'Y^LIl«'¥]MII¥IEI^Sflir¥- ° ILIlIBI^^IElf » Bought vpith the income of the WilHam C. Egleston Fund 19 Xo M»? GLADSTONE Mrs. Gladstone By Her Daughter Mary Drew Illustrated G. P. Putnam's Sons New York and London 1920 Copyright, 1920, by Mary Drew To The Dear and Honoured Memory of MY MOTHER AND FATHER and to MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS In Love and Gratitude Prevent us, 0 Lord, in all our doings, with Thy most gracious favour; thai in all our works begun, continued, and ended in Thee, we may glorify Thy holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. PUBLISHERS' NOTE THE American reading public is by this time fairly familiar with the career and personality of Mr. Gladstone. The rec ord of his long service to his country has been admirably presented in the great biography of Morley and is, of course, made clear in all the histories that have to do with England in the nine teenth century. The personality of Mrs. Gladstone is, however, unfamiliar to American readers, even to those who have interested themselves in the history of Eng lish political life and society during the last half of the nineteenth century. Up to this time, no biography of Mrs. Gladstone has been brought into print on either side of the Atlantic, and it is only those who have been in touch with the Glad stone home circle who know how large a factor Mrs. Gladstone was in the life of the great states man, how important in many directions was her influence and service and how distinctive and in teresting was her own personality. She came through both parents from great families, families which had, through a long series of generations, vi pu6Ii0i)ets' Ji3ote given to England statesmen and other leaders of thought, men and women who had influenced pub lic opinion. She was by temperament, intellect, and training admirably fitted to be the wife of a leader in the community. With Gladstone's pur poses and ideals she was thoroughly sympathetic, and we have testimony in his own words as to the value of her loyal co-operation in his work. The record that is here presented comes from the pen of a loving daughter who had intimate personal knowledge of the life and the home cir cle, and who has secured from old-time friends of the family information on matters that were not within her own direct experience. The picture given of Mrs. Gladstone, a typical English woman of the highest class, a loving wife and mother, and a loyal co-worker, is most at tractive. The life is one that is deserving of commemora tion, and the record of it should prove of interest to thousands of American readers who are able to understand the value of the service rendered to England and to the world by the great Liberal leader. G. H. P. New York, January i6, 1920. INTRODUCTION A FEW years ago, I prepared for private cir culation a sketch of my Mother, and by the ^ wish of my brothers and sisters this was brought into print in 1916 in the Cornhill Maga zine. The publication raised a deep and unusual interest in my Mother's life and personality and those who had the best right to ask expressed the desire for a fuller consideration of her career, for more light on the picture. The paper nevertheless remains a sketch; it has been my feeling that in some cases an outline that leaves much to the imagi nation may really give a fuller revelation than that secured from a finished picture. The narrative presents a selection, made almost at random, from scenes and incidents from the ex periences and happenings of my Mother's long life, of which her daughter had personal know ledge. It can hardly be called a monograph, be cause it is in order to recall the atmosphere and the surroundings in which my Mother lived and had her being, and for this reason I have found it necessary to touch upon lives other than her own. It cannot be necessary to apologise for the viii introDuction abiding sense of my Father's presence, a presence that seemed to have permeated my Mother's being. It will be recognised that, if these glimpses into her life and surroundings were to give a truthful portrait, it was necessary to make study of my Father's personality as well as of hers, for in thought they were sympathetic and in act they were inseparable. The marriage of one sister in 1873, and the Cambridge career, lasting from 1878 to 1896, of the other, left for me the privilege of being the chief companion! of ^^^ parents. The other sisters were naturally much at home, but the home daughter had exceptional opportunities for inter course, and both before and after her own mar riage, practically, therefore, from her birth to their death, she had the privilege of living in close association with her parents. I must express to Mr. A. T. Bassett my thankful appreciation for his kind aid in arranging the papers, and to Lord Morley I owe an unpayable debit of gratitude for the inspiration of his great biography. M. D. September, 19 19. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. Childhood and Youth BAGS I IL Girlhood and Marriage . • 19 IIL Diaries in Early Married Life . . 40 IV. Letters from Her . . 76 V. Letters to Her .... . 119 VI. Characteristics .... 203 VII. Good Works .... . 240 VIIL Reminiscences .... . 251 IX. "Via Crucis — Via Lucis" . . 278 Genealogical Table . . . . 285 Index 287 ILLUSTRATIONS Mrs. Gladstone .... Frontispiece Venetia Stanley (Lady Digby) ... 4 Catherine, Mary, Stephen, and Henry Glynne at Audley End .... 8 Catherine and Mary Glynne ... 10 Audley End 14 Sir Stephen Glynne ..... 16 Hawarden Castle . . . . , .26 Fasque 34 Mrs. Gladstone and her Sister, Lady Lyttel ton, on the Lawn of Hawarden . . 42 HagleyHall 68 Catherine Gladstone 86 Mary, Lady Lyttelton 90 Mrs. Gladstone in 1863 96 Mrs. Gladstone and Herbert .... 104 Lady Braybrooke and Lady Fortescue . .128 The Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone . . .148 Jllusttations PAGE A Family Group at Hawarden . . .188 Billingbear 204 Mrs. Gladstone at Hawarden . . . 238 Mrs. Gladstone at Dollis Hill, with her Granddaughter, Dorothy Drew , . 258 Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone at Cannes . . 276 Hawarden Castle by Night .... 284 MRS. GLADSTONE MRS. GLADSTONE CHAPTER I CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH WHO is that lady and what is she doing?" The lady in question was Mrs. Glad stone; she was carrying babies rolled up in blankets from the London Hospital, at the time of the virulent outbreak of cholera in 1866. Catherine Glynne was born at Hawarden Cas tle on January 6, 1812. Both her parents were descended from Crusaders. Her father. Sir Stephen Glynne, representative of the Percy Barony, was twenty-fourth in descent from Wil liam de Percy, a Norman chieftain, who came over to England in 1066 with William the Con queror. He accompanied Duke Robert to the Holy Land in the First Crusade, and died near Jeru salem in 1096. Her mother, Mary Neville, daughter of Lord Braybrooke and Catherine Grenville, was eight eenth in descent from Richard de Grenville, and 2 Qirs. (©laD0tone Lady Isabelle, daughter of Lord Buckingham. Richard de Grenville, a Crusader, died in the Holy Land in 1 147. Mary Neville was related to five Prime Ministers — the two Grenvilles (one of whom was her grandfather) Lord Chatham, Mr. Pitt, and Mr. Gladstone, her son-in-law. Mr. Gladstone compiled for the use of his chil dren the list of the statesmen related to their grand mother. Lady Glynne. Right Hon. George Grenville Grandfather Sir William Wyndham Great-Grandf ather Lord Chatham Great-Uncle Mr. Pitt First Cousin Lord Grenville Great-Uncle Lord Buckingham Great-Uncle Proud she might have been of the great historic names among her ancestors. Mr. Gladstone, if the idea had appealed to her, would have liked the Percy title to be re-created on her behalf, she being one of the representatives of the Percy Barony. But she never would have borne to take a name different from that of her husband. Through Agnes de Percy and Jocelyn de Lou- vaine, she was directly descended from Charle magne. Both her parents were on the Plantag- enet Roll. To select a few of the most famous names in the history of England — Egbert, Wil liam the Conqueror, Harry Hotspur, and Edward CI)ilDi)oori anD goutlj 3 I, were among her ancestors. Sir Richard Gren ville of glorious memory, the hero of Tennyson's "Revenge," was a member of her family.^ Sir John Glyn, Lord Chief Justice of England, second son of Sir William Glyn of Glynlifon, Carnarvonshire, was the founder of the Hawar den branch of the family. Being a younger son he could not inherit the beautiful home of his Glyn ancestors. He went out into the world to seek his fortunes. He was twenty-first in descent from Cil Maen Troed Dhu, one of the seven Kings or Chieftains of Wales who flourished in 843. This brilliant young barrister won his spurs dur ing the indictment of Lord Strafford. His speech on that occasion changed the fortunes of the day and resulted in the condemnation and death of Strafford. Sir John was buried beneath the Altar in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster. There was a decided fitness in the Glynnes following the Stanleys as owners of Hawarden,^ Sir Stephen Glynne, father of Mrs. Gladstone, being fourth in descent from Venetia Stanley,^ "the renowned beauty," granddaughter of Lord Derby; and ^Many families, of course, could claim the same historic descent or others as notable. But there is a limit to those who without per sonal research can find it notified in standard works of Genealogy. ' Glynlifon was acquired by the Wynns through marriage with the Glyn heiress. ' Venetia married Sir Kenelm Digby, whose fine portrait by Vandyck hangs over the chimney-piece in the Library at Hawarden Castle. 