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LADY JOHN RUSSELL
A Memoir with Selections from Her Diaries and Correspondence
EDITED BY
DESMOND MACCARTHY AND AGATHA RUSSELL
WITH TEN ILLUSTRATIONS, OF WHICH SIX ARE IN COLOUR
SECOND EDITION
1910
The manuscripts which have supplied the material for a memoir of my mother deal much more fully with the life of my father than with her own life. Mr. Desmond MacCarthy has therefore linked into the narrative several important incidents in my father's career.
The greater part of the memoir is written by Mr. Desmond MacCarthy; the political and historical commentary is almost entirely his work. The impartial and independent opinion of one outside the family, both in writing the memoir and in selecting passages from the manuscripts for publication, has been of great value.
My grateful thanks are due to His Majesty the King for giving permission to publish letters from Queen Victoria.
I am also grateful to friends and relations who have placed letters at my disposal; especially to my brother, whose helpful encouragement throughout the work has been most valuable.
Mr. Justin McCarthy, who many years ago recorded his impressions of my mother in his Reminiscences, has now most kindly contributed to this book a chapter of Recollections.
My cordial thanks are also due to Mr. George Trevelyan for reading the proof sheets, and to Mr. Frederic Harrison for giving permission to publish his Memorial Address at the end of this volume.
AGATHA RUSSELL
ROZELDENE, HINDHEAD, SURREY
October, 1910
On November 15, 1815, at Minto in Roxburghshire, the home of the Elliots, a second daughter was born to the Earl and Countess of Minto.
Frances Anna Maria Elliot, who afterwards became the first Countess Russell, was destined to a long, eventful life. As a girl she lived among those directing the changes of those times; as the wife of a Prime Minister of England unusually reticent in superficial relations but open in intimacy, in whom the qualities of administrator and politician overlay the detachment of sensitive reflection, she came to judge men and events by principles drawn from deep feelings and wide surveys; and in the long years of her widowhood, possessing still great natural vitality and vivacity of feeling, she continued open to the influences of an altered time, delighting and astonishing many who might have expected to find between her and them the ghostly barrier of a generation.
She died in January, 1898. The span of her life covers, then, many important political events, and we shall catch glimpses of these as they affect her. Though the intention of the following pages is biographical, the story of Lady Russell's life, after marriage, coincides so closely with her husband's public career that the thread connecting her letters together must be the political events in which he took part. Some of her letters, by throwing light on the sentiments and considerations which weighed with him at doubtful junctures, are not without value to the historian. It is not, however, the historian who has been chiefly considered in putting them together, but rather the general reader, who may find his notions of past politics vivified and refreshed by following history in the contemporary comments of one so passionately and so personally interested at every turn of events.
Another motive has also had a part in determining the possessors of Lady Russell's letters to publish them. Memory is the most sacred, but also the most perishable of shrines; hence it sometimes seems well worth while to break through reticence to give greater permanence to precious recollections. With this end also the following pages have been put together, and many small details included to help the subject of this memoir to live again in the imagination of the reader. For from brief and even superficial contact with the living we may gain much; but the dead, if they are to be known at all, must be known more intimately.
* * * * *
Minto House, where Lady Fanny was born, is beautifully situated above a steep and wooded glen, and is only a short distance from the river Teviot. The hills around are not like the wild rugged mountains of the Highlands, but have a soft and tender beauty of their own. Her childhood was far more secluded than the life that would have fallen to her lot had she been born in the next generation, for her home in Roxburghshire, in coach and turnpike days, was more remote from the central stir and business of life than any spot in the United Kingdom at the present time. Lady Fanny used to relate what a great event it was for the household at Minto when on very rare occasions her father brought from London a parcel of new books, which were eagerly opened by the family and read with delight. Those were not the days of circulating libraries, and both the old standard books on the Minto library shelves and the few new ones occasionally added were read and re-read with a thoroughness rare among modern readers, surrounded by a multiplicity of books old and new.
They were a large, young family, five boys and five girls, ranging from the ages of three years old to eighteen in 1830, when her diaries begin, all eager, high-spirited children, and exceptionally strong and healthy. In her early diaries, describing day-long journeys in coaches, early starts and late arrivals, she hardly ever mentions feeling tired, and she enjoyed the old methods of travelling infinitely more than the railway journeys of later days, about which she felt like the Frenchman who said: “On ne voyage plus; on arrive.” Long wild country walks in Scotland and mountain-climbing in Switzerland were particularly delightful to her.
This stock of sound vitality stood her in good stead all her life; only during those years which followed the birth of her eldest son does it seem to have failed her. Her life was an exceptionally busy one, and her strong feelings and sense of responsibility made even small domestic affairs matters for close attention; yet in the diaries and letters of her later life there are no entries which betray either the lassitude or the restlessness of fatigue. She was not one of those busy women who only keep pace with their interests by deputing home management to others. This power of endurance in a deeply feeling nature is one of the first facts which any one attempting to tell the story of her life must bring before the reader's notice.
There was much reading aloud in the fireside circle at Minto, and for the boys much riding and sport. Many hours were spent upon the heather or in fishing the Teviot. Lady Fanny herself cared little for sport, or only for its picturesque side. Near the house are the rocks known as Minto Crags, mentioned by Sir Walter Scott in the “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” where many and many a time Lady Fanny raced about on hunting days, watching the redcoats with childish eagerness—intensely interested in the joyousness and beauty of the sight, but in her heart always secretly thankful if the fox escaped. Fox-hunting on Minto Crags must indeed have been a picturesque sight, and there was a special rock overhanging a precipice upon which she loved to sit and watch the wild chase, men and horses appearing and disappearing with flashing rapidity among the woods and ravines beneath. The pleasures of an open-air life meant so much to her that, in so far as it was possible for one with her temperament to pine at all, she was often homesick in the town, longing for the peace and freedom of the country.
There were expeditions of other kinds too.
“Gibby [1] and I,” she writes towards the end of one October,
“up a
little after five this morning and up the big hill to see the
sun
rise. It was moonlight when we went out, and all so still and
indistinct—for it was a cloudy moon—that our steps and voices
sounded quite odd. It was mild enough, but so wet with dew that
our
feet grew very cold. We waited some time on the top before he
rose
and had a long talk with the Kaims shepherd. It was well worth
having gone; though there was nothing fine in the sky or clouds
compared to what I have constantly seen at sunrise. But what I
thought beautiful was the entire change that his rising made in
everything. All we were looking at suddenly became so bright
and
cheerful, and a hum of people and noises of animals were heard
from
the village.” “I wish people,” she adds impetuously, “would
shake
off sleep as soon as the blushing morn does peep in at their
windows.”
[1] Her brother Gilbert.
The entries in these early diaries show a quality of clear authentic vision, which was afterwards so characteristic of her conversation. For those who remember their own youthful feelings, even the stiff occasional scraps of poetry she wrote at this time glow with a life not always discernible in the deft writing of more experienced verse-makers.
The household was a brisk, cheerful, active one, and ruled by the spirit of order necessary in a home where many different kinds of things are being done each day by its different inmates. The children were treated with no particular indulgence, and the elder ones were taught to be responsible not only for their own actions, but for the good behaviour, and, in a certain measure, for the education of the younger ones. As a girl she writes down in her diary many hopes and fears about her younger brothers and sisters, which resemble those afterwards awakened in her by the care of her own children. A big family in a great house, with all the different relations and contacts such a life implies, is in itself an education, and Lady Fanny seems to have profited by all that such experiences can give. If she came from such a home anticipating from everybody more loyalty and consistency of feeling than is common in human nature, and crediting everybody with it, that is in itself a kind of generous severity of expectation which, though it may be sometimes the cause of mistakes, helps also to create in others the qualities it looks to find.
The children had plenty of outlets for their high spirits. There are some slight records left of the opening of a “Theatre Royal, Minto,” and of a glorious evening ending in an “excellent country bumpkin,” with bed at two in the morning; of reels and dances, too, and many hours laconically summed up as “famous fun” in the diary. Then there were such September days as this:
“Bob'm [2] and I went in the phaeton to meet the boys. They were
very successful—about twelve brace. The heather was in full
blow,
and in wet parts the ground white with parnassia. I never felt
such
an air—it made me feel quite wild. The sunset behind the far
hills
and reflected in the lonely little shaw loch most beautiful.
When
we began our walk there was a fine soft wind that felt as if it
would lift one up to the clouds, but before we got back to the
little house it had quite fallen, and all was as still as in a
desert, except now and then the wild cry of the grouse and
black-cock. Bob'm mad with spirits, and talked nonsense all the
way
home. Not too dark to see the beautiful outline of the country
all
the way.”
[2] Her sister Charlotte, afterwards Lady Charlotte Portal.
Such tired, happy home-comings stay in the memory; drives back at the end of long days, when scraps of talk and laughter and the pleasure of being together mingle so kindly with the solemnity of the darkening country; drives which end in a sudden blaze of welcome, in fire-light and candles, tea and a hubbub of talk, when everything, though familiar, seems to confess to a new happiness.
Here is another entry a few days later:
“Beautiful day, but a very high, warm real Minto wind. We
wandered out very late and sat under the lime, playing at being
at
sea, feeling the stem rock above us as we lent against it and
hearing the roaring of the waves in the trees. No summer's day
can
be better than such a day and evening as this—there was a
cloudy
moon, too, above the branches. I wish I could express, but I
never
can, the sort of feeling I have at times—now more than I ever
had
before—which would sound like affectation if one talked of it.
A
fine day, or beautiful country, or very often nothing but the
sky
or earth or the singing of a bird gives it. One feels too much
love
and gratitude and admiration, and something swells my heart so
that
I do not know how to look or listen enough.”
There was another kind of romance, too, in her young life, destined in future to be at times a source of pain and anxiety, though also of keen gratification and permanent pride. What can equal the romance of politics when we are quite young, when “politics” mean nothing but “serving one's country” and have no other associations but that one, when politicians seem necessarily great men? The love-dreams of adolescence have often been celebrated; but among young creatures whose lives give plenty of play to their affections in a spontaneous way, such dreams seldom vie in intensity with the mysterious call of religion or with the emotion of patriotism. It stands for an emotion which seems as large as the love of mankind, and its service calls for enthusiasm and self-devotion. The Mintos were in the thick of politics and the times were stirring times. “Throughout the last two centuries of our history,” says Sir George Trevelyan in his Life of Macaulay, “there never was a period when a man, conscious of power, impatient of public wrongs, and still young enough to love a fight for its own sake, could have entered Parliament with a fairer prospect of leading a life worth living and doing work that would requite the pains, than at the commencement of the year 1830.” Her father was not only the most genial and kindest of fathers, but he was to her something of a hero too. His political career had not begun during these days at Minto; still he was in the counsel of the leaders of the day—Lord Grey, Lord John Russell, Lords Melbourne and Althorp—great names indeed to her. And the new Cabinet was soon to appoint him Minister at Berlin.
The country was under the personal rule of the Duke of Wellington, who had sorted out from his Cabinet any who were tainted with sympathy for reform; but, as the election of July which resulted in his resignation showed, the country, however one-sided its representation might have been in the House of Commons, had been long in a state of political ferment. This state of affairs, the gradual breaking up of the Tory party dating from the passing of the Catholic Emancipation Bill, the brewing social troubles, and the prospect of power crossing to the party which was determined on meeting them with reform, made politics everywhere the most absorbing of themes.
In a country house like Minto, which was in close communication with the statesmen of the time, discussions were of course frequent and keen. The guests were often important politicians; and long before Lady Fanny saw her future husband, she frequently heard his name as one whom those she admired looked up to as a leader. In a girl by nature very susceptible to the appeal of great causes, whose active brain made her delight in the arguments of her elders, these surroundings were likely to foster a passionate interest in public affairs; while other influences round her were tending to increase in her a natural sense of the delicacy and preciousness of personal relations. In the course of telling her story occasions may come for remarking again on what was one of the chief graces of her character; but in a book of this kind the sooner the reader becomes acquainted with the subject of it, the more he is likely to see in what follows. So let it be said of her at once that in all relations in which affection was complicated on one side by gratitude, or on her side by superiority in education or social position, she was perfect. She could be employer and benefactress without letting such circumstances deflect in the slightest degree the stream of confidence and affection between her and another. She had the faculty of removing a sense of obligation and of forgetting it herself. Such a faculty is only found in its perfection where the mind is sensitive in perceiving the delicacy of the relations between people; and it must be added that like most people who possess that sensitiveness, she missed it acutely in those who markedly did not.
The life at Minto, with its many contacts, was a life in which such a faculty could grow to perfection. The daughters, while sharing much of the boys' lives at Minto, saw a great deal of the people upon the estate.
The intercourse between the family at the House and the people of Minto village was of an intimate and affectionate nature. Joys and sorrows were shared in unvarying friendliness and sympathy, and to the end of her life “Lady Fanny” remembered with warm affection the old village friends of her youth. Kindly, true-hearted folk they were, with a sturdy and independent spirit which she valued and respected.
She only remembered seeing Sir Walter Scott on one occasion—when he came to visit her parents. She was quite a child, and it was the day on which her old nurse left Minto. She had wept bitterly, and when Sir Walter Scott came she hardly dared even look at him with her tearful countenance. She always remembered regretfully her indifference about the great man, whose visit was ever after connected in her mind with one of the first sorrows of her childhood. She regretted still more that in those days political differences unhappily prevented the close and friendly intercourse which would otherwise have undoubtedly existed between the Minto family and Sir Walter Scott.
A word or two must be said upon the religion in which she was brought up, for from her childhood she was deeply religious. Like her love for those nearest to her, it entered into everything that interested or delighted her profoundly; into her interest in politics and social questions and into her enjoyment of nature.
The Mintos belonged to the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. The doctrines of this Church are not of significance here, but an indication of the attitude towards dogma, history, and conduct which harmonizes with these tenets is necessary to the understanding of her life. For this purpose it is only necessary to say that this Church belongs to that half of Protestantism which does not lay peculiar stress upon an inner conviction of salvation. It differs from the evangelical persuasions in this respect, and again from the Church of England in finding less significance in ecclesiastical symbols, in setting less store by traditional usages, and in a more constant and uncompromising disapproval of any doctrine which regards the clergy as having spiritual functions or privileges different from those of other men. In the latter half of her life she came gradually to a Unitarian faith, which she held with earnestness to the last; and the name “Free Church” became more significant to her through the suggestion it carried of a religion detached from creeds and articles. Many entries occur in her diaries protesting against what she felt as mischievous narrowness in the books she read and in the sermons she heard. She sympathized heartily with Lord John Russell's dislike of the Oxford movement. There are many prayers in her diaries and many religious reflections in her letters, and in all two emotions predominate; a trust in God and an earnest conviction that a life of love—love to God and man—is the heart of religion. Her religion was contemplative as well as practical; but it was a religion of the conscience rather than one of mystical emotions.
Of personal influences, her mother's, until marriage, was the strongest. There are only two long breaks in the diary she kept, when she had no heart to write down her thoughts; one occurs during the year of Lady Minto's long and serious illness at Berlin, which began in 1832, and the other after Lord John Russell's death in 1878.
Lady Minto was not strong; bringing many sons and daughters into the world had tried her; and her delicacy seems to have drawn her children closer round her. Lady Fanny's references to her mother are full of an anxious, protective devotion, as though she were always watching to see if any shadow of physical or mental trouble were threatening her. So in imagining the merry, active life of this large family, the presence of a mother most tenderly loved, from whom praise seemed something almost too good to be true, must not be forgotten.
In November, 1830 (the year Lady Fanny's diaries begin), the Duke of Wellington resigned, having emphatically declared that the system of representation ought to possess, and did possess, the entire confidence of the country. He had gone so far as to say that the wit of man could not have devised a better representative system than that which Lord John Russell, in the previous session, had attempted to alter by proposing to enfranchise Manchester, Leeds, and Birmingham. But the election which followed the death of George IV on June 26th had not borne out the Duke's assertion; it had gone heavily against him. Lord Grey, forming his Ministry out of the old Whigs and the followers of Canning and Grenville, at once made Reform a Cabinet measure. During the stormy elections of July the news came from Paris that Charles X had been deposed, and unlike the news of the French Revolution, it acted as a stimulus, not as a check, to the reforming party in England.
The next entry quoted from Lady Fanny's diary, begun at the age of fourteen, is dated November 22, 1830; the family were travelling towards Paris, matters having almost quieted down there. Louis Philippe had been recognized by England as King of the French the month before, and the only side of the revolution which came under her young eyes was the somewhat vamped up enthusiasm for the Citizen King which followed his acceptance of the crown and tricolor. It is said that any small boy in those days could exhibit the King to curious sightseers by raising a cheer outside the Tuileries windows, when His Majesty, to whom any manifestation of enthusiasm was extremely precious, would appear automatically upon the balcony and bow. But there were traces of agitation still to be felt up and down the country, and over Paris hung that deceptive, stolid air of indifference which is so puzzling a characteristic of crises in France.
The Mintos travelled in several carriages with a considerable retinue, with a doctor and servants, but not with a train which, in those days, would have been thought remarkable for an English peer.
MELUN, November 22, 1830 [3]
We left Sens at half past eight and did not stop to dine, but
ate
in the carriage. We passed through Fossard, Monteran, and got
here
about four. The doctor is quite grave about his tricolor and
has
worn it all day. We have had immense laughing at him. He was
very
much frightened at Sens, because Papa told him the people of
the
hotel were for the Bourbons and were angry with him for wearing
the
tricolor. A great many post-boys have it on their hats and all
the
fleurs-de-lis on the mile-posts are rubbed out.
[3] All extracts not otherwise specified are from Lady John Russell's diary.
By this date Charles X, surrounded by his gloomy, ceremonial little court of faithful followers, was playing his nightly game of whist in the melancholy shelter of Holyrood, where he was to remain for the next two years, an insipid, sorrowful figure, distinguished by such dignity as unquerulous passivity can lend to the foolish and unfortunate. Meanwhile, Paris was attempting to vamp up some interest in her new King, who walked the streets with an umbrella under his arm.
PARIS, December 23, 1830
We were in the Place Vendome to-day, which was full of national
guards waiting for the King. We stopped to see him. It looked
very
gay and pretty: the National Guard held hands in a long row and
danced for ever so long round and round the pillar, with the
people
shouting as hard as they could. It looked very funny, but the
King
did not come whilst we were there. We heard them singing the
Parisienne. The trial is over and the ministers are at
Vincennes,
going to be put in prison. There have been several mobs about
the
Luxembourg and the Palais Royal, but they think nothing more
will
happen now.
Who can hum now the tune of the “Parisienne”? It has not stayed in men's memories like the “Marseillaise”; no doubt it expressed the prosaic, middle-class spirit of the National Guard, which kept a King upon the throne, in his own way just as determined as his predecessors to rule in the interests of his family.
PARIS, February 5, 1831
Mama, Papa, Mary, Lizzy, [4] Charlie, Doddy [5] and I have been
to
a children's ball at the Palais Royal. It was the most
beautiful
thing I ever saw, and we danced all night long, but no big
people
at all danced. We saw famously all the royal people; and Lizzy
danced with two of the little princes. The Duke of Orleans and
M.
Duc de Nemours were in uniform and so were all the other
gentlemen.
The King and Queen are nice-looking old bodies. [6] It was
capital fun
and very merry indeed, the supper was beautiful. There was
famous
galloping.
[4] Her sisters Mary and Elizabeth, afterwards Lady Mary Abercromby and Lady Elizabeth Romilly.
[5] Her brothers Charles and George.
[6] The next time she was to see the “old bodies” was on her own lawn at Pembroke Lodge, where she heard from the King the unimpressive story of “ma chute.”
PARIS, February 15, 1831
This is Mardi gras, the last day of the Carnival. We were
out in the carriage this morning to see the masks on the
boulevards; there were a great many masks and crowds of people,
whilst there were mobs and rows going on in another part of the
town. The people have quite destroyed the poor Archbishop's
house,
because on Sunday night the Duc de Bordeaux's bust was brought,
and
Mass was said for the Duc de Berry. They have taken all his
books,
furniture, and everything, and they wanted to throw some
priests in
the Seine, and they are breaking the things in the churches and
taking down the crosses. All the National Guard is out.
These disturbances were the last struggles of the party who had not been satisfied by the spectacle of the son of Philippe Egalite, with the tricolor flag in one hand, embracing the ancient Lafayette on the balcony above the Place de Greve. Their animosity against the Church was the ground-swell of the storm which had washed away Charles X himself. The Sacrilege Law introduced in 1825 had revived the barbarous mediaeval penalty of amputating the hand of the offender. Charles's attempt to reintroduce primogeniture by declaring the French principle of the equal division of property to be inconsistent with the principle of monarchy had irritated the people less than the encouragement he had given to monastic corporations which were contrary to law. The controversy which followed between the ecclesiastics and their opponents was the cause of the repeal of the freedom of the Press; and when he had stifled controversy his next step was the suspension of Parliament. Whence followed the events which so abruptly disturbed his evening rubber at St. Cloud on July 25th.
These outbreaks of the republican anti-clerical party to which Lady Fanny refers were soon calmed; a few weeks later the soldiers had no more work to do, and a grand review was held in the Champ de Mars.
PARIS, March 27, 1831
We all went in the carriage to the heights of the Trocadero and
there got out. It was very pretty to look down at the Champ de
Mars, which was quite full of soldiers, who sometimes ranged
themselves in lines and sometimes in nice little bundles and
squares. In front of the Ecole Militaire was a fine tent for
the
Queen and Princesses. The King and the Duc de Nemours rode
about,
and there were some loud cries of “Vive le Roi.” Less than a
year
ago in the same place we saw old Charles X reviewing his
soldiers
and heard “Vive le Roi” shouted for him and saw white flags
waving
about the Champs de Mars instead of tricolor. It seems so odd
that
it should all be changed in so short a time, and spoils the
“Vive
le Roi” very much, because it makes one think they do not care
really for him.
PARIS, April 2, 1831
We had a long walk with Mama to the places where the people that
were killed in July were buried. There are tricolor flags over
them
all, and the flowers and crowns of everlastings were all nicely
arranged about the tombs. Amongst them was the kennel of a poor
dog
whose master was one of the killed, which has come every day
since
and lain on his grave. The dog itself was not in. The poor
Swiss
are buried there, too, but without flowers or crowns or
railings,
or even stones, to show the place.
She had been “wishing horridly for fields and trees and grass” for some time past; on June 16, 1831, they were all back again in England.
DOVER, June 16, 1831
Everything seems odd here; pokers and leather harness, all the
women and girls with bonnets and long petticoats and shawls and
flounces and comfortable poky straw bonnets, and boys so nicely
dressed, and urns and small panes (no glasses and no clocks),
trays, good bread, and everybody with clean and fresh and
pretty
faces. We have been walking this evening by the sea, and all
the
English look very odd; they all look hangy and loose, so
different
from the Paris ladies, laced so tight they can hardly walk, and
the
men and boys look ten times better.
ROCHESTER, June 17, 1831
We did not leave Dover till near twelve—the country has really
been beautiful to-day; all the beautiful gentlemen's places
with
large trees, and the pretty hedges all along the road full of
honeysuckle and roses; clean cows and white fat sheep feeding
in
most beautiful rich green grass; the nicest little cottages
with
lattice windows and thatched roofs and neat gardens, and roses,
ivy, and honeysuckle creeping to the tops of the chimneys;
everybody and everything clean and tidy.... The cart-horses are
beautiful, and even the beggars look as if they washed their
faces.
October 9, 1831, BOGNOR
We heard this morning of the loss of the Reform Bill, and we
were
at first all very sorry, but in a little while rather glad
because
it gives us a chance of Minto. When the people of Bognor heard
it
was lost, they took the flowers and ribands off that they had
dressed up the coaches with, thinking it had passed, and put
them
in mourning.
Lord John Russell had introduced the first Reform Bill on March 1, 1831; this was carried by a majority of one; but in a later division the Government was defeated by a majority of eight, and Parliament was dissolved. The elections resulted in an emphatic verdict in favour of Reform, and on June 24th Lord John introduced the second Reform Bill, which was carried by a large majority in the House of Commons. He had proposed to disfranchise partially or completely 110 boroughs; a proposition which had seemed so revolutionary that it was at first received with laughter by the Opposition, who were confident no such measure could ever pass. Lord Minto had returned from France to support this Bill in the Lords, which on his arrival he found had been rejected by them in a division on the 8th of October. The rejection of the Bill was followed by disturbances throughout the country. Several members of the House of Lords were mobbed, Nottingham Castle was burnt down, and there was fighting and bloodshed in the streets of Bristol. Before the third Reform Bill was brought forward and carried by a huge majority in the Commons, the whole Minto family were on their way North.
Lady Fanny announces the fact of her arrival at her beloved home with many ecstatic exclamation marks.
November 2, 1831, MINTO !!!!
Between Longtown and Langham we passed the toll that divides
England and Scotland. Harry and the coachman waved their hats
and
all heads were poked out at window.
The moment we got into Scotland it felt much finer, the sun
shone
brighter and the country really became far prettier. We went
along
above the Esk, which is a little rattling, rumbling, clear,
rocky
river, prettier than any we ever saw in England....
As we drove into Langham we were much surprised by a loud cheer
from some men and boys at the roadside, who all threw off their
caps as we passed. While we were changing, a man offered to
Papa
that they would drag him through the town; Papa thanked him
very
much but said he would rather not; so the man said perhaps he
would
prefer three cheers, which they gave as we drove off.... The
whole
town crowded round the carriages. Just as we were setting off,
however, we were very much surprised to see numbers of people
take
the pole of the little carriage and run off with Papa and Mama
with
all their might. They spun all through the town at a fine rate,
and
did not stop for ever so long. There was immense cheering as we
drove off, and the people ran after us ever so far.... The
house
all looked beautiful, and this evening we feel as if we had
never
left Minto.
But she was not to stay there long, for early in 1832 they went to Roehampton House, near London, and the same year Lord Minto was appointed Minister at Berlin.
At this time Berlin was not a capital of sufficient dignity to entitle it to an embassy; but considering the state of European politics, the appointment was one of some diplomatic importance.
Germany was at the beginning of her task of consolidation. The revolution of July had not been without its effect on her. In the southern States the cause of representative government was not wholly powerless; but it had been weakened by the reaction after 1815. Since the government was no longer an undisguised tyranny and since the people themselves were growing richer, a strong sentiment of personal loyalty to the sovereign began to spread among them. Constitutional changes were therefore indefinitely postponed. The great work of the next few years for Prussian statesmen was the removal of commercial barriers between the various German States, and the establishment of a Zollverein between them. In this way the sway of Austria was weakened, and though political union as an aim was carefully kept in the background, the foundation for the subsequent consolidation of the German Empire was securely laid. During the two central years of this process, 1832-4, Lord Minto was at Berlin. The manners of the time were far simpler and the life at the court far more informal than they were soon to become. Law and custom still preserved some lingering barbarities: during their stay at Wittenberg they heard of a man being broken on the wheel.
They stopped at Brussels on the way. There is a characteristic entry in Lady Fanny's diary describing a visit to the battle-field.
NAMUR, September 6, 1832
We coach-people left Brussels much earlier than the others that
we
might have time to walk about Waterloo....
They showed us the house where the Duke of Wellington slept the
night before and the night after the battle and wrote home his
dispatches; then after a long and fierce dispute between a man
and
woman which was to guide us, the man took us to the Church,
where
we saw the monuments of immense numbers of poor common soldiers
and
officers—then to the place where four hundred are buried all
together and one sees their graves just raised above the rest
of
the ground. Then we drove to the field of battle, and the man
showed us everything; it was very nice and very sad to hear all
about, but as I shall always remember it, I need say nothing
about
it. We are quite in a rage about a great mound that the Dutch
have
put up with a great yellow lion on the top, only because the
Prince
of Orange was wounded there, quite altering the ground from
what it
was at the time of the battle. The monument to Lord Anglesea's
leg
too, which we did not of course go to see, makes one very
angry, as
if he was the only one who was wounded there—and only wounded
too
when such thousands of poor men were killed and have nothing at
all
to mark the place where they are buried; and I think they are
the
people one feels most for, for though they do all they can,
after
they are dead one never hears any more about them.
Soon after their arrival at Berlin, Lady Minto fell dangerously ill. From September, 1832, there is a long gap in Lady Fanny's diary, for she had no heart to set anything down. This long stretch of anxiety coming when she was sixteen years old, if it did not change her nature, brought to light new qualities which were to mark her character henceforward. There is a little entry written down eight years afterwards on the birthday of her sister Charlotte which shows that she, as well as others, looked back on this time as a turning-point in her life.
Bob'm sixteen to-day, just the age I began to be unhappy,
because I
began to think. Heaven spare her from the doubts and fears that
tormented me.
During the months of her mother's gradual recovery she seems each day to have been happier than on the one before.
June 6, 1833, POTSDAM
At a little before eleven this morning, Mary, Ginkie, Henry, [7]
Mr. Lettsom [8] and I set off from Berlin in a very curious
rickety
machine of a carriage, to leave Mama for a whole day and night,
which feels very impossible, and is the best sign of her
(health)
that one could have. We were very happy and we thought
everything
looking very nice. We were sorry to see no friends as we left
Berlin, for we looked so beautiful in our jolting little
conveyance
with four horses and a post-boy blowing the old tune on his
horn.
[7] Her brother, afterwards Sir Henry Elliot.
[8] The tutor.
To escape the heat of Berlin they moved out to Freienwalde.
June 14, 1833, FREIENWALDE
A beautiful morning, and at about 10 they all set off from
Berlin,
leaving Mama, Papa, Bob'm and I to follow after in the coach.
After
they went, there were two long hours of going backwards and
forwards through the empty rooms, then having said a sad
good-bye
to Senden,[9] Hymen,[9] Mr. Lettsom and Fitz, though we know we
shall see them again soon, we got into the coach with the
squirrel
in a bag and drove off. I could not help feeling very sorry to
leave it all, though it will be so very nice to be out of it,
but I
knew we should never be all there again as we have been, and
all
the misery we have had in that house makes one feel still more
all
the happiness of the last month there.
There is nothing to say of the country, for it is the same as on
all the other sides of Berlin; the soil more horrid than
anything I
ever saw, and of course all as flat as water, but just now and
then
some rather nice villages.... After about two hours there we
came
on, first through nice, small Scotch fir woods, then quite ugly
again till near here, when we got into really pretty banks of
oak,
beech, and fir, down a real steep road and along a nice narrow
lane
till we got here, where they were all standing on the steps of
our
mansion ready to receive us. Mama was carried to the
drawing-room
... before the house is a wee sort of border all full of weeds,
but
nothing like a garden or place belonging to the house, but
there
seem very few people; then there is a terrace, which is very
nice
though it is public. Mama is not the least tired and quite
pleased
with it all. It is very, very nice to be here, able to go out
without our things and expecting no company, and what at first
one
feels more nice than everything, not having any carriages or
noises
out of doors; for eight months and a half we have never been
without that horrid, constant rumbling in the streets. It is
very odd to feel ourselves here; unlike any place I ever
lived in. The bath house is close by, but that is the only
house
near us.
[9] German friends at Berlin.
There they lived all the summer the life that they liked best. They lost themselves in the forest, they read aloud, and they enjoyed the rustic theatre. The autumn brought visits to Teplitz and Dresden.
They were back in Berlin for the winter and early spring, when she began to take more part in society.
April 1, 1834, BERLIN
Stupid dinner of old gentlemen. Mary still being rather
silly[10] did
not dine at table.... It was very awful to be alone, but at
dinner
I was happy enough as Loeven sat on one side of me. Humboldt
was on
the other. Afterwards came Fitz for a moment and Deken and
Bismarck.
April 5, 1834, BERLIN
I sat the second quadrille by my stupidity in refusing Bismarck.
[10] Scotch for unwell.
Early in May came “the hateful morning of good-byes” to friends in Berlin, and at Marienbad. Lord Minto heard the news that Lord Grey had resigned owing to Lord Althorp's refusal to agree to the Irish Coercion Bill. Lord Melbourne succeeded him as Prime Minister. Lord Minto had not long returned to England when the King summarily dismissed Lord Melbourne and a provisional Government under the Duke of Wellington was patched together until Sir Robert Peel should return from abroad. The governorship of Canada had been offered meanwhile to Lord Minto, and the family started on their home journey fearing they would have to leave England immediately for Quebec. But this did not happen, and December found them at last once more on the road to Minto. The girls wrote poems celebrating their return on the journey, and tried every cure for impatience as the carriage rolled along.
MINTO, Thursday, December 25, 1834
We left Carlisle about eight, and for the three first stages
were
so slowly driven that our patience was nearly gone. To make it
last
a little longer Mary read some “Hamlet” aloud between Longtown
and
Langholme, and I had a nap.... As soon as we entered Hawick we
were
surrounded by an immense crowd.... The bells rang, there were
flags
hung all along the street, and fine shouting as we set off.
Papa,
which we did not know at the time, had to make a little speech,
and
contradict a shameful report of his having taken office. A few
minutes on this side of Hawick we met the two boys and Robert
riding to meet us, looking lovely. Our own country looked
really
beautiful; rocks, hills, and Rubers Law all seemed to have
grown
higher. We passed the awful ford in safety across our own
lovely
Teviot, and soon found ourselves at Nelly's Lodge, where old
Nelly
opened the gate to us.... The trees looked large and fine—in
short, everything perfect. Catherine, Mrs. Fraser, and Wales
received us at the door, and in a few minutes we were scattered
all
over the house. We spent a most happy evening.... This has
really
been a happy Christmas. It is wonderful to be here.
At this point Lady Fanny's early girlhood may be said to end. Her life in London society and the events which led to her marriage will be told in the next chapter.
While the Minto family were still on their way home from Germany a startling incident occurred in English politics. One morning a paragraph appeared in the Times announcing the fact that the King had dismissed Lord Melbourne.
We have no authority (it ran) for the important statement which follows, but we have every reason to believe that it is perfectly true. We give it without any comment or amplification, in the very words of the communication, which reached us at a late hour last night. “The King has taken the opportunity of Lord Spencer's death to turn out the Ministry, and there is every reason to believe the Duke of Wellington has been sent for. The Queen has done it all.”
(The authority upon which the Times was relying was that of the Lord Chancellor.)
So on coming down to breakfast that morning the Ministers, having received no private communication whatever, read to their amazement that they had been already dismissed. Brougham had surreptitiously conveyed the information in order to embarrass the Court. The general trend of political gossip at the time was expressed by Palmerston, who wrote:
It is impossible to doubt that this has been a preconcerted measure and that the Duke of Wellington is prepared at once to form a Government. Peel is abroad; but it is not likely he would have gone away without a previous understanding one way or the other with the Duke, as to what he would do if a crisis were to arise.
As a matter of fact there had been no concerted plan. It was the first and last independent step William IV ever took, and a most unconstitutional instance of royal interference. The Duke, summoned by the King, expressed his willingness to occupy any position His Majesty thought fit, but considering the Liberal majority in the House of Commons was two to one, and it was but two years since the Reform Bill passed, he did his best to dissuade the King from dismissing all his Ministers. During the interview the King's secretary entered and called the attention of the King to the paragraph in the Times that morning, which concluded with the statement that the Queen had done it all. “There, Duke, you see how I am insulted and betrayed; nobody in London but Melbourne knew last night what had taken place here, nor of my sending for you: will your Grace compel me to take back people who have treated me in this way?”
Thereupon the Duke consented to undertake a provisional Government, while Mr. Hudson was sent off to Italy in search of Sir Robert Peel. He reached Rome in nine days; at that time very quick travelling. “I think you might have made the journey in a day less by taking another route,” is said to have been Peel's only comment upon receiving the Duke's letter. He returned at once to England to relieve the temporary Cabinet, and formed a Ministry in December. The same month Parliament was dissolved, and the Conservative party went to the country on the policy of “Moderate Reform” enunciated in Peel's Tamworth manifesto. “The shameful report” referred to by Lady Fanny in the last chapter, and immediately contradicted by Lord Minto on his return to Scotland, was that he had joined the Peel Ministry.
Thus Lady Fanny came home to find the country-side preparing for a mid-winter election. Her uncle, George Elliot, was standing for the home constituency against Lord John Scott, whom he just succeeded in defeating. In most constituencies, however, the Liberals triumphed more easily, and when the new Parliament met they were in a majority of more than a hundred. In April Lord John Russell carried his motion for the appropriation of the surplus revenues of the Irish Church to general moral and religious purposes, so Peel resigned. Melbourne again became Prime Minister, and in the autumn of the same year, 1835, Lord Minto was appointed First Lord of the Admiralty.
This meant a great change in Lady Fanny's life; henceforward for the next eight years more than half of every year was spent by her in London. There is a change, too, in the spirit of her diaries. Her nature was the reverse of introspective and melancholy, but at this time she was often unhappy and dissatisfied for no definite reason; her diaries show it. It is not likely that others were aware of this private distress. She was leading at the time a busy life both at home and in society, and there were many things in which she was keenly interested. The troubles confided to these private pages were not due to compunction for anything she had done, nor were they caused by any particular event; they expressed simply a general discontent with herself and a kind of Weltschmerz not uncommon in a young and thoughtful mind. For the first time she seems glad of outside interests because they distract her.
The months in London were broken by occasional residence at Roehampton House and by visits to Bowood. At Bowood with the Lansdowne family she was always happy. There she heard with delight Tom Moore sing his Irish melodies for the first time. There was much, too, in London to distract and amuse her: breakfasts with Rogers, luncheons at Holland House, and dinner-parties at which all the leading Whig politicians were present. But society did not satisfy her; she wanted more natural and more intimate relations than social gatherings usually afford.
LONDON, May 9, 1835
We went to Miss Berry's in the evening. I thought it very
tiresome,
but was glad to see Lord John Russell and his wife.
BOWOOD, December 26, 1835
The evening was very quiet, there was not much to alarm one, and
the prettiest music possible to listen to. Mr. Moore singing
his
own melodies—it was really delightful, and a kind of singing I
never heard before. He has very little voice, but what he has
is
perfectly sweet, and his real Irish face looks quite inspired.
The
airs were most of them simply beautiful, and many of the words
equally so.
January 31, 1836, ADMIRALTY
I am reading “Ivanhoe” for the first time, and delighted with
it,
but things cannot be as they should be, when I feel that I
require
to forget myself in order to be happy, and that unless I am
taken
up with an interesting book there never, or scarcely ever, is a
moment of real peace and quiet for my poor weary mind. What is
it I
wish for? O God, Thou alone canst clearly know—and in Thy
hands
alone is the remedy. Oh let this longing cease! Turn it, O
Father,
to a worthy object! Unworthy it must now be, for were it after
virtue, pure holy virtue, could I not still it? Dispel the mist
that dims my eyes, that I may first plainly read the secrets of
my
wretched heart, and then give me, O Almighty God, the sincere
will
to root out all therein that beareth not good fruit....
February 4, 1836, ADMIRALTY
The great day of the opening of Parliament. Soon after breakfast
we
prepared to go to the House of Lords—that is to say, we made
ourselves great figures with feathers and finery. The day has
been,
unfortunately, rainy and cold, and made our dress look still
more
absurd. The King did not come till two, so that we had plenty
of
time to see all the old lords assembling. Their robes looked
very
handsome, and I think His Majesty was the least
dignified-looking
person in the house. I cannot describe exactly all that went
on.
There was nothing impressive, but it was very amusing. The poor
old
man could not see to read his speech, and after he had
stammered
half through it Lord Melbourne was obliged to hold a candle to
him,
and he read it over again. Lord Melbourne looked very like a
Prime
Minister, but the more I see him and so many good and clever
men
obliged to do, at least in part, the bidding of anyone who
happens
to be born to Royalty, the more I wish that things were
otherwise—however, as long as it is only in forms that one
sees
them give him the superiority one does not much mind. After the
debate, several of Papa's friends came to dine here. Lord
Melbourne, Lord Lansdowne, Lord Glenelg, and the Duke of
Richmond,
who has won my heart—they talked very pleasantly.
March 9, 1836, ADMIRALTY
I wonder what it is that makes one sometimes like and sometimes
dislike balls, etc. It does not always depend on whom one
meets. I
am sure it is not, as most books and people seem to think, from
love of admiration that one is fond of them or else how should
I
ever be so, when it is so impossible for anybody ever to admire
my
looks or think me agreeable? I sometimes wish I was pretty. And
I
do not think it is a very foolish wish: it would give me
courage to
be agreeable.
All through this year there are many troubled entries:
March 28, 1836, ADMIRALTY
Youth may and ought to have—yes, I see by others that it
has—pleasures which surpass those of unthinking though lovely
childhood: but have I experienced them? ... What makes the same
sun
seem one day to make all nature bright, and the next only to
show
more plainly the dreariness of the landscape? Oh wicked, sinful
must be those feelings that make me miserable—selfish and
sinful—and I cannot reason them away, for I do not understand
them. Prayer has helped me before now, and I trust it will
still do
so. O Lord, forsake me not—take me into Thy own keeping....
Mama
fifty to-day [March 30, 1836]. Oh the feelings that crowd into
my
heart as if they must burst it when I look to this day three
years
ago. I cannot write or think clearly of it yet. I can only
feel—but what, I do not myself know—at one moment agony,
doubts,
and fears, as if it was still that fearful day; then joy almost
too
great to bear. When I think of her as she now is, then
everything
vanishes in one overpowering feeling of intense thankfulness. I
have several times to-day seen her eyes fill with tears—every
birthday of those one loves gives one a melancholy feeling, and
the
more rejoicings there are the stronger that feeling is.
June 27, 1836, ADMIRALTY
It was decided that we should go to the Duchess of Buccleuch's
breakfast. My horror of breakfasts is only increased by having
been
to this one, though I believe it was particularly pleasant.
Certainly the day was perfect, and the sight and the music
pretty;
but I scarcely ever disliked people more or felt more beaten
down
by shyness. My only thoughts from the moment we went in were:
How I
wish it was over, and how I wish nobody would speak to me.
September 6, 1836, ROEHAMPTON
Mama and I went to dine at Holland House.... The rooms are just
what one would expect from the outside of the handsome old
house,
with a number of good pictures in the library, where we sat,
all
portraits. Lord Holland is perfectly agreeable, and not at all
a
man to be afraid of, in the common way of speaking, but for
that
very reason I always am afraid of him—much more than of her,
who
does not seem to me agreeable. I was very sorry Lord Melbourne
did
not come, as he would have made the conversation more general
and
agreeable.
The impression she made on others in her girlhood will be seen by this passage in the “Reminiscences of an Idler,” by Chevalier Wyhoff: “I had the honour of dancing a quadrille with Lady Fanny Elliot, the charming daughter of the Earl of Minto. Her engaging manners and sweetness of disposition were even more winning than her admitted beauty.”
In July it was decided that her brother Henry should go out to Australia with Sir John Franklin. The idea of parting troubled her extremely, and, moreover, the project dashed all the castles in the air she had built for him. August 21st was the day fixed for his sailing. The 20th came—“dismal, dismal day, making things look as if they understood it was his last.” Long afterwards, whenever she saw the front of Roehampton House, where she said good-bye to him, the scene would come back to her mind—the waiting carriage and the last farewells. The autumn winds had a new significance to her now her brother was on the sea. She was troubled too about religious problems, but she found it difficult, almost impossible, to talk about the thoughts which were occupying her. Writing of her cousin Gilbert Elliot, afterwards Dean of Bristol, for whom she felt both affection and respect, she says: “In the evening Cousin Gilbert talked a great deal, and not only usefully but delightfully, about different religious sects and against the most illiberal Church to which he belongs—but how could I be happy? The more he talked of what I wished to hear, the more idiotically shy I felt and the more impossible it became to me to ask one of the many questions or make one of the many remarks (foolish very likely, but what would that have signified?) which were filling my mind.”
December 24, 1836, BOWOOD
Mr. Moore sang a great deal, and one song quite overcame Lady
Lansdowne. At dinner I sat between Henry [11] and Miss
Fazakerlie,
who told me that last year she thought me impenetrable. How sad
it
is to appear to every one different from what one is.
I like both her and Henry better than ever, but oh, I dislike
myself more than ever—and so does everybody else—almost. Is
it
vain to wish it otherwise?—no, surely it is not. If my manner
is
so bad must there not be some real fault in me that makes it
so,
and ought I not to pray that it may be corrected?
[11] Afterwards Lord Lansdowne and the father of the present Marquis.
She read a great deal at this time; Jeremy Taylor, Milton, and Wesley, Heber, Isaac Walton, Burnet; Burns was her favourite on her happiest days. She thought that work among the poor of London might help her; but her time was so taken up both with looking after the younger children and by society that she seems to have got no further than wondering how to set about it.
On June 20th, 1837, William IV died, and in July Parliament was dissolved. On the 4th they were back again at Minto.
Her uncle John Elliot was successful in his candidature of Hawick. “Hawick,” she writes, “has done her duty well indeed—in all ways; for the sheriff's terrible riots have been nothing at all. Some men ducked and the clothes of some torn off. We all felt so confused with joy that we did not know what to do all the evening.” These rejoicings ended suddenly: Lady Minto was called to the death-bed of her mother, Mrs. Brydone.
August 19, 1837, MINTO
I feel this time as I always do after a great misfortune, that
the
shock at first is nothing to the quiet grief afterwards, when
one
really begins to understand what has happened.
I cannot help constantly repeating over and over to myself that
she
is gone, and sometimes I do not know how to bear it and however
to
be comforted for not having seen her once more.
When the new Queen's Parliament met after the General Election the strength of the Conservatives was 315 and of the Liberals 342. The Melbourne Ministry was in a weaker position; they could only hold a majority through the support of the Radical and Irish groups, and troubles were brewing in the country. On the other hand, Peel's position was not an easy one; the split among the Conservatives on Catholic Emancipation had left bitterness behind, and in addition to this complication, his followers in the Commons included both men like Stanley, who had voted for Parliamentary reform, and its implacable opponents. But in spite of this flaw in the solidarity of the Opposition, the Ministers were far from secure. There were the troubles in Canada, which Lord Durham had been sent out to deal with (the Canadian patriots had a great deal of Lady Fanny's sympathy), and in England the grievances of the poor were in the process of being formulated into the famous People's Charter. During the parliamentary sessions the Mintos remained in London, with only occasional very short absences.
ADMIRALTY, December 26, 1837
People all seem pleased with the news from Canada because we are
beating the poor patriots—let people say what they will I must
wish them success and pity them with all my heart.
EASTBOURNE, April 14, 1838
It is not only the out of doors pleasures, the sea, the air,
etc.,
that we find here, but the way of living takes a weight from
one's
mind, of which one does not know the burden till one leaves
London
and is freed from it. “I love not man the less” from feeling as
I
do the great faults, to us at least, of our London society. It
is
because I love man, because I daily see people whose thoughts I
long to share and profit by, that I am so disappointed in being
unable to do so. Oh, why, why do people not all live in the
country—or if towns must be, why must they bring stiffness and
coldness on everybody?
ADMIRALTY, May 10, 1838
Court Ball.... Beautiful ball of beautiful people dancing to
beautiful music. Queen dancing a great deal, looking very
happy.
ADMIRALTY, June 22, 1838
Evening at a Concert at the Palace—all the good singers.... All
the foreigners there, Soult and the Duke of Wellington shaking
hands more heartily than any other two people there.
ADMIRALTY, June 28, 1838
Day ever memorable in the annals of Great Britain! Day of the
coronation of Queen Victoria! ... We were up at six, and Lizzy,
Bob'm, and I, being the Abbey party, dressed in all our
grandeur.
The ceremony was much what I expected, but less solemn and
impressive from the mixture of religion with worldly vanities
and
distinctions. The sight was far more brilliant and beautiful
than I
had supposed it would be. Walked home in our fine gowns through
the
crowd; found the stand here well filled, and were quite in time
to
see the procession pass back. Nothing could be more beautiful,
the
streets either way being lined with the common people, as close
as
they could stand, and the windows, house-tops, balconies, and
stands crowded with the better dressed. Great cheering when
Soult's
carriage passed, but really magnificent for the Duchess of Kent
and
the Queen. The carriages splendid. Did not feel in the Abbey
one
quarter of what I felt on the stand.
MINTO, November 4, 1838
This morning brought us the sad, sad news of the death of Lady
John
Russell. God give strength to her poor unhappy husband, and
watch
over his dear little motherless children.
The only event of importance which occurred in the family during 1838 was the marriage of the eldest daughter, Mary, to Ralph Abercromby, son of the Speaker and afterwards Lord Dunfermline. It was a very happy marriage, but Lady Fanny missed her sister very much, and her accounts of the wedding and the last days before it are mixed with regrets. She speaks of it as “an awful day,” though it seems to have ended merrily enough in dancing and rejoicings.
In May, 1839, the Government resigned in consequence of the opposition to the Jamaica Bill. The object of the Bill was to suspend the constitution of Jamaica for five years, since difficulties had been made by the Jamaica Assembly in connection with the emancipation of slaves. The Radicals voted with the Conservatives against the Government and the Bill was lost.
ADMIRALTY, May 7, 1839
We are all out!!!!
Papa was summoned to a Cabinet at twelve this morning. Mama and
I
in the meantime drove to some shops, and when we came home
found
him anxiously expecting us with this overpowering news. We
bore,
and are still bearing it with tolerable fortitude; but we are
all
very, very sorry, and every moment find something new to
regret.
Mama, notwithstanding all she has said, is not better pleased
than
the rest of us. Papa looks very grave, or else tries to joke it
off.
FRIDAY, May 10, 1839, ADMIRALTY
Agitating morning—one report following another every hour. Sir
Robert Peel refused to form a Ministry unless the Queen would
part
with some of her household. To this she would not consent.
To-day
she sent for Lord Melbourne.... We went to the first Queen's
ball,
very anxious to see how she and other people looked, and to try
to
foresee coming events by the expression of faces.... I spoke to
scarcely one Tory, but our Whig friends were in excellent
spirits—the Queen also seemed to be so.
TUESDAY, May 14, 1839, ADMIRALTY
Papa and Bill [12] came from the House of Lords quite delighted
with Lord Melbourne's speech in explanation of what has
passed—manner, matter, everything perfect.
[12] Her brother, Lord Melgund, afterwards third Earl of Minto.
Thus, within the week, the Whig Ministry had resigned and accepted office again: this is what had happened.
On his return from Italy to take office Sir Robert Peel requested the Queen to change the ladies of her household, and on her refusal to do so, the Melbourne Ministry had come in again. Their return to power has been generally considered a blunder, from the party point of view; but their action in this case was not the result of tactical calculations. The young Queen was strange as yet to the throne, and she could not bear to be deprived of her personal friends. When Peel made a change in her household the condition of accepting office, she turned to the Whigs, who felt they could not desert her. “My dear Melbourne,” wrote Lord John, “I have seen Spencer, who says that we could not have done otherwise than we have done as gentlemen, but that bur difficulties with the Radicals are not diminished....”
They were, indeed, hard put to it to carry on the Government at all, and they only succeeded in passing their Education Bill by a majority of two.
On August 12th the Mintos were still kept in London. “Oh for the boys and guns and dogs, a heathery moor, and a blue Scotch heaven above me!” she writes. When they did get away home, they remained there until the beginning of the new year. At home she seems to have been much happier. She taught her young brothers and sisters, she visited her village friends, and rambled and read a great deal. In short, it was Minto!—all she found so hard to part from when marriage took her away.
Many of the extracts from the diaries quoted in this chapter must be read in the light of the reader's own recollections of the process of getting used to life. They show that if Lady Russell afterwards attained a happy confidence in action, she was not in youth without experience of bewilderment and doubts about herself. Following one another quickly, these extracts may seem to imply that she was gloomy and self-centred during these years; but that was never the impression she made on others. Like many at her age, when she wrote in a diary she dwelt most on the feelings about which she found it hardest to talk. Her diary was not so much the mirror of the days as they passed as the repository of her unspoken confidences. “Looked over my journals, with reflections,” she writes later; “inclined to burn them all. It seems I have only written [on days] when I was not happy, which is very wrong—as if I had forgotten to be grateful for happy ones.”
Mrs. Drummond, Lord John Russell's stepdaughter (who was then Miss Adelaide Lister), has recorded, in a letter to Lady Agatha Russell, her recollections of the Minto family at that time.
I think (she writes) my first visit to the Admiralty, where I
was
invited to children's parties, must have been in the winter
before
my mother's death. I have no distinct first impressions of the
grown-up part of the family, except perhaps of your
grandmother,
Lady Minto. Although children exaggerate the age of their
elders,
and seldom appreciate beauty except that of people near their
own
age, I did realize her great good looks. She had very regular
features and a beautiful skin, with a soft rose-colour in her
cheeks. Her hair was brown, worn in loops standing out a little
from the face, and she always wore a cap or headdress of some
kind.
Her manner was most kind and winning, and she had a pleasant
voice.
I am sure she must have been very even-tempered; and as I
recall
her image now, and the peace and serenity expressed in her
beautiful face, I think she must have had a happy life. I never
saw
her otherwise than perfectly kind and gentle and quite
unruffled by
the little contretemps, which must have befallen her as they do
others. With this gentleness there was something that made one
feel
she was capable and reliable, that there was a latent strength
on
which those she loved could lean and be at rest. But in
speaking of
these things I am going far beyond the impressions of the small
child skipping about the large rooms of the Admiralty.
There came a time when I not only went to parties and
theatricals
at the Admiralty, but went in the afternoons to play with the
children. One great game was the ghost game. To the delightful
shudders produced by this was added some fear of the butler's
interference, for it took place on the large dining-room table.
The
company was divided into two parties—the ghosts and the owners
of
the haunted house. At four o'clock in the afternoon (so as to
give
plenty of time to pile up the horror) the inmates of the house
got
into bed—that is, on to the table. The ghosts then walked
solemnly
round and round, while at intervals one of them imitated the
striking of the clock; as the hours advanced the ghosts became
more
demonstrative and the company in bed more terror-stricken, and
as
the clock struck twelve the ghosts jumped on to the table! Then
ensued a frightful scrimmage with ear-splitting squeals, and
the
game ended. I imagine it was this climax which used to bring
the
butler. We also had the game of giant all over the house. The
yells
in this case sometimes brought Lady Minto on the scene, who was
always most good-natured. We were quieter when we got into
mischief; as when we made a raid on Lord Minto's dressing-room,
and
each ate two or three of his compressed luncheon tablets and
also
helped ourselves to some of his pills. This last exploit did
rather disturb Lady Minto; but, as it happens, neither
luncheons
nor pills took any effect on the raiders.
There were often delightful theatricals at the Admiralty. The
best
of the plays was a little operetta written by your mother,
called
“William and Susan,” in which Lotty and Harriet[13] sang
delightfully in parts; but this must have been later on than
the
game period.
I come now to my first distinct impression of your mother. It is
as
clear as a miniature in my mind's eye, and it belongs to a very
interesting time. I think her engagement to Papa [14] must just
have been declared. She came with Lord and Lady Minto to dine
with
him at 30, Wilton Crescent, the house he owned since his
marriage
to my mother. As she passed out of the room to go down to
dinner,
“Lady Fanny's” face and figure were suddenly photographed on my
brain. Her dark and beautiful smooth hair was most becomingly
dressed in two broad plaited loops, hanging low on the back of
the
neck; the front hair in bands according to the prevailing
fashion.
Her eyes were dark and very lustrous. Her face was freckled,
but
this was not disfiguring, as a rich colour in her cheeks showed
itself through them. Her neck, shoulders, and arms were most
beautifully white, and her slim upright figure showed to great
advantage in the neat and simple dress then worn. Hers was of
blue
and silver gauze, the bodice prettily trimmed with folds of the
stuff, and the sleeves short and rather full. I think she wore
an
enamelled necklet of green and gold. Mama [15] long afterwards
told
me that at this dinner she went through a very embarrassing
moment;
Papa asked her what wine she would have, and she, just saying
the
first thing that came into her head, replied, “Oh, champagne.”
There was none. Papa was sadly disconcerted, and replied
humbly,
“Will hock do?” I used to take much interest at all times in
Papa's
dinner-parties, and sometimes suggested what I considered
suitable
guests. I was much disappointed when I found my selection of
Madame
Vestris and O'Connell did not altogether commend itself to
Papa.
[13] Lady Harriet Elliot, sister of Lady John Russell.
[14] Lord John Russell.
[15] The second Lady John Russell.
Mrs. Drummond, in another letter to Lady Agatha Russell, alluding to a visit to Minto before Lord John Russell's second marriage, writes:
Mama [then Lady Fanny Elliot] was very kind to me even then, and
I
took to her very much. I used to admire her bright eyes and her
beautiful and very abundant dark hair, which was always
exceedingly
glossy, and her lovely throat, which was the whitest
possible—also
her sprightly ways, for she was very lively and engaging.
The winter of 1840 was spent between the Admiralty and Putney House, which the Mintos had taken. Lady Fanny's description of Putney sounds to us now improbably idyllic:
Out almost till bedtime—the river at night so lovely, so calm,
still, undisturbed by anything except now and then a slow,
sleepy-looking barge, gliding so smoothly along as hardly to
make a
ripple. The last few nights we have had a little crescent moon
to
add to the beauty. Then the air is so delightfully perfumed
with
azalea, hawthorn, and lilac, and the nightingales sing so
beautifully on the opposite banks, that it is difficult to come
in
at all.
PUTNEY HOUSE, April 30, 1840
Finished my beloved “Sir Samuel Romilly.” It is a book that
everybody, especially men, should immediately read and meditate
upon.
It was during the summer of this year, 1840, that she began to see more of Lord John Russell. She had met him a good many times at “rather solemn dinner-parties,” and he had stayed at Minto. She had known him well enough to feel distress and the greatest sympathy for him when his wife died, leaving him with two young families to look after—six children in all, varying in age from the eldest Lister girl, who was fourteen, to Victoria, his own little daughter, whose birth in 1838 was followed in little more than a week by the death of her mother. Lord John was nearly forty-eight. Hitherto he had been a political hero in her eyes rather than a friend of her own; but, as the following entries in her diary show, she began now to realize him from another side.
June 3, 1840, PUTNEY HOUSE
Lord John Russell and Miss Lister [16] came to spend the
afternoon
and dine. All the little Listers came. All very merry. Lord
John
played with us and the children at trap-ball, shooting, etc.
[16] Miss Harriet Lister was the sister of Lord John's first wife.
The next time they met was at the Admiralty: “Little unexpected Cabinet meeting after dinner. Lords John Russell and Palmerston, who talked War with France till bedtime. I hope papa tells the truth as to its improbability.” Two days later she writes: “Lord John Russell again surprised us by coming in to tea. How much I like him.” The next evening she dined at his house: “Sat between Lord John and Mr. E. Villiers. Utterly and for ever disgraced myself. Lord John begged me to drink a glass of wine, and I asked for champagne when there was none!”
On August 13th they left London for Minto:
We had two places to spare in the carriage, which were taken by
Lord John Russell and little Tom [his stepson, Lord
Ribblesdale].
We had wished it might be so, though I had some fears of his
being
tired of us, and of our being stupefied with shyness. This went
off
more than I expected, and our day's journey was very pleasant.
MINTO, August 14, 1840
Actually here on the second day! From Hawick we had the most
lovely
moonlight, making the river like silver and the fields like
snow.
Oh Scotland, bonny, bonny Scotland, dearest and loveliest of
lands!
if ever I love thee less than I do now, may I be punished by
living
far from thee.
MINTO, August 30, 1840
A great party to Church. Many eyes turned on Lord John as we
walked
from it. He was much amused by the remark of one man: “Lord
John's
a silly [17] looking man, but he's smart, too!”—which he, of
course, would have understood as an Englishman. In the evening
he
gave me a poem he had composed on the subject of my letter from
Lancaster to Mrs. Law [18] announcing ourselves for the next
day.... In the morning [September 1] Lord John begged to sit in
our
sitting-room with us.... I told him the library would be more
comfortable, and we were established there (he very kindly
reading
the “Lay” aloud), when two Hawick Bailiffs arrived to present
him
with the freedom of the town.... After dinner, Miss Lister
asked me
so many questions chiefly relating to marrying, that I began to
believe that Lord John's great kindness to us all, but
especially
to me, meant something more than I wished. I lay awake,
wondering,
feeling sure, and doubting again.
[17] Delicate.
[18] Housekeeper.
MINTO, September 2, 1840
Lord John, Miss Lister, Addy and I went to Melrose Abbey and
Abbotsford.... It was his last evening, and in wishing me
good-bye
he said quite enough to make me tell Mama all I thought.... I
could
see that she was very glad I did not like him in that way. I am
sure I do in every other.
MINTO, September 3, 1840
Lord John set off before seven this morning. I dreamed about him
and waked about him all night.... Mama gave me a note from Lord
John to me which he had left.... I wrote my answer immediately,
begging him not to come back; but also telling him how grateful
I
feel. Had a long talk and walk with Miss Lister, whose great
kindness makes it all more painful to me.
Lady Fanny wrote to her sister, Lady Mary Abercromby:
A proposal from Lord John Russell is at this moment lying before
me. I see it lying, and I write to you that it is there, but
yet I
do not believe it, nor shall I ever.... Good, kind Miss Lister
positively worships him.
MINTO, September 4, 1840
Went to the village with Mama and my darling Addy [Lord John's
stepdaughter], to whom I may show how I love her now that he is
away.
MINTO, September 7, 1840
Received a very, very sad note from Lord John in answer to
mine—so
kind, but oh! so sad.
The note ran as follows:
September 5, 1840
DEAR LADY FANNY,—You are quite right. I deceived myself, not
from
any fault of yours, but from a deep sense of unhappiness, and a
foolish notion that you might throw yourself away on a person
of
broken spirits, and worn out by time and trouble. There is
nothing
left to me but constant and laborious attention to public
business,
and a wretched sense of misery, which even the children can
never
long drive away. However, that is my duty, and my portion, and
I
have no right to murmur at what no doubt is ordained for some
good
end. So do not blame yourself, and leave me to hope that my
life
may not be long.
Yours truly, J. RUSSELL
Miss Lister wrote to Lord John on September 9, 1840:
Sad as your letters are, it is still a relief to have them. I
will hope for you though you cannot for yourself.... I
cannot thank you as I wish and feel for all you are with regard
to
the children, for all you have been to them. I never can think
of
it without tears of gratitude.... You have been more than even
an
own father could have been. And by your example—an example of
all
that is good and pure and great in mind and conduct—you are
doing
for them more than any other teaching can do.
For a few days Lady Fanny seems to have felt that the matter was irrevocably settled: “The more I think of what has happened, the more I bewilder myself—I therefore do not think at all.”
But on the following day she writes: “Though I do not think, I dream. I dreamt of him last night on some of Catherine's bride cake, and that Miss Lister wrote to me of him as one whose equal could not be found in the whole world.”
Of one thing she was certain, she did not want to leave her home: “The west hills looking beautiful as we walked round the church. What a pleasure it is to have a church in such a situation! One worships God the better from seeing His beauty so displayed around.... Walked in the glen and wandered about the burn and top of Mama's glen, wondering how anybody could ever ask me to leave all that is so much too dear.
“Yesterday [October 23] received a letter from Miss Lister. Tells me a great deal about him—the way in which he first named me since, and his keeping the book, and much more that is very, very touching; but I will not sentimentalize even to my journal, for fear of losing my firmness again.”
Meanwhile, gossip was busy coupling her name with Lord John's, and the Press published the rumour.
Lady Minto to Lady Mary Abercromby
MINTO, November 9, 1840
... You will see in the papers the report of Fanny's marriage to
Lord John Russell. It is very annoying to her, and I had a few
lines (very touching) from him begging me to have it
contradicted,
which I had already done. If you ask me my reasons why, I
cannot
tell you, but I have a sort of feeling that she will marry him
still. Gina says certainly not, and neither Lizzy nor I think
her
opinions or feelings changed, but I feel it in my skin!!!
Still, these feelings are not infallible.... Will you tell me
if
I wish it or not? For I have now thought so much about it I
don't
know my own mind. If I knew that she would not marry at all,
if she did not marry him, then I should most miserably
lament that she refused him; but I also know as certainly, that
if
she told me that upon second thoughts she had accepted him, I
should be too unhappy to be able to look as I ought to do. In
short, dearest Mary, I heartily wish it had never happened. I
was
obliged to tell John [Elliot] of it, as the report was going to
be
made a subject of joking, which would have been very unpleasant
for
Fanny. He was very much surprised, and notwithstanding his
great
dislike to disparity of years, he regretted her refusal deeply.
He
is a great admirer of Lord John's, and was delighted with him
when
he was here. He says that in spite of the drawbacks he is
clearly
of the opinion that she has made a great mistake, and hopes
that it
may take another turn still. You may fancy how I am longing to
talk
to your Father about it. He says in his last letter that his
eyes
were only just opened to Lord John's being an old man, when he
looked on him in this new light....
MINTO, November 15, 1840
My birthday—it frightens me to be twenty-five. To think how
days,
months, and years have slipped away and how unfulfilled
resolutions
remain to reproach me. Long walk with Papa—talked to me about
Lord
John very kindly. Had a long letter from Miss Lister—tells me
a
good deal about him, and the more I hear the more I am forced
to
admire and like. Then why am I so ungrateful? Oh! why so
obstinate?
I can only hope for the sake of my character that Dryden is
right
that “Love is not in our choice but in our fate.”
At the beginning of the new year the family moved up to London. The next entry, dated from the Admiralty, expressive in its brevity, runs: “A surprising number of visitors, one very alarming, no less than Lord John—and I saw him.” Then, a week later, on February 8: “The agitation of last Monday over again.... After all, perhaps he only wished to show that he is friendly still. It is like his kindness, but he did not look merry.”
In March she wrote to her married sister, Lady Mary Abercromby, an account of her feelings and perplexities.
ADMIRALTY, March 16, 1841
DEAREST MARY,—Tho' it is not nearly my day for writing, a long
letter from you to Mama, principally about myself, has
determined
me to do so—and to do so this minute, while I feel that I have
courage for the great effort (yes, you may laugh, but it is a
terrible effort) of saying to you all that you have the best
right
to abuse me for not having said before. If it was really
saying, oh how happy I should be! but there is something
so
terribly distinct in one's thoughts as soon as they are on
paper,
and I have longed each day a thousand times to have you by my
side
to help me to read them and to listen to all my nonsense. I
felt it
utterly impossible to write them, altho' I also felt that my
silence was most unfair upon you and would have made me, in
your
place, either very suspicious or very angry. It has made
you
suspicious, but now let it only make you angry—as angry as you
please—for I have not changed and I do not suppose I
ever
shall. When we first came to town, nothing having taken place
between us since my positive refusal from Minto, except the
contradiction sent by us to the report in the papers, Miss
Lister
asked me if I was the same as ever; and when I said yes, and
forbade her the subject for the future, she only begged that I
would see him and allow myself to know him better. I said I
would
do so, provided she was quite sure he was ready to blame
himself
alone for the consequences, which she said he would.
Accordingly,
wherever we met I allowed him to speak to me. I begged Lizzy
always
to join in our talk, if she could, as it made me much happier,
but
this she has not done nearly as much as I wished. Whenever I
knew
we were to meet him, I also took care to tell Lizzy that it
would
be no pleasure to me, and that if it was at dinner, I hoped I
should not sit next to him. I said these things to her oftener
than
I should naturally have done, because I saw that in her wish to
disbelieve them she really did so, and I wished to make her
understand me, in case either Papa or Mama or the boys should
be
speaking of it before her. You will say, why did I not speak
more
to Mama herself?—partly because I was afraid of bringing
forward
the subject, partly because I knew what I had to say would make
her
sorry, and partly because I was not at times so very
sure as
to have courage to say it must all come to an end. However,
after a
dinner at Lady Holland's last week, when he was all the evening
by
me, I felt I must speak—that it would be very wrong to
allow it to go on in the same way, and that we had no right to
expect the world to see how all advances to intimacy, since we
came
to town, have been made by him in the face of a refusal. I do
not
despise the gossip of the world where there is so much
foundation
for it, and I have felt it very disagreeable to know that busy
eyes
were upon us several times. It must therefore stop, but do not
imagine that I have been acting without thought. I am perfectly
easy about him—I mean that he will blame nobody but
himself, as I have taken care never to understand anything that
he
has said that he might mean to be particular, and the few times
that he ventured to approach the subject he spoke in so
perfectly
hopeless and melancholy a way as to satisfy me. I am also easy
about Miss Lister, as only a week ago she said how sorry she
was to
see that I was happier in society without than with him; but
both
he and they must see that it cannot go on so. What a stone I
am—but it is needless to speak of that. Only when I think of
all
his goodness and excellence, above all his goodness in fixing
upon
me among so many better fitted to him, I first wonder and
wonder
whether he really can be in earnest, then reproach myself
bitterly
for my hardness—and then the children: to think of rejecting
an
opportunity of being so useful—or at least of trying to be so!
