militia regiment was quartered at the Tower there was an outbreak of
cholera. Finding him unwell one morning, the doctor advised Jocelyn
to join his wife at Kew, where they were living. In the cab he felt
so much worse that he stopped it at Lady Palmerston’s house in
Piccadilly. He had taken cholera, and died in the back drawing-room.
Lady Jocelyn, who had by chance driven into town, found him in a dying
condition.
In the autumn of 1844 Lady Palmerston made a tour in Germany with her
husband, dining with the King of the Belgians at Laeken, with the King
of Prussia at Berlin, and the King of Saxony at Dresden. The next year
her friend Lady Holland died, leaving her £300, a portrait of Lord
Melbourne by Landseer,[29] and all her fans.
A pleasing incident, which showed in what estimation Lady Palmerston
was held by the party, occurred in 1850, when a hundred and twenty
Liberal Members of Parliament presented her with a full-length portrait
of her husband by Partridge. She was extremely proud of the compliment
paid her. The painting, now at Broadlands, was hung on the staircase of
their town house.
Lady Palmerston could not bear, as I have said, to be separated from
her husband. In January 1851 she went to Brighton with Lady Ashley
and her children, leaving him in town, and her letters to her “dearest
love”--she was sixty-four and he was sixty-seven--show how not to see
him even for the space of a fortnight was unthinkable. One day she
wrote: “Whenever you write me word that you have opened your carpet
bags I shall make a bonfire on the Steyne.” When he was away from her
her letters to him are filled with adjurations to take care of himself,
not to go sailing on Luggan Lake, or if he bathes, not to go out of his
depth.[30]
She wrote to him nearly every day while she was at Brighton, and the
following extracts from her letters are of interest:
“BRIGHTON,
_17th January 1851_.
“I got down very safely yesterday, but I never was in a more
shaky train, however. The Ashleys and I were together, and
we got down in an hour and ten minutes, but I think for the
future I shall always avoid express trains. There is something
so awful in the notion of not stopping anywhere, so that if
unfortunately there should occur anything wrong about your
carriage you would have to go on fifty miles without any help
or the least power of getting your distress known. It is like
the horror of a bad dream to imagine the possibility of such a
casualty.”
Some persons will sympathise with her feelings in an express train.
In the following letter she refers to the Bull issued by the Pope in
September 1850, creating Roman Catholic Bishops in England. It roused
great excitement and hostility in the country.
“_31st January 1851._
“I hope you read the _Times_ leading article yesterday on the
dangers of Popery, so very true, and all so well described. It
is _impossible_ for the well-being of any Protestant country to
allow the system which the Pope is trying to introduce here. To
have such a band of conspirators leagued together to overthrow
Protestantism in England, and leaving no means untried to
compass their ends and to work on the weak-minded by the most
unscrupulous agents.... The Pope starting a new Pope in Ireland
after all the rout made about bishops here shows that he is
not inclined to go back an inch, but rather to force on and
increase his aggressions.”
The Ecclesiastical Titles Act declaring the Papal Bull null and void
was passed in July 1851. As a legislative measure it was, however, a
dead letter, and was repealed in 1871.
In December 1851 Lord John Russell, the Prime Minister, required Lord
Palmerston to resign his office of Foreign Secretary, on the ground
that he had exceeded his authority as Secretary of State in his
communications on his own authority to France with reference to the
recognition of the _coup d’état_ of Louis Napoleon. Lord Palmerston
had personally expressed his approval of the action to the French
ambassador in London. The affair has passed into history and only
concerns us here because Lady Palmerston fancied her husband was the
victim of a conspiracy. She wrote angrily to this effect to Lord John,
whom she had known since 1830, and who was one of her oldest friends.
In his reply he told her that the tone of her letter would justify him
in not answering it, but it was necessary for him to assure her that
there had been no conspiracy, that he had acted alone to save others
from responsibility. He further said that the loss of Lady Palmerston’s
friendship added to the weight of his regret at the whole business. As
a matter of fact, Lord Palmerston was soon asked to go back, and it is
quite certain that it was Lady Palmerston who contrived to let it be
known in the proper quarter that he was willing and anxious to do so.
In 1868 Lady Palmerston asked Lord John, as Palmerston’s _oldest and
best friend_--the italics are hers--to unveil the statue and window to
Lord Palmerston’s memory in the town and abbey of Romsey. Lord John
was only prevented from acceding to her request by the death of his
brother-in-law, Lord Dunfermline. So that the difference between Lady
Palmerston and Lord John was not very serious or lasting.