4 Q^rs. <5Iaostone the Stanleys having intermarried with Catherine Glynne's ancestors. Her father and mother were distinguished by remarkable beauty of face and form — beauty in herited by both their daughters. Their marriage was tragically cut short after a few happy years, by Sir Stephen's death at the early age of thirty. They had posted to the Riviera as a last hope of benefiting his lungs. It is curious to read in Lady Glynne's journal that, there being then no profes sional nurses, any stray friends of hers staying at Nice — Lady Bradford and others — took it in turns to look after the patient. They had taken with them their carriages and riding horses, a whole retinue of servants, and the little eldest boy aged six. Napoleon was then safe in captivity- at Elba. They bought for the use of the invalid one of his famous white chargers^, the same horse which had carried him at the terrible battle of Borodino, and in the succeeding stages of his retreat from Russia. It was in the year of Waterloo that Sir Stephen's death took place. Lady Glynne was caught in the great Hundred Days. Napoleon had made his escape from Elba and Avas at large. Lord Bray- ^This horse went with them to England, after the death of Sir Stephen, and eventually died and was buried at Hawarden. Vexetia Stanley (L.ady Digby) GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRAXDIIOTHER or MRS. GL.ADSTONE From Vandyck's portrait at Windsor CDnD{)ooD anD pomb 5 brooke set oflf from England to escort his daughter home, but his coach was stopped and his horses commandeered. Meanwhile Lady Glynne was advised not to travel by sea for fear of the ship being seized and interned. They contrived to reach Genoa safely, and thence with many complications they posted across Lombardy, Switzerland and Flanders, on their way to England. With her four children, all under six, this beau tiful young widow returned to the home of her girlhood, and lived with her father in London, at Audley End and at Billingbear. For three months of each year she resided at Hawarden. There is a diary in existence containing notes on her chil dren, between 1815 and 1822. Catherine, at the age of three, is mentioned as a magnificent speci men with curly golden hair, abounding in animal spirits, a coaxing, passionate little Pussy. She sometimes "pretends to be feminine — 'Pussy so fightened,' she says, when having no notion of fear." At four she says, "Nothin's too dood for Mammy." She had a passion for her Aunt, Lady Chatham — laid hold of her and held her tight on her departure from Audley End — "Don't go, dear Chat" — and was unwilling to let her get into the 6 Sirs. CDIaDStone carriage. At five she reads nicely and begins to write, knows a little French and geography, showed great pluck over the extraction of a double tooth, minding far more when her brother Henry's was drawn; at six speaks and reads French. "Blooming and healthy as it is possible for a child to be, devoted to her sister and brothers, much at tracted by dress and finery, a beautiful child, but Mary may still grow up to be the prettiest." January, 1818. Catherine, just six, reads and writes nicely. Learns a page of Bible History by heart. "She has been in several passions lately. The great punishment — dining by herself on Christmas Day, when I dined with the other chil dren and George^ and Charlotte — ^will I trust pre vent their so frequent recurrence — for she is really good and docile in general, picks up quickly." The accounts of her elder brother Stephen are more detailed, so interesting and unique was his character. The French governess who arrived in April, 18 1 8, brings improvement to Catherine's manners. She has music lessons at six and a half, and would sit for hours listening to music — "fewer passions and in general good and affectionate. A nice little voice and a true ear. She is a very good 'The Rev. & Hon. George Neville Grenville, Rector of Hawarden; his wife was Lady Charlotte Legge. Ct)iIDI)ooD anD ^outt) 7 horse-woman." There are many health details and much about physic, emetics being the order of the day. Mary at seven is described as very witty and extremely entertaining, rattles away in French. Catherine loves reading, and the list of histories they read in French would frighten par ents of the present day. The diary ends abruptly, September, 1822. Their education was probably rather unusual, but must have been wisely conducted. A series of long-suffering governesses were possibly not of much good, but Lady Glynne was a remarkably clever and cultivated woman, as is shown by her letters. Catherine spoke Italian and French with ease and fluency, and the former with a beautiful accent. She had an extraordinary memory for poetry and could easily, even in much later years, beat any of us in the game of "capping verses" — chiefly from the classics. Pope and Milton and Shakespeare. She surprised us all one evening late in life by repeating by heart Mazzini's great Ode to Napoleon, the "Cinque Maggio." She had learnt Latin and could always construe any stray passages for us. Certainly she read little in later life — one was not accustomed to seeing a book or even a newspaper in her hand — but her books of extracts testify to very serious reading in her 8 0©r0. ©IaD0tone youth; the mere fact of her reading Mr. Glad stone's first book, "The Church in its Relations with the State," before he became her devoted lover, testifies to her resolution. There are long extracts from Newman's Sermons, and later on we read a passage from St. Augustine in Mr. Glad stone's handwriting. She was in the habit of read ing aloud to her children in later years; Scott's novels were read in that way. The following little note written by Catherine is interesting for its words on Bishop Heber, a great friend of Lady Glynne's : "I could not have been more than eight when Bishop Heber first visited Hawarden Castle, 1820 I believe, but words spoken of him by my Mother have not faded. In 1815 she had become a widow. It was natural at such a time of trial that inter course such as was now offered should be of spe cial value. For I recall the Bishop's singular gifts, his greatness, his charm, his persuasiveness. So it was through her conversation afterwards that I can recall how comforting and precious it was to her. Then I remember the deep interest on hearing that he was to be Bishop of Calcutta, and the awe and sadness with which we received the tidings of his death." Long afterwards Mrs. Gladstone told her Catherine, Mary. Stephen", axd Hexry Gl\"xn"e at Audley Exd Fr:m J a.'-'a'^i i'z'.:-irt^ hy Eden l~. £jj;j" CftiiDDooD anD ^outlj 9 daughter she remembered how much startled and grieved her Mother (Lady Glynne) had been when she received an offer of marriage from one of her friends after she became a widow. In all her youth and beauty she had a sense of consecra tion after the death of her husband. With so strong a feeling on her own part, she fully expect ed others to realise the same. Catherine's Aunt, Lady Wenlock, left it on rec ord — "that as a child it was difficult to teach her, and that she was recalcitrant in learning any kind of 'lessons' [just what one would have guessed in after life from her impatience of routine]. But nobody ever thought this implied any lack of in telligence. The fact was, she was immensely in terested in life at first hand, and she refused to take her knowledge from other people's brains or books." When her daughters had reached the ages of fifteen and sixteen. Lady Glynne took them with their governess to Paris. This was with the object of education, and among their masters was the great Abbe Liszt, who taught them the pianoforte. Though still in the schoolroom. Lady Glynne was persuaded to take them to two or three special festivities. No sooner had they set foot in Paris than Lord Douglas (their brother Henry's great- 10 ^rs. (25IaDstone est friend) arrived at their Hotel to plead with Lady Glynne to bring them to his mother's^ dance. On hearing that the entertainment was partly for children. Lady Glynne, to the intense delight of the Pussies, consented to bring them. The hair dresser was sent for — "Just as mine was begun," wrote the elder Puss, "Stephen presented me with a bouquet in jewelry, the precious stones forming little flowers, the prettiest thing you ever saw; it is now fixed in my hair, and is facing Mama who cannot take her eyes off it." All fright on the part of the girls was dispelled by the great kindness of the Duchess's welcome, and Lord Douglas opened the ball with Catherine. But the Palais Royal was evidently considered too grown up, and Catherine describes in a letter to Henry how her Mother, accompanied by her eldest son,^ attended the ball given by the Due d'Orleans. They were dazzled by the grandeur of the rooms and the brilliance of the company, though dismayed by the throng. The prettiest sight of all, writes Catherine, was when the door opened and the Duchesse de Berri, attended by sixteen damsels, all came dancing into the room in fancy dress: — "Like opera dancers, i6 in number the prettiest ' The Duchess of Hamilton. Sir Stephen Glynne then nineteen years of age. X -'.gy^- *«« Catherine and Mary Glynne aged 17 and 18 From a dra-wing by J. Slater at Hawarden €I)iIDi)ooD anD goutt) ll thing Mama ever saw. They formed into a quad rille. They had little black shoes with gold bows and fancy dresses; the music was beautiful with Tyrolean tunes, and the Gunters^ who handed the refreshments, were all in dress coats with swords. Mama and Ste. were fortunate in escaping at 12, by a little back door, and were amused at getting a peep of the Cooks, who all appeared dog tired." They were also allowed to attend Lady Stuart de Rothsay's ball at the British Embassy, and one or two more special dances ; Man,-, to her great de light, being taken to the Opera to hear Malibran, to make up for not always accompanying her sis ter. Lady Stuart's beautiful daughters, after wards Lady Canning and Lady Waterford, be came great friends with the Pussies. Stephen at tended a Court and was presented to the King. ''His coat was a prett\" brown, with cut steel but tons and lace ruffles and frills, black satin shorts and white silk stockings. With Mama's sapphire and diamond brooch and his hair nicely dressed, he looked very well," writes Catherine to Henry. She mentions one of her partners. Lord Aboyne, who "danced as if he were twenty instead of seventh'. Brides dance as much as anyone, and age appears as no reason for not dancing." ^The hired waiters. 12 Q0t0. 'f) ,1 l>t>rtrtlit >r N.n.'J.Ji'v .ll H.i..\)'.i: 'I I'.jv/.V Cl)iID|)ooD anD goutt) 17 gaieties. An account of Queen Victoria's Corona tion which they attended — with the dressing of their hair in the early morning, for they had to be in Westminster Abbey by eight; and again a fancy ball at Devonshire House, to which one went as Dawn and the other as Night. "Catherine and Mary Glynne," writes a daugh ter of the latter, "were but one year and a half apart in age and from their childhood, till death parted them, shared every interest, every sorrow or anxiety, and above all every joy. Married on the same day, the loving sisterly link was rather doubled than weakened, their husbands being friends before they became brothers-in-law, their children almost interchangeably beloved. The sisters were alike tall and beautiful, but in char acter there were many differences. Both were in tense lovers of children, both had a charming gift of humour and of intuition, practically they had the same friends, men and women alike. The na ture of the younger sister was more reserved, less demonstrative than Catherine, who was ever the leader; both were equally loving and beloved. To the end they loved and influenced each other, they were one in their outlook upon life, their high moral standard, their religious principles and their deep pride in their beloved Hawarden home. 18 S@r0» frIi)ooD anD Qiattfage 21 To her children, in after years, Mrs. Glad stone used to speak of the tragedy of that moon light evening in Rome when, in spite of the glory and the romance of the circumstances and the surroundings, she failed, when they were together in the Coliseum, to respond to his first declaration of love. Yet to the brother to whom she wrote after Mr. Gladstone's return to England, it must have been tolerably apparent that this condition of things could not last. Her interest in "Gia" as they called him, was too deep — her constant ref erences to him, her questions about him, her ab sorption in his first book on "Church and State," of which she copied long extracts for her private use. Here are a few passages from letters to her brother Henry, written in February, 1839, he and Mr, Gladstone having left Rome for England to gether. "We had so hoped to have heard from you to day at Marseilles, we must try and be philosophic and wait patiently for another post." She chatters of their daily doings, their gaieties, dinner parties, balls, studios, — they sat to Mac donald for their busts — the numerous friends they meet, above all the intercourse with Manning,^ "Afterwards Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster. 22 0ir0, (2>IaD0tone to her the most interesting and absorbing — how much one asks, for his own sake, or how much on account of his intimacy with "Gia?" "Write us political news, everyone is so anx ious here, and write soon. . . . What is the great subject of discussion in London? Lord Glenelg's retirement from Office, Gia's book, or Canada? ... I appreciate very much the generous feelings which are expressed in his letter to me. ... I can not take Michael Angelo's beautiful Sonnet to my self, but the sentiments contained in it are so lofty, it was impossible not to read it without the great est delight. Please read this yourself to Gia, as I particularly want the message to be given ex actly. . . ." In a postscript she adds: "Tell me how you get through my message to Gia and any rebound.