Part 2

This was spoken with Wrentham’s usual gay rapidity, allowing his unexpected guest no opportunity to protest, as he ushered him into a tidy little drawing-room which was apparently very much in ‘reception order.’ Chairs, tables, nick-nacks were almost too primly arranged to accord with the free-and-easy ways which the owner professed. He was, however, so seldom in the room that he was ignorant of its condition. The dining-room, on the other side of the passage, was his ‘snuggery,’ and there he spent his evenings when at home, which was seldom until late at night; and frequently he was absent for days on business.

But he was an affectionate husband and father. He was particular about having his wife and daughter always dressed in the newest and finest fabrics, and regularly took them out for a treat on Saturday or Sunday. Mrs Wrentham was a delicate, nervous lady, apparently content with her lot, and glad to escape from the toil of visiting and receiving visitors. Her whole existence was filled by her child Ada, a bright creature of eight years, nicknamed by her father ‘Pussie,’ on account of her passionate attachment to cats.

‘Will you take a chair?’ Wrentham went on. ‘You are such a fellow for taking one by surprise—always a pleasant surprise; but you give one no chance of doing anything to show how it is appreciated. You dropped down upon me in Golden Alley, just as you have dropped down upon me here, without the least warning.’

Mr Hadleigh listened patiently, his cold, dreaming eyes staring vacantly at him, but closely noting every change on his face.

‘I hope I do not disturb you?’ he said quietly, taking the proffered chair.

‘My dear sir!—as if I should not be delighted to see you under any circumstances—at any time—in any place!’

‘You are very kind. I come to you for the same reason that I visited your office—I want some information which I think you may be able to give me.’

‘About your son? I am afraid there is not much I can say in regard to him that will be satisfactory to a man of business like yourself.’

Wrentham shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if the subject were one he would rather not discuss.

‘It is not about my son that I desire to speak to you this time.’

There was a peculiar emphasis on the last two words, suggestive that the result of the former conversation had not been satisfactory. Wrentham was, or very cleverly affected to be, unconscious of the suggestion.

‘I am glad of that—real glad, as Americans say. And yet I have more than once had a notion of going to you and asking you to try to bring the young man to reason. I am supposed to be his manager and adviser. My management consists in doing the work of a message-boy—that is, strictly carrying out his instructions: my advice is nowhere.’

‘I have no desire to interfere with him in his present course.’

‘So I supposed, and that is what has kept me from going to you. I had no idea, until after accepting this agreement with him, that he was such an obstinate beggar—you know that I am speaking of him as my friend. He has got this mania—I have told him that I consider it a mania—and he sticks to it. Unfortunately, his uncle approves of it; but you know that this is not business—he will never get anything out of it.’

‘Not in your sense, Mr Wrentham; but there are some profits which cannot be reckoned by the figures in our ledgers—and some losses too.’

‘Undoubtedly, sir, undoubtedly; at the same time, you cannot blame me for taking the commonplace view of things, and regretting that a young man with such a splendid opportunity should deliberately chuck it into the gutter. Why, with his capital, I can see a magnificent future, if he would only consent to follow the dictates of common-sense.’

‘You mean those dictates which lead to the making of money. His notion is to make people happy. Well, as you are aware, I have had some experience in obeying common-sense, as you understand it; and I am curious to see the result of Philip’s experiment. I have no desire and no right to interfere with him.’

‘The result will be ruin—absolute ruin. In less than twelve months he will not have a penny of the whole capital now at his disposal. However, as you say, we have nothing to do with it. At the same time, I trust you will, for my sake, remember by-and-by that I have entered my protest against the course he is pursuing.’

‘I shall remember,’ said Mr Hadleigh, inclining his head gravely. ‘What I called to ask you was, do you know anything about Mr Beecham, who seems to have taken permanent quarters at the _King’s Head_?’

‘Beecham!’ exclaimed Wrentham gleefully, as if intensely relieved by an agreeable change of subject. ‘I should think so. I believe that it was my privilege to be the first amongst his acquaintances in Kingshope. I don’t think he would object to my saying that he is a friend of mine. A capital fellow—simple as a child, and yet wise as a philosopher ever can be.’

‘That sounds like a sneer at philosophers.’

‘I did not mean it; but there is a difference between the man who is a philosopher and the man who is up to the time of day. Now, this Beecham has travelled a great deal, read a great deal, and knows a great deal; but he doesn’t know a game at cards. I had to show him how to play Nap!’

Mr Hadleigh was not interested by this record of the simplicity of the stranger; he was occupied by some other reflection, which caused his brows to contract and his eyelids to droop.

‘Has he told you what part of the world he comes from?’

Wrentham laughed.

‘Why, he comes from everywhere—America, Australia, and likely enough the North Pole, although he has not particularly referred to it.’