Lady Palmerston thought her husband always in the right, and when he
resigned in 1853 because he did not consider the Government’s policy
towards Russia sufficiently decided, she wrote to Charles Greville to
explain his reasons. Greville called on her, and found her in high
good humour, and pleased at the testimonies of approbation her husband
had received. But she was again careful to make it known in the right
quarters that he had acted hastily and was ready to return, and thus it
was in great measure due to her that the difficulty was adjusted. She
had written to Monckton Milnes on 2nd December 1853: “Nobody looks very
comfortable here; the Turkish question worries a great many, and Reform
others, and I believe both might have been avoided.” She used to say
that every event in which her husband was concerned left him standing
higher than he did before. She was immensely proud of him, liked him
to be first, was provoked at Gladstone’s enormous success in 1853, and
always hated the idea of her husband being out of office. Therefore,
notwithstanding the far harder work entailed both on himself and on
herself, she was greatly elated when he became Prime Minister for the
first time in 1855. Yet later on she confessed, “I would rather that
my husband was only Foreign Minister or Home Secretary, for since he
became Prime Minister I see nothing of him. He never comes to bed till
four or five o’clock.” Except on Saturdays and Sundays, he hardly ever
dined with her. He had his dinner at three p.m., went down to the House
at four, and except some tea had nothing till he came home, seldom
before one a.m.
Every Saturday evening in the season Lady Palmerston held a
reception. In 1858 they left Carlton Gardens for Cambridge House, 94
Piccadilly,[31] and both she and Lord Palmerston took the greatest
interest in fitting up and arranging their new abode. At her parties
were to be met the best society, consisting almost entirely of
distinguished people, for in those days there were not more than about
five hundred persons who were what is known as “in Society.” Indeed,
Lady Palmerston always wrote the name of the guest on the invitation
cards with her own hand, so that she really did know who came to her
receptions. Yet, in spite of these precautions, there occasionally
appeared a few people who had not been invited. She never betrayed
herself, and used to say that, if it amused them to come, they were
quite welcome. She was good-natured and patient with bores. But if any
member of his own party spoke or voted against Palmerston in the House,
he would receive no invitation, and his name would not be replaced
on the list until he had thought better of his disloyalty. She could
also be very angry with any one who caballed against Lord Palmerston
or overstepped the bounds of fair party warfare in attacking him.
But even so her anger was shortlived, and she was quick to pardon.
Lady Palmerston took much trouble to please the wives of those it was
politic to conciliate. Disraeli in _Sybil_ ironically summed up the
general rules by which political hostesses were guided when he wrote:
“Ask them (_i.e._ Members of Parliament) to a ball, and they will give
you their votes; invite them to a dinner, and if necessary they will
rescind them; but cultivate them, remember their wives at assemblies,
and call their daughters if possible by their right names, and they
will not only change their principles or desert the party for you, but
subscribe their fortunes, if necessary, and lay down their lives in
your service.”
If there happened to be a political crisis the greatest excitement
would prevail at these parties. Sometimes the lion of the evening would
be a man who was not generally to be met at fashionable gatherings. In
1859 Cobden was present one evening, and the fashionable ladies stared
at him through their glasses as if he had been some strange curiosity,
and brought up their friends to stare also.
The Palmerstons also gave dinners which were noted for the
sumptuousness of the fare and the distinction of the guests. The only
drawback was the extraordinary unpunctuality of the host and hostess.
It was useless to arrive at the time stated in the invitation; neither
would be ready, not even if it was a big diplomatic dinner. How the
cook managed to send up an excellent meal all the same seemed a
miracle to the waiting and long-suffering guests, but it is to be
supposed that Lady Palmerston named one hour to her guests and another
to her cook. A guest relates how, on arriving at 8.30 p.m., he found
Lord Palmerston just going out for a ride before dinner in Rotten Row.
The grey horse that Palmerston always rode was his wife’s despair,
for she had four grey carriage horses, and feared lest people should
think he rode one of them. Similar unpunctuality was practised by the
Palmerstons when they dined out. At a dinner given by Guizot, when he
was Ambassador in London, Lady Holland was a guest. It happened that
she had had no lunch and was dying with hunger. All the guests were
assembled except the Palmerstons. Lady Holland was at first out of
temper, then in despair, and lastly subsided into inanition. When at
last the defaulters arrived and a move was made, Lady Holland asked
Lord Duncannon to take care of her, as she was sure she should not
reach the dining-room without fainting.
Perhaps the social side of Lord and Lady Palmerston was seen at its
best in the country-house parties at Broadlands. Broadlands is near
Romsey in Hampshire. The house is situated in a fine park, and
the river Test flows through the grounds, passing near the house,
and adding greatly to the charm of the view from the windows. The
architecture is Elizabethan, one room still preserving the beautiful
oak panelling, but in the eighteenth century the front was cased in
classic architecture with huge porticoes. The interior is commodious
and comfortable, and the rooms, which are all of a pleasant size and
shape, are full of treasures. The present owner, Mr. Wilfrid W. Ashley,
M.P., great-grandson of Lady Palmerston, has arranged the library as
it was in Lord Palmerston’s day, with the high desk--he always wrote
standing up--and other articles by which the great statesman was
habitually surrounded. A billiard-room is a feature of the house, for
Palmerston was very fond of the game, and liked to win if his wife was
looking on.