^ Nothing could express more honour able feelings and taste than the letter he wrote me." Mr. Gladstone himself hardly seemed to realise any sense of assurance. He speaks in his Diary of his precipitancy, of his incorrigible stupidity and the worthlessness of his affections. In her — Cather ine — he saw what he most desired, the admiration of sacrifices made for great objects. From the early days of April, when the Glynnes ' See Glynnese Glossary. ©itlijooD anD Q^arriage 23 returned to their London house, 37 Berkeley Square, the intercourse was renewed — he dined with them, rode with them, met them at the break fasts of Mr. Rogers, the poet, and at many other houses. Yet after an hour spent with them on May 27th, he wrote: "But what I ask is next to an impossibility." On the 6th of June he confides the state of his feelings to his father — "Concealment became too heavy for me." All through these days his time is greatly oc cupied with work, in the House, and in his Gov ernment Office. On June 8th, at Lady Shelley's garden party at Fulham, Catherine Glynne told him that all doubts on his part might end. "I went down with the Glynnes and here my Catherine gave me herself." They walked apart in the gar den by the river, and he revealed to her his own story, and what had been the passionate desire of his heart.^ He writes how all this produced a revulsion in her pure and lofty spirit. "She asked for the earliest Communion, that we might go to gether to the Altar of Christ." "May I have from my God a due sense of the value and the sweet ness of this gift. Led by her questions I have given her these passages for canons of our living: — *To take Holy Orders. 24 ^10. (!5IaD0tone "Le fronde onde s'infronda tutto 1' orto Dell' Ortolano Eterno, am' io cotanto, Quanto da Lui a lor di bene e porto.^ "And Dante again. In la Sua volontate e nostra pace." ^ Mr. Gladstone sprang from an old Scotch fam ily, originally a race of Borderers (there is still an old Gledstanes Castle). One of his ancestors, Herbert de Gledstanes, appears in Sir Walter Scott as "gude at need." His mother was descend ed from Robert Bruce. As a family the brothers and sisters were tall and of a distinguished aspect. He was already a prominent member of the Con servative party, "the hope of the unbending Tories." He had been in Parliament since he was twenty-two. At the age of twenty-four, Decem ber 26, 1834, he joined the Ministry of Sir Rob ert Peel. It is easy to guess how the rare combina tion of manliness and gentleness, loftiness of aim and purity of mind, the powerful intellect and the pitiful heart, appealed to a girl brought up as she had been, in the love and fear of God. A pas sage in Mr. Gladstone's Diary reads: "Paradiso XXVI, 64-66:— "Love for each plant that in the garden grows Of the Eternal Gardener I prove Proportioned to the goodness He bestows." ^Paradiso IH, 85:— "In His will is our peace.'' aitlJjooD anD Qgatriage 25 June l8. "At the end of a long and chequered day — chequered with joy, business and excitement, I sit down to write and think a little. First, how much have I thought of God to-day while my hand was coursing over the paper? How little have I thought of Him to thank Him! My blessing is indeed great. At 2, she and I went to the Arch bishop's ^ by his desire, and he kissed Catherine twice." The following day he tells of calling with her on a tribe of her relations, including her uncle Mr. T. Grenville ; breakfasting with Rogers, where he met Thirlwall and Lyttelton, "in whose affairs I am deeply interested." On June 17th Lord Lyttel ton became engaged to Mary Glynne; one month earlier she had refused him. After his death a small packet was found docketed "Story of a Month." The first letter was from her brother. Sir Stephen Glynne, declining on behalf of his sister, the honour of Lord Lyttelton's hand. The last was Mary's first love letter to him. Mrs. Gladstone told one of her nieces, in later years, how George (Lord Lyttelton), in a tempest of uncontrollable joy, rushed down the stairs into the room below, where Mr. Gladstone and Cath erine were anxiously awaiting developments. 'Archbishop Harcourt 26 0^10. (5laD0tone In Mr. Gladstone's Diary. "Mary was much overcome, and hid her face in Catherine's bosom; then they fled away for a little." Mr. Gladstone drew Lord Lyttelton on to his knees. "For a while he could not control his emotions, and yet he di rected them towards God. He is a very noble and powerful creature." ''He was a man of rare attainments ; a beautiful scholar, his nature full of sharp contrasts — vigor ous, tempestuous, devout, tender.'' They met daily, riding, walking, driving. "Sent off a snowstorm of excuses for all pending par ties." Then came a flight to Eton — the ti^^o pairs of lovers — for Sunday. "There is no end to our subjects — or to our in terruptions," he says. It is easy to imagine what a bower of love and ecstasy the Berkeley Square house must have become in those summer months, with the two radiant pairs of lovers. "Time flies, and yet in retrospect we seem to have lived through months." "Nuptial shop ping." "All joy broken into shivers by constant interruption. I suppose the craving for something like continuance of repose by her side, is the dis ease of self-love — we had been verv anxious to be married by Banns, but are reluctantly compelled to give it up — it is not a matter on which shocking Hawarden Castle airIi)ooD anD Q^attiage 27 people is worth while . . . routing out and strug gling to arrange papers for C. . . . Come sem- plice di trovar solo un cotal difetto." One of Catherine's dearest friends. Lady Bra- bazon, wrote to wish her joy of marrying one who would now help her to write and answer her let ters. And here with his orderly habits he must have felt some dismay. She often, in after life, used to tease him — "What a bore you would have been if you had married somebody as tidy as you." On July 3rd "Assisting in Catherine and Mary's arrangement of books, etc., they have lived with community of goods — beautiful — settling papers, letters, etc., most joyously for departure." Contrary to modern customs three weeks before the wedding the bridegrooms seem to have gone down to Hawarden with Lady Glynne and her daughters, there to spend a heavenly time at Ha warden, then in perfection of summer beauty. Riding, driving, strolling, sitting out in the eve nings, visiting their friends, the schools, reading aloud. When Mr. Gladstone and Lord Lyttelton ar rived at Hawarden, as they walked together down the village street — the one tall and upright, pale, resolute, with eyes like an eagle; the other, spite 28 9ir0. IaD0tone Two Sister Brides" (now published in his col lected works) . The following extracts foreshadow something of the part played by the elder sister in after life : — High hopes are thine, O eldest flower, Great duties to be greatly done. To soothe in many a toil-worn hour The noble heart that thou hast won. Covet not then the rest of those Who sleep through life unknown to fame; Fate grants not passionless repose To her who weds a glorious name. He passes on through calm or storm Unshaken, let what will betide: Thou hast an oiBce to perform To be his answering spirit bride. The path appointed for his feet Through desert wilds and rocks may go, When the eye looks in vain to greet The gales, that from the waters blow. Be thou a balmy breeze to him, A fountain singing at his side, A star whose light is never dim, A pillar to uphold and guide. On August 13th, the two bridal pairs set forth, with their respective carriages, by sea to Greenock, and from there they drove day by day through glorious scenery — Loch Katrine and the Tros- ($itIf)ooD anD ^attiage 33 sachs, Glencoe, Inveraray, Dunkeld, Taymouth, ("magnificent in natural features, the house would be fine but for the surpassing grandeur around)," Aberfeldy, Blairgowrie to Fasque. One can hardly conceive a honeymoon so de lightfully and unusually spent, the sisters meeting daily for meals and at night for rest at the Inns, comparing notes. Sometimes walking, sometimes riding or driving. In a Biography is written the following de scription taken from the diary of Henry Reeve :^ "Walking through the wild passes from Loch Katrine to Inversnaid, two couples in the party ex cited our attention. Both handsome and dressed alike in the Lennox Plaid. The sister brides were mounted on Highland ponies, each one attended by her most faithful and attentive squire, holding her bridle over the gullies and burns. We guessed they were brides, and at last Charles Hamilton made a brilliant shot and we recognised them as the two sisters who were married the other day at Hawarden on the same day to William Glad stone and Lord Lyttelton. A prettier, happier party never crossed the heather." After a fortnight at Fasque, their brother Stephen having joined them, they posted to Bal- ' Henry Reeve, once Editor of the Edinburgh Review. 