world, carrying her autocracy and her charms into old age. As was
inevitable to such a dominant personality she made enemies, who resented
her airs and scoffed at her graces. Lady Granville called her "a
tiresome, quarrelsome woman"; the Duke of Wellington, one of her most
abject slaves, once exclaimed, "What ---- nonsense Lady Jersey talks!"
and Granville declared that she had "neither wit, nor imagination, nor
humour." But to the last day of her long life she retained the homage
and admiration of hundreds, over whom she cast the spell of her beauty
and personal charm.

The evening of her life was clouded by a succession of tragedies, each
sufficient to break the spirit of a less indomitable woman. One by one,
her children, the pride of her life, were taken from her; but she hid
her breaking heart from the world, and in the intervals between her
bereavements she showed as brave and bright a face as in the days of her
unclouded youth. The death in 1858 of her daughter, Clementina, the
darling of her old age, was a terrible blow; but still the hand of the
slayer of her hopes was not stayed. Her husband, whose devotion had so
long sustained her, followed soon after; three weeks later her eldest
son, the new Earl, died tragically in the zenith of his life; and the
crowning blow fell when, in 1862, her last surviving child was taken
from her.

For five more years she survived her triumphs and sorrows, until, one
January day in 1867, she passed suddenly and painlessly away, and the
world was the poorer by the loss of one of the noblest women who have
ever worn the crown of beauty or held the sceptre of power.