All
these thoughts, turned over and over in my mind oftener than I
myself knew before we left Minto, did make me think that
perhaps I had decided rashly. Now do not repeat this, dear
Mary; I
have said more to you than to anybody yet—but I am sorry it is
time to stop, I have so much more to say. I cannot say how
grateful
I am to Papa and Mama for leaving me so free in all this, and
to
you for writing.
Ever your most affectionate sister, FANNY
The day after this letter was written she saw Lord John again. “He called and had a long conversation with Mama.... Mama liked him better than ever.”
Lady Minto to Lady Mary Abercromby
ADMIRALTY, March 18, 1841
... I must now return to the subject. I told you of the
conversation I had with Fanny when she spoke so openly and so
sensibly of her feelings.... She said she was too old to think
it
necessary to be what is called desperately in love, and without
feeling that his age was an objection or that the disparity was
too
great, yet, she said, if he had been a younger man she would
have
decided long ago. And that is the truth. It is his age alone
that
prevents her at once deciding in his favour. It prevents those
feelings arising in her mind, without which it would be a
struggle
to accept him, and this she never will do. She was therefore
desirous that he should know the state of her feelings, that
she
might be again at her ease. He had seen her manner cold towards
him, and wrote to say that he would call upon me yesterday. I
was
horribly frightened, as I hate lovers, and you must
allow
that it was a difficult task to go through.... However, he put
me
so completely at my ease by his sensible, open, gentle manner,
that
my task was less difficult than I expected—except that I fell
in
love with him so desperately, he touched my heart so deeply
that I
could scarcely refrain from promising him Fanny whenever he
chose.
There is a depth of feeling and humility about him, and a
candour
and generosity in his judgments, that I never saw so strongly
in
anyone before, and every word that he spoke made me regret more
and
more the barrier that prevents him from becoming one of us. I
said,
of course, Fanny's wish and ours could only be for him to do
what
he considered best for his own happiness, and that
half-measures
did not answer; that he now knew the whole truth and it was for
him
to judge how to act. He said then, “I cannot have a doubt; I
will
visit you less frequently; I will speak very little to you in
public, but I cannot, unless you positively forbid me, renounce
the
intimacy now established with your family.” I said, of course,
that
it would be a great happiness to us all not to lose him, but
that I
was very doubtful of the wisdom of his decision, as it might
only
be rendering himself more unhappy. “That,” he said, “is my
affair,
and I am willing to run the risk.” ... Fanny, to whom I told
everything, says she is now quite happy, and her mind at ease.
He seems, however, to have made up his mind to keep away from them for some weeks. The next mention of him is on May 7th, more than a month later:
Morning visit from Lord John. Said he had a great speech to make
this evening on sugar.... Billy came to dinner full of
admiration
of the speech. Honest, noble, clever. Well, we shall go out
with
honour.
This speech on sugar was made at a crisis of particular difficulty. The debate was the first important discussion in Parliament on the new principle of Free Trade. Greville describes Lord John's speech as an “extraordinarily good one,” and Lord Sydenham [19] wrote from Canada:
I have read your speech upon opening the debate on the sugar
question with feelings of admiration and pleasure I cannot
describe. The Free Traders have never been orators since Mr.
Pitt
in early days. We have hammered away with facts and figures and
some argument, but we could not elevate the subject and excite
the
feelings of the people. At last you, who can do both, have
fairly
undertaken it, and the cause has a champion worthy of it.
[19] Lord Sydenham said later, “Lord John is the noblest man it has ever been my fortune to follow” (Spencer Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell").
Mr. Baring, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, proposed to lower the import duty on foreign and colonial timber and sugar. Lord John, before the Budget speech, announced his intention of moving the House into a committee on the Corn Laws. During the course of the eight days' debate he admitted that the proposal of the Ministry would be a fixed duty of 8s. a quarter on wheat. It was on the occasion of this proposal being discussed in the Cabinet that Melbourne, at the close of the meeting, made his famous remark, “By the by, there is one thing we haven't agreed upon; what are we to say? Is it to make our corn dearer or cheaper, or to make the price steady? I don't care which; but we had better all say the same thing.”
On June 4th, the very evening Lord John had intended to introduce his measure, the Government was just defeated on Peel's motion of a want of confidence: “Bill woke me at four this morning with the sad words, 'Beaten by one! Oh dear, oh dear! To expect a triumph and see it won by the enemy. Never mind; our friends deserve success if they cannot command it.... Party at Lady Palmerston's. He was there.”
Four days later her hesitations came to an end, and they were engaged to be married.
Miss Lister wrote to Lord John on June 8th from Windsor Castle:
Oh! I am happier than I can tell you. God knows you have
deserved
all the good that may come to you, and I always felt it must be
because of that. I long to be with you and to see her. ... Oh!
I am
so happy, but I can scarcely believe it yet. I hope Lady Fanny
will
write and then I think I shall believe it.
Ever yours affectionately, Harriet Lister
* * * * *
June 9, 1841 Could not write on Monday or Tuesday. Saw him on
Monday morning ... it was a strange dream all that day and is
so
still.... As soon as he had left me Mama came in. Oh my own
dearest and best Mama, bless your poor weak but happy child.
Then I
saw Papa. What good it did me to see his face of real
happiness!—then my brothers and sisters—I never saw William
so
overcome.
ADMIRALTY, June 10, 1841
Tried to be busy in the morning ... but nothing would do. Must
think and be foolish. He came in the afternoon and
evening—brought
me an emerald ring.... Miss Lister came—both of us stupid from
having too much to say, but it was a great pleasure. Children
here to tea with ours (all but Victoria) and very merry and
kind
to me. Dear precious children.
Lady Minto to Lady Mary Abercromby
ADMIRALTY, June 11, 1841
You must be longing so ardently for post-day that I hate to
think
of the uncomfortable letter this is likely to be; but as Fanny
is
writing to you herself, my letter will be of less consequence.
Oh
the volumes and volumes I could write and long to write and the
wee
miserable things that I do write! I must at once begin by
saying
that Fanny's happy face would, more than all I can write,
convince
you how perfectly satisfied and proud she is of the position
she
has put herself in; how it delights her to think of the
son-in-law
she has given to your Father, and the friend she has given your
brothers. To me he is everything that my proudest wishes could
have
sought out for Fanny. You know as well as me that it was not an
ordinary person that could suit her; and it really is balm to
my
heart to see the way in which he treasures every word she says,
and
laughs at the innocence and simplicity of her remarks, and
looks at
her with such pride when he sees her keen and eager about the
great
and interesting events of the day, which most girls would
neither
know nor care about. I don't mean that he is absurd in his
admiration of her, but it is evident how fully he appreciates
the
singular beauty of her character. In short, to sum up all I can
say
of him, he is in many respects a counterpart of herself. She is
very open and at her ease with him, and I am quite as much at
my
ease with him as I was with Ralph....
From Lady Mary Abercromby to Lord John Russell
GENOA, June 19, 1841
... You will every day discover more the great worth of what you
have won. You cannot have known her long without admiring the
extreme truth and purity of her mind; it is sensitive to a
degree
which those with more of worldly experience can scarcely
understand, yet I feel sure you will watch over it, for it has
a
charm to those who can appreciate it which must make them dread
to
see it disturbed. It is a great privation to me to be so little
acquainted with you, but believe me I cannot think of you as a
stranger now that you belong to my dearest Sister, and that I
look
to you for her happiness. If you could think of me as a sister
and
treat me as such it would be a delight to me.
ADMIRALTY, June 18, 1841
Very happy day—every day now happier than the one before. Oh
will
it—can it last? O God, enable me to thank Thee as I ought—to
live
a life of gratitude to Thee.
“He served his country well in choosing thee.” [20]
[20] From a sonnet to Lady John Russell by Lord Wriothesley Russel, written after reading Lady Minto's ballad in which these words occur: “His country and thee.”
Parliament had been dissolved soon after Peel's motion of a want of confidence had been carried. In the election which followed Lord John was returned for the City of London on June 30th.
ADMIRALTY, June 26, 1841
Day of nomination in the City. He says the show of hands was
greatly in his favour.... Mama says he looked so calm, in the
midst
of the uproar.
“True dignity is his, his tranquil mind Virtue has raised
above the things below!”
And whether storms may await us in our journey together, even to
the wreck of all earthly hopes, I know that he will rise
superior
to them—and oh! to think that I may be by his side to support
him
in adversity as well as to share in his prosperity and glorious
fate, for which God enable me to be rightly grateful.
The family moved to Minto before the result was declared; from London Lord John wrote the following letters:
Lord John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
WILTON CRESCENT, June 25, 1841
Your letters have filled us all with joy and completed what was
wanting. I feel very grateful to you for the kindness with
which
you express yourself.... The happiness of possessing her has
blinded me, I dare say, to her real interest; but when I find
that
you all approve and feel conscious that I shall do all in my
power
to make her life happy, I gain some confidence. Among many
anxieties, Lady Minto naturally felt that the charge of so many
children would be a very serious burthen to her, but the
children
themselves are so good, so much disposed to love her, and their
health is at present so good, that I trust they will be to her
as
they are to me, a daily comfort, making the house cheerful with
their merry and affectionate voices. The greatest fear perhaps
is,
that her generosity and devotion to others may make her
undertake
what is beyond her strength.
Lord John Russell to Lady Fanny Elliot
DOWNING STREET, July 3, 1841
If I am sorry that Saturday is come, I am much more glad that
Tuesday is so near. I am not at all anxious for a merry party
at
Minto—the quieter the better for me. But I can understand that
Lady Minto would like some gaiety to divert her spirits, when
“Our
dear Fanny” is gone. I cannot say how much I think on the
prospect
of finding you at Minto—and of Bowhill likewise. I hope I am
not
unworthy of the heart you gave me ... and I trust every day
will
prove how grateful I am to you.
WILTON CRESCENT, July 4, 1841
I got your little note yesterday, after I had sealed my
letter....
My dearest Fanny, I am so happy at the thought of being soon at
Minto. If you believe that I feel the strongest devotion to
you,
and am resolved to do all in my power to make you happy, you
believe what is true.... This will reach you soon after your
arrival. I can imagine how busy you will be ... and long to
join
you.
A few days later he reached Minto himself. Lady Fanny, writing to her sister Mary, describes their days together, and adds: “They are all except Gibby so much too respectful to Lord John. Not to me, for they take their revenge upon me, and I am unsparingly laughed at, which is a great comfort. I shall write once before it happens. I dare not think what I shall be when you receive this.”
MINTO, July 19, 1841
My last day as a child of Minto. How fast it flew. How quickly
good-night came—that sad, that dreaded good-night. But sadness
may
be of such a kind as to give rise to the happiest, the purest
feelings—and such was this.... He and I sat in the Moss house.
Never saw the glen more beautiful; the birch glittering in the
sun
and waving its feathery boughs; the burn murmuring more gently
than
usual; the wood-pigeons answering one another from tree to
tree.
Had not courage to be much with Mama.
They were married on July 20th in the drawing-room at Minto, and set off for Bowhill, which had been lent them for the honeymoon by the Duke of Buccleuch. Never did statesman on his wedding-day take away a bride more whole-heartedly resolved to be all a wife can be to him in his career. Her mother was now perfectly happy about the marriage, though the disparity of age, and fears about the great responsibility her daughter was undertaking in the care of a young family—one boy and five girls—had undoubtedly made her anxious. Lady Minto felt very deeply the parting with her dearly-loved child, and after the wedding she sent her the following little ballad:
A BORDER BALLAD
AIR: “Saw ye my father“
Oh saw ye the robber
That cam' o'er the border
To steal bonny Fanny away?
She's gane awa' frae me
And the bonny North Countrie
And has left me for ever and for aye.
He cam' na wi' horses,
He cam' na wi' men,
Like the bauld English knights langsyne;
But he thought that he could fleech
Wi' his bonny Southron speech
And wile awa' this lassie o' mine.
“Gae hame, gae hame
To your ain countrie,
Nor come o'er the March for me.”
But sairly did she rue
When he thought that she spak' true
And the tear-drop it blinded her e'e.
His heart it was sair
And he lo'ed her mair and mair,
For her spirit was noble and free;
“Oh lassie dear, relent,
Nor let a heart be rent
That lives but for its country and thee.”
And did she say him nay?
Oh no, he won the day,
Could an Elliot a Russell disdain?
And he's ta'en awa' his bride
Frae the bonnie Teviot-side,
And has left me sae eerie alane.
Oh where's now the smile
Used to cheer me ilk morn,
Like a blink o' the sun's ain light;
And where the voice sae sweet
That aye gar'd my bosom beat
When sae saftly she bade me gude-night.
Now lang, lang are the nights
And dowie are the days
That sae cheerie were ance for me.
And oh the thought is sair
That she'll mine be never mair,
I'm alane in the North Countrie.
MARY MINTO, July, 1841
But before following the future, it will be well to look back. Lord John himself must play so large a part in a biography of his wife that a sketch of his life up to this point, and some reminders of the kind of man he was, may interest the reader; not a review of his political achievements, but an outline of the events which had left him at his second marriage a leader among his countrymen.
Lord John Russell, born in 1792, was the third son of John, sixth Duke of Bedford. He was only nine years old when he lost his mother, whom he remembered to the end of his life with tender affection. He always spoke gratefully of the invariable kindness and affection of his father, who married again in 1803, and of his stepmother, but he felt that the shyness and reserve which often caused him to be misunderstood and thought cold were largely due to the loss of his mother in his childhood. He was educated at Westminster, but he was not robust enough to stand a rough life, and it was decidedly rough. His education was continued at Woburn under a tutor. He was a book-loving boy, and the earliest exercise of his powers was in verses, prologues, and plays. Going to the play was one of the chief enjoyments of his childhood, and he never lost his liking for the drama. Travelling was also a great delight to him, either by coach in England or in foreign countries, and this enjoyment, with a wonderfully keen observation of all that he saw of different places and peoples, lasted to old age.
In 1835 Lord John married Lady Ribblesdale, widow of the second Lord Ribblesdale.
She had by her first husband four children; one son and three daughters. [21] After her marriage with Lord John Russell she had two daughters, Georgiana Adelaide, born in 1836, and Victoria, born in 1838. The marriage had been a most happy one, and her death on November 1, 1838, was a severe blow to Lord John.
[21] Lord Ribblesdale, Adelaide Lister (Mrs. Drummond), Isabel Lister (Mrs. Warburton), Elizabeth Lister (Lady Melvill).
A slight sketch of the more public side of his career will be enough here. A visit to Fox in June, 1806, was perhaps the first experience which turned his interests and ambitions towards politics. All his life he looked up to the memory of Fox. There was in Fox an element which made him more akin to the Liberals, who succeeded him, than to the old Whig party. Lord John, as different from Fox in temperament as a man could be, was the inheritor of the spirit which leavened the old Whig tradition. In Lord John the sentiments of Fox took on a more deliberate air. He was a more intellectual man than his lavish, emotional, imposing forbear; and if it is remembered that he had, in addition, the diffidence of a sensitive man, these facts go far to explain an apparent contradiction in his character which puzzled contemporaries. To the observer at a distance there seemed to be two John Russells: the man who appeared to stand off coldly from his colleagues and backers (he was certainly as incapable as the younger Pitt of throwing round him those heartening glances of good-fellowship which made the followers of Fox feel like a band of brothers); and again, the man who, to the rapture of adherents, could lift debate at moments to a level where passionate principles swept all hesitation away. It was surprising to find, in one who commonly wore the air of picking his steps with care, the dash and anger of the fighter. Bulwer Lytton has described such moments in “The New Timon”—
“When the steam is on,
And languid Johnny glows to glorious John.”
His speeches, if they had not the animated, flowing reasonableness of Cobden's, resembled them in this, that they belonged to that class of oratory which aims at convincing the reason rather than at persuading the emotions. Lord John had, however, one quality likely to make him widely popular—his pluck; at bay he was formidable. If there was a trace of injustice or unreasonableness in his adversaries, though their case might be overwhelmingly plausible, it was ten to one he routed them in confusion. He was ready in retort. One example of this readiness Gladstone was fond of quoting: Sir Francis Burdett had made a speech against the Whigs, in which he spoke of the “cant of patriotism.” “There is one thing worse than the cant of patriotism,” retorted Lord John, “and that is the recant of patriotism.” Again, when the Queen once asked him, “Is it true, Lord John, that you hold that a subject is justified, in certain circumstances, in disobeying his sovereign?” his answer to this difficult question could not have been better: “Well, speaking to a sovereign of the House of Hanover, I can only say that I suppose he is.”
One more characteristic must be mentioned. Like most men scrupulous and slow in determining what to do, his confidences often were withheld from others till the last moment, and sometimes beyond the moment, when it would have been wisest to admit his colleagues to his own counsel. In consequence he often appeared disconcertingly abrupt in decision.
In 1808 he accompanied Lord and Lady Holland to Spain and Portugal, and on his return he was sent by his father to Edinburgh University, the Duke having little confidence in the education then procurable at either Oxford or Cambridge. At Edinburgh he took part in the proceedings of the Speculative Society, read essays to them and debated; and he left the University still tending more towards literature than politics. There is no doubt that Edinburgh helped to form him. His mind was one naturally open to influences which are summed up as “the academic spirit”; dislike of exaggeration, impatience with brilliancy which does not illuminate, and distrust of enthusiasm which is not prepared to show its credentials at every step. His own style is marked by these qualities, and in addition by a reminiscence of eighteenth-century formality, more likely to please perhaps future than present readers; accurate, a little distant, it pleases because it conveys a sense of modesty and dignity. When he speaks of himself he does it to perfection.
After leaving the University he served in the Bedford militia. In 1814 he went to Italy, and crossed to Elba, where he saw Napoleon. Lord John was always a most authentic reporter. His description of the Emperor, written the next day, besides its intrinsic interest, is so characteristic of the writer himself that it may be quoted here. It is as matter-of-fact as one of Wellington's dispatches and as shrewd as a passage from one of Horace Walpole's letters.
PORTO FERRAJO, December 25, 1814 [22]
At eight o'clock in the evening yesterday I went to the Palace
according to appointment to see Napoleon. After waiting some
minutes in the ante-room I was introduced by Count Drouet and
found
him standing alone in a small room. He was drest in a green
coat
with a hat in his hand very much as he is painted, but
excepting
this resemblance of dress, I had a very mistaken idea of him
from
his portrait. He appears very short, which is partly owing to
his
being very fat, his hands and legs being quite swollen and
unwieldy; this makes him appear awkward and not unlike the
whole
length figures of Gibbon, the historian. Besides this, instead
of
the bold marked countenance that I expected, he has fat cheeks
and
rather a turn-up nose, which, to bring in another historian,
made
the shape of his face resemble the portraits of Hume. He has a
dusky grey eye, which would be called a vicious eye in a horse,
and
the shape of his mouth expresses contempt and derision—his
manner
is very good-natured, and seems studied to put one at one's
ease by
its familiarity; his smile and laugh are very agreeable—he
asks a
number of questions without object, and often repeats them, a
habit
he has no doubt acquired during fifteen years of supreme
command—to this I should also attribute the ignorance he seems
to
show at times of the most common facts. When anything that he
likes
is said, he puts his head forward and listens with great
pleasure,
repeating what is said, but when he does not like what he
hears, he
looks away as if unconcerned and changes the Subject. From this
one
might conclude that he was open to flattery and violent in his
temper.
He began asking me about my family, the allowance my father gave
me, if I ran into debt, drank, played, etc.
He asked me if I had been in Spain, and if I was not imprisoned
by
the Inquisition. I told him that I had seen the abolition of
the
Inquisition voted, and of the injudicious manner in which it
was
done.
He mentioned Infantado, and said, “II n'a point de caractere.”
Ferdinand he said was in the hands of the priests—afterwards
he
said, “Italy is a fine country; Spain too is a fine
country—Andalusia and Seville particularly.”
F. R. Yes, but uncultivated.
N. Agriculture is neglected because the land is in the
hands
of the Church.
F. R. And of the Grandees.
N. Yes, who have privileges contrary to the public
prosperity.
F. R. Yet it would be difficult to remedy the evil.
N. It might be remedied by dividing property and
abolishing
hurtful privileges, as was done in France.
F. R. Yes, but the people must be industrious—even if
the
land was given to the people in Spain, they would not make use
of
it.
N. Ils succomberaient.
F. R. Yes, Sire.
He asked many questions about the Cortes, and when I told him
that
many of them made good speeches on abstract questions, but that
they failed when any practical debate on finance or war took
place,
he said, “Oui, faute de l'habitude de gouverner.” He asked if I
had
been at Cadiz at the time of the siege, and said the French
failed
there.
F. R. Cadiz must be very strong.
N. It is not Cadiz that is strong, it is the Isle of
Leon—if we could have taken the Isle of Leon, we should have
bombarded Cadiz, and we did partly, as it was.
F. R. Yet the Isle of Leon had been fortified with great
care by General Graham.
N. Ha—it was he who fought a very brilliant action at
Barrosa.
He wondered our officers should go into the Spanish and
Portuguese
service. I said our Government had sent them with a view of
instructing their armies; he said that did well with the
Portuguese, but the Spaniards would not submit to it. He was
anxious to know if we supported South America, “for,” he said,
“you
already are not well with the King of Spain.”
Speaking of Lord Wellington, he said he had heard he was a
large,
strong man, grand chasseur, and asked if he liked Paris.
I
said I should think not, and mentioned Lord Wellington having
said
that he should find himself much at a loss what to do in peace
time, and I thought scarcely liked anything but war.
N. La guerre est un grand jeu, une belle occupation.
He wondered the English should have sent him to Paris—“On
n'aime
pas l'homme par qui on a ete battu. Je n'ai jamais envoye a
Vienne
un homme qui a assiste a la prise de Vienne.” He asked who was
our
Minister (Lord Burghersh) at Florence, and whether he was
honnete homme, “for,” he said, “you have two kinds of
men in
England, one of intrigans, the other of hommes tres
honnetes.”
Some time afterwards he said, “Dites moi franchement, votre
Ministre a Florence est il un homme a se fier?”
He had seen something in the papers about sending him (Napoleon)
to
St. Helena, and he probably expected Lord Burghersh to kidnap
him—he inquired also about his family and if it was one of
consequence.
His great anxiety at present seems to be on the subject of
France.
He inquired if I had seen at Florence many Englishmen who came
from
there, and when I mentioned Lord Holland, he asked if he
thought
things went well with the Bourbons, and when I answered in the
negative he seemed delighted, and asked if Lord Holland thought
they would be able to stay there. I said I really could not
give an
answer. He said he had heard that the King of France had taken
no
notice of those Englishmen who had treated him well in
England—particularly Lord Buckingham; he said that was very
wrong,
for it showed a want of gratitude. I told him I supposed the
Bourbons were afraid to be thought to depend upon the English.
“No,” he said, “the English in general are very well received.”
He
asked sneeringly if the Army was much attached to the Bourbons.
Talking of the Congress, he said, “There will be no war; the
Powers
will disagree, but they will not go to war”—he said the
Austrians,
he heard, were already much disliked in Italy and even at
Florence.
F. R. It is very odd, the Austrian government is hated
wherever it has been established.
N. It is because they do everything with the baton—the
Italians all hate to be given over to them.
F. R. But the Italians will never do anything for
themselves—they are not united.
N. True.
Besides this he talked about the robbers between Rome and
Florence,
and when I said they had increased, he said, “Oh! to be sure; I
always had them taken by the gendarmerie.”
F. R. It is very odd that in England, where we execute so
many, we do not prevent crimes.
N. It is because you have not a gendarmerie.
He inquired very particularly about the forms of the Viceregal
Court in Ireland, the Dames d'honneur, pages, etc.; in
some
things he was strangely ignorant, as, for instance, asking if
my
father was a peer of Parliament.
He asked many questions three times over.
He spoke of the Regent's conduct to the Princess as very
impolitic,
as it shocked the bienseances, by which his father had
become so popular.
He said our war with America was a guerre de vengeance,
for
that the frontier could not possibly be of any importance.
He said, “You English ought to be very well satisfied with the
end
of the war.”
F. R. Yes, but we were nearly ruined in the course of it.
N. Ha! le systeme continental, ha—and then he laughed
very
much.
He asked who was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland at present, but made
no
remark on my answer.
I asked him if he understood English; he said that at Paris he
had
had plenty of interpreters, but that he now began to read it a
little.
Many English went to Elba about this time; the substance of
their
conversations is still in my recollection—April 2, 1815. He
said
that he considered the great superiority of England to France
lay
in her aristocracy, that the people were not better, but that
the
Parliament was composed of all the men of property and all the
men
of family in the country; this enabled the Government to resist
the
shock which the failure of the Duke of York's expedition was
liable
to cause—in France it would have destroyed the Government.
(This
is an opinion rather tinged by the Revolution, but it is true
that
our House of Commons looks to final results.) They were strong,
he
said, by “les souvenirs attachants a l'histoire”; that on the
contrary he could make eighty senates in France as good as the
present; that he had intended to create a nobility by marrying
his
generals, whom he accounted as quite insignificant,
notwithstanding
the titles he had given them, to the offspring of the old
nobility
of France. He had reserved a fund from the contribution which
he
levied when he made treaties with Austria, Prussia, etc., in
order
to found these new families. “Did you get anything from
Russia?”
N. No, I never asked anything from her but to shut her
ports
against England.
He wished, he said, to favour the re-establishment of the old
families, but every time he touched that chord an alarm was
raised,
and the people trembled as a horse does when he is checked.
He told the story of the poisoning, and said there was some
truth
in it—he had wished to give opium to two soldiers who had got
the
plague and could not be carried away, rather than leave them to
be
murdered by the Turks, but the physician would not consent. He
said
that after talking the subject over very often he had changed
his
mind on the morality of the measure. He owned to shooting the
Turks, and said they had broken their capitulation. He found
great
fault with the French Admiral who fought the battle of the
Nile,
and pointed out what he ought to have done, but he found most
fault
with the Admiral who fought—R. Calder—for not disabling his
fleet, and said that if he could have got the Channel clear
then,
or at any other time, he would have invaded England.
He said the Emperor of Russia was clever and had “idees
liberales,”
but was a veritable Grec. At Tilsit, the Emperor of Russia,
King of
Prussia, and N. used to dine together. They separated
early—the
King of Prussia went to bed, and the two Emperors met at each
other's quarters and talked, often on abstract subjects, till
late
in the night. The King of Prussia a mere corporal, and the
Emperor
of Austria very prejudiced—“d'ailleurs honnete homme.”
Berthier quite a pen-and-ink man—but “bon diable qui servit le
premier, a me temoigner ses regrets, les larmes aux yeux.”
Metternich a man of the world, “courtisan des femmes,” but too
false to be a good statesman-"car en politique il ne faut pas
etre
trop menteur.”
It was his maxim not to displace his Marshals, which he had
carried
to a fault in the case of Marmont, who lost his cannon by
treachery, he believed—I forget where. The Army liked him, he
had
rewarded them well.
Talleyrand had been guilty of such extortion in the peace with
Austria and with Bavaria that he was complained against by
those
Powers and therefore removed—it was he who advised the war
with
Spain, and prevented N. from seeing the Duke d'Enghien, whom he
thought a “brave jeune homme,” and wished to see.
He said he had been fairly tried by a military tribunal, and the
sentence put up in every town in France, according to law.
Spain ought to have been conquered, and he should have gone
there
himself had not the war with Russia occurred.
Lord Lauderdale was an English peer, but not of “la plus belle
race.” England will repent of bringing the Russians so far:
they
will deprive her of India.
If Mr. Fox had lived, he thought he should have made
peace—praised
the noble way in which the negotiation was begun by him.
The Archduke Charles he did not think a man of great abilities.
“Tout ce que j'ai publie sur les finances est de l'Evangile,”
he
said—he allowed no gaspillage and had an excellent
treasurer; owing to this he saved large sums out of his civil
list.
The conscription produced 300,000 men yearly.
He thought us wrong in taking Belgium from France—he said it
was
now considered as so intimately united that the loss was very
mortifying. Perhaps it would have been better, he said, to
divide
France—he considered one great advantage to consist as I—(
End
of Journal.)
[22] This account is copied from the old leather-bound journal, in which it was written by Lord John the day after the interview; there is no gap in the account, but the last part appears to have been written later, and is unfinished.
During the session of 1813 Lord John was returned for the family borough of Tavistock. He was obliged, however, principally owing to ill-health, to retire from active life at the end of three years, during which time he made a remarkable speech against the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. It must have been at about this time that he thought of giving up politics and devoting himself to literature, which brought the following “Remonstrance” from his friend Thomas Moore:
REMONSTRANCE
(After a conversation with Lord John Russell in which he had intimated some idea of giving up all political pursuits.)
What! thou, with thy genius, thy youth, and thy name—
Thou, born of a Russell—whose instinct to run
The accustomed career of thy sires, is the same
As the eaglet's to soar with his eyes on the sun.
Whose nobility comes to thee, stamped with a seal,
Far, far more ennobling than monarch e'er set,
With the blood of thy race, offered up for the weal
Of a nation that swears by that martyrdom yet I
Shalt thou be faint-hearted and turn from the strife,
From the mighty arena, where all that is grand,
And devoted and pure, and adorning in life,
'Tis for high-thoughted spirits like thine to command?
Oh no, never dream it—while good men despair
Between tyrants and traitors, and timid men bow,
Never think, for an instant, thy country can spare
Such a light from her darkening horizon as thou.
With a spirit as meek as the gentlest of those
Who in life's sunny valley lie sheltered and warm;
Yet bold and heroic as ever yet rose
To the top cliffs of Fortune and breasted her storm;
With an ardour for liberty, fresh as in youth
It first kindles the bard and gives life to his lyre,
Yet mellowed even now by that mildness of truth
Which tempers, but chills not, the patriot fire;
With an eloquence—not like those rills from a height,
Which sparkle and foam, and in vapour are o'er;
But a current that works out its way into light
Through the filtering recesses of thought and of lore.
Thus gifted, thou never canst sleep in the shade;
If the stirrings of Genius, the music of fame,
And the charms of thy cause have not power to persuade,
Yet think how to Freedom thou'rt pledged by thy Name.
Like the boughs of that laurel, by Delphi's decree,
Set apart for the Fane and its service divine,
So the branches that spring from the old Russell tree,
Are by Liberty claimed for the use of her shrine.
THOMAS MOORE.
In spite of strong literary proclivities it would certainly have been a wrench to Lord John to leave the stirring scenes of Parliamentary life, and his feeling about it may be gathered from a letter written to his brother in 1841:
Lord John Russell to the Duke of Bedford
ENDSLEIGH, October 13, 1841
Whatever may be said about other families, I do not think ours
ought to retire from active exertion. In all times of popular
movement the Russells have been on the “forward” side. At the
Reformation the first Earl of Bedford, in Charles the First's
days
Francis the great Earl, in Charles the Second's William, Lord
Russell, in later times Francis Duke of Bedford—my
father—you—and lastly myself in the Reform Bill.
At the General Election in 1818 Lord John was again elected for Tavistock, and began to make the furtherance of Parliamentary Reform his particular aim. In 1820 he became member for Huntingdonshire. Henceforward, whenever the question of Reform came before the House, Lord John was recognized as its most prominent supporter. As early as 1822 he moved that “the present state of representation of the people in Parliament requires the most serious consideration of the House.” In 1828 he succeeded in carrying the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts. He was also an ardent supporter of the Catholic Relief Bill. Thus in religious, educational, and parliamentary questions he stood up stoutly for liberty. When Lord Grey succeeded the Duke of Wellington, Lord John took a large part in drafting the famous measure of Reform, and the Bill of 1831 was introduced by him; after which speech he became the most popular man in England. Beaten in Committee, the Reform party appealed to the country and returned with a larger majority. On June 24, 1831. he introduced the Bill for the second time.
This Bill, after being carried in the House of Commons, was rejected by the House of Lords, and it was not till June, 1832. that the great Reform Bill (the third introduced within twelve months) became the law of the land. Lord John, who had been admitted to the Cabinet in 1831 during Lord Grey's Government, became Home Secretary in Lord Melbourne's Government in 1835, and in 1839 he was appointed Colonial Secretary, which office he held at the time of his second marriage. Up to this point we have only followed his career at a distance, but now through the letters and diaries of his wife we shall be enabled to follow it more intimately to the end.
Lord and Lady John Russell stayed at Bowhill till the 31st of July. They had a grand reception at Selkirk on their way back to Minto—a procession headed by all the magistrates, a band of music, and banners flying. Lord John was given the freedom of the burgh, and was received with enthusiasm by the inhabitants. After a short visit to Minto they went to London, to his house in Wilton Crescent.
BOWHILL, July 29, 1841
I hardly know how to begin my journal again. I wrote the last
page
as Fanny Elliot; I am now Fanny Russell.... Forgive me,
Almighty
Father, for the manifold sins, errors, and omissions of my past
life, [a life] to which I look back with deep gratitude for its
countless blessings, especially for the affection of those with
whom I spent it, so far beyond what I deserved. Enable me to
think
calmly of the Mother whom I have left.... I was, and still am,
in a
dream; but one from which I hope never to wake, which I trust
will
only grow sweeter as the bitter days of parting wear away, as I
become more and more the companion and friend of him whose
heart is
mine as truly as mine is his, and in whom I see all the
strength
and goodness that my weak and erring nature so much requires.
This is a perfect place and the days have flown—each walk
lovelier
than the last. Much as poets have sung Ettrick and Yarrow, they
have not, and cannot, sing enough to satisfy me.... I am so
sorry
that to-morrow is our last day, though it is to Minto that we
go,
but I feel as if a spell would be broken—a spell of such
enchantment.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
30, WILTON CRESCENT, August 13, 1841 I say nothing of the
day we left Minto, which could not help being of that kind that
one
hardly dares to look back to.... We were received with great
honours at Hawick—bells ringing, flags flying, and I should
think
the whole population assembled to cheer us—it is very
agreeable
that people should be wise enough to see his merits,
particularly
as he does his best to avoid all such exhibitions of popular
feeling. I like to see his shy looks on such occasions, as it
gives
him less right to abuse me for mine on many others.
WILTON CRESCENT, August 14, 1841
We arrived here on Thursday evening. Lord John did all he could
to
make it less strange to me; but how strange it was—and still
is.
We had a visit from Papa and Henry; my first visitors in my
own
house. The children arrived from Ramsgate all well. Oh,
Father
in Heaven, strengthen me in the path of righteousness that I
may be
a mother to these dear children.
WILTON CRESCENT, August 15, 1841
Dear Baby a great deal with me. She and Georgy call me Mama. It
was
too much—such a mixture of great happiness, anxiety, novelty,
painful recollections, longing to make him happy—impossibility
of
saying all I so deeply feel from the fear of giving him pain.
Oh! I
thought I should quite fail.
Oh, what a weight seemed to be taken off my heart when at night,
after speaking about the children, he mentioned their mother.
Now I
feel that the greatest bar to perfect confidence between us is
removed. God bless him for the effort.
In August, soon after the meeting of Parliament, Lord Melbourne's Government was defeated on the Address and resigned.
WILTON CRESCENT, August 28, 1841
Lord John dined at Lansdowne House—a last Cabinet dinner....
Letter from the Queen to Lord John, which for a moment overcame
him—she does indeed lose a faithful adviser, and deeply does
he
feel it for his country and her. Oh, I never loved him so well;
his
mind rises with reverse. It is no small matter for a man whose
whole soul is intent on the good of his country to be stopt in
his
high career—to be, apparently at least, rejected by that
country—but no, the people are still and will be more and more
with him, and his career will still be great and glorious....
And
to me he has never shone so brightly as now—so cheerful, so
calm,
so hopeful for the great principles for which he falls—and
yet, as
that moment showed, regretting the event so deeply.
They went down to stay a few days with the Duke of Bedford, and she notes in her diary:
Continued to like Woburn better and better. Some people went and
others came, among the last, Lord Melbourne. Lord Melbourne did
not, I thought, appear to advantage; he showed little wish for
conversation with anybody, but seemed trying to banish the
thoughts
of his reverse by talking nonsense with some of the ladies.
The elections which followed the defeat of the Melbourne Ministry gave the Tories a majority of over eighty seats. Peel was joined by Lord Ripon, Lord Stanley, and others, who had supported Lord Grey during the Reform Bill. The Whig Party were in a discomfited condition. They did not look back on their past term of office with much satisfaction; they had been constantly in a minority; and although such useful measures as Rowland Hill's Penny Postage had been carried, nothing had been done to meet the most urgent needs of the time.
The Duke of Bedford had placed Endsleigh at Lord John's disposal, and next month he travelled down with Lady John to Devonshire. Endsleigh is one of the most beautiful places in Devonshire; it is near the little town of Tavistock, where Drake was born. The house looks down from a height on the lovely wooded slopes of the River Tamar. In letters to his brother Lord John had said of Endsleigh, “It is the place I am most fond of in the world.” “I think no place so beautiful for walks and drives.” He and Lady John always retained the happiest memories of their life there.
ENDSLEIGH, October 22, 1841
Long delightful shooting walk with Lord John—delightful
although
so many songs, poems, and sentiments of my greatest favourites
against shooting were running in my head to strengthen the
horror
that I and all women must have of it.
“Inhuman man—curse on thy barbarous art.”
Inhuman woman to countenance his barbarity!
ENDSLEIGH, October 26, 1841
Such a day! White frost in the morning, sparkling in the
brightest
sun, which shone all day. The trees looking redder and yellower
from the deep blue sky beyond—the different distances of the
hills
so marked—the river shining like silver. Oh, what a day! We
were
prepared for it by the beauty of last night—such that I could
scarcely bring myself to shut my window and go to bed. A
snow-white
mist over all except the garden below my eyes and the tops of
the
hills beyond, and a bright moon “tipping with silver every
mountain
head.”
ENDSLEIGH, November 11, 1841
With Lord John to hear an examination of the School at Milton
Abbot. He gave prizes and made a little speech in praise of
master
and boys, which made him and, I think, me more nervous than any
of
the speeches I have heard from him in the House of Commons. I
do
not know why it should have been affecting, but it was so....
Walk
with him in the dusk—his kindness, his tenderness are the joy
of
my life.
Her marriage had brought her greater happiness than she had thought possible. Writing to her mother from Endsleigh on November 15th, she says:
How little I thought on my last birthday how it would be before
my
next. I looked in my journal to see about it and found it full
of
him; but not exactly as I should write now—reproaching
myself for not returning the affection of one whose character I
admired and liked so much. I should have been rightly punished
by
his thinking no more about me; but then, to be sure, I should
not
have known what my loss was. He said a few days ago that he
hoped
it would be a happy birthday—said it as humbly as he always
speaks
of his powers of making me so—yet he must know that a brighter
could not have dawned upon me, and that he is the cause....
Lord John Russell to Lady Minto
ENDSLEIGH, November 23, 1841
Fanny's own letters will have given you the best insight into
her
feelings since we came here. It has been the most fortunate
thing
for us all. Fanny herself, Addy, Georgy, Miss Lister, and
indeed
all of us, have had means of fitting and cementing here,
which no London or visiting life could have given us. I never
can
be sufficiently grateful for such a blessing as Fanny is to me;
and
I only feel the more grateful that she reconciles herself so
well
to the loss of the home she loved so well. Nor is this by
loving
you or any one she has left at all the less—far from it, every
day
proves her devotion to you and her anxiety for your happiness.
They could not take a long holiday, although Lord John was now in Opposition. Early in February the great Anti-Corn Law League bazaar was held at Manchester, and a few days later Peel carried his sliding scale: 20s. duty when corn was 57s., 12s. when the price was 60s., and 1s. when it reached 73s. Lord John proposed an amendment in favour of a fixed duty of 8s.
CHESHAM PLACE, [23] February 14, 1842
Beginning of Corn Law debate. Went to hear Lord John. He
began—excellent speech—attacked the measure as founded on the
same bad principle as the present corn laws; showed the
absurdity
of any corn laws to make us independent of foreign countries;
the
cruelty of doing nothing to relieve the distress of the
manufacturing districts; the different results of a sliding
scale
and a fixed duty; the advantages of free trade, even with all
countries, especially with the United States, etc., etc.; was
much
cheered. Answered by Mr. Gladstone, beside whose wife I was
sitting.
[23] Lord John had built a house, 37, Chesham Place, which was henceforward their London home.
Lord John's amendment was lost by 123 votes; Villiers' and Brougham's amendments in favour of total repeal by over three hundred. This measure of the sliding scale did not embody Peel's real conviction at the time; its object was to discover how much the agricultural party would stand. Gladstone himself was in favour of a more liberal reduction in the sliding scale; and it appears from his journal that he very nearly resigned the Presidency of the Board of Trade in consequence of Peel's measure. Peel asked Gladstone to reply to Lord John Russell. “This I did,” he says, “and with all my heart, for I did not yet fully understand the vicious operation of the sliding scale on the corn trade, and it is hard to see how an eight-shilling duty could even then have been maintained.”
During the next ten months Lord and Lady John were less at the mercy of politics than they were destined to be for many years to come. They were constantly together, either at Chesham Place or at Endsleigh. Lord Minto was living near them in London.
Lord Minto to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, March 1, 1843
MY DEAR MARY,—I think you will be glad to have my report of
Fanny
since I have been established almost next door to her, and the
more
so as it will be so favourable. For whatever misgivings I may
have
had from difference of age, or the cares of a ready-made
nursery of
children, have entirely gone off. I really never saw anybody
more
thoroughly or naturally happy, or upon a footing of more
perfect
ease and confidence and equality. I forget if you know Lord
John
well behind the scenes, but there is a simplicity and
gentleness
and purity in his character which is quite delightful, and it
chimes in very fortunately with Fanny's. She has drawn prizes,
too,
in the children, who are really as nice a little tribe as can
be
imagined, and I reckon myself a good judge of such small stock.
They are very comfortably housed, much better than I ever hope
to
be in London, and Fanny seems to govern her establishment very
handily. I don't know that she has yet quite brought herself to
believe that there is anybody in the world so wicked as really
to
intend to cheat, or to overcharge, or to neglect her work for
their
own pleasure, but I suppose she will make this discovery in
time....
Adieu, dearest Mary, I have such a craving to see you again that
I
hardly know how I shall keep myself within bounds on this side
of
the Channel.
Your affectionate,
MINTO
Lady Minto to Lord John Russell
MINTO, March 5, 1842
You can now be pretty well aware of what my delight will be to
see
my dear Fanny again, and to know her tolerably well; but you
have
not lived with her five-and-twenty years, and therefore memory
has
no place in your affection for her, and you cannot even now
comprehend the blank she makes to me. But you can well
comprehend
the extent of my pleasure in reading her letters, which breathe
happiness in every line, and in hearing from everybody of her
good
looks and cheerfulness. My only fear for her is an anxiety,
natural
considering the great change, that her cares and occupations
may
weigh at times too heavily upon her, and that she will not wish
you
to see she feels it. This is the only thing she would conceal
from
you; but as I know the sort of feelings she formerly
endeavoured to
conceal from me, it is but too probable she has the same fault
still, and nothing but trying to extract her feelings from her
will
cure her, or at least mitigate the evil.
The next great event in their lives was the birth of their first-born son, John, afterwards Lord Amberley.
On the 10th of December, 1842, our dear little baby boy was
born.
He has been thriving ever since to our heart's content. It has
been
a happy, happy time to me, and to us all. And now I am a
mother.
Oh, Heavenly Father, enable me to be one indeed and to feel
that an
immortal soul is entrusted to my care.
On the 10th of December, a year later, she expressed the same thought in the following lines:
Rough winter blew thy welcome; cold on thee
Looked the cold earth, my snowdrop frail and fair.
Again that day; but wintry though it be,
Come to thy Mother's heart: no frost is there.
What sparkles in thy dark and guileless eye?
Life's joyous dawn alone undimmed by care!
Thou gift of God, canst thou then wholly die?
Oh no, a soul immortal flashes there;
And for that soul now spotless as thy cheek—
That infant form the Almighty's hand has sealed—
Oh, there are thoughts a mother ne'er can speak;
In midnight's silent prayer alone revealed.
After Lady John had recovered, they went down to Woburn, and later to stay with Lord Clarendon at The Grove. At both houses large parties were assembled, and Greville notes in his diary that Lord John was in excellent spirits. “Buller goes on as if the only purpose in life was to laugh and make others laugh,” and he adds, “John Russell is always agreeable, both from what he contributes himself and his hearty enjoyment of the contributions of others.”
One of the principal events which had interested Lady John in the past year had been the secession from the Scottish Church and the establishment of the. Free Church of Scotland. Her feelings about it are expressed in this letter to her sister, Lady Mary Abercromby:
ENDSLEIGH, September 11, 1842 The divisions in the Kirk
distress me so much that I never read anything about them now.
It
is disagreeable to find people with whom one cannot agree
making
use of the most sacred expressions on every occasion where
their
own power or interests can be helped by them. You used not to
be
much of a Kirk woman; but surely you would regret seeing many
of
her children come over to the English. I have just been reading
the
Thirty-nine Articles for the first time in my life, and am
therefore particularly disposed to prefer all that is simple in
matters of religion. They may be true; but whether they
are
so or not, is what neither I, nor those who wrote them, nor the
wisest man that lives, can judge; that they are presumptuous in
the
extreme, all who read may see. In short, I hate theology as the
greatest enemy of true religion, and may therefore leave the
subject to my betters.... I need hardly tell you that we are
leading a happy life, since we are at Endsleigh and alone.
Did I ever tell you that we are becoming great botanists? I
have
some hopes of equalling you before we meet, as I feel new light
breaks upon me every day, and every night too, for I try so
hard to
repress my ardour during the day for fear of being tiresome to
everybody, that my dreams are of nothing else. John, of course,
is
very little advanced as yet, but he finds it so interesting, to
his
surprise, that I hope even Parliament will not quite drive it
out
of his head.
Early in February she was back again in London, where social and political distractions, together with the care of a young family of stepchildren, were soon to prove too much for her strength.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
February 7, 1843
... How you must envy me and how I am to be envied for having my
own people within reach. I am hourly thankful for it.... Yet
for
one thing I envy you—great lady as you are, you lead a quiet
life;
how far from quiet mine is and always must be, and how
intensely I
long that it could be more so, how completely worn out both
mind
and body often feel at the end of a common day, none can
imagine
but those who have become in one moment mother of six children,
wife of the Leader of the House of Commons, and mistress of a
house
in London. You will suppose that I wish husband and children at
the
world's end, and you will call me a sinful, discontented
creature;
you will do anything but pity me, since my only complaint is
that I
have not as much leisure as so much happiness requires to be
enjoyed. Well, say and think what you please; I must let you
into
my secret follies, in the hope of curing myself in so doing.
London, hateful London, alone is at fault. Anywhere else my
duties
and occupations would be light, and my pleasures would
be so
not in name only.... How could I beg Mama, as I used to
do,
to have more parties and dinners and balls! I cannot now
conceive
the state of mind which made me actually wish for such things.
Now
I have them in my power without number, and I detest them all.
The
world has passed its judgment on me. I am reckoned cold, dull,
and
unworthy of such a husband; and it is quite right, for I never
appear anything else. In short, I doubt my capacity for
everything
except making husband and children happy—that I have
not
yet begun to doubt. When I do, I will instantly bid them all
adieu
and “find out some peaceful hermitage.” ... Darling Baby was
brought in to be seen in his christening dress, the gift of
Mama,
and such a little love you never saw.... Papa is the best of
Grandpapas, as you may imagine from his love of babies, and I
delight in seeing him nurse it and speak to it....
Do not think this quite a mad letter. I wrote as the spirit,
good
or evil, prompted me. I must do so or not write at all....
Ever, my dearest Mary, your most affectionate sister.
Lady Minto was evidently afraid that her daughter was shutting herself up too entirely with her family, and not amusing herself as much as was good for her.
“My dearest Mama,” she answers (on July 5, 1843)—... I hope to
make you laugh at yourself for your fears about me, and to
convince
you that the seclusion of Belgravia, though great, is not quite
like that of Kamschatka; that John's pleasure is not my
pleasure,
that the welfare of the children is not my happiness, and that
far
from constantly devoting my time to them, one whole afternoon
this
week was devoted to the world and the fine arts in Westminster
Hall. I will name to you a few of the friends I met there, by
all
of whom I was recognized, in spite of my long banishment, my
wrinkles, and my grey hair.... [Thirty names follow.]
The evening before I had been without John to a tea at
Mr.
W. Russell's. To-night we are to dine with the Duke and Duchess
of
Buccleuch; to-morrow to breakfast with the Duchess Dowager of
Bedford; on Thursday go to the Drawing-room and give our
banquet;
and so on to the end of the session and season. Seriously, dear
Mama, if I had more of the pleasures of my age, I should
dislike
them very much; those of a more tender age suit me better; and
if
you do not think it unbecoming, I will have a swing and a
rocking-horse in our own garden. You ought rather to scold Papa
for
shutting himself up; he has seen hardly anybody but ourselves,
which has been very agreeable for us—so agreeable that I do
not at
all like his going away, tho' of course I do not try to keep
him
longer when he so much wishes to go, and you so much wish to
have
him....
You think I did not know what I was undertaking when we married,
and you are right. The hope, humble as it was, of lightening
the
duties and cheering the life of one—the wish, God knows how
sincere, of being a mother to those who had none, outweighed
all
other considerations. But if I did not know and have sometimes
been
overpowered by the greatness of my duties, if I have sighed for
the
repose and leisure with which marriage generally begins,
neither
did I know the greatness of my rewards—so far beyond what I
deserve. The constant sympathy, encouragement, and approbation
of
John can make everything easy to me; and these I trust I shall
always have; these will keep me young and merry, so do not
distress
yourself about me, my own dear Mama, and believe me ever your
most
affectionate child,
FANNY RUSSELL
The year 1843 was one of increasing difficulty for the Tories. Peel's followers began to suspect more and more strongly that he was not sound on the question of the corn taxes; outside Parliament, Cobden and Bright were battering Protection at their great monthly meetings in Covent Garden Theatre. The troubles in Ireland were growing acute, and the arrest of O'Connell and the Repeal leaders made matters worse. The Government had been forced to abandon their Bill for the education of factory children through the bitter opposition of Dissenters and Radicals, who thought the Bill increased the already too great influence of the Church. At the beginning of the year the Government had been strong enough to throw out Lord Howick's motion for a committee of inquiry into the causes of distress, which would have entailed a division upon the Corn Laws; but the strength of the Ministry was now seriously diminished. Parliament was prorogued late in August; on the 5th Lord John left London, hoping that he had done with politics till next year. The whole family moved down to Endsleigh, where, soon afterwards, his eldest stepdaughter fell ill of a fever.
Lady John caught the infection. She had been living up to the limit of her energies, and her case proved a grave one. They moved to Minto in October, and never again used Endsleigh as their country house. By the beginning of 1844 she was sufficiently recovered to attend the House of Commons and to hear her husband speak upon the Irish question. In this speech he declared himself in favour of putting Catholics, Anglicans, and Dissenters on an equality; not by disestablishing the English Church in Ireland, but by endowing the Catholics. He summed up the political situation by saying: “In England the government, as it should be, is a government of opinion; the government of Ireland is notoriously a government by force.”
February 15, 1844
O'Connell arrived from Dublin—much cheered by the crowd outside
and by the Irish and Radical members inside the House. John
shook
hands with him. O'Connell said: “I thank you for your admirable
speech. It makes up to us for much that we have gone through.”
Lady John's next Diary was lost, and the first entry in her new Diary was written after serious illness.
LONDON, February 2, 1845
I have found in illness even more than in health how much better
I
am loved than I deserve to be. To say nothing of the unwearied
care
and cheerful watching of my dearest John, the children have
given
me such proofs of affection as gladdened many an hour of pain
or
weariness. One day, while I was ill in bed, and Georgy by me, I
told her how kind it was of God to send illness upon us at
times,
as warnings to repent of past faults and prepare for death.
Upon
which she said: “But, Mama, you can't have done anything
to
be sorry for.” No self-examination, no sermon, could have made
me
feel more humble than these words of a little child.
During the early part of the year, while Lord John was supporting in the House of Commons the endowment of the Maynooth College for priests and the establishment of colleges in other important Irish towns, Lady John was living at Unsted Wood, near Godalming, a house they had taken for the year.
Their constant separation was painful to both, and as soon as Parliament rose they decided to go to Minto. There the state of her health became so alarming that, to be within reach of medical advice, they moved to Edinburgh.
The distress of the poorer classes throughout the country during this autumn was terrible. It was to meet this distress, unparalleled since the Middle Ages, that Lord John wrote from Edinburgh his famous Free Trade letter to his London constituents, urging them to clamour for the only remedy, “to unite to put an end to a system which has proved to be the blight of commerce, the bane of agriculture, the source of bitter divisions among classes, the cause of penury, fever, mortality, and crime among the people.”
Shortly afterwards he was called to London by the sudden death of his old friend Lady Holland, and he had hardly returned when the news of Peel's resignation reached him. Peel, thoroughly alarmed, had called a Cabinet Council to consider the repeal of the Corn Laws. Lord Stanley, afterwards Lord Derby, had strongly dissented, and carried several Ministers with him, thus compelling Peel to resign.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
EDINBURGH, December 2, 1845
I wonder what Ralph and William will say to John's letter to his
electors. It is what I have long wished, and I am delighted
that
the chief barrier between him and the Radical part of the Whig
party should be knocked down by it. In short, patriotically
I am quite pleased, but privately far from it; I dread
its
being a stepping-stone to office, which, not to mention myself,
would kill him very soon. He has already quite as much work as
his
health can stand, so what would it be with office in
addition? However, I do not torment myself with a future
which may never come, or which, if it does, I may never see. I
forget whether I have written since poor Lady Holland's death,
which John felt very much. It is sad that her death should have
startled one as only that of a young person generally does;
but,
old as she was, she never appeared so, and she belonged as much
to
society as she ever did. Poor woman, it is a comfort that she
died
so calmly, whatever it was that enabled her to do so.
Lord John had hardly returned to Edinburgh when the event which she had been trying to think remote and unlikely was upon them.
EDINBURGH, December 8, 1845
Evening of utter consternation. A message from the Queen
requiring
John's attendance at Osborne House immediately.... John set out
at
ten this morning (December 9th) on his dreary and anxious
journey,
leaving a dreary and anxious wife behind him. Baby not well
towards
evening. Sent for Dr. Davidson. Oh, Heavenly Father, preserve
to me
my earthly treasures, and whatever be my lot in life, they will
make it a happy one. Forgive me for such a prayer. The hope of
happiness is too strong within me.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
LONDON, December 10, 1845
It is very sad, this moment, when many will think me at the
height
of my ambition. But when I think of you and your many trials,
and
the children with their ailments to disturb you, when I cannot
share your anxieties—it is all very sad. I doubt, too, of the
will
of the country to go through with it—and then I shall have
done
mischief by calling upon them. I saw Mr. Bright at one of the
stations. He spoke much of the enthusiasm. God save and
preserve us
all.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
OSBORNE HOUSE, December 11th, 1845
Well, I am here—and have seen Her Majesty. It is proposed to me
to
form a Government, and nothing can be more gracious than the
manner
in which this has been done. Likewise Sir Robert Peel has
placed
his views on paper, and they are such as very much to
facilitate my
task. Can I do so wild a thing? For this purpose, and to know
whether it is wild or not, I must consult my friends.... There
end
politics—I hope you have not suffered from anxiety and the
desolation of our domestic prospects.... I stay here to-night,
and
summon my friends in London to-morrow—Ever, ever affly., with
love
to all,
J.R.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, December 13, 1845
I have just read your note which I so anxiously expected from
Osborne House. No, my dearest, it is not a wild thing. It is a
great duty which you will nobly perform; and, with all my
regrets—with the conviction that private happiness to the
degree
we have enjoyed is at an end if you are Prime Minister—still I
sincerely hope that no timid friend will dissuade you from at
least
trying what you have yourself called upon the country to help
you
in. If I liked it better, I should feel less certain it was a
duty.
If you had not written that letter you might perhaps have made
an
honourable escape; but now I see none.
She wrote again on the 14th:
I am as eager and anxious lying here on my sofa—a broken-down,
useless bit of rubbish—as if I were well and strong and in the
midst of the turmoil. And I am proud to find that even the
prospect
of what you too truly call the “desolation of our domestic
prospects,” though the words go to my very heart of hearts,
cannot
shake my wish that you should make the attempt. My mind is made
up.... My ambition is that you should be the head of the most
moral
and religious government the country has ever had.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
EDINBURGH, December 14, 1845
DEAREST MARY,—All you say of your dreams for me in days gone by
is
like yourself. You were always thinking more of my happiness
than
your own. What a strange world it is, where the happiest and
saddest events are so often linked together—for instance, the
marriage and absence of those one would wish to have always by
one.
I certainly never wish either of our marriages undone;
but
“Seas between us braid hae roared sin auld Lang-syne” more than
either of us could have borne to look forward to. If ever I did
wish myself freed from my husband, it has been for the last
five
days, since the highest honour in the land has been within his
reach. Oh dear! how unworthy I am of what to many wives would
be a
source of constant pride, not only for their husband's sake,
but
their own; whereas, proud as I am of so public a mark of
his
country's good opinion, and convinced as I am that he ought not
to
shrink from the post, still to myself it is all loss, all
sacrifice—every favourite plan upset—London, London, London,
and
London in its worst shape—a constant struggle between husband
and
children, constant anxiety about his health and theirs, added
to
that about public affairs. But I will not begin to count up the
countless miseries of office to those who have, I will not say
a
love, but a passion for quiet, leisure, and the country.
As I said before, I am so convinced that he ought to make the
trial, unless the difficulties are much greater than I have
wisdom
to see, that I should be positively disappointed if I found he
had
given it up.
Besides, I see many bright sides to it all. You will think I
have
lost all my old patriotism, but it is not so; and the prospect
of
seeing my husband repeal the Corn Laws, and pacify and settle
Ireland, is one that repays me for much private regret. You
see, if
he does undertake to govern, I expect him to do it
successfully,
and this in spite of many a wise friend. He went off looking so
miserable himself that I long to hear from somebody else how he
looks now. You cannot think what a thunderbolt it was to us
both.
We were reading aloud, about an hour before bedtime, when the
messenger was announced—and he brought the Queen's fatal
letter.
Oh! how difficult I found it not to call the man every sort of
name! The next morning John was off, and though he flattered
himself he would be able to come back to me in any case, I
flatter myself no such thing.
Poor baby made his resolution falter that morning—he would not
leave him for a moment, clinging round his neck and laying his
little cheek on his, coaxing him in every possible way. He does
not
conceal either from himself or me how entire the sacrifice must
be
of private happiness to public duty, of which this parting was
the
first sample; and he writes of the desolation of domestic
prospects
in so sad a way that I am obliged to write like a Spartan to
him.
What her feelings were at this time the above letter shows. What was happening in London may be gathered from Lord John's letters and the following letter from Macaulay to his sister: [24]
”... Lord John has not consented to form a Ministry. He has only
told the Queen that he would consult his friends, and see what
could be done. We are all most unwilling to take office, and so
is
he. I have never seen his natural audacity of spirit so much
tempered by discretion, and by a sense of responsibility, as on
this occasion. The question of the Corn Laws throws all other
questions into the shade. Yet, even if that question were out
of
the way, there would be matters enough to perplex us. Ireland,
we
fear, is on the brink of something like a civil war—the
effect,
not of Repeal agitation, but of severe distress endured by the
peasantry. Foreign Politics look dark. An augmentation of the
Army
will be necessary. Pretty legacies to leave to a Ministry which
will be in a minority in both Houses. I have no doubt that
there is
not a single man among us who would not at once refuse to
enlist,
if he could do so with a clear conscience. Nevertheless, our
opinion is that, if we have reasonable hope of being able to
settle
the all-important question of the Corn Laws in a satisfactory
way,
we ought, at whatever sacrifice of quiet and comfort, to take
office, though only for a few weeks. But can we entertain such
a
hope? This is the point; and till we are satisfied about it we
cannot positively accept or refuse. A few days must pass before
we
are able to decide.
“It is clear that we cannot win the battle with our own
unassisted
strength. If we win it at all, it must be by the help of Peel,
Graham, and their friends. Peel has not seen Lord John; but he
left
with the Queen a memorandum, containing a promise to support a
Corn
Bill founded on the principles of Lord John's famous letter to
the
electors of London.”
[24] Trevelyan's “Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay.”
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, December 14, 1845
Well, my friends agreed with me that, unless I could have a very
good prospect of carrying a grand measure about corn, I had
better
decline the Queen's Commission. So we are to have all the old
Cabinet men here on Tuesday, and try to ascertain whether we
are
agreed on a measure, and whether Sir Robert Peel would support
such
a measure as we should propose. On Wednesday evening, or
Thursday,
I hope the matter will be cleared up, and if you ask me what I
think, I should say it is most probable that we shall be made
into
a Ministry. How very strange and incomprehensible it seems; and
much as I have had to do with public affairs, I feel now as if
I
knew nothing about them, and was quite incompetent to so great
an
office—to rule over such vast concerns, with such parties.
With so
many great things and so many little things to decide it is
quite
appalling.
Many of our friends say I ought to decline; but I feel that to
do
so would be mean and dastardly while I have a prospect of such
great good before me—possible if not probable, but I think
even
probable. It would seem that most of the Cabinet thought I
should
have a better chance of preventing bitter attacks than Peel
would.
This may be so, or not.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, December 17, 1845
I want a security that I shall be able to carry a total repeal
of
the Corn Laws without delay, and that security must consist in
an
assurance of Sir Robert Peel's support. Unless I get this, I
give
up the task.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
MINTO, Sunday, December 21, 1845
It is difficult to write while our suspense lasts.... It does
not
seem unlikely that Lord Grey [25] will have yielded, and all be
smooth, or smoother, again. Papa tells me not to wish it
even on public grounds. On private ones I certainly do not; but
I
should be ashamed if at such a time my anxieties were not
chiefly
for you as a statesman, not as my husband, and for my
country more than for myself. If it turns out that the
interests of
the statesman and the country and the wife agree, why then let
us
be thankful; if not, why then let us be thankful still that we
can
make some sacrifice to duty. You see that my “courage mounteth
with
occasion”; and though I have low and gloomy fits when I think
of my
ill-health and its probable consequences, I am sure that, on
the
whole, I shall not disgrace you. Oh, what a week of toil and
trouble you have had, and how gladly I would have shared them
with
you to more purpose than I can do at this terrible
distance.... It is so pleasant to write to you. When I have
finished my letter I always grow sad, as if I was really saying
good-bye to you. How have you been sleeping? and eating? and
have
you walked every day? ... Good-bye, Heaven bless you, my
dearest
love. I trust that this has been a day of rest to you, and that
God
hears and accepts our prayers for one another.
[25] Third Earl Grey, son of the Prime Minister.
Lord John wrote daily to his wife, and the following three letters to her show what he felt during this anxious time:
CHESHAM PLACE, December 19, 1845
It is all at an end. Howick [Lord Grey] would not serve with
Lord
Palmerston as Foreign Secretary, and it was impossible for me
to go
on unless I had both. I am very happy ... at the result. I
think
that for the present it will tend much to our happiness; and
power
may come, some day or other, in a less odious shape.
CHESHAM PLACE, December 20, 1845
I write to you with a great sense of relief on public affairs.
Lord
Grey's objection to sitting in a Cabinet in which Palmerston
was to
have the Foreign Office was invincible. I could not make a
Cabinet
without Lord Grey, and I have therefore been to Windsor this
morning to resign my hard task. The Queen, as usual, was very
gracious.... I have left a paper with her in which I state that
we
were prepared to advise free trade in corn without gradation
and
without delay; but that I could support Sir Robert Peel in any
measure which he should think more practicable.
CHESHAM PLACE, December 21, 1845
The desponding tone of your letter, yesterday, although I do not
believe it was otherwise than the effect of weakness, makes me
rejoice at my escape a thousand times more than I should
otherwise
have done. I reflect on the misery I should have felt with
every
moment of my time occupied here in details of appointments,
while
my thoughts were with you.... The Queen and the Prince have
behaved
beautifully throughout.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
MINTO, December 24, 1845
You will not be surprised that a great deal of the time which I
meant to devote to you this morning has run away in talk to my
husband. You will see by the Times what the cause
of
the failure is: Lord Grey's refusal to belong to the Ministry
if
Lord Palmerston was at the Foreign Office—a most unfortunate
cause, we must all agree, but in the opinion of Papa and many
other
wise people, a most fortunate occurrence on the whole, as they
considered it next to impossible that such a Ministry as John
could
have formed would have been strong enough to be of use to the
country.
My husband, who is no coward, sees it differently, and thinks
that
with a united Cabinet he might have gone on successfully
and
carried not only Corn Law Repeal, but other great questions;
though
the probability was that they would only have carried that and
then
gone out. But even that would have been something worth doing,
and
better and more naturally done by Whigs than Tories. One good
thing
is that John has returned in excellent spirits. All his
personal wishes and feelings were so against taking office at
present, and the foretaste he had of it in this lonely and most
harassing fortnight was so odious to him that his only feeling
at
first when he gave it all up was pure delight; and he slept,
which
he had not been able to do before. It certainly was a terrible
prospect to us both—one immovable in Edinburgh, the other
equally
immovable in London—and it required all my patriotism to wish
the
thing to go on.
If it had gone on, the name of Lord John Russell would be now more often on men's lips. Peel's popular fame rests upon the abolition of the Corn Laws, Lord John's upon the first Reform Bill. It was but an accident—Lord Grey's objection to Palmerston at the Foreign Office—which prevented the name of Lord John Russell from being linked with those of Cobden and Bright, and imperishably associated with both the great measures of the nineteenth century.
After Lord John's failure to form a Ministry, Peel returned to power; Gladstone replaced Stanley at the War and Colonial Office, and Stanley became the acknowledged leader of the protectionist Opposition. Having Lord John's assurance that the Whigs would support anti-Corn Law legislation, Peel set about preparing his famous measure. But before it could be discussed in Parliament, the usual explanations with regard to resignation and resumption of office had to be gone through. In his speech on this occasion, Lord John tried to shield Lord Grey as far as possible from the unpopularity which he had incurred by refusing to work with Palmerston in the same Cabinet. Feeling on both sides of the House was against Lord Grey; for both Free Traders and Protectionists thought that Repeal ought to have come from the Whigs, and that it was Lord Grey who had made this impossible.
Lady John remained in Edinburgh, too ill to move. While her husband was helping Peel at Westminster, the following letters passed between them:
Lord John to Lady John Russell
LONDON, January 23, 1846
I did not write to you last night, as I thought I could give you
a
clearer account to-day. Sir Robert Peel gave up Protection
altogether on the ground that he had changed his opinion.... I
dine
with the Fox Club [to-day?] and at Lansdowne House to-morrow. I
have rather startled Lord Lansdowne this morning by some of my
views about Ireland.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, January 25, 1846
I never doubted that you were as noble by nature as by name; and
I
am now more happily convinced of it than ever. Your whole
speech
was plain and excellent, but the part that I dwell upon with
the
greatest pleasure is that about Lord Grey.... I generally think
your speeches a curious contrast to Sir Robert's, and it does
not
fail on this occasion. His humble confession of former errors,
his
appeal to our sympathies, and his heroic tone at the close, all
got
rather the better of my reason while I read; but the more I
think
over his conduct, the less becomes the effect of his words.