Mr Hadleigh rose.

‘Will you find out for me, if you can, where he came from last?’

Wrentham became suddenly serious.

‘You don’t suppose there is anything wrong about him? He acts and talks straightforwardly enough.’

‘I am asking you, Mr Wrentham, for information,’ answered Mr Hadleigh with a mechanical smile. ‘If you have won money from him in betting or playing Nap, I have no doubt you will be paid. My inquiry is suggested by the fact, that he has reminded me of an old—acquaintance’ (he seemed to falter over the word, as if he had wished to say friend, but could not). ‘Should he be the man, I want to have a little conversation with him.’

‘Meaning no harm to him?’ queried Wrentham, suspiciously.

‘On the contrary—good to him and to myself.’

‘Then I shall go along and see him this evening. He’ll tell me at once.’

‘I would prefer that my name was not mentioned.’

‘Oh ... that may make a difference. However, I have no doubt of being able to give you the information you want by to-morrow.’

Mr Hadleigh went away, turning his steps homeward. Through the forest again. Those withered branches were like the milestones of his life, and the pathway of withered leaves was a fitting one for him. You who love nature know that those leaves which the careless call dead are the nurses of the coming spring blossoms; and to him they brought back old thoughts, old faces. How beautiful they are: beautiful, because our tenderest thoughts have their roots in graves.

SOME CURIOSITIES OF THE PEERAGE.

IN TWO PARTS.—PART II.

The most recent instance of reviving an extinct title is the assumption by Sir Henry Brand, late Speaker of the House of Commons, of the Viscounty of Hampden. It is usual for the Speaker, on retiring from office, to be created a Viscount, and there are circumstances of interest surrounding the elevation of Sir Henry Brand to this dignity. In the first place, he is heir-presumptive to the barony of Dacre, now held by his brother, the twenty-second lord, who was born in 1808. Should, therefore, Lord Hampden survive Lord Dacre, the ancient barony will merge in the recent viscounty and be lost sight of. But why should Sir Henry Brand have chosen the title of Hampden? The fact is this title is young compared with the _name_ borne by ‘the great Buckinghamshire Esquire,’ as Macaulay calls the illustrious patriot. It was created in 1776, when Robert Trevor, fourth baron of that title, assumed the name of Hampden, and was created Viscount Hampden of Great and Little Hampden, in the county of Bucks, where the Hampdens had been the untitled lords long before the Conquest. Three Trevor-Hampdens bore this title, which became extinct in 1824. Now, between the Trevors and the Lords Dacre there is a connection, which we will endeavour to shortly exhibit. The original family name of the Lords Dacre was Dacre; but an unusual variety of other surnames have been at different times assumed by them. In 1715, the fifteenth lord died without male issue; and his daughter Anne became Baroness Dacre, sixteenth holder of the title, who was three times married, and had male issue by each of her husbands. One of them, Thomas Barrett Lennard, became seventeenth Lord Dacre. A son, Charles, by her second marriage, became the husband of Gertrude, daughter and co-heir of John Trevor, Esq., of Glynde in Sussex. The children of Charles and Gertrude were a son and a daughter; of whom the former became eighteenth Lord Dacre, and the latter another Baroness Dacre (nineteenth), who married, in 1771, Thomas Brand, Esq., of the Hoo, Welwyn, Herts; and thus we bring together the Trevors and the Brands. The twentieth Lord Dacre died without issue, and was succeeded by his brother, the twenty-first lord, who assumed the name and arms of Trevor, in compliance with a direction in the will of the last Viscount Hampden. Accordingly, while the surname of the present Lord Dacre is Trevor, that of his brother, Lord Hampden, is merely Brand. It is understood that some members of the family of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, whose patronymic is Hobart Hampden—they being descended in the female line from the patriot, who left no male issue—endeavoured to dissuade Sir Henry Brand from taking the title which he chose. But surely, considering the circumstances mentioned above, he was justified in his selection; and all will feel that the title of Hampden could not be borne by one more worthy to be associated with this great name than the late Speaker.

The foregoing transcripts from titular and family history have been somewhat detailed, inasmuch as their features are representative of many other peerages, and also elucidate various matters connected with the peerage not patent to all persons. They show _inter alia_ how titles may not only be extinguished, but may be shifted about from family to family when the limitations of those titles are in fee. They show, also, why it is that a peer who is generally known by one title may yet sit and vote in the House of Lords or Peers by some other; the short explanation being, that he is not a peer of the United Kingdom, or, in other words, a peer of the entire realm, so far as his first title is concerned. In our previous paper ‘What is a Peer?’ this feature of the peerage was alluded to; and we may now add that there is only one peer, who, not being a peer of the realm in regard to his chief title, yet sits and votes in the House of Lords by a title as exalted as the other. This is the Duke of Hamilton, who, though premier Duke of Scotland, yet, as such has no hereditary seat in parliament,[1] while as Duke of Brandon he has; and he would be so described in the Lords’ division lists. Then, again, the Marquis of Huntly, though premier Marquis of Scotland, is yet only Lord Meldrum when sitting in the House of Lords. The Marquis of Sligo is only such in the peerage of Ireland, but sits in parliament as Lord Monteagle; and there is also a Lord Monteagle who is a peer of the realm by that title only. The eighteenth Earl of Erroll is singularly situated. When sitting in parliament he is Lord Kilmarnock, and this is the courtesy title borne by his eldest son, so that there are two Lords Kilmarnock!

