We deeply regret to record the death of Lady Grey,
the wife of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, which took place last Sunday morning from the results of a carriage accident on the previous Thursday. Lady Grey was a woman of rare and commanding personality, who, with gifts and endowments that might have secured for her a brilliant position in society, found happiness in an unselfish seclusion, preferring the country to the town and friendship to publicity. She was not unsociable, though she was not "afraid to sit at home and think "; she "loved her life, though not of death afraid." No one could be long in her company without being impressed by her high ideals, her keen intelli- gence, her uncompromising sincerity, her noble intolerance, and her intense interest in politics, which yet never impaired her genius for friendship. There was, in short, an element of greatness alike in her reserve and her enthusiasm to which Mr. Newbolt has paid fitting tribute in another column. The irony of fate has seldom been more conspicuously displayed than in this disaster, which, following so closely on his assumption of high office with the unanimous approval of all parties, has robbed an honoured statesman of one who was his best comrade as well as his truest helpmeet. The King's message to Sir Edward Grey faithfully represents the feeling of national sympathy called forth by the Foreign Secretary's bereavement. In the face of so tragic a calamity the formulas of condolence break down, and one can only confess their inadequacy.
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