Part 9

In 1866 Mrs. Disraeli fell very ill, and her husband was much disturbed about her health. These later years have an element of pathos in them, for she was really suffering from an incurable cancer. She never told her husband, although of course he knew, and he did not let her guess that he knew, and took care throughout to conceal from her his great distress at her condition. In November 1867 she was dangerously ill, and in consequence the Opposition refrained from attacking the Government, and on the 19th Gladstone referred to her illness in the House of Commons. Mrs. Disraeli had a strong personal regard for Gladstone; she could understand his great gifts and qualities.

Mrs. Disraeli was created a peeress in her own right on 30th November 1868. Queen Victoria wished to confer some mark of favour on Disraeli, and offered him a peerage, but he declined because he felt that he ought to remain in the House of Commons. The Queen, knowing his devotion to his wife, suggested that a peerage should be conferred on her instead, a mark of appreciation that delighted Disraeli. Notwithstanding her illness, and at times the suffering was very great, Mrs. Disraeli went on with her usual life. She entertained a small party at Hughenden at the end of November 1872. The guests were Sir William Harcourt, Lord and Lady John Manners, and Lord Ronald Gower. Although she was sadly altered, indeed death was written in her face, and Disraeli was terribly depressed about her, she was gorgeously dressed, and on the Sunday afternoon accompanied the party on a walk, in her pony carriage, talking brightly about her pets--horses and peacocks. The next morning she came down after eleven o’clock, wonderfully brisk and lively after a bad night, and had her breakfast brought to the library where the others were sitting.[47] On 19th December she died at Hughenden, where she was buried.

Disraeli’s grief was profound. He declared there never was a better wife. “She believed in me when men despised me. She relieved my wants when I was poor and persecuted by the world.” In his reply to Gladstone’s note of sympathy, he said, “Marriage is the greatest earthly happiness when founded on complete sympathy; that hallowed lot was mine for a moiety of existence.”[48] He used to say how in thirty-three years of married life she had never given him a dull moment. To Gathorne Hardy he wrote: “To lose such a friend is to lose half one’s existence.”[49] The marriage had been the making of Disraeli, and he fully recognised the fact. Replying in 1867 to the toast of his wife’s health, he had said:

“I do owe to that lady all, I think, that I have ever accomplished, because she has supported me by her counsel, and consoled me by the sweetness of her mind and disposition.”

Another time he said of her:

“There was no care which she could not mitigate, and no difficulty which she could not face. She was the most cheerful and the most courageous woman I ever knew.”

She brought Disraeli unclouded domestic happiness. She loved him and believed in him. Her oddities were more superficial than people thought, for although she was so voluble and so indiscreet a talker, and absolutely in her husband’s confidence, she never betrayed it. She was no social leader as Lady Palmerston was; what influence she had was passive rather than active, yet without her single-minded devotion, it is doubtful if Disraeli would have had so great a career. To paraphrase his own words in _Coningsby_ on marriage, he found in her one who gave him perfect and profound sympathy, could share his joys and often his sorrows, aid him in his projects, respond to his fancies, counsel him in his cares and support him in dangers, and “make life charming by her charms, interesting by her intelligence, and sweet by the vigilant variety of her tenderness.”

Mrs. Dawson, wife of the Right Hon. George Dawson and sister of Sir Robert Peel, was one of Mrs. Disraeli’s greatest friends. George Dawson wrote the following lines to accompany a reproduction of Mrs. Disraeli’s portrait by A. E. Chalon, published in Heath’s _Book of Beauty_ (1841). They probably reflect what those who knew Mrs. Disraeli best felt with regard to her:

“The choice unfetter’d fondly turns to thee: Still to thee turns, all-confident to find The features but the index of the mind, Glowing with truth, sincerity, and ease, Stamp’d with the surest attributes to please. Intelligent and gay, the joyous smile Speaking a bosom free from art or guile, Pure as the consciousness of well-spent life, Perfect as friend, as daughter, sister, wife.”

VI

MRS. GLADSTONE

“Fate grants not passionless repose To her who weds a glorious name.”

