When The Duchess Was Dead
No one, probably, ever felt himself to be more alone
in the world than our old friend the Duke of Omnium,
when the Duchess died. When this sad event happened
he had ceased to be Prime Minister. During the
first nine months after he had left office he and the
Duchess remained in England. Then they had gone
abroad, taking with them their three children.
The eldest, Lord Silverbridge, had been at Oxford,
but had his career there cut short by some more than
ordinary youthful folly, which had induced his father
to agree with the college authorities that his name
had better be taken off the college books,—all
which had been cause of very great sorrow to the Duke.
The other boy was to go to Cambridge, but his father
had thought it well to give him a twelve-month’s
run on the Continent, under his own inspection.
Lady Mary, the only daughter, was the youngest of
the family, and she also had been with them on the
Continent. They remained the full year abroad,
travelling with a large accompaniment of tutors, lady’s-maids,
couriers, and sometimes friends. I do not know
that the Duchess or the Duke had enjoyed it much;
but the young people had seen something of foreign
courts and much of foreign scenery, and had perhaps
perfected their French. The Duke had gone to work
at his travels with a full determination to create
for himself an occupation out of a new kind of life.
He had studied Dante, and had striven to arouse himself
to ecstatic joy amidst the loveliness of the Italian
lakes. But through it all he had been aware that
he had failed. The Duchess had made no such resolution,-had
hardly, perhaps, made any attempt; but, in truth they
had both sighed to back amongst the war-trumpets.
They had both suffered much among the trumpets, and
yet they longed to return. He told himself from
day to day, that though he had been banished from
the House of Commons, still, as a peer, he had a seat
in Parliament; and that though he was no longer a minister,
still he might be useful as a legislator. She,
in her careers as a leader of fashion, had no doubt
met with some trouble,—with some trouble
but with no disgrace; and as she had been carried about
among the lakes and mountains, among the pictures and
statues, among the counts and countesses; she had
often felt that there was no happiness except in that
dominion which circumstances had enabled her to achieve
once, and might enable her to achieve again—in
the realms of London society.
Then, in the early spring of 187-, they came back
to England, having persistently carried out their
project, at any rate in regard to time. Lord
Gerald, the younger son, was at once sent up to Trinity.
For the eldest son a seat was to be found in the House
of Commons, and the fact that a dissolution of Parliament
was expected served to prevent any prolonged sojourn
abroad. Lady Mary Palliser was at that time nineteen,
and her entrance into the world was to be her mother’s
greatest care and great delight. In March they
spent a few days in London, and then went down to
Marching Priory. When she left town the Duchess
was complaining of cold, sore throat, and debility.
A week after their arrival at Matching she was dead.
