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.

CHAPTER XIII

1878-98

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....