Part 3

It is amusing to notice—though, of course, the fact is not mentioned as an argument for any previous statement—that in the peerage we have a Browne, a Jones, and a Robinson, which are the family names respectively of the Marquis of Sligo, Viscount Ranelagh, and the Marquis of Ripon, the present Governor-general of India. Four of our greatest dukes—Cleveland, Grafton, Richmond, and St Albans—are severally descended from Charles II. and his mistresses, the last-named having for his ancestress the fair and amiable, but frail Eleanor Gwynne, or as she is commonly called, Nell Gwynne. Another ‘irregular scion of royalty’ is the present Earl of Munster, whose grandparents were King William IV. and Mrs Jordan the actress. With regard to the above-named dukes, it is a remarkable circumstance that although the sovereigns of England ceased in 1801 to perpetrate the act of absurdity and effrontery of styling themselves kings of France, yet the above-mentioned noblemen still quarter the arms of that country on their heraldic shields. At the same time, over such arms, which are those of Charles II., there is placed the sinister[3] baton—that is, one extending from nearly the top of the left of the shield to nearly the bottom of its right—which is the emblem of illegitimacy. Lord Munster also bears the royal arms with the same ‘abatement,’ as a herald would say. Then, on the other hand, there are eight dukes, three marquises, seventeen earls, three viscounts, and fourteen barons who are entitled to quarter the royal arms of Plantagenet on their shields without this said baton. But this is not so singular as the fact disclosed during the course of the ‘Sussex Peerage Case,’ to be noticed again presently, that upwards of thirty thousand persons in this country have royal blood in their veins!

The distinction between what may be termed personal titles and those of a local or territorial character should be observed. Occasionally, one hears of a Marquis _of_ Townshend, a Marquis _of_ Conyngham, an Earl _of_ Waldegrave, _of_ Granville, &c. Such expressions are erroneous; there are, in fact, no such titles, and the ‘of’ is improperly introduced. We ought to say Earl Granville, &c. So also with the Earls Cairns, Fitzwilliam, Grey, Stanhope, &c., whose name and chief title are the same. We have, however, Earl Brownlow, whose family name is Cust. Moreover, a peer whose chief title is personal, may yet possess others which are local, but not, so far as we know, territorial. Thus, Earl Fortescue’s second title is Viscount Ebrington, and the Marquis Conyngham is Earl of Mountcharles. Again, all a peer’s titles may be the same as his name, as in the case of Sir J. V. S. Townshend, Bart., who is Marquis, Viscount, and Baron Townshend. It is, however, usual in this family for the eldest son to be designated Viscount Raynham during his father’s lifetime, the viscounty being, in fact, ‘Townshend of Raynham, in the county of Norfolk.’

But even where peers do bear territorial or local titles, as, for example, the Duke of Norfolk, Marquis of Northampton or Earl of Derby, it is not usual in society to so speak of them except in the case of a dukedom; all noblemen, whether actually so, or only by courtesy, being styled simply Lord So-and-so.

It now and then happens that some distinguished man, who for some reason is not disposed to accept a peerage himself, will yet permit such honour to be conferred on his wife. This was the case with the late Lord Beaconsfield, whose wife became in 1868 Viscountess Beaconsfield, her husband still remaining a commoner. Then, again, in 1836 the wife of Sir John Campbell, afterwards Lord Campbell, and Chief Justice of England, was raised to the peerage as Baroness Stratheden, before her husband was, a circumstance which will be found to disclose the unusual fact of three baronies being conferred in the short space of six years on two families, each indebted for its elevation to nobility to a successful lawyer. The father of Lady Stratheden was Sir James Scarlett, who was created Chief Baron of the Exchequer and Lord Abinger in January 1835. Next year the Stratheden peerage was created; and in 1841, Lady Stratheden’s husband became Lord Chancellor of Great Britain and Lord Campbell. She died in 1860, whereupon her eldest son succeeded to her title. Lord Campbell died next year; and the same nobleman also took his father’s title. Thus we have what seems at first sight the puzzling title of Stratheden and Campbell.