34 Qit0. s 6@r0, (fi5IaD0tone so good and doing no harm. The Queen observed, 'What care Willy takes of Agnes!' and admired his hair and his width. Agnes's independence amused her and she was occasionally in fits of laughter at them. Before leaving the Queen kissed both my children." Hagley. Agnes at 4, reads easy stories; both have a good ear for music. ... A month's dissipa tion at Brighton made Willy too wild, but he is sweet-tempered and tractable, though volatile and has a struggle to fix his attention." At four Willy begins to ride on a real saddle, and a little later, "sitting capitally, he trotted, only on a horse-cloth." One more description, three years later, may perhaps be quoted. January 30, 1846. "Dined at the Palace. The Queen ill-dressed. Very kind to us, talking much of Mary's children and my own, and for some time to William. The Queen has ordered me to bring my children to her on Saturday. I accordingly took the four, Willy, Agnes, Stephy, and Jessie. Her Majesty came in with her four and was very nice and kind. Princess Royal, a nice quick thing; not so much difference in the heights as last time. Prince of Wales has a striking countenance, Alfred Diarie0 in Carip ^arrieD Life 69 ven,- pretty, all have such fat white necks. Prince Alfred is a year and a half old. Stephy head and shoulder taller at one year and ten months. The Queen commented on Agnes' looks, 'I had not heard about her being so very prett}-.' Thought Willy pale and Stephen gigantic, baby fat and like her father. She took great notice of them all, kissed Agnes, and gave them a huge white lamb bet\^"een them all, which the Royal Children and ours played with very happily during their visit. The Queen spoke of their goodness and asked if thev were always so good." March, 1847. "Agnes at four and a half may be led by a silken thread, and reads easy lessons with litde teaching, and is picking up French quickly, no bump for figures." In the autumn of 1847, Agnes, five years old, was dangerously ill at Fasque and when prayed for at a Ser\"ice in the Chapel there came a change for the better. Willy, walking with his Father. "How lucky it was a Saint's Day, for you see Agnes is not grand enough to have a Serv'ice for herself, and if she had not been prayed for she might have died." 1847. "Arrived at Belvoir Casde, met the Sid ney Herberts, Lord Clive, Bishops of Oxford and Lincoln, Lord Forrester, the three sons of the 70 e©r0. (5laD0tone house and many more of the family. Greatly struck by the grandeur of the situation — dined from twenty to forty each day. Nothing could ex ceed the Duke's kindness and hospitality. Fasci nated by Mrs. Herbert, so pretty and taking — shd seems most anxious to do what is right and was full of the new Church at Wilton, the one which is to be consecrated to-morrow." 1 841. "Dined at Sir R. Peel's — an interesting occasion — anxiety and sorrow sat upon many of the countenances assembled. There stood Guizot, with that piercing eye of fire, his whole appear ance eagle-like, his countenance beaming with sagacity and great intellect — in earnest conversa tion with Peel, full of gesture and now and then his voice raised, as if bursting with feeling which would out There were the poor Jarnacs, with full marks of sorrow for their King and Queen.* The Princess Lieven, the Austrian Ambassador, harassed afresh with the increasing troubles in Austria, which so afflicted his wife as to make it impossible for her to be present The party was relieved by Lord and Lady Aberdeen, Lord and Lady Mahon. I had some talk with Madame Jar- nac. Her account of the poor Queen of France especially was touching; of the dangers and trials 'Revolution of 1848. Diaties in dBarlp Q^atrieD Life 71 connected with their flight, of the sad depriva tions to which they were subject, the terror of the poor Queen about her husband * and then her chil dren. . . . Sir Robert Peel joined in our conver sation, he views the state of Europe with much alarm. He had received private information re specting the Prince of Prussia (now at Bunsen's) who is said to have broken his sword and laid it, with his spurs, at the feet of the King of Prussia. "Lady Peel looks wonderfully young and pretty." Dining with the Prime Minister, the conversa tion turned on "subjects which especially brought out feeling — his children and their education. He enlarged on the satisfaction of having no perma nent Governess, liked his girls to travel with him, said it enlarged their minds, and much more — showing that amidst his great cares the domestic element is deep in his heart" January, 1849. "Stephy at five and a half is a curious child. I feel there is much to come out of him and he will not be commonplace. Feelings warm, kindness and what he may think unkind ness sink very deep. There is much in him for good or for evil." Fasque, 1849. "Willy writes to Charles, burst- ' Louis Philippe. 72 9ir0. (5IaD0tone ing with happiness — tells how he has a hundred amusements and occupations. ... He goes daily now to his Father for his Latin lesson. His Father tells me his choice of language is remarkable; but he is not one who makes the most of himself. I sometimes fear he will do himself injustice. He reads the Bible to blind Peter on Sunday eve nings — dear boy he goes to school (9^) next month. May God keep him safe." His parents were much pleased a few years later when, at the age of 17, Willy was chosen by the Queen to accompany the Prince of Wales on his first tour abroad. The friendship was continued at Christchurch. In the Summer of 1849, Mr. Gladstone at the instigation of his wife, left England and travelled across Europe in hope of discovering and saving a lady who had left her husband. The husband was one of his most trusted friends and colleagues, while the wife was very dear to Mrs. Gladstone. This quixotic mission was undertaken at the ear nest wish of the husband, and both Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone would leave no stone unturned in bring ing about a reconciliation between the two. The story is told by Lord Morley in Vol. I of his Biog raphy of Mr. Gladstone.* It was part of the work 'P. 364- C>iarie0 in (Catip ^arrieD Life 73 of rescue that ever lay so close to their hearts: it was characteristic of both that rich or poor, hum ble or exalted, the appeal was never made in vain. Mrs. Gladstone's notes on their fourth child, Jessy, show her, in her first two years, to have been quicker and more eager and passionately lov ing than the elder ones. But gradually a cloud seemed to settle upon this interesting child and she grew quiet and drowsy, her eyes grave and wist ful. "Dormouse," as someone called her at that time. "At four years old she is very picturesque, with her curly hair and so pretty in her Rubens hat, peculiarly loving, watching me like a cat and taking tender care of me. Blessed child, I can see her now, watching my every movement for the chance of going with me. At Hagley, when she was so unwell and it hurt her to walk, she would follow me, sweet lamb, to my room and sit happy in the arm-chair, living as it were on a word or look of mine. I can hear her saying, 'Dear sweet Mammy, you look so kind at me.' She was a darling baby. With what double pleasure, during her Father's absence, did I gaze at her, tracing his image in her face — often it came across me that there would be a solidity of character about my Jessy and there was such earnestness in the large serious eves." 74 B$t$, (£>IaD0tone For the first ten years all had gone radiantly with both families and nothing but ephemeral anx ieties came their way. It was early in 1850, that Death first cast its shadow over the Gladstone household and their beloved child, Catherine Jessy, developed meningitis at the age of four and a half years. It has been related that for some hours after her death (April, 1850), her Father was in a state of such violent grief as almost to frighten those around him. Suddenly his sense of duty got the upper hand. Thenceforward he was calm, but under the stress of deep emotion, he put on paper a record of the little life; it might rank with the immortal de scription written by De Quincey when death first touched his household. But Mrs. Gladstone's own pathetic words can be quoted here: "I dread lest the solemn remem brance of her loved face after death should in any way fade, so holy, so heavenly it was. My loved child — my own Jessy, to think that the quiet coun tenance in such deep repose, is the same which a few hours ago was racked with pain. The hair lay curling on the marble forehead, the long dark lashes fringing her cheek, the little hands folded across one another, roses and lilies of the valley Diarie0 in OBatlp Q^atrieD Life 75 about her. I could not describe the sublimity of her expression." And then she copies out the closing words of her husband's little memoir: — "The countenance was holy, it was heavenly — it blessed the eyes that saw it It was a voiceless yet speaking expression and its meaning was this — 'I have seen the things that ye know not of: I have tasted of the Eternal Peace. I have seen my Lord and my God, and I am with Him for ever.' "It bore witness to the promise, 'He shall gather the lambs within His arm. He shall carry them in His bosom.' "It answered the prayer which during her rest lessness and pain so often rose instinctively to our. lips. "Jesu bone, bone Jesu, Pastor ovium, Pastor agnorum, miserere." * 'Jesu holy, holy Jesu. Shepherd of the sheep. Shepherd of the lambs, have mercy upon us. CHAPTER IV LETTERS FROM HER MRS. GLADSTONE had a well-earned reputation for making bricks without straw. Certainly her letters, written anywhere, any time, anyhow with totally in adequate materials, were miracles of expression. She wrote with facility and felicity, and was pos sessed of a rapid and expressive pen. To each of her daughters she wrote several thousand letters, her sons have as great a number, and many of her nieces and friends could say the same. In three words she gave a living picture — not so much facts, perhaps, as atmosphere. Nothing escaped her quick eye. She touched off with a masterly hand, scenes, people, talks. To-day she would be classed as a first-rate Impressionist. Whenever absent from her, so long as one had the newspapers for facts and her letters for comments and atmosphere, one really seemed to know more, to be more au fait than even when with her. And in spite of an ellip tical and elusive style, apart from the Glynnese slang, her English and her grammar were pure. 76 Letter0 from l^er 77 A year or two ago her daughter made an at tempt to go through her own letters from her Mother. In the midst of this task she dashed off an account of it to Lady Frederick Cavendish: Of her own and her sister's children — hers all but in name — one only inherits much of Catherine Gladstone's nature, her largeness of heart, her di vine compassion, her sanguine temperament, her raciness of speech, her impetuosity, her disregard of appearances — and this was Lucy, Lady Fred erick Cavendish. It may throw some light on the subject to give this letter in extenso : "I am looking over her letters, a really appall ing job as there are thousands, and you better, than anyone, know the rags and tatters they are written on, the atrocious pens, the smudges and blots, no stops and the 'i's never dotted, the 't's never crossed; one requires a daily journal of the House of Commons' doings and another of fami lies — ^yours, ours. Stepneys, Talbots, Gladstones, Dumaresques, Farquhars, Cavendishs, and all to whom she was Mother, friend, angel. And yet another volume of benevolent doings. "The frequent lack of nominative cases, the allu sions, the hints, the flying remarks, and sketches and pen-pictures, and comparisons and suggestions 78 a^t0. <$IaD0tone and descriptions, enigmatic, elliptic, elusive, her finger literally on the pulse of the House of Com mons — far more brilliant even than I had remem bered, but buried in yards and yards of plans, ac counts, domestic details, like brilliant fragments dug up in ancient Greece or Rome. They literally palpitate with life, they catch the very breath of the moment, they are essentially written for that moment only; they require the people, the tenden cies, the thoughts, the feelings, the enthusiasms, the emotions, the thrills of that moment — the spici- ness depends on the homeliness or intimacy of the touch, the humour of the happenings, the expres sions — Glynnese, Boffin,* or medical! The aroma vanishes if brought into the public eye. "One of the most amazing things is how he bore it, the endless chars ^ and jobs she put on him for charity or kindness, the manoeuvres behind his back, the extraordinary dodges to smooth his path or oil his wheels, or cocker up his health, the as tonishing intricacy of her arrangements, the dove tailing, and never ceasing attempts to fit in things which couldn't and wouldn't fit! The never los ing a chance or an opportunity of helping some body, however remote or far-fetched, the tucking 'See "Our Mutual Friend." "In the presence of Mrs. Boffin we had better drop the subject." "Odd jobs done for others but not for him." — Glynnese Glossary. Letter0 from ^er 79 in or tucking up of incongruous people, so long as they were troubled or in difficulties of sorts. " 'Could you order some tooth-brushes and brushes cheap for the Orphanage?' she wrote to him. 