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The Grand Old Man

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In the daily routine of private life none in the household were more
punctual and regular than Mr. Gladstone. At 8 o'clock he was up and in
his study. From 1842 he always found time, with all his manifold duties,
to go to church regularly, rain or shine, every morning except when ill,
at half-past 8 o'clock, He walked along the public road from the castle
to Hawarden church. Writes an observer: "The old statesman, with his
fine, hale, gentle face, is an interesting figure as he walks lightly
and briskly along the country road, silently acknowledging the fervent
salutations of his friends--the Hawarden villagers. He wears a long
coat, well buttoned up, a long shawl wrapped closely around his neck,
and a soft felt hat--a very different figure from that of the Prime
Minister as he is known in London."

At the Castle prayers were read to the family and household soon after 9
o'clock daily. His customary breakfast was comprised of a hard-boiled
egg, a slice of tongue, dry toast and tea. The whole morning whether at
home or on a visit was devoted to business. Luncheon at Hawarden was
without formality. "Lunch was on the hob," for several hours, to be
partaken of when it suited the convenience of the various members of the
family. Tea, of which Mr. Gladstone was particularly fond, and of which
he could partake at any hour of the day, or night, was served in the
afternoon at 5 o'clock,--after which he finished his correspondence.

In the afternoon, Mr. Gladstone was accustomed to a walk in the grounds,
accompanied by his faithful little black Pomeranian dog, Petz, who was
obtained on a trip abroad, and became and remained for many years, an
important member of the household, and one of Mr. Gladstone's most
devoted followers. Increasing years of over fourscore, prevented finally
walks of fifty miles a day once indulged in, and the axes stood unused
in their stands in the vestibule and library, but still Mr. Gladstone
kept up his walks with his silent companion Petz. After walking for half
an hour longer in his library after his return to the Castle, Mr.
Gladstone would dress for dinner, which operation usually took him from
three to five minutes. At 8 o'clock he joined the family, at dinner,
which was a cheerful meal. Like Goethe he ate heartily and enjoyed his
meals, but his diet was extremely simple, Mr. Gladstone eating only what
was prescribed by his physician. At dinner he talked freely and
brilliantly even when none but his family were present. When visitors
were present he would enter upon whatever was the subject of
conversation, taking his share with others, and pouring a flood of light
upon any theme suggested, giving all the benefit of the fund of wisdom
and anecdote collected through two generations of unparalleled political
and social activity.

After dinner, when there were no visitors at Hawarden, Mr. Gladstone
would quietly sit reading in his library, or conversing with his family.
He never used tobacco. Shortly after 10 o'clock he retired to bed and to
sleep. He never allowed himself to think and be sleepless. Mr. Bright
had a habit of making his speeches after he had retired to bed, which
Mr. Gladstone thought was detrimental to his health. Bight hours was the
time Mr. Gladstone permitted himself to sleep. His bed-room was on the
second floor and reached by a fine staircase. Everything in the room was
plain and homely.

On the walls of his bed-room and over the mantlepiece was a text
emblazoned, on which at evening and morning he could look, which read:
"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee."
This not only expresses Mr. Gladstone's trust in God, but doubtless
accounts in a large degree for that tranquility of mind so notably his,
even in those trying times that prostrated many and carried many more
away from their bearings.

From the worry or weariness of business, Mr. Gladstone was ever ready to
turn for rest to reading, which has thus proved of inestimable value to
him. "His family cannot speak without emotion of that look of perfect
happiness and peace that beamed from his eye on such occasions." When
during the general elections of 1882, this was denied him, he turned
with equal readiness to writing and thinking on other subjects. During
the Midlothian Campaign and General Election, and through the Cabinet
making that followed, he relieved the pressure on his over-burdened
brain by writing an article on Home Rule, "written with all the force
and freshness of a first shock of discovery;" he was also writing daily
on the Psalms; he was preparing a paper for the Oriental Congress which
was to startle the educated world by "its originality and ingenuity;"
and he was composing with great and careful investigation his Oxford
lecture on "The rise and progress of learning in the University
of Oxford."