The distinctions just referred to between peers of the United Kingdom and those who are not have given rise to some singular features in the peerage which are, at first sight, of an anomalous character. Thus, while the son of a tradesman who becomes a peer of the United Kingdom to-day may die to-morrow, and his son may take his seat in the House of Lords as an hereditary legislator; on the other hand, the thirty-fourth Scotch Earl of Mar—merely as such—and the thirty-first Irish Lord Kingsale have no hereditary right to a seat in the legislature, although the latter is premier Baron of Ireland. It is of course competent to the Crown—the fountain of honour—to promote these and other noblemen similarly situated to the peerage of the United Kingdom; but until this is done, they take rank below the last created baron of the realm. At one time it appears to have been usual to honour a man by first making him an Irish peer, and then to promote him gradually, as in the case of Rawdon, Earl of Moira, and conspicuously so in that of the Fitzwilliam peerage and others. But then we must remember that it was not before January 1, 1801, that the expression ‘United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland’ was known; nor before 1707 that the term ‘Great Britain’ was, or could in law have been applied to England and Scotland as a whole.[2] The one was created by the statute 39 and 40 Geo. III. c. 67 (July 2, 1800), the other by 5 and 6 Anne c. 8 (May 1, 1707). To these statutes we refer the reader desirous of more information on this subject. He may also peruse that interesting work of light reading, _The Reports of the Lords’ Committees on the Dignity of a Peer of the Realm_, comprised in four folio volumes (1826).

In ‘What is a Peer?’ we made allusion to peerages created by writ of summons and by letters-patent. We may here observe that there was another form of barony, that by tenure, which, however, long ago became obsolete. Now, it is to be remarked with regard to the creation of a barony by writ of summons, that it always conferred a peerage in fee—in other words, one descendible to males and females—and this will introduce us to two terms previously mentioned, ‘abeyance’ and ‘co-heirs,’ which require a short explanation. It will be convenient to furnish this by reference to those baronies of the Huntingdon earldom which, we have seen, were transplanted, so to speak, from the Hastings into the Rawdon family by the single act of marriage of an heiress of the former with a member of the latter house. The word ‘abeyance’ itself is peculiar, and signifies, to look at something expectingly—in fact, with open mouth. It has been used with regard to corporeal hereditaments; but the subject of estates in abeyance, or in _nubibus_, is far too intricate to be entered upon here. We must, however, make some allusion to the law of real property, in order to render our succeeding statements intelligible—and titles of honour are to be dealt with under the rules of that branch of law. There are some of those rules, however, which, though applicable to ordinary incorporeal hereditaments, are not so to titles of honour. Thus, while an acre of land in fee is alienable, a title in fee is not; it may devolve, but cannot be devised. Again, if the tenant or, as we commonly say, the owner of an estate in fee simple dies intestate, leaving no sons, but daughters, all the latter inherit as ‘co-heirs,’ or, as lawyers call them, ‘coparceners,’ who are regarded in law as making one heir. Under such circumstances, they may sever the joint ownership if they like; but if they do not, the entire estate may devolve upon the last survivor, assuming the others to die unmarried and intestate. This right of survivorship will not, however, exist as against the heir of any of them where the above circumstances are wanting. Thus, if A. and B. are coparceners, and B. marries, dies, and leaves a son C., the right of B. will descend on C.; and so on. Well, now, a title of honour clearly cannot be made the subject of partition; and accordingly, if the male holder of a barony which originated in a writ of summons dies leaving two daughters, his barony does not become extinct, but falls into ‘abeyance.’ If one of these daughters marries, then dies, leaving a daughter, but her own sister still unmarried, the barony is still in abeyance until either the aunt or her niece dies. If the latter predeceases the former, leaving no issue, there is an end of the abeyance; the aunt assumes the title; but if she dies without having been married, the title then becomes ‘extinct.’ If, on the other hand, the niece has male children, and dies, her eldest son succeeds; and if the latter dies without issue, leaving no brothers or their issue, but only sisters, who do not marry, the title will again fall into abeyance. Thus, it is seen how a barony may be in abeyance, and how there may be co-heirs thereto as claimants also, how such co-heirs and their heirs may exist as such for an indefinite period, or until the title can devolve upon _one_ person. The Crown, however, may exercise its prerogative of terminating the abeyance in favour of one of them, as was done in the Zouche peerage in 1828.