'Have you remembered to peep in on the Miss D.'s?' ^ Only open the Boudoir door and you will find them.' Did you manage the flowers (or grapes) for Mrs. Bagshawe? She lives quite near Porriand Place.' ... 'If you have time, please bring down a little present for my 3-year-old God child [a curate's baby], there are beautiful Bible prints at the Sanctuary, Westminster, and also we want a common easel from the same place, 5s. to Ve, to hold the big maps for the boys.' "Why didn't it drive him wild, with the direct and 'radiant simplicity' of his character? No amount of experience made him suspicious. Two things saved the situation and rendered him im pervious to her pranks — his sense of humour and his heart of gold. Still it is bewildering — she lived a hundred lives at one go. "But what strikes me afresh and anew is how marvellously, miraculously, you jumped with her, crept with her, flew with her. Whatever her pace, you kept up ; whatever she needed, there you were, 'Two very poor Italian ladies secreted in Downing Street, ostensi bly as Caretakers. 80 9^r0. (©laD0tone living so to speak, in her pocket, always ready to fall in with her and dove-tail, and swap butlers, and supply meals, beds, cooks, or carriages, at a moment's notice. Was ever a miraculous Aunt so blessed with a miraculous niece — and Freddy, who might have been driven crazy, loved it, revelled in it, enjoyed it to the hilt Can't you see his wink and hers? Can't you hear his laughter as he writhed with amusement over her description of a scene at Falconhurst when she would call the tame little wood, the jungle? Even this hurried little scrawl (enclosed) bubbles over with char acteristic touches — the sudden arrival at your house, the scrambled hiding of the bulk of his let ters, the blank for the Secretary's name, the little bleat after her absent lamb (ten months after our wedding), the thrilling scene at Euston (no one out of Office nowadays could arouse that frantic enthusiasm)." The following letter was written by one of her sons, who had attempted to tackle his own "Li brary of Letters" from her: "All so very personal, some so sacred, and much only likely to interest nears and dears. The in dustry in writing is as extraordinary as the depth of love. It has truly been a sacred privilege, not Letter0 from ^er 81 short of a revelation, to read this library of letters again, throwing such intense light of Truth and Love shed by this Mother of mothers on my poor life. Quite a new revelation in addition to past influences. But the personal character, the watch ful care and deep devotion, as expressed in words, are only meant for us. "But many things astonish me — little and great Endless instances of how thoughtful, clear and exact she was about making plans often under very intricate and varying circumstances. So range in her thoughtfulness, so business-like in her schemes, so penetrating her sympathy and insight; so keen for moral growth in her Love. . . . All silent now and far removed. Yet that Great Heart beats more than ever now." But there is one short set of letters written to her husband on the proposed resignation of the Lead ership, which strikes a different note. In January, 1875, she was at Hawarden when her husband wrote to tell her that the time of his formal resignation of the Leadership of the Lib eral Party was at hand. It was nine months after the General Election of 1874, when the trump card of his Address was the offer, for the first time in its history, to do away altogether with the Income 62 e@r0, C5laD0tone Tax. His Government had accomplished mighty things. In Ireland the burden of a dominant Protestant Church riding rough-shod over a Ro man Catholic country, had been removed.* Free National Education had been given to Great Brit ain.^ Purchase in the Army had been abolished (1873). Arbitration as a governing principle in disputed International Questions, had been estab lished.^ Independence and secrecy in voting had been ensured.* Mr. Gladstone had paid twenty- six millions off the National Debt He left a sur plus of 5,000,000 to his successors. He looked for ward, if returned to power, to abolishing the In come Tax. Such performance and promise, sure ly, as has been seldom marshalled before a coun try. But the country was sick and tired of econ omy and reform. The General Election gave a majority of fifty to his opponents. The deep desire of his heart for respite from controversy, as a preparation for the grave, was, without any doubt, the leading motive of his resig nation at the comparatively early age of sixty-five. Mrs. Gladstone had left London at the crisis and had gone to Hagley to nurse a dearly loved ' Disestablishment and disendowment of the Irish Church. I Mr. Forster's Education Act. "Alabama Claims, 1873. ' The Ballot Act. Letter0 from l^er 83 niece. The following letters, or portions of let ters, were written to him by her in January, 1875: ON MR. GLADSTONE'S RESIGNATION OF LEADERSHIP January 1875. "I know full well your whole soul is bent upon doing right You would go to the death in a right eous cause! Who could hold you when the battle cry sounded? I expressed myself so badly in the hurry of parting — alas it seemed to you I was going against you, and that my judgment was formed! Perhaps from the very fact of my long ing to see you rest and to acquiesce in all your wishes, I felt it the greater duty to look well on all sides, and remember there are those who can speak more frankly to me than to you, and who desire your honourable course of action. Is there not something to be said against your own point, which strengthens their argument in this shape? Great Church questions may arise when your power and influence would be invaluable. Would you have the same power by a sudden rush to fight after put ting the reins upon others? The Party would naturally be at sea. Is there no medium course? What necessity would there be for constant at tendance? Who would expect it? Could you not 84 9^r0, N !¦:. 'Illh; JidV ON MK, (;i.ADSl'ONi:'S KNiaC IS S'I'KI'HICN DI'.INlur. C.I.ADSiONl'; Letter0 to ^er 189 I have watched you both out on the sea of public tumults from my quiet shore. You know how nearly I have agreed in William's political career; especially in his Irish policy of the last twenty years. And I have seen also your works of charity for the people in which, as you know, I heartily share with you. There are few who keep such a Jubilee as yours : and how few of our old friends and companions now survive. We have had a long climb up these eighty steps, for even you are not far behind : and I hope we shall not "break the pitcher at the fountain." I wonder at your activity and endurance of weather. May every blessing be with you both to the end. Believe me, always. Yours affectionately, Henry E. Card. Manning. FROM THE empress FREDERICK Villa Zirio, Feb. 8, 1888. Dear Mrs. Gladstone : Pray accept my best thanks for your kind letter expressing so manv wishes for the Crown Prince's recovery from this trying and protracted illness. We trust and hope they may all be fulfilled. The outlook is no longer as gloomy for us as it was in 190 9ir0. (5IaD0tone November and this is a great comfort for which we are truly thankful. The kind sympathy of all friends in England is very gratifying to me. Ever yours, Victoria, Crown Princess of Germany AND Prussia and Princess Royal. In 1890 the Parnell Divorce Case shattered men's hope of an Irish settlement. Ever ready to take as its motto the dictum of Flaubert that "Nothing succeeds like excess" the Irish party was rent in twain and the air was filled with recrimi nations between Parnellites and Anti-Parnellites. On the ground that he had helped to depose their leader some of the former were not slow to vilify Mr. Gladstone. FROM PIERCE MAHONY (one who supported Parnell) House of Commons Library, Dec. 8, '90. Dear Mrs. Gladstone : I take the liberty of expressing to you the great sorrow it gives me to appear even for a time to be acting in opposition to Mr. Gladstone. In the course of the last ten days expressions have been used, in moments of great excitement and passion, regarding Mr. Gladstone, which have given me Letter0 to ^et I9i great pain. Whatever may occur in the future I think that no expression will ever fall from my lips in any way inconsistent with the deepest re spect for and gratitude to Mr. Gladstone. The kindness you have shown to me makes me hope that you will excuse me for troubling you with this letter. Believe me, dear Mrs. Gladstone, Yours sincerely. Pierce Mahony. FROM QUEEN VICTORIA Windsor Castle, May 7, 1893. Dear Mrs. Gladstone : Accept my best thanks for your very kind letter and congratulations on the betrothal of my dear grandson, George, with Princess Victoria Mary of Teck which gives me great pleasure, and which I trust will be the beginning of a long life of hap piness to themselves, and be a blessing to their fam ily and to the country at large. It is, indeed, a very long time that I have known you. At York, in '35, I saw the two very beauti ful Miss Glynnes and have not forgotten it How much of weal and woe has happened since that time. 192 0©r0. ©IaD0tone FROM G. F. WATTS Little Holland House, Kensington, W. August 4th, 1893. Dear Mrs. Gladstone: My wife very earnestly desires to have the hon our, and she is worthy of it, of shaking hands once in her life with Mr. Gladstone. Could this be managed without intrusion upon time and atten tion so valuable? I also should like to have the same honour once more. Very sincerely yours, G. F. Watts. The horror of a tragedy still fresh in the minds of everyone becomes still more poignant when one glances back to the time when all was bright and the future seemed filled with every augury of hap piness. Writing to Mrs. Gladstone in May, 1894, Queen Alexandra said, "Thank you a thousand times for your very kind letter of congratulation on the engagement of my charming nephew, the Cesarevitch, to Alix of Hesse, dear Alice's young est daughter — they both seem very happy and I do hope that this union will be for their mutual blessing and for the welfare of our country, as we consider her half English, as well as for Russia, the land of her adoption." Letter0 to l^er 193 FROM MARGOT tennant Cold Overton, Oakham, March, 1894. Dearest Aunty Pussy : I was much touched by your message to Mr. Asquith. I daresay I was a little out of spirits that night at the Campbell-Bannermans' and I thought you were lecturing me too severely, but I am sure you know r value all you say. I feel so deeply your present sorrow of retiring from so long and beau tiful a public life; it will be a lasting example to me in my humble future to remember your cour age and devotion. God bless you and your dear husband, I am with all my faults. Yours lovingly, Margot Tennant. FROM SIR WILLIAM RICHMOND Hammersmith, April 29, 1896. My dear Mrs. Gladstone : I thank you for your kind and affectionate letter. We all, one and all, of us are delighted that my Father's drawing has given you pleasure. Alas, youth only comes once in a lifetime and whatever in after life recalls it by memories, is very sweet and full of consolation. 