All during the morning hours he would sit in the silence of that
corner-room on the ground floor reading. There were three writing-desks
in the library, and one was chiefly reserved for correspondence of a
political nature, and another for his literary work, while the third was
used by Mrs. Gladstone. He spent his evenings when at Hawarden in a cosy
corner of the library reading. He had a wonderfully constructed lamp so
arranged for him for night reading, as to throw the utmost possible
light on the pages of the book. It was generally a novel that employed
his mind at night. Occasionally he gives Mrs. Drew about two hundred
novels to divide the sheep from the goats among them. She divides them
into three classes--novels worth keeping, novels to be given away, and
novels to be destroyed.

Mr. Gladstone generally had three books in course of reading at the same
time, changing from one to the other. These books were carefully
selected with reference to their character and contents, and he was
particular as to their order and variation. For instance at one time he
was reading Dr. Laugen's Roman History, in German, in the morning,
Virgil in the afternoon, and a novel at night. Scott was his preference
among novelists. He read with pencil in hand, and he had an elaborate
system of marking a book. Aristotle, St. Augustine, Dante and Bishop
Butler were the authors who had the deepest influence upon him, so he
himself said. His copy of the Odyssey of Homer he had rebound several
times, as he preferred always to use the same copy.

Mrs. Drew says of her father: "There could not be a better illustration
of his mind than his Temple of Peace--his study, with its
extraordinarily methodical arrangement. Away from home he will write an
exact description of the key or paper he requires, as: 'Open the left
hand drawer of the writing table nearest the fireplace, and at the back
of the drawer, in the right hand corner, you will find some keys. You
will see three on one string; send me the one with such and such teeth.'
His mind is arranged in the same way; he has only to open a particular
compartment, labelled so and so, to find the information he requires.
His memory in consequence is almost unfailing. It is commonly found that
in old age the memory may be perfect as regards times long gone by, but
inaccurate and defective as to more recent events. But with Mr.
Gladstone the things of the present are as deeply stamped on his brain
as the things of the past." Some one has said of Mr. Gladstone that his
memory was "terrible." It is evident that he always kept abreast of the
times--informing himself of everything new in literature, science and
art, and when over eighty years of age was as ready to imbibe fresh
ideas as when he was only eighteen, and far more discriminating.

Those who entered Mr. Gladstone's official room on a Sunday, during the
busiest parliamentary session, could not fail to be struck by the
atmosphere of repose, the signs and symbols of the day, the books lying
open near the armchair, the deserted writing-table, the absence of
papers and newspapers. On Sunday Mr. Gladstone put away all business of
a secular nature, occupied his time in reading special books, suitable
to the day, and generally attended church twice, never dined out, except
he went on a mission of mercy, or to cheer some sorrowful friend. When
the Queen invited him to Windsor Castle on Sunday for one night, as she
did sometimes, he always arranged to stay in Windsor Saturday. In his
dressing room he kept a large open bible in which he daily read.
Physically, intellectually and spiritually Mr. Gladstone's Sundays were
regarded by his family as a priceless blessing to him, and to have made
him the man he was. Mr. Gladstone had strict notions of his duty to his
church. Whenever he established himself in London, he always attended
the nearest church, and became regular in his attendance, not only on
the Sabbath, but daily. With an empire on his shoulders he found time
for daily public devotion, and in church-going he was no "gadabout."
When he resided at Carlton House Terrace he attended the church of St.
Martin-in-the-Fields.

Mr. Gladstone's daily correspondence, when Prime Minister, was simply
enormous. At first he felt it to be a conscientious duty to deal with
the most of it himself, but finally came to trust the bulk of it to
secretaries as other ministers did. Some letters came to him daily that
he had to answer with his own hand; for example, from ministers or on
confidental business, from the court, At the end of every Cabinet
Council the Premier has to write a letter with his own hand to his
sovereign, giving full information of the business transacted. The same
kind of report is required daily from Parliament. Of course Mr.
Gladstone, whenever he was Prime Minister, faithfully attended to this
duty and dispatched the required letters written with his own hand to
the Queen.