But to return to the Hastings’ honours, and the baronies which Elizabeth transferred to the Rawdon family. The first Baron Hungerford was summoned by writ in the reign of Henry VI.; and his son married Margaret, daughter of Baron Botreaux, thus acquiring this title. Their son Robert married the daughter of Baron Molynes or Molines, and in her right assumed that title, with his own and Botreaux. He was beheaded in 1463. The son of this last Baron Hungerford had a daughter, Mary, who married the first Baron Hastings somewhere about 1480, was summoned to parliament by writ; and in 1485 the attainder of the Hungerfords was reversed, and the family honours were restored. The third Baron Hastings was raised to the earldom of Huntingdon, in which dignity these honours were merged; and when the eighteenth earl died in 1789, they descended to his sister, the mother of the first marquis, and this is really how they came into the Rawdon family. It will also be understood from what precedes that the only dignity in the peerage which can fall into abeyance, and, accordingly, to which there can only be co-heirs, is a barony created by writ; and we may observe, that when it cannot be determined upon whom a higher title devolves, there is said to be a ‘suspension’ of that title. It is also to be remembered that as no barony is known to have been created by letters-patent prior to the eleventh year of Richard II., baronies created before then are presumed to have been created by writ of summons.

We have said that the Crown by the exercise of its prerogative may terminate an abeyance, and this may be done either in favour of a person who is, or one who is not, a peer. In the former case, a writ of summons issues to him by the style of the barony in abeyance; in the latter, letters-patent are employed, and this is the practice where the person on whom the title falls is a lady.

And now a few words as to the ‘forfeiture’ of a title. This will follow in all cases upon a conviction for high treason, but not necessarily for felony. If, however, a peerage has originated in a writ of summons, and therefore descendible to heirs-general, it will be forfeited on an attainder for felony. It is a curious fact, too, that although the Crown can pardon a criminal, it cannot in any case restore a dignity once forfeited for attainder, so as to place the offender and his family _in statu quo_. This can be done only by an Act of Parliament. The Crown can revive the forfeited title, but it then becomes a new one; so that if a twentieth Earl of X. is attainted, although the Crown may create his son Earl of X., yet the latter becomes not the twenty-first, but only the first Earl of X.

There is one more matter of interest which ought to be mentioned here. We have seen that the barons of Hungerford acquired two titles in right of their wives. Now, with regard to real property, if a man is married to a woman possessed of an estate in fee simple or in tail, and she dies without having had a child born alive, he will, in the absence of a settlement, or a will by her to the contrary, lose all interest in such property. If, however, she has had a child which may have lived only long enough to utter one cry, or can be proved in any way to have lived after its birth, the husband will in such case, after his wife’s death, become tenant of the estate for life, and will be termed ‘tenant by the curtesy.’ Such, however, is not the case with regard to titles of honour; and although, as we have seen, there are instances of this ‘curtesy’ in regard to dignities, yet, according to Sir Harris Nicolas, there are none to be met with after the reign of Henry VIII., the latest examples being those of Hungerford, already referred to, and Strange.

Although the House of Lords is undoubtedly an aristocratic assembly, yet it is essentially a cosmopolitan body, and paradoxical as the statement will perhaps appear, it may even be said to be in one sense democratic. It is also to be observed that in this respect the House of Lords differs from the peerage viewed in its entirety. For whereas the latter, so regarded, is aristocratic because of the remote ancestry, wealth, and power of many of its members who have no seat in the House of Lords, yet this assembly, as a section of the peerage, will be found to contain men who may fairly be said to be—employing a significant common phrase—‘Of no family at all.’ Hence our application of the term ‘democratic’ to this assembly; and on consideration, it will be found to be hardly either far-fetched or inappropriate, because the history of England will disclose instances in which the sympathy of the House of Lords has been with the people, where rights and liberties have been endangered, either by injudicious action by the Commons, by the attempt to unduly enlarge the prerogatives of the Crown, or from other causes. The truth is, we have peers who have sprung from all sorts and conditions of men—from traders, retail as well as wholesale; also from the professions. Of these sources of supply the legal profession is the most distinguished, about half the members of the present House of Lords, including some of the oldest, wealthiest, and grandest of them, either being descended from, or owing their position to, successful members of the Bar. We are not aware of any solicitor, as such, having been raised to the peerage; but the great Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, ancestor of the present earl, commenced life as an articled clerk; and Thomas Parker the first Earl of Macclesfield practised as a solicitor before becoming a barrister. Like his illustrious predecessor Bacon, he was impeached for corrupt practices in his office, and fined thirty thousand pounds.