I

Catherine, elder daughter and third child of Sir Stephen Glynne, eighth Baronet, by his wife, Mary Neville, daughter of the second Lord Braybrooke, was born at Hawarden Castle, Flintshire, on 6th January 1812. Lady Glynne was a granddaughter of George Grenville--Sir Richard Grenville of the _Revenge_ was a member of this family--the Minister whose Government was responsible for the “Stamp Act” (1763), which led to the loss of the American Colonies, and niece of Lord Grenville, Prime Minister in 1806-7, and head of the Cabinet of “All the talents,” which abolished the Slave Trade. His only sister became the wife of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, and the mother of William Pitt, the Younger. Thus Catherine Glynne was related by birth with four famous Prime Ministers of England, and was destined to become the wife of a fifth.

The families of both parents were of great antiquity, and directly descended from Crusaders; the names of Sir Stephen and Lady Glynne are on the Plantagenet Roll. Ancestors had been settled at Glynllifon, Carnarvonshire, in very ancient times. The founder of the Hawarden branch of the family, Sir John Glyn (1603-66), won distinction as a lawyer both under Cromwell--he was Lord Chief Justice from 1655 to 1659--and Charles II. Notwithstanding his support of the Parliamentary party, he seems to have been a Monarchist at heart and to have urged Cromwell to take the title of King; and we know that he served quite happily as King’s Serjeant under Charles II., even acting for the Crown in the prosecution of Sir Henry Vane for high treason in 1662. It was through him that Hawarden came into the Glynne family, for he purchased it at a nominal sum when it was sequestered in the Civil Wars. The castle itself was nearly in ruins and was never rebuilt. In 1752 Sir John Glynne, Mrs. Gladstone’s great-grandfather, acquired through marriage the adjoining property of Broad Lane, and the house belonging to it, with much rebuilding and various additions, became the Hawarden Castle with which the name of Gladstone is always associated. The ruins of the old original castle still exist and form a picturesque object in the grounds.

Sir Stephen Glynne died in 1815, and the care of the four children, two boys and two girls, all under six years old, devolved on the mother. She returned to her father, and she and the children lived with him in Berkeley Square, at Audley End, and at Billingbere. It was only after his death that she resided at Hawarden, where she was assisted in the duties connected with the estate by her brother, the Rev. the Hon. George Neville, to whom her husband, shortly before his death, had presented the living of Hawarden.

A journal is still in existence in which Lady Glynne made notes about her children during the years 1815-20. She describes Catherine as beautiful, high-spirited, and strong-willed.

Catherine Glynne was not highly educated in the sense in which that phrase is now understood. As a girl, she lived more out of doors than indoors, became a good horsewoman and proficient in all the athletic exercises, archery among them, then permitted to girls. She was not a great reader then nor later, but contact with the life of the village, the witnessing and even assisting in the schemes of improvement of her mother and uncle in regard to the cottagers and the education of their children, added to intercourse with people of intelligence in her own rank of life, taught her valuable lessons. Her training helped to lay the foundation of the excellent philanthropic work she accomplished on her own account after her marriage, and to develop the qualities which made her so admirable a companion for a great statesman. She could scarcely be called intellectual, but she possessed a natural intuition that never failed her, an equally natural shrewdness, and a keen sense of humour. Another quality that stood her in good stead was a capacity for making friends. One winter was spent at Hastings, and next door were staying Prince George of Cambridge and his cousin Prince George of Hanover. The young people speedily made acquaintance, and to the end of her life Mrs. Gladstone had no warmer friend and admirer than the Duke of Cambridge.

In 1829, when her daughters were about fifteen or sixteen, Lady Glynne took them to Paris for educational purposes, and, among other advantages, they enjoyed pianoforte lessons from Liszt. The sisters were girls of singular beauty, and attracted much admiration. Lord Douglas was so impressed that he induced his mother, the Duchess of Hamilton, to call on Lady Glynne, and persuade her to let the girls go to two or three balls at the Tuileries, the British Embassy, and the Duchess of Hamilton’s. Lady Glynne yielded, and the girls had a very enjoyable time.