Mr. Gladstone was remarkable for the strength and endurance of his body
as well as for the vigor of his intellect. "Don't talk to me of Mr.
Gladstone's mind," said a contemporary; "it is his body which astonishes
me." He never had any serious illness in his life, and up to quite
recent years were vigorous exercise, sometimes walking when in Scotland
20 miles at a stretch over rough and mountainous country. The physical
effort of speaking to twenty thousand people, and being heard in every
part of the vast building by the audience, as was the case at
Birmingham, in 1889, was remarkable. His power of endurance was
wonderful. In 1882, he once sat up through an all-night sitting of the
House of Commons, and going back to 10 Downing Street, at 8 o'clock in
the morning, for half an hour's rest, again returned to the House and
remained until the conclusion of the setting. Tree-cutting, which was
with him a frequent recreation until he became a very old man, was
chosen "as giving him the maximum of healthy exercise in the minimum of
time." This favorite pastime of the great statesman was so closely
associated with him that it was deemed the proper thing to do to place
on exhibition in the Great Columbian Exposition at Chicago one of the
axes of Mr. Gladstone.

The Psalmist says, "A man was famous according as he had lifted up axes
upon the thick trees." These singular words were written long before
Mr. Gladstone's day, but famous as he was for felling the great trees of
the forest, the words have a deeper meaning and in more than one sense
met their fulfilment in him. His swift and keen axe of reform brought
down many hoary headed evils. Mr. Gladstone himself explained why he
cultivated this habit of cutting down trees. He said: "I chop wood
because I find that it is the only occupation in the world that drives
all thought from my mind. When I walk or ride or play cricket, I am
still debating important business problems, but when I chop wood I can
think of nothing but making the chips fly."

The following story illustrates Mr. Gladstone's remarkable powers and
the surprise he would spring upon those who met him. Two gentlemen who
were invited guests at a table where Mr. Gladstone was expected, made a
wager that they would start a conversation on a subject about which even
Mr. Gladstone would know nothing. To accomplish this end they "read up"
an "ancient" magazine article on some unfamiliar subject connected with
Chinese manufactures. When the favorable opportunity came the topic was
started, and the two conspirators watched with amusement the growing
interest in the subject which Mr. Gladstone's face betrayed. Finally he
joined in the conversation, and their amusement was turned into
confusion, when Mr. Gladstone said, "Ah, gentlemen, I perceive you have
been reading an article I wrote in the ---- Magazine some thirty or
forty years ago."




CHAPTER XXI


CLOSING SCENES OF A LONG AND EVENTFUL LIFE

Mr. Gladstone died at Hawarden Castle, at 5 o'clock, Thursday Morning,
May 19, 1898.

The first intimation of the rapidly approaching end of Mr. Gladstone was
conveyed in a bulletin issued at 9 o'clock Tuesday morning, May 17. It
read "Mr. Gladstone had a poor and broken sleep last night; he is
somewhat exhausted, but suffers no discomfort." The report of the
evening before was assuring as to any sudden change, so that the anxiety
was increased. For hours no additional information was given, but there
were indications outside the Castle of a crisis. Throughout the day
could be heard expressions of deep regret among the working people,
asking, "How is the old gentleman?" Despite the heavy rain the people
collected in groups, and the hush and quiet that prevailed indicated the
presence of death.

A bulletin at 5 p.m. said: "Mr. Gladstone has taken a serious turn for
the worse. His death may be expected in twenty-four hours." All day the
condition of the patient had been critical. The doctor doubted that his
patient was fully conscious at any time, he answered, "Yes," and "No."
He refused all medicine, exclaiming No! No! It was remarked that when
addressed in English, Mr. Gladstone would answer in French, and
sometimes was praying in French.

Later in the evening the servants of the household were admitted to the
sick room for a final farewell. They found Mr. Gladstone lying in a deep
sleep; each in turn knelt down, kissed his hand and tearfully withdrew.

About 9 o'clock the patient rallied a little and fell into a peaceful
sleep, which was thought to be his last.

The rain had continued to fall during the night, but the villagers had
been coming singly and in groups to glance silently at the rain-beaten
scrap of paper which was the latest bulletin, and then silently
returning to the gate, and disappearing in the darkness only to
return later.

About 4 o'clock in the morning Mr. Gladstone seemed to be sinking. The
scene in the sick-room was painful. The Rev. Stephen Gladstone read
prayers and hymns, including Mr. Gladstone's favorite, "Rock of Ages."
When this was concluded, Mr. Gladstone murmured, "Our Father." As Mrs.
Gladstone leaned over her husband, he turned his head and his lips moved
slightly. Though extremely distressed, Mrs. Gladstone bore up with
remarkable fortitude. But Mr. Gladstone rallied again, and Wednesday
morning he was still living. By his almost superhuman vitality he had
fought death away.

