Mr. Justin McCarthy has much to say of Mr. Gladstone’s eyes: ‘I am myself strongly of opinion that Mr. Gladstone strongly improved in appearance as his life went on deepening into years. I cannot, of course, remember him as he was in 1833. I think I saw him for the first time some twenty years later. But although he was a decidedly handsome man at that time, I did not think his appearance was nearly so striking or so commanding as it became in the closing years of his career. I do not believe that I ever saw a more magnificent human face than that of Mr. Gladstone after he had grown old. Of course, the eyes were always superb. Many a stranger looking at Mr. Gladstone for the first time saw the eyes, and only the eyes, and could think for a moment of nothing else. Age never dimmed the fire of these eyes.’
A few characteristics are given by Mr. McCarthy: ‘I have mixed,’ he writes, ‘with most of Mr. Gladstone’s contemporaries, his political opponents as well as his political followers, and I have never heard a hint of any serious defect in his nature, or of any unworthy motive influencing his private or public career. Defects of temperament, and of manner, and of tact have no doubt been ascribed to him over and over again. He was not, people tell me, always successful in playing up to or conciliating the weaknesses of inferior men. He was not good, I am told, at remembering faces or names. . . . Such defects, however, in Mr. Gladstone’s nature or temperament count indeed for little or nothing in the survey of his career.’ Another characteristic of Mr. Gladstone, remarks Mr. McCarthy, is his North-country accent.
Sir Andrew Clark, who was Mr. Gladstone’s physician for years, said he never had a more docile patient than Mr. Gladstone. The moment he is really laid up he goes to bed, and there remains till he recovers. He is a firm believer in the doctrine of lying in bed when you are ill. You keep yourself in an equable temperature, avoid the worries and drudgery of everyday life, and being in bed is a good pretext for avoiding the visits of the multitude of people whose room is better than their company.
Mr. Gladstone’s admirers are very angry when it is intimated that his character is not perfection. It may be there are spots in the sun, but the idol of the party must be spotless.
The following anecdote illustrates Mr. Gladstone’s love of music. On the eve of one of his great budgets, Mr. Gladstone found time to go to the theatre to see Sarah Bernhardt act in ‘Phèdre.’ The great statesman was so delighted with the acting, that he wrote to mademoiselle a letter expressing his great gratification. The divine Sarah always had a great influence on the impressionable Premier. When she held a reception, the first to come and the last to go was Mr. Gladstone, and none who witnessed it were likely to forget the spectacle of the great statesman bending low almost till he kissed the hand of the actress when she advanced to welcome him.
According to all accounts, Mr. Gladstone is on the most friendly terms with his tenantry. To some of them he has been specially kind. On the occasion of the marriage of his son and heir he feasted 550 of his cottage tenants on the first day, and upwards of 400 on the second. On one occasion, while Mr. Gladstone was pointing out to a large party of excursionists the beauties of the trees, he added: ‘We are very proud of our trees.’ ‘Why, then, do you cut them down as you do?’ said a man in the crowd. Said the Grand Old Man in reply: ‘We cut down that we may improve. We remove rottenness that we may restore health by letting in air and light. As a good Liberal, you ought to understand that.’
Again I give an anecdote of his kindness as landlord. When Mr. Gladstone was engaged in one of his Midlothian campaigns, his principal tenant, an energetic and capable practical farmer, was suffering from severe illness. Every day during the campaign came a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone inquiring after his health. On their return from Scotland, having travelled all night, they drove from Chester straight to the tenant’s house, and were both in his bedroom at half-past eight in the morning.
Another Hawarden anecdote may be recorded here. In Mr. Gladstone’s household was an old woman-servant, who had a son inclined to go wrong. The mother remonstrated, but all to no purpose. At last she thought if the Premier would take the prodigal in hand, at last he might be reclaimed. She appealed to Mr. Gladstone, and he responded at once to her appeal. He had the lad sent to his study, spoke to him words of tender advice and remonstrance, and eventually knelt down with him and prayed to a higher Power to help in the work of reformation.
In May, 1885, Mr. Lucy writes: ‘In making a statement to-night on the course of public business, the Premier spoke, as has been a matter of custom of late, amid continuous noisy interruptions from a section of the Conservative party. To-night this method of Parliamentary procedure, novel, as directed against the leader of the House, reached a climax which had the desired effect of temporarily silencing the Premier. After a painful pause, he observed that this new kind of Parliamentary warfare was of little matter to him, whose personal interposition in political strife was a question of weeks rather than of months, certainly of months more than of years. But he had a deep conviction that within the last three years a blow had been struck at the liberty and dignity of the House of Commons by these intrusions upon debate.’
No notice can be held to be complete which does not give one an idea of the splendid physical constitution which has enabled Mr. Gladstone to lead the life he has led and to do the work he has done. On one occasion he told his Welsh admirers that it was due to the air of that part of the Principality near which he resided. But his vitality is undoubtedly an illustration of the principle of heredity. The medical journals had always much to say of Mr. Gladstone’s health. We quote one. At the end of the session in which Mr. Gladstone carried his Irish Land Bill, the Lancet wrote: ‘Apart from all party and political considerations, it is but proper to express our satisfaction at seeing Mr. Gladstone, at the end of a session almost unprecedented for length and for those influences which harass and exhaust, in a state of admirable health and spirits. It was a physiological and psychological marvel last week to see him rise and show reasons for disagreeing with the Lords’ Amendments, not in any hasty or excited mood, but with perfect serenity of intellect and temper, with absolute mastery of details, and appealing to all that was best in his opponents. This is a feat which exceeds, in our judgment, the felling of many trees, and almost crowns Mr. Gladstone’s many claims to distinction. The last straw breaks the camel’s back, and it would have been excusable if the obstructions of August had elicited peevishness and intelligible if they had produced exhaustion. But both strength and temper are intact, and Mr. Gladstone goes to his holiday with a stock of energy which many younger men would be glad to return with, and which is no mean guarantee for future service to his Queen and country.’