194 0it0, (Z9IaD0tone I have lately been reading and sorting out old letters of thirty years ago, with a mixture of pleas ure and pain, but the pleasure on the whole pre dominates, by the memory of affection and love which are not dead but only sleep. If Souls are permitted to meet in another world, how precious will be the intercourse sweetened and purified by separation. Yours, dear Mrs. Gladstone, Affectionately, W. B. Richmond. When on a visit to Hawarden in 1896 Arch bishop Benson died suddenly whilst attending service in the Church. FROM THE DUKE OF ARGYLL Inveraray, Argyllshire, Oct. 12, 1896. My dear Mrs. Gladstone : One line only to say how much we are all shocked and grieved for you all in this sad tragedy at Hawarden. It recalls only too vividly another link in which you were a ministering angel indeed. Yours affectionately, Argyll. Archbishop Benson was so kind to my son, Wal ter, when at Wellington College. Letter0 to J^er 195 FROM FREDERIC HARRISON 38, Westbourne Terrace, 6th January 1897. Dear Mrs. Gladstone: May I be suffered to join with all your many friends and millions and millions of Englishmen in wishing you and your husband all blessings in the year that we are entering? It will always be one of the great memories of my life that I have known and conversed with one who will live so long in the history of our coun try. I rejoice to hear from Mr. J. Morley and Lord Rendel the best news of the health of you both. FROM LORD ROSEBERY 38, Berkeley Square, W. April 5, 1897. My dear Mrs. Gladstone: I am distressed to read that you have passed through London without my seeing you. I think that you and I always understand each other, and that there is always a silent bond of sympathy be tween us riveted in the past. But none the less it is pleasant to see each other sometimes! And I should dearly have liked to clasp your hands once more after so long an interval. But I live in the country and only passed London on my way to Bat tle yesterday, hoping to find you to-day. 196 ^r0. (J5IaD0tone The girls are at Dresden till the middle of April, but the boys came back at the end of the week. I have been too long a childless father. Harry has shot up into space like a beanstalk, and I am ashamed to walk with him. My love to Mr. Gladstone. On May 19, 1898, Mr. Gladstone's illness came to a peaceful end. At 5 a. m. on Ascension Day he passed away. FROM QUEEN ALEXANDER Sandringham, Norfolk. Whitsunday, May 29th, 1898. Dearest Mrs. Gladstone: I waited until now when your beloved husband has been laid to his last resting place, before dar ing to intrude on the sacredness of your sorrow, which I fear surpasses all that words can express. My telegram will, however, have told you how my thoughts and prayers have been constantly with and for you ever since the sad and terrible news of his fatal illness first reached me. We are thank ful to think that after all his sufferings his last few days were peaceful and painless and that his longing and wish to go to his "heavenly home" Letter0 to i^er 197 were granted him on the very day of Our Saviour's Ascension. It must be of some consolation to you also to feel how the whole nation mourns with you and yours the loss of that great and good man, whose name will go down in letters of gold to posterity as one of the most beautiful, upright, and disinterested characters that has ever adorned the pages of history. We all individually grieve the loss of a great personal friend from whom we have received innumerable kindnesses which we shall never forget How my whole heart went out to you during Saturday's terrible ordeal, when I saw you kneeling by the side of the dear re mains of him whom you loved best on earth — the People's William and your all. I do hope your poor health has not suffered and that the cross our dear Lord has laid upon you is not more than you can bear — and that for your dear children's sake you will take the great est care of yourself. I was so deeply touched by your kind lines when you thought there was a ray of hope left and you may be sure our visit to you and your beloved husband only one little year ago in your own beautiful home at Hawarden, will ever remain as one of our most precious and val ued memories. 198 Cir0. eiaD0tone With deepest sympathy with you and your chil dren. Yours very affectionately, Alexandra. from sir william richmond Beavor Lodge, Hammersmith. Oct. 29, 1898. My DEAR Mrs. Gladstone : I return you my most affectionate thanks for the most precious and valuable memento which you have been so gracious as to give me. I assure you that I regard your kindness with gratitude. It happens that the Poems of Michael Angelo have been for many years the object of my constant study; most of them I have translated and I remember talking over their many beauties with Mr. Gladstone upon the occasion of my last walk with him a very few years ago. Now, you have given me his copy of those immortal works. Dear Mrs. Gladstone please permit me to sub scribe myself. Your grateful and affectionate old friend, W. B. Richmond. I am most keen about the National Memorial and desirous that the form it takes from an artistic point shall be worthy, beautiful, and dignified. Letter0 to ^er 199 FROM SIR WILLIAM HARCOURT Malwood, Lyndhurst, Nov. 25, '98. My DEAR Mrs. Gladstone: I have received through your Harry a most precious gift of a book which belonged to Mr. Gladstone, as a memorial of one whom I do greatly love and honour not more in his public greatness than in that singular personal kindness which he has ever bestowed on me and mine. The Herodotus is full of the marks of his read ing so varied and yet so exact and brings back to me at every page his likeness as I knew him. I watch daily in my garden the growth of the walnut he planted here ten years ago, and the young ash tree, which will be historical monu ments. The book will be a precious heirloom which will be treasured by my children's children, who will be proud to know that I served under such a commander. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone had spent the winter of 1866-1867 in Rome and Sir William Richmond, then a young and rising artist, was one of the party. 200 0ir0. ©IaD0tone FROM SIR WILLIAM RICHMOND Jan. I, 1899. My dear Mrs. Gladstone : You shall have the picture very soon. I grieve for you, dear Lady. This time of year brings back very sweet memories to me of Rome in '67. How kind you all were to me, and what a thing it was for a young fellow to be allowed to be the companion of your great and noble husband. My love to all of you. Yours affectionately, W. B. Richmond. FROM MRS. BENSON 5, Barton Street, Westminster. May 16, 1899. Dearest Mrs. Gladstone: I could not tell you how often and how deeply you have been in my heart all these months, and so specially on Ascension Day, and now. The power of anniversaries comes to some peo ple much more fully than to others, and I can't help feeling that with you (as with me) it is scarcely possible for an anniversary to be fuller of the one thought and the one love, than all the other days. O, it must be so — What have anniversaries to do with it when it is the life of one's life? Per haps the feeling in the air and the look of every- Letter0 to ^er 201 thing in the trees and the flowers have a certain keenness and perhaps they may help in this way — • of bringing back the fullness of the glory of his departure and of the first days. For how my heart has ached for you during these months! I have trodden the same weary road, and know to the full what one could scarcely realise beforehand, the awful emptiness the stagnation, as it seems, of everything, and for a time one's life has the old impetus in it, and then it ceases and still the days and hours have to be lived through. And, dear Friend, how I think of you to-day, for to-day you look off from the present to the glorious past and to the wonderful future — and the reality lies there — for I suppose it is in a way one's own impatience which makes any empty present seem intolerable — -it is really one with the fullest of one's life, and with the eternal crown of it all. Oh, forgive me for such weak words. My whole heart goes out to you, for I seem to know so well what there is to bear; but there are given such wonderful glimpses into the strength and consola tions of God even when times are dryest that I hope in my soul you all live in these — and to-day all the perfect part must be yours so specially. I often wonder so what "a year" means in the eternal expression — glory and joy and growth — anyhow 202 0ir0. (25IaD0tone we shall know, and that soon. May I send my deepest and most reverent love to you and much too to Mary, and to Lady Frederick, and remain, Your loving and grateful, Mary Benson. from lord morley 57, Elm Park Gardens, South Kensington. May 1 8, 1899. My dear Mrs. Gladstone : When you have this, we shall all be thinking of the same mournful thing. The year has gone quickly enough, but hardly a day has passed with out that great loss being borne into my mind and heart We all knew that it would leave our lives emptier; but how terrible the emptiness would often be we could not know. I do not want to write you a letter; but only to assure you of my sincere affection, and of my unalterable attachment to his memory. Always yours, John Morley. CHAPTER VI characteristics WILLIAM and Catherine Gladstone were indeed a striking pair. She carried herself regally, though her movements were swift and light. Her eyes were of a deep sapphire blue, set well apart, long in shape and with a world of meaning, eyes that danced with mischief or melted with tenderness; caressing eyes, capable of infinite love, infinite merriment. There is but one picture that has her eyes. It is one of Romney's most beautiful portraits of Lady Hamilton. So strong is the resemblance — the long laughing eyes, the dark curly hair — that at Tabley, in the famous picture gallery where it hangs, it used always to be called Mrs. Gladstone. She had an abundance of thick brown hair that waved softly upon her forehead. In figure she was tall and slender and her movements were full of dignity and