The Duke of Omnium Thinks of Himself
The blaze made by the Duchess of Omnium during the three months of
the season up in London had been very great, but it was little in
comparison with the social coruscation expected to be achieved at
Gatherum Castle,--little at least as far as public report went, and
the general opinion of the day. No doubt the house in Carlton Gardens
had been thrown open as the house of no Prime Minister, perhaps of no
duke, had been opened before in this country; but it had been done by
degrees, and had not been accompanied by such a blowing of trumpets
as was sounded with reference to the entertainments at Gatherum.
I would not have it supposed that the trumpets were blown by the
direct order of the Duchess. The trumpets were blown by the customary
trumpeters as it became known that great things were to be done,--all
newspapers and very many tongues lending their assistance, till the
sounds of the instruments almost frightened the Duchess herself.
"Isn't it odd," she said to her friend, Mrs. Finn, "that one can't
have a few friends down in the country without such a fuss about it
as the people are making?" Mrs. Finn did not think that it was odd,
and so she said. Thousands of pounds were being spent in a very
conspicuous way. Invitations to the place even for a couple of
days,--for twenty-four hours,--had been begged for abjectly. It
was understood everywhere that the Prime Minister was bidding for
greatness and popularity. Of course the trumpets were blown very
loudly. "If people don't take care," said the Duchess, "I'll put
everybody off and have the whole place shut up. I'd do it for
sixpence, now."
Perhaps of all the persons, much or little concerned, the one who
heard the least of the trumpets,--or rather who was the last to hear
them,--was the Duke himself. He could not fail to see something in
the newspapers, but what he did see did not attract him so frequently
or so strongly as it did others. It was a pity, he thought, that
a man's social and private life should be made subject to so many
remarks, but this misfortune was one of those to which wealth and
rank are liable. He had long recognised that fact, and for a time
endeavoured to believe that his intended sojourn at Gatherum Castle
was not more public than are the autumn doings of other dukes and
other prime ministers. But gradually the trumpets did reach even his
ears. Blind as he was to many things himself, he always had near to
him that other duke who was never blind to anything. "You are going
to do great things at Gatherum this year," said the Duke.
"Nothing particular, I hope," said the Prime Minister, with an inward
trepidation,--for gradually there had crept upon him a fear that his
wife was making a mistake.
"I thought it was going to be very particular."
"It's Glencora's doing."
"I don't doubt but that her Grace is right. Don't suppose that I am
criticizing your hospitality. We are to be at Gatherum ourselves
about the end of the month. It will be the first time I shall have
seen the place since your uncle's time."
The Prime Minister at this moment was sitting in his own particular
room at the Treasury Chambers, and before the entrance of his friend
had been conscientiously endeavouring to define for himself, not a
future policy, but the past policy of the last month or two. It had
not been for him a very happy occupation. He had become the Head of
the Government,--and had not failed, for there he was, still the
Head of the Government, with a majority at his back, and the six
months' vacation before him. They who were entitled to speak to him
confidentially as to his position, were almost vehement in declaring
his success. Mr. Rattler, about a week ago, had not seen any reason
why the Ministry should not endure at least for the next four years.
Mr. Roby, from the other side, was equally confident. But, on looking
back at what he had done, and indeed on looking forward into his
future intentions, he could not see why he, of all men, should be
Prime Minister. He had once been Chancellor of the Exchequer, filling
that office through two halcyon Sessions, and he had known the reason
why he had held it. He had ventured to assure himself at the time
that he was the best man whom his party could then have found for
that office, and he had been satisfied. But he had none of that
satisfaction now. There were men under him who were really at
work. The Lord Chancellor had legal reforms on foot. Mr. Monk
was busy, heart and soul, in regard to income tax and brewers'
licences,--making our poor Prime Minister's mouth water. Lord
Drummond was active among the colonies. Phineas Finn had at any rate
his ideas about Ireland. But with the Prime Minister,--so at least
the Duke told himself,--it was all a blank. The policy confided
to him and expected at his hands was that of keeping together a
Coalition Ministry. That was a task that did not satisfy him. And
now, gradually,--very slowly indeed at first, but still with a
sure step,--there was creeping upon him the idea that his power of
cohesion was sought for, and perhaps found, not in his political
capacity, but in his rank and wealth. It might, in fact, be the
case that it was his wife the Duchess,--that Lady Glencora of whose
wild impulses and general impracticability he had always been in
dread,--that she with her dinner parties and receptions, with her
crowded saloons, her music, her picnics, and social temptations, was
Prime Minister rather than he himself. It might be that this had been
understood by the coalesced parties,--by everybody, in fact, except
himself. It had, perhaps, been found that in the state of things
then existing, a ministry could be best kept together, not by
parliamentary capacity, but by social arrangements, such as his
Duchess, and his Duchess alone, could carry out. She and she only
would have the spirit and the money and the sort of cleverness
required. In such a state of things he of course, as her husband,
must be the nominal Prime Minister.