Their brother Stephen, the head of the family, sat in the House of Commons as Liberal Member for Flint Burghs, and afterwards for Flintshire, from 1832 to 1847; his interests and tastes, however, lay rather in archæology than in politics. He was a man of great refinement and remarkable modesty, but he lacked the business capacity, as will be seen later, needed for managing landed estates. Among his friends at Oxford was W. E. Gladstone. The Glynnes, after the girls grew up, often went abroad, and once when Catherine was with her brother in Florence, they passed a gentleman who raised his hat. She asked Stephen who the handsome young man was. “Don’t you know him?” he replied. “That is young Gladstone, the Member for Newark, and the man who everybody says will one day be Prime Minister of England.” Catherine was first introduced to Gladstone at the house of Mr. Milnes Gaskell in London, and then they used to meet at Lady Theresa Lister’s musical parties and elsewhere. The two sisters were known as “the twin flowers of North Wales,” were greatly admired in London society, and received numerous proposals of marriage. They were, however, bound up in each other, and were determined that one could not be engaged or married without the other. Gladstone admired Catherine in silence, scarcely dreaming that he dared aspire to her hand. In 1835 he was invited by Glynne to pay a visit to Hawarden. But still he did not venture to speak. In the winter of 1838-39 he was suffering from overwork, and was ordered abroad. He had been a junior Lord of the Treasury, and also Under-Secretary for War under Sir Robert Peel, and had published his book on Church and State, and so was not without claims to distinction. In Rome in December he met Stephen Glynne and his sisters, and there found courage to propose to Catherine one moonlight night in the Coliseum. He had repeated to her Byron’s lines from “Manfred” beginning:

“I do remember me, that in my youth, When I was wandering,--upon such a night I stood within the Coliseum’s wall--”

Notwithstanding his eloquent appeal Miss Glynne refused him, and it was not until the following June at Lady Shelley’s garden party that she accepted him. About the same time her sister Mary became engaged to the fourth Lord Lyttelton.

When the two bridegrooms arrived at Hawarden for the wedding, they walked down the village street, “Gladstone, tall and upright in figure, pale and strong in face, with dark flashing eyes like an eagle’s; Lord Lyttelton, something of a rough and awkward youth of twenty-one, with rugged features, massive head, and intellectual brow; some one said, gazing at Gladstone, ‘Isn’t it easy to see which is the lord?’”

The double wedding took place on 25th July 1839, at Hawarden Parish Church, and was made the occasion for much festivity and rejoicing on the part of the family and their friends, and of the humble inhabitants of the district. Sir Francis Doyle was Gladstone’s best man, and he wrote a poem for the occasion entitled “To Two Sister Brides,” of which the following stanzas refer to Catherine:

“High hopes are thine, oh! eldest flower; Great duties to be greatly done; To soothe, in many a toil-worn hour, The noble heart which 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 presses on through calm and storm Unshaken, let what will betide; Thou hast an office to perform, To be his answering spirit bride.

The path appointed for his feet Through desert wilds and rocks may go, Where 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, through the waste to guide.”

Immediately after the ceremony Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone drove to Norton Priory, Cheshire, the seat of Sir Richard Brooke, whose daughter, Lady Brabazon, was the bride’s best friend, where the honeymoon was spent.

Neither sister had been specially accustomed to the society of highly intellectual or bookish men, and during the engagement neither Gladstone nor Lord Lyttelton, as ardent lovers, had felt the necessity of resorting to the classics when in the company of their fiancées. The young brides, when comparing notes after the honeymoon, confided to one another their dismay that at odd spare moments both husbands produced pocket editions of Horace or Sophocles (or some other classical poet), and filled the minutes by reading in them.