Yours,
on the contrary, as usual, only gain in force the more they are
reflected on, simply because they are true. And now, having
congratulated you quite as much as is good for your vanity, I
must
praise myself a little for the way in which I have hitherto
borne
your absence. What with its present pain, the uncertainty as to
when it may end, and my varying and wearying state of health, I
have many a time been inclined to lie and cry; and if ever I
allowed myself to dwell in thought on the happy days which sad
memory brings to light, I should lie and cry; those days
when neither night nor day could take me from your side, and
when
it was as difficult to look forward to sickness or sorrow as it
now
is to believe that health and happiness—such happiness as
that—are in store for us. But I do not dwell upon past
enjoyments, but upon present blessings, and I do lie and
talk and read and write and think cheerfully and gratefully.
Dearest, I know you cannot see much of the children, but when
you
do, pray be both Papa and Mama to them. Do not let their little
minds grow reserved towards you, or your great mind
towards
them. Help them to apply what they hear you read from the Bible
to
their own little daily pleasures and cares, and you will find
how
delightfully they take it all in.
God bless you, my dearest. Pray go out every day, and take
Isabel
and Bessy or one of the small ones with you sometimes to
enliven
you.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, January 26, 1846
Your mention of the dreams which you had had of happiness for
Ireland made me sad, and you know how I shared in those
dreams....
I like the way in which politics are talked here, it is far
enough
from the scene of action for them to lose much of their
personality, and for all the little views to be lost in the
greater—and yet the interest is as great as in London.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
EDINBURGH, January 28, 1846
Well, I wonder what you will say to the debate or rather the
explanations in Parliament. Are not John's and Sir Robert's
speeches a curious contrast? and is not John a generous man?
and is
not Sir Robert a puzzling one? and was there ever such a
strange
state of parties? What an unhappy being a real Tory must be, at
least in England, battling so vainly against time and tide, and
doomed to see the idols of his worship crumbled to dust one
after
another. In your benighted country [Italy] their end is
further off; but still it must come. I am reading a book on
Russia
that makes my blood boil at every page. It is called “Eastern
Europe and the Emperor Nicholas,” and I am positively ashamed
of
the reception we gave that wholesale murderer in our free
country.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, February 1, 1846
The Ministry will carry their Corn Measure, but will hardly last
a
month after it. What next? I think the next Government will be
Whig, as the Protection party have no corps of officers in the
House of Commons. So that their only way of avenging themselves
upon Peel is to bring in a Liberal Ministry.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
MINTO, February 7, 1846
I am glad you have a satisfactory letter from the doctor. A
volunteered letter from him, as this was, must be a good
sign.... I
shall all my life regret not having been with you at this most
interesting period in our political history; for the longest
letters can but barely make up for the loss of the hourly chats
upon each event with all its variations which are only known in
London. Then, I think how sad it is for you to have nobody to
care,
as I should care, whether you had spoken well or ill. But all
this
and much more we must bear as cheerfully as we can; and I am
glad
to think that though one wife is far from you, your
other
wife, the House of Commons, leaves you little time to spend in
pining for her. I think you quite right in your intention of
voting
for Sir Robert's measure as it is, in preference to any
amendment
which would not be carried, and might delay the settlement of
the
question. Not, as you well know, because I am not heart and
soul a
Free Trader, but because I think it a more patriotic, as well
as a
more consistent, course for you to take. Then if you come into
office, as seems probable, you may make what improvements you
like,
and especially put an end to the miserable trifling about
slave-grown sugar; a question in which I take a sentimental
interest, as your first gift to me was your great sugar speech
in
1841.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
HOUSE OF COMMONS, February 9, 1846
Here I am in the House of Commons, on the important night of
Corn,
having just introduced Morpeth as a new Member. It all makes me
very nervous—I mean to speak to-night, and I must take care
not to
join in the bitterness of the Tories, and at the same time to
avoid
the praise of the Ministry, which I see is the fashion. ... I
am
glad you all take such interest in the present struggle—it
would
be difficult not to do so. Our majority will, I hope, be
eighty. As
matters stand at present no one feels sure of the Lords.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, February 16, 1846
The events of the last few days have been remarkable. There has
been no move, no agitation in the counties; but wherever a
contest
is announced the Protection party carry it hollow.... In London
the
Protectionists have created in a fortnight a very strong and
compact party, from 220 to 240, in the Commons, and no one
knows
how many in the Lords—thus we are threatened with a revival of
the
real old Tory party. Of course they are very civil to us, and
they
all say that we ought to have settled this question and not Sir
Robert. But how things may turn out no one can say.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, February 21, 1846
I trust the feelings you have, and the enjoyment you seem to
take
in the flowers and buds of the garden, show that you have
before
you the opening Paradise of good health.
Baby's letter is very merry indeed. I long to see his little
face
and curly locks again.
I am going to have a meeting at twelve and of twelve on the
affairs
of Ireland. It is a thorny point, and vexes me more than the
Corn
Laws. Lord Bessborough and Lansdowne are too much inclined to
coercion, and I fear we shall not agree. But on the other hand,
if
we show ourselves for strong measures without lenitives, I fear
we
shall entirely lose the confidence of Ireland.
February 22, 1846
We are much occupied with the affairs of Ireland—I am engaged
in
persuading Lansdowne to speak out upon the affairs of that
unhappy
country, where a Bill called an Insurrection Act seems the
ordinary
medicine.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
Minto, February 23, 1846
You were quite right to send the children out in spite of the
remains of their coughs, but how hard it is for you to have all
those domestic responsibilities added to your numerous public
ones.
It is more than your share, while I linger away my hours on the
sofa, without so much as a dinner to order for anybody. Your
Coercive measures for Ireland frighten me. I do not trust any
Englishman on the subject except yourself, and you cannot keep
to
your own opinion in favour of leniency and act upon it. I often
think how unfortunate it is that there should be that little
channel of sea between England and Ireland. It prevents each
country from considering itself a part of the other, and a
bridge
across it would make it much more difficult for Orange or
Repeal
bitterness to be kept up. I send you Lord William's [26]
letter.
But first I must tell you that in a former letter from him he
compared you to Antony throwing away the world for
Cleopatra.... I
read one of Lord Campbell's Lives aloud yesterday evening—Sir
Christopher Hatton—a short and entertaining one; but from
which it
would appear that a man can make a respectable Lord Chancellor
without having seriously studied anything except dancing....
[26] Lord John Russell's brother.
Lord William Russell to Lady John Russell
Genoa, February 12, 1846
My dear Sister—I thank you much for your letter of the 4th from
Minto, but regret to find my letters make you not only angry,
but
very angry. If I was within reach I should have my ears well
cuffed, but at this distance I am bold.... You will not have to
get
into a towering passion in defending your husband from my
accusation of loving you too much and dashing the world aside
and
bid it pass, that he might enjoy a quiet life with his Fanny. I
begin by obeying you and asking pardon and saying you did quite
right not to think me in earnest, and to “know that I often
write
what I do not mean,” a fault unknown to myself, and one to be
corrected, for it is a great fault, if not worse. The letter
just
received pleases me much, for I find in it a high tone of moral
rectitude, a noble feeling of devotion to your husband's
calling,
an unselfish determination to fulfil your destiny, an
abnegation of
domestic comfort, a latent feeling of ambition tempered with
resignation, such as becomes a woman, that do you the highest
honour.... I think the crisis we are going through in England
very
alarming ... a frightful system of political immorality is
stalking through the land—the Democracy is triumphant, the
Aristocracy is making a noble and last effort to hold its own,
unfortunately in so bad, so unjust, so selfish, so stupid a
cause,
that it must fall covered with shame.... The hero of the day,
Cobden, is a great man in his way, the type of an honest
manufacturer, but for the moment all-powerful. I am domiciled
with
your brother and sister, [27] under the same roof, dine daily
at
their hospitable table, sit over the fire and cose and prose
with
them, sometimes alone with your sister, who thinks and talks
very
like you, that is, not only well but very well.
I am very affectionately yours,
W.R.
P.S.—You say it would be unworthy of John to pine for
office. I think the difficulties of a Prime Minister so great
and
the toil so irksome that the country ought to be full of
gratitude
to any man that will undertake it. I am full of gratitude to
Sir
Robert Peel for having sacrificed his ease and enjoyment for
the
good of his country, and to enable us to sit in the shade under
our
own fig-trees. Glory and gratitude to Peel.
[27] Lady Mary Abercromby.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, February 15, 1846
I have been to St. Paul's to-day. Mr. Bennett enforced still
further obedience to the Church, and what was strange, he said
Papists and Dissenters were prevented by the prejudices of
education from seeing the truth—as if the same thing were not
just
as true of his own Church. I do not see how it is possible to
be
out of the Roman Catholic pale and not use one's own faculties
on
the interpretation of the Bible. That tells us that our Saviour
said, he who knew that to love God with all our soul and to
love
our neighbour as ourself were the two great commandments, was
not
far from the kingdom of God. This surely can be known and even
followed without a priest at all.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
MINTO, February 27, 1846
You seem to have had a very pleasant dinner at the Berrys, and I
wish I had been at it. I wonder sometimes whether the social
enjoyments of life are for ever at an end for me: and in my
hopeful
moods I plan all sorts of pleasant little teas at
Chesham
Place—at home from nine to eleven on certain days, in an easy
way,
without smart dressing and preparation of any sort beyond a few
candles and plenty of tea. I feel and always have felt
ambitious to
establish some more popular and rational kind of society than
is
usual in London. But the difficulty in our position would be to
limit the numbers: however, limiting the hours would help to do
this; and I do not think one need be very brilliant or
agreeable
oneself to make such a thing succeed well. But what a foolish
presumptuous being I am, lying here on my sofa, not even able
to
share in the quiet amusements of Minto, making schemes for the
entertainment of all the London world! However, these dreams
and
others of a more serious nature as to my future life, if God
should
restore me to health, help to while away my hours of separation
from you, and make me forget for awhile how long I have been
debarred from fulfilling my natural duties, either to you, the
children, or the world. This, believe me, is the hardest of the
many hard trials that belong to illness, or at least, such an
illness as mine, in which I have mercifully but little physical
suffering.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
MINTO, March 1, 1846
What pleasant times we live in, when the triumph of right
principles brings about one great and peaceful change after
another
in our country; each one (this from Free Trade in a great
degree)
promising an increase of happiness and diminution of war and
bloodshed to the whole world. No doubt, however, its good
effects
will be but slowly perceived, and I fear there is much
disappointment in store for the millions of poor labourers, who
expect to have abundance of food and clothing the moment the
Bill
becomes a law. Poor creatures, their state is most deplorable
and
haunts me day and night. The very best of Poor Laws must be
quite
insufficient. Indeed, wherever there is a necessity for a Poor
Law
at all there must be something wrong, I think; for if each
proprietor, farmer and clergyman did his duty there would be no
misery, and if they do not, no Poor Law can prevent it.
You
cannot think how I long for a few acres of our own, in
order
to know and do what little I could for the poor round us. It
would
not lessen one's deep pity for the many in all other parts of
the
country, but one's own conscience would be relieved from what,
rightly or wrongly, I now feel as a weight upon it; and without
a
permanent residence one does not become really acquainted with
poor
people in their prosperity as well as adversity; one only does
a
desultory unsatisfactory sort of good. I have not seen
Dickens's
letter about the ragged schools of which you speak. What you
say of
the devotion of the Roman Catholic priests to the charities of
religion reflects shame on ours of a purer faith, but is what I
have always supposed. The Puseyites are most like them in that
as
well as in their mischievous doctrines; but then a new sect is
always zealous for good as well as for evil.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, March 3, 1846
I am so happy to find you have had a good night and are stronger
in
feeling. If you had not told me how weak and ill you have been
I
should have been beyond measure anxious; but, as it is, and
with
your letters, I have been very unhappy and exceedingly
disappointed. For my hopes are often extravagant, and I love to
look forward to days of health and happiness and gratitude to
God
for His blessings.... Need I say after all I have suffered on
your
account that while I am conducting my campaign in Italy [28] my
thoughts are always with you? ... I cannot bear your absence.
The
interest of a great crisis, and the best company of London
cannot
make me tolerably patient under the misfortune of your being
away;
and it is you, and you alone who could inspire me with such
deep
love.
[28] An allusion to Napoleon's letters to Josephine from Italy, which she had been reading.
Peel had taken the first step towards feeding the poor at home. He had also done his best to relieve the immediate distress of Ireland. Shiploads of Indian corn had been landed, and public works for the help of the destitute established up and down the country. But the chief grievance of the Irish, which was at the bottom of half the agrarian crime, had not been remedied. The House of Lords, by having thrown out Peel's Bill for compensating outgoing tenants for improvements their own money or exertions had created, was largely responsible for the violence and sedition now threatening life and property throughout Ireland. The true remedy having been rejected by the Lords, the Government had to meet violence by violence. No sooner had the Corn Bill been passed in the House of Commons than Peel brought in a stringent Sedition Bill for Ireland. Lord John and the Whigs disliked the Bill because it was extremely harsh.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, March 12, 1846
Nothing that I read in the speeches in favour of the Coercion
Bill
convinced me that it would do the slightest good.... It must
embitter the Irish against England, for which there is no need.
Nothing can be more shocking than the continual outrages and
murders in Ireland; but it is the penalty we pay for a long
course
of misgovernment, and from which nothing but a long course of
mild
and good government can set us free; certainly not severe
indiscriminate measures which mark out Ireland still more as an
unhappy conquered province, instead of a part of the nation.
Such
are my sentiments, dearest, on this subject, which always makes
my
blood boil.... I read the “Giaour” two nights ago to Addy—it
has
as great and as numerous beauties as any poem Byron ever
wrote—but
I find I am not old enough, or wise enough, or good enough to
bear Byron, and left off feeling miserable, as he always
contrives to make one; despair is what he excels in, and he
makes
it such beautiful despair that all sense of right or wrong is
overwhelmed by it. I said to Addy that one always requires an
antidote after reading Byron, and that she and I ought
instantly to
go and hem pocket-handkerchiefs, or make a pudding—and that is
what she has illustrated in the newspaper I send.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
HOUSE OF COMMONS, March, 1846
Your views about the Irish Coercion Bill are very natural; but
Bessborough, who is the best authority we have about Irish
matters,
thinks it will tend to stop crime—and especially the crime of
murder. I should be loath to throw out a Bill which may have
this
good effect; but I shall move a resolution which will pledge
the
House to measures of remedy and conciliation. This may lead to
a
great debate.... The little girls look very nice, but Toza [29]
is,
if possible, thinner than ever. However, she laughs and dances
like
a little fairy. I dined with Mrs. Drummond yesterday. Macaulay
[30]
was there—entertaining, and not too much of a monopolist—I
mean
of talk—which, like other monopolies, is very disagreeable.
[29] Victoria.
[30] Lord John had written to his wife in April, 1845: “Macaulay made one of his splendid speeches again last night.... He is a wonderful man, and must with the years before him be a great leader.”
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, March 19, 1846
After dinner we drove to Portobello sands and there got out and
walked for an hour; the sea was of the brightest blue, covered
with
sails; Inchkeith and the opposite coast so clear that every
inequality of hill or rock was seen; Arthur's Seat, grand and
snowy, was behind us, and the glittering sands under our
feet—the
whole beautiful far beyond description and beyond what I have
yet
seen it in any weather; for the east wind and bright sun are
what
it requires. How I did wish for you! I need not say that I only
half enjoyed it, as I only half enjoy anything without you. My
comfort in your absence is to think that you are not taken from
me
for nothing, but for your country's service; and that even if
we
could have foreseen four years ago all the various anxieties
and
trials that awaited us, we should have married all the same. As
it
was, we knew that ours could not be a life of quiet ease; and
it
was for me to decide whether I was able to face the
reverse—and I
did decide, and I am able—
“Io lo cercai, fui preso
Dall' alta indole sua, dal suo gran nome;
Pensai dapprima, oh pensai che incarco
E l'amor d'un uomo che a gli' altri e sopra!
Perche allor correr, solo io nol lasciai
La sua splendida via, s' io non potea
Seguire i passi suoi?”
Now I am sure you do not know where those lines are from. They
are
a wee bit altered from Manzoni's “Carmagnola”; and they struck
me
so much, when I read them to-day, as applicable to you and me,
and
made me think of your “splendida via” and all its results.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, March 23, 1846
Thanks for your precious letter of Saturday. You need not grieve
at
having brought cares and anxieties ... upon me. You have given
me
a love that repays them all; and such words as you write in
that
letter strengthen me for all that our “splendida via” may
entail
upon us, however contrary to my natural tastes or trying to my
natural feelings. What a delightful hope you give of your
getting
away on the 2nd—but I am too wise to build upon it.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
EDINBURGH, March 25, 1846
.... There is a calmness and fairness and depth in
conversation here which one seldom meets with in London, where
people are too much taken up by the present to dwell upon the
past,
or look forward to the future—and where consequently passion
and
prejudice are mixed up with most that one hears. Dante, and
Milton,
and Shakespeare, etc., have little chance amid the hubbub of
the
great city—but with all its faults, the great city is the
place in
the world I most wish to see again.... At poor Lady Holland's
one
did hear the sort of conversation I find here, and
surely
you must miss not only her but her house very much.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
April 3, 1846
At all events pray do not distress yourself with the reflexion
that
you will not be a companion to me during my political trials.
You
have been feeling strong, ... that strength will, I trust,
return.
I see no reason why it should not—and there is no one in
existence
who can think so well with my thoughts and feel so truly with
my
feelings as yourself. So in sickness and in sorrow, so in joy
and
prosperity, we must rely on each other and let no discouraging
apprehensions shake our courage.
Meanwhile in Parliament the Irish Coercion Bill was dragging on. Lord Bessborough and other Whig peers had changed their mind about its value, and Lord John, instead of proposing an amendment, definitely opposed it. The Protectionists, eager to revenge themselves upon Peel, who, they felt, had betrayed them, caught at the opportunity and voted with the Whigs. The Government was defeated by a large majority on the very day the Repeal of the Corn Laws passed the House of Lords, and the Queen sent for Lord John, who became Prime Minister in July, 1846.
This time, beyond the usual troubles in the distribution of offices, he had no difficulty in forming a Ministry; but when formed it was in an unusually difficult position. They were in power only because the Protectionists had chosen to send Peel about his business, and the Irish problem was growing more and more acute. The potato crop of 1846 was even worse than that of 1845, and Peel's system of public works had proved an expensive failure, more pauperising than almsgiving. The Irish population fell from eight millions to five, and those who survived handed down an intensified hatred of England, which lives in some of their descendants to this day.
In the autumn of 1846 Lord John, little thinking that a home would soon be offered to him by the Queen, bought a country place, Chorley Wood, near Rickmansworth.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
CHORLEY WOOD, RICKMANSWORTH, December 12, 1846
About the 10th January we all go back to town for good, as John
must be there some time before the meeting of Parliament. Oh
that
meeting of Parliament! It is so different from any I have ever
looked forward to; and though it has always been awful, this is
so
much more so. I shall then first really feel that John
is
Minister, and find out the pains of the position, having
as
yet little experience of anything but the pleasures of it. Then
will come the daily toil beyond his strength, the daily abuse
to
reward him, and the daily trial to us both of hardly meeting
for a
quarter of an hour between breakfast and bedtime. In short, I
had
better not begin to enumerate the evils that await us, as they
are
innumerable. However, I feel very courageous and that they will
appear trifles if he succeeds; and if he is turned out before
the
end of the session, I shall never regret that he has made the
attempt. It is a fearful time to have the government in his
hands;
but for that very reason I am glad that he and no other
has
it. The accounts from Ireland are worse and worse, and what
with
the extreme misery of the unfortunate poor and the misbehaviour
of
the gentry, he is made very miserable. As he said this morning,
at
times they almost drive him mad.
During Lady John's long illness in Edinburgh, Francis Lord Jeffrey had been one of her kindest friends, and had helped to brighten many a weary hour by his visits and conversation.
Lord Jeffrey to Lady John Russell
EDINBURGH, December 21, 1846
It is very good in you to remember my sunset visits to you in
the
hotel. I never pass by its windows in these winter twilights
without thinking of you, and of the lessons of cheerful
magnanimity
(as well as other things) I used to learn by the side of your
couch. The Murrays and Rutherfords are particularly well; the
latter will soon be up among you, and at his post for the
opening
of a campaign of no common interest and anxiety. For my part, I
am
terribly frightened—for the first time, I believe I may say,
in my
life. Lord John, I believe, does not know what fear is! sans
peur as sans reproche. But it would be a comfort to
know
that even he thinks we can get out of the mess in Ireland
without
some dreadful calamity. And how ugly, in fact, do things look
all
round the world!
One of the first acts of Lord John's Government was to vote L10,000,000 for the relief of Ireland. In July, 1847, Parliament was dissolved. When it met again Lord John was reluctantly compelled to ask for its votes in support of an Irish Bill resembling the one on which the Liberals had defeated Peel the year before.
A bare enumeration of the difficulties which beset the new Prime Minister brings home a sense of his unenviable position. Ireland was on the verge of starvation and revolt; everywhere in Europe the rebellions which culminated in 1848 were beginning to stir, seeming then more formidable than they really were in their immediate consequences; in England the Chartist movement was thought to threaten Crown and Constitution; and, in addition, the country had taken alarm at the weakness of its military defences. Lastly, for power to meet all these emergencies Lord John was dependent, at every juncture, upon the animosity between the Protectionists and Peelites proving stronger than the dislike which either party felt for the Government. There were 325 Liberals in the House; the Protectionists numbered 226; the Conservative Free Traders 105; so the day Protectionists and Peelites came to terms would be fatal to the Government. Such were the troubles of the Prime Minister, who was a man to take them hard. As for his wife, her diaries and letters show that, however high her spirit and firm her principles, her nature was an intensely anxious one.
In December, 1846, they both went down for a short holiday to Chorley Wood, where, on the last night of the year, they held a “grand ball for children and servants. All very merry. John danced a great deal, and I not a little. Darling Johnny danced the first country dance, holding his Papa's hand and mine.”
On January 1, 1847, Lady John wrote in her diary that the year was beginning most prosperously for her and those dearest to her. “Within my own home all is peace and happiness.” About a month later she became dangerously ill in London.
LONDON, February 21, 1847
I have been very ill since I last wrote.... I felt that life was
still dear to me for the sake of those I love and of those who
depend on me.... I saw the look of agony of my dearest husband;
I
thought of my heart's treasure—my darling boy; I thought of my
other beloved children; I thought of those still earlier
loved—my
dear, dear Papa and Mama, brothers and sisters. But I was calm
and
ready to go, if such should be God's will.... Dr. Rigby has
been
not only the most skilful doctor, but the kindest friend.
In the spring of this year, 1847, the Queen offered Pembroke Lodge to the Prime Minister. He accepted with thankfulness, and throughout life both he and Lady John felt deep gratitude to the Queen for their beautiful home.
Pembroke Lodge is a long, low, irregular white house on the edge of the high ground which forms the western limit of Richmond Park. Added to and altered many times, it has no unity of plan, but it has kept a character of its own, an air of cheerful seclusion and homely eighteenth-century dignity. On the eastern side it is screened from the road by shrubs and trees; on the other side, standing as it does upon the top of the steep, wooded ridge above the Thames Valley, its windows overlook a thousand fields, through which the placid river winds, now flowing between flat open banks, now past groups of trees, or by gardens where here and there the corner of an old brick house shows among cedars. The grounds are long rather than wide, and comprise the slope towards the valley and the stretch along the summit of the ridge, where beech, oak, and chestnut shade with their green and solemn presences a garden of shorn turf and border flowers. Walking beneath them, you see between their stems part of some slow-sailing cloud or glimpses of the distant plain; as you descend, the gardens, village, and river near below. There is a peculiar charm in these steep woods, where the tops of some trees are level with the eye, while the branches of others are overhead. As the paths go down the slope they lose their garden-like trimness among bracken and brambles. An oak fence separates the grounds of Pembroke Lodge from the surrounding park.
It was indeed a perfect home for a statesman. When wearied or troubled with political cares and anxieties, the fresh breezes, the natural beauties, and the peace of Pembroke Lodge often helped to bring calm and repose to his mind. What better prospect can his windows command than the valley of the Thames from Richmond Hill, the view Argyll showed Jeanie Deans, which drew from her the admission “it was braw rich feeding for the cows,” though she herself would as soon have been looking at “the craigs of Arthur's Seat and the sea coming ayont them, as at a' that muckle trees.” Certainly no home was ever more appreciated and loved than Pembroke Lodge, both by Lord and Lady John Russell and their children. Long afterwards Lady John wrote:
In March, 1847, the Queen offered him Pembroke Lodge for life, a
deed for which we have been yearly and daily more grateful. He
and
I were convinced that it added years to his life, and the
happiness
it has given us all cannot be measured. I think it was a year
or
two before the Queen offered us Pembroke Lodge that we came
down
for a few days for a change of air for some of the children to
the
Star and Garter. John and I, in one of our strolls in the park,
sat
under a big oak-tree while the children played round us. We
were at
that time often in perplexity about a country home for the
summer
and autumn, to which we could send them before we ourselves
could
leave London.... From our bench under the oak we looked into
the
grounds of Pembroke Lodge, and we said to one another that
would be
the place for us. When it became ours indeed we often thought
of
this, and the oak has ever since been called the “Wishing
Tree.”
[31] ... From the time that Pembroke Lodge became ours we used
only
to keep the children in town from the meeting of Parliament
till
Easter, and settle the younger ones at Pembroke Lodge, and we
ourselves slept there Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays with
as
much regularity as other engagements allowed. This obliged us
to
give up most dinner engagements in London, and we regretted the
consequent loss of society. At the same time he always felt the
need of those evenings and mornings of rest and change and
country
air (besides those welcome and blessed Sundays) after
Parliamentary
and official toil, rather than of heated and crowded rooms and
late
hours; and he had the happy power of throwing off public cares
and
giving his whole heart to the enjoyment of his strolls in the
garden, walks and rides in the park, and the little interests
of
the children. [32]
[31] When Pembroke Lodge was offered to them they remembered—with surprise and delight at its fulfilment—the wish of that day, known to themselves alone.
[32] Appendix at end of chapter.
The short Whitsuntide holiday was spent in settling in at Pembroke Lodge.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 29, 1847
... You would not wonder so much at his [Lord John's] silence
lately, if you knew what nobody but English Ministers' wives
can know or conceive, how incessantly either his mind or
body or both have been at work on financial affairs.
He has gone to town every morning early, Sunday included; worked
hard the whole day in Downing Street, writing long letters and
seeing one man and one deputation after another, on these most
difficult and most harassing subjects—only returning here for
tea,
and with no time for any other correspondence but that between
tea
and bed, when a little rest and amusement is almost necessary
for
him—then waking in the night to think of bullion and Exchequer
Bills till time to get up. Now this great anxiety is partly
over;
for when once he has taken a resolution, after all the
reflection
and consideration he can give to a subject, he feels that he
has
done his best, and awaits its success or failure with
comparative
ease of mind.
The difficulties of this Ministry have been briefly stated at the close of the last chapter; working with a precarious majority, they had to cope with starvation and revolt in Ireland, Chartism in England, and disturbances abroad.
In December, 1847, they passed their Irish Coercion Bill. [33] The passing of this Bill was one of the few occasions on which Lady John could not convince herself that her husband's policy was the wisest one.
[33] “The state of Ireland was chaotic, and Lord Clarendon (Lord Lieutenant) was demanding a stringent measure of coercion. He did not get it.... The two Bills [Sir Robert Peel's in 1846 and the Bill of 1847] were so entirely different that to call them by a common name, though perhaps inevitable, is also inevitably misleading” (“History of Modern England,” Herbert Paul, vol. i, chap. iv. See also Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell,” vol. i, chap, xvii.)
Subsequently, during the enforcement of the Act, the bitterness of the attacks upon her husband, who, she knew, wished Ireland well, and the sight of his anxiety, made her for a time less sympathetic with the Irish; but she did not, and could not, approve of the Government's action at the time. Among Irishmen, a Government which had first opposed a Tory Coercion Bill, and when in power proposed one themselves, might well excite indignation. Ireland was already in a state so miserable that the horrors of a civil war with a bare chance of better things beyond must have seemed well worth risking to her people, now the party which had hitherto befriended them had adopted the policy of their oppressors.
On February 26, 1848, the news that Louis Philippe had been deposed reached the House of Commons. “This is what would have happened here,” said Sir Robert Peel, “if these gentlemen [pointing to the Protectionists] had had their way.” The astonishment was great, and the fear increased that the Chartist movement and Irish troubles would lead to revolution at home.
The immediate cause of the revolution in France had been Louis Philippe's opposition to electoral reform; only one Frenchman in about a hundred and fifty possessed a vote under his reign. “Royalty having been packed off in a hackney coach,” the mildest of Parisian mobs contented itself with smashing the King's bust, breaking furniture, and firing at the clock of the Tuileries that it might register permanently upon its face the propitious moment of his departure. He had embarked the next day for England, shaven and in green spectacles, and landed upon our shores under the modest pseudonym of “William Smith.” England did not welcome him. His Spanish marriage intrigues had naturally not made him a favourite, and his enemy, Palmerston, was at the Foreign Office. Two days afterwards Louis Napoleon Bonaparte left England to pay his respects to the Provisional Government. “I hasten,” he wrote in memorable words, “I hasten from exile to place myself under the flag of the Republic just proclaimed. Without other ambition than that of being useful to my country, I announce my arrival to the members of the Provisional Government, and assure them of my devotion to the cause which they represent.” He was, however, courteously requested to withdraw from France, since the law banishing the Napoleon family had not yet been repealed, a circumstance which enabled him to return to England in time to enrol himself in the cause of law and order as a special constable at the Chartist meeting.
LONDON, February 26, 1848
We and everybody much taken up with the startling and in some
respects terrible events in France. The regency of the Duchess
of
Orleans rejected by the Chambers, or rather by the Cote Gauche,
and
a republic proclaimed. Sad loss of life in Paris—the King and
Queen fled to Eu—Guizot, it is said, to Brussels. We dined at
the
Palace, and found the Queen and Prince, the Duchess of Kent,
Duke
and Duchess of Saxe Coburg, thinking of course of little
else—and
almost equally of course, full of nothing but
indignation
against the French nation and Guizot, nothing but pity for the
King
and Queen and royal family, and nothing but fears for the rest
of
Europe from the infection of such an example. I sat next the
Duke
of Coburg, who more particularly took this class view
with
very little reasoning and a great deal of declamation. Said he
should not care if Guizot lost his head, and much in the same
spirit. The Queen spoke with much good sense and good feeling,
if
not with perfect impartiality.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, March 3, 1848
How anxious you must be as to the effect which the extraordinary
events in France will have upon Italy. They have been so rapid
and
unexpected that all power of reasoning upon them has been lost
in
wonder. Some pity must inevitably be felt for any man “fallen
from
his high estate”; but if, as I trust, the report of Louis
Philippe's safety and arrival in England is true, his share of
it
will be as small as ever fell to the lot of a King in
misfortune;
for the opinion that he has deserved it is general. It is
seldom
that history gives so distinct a lesson of retribution. You
know
what London is in a ferment of exciting events, and can
therefore
pretty well imagine the constant succession of reports, true
and
false, from hour to hour, the unceasing cries of the newsmen
with
2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th editions of all the newspapers, the
running
about of friends to one another's houses, the continual
crossing of
notes in the streets, each asking the same questions, the hopes
and
fears and the conjectures one hears and utters during the
course of
the day, and the state of blank, weary stupidity to which one
is
reduced by the end of it. What I mind most in it all is
the
immense additional anxiety and responsibility it brings upon my
poor husband, who feels it even more than he would have done
any
other year from being still, I grieve to say, less strong and
well
owing to his influenza still hanging about him.
Lady John Russell to Lady Minto
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 29, 1848
John returned to dinner, but some hours later than I expected
him,
which in times like these, when each hour may bring an account
of a
new revolution somewhere, or worst of all, of a
rebellion in Ireland, is a trial to a Minister's wife. However,
the
reason was simply that Prince Albert had detained him talking.
...
Of course we talked a great deal with our visitors of France,
Italy, Germany, and Ireland; but happily, engrossing as these
topics are, the bright sun and blue sky and shining river and
opening leaves and birds and squirrels would have their
share of attention, and give some rest to our minds.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 31, 1848
The preparations for rebellion in Ireland are most alarming, and
John's usually calm and hopeful spirit more nearly fails
him
on that subject than any other. The speeches and writings of
the
Young Ireland leaders are so extravagantly seditious,
and so
grossly false as to the behaviour of England generally, and the
present Ministry in particular to Ireland, that I cannot but
hope
they may defeat their own objects.... Poor people, the more
deeply
one feels for the starving and destitute millions among them
and
admires their patience and resignation, and the more bitterly
one
resents the misgovernment under which the whole nation suffered
for
hundreds of years, the fruits of which we are now reaping, the
less
one can excuse those reckless ones who are now misleading them,
who
must and do know that the present Ministers have not
looked
on with indifference and let famine and fever rage at will;
that
the subject of Ireland is not one to which the Houses of
Parliament never give a day's or an hour's thought, but that on
the
contrary, her interests and happiness are daily and
nightly
the object of more intense anxiety and earnest endeavours on
the
part of her rulers than any portion of the Empire. We have had
a
week of such real spring with all its enjoyments, and to-day is
so
much finer and milder than ever, that the notion of streets and
smoke and noise is odious. However, we have enough to go for,
private and public. May God prosper the good cause of peace and
freedom all over Europe.
The European revolutionary movement of 1848 did not prove serious in England. What actually took place was a mild mass meeting on Kennington Common, well kept within the bounds of decorum by an army of citizen police. In Ireland, a rough-and-tumble fight between Smith O'Brien's followers and the police was all that came of the dreaded rebellion. But before these events took place the future looked ominous, especially to those responsible for what might happen.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
April 8, 1848
John had a late night in the House, and made two speeches on the
unpleasant subjects of the Chartist meeting next Monday and Sir
George Grey's “Security of the Crown” Bill; both of which ought
to
do good, from their mild and whiggish tone, in spite of
the
sadly un-whiggish nature of the topics; the very, last
to
which one would wish a Whig Government to have to turn its
attention. All minds are full of next Monday, and at this
moment we
have not a manservant in the house, as they are summoned to a
meeting to learn their duties as special constables for that
day. I
find it difficult to be in the least frightened, and I trust I
am
right. The only thing I dread is being long without knowing
what
John is about, and as he would be equally unwilling to know
nothing
about me, in case of any march upon this house or any other
disagreeable demonstration against the Prime Minister, we have
arranged that I am to go to Downing Street with him in the
morning
and remain all day there, as that is the place he will most
easily
come to from the House of Commons. My spirits have been much
lowered about the whole thing this morning, as Mr. Trevelyan
has
been here and persuaded John that it would be madness for me
either
to remain in this house or go to Downing Street, both of which
would be marks in case of a fight.
Mr. Trevelyan is very seriously alarmed, and talks of the effect
the sound of the cannon might have upon me, and has
persuaded Lady Mary Wood to go to his house on Clapham Common.
I do
not yet know what the other Ministers' wives are going to do,
but I
do know that I think Milton quite right in saying:
“The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband bides.”
However, I must do as I am bid, or at least I must do what makes
him easiest.
LONDON, April 9, 1848
Hardly knew how much I had been thinking of to-morrow till I had
to
read aloud the prayers for Queen, country, and Parliament.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
DOWNING STREET, Monday, 3 o'clock
Well, here we are after all, Lady Grey, Lady Mary Wood, and I,
with
much easier minds than we have had for many days.
Everything has ended quietly; the meeting has dispersed at the
persuasion of its leaders, who took fright. Fergus O'Connor
especially has shown himself the most abject blusterer, and
came
pale and haggard and almost crying to speak to Sir George
Grey—and
told him how anxious he was that all should come to a peaceable
end.
It seems too good to be true, after the various alarming reports
and conjectures. Of course there will still be some
anxiety
until the night is well over, and till we see whether the
Chartist
spirit rises again after this failure. To begin at the
beginning, I
ought to tell you that hearing a great clattering at six this
morning I got up, and looked out, and saw immense numbers of
Lancers ride from the West into Belgrave Square, which they
left to
go to their destination somewhere about Portland Place, after
performing many pretty manoeuvres which I did not understand.
Many
foot soldiers passed by. I admired the sight, but silently
prayed
that their services might not be required. We packed the
brougham
full of mattresses and blankets, as it seemed likely that we
should
have to sleep here. Now we have little doubt of getting home.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, April 12, 1848
Yesterday was chiefly spent in receiving visits and
congratulations
without end, and very welcome they were. John and I had also a
good
long walk to freshen him up for a hard day in the House of
Commons....
April 13, 1848
Again many notes and visits of congratulation and mutual
rejoicing
yesterday. God grant that this triumph of the good cause may
have
some effect on unhappy, misguided Ireland; there is the weight
that
almost crushes John, who opens Lord Clarendon's daily letters
with
an uneasiness not to be told.
Queen Victoria to Lord John Russell
OSBORNE, April 14, 1848
The Queen has received Lord John Russell's letter of yesterday
evening. She approves that a form of prayer for the present
time of
tumult and trouble be ordered. She concludes it is for peace
and quiet GENERALLY, which indeed we may well
pray
for. A thanksgiving for the failure of any attempts like the
proposed one last Monday, the Queen would not have thought
judicious, as being painful and unlike thanksgiving for
preservation from foreign war.
Our accounts from Germany yesterday, from different quarters,
were
very distressing and alarming. So much fear of a total
subversion of all existing things. But we must not lose
courage or hope.
In the midst of these troubles and forebodings, on the day that the Queen wrote the above letter to Lord John, their second son, George William Gilbert, was born.
Lady John was touched by the following letter from Dr. James Simpson (the eminent physician, later Sir James Simpson), under whose medical care she had been in Edinburgh some years before.
EDINBURGH, March, 1848
I heard from two or three different sources that your Ladyship
was
to be blessed by an addition to your family....
I once made a pledge, that I would gladly leave all to
watch
and guard over your safety if you desired me. I have not
forgotten
the pledge, and am ready to redeem it—but not for fee or
recompense, only for the love and pleasure of being near you at
a
time I could possibly show my gratitude by watching over your
valued health and life.... With almost all my medical brethren
here
I use chloroform in all cases. None of us, I believe, could now
feel justified in not relieving pain, when God has
bestowed
upon us the means of relieving it.
May 16, 1848
With a thankful heart I begin my diary again. Another child has
been added to our blessings—another dear little boy. John was
with
me. Oh! his happiness when all was safely over. This child has
done
much already to restore his health and strength. Summer weather
and
the success of all his political measures for the last anxious
months have also done much.
But the Irish troubles were by no means over; on July 21st Lord John introduced a Bill for the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in Ireland. His case rested on Lord Clarendon's evidence that a rebellion was on the point of breaking out, and circumstances seem to have justified this precautionary measure. The Bill was passed without opposition and with the support of all the prominent men in Parliament.
July 21, 1848
Irish news much the same. A Cabinet at which it was determined
to
propose suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. John accordingly
gave
notice of it in the House. I had hoped that a Whig Ministry
would
never be driven to such measures. I had hoped that Ireland
would
remember my husband's rule for ever with gratitude.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, July 28, 1848
I have another letter to thank you for. You really must not
describe the beauties of that place to me any more. It must so
perfectly satisfy the longing for what, after some years of
such a
life as ours, seems the height of happiness—repose. I struggle
hard against this longing, but I doubt whether I should do so
successfully without that blessed Pembroke Lodge, from which I
always return newly armed for the turmoil. After all, I am much
more afraid of my husband being overpowered by this longing
than
myself. He can so much seldomer indulge in it. He is so much
older,
and it is so much more difficult for him to portion out his
employments with any regularity, which is his best preservative
against fuss. Yesterday was a most trying day for him,
and
the more so as he had looked forward to it as one of rest and
enjoyment. It was Baby's christening-day, and we meant to
remain at
Pembroke Lodge after the ceremony to luncheon; but just as we
were
going to church came a letter from Sir George Grey with news of
the
whole South of Ireland being in rebellion, with horrible
additions
of bloodshed, defection of the troops, etc. As it has, thank
God,
turned out to be a hoax, a most wicked hoax, of some
stockjobbing
or traitorous wretch at Liverpool, I shall not waste your time
and
sympathies by telling you of the anxious hours we spent till
seven
in the evening, when the truth was made out.
And now let us trust that real rebellion may not be in store. It
is
dreadful to think of bloodshed, of loss of life, of the
desolation
of one's country and of the many, many imaginable and
unimaginable
miseries of civil war; but one thing I feel would be more
dreadful
still, weak and womanly as I may be in so feeling—to see one's
husband unable to prevent the miseries, perhaps accusing
himself of
them, and sinking, as I know mine would, by degrees
under
his efforts and his regrets. Let us trust and pray, then, that
we
are not doomed to see the reality of so gloomy a picture. It is
always difficult to me to look forward to great political
failures
and national misfortunes, perhaps because I have never known
any;
but the alarm of yesterday has made them seem more possible.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, August 3, 1848
... I do not care for my country or my husband's success a bit
more
than is good for me, and I often wonder at and almost blame
myself
for not being more disturbed about them.
I know that he does his best, and that is all I care very deeply
or
very permanently about; though there may now and then be a more
than commonly anxious day. If I thought him stupid, or mean, or
ignorant, or thoughtless, or indifferent in his trade, I should
not
be satisfied with his doing his best even; but as I luckily
think
him the contrary of all these things, I am both satisfied and
calm,
and his own calm mind helps me to be so. Sometimes I think I
care
much more about politics at a distance than when I am mixed up
in
them. The fact is that I care very much for the questions
themselves, but grow wearied to death of all the details and
personalities belonging to them, and consequently of the
conversation of lady politicians, made up as it is of these
details
and personalities. And the more interested I am in the thing
itself, the more angry I am with the nonsense they talk about
it,
and had rather listen to the most humdrum domestic twaddle.
Mind, I
mean the regular hardened lady politicians who talk of nothing
else, of whom I could name several, but will not.
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 24, 1848
We have just had a visit from Louis Philippe. He spoke much of
France—said that his wishes were with Louis Bonaparte rather
than
with Cavaignac for the presidency.
John expressed some fear of war if Louis Bonaparte should be
elected; the King said he need have none, that France had
neither
means nor inclination for war. His account of the dismissal of
Guizot's Ministry was that he said to Guizot “What's to be
done?”—that Guizot gave him three answers: “Je ne peux pas
donner
la Reforme. Je ne peux pas laisser dissoudre la garde
nationale. Je
ne peux pas laisser tirer les troupes sur la garde nationale.”
Upon
this he had said to Guizot that he must change his Ministry:
“Cela
l'a peut-etre un peu blesse—ma foi, je n'en sais rien. Il a
dit
que non, que j'etais le maitre.”
When he heard that the National Guard said, if the troops fired
on
the mob, they would fire on the troops, he knew that “la
chose etait finie,” and when he went out himself among the
National
Guard, to see what the effect of his presence would be, La
Moriciere called out to him, “Sire, si vous allez parmi ces
gens-la
je ne reponds pas de votre vie. Ils vont tirer sur vous.” He
answered whatever might come of it he would “parler a ces
braves
gens”; but they surrounded him, grinning and calling out “La
Reforme, nous voulons la Reforme,” pointing their bayonets at
him
and even over his horse's neck.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
WOBURN ABBEY, December 10, 1848
The great question of the French Presidency is decided, whether
for
good or for evil to other countries none can foresee, but
certainly
to the disgrace of their own. For here is a man, known only by
a
foolish attempt to disturb France, to whom no party gives
credit
for either great or good qualities, raised to the highest
dignity
in the new Republic, one of the advantages of which was to be
that
men should rise by their own merits alone. The common language
of
Frenchmen, or at least of French Royalists on the subject, is
that
they consider his election as a step to the restoration of
Monarchy—but it is a shabby way of making the step, or it may
prove a false one. You know we have had Louis Philippe and his
family as near neighbours at the Star and Garter for some
weeks,
and we have seen him several times, to thank us for our
inquiries
after the poor Queen and Princes while they were so ill. Only
think
how strange to see this great King, this busy plotter for the
glory
of his own family and the degradation of England, taking refuge
in
that very England, and sitting in the house of one of those
very
Ministers whom he had been so proud of outwitting, giving the
history of “ma chute.” This he did with great bitterness;
representing the whole French nation as a mass of
place-hunters,
without patriotism and without gratitude, and with no
tenderness to
Guizot. There is nothing noble and touching in his manner or
conversation, or I am sure he would have inspired me with more
pity
in his fallen state, in spite of many faults as a King. [34]
[34] In later years Lord and Lady John had much friendly intercourse with the Due d'Aumale, son of Louis Philippe, and with the Comte de Paris and the Due de Chartres (grandsons of the King), who were neighbours and welcome visitors at Pembroke Lodge.
During the earlier part of 1849, Lord John suffered from the effects of overwork, and like most tired statesmen he began to think of taking a peerage. On July 11th their third son, Francis Albert Rollo Russell, was born at Pembroke Lodge. The parliamentary recess was an easier period than they had known since taking office, and they had time to attend to other projects, although the difficulties with Palmerston at the Foreign Office were meanwhile coming to a climax.
In August Lord and Lady John founded a school at Petersham, over which she watched with unflagging interest till her death. They were amused by the remark of an old gentleman in the neighbourhood, who said that to have a school at Petersham “would ruin the aristocratic character of the village”—education and aristocracy being evidently, in his eyes, opposing forces.
The classes were held at first in a room in the village; the present building was not erected till 1852.
On August 32nd Lady John wrote in her diary:
Our little school, which had long been planned, was opened in a
room in the village the day before Baby's birthday, July 10th,
and
goes on well. We celebrated John's birthday last Saturday by
giving
the school-children a tea under the cedar, and a dance on the
lawn
afterwards, and very merry they were.
In August and September the Prime Minister spent some weeks at Balmoral, and wrote as follows on his last day there:
Lord John Russell to Lady John Russell
BALMORAL, September 6, 1849
I leave this place to-morrow.... No hostess could be more
charming
or more easy than the Queen has been—or more kind and
agreeable
than the Prince, and I shall leave this place with increased
attachment to them.
The Queen had been to Ireland in August, and Lord Dufferin wrote an interesting account of her visit in a letter to Lady John.
Lord Dufferin to Lady John Russell
September 10, 1849
As the newspaper reporters have already described all, nay more
than was to be seen on the occasion of the Queen's visit to
Ireland, I need not trouble you with any of my own experiences
during those auspicious days—suffice it to say that the people
were frantic with loyalty and enthusiasm. Indeed, I never
witnessed
so touching a sight as when the Queen from her quarter-deck
took
leave of the Irish people. It was a sweet, calm, silent
evening,
and the sun just setting behind the Wicklow mountains bathed
all
things in golden floods of light. Upon the beach were crowded
in
thousands the screaming bother-headed people, full of love and
devotion for her, her children, and her house, surging to and
fro
like some horrid sea and asking her to come back quick to them,
and
bidding her God-speed.... It was a beautiful historical
picture,
and one which one thought of for a long time after Queen and
ships
and people had vanished away. I suspect that she too must have
thought of it that night as she sat upon the deck and sailed
away
into the darkness—and perhaps she wondered as she looked back
upon
the land, which ever has been and still is, the dwelling of so
much
wrong and misery, whether it should be written in history
hereafter, that in her reign, and under her
auspices,
Ireland first became prosperous and her people contented.
Directly
after the Queen's departure, I started on a little tour round
the
West coast, where I saw such sights as could be seen nowhere
else.
The scenery is beautiful and wild.... But after one has been
travelling for a little while in the far West one soon loses
all
thought of the scenery, or the climate, or anything else, in
astonishment at the condition of the people. I do most firmly
believe that in no other country under the sun are there to be
found men so wretched in every respect.... All along the West
coast, from North to South, there has been allowed to
accumulate on
land utterly unable to support them a dense population, the
only
functions of whose lives have been to produce rent and
children.
Generation after generation have grown up in ignorance and
misery,
while those who lived upon the product of their labours have
laughed and rioted through life as though they had not known
that
from them alone could light and civilization descend upon these
poor wretches. I had often heard, as every one has, of the
evils of
absenteeism, but till I came and saw its effects I had no
notion
how great a crime it is.... They [the absentee landowners]
thought
only of themselves and their own enjoyments, they left their
people
to grow up and multiply like brute beasts, they stifled in them
by
their tyranny all hope and independence and desire of
advancement,
they made them cowards and liars, and have now left them to die
off
from the face of the earth. Neither can any one living at a
distance have any notion of the utter absence of all public
spirit
among the upper classes.... Legislation can do nothing when
there
is nothing for it to act upon. Parliament to Ireland is what a
galvanic battery is to a dead body, and it is in vain to make
laws
when there is no machinery to work them. A people must be
worked up
to a certain point in their dispositions and understandings
before
they can be affected by highly civilized legislation.... It is
only
individual exertions, and the personal superintendence of wise
and
good men, that can ever drill the Irish people into a
legislatable
state.... One or two things, however, seem to me pretty
certain—
1. That under proper management the Irish peasant can be made
anything of.
2. That, generally speaking, the present class of proprietors
must
and will be swept from off the surface of the earth.
3. That in the extreme West the surface is overcrowded, but not
at
all so a few miles inland.
4. That reclaiming waste lands and bogs at present is to throw
money away.
I begin to fear I have written a strange rigmarole, but still I
will send it, for though Irish matters cannot interest you as
they
do me, yet still a letter is always a pleasant thing to
receive,
even only that one may have the satisfaction of looking at the
Queen's head and breaking the seal.
The next entry from Lady John's Diary is dated October 9, 1849.
After tea John told me that he had informed the Cabinet of his
plan
for the extension of the suffrage—to be proposed next session.
All
looked grave. Sir Charles Wood and Lord Lansdowne expressed
some
alarm.... To grant an increase of weight to the people of this
country when revolutions are taking place on all sides, when a
timid Ministry would rather seek to diminish that which they
already have, is to show a noble trust in them, of which I
believe
they will nobly prove themselves worthy.
Lord John's determination to carry through this measure himself, rather than to leave it in the hands of others, was afterwards the cause of the first defeat of the Whig Government.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, February 19, 1850
The weeks are galloping past so much faster even than usual that
there is no keeping pace with them.
I neither read, write, teach, learn, nor do anything—unless
indeed
revising visiting books and writing invitations is to be called
something. I want to be with my Mama, to be with my husband, to
be
with my children, to be with friends, and to be alone, all at
the
same time. I want to read everything, and to write to
everybody,
and to walk everywhere, in no time at all. And what is the
result?
Why, that I lose the very power not only of doing, but
of thinking, to a degree that makes me seriously uneasy
and
unfits me to be a companion to anybody older or wiser than
Wee-wee,
or Baby, whose capacities exactly suit mine. All this sounds as
if
I led a life of bustle, which I do not—but it is too
full, and there is an end of it. I dare say it is mistaken
vanity to suppose that if it was emptier I should do anything
worthier of record in the political, literary, or educational
line—and at all events it would be hard to find a happier or,
I
trust, more thankful heart than mine, my troubles being in fact
the
result of many blessings.
The next session opened with the Greek crisis, which Greville described as “the worst scrape into which Palmerston has ever got himself and his colleagues. The disgust at it here is universal with those who think at all about foreign matters: it is past all doubt that it has produced the strongest feelings of indignation against this country all over Europe, and the Ministers themselves are conscious what a disgraceful figure they cut, and are ashamed of it.”
Palmerston had ordered the blockade of the Piraeus to extort compensation from the Greek Government on behalf of Mr. Finlay (afterwards the historian of Greece), whose land had been commandeered by the King of Greece for his garden, and on behalf of Don Pacifico, a Maltese Jew (and therefore a British subject), whose house had been wrecked by an Athenian mob. The Greek Government had been prepared to pay Compensation in both cases, but not the figure demanded, which turned out, indeed, on investigation, to be in gross excess of fair compensation. Palmerston's action nearly threw Europe into war; Russia protested, and France, who had offered to mediate, was aggravated by a diplomatic muddle to the verge of breaking off negotiations. A vote of censure was passed by the Opposition in the House of Lords, which had the effect of making Lord John take up the cause of Palmerston in the Commons. The question was discussed in a famous four days' debate. “It contained,” says Mr. Herbert Paul, “the finest of all Lord Palmerston's speeches, the first great speech of Gladstone, the last speech of Sir Robert Peel, and the most elaborate of those forensic harangues, delivered successively at the Bar, in the Senate, and on the Bench, by the accomplished personage best known as Lord Chief Justice Cockburn.” Lord John, who was always good at a fighting speech, spoke also with great force. Mr. Roebuck's motion of confidence in the Ministry was carried, but this success was largely due to the fact that a coalition between the Peelites and the Protectionists seemed impossible. Had it not been carried the Whigs would have resigned, and neither of the other two parties feeling strong enough to succeed them, they did not oppose in force the motion of confidence.
The day after Peel made his speech he was thrown from his horse on Constitution Hill, and on July 2nd he died.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
June 20, 1850
... Day of great political excitement. After dinner I took John
to
the House and have utterly regretted since that I did not go up
to
hear him—for he made what I am quite sure you and Ralph will
agree
with me and all whom I have yet spoken to, was a most perfect
answer; and I should have dearly liked to hear the volleys of
cheering which he so well deserved. Now we shall either go out
with
honour or stay in with triumph—welcome either.
Lord Charles Russell [35] to Lady John Russell
July 13, 1850
As you were not here to hear John move the monument [of Sir
Robert
Peel], I must tell you that he succeeded in the opinion of all.
Dizzy has just, in passing my chair, said, “Well, Lord John did
that to perfection. My friends were nervous, I was not; it was
a
difficult subject, but one peculiarly fitted for Lord John. He
did
as I was sure he would, and pleased all those who sit about
me.”
[35] Lord John's stepbrother.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 17, 1850
For the first time since the session began John spent a whole
weekday here, and such a fine one that we enjoyed it
thoroughly.
Our roses are still in great beauty, but it is a drying blaze.
In
the evening we cried over “David Copperfield” till we were
ashamed.
Lady John Russell to Lady Melgund
MINTO, October 5, 1850
This whole morning having been spent fox-hunting, and the
afternoon
doing something else, I do not exactly remember what, I am
obliged
to write to you at the forbidden time (after dinner), instead
of
making myself agreeable. What a quantity I have to say to you,
and
what a pity to say it all by letter, or, rather, to say a very
small part of it by letter, instead of having you here, as I
had
hoped and looked forward to, enjoying daily gloomy talks
with you, such as we always find ourselves indulging in when we
are
together.... Though I have scarcely walked a step about the
place
from obedience to doctors, I have driven daily with Mama—and
such
lovely drives! Oh! the place is in such beauty. I think its
greatest beauty—the trees red, yellow, green, brown, of every
shade, so that each one is seen separately, and the too great
thickness on the rocks is less perceived. This was one of the
brightest mornings, and you know what a hunt is on the rocks
when
the sun shines bright, and the rocks look whiter against a blue
sky, and men and horses and hounds place themselves in the most
picturesque positions, and horns and tally-hos echo all round,
and
everybody, except the fox, is in spirits. The gentlemen had no
sport, but the ladies a great deal, and I saw more foxes than I
had
ever seen before....
Our time here is slipping away fearfully fast—there are so many
impossibilities to be done. I am hungry to see every brother
and
sister comfortably and alone, and hungry to be out all day
seeing
every old spot and old face in the place and village, and
hungry to
be always with Papa and Mama, and hungry to read all the books
in
the library—and none of these hungers can be satisfied. We are
all
much pleased with Mr. Chichester Fortescue. He is agreeable and
gentlemanlike and good, and Lotty and Harriet got on very well
with
him, which is more than I am doing with my letter, for they are
singing me out of all my little sense—“Wha's at the window"
was
distracting enough, but “Saw ye the robber” ten times worse.
In September the Papal Bull dividing England into Roman Catholic sees threw the country into a state of needless excitement. The year had been a very critical one for the Church of England. The result of the Gorham case, which marked the failure of the High Church clergy to get their own way within the Church, hastened the secession to Rome of Manning, James Hope, and other well-known men. Lord John's letter to the Bishop of Durham, in which he expressed his own strong Protestant and Erastian principles, increased his popularity; but it was unfortunate in its effect. It encouraged the bigoted alarmist outcries which had been started by the Papal Bull, although his own letter differed in tone from such protests. The Ecclesiastical Titles Bill, which the Government brought forward in response to popular feeling, seems to have been one of the idlest measures that ever wasted the time of Parliament. It remained a dead-letter from the day it passed, yet at the time no Minister had a chance of leading the country who was not prepared to support it.
The Budget made the Ministry unpopular at the beginning of the session; and in February Mr. Locke King succeeded in passing, with the help of the Radicals, a measure for the extension of the franchise, in spite of opposition from the Government. Lord John had a measure of his own of a similar nature in view, as we have seen; but, in spite of his assurance that he would introduce it during the following year, the Radicals voted against him on Mr. King's motion, and on February 20th he resigned.
The state of parties was such that no rival coalition was possible. Lord Stanley was for widening the franchise, but being a Protectionist he could not work with the Peelites; while Lord Aberdeen would not consent to the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill, and was impossible as a leader so long as the anti-Catholic hubble-bubble continued. Lord John was therefore compelled to resume office.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 22, 1850
I am very glad you and Ralph liked John's letter to the Bishop
of
Durham. It was necessary for him to speak out, and having all
his
life defended the claims of the Roman Catholics to perfect
toleration and equality of civil rights with the other subjects
of
the Queen, I should hardly have expected that they would take
offence because he declares himself a Protestant and a despiser
of
the superstitious imitation of Roman Catholic ceremonies by
clergymen of the Church of England. Such, however, has not been
the
case: and Ireland especially, excited by her priests, has taken
fire at the whole letter, and most of all at the word
“mummeries.”
The wisest and most moderate of them, however, here, and in
Ireland
with Archbishop Murray I hope at their head, will do what they
can
to put out the flame. No amount of dislike to any creed can,
happily, for a moment shake one's conviction that complete
toleration to every creed and conviction, and complete charity
to
each one of its professors, is the only right and safe
rule—the
only one which can make consistency in religious matters
possible
at all times and on all occasions. Otherwise it might be
shaken by the new proofs of the insidious, corrupting,
anti-truthful nature and effects of the Roman Catholic belief.
They have shown themselves for ages past in the character and
conditions of the countries where it reigns, and now the Pope's
foolish Bull is the signal for double-dealing and ingratitude
among
his spiritual subjects—and consequently for anger and
intolerance
among Protestants—wrong, but not quite inexcusable.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 29, 1850
Far from wondering at your vacillations of opinion about John's
letter, both he and I felt, on the first appearance of
Wiseman's
pastoral letter, that the whole scheme was so ridiculous, the
affectation of power so contemptible, the change of Vicars
Apostolic into Bishops and Archbishops, so impotent for evil to
Protestants, while it might possibly be of use to Roman
Catholics,
that ridicule and contempt were the only fit arms for the
occasion.
But when he came to consider the chief cause of the
measure—that
is, the great and growing evil of Tractarianism—of an
established
clergy becoming daily less efficient for the wants of their
parishioners, and more at variance with the laity and with the
spirit of the Church to which they outwardly belong; when the
whole
Protestant country showed its anger or fear; when such a man as
the
Bishop of Norwich (Hinds), a man so tolerant as to be called by
the
intolerant a latitudinarian, came to him to represent the
necessity
for some expression of opinion on the part of the Government,
and
the immense evils that would result from the want of such an
expression; when, after a calm survey of the state of religion
throughout the country, he thought he saw that it was in his
power
to prevent the ruin of the Church of England, not by assuming
popular opinions, but merely by openly avowing his own—then,
and
not till then, he wrote his letter—then, and not till then, I
felt
he was right to do so.
It has quieted men's fears with regard to the Pope, and directed
them towards Tractarianism. And we are told that a great many
(I
think one hundred) of the clergy omitted some of their
“mummeries"
on the following Sunday. That word was perhaps ill-chosen, and
he
is willing to say so—but I doubt it. Suppose he had omitted
it,
some other would have been laid hold of as offensive to men
sincere
in their opinions, however mistaken he may think them.
The letter was a Protestant one, and could not give great
satisfaction to Roman Catholics, except such as Lord Beaumont,
who
prefers the Queen to the Pope. John has all his life showed
himself
a friend to civil and religious liberty, especially that of the
Roman Catholics—and would gladly never have been called upon
to
say a word that they could take as an insult to their creed.
But it
was a moment in which he had to choose between a temporary
offence
to a part of their body and the deserved loss of the confidence
of
the Protestant body, to which he heart and soul belongs. He
could
scarcely declare his opinion of the Tractarians, who remain in
a
Church to which they no longer belong, without indirectly
giving
offence to Roman Catholics. But it is against their practices
that
his strong disapprobation is declared, and of the mischief of
those
practices I dare say you have no idea. I believe many of them,
most
of them, to be as pious and excellent men as ever existed; but
their teaching is not likely to make others as pious and
excellent
as themselves; and their remaining in the Church obliges them
to a
secrecy and hesitation in their teaching that is worse than the
teaching itself, which would disappear if they became honest
Dissenters. I could write pages more upon the subject but have
no
time, and I will only beg you not to confound John's letter
with
the bigotry and intolerance of many speeches at many meetings.
I am
keeping the collection of letters, addresses, etc., that he has
received on the subject—a curious medley, being from all ranks
and
degrees of men, some really touching, some laughable.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, February 11, 1851
I wonder what you will think of John's speech last Friday. I am
quite surprised at the approbation it meets with here—not that
I
do not think it deserved, for surely it was a fine high-minded
one,
and at the same time one at no word of which a Roman Catholic,
as
such, could take offence—but so many people thought more ought
to
be done, and so many others that nothing ought to be done, that
I
expected nothing but grumbling. However, the speech is
by
most persons distinguished from the measure. I have not
yet
quite succeeded in persuading myself, or being persuaded, that
we
might not have let the whole thing alone; treating an
impertinence
as an impertinence, to be met by ridicule or indignation
as
each person might incline, but not by legislation. This being
my
natural and I hope foolish impulse, I rejoice that the Bill is
so
mild that nobody can consider it as an infringement of the
principle of religious liberty, but rather a protest against
undue
interference in temporal affairs by Pope, Prelate, or Priest of
any
denomination. Lizzy and I went to the House last night. I never
heard John speak with more spirit and effect. Do not you in
your
quiet beautiful Nervi look with amazement at the whirl of
politics
and parties in which we live? I am sometimes ashamed of the
time I
consume in writing invitations and other matters connected with
party-giving—quite as much as John takes to think of speeches,
which affect the welfare of so many thousands. But after all it
is
a part of the same trade, one which, though most dangerous to
all
that is best in man and woman, may, I trust, be followed in
safety
by those who see the dangers. I am sure I see them. God grant
we
may both escape them.
In a letter written to Lady Mary Abercromby, more than two years before, she had expressed her feelings with regard to religious ceremonies. It is interesting that the word mummeries, which excited so much indignation in Lord John's Durham letter, occurs in this letter.
On January 13, 1848, she wrote:
Many thanks to you for the interesting account of the great
ceremony on Christmas Day in St. Peter's, and of your own
feelings
about it. I believe that whatever is meant as an act of
devotion to God, or as an acknowledgment of His greatness and
glory, whether expressed by the simple prayer of a Covenanter
on
the hill-side or by the ceremonies of a Catholic priesthood, or
even by the prostrations of a Mahometan, or by the self-torture
of
a Hindoo, may and ought to inspire us with respect and with a
devout feeling, at least when the worshippers themselves are
pious
and sincere. Otherwise, indeed, if the mummery is more
apparent than the solemnity, I do not see how respect can be
felt
by those accustomed to a pure worship, the words and meaning of
which are clear and applicable to rich and poor, high and
low....
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, April 11, 1851
I wonder what you will do with regard to teaching religion to
Maillie when she is older. I am daily more and more convinced
of
the folly, or worse than folly, the mischief, of stuffing
children's heads with doctrines some of which we do not believe
ourselves (though we may think we do), others which we do not
understand, while their hearts remain untouched.... Old as
Johnny
is, he does not yet go to church. I see with pain, but cannot
help
seeing, that from the time a child begins to go to church, the
truth and candour of its religion are apt to suffer.... Oh, how
far
we still are from the religion of Christ! How unwilling to
believe
that God's ways are not our ways, nor His thoughts our
thoughts!
How willing to bring them down to suit not what is divine, but
what
is earthly, in ourselves! Yet, happily, we do not feel or act
in
consistency with all that we repeat as a lesson upon the
subject of
our faith—for man cannot altogether crush the growth of the
soul
given by God—and I trust and believe a better time is coming,
when
freedom of thought and of word will be as common as they are
now
uncommon.
In May Lady John writes of a dinner-party in London where she had a long conversation with the Russian Ambassador (Baron Brunow) on the Governments of Russia and England; she ended by hoping for a time “when Russia will be more like this country than it is now, to which he answered with a start, and lifting up his hands, 'God forbid! May I never live to see Russia more like this country! God forbid, my dear Lady Joan!'”
To follow the events which led to the fall of the Ministry it is necessary to look abroad. The power of the Whigs in the House of Commons, such as it was, was the result of inability of Tories to combine, owing to their differences concerning Free Trade. The strength of Lord John's Ministry in the country depended largely upon the foreign policy of Palmerston, who was disliked and mistrusted by the Court. While Palmerston was defending his abrupt, highhanded policy towards Greece in the speech which made him the hero of the hour, a war was going on between Denmark and Schleswig-Holstein, in which the Prince Consort himself was much interested. It was a question as to whether Schleswig-Holstein should be permitted to join the German Federation. Holstein was a German fief, Schleswig was a Danish fief; unfortunately an old law linked them together in some mysterious fashion, as indissolubly as Siamese twins. Both wanted to join the Federation. Holstein had a good legal claim to do as it liked in this respect, Schleswig a bad one; but the law declared that both must be under the same government. Prussia interfered on behalf of the duchies; England, Austria, France, and the Baltic Powers joined in declaring that the Danish monarchy should not be divided.
The Prince Consort had Prussian sympathies, and he therefore disapproved of the strong line which Palmerston took up in this matter. It was not only Palmerston's policy, however, but the independence with which he was accustomed to carry it out, which annoyed the Court. He was a bad courtier; he domineered over princelings and kings abroad, and his behaviour to his own Sovereign did not in any way resemble Disraeli's. He not only “never contradicted, only sometimes forgot”; on the contrary, he often omitted to tell the Queen what he was doing, and consequently she found herself in a false position.
At last the following peremptory reproof was addressed to him:
Queen Victoria to Lord John Russell, [36]
Osborne, August 12, 1850
... The Queen requires, first, that Lord Palmerston will
distinctly
state what he proposes in a given case, in order that the Queen
may
know as distinctly to what she has given her royal sanction;
secondly, having once given her sanction to a measure, that it
be
not arbitrarily altered or modified by the Minister. Such an
act
she must consider as failing in sincerity towards the Crown,
and
justly to be visited by the exercise of her constitutional
right of
dismissing that Minister. She expects to be kept informed of
what
passes between him and Foreign Ministers before important
decisions
are taken, based upon that intercourse: to receive foreign
dispatches in good time; and to have the drafts for her
approval
sent to her in sufficient time to make herself acquainted with
their contents before they must be sent off. The Queen thinks
it
best that Lord John Russell should show this letter to Lord
Palmerston.
[36] “Letters of Queen Victoria,” vol. ii, chap. xix.
Palmerston apologized and promised amendment, but he did not resign, nor did the Prime Minister request him to do so. His foreign policy had hitherto vigorously befriended liberty on the Continent, and although the Queen and Prince Consort never strained the constitutional limits of the prerogative, these limits are elastic and there was a general feeling among Liberals that the Court might acquire an overwhelming influence in diplomacy, and that certainly at the moment the Prince Consort's sympathies were too largely determined by his relationship to foreign royal families. It is clear, however, that as long as the Crown is an integral part of the Executive, the Sovereign must have the fullest information upon foreign affairs. Palmerston had gone a great deal too far.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, March 14, 1851
We have now heard from you several times since the crisis,
[37] but not since you knew of our reinstatement in place and
power, toil and trouble.... I should hardly have thought it
possible that Ralph, hearing constantly from Lord Palmerston,
had
not discovered the change that has come over him since last
year,
when he took his stand and won his victory on the principles
that
became a Whig Minister, of sympathy with the constitutionalists
and
antipathy to the absolutists all over Europe. Ever since that
great
debate he has gradually retreated from those principles.... I
am
not apt to be politically desponding, but the one thing which
now
threatens us is the loss of confidence of the House of Commons
and
the country....
