docility, and--and--so on, from your guardian, Lady Boltons,
and I am only sorry that she is not able to be here herself, in order to
receive from me my thanks for the faithful and conscientious discharge
of her duties, and from the Duchess of Dunstanburgh a recognition of her
services in those terms which come from no one with more weight and more
dignity than from her Grace.' The Duchess held up a hand in deprecation;
the Professor nodded, and lifted up her hands and smiled, as if a word
of thanks from the Duchess was all she, for her part, wanted, in order
to be perfectly happy. The Earl, one is sorry to say, sat looking
straight at the Chancellor without an expression of any kind, unless it
were one of patient endurance. The Chancellor went on.
'You will shortly, you now know, pass from my guardianship to the hands
and care of another far more able and worthy to hold the reins of
authority than myself.'
Here Constance rose.
'Before your ladyship goes any further, I beg to state to you that Lord
Chester has only this morning informed me of a proposal made to you by
her Grace of Dunstanburgh, which is now under your consideration.'
'It certainly is,' said the Chancellor, 'and I am about----'
'Before you proceed,'--Constance changed colour, but her voice was
firm,--'you will permit me also to make official and formal application
in the presence of the Duchess herself, who will, I am sure, be a
witness, and Professor Ingleby, for the hand of Lord Chester. There is,
I think, no occasion for me to say anything in addition to my simple
proposal. What I could add would probably not influence your ladyship's
decision. You know me, and all that is to be known about me----'
'This is most astonishing!' cried the Duchess.
'May I ask your Grace what is astonishing about this proposal? May I
remind you that I have known Lord Chester all my life; that we are
equals in point of rank, position, and wealth; that I am, if I may say
so, not altogether undistinguished, even in the House of which your
Grace is so exalted an ornament? But I have to do with the judgment of
your ladyship, not the opinion of the Duchess.'
The Chancellor turned anxiously to her patroness, as if for direction.
She replied with dignity.
'Your ladyship is aware that, as the earlier applicant, my proposal
would naturally take precedence in your ladyship's consideration of any
later ones. I might even demand that it be considered on its own merits,
without reference at all to Lady Carlyon's proposal, with regard to
which I keep my own opinion.'
Constance remarked, coldly, that her Grace's opinion was unfortunately,
in most important matters, exactly opposite to her own and to that of
her friends, and she was contented to disagree with her. She then
informed the Chancellor that as no decision had been given as to the
marriage of Lord Chester, the case was still before her, and, she
submitted, the proposals both of herself and of the Duchess should be
weighed by her ladyship. 'And,' she added, 'I would humbly submit that
there are many other considerations, in the case of so old and great a
House as that represented by Lord Chester, which should be taken account
of. Higher rank than his own, for instance, need not be desired, nor
greater wealth; nor many other things which in humbler marriages may be
considered. I will go further: in this room, which is, as it were, a
secret chamber, I say boldly that care should be taken to continue so
old and illustrious a line.'
'And why,' cried the Duchess sharply, and dropping her stick--'why
should it not be continued?'
Here a remarkable thing happened. Lord Chester should have affected a
complete ignorance of the insult which Constance had deliberately flung
in her rival's teeth: what he did do was to turn slowly round and stare,
in undisguised wonder, at the Duchess, as if surprised at her audacity.
Even her Grace, with all her pride and experience, could not sustain
this calm, cold look. She faltered and said no more. Lord Chester picked
up the stick, and handed it to her with a low bow.
'I am much obliged to you, Lady Carlyon,' said the Chancellor, tapping
her knuckles with her glasses; 'very much obliged to you, I am sure, for
laying down rules for _my_ guidance--MINE!--in the interpretation of the
law and my duty. That, however, may pass. It is my business--although I
confess that this interruption is of a most surprising and unprecedented
nature--to proceed with the case before me, which is that of the
proposal made by the Duchess of Dunstanburgh.'
'Do I understand,' asked Lady Carlyon, 'that you refuse to receive my
proposal? Remember that you _must_ receive it. You cannot help receiving
it. This is a public matter, which shall, if necessary, be brought
before the House and before the nation. I say that your ladyship must
receive my proposal.'
'Upon my word!' cried the Chancellor. 'Upon my word!'
'Perhaps,' said the Duchess, 'if Lady Carlyon's proposal were to be
received--let me ask that it may be received, even if against
precedent--the consideration of the case could be proceeded with at
once, and perhaps your ladyship's decision might be given on the spot.'
'Very good--very good.' The Chancellor was glad to get out of a
difficulty. 'I will take the second proposal into consideration as well
as the first. Now then, my Lord. You have been already informed that the
Duchess has asked me for your hand.'
Here the Duchess made a gesture, and slowly rose, as if about to speak.
