THE GLADSTONE FAMILY.
There is no doubt that had Mr. Gladstone followed his personal inclinations when his Irish education scheme broke down last March, he would have retired from office. He is now sixty-four, and it may be fairly questioned whether there exists a man who for forty-six years has worked his brain harder. It is no light labor to read for the highest honors in even one school at Oxford, and Mr. Gladstone read for them in two. He gained "a double first," which meant at that time a first class both in classics and mathematics. Forthwith he plunged into political essay-writing, until in 1834 he further added to his labors by entering the House of Commons as M.P. for Newark.
Mr. Gladstone's father was, as most people are aware, a Liverpool merchant of Scotch descent. This gentleman was the architect of his own fortunes, which arose in no slight degree out of his connection with the United States. Having been sent to this country by a firm largely interested in the corn trade, he discharged their business to their entire satisfaction, whilst at the same time he made very valuable business connections on his own account, which materially served him when at a later period he himself embarked in business. He made a large fortune, but it did not appear at his death to be so great as it was, because he gave his younger sons the bulk of their portions during his lifetime—to avoid legacy duty, people said. To his eldest son he left considerable estates in Scotland—to the younger sons, about one hundred thousand pounds apiece. The eldest, Sir Thomas Gladstone, is a very worthy man, but nowise remarkable for ability. He has one son, and has had six daughters. Four survive, and all are unmarried.
The next brother, Robertson, an eccentric person whose indiscreet speeches must often have made his statesman brother feel very hot, continues the paternal business at Liverpool. The third, John Neilson, was, socially speaking, the flower of the flock. He was a captain in the navy, from which he had retired many years prior to his death in 1863, and a member of Parliament. By his wife, a singularly excellent and charming woman, he had several children, who may be said to pretty nearly monopolize the feminine charms of the Gladstone family. One of these married the earl of Belmore, an Irish nobleman, who lately returned from a not very successful gubernatorial career in New South Wales. Both Sir Thomas and Captain Gladstone were decided Conservatives.
William Ewart is the fourth brother. "That young brother of mine will make a noise in the world some of these days," said Captain Gladstone to a fellow-middy as his brother turned away from bidding him good-bye just before he was about to start on a cruise; and the words were certainly prophetic. Mr. Gladstone married when he was thirty. His wife was one of the two sisters of Sir Stephen Glynne. The English aristocracy contains a great many sets, and the Glynnes were in the intellectual set, comprising such men as the dukes of Argyll and Devonshire, and Lords Derby, Stanhope and Lyttelton. Mrs. Gladstone and her sister were married on the same day to two of the finest intellects of their time. The younger, whose mental gifts were far superior to those of her sister, married Lord Lyttelton.
Mr. Gladstone has a large family. The eldest son has for some time been in Parliament, but has established no reputation for notable capacity, and it is said that, with the exception of one of his younger brothers, none of the family are remarkable in this respect. Mrs. Gladstone is a person of great kindness of heart and untiring benevolence. She is full of schemes for doing good: hospitals, convalescent institutions, etc. find in her an ever-ready friend, to the neglect, it is whispered, of her domestic duties. There is an amusing story told of how some time ago a few guests arrived at her house in response to an invitation to dinner. They waited in vain for the rest of the party, for whose delay their hostess was at a loss to account. At length she turned aside and opened her blotting-book, which quickly revealed the cause of the guests' non-appearance—the invitations were lying there. They had been written, but never sent.
In London the prime minister—who has an indifferent official residence, which he and his family have occasionally occupied, in Downing street—lives in Carlton-House Terrace. It is a beautiful house, but not by any means well adapted for party-giving, for it is so constructed that circulation is almost impossible. If you once get into a room, you must stay there; whereas half the charm of Lady Palmerston's famous parties at Cambridge House was the free circulation the rooms afforded, enabling you to pass right round a quadrangle, and thus easily find an acquaintance or get away from a bore. Mr. Gladstone's house has a fine double staircase, and it will derive interest in after days from the circumstance that, standing at the head, Lord Russell took leave of the party he had led, and pointed to his then host as his successor.
Carlton-House Terrace is in many respects the most delightful situation in London, for, whilst extremely central, it is very quiet. It stands between Pall Mall and St. James's Park. One side faces a strip of beautifully kept garden, which lies between the terrace and the row of palaces formed by the Senior United Service, Athenaeum, Travelers' and Carlton Clubs. The other side has a charming prospect over St. James's Park. In summer this is really lovely, for all ugly objects are obscured by the foliage, amid which glimpses are obtained of the pinnacles and fretted towers of the palace of Parliament on the one hand, and those of its venerable neighbor, the majestic abbey, on the other. It was here that Bunsen passed his London days, and the reader of his memoirs will remember frequent references to the charms of his house. It may well be imagined how great a boon it is to the toil-worn minister to find himself, as it were, in a garden, with only the distant roar, like that of the sea, to remind him as he sits in his study that five minutes walk across that pleasant park will bring him to Downing street, and three more to the Treasury bench in the House of Commons.
In the country most of his time is spent at Hawarden Castle in Flintshire, about six hours from London. This is the ancestral seat of Mrs. Gladstone's brother, Sir Stephen Glynne, lord lieutenant of the county, whose family have held this property for centuries. Sir Stephen is a very shy man of retired habits. By a family arrangement his house is the country abode of his sister and brother-in-law.
In earlier life, Sir Stephen and his two brothers-in-law, Mr. Gladstone and Lord Lyttelton, formed an unfortunately favorable estimate of certain mines, into which much of the fortune of Sir Stephen and his sisters went, and from which it never came out again. There was one other brother, the late rector of Hawarden. He died about a year ago, and Mr. Gladstone's second son, Stephen, was appointed his successor. The living, in the gift of Sir Stephen, is very valuable. Mr. Glynne, the clergyman, died without a son, and the title will therefore on Sir Stephen's death be extinct. As matters now stand, it may be presumed that Mr. W.H. Gladstone, the prime minister's eldest son, will succeed to the Hawarden estates.
Mr. Gladstone has himself recently increased the family interest around Hawarden by purchase. About five years ago the state of his finances were the talk of the town, and a number of people, especially of the Conservative party, avowed themselves in a position to assert from personal knowledge that he was ruined. There was no just ground for such a statement, and like so many other absurd rumors it died out. None of Mr. Gladstone's daughters are married, nor is his eldest son.