There are a few other instances in the peerage of the employment of a double title, for example, the Dukes of Buckingham and Chandos; Hamilton and Brandon; Richmond and Gordon: the Earls of Mar and Kellie; Warwick and Brooke; Pembroke and Montgomery; Stamford and Warrington; Suffolk and Berkshire; Wemyss and March; Winchelsea and Nottingham, &c.: Viscount Massereene and Ferrard (who sits as Lord Oriel): Baron Saye and Sele; Baron Mowbray, Segrave, and Stourton; Oranmore and Browne; De L’Isle and Dudley, &c., which the reader inclined to do so may investigate for himself.

Then we have titles of another compound order, as those of Lord Clifford of Chudleigh, Howard of Glossop, Vaux of Harrowden, Willoughby de Broke, Willoughby de Eresby, &c.; and as an instance of _idem sonans_ in titles, we may mention the barony of Middleton and the viscounty of Midleton, the respective holders of which are peers of the realm, and pronounce their titles in the same way.

Some of the heraldic mottoes of our nobility are extremely peculiar. A very blunt one is that of Byron, _Crede Byron_ (Believe a Byron). A few of them have reference to the achievements for which the peerage was originally conferred, or from which promotion therein was the result. Thus, Baron Exmouth, upon whom a viscounty was conferred after the bombardment of Algiers in 1816, placed his family motto over his crest, and the word ‘Algiers’ under his shield. In the same way the celebrated Field-marshal Viscount Gough had the words ‘China,’ ‘Barrosa,’ and ‘Goojerat’ painted on his armorial bearings, also the Irish words _Faugh a Ballagh_—that is, clear the way, which is the war-cry of the regiment known as the Connaught Rangers. Again, Lord Radstock’s motto is ‘St Vincent,’ commemorating a naval exploit of the first peer, who was a son of the third Earl Waldegrave, which, however, took place off Cape Lagos in 1797. The motto of the hero John Jervis, who destroyed the Spanish fleet off Cape St Vincent in 1797, and who was raised to the peerage as Earl St Vincent, was the strange-looking word ‘Thus,’ and it is still borne by the representative of the Jervis family, who, however, is only Viscount St Vincent. ‘Thus’ is a nautical term of command which, shortly explained, signifies an order to keep the ship’s head in the direction in which she is proceeding. The motto of Earl Fortescue, _Forte scutum salus ducum_ (that is, A strong shield is the safeguard of the leaders), is noteworthy. According to Sir B. Burke, the ancestor of the Fortescues was one Sir Richard le Fort, who protected the Conqueror at the battle of Hastings by his shield. _Escue_ being the Norman word for shield, it was added to _Fort_, and thus produced the name and the title of Fortescue. The above motto is also that of the Fortescues Lords Clermont, who are kinsmen of the others. Two ennobled barristers chose mottoes associated with their professional pursuits, Pratt, Marquis Camden, having taken _Judicium parium, aut lex terræ_ (that is, The judgment of our peers, or the law of the land); while the renowned advocate Thomas, Lord Erskine, adopted the phrase _Trial by Jury_. This nobleman was the son of the fifth Earl of Buchan, whose family motto is _Judge nought_; and there is some singularity about the abandonment of this motto for that of _Trial by Jury_. There are two mottoes of an extremely suggestive character—that of Earl Howe (_Let Curzon hold what Curzon held_), and that of the Marquis Conyngham (_Over Fork over!_). The history of the latter family will show that the spirit of this phrase, taken in its vulgar acceptation, has not been disregarded by them. In some of the mottoes we discover a play of words—a fanciful conceit, as it would have once been termed. Thus, the Earls of Onslow use the well-known proverb, _Festine lente_, or ‘Hasten slowly,’ which evidently has reference to the present form of their name, On-slow, which, however, was originally Ondeslow. Then, again, Earl Manvers’ is _Pie repone te_ (Repose with pious confidence). If the position of the letters in the Latin words be changed, we have _Piereponete_; and ‘Pierrepont’ is the family name of the above nobleman. The motto of the Earls of Wemyss, _This our Charter is_, contains their name of Charteris. So also does that of the Roches, Lords Fermoy, _Mon Dieu est ma roche_; and the motto of the Earls of Sandwich, _Post tot naufragia portum_ (After so many shipwrecks, we arrive at port). Then, again, the Duke of Devonshire, and Lords Chesham and Waterpark, all of the Cavendish family, have for their motto _Cavendo tutus_ (Safe by being cautious), evidently a _jeu de mots_, a hazy sort of play on the name of the title.