[37] The defeat of the Government on Mr. Locke King's motion for the equalization of the county and borough franchise.
She was not right, however, in her estimate of the dangers which threatened the Ministry; they came from the Foreign Office and the Court, not from the Commons.
Kossuth, the leader of the Hungarian Revolution, had been received in England with great enthusiasm. He made a series of fiery speeches against the Austrian and Russian Governments, urging that in cases in which foreign Powers interfered with the internal politics of a country, as they had done in the case of the Revolution in Hungary, outside nations should combine to prevent it. This was thoroughly in harmony with Palmerston's foreign policy. He wished to receive Kossuth at his house, which would have been tantamount to admitting to a hostile attitude towards Austria and Russia, who were nominally our friends. Lord John dissuaded him from doing this; but he did receive deputations at the Foreign Office, who spoke of the Emperors of Austria and Russia as “odious and detestable assassins.” The Queen was extremely angry.
Windsor Castle, November 13, 1851
The Queen talked long with me about Lord Palmerston and about
Kossuth.
After accusing Lord Palmerston of every kind of fault and folly,
public and private, she said several times, “I have the very
worst
opinion of him.” I secretly agreed with her in much that she
said
of him, but openly defended him when I thought her unjust. I
told
her of his steadiness in friendship and constant kindness in
word
and deed to those he had known in early life, however separated
from him by time and station. She did not believe it, and said
she
knew him to be quite wanting in feeling. This turned out to
mean
that his political enmities outlasted the good fortune of his
enemies. She said if he took the part of the revolutionists in
some
countries he ought in all, and that while he pretended great
compassion for the oppressed Hungarians and Italians, he would
not
care if the Schleswig-Holsteiners were all drowned. I said this
was
too common a failing with us all, etc. I allowed that I wished
his
faults were not laid on John's shoulders, and John's merits
given
to him, as has often been the case—and that it was a pity he
sometimes used unnecessarily provoking language, but I would
not
grant that England was despised and hated by all other European
countries.
The Kossuth incident was soon followed by a graver one. On December 1, 1851, Louis Napoleon carried out his coup d'etat. The Ministry determined to maintain a strict neutrality in the matter, and a short dispatch was sent to Lord Normanby instructing him “to make no change in his relations to the French Government.” When this dispatch was shown to the French Minister, he replied, a little nettled no doubt by the suggestion that England considered herself to be stretching a point in recognising the Emperor, that he had already heard from their Ambassador in London that Lord Palmerston fully approved of the change. In a later dispatch to Lord Normanby, which had not been shown either to the Queen or to the Prime Minister, Palmerston repeated his own opinion. Now this was precisely the kind of conduct for which he had been reproved: in consequence he was asked to resign. When it came to explanations before Parliament, Palmerston, to the surprise of everybody, made a meek, halting defence of his independent conduct. But he bided his time, and when the Government brought in a Militia Bill, intended to quiet the invasion scare which the appearance of another Napoleon on the throne of France had started, he proposed an amendment which they could not accept, and carried it against them. Lord John Russell resigned and Lord Derby undertook to form a Government.
Lady John wrote afterwards the following recollections of this crisis:
The breach between John and Lord Palmerston was a calamity to
the
country, to the Whig party, and to themselves. And although it
had
for some months been a threatening danger on the horizon, I
cannot
but feel that there was accident in its actual occurrence. Had
we
been in London, or at Pembroke Lodge, and not at Woburn Abbey
at
the time, they would have met and talked over the subjects of
their
difference. Words spoken might have been equally strong, but
would
have been less cutting than words written, and conciliatory
expressions on John's part would have led the way to promises
on
Lord Palmerston's to avoid committing his colleagues in future,
as
he had done in the case of the coup d'etat, and also to avoid
any
needless risk of irritating the Queen by neglect in sending
dispatches to the Palace. It was characteristic of my husband
to
bear patiently for a long while with difficulties, opposition,
perplexities, doubts raised by those with whom he acted,
listening
to them with candour and good temper, and only meeting their
arguments with his own; but, at last, if he failed to convince
them, to take a sudden resolution—either yielding to them
entirely
or breaking with them altogether—from which nothing could
shake
him, but which, on looking back in after years, did not always
seem
to him the best course. My father, who knew him well, once said
to
me, half in joke and half in earnest: “Your husband is never so
determined as when he is in the wrong.” It was a relief to him
to
have done with hesitation and be resolved on any step which
this
very anxiety to have done with hesitation led him to believe a
right one at the moment. This habit of mind showed itself in
private as in public matters, and his children and I were often
startled by abrupt decisions on home affairs announced very
often
by letter.
In the case of the dismissal of Lord Palmerston, there was but Lord Palmerston himself who found fault. The rest of the Cabinet were unanimous in approbation. But there was not one of them whose opinions on foreign policy were, in John's mind, worth weighing against those of Lord Palmerston. He and John were always in cordial agreement on the great lines of foreign policy, so far as I remember, except on Lord Palmerston's unlucky and unworthy sanction of the coup d'etat.
They two kept up the character of England as the sturdy guardian of her own rights against other nations and the champion of freedom and independence abroad. They did so both before and after the breach of 1851, which was happily closed in the following year, when they were once more colleagues in office. On matters of home policy Lord Palmerston remained the Tory he had been in his earlier days, and this was the cause of many a trial to John. Indeed, it was a misfortune to him throughout his public career that his colleagues almost to a man hung back when he would have gone forward; and many a time he came home dispirited from a Cabinet at which he had been alone—or with only the support of my father, who always stood stoutly by him while he remained Cabinet Minister—in the wish to bring before Parliament measures worthy of the Whig banner of Civil and Religious Liberty, Progress and Reform. Nothing could exceed John's patience under the criticisms of his colleagues, who were, most of them, also his friends, some of them very dear friends—nothing could exceed his readiness to admit and listen to difference of opinion from them; but it was trying to find the difference always in one direction, and that a direction hardly consistent with the character of a Whig Ministry.
The spirit which pervaded the foreign policy of Lord John Russell is shown in a letter from him to Queen Victoria dated December 29, 1851 [38]:
The grand rule of doing to others as we wish that they should do
unto us is more applicable than any system of political
science.
The honour of England does not consist in defending every
English
officer or English subject, right or wrong, but in taking care
that
she does not infringe the rules of justice, and that they are
not
infringed against her.
[38] “Letters of Queen Victoria,” vol. ii, chap. xx.
Lord and Lady John often regretted that the duties of political life prevented them from having fuller intercourse with literary friends. There are short entries in her diaries mentioning the visits of distinguished men and women, but she seldom had time to write more than a few words. Her diaries—like her letters—were written with marvellous rapidity, and were, of course, meant for herself alone. In March, 1852, she writes: “Thackeray came to read his 'Sterne' and 'Goldsmith' to us—very interesting quiet evening.” And a little later at Pembroke Lodge: “Dickens came to luncheon and stayed to dinner. He was very agreeable—and more than agreeable—made us feel how much he is to be liked.” Rogers they also saw occasionally, and the letter which follows is a reply to an invitation to Pembroke Lodge. The second letter refers to a volume of poems in manuscript, written by Lady John and illustrated by Lord John's stepdaughter, Mrs. Drummond. He had lent it to Rogers.
MY DEAR LADY JOHN,—Yes! yes! yes! A thousand thanks to you
both! I
need not say how delighted I shall be to avail myself of your
kindness. I would rather share a crust with you and Lord John
in
your Paradise then sup in the Apollo with Lucullus
himself—yes—though Cicero and Pompey were to be of the party.
Yours most sincerely,
SAMUEL ROGERS
Mr. Samuel Rogers to Lord John Russell
April 15, 1852
MY DEAR FRIEND,—How could you entrust me with anything so
precious, so invaluable, that when I leave it I run back to see
if
it is lost? The work of two kindred minds which nor time nor
chance
could sever, long may it live a monument of all that is
beautiful,
and long may they live to charm and to instruct when I
am
gone and forgotten.
Yours ever,
S.R.
The next entry from Lady John's diary is dated March 14, 1852:
Yesterday John read a ballad in Punch giving a very
unfavourable review of his conduct in dismissing Lord
Palmerston,
in bringing forward Reform—indeed, in almost all he has done
in
office. He felt this more than the attacks of graver and less
independent papers, and said, “That's hard upon a man who has
worked as I have for Reform”; but the moment of discouragement
passed away, and he walked up and down the room repeating
Milton's
lines with the spirit and feeling of Milton:
“Yet hate I not a jot of heart or hope,
But steer right onward.”
PEMBROKE LODGE
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VI
My brother and I have here added a few recollections of our old home.
A.R.
Pembroke Lodge, an old-fashioned house, long and low, surrounded by thickly wooded grounds, stood on the ridge of the hill in Richmond Park overlooking the Thames Valley and a wide plain beyond. It was approached by a drive between ancient oaks, limes, and evergreens, and at the entrance was a two-roomed thatched cottage, long occupied by a hearty old couple employed on the place, so careful and watchful that an amusing incident occurred one day when our father and mother were away from home. A lady and gentleman who were walking in the Park called at the Lodge, and asked for permission to walk through the grounds. The old lodge-keeper refused, saying she could not give access to strangers during the absence of the family. The lady then told her they were friends of Lord and Lady John, but still the old guardian of the place remained suspicious and obdurate; till, to her surprise and discomfiture, it came out that the visitors to whom she had so sturdily refused admission were no other than Queen Victoria and Prince Albert walking incognito in the Park.
Just outside the Lodge the Crystal Palace on the height of Sydenham could be seen glittering in the rays of the setting sun. In front of the house, eastward, were two magnificent poplars, one 100 feet, the other about 96 feet high, rich and ample in foliage, and most delicately expressive of every kind of wind and weather. They could be seen with a telescope from Hindhead, about thirty miles south-west. Grand old oaks, of seven hundred to a thousand years, grew near the house and made plentiful shade; southwards the grass under them was scarcely visible in May for the glorious carpet of wild hyacinths, all blue and purple in the chequered sunlight. Nearly every oak had its name and place in the affection of young minds. There were also many fine beech-trees in the grounds. On the western slopes were masses of primroses and violets, also wild strawberries. West and south, down the hill, was a wilderness, the delight of children, untended and unspoiled, where birds of many kinds built their nests, where squirrels, rabbits, hedgehogs, weasels, snakes, wood-pigeons, turtle-doves, owls, and other life of the woods had never been driven out, and where visitors hardly ever cared to penetrate. Outside, in Petersham Park, was a picturesque thatched byre where the cows were milked. Petersham Park was then quiet and secluded, before the time came for its invasion by London school treats.
East of the house was a long lawn, secluded from the open Park by a beautiful, wildly growing hedge of gorse, berberis, bramble, hawthorn, and wild roses. Further north was a bowling-green, surrounded by hollies, laburnums, lilacs, rhododendrons, and forest trees; at one end was a rose-trellis and a raised flower garden. The effect of this bright flower garden with its setting of green foliage and flowering shrubs, and majestic old trees surrounding the whole, was very beautiful. At one end, shaded by two cryptomereas, planted by our father—said by Sir Joseph Hooker to be among the finest in England—was a long verandah where our mother often sat in summer with her basket of books, and in winter spread oatmeal for the birds, which grew very tame and would eat out of her hand. Close by was a picturesque old thatched summer-house, covered with roses; on each side were glades of chestnut, hornbeam, and lime trees, and looking westward Windsor Castle could be seen on the far horizon.
Near the house was a noble cedar, with one particularly fine bough under the shade of which the Petersham School children and the “Old Scholars” had their tea on festive occasions, followed by merry games in the grounds. The view from the house and the West walk, and also from King Henry's Mount, was most beautiful, especially in the spring and autumn, with the varied and harmonious tints of the wooded foreground fading away into the soft blue distance.
It was a glorious Park to live in. The great oaks, the hawthorns, the tall dense bracken, the wide expanses of grass, the herds of red and fallow deer, not always undisturbed, made it a paradise for young people. The boys delighted in the large ponds, full of old carp and tench, with dace and roach, perch, gudgeons, eels, tadpoles, sticklebacks, and curious creatures of the weedy bottom. There was the best of riding over the smooth grass in the open sunny expanses or among the quiet and shady glades. Combe Wood, a little south of the Park, was then an island of pure country, quite unfrequented, and an occasional day there was a treat for all.
Pembroke Lodge, the house, was entered by a porch overhung with wistaria; the walls on each side were covered with laburnums and roses; a long trellised arch of white roses led to the south lawn, which was sheltered from the east by holly, lilacs, and a very fine crataegus. From here was one of the loveliest views in the place, for our mother had made a wide opening under the arched bough of a fine elm-tree which stood like a grand old sentinel in the foreground. The bow room on the south side of the house was occupied by our father during his later years. Here stood the statue of Italy given by grateful Italians and the silver statuette given by the ladies of Bedford in recognition of Reform. The West room next the dining-room had been our father's study during many of his most strenuous years of office. The floor was heaped high with pyramids of despatch-boxes. One day some consternation was caused by our pet jackdaw, who had found his way in and pulled off all the labels, no doubt intending, in mischievous enjoyment, to tear to shreds despatches of European importance.
Above the bow room was our mother's bedroom; the view from here was exceedingly beautiful, both near and far, and she was never tired of standing at the open window looking at the loveliness around her, and listening to the happy chorus of birds—and to the nightingales answering each other, and singing day and night, apparently never weary of trying to gladden the world with their glorious melody.
It was indeed impossible to have a happier or more perfect home; the freedom, the outdoor life, the games and fun, in which our father and mother joined in their rare moments of leisure; the hours of reading and talk with them on the high and deep things of life—all this, and much more that cannot be expressed, forms a background in the memory of life deeply treasured and ineffaceable.
Although the Russell Ministry had been defeated upon the Militia Bill (“my tit-for-tat with John Russell,” as Palmerston called it), the victors were very unlikely to hold office for long. In spite of Disraeli's praise of Free Trade during the General Election, a right-about surprising and disconcerting to his colleagues, the returns left the strength of parties much as they had been before. The Conservatives did not lose ground, but they did not gain it; they remained stronger than any other single party, but much weaker than Whigs, Peelites, and Irish combined. When Parliament met it was obvious that they would soon be replaced in office by some kind of coalition. Defeat came on Disraeli's Budget. The question remained, who could now undertake to amalgamate the various political groups, which, except in Opposition, had shown so little stable cohesion? Since the downfall of the Derby Government had been the work of a temporary alliance between Peelites and Whigs, the Queen sent for representatives of both parties; for Lord Aberdeen as the leader of Peel's followers and for Lord Lansdowne as the representative of the Whigs. Naturally she did not wish to summon Palmerston after what had happened; and to have charged Lord John, the other Whig leader, with the formation of a Ministry would have widened the discrepancies within the Whig party itself; for Lord John was unpopular with the Protestant Nonconformist section of the party, who were indignant with him for not strictly enforcing the Ecclesiastical Titles Act, and he had alienated the numerous believers in Palmerston by having forced him to resign. Lord Lansdowne was universally respected, and since he belonged to the rear-guard of the Whig party there seemed a better chance of his coalescing with the Conservatives. When he declined, pleading gout and old age, the task devolved upon Lord Aberdeen, who accepted the Queen's commission knowing that Palmerston was willing to take office and work with, though never again (he said) under, [39] Lord John. It was most important that both the leaders of the Whig party, Palmerston and Russell, should come into the Cabinet; for if either stayed outside a coalition, which by its Conservative tendencies already excluded Radicals of influence like Cobden and Bright, it could not have counted upon steady Whig support. Would Lord John consent to take office? Upon his decision depended, in Lord Aberdeen's opinion, the success or failure of the coalition. He had some talk with Lord John before accepting the Queen's commission, which persuaded him that he could rely upon Lord John's consent; but it is clear that at that time Lord John did not consider the matter decided.
[39] Although he asserted at the time that he would never serve under Lord John again, yet it appears that he was the only one of Lord John's colleagues who was willing to serve under him, when Lord John attempted to succeed Lord Aberdeen. Morley's “Life of Gladstone,” vol. i, p. 531.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, December 24, 1852
God grant our present good accounts may continue. [Lady Minto
had
been and was then alarmingly ill.] The two last letters have
made
me as little unhappy as is possible, considering how much there
is
still to dread.
Whenever my thoughts are not with Mama, they are wearying
themselves to no purpose in threading the maze of ravelled
politics, or rather political arrangements, in which we are
living.
Since I have been in public life, I never spent a week
of
such painful public anxiety. When I say that the
possibility
of John taking office under Lord Aberdeen was always an odious
one
to me, and one which seemed next to an impossibility, don't for
one
moment suppose that I say so on the ground of personal claims
and
personal ambition, which I hold to be as wrong and selfish in
politics as in everything else. And I shall feel a positive
pleasure, far above that of seeing him first, in seeing
him
give so undoubted a proof of disinterestedness and patriotism
as
consenting to be second, if that were all. But oh, the
danger of other sacrifices—sacrifices as fatal as that one
would
be honourable to his name—and oh, the infinite shades and
grades
of want of high motives and aims which, at such a time, one is
doomed to find out in the buzzers who hover round the
house—while
the honest and pure and upright keep away and are silent. At
times
I almost wish I could throw away all that is honest and pure
and
upright, as useless and inconvenient rubbish of which I am half
ashamed. I never felt more keenly or heavily the immeasurable
distance between earth and heaven than now, when after the day
has
been spent in listening to the plausibilities of commonplace
politicians, I open my Bible at night. It is going from
darkness
into light.
And now you have had enough of my grumpiness, and I shall only
add
that all has not been pain and mortification. On the contrary,
some
men have come out bright and true as they were sure to do, and
have
shown themselves real friends to John and the country, and
redeemed
the class of politicians from a sweeping condemnation which
would
be most unjust.
After much hesitation Lord John determined to serve under Lord Aberdeen. He was persuaded to do so, in spite of strong misgivings, by the Queen, who was anxious to avoid the last resort of calling in Palmerston; her request was backed by the appeals of his most trusted political friends.
Queen Victoria to Lord John Russell
OSBORNE, December 19, 1852
The Queen has to-day charged Lord Aberdeen with the duty of
forming
an Administration, which he has accepted. The Queen thinks the
moment to have arrived when a popular, efficient, and durable
Government could be formed by the sincere and united efforts of
all
parties professing Conservative and Liberal opinions. The
Queen,
knowing that this can only be effected by the patriotic
sacrifice
of personal interests and feelings to the public, trusts that
Lord
John Russell will, as far as he is able, give his valuable and
powerful assistance to the realization of this object.
Lord John's hesitation seems to have been not unnaturally interpreted by many contemporaries as the reluctance of an ex-Prime Minister to take a subordinate position, and some records of this impression have found their way into history. We have Lady John's assurance that “this never for one moment weighed with him,” and that his hesitation was entirely due to “the improbability of agreement in a Cabinet so composed, and therefore the probable evil to the country.” His true feeling was shown by a remark made at that time by Lady John, that her husband would not mind being “shoeblack to Lord Aberdeen” if it would serve the country. [40]
[40] Stuart Reid's “Life of Lord John Russell,” p. 205.
It may be pointed out in corroboration that three years later Lord John was willing to serve under Palmerston himself, both in the House of Commons and the Cabinet, though the latter had thwarted him at every turn in the previous Ministry, and hardly hoped for such generous support. A man in whom scruples of pride were strong emotions would have found far greater cause for standing out then, than at this juncture. Indeed, such an interpretation of his motives does not agree with the impression which Lord John's character leaves on the mind. From his reserved speech, shy manner, and uncommunicative patience under criticism, from the silent abruptness of his decisions, his formidable trenchancy in self-defence when openly attacked, and his aloofness from any attempts to curry favour with the Press, it may be inferred that his character was a dignified one; but he was dignified precisely in the way which makes such actions as taking a subordinate political position particularly easy. He foresaw that his position would be one of extreme difficulty, but not—here lay his error—that it would prove an impossible one. It must be remembered that by subordinating himself he was also in a certain measure subordinating his party. The Whigs were contributing the majority of votes in the House of Commons, and they demanded that they should be proportionately powerful in the Cabinet. He was therefore forced to arrogate to himself an exceptional position in the Cabinet as the leader and representative of what was in fact a separate party. The Whigs kept complaining that he did not press their claims to office with sufficient importunity, while the Peelites reproached him with refusing to work under his chief like every other Minister. Whenever he subordinated the claims of the Whigs for the sake of working better with Lord Aberdeen, he laid himself open to charges of betraying his followers, and when he pressed their claims, he was accused of arrogance towards his chief. This, however, was a dilemma, the vexations of which wore off as places were apportioned and the Ministry got to its work; there was a more fatal incongruity in his position. He was technically a subordinate Minister, pledged to reform (as Prime Minister he had opposed a Radical Reform Bill on the ground that he would introduce his own), and the representative of the strongest party, also pledged to reform, in a coalition Cabinet anxious for the most part to seize the first excuse to postpone it indefinitely. In ordinary circumstances, if thwarted by his colleagues he would have resigned; but as it turned out, their excuse for thwarting him was at the same time the strongest claim on his loyalty. They made Crimean difficulties at once an excuse for postponing reform and for urging him to postpone his resignation.
At first, however, as far as those who were not behind the scenes could see, all went smoothly with the Coalition. The work of the session was admirably carried out. Lord John entered the Cabinet as Foreign Secretary; but as the duties of that office combined with the leadership of the House of Commons were too much for one man, he resigned, remaining in the Cabinet without office until 1854, when he became Colonial Secretary. The great event of the session was Gladstone's famous first Budget.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
April 19, 1853
Gladstone's speech was magnificent, and I think his plan will
do.... I think we shall carry this Budget, as Gladstone has put
it
so clearly that hardly a Liberal can vote with Disraeli to put
him
in our place. It rejoices me to be party to a large plan, and
to
have to do with a man who seeks to benefit the country rather
than
to carry a majority by concessions to fear.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 20, 1853
I am delighted with Gladstone's Budget. I don't pretend to judge
of
all its details, but such of its proposals as I understand are
all
to my mind, and the spirit and temper of the whole speech
admirable; so bold, so benevolent, so mild, so uncompromising.
I
read it aloud to Lizzy and the girls, and we were in the middle
of
it when your letter came telling us how fine it had been....
Surely
you will carry it? I feel no fear, except of your allowing it
to be
damaged in the carrying.
Mrs. Gladstone to Lady John Russell
April, 1853
MY DEAR LADY JOHN,—I thank you heartily for your very kind
note.
You know well from your own experience how happy I must be now.
We have indeed great reason to be thankful: the approbation of
such
men as your husband is no slight encouragement and no slight
happiness. I assure you we have felt this deeply. After great
anxiety one feels more as if in a happy dream than in real life
and
you will not laugh at the relief to me of seeing him well after
such an effort and after such labour as it has been for
weeks....
We have often thought of you in your illness and heard of your
well-doing with sincere pleasure.
Once more thanking you, believe me, dear Lady John,
Yours sincerely,
CATHERINE GLADSTONE
I must tell you with what comfort and interest I watched Lord
John's countenance during the speech.
On March 28, 1853, Lady John's daughter, Mary Agatha, was born at Pembroke Lodge. Lady Minto was well enough to write a bright and happy letter of congratulation on the birth of her granddaughter, but her health was gradually failing, and on July 21st she died at Nervi, in Italy.
PEMBROKE LODGE, August 3, 1853
The world is changed to me for ever since I last wrote. My dear,
dear Mama has left it, and I shall never again see that face so
long and deeply loved. Tuesday, July 26th, was the day we
heard.
Thursday, July 21st, the day her angel spirit was summoned to
that
happy home where tears are wiped from all eyes. I pray to think
more of her, glorious, happy and at rest, than of ourselves.
But it
is hard, very, very hard to part. O Mama, Mama, I call and you
do
not come. I dream of you, I wake, and you are not there.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
MINTO, August 10, 1853
You will feel a melancholy pang at the date of the place from
which
I write. It is indeed very sorrowful to see Lord Minto and so
many
of his sons and daughters assembled to perform the last duties
to
her who was the life and comfort of them all.... The place is
looking beautiful, and your mother's garden was never so
lovely. It
is pleasant in all these sorrows and trials to see a family so
united in affection, and so totally without feelings or objects
that partake of selfishness or ill-will.
The old poet Rogers, who had been attached to Lady John since her earliest days in London society, now wrote to her in her sorrow. His note is worth preserving. He was past his ninetieth year when he wrote, and it reveals a side of him which is lost sight of in the memoirs of the time, where he usually appears as saying many neat things, but few kind ones. Mrs. Norton, in a letter to Hayward, gives an authentic picture of him at this time. She begins by saying that no man ever seemed so important who did so little, even said so little:
“His god was Harmony,” she wrote; “and over his life Harmony
presided, sitting on a lukewarm cloud. He was not the
'poet,
sage, and philosopher' people expected to find he was, but a
man in
whom the tastes (rare fact!) preponderated over the passions;
who
defrayed the expenses of his tastes as other men make outlay
for
the gratification of their passions; all within the limit of
reason.
”... He was the very embodiment of quiet, from his voice to the
last harmonious little picture that hung in his hushed room,
and a
curious figure he seemed—an elegant pale watch-tower, showing
for
ever what a quiet port literature and the fine arts might
offer, in
an age of 'progress,' when every one is tossing, struggling,
wrecking, and foundering on a sea of commercial speculation or
political adventure; when people fight over pictures, and if a
man
does buy a picture, it is with the burning desire to prove it
is a
Raphael to his yielding enemies, rather than to point it out
with a
slow white finger to his breakfasting friends.”
Mr. Samuel Rogers to Lady John Russell
August 13, 1853
MY DEAR FRIEND,—May I break in upon you to say how much you
have
been in my thoughts for the last fortnight? But I was unwilling
to
interrupt you at such a moment when you must have been so much
engaged.
May He who has made us and alone knows what is best for us
support
you under your great affliction. Again and again have I taken
up my
poor pen, but in vain, and I have only to pray that God may
bless
you and yours wherever you go.
Ever most affectionately yours,
SAMUEL ROGERS
In the autumn of 1853 Lord John took his family up to Roseneath, in Scotland, which had been lent them by the Duke of Argyll. They had been there some weeks, occasionally making short cruises in the Seamew, which the Commission of Inland Revenue had placed at their disposal, when threatening complications in the East compelled Lord John to return to London. The peace of thirty-eight years was nearly at an end.
ROSENEATH, September 2, 1853
My poor dear John set off to London, to his and my great
disappointment. The refusal of the Porte to agree to the Note
accepted by the Emperor makes the journey necessary.
Lady John soon followed him.
Lady John Russell to Lady Elizabeth Romilly
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 21, 1853
MY DEAREST LIZZY,—... I have never ceased rejoicing at my
sudden
flight from Roseneath, though its two causes, John's cold and
the
Czar's misdeeds, are unpleasant enough—but his presence here
is so
necessary, so terribly necessary, that neither he nor I could
have
stayed on in peace at Roseneath.... What he has accomplished is
a
wonder; and I hope that some day somehow everybody will know
everything, and wonder at his patience and firmness and
unselfishness, as I do.... I trust we may be very quiet here
for
some time, and then one must gather courage for London and the
battle of life again. Our quiet here will not be without
interruption, for there will be early in November a week or so
of
Cabinets, for which we shall go to town, and at the end of
November
Parliament may be obliged to meet....
Your ever affectionate sister,
FANNY RUSSELL
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 9, 1853
Your letter just come, dearest ... I don't think I am tired by
colds, but indeed it is true that I think constantly and
uneasily
of your political position, never, never, as to whether
this
or that course will place you highest in the world's
estimation. I
am sure you know all I care about is that you should do what is
most right in the sight of God.
It may be well to remind the reader at this point of the diplomatic confusions and difficulties which led to the Crimean War. The Eastern Question originally grew out of a quarrel between France and Russia concerning the possession of certain holy places in Palestine; both the Latin and the Greek Church wanted to control them. The Sultan had offered to mediate, but neither party had been satisfied by his intervention. In the beginning of 1853 it became known in England that the Czar was looking forward to the collapse of Turkey, and that he had actually proposed to the English Ambassador that we should take Crete and Greece, while he took the European provinces of Turkey. In Russia, hostility to Turkey rose partly from sympathy with the Greek Church, which was persecuted in Turkey, and partly from the desire to possess an outlet into the Mediterranean. The English Ministers naturally would have nothing to do with the Czar's proposal to partition Turkey. Russia's attitude towards Turkey was attributed to the aggressive motive alone. Nicholas then demanded from the Sultan the right of protecting the Sultan's Christian subjects himself, and when this was refused, he occupied Moldavia and Wallachia with his troops. England's reply was to send a fleet up the Dardanelles.
A consultation of the four great Powers, England, France, Austria, and Prussia, for the prevention of war, ended in the dispatch of the “Vienna Note,” which contained the stipulation that the Sultan should protect in future all Christians of the Greek Church in his kingdom. The Czar accepted the terms of the Note, but the Sultan, instigated by Sir Stratford Canning, the British Ambassador at Constantinople, refused them. The Czar then declared war, and though the Turks were successful on the Danube, he succeeded in destroying the Turkish fleet at Sinope. This success produced the greatest indignation in England and France, and in March, 1854, they declared war upon Russia together.
Before these events Palmerston had resigned on the ground that the attitude of the Government towards Russia was not sufficiently stiff and peremptory; for, from the first, Lord Aberdeen had never contemplated the possibility of war with Russia. But before the month was out Palmerston had resumed office. It will be seen from the following letter, written by Lord John's private secretary, Mr. Boileau, that disapproval of the Government's negotiations with Russia was not the only motive attributed by Whigs to Palmerston in resigning. Lord John had joined the Ministry on the condition that he should bring forward his measure of reform; from the first most of his colleagues were very lukewarm towards it, but Palmerston was definitely, though covertly, antagonistic,
Mr. John Boileau to Lady Melgund
FOREIGN OFFICE, December 19, 1853
You will be glad to know something about Pam's resignation and
the
on dits here—if, as I hope, you are safely arrived at
Minto.... His own paper, the Morning Post, will do him
more
harm than good, I think. It will not allow that Reform has
anything
to do with his resignation—swears he is an out-and-out
Reformer—and that his differing from the policy of the Cabinet
on
the Eastern Question is the only reason. Now this, in my humble
judgment, I believe not to be the case. I feel certain, in fact
I
feel sure, that he goes out solely on the question of Reform,
having been opposed to it in toto from the first moment
of
the discussion on it in the Cabinet, and though he went on with
them for a time, they came to something that he could not
swallow.
As to the question of the East, if he does differ from the
Cabinet
it is no more than Lord John or several others might say if
they
went out to-morrow.... The Times of to-day has a very
severe
article against him. The Daily News is very sensible and
implies great confidence in Lord John. The Chronicle is
calm
in its disapprobation of Pam—the Morning Advertiser, of
all
papers! is the most in favour, and is crying Pam up for Prime
Minister already, and gives extracts from county papers to show
how
popular he is. The Morning Herald is silent on the
subject.
I send you these flying remarks, as I dare say you will see
nothing
at Minto except perhaps the Times, and any news in the
country goes a great way.... London is very cold and painfully
dull
without 24 Chester Square, and you must write to me very often.
You
see I have begun very well....
Lord John, however, insisted on bringing forward his Bill in spite of opposition from his colleagues and many of the Government's supporters. He felt that the party was bound to keep its promise to the country, while his colleagues urged that the House of Commons was so much occupied by the war that they had no time to consider such a Bill. As the House of Commons was not conducting the war itself the excuse was shallow. Lord John threatened to resign unless he was allowed to introduce his measure, for he considered the honour of the Ministry and his own honour at stake. From the following letters it will be seen how hard he fought for this measure, and with what poignant regret he found himself compelled at last to choose between letting it drop and resignation. His resignation would have meant a serious shock to a Ministry already in disgrace through their mismanagement of the war; rather than embarrass them further at such a crisis he chose the lesser evil of abandoning his Bill. But by yielding to the urgent appeals of his colleagues and continuing in office, his position became from day to day increasingly difficult. Finally, he resigned abruptly, for reasons which have been interpreted unfavourably by almost every historian who has written upon this period.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, February 14, 1854
I remember almost crying in Minto days, when you were twelve,
because I thought it past the prime of life. What shall I do
now
that you are striking forty-three? I believe you have long ago
made
up your mind to the changing and fading and ending of all
things
here below, joys as well as sorrows, childhood, youth and age,
hope
and fear and doubt, and that you have learnt to look forward
rather
than back; but to me this is often a struggle still; and when
the
struggle ends the wrong way, how much there is to make my heart
sink within me! Chiefly, as you may guess, the deepening lines
on
the face of the dearest husband that ever blessed a home, and
the
comparison of him as he now is with him as he was when we
married.
Yesterday was a great day to us; the Reform Bill was brought in.
I
suppose I should be better pleased if there was more
enthusiasm. I
should certainly have a better opinion of human nature, if
those
who have cried out most loudly for Reform did not set their
cowardly faces against it now; but at the same time there is a
happy pride in seeing John's honest and patriotic perseverance
in
what he is convinced is right, through evil report and good
report,
in season and out of season.
Lady John Russell to Lady Elizabeth Romilly
February 28, 1854
DEAREST LIZZY,—To get out of my difficulty as to which of my
other
three correspondents to write to, I give my half-hour to you
this
morning. I must begin by thanking you all with all my heart for
your most welcome congratulations on all that John has said and
done since Parliament met, and especially his great speech in
answer to Layard. It is indeed a happiness to hear such praise
from
people whose praise is worth having; but I have now learned, if
I
had not long ago, how worthless many of the congratulations
are,
which I receive after a good speech which has set the Ministers
firmer in their seats. It may be right the week after to make
one
which has a contrary effect, and then the congratulators become
revilers. I knew when I began to write that I should be
disagreeable, but had hoped not to be so as early as the second
page. However, having got into the complaining mood, I will not
hurry out of it; and I shall be surprised if you do not admit
that
I have some reason for my complaints.
For the last ten days John has been urged and pressed and
threatened and coaxed and assailed by all the various arts of
every
variety of politician to induce him to give up Reform! Mind,
I say give up, where they say put off, because I
know
they mean give up; though cowards as they are in this as in
everything else, they dare not say what they mean. Will
you
believe that the language poured into my pained and wounded and
offended but very helpless ears, day after day, by official
friends, is to the effect that the country is apathetic on
Reform,
and that therefore it should not be proceeded with; that Reform
is
a measure calculated to produce excitement, conflict,
disturbance
in the country, and therefore it should not be proceeded with;
that
John having given a pledge was bound, “oh yes, certainly,” to
redeem it, and that all the world will agree he has most
nobly redeemed it, if he lets his Bill fall on the floor of the
House of Commons to-morrow, never to be picked up again; that
if he
proceeds with it, he will be universally reproached for
allowing
personal hostility to Lord Palmerston to influence him to the
injury of the country; that his character is so high that if he
gave it up, it would be utterly impossible for any creature to
raise a doubt of his sincerity in bringing it forward; that
dissolution or resignation are revolution and ruin and
disgrace;
that the caballers are wrong, quite wrong, but that we must
look at
the general question and the possible results (a hackneyed
expression which may sound wise but of which I too well know
the
drift); that it may often be very honourable to abandon friends
and
supporters with whom we agree, to conciliate the shabbies with
whom
we differ; that, of course, they would be too happy to be out
of
office, but people must not consult their own wishes; that I
must
be aware that Lord John is supposed sometimes to be a little
obstinate, etc. In short, it all comes to this, that many
M.P.'s
are afraid of losing their seats by a dissolution, and many
others
whose boroughs are disfranchised hate the Reform Bill, and many
more are anti-Reformers by nature, and all these combine to
stifle
it.... And to tell Lord John that really he has such a quantity
of
spare character that it can bear a little damaging! I am
ashamed
and sick of such things, and should think my country no longer
worth caring for, but for those brave men who have gone off to
fight for her with a spirit worthy of themselves, and but for
those
lower classes in which Frederick [41] tells me to put my
faith....
I must stop, not without fear that you may think me blind to
the
very real evil and danger of dissolution or resignation at the
beginning of a great war. Indeed I am not—but those who see
nothing but these dangers are taking the very way to lead us
into
them.... Lord Aberdeen is firm as a rock; it is due to him to
say
so. How shall I prevent my boys growing up to be cowards and
selfish like the rest? You see what a humour I am in.... I
never
let out to anybody. When my friends give all this noble
advice I sit to all appearance like Patience on a monument, but
not
feeling like her at all—keeping silence because there is not
time
to begin at the first rudiments of morality, and there would be
no
use in anything higher up. Good-bye, poor Lizzy, doomed to
suffer
under my bad moods. God bless you all.
Yours ever, F.R.
[41] Colonel Romilly, husband of Lady Elizabeth Romilly, and son of Sir Samuel Romilly.
Lord Granville to Lady John Russell
February 28, 1854
I have just heard that Lord John has consented to put off Reform
till after Easter. It must have been a great personal sacrifice
to
him, but I am delighted for his own sake and the public cause
that
he has done it. There is no doubt but that nearly all who cry
for
delay are at bottom enemies to Reform. Reform is not
incompatible
with war, and it is not clear that a dissolution would be
dangerous
during its continuance, but an enormous majority of the House
of
Commons have persuaded themselves of the contrary.
In all probability the apathetic approved of the Reform Bill
only
because it was out of the question for the present. Newcastle
agrees with me in thinking that a wall has been built which, at
present, could not have been knocked down by the few who really
desire Reform.
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 8, 1854
Painfully anxious day. Cabinet to decide on Reform or no Reform
this session.
Came here early with the children, wishing to be cheerful for
John's sake, and knowing how much power Pembroke Lodge and the
children have to make me so. Found this place most lovely; the
day
warm and bright as June; the children like larks escaped from a
cage. At half-past seven John came looking worn and sad—no
Reform,
and no resignation! Not a man in the Cabinet agreed with him
that
it would be best to go on with Reform; though several would
have
consented had he insisted, but he did not. Not one would hear
either of his resignation or of Lord Palmerston's. In
short—the
present Ministry at any price. John dissatisfied with his
colleagues, and worse with himself. May God watch over him and
guide him.
LONDON, April 11, 1854
The great day is over, and thank God John has stood the trial,
and
even risen, I believe, in the estimation of his followers and
of
men in general. The regrets, disapprobation, despair,
reproaches
that assailed him from the various sections of his party, on
the
rumours of his resignation, were of a kind that would have made
it
wrong in him to persist; for they proved that the heartiest
reformers were against it, and would uphold him in remaining in
the
Government.
There was deep silence when he rose. It was soon plain that the
disposition of his supporters was good; and throughout his
noble,
simple, generous, touching speech he was loudly cheered by
them,
and often by all sides.
At the close there were a few words about his own position: he
said
that the course he was taking was open to suspicion from those
who
supported him—that if he had done anything—Here his voice
failed
him, and there burst forth the most deafening cheers from all
parts
of the House, which lasted for a minute or two, till he was
able to
go on. If he had done anything for the cause of Reform he still
hoped for their confidence. If not, his influence would be
weakened
and destroyed, and he could no longer lead them. This was the
substance—not the words. It was a great night for him. He
risked
more than perhaps ought to be risked, but he has lost nothing,
I
trust and believe, and I hope he has gained more than the
enthusiasm of a day. May God ever guide and bless him.
Mr. George Moffatt, M.P., to Lady John Russell
103 EATON SQUARE, April 12, 1854
DEAR LADY JOHN RUSSELL,—Pardon my saying one word upon the
touching event of last evening. A parliamentary experience of
nine
years has never shown me so striking an instance of respectful
homage and cordial sympathy as was then elicited. I know that
the
unbidden tears gushed to my cheeks, and looking round I could
see
scores of other careless, worldly men struck by the same
emotion—and even the Speaker (as he subsequently admitted to
me)
was affected in precisely the same manner. The German-toy face
of
the Caucasian was of course as immovable as usual, but Mr.
Walpole
wept outright. I sincerely trust that the kindly enthusiasm of
this
moment may have in some measure compensated for the vexations
and
annoyances of the last two months.
Believe me, your faithful servant,
GEO. MOFFATT
Mr. John Boileau to Lady Melgund
LONDON, April 12, 1854
I wish I could write you a long letter giving an account of last
night in the House of Commons.... I would not have missed last
night for the world. It was a melancholy instance of what a
public
servant in these days may have to go through, at the same time
such
a noble example of patriotism and self-sacrifice as I believe
there
is not another man in England capable of giving—and though I
cannot yet resign my feeling that it would have been better in
the
end both for Lord John and the Liberal party had he resigned,
at
present I have nothing to do but to admire, love, and respect
more
than ever the man who could, for the sake of his country and
what
he believes in his judgment to be the best for her, go through
as
painful a struggle as he has.... The scene in the House itself
I
shall never forget—the sudden pause when he began to speak of
himself and his position—the sobs, and finally the burst of
tears,
and the almost ineffectual attempt to finish the remaining
sentences, and at last obliged to give it up and sit down
exhausted
with the protracted struggle and the strain of nerve. He was
loudly
cheered from both sides of the House.
Lord John Russell to Mr. John Abel Smith [42]
April 12, 1854
DEAR SMITH,—As I find some rumours have been mentioned to Lady
John, false in themselves and injurious to me, I beg to assure
you
that it has been the greatest comfort to me to find that I
received
from her the best encouragement and support in the course which
I
ultimately adopted. She could not fail to perceive and to
sympathize in the deep distress which the prospect of
abandoning
the Reform Bill caused me, and it was my chief consolation
during a
trying period to find at home regard for my fame and reputation
as
a sincere and earnest reformer. That regard has now been shown
by
the House of Commons generally, but there is no man in that
House
on whose friendship I more confidently rely, and with good
reason,
than yourself.
Yours ever truly,
J. RUSSELL
[42] Lord John's election agent.
Lord Spencer to Lady John Russell
LEAMINGTON, April 14, 1854
DEAR LADY JOHN,—I cannot resist giving you the trouble to read
a
few lines from me on Lord John's speech the other night.
Remembering the conversation we had on the subject of the
proposed
Reform Bill, when I ventured, perhaps too boldly and too
roundly,
to let out my unworthy opinion in a contrary sense, I think I
ought
to tell you that I had arrived some time ago at the same
conclusion
which Lord John announced to the House of Commons the other
night,
and I really believe if I had not, his reasons would have made
me.
I never read a more convincing speech, and I never read so
affecting a one. No man living, I believe, could have made that
speech but your husband, and it gives me great pleasure to
offer
you my heartfelt congratulations upon it.... Pray forgive me,
dear
Lady John, for intruding thus on your time, and believe me,
Very faithfully yours,
SPENCER
Lady John Russell to Lord Minto,
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 24, 1854
MY DEAREST PAPA,—... I must dash at once into my subject,
having
only a quarter of an hour to spend on it. It is that of John's
position; he has, I believe, raised his character in the
country by
the withdrawal of the Reform Bill. His motives are above
suspicion
and unsuspected; whereas, owing to the singular state of the
public
mind, it seems pretty sure that they would have been,
though
most unjustly, suspected, had he persisted in his resignation.
But
in the Cabinet I do not think his position improved,
rather
the reverse. The policy of the timid and the shabby and the
ambitious and the cunning and the illiberal triumphed; and all
experience teaches me that John, having made a great sacrifice,
will be expected to make every other that apparent
expediency may induce his colleagues to require. He will
always
be pressed and urged and taunted with obstinacy, etc., and told
that he will ruin his reputation, if for the sake of one
question
on which he may happen to differ with them, he exposed his
country
to the awful danger of a change of Ministry.... It is for the
avowed purpose of carrying on the war with vigour that Reform
and
other things are thrown aside. The Ministry has not asked the
House
of Commons or the country to declare, but has declared itself
indispensable to the country, and the only possible Ministry
competent to carry on the war. But if it has already proved,
and if
it daily goes on to prove, itself incompetent in time of peace
to
carry on measures of domestic improvement, and more specially
incompetent either to prepare for or prosecute a great war, has
John done right, has he done what the welfare of the country
requires, in lending himself so long as its indispensable prop?
It
is not incompetent from want of ability, but of unity.... He is
considered by them to have wedded himself to them for better
for
worse more closely than ever by the withdrawal of Reform....
The
wretched fears and delays and doubts which have, I firmly
believe,
first produced this war, and then made its beginning of so
little
promise, have had no effect as warnings for the future....
There
will probably soon be great pressure put upon him to take
office.... Nothing but the fact of his having no office, of his
only part in the Government being work, has made him
struggle along a very dangerous way unattacked and unhurt....
With
his opinion of Lord Aberdeen's Ministry he would be doing
wrong, though from no worse motives than excess of
deference to
those with whom he acts, were he, after giving up Reform, to
give
up the degree of independence which he now has.... You can now
partly conceive how doubtful I feel (and he does too) whether
the
withdrawal of Reform will ultimately be an advantage, though it
is
obvious that a break-up on that was more to be deprecated than
on
almost any other subject. John said this morning of his own
accord
that he feared he had been wrong in ever joining this Ministry.
I
wake every morning with the fear of some terrible national
disaster
before night, of disasters which could be borne if they were
unavoidable, but will be unbearable if they could have been
avoided. Do not, pray, think me a croaker without good
reason for croaking. The greatness of the occasion is not
understood.
Ever, my dearest Papa,
Your affectionate child,
F.R.
Matters were coming to a crisis in the Cabinet. The autumn and early winter of 1854 brought the victories of Alma, Balaclava, and Inkerman. As the country grew prouder of its soldiers its indignation at the way the civil side of the war had been organized increased. The incompetence of the War Office made the Government extremely unpopular, and a motion was brought forward in the House of Commons charging them with the mismanagement of the war. Directly after Mr. Roebuck had given notice of a motion for a Committee of Inquiry, Lord John wrote to Lord Aberdeen that since he could not conscientiously oppose the motion, he must resign his office. The view which most historians have taken of this step is that it was an act of cowardly desertion on his part. As a member of the Government, he was as responsible as his colleagues for what had been done, and by resigning he was admitting that they deserved disgrace. Quotations from two important historical books will show the view which has been generally taken of his action.
Lord Morley, in his “Life of Gladstone,” says:
... When Parliament assembled on January 23, 1855, Mr. Roebuck
on
the first night of the session gave notice of a motion for a
Committee of Inquiry. Lord John Russell attended to the formal
business, and when the House was up went home, accompanied by
Sir
Charles Wood. Nothing of consequence passed between the two
colleagues, and no word was said to Wood in the direction of
withdrawal. The same evening, as the Prime Minister was sitting
in
his drawing-room, a red box was brought in to him by his son,
containing Lord John Russell's resignation. He was as much
amazed
as Lord Newcastle, smoking his evening pipe of tobacco in his
coach, was amazed by the news that the battle of Marston Moor
had
begun. Nothing has come to light since to set aside the severe
judgment pronounced upon this proceeding by the universal
opinion
of contemporaries, including Lord John's own closest political
allies. That a Minister should run away from a hostile motion
upon
affairs for which responsibility was collective, and this
without a
word of consultation with a single colleague, is a transaction
happily without precedent in the history of modern English
Cabinets. [43]
[43] Morley's “Life of Gladstone,” vol. i, p. 521. See also Lord Stanmore's “Earl of Aberdeen,” chap. X.
Mr. Herbert Paul, in his brilliant “History of Modern England,” gives a version of this occurrence, which, on the whole, is hardly less harsh towards Lord John.
Well might Lord Palmerston complain of such behaviour as embarrassing. It was crippling. It furnished the Opposition with unanswerable arguments. “Here,” they could say, “is the second man in your Cabinet, in his own estimation the first, knowing all that you know, and he says 'that an inquiry by the House is essential. How then can you deny or dispute it?'“ In a foot-note he adds, “Lord John offered to withdraw his resignation if the Duke of Newcastle would retire [from the War Office] in favour of Palmerston. It had been settled before Christmas between Lord Aberdeen and the Duke that this change should be made. But no one else was aware of the arrangement, and Lord Aberdeen, though he had assented to it, declined to carry it out as the result of a bargain with Lord John.”
Now both these versions leave out an important fact in the private history of the Aberdeen Cabinet. Lord John had on two occasions at least, subsequent to giving way upon the question of the Reform Bill, tried to resign. Only the entreaties of the Queen and his colleagues had induced him to remain in the Ministry; and then, it was understood, only until some striking success of arms should make his resignation of less consequence to them. But Sevastopol did not fall, and Lord John hung on, urging in the meantime, emphatically and repeatedly, that the efficiency of the war administration must be increased, that the control must be transferred from the hands of the two Secretaries of War to the most vigorous Minister, Palmerston. At the Cabinet meeting of December 6th, Lord John desisted from pressing this particular change, owing to Palmerston having written to him that he thought there were “no broad and distinct grounds” for removing the Duke of Newcastle, and confined himself, after criticizing the general conduct of the war, to announcing his intention of resigning in any case after Christmas. When it was objected that such an announcement was inconsistent with his remaining leader of the House of Commons till then, he offered to resign at once. He would have gladly done so had they not implored him to remain. On December 30th he drew up a memorandum of his criticisms upon the conduct of the war; and on January 3rd he wrote to Lord Aberdeen: “Nothing can be less satisfactory than the result of the recent Cabinets. Unless you will direct measures for yourself, I see no hope for the efficient prosecution of the war....”[44]
[44] For a full account of these incidents the reader must be referred to Sir Spencer Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell,” chap. xxv.
When, therefore, on January 23rd, the Opposition demanded an inquiry, he was in a very awkward position. He had either to bar the way to changes he had been urging himself all along, or he was obliged to admit openly that he agreed with the critics of the Government. Had he chosen the first alternative he would have been untrue to his conviction that a change of method in conducting the war was absolutely essential to his country's success; yet in choosing the second he was turning his back on his colleagues. No doubt the custom of the Constitution asks either complete acceptance of common responsibility from individual Ministers or their immediate resignation. Lord John had protested and protested, but he had not resigned; he was therefore responsible for what had been done while he was in the Cabinet. He had not resigned because he thought it bad for the country that the Government should be weakened while the war was at its height, and he had hoped that by staying in the Cabinet he would be able to induce the Ministry to alter its methods of conducting the war. When he discovered that, in spite of reiterated protests, he could not effect these all-important changes from within, and when the House of Commons began to clamour for them from without, he decided that no considerations of loyalty to colleagues ought to make him stand between the country and changes so urgently desirable. It may be said that since he had acted all along on the ground that in keeping the strength of the Government intact lay the best chance of helping to bring the war to a successful and speedy conclusion, he was inconsistent, to say the least, in deserting his colleagues at a juncture which made their defeat inevitable. But the inconsistency is only superficial; when he once had lost hope that the Government could be got to alter their methods of conducting the war, their defeat and dissolution, which he had previously striven to prevent, became the lesser of two evils. It was not an evil at all, as it turned out, for the dissolution brought the right man—Palmerston—into power. Lord John's mistake was in thinking that his long-suffering support of a loose-jointed, ill-working Ministry, like the Aberdeen Ministry, could have ever transformed it into a strong one.
Lord Wriothesley Russell, [45] whom Lady John wrote of years before as “the mildest and best of men,” sent her a letter on February 8, 1855, containing the following passages:
It is impossible to hear all these abominable attacks in
silence.
It makes me sad as well as indignant to hear the world speaking
as
if straight-forward honesty were a thing
incredible—impossible. A
man, and above all a man to whom truth is no new thing, says
simply
that he cannot assent to what he believes to be false, and the
whole world says, What can he mean by it—treachery, trickery,
cowardice, ambition, what is it? My hope is that our statesmen
may
learn from John's dignified conduct a lesson which does not
appear
hitherto to have occurred to them—that even the fate of a
Ministry
will not justify a lie. We all admire in fiction the stern
uprightness of Jeanie Deans: “One word would have saved me, and
she
would not speak it.” ... Whether that word would have saved
them is
a question—it was their only chance—and he would not speak
it;
that word revolted his conscience, it would have been false. I
know
nothing grander than the sublime simplicity of that refusal.
[45] Lord John's stepbrother.
Nearly two years later, Lord John Russell, in a letter to his brother, the Duke of Bedford, said:
... The question with me was how to resist Roebuck's motion. I
do
not think I was wrong in substance, but in form I was. I ought
to
have gone to the Cabinet and have explained that I could not
vote
against inquiry, and only have resigned if I had not carried
the
Cabinet with me. I could not have taken Palmerston's line of
making
a feeble defence.
How absurd it is to suppose that cowardice could have dictated Lord John's decision at this time, his behaviour in circumstances to be recounted in the next chapter shows. Unpopular as his resignation made him with politicians, it was nothing to the storm of abuse which he was forced to endure when he chose, a few months later, to stand—now an imputed trimmer—for the sake of preserving what was best in a policy he had not originally approved.
The troubles and differences of the Coalition Ministry did not lessen Lord John's regard for Lord Aberdeen, of whom he wrote in his last years: “I believe no man has entered public life in my time more pure in his personal views, and more free from grasping ambition or selfish consideration.”
Mr. Rollo Russell, on the publication of Mr. John Morley's “Life of Gladstone,” wrote the following letter to the Times in vindication of his father's action with regard to Mr. Roebuck's motion:
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, SURREY, November, 1903
SIR,—In his admirable biography of Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Morley
has
given, no doubt without any intention of injury, an impression
which is not historically correct by his account of my father's
resignation in January, 1855, on the notice of Mr. Roebuck's
motion
for a Committee of Inquiry. I do not wish to apply to his
account
the same measure which he applies by quoting an ephemeral
observation of Mr. Greville to my father's speech, but I do
maintain that “the general effect is very untrue.”
Before being judged a man is entitled to the consideration both
of
his character and of the evidence on his side. In the chapter
to
which I allude there is no reference to the records by which my
father's action has been largely justified. There is no
mention, I
think, of these facts: that my father had again and again
during
the Crimean War urged upon the Cabinet a redistribution of
offices,
the more efficient prosecution of the war, the provision of
proper
food and clothing for the Army, which was then undergoing
terrible
privations and sufferings, a better concert between the
different
Departments, and between the English and French camps, and,
especially, the appointment of a Minister of War of vigour and
authority. “As the welfare of the Empire and the success of the
present conflict are concerned,” he wrote at the end of
November to
the head of the Government, “the conduct of the war ought to be
placed in the hands of the fittest man who can be found for the
post.” He laid the greatest stress on more efficient
administration.
The miseries of the campaign increased. On January 30, 1855,
Lord
Malmesbury wrote: “The accounts from the Crimea are dreadful.
Only
18,000 effective men; 14,000 are dead and 11,000 sick. The same
neglect which has hitherto prevailed continues and is shown in
everything.”
He held very strong views as to the duty of the House of Commons
in
regard to these calamities. “Inquiry is the proper duty and
function of the House of Commons.... Inquiry is at the root of
the
powers of the House of Commons.”
He had been induced by great pressure from the highest quarters
to
join the Cabinet, and on patriotic grounds remained in office
against his desire. He continually but unsuccessfully advocated
Reform. Several times he asked to be allowed to resign.
When, therefore, Mr. Roebuck brought forward a motion embodying
the
opinion which he had frequently urged on his colleagues, he
could
not pretend the opposite views and resist the motion for
inquiry.
The resignation was not so sudden as represented. On the 6th of
December, 1854, when the Cabinet met, he declared that he was
determined to retire after Christmas; after some conference
with
his colleagues, he wrote on December 16th to Lord Lansdowne: “I
do
not feel justified in taking upon myself to retire from the
Government on that account [the War Office] at this moment.” It
is
not the case that a severe judgment was pronounced upon these
proceedings by the “universal” opinion of his contemporaries.
His
brother. Lord Wriothesley Russell, wrote: “It makes one sad to
hear
the world speaking as if straightforward honesty were a thing
incredible, impossible.” And the Duke of Bedford: “My mind has
been
deeply pained by seeing your pure patriotic motives maligned
and
misconstrued after such a life devoted to the political service
of
the public.” But the whole world was not against him. Among
many
letters of approval, I find one strongly supporting his action
with
regard to the Army in the Crimea and his course in quitting the
Ministry, and quoting a favourable article in The Examiner;
another strongly approving, and stating: “I have this morning
conversed with more than fifty gentlemen in the City, and they
all agree with me that in following the dictates of your
conscience you acted the part most worthy of your exalted name
and
character.... We recognize the importance of the principle
which
you yourself proclaimed, that there can be no sound politics
without sound morality.” Mr. John Dillon wrote: “To have
opposed
Mr. Roebuck's motion and then to have defended what you thought
and
knew to have been indefensible would have been not a fault but
a
crime.”
Another wrote expressing the satisfaction and gratitude of the
great majority of the inhabitants of his district in regard to
his
“efforts to cure the sad evils encompassing our brave
countrymen;"
and another wrote: “The last act of your official life was one
of
the most honourable of the sacrifices to duty which have so
eminently distinguished you both as a man and a Minister.”
There was no doubt a common outcry against the act of
resignation
at the time, but the outcry against certain Ministers of the
Peelite group was still louder, and their conduct, as Mr.
Morley
relates, was pronounced to be “actually worse than Lord
John's.”
“Bad as Lord John's conduct was,” wrote Lord Malmesbury on
February
22, 1855, “this [of Graham, Gladstone, and Herbert] is a
thousand
times worse.”
The real question, however, is not what the public thought at
the
time, but what a fuller knowledge of the facts will determine,
and
I contend that my father's dissatisfaction with the manner in
which
the war was conducted, and his failure to induce the Cabinet to
supply an effective remedy, justified if it did not compel his
resignation.
Mr. Roebuck's motion accelerated a resignation which the Prime
Minister knew had been imminent during the preceding ten weeks.
My father himself admitted that he made great mistakes, that for
the manner of his resignation he was justly blamed, and that he
ought never to have joined the Coalition Ministry. He had a
deep
sense, I may here say, of Mr. Gladstone's great generosity
towards
him on all occasions. At this distance of time the complication
of
affairs and of opinions then partly hidden can be better
estimated,
and the conduct of seceders from the Government cannot in
fairness
be visited with the reprobation which was natural to
contemporaries. The floating reproaches of the period in regard
to
my father's action seem to imply, if justified, that he ought
to
have publicly defended the conduct of military affairs which he
had
persistently and heartily condemned. It appears to me that not
only
his candid nature, but the story of his life, refutes these
reproaches, as clearly as similar reproaches are refuted by the
life of Gladstone.
Yours faithfully,
ROLLO RUSSELL
The debate upon Roebuck's motion of inquiry lasted two nights, and at its close the Aberdeen Ministry fell, beaten by a majority of 157. Historians have seen in this incident much more than the fall of a Ministry.
Behind the question whether the civil side of the Crimean campaign had been mismanaged lay the wider issue whether the Executive should allow its duties to be delegated to a committee of the House of Commons. “The question which had to be answered,” says Mr. Bright in his “History of England,” “was whether a great war could be carried to a successful conclusion under the blaze of publicity, when every action was exposed not only to the criticism and discussion of the Press, but also to the more formidable and dangerous demands of party warfare within the walls of Parliament.”
After both Lord John and Lord Derby had failed to form a Government, the Queen sent for Lord Palmerston.
Lady John, when her husband was summoned to form a Government, wrote to him from Pembroke Lodge on February 3, 1855:
All the world must feel that the burden laid upon you, though a
very glorious, is a very heavy one.... Politics have never yet
been
what they ought to be; men who would do nothing mean themselves
do
not punish meanness in others when it can serve their party or
their country, and excuse their connivance on that ground. That
ground itself gives way when fairly tried. You are made for
better
days than these. I know how much better you really are than
me....
You have it in your power to purify and to reform much that is
morally wrong—much that you would not tolerate in your own
household.... “Whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things
are
lovely, whatsoever things are honest,” on these things take
your
stand—hold them fast, let them be your pride—let your
Ministry,
as far as in you lies, be made of such men, that the more
closely
its deeds are looked into, the more it will be admired.... Pray
for
strength and wisdom from above, and God bless and prosper you,
dearest.
But Lord John failing to find sufficient support, Lord Palmerston became Prime Minister. His first Cabinet was a coalition. It included, besides some new Whig Ministers, all the members of the previous Cabinet with the exception of Lord John, Lord Aberdeen, and the Duke of Newcastle. But on Palmerston accepting the decision of the last Parliament in favour of a Committee of Inquiry, Gladstone, Sidney Herbert, and Sir James Graham resigned; their reason being that the admission of such a precedent for subordinating the Executive to a committee of the House was a grave danger to the Constitution.
It looked as though the Ministry would fall, when Lord John, who had previously refused office, to the surprise and delight of the Whigs, accepted the Colonies. His motives in taking office will be found in the following letters. He had already accepted a mission as British Plenipotentiary at the Conference of Vienna, summoned by Austria to conclude terms of peace between the Allies and Russia. He did not therefore return at once to take his place in the Cabinet, but continued on his mission. Its consequences were destined to bring down on him such a storm of abuse as the careers of statesmen seldom survive. When Gladstone and the Peelites resigned, Palmerston's Ministry ceased to be a coalition and became a Whig Cabinet. The fact that Lord John came to Palmerston's rescue, that he accepted without hesitation a subordinate office and served under Palmerston's leadership in the Commons, shows that Lord John's reluctance to serve in the first instance under Lord Aberdeen could not have been due to a scruple of pride; nor could his obstinate insistence upon his own way inside the Cabinet, of which the Peelites had complained in the early days of Lord Aberdeen's Ministry, have been caused by a desire to make the most of his own importance.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
PARIS, February 23, 1855
I have accepted office in the present Ministry. Whatever
objections
you may feel to this decision, I have taken it on the ground
that
the country is in great difficulty, and that every personal
consideration ought to be waived. I am sure I give a Liberal
Government the best chance of continuing by so acting. When I
come
home, I shall have weight enough in the Cabinet through my
experience and position. In the meantime I go on to Vienna....
I
shall ascertain whether peace can be made on honourable terms,
and
having done this, shall return home.
The office I have accepted is the Colonial; but as I do not
lead in the Commons, it will not be at all too much for my
health.
Mr. John Abel Smith to Lady John Russell
February 24, 1855
I received this morning, to my great surprise, a letter from
Lord
John announcing his acceptance of the Seals of the Colonial
Department.... I believe it to be unquestionably the fact that
by
this remarkable act of self-sacrifice he has saved Lord
Palmerston's Government and preserved to the Liberal party the
tenure of power.... I never saw Brooks's more thoroughly
excited
than this evening, and some old hard-hearted stagers talking of
Lord John's conduct with tears in their eyes.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
BRUSSELS, February 25, 1855
The wish to support a Whig Government under difficulties, the
desire to be reunited to my friends, with whom when separated
by
two benches I could have had no intimate alliance, the perilous
state of the country with none but a pure Derby Government in
prospect, have induced me to take this step. No doubt my own
position was better and safer as an independent man; but I have
thrown all such considerations to the winds.... I am very much
afraid of Vienna for the children; but if you can arrive and
keep
well, it will be to me a great delight to see you all.... I
have
just seen the King, who is very gracious and kind. He thinks I
may
make peace.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, February 26, 1855
Mr. West called yesterday, and was full of admiration of the
magnanimity of your conduct, but not of its wisdom. J.A. Smith
writes me a kind letter telling me of the delight of your late
calumniators at Brooks's. Frederick Romilly says London society
is
charmed. He touched me very much. He spoke with tears in his
eyes
of the generosity of your motives, and of the irreparable blow
to
yourself and the country from your abandonment of an honourable
and
independent position for a renewal of official ties.... Papa is
very grave and unhappy, doing justice of course to your
motives,
but fearing that in sacrificing yourself you sacrifice the best
interests of the country.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
BERLIN, March 1, 1855
It was necessary in order to have any effect to decide at once
on
my acceptance or refusal of office. I considered the situation
of
affairs to be a very serious one. I had hoped that Lord
Palmerston,
with the assistance of the Peelites, might go through the
session.
Suddenly the secession took place, producing a state of affairs
such as no man ever remembered. Confidence in the Government
was
shaken to a very great extent by the mortality and misery of
our
Army in the Crimea. I could not resist inquiry; but having
yielded
that point, it seemed dastardly to leave men, who had nothing
to do
with sending the expedition to the Crimea, charged with the
duty of
getting the Army out of the difficulty. Yet it was clear that
Lord
Palmerston's Government without my help could hardly stand, and
thus the Government of 1854 would have been convicted of
deserting
the task they had undertaken to perform. There remained the
personal difficulty of my serving under Palmerston in the House
of
Commons; for my going to the House of Lords would have been
only a
personal distinction to me and would not have helped Palmerston
in
his difficulty. In the circumstances of the case I thought it
right
to throw aside every consideration of ease, dignity, and
comfort.
If I had not been responsible for the original expedition to
the
Crimea, I would certainly not have taken the office I have now
accepted. Still, it brings the scattered remnants of the
Liberal
party together and enables them to try once more whether they
can
govern with success.... Lord Minto is now satisfied that I have
followed a public call; for public men must sacrifice
themselves in
a great emergency. It was not a time to think of self.... We
had an
account of the serious illness of the Emperor of Russia. If he
should die, I should have good hopes of peace....
March 2nd. News come of the Emperor's death. I hope it may be a
good event for Europe, but it makes me sad at present. “What
shadows we are and what shadows we pursue” constantly occurs to
my
mind.... My mission may perhaps be more successful in
consequence,
but no one can say. At all events you will come to Vienna....
Poor little boys and poor little Agatha! I should feel more
responsible with those children on a journey than with my
mission
and the Colonies to boot.
In Paris his conversations with the Emperor confirmed his previous opinion that the best hope of peace lay in winning Austria over to the policy of the Allies.
Lady John joined him at Vienna early in March. In order to understand the following extracts it is necessary to recall the history of the whole negotiation.
Lord John had been dispatched with vague general instructions, and it must not be forgotten that Palmerston was privately much more in favour of continuing the war than Lord John appears to have understood at the time. Palmerston, like Napoleon III, wished to take Sevastopol before making peace; Lord John did not therefore receive during his negotiations the backing he ought to have had from the Government at home. A hitch occurred at the outset of the negotiations owing to the delay of instructions from the Sultan. This delay was engineered by Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, who was determined that Russia should be still further humiliated, and felt sure of Palmerston's sympathy in doing everything that tended to prolong the war. Lord John might complain justly that he was being hindered; but the English Ambassador at Constantinople, who knew Palmerston's mind, felt safe in ignoring Lord John's remonstrances. The first two Articles which formed the subject of discussion dealt with the abolition of the Russian Protectorate over Servia and the Principalities, and with the question of the free navigation of the Danube. These Articles were accepted by Russia. On the third Article, which concerned the Russian power in the Black Sea, the representatives of the Western Powers could not agree. Gortschakoff, the Russian emissary, admitted that the Treaty of 1841 would have to be altered in such a way as would prevent the preponderance of the Russian power off the coast of Turkey. This could have been secured in two ways:
1. By excluding Russian vessels from the Black Sea altogether;
2. By limiting the number of warships Russia might be permitted
to keep
there;
but to neither of these methods would Russia at first agree.
Two other alternative proposals were then made by the Austrian Minister, Count Buol. The first was based on the principle of counterpoise, which would give the Allies the right to keep as many ships as Russia in the Black Sea. The second was a stipulation that Russia should not increase her fleet there beyond the strength at which it then stood.
The representatives of the Allies were instructed from home not to accept the proposal of counterpoise. So the second alternative of the Austrian Chancellor was the last remaining chance of Austria and the Allies agreeing upon the terms to be offered to Russia. Lord John wrote to the Government urging them to accept this compromise; for in his opinion the only chance of peace lay in the Allies acting in concert with Austria. At this juncture he received a telegram from home saying that the Government were in favour of a proposal, which had reached them from Paris, for neutralizing the Black Sea.
