What the Duchess Thought of Her Husband
When the Session began it was understood in the political world that
a very strong opposition was to be organised against the Government
under the guidance of Sir Orlando Drought, and that the great sin to
be imputed to the Cabinet was an utter indifference to the safety
and honour of Great Britain, as manifested by their neglect of the
navy. All the world knew that Sir Orlando had deserted the Coalition
because he was not allowed to build new ships, and of course Sir
Orlando would make the most of his grievance. With him was joined
Mr. Boffin, the patriotic Conservative who had never listened to
the voice of the seducer, and the staunch remainder of the old Tory
party. And with them the more violent of the Radicals were prepared
to act, not desirous, indeed, that new ships should be built, or that
a Conservative Government should be established,--or, indeed, that
anything should be done,--but animated by intense disgust that so
mild a politician as the Duke of Omnium should be Prime Minister.
The fight began at once, Sir Orlando objecting violently to certain
passages in the Queen's Speech. It was all very well to say that the
country was at present at peace with all the world; but how was peace
to be maintained without a fleet? Then Sir Orlando paid a great many
compliments to the Duke, and ended his speech by declaring him to be
the most absolutely fainéant minister that had disgraced the country
since the days of the Duke of Newcastle. Mr. Monk defended the
Coalition, and assured the House that the navy was not only the most
powerful navy existing, but that it was the most powerful that ever
had existed in the possession of this or any other country, and was
probably in absolute efficiency superior to the combined navies of
all the world. The House was not shocked by statements so absolutely
at variance with each other, coming from two gentlemen who had lately
been members of the same Government, and who must be supposed to
know what they were talking about, but seemed to think that upon the
whole Sir Orlando had done his duty. For though there was complete
confidence in the navy as a navy, and though a very small minority
would have voted for any considerably increased expense, still it
was well that there should be an opposition. And how can there be an
opposition without some subject for grumbling,--some matter on which
a minister may be attacked? No one really thought that the Prussians
and French combined would invade our shores and devastate our fields,
and plunder London, and carry our daughters away into captivity. The
state of the funds showed very plainly that there was no such fear.
But a good cry is a very good thing,--and it is always well to rub
up the officials of the Admiralty by a little wholesome abuse. Sir
Orlando was thought to have done his business well. Of course he did
not risk a division upon the address. Had he done so he would have
been "nowhere." But, as it was, he was proud of his achievement.
The ministers generally would have been indifferent to the very hard
words that were said of them, knowing what they were worth, and
feeling aware that a ministry which had everything too easy must lose
its interest in the country, had it not been that their chief was
very sore on the subject. The old Duke's work at this time consisted
almost altogether in nursing the younger Duke. It did sometimes occur
to his elder Grace that it might be well to let his brother retire,
and that a Prime Minister, malgré lui, could not be a successful
Prime Minister, or a useful one. But if the Duke of Omnium went the
Coalition must go too, and the Coalition had been the offspring of
the old statesman. The country was thriving under the Coalition, and
there was no real reason why it should not last for the next ten
years. He continued, therefore, his system of coddling, and was ready
at any moment, or at every moment, to pour, if not comfort, at any
rate consolation into the ears of his unhappy friend. In the present
emergency, it was the falsehood and general baseness of Sir Orlando
which nearly broke the heart of the Prime Minister. "How is one to
live," he said, "if one has to do with men of that kind?"
"But you haven't to do with him any longer," said the Duke of St.
Bungay.
"When I see a man who is supposed to have earned the name of a
statesman, and been high in the councils of his sovereign, induced
by personal jealousy to do as he is doing, it makes me feel that an
honest man should not place himself where he may have to deal with
such persons."
"According to that the honest men are to desert their country in
order that the dishonest men may have everything their own way." Our
Duke could not answer this, and therefore for the moment he yielded.
But he was unhappy, saturnine, and generally silent except when
closeted with his ancient mentor. And he knew that he was saturnine
and silent, and that it behoved him as a leader of men to be genial
and communicative,--listening to counsel even if he did not follow
it, and at any rate appearing to have confidence in his colleagues.