'A proposition of this kind,' she said, in a clear and firm voice,
'naturally brings with it, to any young man, and especially a young man
of our Order, some sense of embarrassment. He has been taught--that is'
(here she bent her brows and put on her glasses at the Professor, who
was bowing her head at every period, keeping time with her hands, as if
in deference to the words of the Duchess, and as if they contained
truths which could not be suffered to be forgotten), 'if he has been
properly taught--the sacredness of the marriage state, the unworthiness
of man, the duties of submission and obedience, which, when rightly
carried out, lead to the higher levels. And in proportion to the
soundness of his training, and the goodness of his heart, is he
embarrassed when the time of his great happiness arrives.' The Professor
bowed, and spread her hands as if in agreement with so much wisdom so
beautifully expressed. 'Lord Chester,' continued the Duchess, 'I have
long watched you in silence; I have seen in you qualities which, I
believe, befit a consort of my rank. You possess pride of birth,
dexterity, skill, grace; you know how to wield such authority as becomes
a man. You will exchange your earl's coronet for the higher one of a
duke. I am sure you will wear it worthily. You will----' Here Constance
interrupted.
'Permit me, your Grace, to remind you that the Chancellor's decision has
not yet been given.'
The Duchess sat down frowning. This young lady should be made to feel
her resentment. But for the moment she gave way and scowled, leaning her
chin upon her stick. It was a hard face even when she smiled; when she
frowned it was a face to look upon and tremble.
The Chancellor turned over her papers impatiently.
'I see nothing,' she said.--'I see nothing at all in the proposition
made by Lady Carlyon to alter my opinion, previously formed, that the
Duchess has made an offer which seems in every way calculated to promote
the moral, spiritual, and material happiness of my ward.'
'May I ask,' said Lord Chester quietly, 'if I may express my own views
on this somewhat important matter?'
'You?' the Chancellor positively shrieked. 'You? The ignorance in which
boys are brought up is disgraceful! A ward in Chancery to express an
opinion upon his own marriage! Positively a real ward in Chancery! Is
the world turning upside down?'
The audacity of the remark, and the happy calmness with which it was
proffered, were irresistible. All the ladies, except the Chancellor,
laughed. The Duchess loudly. This little escapade of youth and ignorance
amused her. Constance laughed too, with a little pity. The Professor
laughed with some show of shame, as if Lord Chester's ignorance
reflected in a manner upon herself.
Then the Chancellor went on again with some temper.
'Let me resume. It is my duty to consider nothing but the interests of
my ward. Very good. I have considered them. My Lord Chester, in giving
your hand to the Duchess of Dunstanburgh, I serve your best and highest
interests. The case is decided. There is no more to be said.'
'There is, on the contrary, much more to be said,' observed Constance.
'I give your ladyship notice of appeal to the House of Peeresses. I
shall appeal to them, and to the nation through them, whether your
decision in this case is reasonable, just, and in accordance with the
interests of your ward.'
This was, indeed, a formidable threat. An appeal to the House meant,
with such fighting-power as Constance and her party, although a
minority, possessed, and knew how to direct, a delay of perhaps six
months, even if the case came on from day to day. Even the practised old
Duchess, used to the wordy warfare of the House, shrank from such a
contest.
'You will not, surely, Lady Carlyon,' she said, 'drag your cousin's name
into the Supreme Court of Appeal.'
'I certainly will,' replied Constance.
'It will cost hundreds of thousands, and months--months of struggle.'
'As for the cost, that is my affair; as for the delay, I can
wait--perhaps longer than your Grace.'
The Duchess said no more. Twice had Lady Carlyon insulted her. But her
revenge would wait.
'We have already,' she said, 'occupied too much of the Chancellor's
valuable time. I wish your ladyship good morning.'
Lord Chester offered his arm.
'Thank you,' she said accepting it, 'as far as the carriage-door only,
_for the present_. I trust, my lord, that before long you will have the
right to enter the carriage with me. Meanwhile, believe me, that it is
not through my fault that your name is to be made the subject of public
discussion. Pending the appeal, let us not betray, by appearing
together, any feeling other than that of pure friendship. And I hope,'
viciously addressing Constance, 'that you, young lady, will observe the
same prudence.'
Constance simply bowed and said nothing. The Chancellor rose, shook
hands with her ward, and retired.
The Duchess leaned upon the strong arm which led her to her carriage,
and kissed her hand in farewell to the young man with so much affection
and friendly interest that it was beautiful to behold. After this act of
politeness, the young man returned to Constance.
'Painted----' he began.
'Edward, I will not allow it. Silence, sir! We part here for the
present.'
'Constance,' he whispered, 'you will not forget--_all_ that I said?'
'Not one word,' she replied with troubled brow. 'But we must meet no
more for a while.'
'Courage!' cried the Professor, 'we have gained time.'