Prince Gortschakoff at once pointed out that such a plan would leave Russia disarmed in the presence of Turkey armed. Lord John considered this a perfectly just objection on the part of Russia, while the proposal had the unfortunate effect of detaching Austria from the Allies, who considered neutralization to be out of the question. M. Drouyn de L'Huys, the French representative, held the same opinion as Lord John, and when his advice was not accepted by the Emperor, he sent in his resignation. Lord John likewise wrote to Lord Clarendon, then Foreign Secretary, tendering his own.
March 31, 1855, VIENNA
Private letters from Lord Clarendon and Lord Lansdowne full of
distrust and disapprobation of the proceedings here, though not
openly finding fault with John. Lord Clarendon's more
especially
warlike, and anti-Austrian and pro-French; the very reverse of
every letter he wrote in the days of Lord Aberdeen.
April 1, 1855, VIENNA
More letters and dispatches making John's position still worse;
representing him as ready to consent to unworthy terms, whereas
he
was endeavouring to carry out what had been agreed on by the
Government. No doubt Lord Clarendon's present tone is far
better
than his former; but that is not the question. John naturally
indignant and talked of giving up mission and Colonies. This I
trust he will not do unless there is absolute loss of character
in
remaining, for another breach with Lord Palmerston, who is far
less
to blame than Lord Clarendon, would be a great
misfortune—besides,
it might lead to the far greater evil of a breach with France.
I
rejoice therefore that John has resolved to wait for Drouyn de
L'Huys and do his utmost to bring matters to a better state.
On April 5, at Vienna, when he wished to resign, she wrote: “Anxious he should delay this step till he hears again from home, as he might repent it, in which case either retracting or abiding by it would be bad. Having regretted his acceptance of office it seems inconsistent to discourage resignation, but is not really so. His reputation cannot afford a fresh storm, and he must show that he did not lightly consent to belong to a Ministry of which he knew the materials so well.”
At the end of April they came back to England.
May 5, 1855, LONDON
After all the Emperor rejects the plan [the proposal to limit
the
Russian fleet in the Baltic to its strength at the close of the
war] on the plea that the army would not bear it. John
disturbed
and perplexed.
May 6, 1855, Sunday
John went to town for a meeting at Lord Panmure's on Army
Reform—found here on his return a letter from Lord Clarendon
telling him that the Emperor had sent a telegram through Lord
Cowley and the Foreign Office to Walewski, offering him Foreign
Affairs and asking whether the Queen would agree to Persigny as
French Ambassador. Thus the dismissal or resignation of Drouyn
obliged John to resolve on his own resignation unless the
Cabinet
should accept his own view.
Lord John Russell to Lord Clarendon [46]
PEMBROKE LODGE, May 6, 1855
MY DEAR CLARENDON,—I was at Panmure's when your box arrived
here,
and did not get back till past eight. I am very much concerned
at
the removal or resignation of Drouyn. I cannot separate myself
from
him; and, having taken at Vienna the same view which he did,
his
resignation entails mine. I am very sorry for this, and wished
to
avoid it. But I have in some measure got Drouyn into this
scrape,
for at first he was disposed to advise the Emperor to insist on
a
limitation of ships, and I induced him not to give any advice
at
all to the Emperor. Afterwards we agreed very much; and, if he
had
stayed in office there, I might have gulped, though with
difficulty, the rejection of my advice here. However, I shall
wait
till Colloredo has made a definite proposal, and then make the
opinion I shall give upon it in the Cabinet a vital question
with
me. It is painful to me to leave a second Cabinet, and will
injure
my reputation—perhaps irretrievably. But I see no other
course. Do
as you please about communicating to Palmerston what I have
written. I fear I must leave you and Hammond to judge of the
papers
to be given.... But I hope you will not tie your hands or those
of
the Government by giving arguments against what the nation may
ultimately accept. I hold that a simple provision, by which the
Sultan would reserve the power to admit the vessels of Powers
not
having establishments in the Black Sea, through the Straits at
his
own pleasure at all times, ... and a general treaty of European
alliance to defend Turkey against Russia, would be a good
security
for peace. If the Emperor of the French were to declare that he
could not accept such a peace, of course we must stick by him,
but
that does not prevent our declaring to him our opinion.
Walewski
spoke to me very strongly at the Palace in favour of the
Austrian
plan, but I suppose he has now made up his mind against it.
I remain, yours truly,
J. RUSSELL
[46] Spencer Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell,” chap, xxvi.
Lord Clarendon replied:
GROSVENOR CRESCENT, May 7, 1855
MY DEAR LORD JOHN,—... I am very sorry you did not come in just
now, as I wanted most particularly to see you. I now write this
earnestly to entreat that you will say nothing to
anybody at
present about your intended resignation. The public interests
and
your own position are so involved in the question, and so much
harm
of every kind may be done by a hasty decision, however
honourable
and high-minded the motives may be, that I do beg of you well
to
weigh all the points of the case; and let me frankly add
that you will not act with fairness, and as I am sure you must
wish
to act, towards your colleagues, if you do not hear what some
of
them may have to say.
As you allowed me to do as I pleased about informing Palmerston,
I
did not think it right to leave him in the dark upon a matter
which
seems to me of vital importance. I need not tell you that your
intention causes him the deepest regret, and he feels, as I do,
how
essential it is that nothing should be known of it at present.
We
are not even in possession of the facts that led to Drouyn's
resignation.
Yours sincerely,
CLARENDON
“Moved by this appeal,” says Sir Spencer Walpole, “and by Lord Palmerston's personal entreaties, thrice repeated, Lord John withdrew his resignation. Its withdrawal, however convenient it may have seemed to the Government at the time, was one of the most unfortunate circumstances of Lord John's political career. It directly led to misunderstandings and to obloquy, such as few public men have ever encountered.”
LONDON, May 8, 1855
John given up thoughts of resignation. Glad of it, since he can
honourably remain. I know how his reputation would have
suffered—not as an honest man, but as a wise statesman.
This was the second time in Lord John's career that his loyalty to the Whig party involved him in a false position. On May 24th Disraeli proposed a vote of censure on the Government for their conduct of the war and condemning their part in the negotiations at Vienna. Lord John made, in reply to Gladstone and Disraeli, an extremely forcible speech, urging that the limitation of the number of Russian ships in the Black Sea did not give sufficient guarantee to the safety of Turkey. Shortly afterwards the Austrian Chancellor, Count Buol, published the fact that Lord John had been in favour of this very compromise, which Austria had proposed at the Congress. He was at once asked whether this was true, and he admitted that it was. He could not explain that he had taken a different line on his return because, had he stuck to his opinion, the French alliance would have been endangered. The Emperor was persuaded that the fall of Sevastopol was necessary to the safety of his throne. Marshal Vaillant had said to him, “I know the feelings of the Army. I am sure that if, after having spent months in the siege of Sevastopol, we return unsuccessful, the Army will not be satisfied.” [47] Since this was the case, Lord John had had to choose between resigning on the strength of his own opinion that the Austrian terms were good enough, thus bringing about the fall of the Ministry and a possible breach with France, or relinquishing his own opinion and defending the view of the Government and the Emperor in order to preserve a good understanding with the French. Of course, to all the world it looked as though, for the sake of office, he had belied his own convictions. Seldom has any Minister of the Crown been placed in a more painful position. The Cabinet knew the true circumstances of the case, and the reason why he could give no explanation for his inconsistency: but many of his friends did not. A motion of censure was proposed against him, and now that his presence in the Ministry had ceased to be a support, and had actually become a source of weakness through the condemnation passed on him by the country at large, he offered to resign.
[47] Kinglake, “Invasion of the Crimea,” vol. iii, p. 348.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, June 8, 1855
All is more beautiful than ever this morning. I am on my pretty
red
sofa looking out from my middle window in lazy luxury at oak,
ivy,
hawthorn, laburnum, and blue sky; not very much to be pitied,
am I?
except, my dearest, for the weary, weary separation that takes
away
the life of life—and for my anxiety about what is to be the
result
of all this, which, however, I do not allow to weigh upon me.
We
are in wiser hands than our own, and I should be a bad woman
indeed
if so much leisure did not give some good thoughts that I trust
nothing can disturb.... Pray tell dear Georgy not to think any
but
cheerful thoughts of me, and that she can do a great deal for
me by
asking my friends—Cabinet and ex-Cabinet and all sorts—to
visit
me whenever they are inclined for a drive into the country and
luncheon or tea among its beauties.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 5, 1855
John to town and back. He is so much here now that my life is
quite
different, and as I know he neglects no duty for the sake of
coming, I may also allow myself to enjoy it as he does.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 7
Read John's speech and the bitter comments of Cobden and
Roebuck.
Whether he was right or wrong in his views of peace, or in not
resigning when they were rejected by the Cabinet, he has nobly
told
the simple truth without gloss or extenuation.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 10
John writes that he saw Lord Palmerston and told him that he had
thought the Austrian proposals ought to be accepted at the
time;
but that he did not think they ought now, after the late events
of
the war. He proposed resignation if it would help the
Government.
Lord Palmerston of course begged him to remain, which he will
do.
The subject is more painful to me the more I think of it.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 12
An anxious parting with John. He was to go straight to Lord
Clarendon, to find out what portion of the dispatches Lord
Clarendon was prepared to give. His explanation to be made
to-night
of a sentence in his Friday's speech, by which some of his
colleagues understood him to declare his opinion to be that he
thought the Austrian proposal ought now to be accepted.
He
did not say so, and such an explanation is much to be
lamented. His position is very painful, and my thoughts about
him
more so than they have ever been, because now many of his best
and
truest friends grieve and are disappointed. God grant he may
have
life, strength, and spirit to work on for his country till he
has
risen again higher than ever in her trust, esteem, and love.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 13
A very anxious morning, thinking of my dear and noble husband,
doomed to suffer so much for no greater fault than having
committed
himself too far without consultation with his colleagues to a
scheme which higher duties persuaded him not to abide by when
he
failed to convince them. Anxiety to know his determination and
the
state of his spirits made me send a note up to town early, to
which
I received his answer about four, that he had written his
resignation last night and sent it to Lord Palmerston this
morning.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 13, 1855
We are all well, but I am too anxious to be all day without
hearing
from you; besides, and chiefly, I want to cheer you up and
beseech
you not to let all this depress you more than it ought. Don't
believe the Daily News when it says you have committed
political suicide—that need not be a bit more true than that
there
was trickiness or treachery in your course, which
it
also asserts. Depend upon it, it is in your power and it is
therefore your duty to show that you can still be yourself. You
will rise again higher than ever if you will but think you
can—if
you will but avoid for the future the rocks on which you have
sometimes split. There is plenty to do for your country, plenty
that you can do better than any other man, and you must not
sink. You made, I believe, a great mistake in surrendering
your
own judgment to that of those who surrounded you at Vienna; but
who
can dare to say you were favouring any interest of your own, or
what malice or ingenuity can pretend to find the shadow of a
low or
unworthy motive? Remember Moore's lines:
“Never dream for a moment thy country can spare
Such a light from her darkening horizon as thou.”
As to your immediate course, what have you resolved? Surely your
own resignation is the most natural—you might persuade your
colleagues, if they require persuasion, to let you go alone, as
you
alone are responsible, that you think a change of Ministry
would be
a misfortune, and that you would be unhappy to find that added
to
your responsibility.... The feeling that the Ministry may be
sacrificed to you is a very painful one, and I earnestly hope
your
wisdom may find some means of averting this.... Now, my
dearest,
farewell—would that I could go to you myself. I am told that
the
expectation of the Whips is that you will be beat. Tell me as
much
as you can and God speed you.... Good-bye, and above all keep
up a
good heart for your country's sake and mine.
Lord Palmerston replied to his offer to resign in the following terms [48]:
PICCADILLY, July 13, 1855
MY DEAR LORD JOHN,—I have received, I need not say with how
much
regret, your letter of this morning, and have sent it down to
the
Queen. But, whatever pain I may feel at the step you have
taken, I
must nevertheless own that as a public man, whose standing and
position are matters of public interest and public property,
you
have judged rightly. The storm is too strong at this moment to
be
resisted, and an attempt to withstand it would, while
unsuccessful,
only increase irritation. But juster feelings will in due time
prevail. In the meantime I must thank you for the very friendly
and
handsome terms in which you have announced to me your
determination.
Yours sincerely, PALMERSTON
[48] Spencer Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell.”
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 15, 1855
John and I agreed that we felt almost unaccountably happy—there
is, however, much to account for it—much that cannot be taken
from
us.
Lady John Russell to the Duke of Bedford
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 16, 1855
MY DEAR DUKE,—You will like to hear how John has borne his new
trouble, and I am very glad to tell you that he is in good
spirits,
and as calm as a clear conscience can make him. The week before
his
resignation was a very anxious one, reminding me of that sad
and
anxious day at Woburn when he determined to dismiss Lord
Palmerston, and of that other when he resolved not to speak to
any
of his colleagues before sending his resignation to Lord
Aberdeen.
Those occasions were so far like this that it was impossible
even
for me, though unable to judge of the questions politically,
not to
foresee painful consequences in the altered relations of old
friends, and therefore not to lament his decisions; though he
had,
as he was sure to have, high and generous reasons in both
cases.
Here again, there has been much to lament in all that led to
his
resignation and fresh separation from many with whom he has
acted
during half his political life, many so highly valued in public
and
private. One cannot but feel all this, nor do I pretend
indifference to what is said of him, for I do think the next
best
thing to deserving “spotless reputation” is possessing it. But
there are many comforts—first and foremost, a faith in him
that
nothing can shake; then a firm hope that the country will one
day
understand him better—besides, the relief was immense of
finding
that he would be allowed to resign without breaking up the
Government. In short, we agreed yesterday that after all our
pains
and anxieties we both felt strangely and almost unaccountably
happy. Of course, seeing him so was enough to make me so, and
perhaps there is something too in the unexpected freedom of
body
and soul which loss of office has given him. This state of
mind, in
which he has just left me for London, gives me good hope that
he
will get well through his hard task to-night....
Ever yours affectionately,
FANNY RUSSELL
Lady John Russell to Lord Minto
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 18, 1855
MY DEAREST PAPA,—I feel very guilty in not having written to
you
since all these great events occurred, but you are pretty well
able
to guess what I felt about them ... and the newspapers are much
better chroniclers of facts, though not of motives, than I can
be.... Of course, he proposed resignation immediately after he
had
made his speech, but it was not then thought the Ministry would
be
beat on Bulwer's motion, and Lord Palmerston and the rest
begged
him to remain. Very soon, however, there was no doubt left as
to
what would be the result of the motion, and as neither John nor
Doddy, the only other person I saw, had a hope that any fresh
resignation would be accepted, we had the painful prospect of
the
destruction of the Ministry by his means.... But the surprise
was
great as the relief when we found that not one man had the
slightest difficulty in making up his mind, ... and that one
and
all felt it a paramount duty “not to shrink from the toils and
responsibilities of office.” ... His spirits have not
sunk
and his spirit has risen, and the feeling uppermost in
his
mind is thankfulness that he is out of it all, and has regained
his
freedom, body and soul.... There is plenty left for him to do,
and
I trust he will do it as an independent member of Parliament,
and
in that position regain his lost influence with the country. I
am
most anxious he should not think his political life at an end,
though his official life may go forever without a sigh.... I
ought
to add that he is on perfectly friendly terms with all his late
colleagues, ... anxious to help them when he can, but pledged
to
nothing....
Ever, dearest Papa,
Your affectionate child,
F.R.
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 23, 1855
Thunderstorm during which I sat in the Windsor summer-house
writing
and thinking many sad thoughts; chiefly of my own
ill-performance
of many duties on which my whole heart and soul were bent. Had
I
but known when we married as much of the world as I know now,
though I should have been far, far less happy, I should have
done
better in many ways.... Came in; went to my room with Georgy
and
took Baby on my lap. Baby looked at me, saw I had been sad, and
said gravely, “Poor Mama,” adding immediately, “Where is Papa?”
as
if she thought my sadness must have to do with him. On my
answering, “He is gone to London,” she put her dear little arms
round my neck and kissed and coaxed me, repeating over and
over,
“Never mind, never mind, my dear Mama,” and again, “Never mind,
my
poor Mama.”
The state of Lady John's health prevented her from leaving home, but Lord John left Pembroke Lodge with two of the children on August 9th, for a much needed holiday in Scotland.
Lord John to Lady John Russell
EDINBURGH, August 10, 1855
We got here safely yesterday an hour after time, which made
about
fourteen hours from Pembroke Lodge.... Dearest, it is a very
melancholy journey; without you to comfort me I take a very
gloomy
view of everything; but I hope the Highland air will refresh me
with its briskness.... I have a letter from Lord Minto,
disturbed
at my not coming sooner, and supposing I shall be abused for my
Italian speech, in which he is quite right; but I may save some
poor devil by my denunciation of his persecutors.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, August 12, 1855
It grieves me to have to write what will grieve you, but it
would
be wrong and useless to hide it from you—I was taken ill
suddenly
yesterday.... What I bear least well is the thought of you. I
did
so hope that after all your political troubles you might be
spared
anxieties of a worse kind; but it was not to be.... I hope,
dearest, you will not hurry home immediately. I should be so
sorry
to think you only had the fatigue of two long journeys, instead
of
some weeks of Highland air. I know how sadly your enjoyment
will be
damaged, but do not—I beg you, dearest—do not let your
spirits
sink. Nothing would make your poor old wife so sad. Georgy is
the
best and dearest of children and nurses; I am so sorry for her.
Yesterday she was quite upset, far more than I was, but to-day
she
has taken heart. God bless you. Think what happy people we
still
are—happy far beyond the common lot—in one another and all
our
darlings.
When Lord John heard of her illness, he wrote that he could not be a moment easy away from her, and came home at once.
PEMBROKE LODGE, September 8, 1855
Thank God! though in bed, I have generally been able to read and
talk, and for the last two days have given Johnny and the
little
boys their lessons.... Cannot but hope I am a little less
impatient
of illness, a little less unreasonably sorry to be debarred
from
air and liberty and all I care for most in this world, than I
used
to be.... I pray with my whole heart for the true faith and
patience that can never fail. I pray that, since I cannot teach
my
children how to do, I may teach them how to bear,
so
that even in illness I may not be wholly useless to them.
During the next four years Lord John remained out of office. He devoted much time to literary work. Besides writing his “Life of Fox" and editing the papers of his friend Thomas Moore, he delivered three important addresses. The first was a lecture on the causes which have checked moral and political progress. As will be seen from Lady John's diary, he was still so unpopular that she felt some dread of its reception at the hands of a large public audience.
LONDON, November 13, 1855
Great day well over.... At-half-past seven set out for Exeter
Hall.
John well cheered on his entrance, but not so warmly as to make
me
quite secure for the lecture. It was, however, received exactly
as
I hoped—deep attention, interrupted often by applause,
sometimes
enthusiastic, and generally at the parts one most wished
applauded.
A few words from Montague Villiers [49](in asking for a vote of
thanks), his hope that the whole country would soon feel as
that
audience did towards a man whose long life had been spent in
the
country's service, brought a fresh burst, waving of hats and
handkerchiefs, etc. Went to bed grateful and happy.
[49] Afterwards Bishop of Durham.
In 1855, Lord John bought a country estate, Rodborough Manor, near Stroud in Gloucestershire, as he wished to have a place of his own to leave to his children. It was in the parish of Amberley, from which he afterwards took his second title and his eldest son, Lord Amberley, made Rodborough his home for some years after his marriage.
Lady John Russell to Lord Dufferin
RODBOROUGH MANOR, STROUD, November 16, 1855
DEAR LORD DUFFERIN,—Thanks for your letter. I began to think
you
meant to disclaim all connection with your fallen chief. We
have
just been, he and I alone, spending a week in London. In that
little week he underwent various turns of fortune—hissed one
night
(though far less than the papers said), cheered the next day by
four thousand voices, while eight thousand hands waved hats and
handkerchiefs. I was not at Guildhall, but was at Exeter Hall,
which was just as it should be; for, in spite of a great many
noble
and philosophical sentiments, which I always keep in store
against
the hissing days, and find of infinite service, I prefer being
present on the cheering days. I hope you will think his lecture
deserved its reception. His squiredom agrees with him
uncommonly.
He rides and walks, and drinks ale and grows fat. As for me, I
have
not been at all strong since I came here, but I hope I am
reviving
now, and shall soon be able thoroughly to enjoy a life happy
and
pleasant beyond expression—such peace of mind and body to us
both,
such leisure to enjoy much that we both do enjoy with all our
hearts and have been long debarred from, are blessings of no
small
value, and when people tell me, by way of cheering me up under
a
temporary disgrace, that he is sure to be in office again soon,
they little know what a knell their words are to my heart.
However,
che sara, sara, and in the meantime we are very happy.
Yesterday I required some excitement, I must say, to carry me
through the day, for alas! I struck forty! Accordingly the
children
had provided for it unknown to me, and acted Beauty and the
Beast
with rapturous applause to a very select audience. ... We are
much
pleased with our new home, green and cheerful and varied and
pretty
outside, snug and respectable inside.
Ever sincerely yours,
F. RUSSELL
P.S.—I hear you are going to be married to a great many people;
please let me know how many reports are true.
In 1856 Lady John and the children went abroad. They visited Lady Mary Abercromby, whose husband was British Minister at the Hague, and later on they joined Lord John at Antwerp. Thence they travelled to Switzerland, where they remained till the end of September in a villa beautifully situated above the Lake of Geneva, near Lausanne. The early part of the winter was spent in Italy, where Lord John came into personal contact with Cavour and many other Italian patriots, whose cause he so staunchly supported during the next few years. The Villa Capponi, where they lived at Florence, became the meeting-place of all the Liberal spirits in Tuscany; and the Tuscan Government, who thought that Lord John had come to Florence to estimate the probable success of the revolutionaries, set spies upon his visitors.
Lord John Russell to Lady Melgund
VILLA CAPPONI, December 19, 1856
We have passed our time here very agreeably. Besides the
Florentines and their acute sagacity, we have had here many of
those whose wits were too bright or their hearts too warm to
bear
the Governments of Naples and Rome.... As for the French
newspapers, it is the custom at Paris and Vienna to let the
newspapers attack everything but their own Government, which is
their notion of the liberty of the Press!
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
VILLA CAPPONI, FLORENCE, January 1, 1857
MY DEAREST MARY,—You have my first date for the New Year....
God
grant it may be a happy one to us all. We began it merrily.
Mrs. E.
Villiers, who, with her daughter, is spending the winter here,
gave
a little dance. Twelve struck in the middle of a quadrille,
which
was accordingly interrupted by general shaking of hands among
chaperons, dancers, and all. There is a cordiality and ease in
society abroad, the charm of which goes far with me to make up
for
the absence of some of the merits of society in England. The
subjects of conversation among men are queer, no doubt; but
what
people have in them is much easier to get at—and to me it is a
relief not to hear all the ladies talking politics, or rather
talking political personalities, as they do in London.
January 2.—I am afraid, after having been abused as
unworthy of Italy (not so much, however, by you as by Lotty and
Lizzy) you will now charge me with the far worse sin of being a
bad
Briton—but that, depend upon it, I am not, whatever
appearances may say—on the contrary, a better one than ever,
only
grieving that with such materials as we have at home we do not
manage to make social life pleasanter.... Yesterday we had our
usual Thursday party; and before more than five or six had
come, I
went into the girls' sitting-room, which opens out of the
drawing-room, and played reels while the girls and two young
Italians danced—but they had not danced long before our frisky
Papa followed with Count Ferretti, and not only joined in a
reel,
but asked for a waltz, and whirled round and round with
Georgy and then with me, and made the old Count do the same. It
all
reminded me of our Berlin evenings, except that Papa, though
twenty-four years younger then, was not inspired by the German
as
he is by the Italian atmosphere, and never, to my recollection,
joined us in our many merry unpremeditated dances. It was
hardly
less a wonder to see Henry follow the example yesterday, and
add to
the confusion of the most confused “Lancers” I ever saw
danced....
It is impossible to say how this letter has been
interrupted....
The weather being too bright and beautiful to allow us to spend
the
morning indoors, the first interruption was a drive to San
Miniato,
where there is one of the finest views of Florence, and since
we
came home I have been jumping up every five minutes from my
writing-table to receive one visitor after another—whereas
many an
afternoon passes without a single one—and since they all
disappeared I have been called upon to help in a rehearsal for
a
second representation of our “Three Golden Hairs,” [50] which
is to
take place to-morrow on purpose for Lady Normanby.... The
gaiety
and noise of the rehearsals, the fun of the preparations, and
the
shyness, which effectually prevents any good acting, all
reminds me
of our dear old Minto plays. How very, very long ago all that
seems! Not long ago in time only, but the changes in everybody
and
everything make the recollection almost like a dream. I was
sorry
to say good-bye to poor old fifty-six, for though not
invariably
amiable to us he has been a good friend on the whole, and one
learns to be more than grateful for each year that passes
without
any positive sorrow, and leaves no blanks among our nearest and
dearest. God bless you, dearest Mary; pray attribute blots and
incoherences to my countless interruptions.
Yours ever affectionately,
F.R.
[50] A children's play written by herself.
On his return, Lord John continued to give independent support to the Ministry until circumstances arose which forced him to oppose Palmerston's foreign policy. In March Cobden brought forward a motion condemning the violent measures resorted to against China. Palmerston had justified these measures on the ground that the British flag had been insulted and our treaty rights infringed by the Chinese authorities at Canton. A small coasting vessel called The Arrow (sailing under British colours, but manned by Chinamen, and owned by a Chinaman) had been boarded while she lay in the river, and her crew carried off by a party from a Chinese warship in search of a pirate, who they had reason to think was then serving as a seaman on board The Arrow. Sir John Bowring, Plenipotentiary at Hong-Kong, demanded that the men should be instantly sent back. It was true that The Arrow had at the time of the seizure no right to fly the British flag, for her licence to trade under British colours had expired the year before; but he argued that since the Chinese could not have known this when they raided the vessel, they had deliberately insulted the flag in doing so, and afterwards infringed the extradition laws by refusing to restore the crew immediately. Upon the British fleet proceeding to bombard the forts, the men were released, but the apology and indemnity demanded in addition were not forthcoming. More forts were then bombarded and a number of junks were sunk. The real motive of these aggressive proceedings lay in the fact that the English traders had not yet been able to get a free entrance into Canton, in spite of treaties permitting them to trade there. Sir John Bowring made the refusal of apologies an excuse for forcing the Chinese to admit them. Not unnaturally the Chinese retaliated by burning foreign factories and cutting foreign throats. Meanwhile Palmerston at home characteristically supported Sir John Bowring through thick and thin, and the upshot was a long war with China.
Lord John detested aggressive and violent proceedings of this kind. His speech on Cobden's motion was one of his finest. The following passage from it expresses the spirit in which later on he conducted the foreign policy of England himself:
We have heard much of late—a great deal too much, I think—of
the
prestige of England. We used to hear of the character, of the
reputation, of the honour of England. I trust, sir, that the
character, the reputation, and the honour of this country are
dear
to us all; but if the prestige of England is to be separated
from
those qualities ... then I, for one, have no wish to maintain
it.
To those who argue, as I have heard some argue, “It is true we
have
a bad case; it is true we were in the wrong; it is true that we
have committed an injustice; but we must persevere in that
wrong;
we must continue to act unjustly, or the Chinese will think we
are
afraid,” I say, as has been said before, “Be just and fear
not.”
Palmerston was defeated by sixteen votes, and went to the country on a “Civis Romanus” policy, or, as we should say now, with a “Jingo” cry, which was immensely popular. Its popularity was so great that there seemed no chance that Lord John would retain his seat for the City. Even Cobden and Bright were defeated in their constituencies, and the country returned Palmerston with a majority of seventy-nine. Unpopular since his apparent change of front regarding the Vienna treaty, it would have been small wonder if Lord John had taken the advice of his committee and retired from the contest; but he was bent on taking his one-to-hundred chance, and, as it turned out, his courage won the seat.
LONDON, March 7, 1857
J.A. Smith called on me to know whether John had determined what
to do. Said I thought he meant to fight the battle. He looked
most
woeful, and said, “As sure as I stand here, he will not be the
member for the City.”
I said I believed he thought it best at all events to stand.
“Ah,
that's all very well if he had seen a chance of a tolerable
minority—but if he has only two or three votes!” He
also
said John had as much chance of being Pope as of being M.P. for
the
City.
Although a lack of the faculty which conciliates individuals was one of the criticisms most constantly brought against Lord John as a political leader, he certainly possessed the power of overcoming the hostility of a popular audience, without abating one jot of his own independence or dignity. A bold, good-tempered directness is always effective in such situations. He never lacked the tact of an orator. In this election the Liberal Committee, on the first rumour of his resignation, without verifying it, or notifying their intentions to Lord John, substituted Mr. Raikes Currie, late member for Northampton, as their Liberal candidate. Lord John at once called a meeting to protest against the action of the committee. The following passage in his speech was received with enthusiastic applause, and did much to secure a favourable hearing for his anti-Palmerstonian views during the campaign. It must be remembered that he had represented the City for sixteen years.
“If a gentleman were disposed to part with his butler, his
coachman, or his gamekeeper, or if a merchant were disposed to
part
with an old servant, a warehouseman, a clerk, or even a porter,
he
would say to him, 'John, I think your faculties are somewhat
decayed; you are growing old, you have made several mistakes;
and I
think of putting a young man from Northampton in your place.' I
think a gentleman would behave in that way to his servant, and
thereby give John an opportunity for answering. That
opportunity
was not given to me. The question was decided in my absence;
and I
come now to ask you, and the citizens of London, to reverse
that
decision.”
His success won back for him some of the general admiration which he had forfeited by his loyalty to the Ministers in 1855. Many of the best men in England rejoiced in his triumph; among them Charles Dickens wrote his congratulations.
Lord John Russell to Lady Melgund
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 1, 1857
...The contest has brought out an amount of feeling in my favour
both from electors and non-electors which is very gratifying.
...It
is the more pleasant, as all the merchant princes turned their
princely backs upon me, and left me to fight as I could (the
two
Hankeys alone excepted)....Fanny has not been very well since
the
election ... but this blessed place will, I hope, soon restore
her.
Lady John Russell to Lord Minto
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 4, 1857
The City election engrossed my thoughts for many days, and made
it
difficult to write to anybody who cared as much about it as you
till it was over. I have since spent my life in answering
letters
and receiving visits of congratulation, most of them very
hearty
and sincere, and accordingly very pleasant. I thought my days
of
caring for popular applause were over, but there was something
so
much higher than usual in the meaning of the cheers that
greeted
John whenever he showed himself, that I was not ashamed of
being
quite delighted. There was obviously a strong feeling among the
electors and non-electors, in Guildhall and in the streets,
that
John had been unfairly and ungratefully set aside, which far
outweighed the effect of his unpopular opinions on ballot and
church rates. Altogether there was a good tone among the people
(by
which I don't mean only one of attachment to John) which made
me
proud of them. Next to the pleasure of seeing and hearing with
my
own eyes and ears how strong his hold upon his countrymen still
is,
was the pleasure I was wicked enough to feel at the reception
which
greeted the unfortunate Raikes Currie.
The repose of Pemmy Lodge, which I hope you will by and by share
with us, is very welcome after our noisy triumph.
Mr. Charles Dickens to Lady John Russell
May 22, 1857
DEAR LADY JOHN,—Coming to town yesterday morning out of Kent, I
found your kind and welcome note referring to the previous day.
I
need not tell you, I hope, that although I have not had the
pleasure of seeing you for a long time, I have of late been
accompanying Lord John at a distance with great interest and
satisfaction. Several times after the City election was over I
debated with myself whether I should come to see you, but I
abstained because I knew you would be overwhelmed with
congratulations and I thought it was the more considerate to
withhold mine.
I am going out of town on Monday, June 1st, to a little
old-fashioned house I have at Gad's Hill, by Rochester, on the
identical spot where Falstaff ran away, and as you are so kind
as
to ask me to propose a day for coming to Richmond, I should
very
much like to do so either on Saturday the 30th of this month or
on
Sunday the 31st.
I heard of you at Lausanne from some of my old friends there,
and
sometimes tracked you in the newspapers afterwards. I beg to
send
my regard to Lord John and to all your house.
Do you believe me to remain always yours very faithfully,
CHARLES DICKENS
Lady John Russell to Lord Minto
PEMBROKE LODGE, September 27, 1857
John's reception at Sheffield equalled anything of the kind I
had
ever seen in our “high and palmy” days. So little had we
expected
any reception, that when we arrived at the station and
saw
the crowds on the platform I could not think what was the
matter,
and it was not till there was a general rush towards our
carriage
and shouts of John's name that I understood it was meant for
him.
From the station we had to drive all through the town to
Alderman
Hoole's villa; it was one loud and long triumph. John and Mr.
Hoole
and I were in an open carriage, the children following in a
closed
one. We went at a foot's pace, followed and surrounded by such
an
ocean of human beings as I should not have thought all
Sheffield
could produce, cheering, throwing up caps and hats, thrusting
great
hard hands into the carriage for John to shake, proposing to
take
off the horses and draw us, etc. Windows and balconies all
thronged
with waving women and children, and bells ringing so lustily as
to
drown John's voice when, at Mr. Hoole's request, he stood up on
the
seat and made a little speech. All this honour from one of the
most
warlike towns in the kingdom will surprise you, no doubt;
indeed, I
am not sure that you will quite approve.
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 25, 1857
A bright and lovely Christmas.... Sat more than an hour in the
sunny South summer-house, listening to birds singing and boys
and
little May [51] talking and laughing.... Dear, darling
children,
how I grudge each day that passes and hurries you on beyond
blessed
childhood.... I am too happy—there can hardly be a change that
will not make me less so.... A glorious sunset brought the
glorious
day to an end.
[51] Mary Agatha.
Lady John Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 26, 1857
I cannot remember a happier Christmas than ours has been, and I
am
sure nobody can remember a milder or brighter Christmas sky. I
sat
more than an hour yesterday in the sunny South summer-house,
listening to the songs of the blackbirds and thrushes, who have
lost all count of the seasons, and to the merry voices of the
boys
and little May, and thinking of many things besides, and
wishing I
could lay my hand on old Father Time and stop him in his
flight,
for he cannot bring me any change for the better, and he
must very soon take away one of the best joys of my daily life,
since he must take away childhood from my bairnies.
In the meantime I know I am not ungrateful, and when the little
boys in their evening prayer thanked God for making it “such a
happy Christmas,” oh! how I thanked Him too. We have had a
Christmas-tree, and for many days before its appearance the
children were in a state of ungovernable spirits, full of
indescribable fun and mischief, and making indescribable
uproar.
John has been by no means the least merry of the party, and
seeing
a game at “my lady's toilet” going on yesterday evening, could
not
resist tacking himself to its tail and being dragged through as
many passages and round as many windings as Pemmy Lodge
affords.
Although the Palmerston Ministry seemed firmly seated in power and were certainly capable of carrying out the spirited and aggressive foreign policy on which they had so successfully appealed to the country, an unexpected event occurred during the recess of 1857 which led to their downfall. On the night of January 14th some Italian patriots threw three bombs under Napoleon's carriage as he was driving to the Opera. The Emperor and Empress had a narrow escape, and many spectators were killed or wounded. The outrage was prompted by a frantic notion that the death of Napoleon III was an indispensable step towards the freedom of Italy. Orsini, the leader of the conspirators, was not himself of a crazy criminal type. He was a fine, soldier-like fellow, who had fought and suffered for his country's independence, and he had many friends in England among lovers of Italy who never suspected that he was the kind of man to turn into an assassin. When it was discovered that the plot had been hatched in London and the bombs made in Birmingham, a feverish resentment seized the whole French Army. Addresses were sent by many regiments congratulating Napoleon on his escape, in which London was described as ce repaire d'assassins and much abusive language used. The Press, of course, on both sides, fanned the flame, and for some days the two nations were very near war. The French Ambassador requested the Government to make at once more stringent laws against refugee aliens, and in answer to this request Palmerston brought in a Conspiracy to Murder Bill. Lord John informed the Government that he, for his part, would oppose any such measure as an ignominious capitulation to a foolish outcry.
Lady John Russell to Lady Mary Abercromby
LONDON, February 4, 1858
I have never seen John more moved, more mortified, more
indignant,
than on reading a letter from Sir George Grey yesterday
announcing
the intention of the Ministry to make an alteration in the
Conspiracy Laws under the threats of an inconceivably insolent
French soldiery. He had heard a rumour of such an intention,
but
would not believe it. He thinks very seriously of the possible
effects of debates on the measure, and feels the full weight of
his
responsibility; but he is nevertheless resolved to oppose to
the
utmost of his power what he considers as only the first step in
a
series of unworthy concessions. . . .
PEMBROKE LODGE, February 20, 1858
John woke me at two with the news of a majority for the
amendment
(234 to 215)—the country spared from humiliation, the
character of
the House of Commons redeemed. But, privately, what will become
of
our victory? Lay awake with the nightmare of coming office upon
me—went to sleep only to dream that John was going to the
scaffold
(being interpreted, the Treasury Bench).
Although the division was taken in a very small house, as the above figures show, Palmerston resigned, and after some hesitation the Queen charged Lord Derby with forming a Government. This was the second time Lord Derby had attempted to govern with a majority against him in the House of Commons. The first task of the new Ministry was to patch up the quarrel with France, and, thanks to the good sense and dignity of the Emperor, it was managed in spite of the scandalous acquittal by an English jury of the Frenchman, Dr. Bernard, who had manufactured Orsini's bombs. The Duc de Malakoff, whose conduct in the Crimea made him a popular hero in England, replaced M. Persigny at the French Embassy. His presence helped to remind Englishmen that it was not many years since they had fought side by side with French soldiers, and resentment against the Emperor's army died away.
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 30, 1858
Dinner at Gunnersbury. Met Malakoffs, D'lsraelis, Azeglio. Never
before had opportunity for real conversation with D'lsraeli—a
sad
flatterer and otherwise less agreeable than so able a man of
such
varied pursuits ought to be.
Although these years of comparative leisure had been welcome to them both, the issues at stake in Europe were so important that Lord John could not help wishing he again had an opportunity of directly influencing events.
He writes to his wife on December 15, 1858:
When I reflect that a Reform Bill and the liberation of Italy
are
“looming in the distance,” it gives me no little wish to be in
office; but when I consider what colleagues I should have, I am
cured of any such wish. I can express my own opinions in my own
way.
He feared that he would not have hearty support from his colleagues in his views on Italy and Reform, which accounts for the above allusion.
In March the Ministry were defeated on Disraeli's Reform Bill, and Parliament was dissolved. Meanwhile Italy's struggle against Austria was exciting much deeper interest than franchise questions. On June 24, 1859, the battle of Solferino was fought. Although the Austrians were beaten, the cost of victory to the Italians and French was very heavy. The fortunes of the whole campaign, indeed, had hitherto been due more to the incompetence of Austrian generalship than either to the strength of the allies or to the weakness of the Austrian position. Though Solferino was the fifth victory, the others had been also dearly bought, and the allies still remained inferior in numbers. Besides, should Austria go on losing ground there was more than a chance that Prussia would invade France, when the prospects of Italy would have been at an end, and England too, in all probability, involved in a general war. Napoleon, who knew the unsoundness of his own army, dreaded this contingency himself; though the English Court supposed—and continued to suppose, strangely enough—that to provoke a war with Prussia was the ultimate end of his policy. Generally speaking, the English people were enthusiastically Italian, while the Court and aristocracy were pro-Austrian. “I remarked,” wrote Lord Granville to Lord Canning at this time, “that in the Lords, whenever I said anything in favour of the Emperor or the Italians, the House became nearly sea-sick, while they cheered anything the other way, as if pearls were dropping from my lips.”
The elections did not strengthen Lord Derby sufficiently, and in June he resigned.
“Lord Derby's Government was beaten this morning,” writes Lord
Malmesbury, [52] “by a majority of 13.... The division took
place
at half-past two, and the result was received with tremendous
cheers by the Opposition. D'Azeglio (the Piedmontese Minister)
and
some other foreigners were waiting in the lobby outside, and
when
Lord Palmerston appeared redoubled their vociferations.
D'Azeglio
is said to have thrown his hat in the air and himself in the
arms
of Jaucourt, the French attache, which probably no ambassador,
or
even Italian, ever did before in so public a place.”
[52] “Memoirs of an Ex-Minister.”
It was not easy to choose Lord Derby's successor, since the Liberal party was divided; but its two leaders, Palmerston and Lord John, agreed to support each other in the event of either of them being charged with the formation of the new Government. The Queen, either because she was reluctant to distinguish between two equally eminent statesmen, or because she did not know of their mutual agreement, or more likely because she did not wish the foreign policy of England to be in the hands of Ministers with professed Italian sympathies, commissioned Lord Granville to make the attempt, who, though he felt some sympathy for the patriots, considered the peace of Europe far more important than the better government of Italy. After he had failed she sent for Palmerston, under whom Lord John became Foreign Secretary. This change of Government had a happy and instant effect upon the prosperity of the Italian cause. Technically, England still maintained her neutrality with regard to the struggle between Austria and Victor Emmanuel, backed by his French allies; but the change of Ministry meant that instead of being in the hands of a neutral Government with Austrian sympathies, the international negotiations upon which the union and freedom of Italy depended were now inspired by three men—Palmerston, Russell, and Gladstone—who did all in their power, and were prepared, perhaps, to risk war, in order to forward the policy of Victor Emmanuel and Cavour.
Lady John unfortunately lost her diaries recording events from May, 1859, to January, 1861; but it is known that she was in close sympathy with her husband's policy, and she looked back upon the part he played in the liberation of Italy with almost more pride than upon any other period of his career. Italian patriots and escaped prisoners from the Papal and Neapolitan dungeons found a warm welcome at Pembroke Lodge. She was never tired of listening to their stories, and she felt an enthusiastic ardour for their cause.
PEMBROKE LODGE, May 9, 1859
Farewell visit from Spaventa and Dr. Cesare Braico, [53] who
goes
to Piedmont Wednesday. Spaventa full of eager but not hopeful
talk
on Neapolitan prospects, Dr. Braico very quiet, crushed in
spirits,
but not in spirit.
“For me the illusions of life are past,” he said. “I have given
the
flower of my youth to my country in prison—what remains to me
of
life is hers.”
In answer to some commonplace of mine about hope he replied, “To
those who have suffered much the word hope seems a lie....
While I
was in prison my mother died—my only tie to life.” Said he
left
England with regret, and should always gratefully remember the
sympathy he had found here. Told him I thought there was not
enough. “More than in my own country. We passed through four
villages on our way to the port after leaving the prison; not
one
person looked at us or gave us a word of kindness; not a tear
was
in any eye; not one blessing was uttered.” I wondered. I
supposed
the people (the Neapolitans) were avilis. “More than
avilili—sono abbruttati.” All these sad words, and many
more, in beautiful Italian, would have touched any heart,
however
shut to the great cause for which he and others have given
their
earthly happiness, and are about to offer their lives. As I
looked
at that fine countenance, so determined, so melancholy, and
listened to the words that still ring in my ear, I felt that,
though he did not say so, he meant to die in battle against
tyranny. He gave me some verses, written with a pencil at the
moment, to little May, who ran into the room while he was here.
Farewell, brave, noble spirit. May God be with thee!
[53] Spaventa and Braico had been prisoners in Italy for about ten years.
To get clear what Lord John's share was in the creation of Italy, we must remember what hampered him at home and what difficulties he contended with in the councils of Europe.
The Palmerston Cabinet, as far as ability went, was exceptionally strong. Lord Granville, himself a member of it, had failed in his own attempt, because Lord John had stipulated that he should lead the Commons, and that foreign affairs should be in no other hands but Palmerston's; while Palmerston, who was as necessary as Lord John to any strong Whig Government, had declined to serve unless he led the Commons. The motive of Lord John's demand that Palmerston should be Minister for Foreign Affairs is clear; he did not trust Lord Granville where Italy was concerned. He thought extremely well of his qualifications as Foreign Minister—he had previously appointed him his own Foreign Secretary—but Lord Granville had objected shortly before to Lord Clarendon's dispatch to Naples, in which Ferdinand II's misrule had been condemned in terms such as might have preceded intervention. This dispatch had had Lord John's ardent sympathy, while Lord Granville had disapproved of it on the grounds that in diplomacy threatening language should not be addressed to a small State which prudence would have moderated in dealing with a powerful one, and that the whole tenor of the dispatch was calculated to draw on a European war.
It was these views upon Italian questions—namely, that peace was all-important and that little kingdoms, however corrupt and despotic, should not be browbeaten, which made Lord Granville so acceptable to the Court. Throughout the next two years he was the principal agent through whom the Queen and the Prince Consort attempted to mitigate the pro-Italian policy of Lord John and Palmerston. The Cabinet itself was divided on the subject; the “two old gentlemen,” as Sidney Herbert called them, were for stretching England's “neutrality” to mean support of every kind short of (and even at the risk of) committing us to intervention; while the rest of the Cabinet, with the important exception of Gladstone, were more or less in favour of abstaining from any demonstration on one side or the other. When Palmerston came into power the matters stood thus: Austria, after losing the battle of Solferino, was securely entrenched within her four strong fortresses of Verona, Mantua, Peschiera, and Legnago, but her Emperor was already disheartened and disgusted by the fighting.
Napoleon, too, on his side was anxious for peace—most anxious, in fact, to extricate himself as soon as possible from the dangerous complications in which his alliance was likely to land him. On the eve of Solferino he had heard that Prussia, ready for war, was concentrating at Coblenz and Cologne, and he knew well there was no army in France capable of much resistance. He began, too, to realize that success pressed home might lead to the formation on the south-east border of France of a new—and perhaps formidable—Italian power; a possibility he had not considered when he planned with Cavour at Plombieres their secret alliance against Austria. The war was now becoming unpopular with far-sighted Frenchmen precisely because its success plainly tended towards this issue; and, in addition, the formation of such a kingdom, by implying the confiscation of the Papal territories, was most distasteful to his Catholic subjects, with whom Napoleon already stood badly and wished to stand better. After a brief armistice, he proposed terms of peace to Austria, which were signed at Villafranca on July 9th. They ran as follows:
Lombardy was to be surrendered to France and then handed over to Italy; the Italian States were to be formed into a Federation under the honorary presidency of the Pope (this was intended to soothe French Catholics); Venetia, while remaining under Austrian rule, was to be a member of the Federation, and the Dukes of Tuscany and Modena were to resume their thrones. Napoleon wished to add a further stipulation that neither side should use their armies to secure this latter object, but over this there rose so much haggling that the outcome was only an understanding between the two Emperors (not committed to paper) that Austria would not oppose the establishment of constitutional government in those States, should they themselves desire it, but at the same time she retained by her silence her right to interfere for other reasons; while France on her side asserted that she would neither restore the Dukes by force of arms herself nor—and here lay a point of great importance—allow Austria to interfere should she act upon the right she had reserved.
As may be imagined, to men who had set their hearts on a free united Italy, such a treaty was exasperating. However aware Victor Emmanuel might be that he owed much to France, he could not but be bitterly disappointed by Napoleon withdrawing his help when the struggle had just begun and when the freedom of Lombardy alone had been won. Cavour resigned in a passion of resentment that Victor Emmanuel should have countenanced such a peace. “Siamo traditi” was the cry at Milan and Turin. Yet Napoleon had already done much for the union of Italy; in fact, he had done more than he knew, and far more than he ever intended. Though no one at first fully realized it, the stipulation that Austria should not attempt to use force to restore the fugitive Dukes, and that France should abstain from similar interference, really opened a path for the union of Italy. This was the first important juncture at which Lord John brought valuable assistance to the cause of “Italy for the Italians,” since he kept Napoleon to his promise, after he had good reasons to regret it, and bent the whole weight of England's influence towards persuading reluctant Austria to accept on her side the principle of complete non-intervention.
It must be remembered that the terms of Villafranca, in so far as the question of armed intervention was concerned, had never been finally ratified; and it was Napoleon's wish that the European Powers should form a Congress at Zuerich, at which the Convention would acquire the stability of a European treaty, and the nature of the proposed Italian Federation be finally defined. Lord John and Palmerston, while protesting against the clause of the treaty which, by including Venice in the Federation, still left Austria a preponderating influence in Italian affairs, refused to take part in this Congress unless Napoleon promised beforehand to withdraw his army from Italy as soon as possible, and to join England in insisting that no Austrian troops should be allowed in future to cross the borders of their own Venetian territory.
At home the English Court did its best to prevent its Ministers exacting these promises. It was the Queen's strong wish that the Federation of Italy and the restoration of the Dukes of Parma and Modena should stand as Austria's compensation for yielding Lombardy to Italy, and that the Congress at Zuerich should insist upon these conditions forming part of the ultimate European treaty. She objected to the pressure which Lord John was applying to France, on the ground that in making England's presence conditional upon an assurance that Napoleon would consider terms more favourable to Italian independence than those already signed at Villafranca, her Ministers were abandoning neutrality and intervening deliberately upon the side of Victor Emmanuel. The contest between the Court and the Foreign Office was obstinate on both sides; at one time it seemed likely that Palmerston and Lord John would be forced to resign. Lord John succeeded, however, in obtaining a favourable assurance from Napoleon to the effect that if it should prove impossible to construct an Italian Federation in which Austria could not predominate, he would accept a proposal for an Italian Federation from which Austria was excluded entirely. On these terms England consented to appear; but after all these intricate delays the Congress, dated to meet in January, 1860, never sat. In December a pamphlet, inspired by Napoleon himself, entitled “Le Pape et le Congres,” had appeared, which advocated the Pope's abandonment of all territory beyond the limits of the patrimony of St. Peter, and declared that the settlement of this important matter should lie not with the Congress, but in the hands of Napoleon himself. If these were the Emperor's own views, Austria pronounced that she could take no part in the Congress; for she would then be denied a voice in decisions very near her interests as a Catholic Power and the first enemy of Italian union. The Congress consequently fell through.
Meanwhile events had been moving rapidly in Italy. Relieved from the immediate fear of Austrian coercion, the Tuscan Assembly had voted their own annexation to the kingdom of Piedmont, and the duchies of Modena and Parma and the Romagna soon followed suit. The question remained, could Victor Emmanuel venture to accept these offers? He had the moral support of England on his side, and in his favour the threat of Napoleon that should Austria advance beyond her Venetian territory, the French would take the field against her; but on the other hand, Austria declared that if the King of Piedmont moved a single soldier into these States she would fight at once, and Napoleon, while he threatened Austria, did not wish Victor Emmanuel to widen his borders. Cavour was now again at the head of the Piedmontese Government, and the problem of British diplomacy was to propose terms so favourable to Italian liberty that Cavour would not be tempted to provoke another war as a desperate bid for a united Italy, and yet of a kind that France and Austria would accept. The terms Lord John offered were: (1) that Austria and France should both agree to abstain from intervention, except at the invitation of the five Great Powers; (2) that another vote should be taken in those States which had desired to amalgamate with Piedmont before the King should be free to enter their territories. The other provisions dealt with the preservation of the status quo in Venetia and the withdrawal of the French troops from Rome and Northern Italy.
It will be seen that the first clause was merely a reiteration, a reinforcement with Europe to back it, of the clause which Napoleon, blind to its results, had attempted to induce the Emperor of Austria to put upon paper at Villafranca. Having failed then, he had contented himself with announcing that he would not interfere himself, nor allow Austria to interfere, by force of arms in Italy, a promise to which English diplomacy had from that moment firmly held him. We have seen, too, that before Lord John had consented to take part in the Zurich Congress, he had exacted from Napoleon an assurance that he would consider, as an alternative to the Federation proposed at Villafranca, the formation of an Italian Federation in which Venice (or in other words Austria) should have no part whatever. Such a Federation would not have been very different from the amalgamation with Piedmont which the other States had just proposed of their own accord; and consequently the Emperor of the French could not well protest against Lord John's proposals without repudiating all his earlier negotiations. Thus England and Italy now held France on their side, an unwilling ally in diplomacy, and Austria, on whom Lord John had endeavoured all along to force the principle of non-intervention, at last gave way. She refused, however, to commit herself for the future, or to admit that she had not the right to interfere at any time in Italy's affairs; but she let it be known that, for the present, reluctance to renew war with France and Piedmont would determine her actions. Of course the people of the States confirmed their vote in favour of annexation, and on April 2, 1860, the first Parliament representing Piedmont and Central Italy met at Turin.
This was the first stage in the making of Italy. When it was completed there remained only three independent Powers (excluding Austrian Venice) dividing the peninsula among them—in the north the new kingdom of Piedmont; in the centre the diminished Papal States; in the south the kingdom of Naples. Lord John, as the spokesman of England, by playing off Napoleon, who was no friend to Italian unity, against Francis Joseph, who was the prime enemy of Italian freedom, had secured for Italy an opportunity to work out her own salvation. He and Cavour together had forced Napoleon to prevent Austria from checking what Napoleon himself would have liked to prevent.
Subsequently it came to light that Napoleon's surprising readiness in agreeing to the annexation of Central Italy in April had been due to a private arrangement between him and Cavour in the previous month. It was agreed between them in March that Savoy and Nice should be handed over to France as the price of her acquiescence. In the secret treaty of Plombieres, Napoleon's reward for helping the Piedmontese, should the war leave Venice, Lombardy, and the Romagna in Victor Emmanuel's hands, had been fixed as the cession of these territories to France. But since Napoleon had withdrawn and made peace when, as yet, only Lombardy had been wrested from Austria, he had waived his claim upon Nice and Savoy at Villafranca, and claimed in exchange a contribution towards his expenses in the war. But the moment Piedmont proposed to annex Tuscany, the Romagna and the Duchies, he returned to his original claim. His action had two important results: one which immediately added to the complication of Italian politics, and one which affected the diplomatic relations of the Great Powers for the next eleven years. In Italy his demand made a lasting breach between Cavour and Garibaldi. The latter never forgave the cession of Nice, his native town, to France, and never could be convinced that the sacrifice of Italian territory was a necessary step towards uniting Italy. In his eyes the agreement with Napoleon had been a kind of treason on the part of Cavour. Among the European Powers, on the other hand, Napoleon's action created an impression, which was never effaced, that he was a predatory and treacherous power.
In England the news was received with the greatest indignation. Lord John was extremely angry, and practically threatened war. He, like Garibaldi, did not realize that Cavour was driven to the concession, nor that Napoleon was, in truth, compelled on his side to demand what he did. The following letter from Sir James Hudson, the English Minister at Turin—“uomo italianissimo,” as Cavour called him—is particularly interesting, because, though addressed to Lady John, it reads as though it were also intended for the eyes of the Foreign Secretary, from whom indignation had temporarily concealed the truth that this sacrifice was the only compensation which would have induced Napoleon to look on quietly while the new kingdom of Italy was consolidating on his frontier. The last event Cavour desired was a war between the two Powers whose unanimity forced neutrality upon Austria. Napoleon on his side was practically obliged to demand Savoy and Nice as a barrier against Italy, and because the acquisition of territory alone could have prevented his subjects from feeling that they had lost their lives and money only to further the aims of Victor Emmanuel.
Sir James Hudson to Lady John Russell
TURIN, April 6, 1860
MY DEAR LADY JOHN,—I have seen Braico—Poerio brought him to me
after I had offered my services to him in your name, and we
have
combined to dine together and to perform other feats, besides
gastronomic ones, in order to cheer him whilst he resides in
these
(to a Parthenopean) Boeotian regions.
You mention in your letter the name of that scandal to royalty,
Louis Napoleon. What can I say of him? Hypocrite and footpad
combined. He came to carry out an “idea,” and he prigs the
silver
spoons. “Take care of your pockets” ought to be the cry
whenever he
appears either personally or by deputy.
But do not, I beg of you, consider and confound either the King
of
Sardinia or Cavour as his accomplice. Think for a moment on the
condition of Sardinia, who represents the nascent hope of
Italy.
Think of the evil that man meant—how he tried to trip up the
heels
of Tuscany, establish a precarious vicarial existence for the
Romagna, and plots now at Naples. Not to have surrendered when
he
cried “stand and deliver” would have been to have risked all
that
was gained—would have given breathing time to Rome, reinforced
and
comforted Rome's partisans in the Romagna—have induced doubt,
fear, and disunion throughout Italy. Judging by the experience
of
the last eight years, I must say I saw no means of avoiding the
rocks ahead save by a sop to Cerberus. But do not lose
confidence
in the National party—Cavour or no Cavour, Victor Emmanuel or
another, that party is determined to give Italy an Italian
representation. I regret that the Nizzards (who have a keen eye
to
the value of building lots) are wrenched from us by a French
filou; but I cannot forget that the Savoyards have
constantly upheld the Pope, and have been firm and consistent
in
their detestation of Liberal Government in Sardinia. I am
not
speaking of the neutral parts, please remember.
Your most devoted servant,
JAMES HUDSON
Meanwhile the reign of Francis II of Naples and the Two Sicilies, who had succeeded Ferdinand, was proving if anything worse than his father's. Early in 1860 insurrections began to break out in Sicily, and on May 5th Garibaldi, on his own initiative, set sail from Genoa to help the rebels. “I go,” he said, “a general without an army, to fight an army without a general.” His success was extraordinarily rapid. At the end of May he had taken Palermo from 24,000 regular troops with his volunteers and some Sicilian help, thus making the dictatorship of Sicily, which he had declared on landing, a reality. It soon became known that he intended to recross to the mainland to free the people of Naples itself. Piedmont, of course, wished Garibaldi to succeed in this further undertaking. His cause was her cause. Though this action was entirely independent, his dictatorship had been avowed as a preliminary step to handing over the island to Victor Emmanuel. The King could not, therefore, oppose him nor prevent him re-embarking for Naples without separating himself from the cause of United Italy and making an enemy of almost every patriot in the country; but both he and Cavour were afraid either that Garibaldi might fail, in which case the union of Italy would have been postponed for many years, or that the pace at which changes were coming would lead France or Austria to interfere again.
France, of course, was most anxious to stop the further increase of the power of Piedmont, and therefore to check Garibaldi. Napoleon's idea of “United Italy” was a federation of separate States under the presidency of the Pope, who in his turn would be under the influence of France. He at once put pressure upon Cavour and Victor Emmanuel, compelling the latter to write to Garibaldi, telling him to stop in Sicily. Thus, in spite of her desire that Garibaldi should sail and succeed, Piedmont was compelled publicly to express disapproval of his intention. In England it was supposed that Cavour meant what he made the King say in his letter to Garibaldi, and in addition Palmerston, who was glad enough to see the old Governments of the little States tumbling to the ground, was rather alarmed at the prospect of a United Italy, which would also be a Mediterranean Power. Hitherto the honour of assisting Italy had belonged equally to him and to Lord John. Henceforward, however, Lord John, who had been brought up in the Fox tradition, and whose Italian sympathies had been fortified by his wife's enthusiasm, definitely took the lead in determining England's policy.
The aim of Cavour was to help the revolution as much as possible without making it obvious to Europe that he was doing so; but, like everybody else, Lord John had taken him at his word, and thought that the liberation of Italy might be retarded by Garibaldi's departure from Sicily for the mainland, till information reached him that in reality Piedmont was most anxious nothing should hinder Garibaldi's attack upon Naples. It reached him apparently in the following manner.
Cavour determined to appeal to the Russells personally through a secret agent. With this object Mr. Lacaita [afterwards Sir James Lacaita], who had been exiled from Naples for having helped Gladstone to write his famous letters upon the state of the Neapolitan prisons, which Lacaita knew from inside, was instructed to call upon Lord John in London and to tell him that in spite of her official declaration, Piedmont was desperately anxious that Garibaldi should drive the King of Naples from the throne; for Garibaldi's extraordinary success in Sicily had made his failure on the mainland far less likely, and Cavour was now certain that there was not much power of resistance left in the Neapolitan kingdom. Lacaita, though ill in bed, got up and went to deliver his message. He was told that Lord John was closeted with the French and Neapolitan ambassadors and could not see him. Lacaita guessed that Lord John was at that very moment talking over the means of preventing Garibaldi's expedition, and he immediately decided to ask for Lady John. When informed that she was seriously ill, he insisted upon being taken up into her bedroom, and adjured her for the love of Italy to get Lord John away from the ambassadors at once. A scribbled note begging her husband to come to her immediately brought him upstairs in some alarm. And there he learnt from Lacaita that Victor Emmanuel's letter of July 25th was a blind, that united Italy must be made now or never, and that he would never be forgiven if England stopped Garibaldi.
This incident is recorded by several persons to whom Mr. Lacaita told the story. [54] It explains the sudden right-about of English diplomacy at this juncture, which, as Persigny shows in his memoirs, puzzled and astonished him. For Lord John having received this information, refused to act with France in preventing Garibaldi from crossing the Straits of Messina. This he accordingly did, and marched straight on to Naples, where he was welcomed as a deliverer; the royal troops deserted or retreated to Capua, and Garibaldi made his entrance into Naples, as was said in the House of Commons, “a simple traveller by railway with a first-class ticket.” Before the end of October the King of Sardinia and Garibaldi met near Teano and Garibaldi saluted Victor Emmanuel as King of Italy.
[54] Lady John's diaries of 1860 being lost, this incident is given here on the sole authority of the late Sir James Lacaita.
On October 27, 1860, Lord John wrote a dispatch, in which he said that—
Her Majesty's Government can see no sufficient grounds for the
severe censure with which Austria, France, Prussia, and Russia
have
visited the acts of the King of Sardinia. Her Majesty's
Government
will turn their eyes rather to the gratifying prospect of a
people
building up the edifice of their liberties and consolidating
the
work of their independence....
Lord John also quoted from “that eminent jurist Vattel” the following words: “When a people from good reasons take up arms against an oppressor, it is but an act of justice and generosity to assist brave men in the defence of their liberties.”
Mr. Odo Russell to Lord John Russell
ROME, December 1, 1860
MY DEAR UNCLE,—Ever since your famous dispatch of the 27th, you
are blessed night and morning by twenty millions of Italians. I
could not read it myself without deep emotion, and the moment
it
was published in Italian, thousands of people copied it from
each
other to carry it to their homes and weep over it for joy and
gratitude in the bosom of their families, away from brutal
mercenaries and greasy priests. Difficult as the task is the
Italians have now before them, I cannot but think that they
will
accomplish it better than we any of us hope, for every day
convinces me more and more that I am living in the midst of a
great and real national movement, which will at
last
be crowned with perfect success, notwithstanding the legion of
enemies Italy still counts in Europe.
Your affectionate nephew,
ODO RUSSELL
Such was the second important juncture at which the British Ministry came to the rescue of the Italian nationalists. If after Villafranca the negotiations which secured the safety of Italy were the work of three men, Palmerston, Lord John, and Gladstone, contending against an indifferent and timid Cabinet and the opposition of the Court—it is clear that when the success or failure of Italian unity was a second time at stake, the decision and initiative were Lord John's.
After his retirement, when he was travelling with his family in 1869, they took a villa at San Remo. The ceiling of the salon was decorated with those homely frescoes so common in Italy, which in this case consisted of four portraits—Garibaldi, Cavour, Mazzini, and—to their surprise—Lord John himself. Next to the national heroes he was associated closest in the minds of the people with the achievement of their independence.
When Garibaldi came to England in the spring of 1864, and received a more than royal welcome, Pembroke Lodge was, naturally, one of the first houses he visited. On April 21, 1864, Lady John writes in her diary:
All looked anxiously to the sky on getting up—all rejoiced to
see
it bright. Sunshine the whole day. Garibaldi to luncheon at
Pembroke Lodge. Our school children, ranged alongside of
approach
with flags, cheered him loudly. All went well and pleasantly.
John gave him a stick of British oak. Garibaldi gave John his
own
in exchange.
Agatha gave him a nosegay of green, red, and white—he kissed
her
on the forehead. Much interesting conversation with him at
luncheon. Told him he would be blamed by many for his praise of
Mazzini yesterday. He said that he and Mazzini differed as to
what
was best for Italy, but Mazzini had been his teacher in early
youth—had been unjustly blamed and was malheureux. “Et
j'ai
cru devoir dire quelque chose,” and that he (Garibaldi) had
been in
past years accused of being badly influenced by Mazzini: “Ceux
qui
ont dit cela ne me connaissent pas.” That when he acts it is
because he himself is convinced he ought. Inveighed bitterly
against Louis Napoleon, whom he looks upon as hors la loi.
Simple dignity in every word he utters.
Park full of people. Richmond decorated with flags.
Since only political events in which Lady John was herself deeply interested or those which affected her life through her husband's career are here to the purpose, the other international difficulties with which Lord John had to deal as Secretary for Foreign Affairs in this Government may be quickly passed over. And for the same reason the domestic politics of these years require only the briefest notice. Palmerston's Ministry produced very little social legislation, and the fact that Lord John was at the Foreign Office, while the Prime Minister led the Commons, increased the legislative inactivity of a Government which, with Palmerston at its head, would in any case have changed little in the country. Gladstone's budgets and Cobden's Free-Trade Treaty with France were the important events. Between 1860 and 1864 the taxation of the country was reduced by twelve millions, the National Debt by eleven millions, and the nation's income increased by twenty-seven millions, while foreign trade had risen in two years by seventy-seven millions. These were the most splendid results a Chancellor of the Exchequer has ever been able to show; but the changes by which it had been achieved had been far from welcome to Palmerston himself. It had required great resolution on Gladstone's part to carry the Prime Minister with him.
Many comments have been made on the indifference which the country showed to domestic reform during these years of Liberal Government; but it is not very surprising. It is a familiar fact that when foreign affairs are exciting the people are not eager about social or political reform, a fact upon which Governments have always been able to count. And foreign affairs had been very exciting. Under Lord John and Palmerston our own foreign policy had been bold and peremptory; the policy of France was directed by Napoleon, whose head, as Palmerston said, was as full of schemes as a rabbit-warren is of rabbits; and the quarrel of 1852 between Prussia and Denmark had arisen again in a far acuter form. It was, therefore, natural that popular attention should be constantly turned abroad.
The deaths of those who linked Lady John with her childhood now came quickly. Her father, Lord Minto, died a month after Lord John had taken office. He had been ailing for some time.
LONDON.—PEMBROKE LODGE, May 2, 1859
John at 7 a.m. to Huntingdon to propose Mr. Heathcote at
nomination; back to Pembroke Lodge about five, having been very
well received, but chiefly by the ill-dressed. Papa
surprisingly well—saw him on my way out of town; far the
happiest
sight I had yet had of him. Dear Papa, he looked so pleased,
smiled
so brightly when he saw me. “Ah, dear Fanny! How glad I am to
see
you! How fresh and well you look.” Held my hand all the time I
was
with him.... I said I hoped in his place I should be as
patient—that he was an example to us all, as he always had
been.... Said few daughters could look back at my age without
being
able to remember having heard from their father one word but of
love and kindness....
He died on July 31, 1859. His keen interest in public questions continued to the end, with a firm belief in the ultimate triumph of good. “Magna est veritas et prevalebit” were almost the last words he spoke on his death-bed.
During the autumn of 1860 Lord John accompanied the Queen to Coburg, where boar-shooting with the Prince Consort and Court-life (he never liked its formalities) failed to console him for absence from wife and children.
Lady John to Lord John Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 11, 1860
I found two letters from you here.... So you are fairly on your
journey and safe so far. And here I am with my large
detachment,
all well and merry, and all at dear beloved home again after
our
wanderings. I am so thankful, and I hope to be still more so in
five days, when I am no longer doomed to sing “There's nae luck
about the house,” as I have done daily for three weeks.... That
you
should have killed a wild boar is all but incredible, and makes
me
expect to see you with a long moustache and green Faeger
costume.
In April, 1861, Lord John's second daughter, Victoria, married Mr. Villiers, son of the Bishop of Durham. Lady John wrote some verses to her on her marriage which are published in Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell.”
In May the Duke of Bedford died. The Duke had been Lord John's close friend, and had often advised him at the beginning of his career. He was one of those influential noblemen who watch politics with unflagging interest, but without the smallest desire to take an active part in them. It was his pride and pleasure to know the ins and outs of a situation perhaps even better than some of the principal actors in it, and his judgment was always at his brother's service. On his death Lord John inherited the Ardsalla estate in Ireland. The loss of his brother precipitated perhaps an intention he had considered for some time of saving his strength by accepting a peerage, and exchanging the strenuous life of the House of Commons for the lighter work of the House of Lords. The exchange was effected in July, when Lord John became Earl Russell.