During this time Mr. Slide was not inactive, and in his heart of
hearts the Prime Minister was more afraid of Mr. Slide's attacks than
of those made upon him by Sir Orlando Drought. Now that Parliament
was sitting, and the minds of men were stirred to political feeling
by the renewed energy of the House, a great deal was being said in
many quarters about the last Silverbridge election. The papers had
taken the matter up generally, some accusing the Prime Minister and
some defending. But the defence was almost as unpalatable to him as
the accusation. It was admitted on all sides that the Duke, both
as a peer and as a Prime Minister, should have abstained from any
interference whatever in the election. And it was also admitted on
all sides that he had not so abstained,--if there was any truth at
all in the allegation that he had paid money for Mr. Lopez. But
it was pleaded on his behalf that the Dukes of Omnium had always
interfered at Silverbridge, and that no Reform Bill had ever had any
effect in reducing their influence in that borough. Frequent allusion
was made to the cautious Dod who, year after year, had reported that
the Duke of Omnium exercised considerable influence in the borough.
And then the friendly newspapers went on to explain that the Duke had
in this instance stayed his hand, and that the money, if paid at all,
had been paid because the candidate who was to have been his nominee
had been thrown over, when the Duke at the last moment made up his
mind that he would abandon the privilege which had hitherto been
always exercised by the head of his family, and which had been
exercised more than once or twice in his own favour. But Mr. Slide,
day after day, repeated his question, "We want to know whether the
Prime Minister did or did not pay the election expenses of Mr. Lopez
at the last Silverbridge election, and if so, why he paid them. We
shall continue to ask this question till it has been answered, and
when asking it we again say that the actual correspondence on the
subject between the Duke and Mr. Lopez is in our own hands." And
then, after a while, allusions were made to the Duchess;--for Mr.
Slide had learned all the facts of the case from Lopez himself. When
Mr. Slide found how hard it was "to draw his badger," as he expressed
himself concerning his own operations, he at last openly alluded to
the Duchess, running the risk of any punishment that might fall upon
him by action for libel or by severe reprehension from his colleagues
of the Press. "We have as yet," he said, "received no answers to
the questions which we have felt ourselves called upon to ask in
reference to the conduct of the Prime Minister at the Silverbridge
election. We are of opinion that all interference by peers with the
constituencies of the country should be put down by the strong hand
of the law as thoroughly and unmercifully as we are putting down
ordinary bribery. But when the offending peer is also the Prime
Minister of this great country, it becomes doubly the duty of those
who watch over the public safety,"--Mr. Slide was always speaking
of himself as watching over the public safety,--"to animadvert upon
his crime till it has been assoiled, or at any rate repented. From
what we now hear we have reason to believe that the crime itself
is acknowledged. Had the payment on behalf of Mr. Lopez not been
made,--as it certainly was made, or the letters in our hand would be
impudent forgeries,--the charge would long since have been denied.
Silence in such a matter amounts to confession. But we understand
that the Duke intends to escape under the plea that he has a second
self, powerful as he is to exercise the baneful influence which his
territorial wealth unfortunately gives him, but for the actions of
which second self he, as a Peer of Parliament and as Prime Minister,
is not responsible. In other words we are informed that the privilege
belonging to the Palliser family at Silverbridge was exercised, not
by the Duke himself, but by the Duchess;--and that the Duke paid the
money when he found that the Duchess had promised more than she could
perform. We should hardly have thought that even a man so notoriously
weak as the Duke of Omnium would have endeavoured to ride out of
responsibility by throwing the blame upon his wife; but he will
certainly find that the attempt, if made, will fail.
"Against the Duchess herself we wish to say not a word. She is known
as exercising a wide if not a discriminate hospitality. We believe
her to be a kind-hearted, bustling, ambitious lady, to whom any
little faults may easily be forgiven on account of her good-nature
and generosity. But we cannot accept her indiscretion as an excuse
for a most unconstitutional act performed by the Prime Minister of
this country."
Latterly the Duchess had taken in her own copy of the "People's
Banner." Since she had found that those around her were endeavouring
to keep from her what was being said of her husband in regard to
the borough, she had been determined to see it all. She therefore
read the article from which two or three paragraphs have just been
given,--and having read it she handed it to her friend Mrs. Finn. "I
wonder that you trouble yourself with such trash," her friend said to
her.
"That is all very well, my dear, from you; but we poor wretches who
are the slaves of the people have to regard what is said of us in the
'People's Banner.'"