At the outset of their married life, Gladstone gave his wife the choice: either to know nothing of the great matters of State in which he would be involved and so be entirely free of responsibility, or to know everything and be bound to secrecy. Needless to say, she chose the latter. Fifty years later Gladstone declared, “My wife has known every political secret I have ever had, and has never betrayed my confidence.” He became a Cabinet Minister in 1843 as President of the Board of Trade, and was six times Chancellor of the Exchequer and four times Prime Minister, so that his wife had ample opportunity for intimate acquaintance with State secrets, and for a corresponding exercise of discretion. It is related that once in the early days of Cabinet office she unwittingly said something that showed she had some important knowledge of a confidential nature. She was terribly upset and immediately sent Gladstone a little note of confession and penitence,--he was engaged at work in his study in Carlton House Terrace, where they were living,--to which her husband responded with ready forgiveness, saying, “It is the only little mistake you ever made.” Once she congratulated a man on his promotion before he knew anything about it himself, but no harm was done by that, and it only serves to prove how intimate was her knowledge of affairs. As a matter of fact, no one could ever extract anything from her, though many tried to do so. When she was asked what Gladstone was going to do in some crisis or other, she would answer with the greatest naïveté, “Well, I wonder, don’t you? What do you think he ought to do?” Some undiscerning persons attributed her manner to stupidity, but Mrs. Gladstone always knew what she was doing and saying, and why she did and said it.

After the honeymoon, and a visit to Fasque, Kincardineshire (the home of Sir John Gladstone, where, so long as he lived, they spent some time each year), Gladstone and his wife when in London lived at 13 Carlton House Terrace, which he purchased in 1840. About six months after her marriage Mrs. Gladstone began to keep a fragmentary diary. Some extracts, printed here for the first time by kind permission of Mrs. Drew, form a record of her early married life, and illustrate her intelligent observation of the people around her, and her sense of humour.

“_April 1840._--Dined at the Archbishop of York’s, meeting the Queen Dowager, also the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Lady Harrington, etc. The Queen heard me speak of some one who was ill, and asked me all about it when we came upstairs. She beckoned to me to sit down by her. The Duchess of Cambridge very kind and talkative to me, speaking of our marriage at Hawarden, Mary’s and mine, upon the same day, and the Queen joined in the conversation and also talked to William.

“I sat next to Guizot at Mr. Hallam’s; he only made out my husband towards the end of dinner. He spoke English to me. We also met Mr. and Mrs. Grote (she is dreadful), the Bishop of London, George Lewis, Mrs. Austin, Dr.[50] and Mrs. Hawtrey.

“To a party at Buckingham Palace, arriving in time to see the Queen[51] enter the room. She does this more gracefully than I can possibly describe; it is quite a thing to see. Prince George of Cambridge talked to me. Lord Melbourne looked aged and careworn.

“At Northumberland House we met the Duke of Wellington--interesting to watch the people’s manners with him. He went out of his way to speak to William.”

The first baby, a boy, William Henry, was born on 3rd June 1840.

“_April 1841._--Lord Lyndhurst[52] was on the platform at Twyford station. I saw him look at Baby, and the nurse said he noticed his intelligence, and having asked whose child he was, said, ‘Will you ever be as clever a man as your papa?’

“Sir Robert Peel desired William to introduce me to him at Lady Jersey’s; he talked of his daughter’s approaching marriage to Lord Villiers.[53] He seemed in great force, which the events of the past few weeks would account for. Lady Peel said to William, ‘Has not he done it well? It is very soon after the want of confidence motion and the majority of one.’ The Duke of Cambridge was very loquacious, but I was not a little relieved at his fastening upon William.

“I sat next the Duke of Wellington at the Archbishop of York’s dinner, but I had his deaf ear; yet I was pleased to think he had spoken to me before either of us died--have long wished for this.”

“_September 21, 1841._--Dinner-party at home. The future Bishop of New Zealand was with us; his conversation was very interesting as to his going to New Zealand, very touching the way he spoke of his wife: ‘She feels just as I could most wish; she has all the tenderness of a woman joined to the greatest firmness and resolution.’ I was present at his Consecration at Lambeth Chapel, that fine touching service never to be heard without emotion, but in the present instance how peculiarly affecting. He was leaving his native land and all that he held most dear. I believe there was scarcely one dry eye. May I be the better for this day!