charm. Her husband used to say, as he stood near the dais, at a drawing-room or Court, no one approached the Queen with so fine a car- 203 204 ei0r0, IaD0tone of the Liberal Government A telegram from Lord Rosebery was handed to Mrs. Gladstone be fore we disembarked, containing an invitation to dine with him that night It was interesting once more to see them there in the familiar rooms. Illu minated by Lord Rosebery's irresistible charm, we had a most delightful evening, the late and the present Prime Ministers being merry as boys out of school. We dined in the beautiful room, used latterly by Mr. Gladstone for Cabinet Councils (my own pretty sitting-room now becoming — as in Lord Beaconsfield's day^ the Prime Minister's bedroom.) And so ended, quietly and undramatic- ally, Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone's connection with the historic building. The spring and summer spent at Dollis Hill, after Mr. Gladstone's resignation in 1894, was a wonderfully happy and interesting time. The most fervent words of gratitude to Lord and Lady Aber deen could never adequately express the blessing and refreshment of that perfect haven. For nearly fifteen years, it was ready on any day at any mo ment to receive them, whether their hosts were there or not In countless letters Mrs. Gladstone relates the joy of escaping out of the turmoil, so ^We used to invite visitors to salute the mark on the floor made by his bed. Kemfni0cence0 257 near to London, yet so far, peaceful as in the depths of the country. You drove from the Marble Arch three or four miles along the Edgeware Road; presently green fields and hedges took the place of shops and houses. A deep country lane on the left brought you quickly to its gates. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone both revelled in its restfulness, in its welcoming aspect And in 1894 it broke the sudden departure from the absorbing interest of their public life; it floated him through the trying weeks before the operation for cataract It en abled them to entertain relations and friends, and almost literally to live out of doors. She had a way of suddenly getting whole stacks of furni ture into the garden — sofas, screens, chairs, and tables. She would have been a capital foreman to the scene shifters at a theatre. Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain were coming one day, and in a twink ling, the dining-room table was out under the trees, and luncheon was laid. Lady Sarah Spen cer, with her specially clear voice and enunciation, often came to read aloud, while the eyes were hors de combat, and many and various were the de lightful and interesting people that came down to visit them. On June 24th, the day the French President, Monsieur Carnot, was assassinated, a friend came 258 0^r0, (SIaD0tone down to luncheon. All the morning the little granddaughter had been busy with the funeral of a dead robin; a cross of flowers was laid on its grave. Mr. Gladstone was asking of his guest ear nest questions about the dead President — "Tell me," he said, "did he die a Christian?" "Does he mean the robin?" whispered the child. About a month after the operation on Mr. Glad stone's eyes, the doctors came down to examine the sight — the spectacles were tried on, the book was opened. Mrs. Gladstone stood close to him. All were full of hope. But he could not see, he could not read the print There was a tragic pause, broken by his voice — — "This is a blow — for the oculists." No word of murmur passed his lips. Time proved to be the healer, and when Mr. Nettleship came later on to Hawarden, the eye from which the cataract had been removed, worked perfectly for reading and writing, and the eye that had not been touched, served him for all other purposes. And now, perhaps, for a moment, I may indulge in a reminiscence of my own ; for it throws some light on the way in which Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone brought up their children. He was in the Govern ment years before any of us were born; we were never conscious of him as anything out of the !Mrs. Gladstone at Dollis Hill, with her Grand-d.aughter, Dorothy Drew 1894 iaemfni0cence0 259 common; as a rising man, step by step attaining pre-eminence among his fellows. Not many years ago I was staying in a house in Westmin ster on the opening night of the Session. The master of the house had become a Member of Parliament The children were in bed. Their mother woke them out of their sleep, and led them to the window and showed them the light burn ing in the Clock Tower: "Do you know what that light means?" she said. "It means that Father is there helping to make laws for England." It struck me as a loss that our Mother had not stimulated our imagination in this way. With us it was a case of a prophet not without honour save in his own country. His sun had already risen and we knew it not The fact of his being a Cabi net Minister foremost among his colleagues, never impressed itself upon us as any special honour or glory. It never crossed my mind that other peo ple's fathers were not just the same. All my friends, I thought, had the same sort of father. It was a cause of wonder to me when those who came to the house, specially our cousins, treated him with awe and reverence, listening to every word that fell from his lips. Indeed, we treated him with scant courtesy; argued across him while he was talking; contradicted him. Both our parents 260 00r0. aiaD0tone were extraordinarily simple and never seemed con scious of occupying an exceptional plane. In one of Lord Acton's letters, he speaks of his influence as greatest on multitudes, less in society — least at home. He contrasts it with the Tennyson home: "I could not stay with the lofty entities that sur round Tennyson, even when he butters toast" It is true that, in later years, some of the Hawar den guests were half startled and shocked by the freedom of criticism that reigned in the family circle. The balance was redressed when outside the home — to the world we have always shown a united and impregnable front! But at home we discussed things almost on terms of equality. It bored him to hear people apologetically dif fer: "My dearest love, I really think you are wrong." He thought it more to the point to be short and sharp — "A lie!" It is impossible to for get Lord Morley's face when he first heard one of us say to Mr. Gladstone — "A lie!" And it always succeeded. It was an unfailing amusement and put everyone in good humour. I recall the very spot on the steps of the porch by which the Castle is entered, where it was sud denly borne in upon me how our eyes were holden. I had been out walking with a girl friend, Mar garet Leicester Warren — a hereditary friendship. iRemfni0cence0 261 her parents being great friends of Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone. She paused. "You know," she said, "I think Mr. Gladstone much the greatest man in the world, and I am not sure that he is not the greatest man who ever lived." It was an intense moment of revelation to a daughter, and not very long after the impression received its seal in a conversation with Lord Ac ton. Yet though love, on the part of their children, cast out all fear, the attitude of their minds to wards their parents was of a very different nature from that of the present generation. The relations between one generation and an other had not become nearly so strained as in these present days. There was more identity in the point of view; the spirit of investigation was more generally dormant; things were taken for granted; traditions accepted ; other people's homes were not necessarily superior to our own. "Honour your father and mother," was accepted in the spirit and the letter. School and University experiences did not necessarily bring severance, or even estrange ment, between mothers and sons. The deeply in teresting study of the relations between one gen eration and another, in the present day so much discussed in novels of note, would scarcely have 262 0ir0, aiaD0tone fitted in those days. There was too much esprit de corps. The tone, the standard, set by the par ents was followed unquestioningly by their chil dren. Their aims were the same, they saw the same vision. How much more there is to be thought and said on this subject but it would be out of place here. Of her inner life, this book tries to give a few glimpses. Of the sorrows and losses inevitable in so long a period of time, there were three that cut her to the very quick — the death of the child al ready mentioned — the death of her sister in Au gust, 1857 — the death of her eldest son in 1891. Other sorrows there were, the loss of brothers, parents, relatives, friends. But these three were different not only in degree but in kind. One of the Lyttelton twelve, then a boy of thirteen, to this hour remembers the strange, wistful, almost hun gry look in her eyes as she gazed and gazed in his face, striving to recognise in him some image of his Mother — a look that impressed, haunted yet baffled him, significant of an emotion too deep and too poignant for him to fathom. ^It was no ordinary link that bound these two sisters. Of Mary it was once said that always "she made a sunshine in a shady place." On entering a room it was impossible not to be aware of her Iaemini0cence0 263 presence, such light and sweetness did it bring to the atmosphere. Possibly something of the beauty of her disposition, the high sense of honour and of duty, the capacity for love and sacrifice, may be guessed from the lives and characters of her chil dren, reflected indeed in the Lyttelton twelve, j As we have already seen these two sisters were one in thought and mind, and the rending asunder of the one from the other signified a wound that no time would heal. "Oh, if I were to see you in this state," said the dying sister, as she gazed at Catherine with infinite love and longing, "I think it would break my heart." And again, "I cannot possibly imagine you on earth without me." It was soon after the birth of Alfred, the young est of the twelve, that her health began to fail, and for many weeks Catherine was at Hagley, taking a large share in the nursing — there were no pro fessional nurses in those days. In her own words written at the time — "After receiving the Holy Communion her calmness was extraordinary and she even said to me she 'would not wish to come back again.' O Lord, my God, do Thou Thy Holy Will. I will lie still. All discomposure and anxiety had left her. The Blessed Sacrament was life and sustenance, carry- 264 0©r0« (25laD0tone ing her through the dark Valley of the Shadow of Death. She had left all her cares to Him who careth for her." The peace and beauty of the last days, the little traits of fun that carried her through the suffer ing, the gratitude, and almost enjoyment of any little alleviation, the look of fulfilment on her face after death, lifted the infinite sense of love and loss on the part of those that watched and mourned, to the highest spiritual level. And the maiming and crushing of her heart brought out special sweetness and endurance in the sister who was left But there is no doubt it was one of those heart-searching sorrows, from which