In a previous paragraph, we alluded to the Sussex Peerage Case. This was a very painful curiosity indeed of the peerage. The Duke of Sussex, sixth son of George III., had married, in 1793, Lady Augusta Murray, daughter of the Earl of Dunmore. The marriage ceremony was twice performed—first at Rome, and next at St George’s, Hanover Square, and the union was one of affection on both sides. Two children were born of it—a son and a daughter, the former having been Colonel Sir Augustus F. D’Este, and the latter, Mademoiselle D’Este, who became the second wife of Serjeant Wilde, afterwards Lord Chancellor Truro. That lady died in 1855 without issue, and the present Lord Truro is accordingly descended from the first wife. On the death of the Duke of Sussex in 1843, Sir A. D’Este claimed the Dukedom of Sussex; but the Prerogative Court of Canterbury, the then forum of matrimonial causes, held the marriage of his parents to have been null and void, as contrary to the provisions of the Royal Marriage Act (12 Geo. III. c. 11). Sir Augustus D’Este died in 1849; and this lamentable story in its legal aspect may be read in the second volume of Clark and Finnelly’s _House of Lords’ Reports_. The Sussex Peerage Case, beyond its painful interest, is of importance to lawyers, several rules of the law of evidence having been fixed by it. The same may be said of some other peerage cases, as those of Banbury and Shrewsbury. And we may also mention that one which probably stands without a parallel in the records of scandalous family history, the celebrated Berkeley Peerage Case, a veritable curiosity, not of the peerage only, but of human life generally, being, in fact, an agglomeration of frauds, perjuries, and immoral proceedings, all surrounded by an atmosphere of the most repulsive vulgarity. We gladly pass it by. Indeed, it ought, except for illustrative purposes, to be let severely alone.

We have spoken in a previous paragraph of ‘premier peerages;’ and perhaps a few words are necessary on this subject.

The premier peerages of the realm are as follows:

_England_—Duke of Norfolk, 1483; Marquis of Winchester, 1551; Earl Shrewsbury, 1442; Viscount Hereford, 1550; Baron Le Despencer, 1264.

_Scotland_—Duke of Hamilton, 1643; Marquis of Huntly, 1559; Earl Crawford, 1398; Viscount Falkland, 1620; Baron Forbes, 1442 (?).

_Ireland_—Duke of Leinster, 1766, who is also premier Marquis and Earl of Ireland; Viscount Gormanston, 1478; Baron Kingsale, 1181.

Of all these, Kingsale is the oldest existing title, but, as already intimated, Lord Kingsale has no seat in the House of Lords. The barony (by writ) of Le Despencer is the oldest in England, but is at present held by a lady, who is the wife of Viscount Falmouth, whose son is therefore heir to both titles. The oldest title borne by a member of the House of Lords under which he sits and votes is that of De Ros, this barony having been created 1264, but after that of Le Despencer.

Earls, Viscounts, Barons, and Baronesses are entitled to be styled ‘Right Honourable;’ a Marquis is ‘Most Honourable,’ or ‘Most Noble and Puissant Prince;’ a Duke is ‘Most Noble,’ or ‘Most High, Potent, and Noble Prince.’ All peers except barons are by the etiquette of heraldry regarded and styled as cousins of the sovereign. Thus, a Viscount or an Earl is addressed as, ‘Our right trusty and well-beloved Cousin;’ a Marquis as, ‘Our right trusty and entirely beloved Cousin;’ and a Duke as, ‘Our right trusty and right entirely beloved Cousin.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1] We not unfrequently hear persons speaking of the House of Commons as though that assembly alone constituted the parliament of these realms. It should be borne in mind that parliament consists of the sovereign and both Houses of legislature.

[2] The union of the _crowns_ of England and Scotland by the accession of James VI. of that country to the English throne as James I. in 1603, must not be confounded with the union of the two _kingdoms_ themselves, one hundred and four years afterwards.