“William and I visited the Bishop at his house at Eton, so as to be present at the farewell dinner given by Mr. Coleridge the day before his farewell sermon at Windsor. There were forty present. I sat between Judge Patterson and Dr. Hawtrey. Afterwards Mr. Coleridge proposed the health of the Bishop in a touching speech, for which the Bishop returned thanks. Devoted to the service of his God, he is able to feel the step he has taken not as a sacrifice but as a privilege; he unites unusual tenderness of feeling to great manliness of character. The scene was an extraordinary one. Casting the eye down a long dinner-table, most of the guests were in tears, men and women sobbing, poor old Dr. Keate (to-day was my first introduction to him), his head upon the table, his face buried in his pocket-handkerchief.[54] I never witnessed such devotion. His sermon (_i.e._ the Bishop’s) the following day was striking and affecting; a crowded congregation, there was not even standing room. Evidently he is not allowing himself to have any idea of returning to live in England.”

“_December 20, 1841._--I find London very empty. William is absent from twelve to seven in the daytime,[55] and works hard all the time he is at home, but I am greatly relieved to be with him again, though it is a little dreary sometimes in the day. I have been reading Hook’s _Sermons_, and I have finished _Ten Thousand a Year_,[56] which, although vulgar, is clever and interesting. I sat an hour at his office at the Board of Trade.

“_January 1, 1842._--A new year is always an awful thing. God give me grace to become better in the future! I feel acutely how little good I do--but to feel is not enough.

“_January 6._--I am thirty to-day--a terrible thought. We had a dinner-party for Mr. Grenville (Uncle Tom).[57] He sat nearly an hour with me in the afternoon. As he walked from Hamilton Place and back this was pretty well for eighty-seven.

“_January 17._--William dined in the city to meet Prince Albert. Peel spoke well, and the Prince was evidently affected in alluding to his dear ties which bind him to England. Elizabeth Fry sat between the Prince and Sir Robert Peel.

“_January 20._--William dined at Putney with Lord and Lady Ripon. He liked her extremely, and she was particularly thoughtful in wishing me to come there for country air.

“_January 22._--Dined with the Barings to meet Lord and Lady Stanley, Lady Granville, etc., Lord Stanley[58] taking me in to dinner. I was very shy, he was in great spirits, full of fun and jokes. At all events _he_ can shake off the cares of office. I was interested, but relieved when we went upstairs, where I got on with both the ladies well.

“_January 24._--George, the page, did not know what event we celebrated on Christmas Day! I hope he will come on, but it is sad, as he is near fifteen.

“_January 29._--To-day William met the King of Prussia[59] at Bunsen’s. H.M. recognised him, and said he wished to have some conversation with him about his book. Lady Canning was the only lady except the hostess. A queer medley of people--clergymen, Quakers, scientific men. I dined at Mrs. Grenville’s, meeting the Duchess of Sutherland,[60] Lord and Lady Mahon, Mr. Harcourt, and Mr. Samuel Rogers. Pleased with both Duke and Duchess; she spoke so nicely and naturally about nursing her babies.

“_January 31._--We dined at the Duchess of Beaufort’s alone, and to Stafford House[61] afterwards. Never so struck by that splendid house, specially the staircase, where a band was playing. Saw the King of Prussia; a strong likeness to O’Connell, with an ingenuous countenance.

“_February 1._--At the Duke of Wellington’s to meet the King of Prussia--the first time I had been to Apsley House--which gave me great pleasure; he sat near the pianoforte listening to the music, apparently lost to everything besides.

“_February 5._--William told me something of great interest; he was harassed, and we were glad to escape quietly to pass our evening alone.

“_February 6._--At St. Martin’s and St. James’s Churches. Before the end of the day William a different being, and his appetite returned.

“_Sunday, February 13._--A note from Sir Robert Peel desiring William to follow Lord John Russell in the House on Monday. He made no preparation to-day.