University of Virginia Library

130. LETTER CXXX.

I arose late on the first morning after my arrival at
Gordon Castle, and found the large party already
assembled about the breakfast-table. I was struck on
entering with the different air of the room. The deep
windows, opening out upon the park, had the effect
of sombre landscapes in oaken frames; the troops of
liveried servants, the glitter of plate, the music, that
had contributed to the splendor of the scene the night
before, were gone; the duke sat laughing at the head
of the table, with a newspaper in his hand, dressed in
a coarse shooting jacket and colored cravat; the
dutchess was in a plain morning-dress and cap of the
simplest character; and the high-born women about
the table, whom I had left glittering with jewels, and
dressed in all the attractions of fashion, appeared with
the simplest coiffure and a toilet of studied plainness.
The ten or twelve noblemen present were engrossed
with their letters or newspapers over tea and toast;
and in them, perhaps, the transformation was still
greater. The soigné man of fashion of the night before,

faultless in costume and distinguished in his appearance,
in the full force of the term, was enveloped
now in a coat of fustian, with a coarse waistcoat of
plaid, a gingham cravat, and hob-nailed shoes (for
shooting), and in place of the gay hilarity of the supper-table,
wore a face of calm indifference, and ate his
breakfast and read the paper in a rarely broken silence.
I wondered, as I looked about me, what would be the
impression of many people in my own country, could
they look in upon that plain party, aware that it was
composed of the proudest nobility and the highest
fashion of England.

Breakfast in England is a confidential and unceremonious
hour, and servants are generally dispensed
with. This is to me, I confess, an advantage it has
over every other meal. I detest eating with twenty
tall fellows standing opposite, whose business it is to
watch me. The coffee and tea were on the table, with
toast, muffins, oat-cakes, marmalade, jellies, fish, and
all the paraphernalia of a Scotch breakfast; and on the
sideboard stood cold meats for those who liked them,
and they were expected to go to it and help themselves.
Nothing could be more easy, unceremonious, and affable,
than the whole tone of the meal. One after
another rose and fell into groups in the windows, or
walked up and down the long room, and, with one or
two others, I joined the duke at the head of the table,
who gave us some interesting particulars of the salmon
fisheries of the Spey. The privilege of fishing the
river within his lands, is bought of him at the pretty
sum of eight thousand pounds a year! A salmon was
brought in for me to see, as of remarkable size, which
was not more than half the weight of our common
American salmon.

The ladies went off unaccompanied to their walks
in the park and other avocations, those bound for the
covers joined the game-keepers, who were waiting
with their dogs in the leash at the stables; some paired
off to the billiard-room, and I was left with Lord Aberdeen
in the breakfast-room alone. The tory ex-minister
made a thousand inquiries, with great apparent
interest, about America. When secretary for foreign
affairs in the Wellington cabinet, he had known Mr.
McLane intimately. He said he seldom had been so
impressed with a man's honesty and straight-forwardness,
and never did public business with any one with
more pleasure. He admired Mr. McLane, and hoped
he enjoyed his friendship. He wished he might return
as our minister to England. One such honorable,
uncompromising man, he said, was worth a score of
practised diplomatists. He spoke of Gallatin and Rush
in the same flattering manner, but recurred continually
to Mr. McLane, of whom he could scarcely say
enough. His politics would naturally lead him to approve
of the administration of General Jackson, but he
seemed to admire the president very much as a man.

Lord Aberdeen has the name of being the proudest
and coldest aristocrat of England. It is amusing to
see the person who bears such a character. He is of
the middle height, rather clumsily made, with an address
more of sober dignity than of pride or reserve.
With a black coat much worn, and always too large
for him, a pair of coarse check trousers very ill made,
a waistcoat buttoned up to his throat, and a cravat of
the most primitive negligé, his aristocracy is certainly
not in his dress. His manners are of absolute simplicity,
amounting almost to want of style. He crosses
his hands behind him, and balances on his heels; in
conversation his voice is low and cold, and he seldom
smiles. Yet there is a certain benignity in his countenance,
and an indefinable superiority and high breeding
in his simple address, that would betray his rank
after a few minutes' conversation to any shrewd observer.
It is only in his manner toward the ladies of the
party that he would be immediately distinguishable
from men of lower rank in society.