[3] In heraldry, the terms dexter and sinister are used for right and left; and the right of a shield is that which is on the left of the person looking at it, and _vice versâ_.

A ZULU ROMANCE.

As a rule, the course of true love runs smoother in Kaffir-land than in more civilised countries. The reason for this is not far to seek. In Europe, the business of matrimony is complicated by its being associated with the impulses of the heart; but amongst our Ethiopian brethren the emotional has but little place or power. The whole affair is simply arranged by the father of the girl. Eight or ten oxen are handed over to the dusky Paterfamilias by the eligible suitor, who in exchange receives the damsel—blushing, no doubt, if one could perceive it beneath the dark skin. In rare instances, it may be a case of mutual affection; and in the true story which I am about to relate, affairs went ‘clean off the track’ in a quite phenomenal fashion. A good deal of this romantic drama, which took place in and about Maritzburg, the capital of Natal, came under the immediate notice of my wife and myself, while the rest of it was told us by one or other of the chief actors.

It was towards the close of a summer afternoon. The day had been more than usually hot, but a slight curtain of cloud was now pleasantly veiling the sun. Our house was situated on a gently rising ground on the outskirts of the town—a comfortable one-storied cottage, surrounded by a deep veranda, and standing a short distance back from the road. There would have been sultry stillness, but for the chirp and whir of insects, the too frequent ‘ping’ of the mosquito as it hovered around one’s ear, the ‘clunk-clunk’ of the frogs in a neighbouring streamlet, and the sonorous voice of our Kaffir ‘boy’ chanting some barbarous lay in one of the outhouses. Occasionally a creaking, full-laden bullock-wagon would toil past, drawn by a span of twelve or fourteen patient oxen, and overhung by a cloud of red dust, stirred up from the broad, rut-lined, arid highway. Anon, a buggy would dash jolting along, to the imminent danger of family groups of itinerant Kaffirs, who would, with a loud ‘Wow!’ jump aside; and once in a while a solitary horseman, booted and spurred, would be seen galloping to or from the town.

I was lying in a swing-hammock suspended in the veranda, smoking a cigar, and fitfully reading that day’s paper. Now and again, my eye mechanically rested on the road, watching the several wayfarers. Presently my attention was more particularly drawn to a young Zulu woman, who had opened our front gate, and was slowly walking up the path leading to our house. She was probably about seventeen years of age, though, to one unacquainted with Kaffir physique, she might have seemed at least twenty-one, and moved with the erect and graceful carriage characteristic of the race. Her dress consisted of what may be best described as a canvas tunic, which had originally been a sack, but round the arm-holes and short skirt was a border of many-coloured beads. Upon her shapely arms were brass rings and circlets of beads, while similar ornaments graced her calf and ankle. Her hair had been combed up, stiffened with red clay, and tied into a bunch—a toilet significant of her status as a married woman, the Kaffir virgin usually rejoicing merely in her primitive ‘wool.’

The young woman’s steps were directed to the back of our premises, where she disappeared. What could she be after? The next moment I said to myself that she must be one of our ‘boy’s’ relations. The kinship of one’s Kaffir boy, be it here remarked, is invariably very extensive; and unless you exercise some strictness, your rearmost premises are very apt to be invaded by his parents, his brothers, ‘his sisters and his cousins and his aunts,’ not to speak of his uncles and vaguely remote relatives. Our boy, Capelle by name, had been told that we were not to be annoyed by frequent visits from his friends; and as that day he had already welcomed and hospitably fed—with _our_ maize-meal—about half-a-dozen of his acquaintances, I somewhat resented the coming of this youthful matron.

It was in my mind to jump out of the hammock and remonstrate with our domestic, when I heard stealthy footsteps in the veranda. The next moment Capelle stood before me, asking permission, as far as I could make out, for his sister to remain overnight. My wife now appeared, telling me that Capelle and the young woman had been having high words in the Kaffir-house. Thereupon I questioned him as to the cause of the quarrel. ‘Baas’ (Master), he began; and then delivered a fluent discourse in his native tongue, doubtless full of information, but almost wholly unintelligible to me, until my wife acted as interpreter. My better-half, having to scold and direct the boy, had in about two years’ time mastered the colloquial Kaffir generally spoken in Maritzburg kitchens. Out of the facts extracted from Capelle and his sister by cross-examination, the following interesting narrative was evolved.