In the country Lady Palmerston was a perfect hostess. She understood
that foreigners expected to be entertained and not to be left more or
less to their own devices, as is the English custom, and was always
ready to drive or walk with them. The habit of leaving guests in a
country house to look after themselves has grown now almost to an
abuse, and sometimes, except that there is no bill to settle at the
end, it often seems almost as if one had been staying at an hotel where
one chanced to know a few of the other visitors. The parties must have
been very interesting. Among the guests at different times were all the
ambassadors to Great Britain and their wives, members of all the great
English families, and writers like Laurence Oliphant, Monckton Milnes
(Lord Houghton), and Mrs. Augustus Craven, author of _Récit d’une sœur_.
The same unpunctuality, however, prevailed at Broadlands as in
London. Dinner was nominally at eight, but was seldom on the table
before nine. This indifference to time seems to have been innate in
Lady Palmerston’s family, for even at Panshanger in 1841, when Queen
Victoria and Prince Albert were on a visit there, it is recorded that
though there was an agreeable absence of formality, everything was
immensely unpunctual, and the poor Queen was made to wait for dinner
and drives “till anybody but herself would be furious.”
Besides managing the household at Broadlands and Cambridge House,
Lady Palmerston had her own property to look after: Brocket, left to
her by her brother, Lord Melbourne, and her Scottish estates. She saw
into everything herself, inspected all the accounts, and never left
anything to servants that was not properly within their province.
This gave her constant occupation, and the business connected with
her possessions was often of an arduous character. In 1860 there was
a good deal of correspondence and trouble over the sale of a mill at
Brocket, and in 1862 she paid a visit to her “Scotland estates,” which
she had not looked over for nine years. She described it as “something
like the treadmill,” with the talking, “walking, inspecting farms
and fields and mines, making the agreeable, and listening to all the
various conflicting reports on the same subject.” Her labours, she
declares, were much increased by “all the glorification and popularity
of Palmerston, which burst out on every opportunity.”
In 1861 Palmerston was made Warden of the Cinque Ports. Lady Palmerston
evidently went to Walmer Castle, the residence belonging to the office,
before her husband had seen it, for she wrote to him that the place was
splendid, “so large a house and such a quantity of gardens and trees.
I am sure you will be delighted with the place, and the sea is covered
with shipping and a beautiful setting sun to light them up.” The
beauty of the gardens at Walmer Castle is proverbial.
Lady Palmerston was fond of the theatre, and it is interesting to find
in 1863 the following impression of a new play that was to have a great
vogue:
“Such a good play, written by Tom Taylor, called _The Ticket-of-Leave
Man_, so affecting that everybody in the theatre was touched by it,
some quite crying.”
In old age the Palmerstons were devoted to each other. To the end of
his life Palmerston’s attitude to his wife was that of an ardent lover;
he was always full of loving attentions. He had few intimate friends;
her close companionship seemed to make it unnecessary, and it is most
probable that no other person at any time shared his confidence. His
consideration for her was pathetic, and he did all in his power to
conceal from her how ill he really was during the months before his
death. He always assumed cheerfulness in her presence. He died on 18th
October 1865 at Brocket, and was buried in Westminster Abbey near the
grave of Pitt.
Lord Palmerston left his property to his wife for her life, and it was
then to go to William Cowper. She gave up the house in Piccadilly,
and Bulwer Lytton sold her Breadalbane House, 21 Park Lane, where she
settled in February 1866. She was now seventy-eight, almost unaltered
in appearance, indeed a very handsome old lady, and, though subdued
at times, she preserved her cheerful spirits. Age had not dulled her
sensibility nor her susceptibility to impressions of more than ordinary
keenness. She took the same vivid interest as of old in things and in
people. Very rarely did she show any sign of the despondency common
to age. In thanking Abraham Hayward for his pamphlet on the Junius
Letters, a subject in which she had always taken great interest, she
wrote: “There are so many disagreeable things nowadays in every way
that it is pleasant to be able to take shelter in the past.”[32] She
liked at all times to surround herself with young and pretty people.
The very year of her death she would go to her grandson Jocelyn’s room
between eleven and twelve at night, taking with her the _Times_ or some
other newspaper, and read out to him long speeches without spectacles,
with only a couple of candles for light. She was keenly opposed to
Gladstone’s Bill for the Disestablishment of the Irish Church,[33] and
would talk about it, standing the while, with all the fire and energy
of a young girl.