"It would be much better for you to neglect it."
"Just as authors are told not to read the criticisms;--but I never
would believe any author who told me that he didn't read what
was said about him. I wonder when the man found out that I was
good-natured. He wouldn't find me good-natured if I could get hold of
him."
"You are not going to allow it to torment you!"
"For my own sake, not a moment. I fancy that if I might be permitted
to have my own way I could answer him very easily. Indeed with these
dregs of the newspapers, these gutter-slanderers, if one would be
open and say all the truth aloud, what would one have to fear? After
all, what is it that I did? I disobeyed my husband because I thought
that he was too scrupulous. Let me say as much, out loud to the
public,--saying also that I am sorry for it, as I am,--and who would
be against me? Who would have a word to say after that? I should
be the most popular woman in England for a month,--and, as regards
Plantagenet, Mr. Slide and his articles would all sink into silence.
But even though he were to continue this from day to day for a
twelvemonth it would not hurt me,--but that I know how it scorches
him. This mention of my name will make it more intolerable to him
than ever. I doubt that you know him even yet."
"I thought that I did."
"Though in manner he is as dry as a stick, though all his pursuits
are opposite to the very idea of romance, though he passes his days
and nights in thinking how he may take a halfpenny in the pound off
the taxes of the people without robbing the revenue, there is a
dash of chivalry about him worthy of the old poets. To him a woman,
particularly his own woman, is a thing so fine and so precious that
the winds of heaven should hardly be allowed to blow upon her. He
cannot bear to think that people should even talk of his wife. And
yet, Heaven knows, poor fellow, I have given people occasion enough
to talk of me. And he has a much higher chivalry than that of the old
poets. They, or their heroes, watched their women because they did
not want to have trouble about them,--shut them up in castles, kept
them in ignorance, and held them as far as they could out of harm's
way."
"I hardly think they succeeded," said Mrs. Finn.
"But in pure selfishness they tried all they could. But he is too
proud to watch. If you and I were hatching treason against him in the
dark, and chance had brought him there, he would stop his ears with
his fingers. He is all trust, even when he knows that he is being
deceived. He is honour complete from head to foot. Ah, it was before
you knew me when I tried him the hardest. I never could quite tell
you that story, and I won't try it now; but he behaved like a god. I
could never tell him what I felt,--but I felt it."
"You ought to love him."
"I do;--but what's the use of it? He is a god, but I am not a
goddess;--and then, though he is a god, he is a dry, silent,
uncongenial and uncomfortable god. It would have suited me much
better to have married a sinner. But then the sinner that I would
have married was so irredeemable a scapegrace."
"I do not believe in a woman marrying a bad man in the hope of making
him good."
"Especially not when the woman is naturally inclined to evil herself.
It will half kill him when he reads all this about me. He has read it
already, and it has already half killed him. For myself I do not mind
it in the least, but for his sake I mind it much. It will rob him
of his only possible answer to the accusation. The very thing which
this wretch in the newspaper says he will say, and that he will be
disgraced by saying, is the very thing that he ought to say. And
there would be no disgrace in it,--beyond what I might well bear for
my little fault, and which I could bear so easily."
"Shall you speak to him about it?"
"No; I dare not. In this matter it has gone beyond speaking. I
suppose he does talk it over with the old Duke; but he will say
nothing to me about it,--unless he were to tell me that he had
resigned, and that we were to start off and live in Minorca for the
next ten years. I was so proud when they made him Prime Minister;
but I think that I am beginning to regret it now." Then there was a
pause, and the Duchess went on with her newspapers; but she soon
resumed her discourse. Her heart was full, and out of a full heart
the mouth speaks. "They should have made me Prime Minister, and have
let him be Chancellor of the Exchequer. I begin to see the ways of
Government now. I could have done all the dirty work. I could have
given away garters and ribbons, and made my bargains while giving
them. I could select sleek, easy bishops who wouldn't be troublesome.
