Lady Dorothy Macmillan The last time I saw Lady Dorothy
was a few months ago at her home at Birch Grove, Sus- sex. We had come to prepare a television pro- gramme on her husband, and there she was, sur- rounded by adoring grandchildren (one of whom, eyeing the monstrous barrage of electronic equipment, asked anxiously 'are you going to send grandpa into space?'), reacting to our un- welcome intrusion with a warm dignity that owed nothing to position or age. Indeed, watching her lope quietly round the house, glancing con- spiratorially round the corner as she tried to avoid an unexpected caller, it was impossible to think of her as old at all. Which makes her sud. den death last weekend so cruelly premature. A friend writes:
An enterprising historian will one day write a study of the wives of British Prime Ministers.
When he does Lady Dorothy will have a chap- ter to herself. The first attribute which distinguished her was her absorbed interest in life and in people. This embraced politics but was never limited by them. Blessed with a memory for people almost royal in its tenacious accuracy she never had to feign pleasure in using
it. To this naturally genuine approach to people she added an extraordinary vitality. Impetuous,
even impatient, by nature, she carried with her her own whirlpool of activity. Those who found themselves in the path of her benevolent passage were picked up and dumped further for- ward, bewildered yet exhilarated.
With grandeur and great affairs she was familiar all her life. Official pomp had no power
to awe her nor could it turn her from her own
straightforward course. This simplicity, so refreshingly honest, had nothing naive about it. She just acted on her belief that Presidents and Premiers and even electors were after all ordinary human beings; usually she proved right. Never an intellectual, she had a shrewd judgment about men and affairs. Fiercely loyal, she was a fine fighter when those she loved were threatened. All in all a great lady in solid North Country style and yet a fit consort for a great modern Prime Minister. By itself this need not make the world outside her family
circle weep for her. The cause for tears is deeper. Never did No. 10 and Admiralty House please her so much as when, on the Queen's Birthday, she could fill them with children to watch the Trooping and eat sticky cakes all over grave Ambassadorial guests. For that warm heart she is much mourned.
Previous page