“Very dismal about the peerage,” writes Lady John in her diary,
“and seeing only the sad side of it.... John made a fine speech
on
Sardinia, perhaps his last in the House of Commons.”
Lady Minto [55] to Lady John Russell
July 20, 1861
...It is impossible not to feel very sad in parting with
a
name which has so long been the rallying point of the Liberal
party, the watchword of all those who in our day have fought
the
good fight, and, whatever name he may bear, it will never carry
to
English ears the same sound as “Lord John.” People older than
ourselves had looked to it with hope; and in our time, whenever
Liberty has been in danger, or truth or justice or the national
honour has been attacked, the first question which rose to
men's
lips was, “What will Lord John do?”....I remember his first
speech
on the China War in 1856. How empty the House was when he rose,
how
rapidly it filled to overflowing; then the intense silence
which
followed the rush, and lastly the overpowering cheers from all
sides as he went on. To leave the scene where he has so long
wielded at will the, alas! not fierce “democracie” (and
it
will be milder still without him!) must require immense
self-control and self-denial.
[55] Formerly Lady Melgund. Her husband had now succeeded his father as third Earl of Minto.
Lord John Russell to Lady Minto
LONDON, July 23, 1861
MY DEAREST NINA,—It seems very bad of us not to have explained
duly and deliberately that I have the project resolved upon and
decided of accepting a peerage. But there have been many
changes in
my mind before the final leap was resolved upon. Forty-seven
years
of the House of Commons are enough for any man, and imply a
degree
of wear and tear which those who read the speeches listlessly
at
the breakfast table have little conception of. A reply which is
to
go to Paris, Petersburg, Turin, and Washington requires much
presence of mind, and often much previous thought, work, etc. A
calmer atmosphere will suit better my old age, but I could not
leave my companions on the Treasury Bench while any change was
impending, and if I were to wait till 1862 I might again find
the
ship in a storm, and be loath to take to the boat. About a
title
for Johnny there is still some doubt, but I shall be Earl
Russell,
and make little change in the signature of
Your affectionate brother,
J. RUSSELL
In August Lord and Lady Russell and their children went to Abergeldie Castle, which had been lent to them for several successive autumns. Their free and happy life in the Highlands was delightful to them all. In October Lady Russell writes: “Left our beautiful Highland home.... Very very thankful for all our happy Abergeldie days.”
In the April of this year the American Civil War had broken out, and the Ministry had been obliged to decide the question whether England should recognize the Southerners as “belligerents” or accept the Northern view of them as “rebels.” The touchiness of the Northerners, and the fact that in England many people sympathized loudly with the South, made it difficult for the Ministry to maintain the attitude of neutrality, which, while recognizing the Southern Confederacy as a belligerent Power, they had officially declared in May. In November two Commissioners, sent by the Confederacy to put the case of the South before the Courts of Europe, were forcibly seized on board the Trent, an English, and therefore a neutral, vessel. This was a breach of international law, and the resentment it provoked in England was increased by the truculent attitude of the North in the face of our demand for the restoration of the Commissioners. The Congress, instead of apologizing, proceeded to pass a vote of thanks to Captain Wilks for having intercepted the Trent.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline [56]
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 13, 1861
When the account of the seizure of the Southern Commissioners
first
reached us I was afraid of the effect on John's health and
spirits,
as you may well believe; but, as you say, he could not but feel
that there had been no fault on our side, that not a word had
been
spoken, not a deed done by him but what showed the friendliest
feeling to the United States, and the strongest wish to remain
at
peace with them. I wish the newspapers were blameless; but
there
was a sneering, exulting tone in many of them after the
military
disasters of the North which was likely to irritate. Mr. Motley
said long ago that the Times would, if possible, work up
a
war between the two countries, and though I can't speak from my
own
knowledge, as I have seldom looked at its articles, I have no
doubt
from what John and others say that he was right.... There can
be no
doubt that we have done deeds very like that of Captain
Wilks—not
exactly like, because no two cases ever are so—but I wish we
had
not done them, and I suppose and hope we shall admit they were
very
wrong. It is all terrible and awful, and I hope and pray war
may be
averted—and whatever may have been the first natural burst of
indignation in this country, I believe it would be ready to
execrate the Ministry if all right and honourable means were
not
taken to prevent so fearful a calamity.
[56] Her husband, Mr. Ralph Abercromby, was now Lord Dunfermline.
December 19, 1861
John to town to see Mr. Adams [57].... John's interview with Mr.
Adams encouraging. Mr. Adams showed him a dispatch from Mr.
Seward
declaring Government to be quite uncommitted as to opinion on
seizure of Commissioners.
[57] American Minister in London.
In December the Prince Consort died. Almost his last public act was to modify the dispatch sent in reply to the vote in Congress, so that it offered the North an opportunity of relaxing with dignity their uncompromising attitude.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 24, 1861
I know you, like everybody, must have been thinking much of our
poor desolate Queen. Her anguish, her loneliness of heart on
that
pinnacle of human greatness, must weigh on all who have known
how
happy she was; but to us who have often seen that lost
happiness,
it is almost like a grief of our own. I don't believe I have
ever
seen her take his arm without the thought crossing my mind:
“There
is the real blessing of your life—that which alone makes you
as
happy a woman as others in spite of your crown.” Everybody must
have been full of dread of the effect upon her, but she has
borne
up nobly—or rather, she has bowed humbly to God's will, and
takes
comfort in her children. It must be soothing to her that his
rare
worth is now fully acknowledged and gratefully felt by the
whole
nation.
January 7, 1862
John to town at twelve, back at half-past six; dispatches and
letters from Lord Lyons of December 26th discouraging, cabinet
still considering our demands. Surrender possible, but in Lord
Lyons's opinion very unlikely.
January 8, 1862
Telegram to John at 6 p.m. Commissioners surrendered! Thank God.
General rejoicing in the House.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 13, 1862
Well, what do you say to our American triumph? It ought to go
far
to cure you all. It is long since any political event has given
me,
my particular self, such unmixed pleasure. For my country, for
my
husband, and for the other country too, with all its sins, I
rejoice with all my heart and soul. John is delighted. He was
very
anxious up to the last moment.
...We “Plodgians” were all so delighted that it has been a
surprise
to us to hear of the very tempered joy, or rather the
ill-concealed
disappointment, of London society; but John says London
society is always wrong, and I believe the country to be all
right.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
LONDON, February 10, 1863
You ask me about Kinglake's book—everybody except ourselves is
reading or has read it.... With regard to the sleepy Cabinet
dinner
at Pembroke Lodge he has from what we hear fallen into great
inaccuracy.... John says that the despatch, having been
circulated
in the Cabinet before that dinner, was already well known to
them
all. As far as he remembers none but Sir William Molesworth
went to
sleep. I remember perfectly how several of them told me
afterwards
about Sir William sleeping and falling from his chair, and we
have
often laughed about it, but I do not remember being told of
anybody
else going to sleep. I suppose I shall read the book, but I
cannot
tell you how I shrink from anything that must recall and make
one
live over again those terrible months of vacillation and
weakness,
the consequence of a Coalition Cabinet, which “drifted” us into
a
most terrible war—a war from which consistency and firmness
would
have saved us. A thoroughly Aberdeen Ministry would have
maintained
peace. A thoroughly Russell or Palmerston Ministry would have
maintained peace and honour too.
Lord Russell to Lady Minto
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 9, 1863
Parliament is coming to an end, most people being tired of
talking
and everybody of listening.... Lord Chelmsford says in honour
of
the House of Lords: “The Commons have a great deal to do and
they
don't do it—the Lords have nothing to do and they do it.”
In 1863 relations between England and America were again strained. English vessels were perpetually running the blockade to bring cotton to England and goods to the Southern ports—a risky but highly profitable business. They were often captured by Northern cruisers and forfeited. There were complaints on our side that the Federal courts were not always careful to distinguish in their decisions between cases of deliberate blockade-running and legitimate trading with ports beyond the Southern frontier. The North, besides blockade-running, had a further cause of complaint. The Confederates were getting cruisers built for them in neutral ports. The most famous case of the kind was that of the Alabama, which was built in the Mersey. The English Government had information of its destination, but failed to prevent it sailing—a failure which eventually cost us an indemnity of L3,000,000. The speech referred to in the following letter was made in the midst of these troubles. It was a defence of England's good faith in the matter of the Alabama and an assertion that Americans should be left to settle their own difficulties without European mediation. At this time the French Government and a strong party in England were in favour of European intervention. By securing the independence of the South, they hoped to diminish the power of the United States in the future. Such an idea could only be entertained while the struggle between North and South seemed evenly balanced. The next year showed the hopelessness of such a project and vindicated the wisdom of the English Government in having refused to attempt to divide America into two independent Powers.
Mr. William Vernon Harcourt (later Sir William) to Lady
Russell
September 28, 1863
I hope you will excuse my taking the liberty to write you a line
of
admiration and satisfaction at Lord Russell's speech at
Meiklour
[in Scotland], which I have just read. I take so deep and
lively an
interest in the great American question and all that concerns
it
that I looked forward to the authorized exposition of English
policy by the Foreign Secretary with the greatest anxiety. Lord
Russell's speech, will, I am sure, be of immense service both
to
Europe and to America. It has the juste milieu, and
withal
does not suppress the sympathy which every good man must feel
for
the cause of freedom, in a manner which more than ever
justifies
the Loch Katrine boatman's opinion of his “terrible judgment.”
I cannot help feeling that this speech has for the first time
publicly placed the position of England in its true light
before
the world, and I with many another one am very grateful for it.
Among all Lord Russell's many titles to fame and to public
gratitude, the manner in which he has steered the vessel of the
State through the Scylla and Charybdis of the American War
will, I
think, always stand conspicuous.... Now I am going to ask a
great
favour. I saw at Minto a copy of verses written for the
summer-house at Pembroke Lodge, of which I formed the highest
opinion. May I have a copy of them? I should really be most
sincerely grateful and treasure them up amongst the things I
really
value.
These are the lines referred to by Mr. Harcourt:
To J.R. PEMBROKE LODGE, June 30, 1850
Here, statesman, rest, and while thy ranging sight
Drinks from old sources ever new delight
Unbind the weary shackles of the week,
And find the Sabbath thou art come to seek.
Here lay the babbling, lying Present by,
And Past and Future call to counsel high;
To Nature's worship say thy loud Amen,
And learn of solitude to mix with men.
Here hang on every rose a thorny care,
Bathe thy vexed soul in unpolluted air,
Fill deep from ancient stream and opening flower,
From veteran oak and wild melodious bower,
With love, with awe, the bright but fleeting hour.
Here bid the breeze that sweeps dull vapours by,
Leaving majestic clouds to deck the sky,
Fan from thy brow the lines unrest has wrought,
But leave the footprint of each nobler thought.
Now turn where high from Windsor's hoary walls,
To keep her flag unstained thy Sovereign calls;
Now wandering stop where wrapt in mantle dun,
As if her guilty head Heaven's light would shun,
London, gigantic parent, looks to thee,
Foremost of million sons her guide to be;
On the fair land in gladness now gaze round,
And wish thy name with hers in glory bound.
With one alone when fades the glowing West,
Beneath the moonbeam let thy spirit rest,
While childhood's silvery tones the stillness break
And all the echoes of thy heart awake.
Then wiser, holier, stronger than before,
Go, plunge into the maddening strife once more;
The dangerous, glorious path that thou hast trod,
Go, tread again, and with thy country's God.
F.R.
WOBURN ABBEY, August 18, 1864
My dear, dear husband's birthday. [He was seventy-two.] I
resolved
not to let sad and untrustful thoughts come in the way of
gratitude
for present happiness, and oh! how thankfully I looked at him
with
his children around him. They made him and me join them in a
match
at trap-ball that lasted two hours and a half. He, the boys,
Johnny
and Agatha rode, Mademoiselle and I drove in the same
direction. He
and his cavalcade were a pleasant sight to me. He looked
pleased
and proud with his three sons and his little daughter galloping
beside him. The day ended with merry games.
In September, 1864, came the news of Lord Amberley's engagement to Lord Stanley of Alderley's daughter. He was at that time only twenty-one. Lady Russell's feeling about it is shown in the following letter:
Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Russell
NORTH BERWICK, September 21, 1864
MY DEAREST GEORGY,—Your long and dear letters were a great
pleasure to me, showing how you are thinking and feeling with
us
about this event, so great to us all. Whatever pangs there may
be
belonging to it, and of course there are some, are lost and
swallowed up to me in great joy and gratitude. We might have
wished
him to marry a little later, to have him a little longer a
child of
home. But, on the other hand, there is something to me very
delightful in his marrying while heart and mind are fresh and
innocent and unworldly, and I even add inexperienced—for I am
not
over-fond of experience. I think it just as often makes people
less
wise as more wise. There is more real truth in their “Ideale"
than
in what follows.... God bless you, dear child.
Your very loving MAMA
In July, 1865, Parliament was dissolved, the Ministry having held office for six years. They had lost prestige over the Schleswig-Holstein negotiations. Lord Derby, with justification, denounced their policy as one of “meddle and muddle,” and Palmerston only escaped a vote of censure in the Commons by being able to point to the prodigious success of the Ministry's finance. His personal popularity and ascendancy, however, were as great as ever; the Liberals were returned by a majority of sixty-seven. Although this majority must have been more than they looked for, the election disappointed Lord Russell in two respects: Gladstone lost his seat at Oxford and Lord Amberley was beaten at Leeds. Before Parliament met Palmerston fell seriously ill.
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 19, 1865
Letter from the Queen at Balmoral to John telling him she means
to
ask him to carry on the Government in case of Lord Palmerston's
death. Dearest John very calm and without the oppressed look
and
manner I always dread to see.
On the 18th of October Palmerston died. Had he taken the precautions usual at the age of eighty, he might have lived longer, but in private as in public life, he despised caution. He was one of those statesmen whom modern critics, on the watch for the partially obsolete and with the complexity of present problems always before them, tend to depreciate. He had the first quality which is necessary for popularity: he was readily intelligible. In addition he was prompt, combative, and magnanimous; shrewd, but never subtle; sensible, but not imaginative. He had no ideas which he wished to carry out; he did not like ideas. He wanted England to dominate in Europe and to use her power good-naturedly afterwards; to be, in fact, what a nobleman may be in his home-country, where he is universally looked up to and ready to take immense trouble to settle fairly disputes between inferiors. Opposition from a direction making it savour of impertinence he stamped upon at once, without imagining the provocation or ideas from which it might possibly spring; he could not understand, for instance, that there might be two sides to the Chinese War. It is probable, too, that had not the Prince Consort intervened to soften the asperity of the Government's protest against the seizure of the Confederate emissaries on board the Trent, we should have had war with the Northern States. This menacing, peremptory attitude in diplomacy served him well, till Bismarck crossed his path. In the encounter between the man with a great idea to carry out, who had taken the measure of the forces against him, and the man who had only, as it were, a dignified attitude to support in the eyes of Europe, the odds were uneven, and Palmerston was beaten.
Lord Russell, though he must have been among the few who knew the Prime Minister had been failing lately, writes that his death came with a shock of surprise, he was so full of heart and health to the last.
Lord Russell now became Prime Minister, and Lord Clarendon took his place at the Foreign Office.
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 2, 1865
John to town at twelve, back at half-past five, having taken
leave
of the dear old Foreign Office and left Lord Clarendon there.
Happy, happy days, so full of reality—the hours of work so
cheerfully got through, the hours of leisure so delightful.
Sometimes when I walk with my dear, dear husband and see my
lovely
Agatha bounding along with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks, and
the
bright sun shining on the red and yellow trees, I can only feel
the
sunshine of life and forget its autumn leaves. Or when we sit
together by our evening fire and talk, as our moods or fancies
lead
us, of things grave or gay, trifling or solemn, my heart seems
to
leap within me from the sense of happiness, and I can only
utter
silent and humble thanks to the Almighty Giver. It must end,
oh,
fearful thought!—parting and death must come; fearfully yet
not
despairingly I think of that end. Come when or how it will, it
cannot take all away—this happiness, this unutterable
gratitude is
not for time only, but is mine for ever.
The succession of Lord Russell to Palmerston's place at the head of the Government implied a change in its character and policy. It was not merely a continuation of an old, but practically the formation of a new Government. Lord Russell was bent upon introducing a Reform Bill, and thus closing his career in forwarding the cause in which he had won his earliest and most famous laurels, and for which he had on two other occasions striven without success. But though the country was now in a mood for such measures, and Gladstone's speeches in favour of an extension of the franchise had been well received, the party which had been elected in support of Palmerston was largely composed of men who shared his indifference, if not his dislike, to all such proposals. In all probability the Ministry was therefore doomed to a short life. “Palmerston,” wrote Lord Clarendon to Lord Granville, “held a great bundle of sticks together. They are now loosened and there is nobody to tie them up.” [58] In any case such a Bill would require very careful steering. The first ominous sign of a split occurred when it became necessary to fill the vacancy caused by the retirement of Sir Charles Wood. A place in the Cabinet was offered to Mr. Lowe, but he refused on the ground that he could not support Reform. Lord Russell, with characteristic abruptness and without consulting his colleagues, then offered the place to Mr. Goschen, who was quite unknown to the public; he had only been three years in Parliament, and held a subordinate office. [59] The choice was an admirable one, but to those who had not read Mr. Goschen's book upon Foreign Exchanges the appointment might well seem inexplicable.
[58] “Life of Lord Granville,” by Lord Edmond Fitzmaurice.
[59] Promotion so rapid has only occurred once or twice in Parliamentary history. See note, Morley's “Life of Gladstone,” vol. ii, p. 156.
LONDON, February 3, 1866
Sir Charles Wood [60] called—wished to see me alone—chiefly in
order to talk about John, his occasional sudden acts without
consulting colleagues, and the bad effect of so acting. He gave
some instances, in which he was quite mistaken, some in which
he
was right. The subject was a difficult one for me—but his
intentions were very kind, and as I heartily agree with him in
the
main, we got on very well, and as a wife I was glad to have the
opportunity of saying some things of my dearest, dearest John,
who
is not always understood. Sir Charles took my hand, kissed it,
and
said: “God bless you.”
[60] Sir Charles Wood retired with the title of Lord Halifax.
Early in March Lady Russell writes to her son Rollo, at Harrow, of a very agreeable evening at Chesham Place, when Mr. Froude and Mr. Bright were among her guests.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
March 1, 1866
I wish you had been here at the Friday dinner.... It was such a
pleasant little dinner. Bright was between Johnny and me; ...
his
conversation is interesting; he is warm hearted and very much
in
earnest. We talked of Milton, Shakespeare, and poetry in
general;
he has intense admiration for Milton, as a man and as a poet,
as he
ought to have; but agreed with me that it is less improbable
that
the world should produce another Milton than another
Shakespeare.
He said reading poetry was the next to the greatest pleasure he
had
in life—the greatest was little children. These refined and
amiable tastes are not what the common world would attribute to
Bright, who is better known for determination and pugnacity.
Although Lord Russell and Lord Derby were the two leaders of their respective parties, they were no longer the principal men on either side. The centre of interest lay in the House of Commons, and Gladstone and Disraeli were now the antagonists whom everybody watched. On March 12th the Government's Reform Bill was introduced in a speech by Gladstone, which was chiefly remarkable for lacking his usual fervour. The cause of this want of ardour on his part lay in the nature of the Bill itself. In order to conciliate the apathetic or hostile section of the party, the Cabinet, against the advice of Lord Russell and the inclinations of Gladstone had separated the franchise question from their redistribution scheme, which ought to have been an integral part of any Reform Bill capable of meeting the needs of the country. The grievances which such a Bill would aim at mitigating, although less gigantic than those which called for removal at the time of the first Reform Bill, were still serious enough. In 1865 “there was not one elector for each four inhabited houses, and five out of every six adult males were without a vote.” [61] But in addition to this the large increase in population had been very unevenly distributed, with the result that large towns like Liverpool were palpably under-represented. The franchise had been fixed by the first Reform Bill at L10 a year rental. The Bill which Gladstone brought forward in the Commons proposed to reduce the county franchise from L50 to L14, and the borough franchise from L10 to L7 rental. Gladstone wished to make the payment of rates qualify a man for a vote; but this change was thought to be too radical, and any lowering of the qualifying sum of L7 rental would, it was found, place the working-classes in command of a majority in the towns—a result which the Cabinet was not ready to face. Moderate as the measure was, it was received with bitter hostility, while its half-heartedness roused little enthusiasm among the keener Liberals of the party. The debates upon the first and second readings were remarkable for energy of attack from the disaffected section of the old Palmerstonian party, nicknamed the “Adullamites.” Mr. Lowe's speeches from “the cave of Adullam,” “to which every one was invited who was distressed, and every one who was discontented,” are still [62] remembered as among the most eloquent ever delivered in the House of Commons. The second reading passed by so narrow a majority that the Government thought it prudent to rally their reliable supporters, and meet just criticisms upon the inadequacy of their Bill, by bringing forward a redistribution measure and incorporating it with their franchise proposals. For a time this served to help them. By declaring that they would also stand or fall by the redistribution clauses of their Bill, they at any rate showed a better front to the Opposition. Towards the end of June, however, they were beaten in committee by eleven; their defeat being principally due to the attacks and manoeuvres of Mr. Lowe and Mr. Horsman, who had been Irish Secretary in Palmerston's first Ministry.
[61] Spencer Walpole, “The History of Twenty-five Years.”
[62] John Bright's speech.
Lady Russell to her two sons at Harrow
March 15, 1866
...Horsman and Lowe are both Liberals; Horsman used, I think, to
be
reckoned Radical. But both have taken a violent dislike to
Parliamentary Reform, and certainly one would not guess by
their
speeches that they were liberal in anything. Mr. Lowe's was a
very
clever speech; Bright's very clever too, and very good. Of
course
the Bill does not satisfy him; but his honest support of it,
being
all in the right direction, is creditable to him and very
useful to
the measure. Your Papa is much pleased with the whole debate,
thinking it a very good one (excellent speeches for and against
the
measure), and the result probably favourable to it. As to the
likelihood of its passing, opinions vary. I hear that Lord
Eversley
(the late Speaker) says he would take a good big bet that it
won't
pass. Your Papa says he is ready to bet against him that it
will.
Will Ministers dissolve Parliament if beaten? To that I must
answer
I don't know. I heard Mr. Gladstone's speech. As Willy says,
the
latter part was very eloquent. It was all good; but the details
of
a Suffrage Act are tiresome, and the apparent indifference, or
even
apathy, of our side of the House allowed even the striking
passages
with which the speech was interspersed to fall dead. The
passages
were striking, but nobody seemed to be struck. I don't believe
the
real feeling is one of dislike to Reform; but that, of course,
they
don't like to show, as the greater part of them, in spite of
dislike, will support it. Your classical hearts must have
enjoyed
Mr. Gladstone's “ligneus equus” quotation; but I am afraid Mr.
Lowe's continuation was better. I never, or seldom, like
quotations
that merely illustrate what the subject of discussion does
not resemble—they are forced and without much point;
but
when Mr. Lowe likens our Reform Bill to the “monstrum
infelix,” and hopes it will not succeed in penetrating the
“muros"
of the Constitution (isn't that pretty nearly what he said?)
there
is wit and point in the quotation. [63]
[63] Gladstone, in his apologetic introductory speech, had declared that no one could regard the Bill as a Trojan horse, which the Government was introducing surreptitiously within the citadel of the Constitution. “We cannot say:
“'Scandit fatalis machina muros
Foeta armis.'“
(The fated engine climbs our walls, big with arms.)
Mr. Lowe retorted:
“That was not a very apt quotation; but there was a curious
felicity about it which he [Mr. Gladstone] little dreamt of.
The
House remembers that, among other proofs of the degree in which
public opinion is enlisted in the cause of Reform, is
this—that
this is now the fifth Reform Bill which has been brought in
since
1851. Now, just attend to the sequel of the passage quoted by
the
right honourable gentleman:
“'O Divum domus Ilium et inclyta bello
Mcenia Dardanidum! Quater ipso in limine portae
Sustitit, atque utero sonitum quater arma dedere.'
(O Troy, house of gods and Dardanian city famous in war! four
times in
the very gateway it stood, and four times the clash of arms
sounded
in its womb.)
“But that is not all:
“'Instamus tarn en immemores, caecique furore,
Et monstrum infelix sacrata sistimus arce.'
(Yet we, thoughtless and blind with enthusiasm, urged it on,
and in our
hallowed citadel stationed the ill-omened monster.)”
Mr. Charles Dickens to Lady Russell
GLASGOW, April 17, 1866
MY DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—...In sending my kindest regards to Lord
Russell, let me congratulate you on the culminating victory
before
him, and on the faith and constancy with which the country
carries
him in its great heart. I have never felt so certain of any
public
event as I have been from the first that the national honour
would
feel itself stung to the quick if he were in danger of being
deserted....
Dear Lady Russell,
Ever faithfully yours,
CHARLES DICKENS
LONDON, April 19, 1866
Political prospects not brightening. John and his Ministry will
be
in such an honourable position, whether they stand or fall,
that no
serious danger threatens the country if they fall. My only
anxiety
is lest John should be disappointed and depressed; and it was
with
a sense of relief of which he was little aware that I heard him
say
yesterday of his own accord, as he looked out of window at the
bright sunshine, “I shall not be very sorry—it's such fine
weather
to go out in.”
LONDON, June 19, 1866
At 7.30 a note was brought to John from Mr. Gladstone.
Government
beaten by eleven. Happily Gladstone, though ambiguous in one
sentence as to the importance of the vote, was not so in
others—or
at all events was understood to mean “stand or fall.”
Cabinet at 2.30 resolved that John should write to the Queen to
offer resignations. Queen meantime writes from Balmoral,
foreseeing
the defeat, that she will not accept the resignations.
Dearest John not depressed, though very sorry for this defeat of
his hopes. He will stand well with the country, and that he
feels.
The Queen could not understand the necessity of her Ministers' resignation. The amendment upon which they had been defeated by so small a majority seemed to her a matter of small importance compared with events which made continuance in office desirable. For Bismarck had just declared war upon Austria, and the failure of Overend and Gurney had thrown the City into confusion. After a delay of more than a week, however, she was compelled to accept their resignations, which had been tendered as early as June 19th.
PEMBROKE LODGE, June 28, 1866
John so well and happy that my joy in his release becomes
greater
every hour. There is a sense of repose that can hardly be
described—abounding happiness in his honourable downfall that
cannot be uttered.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, June 30, 1866
As I wrote to you last in a doubting and disagreeable state of
mind, I am in a hurry to write again, being now perfectly
certain
that the blessings of the resignation far outweigh its pains. I
do
not care for the charge of fickleness which may with justice be
made against me. I can only confirm it. The defeat made me very
sad. I hoped for many days that John could honourably remain in
office.... On the day of the resignation he was
serious—perhaps
sad—and so was I. The next day everything, including his face,
looked brighter, and has gone on brightening; so that now I am
only
afraid of being too much uplifted by our downfall, and hardly
have
words enough to describe my relief and joy. All the best men
are
full of approbation of his conduct. He and Mr. Gladstone have
given
an example to the country worth more than a Reform Bill. A
short
Tory reign will strengthen the Whig party; a good strong Whig
Opposition will prevent much Tory mischief, so that there is
little
regret on public grounds to mix with my unbounded joy on our
private account. Seven years of office had made me aware of its
advantages and its interest, and I saw that John liked it, and
I
thought I did; but now I see that he has had enough of it, and
any
fear I may have had that he might regret it is for ever gone,
and I
have found out how entirely it was an acquired taste with me. I
can't say how often we have already said to one another, “Now
that
we are out,” as a preface to something pleasant to be done. He
said
to me this morning, “The days will not be long enough now.”
That
“now” would surprise those people who may imagine that time
will
hang heavy on his hands. He is in excellent spirits.... We feel
as
if fetters had been struck off our minds and bodies. If God
grants
us health, how happy we may be, dearest Mary! I have said far
too
much on this subject, but you will understand how I have reason
to
be both sadder and gladder than other Ministers' wives.
Prussia and Italy had declared war against Austria, Hanover, Bavaria, and Hesse on the day the Russell Government was defeated. At Custozza the Italians were badly beaten by the Austrians, under the Archduke Charles.
Alas, alas! for poor Italy! Alas for everybody engaged in this
most
wicked and terrible German war! Surely it is all wrong that two
or
three bad, ambitious—men should be able to cause the death and
misery of thousands upon thousands. Our day at Harrow, Agatha
with
us, was very happy. I never had heard John so heartily cheered
by
the boys.
He was in his seventy-fourth year, and he was never again to bear the cares of office. That summer they went down to Endsleigh, which they had not visited since the first years of their marriage,
ENDSLEIGH, August 4, 1866
John, Georgy, and I here about 7.30, after a beautiful journey.
Lovely Endsleigh! it is like a dream to be here.... Thoughts of
the
old happy days haunting me continually. To church, to Fairy
Dell.
Places all the same—everything else altered.
During 1866 Lord Russell finished his “Life of Fox.” In the autumn and winter he and his family travelled in Italy, where they were often feted by the people of the towns through which they passed. At the close of the seven weeks' war Austria had ceded Venetia to Italy, and on November 7th they witnessed the entry of Victor Emmanuel into Venice as King of all Italy. It was a magnificent and most impressive sight. Lord Russell was full of thankfulness and joy at the deliverance of Venetia from foreign rule, and the triumph of a free and united Italy.
In the memoir of Count Pasolini by his son (translated by the Countess of Dalhousie) the following passage occurs:
Lord John Russell was then in Venice, and came to view the pageant from our windows in Palazzo Corner. When my mother saw this old friend appear with the tricolor upon his breast, she said, “Fort bien, Milord! nos couleurs italiennes sur votre coeur!” He shook her by the hand, and answered, “Pour moi je les ai toujours portees, Comtesse. Je suis bien content de vous trouver ici aujourd'hui; c'est un des plus beaux jours de notre siecle!”
Somebody then said to Lord Russell what a pity it was that the sun of Italy did not shine more brightly to gild the historical solemnity. “As for that,” said he, “England shows her sympathy by sending you her beloved fog from the Thames.”
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
VENICE, November 8, 1866
We are all enchanted with this enchanting place.... Thursday
(yesterday) was the grand and glorious sight—how grand
and
glorious nobody who has not been here and probably nobody who
has
can conceive.... Newspapers will tell you of the countless
gondolas
decorated with every variety of brilliant colours—alike only
in
the tricolor flag waving from every one of them—and rowed by
gondoliers in every variety of brilliant and picturesque
garb—and
they will tell you a great deal more; but they cannot describe
the
thrill of thousands and thousands of Italian hearts at
the
moment when their King, “il sospirato nostro Re,” appeared, the
winged Lion of St. Mark at one end of his magnificent gondola,
a
statue of Italy crowned by Venice at the other. So
spirit-stirring
a celebration of so great an event we shall never see again,
and I
rejoice that our children were there.
Lord Russell to Lady Minto
VENICE, November 11, 1866
... We have been delighted with this place, but especially with
being here to see the crowning of the edifice of Italian
Independence. The people have rather their hearts full than
their
voices loud. When the Italian flag was first raised none of the
crowd could cheer for weeping and sobbing. It is a mighty
change.... We have seen many pictures. I am exceedingly struck
with
the number of fine pictures, the magnificent colouring, and the
large conceptions of the Venetian painters—faulty in drawing
very
often, as Michelangelo said long ago, but wonderfully
satisfying to
the imagination.
They returned to England early in 1867.
It was a critical time in the history of the franchise. Neither Lord Derby nor his followers liked Reform, but the workmen of England were at last set upon it, and Disraeli realized that only a party prepared to enlarge the franchise had any chance of power. Unlike his colleagues, he had no fear or dislike of the people. His imagination enabled him to foresee what hardly another statesman, Conservative or Radical, supposed possible, that the power of the Democracy might be increased without kindling in the people any desire to use it. He divined that the glamour which wealth and riches have for the majority of voters would make it easy to put a hook in the nose of Leviathan, and that the monster might be ultimately taken in tow by the Conservative party. His first move in the process of “educating his party” was to offer the House a series of Resolutions upon the principles of representation. These were intended to foreshadow the nature of the Government's proposals and also to prepare their way. By this device he hoped to raise the Bill above party conflict, and to lead the more Conservative of his followers up a gently graduated slope of generalities till they found themselves committed to accepting a somewhat democratic measure. His plan was frustrated by the determination of the Opposition to force the Government to show their hand at once.
He consequently placed before his colleagues a measure which based the franchise on the occupation of houses rated at L5, coupled with several antidotes to the democratic tendencies of such a change in the shape of “fancy franchises,” which gave votes to men of certain educational and financial qualifications. His proposals seem to have been accepted by the Cabinet with reluctant and hesitating approval. On examining more carefully the effects of the L5 franchise upon town constituencies Lord Cranborne (afterwards Lord Salisbury) retracted his previous assent, and Lord Carnarvon followed his lead.
On the very day that Lord Derby and Disraeli were pledged to define their measure they found themselves threatened with the resignation of two most important members of the Government. At a hasty Cabinet Council, held just before they were to speak, it was agreed, after about twenty minutes' discussion, that the borough rental should be raised to L6. The Opposition, however, declared a L6 franchise to be still too high, and they were now backed by a considerable section of the Conservative party itself, who felt that when once they were committed to Reform it would at least be wise to introduce a measure likely to win them popularity as reformers. Lord Derby and Disraeli yielded to pressure from within their party, and Lord Cranborne, Lord Carnarvon, and General Peel resigned. The subsequent history of the Bill consisted in a series of surrenders on the part of Disraeli. All the clauses and qualifications which had originally modified its democratic character were dropped, and Gladstone succeeded in carrying nearly all the amendments his first speech upon the Bill had suggested.
When the Bill finally passed Lord Salisbury described it as a measure based upon the principles of Bright and dictated by Gladstone; and what many Conservatives thought of Disraeli's conduct is reflected in the speeches of their ally Lowe: “Never, never was tergiversation so complete. Such conduct may fail or not; it may lead to the retention or loss of office; but it merits alike the contempt of all honest men and the execration of posterity.” [64] Gladstone, writing to Dr. Pusey at the end of the year, said: “We have been passing through a strange, eventful year: a deplorable one, I think, for the character and conduct of the House of Commons; but yet one of promise for the country, though of a promise not unmixed with evils.” The feeling of romantic Tories in the country is expressed in Coventry Patmore's poem “1867,” which begins:
In the year of the great crime,
When the false English Nobles and their Jew,
By God demented, slew
The Trust they stood twice pledged to keep from wrong.
[64] Morley's “Life of Gladstone,” vol. ii, p. 235.
The last and longest struggle took place over the compound householder. On May 17th Mr. Hodgkinson proposed and carried an amendment that in a Parliamentary borough only the occupier should be rated, thus basing, in effect, the franchise upon household suffrage, and forcing upon Disraeli a principle which he had begun by announcing he would never accept. To make the following letters intelligible it is only necessary to add that in 1866 Lord Amberley had been returned to Parliament as Radical member for Nottingham:
Lord Russell to Lady Georgiana Russell [65]
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 22, 1867
MY DEAREST GEORGY,—I have been very negligent in not writing to
you before, as I meant to do, but laziness after exertion is
very
pleasant. My exertion was not small, as, besides speaking at
the
beginning of the evening, I sate up for the division, and did
not
get home till near four in the morning. The triumph was very
great;
Derby and Cairns and the foolish and wicked Tories were beat,
and
the wise and honest Tories, like Salisbury and Carnarvon,
helped
the Liberals to defeat them.... We shall have a great fight in
Committee; but I still trust in a reasonable majority for not
pushing amendments too far, and then the Bill will be a great
triumph of sense over nonsense.... We had Dickens Saturday and
Sunday—very agreeable and amiable....
Your affectionate father, R.
[65] This letter ought to be dated July 22, 1869, and addressed to Lady Georgiana Peel. It refers to the debate on the Irish Church Bill.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
37 CHESHAM PLACE, BELGRAVE SQUARE, S.W.,
February 21, 1867
... Your Papa and I dined yesterday with Lord and Lady Cork. I
heard some funny stories of Mrs. Lowe.... Here's the best. Mr.
Lowe
was talking of the marriage service, of the absurdity of making
everybody say, “With all my worldly goods I thee endow”—“For
instance, I had not a penny.” Mrs. L.: “Oh, but Robert,
you
had your brains!” Mr. L. (sharply): “I'm sure I didn't
endow
you with them.” Very funny; but very cruel, too, in
answer
to what was meant so affectionately.... Now, I must get ready
to
walk with your Papa. He keeps well and strong, in spite of the
cloudy political atmosphere (hazy, perhaps, rather than
cloudy)—nobody thinking or feeling anything clearly or warmly,
except him and Gladstone and a score or two of others. He feels
that the Government has so discredited itself and the Tory
party
generally, that the Whig party might be in a capital position
if it
chose. But the general indifference of Whig M.P.'s to Reform,
and
their selfish fear of dissolution, come in the way of public
spirit
and combined action.
Your Papa is writing to Mr. Gladstone, from whom he has just
received an account of the debate. Disraeli's clever and artful
speech appears to have had more effect on the House (and even
on
our side of it) than is creditable.... Johnny has made a very
good
impression—so we hear from Mr. Brand, Hastings, [66] Mr.
Huguesson, and Gladstone—by his maiden speech. All these,
except
Gladstone, heard it, and concur in warm praise, both of matter
and
manner. It is a great event in his life, and I am so thankful
it is
well over.
[66] Afterwards Duke of Bedford.
Lord Russell to Lady Minto
LONDON, May 21, 1867
MY DEAR NINA,—As you have been so much bothered with the
compound
householder, you will be glad to learn that he is dead and is
to be
buried on Thursday. It was supposed he was the last and best
product of civilization; but it has been found out that he was
a
son of Old Nick, and a valiant knight of the name of Hodgkinson
has
run him through the body.
The Duke of Buccleuch, with whom Fanny and I have been having
luncheon, says that Dizzy is like a clever conjuror. “Is that
the
card you wished for, sir?-and is that yours, and yours, and
yours?”
But politics are rather disgusting than otherwise. ... Fanny
and I
went yesterday to see the Queen lay the first stone of the Hall
of
Science and Art. [67] It was a grand sight—great respect, but
no
enthusiasm, nor occasion for it.
Lotty is going to give us dinner to-morrow. I call her and Mary,
L'Allegra e la Penserosa. Fanny: “And what am I?”
“L'Allegra
e Penserosa.” I have no more nonsense to tell you. I should
like to
go to Paris in July or August, but can we? Let me know when you
will be there.
Your faithful
TRUSTY TOMKINS
[67] The Albert Hall.
A few weeks later he wrote again to Lady Minto: “Our Reform Bill is now brought to that exact shape in which Bright put it in 1858, and which he thought too large and democratic a change to be accepted by the moderate Liberal party. However, nothing is too much for the swallow of our modern Tories.”
In August, 1867, Lord Russell's eldest daughter, Georgiana, married Mr. Archibald Peel, [68] son of General Peel, and nephew of the statesman, Sir Robert Peel.
[68] The marriage service was at Petersham, in the quaint old village Church, hallowed by many sacred memories.
The daughters, who had now left the old home, were sadly missed, but intimate and affectionate intercourse with them never ceased. Lady Russell's own daughter, the youngest of three families—ten in all—thought in her early childhood that they were all real brothers and sisters, a striking proof of the harmonious happiness of the home. In November, 1867, Lady Victoria Villiers wrote to Lady Russell: “How I long to make our home as pure, as high in its tone and aims, as free from all that is low or even useless for our children, as our dear home was to us.”
On Lord Russell's birthday, August 18, 1867, Lady Russell wrote in her diary:
My dear, dear husband's birthday. Each year, each day, makes me
feel more deeply all the wonderful goodness of God in giving me
one
so noble, so gentle, so loving, to be my example, my happiness,
my
stay. How often his strength makes me feel, but try to conquer,
my
own weakness; how often his cheerfulness and calmness are a
reproach to my anxieties. Experience has not hardened but only
given him wisdom. Trials have taught him to feel for others;
age
has deepened his religion of love. All that so often lowers
commoner natures has but raised his.
In February, 1868, Lord Derby resigned, owing to ill health. “With Lord Derby [says Sir Spencer Walpole [69]] a whole race of statesmen disappeared. He was the last of the Prime Ministers who had held high office before the Reform Act of 1832; and power, on his fall, was to be transferred to men not much younger in point of years, but whose characters and opinions had been moulded by other influences. He was, moreover, the last of the Tories. He had, indeed, by his own concluding action made Toryism impossible; for, in 1867, he had thrown the ramparts of Toryism into a heap, and had himself mounted the structure and fired the funeral pile.” Disraeli succeeded him as Prime Minister.
[69] “The History of Twenty-five Years,” vol. ii, p. 287.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
CHESHAM PLACE, February 18, 1868
...Lord Derby is supposed to be dying, I am sorry to say. It is
horrible to hear the street criers bawling out in their
catchpenny
voices, “Serious illness of Lord Derby.” I feel for his wife
and
all belonging to him without any of the flutter and anxiety
about
your father which a probable change of Ministry would have
caused a
few years ago. He will never accept office again. This is
right, I
know, and I am thankful that on the conviction of its being so
he
has calmly made up his mind—yet there is deep sadness in it.
The
newspapers are not favourable to his pamphlets on Ireland
[three
pamphlets published together afterwards under the title, “A
letter
to the Right Hon. Chichester Fortescue"]. He does not care much
about this, provided men in Parliament adopt his views or
something
like them.
We find London very sociable and pleasant ... people all looking
glad to meet, and fresh and pleasant from their country life,
quite
different from what they will be in July....
Lady Russell, as well as her husband, was always anxious to encourage perfect freedom and independence of thought in her children. The following passages are from a letter to her daughter on her fifteenth birthday:
37 CHESHAM PLACE, March 28, 1868
... Every day will now bring you more independence of mind, more
capacity to understand, not merely to adopt the thoughts of
others,
to reason and to form opinions of your own. I am the more sure
of
this, that yours is a thoughtful and reflective mind. The voice
of
God may sometimes sound differently to you from what it sounds
even
to your father or to me; if so, never be afraid to say
so—never
close your mind against any but bad thoughts; for although we
are
all one in as far as we all partake of God's spirit, which is
the
breath of life, still the communion of each soul with Him is,
and
must be, for that soul alone.... Nothing great is easy, and the
greatest and most difficult of all things is to overcome
ourselves.... Life is short, and we do well to remember it, but
each moment is eternal, and we do still better to remember
that....
Heaven bless you and guide you through the pleasures and
perplexities, the sorrows and the joys, of this strange and
beautiful world, to the source of all light, and life, and
goodness, to that Being whose highest name is Love.
The everlasting Irish question had been coming again to the front. During 1867 the Fenians had attempted to get the grievances of Ireland redressed by adopting violent measures. There had been an attempt upon the arsenal at Chester, numerous outrages in Ireland, an attack at Manchester upon the prison van, in which two Fenian leaders were being taken to prison, and a subsequent attempt to blow up Clerkenwell jail. The crisis had been met by suspending the Habeas Corpus Act in Ireland. Lord Russell, when Prime Minister, had replaced Sir Robert Peel, as Chief Secretary, by Mr. Chichester Fortescue, who later received the same office from Mr. Gladstone. In February, 1868, Lord Russell published his letter to Mr. Fortescue advocating Disestablishment in Ireland, but declaring himself in favour of endowing the Catholic Church with part of the revenues of the disestablished Church. In April Gladstone succeeded in carrying three Resolutions against the Government on the Irish Church question, and though Disraeli tendered his resignation, dissolution was postponed until the autumn. The same month Lord Russell presided at a meeting in St. James's Hall in support of Disestablishment. At the general election in the autumn the Liberals came in with a large majority; Gladstone became Prime Minister, and in the following year carried his Bill for the Disestablishment of the Irish Church. [70] Lady Russell's views on the question of Church and State are shown in the following letter:
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, May 20, 1868
MY DEAREST MARY,—...How can one write letters in such weather
as
we have had? A fine May is surely the loveliest of lovely
things,
and the most enjoyable, at least to lucky mortals like
ourselves
who are not obliged to be “in populous city pent”—and those
who
have never seen Pemmy Lodge in its May garments of lilac,
laburnum,
wild hyacinth, hawthorn, and the tender greens of countless
shades
on trees and shrubs, are not really acquainted with it.... I
have
been going through the contrary change from you as regards
Church
and State. I thought I was strongly for the connection
(at
least of a Church with the State, certainly not the
Church of England as it now is), but reflection on what the
history
of our State Churches has been, the speeches in St. James's
Hall of
the Bishops fostered by the State, and Arthur Stanley's
pamphlet,
which says the best that can be said for connection, and
yet
seems to open my eyes to the fallacy of that best, and the
conversations I hear, have opened my eyes to the bad principle
at
the very root of a State Church. If all who call
themselves
teachers of religion could be paid, it might be very well, best
of
all perhaps; but I'm afraid there are difficulties not to be
got
over, and the objections to the voluntary system diminish on
reflection.... This new political crisis raises John's hopes a
little; but he has small faith in the public spirit of the
Liberal
party, and even now fears some manoeuvre to keep Dizzy in.
Ever, dearest Mary, your most affectionate sister,
F. RUSSELL
[70] Mr. Froude, in a talk with an Irish peasant on the grievances of his country, remarked that one cause of complaint was removed by Disestablishment of the Church. “Och, sure, your honour, that is worse than all. It was the best gravance we had, and ye've taken it away from us!”
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 3, 1868
MY DEAREST MARY,—Yesterday's Pall Mall and Sir David
Dundas, who dined with us, set us all agog with the news that
the
Ministry are to resign at once, probably have now resigned;
certainly much the wisest course for themselves, and John
rather
thinks the best for everybody.... How different this change of
Ministry is to us from any there has been before since we were
married, and for John since long before! There is now only a
keen
and wholesome interest for the country's sake—none of the
countless agitations which at all events on the formation of
the
three last Ministries, of which John was either the head or a
prominent member, more than overpowered satisfaction and pride,
perhaps not to himself, but to his wife in her secret heart. As
to
pride, I never was prouder of him in one position than in
another,
in than out, applauded than condemned; and I had
learned to know the risks, not to health only or chiefly, for
that,
precious as it was, seemed a trifle in comparison with other
things, but to the power of serving his country, to friendship,
to
reputation in the highest sense, which are involved in the
formation of a Government. These are matters of experience, and
in
1846 I was inexperienced and consequently foresaw only good to
the
country and increase of fame to him from his acceptance of the
Prime Ministership. I now know that these seldom or never in
such a
state of parties as has existed for many years and still
exists,
can be the only consequences of high office for him,
although, thank God, they have always been among the
consequences, and my only reasonable and permanent regret (for
I
don't pretend to the absence of passing and unreasonable
regrets)
is for the cause of office being over for him. What a
letter
full of John, and just when I ought to be talking of
everybody else except John; but you will guess that if
he
were not perfectly cheerful—and he is more, he is full of
patriotic eagerness—I could not write all this.... Thanks for
your
sympathy about Johnny—we were very sorry, I need not
say[71].... I don't at all mind the beating, which has been a
glorious one in every way, but I immensely mind his not
being in Parliament....
Your most affectionate sister, F.R.
[71] Lord Amberley was defeated in the General Election.
Mr. Charles Dickens to Lady Russell
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT
Saturday, December 26, 1868
MY DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—... I cannot tell you how highly I esteem
your kind Christmas remembrances, or how earnestly I send all
seasonable wishes to you and Lord Russell and all who are
dearest
to you. I am unselfishly glad that Lord Russell is out of the
turmoil and worry of a new Administration, but I miss him from
it
sorely. I was saying only yesterday to Layard (who is staying
here), that I could not get over the absence of that great
Liberal
name from a Liberal Government, and that I lost heart without
it.
Ever faithfully yours,
CHARLES DICKENS
Lady Russell to Lady Victoria Villiers
PEMBROKE LODGE, February 4, 1869
We have had such a gay time of it—that is, from Saturday to
Monday
only; but we have had such a quiet life in general that that
seems
a great deal. The Gladstones with daughter Mary to dine.
Gladstone
was unanimously pronounced to be most agreeable and delightful.
I
never saw him in such high spirits, and he was as ready to talk
about anything and everything, small and great, as if he had no
Ministerial weight on his shoulders. He carries such fire and
eloquence into whatever he talks about that it seems for the
moment
the most important subject in the world.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
37 CHESHAM PLACE, March 2, 1869
London is extremely agreeable now, not rackety, but sociable—at
least to the like of us who do not attempt to mix in the very
gay
world....
Arthur Russell called last night after hearing Gladstone's great
speech [on Irish Disestablishment], well pleased himself and
expecting the country to be so—the country, Ireland,
more
especially. On the whole your father is satisfied, but
not
with the whole; he does not approve of the churches
being
left to the Protestants for ever, as there is nothing granted
to
the Roman Catholics. Neither does he like the appropriation of
national money to charities. [72]
[72] The Bill transferred to the new disestablished Episcopal Church all the churches, all endowments given since 1660, while the remaining funds were to be handed over to the Government for the relief of poverty and suffering.
Lord Russell had followed up his first letter to Mr. Chichester Fortescue by two more letters, in which he again advocated both the disestablishment and disendowment of the Irish Church. He warmly supported Gladstone's measure; though he again insisted that the funds of the Irish Church should be used to endow the other Churches. He was in constant attendance at the House of Lords, and during the same session he proposed, without success, a measure which would have added a limited number of life peers to the Second Chamber. These incursions into politics seem in no way to have taxed his strength.
Lady Russell to Mr. William Russell
June 3, 1869
It is a great misfortune that we have so few really eminent men
among the clergy of England, Scotland, or Ireland—in any of
the
various communities. Such men are greatly needed to take the
lead
in what I cannot but look upon as a noble march of the progress
of
mankind, the assertion of the right to think and speak with
unbounded freedom on that which concerns us all more deeply
than
anything else—religion. I believe that by the exercise of such
unbounded freedom we shall reach to a knowledge of God and a
comprehension of the all-perfect spirit of Christianity such as
no
Established Church has ever taught by Creeds or Articles,
though
individuals of all such Churches have forgotten Creeds and
Articles, and taught “true religion and undefiled” out of the
real
Word of God and their own high and holy thoughts.
PEMBROKE LODGE, August 18, 1869
My dear husband seventy-seven this day. God be thanked for all
that
has made it a calm and bright and blessed one to us.
Our happiness now is chiefly in the past and present as to this
world, in memory more than hope. But the best joys of the past
and
present are linked to that future beyond the grave to which we
are
hastening.... Bright and beautiful day. We sat long together in
bowling-green and talked of the stir in men's minds on
Christianity, on all religions and religion, our own thoughts,
our
hope, our trust.
Lord Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel
PEMBROKE LODGE, RICHMOND PARK, August 18, 1869
MY DEAREST GEORGY,—... Your very kind and warm congratulations
delight me. It is sad that the years pass and make one older
and
weaker and sillier, but as they will pass all the same, it is
well
to have one bright day in each year when one's children can
recall
all the past, and feel once again gratitude to the Giver of all
good.
Your affectionate Father, RUSSELL
To Mr. Archibald Peel
MY DEAR ARCHIE,—Thanks for your good wishes. Happy returns I
always find them, as my children are so affectionate and
loving—many I cannot expect—but I have played my part, and
think
the rest will be far easier than my task has been.
Your affectionate F.I.L. (Father-in-Law)
RUSSELL
On October 26th they left home for Italy, travelling across France in deep snow. They reached the Villa Garbarino, at San Remo, on November 3rd, and remained there till April, 1870. “The five months,” Lady Russell writes, “were among the very happiest of our lives, and we reckon it among the three earthly paradises to which our wanderings have taken us—La Roche, St. Fillans, and San Remo. It was a very quiet life, but with a pleasant amount of society, many people we much liked passing through, or staying awhile, or, like ourselves, all the winter.”
They also became friendly with several of the Italians of San Remo, whom they welcomed at little evening gatherings at their villa. Their landlord, the Marchese Garbarino, was an ardent patriot. He it was who had decorated the ceiling of his drawing-room with the four portraits: Cavour, Garibaldi, Mazzini, and Lord John Russell, so it was to him a delightful surprise to have Lord John as his tenant.
Lord Russell to Lady Minto
SAN REMO, November 23, 1869
I am very sorry that headache and neuralgia should have been
added
to illness and dislike of writing, as your reason for not
inquiring
how we were going on. We sit here in the receipt of news
without
any means of reciprocity, but we can speculate on France,
Italy,
and Ireland. Of those, the country which most interests and
most
concerns me, is Ireland.... I have heard much of Lady and Lord
Byron, and from good sources. I can only conclude that he was
half
mad and loved to frighten her, and that she believed in the
stories
she circulated. [73] The Duke of Wellington said of George IV's
story that he was at the Battle of Waterloo, “At first it was a
lie, than a strong delusion, and at last downright madness.”
Brougham's conversation with William IV on the dissolution was
another delusion, and so on in perverse, wicked, contradictory
human nature. Those who like to probe such systems may do
so—the
only wise conclusion is Swift's, “If you want to confute a lie,
tell another in the opposite direction.” Madame de Sevigne
tells of
a curate who put up a clock on his church. His parishioners
collected stones to break it, saying it was the Gabelle. “No,
my
friends,” he said, “it was the Jubilee,” on which they all
hurrahed
and went away. If he had said it was a machine to mark the
hour,
his clock would have been broken and himself pelted.
I hope your second volume is coming out soon. [74] There are no
lies in it, and therefore you must not expect a great sale. I
must
stop or you will think me grown a misanthrope. Fanny and Agatha
are
well. If the day had been fine the Crown Princess and her
sister
would have come here to tea, and you would have had no letter
from
me. Do send me a return, when your mankind is gone a-hunting.
[73] The publication of “Astarte,” by the late Lord Lovelace, containing the documents and letters relating to Byron's separation from his wife, has now made it quite clear that the grounds for separation were real.
[74] The second volume of “Life and Letters of Sir Gilbert Elliot, First Earl of Minto.”
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SAN REMO, December 1, 1869
Your letter of November 24th found the Amberleys here.... They
were
preceded by the Crown Princess of Prussia and Princess Louis of
Hesse, announced by telegram in the morning, and a young Prince
Albert of Prussia, son of the Prince Albert of our Berlin days,
and
a suite of two gentlemen and a lady, who came from Cannes,
where
they are living, on Friday, to pay us a visit, dined with us,
slept
at the nearest hotel, and were off again Saturday morning, we
going
With them as far as Bordighera; and on Monday arrived the Odos
[75]
for one night only, sleeping at an hotel. You see that our
usual
quiet life was for a while exchanged for one of—... Well, I
beg
pardon for this interruption and go back to our illustrious and
non-illustrious visitors. The illustrious were as merry as if
they
had no royalty about them, and as simple, too, dining in their
travelling garments, brushing and washing in my room and
John's,
enjoying their dinner, of which happily there was enough
(although
the suite was unexpected owing to my not having received a
letter
giving details), chatting and laughing afterwards till
half-past
eight, when they walked in darkness, and strange to say, mud!
but
with glorious stars overhead, the five minute' distance to
their
hotel, accompanied by Agatha and me. The drive to Bordighera
next
morning was the pleasantest part of the visit to us all—John,
Princess Louis, and Prince Albert in their carriage, Crown
Princess, Agatha, and I in ours. It is wonderful to hear
Princesses
express such widely liberal opinions and feelings on education,
religion, nationality, and if we had talked politics I dare-say
I
should add that too. Their strong love for their Vaterland in
spite
of their early transplantation is also very agreeable.
The Amberleys had been ten days with Mill at Avignon—a good
fortification, I should imagine, against the wiles and
blandishments of priests of all degree to which they will be
exposed at Rome.... Little Rachel [76]is as sweet a little
bright-eyed lassie as I ever saw, hardly saying anything yet,
but
expressing a vast deal.
[75] Mr. Odo Russell (afterwards Lord Ampthill) and his wife.
[76] Daughter of Lord and Lady Amberley, born in February, 1868.
Lord Russell to Colonel Romilly
SAN REMO, December 4, 1869
MY DEAR FREDERICK,—I had understood from you that you wished to
propose some alterations in my Introduction to the Speeches,
and I
was much obliged to you for so kind a thought. But it appears
by a
letter from Lizzy that she and you think that all discussions
of
the future (which are announced in my preface) ought to be
omitted.
In logical and literary aspects you are quite right; but I must
tell you that since 1832 Ireland has been a main object of all
my
political career.... I am not without hope that the House of
Commons will pass a reasonable Land Bill, and adhere to the
plan of
national education, which has been in force now for nearly
forty
years. At all events, the present government of Ireland gives
no
proofs of the infallibility of our rulers. Tell Lizzy that it
is
not a plate of salted cherries, but cherries ripe, without any
salt, which I propose to lay before the Irish.
Yours affectionately,
RUSSELL
In the closing passage of the “Introduction” referred to in the above letter Lord Russell gives a modest estimate of his own career: “My capacity I always felt was very inferior to that of the men who have attained in past times the foremost place in our Parliament, and in the Councils of our Sovereign. I have committed many errors, some of them very gross blunders. But the generous people of England are always forbearing and forgiving to those statesmen who have the good of their country at heart; like my betters, I have been misrepresented and slandered by those who knew nothing of me, but I have been more than compensated by the confidence and the friendship of the best men of my own political connection, and by the regard and favourable interpretation of my motives which I have heard expressed by my generous opponents, from the days of Lord Castlereagh to those of Mr. Disraeli.”
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
SAN REMO, February 17, 1870
How awful Paris will be after the easy, natural, unconventional
life of San Remo, one delight of which is the absence of all
thought about dress! Whatever may be and are the delights of
Paris—and I fully intend that we should all three enjoy
them—that burden is heavier there than in all the world
beside—and why? oh, why? What is there to prevent human nature
from finding out and rejoicing in the blessings of civilization
and
society without encumbering them with petty etiquettes and
fashions
and forms which deprive them of half their value? Human nature
is a
very provoking compound. It strives and struggles and gives
life
itself for political freedom, while it forges social chains and
fetters for itself and wears them with a foolish smile. And
with
this fruitless lamentation I must end.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SAN REMO, February 23, 1870
I don't know a bit whether we shall be much in London during the
session—it will be session, not season, that takes us
there....
The longer I live the more I condemn and deplore a rackety life
for
any girl, and therefore if I do what I myself think
right by
her and not what others may think right, she shall never be a
London butterfly. Would that we could give our girls the ideal
society which I suppose we all dream for them—that of the wise
and
the good of all ages, of the young and merry of their own. No
barbarous crowds, no despotic fashions, no senseless
omnipotence of
custom (see “Childe Harold,” somewhere).[77] I wonder in this
age
of revolution, which has dethroned so many monarchs and upset
so
many time-honoured systems of Government and broken so many
chains,
that Queen Fashion is left unmolested on her throne, ruling the
civilized world with her rod of iron, and binding us hand and
foot
in her fetters.
[77] A favourite stanza of Lady Russell's in “Childe Harold”:—
What from this barren being do we reap?
Our senses narrow, and our reason frail,
Life short, and truth a gem which loves the deep,
And all things weighed in custom's falsest scale;
Opinion an omnipotence, whose veil
Mantles the earth with darkness, until right
And wrong are accidents, and men grow pale
Lest their own judgments should become too bright,
And their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light.
BYRON.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SAN REMO, March 2, 1870
I am writing in my pretty bedroom, at an east window which is
wide
open, letting in the balmiest of airs, and the spring
twittering of
chaffinches and larks and other little birds, and the gentle
music
of the waves. Below the window I look at a very untidy bit of
nondescript ground, with a few white-armed fig-trees and a
number
of flaunting Italian daisies—a little farther an enclosure of
glossy green orange-trees laden with fruit; then an olive
plantation, soft and feathery; then a bare, brownish, pleasant
hill, crowned by the “Madonna della Guardia,” and stretching to
the
sea, which I should like to call blue, but which is a dull
grey. Oh
dear, how sorry we shall be to leave it all! You, I know,
understand the sort of shrinking there is after so quiet, so
spoiling, so natural and unconventional a life (not to mention
climate and beauty) from the thought of the overpowering
quantity
of people and business of all sorts and the artificial habits
of
our own country, in spite of the immense pleasure of looking
forward to brothers and sisters and children and friends.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
SAN REMO, March 17, 1870
... No doubt we must always in the last resort trust to our own
reason upon all subjects on which our reason is capable of
helping
us. On a question of language, Hebrew for instance, if
we
don't know it and somebody else does, we cannot of course
dispute
his translation, but where nobody questions the words,
everybody
has a right—it is indeed everybody's duty—to reflect upon
their
meaning and bearing and come to their own conclusions;
listening to
others wiser or not wiser than themselves, eagerly seeking
help,
but never, oh never fettering their minds by an unconditional
and
premeditated submission to anybody else's, or rather
pretending so to fetter it, for a mind will make itself
heard, and there's much false modesty in the disclaimer of all
power or right to judge—that very disclaimer being in fact, as
you
say, an exercise of private judgment and a rebellion or protest
against thousands of wise and good and learned men.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SAN REMO, March 23, 1870
You must take John's second letter to Forster, [78] which will
appear in the Times and Daily News, as my letter
to
you for to-day, as I had already not left myself much time for
you,
so that copying them, although they are not long, has left me
hardly any. I think you will agree with him that now, when the
moment seems come for a really national system of education, it
would be a great pity not to put an end to the teaching of
catechisms in rate-supported schools. People may of course
always
have their little pet, privately supported sectarian schools,
but
surely, surely, it's enough that the weary catechism should be
repeated and yawned over every Sunday of the year, where there
are
Sunday schools. I wonder whether you are in favour of
compulsory
attendance. I don't like it, but I do like compulsory rating,
and I
wish the Bill made it general and not local, and I also want
the
education to be gratis.
[78] In February Mr. Forster introduced the Elementary Education Act. It passed the second reading without a division. In Committee the Cowper-Temple Clause was admitted by the Government.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SAN REMO, April 6, 1870
We go on discussing the Education Bill and all that is written
about it with immense interest, but oh, the clergy! they seem
resolved to fulfil the prophecy that Christ came not to bring
peace
on earth, but a sword.... How true what you say of want of
earnestness in London society and Parliament!
On April 7th they left San Remo, “servants [79] all in tears,” she writes, “and all, high and low, showering blessings on us, and praying for our welfare in their lovely language.” At Paris they stayed with Lord Lyons at the British Embassy. The Emperor Napoleon and Empress Eugenie showed them much kindness during their visit to Paris. One evening Lord and Lady Russell and their daughter dined at the Tuileries, Lady Russell sitting next the Emperor and Lord Russell next the Empress. It has been told since that at this dinner the Emperor mentioned a riddle which he had put to the Empress, and her reply.
Emperor. Quelle est la difference entre toi et un miroir?
Empress. Je ne sais pas.
Emperor. Le miroir reflechit; tu ne reflechis pas.
Empress. Et quelle est la difference entre toi et un
miroir?
Emperor. Je ne sais pas.
Empress. Le miroir est poli, et tu ne l'es pas.
[79] Their Italian servants.
On April 27th, after six months' absence, Lord and Lady Russell were once more at Pembroke Lodge.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
37 CHESHAM PLACE, May 26, 1870
... We came up, your father and I, on Tuesday to dine with
Clarendons, and stayed all yesterday to dine with Salisburys.
Many
things strike me on returning to England and English society:
the
superiority of its best to those of any other nation; the
larger
proportion of vulgarity in all classes; ostentatious vulgarity,
aristocratic vulgarity, coarse vulgarity; the stir and activity
of
mind on religion, politics, morals, all that is most worthy of
thought. What is to come of it all? Will goodness and truth
prevail? Is a great regeneration coming? I believe it in spite
of
many discouraging symptoms. I believe that a coming generation
will
try to be and not only call itself Christian. God grant that
each
of my children may add some little ray of light by thought,
word,
and deed to help in dispelling the darkness of error, sin, and
crime in this and all other lands.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
June 2, 1870
I wish most earnestly for legal and social equality for women,
but
I cannot shut my eyes to what woman has already been—the
equal, if
not the superior, of man in all that is highest and noblest and
loveliest. I don't at all approve of any appearance of setting
one
against the other. Let equal justice be done to both, without
any
spirit of antagonism.... I can well believe in all the delights
of
Oxford, and envy men that portion of their life.
In July, 1870, public attention was abruptly distracted from Irish and educational questions by the outbreak of the Franco-German War, which followed immediately upon the King of Prussia's refusal to promise France that he would never, under any circumstances, countenance his cousin Prince Leopold's candidature for the Spanish throne. War came as a surprise to every one, even to the Foreign Office, and its real causes were little understood at the time. The entire blame fell on Napoleon. Only some, who had special information, knew that Bismarck had long been waiting for the opportunity which the extravagant demand of France had just given him; and very few among the well-informed guessed that he might have had a hand in contriving the cause of dispute itself. Napoleon, since his annexation of Savoy, had so bad a reputation in Europe, a reputation which Bismarck had managed to blacken still more in their recent controversy over Luxembourg, that people were ready to take it as a matter of course that Napoleon should be the aggressor. Finally, by publishing through the Times the secret document in M. Benedetti's own hand, which assured help to Germany in annexing Holland, if Germany would help Napoleon to seize Belgium, Bismarck destroyed all remaining sympathy for France.
Now, however, that the inner history of events has come to light, we know that it was Germany who fomented the quarrel, though both Austria and France must be held responsible for the conditions which made the policy of Germany possible. The significant suppression of the part of Bernhardi's memoirs dealing with his secret mission from Bismarck to Spain, and the fact that a large sum of Prussian money is now known to have passed to Spain, [80] while the Cortes was discussing the question of succession, make it probable that Bismarck not only took advantage of French hostility to Prince Leopold's candidature, but deliberately instigated the offer of the Spanish throne to a German prince, because he knew France was certain to resent it.
[80] Lord Acton, “Historical Essays and Studies.”
Napoleon, however, must be held responsible, inasmuch as since the close of the Seven Weeks' War, he had intrigued with Austria to induce her to revenge herself by a joint attack with him upon Germany, hoping that he might win with Austria's help those concessions of territory along the Rhine, which Bismarck had peremptorily refused him as a pour-boire after Sadowa. Austria, too, must take a share of the responsibility, since through the secret negotiations of the Archduke Albrecht she had encouraged Napoleon in this idea. Both Napoleon and the Archduke were convinced that those South-German States which had been annexed by Prussia for siding with Austria would rise, if their attack on Prussia could be associated with the idea of liberation. Bismarck's cleverness in picking the quarrel over the question of the Spanish succession, a matter which did not in the least concern South-Germany, proved fatal to their expectations. This triumph of diplomacy, together with the success of his master-stroke of provocation, the Ems telegram, decided the fate of France. As edited by Bismarck, the King of Prussia's telegram describing his last interview with the French Ambassador at Ems, infuriated the French to the necessary pitch of recklessness, while to Germans it read like the account of an insult to German-speaking peoples, and tended to draw them together in resentment.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SALTBURN, August 24, 1870
Don't you sometimes feel that a few weeks' delay in beginning
this
horrible war might have given time to Europe to discover some
better means than war for settling the dispute? We are full of
schemes for the prevention of future wars. The only
compensation I
see for all these horrors is the conviction they bring of the
amount of heroism in the world and of the progress made in
humanity
towards enemies—especially sick and wounded.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SALTBURN, August 30, 1870
Poor Paris! You may well say we must be sorry for it, having so
lately seen it in all its gay spring beauty—and though no
doubt
the surface, which is all we saw of its inhabitants, is better
than
the groundwork, how much of good and great it contains! How the
best Frenchmen everywhere, and the best Parisians in
particular,
must grieve over the deep corruption which has done much to
bring
their country to its present dreary prospects. I did not mean
that
any mediation or interference of other Powers would have
prevented
this war, but that there ought by this time to be a substitute
found for all war.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
SALTBURN, September 7, 1870
Don't you find it bewildering to be hurried at express speed
through such mighty pages of history? And if bewildering and
overpowering to us, who from the beginning of the war could see
a
probability of French disaster, what must it be to Paris, to
all
France, fed with falsehood as they have been till from one
success
to another they find their Emperor and an army of 80,000 men
prisoners of war! But what a people! Who would have supposed by
reading the accounts of Paris on Sunday, the excess of joy, the
air de fete, the wild exultation, that an immense
calamity,
a bitter mortification had just befallen the country! that a
gigantic German army was on its way to their gates! I should
like
to know whether many of those who shouted “Vive l'Empereur"
when he
left Paris, who applauded the war and hooted down anybody who
doubted its justice or attacked Imperialism, are now among the
shouters of “Vive la Republique” and the new Democratic
Ministry.