I could give pensions or withhold them, and make the stupid men
peers. I could have the big noblemen at my feet, praying to be
Lieutenants of Counties. I could dole out secretaryships and
lordships, and never a one without getting something in return. I
could brazen out a job and let the 'People's Banners' and the Slides
make their worst of it. And I think I could make myself popular with
my party, and do the high-flowing patriotic talk for the benefit of
the Provinces. A man at a regular office has to work. That's what
Plantagenet is fit for. He wants always to be doing something that
shall be really useful, and a man has to toil at that and really to
know things. But a Prime Minister should never go beyond generalities
about commerce, agriculture, peace, and general philanthropy. Of
course he should have the gift of the gab, and that Plantagenet
hasn't got. He never wants to say anything unless he has got
something to say. I could do a Mansion House dinner to a marvel!"
"I don't doubt that you could speak at all times, Lady Glen."
"Oh, I do so wish that I had the opportunity," said the Duchess.
Of course the Duke had read the article in the privacy of his own
room, and of course the article had nearly maddened him with anger
and grief. As the Duchess had said, the article had taken from him
the very ground on which his friends had told him that he could
stand. He had never consented, and never would consent, to lay the
blame publicly on his wife; but he had begun to think that he must
take notice of the charge made against him, and deputize some one to
explain for him in the House of Commons that the injury had been done
at Silverbridge by the indiscretion of an agent who had not fulfilled
his employer's intentions, and that the Duke had thought it right
afterwards to pay the money in consequence of this indiscretion. He
had not agreed to this, but he had brought himself to think that he
must agree to it. But now, of course, the question would follow:--Who
was the indiscreet agent? Was the Duchess the person for whose
indiscretion he had had to pay £500 to Mr. Lopez? And in this matter
did he not find himself in accord even with Mr. Slide? "We should
hardly have thought that even a man so notoriously weak as the Duke
of Omnium would have endeavoured to ride out of responsibility by
throwing the blame upon his wife." He read and reread these words
till he knew them by heart. For a few moments it seemed to him to be
an evil in the Constitution that the Prime Minister should not have
the power of instantly crucifying so foul a slanderer;--and yet it
was the very truth of the words that crushed him. He was weak,--he
told himself;--notoriously weak, it must be; and it would be most
mean in him to ride out of responsibility by throwing blame upon his
wife. But what else was he to do? There seemed to him to be but one
course,--to get up in the House of Lords and declare that he paid the
money because he had thought it right to do so under circumstances
which he could not explain, and to declare that it was not his
intention to say another word on the subject, or to have another word
said on his behalf.
There was a Cabinet Council held that day, but no one ventured
to speak to the Prime Minister as to the accusation. Though he
considered himself to be weak, his colleagues were all more or less
afraid of him. There was a certain silent dignity about the man
which saved him from the evils, as it also debarred him from the
advantages, of familiarity. He had spoken on the subject to Mr. Monk
and to Phineas Finn, and, as the reader knows, very often to his old
mentor. He had also mentioned it to his friend Lord Cantrip, who was
not in the Cabinet. Coming away from the Cabinet he took Mr. Monk's
arm, and led him away to his own room in the Treasury Chambers.
"Have you happened to see an article in the 'People's Banner' this
morning?" he asked.
"I never see the 'People's Banner,'" said Mr. Monk.
"There it is;--just look at that." Whereupon Mr. Monk read the
article. "You understand what people call constitutional practice as
well as any one I know. As I told you before, I did pay that man's
expenses. Did I do anything unconstitutional?"
"That would depend, Duke, upon the circumstances. If you were to back
a man up by your wealth in an expensive contest, I think it would be
unconstitutional. If you set yourself to work in that way, and cared
not what you spent, you might materially influence the elections, and
buy parliamentary support for yourself."
"But in this case the payment was made after the man had failed, and
certainly had not been promised either by me or by any one on my
behalf."
"I think it was unfortunate," said Mr. Monk.
"Certainly, certainly; but I am not asking as to that," said the Duke
impatiently. "The man had been injured by indiscreet persons acting
on my behalf and in opposition to my wishes." He said not a word
about the Duchess; but Mr. Monk no doubt knew that her Grace had
been at any rate one of the indiscreet persons. "He applied to
me for the money, alleging that he had been injured by my agents.
That being so,--presuming that my story be correct,--did I act
unconstitutionally?"
"I think not," said Mr. Monk, "and I think that the circumstances,
when explained, will bear you harmless."
"Thank you; thank you. I did not want to trouble you about that just
at present."