The morning was beautiful and clear and the sunshine came in at the open
window of Mr. Gladstone's room. The aged sufferer was hovering between
life and death, and only by the feeble beating of his pulse could it be
told he was alive. He was sleeping himself away into eternal day. Mrs.
Gladstone sat by the side of his bed, holding his hand, and never
leaving except for needed rest. At times he seemed to recognize for a
moment some of those with him. He surely knew his wife as she tenderly
kissed his hand.

It soon became known abroad that Mr. Gladstone was dying. In the House
of Commons it caused profound sorrow. Everything else was stopped while
members discussed how best to honor him, even by taking steps without,
precedent as that of adjourning, because the circumstances were
unprecedented. His former colleagues silently watched his last struggle
with the relentless foe, to whom, true to himself, he was yielding
slowly, inch by inch.

Telegrams of inquiry and sympathy came from all parts of the world to
the Castle. The Queen wrote making inquiries and tendering assurances of
profound sympathy. A long telegram from the Princess of Wales concluded:
"I am praying for you." The Prince of Wales wrote: "My thoughts are with
you at this trying time., God grant that your father does not suffer."
The Duke of Devonshire before the British Empire League referred
touchingly to the mournful scenes at Hawarden, when "the greatest of
Englishmen was slowly passing away." And all over the land people of all
conditions and at all kinds of gatherings, politicians, divines,
reformers, and women joined in expressions of grief and sympathy. Many
were the messages of regard and condolence that came from other lands.

Dr. Dobie furnishes the following picture of the dying man. "His grand
face bears a most peaceful and beautiful look. A few days ago the deeply
bitten wrinkles that so long marked it were almost gone; but now,
strangely enough, they seem strong and deep as ever. He looks too in
wonderfully good color."

At 2 o'clock in the morning, it was evident that the time had come, and
the family gathered about the bed of the aged man, from that time none
of them left the room until all was over. The only absentee was little
Dorothy Drew, who tearfully complained that her grandfather did not know
her. Behind the family circle stood the physicians and the nurses, and
the old coachman, who had been unable to be present when the other
servants took their farewell, and who was now sent for to witness the
closing scene.

The end was most peaceful. There were no signs of bodily pain or of
mental distress. The Rev. Stephen Gladstone read prayers and repeated
hymns. The nurse continued to bathe with spirits the brow of the
patient, who showed gratitude by murmuring, "How nice!" While the son
was engaged in praying, came the gentle, almost perceptible cessation of
life, and the great man was no more. So quietly had he breathed his
last, that the family did not know it until it was announced by the
medical attendants. The weeping family then filed slowly from the room,
Mrs. Gladstone was led into another room and induced to lie down. The
only spoken evidence that Mr. Gladstone realized his surroundings in his
last moments was when his son recited the litany. Then the dying man
murmured, "Amen." This was the last word spoken by Mr. Gladstone and was
uttered just before he died.

The death of Mr. Gladstone was announced to the people of Hawarden by
the tolling of the church bell. The following bulletin was posted at 6
a.m.: "In the natural course of things the funeral will be at Hawarden.
Mr. Gladstone expressed a strong wish to have no flowers at his funeral;
and the family will be grateful if this desire is strictly respected."

There was something indescribably pathetic in the daily bulletins about
Mr. Gladstone. All the world knew that he was afflicted with a fatal but
slow disease, and all the world was struck with wondering admiration at
his sustained fortitude, patience, and resignation. The tragedy of a
life, devoted simply and purely to the public service, drawing to an end
in so long an agony, was a spectacle that struck home to the heart of
the most callous. These bulletins were posted on the front door of the
Jubilee Porch, at Hawarden Castle, at 9 a.m., 5 p.m. and 10 o'clock at
night daily, and published throughout the world.

When the sad event was announced that Mr. Gladstone had passed away, the
action of the House of Commons was prompt, decided and sympathetic. The
House was crowded Thursday, May 19, when Speaker Gully called upon the
government leader, Mr. A. J. Balfour, the First Lord of the Treasury,
and all the members uncovering their heads, Mr. Balfour said:

"I think it will be felt in all parts of the House that we should do
fitting honor to the great man whose long and splendid career closed
to-day, by adjourning.

