“My lord, these are your equals.  Be pleased to return their salute exactly as they make it.  These two peers are barons, and have been named by the Lord Chancellor as your sponsors.  They are very old, and almost blind.  They will, themselves, introduce you to the House of Lords.  The first is Charles Mildmay, Lord Fitzwalter, sixth on the roll of barons; the second is Augustus Arundel, Lord Arundel of Trerice, thirty-eighth on the roll of barons.”  The King-at-Arms having advanced a step towards the two old men, proclaimed “Fermain Clancharlie, Baron Clancharlie, Baron Hunkerville, Marquis of Corleone in Sicily, greets your lordships!” The two peers raised their hats to the full extent of the arm, and then replaced them.  Gwynplaine did the same.  The Usher of the Black Rod stepped forward, followed by Blue Mantle and Garter King at-Arms.  The Mace-bearer took up his post in front of Gwynplaine, the two peers at his side, Lord Fitzwalter on the right, and Lord Arundel of Trerice on the left.  Lord Arundel, the elder of the two, was very feeble.  He died the following year, bequeathing to his grandson John, a minor, the title which became extinct in 1768.  The procession, leaving the Painted Chamber, entered a gallery in which were rows of pilasters, and between the spaces were sentinels, alternately pike-men of England and halberdiers of Scotland.  The Scotch halberdiers were magnificent kilted soldiers, worthy to encounter later on at Fontenoy the French cavalry, and the royal cuirassiers, whom their colonel thus addressed:  “Messieurs les maitres, assurez vos chapeaux.  Nous allons avoir l’honneur de charger.” The captain of these soldiers saluted Gwynplaine, and the peers, his sponsors, with their swords.  The men saluted with their pikes and halberds.

At the end of the gallery shone a large door, so magnificent that its two folds seemed to be masses of gold.  On each side of the door there stood, upright and motionless, men who were called doorkeepers.  Just before you came to this door, the gallery widened out into a circular space.  In this space was an armchair with an immense back, and on it, judging by his wig and from the amplitude of his robes, was a distinguished person.  It was William Cowper, Lord Chancellor of England.  To be able to cap a royal infirmity with a similar one has its advantages.  William Cowper was short-sighted.  Anne had also defective sight, but in a lesser degree.  The near-sightedness of William Cowper found favour in the eyes of the short-sighted queen, and induced her to appoint him Lord Chancellor, and Keeper of the Royal Conscience.  William Cowper’s upper lip was thin, and his lower one thick—­a sign of semi-good-nature.

This circular space was lighted by a lamp hung from the ceiling.  The Lord Chancellor was sitting gravely in his large armchair; at his right was the Clerk of the Crown, and at his left the Clerk of the Parliaments.

Each of the clerks had before him an open register and an inkhorn.