there is, in this world, no real recovery. Pain lives with us and becomes part and parcel of our being; we grow accustomed to its burden and its sting. But this in no way signifies the healing of the wound and with Mrs. Gladstone it was lifelong. Many, many years later she wrote to her daughter, de scribing the pain she had to endure while a friend, sitting by her side at a dinner party, persisted in speaking of Lady Lyttelton, questioning her of her sister — and how she could not bear it It is sometimes thought that old age brings gradual immunity from suffering, that its edge is blunted, that the feeling of loss is blurred. This Remini0cence0 265 may be so, but it was by no means the case with Mrs. Gladstone in 1891. From the moment her son became ill in 1890, "she went heavily as one that mourneth for his mother." Anyone would feel she was changed, that she carried a heart sore ly wounded ; the buoyancy was gone, brave though she might be in tn,-ing to hide her sorrow. Some time after his death, her daughter one day discovered some photographs of him in a drawer in her Mother's room. She asked leave to take them away and get them framed and placed on her writing-table. ''You will think me such a coward," she said with an inexpressible look of pain, "but I keep them hidden on purpose, because I have not the courage to look at them." There is no doubt that Mrs. Gladstone's su preme devotion to her husband and her profound belief in the principles that guided him, made her very impatient with those who differed from him on fundamental questions of policy. Therefore it was but natural that when a nephew, specially dear to her as youngest son of her cherished sister, came to Hawarden for Christ mas (1894-5) ^"d "'^'i^ ^^^ irresistible smile, light- heartedly announced to the family that he had joined the Unionist ranks, that she was at first greatly shocked and pained. She and her sons 266 ^r0» (J5IaD0tone and daughters, in fact, felt it far more acutely than did the head of the family. One of them in par ticular, to whom through life he had confided his inner history, personal and political, was as ut terly in the dark as the rest, though the frequency and intimacy of their intercourse had not been re laxed throughout the preceding summer. And in deed he had been the first of the clan who in 1885 bravely cast in his lot for a Parliament in College Green, and had approved of the Home Rule Bills of 1886 and 1893. This is not the time to examine his reasons, but it was more a drift than a principle — though the growing power of the proletariat made him increasingly uneasy — more personal than political. But after Mr. Gladstone's resigna tion, the Liberal party was at its lowest ebb ; it was in dire need of the loyal service of every one of its members. And as he came nearer to his ninetieth year, and the sands of life seemed to glide through the hour glass with ever greater rapidity, in Mr. Glad stone's own estimation every moment of his time seemed to intensify in value. When he only dis covered, at the end of a lengthy discussion in the Temple of Peace, that the matter was already set tled, the die was cast, it was not to be wondered Kemini0cence0 267 at that he was nettled, that he resented the waste of his precious time. It is quite true that Mr. Gladstone frequently took agreement for granted, that he mistook si lence for consent, and swept his interlocutor into his own net In matters of principle — and with him every question was brought to the touchstone of conscience — he was wont to assume that others were moved by the principles he regarded as fun damental. After his death a sheet of paper was discovered among his letters, containing a list of names. It was headed, "Those who have dis agreed with me," and at its foot were words to this effect — "Good for me to remember what nota ble people have differed from me." And accord ingly, to those who in all honesty, had reached con clusions contrary to his own, no one could have been more trustful, more generous. On one occa sion when a friend confessed to him that had he been in Parliament he could not have seen his way to support the Home Rule Bill, the quietness and gentleness with which Mr. Gladstone received the news greatly astonished his friend. When his niece,^ referring to some backing he was ac cording to Mr. Chamberlain: — "bh. Uncle William, you really are the most 'Lady F. Cavendish. 268 0ir0. < ^ "^ia Cruci0— l^ia Luci0" 285 long, when the relation between parents and chil dren becomes, in some measure, reversed. With him it had been not only an easy task, but one that had called forth his deepest gratitude, to hand over his possessions, to leave his affairs and even his will, in the hands of his children, and especially in those of Harry, his trusted son. But to her it was difficult to give in, to give up. She still strug gled to fulfil her accustomed duties, the little min istrations that she loved to bestow on all that need ed them. It was the habit of her life. To the end she strove to write letters. . . . We will not dwell on the last of her days on earth. It is life, not death, that matters. Grad ually the brain lost its power. She became less and less conscious — there was little or no suffering, and on the afternoon of June 14th, the eager spirit passed, without struggle, to its rest No one who was present on the early morning of June 19th will forget the Service at St. Faith's. The coffin had been brought from Hawarden to Westminster Abbey on the preceding day. It had rested in the Chapel during the night, with its white pall and burning tapers and the flowers that she loved; the Cross at its head, the kneeling Sis ters, who had watched all night, the solemn Re quiem. ... A few hours later, with the same sol- 286 Q^r0, New Church, 59 Heathcote, Mr. and Mrs., 15 Heber, Bishop, 8 Herbert, Mrs., 147 Herbert, Sidney, 91 Hesse, Princesses of, 100, 192 Holland, Rev. H. Scott, 275, 279, 284; quoted, 209 Home Rule split, 175 ff. Hook, Dr., 59 Hooker, Sir Joseph and Lady, 254 292 3nDei Hope, A. J. B., 59 Hunt, Holman, letter from, 170 Indian Mutiny, the, 140 ff. Jarnac, Mme., 70 K Keate, Dr., 43 Kiel Harbour opening, 116 L Lancashire cotton famine, 96 ff., 242 Lawley, Jane, 28 Lawrence, Sir H., 144 Lefevre, j. Shaw-, 66 Leinster, Lord, 178 Leopold, Prince (Duke of Al bany), death of, 167 Li Hung Chang, 273 Liddon, Canon, letter from, 155 Lincoln, Abraham, quoted, 253 Lister, Mr. and Mrs., 15 Liszt, Abbe, 9 Lloyd, Gen., 142 Lovelace, Lady, quoted, 210-11 Lunch improvisation incident, 220-221 Lyttelton, Dowager Lady, 61, 62, 89; letter from, 152 Lyttelton, Lady, 6, 7, 11, 13, 17, 1 8, 42; engagement, 25; mar riage, 29; children of, 54; at Hagley, 133; characteristics of, 17; death of, 262-264 Lyttelton (George), Lord, 25-26, 29 Lyttelton, Albert Victor, 262 Lyttelton, Alfred, 263 Lyttelton, Mrs. Alfred (Laura Tennant), 172, 173; quoted, 218 Lyttelton, Arthur, 107 Lyttelton, Constance, 246 Lyttelton, Katharine, quoted, 210 Lyttelton, Lavinia (Lavinia Glynne), 59-60 Lyttelton, Lucy, 89 Lyttelton, Mary (niece), 211 Lyttelton, Meriel, 42, 44, 89 M Macaulay, Lord, 21 Mahony, Pierce. See O'Mahony Manning, Cardinal, 21, 42, 59, 61 ; letters from, 135, 188 Marie Antoinette, 70 Maynooth, 64-66 Melbourne, Lord, 209 Midlothian campaign, 164, 219- 220 Monsell, Mrs., 247 Morley, Lord, 260, 279; quoted, 64, 180, 229-230, 253, 268, 278, 282; letter from, 202; estimate of his Life of W. E. Gladstone, 228 Morpeth, Lord, 132 N Napoleon's charger, 4 "Nebuchadnezzar," 224 Neill, Brig.-Gen., 144 Neville, Mrs. Chas., 90 Neville, Grey, 90-91 Neville, Henry, 90-91 Neville, Mary. See Glynne Neville, Mirabel, 91 Newcastle, Duke of (Lord Lin coln), 19; letters from, 138-139 Newman, Cardinal, letter from, 158 Newnham College, 106, 290 Nicholas, Emperor of Russia, 62, 193 Northcote, Sir Stafford, 66, 171 ; letters frora, 137-138, 151 O Orleans, Due d', 10 O'Mahony, Pierce, letter from, 190 Outram, Lady, 142 2nDex 293 Palmerston, Lady (Lady Cow per), 134; letter frora, 153 Parnell, C. S., 112; the divorce case, 190 Paul, Herbert, 112 Peel, Arthur, 112 Peel, Sir Robert, 42, 44, 51, 63, 70-71 ; the Corn Laws, 46-8 ; his estimate of Gladstone, 50-1 Pembroke, Lady, 106 Pembroke Castle trip, 172 Penrhyn, Lady Gertrude, 60 Perceval, Mr., 137, 138 Petz, 272 Phillimore, Mr., 53 Phillimore, Lucy, In Memoriam by, cited, 240 Phillimore, Sir R., 19, 173 Phcenix Park murders, 166 Platof, 128 Primrose, Lady Peggy, iii Primrose League anecdote, 114 Prince Consort, 44, 92-93 Princess Royal, 51, 100; letter from, 189-190 Public Worslup Regulation Act, 155-157 Pusey, Dr., letter from, 183 Recollections of an Irish Judge, 56-7 Reeve, Henry, quoted, 33 Reid, Sir R. (Lord Loreburn), 154 Rendel, Lord and Lady, 276 Rescue work, 246-248 Ribblesdale, Lady, 218 Richmond, Sir Wm., letters from, 193, 198, 200 Ripon, Lord, 49, 50 Robert Elsmere, 109 Roberts, Sir F. (Earl Roberts), 104 Rogers, Samuel, 23, 25 ; entertain ing the Church, 58 ; letter from, 136 Rosebery, Lady, 15, 16, 112 Rosebery, Lord, 15, 16, 112, 256, 275, 276, 279, 283; dted, 219, 276 Rothesay, Lady Stuart de, ii Ruskin, John, 161-164 Russell, George W. E., 275, 279; letters from, 284; cited, 235, 172. 175 Russell, Lord and Lady John, 46, 88 Ryan, Sir Charles, 221 Saighton, 110 Sandringham, io2 ff. Schliiter, Auguste, letter- from, 213-214 Selwyn, Bishop, 42-3 Shell, Irish orator, 56 Spencer, Lady Sarah, 257, 275 Stanley, Lady Mary (Lady Mary Grosvenor), i6i Stanley, Lord, 45, 49, 56 Stanmore, Lord (Sir Arthur Gor don), letter from, 172 Stuart, Prof., 112 Stuart, Gertrude, 158 Sutherland, Duchess of, 45, 89, 100 Swansea, 116 Tabley, Lady de, 45 Tabley, Lord de, 19 Talbot, Mrs. E. S. (Lavinia Lyt telton), 210-212 Talbot, Gilbert, 273 Tantallon Castle, 255, 276 Tennant, Laura. See Lyttleton, Mrs. Alfred Tennant, Margot See Asquith, Mrs. Tennyson, Lord, 100, 150, 178 ; letters from, 159, 182; home life of, 260 Tennyson, Hallam, 160 Thirlwall, Bishop, 25 Times, The, 109 To Two Sister Brides, quoted, 32 294 UnUei Victoria, Queen, visits Hawarden, 13; coronation of, 17"; friendli ness with Mrs. Gladstone, 41, 58, 66, 68, 69, 89; sentiments towards Mr. Gladstone, 94; family life, 62; death of the Prince Consort, 93-96; interest in Lancashire cotton famine, 97; letters from, 157, 167, 191 W Wales, Prince of (Edward vii.), 52, 67-68, 72, 105; illness (1871), 100; 'at Duke of Al bany's funeral, 168 ; letter from, 169; at Hawarden, 274; at Mr. Gladstone's funeral, 281 Wales, Prince of (present), 52 Wales, Princess of (Queen Alex andra), 100; entertains the Gladstones at Sandringham, 102-103, 107; visits Hawarden, 274; letters from, 274-275 Warren, Margaret Leicester, 260 Watts, G. F., letter from, 192 Wedding-ring incident, 219 Wellington, Duke of, 41, 43, 45, 50, 61 ; desire to resign his com mission, 51 Wenlock, Lady, 9 Wenlock, Lord, 16 Westminster, Duke of, 283; let ters from, 160, 166, 179 Wickham, Rev. E. C, 270 Wilberforce, Bishop Samuel, let ters from, 154 Wilkinson, Bishop, 279 Woodford journey anecdote, 206- 207 Woolner, Thos., letter from, 150 Wyndham, George, 110, 276 Wyndham, Percy, 11 1 Wynne, Sir Watkin, 28 Zouche, Lord, 19 YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 04067 5838