Some six months previous, this young woman, whose name was ’Manthla, had plighted her troth to one Umhlassu, who was now working as a porter at an ironmonger’s in Maritzburg, and was rapidly saving up the money to buy the necessary cattle wherewith to purchase her from her papa. He had now eight oxen, only two short of the number required, and had secured a hut for her reception. For her part, ’Manthla had given Umhlassu a pair of earrings, a necklace, a snuff-box, bead ornaments for the head, and other gifts such as Kaffir maidens present to their lovers. Unfortunately, another wooer had come to her father, offering twelve bullocks for ’Manthla; and the parent, very naturally—for such doings are not unknown even in Mayfair—favoured the wealthier suitor. The oxen were accepted there and then, without the daughter being consulted in the matter. As a rule, the reception of the live-stock by the father is an important point in the marriage-service of the Zulus. The next step is the arranging of the wedding-feast, at which there generally is dancing for two or three days, as well as the consumption of one of the oxen which form part of the ‘marriage-settlement,’ not to mention the drinking galore of native beer.

’Manthla had steadily declined to take any part in the proceedings, though she had been in the charge of the matrons of the kraal, who had dressed her hair in the manner already described. With still greater persistence, she refused to accompany Indebbelish, her would-be lord and master, to his kraal, even going the length of producing a knife and protesting she would take away her life, rather than become his bride. Her father threatened to beat her with a stick; all her friends upbraided her; and finally, she was handed over to the old women, who kept her a prisoner and all but starved her, to induce a better state of mind. Her almost unheard-of defiance of ‘use and wont’ astonished the marriage-party; but their amazement reached its climax when, in the midst of the festivities, it was discovered that ’Manthla had seized a favourable opportunity to escape. She had travelled on foot fifty miles into Maritzburg, and it was at the close of that journey that I had seen her from our veranda.

When ’Manthla had greeted her brother and told him the whole story, he was of course highly indignant at her disregard of tribal custom. He rated her in good sound terms, jeered at her, and treated her to a variety of ill-favoured epithets, in which the Zulu vocabulary is unusually rich. It was the sound of this fraternal reproof which my wife had heard. There was really nothing for it but to give shelter to the fugitive for at least one night. It would scarcely have been humane to have turned ’Manthla adrift, tired and hungry as she was; and accordingly the ‘pilgrim of love’ was allowed to take her fill of porridge and sleep on the kitchen floor.

Early next morning, as I was mounting my cob at the stable-door, preparatory to a ‘spin’ over the _veldt_ before breakfast, there appeared an elderly Kaffir, who held up the forefinger of his right hand and exclaimed ‘Inkosi!’—the native salutation of respect. This was no less a personage than Pank, the father of ’Manthla and of our boy Capelle. He was attired in a soldier’s old coat, and ragged trousers that descended no farther than his knees. On his head was a battered felt hat; while through the lobe of one ear was stuck a cigar, and through the other a cylindrical ‘snuff-box.’ Though old Pank had come in hot haste from the kraal all those fifty miles, and was presumably in a state of great mental agitation, he sauntered into our back-yard as carelessly as if he had only casually dropped in from next door. I have noticed the same characteristic in several other Kaffirs. After the afore-mentioned salutation, Pank’s lean face broadened into a grin, and he vivaciously ejaculated two or three times: ‘It’s allee right, allee right!’ This phrase, which proved to be the only English at his command, was introduced with great frequency, and sometimes with ludicrous effect. This optimist remark, however, was not upon his lips when he caught sight of his daughter ’Manthla timidly peeping out from the door of the Kaffir-house. His face darkened in expression, and pouring forth a volley of reproaches, the ‘stern parient’ approached her. I stood anxiously watching the interview, fearing lest violence might be the outcome. But after Pank had uncorked the vial of his wrath, it quickly evaporated, and in a short time he sat down on his haunches, took the snuff-box from his ear and regaled himself with a hearty pinch.