Let us hope not. Let us hope a great many things from the
downfall
of a corrupt Court, and the call for heroism and self-sacrifice
to
a frivolous and depraved city—frivolous and depraved, and yet
containing so much of noble and good—all the nobler and
better,
perhaps, from the constant struggle to remain so in that
atmosphere. Even if, as God grant, there is no siege, the
serious
thoughts which the prospect of it must give will perhaps not be
lost on the Parisians. I, like you, long that the King of
Prussia
may prove that he spoke in all sincerity when he said that he
fought against the Emperor, not France, and be magnanimous in
the
conditions he may offer—but what does that precisely mean?
John
says he is right to seek for some guarantee against future
French
ambition. Hitherto he has acted very like a gentleman, as John
in
the House of Lords declared him to be, and may still be your
model
sovereign.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 3, 1870
Your letter is so interesting and raises so many serious
thoughts
that I should like to answer it as it deserves, but can't do so
to-day as I am obliged to go to London on business, and have
hardly
a moment. The kind of “gigantic brains” which you mention are,
I
agree with you, often repulsive—there is a harshness of
dissent from all that mankind most values, all that has
raised them above this earth, which cannot be right—which is
the
result of deficiency in some part of their minds or hearts or
both,
and not of excess of intellect or any other good thing. If they
are
right in their contempt of Christian faith and hope, or of all
other spiritual faith and hope, they ought to be “of all men
most
miserable”; but they are apt to reject Christian charity too,
and
to dance on the ruins of all that has hitherto sustained their
fellow-creatures in a world of sin and sorrow. That they are
not
right, but wofully wrong, I firmly believe, and happily many
and
many a noble intellect and great heart, which have not shrunk
from
searching into the mysteries of life and death with all the
powers
and all the love of truth given them by God to be used, not to
lie
dormant or merely receive what other men teach, have risen from
the
search with a firmer faith than before in Christ and in the
immortality which he brought to light. I believe that many of
those
who deem themselves sceptics or atheists retain, after all,
enough
of the divine element within them practically to refute their
own
words.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 4, 1871
I wonder whether the solemn thoughts which must belong to the
end
of a year, and the solemn services by which it has been
celebrated
both by Germans and French, will lead them to ask themselves in
all
earnestness whether it is really duty, really what they believe
to
be God's will, which guides them in the continuance of a
fearful
war—whether earthly passions, earthly point of honour, do not
mingle with their determination. If they do ask themselves such
questions, what will be the answers? I, too, am often tempted
to
wish peace at any price, yet neither you nor I would act upon
the
wish were we the people to act. It was the peace at any price
doctrine that forced us into the Russian war.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 25, 1871
Hopes of peace at last, thank God! I can think of little
else—the
increasing and accumulating horrors, miseries, and desolation
of
this wicked war have been enough to make one despair of
mankind.
France alone was in the wrong at first, but both have been
wrong
ever since Sedan, so at least I think, but it is too long a
matter
to discuss in a letter. If the new Emperor [81] does not grant
most
honourable terms to Paris, I shall give him up altogether as a
self-seeking, hard-hearted old man of fire and sword. I dare
say
you have not heard as many sad stories as we have of the losses
and
disasters and unspeakable sorrows of people in Paris, known to
other people we have seen. I won't repeat any of them, as it
can do
no good. I am glad to know that the Crown Prince hates
the
war, hates the bombardment, and opposed it strongly, and
then again opposed sending shells into the town, and was very
angry
when it began to be done. Indeed, everything that we hear of
him is
highly to his credit, and one may hope much for the welfare and
good government of United Germany from him and his wife.
[81] King William of Prussia had just taken the title of German Emperor.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 26, 1871
... We are rejoicing and thanking God for the blessed news of
the
coming surrender of Paris. Alas for all the wasted
lives—wasted,
I think, on both sides, for I cannot perceive that it
was on
either side one of those great and holy causes in which the
blood
shed by one generation bears fruit for the next. The Times
was too quick in drawing conclusions from Jules Favre being at
Versailles, but there can be little doubt that terms are under
consideration, and I hope the Germans will show that they are
not
so spoiled by success as to be ungenerous in their demands. As
to
Alsace and Lorraine, I fear that it is a settled point with
them.
If so, they ought to be all the more ready to grant terms
honourable in other respects. Do you see that a brave man in
the
Berlin Parliament raised his voice against annexation of French
provinces, on the discussion of address to the new Emperor on
his
new dignity? ... What wonderfully interesting lectures Tyndall
is
giving.
LONDON, July 12, 1871
We lunched yesterday, all three, with Bernstorffs, [82] to meet
Crown Prince and Princess—best of Princes and Princesses. It
was
interesting and agreeable. John and I had the luck to sit
beside
her and him. I was delighted to hear him say, “I hate war,”
with an
emphasis better than words.
[82] Count Bernstorff was German Ambassador in London.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 27, 1871
... I suppose Agatha told you of the Emperor of Brazil's visit
to
us at 7 a.m.—it was amusing to get up at six to receive an
Emperor, impossible to put on much ceremony with one's garments
at
that unceremonious hour, and fortunately unnecessary, for His
Majesty was chatty and easy. He took a turn along West walk,
admired the view, had a cup of chocolate, thanked us for our
courtesy, and was off again before eight with his sallow-faced,
grimy gentleman in waiting, who looked as if the little sleep
he
ever had was with his clothes on. We tried to see another
Emperor
[83] on Tuesday, having at last made out our journey to
Chislehurst. Unluckily he and his son had gone to town, but we
found the Empress. How unlike the splendid, bejewelled,
pomp-and-gloryfied Empress of the Tuileries: her dress careless
and
common, her face little, if at all, painted, and thereby to my
eye
improved—but so altered. She seemed, however, in good spirits.
She
did not talk of France, but feared for England anything tending
to
diminish authority of “powers that be.”
[83] Napoleon III and the Empress Eugenie were living at Chislehurst.
On August 18, 1871, Lord Russell's seventy-ninth birthday was celebrated at Pembroke Lodge by the school children under the cedar in the garden. “His serene and cheerful mind, a greater blessing year by year as enjoyments one by one drop away. He looks back with gratitude, he accepts the present with contentment. He looks forward, I think, without dread.” In September they went abroad, and took for the second time the house at Renens-sur-Roche, in Switzerland, where they had stayed in 1855. Lady Russell's mind was still full of horror of the recent war.
The first morning at Glyon (she writes to her sister, Lady Dunfermline) was one of merciless rain, but the afternoon did well enough for Chillon, to which use we all put it, and very interesting, grimly and horribly so, we found it. Men are less wicked and less cruel, tyrants are less tyrannical nowadays than when so-called criminals, often the best men in their country, were chained by iron rings to dungeon stones for years and years, or fastened to pillars and tortured by slow fires, or thrown down “oubliettes” into the lake below, falling first on a revolving machine stuck full of sharp blades—of all which horrors we were shown the scene and the remains. But I hope that some centuries hence travellers will wonder at even the present use to which Chillon is put, that of an arsenal, and thank God that they did not live in an age when sovereigns and rulers could command man to destroy his brother-man.
From Switzerland they moved down to the South of France to get to a warmer climate. They had taken a villa for the winter at Cannes, where they had a happy time, brightened during the Christmas vacation by the visits of their sons with friends from Oxford. In his old age Lord Russell seemed to enjoy more and more the companionship of the young, and entered with spirit into their merry jests and their eager conversations on great subjects, discussed with the freshness and enthusiasm of youth.
Lord Russell, as the following letters show, was still taking keen interest in education questions:
Lord Russell to Colonel Romilly
RENENS, September 27, 1871
I see the Bishop of Manchester has been speaking in favour of “a
very moderate form of dogmatism” to be imposed on Dissenters
who
wish their children to have religious teaching. I am quite
against
this moderate form, which consists in making a Baptist child
own
that he is to believe what his godfathers and godmothers
promised
for him—he having neither godfathers nor godmothers. Every
form of
persecution is in my eyes detestable, so that I shall have to
fight
a new fight for freedom of education.
Lord Russell to Lady Minto
CANNES, January 6, 1872
MY DEAREST NINA,—Your New Year's Day letter shows that you
write
as well as a volunteer as on compulsion.... I am sorry to have
annoyed Maggie by my allusion to the Hertfordshire incumbent.
Here
is my case. Sixty-three years ago my father, with others
founded a
Society to teach the Bible to young boys and girls, which they
called “Schools for all.” One should have thought there was no
harm
in the project, and that they might have been left alone. Not
so.
The clergy were furious. Sixty years ago they founded the
National
Society, and ever since they have libelled our schools.... Last
year or the year before the H.I. [Hertfordshire Incumbent]
attacked
my proposals. I left him alone, but I carried the day, and
excluded
formularies from schools provided by rates. Still the bishops
and
clergy fulminate against us, shut out Baptists from the schools
where they have influence, and declaim against us. Now I happen
to
have a great respect for the Bible, and while I have life will
not
cease to defend our Bible schools. You will say, if I do not,
that
in time the world will come round to Christianity, which is at
a
low ebb at present. Men will understand at last that they ought
to
love God and to love their neighbour as themselves, not to
steal,
or commit murder, or cheat their neighbours. The Athanasian
Creed
is making a pretty hubbub. It was invented as a substitute for
Christianity, and taken from Aristotle....
Ever yours affectionately,
RUSSELL
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
CANNES, November 29, 1871
What is to be the result of the Republican ferment in our
country?
It may not be widespread, and it certainly hardly exists above
the
working classes, yet I feel that the germ is there—and who can
say
how far it is doomed to flourish, or whether it will die
away....
Ours has been so free and independent and prosperous a nation,
that
the notion of any fundamental change in the Constitution is
awful.
Yet when we boast of our freedom and prosperity we should not
forget the enormous mass of misery, vice, filth, and all evil
which
disgraces all our large towns—nor the brutish ignorance and
apathy
which pervades much of our rural population. And it is well
worth
the most earnest thought and study, on the part of all
Englishmen
and women, to find out whether our form of government has or
has
not any share of the blame and to act accordingly. I have great
confidence in the British people. They have never liked hasty,
ill-considered changes; they hate revolution; and I hope I am
not
too trustful in believing that we shall go on in the wise and
the
right path, whatever that may be, and in spite of the freaks
and
follies of many a man whose aims are more selfish than
patriotic.
While at Cannes Lord and Lady Russell saw a great deal of Princess Christian, who was living near them, and was in great anxiety and sorrow about the illness of her brother, the Prince of Wales, who nearly died in December, 1871. His illness was the occasion of a display of loyalty and sympathy from thousands of British subjects. Lady Russell received the following reply to a letter she wrote from Cannes to the Queen:
Queen Victoria to Lady Russell
OSBORNE, January 22, 1872
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—I meant ere this to have thanked you for
your
very kind letter of the 1st, but my dear son's illness brought
with
it much writing besides much to do, in addition to which, there
is
the correspondence with four absent married daughters,
which
is no light task. I thank you now both most warmly for
the
great kindness of your expressions about my own long and severe
illness, when you so kindly wrote to Lady Ely to inquire, and
relative to this last dreadful illness of my dear son's,
coming, as
it did, when I was far from strong myself. Thank God! I was
able to
be near him and with my beloved daughter, the Princess
of
Wales (who behaved so beautifully and admirably), during that
terrible time, when for nearly a week his life hung on a
thread.
Indeed, for a whole month at least, if not for five
weeks,
his state was one of the greatest anxiety and indeed of danger.
Since the 4th we may look on his progress as steady and good,
and I
hear that he was able to drive out yesterday for a little
while.
But great quiet will be necessary for a long while to come. You
are
very kind in your accounts of Helena, who no doubt must have
suffered much from being so far off.... I hear that she is
really
better and stronger. She speaks often of the pleasure it is to
her
to see you and Lord Russell, of whom I am delighted to hear so
good
an account. Though not very strong and not free from rheumatic
pains at times, I am much better and able to walk again out of
doors, much as usual.
With kind remembrances to Lord Russell and Agatha,
Ever yours affectionately, V.R.
In the spring they all came back to England. Lord John had benefited in health by wintering abroad; he was still vigorous enough to resist in the House of Lords the claim of the United States for the Alabama indemnity, and to give a presidential address to the Historical Society; but the years were beginning to tell on him.
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 18, 1872
John did not venture out—still looks tired and not as he did
when
we arrived, but no cold. Sad, most sad to me, that when I take
a
brisk turn in the garden, it is no longer with him—that his
enjoyments, his active powers, yearly dwindle away—that it is
scarcely possible he should not at times feel the hours too
long
from the difficulty of finding variety of occupation. Writing,
walking, even reading very long or talking much with friends
and
visitors all tire him. He never complains, and I thank God for
his
patience, and oh! so heartily that he has no pain, no chronic
ailment. But alas for the days of his vigour when he was out
and in
twenty times a day, when life had a zest which nothing can
restore!
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, August 8, 1872
Filled with wonder, shame, remorse, I begin on a Thursday to
write
to you. What possessed me to let Wednesday pass without doing
so I
can't tell, but I think it happens about once a year, and I
dare
say it's a statistical mystery—the averages must be kept
right,
and my mind is not to blame—no free will in the matter. This
brings me to an essay in one of the magazines for August—I
forget
which—on the statistics of prayer. Not a nice name (perhaps
it's
not correct, but nearly so), and not a nice article, it seemed
to
me—but I only glanced at it; produced, like many other faulty
things of the kind, by illogical superstition on the part of
Christian clergy, most of whom preach a half-belief, some a
whole
belief, on the efficacy of prayer for temporal good. Then comes
the
hard unbeliever, delighted to prove, as any child can do, that
such
prayer cannot be proved to avail anything. He is incapable of
understanding the deeper and truer kind of prayer, but he
convinces
many that all communion with God is fruitless, or perhaps that
there is no God with whom to hold it. This may not be the drift
of
the article, for, as I said, I have not read it, but it is
the drift of much that is talked and written nowadays by men
and
women of the author's school. I wish there were no schools in
that
sense. They always have done and always will do harm, and
prevent
the independence of thought which they are by way of
encouraging.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, Christmas Day, 1872
I do indeed feel with you how wonderful the goodness and the
contented spirit of many thousands of poor, pent-up, toiling
human
beings, who live in God's glorious world and leave it without
ever
knowing its glories, whose lives are one struggle to maintain
life;
and I think with you how easy it ought to be for us who have
leisure for the beauty of life, in nature and in books, in
conversation and in art. And yet, it was to the rich that
Christ
gave His most frequent warnings. Is it then, after all, easiest
for
the poor to do His will and love Him and trust Him in all
things?
The summer and autumn and winter had been spent almost entirely at Pembroke Lodge, but when Parliament met early in 1873 they moved to London, where they had taken a house till Easter.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
LONDON, February 19, 1873
Scene—a drawing-room; hour 11.30 a.m. A young lady playing the
pianoforte by candle-light. An old lady writing, also by
candle-light. An old gentleman five minutes ago sitting reading
also by candle-light, but now doing the same in a room below.
Three
large windows through which is seen a vast expanse of a
semi-substantial material of the hue of a smoked primrose;
against
it is dimly visible an irregular and picturesque outline,
probably
of a range of mountains, some rocky and pyramidal, others
horizontally banked. Altogether, a mystery replete with
grandeur in
the effect—none of your Southern transparency leaving nothing
for
the imagination. Seriously, it's laughable that human
beings
should congregate so as to produce these effects, and that we
among
others should by preference be among the congregators. Your day
at
Napoule is like something in a different world altogether.
You are rather hard, John says, and he is not disposed to be
otherwise, on Parliamentary sayings and doings. I can say
nothing
from myself, as I have not read one single speech, except that
I
cannot bear the humiliating exclusion of any kind of
useful
knowledge from a University out of false consideration for
religious or irreligious scruples. [84] Surely young men had
better
be taught boldly to face the fact that men differ than be dealt
with in this ridiculously tender and most futile manner.
[84] The Irish University Bill was being discussed in the Commons, one clause of which proposed to exclude theology, philosophy, and history from the curriculum of the New University.
In August, 1873, after the publication of Lord Russell's book, “Essays on the History of the Christian Religion,” they spent some six weeks at Dieppe, where Lord Russell's health again considerably improved.
Mr. Disraeli to Lord Russell
GEORGE STREET, HANOVER SQUARE, May 8, 1873
MY DEAR LORD,—I have just finished reading your book, which I
was
much gratified by receiving from the author.... I cannot
refrain
from expressing to you the great pleasure its perusal gave me.
The
subject is of perpetual interest, and it is treated, in many
instances, with originality founded on truth, and with
wonderful
freshness. The remarks suggested by your own eminent career
give to
the general conduct of the theme additional interest, like the
personal passages in Montaigne. I wish there had been more of
them,
or that you would favour the world with some observations on
men
and things, which one who is alike a statesman, a philosopher,
and
a scholar could alone supply. In your retirement you have the
inestimable happiness of constant and accomplished sympathy,
without which life is little worth. Mine is lone and dark, but
still, I hope I may send my kindest remembrances to Lady
Russell.
Yours with sincere respect and regard,
B. DISRAELI
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 3, 1873
You will not be disappointed, I do believe, with John's book,
high
as your expectations are. The spirit of it at all events is
that of
your letter: that of love and reverence for what you truly call
the
wonder of wonders—the Bible—as well as that of perfect
freedom of
thought. Had that perfect freedom always been allowed to
mankind by
kings, rulers, and priests, in all their disguises, we should
never
have had the “trash” of which you complain inundating our
country
and thinking itself a substitute for the simple lessons and
glorious promises of Christ. Whereas in proportion as it is
less
“trashy,” it approaches more nearly, though unconsciously, to
what
He taught, borrowing what is best in it from Him, only giving
an
earthly tone to what He made divine. I have, perhaps, more
indulgence than you for some of the anti-Christian thinkers and
writers of the day—those who love truth with all their souls,
who
would give their lives to believe that—
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul,”
but who seek a kind of proof of this which never can be found.
They
are very unhappy in this world, but I believe they are nearer
heaven than many comfortable so-called believers, and will find
their happiness beyond that death upon which they look as
annihilation.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 22, 1873
Louisa [85] writes in such warm admiration of Minto indoors and
out, it did me good to read it, and such joy in meeting you.
Shall
I ever be there again, I wonder?—a foolish wonder, and
foolisher
still when let out! Dear old oak-room—to me too Granny Brydone
is
always present there. I cannot think of it without her
image
rising before me. How perfect she was! How far above the common
world she and Mama, and yet both spending their lives in the
discharge of common, and what many would call, petty duties!
How
little it signifies what are the special duties to which we are
called, how much the spirit in which we do them! I don't think
I
ever longed so much for long talks day after day with you.
Don't
say such hopes are visionary, though, alas! they have over and
over
again vanished before our eyes.
[85] Lady Louisa Howard, formerly Lady Louisa Fitzmaurice (daughter of Lord Lansdowne), one of Lady Russell's earliest friends.
Lady Russell to Lord Amberley
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 28, 1873
DEAREST JOHNNY,—... Rollo bought Mill's autobiography, and I
have read the greater part of it. Deeply interesting it is, and
his
lovableness comes out in it as much as his intellect—but
deeply
sad too, in more ways than one. I live in dread of the possible
effect on you and Kate of the account of his education by his
father—the principles right, the application so wofully wrong.
Mill was a learned scholar, a great thinker, a good man, partly
in
consequence, partly in spite of it.... Happily you have more
Popes
than one, as good for you as it was for the world in days of
old.
Happily, too, there's such a thing as love, innate,
intuitive,
instinctive (oh, horrible!), which is wise in proportion to
its
depth, and will be your best and safest guide. How strange
Mill's
utter silence about his mother I How beautiful and touching the
pages about his wife! How melancholy to know that such high
natures
as his and hers generally fail to meet in close intimacy here
below, and therefore live and die more than half unknown,
waiting
for the hereafter. God bless you, my very dear children.
Your loving MOTHER
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 9, 1873
Visit from Mr. Herbert Spencer, who stayed to dinner. Long,
deep,
interesting conversation; all amounting to “we know nothing,”
he
assuring me that the prospect of annihilation has no terrors
for
him; I feeling that without immortality life is “all a cheat,”
and
without a Father in heaven, right and wrong, love, conscience,
joy,
sorrow, are words without a meaning and the Universe, if
governed
at all, is governed by a malignant spirit who gives us hopes,
and
aspirations never to be fulfilled, affections to be wasted, a
thirst for knowledge never to be quenched.
“1874 opened brightly and peacefully on our dear home,” she writes; but it was to prove one of the saddest years in their lives. Only some of the heavy trials and sorrows that they were called upon to bear from this time onward will be touched upon here. They were borne by Lord and Lady Russell with heroic courage and unfaltering faith.
Lady Russell to Lady Dunfermline
PEMBROKE LODGE, February 25, 1874
I am now just finishing the “Heart of Midlothian,” and with more
intense admiration for it than ever—the beauty and naturalness
of
every word spoken by Jeanie and Effie before the last
volume, of a great deal of Davie Deans, of many of the scenes
scattered through the book are, I think, not to be surpassed.
More
tenderness and depth and heart-breakingness I should say than
in
any of Sir Walter's.... I turned to Sir Walter from “The
Parisians.” I doubt whether I shall finish it, a false,
glittering,
disagreeable atmosphere.
Lady Russell to Lord and Lady Amberley
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 2, 1874
MY DEAR CHILDREN,—... We had a charming visit from Sir Henry
Taylor a few days ago, a long quiet real “crack” about many
books
and many authors, with a little touch of the events of the
day-change of Ministry, causes of our utter defeat, which he
thinks
obscure, so do I—not creditable to the country, so do I—in so
far
as Disraeli can hardly be reckoned more trustworthy or
consistent
than Gladstone, and Gladstone's untrustworthiness and
inconsistency
are supposed to have caused his overthrow. The Queen made Sir
John
Cowell write me a note to find out whether John would be
disposed
to go to the great banquet next Tuesday and sleep at Windsor.
Kindly done of her—of course he declines. I read Herbert
Spencer
on “The Bias of Patriotism,” yesterday—much of it truly
excellent.
To-day I am at “Progress” in the Essays ... of which I have
read
several here and there. Whenever I have the feeling that I,
not Herbert Spencer, have written what I am reading, I have the
delightful sensation of complete agreement and unqualified
admiration of his (or my) wisdom. When I have not
that feeling, I stop to consider, but even then have sometimes
the
candour to come to his conclusions; while at some passages,
less
frequent, I inwardly exclaim, “I never did, I do not now, and I
never shall agree.” The want of what Sir Henry Taylor calls
“the
spiritual instinct” is striking in him. It is strange to turn
to
him as I have done from “Memorials of a Quiet Life,” which
raises
me into an atmosphere of heavenly calmness and joy, or ought to
do
so, although nobody ever felt the trials and sorrows of life
more
keenly than Mrs. Hare....
Good-bye, dearest children, your pets [86] are as well and as
dear
as pets can be.
Your loving, MOTHER.
[86] Rachel and Bertrand, who stayed for the winter at Pembroke Lodge while their parents were abroad.
In April Lady Russell lost her sister, Lady Dunfermline, who died in Rome. In May, Lord and Lady Russell's second son, who was dearly loved for his generous and noble nature, was seized with dangerous illness. He lived, but never recovered. In the summer, Lady Amberley and her little daughter Rachel, who was only six years old, died of diphtheria within a few days of each other.
There is a touching reference to Lord Russell in a letter, written many years after his death, from Miss Elliot, daughter of the Dean of Bristol, to Lady Russell.
One of the very last times I saw him you were out, and he sent
word
that he would see me when he knew I was at the door; when he
literally bowed his head and said, “The hand of the Lord has
been
very heavy on us—very heavy,” and spoke of little Rachel. I
never
remember being more touched and awed by the reverence I felt
for
him.
Queen Victoria to Lady Russell [87]
WINDSOR CASTLE, June 29, 1874
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—I cannot remain silent without writing to
express to you my deep and sincere sympathy with you both, and
especially with your poor son on this most sad event, which has
deprived him of his wife, and his little children (whom I saw
so
lately) of an affectionate mother, in the very prime of life! I
saw
the sad announcement in the papers this morning and could
hardly
believe it, never having heard even of her illness. This sad
event
will, I know, be a terrible blow to you, and to Lord Russell,
and I
know that you have had much sorrow and anxiety lately.
Dear
Lady Russell, I have known you both too long not to feel the
truest
and deepest interest in all that concerns you and yours—in
weal
and woe—and I would not delay a moment in writing to express
this
to you. You will, I know, look for support and for comfort
where
alone it can be found, and I pray that God may support
and
comfort you and your poor bereaved son.
Ever yours affectionately,
V.R.
I should be very grateful if you would let me have any details
of
poor Lady Amberley's illness and death.
[87] On several occasions Lord Russell had been prevented by the state of his health from accepting invitations to Windsor. In April, 1874, he and Lady Russell were touched by the Queen's kindness in coming to visit them at Pembroke Lodge, and she had then seen Lord Amberley's children.
Queen Victoria to Lady Russell
WINDSOR CASTLE, July 3, 1874
DEAREST LADY RUSSELL,—Your two sad and touching letters have
affected me deeply, and I thank you much for writing to me. It
is
too dreadful that the dear little girl whose bright eyes and
look
of health I so well remember at Pembroke Lodge should also be
taken. May God support your poor unhappy son, for whom your
heart
must bleed, and whose agony of grief and bereavement seems
almost
too much to bear. But if he will but trust our Father in
Heaven,
and feel all is sent in love, though he may have to go through
months and years of the bitterest sufferings, and of anguish
indescribable, he will find peace and resignation and comfort
come
at last—when it seems farthest. I know this myself. For
you, dear Lady Russell and dear Lord Russell, I do feel so
deeply.
Your trials have been so great lately.... I shall be really
grateful if you would write to me again to say how Lord Russell
bears this new blow, and how your poor son Amberley is. Agatha,
who
is so devoted a daughter, will, I am sure, do all she can now
to
help and comfort you, but she will be deeply distressed
herself.
And poor dear Lady Clarendon is dying I fear, and poor Emily
Russell only just confined, and unable to go and see her. It is
dreadful.
With fervent prayers that your health may not suffer, and that
you
may be mercifully supported.
Ever yours affectionately,
V.R.
Lord Russell to Lady Minto
PEMBROKE LODGE, July 3, 1874
MY DEAR NINA,—We are struck down by the death of my dear pet,
Rachel, who was taken from us to stay with her parents at
Ravenscroft. It was but too natural that Kate should wish to
have
her child with her, but the event is heart-breaking—such a
darling, so bright, so pretty.
“Elle a dure ce que durent les roses,
L'espace d'un matin.”
I am always touched by those French verses, and now I apply them
tearfully.
Ever yours affectionately,
RUSSELL
In the summer of 1874 Lord Russell took Aldworth, Tennyson's beautiful home near Haslemere, where they remained for some months.
Lady Russell to Lord Amberley
ALDWORTH, HASLEMERE, November 10, 1874
We have been going on in a happy humdrum way since I last
wrote—humdrum as regards events, and all the happier that it
should be so—but with no lack of delightful occupation and
delightful conversation, and that intimate interchange of
thought
which makes home life so much fuller than society life.
However, it
would not do to go on long cut off from the world and its ways
and
from the blessing of the society of real friends, which
unluckily
can't be had without intermixture of wearisome acquaintances.
Rollo's reader is reading Molesworth's “History of England for
the
last Forty Years,” and Agatha takes advantage and listens, and
I
read it by myself, and as your father knows it all without
reading
it and likes to be talked to about it, we have been living a
good
deal in the great events of that period, and we find it a
relief to
turn from the mazy though deeply interesting flood of
metaphysics
which this age pours upon the world, to facts and events which
also
have their philosophy, and a deep one too.
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 28, 1874
Finished “Life of Prince Albert.” It is seldom that a revelation
of
the inner life of Princes would raise the mind to a higher
region
than before—although we all know that they have an
inner
and a real life through the tinsels and the trappings in which
we
see them. But this book can hardly fail to raise any mind, warm
any
heart, brace any soul. Would that we all, in all conditions of
life, kept truth and duty ever before us, as he did even amid
the
pettinesses of a Court—the solemn trifles of etiquette which
would
have stifled the nobleness of a less noble nature. Would that
all
Princes had a Stockmar, [88] but there are not many Stockmars
in
the world; if there were, there would soon not be many Princes
of
the kind which now abounds, beings cut off from equality,
friendship, freedom, by what in our supreme folly we call the
“necessary” pomp and fetters of a Court. Noble as Prince Albert
was, those things did him harm, and as Lady Lyttelton says,
nobody
but the organ knew what was in him.... The Queen appears in a
charming light—truthfulness, humility, unbounded love for him.
[88] “One of the best friends of the Queen and the Prince Consort was Baron Stockmar. This old nobleman, who had known the English Court since the days of George III, and loved Prince Albert like a son, was a man of sturdy independence, fearlessly outspoken, and regarded with affectionate confidence both by Queen Victoria and her Consort.”— Daily News, May 7, 1910. This was what Lady Russell felt about him; his fearless outspokenness at Court always impressed her.
Lady Russell to Lord Amberley
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 29, 1874
M. d'Etchegoyen [89] has given me Mill's three essays. I have
read
“Nature,” a great deal of which I like much, but were it to be
read
by the inhabitant of some other planet, he would have a very
false
notion of this one; for Mill dwells almost entirely on the ugly
and
malevolent side of Nature, leaving out of sight the beautiful
and
benevolent side—whereas both abound, and suggest the notion of
two
powers at strife for the government of the world. If you bring
the
“Conscious Machine Controversy,” I may read it, although I feel
very uncharitable to the hard, presumptuous unwisdom of some
modern
metaphysics.
[89] The Comte and Comtesse d'Etchegoyen (nee Talleyrand) were intimate friends of Lord and Lady Russell. He was a French Republican, who had been obliged to leave Paris at the Coup d'Etat.
Lady Russell to Lord Amberley
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 28, 1875
This is our Agatha's birthday, and the spirit moves me to write
to
you. Every marked day, whether marked by sorrow or by joy,
turns my
heart, if possible, more than usual to you, and makes me feel
more
keenly how all the joy and perfect happiness once yours has
been
turned to bitter sorrow and desolation. I find it is far, far
more
difficult to bear grief for one's children than for oneself,
and
sometimes my heart “has been like to break” as I have followed
you
in thought on your long and dreary journey, and remembered what
your companionship was when last you went to the sunny South,
to so
many of the same places. You have indeed been sorely tried, my
child, and you have not—would that I could give it to you—the
one
and only rock of refuge and consolation, of faith in the wisdom
and
mercy of a God of love. But I trust in Him for you, and I know
that
though clouds hide Him from your sight, He will care for you
and
not forsake you—and even here on earth I look forward to much
peaceful happiness for you, in your children, in books, in
nature,
in duties zealously done, in the love and sympathy of
many—“Mutter
Treu ist ewig neu,” and that you may find some rest to your
aching
heart in that Mutter Treue, which is always hovering round you,
wherever you are, and to which every day seems to add fresh
strength and renewed longing to give you comfort, is my daily,
nightly hope and prayer. May this letter find you well and
cheerful
and able to enjoy the loveliness of sea and sky and mountain;
if
so, I know it will not sadden you to get this drop out of the
ocean
of my thoughts about you—thoughts which the freshness of the
wounds makes it intensely difficult for me to utter.... Kiss my
two
precious little boys and keep us in their memory. Is Bertrand
as
full of fun and merriment as he used to be? Poor pets! they
look to
you for all the tenderness of father and mother combined in
order
to be as happy as children ought to be. Give it them largely,
my
child, as it is in your nature to do.... God bless you all.
In August, 1875, Lady Russell notes in her diary that her husband had written a letter to the Times giving his support to the Herzegovina insurgents. During the few years preceding 1876 he had become convinced that the days of Turkish misrule in the Christian provinces must be ended. [90] He frequently spoke with indignation of the systematic murders contrived by the Turkish Government and officials, and felt that the cause of the oppressed Christians deserved support, and that the time for upholding the rule of the Sultan as a cardinal principle in our policy had passed. He threw himself with the greatest heartiness into a movement for the aid of the insurgents. Though in his eighty-third year he was the first British statesman to break with the past and to bless the uprising of liberty in the near East. In the following letter, written from Caprera on September 17, 1875, the generous sympathy between him and Garibaldi found fresh expression.
[90] In 1874 he wrote that from Adrianople to Belgrade all government should be in the hands of the Christians.
MON ILLUSTRE AMI,—En associant votre grand nom au bien-faiteurs
des Chretiens opprimes par le Gouvernement Turc, vous avez
ajoute
un bien precieux bijou a la couronne humanitaire qui ceint
votre
noble front. En 1860 votre parole sublime sonna en faveur des
Rayahs Italiens, et l'Italie n'est plus une expression
geographique. Aujourd'hui vous plaidez la cause des Rayahs
Turcs,
plus malheureux encore. C'est une cause qui vaincra comme la
premiere, et Dieu benira vos vieux ans.... Je baise la main a
votre
precieuse epouse, et suis pour la vie votre devoue G.
GARIBALDI.
[91]
[91] “MY ILLUSTRIOUS FRIEND,—In associating your great name with the benefactors of the Christians oppressed by the Turkish Government, you have added a most precious jewel to the crown of humanity which encircles your noble brow. In 1860 your sublime word was spoken in favour of the Italian Rayahs, and Italy is no longer only a geographical expression. To-day you plead the cause of the Turkish Rayahs, even more unhappy. It is a cause which will conquer like the first, and God will bless your old age. I kiss the hand of your dear wife, and remain for life your devoted G. GARIBALDI.”
About a year later Lady Russell writes: “Great meetings at the Guildhall and Exeter Hall—fine spirit-stirring speech of Fawcett at the last. The feeling of the nation makes me proud, as it does to remember that John was the first to foresee the magnitude of the coming storm, when the first grumblings were heard in Herzegovina—the first to feel sympathy with the insurgents.... Many a nation may be roused to a sense of its own wrongs, but to see a whole people fired with indignation for the wrongs of another and a remote country, with no selfish afterthought, no possible prospect of advantage to what are called 'British Interests,' is grand indeed.”
The last entry calls to mind a passage by Mr. Froude in the Life of Lord Beaconsfield [92]:
“The spirit of a great nation called into energy on a grand occasion is one of the noblest of human phenomena. The pseudo-national spirit of Jingoism is the meanest and the most dangerous.”
[92] “Life of the Earl of Beaconsfield,” J.A. Froude, p. 251.
At the beginning of 1876 Lord Russell still retained so much health and vigour that his doctor spoke of him as being in some respects “like a man in the prime of life.” But another great sorrow now befell them. Their eldest son, Lord Amberley, died on January 9th. He was only thirty-three. In his short life he had shown great independence of mind and unusual ability. His two boys [93] now came to live permanently at Pembroke Lodge. Something of his character may be gathered from the following letter from Dr. Jowett, who had known him well at Oxford.
Professor Jowett to Lady Russell
January 14, 1876
I am grieved to hear of the death of Lord Amberley; I read it by
accident in the newspaper of yesterday. I fear it must be a
terrible blow both to you and Lord Russell.
I will not intrude upon your sorrow, but I would like to tell
you
what I thought of him. He was one of the best men I ever
knew—most
truthful and disinterested. He was not of the world, and
therefore
not likely to be popular with the world. He had chosen a path
which
was very difficult, and could hardly have been carried out in
practical politics. I think that latterly he saw this and was
content to live seeking after the truth in the companionship of
his
wife, whose memory I shall always cherish. Some persons may
grieve
over them because they had not the ordinary hopes and
consolations
of religion. This does not add to my sorrow for them except in
so
far as it deprived them of sympathy and happiness while they
were
living. It must inevitably happen in these times, when
everything
is made the subject of inquiry with many good persons. God does
not
regard men with reference to their opinion about Himself or
about a
future world, but with reference to what they really are. In
holding fast to truth and righteousness they held the greater
part
of what we mean by belief in God. No person's religious
opinions
affect the truth either about themselves or others. One who
said to
me what I have said to you about your son's remarkable goodness
(while condemning his opinions) was Lady Augusta Stanley,[94]
who
herself, I fear, has not long to live.
[93] Frank (afterwards Earl Russell), who was then ten years old, and Bertrand, three years old.
[94] Wife of Dean Stanley.
Dean Stanley (Dean of Westminster) to Lady Russell
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—Will you allow one broken heart to say a
word
of sympathy to another?—the life of my life is ebbing
away—the
hope of your life is gone. She, I trust, will find in the
fountain
of all Love the love in which she has trusted on earth. He, I
trust, will find in the fountain of all Light the truth after
which
he sought on earth. May God help us both in His love.
Ever yours most truly,
A.P. STANLEY
Queen Victoria to Lady Russell
OSBORNE, January 11, 1876
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—My heart bleeds for you. A new and very
heavy
blow has fallen upon you, who were already so sorely tried!
Most
deep and sincere is my sympathy with you and Lord Russell, and
I
cannot say how I feel for you. It is so terrible to see one's
children go before one! You will be a mother to the orphans and
the
fatherless, as I know how kind and loving you were always to
them.
Trusting that your health will not suffer, and asking you to
remember me to Agatha, who will be a great comfort to you, as
she
has ever been, believe me always,
Yours affectionately,
V.R.
In March they began once more to see their friends. “Seeing those I have not yet seen,” she writes, “is like meeting them after years—so changed is our world.”
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 15, 1876
The dear old beech-tree in the wood blown down, and with it
countless recollections of happy hours under its shade with
merry
boys climbing it above our heads, and little Agatha playing at
our
feet, and her elder sisters chatting with us and looking for
nests
and flowers. All, all gone. The bitter gales of sorrow have
blown
down our fair hopes and turned our joys to sorrow. Poor old
beech-tree! Like us, it had lost its fair boughs; like it, we
shall
soon lay down our stripped and shattered stems.
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 25, 1876
The loveliness of early spring—its nameless, countless tints,
its
music and its flowers, never went deeper into my soul—but oh!
the
happy springtide of life, where is that?
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 27, 1877
Do not grieve too much over all our trials, dear Lotty. We have
not
long to bear them now, and all will be made clear by and by.
All
the sorrows of all the world will be seen in their true light,
and
tears will be wiped from all eyes for ever. I often think,
though I
try to drive away the thought, how unspeakably soothing and
happy
it would have been to look back upon blows as must fall to the
lot
of all who live long, instead of to a life of many strange and
unexpected and terrible shocks of many kinds. But oftener, far
oftener, I feel the brightness and blessedness of my lot; so
bright
and so blessed in many wonderful ways; and never, never at any
moment would I have exchanged it for another. Dearest Lotty,
your
loving letter has brought all this upon you, and it shall go
with
all its selfishness to Laverstoke, and not into the fire, where
I
am inclined to put it.... God bless you, dear Lotty.
Your loving sister,
F.R.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 4, 1878
I am reading the third volume of Prince Albert, and love and
admire
him more and more—but am very angry with the book as regards
John:
the unfairness from omission of all particulars which he alone
could have given with regard to his resignation on Roebuck's
motion, and his non-resignation after Vienna, is something I
cannot
forgive.
Early in this year, 1878, Lady Russell writes of a dinner-party at Lord Selborne's:
Agatha and I dined in town, with the Selbornes. I between Lord
Selborne and Gladstone, who was as usual most agreeable and
most
eloquent, giving life and fervour to conversation whatever was
the
subject. “The Eastern Question,” the “Life of Prince Albert,”
the
comedy of “Diplomacy,” the different degrees of “parliamentary
courage” in different statesmen, etc. He said that in his
opinion
Sir Robert Peel, my husband, and, “I must give the devil his
due,”
Disraeli, were the three statesmen whom he had known who had
the
most “parliamentary courage.”
In the summer of 1877 Lord Russell had taken a house overlooking the sea near Broadstairs. But he was falling into a gradual decline, the consequence of great age, and after they came home from Broadstairs, he never again left Pembroke Lodge.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 11, 1878
Do not think too much of the pain to me, but of the mercy of
there
being none to him, in this gradual extinction of a mind which
gave
light to so many, of affections which made home so happy. My
worst
pain is over—was over long ago—the pain of first
acknowledging to
myself my own loneliness, without the guide, the example, the
support, which so long were mine—without those golden joys of
perfect companionship which made the hours fly when we sat and
talked together on many an evening of blessed memory, or
strolled
together among our trees and our flowers, or snatched a few
moments
together from his days and nights of noble toil in London. All
this
is over, all this and much more, but gratitude that it has
been remains, and the bright hope of a renewal of
companionship
hereafter gives strength and courage for present duties and
passing
trials.
Mr. George W.E. Russell, in the closing passage of an article on his uncle, [95] wrote of these last years of his life: ”... Thus in peace and dignity that long life of public and private virtue neared its close; in a home made bright by the love of friends and children, and tended by the devotion of her who for more than five-and-thirty years had been the good angel of her husband's house.”
[95] Contemporary Review, December, 1889.
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 19, 1878
I have just been sitting with my dearest husband; he has said
precious words such as I did not expect ever to hear from him,
for
his mind is seldom, very seldom clear. We were holding one
another's hands: “I hope I haven't given you much trouble.”
“How,
dearest?” “In watching over me.” Then by and by he said, “I
have
made mistakes, but in all I did my object was the public good.”
Again, “I have sometimes seemed cold to my friends—but it was
not
in my heart.” He said he had enjoyed his life. I said, “I hope
you
enjoy it now.” He said, “Yes, except that I am too much
confined to
my bed.... I'm very old—I'm eighty-five.” He then talked of
his
birthday being in July. I told him it was in August, but our
wedding-day was in July, and it would be thirty-seven years
next
July since we were married. He said, “Oh, I'm so glad we've
passed
it so happily together.” I said I had not always been so good
to
him as I ought to have been. “Oh yes, you have, very good
indeed.”
At another moment he said, “I'm quite ready to go now.” Asked
him
where to? “To my grave, to my death.” He also said, “Do you see
me
sometimes placing my hands in this way?” (he was clasping them
together). “That always means devotion—that I am asking God to
be
good to me.” His voice was much broken by tears as he said
these
things.
PEMBROKE LODGE, April 20, 1878
Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone to tea. Both most cordial and kind. Mr.
Gladstone in his most agreeable mood. Eastern Question only
slightly touched. Other subjects: increase of drunkenness;
Northumberland election, which has raised his spirits, whether
Albert Grey be returned or not; Life of Prince Albert, whom he
admires heartily, but who according to him (and John) did not
understand the British Constitution. Called Stockmar a
“mischievous
old prig.” Said “Liberty is never safe,” that even in this
country
an unworthy sovereign might endanger her even now. John sent
down
to say he wished to see them. I took them to him for a few
minutes—happily he was clear in his mind—and said to Mr.
Gladstone, “I'm sorry you are not in the Ministry,” and kissed
her
affectionately, and was so cordial to both that they were
greatly
touched.
PEMBROKE LODGE, May 9, 1878
Great day. Nonconformist deputation presented address to John on
the fiftieth anniversary of Repeal of the Corporation and Test
Acts. Alas! that he could not see them. All cordial and
friendly,
and some with strikingly good countenances. Edmond Fitzmaurice
happened to call, stayed, and spoke admirably. Lord Spencer
also
called just before they came to congratulate him, but I
stupidly
did not think of asking him to stay. Those of the deputation
who
spoke did so extremely well. It was a proud and a sad day. We
had
hoped some time ago that he might perhaps see the deputation
for a
moment in his room, but he was too ill for that to be possible.
Lord Russell died on May 28, 1878, at Pembroke Lodge.
Queen Victoria to Lady Russell
BALMORAL, May 30, 1878
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—It was only yesterday afternoon I learnt
through the papers that your dear husband had left this world
of
sorrows and trials peacefully, and full of years, the night
before,
or I would have telegraphed or written sooner! You will believe
that I truly regret an old friend of forty years' standing, and
whose personal kindness in trying and anxious times I shall
ever remember. “Lord John,” as I knew him best, was one
of
my first and most distinguished Ministers, and his departure
recalls many eventful times. To you, dear Lady Russell, who
were
ever one of the most devoted of wives, this must be a terrible
blow, though you must have for some time been prepared for it.
But
one is such trials and sorrows of late years that I most truly
sympathize with you. Your dear and devoted daughter will, I
know,
be the greatest possible comfort to you, and I trust that your
grandsons will grow up to be all that you could wish.
Believe me always, yours affectionately,
V.R.I.
Mr. John Bright to Lady Russell
June 1, 1878
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—... What I particularly observed in the
public life of Lord John—you once told me you liked his former
name and title—was a moral tone, a conscientious feeling,
something higher and better than is often found in the guiding
principle of our most active statesmen, and for this I always
admired and reverenced him. His family may learn from him, his
country may and will cherish his memory. You alone can tell
what
you have lost....
Ever very sincerely yours,
JOHN BRIGHT
Lady Minto to Lady Russell
June 4, 1878
I have been thinking of you all day, and indeed through many
hours
of the night.... I rather wished to hear that the Abbey was to
have
been his resting place—but after all it matters little since
his
abiding place is in the pages of English history.... What none
could thoroughly appreciate except those who lived in his
intimacy
was the perfect simplicity which made him the most easily
amused of
men, ready to pour out his stores of anecdote to old and
young—to
discuss opinions on a level with the most humble of
interlocutors,
and take pleasure in the commonest forms of pleasantness—a
fine
day, a bright flower. Nor do I think that the outside world
understood from what depth of feeling the tears rose to his
eyes
when tales of noble conduct or any high sentiment touched some
responsive chord—nor how much “poetic fire” lay under that
calm, not cold manner.... I remember often going down to
you
when London was full of some political anger against him—when
personalities and bitterness were rife—and returning from
you with the feeling of having been in another world, so entire
was
the absence of such bitterness, so gentle and peaceful were the
impressions I carried away.
Lady Russell went with her family early in July to St. Fillans, in Perthshire, for a few months of perfect quiet among the Scotch lakes and mountains. Queen Victoria's kindness in asking her to remain at Pembroke Lodge was a great comfort to her.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, June 30, 1878
Just a word with you, my own Lotty, before leaving home. Oh the
blessing of being still able to call it home, darkened for ever
as
it is, for the multiplying memories with which it is thronged
make
it dearer as well as sadder every day of my life! Lotty, shall
I
ever believe that he has left me, quite left me, never to
return?
Will the fearful silence ever cease to startle me? Whenever I
came
in from a walk or a drive I used to know almost before I opened
his
door, by the sound of his voice, or of something,
whether
all was well with him, and now there is only that deadly
silence.
And yet, I often feel if I had but courage to go in, surely I
must find him, surely he must be waiting for me
and
wanting me. But how foolish to talk of any one form of
this
unutterable blank, which meets me at every turn, intertwined
with
everything I say or do, and taking a new shape every moment,
and
the yearning and the aching which have been my portion for four
years—the yearning for my other lost loved ones, for my dear,
dear
boys, seems more terrible than ever now that this too has come
upon
me.... I pass my husband's sitting-room window—there are the
roses
he loved so well, hanging over them in all their summer beauty,
but
he does not call me to give him one. I come in, and there on
the
walls of my room are pictures of the three, but not one of them
answers me—silence, nothing but deadly silence! I know all is
well, and I feel in my inmost heart that this last sorrow is a
blessed one, saving us from far worse, and taking him to his
rest,
and I never for a moment forget what treasures beyond price are
left to my old age still.
Lady Russell survived her husband nearly twenty years. From the time of Lord Russell's death in May, 1878, till 1890, she kept no diary, but not long before her death she wrote for her children a few recollections of some of the events during those twelve years.
In May, 1880, Lady Victoria Villiers died, leaving a widowed husband and many children. Her death was a great sorrow to Lady Russell, who wrote of her as “a perfect wife and mother.”
In the summer of 1883 her son Rollo bought a place—Dunrozel—near Haslemere, and from this time till 1891 Lady Russell spent a few months every year at Dunrozel.[96] In 1891 and 1892 she took a house on Hindhead—some miles from Haslemere—for a few months. She enjoyed and loved the beautiful wild heather country, which reminded her of Scotland, but after 1892 she felt that home was best for her, and never again left Pembroke Lodge.
[96] They named it Dunrozel after Rozel in Normandy, supposed to be the original home of the Russells.
In 1885 the marriage of her son Rollo to Miss Alice Godfrey was a great happiness to her. But in little more than a year, soon after the birth of a son, Mrs. Rollo Russell died, and again Lady Russell suffered deeply, for she always found the sorrows of her children harder to bear than her own.
To retire more and more from the world of many engagements and important affairs was easy to her, easier than it proves to many who have figured there with less distinction. Playing a prominent part in that world does not make people happy; but, as a rule, it prevents them from being contented with anything else. It was not so with her; in the days most crowded with successes and excitements her thoughts kept flying home. She had always felt that a quiet, busy family life was the one most natural to her. When she was a girl at Minto, helping to educate her younger brothers and sisters, she had written in her diary:
August 26, 1836
Chiefly unto children, O Lord, do I feel myself called; in them
I
see Thy image reflected more pure than in anything else in this
sinful though beautiful world, and in serving them my love to
Thee
increases.
Her wish was fulfilled to an unusual degree. One of a large family of brothers and sisters, she was still helping in the education of the younger ones when she married, and her marriage at once brought her the care of a young family; soon, too, children of her own; while her old age brought her the charge of successive grandchildren. During the lifetime of Lord and Lady Amberley their children often spent many months at Pembroke Lodge while their parents were abroad, and when both father and mother had died the two boys came to live with their grandparents. Ten years later her youngest son's boy was brought to her on the day of his mother's death, when he was two months old, and remained with her till her son's second marriage in 1891. The children of her stepdaughters were also loving grandchildren to her, and often came for long visits to Pembroke Lodge.
Lady Russell had sometimes thought that when days of leisure came, she would give some of her time to literary work, and write reminiscences of the many interesting men and women she had known and the stirring events she had lived through; but the unexpected and daily cares and duties which came upon her made this impossible. [97] She was one who would never neglect the living needs of those around her, and she gave her time and thoughts to the care of her grandchildren with glad and loving devotion.
[97] The only book Lady Russell published was “Family Worship”; a small volume of selections from the Bible and prayers for daily use. It was first published in 1876.
One of her greatest pleasures was to see her own ideals and enthusiasms reflected in the young; and next to the care of her family the prosperity of the village school at Petersham was perhaps nearest her heart. It grew and flourished through her devotion. In 1891 it was generously taken over by the British and Foreign School Society, but the change made no difference to her interest nor to the time she gave to it. The warm affection of the people of Petersham was a great happiness to her; after long illness and enforced absence from the village she wrote to her daughter: “You can't think what good it did me to see a village friend again.”
The feeling among the villagers may be gathered from two brief passages in letters written after her death: a gardener in Petersham alluded to her as “our much-loved friend, Countess Russell,” and another man—who had been educated at Petersham School—wrote: “She was really like a mother to many of we 'Old Scholars.'“
Lady Russell's letters will show that her interest in politics remained as keen as ever to the end; and she eagerly watched the changes which affected Ireland. To the end of her life she retained the fervour of her youthful Radicalism, and with advancing years her religious opinions became more and more broad. To her there was no infallibility in any Bible, any prophet, any Church. With an ever-deepening reverence for the life and teaching of Jesus, she yet felt that “The highest Revelation is not made by Christ, but comes directly from the Universal Mind to our minds.” [98] Her last public appearance in Richmond was at the opening of the new Free Church, on April 16, 1896, which she had joined some years before as being the community holding views nearer to her own than any other.
[98] Rev. F.W. Robertson, of Brighton. Sermons, 1st Series.
There is a side of Lady Russell's mind which her letters do not adequately represent. She was a great reader, and in her letters (written off with surprising rapidity) she does not often say much about the books she was so fond of discussing in talk. Among novelists, Sir Walter Scott was perhaps the one she read most often; Jane Austen too was a favourite; but she also much enjoyed many of the later novelists, especially Charles Dickens and George Eliot.
In poetry her taste was in some respects the taste of an earlier generation; she could not join, for instance, in the depreciation of Byron, nor could she sympathize with the unbounded admiration for Keats which she met with among the young. Milton, Cowper, Burns, Byron, and Longfellow were among those oftenest read, but Shakespeare always remained supreme, and as the years went by her wonder and admiration seemed only to grow stronger and deeper with every fresh reading of his greatest plays; and the intervals without some Shakespeare reading, either aloud or to herself, were short and rare. She had not an intimate knowledge of Shelley, but in the later years of her life she became deeply impressed by the beauty and music of his poetry, which she liked best to hear read aloud.
Tennyson she loved, and latterly also Browning, with protests against his obscurity and his occasionally most unmusical English. The inspiration of his brave and optimistic philosophy she felt strongly. She was extremely fond of reading Dante, and she was better acquainted with German and Italian poetry than most cultivated women. But though she read much and often in the works of famous writers, this did not prevent her keeping abreast with the literature of the day. She was strongly attracted by speculative books, not too technical, and by the works of theologians whose views were broad and tolerant of doubt. In 1847 she mentions reading some of Dr. Channing's writings “with the greatest delight”; and some years afterwards she wrote: “Began 'Life of Channing'; interesting in the highest degree—an echo of all those high and noble thoughts of which this earth is not yet worthy, but which I firmly believe will one day reign on it supreme.” In later years she was deeply impressed by the writings of Dr. Martineau, and read many of his books. But she was not interested in philosophical inquiry for its own sake; it was the importance of the moral and religious issues at stake in such discussions that attracted her. History and biography it was natural she should read eagerly, and it was characteristic of her to praise and condemn actions long past with an intensity such as is usually excited by contemporary events. Until a few years before her death she rose early to secure a space of time for reading and meditation before the duties of the day began. Unless ill-health could be pleaded, fiction and light reading were banished from the morning hours. She believed in strict adherence to such self-imposed sumptuary regulations, whether they applied to the body or to the pleasures of the mind.
In the course of her long life she became personally acquainted with nearly all the principal writers of the Victorian era, and some of them she knew well.
Among the earliest friends of Lord and Lady John Russell were Sydney Smith, Thomas Moore, and Macaulay. There is a note in verse written by Lady John to Samuel Rogers, which will serve at least to suggest how readily her fancy and good spirits might run into rhyme on the occasion of some family rejoicing or for a children's play.
To Mr. Rogers, who was expected to breakfast and forgot to
come
CHESHAM PLACE, 1843
When a poet a lady offends
Is it prose her forgiveness obtains?
And from Rogers can less make amends
Than the humblest and sweetest of strains?
In glad expectation our board
With roses and lilies we graced;
But alas! the bard kept not his word,
He came not for whom they were placed.
Sad and silent our toast we bespread,
At the empty chair looked we and sighed;
All insipid tea, butter, and bread,
For the salt of his wit was denied.
Now in wrath we acknowledge how well
He the “Pleasures of Memory” who drew,
For mankind from his magical shell
Gives the “Pains of Forgetfulness” too.
Rogers wrote in answer:—
CARA, CARISSIMA, CRUDELISSIMA,—If such is to be the reward for
my
transgressions, what crimes shall I not commit before I die? I
shall shoot Victoria to-day, and Louis Philippe to-morrow.
But to be serious, I am at a loss how to thank you as I ought.
How
I lament that I have hung my harp upon the willow!
Yours ever,
S.R.
In later years Thackeray and Charles Dickens were welcome guests, and the cordial friendship between Lord and Lady John and Dickens lasted till his death in 1870. Dickens said in a speech at Liverpool in 1869 that “there was no man in England whom he respected more in his public capacity, loved more in his private capacity, or from whom he had received more remarkable proofs of his honour and love of literature than Lord John Russell.”
Among poets, Tennyson and Browning were true friends; Longfellow also visited Pembroke Lodge, and impressed Lady Russell by his gentle and spiritual nature; and Lowell was one of her most agreeable guests. With Sir Henry Taylor, whose “Philip van Artevelde” she admired, the intercourse was, from her youth to old age, intimate and affectionate.
Mr. Lecky, a faithful friend, gave a picture of the society at Pembroke Lodge, which may be quoted here:
For some years after Lord Russell's retirement from ministerial life he gathered around him at Pembroke Lodge a society that could hardly be equalled—certainly not surpassed—in England. In the summer Sunday afternoons there might be seen beneath the shade of those majestic oaks nearly all that was distinguished in English politics, and much that was distinguished in English literature, and few eminent foreigners visited England without making a pilgrimage to the old statesman. [99]
[99] “Life of Lord John Russell,” by Stuart J. Reid, p. 351.
Mr. Frederic Harrison was one of Lady Russell's best friends in the last years of her life, and her keen interest in the Irish Question brought her into close and intimate intercourse with Mr. Justin McCarthy, who knew her so well in these days of busy and sequestered old age that his recollections, given in the last chapter of this volume, are valuable.
Among the men of science she knew best were Sir Richard Owen, a near neighbour in Richmond Park, Sir Joseph Hooker, and Professor Tyndall, one of the most genial and delightful of her guests.
There is a passage in Sir Henry Taylor's autobiography which speaks of her in earlier times, but it expresses an impression she made till her death on many who met her:
I have been rather social lately, ... and went to a party at Lord John Russell's, where I met the Archbishop of York.... A better meeting was with Lady Lotty Elliot, the one of the Minto Elliots who is now about the age that her elder sisters were when I first knew them some sixteen or eighteen years ago.... They are a fine set of girls and women, those Minto Elliots, full of literature and poetry and nature; and Lady John, whom I knew best in former days, is still very attractive to me; and now that she is relieved from the social toils of a First Minister's wife, I mean to renew and improve my relations with her, if she has no objection.... She is very interesting to me, as having kept herself pure from the world with a fresh and natural and not ungifted mind in the world's most crowded ways. I recollect some years ago going through the heart of the City, somewhere behind Cheapside, to have come upon a courtyard of an antique house, with grass and flowers and green trees growing as quietly as if it was the garden of a farm-house in Northumberland. Lady John reminds me of it.
The charm of her company, apart from the kindliness of her manner, lay in an immediate responsiveness to all that was going on around her, and the sense her talk and presence conveyed of a life controlled by a homely, dignified, strenuous tradition. It was the spontaneity of her sympathy which all her life long drew to her defenders, dispirited or hopeful, of struggling causes, and so many idealists, confident or resigned, shabby or admired. Any with a cause at heart, an end to aim at beyond personal ends, found in her a companion who seemed at once to understand how bitter were the checks or how important the triumphs they had met, and to them her company was a singular refreshment and inspiration, amid the polite or undisguised indifference of the world. She could listen with ardour; and if this sympathy was there for comparative strangers, still more was it at the service of those who possessed her affection. She reflected instantaneously their joys and troubles; indeed, she made both so much her own that those she loved were often tempted at first to hide their troubles from her. Such natures cannot usually disguise their emotions, and though she could conceal her own physical sufferings so as almost to mislead those with whom she lived, her feelings were plainly legible. If anything was said in her presence which pained her, her distress was visible in a moment; and as a beautiful consequence of this transparent expressiveness, her gaiety was infectious and her affection shone out upon those she loved with tenderest radiance.
* * * * *
After Lord Russell's death political events can no longer be used as a thread to connect her letters and other writings together; but the following passages, chosen over many years, will, it is hoped, give to those who never knew her some idea of her as she is remembered by those who did.
On Lady Georgiana Peel's first birthday after the death of her father Lady Russell sent her the following verses:
To GEORGY
For her Birthday, February 6, 1879.
TUNE: “Lochnagar.”
What music so early, so gently awakes me,
And why as I listen these fast falling tears;
And what is the magic that so swiftly takes me
Far back on my road, o'er the dust of dead years?
Voice of the past, in thy sweetness and sadness
Thy magic enthralling, thy beauty and power,
Oh voice of the past! in thy deep holy sadness,
I know thee and yield to thee one little hour.
Once more rings the birthday with merry young laughter,
Our bairnies once more are around us at play;
Their little hearts reck not of what may come after,
As lightly they weave the fresh flowers of to-day.
Now to thy father's loved hand gaily clinging,
To ask for the kiss he stoops fondly to gi'e;
To his care-laden spirit once more thou art bringing
The freshness of thine, bonny winsome wee Gee![100]
Thy rosy young cheek to my own thou art pressing,
Thy little arms twining around me I feel.
And thy Father in Heaven to thank for each blessing,
I see thee beside me in innocence kneel.
When the dread shadow of sickness is o'er me,
I see thee, a lassie all brightness and bloom;
Still, still through thy tears strewing blossoms before me,
Still watching beside me through silence and gloom.
* * * * *
Hushed now is the music! and hushed be my weeping
For days that return not and light that hath fled.
No more from their rest may I summon the sleeping,
Or linger to gaze on the years that are dead.
Fadeth my dream—and my day is declining,
But love lifts the gloamin' and smooths the rough way;
And I hail the bright midday o'er thee that is shining,
And think of a home that will ne'er pass away.
[100] The name she was called by in her childhood.
Early in 1879 Lady Russell began again to have more intercourse with her friends in London, and in May she went with her son and daughter to the Alexandra Hotel for a short stay in town. She writes in her Recollections:
In May (1879) we spent ten days at the Alexandra Hotel, in the
midst of many kind friends and acquaintances. It was strange to
be
once more in “the crowd, the hum, the shock of men” as of
old—and
all so changed, so solitary within.... We there first saw Mr.
Justin McCarthy—he has since become a true friend, and his
companionship and conversation are always delightful; as with
so
warm a heart and so bright an intellect they could not fail to
be.
In April, 1880, when Mr. Gladstone's candidature in Midlothian was causing the greatest excitement and enthusiasm, Lady Russell received this letter from Mrs. Gladstone.
120, GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH, April 4, 1880
MY DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—We are so much touched by your letter and
all the warmth and kindness you have shown to ourselves and
Mary
and Herbert. How can I thank you enough? I see in your letter
all
the memories of the past, and that you can throw your kind
heart
into the present moment lovingly. The old precious memories
only
make you more alive to what is going on, as you think of him
who had gone before and shown so noble an example to my
husband. No
doubt it did not escape you, words of my husband about Lord
Russell.... All here goes on splendidly; the enthusiasm
continues
to increase, and all the returns have thrown us into a wild
state
of ecstasy and thankfulness. It is, indeed, a blessing passing
all
expectations, and I look back to all the time of anxiety
beginning
with the Bulgarian horrors, all my husband's anxious hard work
of
the past three or four years—how he was ridiculed and
insulted—and now, thank God, we are seeing the extraordinary
result of the elections, and listening to the goodness and
greatness of the policy so shamefully slandered; righteous
indignation has burst forth.... I loved to hear him saying
aloud
some of the beautiful psalms of thanksgiving as his mind became
overwhelmed with gratitude and relieved with the great and good
news. Thank you again and again for your letter.
Yours affectionately,
CATHERINE GLADSTONE
Sir Mount Stuart Grant Duff [101] to Lady Russell
June 8, 1883
As to the public questions at home—alas! I can say nothing but
echo what you and some other wise people tell me. One is far
too
much out of the whole thing. I do not fear the Radical,
I
greatly fear the Radical, or crotchet-monger.... Your phrase
about
the division on the Affirmation Bill [102] rises to the dignity
of
a mot, and will be treasured by me as such. “The triumph
of
all that is worst in the name of all that is best.”
[101] At that time Governor of Madras.
[102] In the April of 1881 Gladstone gave notice of an Affirmation Bill, to enable men like Mr. Bradlaugh to become members of Parliament without taking an oath which implied a belief in a Supreme Being. But it was not till 1883 that the Bill was taken up. On April 26th Gladstone made one of his most lofty and fervid speeches in support of the Bill, which, however, was lost by a majority of three.
Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, June, 1883
... I have been regaling myself on Sydney Smith's Life and
Letters—the wisdom and the wit, the large-hearted and
wide-minded
piety, the love of God and man set forth in word and deed, and
the
unlikeness to anybody else, make it delightful
companionship.... I
long to talk of things deep and high with you, but if I once
began
I should go on and on, and “of writing of letters there would
be no
end.” That is a grand passage of Hinton's [on music]. I always
feel
that music means much more than just music, born of earth—joy
and
sorrow, agony and rapture, are so mysteriously blended in its
glorious magic.
Lady Russell's Recollections
In July, 1883, I went with Agatha to see Dunrozel for the first
time ... I was simply enchanted—it was love at first sight,
which
only deepened year after year.... We had a good many pleasant
neighbours; the Tennysons were more than pleasant, and welcomed
us
with the utmost cordiality, and we loved them all.
At that time Professor Tyndall and Louisa [103] were almost the
only inhabitants of Hindhead. They were not yet in their house,
but
till it was built and furnished lived in their “hut,” where
they
used to receive us with the most cheering, as well as cheerful,
friendliness.
[103] Mrs. Tyndall.
Lady Russell to Miss Lilian Blyth [104] [Mrs. Wilfred
Praeger]
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, November 16, 1883
Your letter is just like you, and that means all that is dear
and
good and loving.... Indeed, past years are full of happy
memories
of you all, not on marked days only, but on all days. At my
age,
however, it is better to look forward to the renewal of all
earthly
ties and all earth's best joys in an enduring home, than to
look
back to the past—to the days before the blanks were left in
the
earthly home which nothing here below can ever fill, and this
it is
my prayer and my constant endeavour to do. We go home to dear
Pembroke Lodge next Tuesday ... going there must always be a
happiness to us all, yet this lovely little Dunrozel is not a
place
to leave without many a pang.
[104] Daughter of the Rev. F.C. Blyth, for many years curate at Petersham.
Lady Russell to Miss Buehler [105]
PEMBROKE LODGE, December, 1883
... I find my head will not bear more than a certain amount of
writing without giddiness and dull headache ... and there are
so
many correspondents who must be answered; friends,
relations, business people, that I am often quite bewildered;
...
so, please, understand that I shall always write when I can,
but not nearly always when I would like to do so. Go on
letting yourself out whether sadly or happily, or in mingled
sadness and happiness, and believe how very much I like to see
into
your thoughts and your heart as much as letters can enable me
to do
so.... As for Scotland, oh! Scotland, my own, my bonny
Scotland! if
you associate that best and dearest of countries with your
present
ennui and unhappiness, I shall turn my back upon you for
good and all and give you up as a bad job! So make haste and
tell
me that you entirely separate the two things, and if you don't
admire “mine own romantic town” and feel its beauty thrill
through
and through you, you must find the cause in anything rather
than in
Edinburgh itself! Such are my commands.... In the meantime let
it
be a consolation and a support to you to remember that it is by
trials and difficulties that our characters are raised,
developed,
strengthened, made more Christ-like.... Good-bye, good-bye. God
bless you.
[105] Miss Buehler (who died some years ago) had been governess to Lady Russell's grandson Bertrand. She was Swiss, and only nineteen when she came, and Lady Russell gave her motherly care and affection.
Lady Russell to Sir Henry Taylor
February 29, 1884
I have just been reading with painful interest “Memoires d'un
Protestant condamne aux Galeres” in the days of that terribly
little great man Louis XIV. I ask myself at every page, “Did
man
really so treat his fellow-man? or is it all historical
nightmare?”
I never can make the slightest allowance for persecutors on the
ground that “they thought it right to persecute.” They had no
business so to think.
Mr. Gladstone to Lady Russell
December 14, 1884
I thank you for and return Dr. Westcott's interesting and
weighty
letter.... A very clever man, a Bampton lecturer, evidently
writing
with good and upright intention, sends me a lecture in which he
lays down the qualities he thinks necessary to make theological
study fruitful. They are courage, patience, and sympathy. He
omits
one quality, in my opinion even more important than any of
them,
and that is reverence. Without a great stock of reverence
mankind,
as I believe, will go to the bad....