"This is not the occasion for uttering the thoughts which naturally
suggest themselves. That occasion will present itself to-morrow, when it
will be my duty to submit to the House an address to the Queen, praying
her to grant the honor of a public funeral, if such honor is not
inconsistent with the expressed wishes of himself or of those who have
the right to speak in his behalf, and also praying the Queen to direct
that a public monument be erected at Westminster with an inscription
expressive of the public admiration, attachment and high estimate
entertained by the House of Mr. Gladstone's rare and splendid gifts and
devoted labors in Parliament and in high offices of State.

"Before actually moving the adjournment, I have to propose a formal
resolution that the House to-morrow resolve itself into committee to
draw up an address, the contents of which I have just indicated."

After a word of assent from Sir William Vernon-Harcourt, the Liberal
leader, the resolution was adopted and the House adjourned.

The House of Commons was crowded again on Friday, and went into
committee of the whole to consider the address to the Queen in regard
to the interment of the remains of Mr. Gladstone in Westminster Abbey.
Not since the introduction of the Home Rule Bill by Mr. Gladstone had
there been such an assemblage in the House, members filled every seat,
clustered on the steps of the speaker's dais, and occupied every space.
The galleries were all filled. In the Peer's gallery were the foremost
members of the House of Lords. United States Ambassador Hay and all his
staff were present with other Ambassadors. The members of the House were
in deep mourning, and all removed their hats, as if in the presence of
the dead. An unusual hush overspread all. After the prayer by the
chaplain, there was an impressive silence for a quarter of an hour,
before Mr. Balfour rose to speak. The whole scene was profoundly
affecting. The eulogies of Mr. Gladstone formed an historic episode.
All, without respect to party, united in honoring their late illustrious
countryman.

Mr. Balfour delivered a brilliant panegyric of the dead statesman, and
his speech was eloquent and displayed great taste. He was so ill,
however, from weakness of heart that he was barely able to totter to his
place and to ask the indulgence of the speaker while he rested, before
offering his oration. He was too sick for the sad duty imposed upon him,
but he preferred to pay this last tribute to his friend. The
circumstances were painful, but added a dramatic touch to the scene.
His oration was lengthy and his eulogy spoken with evident emotion. He
concluded by formally moving the presentation of the address to the
Queen. The Liberal Leader, Sir William Vernon-Harcourt, the political as
well as the personal friend of Mr. Gladstone, seconded the motion. He
paid a heartfelt tribute to the memory of his eminent colleague, and
spoke in a vein of lofty and glowing eloquence until overcome with
emotion, so that he had to stop thrice to wipe his eyes; finally he
completely broke down and was unable to proceed.

Mr. Dillon, the Irish leader, in a speech of five minutes duration, and
in his most oratorical style, dwelt on Mr. Gladstone's fervid sympathy
for the oppressed people of all races, and touched a chord which stirred
the House. As Mr. Dillon had spoken for Ireland, so Mr. Abel Thomas
followed as the representative of Wales.

The address to the Queen was unanimously adopted.

In the House of Lords there was also a full attendance of members. The
Marquis of Salisbury, Prime Minister, spoke feelingly of Mr. Gladstone,
who, he said, "was ever guided in all his efforts by a lofty moral
idea". The deceased will be remembered, not so much for his political
work as for the great example, hardly paralleled in history, of the
great Christian Statesman.

The Earl of Kimberly, the liberal leader in the House of Lords, followed
in a touching tribute, and the Duke of Devonshire expressed generous
appreciation of Mr. Gladstone's services in behalf of the Liberal
Unionists, saying their severance from Mr. Gladstone was a most painful
incident. But, he added, he could "recall no word from Mr. Gladstone
which added unnecessarily to the bitterness of the situation." The Earl
of Rosebery delivered an eloquent panegyric. The honors of the occasion
were unanimously accorded to him, whose eulogy of his predecessor in the
leadership of the liberal party was a masterpiece of its kind. He spoke
of the triumphs of life rather than the sorrows of death. Death was not
all sadness. His life was full---his memory remains. To all time he is
an example for our race and mankind. He instanced as an illustration of
the fine courtesy always observed by Mr. Gladstone towards his political
opponents, that the last letter he had written with his own hand was a
private note to Lady Salisbury, several weeks since, congratulating her
and her husband on their providential escape from a carriage accident at
Hatfield. Lord Salisbury was visibly touched by Lord Rosebery's
reference to this circumstance.

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