‘People in my position who swan about doing nothing are neglecting their duty to society’

There’s a familiar sight in the dining room at Hawarden Castle in Flintshire – a dinner service, ready to be laid.

This is no armorial porcelain passed down the generations, but a modern set by John Julian with “Hawarden Castle” across the top and a drawing of a Labrador in the middle, a present for Sir Charles Gladstone of Fasque and Balfour, eighth Baronet, on his 60th birthday in 2024.

Somehow, this modern crockery is the distillation of the project that Gladstone – there is no “Sir Charles” talk here – has long been engaged in: to make Hawarden “relevant”.

Hawarden Castle is not open to the public – “I don’t think anyone has ever paid to come into this house” – but it deserves to be seen. Built in the 1750s and inherited by the Gladstones through the marriage of Catherine Glynne to William Ewart Gladstone in 1839, it is outrageously charming: its exterior is romantic, and inside, an absolute riot.

Though elements of traditional country-house décor remain – pelmets in the big sitting room, a visitor’s book in the hall – every room is packed with curios, a bearskin here, a dog’s bust there. There are also pictures of Gladstone’s past and present in every form: in oil by Lely, by Céline Bodin, a French photographer, in frames on every surface.

This curated space is home to Gladstone, the great-great-grandson of the four-time premier, his wife Caroline and their six children. It is a veritable museum of centuries of Gladstonia – the past tidily preserved in the Temple of Peace, W. E. Gladstone’s former library, in which a piece of modern art by Ai Weiwei aptly reads: “Are you controlled by the privileged class?”

Gladstone has a name and background that make him sound suspiciously like the sort of man who idles his life away in a gunroom. Not a bit: he has worked in the music business and believes that people like him who swan about achieving nothing are guilty of “a dereliction of your duty to society”.

‘Ruined and in debt’

In 1982, aged 18, he inherited not just Hawarden but the 50,000-acre Glen Dye and Fasque Estate in Aberdeenshire. These were “effectively completely ruined and in debt”, while Hawarden, his childhood home, had been neglected by his mismatched parents.

His father, Sir William “Willie” Gladstone, seventh Baronet, was, following a career as a schoolmaster, a professional dignitary: chief scout, lord-lieutenant of Clwyd, a justice of the peace and appointed a Knight of the Garter in 1999. “He used to say that he’d got it because Queen Victoria had been so unpleasant to William Gladstone, but he was a brilliant public servant.”

His wife, Lady Rosamund Gladstone, the niece of Cecil Beaton, the photographer, had no interest in cutting ribbons, nor in Hawarden. “She was very shy and anxious, and it meant that he was alone,” said Gladstone. “If you take on something like this, it’s helpful to have a supportive other half.”

He smiles at a nearby photograph of his father. “He was a great man – any good qualities I have come from him. I think he retreated from mum. It’s hard to say ‘let’s do the kitchen’ if the response is ‘I wish we had a smaller kitchen.’”

He doesn’t blame his parents for allowing Hawarden to rot, but “I feel in some ways that while Nero fiddled, Rome burnt. The walls were up metaphorically as well as literally.”

In 1990, Gladstone and his wife, Caroline – “I could not have done this without her enthusiasm” – moved to Scotland and began trying to bring those estates out of debt. “There was no way I could,” he remembered. “There was financial debt at the bank, causing massive interest payments, but equally, there was massive neglect.”

‘The estate is quite profitable’

He sold not just thousands of acres, but Fasque House too, having “tried everything. I was lucky to sell it, but every penny went to the taxman or to paying off debt,” he said. What remains is 15,000 acres at Glen Dye, where he runs “the best, most interesting self-catering holiday business in Scotland,” with 10 properties.

Earlier this year, the Gladstones launched Gladstone’s Luxury Dry Goods, an open studio in which “nearly everything is for sale”. Many pieces derive from the clothing and homewares business Gladstone Hellen, which they founded with Sarah Hellen, a Welsh artist, in 2024.

Coming home to Hawarden, where, as a young man, he had felt “quite otherworldly and alienated”, Gladstone has harnessed this difference. “I thought if I could make [the village] a really attractive place to live, the value of our real estate would go up – if I could get hospitality, retail, events and culture into the area, then it would become a more desirable place to live.”

Now, with a thriving farm shop and restaurant, a campsite, a panoply of new footpaths, event spaces in both the restored cricket pavilion and walled garden, the gastropub The Glynne Arms, and the charitable opening of the 12th-century old Hawarden Castle next door, he has succeeded: Hawarden has featured in The Sunday Times’ “Best Places to Live” list twice.

“Rental values are going up, there are waiting lists, and the quality of tenants is fantastic,” he says. “It’s made the place relevant.” This is a word he uses a lot. “What we’re trying to do is create a relevant place for us. I think Hawarden now, for better or worse, means more in the public discourse than Gladstone did 20 years ago.”

Efforts to share good fortune

This isn’t about feathering his nest – though “the estate is quite profitable” – but about the broader impact. “Any group in society should be trying to do good for wider society, and that doesn’t have to mean prostrating yourself and giving away money. In our case, it’s about trying to share our good fortune to make a better quality of life.”

In recent years, he gave away some money: in 2023, confronting the fact that Sir John Gladstone owned slaves in the Caribbean, he travelled to Guyana to apologise on behalf of his family and gave £100,000 towards the launch of the University of Guyana’s International Institute for Migration and Diaspora Studies.

“It’s been painful, but it feels like we’re doing something in that Gladstonian liberal tradition,” he says. Does he detect the hand of paternalism in his work? “I am conscious of it. We employ 70 to 80 people here, so nearly everyone I encounter on a daily basis is in my employ.”

Remaining relevant isn’t just necessary for Hawarden, but is “the only way that the establishment is going to continue to exist.”

He embraces his place in this. “I went to Eton and Oxford, so to say that I’m not part of the establishment is ridiculous! I believe in owning it, and part of that is not apologising. Why should it continue to exist? There’s no reason, but you can’t [maintain it] by putting up barriers.

“We’ve been through some massive changes in these houses – who knows what will get us in the end.”

Gladstone doesn’t use his title, and eventually it will pass to his eldest son, Jack Gladstone. “I cannot imagine him using it,” he says. As for the estates, “We’ll see who wants them. I don’t believe in primogeniture; I just don’t think it suits our family.”

Where does he derive his energy from? “I’m just quite driven,” he says. “Passion for place is hugely important, and I bloody love it. I love it! What’s not to like? I can do what I like – and what I like happens to be working.”

Heirs and Graces: A History of the Modern British Aristocracy by Eleanor Doughty is published by Hutchinson

[Source: Daily Telegraph]