THE BARONESS BURDETT-COUTTS.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2045, 13 September 1880, Page 2

THE BARONESS BURDETT-COUTTS.

[“Truth.”] Any person who has had the honour of conversing with the most munificent lady in the land must have been pleased and refreshed by her extremely sharp common sense. She does not waste words, and has no sentimental fripperies in her talk. Not even an Irishman, and St. Patrick knows how hard he tried, could ruffle the serene calm of manner which distinguished the great heiress, though she was but just entering public life, when Mr Dunn desired to make himself happy with more gallantry and perseverance than delicacy or discretion. Then, no sooner did it become known that Miss Ooutts had a mind intent on charity, than all the begging letter-writers of the three kingdoms and elsewhere entered into the liveliest correspondence with her. The postmen who came to 1, Stratton street, Piccadilly, and to Holly Lodge, Highg&te, groaned in spirit under their burthen, end the robust porters of both establishments turned pale under the avalanche of paper that fell upon them. Not so Miss Coutts; she was fully equal to the occasion, and had a neat little circular printed to check the true born Briton’s enterprise in this direction. Also, very early after her accession to supreme wealth, she chose Mr Charles Dickens as her minister for pnblic charities, and the choice was in every respect a judicious one. Mr Dickens knew more of the London poor in his time than any of his contemporaries, and he had a large command of popular prase always at Miss Ooutts’ command in “Household Words.” Mr Dickens was succeeded by Mr Wills, the kindest and most genial of litterateurs, and whether Mr Wills’ natural talent for finance was higher than was that of Mr Dickens, or whether some other more occult cause may have enabled him to discharge the delicate functions of his administration more satisfactorily, certain it is that the benefactions placed under his salutary discipline have all gone as upon wheels smoothly oiled. As for the title of baroness which this great lady has consented to adorn, she is understood to have had no other reason for desiring it than a sense of the incongruity which attaches to a person being called “ Miss” who has gone ont of the hail of her teens. Many a higher title has been within her reach. At one time the gossips set about an absurd story that she was going to be married to the Iron Duke of Wellington. The late Sir Robert Inglis, wondering much at| such a rumour, bluntly asked the Duke if he had really offered to marry her, on which there came out a story not unlike the three black crows ot the monkish legend. “I said,” growled his Grace, and his Grace growled awfully in his last decade, “I said that she deserved to be a duchess; I did not say I would make her one.” “The Dnke should have said ‘could,’ not ‘would,’” remarked the Baroness drily, when the queer story was repeated to her, and it is the only epigram attributed to her ladyship in circulation. She is not a sayer of sayings, but a somewhat taciturn woman of businessHer beneficence has been amazing from its vastness. Mart and church, schools for the young, asylums for the old, have risen into being at her word of command. In patronage and influence she is probably the most powerful woman in the world. No other similar figure in English history stands out with such clearness and grandeur. Yet her individuality has not made itself much felt either in society or politics. She merits, indeed, a civic crown, but has hardly the personal popularity of Mias Nightingale, nor does she excite any of that enthusiasm with which our coast folk used to speak of Grace D riling. Perhaps opportunity may have been wanting ; perhaps the one element of heroism may be deficient in a character otherwise almost perfect. It is only just to say that her ladyship has shown a remarkable kindness to actors ; and, considering that her fortune was bequeathed to her by that Miss Mellon who married Thomas Ooutts and the ninth Duke of St. Albans, it is only just that she should think kindly of the stage and its belongings. No ridicule has ever attached to Lady Burdott Coutts, and probably she has never excited laughter in the whole course of her life by anything she did or said. Ladies are seldom conspicuous for the sense of humour, and it has been alleged that the Baroness hee no humour at all. Her acts, her manners, belong to that creditable school which never gives offence ; they do not seek to attract, still less to charm and captivate. She has more friends perhaps than any individual in the kingdom, but not one of the hundred tongues of rumour has ever raised one friend above another in the serene height of her esteem. Her well-wishers may be counted by numbering the whole adult population of the British Empire. It 1s impossible that she can have an honest enemy. But there is not a single sensational story mixed up with her name. She has called forth none of the devotion which women far less worthy have inspired; which have made the name of Qourney and of Fry so tenderly remembered amongst us ; and which have given almost an odour of sanctity to that of Selina, Countess of Huntingdon. We have in our midst an immaculate lady, who ia without sin and without weaknesses. She is ready to bestow alms, but the most skilful imposters have never been able to impose upon her. Her good sense av:d her clearness of judgment are as great as her benevolence.