There was no anger in his bosom as he thought of this. It would
be hardly just to say that there was jealousy. His nature was
essentially free from jealousy. But there was shame,--and
self-accusation at having accepted so great an office with so little
fixed purpose as to great work. It might be his duty to subordinate
even his pride to the service of his country, and to consent to be
a fainéant minister, a gilded Treasury log, because by remaining in
that position he would enable the Government to be carried on. But
how base the position, how mean, how repugnant to that grand idea of
public work which had hitherto been the motive power of all his life!
How would he continue to live if this thing were to go on from year
to year,--he pretending to govern while others governed,--stalking
about from one public hall to another in a blue ribbon, taking the
highest place at all tables, receiving mock reverence, and known to
all men as fainéant First Lord of the Treasury? Now, as he had been
thinking of all this, the most trusted of his friends had come to
him, and had at once alluded to the very circumstances which had been
pressing so heavily on his mind. "I was delighted," continued the
elder Duke, "when I heard that you had determined to go to Gatherum
Castle this year."
"If a man has a big house I suppose he ought to live in it,
sometimes."
"Certainly. It was for such purposes as this now intended that your
uncle built it. He never became a public man, and therefore, though
he went there, every year I believe, he never really used it."
"He hated it,--in his heart. And so do I. And so does Glencora. I
don't see why any man should have his private life interrupted by
being made to keep a huge caravansary open for persons he doesn't
care a straw about."
"You would not like to live alone."
"Alone,--with my wife and children,--I would certainly, during a
portion of the year at least."
"I doubt whether such a life, even for a month, even for a week, is
compatible with your duties. You would hardly find it possible. Could
you do without your private secretaries? Would you know enough of
what is going on, if you did not discuss matters with others? A man
cannot be both private and public at the same time."
"And therefore one has to be chopped up, like 'a reed out of the
river,' as the poet said, 'and yet not give sweet music afterwards.'"
The Duke of St. Bungay said nothing in answer to this, as he did not
understand the chopping of the reed. "I'm afraid I've been wrong
about this collection of people down at Gatherum," continued the
younger Duke. "Glencora is impulsive, and has overdone the thing.
Just look at that." And he handed a letter to his friend. The old
Duke put on his spectacles and read the letter through,--which ran as
follows:
Private.
MY LORD DUKE,--
I do not doubt but that your Grace is aware of my position
in regard to the public press of the country, and I beg to
assure your Grace that my present proposition is made, not
on account of the great honour and pleasure which would be
conferred upon myself should your Grace accede to it, but
because I feel assured that I might so be best enabled to
discharge an important duty for the benefit of the public
generally.
Your Grace is about to receive the whole fashionable world
of England and many distinguished foreign ambassadors at
your ancestral halls, not solely for social delight,--for
a man in your Grace's high position is not able to think
only of a pleasant life,--but in order that the prestige
of your combined Ministry may be so best maintained. That
your Grace is thereby doing a duty to your country no man
who understands the country can doubt. But it must be the
case that the country at large should interest itself in
your festivities, and should demand to have accounts of
the gala doings of your ducal palace. Your Grace will
probably agree with me that these records could be better
given by one empowered by yourself to give them, by one
who had been present, and who would write in your Grace's
interest, than by some interloper who would receive his
tale only at second hand.
It is my purport now to inform your Grace that should
I be honoured by an invitation to your Grace's party at
Gatherum, I should obey such a call with the greatest
alacrity, and would devote my pen and the public organ
which is at my disposal to your Grace's service with the
readiest good-will.
I have the honour to be,
My Lord Duke,
Your Grace's most obedient
And very humble servant,
QUINTUS SLIDE.
The old Duke, when he had read the letter, laughed heartily. "Isn't
that a terribly bad sign of the times?" said the younger.
"Well;--hardly that, I think. The man is both a fool and a
blackguard; but I don't think we are therefore to suppose that there
are many fools and blackguards like him. I wonder what he really has
wanted."
"He has wanted me to ask him to Gatherum."
"He can hardly have expected that. I don't think he can have been
such a fool. He may have thought that there was a possible off
chance, and that he would not lose even that for want of asking. Of
course you won't notice it."
"I have asked Warburton to write to him, saying that he cannot be
received at my house. I have all letters answered unless they seem to
have come from insane persons. Would it not shock you if your private
arrangements were invaded in that way?"
"He can't invade you."
