A great little lady
Few people could have had—and kept—three such different friends as Cobden, Disraeli and Chamberlain; but the little lady knew how to deal with contradictions. Her sense of humour was as keen as a razor.
Happily for us, Lady Dorothy loved a play and rejoiced in visits to our theatre. She had a great affection for my wife. Often and often, generally in the early winter evenings, she would dismiss her carriage at our door, walk upstairs to the second floor, and sit for hours with her. When she left she declined all help or offer to be seen safely home, preferring to walk there in the dark, facing two crossings on her way, and this when she was more than eighty years of age.
Her reminiscences, edited by her son, Ralph Nevill, are delightful reading, while the characteristic portrait painted of her in early life by Watts—so happily reproduced—will tell you what she looked like. It helps you to feel that she uttered no ill of anyone.
Lady Dorothy once said to me: "One of the greatest treats I can now be given is to be taken by a strong young man to Piccadilly, there to be hoisted on to the top of a 'bus, and driven through the City to Whitechapel, with time to look in at the London Hospital on my way back."
I repeat—a great little lady.