Chapter IV

1841-45

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.