"Yes he can. He does. That is an invasion. And whether he is there
or not, he can and will write about my house. And though no one
else will make himself such a fool as he has done by his letter,
nevertheless even that is a sign of what others are doing.
You yourself were saying just now that we were going to do
something,--something particular, you said."
"It was your word, and I echoed it. I suppose you are going to have a
great many people?"
"I am afraid Glencora has overdone it. I don't know why I should
trouble you by saying so, but it makes me uneasy."
"I can't see why."
"I fear she has got some idea into her head of astounding the world
by display."
"I think she has got an idea of conquering the world by graciousness
and hospitality."
"It is as bad. It is, indeed, the same thing. Why should she want to
conquer what we call the world? She ought to want to entertain my
friends because they are my friends; and if from my public position
I have more so-called friends than would trouble me in a happier
condition of private life, why, then, she must entertain more people.
There should be nothing beyond that. The idea of conquering people,
as you call it, by feeding them, is to me abominable. If it goes on
it will drive me mad. I shall have to give up everything, because
I cannot bear the burden." This he said with more excitement, with
stronger passion, than his friend had ever seen in him before; so
much so that the old Duke was frightened. "I ought never to have been
where I am," said the Prime Minister, getting up from his chair and
walking about the room.
"Allow me to assure you that in that you are decidedly mistaken,"
said his Grace of St. Bungay.
"I cannot make even you see the inside of my heart in such a matter
as this," said his Grace of Omnium.
"I think I do. It may be that in saying so I claim for myself greater
power than I possess, but I think I do. But let your heart say what
it may on the subject, I am sure of this,--that when the Sovereign,
by the advice of two outgoing Ministers, and with the unequivocally
expressed assent of the House of Commons, calls on a man to serve her
and the country, that man cannot be justified in refusing, merely by
doubts about his own fitness. If your health is failing you, you may
know it, and say so. Or it may be that your honour,--your faith to
others,--should forbid you to accept the position. But of your own
general fitness you must take the verdict given by such general
consent. They have seen clearer than you have done what is required,
and know better than you can know how that which is wanted is to be
secured."
"If I am to be here and do nothing, must I remain?"
"A man cannot keep together the Government of a country and do
nothing. Do not trouble yourself about this crowd at Gatherum. The
Duchess, easily, almost without exertion, will do that which to you,
or to me either, would be impossible. Let her have her way, and take
no notice of the Quintus Slides." The Prime Minister smiled, as
though this repeated allusion to Mr. Slide's letter had brought
back his good humour, and said nothing further then as to his
difficulties. There were a few words to be spoken as to some
future Cabinet meeting, something perhaps to be settled as to some
man's work or position, a hint to be given, and a lesson to be
learned,--for of these inner Cabinet Councils between these two
statesmen there was frequent use; and then the Duke of St. Bungay
took his leave.
Our Duke, as soon as his friend had left him, rang for his private
secretary, and went to work diligently, as though nothing had
disturbed him. I do not know that his labours on that occasion
were of a very high order. Unless there be some special effort of
lawmaking before the country, some reform bill to be passed, some
attempt at education to be made, some fetters to be forged or to
be relaxed, a Prime Minister is not driven hard by the work of his
portfolio,--as are his colleagues. But many men were in want of many
things, and contrived by many means to make their wants known to the
Prime Minister. A dean would fain be a bishop, or a judge a chief
justice, or a commissioner a chairman, or a secretary a commissioner.
Knights would fain be baronets, baronets barons, and barons earls.
In one guise or another the wants of gentlemen were made known, and
there was work to be done. A ribbon cannot be given away without
breaking the hearts of, perhaps, three gentlemen and of their wives
and daughters. And then he went down to the House of Lords,--for the
last time this Session as far as work was concerned. On the morrow
legislative work would be over, and the gentlemen of Parliament would
be sent to their country houses, and to their pleasant country joys.
It had been arranged that on the day after the prorogation of
Parliament the Duchess of Omnium should go down to Gatherum to
prepare for the coming of the people, which was to commence about
three days later, taking her ministers, Mrs. Finn and Locock, with
her; and that her husband with his private secretaries and dispatch
boxes was to go for those three days to Matching, a smaller place
than Gatherum, but one to which they were much better accustomed. If,
as the Duchess thought to be not unlikely, the Duke should prolong
his stay for a few days at Matching, she felt confident that she
would be able to bear the burden of the Castle on her own shoulders.
She had thought it to be very probable that he would prolong his stay
at Matching, and if the absence were not too long, this might be
well explained to the assembled company. In the Duchess's estimation
a Prime Minister would lose nothing by pleading the nature of his
business as an excuse for such absence,--or by having such a plea
made for him. Of course he must appear at last. But as to that she
had no fear. His timidity, and his conscience also, would both be
too potent to allow him to shirk the nuisance of Gatherum altogether.