During the strife and heat of the controversy on Home Rule, Lady Russell received the following letter from Mr. Gladstone:
10, DOWNING STREET, WHITEHALL,
June 10, 1886
MY DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—I am not less gratified than touched by
your
most acceptable note. It is most kind in you personally to give
me
at a critical time the assurance of your sympathy and approval.
And
I value it as a reflected indication of what would, I believe,
have
been the course, had he been still among us, of one who was the
truest disciple of Mr. Fox, and was like him ever forward in
the
cause of Ireland, a right handling of which he knew lay at the
root
of all sound and truly Imperial policy. It was the more kind of
you
to write at a time when domestic trial has been lying heavily
upon
you. Believe me,
Very sincerely yours,
W.E. GLADSTONE
Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, August 30, 1886
... Our Sunday, mine especially, was a peaceful, lovely
Sabbath—mine especially because I didn't go to any church
built
with hands, but held my silent, solitary worship in God's own
glorious temple, with no walls to limit my view, no lower roof
than
the blue heavens over my head. The lawn, the green walk, the
Sunday
bench in the triangle, each and all seemed filled with holiness
and
prayer—sadness and sorrow. Visions of more than one beautiful
past
which those spots have known and which never can return, were
there
too; but the Eternal Love was around to hallow them....
Lady Russell to Miss Buehler
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 24, 1886
MY DEAREST DORA,—I am afraid you will say that I have forgotten
you and your most loving and welcome birthday letter, but as I
know
you will not think it, I don't so very much mind. Nobody
at
seventy-one and with many still to love and leave on earth, can
hail a birthday with much gladness.... The real sadness
to
me of birthdays, and of all marked days, is in the bitterly
disappointing answer I am obliged to make to myself to the
question: “Am I nearer to God than a year ago?” ... I never
answered
your long-ago letter about your doubts and difficulties and
speculations on those subjects which are of deepest import to
us
all, yet upon which it sometimes seems that we are doomed to
work
our minds in vain—to seek, and not to find—to exult
one
moment in the fullness of bright hope and the coming fulfilment
of
our highest aspirations, and the next to grope in darkness and
say,
“Was it not a beautiful dream, and only a dream? Is it not too
good
to be true that we are the children of a loving Father who
stretches out His hands to guide us to Himself, who has spoken
to
us in a thousand ways from the beginning of the world by His
wondrous works, by the unity of creation, by the voices of our
fellow-creatures, by that voice, most inspired of all, that
life
and death most beautiful and glorious of all, which 'brought
life
and immortality to light,' and chiefly by that which we feel to
be
immortal within us—love—the beginning and end of God's
own
nature, the supreme capability which He has breathed into our
souls?” No, it is not too good to be true. Nothing
perishes—not the smallest particle of the most worthless
material
thing. Is immortality denied to the one thing most worthy of
it?
I sent you “The Utopian,” because I thought some of the little
essays would fall in with all that filled your mind, and
perhaps
help you to a spirit of hopefulness and confidence which
will come to you and abide with you, I am sure. You will
soon receive another book written by several Unitarians, of
which I
have only read very little as yet, but which seems to me full
of
strength and comfort and holiness.... Good-bye, and God bless
you.
Your ever affectionate,
F. RUSSELL
Lady Charlotte Portal to Lady Russell
January 26, 1887
DEAREST FANNY,—I wonder if you are quite easy in your
conscience,
or whatever mechanism takes the place with you of that rococo
old
article. Do you think you have behaved to me as an elder
ought?—to
me, a poor young thing, looking for and sadly requiring the
guidance of my white-headed sister? Our last communications
were at
Christmas-time—a month ago. Are you all well? Are you all
entirely
at the feet of the dear baby boy? [106] Or have your republican
principles begun to rebel against his autocratic sway? ... I
have
been amusing myself with an obscure author named William
Shakespeare, and enjoying him immensely. Amusing myself
is
not the right expression, for I have been in the tragedies
only. I
had not read “Othello” for ages. How wonderful, great, and
beautiful and painful it is (oh dear, why is it so coarse?).
Then I
also read “Lear” and “Henry VIII,” and being delightfully
ignorant
I had the great interest of reading the same period (Henry
VIII) in
Holinshed, and in finding Katharine's and Wolsey's speeches
there!
Then I have tried a little Ben Jonson and Lord Chesterfield's
letters. What a worldling, and what a destroyer of a young mind
that man was. Can you tell me how the son turned out? I cannot
find
any information about him. The language is delightful, and I
wish I
could remember any of his expressions.... Now give me a volume
of
Pembroke Lodge news in return for this. Public matters, the
fear of
war, the arming of all nations, make me sick at heart. How
wonderful and admirable the conduct of that poor friendless
little
Bulgaria has been. Then Ireland, oh me! but on that topic I
won't
write to the Home Ruler!
Your affectionate sister,
C.M.P.
[106] Arthur, son of Mr. Rollo Russell.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 27, 1887
DEAREST LOTTY,—It was but yesterday that there rose dimly to my
memory the vision of a lady with the initials—C.M.P., and who
knows how long I might have remained in the dark as to who and
what
she might be but for this letter, in which she claims me as a
sister! and moreover an elder and a wiser sister! one therefore
whose doings and not-doings, writing and not-writing, must not
be
questioned by the younger....
We have imagined ourselves living in a state of isolation from
our
fellow-creatures, but yours far exceeds ours and makes it
almost
into a life of gaiety. I'm most extremely sorry to hear of it,
though most extremely glad to hear that your minds to you a
kingdom
are. What good and wholesome and delightful food your
mind
has been living on. Isn't that Shakespeare too much of a marvel
to
have really been a man? “Othello” is indeed all you say of it,
and
more than anybody can say of it, and so are all the
great
plays. I am reading the historical ones with Bertie.... Alas,
indeed, for the coarseness! I never can understand the
objections
to Bowdlerism. It seems to me so right and natural to prune
away
what can do nobody good—what it pains eyes to look upon and
ears
to hear—and to leave all the glories and beauties
untouched....
The little Autocrat is beginning to master some of the maxims
of
Constitutional Monarchy—for instance, to find out that we do
not
always leave the room the moment he waves his hand by way of
dismissal and utters the command of “Tata.” I waste too much
time
upon him, in spite of daily resolutions to neglect him.... I
don't
at all know whether Lord Chesterfield succeeded in making his
son
like his own clever, worldly, contemptible self, but will try
to
find out. Have you read “Dean Maitland”? [107] Now,
Fanny,
do stop, you know you have many other letters to write....
Ever thine,
F.R.
[107] “The Silence of Dean Maitland,” by Maxwell Grey.
Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, SURREY, September 9 [1887]
... Your account of the Queen and her visit interested us
much....
I often wish she could ever know all my gratitude to her and
the
nation for the unspeakable blessing and happiness Pembroke
Lodge
has been, and is; joys and sorrows, hopes fulfilled, and hopes
faded and crushed, chances and changes, and memories
unnumbered,
are sacredly bound up with that dear home. Will it ever be
loved by
others as we have loved it? It seems impossible....
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, September 12, 1887
DEAREST LOTTY,—I don't think I am writing because your clock is
on
the stroke of Sixty-three, for these clocks of ours become
obtrusive, and the less they are listened to the better for our
spirits. I wonder whether it's wrong and unnatural not to
rejoice
in their rapid movements as regards myself. I often think so.
There
is so much, or rather there are so many, oh, so many! to go to
when
it has struck for the last time, and the longing and the
yearning
to be with them is so unspeakable—and yet, dear Lotty, I cling
to
those here, not less and less, but more and more, as the time
for
leaving them draws nearer. God grant you many and many another
birthday of happiness, as I trust this one is to you and your
home.... Your letter was an echo of much that we had been
saying to
one another, as we read our novel—not only does nobody, man or
even woman, see every change and know its meaning in the human
countenance, and interpret rightly the slight flush, the hidden
tremor, the shade of pallor, the faint tinge, etc.; but we
don't
think there are perceptible changes to such an extent
except
in novels.... I think a great evil of novels for girls, mingled
with great good, is the false expectation they raise that
somebody will know and understand their every thought,
look,
emotion.... How glad I am that you have a rival baby to
worship—ours is beyond all praise—oh, so comical and so
lovely in
all his little ways and words....
Your most affectionate sister,
F.R.
Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 28, 1887
... We have been having such a delightful visit from Lotty ...
we
did talk; and yet it seems as if all the talk had only
made
me wish for a great deal more. Books and babies and dress and
almsgiving and amusements and the nineteenth century, its
merits
and its faults, high things and low things, and big things and
trifles, and sense and nonsense, and everything except Home
Rule,
on which we don't agree and couldn't spare time to fight. We
did
thoroughly agree, however, as I think people of all parties
must
have done, in admiration of a lecture, or rather speech, made
at
our school by a very good and clever Mr. Wicksteed, a
Nonconformist
(I believe Unitarian) minister on Politics and Morals. The
principle on which he founded it was that politics are a branch
of
morals; accordingly he placed them on as high a level as any
other
duty of life, and spoke with withering indignation of the too
common practice, and even theory, that a little insincerity, a
little trickery, is allowable in politics, whereas it would not
be
in other matters. [108] We were all delighted.
[108] Lady Russell often quoted a saying attributed to Fox, “Nothing which is morally wrong can ever be politically right.”
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 7, 1888
“Adam Bede” was as interesting a sofa companion as you could
have
found; a very lovely book—wit and pathos almost equally good,
pathos quite the best though, to my mind. We are reading aloud
another charming book of Lowell's, “Democracy,” and other
essays in
the same volume; and I flutter about from book to book by
myself,
and have still two books of “Paradise Lost” to read, and am
wondering what is going to happen to Adam and Eve. I was very
miserable when I found she ate the forbidden fruit. She had
made
such fair promises to be good. Alas, alas! why did she break
them?
That story of the Fall, though I suppose nobody thinks it
verbally
true, is always to me most full of deep meaning, and seems to
be
the story of every mortal man and woman born into this wondrous
world.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, October 3, 1888
Agatha gone yesterday to Pembroke Lodge—Rollo gone to-day to
join
her, so my wee bairnie and I are “left by our lone,” as you
used to
say. “Einsam nein, dass bin ich nicht, denn die Geister meiner
Lieben, Sie umschweben mich.” [109] I think it's good now and
then
to let the blessed and beautiful memories of the past have
their
way and float in waking dreams before our eyes, and not be
forced
down beneath daily duties and occupations and enjoyments, till
the
pain of keeping them there becomes hard to bear. Yet, “act, act
in
the living present” is very, very much the rightest thing;
though I
don't think I quite like the past to be called the dead
past, when it is so fearfully full of keenest life.
[109] “Lonely—no, that am I not, for the spirits of my loved ones, they hover around me.”
Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, SURREY, October 8, 1888
... We have had Rollo's old Oxford friend, Dr. Drewitt, here for
two nights—the very cheerfulest of guests. He is head of the
Victoria Hospital for Children, and what with keen interest in
his
profession, and intense love of nature, animate and inanimate,
I
don't think he would know how to be bored. Hard-worked men have
far
the best of it here below, although we are accustomed to look
upon
“men of leisure” as those to be envied; but how seldom one
finds a
man or woman, who lives a life in earnest, and who has eyes to
see
and observe, taking a gloomy view of human nature and its
destinies. I wonder what you have been reading? I have taken up
lately that delightful book, Lockhart's “Life of Sir Walter
Scott,”
and dipping into many besides.... Some of our pleasantest
neighbours have paid us good-bye visits; Frederic Harrisons,
and
the charming and wonderful old Miss Swanwick [110]....
[110] Miss Anna Swanwick.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 13, 1889
How could you, could you, could you think that my mental vow not
to
write on the all-absorbing political catastrophe was because I
sing
“God save, Ireland” in one sense, and you in another! The vow
was
made because if once the flood-gates of my eloquence are let
loose
on that subject, there is a danger that the stream will
Tennysonially “go on for ever.” It is, however, a vow made to
be
broken from time to time, when I allow a little ripple to flow
a
little way and make a little noise, and then return to the
usual
attitude towards non-sympathizers; and, like David, keep
silence
and refrain even from good words, though it is pain and grief
to
me, and my heart is hot within me. I am speaking of the mere
acquaintance non-sympathizers, or those known to be too bitter
to
bear difference of opinion; but don't be afraid, or do be
afraid,
as you may put it, and be prepared for total removal of the
flood-gates when you come. Don't you often feel yourself
in
David's trying condition, knowing that your words would be very
good, yet had better not be spoken? I don't like it at all.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
DUNROZEL, September 4, 1889
DEAREST LOTTY,—It was nice to hear from you from Minto. What a
strange sensation it always gives me to write or to hear that
word
of Minto. [111] I am sure you know it too—impossible to
define, but like something beautiful and holy, not belonging to
this world. I like to hope that such memories have been stored
up
by the younger spirits who have succeeded us, while “children
not
hers have trod our nursery floor.” But in this restless,
fly-about
age can they ever be quite the same? ... I see that luckily I
have
no room to go on about lovely, lovable, sorrowful Ireland.
Alas!
that England has ever had anything to do with her; but better
times
are coming, and she will be understood by her conquerors at
last,
and be the better for them. Hush! Fanny, no more; even that is
too
much. God bless thee.
Ever thine,
F.R.
[111] Lady Russell had written in 1857 to her father about Minto: “I can well imagine the loveliness of that loveliest and dearest of places. There is now to us all a holy beauty in every tree and flower, in rock and river and hill that ought to do us good.” Later, in a letter to her sister, Lady Elizabeth Romilly, she writes of “the Minto of old days, that happiest and most perfect home that children ever had.”
In 1889 the “Life of Lord John Russell” by Mr. Spencer Walpole, was published.
Mr. Gladstone to Lady Russell
HAWARDEN CASTLE, CHESTER, October 30, 1889
MY DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—The week which has elapsed since I
received
from Mr. Walpole's kindness a copy of his biography has been
with
me a busy one; but I have now completed a careful perusal of
the
first volume. I cannot help writing to congratulate you on its
appearance. It presents a beautiful and a noble picture. Having
so
long admired and loved your husband (and the political
characters
which attract love are not very numerous), I now, with the
fuller
knowledge of an early period which this volume gives me, both
admire and love him more. Your own personal share in the
delineation is enviable. And the biographer more than
vindicates
the wisdom of your choice; his work is capital, but it could
not
have been achieved except with material of the first order. O
for
his aid in the present struggle, which, however, is proceeding
to
our heart's content. Believe me always most sincerely
yours,
W.E. GLADSTONE
A little later Mr. Gladstone sent Lady Russell a proof copy of an article by him on the Melbourne Ministry, [112] from which the following passages are here quoted:
... He [Lord John Russell] brought into public life, and he
carried
through it unimpaired, the qualities which ennoble
manhood—truth,
justice, fortitude, self-denial, a fund of genuine indignation
against wrong, and an inexhaustible sympathy with human
suffering.... With a slender store of physical power, his life
was
a daily assertion of the superiority of the spirit to the
flesh.
With the warmest domestic affections, and the keen
susceptibilities
of sufferings they entail, he never failed to rally under
sorrow to
the call of public duty. There were no bounds to the prowess or
the
fellow-feeling with which he would fling himself into the
breach on
behalf of a belaboured colleague; ... in 1852 an attack upon
Lord
Clarendon's conduct as Viceroy of Ireland stirred all the
depths of
his nature, and he replied in a series of the noblest fighting
passages which I have ever heard spoken in Parliament ... At
the
head of all these qualities stands the moral element. I do not
recollect or know the time in our own history when the two
great
parties in the House of Commons have been led by men who so
truly
and so largely as Lord John Russell and Sir Robert Peel
identified
political with personal morality. W.E. GLADSTONE
[112] Nineteenth Century, January, 1890.
Lady Charlotte Portal to Lady Russell, after reading Mr.
Walpole's “Life of Lord John Russell” December 26, 1889
... I long that every one should know as we do what the
extraordinary beauty of that daily life was. I always think it
was
the most perfect man's life that I ever knew of; and that could
better bear the full flood of light than any other.
In January, 1890, after nearly twelve years' break in her diary, Lady Russell began writing again a few words of daily record. On the 6th she mentions a “most agreeable” visit from Mr. Froude; the same day she received Mr. Justin McCarthy to dinner, and adds that the talk was “more Shakespeare than Ireland.”
Lady Russell to Mr. Justin McCarthy [113]
November 19, 1890
DEAR MR. MCCARTHY,—I hardly know why I write to you, but this
terrible sin and terrible verdict make us very, very unhappy,
and
we think constantly of you, who have been among his closest
friends, and of all who have trusted him and refused to believe
in
the charge against him. You must, I know, be feeling all the
keenness and bitterness of sorrow in the moral downfall of a
man
whose claims to the gratitude and admiration of his country in
his
public career nothing can cancel. It is also much to be feared
that
the great cause will suffer, at least in England, if he retains
the
leadership. It ought not, of course; but where enthusiasm and
even
respect for the leader can no longer be felt, there is danger
of
diminution of zeal for the cause. Were he to take the
honourable
course, which alone would show a sense of shame—that of
resignation—his political enemies would be silenced, and his
friends would feel that although reparation for the past is
impossible, he has not been blinded by long continuance in
deception and sin to his own unworthiness, and to the fact that
his
word can no longer be trusted as it has been, and as that of a
leader ought to be. I dare not think of what his own state of
mind
must be; it makes me so miserable—the unlimited trust of a
nation
not only in his political but in his moral worth must be like a
dagger in his heart. Were he to retire, the recollection of the
great qualities he has shown would revive, and the proof of
remorse
given by his retirement would draw a veil over his guilt, and
the
charity, which we all need, would not be withheld from him. I
know
that numerous instances can be given of men in the highest
positions who have retained them without opposition in spite of
lives tainted with similar sin; but this has not been without
evil
to the nation, and I think there is a stronger sense now than
there
used to be of the value of high private character in public
men, in
spite of a great deal of remaining Pharisaism in the difference
of
the measure of condemnation meted out to different men. I think
too
that the unusual and most painful amount of low deception in
this
case will be felt, even more than the sin itself, by the
English
people. Pray forgive me, dear Mr. McCarthy, for writing on this
sad
topic; but I have got into the habit of writing and speaking
freely
to you, even when it can, as now, do no earthly good to
anybody.
There is one consolation in the thought that should he retire
Ireland is not wanting in the best and highest to succeed him.
Pray
do not write if you prefer not, though I long to hear from you,
or
still better see you.
Yours most sincerely,
F. RUSSELL
[113] Written after the Parnell O'Shea divorce case.
Lady Russell to Mr. Justin McCarthy
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 22, 1890
DEAR MR. MCCARTHY,—I cannot rest without telling you how very
sorry I shall be if my letter gave you one moment's pain. I
knew
how close and true a friend you were of Mr. Parnell, and how
unchanging your friendship would be; but I did not know which
course that unchanging friendship would lead you to take. Not a
doubt can ever cross our minds of the patriotism which has
dictated
your action and that of your Irish colleagues. Do not allow any
doubt to cross yours or theirs, that it is the intensity of
love
for the great cause which led many in England to wish for a
different decision. Nothing would be more terrible, more fatal,
than any coldness between the friends of Ireland on the two
sides
of the Channel. May God avert such a misfortune, and whatever
happens, believe me always most sincerely yours,
F. RUSSELL
Mr. Justin McCarthy to Lady Russell
November 24, 1890
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—I ought to have answered your kind letter
before, for I value your sympathy more—much more—than I can
tell
you in words. I am afraid the prospect is dark for the present.
Mr.
Gladstone sent for me to-day and I had some talk with him. He
was
full of generous consideration and kindness, but he thinks
there
will be a catastrophe for the cause if Parnell does not retire.
The
Irish members cannot and would not throw over
Parnell, but he may even yet decide upon retiring. All depends
on
to-morrow, and we have not seen him. I have the utmost faith in
his
singleness of public purpose and his judgment and policy, but
it is
a terrible crisis.
With kindest regards, very truly yours,
JUSTIN MCCARTHY
Lady Russell to Mrs. Warburton
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 23, 1890
MY DEAREST ISABEL,—... Yes, dearie, it was a delightful
visit, leaving delightful memories of all kinds; chats gay and
grave trots long and short, drives, duets—will they ever come
again? I am very glad this heart-breaking Irish thunderclap did
not
fall while you were here. It makes us so unhappy. Poor Ireland!
her
hopes are always dashed when about to be fulfilled. Nothing can
palliate the fearful sin and almost more fearful course of
miserable deception; but he might, by taking the one right and
honourable course of resigning his leadership—if only for a
time—at least have given a proof of shame, and have saved
England
and Ireland from the terrible pain of discussion and
disagreement,
and from the danger to Home Rule which his retention of the
post
must cause. His Parliamentary colleagues have done immense harm
by
their loud protestations in his favour. There is much to excuse
them, but not him, for this course. Our poor Davitt is
miserable,
and is braving a storm of unpopularity by writing strongly
against
his (Parnell's) retention of the leadership. His whole thought
is
for Ireland, and he knows that his advice is that of a true
friend
to her—as well as to the wretched man himself....
Your ever affectionate,
MAMA
Mr. Michael Davitt had taken a house in Richmond, and was living there at this time. Some years earlier Lady Russell had read his “Prison Diary,” and had written the following poem. She did not know him at that time.
Written after reading Michael Davitt's “Leaves from a Prison Diary”
DUNROZEL, September, 1887
Man's justice is not Thine, O God, his scales
Uneven hang, while he with padlocked heart
Some glittering shred of human tinsel sees
Outweigh the pure bright gold of noblest souls,
Who from the mists of earth their eyes uplift
And seek to read Thy message in the stars.
Thou hearest, Lord, beneath the felon's garb
The lonely throbbing of no felon's heart,
The cry of agony—the prayer of love
By agony unconquered—love, heaven-born,
That fills with holy light the joyless cell,
As with the daybreak of his prayer fulfilled,
The glorious dawn of brotherhood for man,
And freedom to the sorrowing land that bore him,
For whose dear sake he smiles upon his chains.
Thou gatherest, Lord, his bitter nightly tears
For home, for face beloved and trusted hand,
For the green earth, the freshly blowing breeze,
The heaven of Liberty, all, all shut out.
His vanished dreams, his withered hopes Thou knowest,
The baffled yearnings of his heart to snatch
From paths unhallowed childhood's tottering feet,
And lay a rosy smile on little lips
With homeless hunger pale, to curses trained,
Whereon no kiss hath left a memory sweet.
His chainless spirit, bruised by prison bars,
Wounded by touch of fellow-men in whom
Thy image lost he vainly sought, Thou seest
Unsullied still, lord of its own domain,
Soar in its own blue sky of faith and hope.
Such have there been and such there yet will be,
From whom the world's hard eye is turned in scorn,
But still for each a nation's tears will fall,
A nation's heart will be his earthly haven,
And when no earthly stay he needeth more,
Will he not, Father, feel Thy love enfold him,
And hear Thy voice, “Servant of God, well done.”
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 26, 1890
Alas! alas! the last fortnight has indeed been one of darkness
and
sorrow over the country; railway and ocean horrors breaking
many
hundreds of hearts, disgrace to England in Africa, disgrace to
a
trusted leader dashing down the hopes of Ireland and bringing
back
disunion between the two nations. We made ourselves miserable
over
last night's news of the determination of his parliamentary
followers to stand by him, and his acceptance of their
re-election.
Poor old Gladstone! I am sure you must admire his letter to Mr.
Morley. To-day we are told to have a little hope that it may
have
influence in the right direction, but we hardly feel any. We
heartily agree with every word you say on this most painful
matter.
The one consolation is to see such an increase of opinion that
a
leader must be a man of high private, as well as public,
character.
How often I have deplored the absence of any such opinion!
Lady Russell to Mr. Justin McCarthy
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 27, 1890
DEAR MR. MCCARTHY,—Your most kind letter was a relief to me as
regarded the spirit in which you had taken what I wrote, but
also
made us very, very sad, and nothing that we have heard or read
in
newspapers since has given more than a mere ray of hope. And
why
should this be? Surely the path of honour and duty is plain. It
cannot be taken without pain; but such moments as this are the
test
of greatness in men and nations. Gratitude untold is due to Mr.
Parnell. Those who have been his friends will not withdraw
their
friendship; but surely that very friendship ought to resolve
that
the vast good he has done in the past should not be undone for
the
future, to his own eternal discredit, by encouragement to him
to
retain the leadership. Surely the claims of your country stand
first; and is not the impending breach between English and
Irish
Home Rulers a misfortune to both countries, too terrible to be
calmly faced? Already there is a tone in the Freeman's Journal
which I could not have believed would be adopted towards men
like
Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Morley, who have identified themselves
heart
and soul with Ireland. Of course, they are far above being
turned
for a moment from their course by any such comments, but it
must be
a pain to them nevertheless. It almost seems aberration of mind
in
Mr. Parnell to be deaf to Mr. Gladstone's words of true
patriotism,
echoed as they are throughout England and Scotland, and I
cannot
but believe in thousands of Irish hearts besides. Surely this
must
have gone far to convince his friends that they would be more
than
justified in convincing him that retirement for awhile is his
duty,
or, if they cannot convince him, in acting upon their own
convictions, if these are such as I hope. Indignation against
the
terrible revelations of his guilt has driven some English
newspapers into language deeply to be deplored; but on the
whole
the feeling, as shown in speeches and in the Press, has been
healthy and just. Sir Charles Russell's words struck us as
among
the very best. It is the deepest and highest love for Ireland
that
makes men speak and write as they do.
Dear Mr. McCarthy, I think you can do much, and I know how firm,
as
well as how gentle, it is your nature to be. Save us all, for
God's
sake, from the dreaded disunion and the ruin of the cause. Do
not
let England and Ireland be again looked upon as separated in
their
hopes, interests, aspirations. May Mr. Dillon and Mr. O'Brien
help
to the good work; but too much can hardly depend on men at a
distance, excellent and patriotic as they are.
Good-bye, dear Mr. McCarthy. May God guide and unite our two
countries on the road of justice and truth and happiness. Pray,
pray forgive me once more for writing.
Ever most sincerely yours,
F. RUSSELL
In 1891 Mr. Rollo Russell married Miss Gertrude Joachim, niece of the great violinist, Dr. Joachim, and Lady Russell found new joy in his happiness.
Queen Victoria to Lady Russell
January 1, 1891
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,—You are indeed right in thinking that I
should
always take an interest in anything that concerned you and your
family, and I rejoice to hear that your son is going to make a
marriage which gives you pleasure, and trust it may conduce to
your
comfort as well as to his happiness. It is a long time since I
have
had the pleasure of seeing you, dear Lady Russell, and I trust
that
some day this may be possible. Past days can never be
forgotten—indeed, one loves to dwell on them, though the
thought
is mingled with sadness. Pray remember me to Agatha, and
believe me
always,
Yours affectionately,
V.R.I.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 14, 1892
... Most truly do you say that, while we can shelter ourselves
from
the demands that assail our physical being, no defence has been
found against the bitter blasts which batter against our mental
and
spiritual structure—no defence, only endurance, in hope
and
faith and endeavour after Marcus Aurelius's “Equanimitas,” and
the
knowledge that the higher man's mental and moral capacity the
greater is his capacity for suffering.... And nobody has shown
more
than you do in “Psalms of the West” that sorrow is not
all sorrow, but has a heavenly sacredness that gives
strength to bear its burden “in quietness and confidence” to
the
end. How entirely I feel with you that this has been a glorious
century. Not all the evil and the misery and the vice and the
meanness and pettinesses which abound on every side, as we look
around, can blind me to the blessed truth that the eyes of
mankind
have been opening to see and to deplore these things, and to
give
their lives to the study of their causes, and the discovery and
practice of means to put an end to them. The wonderful
intellectual
strides, which my long life enables me not only to be aware of,
but
to remember as they have one by one been made, are in close
connection with this moral and religious development; and all
these
together will, I believe, raise the education of the people
(already so far above the standard of fifty, much more of a
hundred
years ago) to something of the kind to which you look
forward—“more high, more wide, more various, more poetic, more
inspiring, more full of principles and less full of facts ”—a
consummation devoutly to be wished.
PEMBROKE LODGE, June 22, 1892
Day of much weakness. The sense of failing increases rapidly.
May
the short time that remains to me make me less unfit to meet my
God. Oh, that I could begin life again! How different it would
be
from what has been. I have had everything to help me upward;
joys
and sorrows, encouragement and disappointment, the love and
example
of my dearest husband and children in our daily companionship
and
communion, the never-failing and precious affection and help of
brothers, sisters, and friends—and yet my life seems all a
failure
when I think what it might have been.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
THE GRANGE, HINDHEAD, HASLEMERE, July 20, 1892
Yes, elections are hard tests of character, and there are too,
too
many excellent people on both sides who are led on to say hard,
unjust, untrue things of their opponents.... But there is
another side to elections—a grand and noble one—which makes
me
feel to my inmost soul the greatness and the blessed freedom of
this dear old country, and always brings to my mind what John
used
to say with something of a boy's enthusiasm, “I love a
contested election.”
THE GRANGE, HINDHEAD, October 6, 1892
Tennyson died about one o'clock a.m. A great and good light
extinguished.
October 7th
Agatha and I early to Aldworth. Went in by Hallam's wish to the
room where he lay. I dread and shrink from the sight of death,
and
wish to keep the recollection of the life I have known and
loved
undisturbed by its soulless image. But in this case I rejoice
to
have seen on that noble face the perfect peace which of late
years
was wanting—it was really “the rapture of repose.” A volume of
Shakespeare which he had asked for, and the leaves of which he
had
turned over yesterday, I believe to find “Cymbeline,” at which
place it was open, lay on the bed. His hands were crossed on
his
breast, beautiful autumn leaves lay strewn around him on the
coverlet, and white flowers at the foot of the bed.
Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 2, 1892
Oh, Lotty, how is it that, standing as I am on the very brink of
the known, with the unknown about to sweep me into its depths,
how
is it that there is still such intense interest in the course
of
this wondrous world, in all the problems now floating about
unsolved, in all the social, moral, political work going on
around
us. It is true that these things are of eternal moment, and
therefore links between earth and heaven. Yet it often seems to
me
foolish to care about them very much when the solution of all
enigmas is so near at hand.
Lady Russell to Mrs. Rollo Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 17, 1893
... The chief Pembroke Lodge event since I wrote is that I went
on
Monday to Windsor Castle to luncheon; after which morning meal
with
the household, almost all strangers to me, I saw the Queen
alone
and had a good long and most easy and pleasant conversation
with
her. She was as cordial as possible, and I am very glad
to
have seen her again; although there was much sadness mingled
with
the gladness in a meeting after a period of many, many years,
which
had brought their full number of changes to me—and some to
her.
Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, RICHMOND, SURREY, July 7, 1893
I feel intensely all you say about laying aside, if it were
possible, one's own personality and seeing the silent growth of
all
truth and goodness, without the disturbance of names and
parties;
but the world being as it is for the present, we can only keep
our
minds fixed on the good and the true, with whomsoever and with
whatsoever party we may find it, and follow it with honest
conviction. If I could, I would put an end to Party Government
to-morrow, and my great wish for M.P.'s is that each one
should,
upon each subject, vote exactly according to his opinion, and
no
Ministry be turned out except upon a vote of want of
confidence. I
honour and love Mr. Gladstone, and while ardently sympathetic
with
him on Home Rule and all other Liberal measures, I am no less
antipathetic on Church matters. Happily, however, they have
become
with him matters chiefly of personal attachment to Anglicanism,
and
no longer (I believe) likely to affect his legislation.
“Gladstonian” is a word he does not admit, nor do those of whom
it
is used.
July 9, 1893.—Well, to go on with our politics: “a new
policy” Home Rule undoubtedly is, a new departure from the
“tradition” of any English party; but not a departure
from
Liberal principles, only a new application of old ones, and I
think
it is a pity to speak of it as being against Liberal
principles,
for is there anybody of average intelligence who would not have
predicted that if it should ever be adopted by any party it
would
be by the Liberals? Exactly the same thing was said about
Turkey:
the Whig tradition was to support her, Liberals were forsaking
their principles by taking part with Bulgaria against her. It
is
the proud distinction of Liberals to grow perpetually,
and
to march on with eyes open, and to discover, as they are pretty
sure to do, that they have not always in the past been true to
their principles. There is no case exactly parallel with that
of
Ireland; but there are some in great measure analogous, and it
is
the Liberals who have listened to the voice of other countries,
some of them our own dependencies, in their national
aspirations or
their desire for Parliaments of their own, expressed by
Constitutional majorities. I admire the Unionists for standing
by
their own convictions with regard to Home Rule, and always have
done so; but I cannot call it “devotion to the Union and to
Liberal principles,” and I am not aware of there being a single
Home Ruler not a Liberal. The Unionists, especially those in
Parliament, have been, and are, in a very dangerous position,
and
have yielded too readily to the temptation of a sudden
transference
of party loyalty upon almost every question from Liberal to
Tory
leaders. But for those, whether in or out of Parliament, who
have
remained Liberals—and I know several such—I don't see why,
after
Home Rule is carried, they should not be once more merged in
the
great body of Liberals, and have their chances, like others, of
being chosen to serve their country in Parliament and in
office....
I am reading a book by Grant Allen, “Science in Arcady.” ... He
brings wit and originality into these essays on plants, lakes,
spiders, etc.
Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, September 22, 1893
... With regard to the modern attraction of ugly subjects
(not when the wish to remedy gross evils makes it a duty
to
study and live among them; but as common talk between young men
and
young women), I feel very strongly that the contemplation of
God,
and all that is God-like in the souls that He has created, is
our
best safeguard against evil, and that the contemplation of the
spirit of evil, and all the hideous variety of its works,
gradually
taints us and weakens our powers of resistance.
Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 21, 1893
... I entirely agree with you, that poetry and music “teach us
of
the things that are unseen” as nothing else can do. Music
especially, which is an unseen thing, not the product of man at
all, but found from man as a gift from God's own hand. I don't
know
what at some periods of my life I should have done without
these
blessed sympathizers and outlets and uplifting friends.
Lady Russell to Mrs. Drummond
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 16, 1893
Your long interesting letter is most welcome. You are very good
and
brave to do so much for the good of others, while suffering
yourself. How much harder it is to bear patiently, and
keep
up sympathy and fellow-feeling within us in spite of illness,
than
to do any amount of active work while in health. I always find
my
highest examples in those who know how to “suffer and be
strong,”
because it is my own greatest difficulty.
Oh, my dear child, what opinions can poor I give on the
almost insoluble problems you put before me? I wish I knew of
any
book or any man or woman who could tell me whether a Poor Law,
even
the very best, is on the whole a blessing or a curse, and how
the
“unemployed” can be chosen out for work of any useful or
productive
kind without injury to others equally deserving, and what are
the
just limits of State interference with personal liberty. The
House
of Lords puzzles me less. I would simply declare it, by Act of
the
House of Commons, injurious to the best interests of the nation
and
for ever dissolved. Then it may either show its attachment to
the
Constitution by giving its assent to its own annihilation, or
oblige us to break through the worn-out Constitution and
declare
their assent unnecessary. It is beyond all bearing that one
great
measure after another should be delayed, or mutilated, year
after
year, by such a body, and I chafe and fret inwardly to a
painful
degree. Oh for a long talk with you! I will not despair of
going to
you, “gin I be spared” till the days are reasonably long.
Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 10, 1894
... Alas! for our dear Oliver Wendell Holmes! He has left the
world
much the poorer by his death, but much the richer by his life
and
works.... Lord Grey gone too, and with him what recollections
of my
young days, before and after marriage, when he and Lady Grey
and we
were very much together. We loved them both. He was a very
trying
political colleague to your father and others, but a very
faithful
friend. The longer I live the more firmly I am convinced that
in
most cases to know people well is to like them—to forget their
faults in their merits. But no doubt it is delightful to have
no
faults to forget.
PEMBROKE LODGE, March 3, 1894
Touching accounts of meeting of the Cabinet—the last with dear
noble old Gladstone as Minister. Tears in the eyes of his
colleagues. He made his last speech as Minister in the House of
Commons, a grand and stirring one.
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 23, 1895
Finished “Erasmus” a few days ago—a great intellect, much wit,
clear insight into the religion “falsely so-called” of monks
and
clergy, but a soul not great enough to utter his convictions
aloud
in the face of danger, or to perceive that conciliation
beginning
by hypocrisy must end in worse strife and bitterness. He saw
the
evil of the new dogmas and creeds introduced by Luther, of
any new creed the rejection of which was penal, but he
did
not or would not see the similar evil of the legally enforced
old
creeds and dogmas.
PEMBROKE LODGE, May 15, 1895
Armenian refugees here to tea—a husband and wife whose baby
she had seen murdered by Turkish soldiers, and a
friend who is uncertain whether his wife is alive or
murdered—these three in native dress; hers very picturesque,
and
she herself beautiful. The three refugees, all of whom had been
eye-witnesses of massacres of relations, looked intensely sad.
She
gave an account of some of the hardships they had suffered, but
neither they nor we could have borne details of the atrocities.
What they chiefly wished to express, and did express, was deep
gratitude for the sympathy of our country, veneration for the
memory of John as a friend of the Christian subjects of the
Sultan,
and thanks to ourselves.... They kissed our hands repeatedly,
and
the expression of their countenances as they looked at us,
though
without words, was very touching.
PEMBROKE LODGE, February 24, 1896
Visit from Mr. Voysey, earnest, interesting, and pathetic in
accounts of Whitechapel experiences. His Theism fills him with
the
joy of unbounded faith in a perfect God; but his keen sense of
the
evil done by the worship of Jesus as another and equal God
leads
him to a painful blindness to that divine character and
teaching.
PEMBROKE LODGE, August 5, 1897
Sinclair [115] has been reading a great deal to me since my
illness
began. Miss Austen's “Emma,” which kept its high ground with me
although I had read it too often to find much novelty in the
marvellous humour and reality of the characters. Then “Scenes
of
Clerical Life” ... the contrast between the minds and the
brain-work of Jane Austen and George Eliot very striking. Jane
Austen all ease and spontaneousness and simplicity, George
Eliot
wonderful in strength and passion, and fond of probing the
depths
of human anguish, but often ponderous in long-drawn philosophy
and
metaphysics, and with a tediously cynical and flippant tone
underlying her portraits of human beings—and a wearisome
lingering
over uninteresting details. Her defects are, I think, far more
prominent in this than in her best later books.
[115] “While in Norfolk Street (in 1882) engaged Sinclair, my good and faithful Sinclair, as maid and housekeeper” (Recollections). She remained with Lady Russell till her death, and served her with devotion to the end.
In the summer of 1897 she had a severe illness, from which, as the following letter shows, she partially recovered.
Mrs. Warburton to Lady Agatha Russell
PEMBROKE LODGE, October 11, 1897
You can't imagine, or rather you can, what a happiness it is to
be
able to record a perfect drive round the Park again with Mama
this
most beautiful day, she enjoying it as of yore, and as full of
pleasure and observation as I ever remember. In short, it is
quite
difficult to me to realize how ill she has been since I saw her
in
June. She seems and looks so well. She is a marvellous person,
so
young and fresh in all her interests, sight and hearing
betraying
so little sign of change. She says she is out of practice, and
her
playing is not as easy or as vigorous as it was, I
thought;
but how few people of her age would return to it at all after
such
a long illness. (There are the sounds of music overhead as I
sit
here in the drawing-room—how she enjoys it!) ... About the
reading—Dr. Gardiner [116] was against her being prevented
from a
little—she enjoys it so much. Sinclair reading to her is a
great
comfort.
[116] Medical attendant and valued friend for over twelve years, partner to Dr. Anderson, of Richmond, with whom he attended Lady Russell till her death.
PEMBROKE LODGE, November 15, 1897
Eighty-two this day. God be praised for all he has given to
brighten my old age. God be praised that I am still able to
love,
to think, to rejoice, and to mourn with those dear to me. But
the
burden of wasted years of a long life, in which I see failure
on
every side, is weighty and painful, and can never be lightened.
I
can only pray that the few steps left to me to take may be on a
holier path—the narrow path that leads to God. My own
blessings
only brought more vividly to my mind the masses of toiling,
struggling, poverty-stricken fellow-creatures, from whom the
pressure of want shuts out the light of life.
My Agatha well, weather beautiful, and seventy very happy boys
and
girls from the school to see a ventriloquist and his acting
dolls
(drawing-room cleared for the occasion). The children's bursts
and
shouts of laughter delightful to hear.
Lady Russell was wonderfully well that day—her last birthday on earth—and joined in the fun and laughter as heartily as any of the children. Old age had not lessened her keen enjoyment of humour, nor dimmed the brightness of her brave spirit.
PEMBROKE LODGE, December 11, 1897
A beautiful day for old scholars' meeting. Ninety-four came, a
larger number than ever before; table spread in drawing-room
and
bow-room. Not able to go down to see them, but all went well
and
merrily. I was able to get to my sitting-room in the afternoon,
and
all came up to me by turns for a hand-shake. It was pleasant to
see
so many kindly, happy faces.
PEMBROKE LODGE, January 1, 1898
What will 1898 bring of joy or sorrow, good or evil, life or
death,
to our home, our country, the world? May we be ready for all,
whatever it may be.
Six days later she was attacked by influenza, which turned to bronchitis, and very soon she became seriously ill. There was for one day a slight hope that she might recover, but the rally was only temporary, and soon it was certain that death was near.
The last book that her daughter had been reading to her was the “Life of Tennyson,” by his son, which she very much enjoyed. She begged her daughter to go on reading it to her in the last days of her life, and her keen interest in it was wonderful, even when she was too ill to listen to more than a few sentences at a time.
For some years Lady Russell had found great amusement and delight in the visits of a little wild squirrel—squirrels abounded among the old trees at Pembroke Lodge—which gradually became more and more tame and friendly. It used to climb up to her windows by a lilac-bush or a climbing rose-tree and look brightly in at her while enjoying the nuts she gave it on the window-sill. Before long it became very venturesome, and would enter the room daily and frisk about, or sit on her writing-table or on the tea-table in perfect content, taking food from her hand. On the last day of her life the doctor [117] was sitting by her bedside when suddenly he noticed the beautiful little squirrel bounding in at her window. It was only a few hours before she died, but her face lighted up at once, and she welcomed her faithful little friend, for the last time, with her brightest smile.
[117] Dr. Anderson, who had been for nearly thirty years a true and devoted friend.
During her illness she had spoken confidently of recovery, but the night before her death she realized quite clearly that the end was near. Her son and daughter were with her; and just before she sank into a last sleep she spoke, in a firm clear voice, words of love and faith. Her mind had remained unclouded, and her end was as calm and peaceful as those who loved her could have wished. She died on January 17, 1898.
The immense number of letters received by Lady Russell's son and daughter, from men and women of all classes and creeds, bore striking testimony to the widespread and reverent devotion felt for her memory. Only very few selections will be given here. The first letter—written on the day of her death—is from Mr. Farrington, the respected minister of the Richmond Free Church, who had known Lady Russell intimately for many years.
Rev. Silas Farrington to Lady Agatha Russell
January 17, 1898
To me your mother has become more and more an inspiration—a
kind
of tower of cheerful courage and strength. By her steadfast
mental
and moral bravery, by the sunshine she has been beneath the
heavy
clouds that have been sweeping over her, she has made one
ashamed
of the small things that troubled him and rebuked his petty
discontent and repining. No one can ever be told how much I
both
have honoured and loved her for the very greatness of her noble
spirit.
Rev. Stopford A. Brooke to Lady Agatha Russell
January 18, 1898
How little I thought when I saw Lady Russell last [118] that I
should see her no more! She looked so full of life, and her
interest in all things was so keen and eager that I never for a
moment thought her old or linked to her lite the imagination of
death. It is a sore loss to lose one so fresh, so alive, so
ardent
in all good and beautiful things, and it must leave you in a
great
loneliness.... How well, how nobly she lived her life! It
shames us
to think of all she did, and yet it kindles us so much that we
lose
our shame in its inspiration.
[118] On October 31, 1897.
Mr. Frederic Harrison to Lady Agatha Russell
February 16, 1898
...The news of the great sorrow which has fallen on you came
upon
my wife and myself as a dreadful surprise.... Over and over
again I
tried to say to the world outside all that I felt of the noble
nature and the grand life of your mother, but every time I
tried my
pen fell from my hand. I was too sad to think or write; full
only
of the sense of the friend whom I had lost, and of the great
example she has left to our generation. She has fulfilled her
mission on earth, and all those who have known her—and they
are
very many—will all their lives be sustained by the memory of
her
courage, dignity, and truth. She had so much of the character
of
the Roman matron—a type we know so little nowadays—who, being
perfect in all the beauty of domestic life, yet even more
conspicuously raised the public life of her time. I shall
never,
while I have life, forget the occasions this last summer and
autumn
when I had been able to see more of her than ever before, and
especially that last hour I spent with her, when you were away
at
Weston, the memory of which now comes back to me like a
death-bed
parting. To have known her was to ride above the wretched party
politics to which our age is condemned. I cannot bear to think
of
all that this bereavement means to you. It must be, and will
remain, irreparable.
Mr. James Bryce [119] to Lady Agatha Russell
March 10, 1898
Your mother always seemed to me one of the most noble and
beautiful
characters I had ever known—there was in her so much
gentleness,
so much firmness, so much earnestness, so ardent a love for all
high things and all the best causes. One always came away from
seeing her struck afresh by these charms of nature, and feeling
the
better for having seen how old age had in no way lessened her
interest in the progress of the world, her faith in the triumph
of
good.
[119] The Right Hon. James Bryce, British Ambassador at Washington.
Mrs. Sinclair to Mr. Rollo Russell
January, 1900
I loved and honoured my dear lady more than any one I ever
served.
In my long life of service, where all had been good and kind to
me,
she was the dearest and best.
The funeral service was held on the 21st of January in the village church at Chenies, where her husband had been buried among his ancestors. The Burial Service of the Church of England, the solemnity and beauty of which she had always deeply felt, was read in the presence of many friends and relations assembled to pay their last tribute of respect to her memory.
Not long before her death Lady Russell had written these lines:
O shadowy form majestic, nearer gliding,
And ever nearer! Thou whose silent tread
Not ocean, chasm, or mountain can delay,
Not even hands in agony outstretched,
Or bitterest tears of breaking hearts, that fain
Would stay thy dread approach to those most dear.
Vainly from thee we seek to hide; thou wield'st
A sceptred power that none below may challenge;
Yet no true monarch thou—but Messenger
Of Him, Monarch supreme and Love eternal,
Who holdeth of all mysteries the key;—
And in thy dark unfathomable eyes
A star of promise lieth.
Then O! despite all failure, guilt and error,
Crushing beneath their weight my faltering soul,
When my hour striketh, when with Time I part,
When face to face we stand, with naught between,
Come as a friend, O Death!
Lay gently thy cold hand upon my brow,
And still the fevered throb of this blind life,
This fragment, mournful yet so fair—this dream,
Aspiring, earth-bound, passionate—and waft me
Where broken harmonies will blend once more,
And severed hearts once more together beat;
Where, in our Father's fold, all, all shall be fulfilled.
RECOLLECTIONS OF FRANCES, COUNTESS RUSSELL
BY JUSTIN McCARTHY
Some of the dearest and most treasured memories of my lifetime are those belonging to the years during which I had the honour of being received among her friends by the late Countess Russell.
That friendship lasted more than twenty years, and its close on this earth was only brought about by Lady Russell's death.
There hangs now in my study, seeming to look down upon me while I write, a photograph of Lady Russell with her name written on it in her own handwriting. That photograph I received but a short time before her death, and it is to be with me so long as I live and look upon this earth.
I had some slight, very slight, acquaintance with the late Earl Russell, ever best known to fame as Lord John Russell, some years before I became one of his wife's friends. I met Lord John Russell for the first time in 1858, when he was attending a meeting of the Social Science Association, held in Liverpool, where I was then a young journalist, and I had the good fortune to be presented to him. After that, when I settled in London, I met him occasionally in the precincts of Westminster Palace, and I had some interesting conversations with him which I have mentioned in published recollections of mine. During all that time I had, however, but a merely slight and formal acquaintanceship with his gifted wife.
When I came to know her more closely she had settled herself in her home at Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park, and it is with that delightful home that my memories of her are mainly associated. She received her friends and acquaintances in general there on certain appointed days in each week. I need hardly say how gladly I availed myself of every opportunity for the enjoyment of such a visit, and especially for the enjoyment of Lady Russell's conversation and companionship.
I have known many gifted women, among them many gifted authoresses, but I have not known any woman who could have surpassed Lady Russell in the varied charms of her conversation. Most of us, men and women, have usually the habit of carrying our occupations with us, metaphorically at least, wherever we go, and therefore have some difficulty in entering with full appreciation into conversational fields in which we do not find ourselves quite at home.
Lady Russell was not like most of us in that quality. Her chief natural interest, one might readily suppose, would have been centred in questions belonging to the domain of politics, national and international, she having been for so great a part of her life the wife and the close companion of one of England's leading statesmen.
But Lady Russell was endowed with a peculiarly receptive mind, and she felt an interest quite natural and spontaneous in every subject which could interest educated and rational human beings—in art, literature, and science; in the history and the growth of all countries; in the condition of the poor and the struggling throughout the world; in every effort made by knowledge, benevolence, and enlightened purpose for the benefit of humanity. She had evidently also a strong desire to add to her own large stock of information, and she appears to have felt that whenever she came into converse with any fellow-being she was in communication with one who could tell her something which she did not already know.
In this characteristic she reminded me strongly of William Ewart Gladstone.
There is, or there used to be, a common impression throughout many social circles in this country, that when Gladstone in private was the centre of any company, he generally contrived to keep most of the talk to himself. This always seemed to me an entire misconception, for I had many opportunities of observing that Gladstone in social companionship seemed much more anxious to get some new ideas from those around him than to pour out to them from his own treasures of information.
Lady Russell loved to draw forth from the artist something about his art, from the scholar something about his books, to compare the ideas of the politician with her own, to lead the traveller into accounts of his travels, to get from the scientific student some of his experiences in this or that domain of science, and from those who visited the poor some suggestions which might serve her during her constant work in the same direction.
Even on subjects concerning which the greatest and sharpest divisions of opinion might naturally arise—political questions, for instance—Lady Russell seemed as much interested in listening to the clear exposition and defence of a political opponent's views as she might have been in the cordial exchange of sympathetic and encouraging opinions. When I first began to make one of Lady Russell's frequent visitors, there was, of course, between us a natural sympathy of political opinion which was made all the stronger because of momentous events that had lately passed, or were then passing, in the world around.
The great Civil War in the North American States had come to an end many years before I began to visit Lady Russell at her home, and I need hardly remind my readers that by far the larger proportion of what we call “society” in England had given its sympathies entirely to the cause of the South, and had firmly maintained, almost to the very end, that the South was destined to have a complete victory over its opponents. Lady Russell gave her sympathies to the side of the Northern States, as was but natural, seeing that the success of the North would mean the abolition of that system of slavery which was to her heart and to her conscience incapable of defence or of palliation.
I had paid my first visit to the United States not many years after the end of the Civil War—a visit prolonged for nearly two years and extending from New York to San Francisco and from Maine to Louisiana. I had therefore a good deal to tell Lady Russell about the various experiences I had had during this my first visit to the now reunited States, and the lights which they threw for me on the origin and causes of the Civil War.
I may say here that Lady Russell was always very anxious that the public should fully understand and appreciate the attitude taken by her late husband with regard to the Civil War. In a letter written to me on October 20, 1879, Lady Russell refers me to a speech made by her husband on March 23, 1863, and she goes on to say:
It shows unanswerably how strong was his opinion against the recognition of the Southern States, even at a moment when the tide of battle was so much in their favour that he, in common, I think, with most others, looked upon separation as likely to be the final issue. As long as the abolition of slavery was not openly announced, as he thought it ought to have been, as one of the main objects of the war on the part of the Federals, he felt no warm sympathy with their cause. But after President Lincoln's proclamation it was quite different, and no man rejoiced with deeper thankfulness than he did at the final triumph of the Northern States, for no man held slavery in more utter abhorrence.
I have thought it well to introduce this quotation just here because it is associated at once with my earliest recollections of Lady Russell, and at the same time with a subject of controversy which may almost be said to have passed out of the realms of disputation since that day.
The American States have now long been absolutely reunited; there is no difference of opinion whatever in this country with regard to the question of slavery, and yet it is quite certain that during the American Civil War a large number of conscientious, humane, and educated Englishmen were firmly convinced that the American Republic was about to break in two, and that the sympathies of England ought to go with the rebelling Southern States. It is well, therefore, that we should all be reminded of Lord Russell's attitude on these subjects.
I had much to tell Lady Russell of the various impressions made on me during my wanderings through the States, and by the distinguished American authors, statesmen, soldiers—Emerson, Longfellow, Bryant, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Charles Sumner, Wendell Phillips, General Grant, General Sherman. With the public career of each of these men Lady Russell was thoroughly acquainted, but she was much interested in hearing all that I could tell her about their ways of life and their personal habits and characteristics.
Then there were, of course, political questions at home concerning which there was deep sympathy between Lady Russell and me, and on which we had many long conversations. She had the most intense and enlightened sympathy with the great movements going on in these countries for the spread of political equality and of popular education.
Every statesman who sincerely and actively supported the principles and measures tending towards these ends was regarded as a friend by this noble-hearted woman.
I had been for many years a leader-writer and more recently editor of the Morning Star, the London daily newspaper which advocated the views of Cobden and Bright, and I had more recently still been elected to the House of Commons as a member of the Irish Nationalist Party, and thus again I found myself in thorough sympathy with the opinions and the feelings of my hostess.
Lady Russell had long been an advocate of that truly Liberal policy towards Ireland which is now accepted as the only principle by all really enlightened Liberal English men and women; and she thoroughly understood the condition, the grievances, the needs, and the aspirations of Ireland. The readers of this volume will see in some passages extracted from Lady Russell's diaries and letters how deep and strong were her feelings on the subject. She followed with the most intense interest and with the most penetrating observation the whole movement of Ireland's national struggle down to the very close of her life. Her letters on this question alone—letters addressed to me—would in themselves serve to illumine even now the minds of many English readers on this whole subject. Lady Russell was in no sense a partisan on any political question—I mean she never gave her approval to everything said or done by the leaders of any political party merely because the one main object of that party had her full sympathy and approval. Reading over many of her letters to me on various passages of the Home Rule agitation inside and outside Parliament, I have been once again filled with admiration and with wonder at the keen sagacity, the prophetic instinct, which she displayed with regard to this or that political movement or political man.
All through these letters it becomes more and more manifest that Lady Russell's devotedness was in every instance to principle rather than to party, to measures rather than to men. By these words I do not mean to convey the idea that her nature led her habitually into any cold and over-calculating criticism of political leaders whom she admired, and in whom she had been led to feel confidence.
Her generous nature was enthusiastic in its admiration of the men whose leadership in some great political movement had won her sympathy from the first; but even with these her admiration was overruled and kept in order by her devotion to the principles which they were undertaking to carry into effect, and by the fidelity with which they adhered to these principles. Even among intelligent and enlightened men and women we often find in our observation of public affairs that there are instances in which the followers of a trusted leader are carried away by their personal devotion into the championship of absolute errors which the leader is committing—errors that might prove perilous or even, for the time, fatal to the cause of which he is the recognised advocate.
Lady Russell always set the cause above the man, regarding him mainly as the instrument of the cause; and if the alternative were pressed upon her, would have withdrawn from his leadership rather than tacitly allow the cause to be misled. This, however, would have been done only as a last resort and after the most full, patient, and generous consideration of the personal as well as the public question.
We men do not expect to find in an enthusiastic, tender, and what may be called exquisitely feminine woman the quality of clear and guiding discrimination between the policy of the leader and the principles of the cause which he undertakes to lead. We are inclined to assume that the woman in such a case, if she has already made a hero of the man, will be apt to think that everything he proposes to do must be the right thing to do, and that any question raised as to the wisdom and justice of any course adopted by him is a treason against his leadership.
Lady Russell never seemed to me to yield for a moment to any such sentiment of mere hero-worship. She set, as I have said, the cause above the man, and she measured the man according to her interpretation of his policy towards the cause.
But at the same time she was never one of those who cannot be convinced that some particular course is not the wisest and most just to adopt without at once rushing to the conclusion that the leader who makes any mistakes must be in the wrong because of wilfulness or mere incapacity, and is therefore not worthy any longer of admiration and trust.
I have many letters from her, written at the time of some serious crisis in the fortunes of the Irish National movement, which show the keenest and the earliest intelligence of some mistake in the policy of the party on this or that immediate question without showing the slightest inclination to diminish her confidence in the sincerity and the purposes of its leaders, any more than in the justice of the cause. I can well recollect that in many instances she proved to be absolutely in the right when she thus gave me her opinion, and that events afterwards fully maintained the wisdom and the justice of her criticism. The reason why so many of Lady Russell's opinions were conveyed to me by letter was that I had to be, like all my companions of the Irish Parliamentary Party, a constant attendant at the debates in the House of Commons, and that many days often passed without my having an opportunity to visit Lady Russell and converse with her on the subjects which had so deep an interest for her as well as for me. I therefore was in the habit of writing often to her from the House of Commons in order to give her my own ideas as to the significance and importance of this or that debate, of this or that speech and its probable effect on the House and on the outer public. Lady Russell never failed to favour me with her own views on such subjects, and the views were always her own, and were never a mere good-natured and friendly adoption of the opinions thus offered to her.
Then, when I had the opportunity of visiting her at Pembroke Lodge, we were sure to compare and discuss our views in the conversations which she made so delightful and so inspiring.
One of her marvellous qualities was that her interest and her intellect were never wholly absorbed in the passing political questions, but that she could still keep her mind open to other and entirely different subjects. The chamber of her mind seemed to me to be like one of those mysterious apartments about which we read in fairy stories, which were endowed with a magical capacity of expansion and reception.
I have come to her home at a time when, for those whose lives were mainly passed in political work, there was some subject then engaging the attention of all politicians in these countries—some subject in which I well knew that Lady Russell was deeply and thoroughly interested.
But it sometimes happened that there were friends just then with her who did not profess any interest in politics, and who were mainly concerned about some new topic in letters or art or science, and I often observed with admiration the manner in which Lady Russell could give herself up for the time to the question in which those visitors were chiefly interested, and could show her sympathy and knowledge as if she had not lately been thinking of anything else. About this there was evidently no mere desire to please her latest visitors, no sense of obligation to submit herself for the time to their especial subject, but a genuine sympathy with every effort of human intellect, and a sincere desire to gather all that could be gathered from every garden of human culture.
Many of Lady Russell's letters to me on the events and the fortunes, the hopes and the disasters of our Irish National movement have in them an actual historical interest, such as the one dated November 27, 1890, which is quoted in this volume. It was written during the crisis which came upon our Irish National party at the time when the hopes of Mr. Parnell's most devoted friends in England as well as in Ireland were that after the result of a recent divorce suit Parnell would resign, for a time at least, the leadership of the party and only seek to return to it when he should have made what reparation was in his power to his own honour and to public feeling. In a letter of December 26, 1891, Lady Russell says: “Your poor country has risen victorious from many a worse fall, and will not be disheartened now, nor bate a jot of heart or hope.”
Lady Russell's letters not merely illustrate her deep and noble sympathy with the cause and the hopes of Ireland, but also they are evidence of the clear judgment and foresight which were qualities at once of her intellect and of her feeling. Scattered throughout her letters to me are many other evidences of the same kind with regard to other great political and social questions then coming up at home or abroad. I wish to say, however, that her letters do not by any means occupy themselves only with political questions, with Parliamentary debates, and with legislative measures. To paraphrase the words of the great Latin poet, whatever men and women were doing in arts and letters, in social progress, and in all that concerns humanity, supplied congenial subjects for the letters written by this most gifted, most observant, most intellectual woman to her friends.
One certainly has not lived in vain who has had the honour of being admitted to that friendship for some twenty years.
I have no words, literally none, in which to express adequately the admiration and the affection and the devotion which I felt for Lady Russell. No higher type of womanhood has yet been born into our modern world.
Lady Agatha Russell is rendering a most valuable service to humanity in preparing and giving to the world the records of her mother's life which appear in this volume. A monument more appropriate and more noble could not be raised over any grave than that which the daughter is thus raising to the memory of her mother.
APPENDIX
MEMORIAL ADDRESS
BY FREDERIC HARRISON
After Lady Russell's death a few friends decided—unknown to her family, who were touched by this mark of respect—to put up a tablet to her memory and hold a Memorial Service in the Free Church at Richmond, Surrey. The tablet, which is of beaten copper, beautifully worked, bears the following inscription:—
In memory of Frances Anna Maria, daughter of Gilbert, second Earl of Minto, and widow of Lord John Russell, who was born November 15, 1815, and died January 17, 1898. In gratitude to God for her noble life this tablet is placed by her fellow-worshippers.
The Memorial Service was held on July 14, 1900, when the tablet was unveiled and the following address was delivered by Mr. Frederic Harrison.
Now that our gathering of to-day has given full scope to the
loving
sorrow and filial piety of the children, descendants, and
family of
her whom we meet to commemorate and honour—now that the
minister,
whom she was accustomed to hear, and the worshippers, with whom
she
was wont to join in praise and prayer, have recorded their
solemn
union in the same sacred memory, I crave leave to offer my
humble
tribute of devotion as representing the general circle of her
friends, and the far wider circle of the public to whom she was
known only by her life, her character, her nobility of soul,
and
her benefactions.
I do not presume to speak of that beauty of nature which Frances
Countess Russell showed in the sanctity of the family, in the
close
intimacy of her private friends. Others have done this far more
truly, and will continue to bear witness to her life whilst
this
generation and the next shall survive. My only title to join my
voice to-day with that of her children and of this congregation
resides in the fact that my memory of her goes back over so
long a
period; that I have known her under circumstances, first, of
the
highest public activity, and then again, in a time of severe
retirement and private simplicity; that I have seen her in days
of
happiness and in days of mourning; at the height of her
influence
and dignity in the eyes of our nation and of the nations about
us,
as well as in her days of grief and disappointment at the
failure
of her hopes, and the break up of the causes she had at heart.
And
I have known her always, in light or in gloom, in joy or in
misery,
the same brave, fearless, natural, and true heart—come fair or
foul, come triumph or defeat.
Yes! it was my privilege to have known Lady Russell in the
lifetime
of the eminent statesman whose name she bore, and whose life of
toil in the public service she inspired; I knew them
five-and-thirty years ago, when he was at the head of the State
Government and immersed in public cares. And I am one of those
who
can bear witness to the simple dignity with which she adorned
that
high station and office, and the beautiful affection and quiet
peace of the home-life she maintained, like a Roman matron,
when
her husband was called to serve the State. And it so happened
that
I passed part of the last summer that she lived to see, here in
Richmond, within a short walk of her house. There I saw her
constantly and held many conversations with her upon public
affairs; and perhaps those were amongst the last occasions on
which
her powerful sense and heroic spirit had full play before the
fatal
illness which supervened in that very autumn.
I do not hesitate to speak of her powerful sense and her heroic
spirit, for she united the statesman-like insight into
political
problems with the unflinching courage to stand by the cause of
truth, humanity, and justice. She was not impulsive at all, not
hasty in forming her decisions, still less did she seek
publicity
or take pleasure in heading a movement. But, with the great
experience of politicians and of political things which in her
long
life and her rare opportunities she had acquired, she saw
straight
to the heart of so many vexed problems of our day; and when
once
convinced of the truth, she held fast to it with a noble
intrepidity of soul. In a life more or less conversant with
public
men now for forty years past, I have rarely known either man or
woman who had a more sound judgment in great public questions.
And
I have known none who surpassed her in courage, in directness,
and
in fixity of purpose. No sense that she and her friends had to
meet
overwhelming odds would ever make her faint-hearted. No
desertion
by friends and old comrades ever caused her to waver. No
despair
ever touched that stalwart soul, however dark the outlook might
appear; for it was her faith that no right or just cause was
ever
really lost, however for the time it were defeated and
contemned.
Lady Frances Elliot, as she was before marriage, came of a race
of
soldiers, governors, and tried servants of the State, and she
married into a race which has long stood in the front rank of
the
historic servants of the Crown and of the people. But neither
the
house of Elliot nor that of Russell in so many generations ever
bred man or woman with a keener sense of public duty, a more
generous nature, and a more magnanimous soul. In the annals of
that
famous house, whose traditions are part of the history of
England,
there has been no finer example of the old motto, noblesse
oblige, if we understand it to mean—those who have high
place
inherit with it heavy responsibilities. That idea was the
breath of
her life to Countess Russell, as assuredly it was also to her
husband, and she whose memory we keep sacred to-day is worthy
to
take her place beside that Rachel Lady Russell of old, who,
more
than two centuries ago, suffered so deeply in the cause of
freedom
and of conscience; she whose blood runs in the veins of the
children who to-day revere the memory of their mother.
The Italians call a man of heroic nature—a Garibaldi or a
Manin—uomo antico—“one of the ancient type”—one whom
we
rarely see in our modern days of getting on in the world and
following the popular cry. I have never heard the phrase
applied to
a lady, and, perhaps, donna antica might be held to bear
a
double sense. But we need some such phrase to describe the fine
quality of the spirit which lit up the whole nature of Frances
Countess Russell. She had within her that rare flame which we
attribute to the martyrs of our sacred and secular
histories—that
power of inspiring those whom she impressed with the resolve to
do
the right, to seek the truth, to defend the oppressed, at all
cost,
and against all odds.
It has been my privilege to have listened to many men and to
some
women who in various countries and in different causes have
been
held to have exerted great influence, and to have forced ideas,
principles, and reforms on the men of their time. But I have
listened to none in our country or abroad who seemed to me to
inspire the spirit more purely with the desire to hold fast by
the
right, to thrust aside the wrong, to be just, faithful,
considerate, and honourable, to feel for the fatherless and the
poor, and not to despise the humble and the meek. I know that
all
my remaining term of life there will remain deeply engraven on
my
memory all that she said, all that she felt, in the last
conversation I ever held with her at the very commencement of
her
last fatal illness. Weak and suffering as she was, unable to
rise
from her invalid chair, she asked me to come and tell her what
I
knew, and to hear what she felt about the public crisis of that
time (I speak of the end of 1897). The storm of South Africa
was
even then rising like a cloud no bigger than a man's hand out
of
the southern seas. I listened to her: and her deep and
thrilling
words of indignation, shame, pity, and honour sank into my
mind, as
if they had been the last words of some pure and higher spirit
that
was about to leave us, but would not leave us without words of
warning and exhortation to follow honour, to serve truth, to
eschew
evil and to do good, to seek peace and ensue it. I knew well
that I
was listening to her for the last time; for her life was
visibly
ebbing away. But I listened to her as to one who was passing
into a
world of greater permanence and of more spiritual meaning than
our
fleeting and too material world of sense and sight. And for the
rest of my life I shall continue to bear in my heart this
message
as it seemed to me of a nobler world and of a higher truth.
Yes! she has passed into a nobler world and to a higher
truth—the
world of the good and just men and women whose memory survives
their mortal career, and whose inspiring influence works for
good
ever in generations to come. In this Free Church I can speak
freely, for I too profoundly believe in a future life of every
good
and pure soul beyond the grave, in the perpetuity of every just
and
noble life in the sum of human progress and enlightenment. And
in a
sense that is quite as real as yours, even if it differ from
your
sense in form, I also make bold to say, this corruptible must
put
on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality—Death
is
swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave,
where is thy victory? Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye
steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of Humanity,
for
as much as ye know that your labour is not in vain in Humanity.
Surely we have before us a high example of what it is to be
steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in good work, in the
memory
of Frances Elliot Countess Russell, who united in herself
principles typified in the historic mottoes of her own house
and
that of her husband's—who kept her high courage under all
adversities and opposition, in the spirit of che sara sara,
“stand fast come what may”—in the spirit of that other motto
of
the Elliots, suaviter el fortiter, “with all the
gentleness
of a woman and all the fortitude of a man.”