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 incursion 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 accomplished 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 abut it as the people are ******?' Mrs Finn did not think 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 did the others.It was a pity, he thought, that a man's social and private life should be subject to so many remarks, but this misfortune was one of those to which wealth and rank are liable.He had long recognized 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 ****** 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 Iam 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 Government,--and had not failed, for there he was, still the Head of 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 taxes and brewers'
licences,--****** 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 this 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 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.