He would come, she was sure; but she did not much care how long he
deferred his coming. She was, therefore, not a little surprised when
he announced to her an alteration in his plans. This he did not many
hours after the Duke of St. Bungay had left him at the Treasury
Chambers. "I think I shall go down with you at once to Gatherum," he
said.
"What is the meaning of that?" The Duchess was not skilled in hiding
her feelings, at any rate from him, and declared to him at once by
her voice and eye that the proposed change was not gratifying to her.
"It will be better. I had thought that I would get a quiet day or two
at Matching. But as the thing has to be done, it may as well be done
at first. A man ought to receive his own guests. I can't say that I
look forward to any great pleasure in doing so on this occasion;--but
I shall do it." It was very easy to understand also the tone of his
voice. There was in it something of offended dignity, something
of future marital intentions,--something also of the weakness of
distress.
She did not want him to come at once to Gatherum. A great deal of
money was being spent, and the absolute spending was not yet quite
perfected. There might still be possibility of interference. The
tents were not all pitched. The lamps were not as yet all hung in the
conservatories. Waggons would still be coming in and workmen still be
going out. He would think less of what had been done if he could be
kept from seeing it while it was being done. And the greater crowd
which would be gathered there by the end of the first week would
carry off the vastness of the preparations. As to money, he had given
her almost carte blanche, having at one vacillatory period of his
Prime Ministership been talked by her into some agreement with her
own plans. And in regard to money he would say to himself that he
ought not to interfere with any whim of hers on that score, unless
he thought it right to crush the whim on some other score. Half what
he possessed had been hers, and even if during this year he were to
spend more than his income,--if he were to double or even treble the
expenditure of past years,--he could not consume the additions to his
wealth which had accrued and heaped themselves up since his marriage.
He had therefore written a line to his banker, and a line to his
lawyer, and he had himself seen Locock, and his wife's hands had been
loosened. "I didn't think, your Grace," said Locock, "that his Grace
would be so very--very--very--" "Very what, Locock?" "So very free,
your Grace." The Duchess, as she thought of it, declared to herself
that her husband was the truest nobleman in all England. She revered,
admired, and almost loved him. She knew him to be infinitely better
than herself. But she could hardly sympathise with him, and was quite
sure that he did not sympathise with her. He was so good about the
money! But yet it was necessary that he should be kept in the dark
as to the spending of a good deal of it. Now he was going to upset a
portion of her plans by coming to Gatherum before he was wanted. She
knew him to be obstinate, but it might be possible to turn him back
to his old purpose by clever manipulation.
"Of course it would be much nicer for me," she said.
"That alone would be sufficient."
"Thanks, dear. But we had arranged for people to come at first whom
I thought you would not specially care to meet. Sir Orlando and Mr.
Rattler will be there with their wives."
"I have become quite used to Sir Orlando and Mr. Rattler."
"No doubt, and therefore I wanted to spare you something of their
company. The Duke, whom you really do like, isn't coming yet. I
thought, too, you would have your work to finish off."
"I fear it is of a kind that won't bear finishing off. However, I
have made up my mind, and have already told Locock to send word to
the people at Matching to say that I shall not be there yet. How long
will all this last at Gatherum?"
"Who can say?"
"I should have thought you could. People are not coming, I suppose,
for an indefinite time."
"As one set leaves, one asks others."
"Haven't you asked enough as yet? I should like to know when we may
expect to get away from the place."
"You needn't stay till the end, you know."
"But you must."
"Certainly."
"And I should wish you to go with me, when we do go to Matching."
"Oh, Plantagenet," said the wife, "what a Darby and Joan kind of
thing you like to have it!"
"Yes, I do. The Darby and Joan kind of thing is what I like."
"Only Darby is to be in an office all day, and in Parliament all
night,--and Joan is to stay at home."
"Would you wish me not to be in an office, and not to be in
Parliament? But don't let us misunderstand each other. You are doing
the best you can to further what you think to be my interests."
"I am," said the Duchess.
"I love you the better for it, day by day." This so surprised her,
that as she took him by the arm, her eyes were filled with tears. "I
know that you are working for me quite as hard as I work myself, and
that you are doing so with the pure ambition of seeing your husband a
great man."
"And myself a great man's wife."
"It is the same thing. But I would not have you overdo your work.
I would not have you make yourself conspicuous by anything like
display. There are ill-natured people who will say things that you do
not expect, and to which I should be more sensitive than I ought to
be. Spare me such pain as this, if you can." He still held her hand
as he spoke, and she answered him only by nodding her head. "I will
go down with you to Gatherum on Friday." Then he left her.