Still suffering from lameness, I declined all invitations
to the shooting parties, who started across the
park, with the dogs leaping about them in a phrensy
of delight, and accepted the dutchess's kind offer of a
pony phaeton to drive down to the kennels. The
duke's breed, both of setters and hounds, is celebrated
throughout the kingdom. They occupy a spacious
building in the centre of a wood, a quadrangle enclosing
a court, and large enough for a respectable poor-house.
The chief huntsman and his family, and perhaps
a gamekeeper or two, lodge on the premises, and
the dogs are divided by palings across the court. I
was rather startled to be introduced into the small enclosure
with a dozen gigantic blood-hounds, as high
as my breast, the keeper's whip in my hand the only
defence. I was not easier for the man's assertion that,
without it, they would “hae the life oot o' me in a
crack.” They came around me very quietly, and one
immense fellow, with a chest like a horse, and a head
of the finest expression, stood up and laid his paws
on my shoulders, with the deliberation of a friend
about to favor me with some grave advice. One can
scarce believe these noble creatures have not reason
like ourselves. Those slender, thorough-bred heads,
large, speaking eyes, and beautiful limbs and graceful
action, should be gifted with more than mere animal
instinct. The greyhounds were the beauties of the
kennel, however. I never had seen such perfect creatures.
“Dinna tak' pains to caress 'em, sir,” said the
huntsman, “they'll only be hangit for it!” I asked
for an explanation, and the man, with an air as if I was
uncommonly ignorant, told me that a hound was hung
the moment he betrayed attachment to any one, or in
any way showed signs of superior sagacity. In coursing
the hare, for instance, if the dog abandoned the
scent to cut across and intercept the poor animal, he
was considered as spoiling the sport. Greyhounds are
valuable only as they obey their mere natural instinct,
and if they leave the track of the hare, either in their
own sagacity, or to follow their master, in intercepting
it, they spoil the pack, and are hung without mercy.
It is an object, of course, to preserve them what they
usually are, the greatest fools as well as the handsomest
of the canine species, and on the first sign of attachment
to their master, their death-warrant is signed.
They are too sensible to live. The dutchess told me
afterward that she had the greatest difficulty in saving
the life of the finest hound in the pack, who had committed
the sin of showing pleasure once or twice when
she appeared.

The setters were in the next division, and really
they were quite lovely. The rare tan and black dog
of this race, with his silky, floss hair, intelligent muzzle,
good-humored face and caressing fondness (lucky
dog! that affection is permitted in his family!), quite
excited my admiration. There were thirty or forty
of these, old and young; and a friend of the duke's
would as soon ask him for a church living as for the
present of one of them. The former would be by
much the smaller favor. Then there were terriers of
four or five breeds, of one family of which (long-haired,
long-bodied, short-legged and perfectly white little
wretches) the keeper seemed particularly proud. I
evidently sunk in his opinion for not admiring them.

I passed the remainder of the morning in threading
the lovely alleys and avenues of the park, miles after
miles of gravel-walk, extending away in every direction,
with every variety of turn and shade, now a deep
wood, now a sunny opening upon a glade, here along
the bank of a stream, and there around the borders of
a small lagoon, the little ponies flying on over the
smoothly-rolled paths, and tossing their mimicking
heads, as if they too enjoyed the beauty of the princely
domain. This, I thought to myself, as I sped on
through light and shadow, is very like what is called
happiness; and this (if to be a duke were to enjoy it

as I do with this fresh feeling of novelty and delight)
is a condition of life it is not quite irrational to envy.
And giving my little steeds the rein, I repeated to myself
Scott's graphic description, which seems written
for the park of Gordon castle, and thanked Heaven for
one more day of unalloyed happiness.