She was saddened by the deaths of her old friends, Lady Jersey in 1867
and Lady Tankerville in 1865, intimates of more than fifty years’
standing, for Lady Palmerston was loyal in her friendships.
She was only ill for a fortnight before her death, which occurred at
Brocket on 11th September 1869. She was buried in Westminster Abbey by
the side of her husband.
Lady Palmerston affords an example of the influence wielded by a woman
of intelligence, beauty, and charm through the first half of the
nineteenth century. She had “l’habitude et l’intelligence des grandes
affaires” that were openly discussed before her. She was past-mistress
in the art of conversation, and thoroughly understood that a good
talker must both originate and sympathise, must impart information and
elicit it from others. Her tact was perfect. While she had a passionate
feeling for her own party, she could be gracious to those opposed
to it. Her salon was for a long series of years the pleasantest and
most brilliant in London. She had many friends and few enemies. Her
influence on society was direct, that on politics indirect, because
it worked through her husband. When a woman is already in so high a
position that no one can think she is seeking her own advancement, when
she is eminently high-minded and warm-hearted, when she is never petty
or false or ungenerous or uncharitable, then such an influence as she
may exercise either directly or indirectly can only make for good.
There is no doubt that Lady Palmerston, by her personal amiability, her
vivacity of mind, charm of manner, and experience of the world, helped
to strengthen the position of her husband.
V
MRS. DISRAELI
“It is the spirit of man that says, ‘I will be great,’ but it
is the sympathy of woman that usually makes him so.”
The parents of Mary Anne Evans lived at Bramford Speke, near Exeter.
Their daughter was probably born at Exeter, where we know she was
baptized on 14th November. Her father, John Evans, a lieutenant in the
Navy who had worked his way up from the bottom of the Service, died on
active service while his daughter was an infant. His wife was Eleanor
Viney, a member of a family of good position in the west of England. In
fact, Mrs. Disraeli inherited part of her fortune from her uncle, Sir
James Viney. The girl was beautiful, and in 1815 married Wyndham Lewis,
M.P. for Cardiff, a man of birth and fortune. He owned considerable
property in Glamorganshire.
[Illustration: MRS. DISRAELI (COUNTESS BEACONSFIELD)
_From the painting by A. E. Chalon, R.A., at Hughenden_]
Mrs. Lewis was a great friend of Rosina Wheeler, the wife of Edward
Bulwer, and it was at a party at their house, on the evening of 27th
April 1832, that Disraeli first met the lady who was ultimately to
be his wife. She asked particularly to be introduced to him. Writing
next day to his sister he describes her as “a pretty little woman, a
flirt, and a rattle.” She told him that she liked silent, melancholy
men, and Disraeli, making mental note of her singular volubility,
replied that he had no doubt of it. But he went much to her house in
London the next year, and became, as time progressed, very friendly
with her and her husband. So when, at the election of 1837, a second
Conservative candidate was needed for Maidstone--Wyndham Lewis was
the other--Disraeli was asked to stand. His success was doubtless in
great measure due to his friendship with the Wyndham Lewises. Mrs.
Lewis, in a letter to her brother,[34] prophesied that in a few years
Disraeli would be one of the greatest men of the day, and observed,
“they call him my Parliamentary protégé.”[35] Count D’Orsay offered
him the sage advice: “You will not make love! You will not intrigue!
You have your seat: do not risk anything! If a widow, then marry!” In
August Mrs. Lewis paid a first visit to the Disraelis at Bradenham and
was delighted with everything. Another visit was paid at the end of the
year. Wyndham Lewis died suddenly of heart disease on 14th March 1838.
There is no doubt that Mrs. Lewis’s affection for Disraeli had been
steadily growing. It is said that she told a friend she was sure
Disraeli cared for her, because he had made love to her in her
husband’s lifetime. Mrs. Bulwer, who never allowed friendship to
interfere with her propensity for ill-natured gossip, declared that
Disraeli proposed even before the funeral, and that friends calling to
condole with her on her husband’s death were asked to congratulate her,
for “Disraeli has proposed.” Through April and May he wrote constantly
to her, sent her flowers from Bradenham, called himself her faithful
friend, ready to give her, if she so willed it, his advice, assistance,
and society. He signed his letters, “Your affectionate D.” In July
he saw the review in Hyde Park, in celebration of Queen Victoria’s
coronation, from Mrs. Wyndham Lewis’s house, 1 Grosvenor Gate.[36] By
the end of July he was telling her that she was never a moment absent
from his thoughts and how much he loved her. He sometimes accompanied
her to the theatre; he presented his Coronation Medal to her.