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On August 13th they left London for Minto:
We had two places to spare in the carriage, which were taken by Lord John Russell and little Tom [his stepson, Lord Ribblesdale]. We had wished it might be so, though I had some fears of his being tired of us, and of our being stupefied with shyness. This went off more than I expected, and our day's journey was very pleasant.MINTO,August14, 1840Actually here on the second day! From Hawick we had the most lovely moonlight, making the river like silver and the fields like snow. Oh Scotland, bonny, bonny Scotland, dearest and loveliest of lands! if ever I love thee less than I do now, may I be punished by living far from thee.MINTO,August30, 1840A great party to Church. Many eyes turned on Lord John as we walked from it. He was much amused by the remark of one man: "Lord John's a silly17looking man, but he's smart, too!"--which he, of course, would have understood as an Englishman. In the evening he gave me a poem he had composed on the subject of my letter from Lancaster to Mrs. Law18announcing ourselves for the next day.... In the morning [September 1] Lord John begged to sit in our sitting-room with us.... I told him the library would be more comfortable, and we were established there (he very kindly reading the "Lay" aloud), when two Hawick Bailiffs arrived to present him with the freedom of the town.... After dinner, Miss Lister asked me so many questions chiefly relating to marrying, that I began to believe that Lord John's great kindness to us all, but especially to me, meant something more than I wished. I lay awake, wondering, feeling sure, and doubting again.MINTO,September2, 1840Lord John, Miss Lister, Addy and I went to Melrose Abbey and Abbotsford.... It was his last evening, and in wishing me good-bye he said quite enough to make me tell Mama all I thought.... I could see that she was very glad I did not like him in that way. I am sure I do in every other.MINTO,September3, 1840Lord John set off before seven this morning. I dreamed about him and waked about him all night.... Mama gave me a note from Lord John to me which he had left.... I wrote my answer immediately, begging him not to come back; but also telling him how grateful I feel. Had a long talk and walk with Miss Lister, whosegreatkindness makes it all more painful to me.
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Lady Fanny wrote to her sister, Lady Mary Abercromby:
A proposal from Lord John Russell is at this moment lying before me. I see it lying, and I write to you that it is there, but yet I do not believe it, nor shall I ever.... Good, kind Miss Lister positively worships him.MINTO,September4, 1840Went to the village with Mama and my darling Addy [Lord John's stepdaughter], to whom I may show how I love her now that he is away.MINTO,September7, 1840Received a very, very sad note from Lord John in answer to mine--so kind, but oh! so sad.
The note ran as follows:
September5, 1840DEAR LADY FANNY,--You are quite right. I deceived myself, not from any fault of yours, but from a deep sense of unhappiness, and a foolish notion that you might throw yourself away on a person of broken spirits, and worn out by time and trouble. There is nothing left to me but constant and laborious attention to public business, and a wretched sense of misery, which even the children can never long drive away. However, that is my duty, and my portion, and I have no right to murmur at what no doubt is ordained for some good end. So do not blame yourself, and leave me to hope that my life may not be long.Yours truly, J. RUSSELL
Miss Lister wrote to Lord John on September 9, 1840:
Sad as your letters are, it is still a relief to have them. Iwillhope for you though you cannot for yourself.... I cannot thank you as I wish and feel for all you are with regard to the children, for all you have been to them. I never can think of it without tears of gratitude.... You have been more than even an own father could have been. And by your example--an example of all that is good and pure and great in mind and conduct--you are doing for them more than any other teaching can do.
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For a few days Lady Fanny seems to have felt that the matter was irrevocably settled: "The more I think of what has happened, the more I bewilder myself--I therefore do not think at all."
But on the following day she writes: "Though I do not think, I dream. I dreamt of him last night on some of Catherine's bride cake, and that Miss Lister wrote to me of him as one whose equal could not be found in the whole world."
Of one thing she was certain, she did not want to leave her home: "The west hills looking beautiful as we walked round the church. What a pleasure it is to have a church in such a situation! One worships God the better from seeing His beauty so displayed around. ... Walked in the glen and wandered about the burn and top of Mama's glen, wondering how anybody could ever ask me to leave all that is so much too dear.
"Yesterday [October 23] received a letter from Miss Lister. Tells me a great deal about him--the way in which he first named me since, and his keeping the book, and much more that is very, very touching; but I will not sentimentalize even to my journal, for fear of losing my firmness again."
Meanwhile, gossip was busy coupling her name with Lord John's, and the Press published the rumour.
Lady Minto to Lady Mary AbercrombyMINTO,November9, 1840... You will see in the papers the report of Fanny's marriage to Lord John Russell. It is very annoying to her, and I had a few lines (very touching) from him begging me to have it contradicted, which I had already done. If you ask me my reasons why, I cannot tell you, but I have a sort of feeling that she will marry him still. Gina says certainly not, and neither Lizzy nor I think her opinions or feelings changed, but I feel itin my skin!!! Still, these feelings are not infallible.... Will you tell me if I wish it or not? For I have now thought so much about it I don't know my own mind. If I knew that she would not marryat all, if she did not marryhim, then I should most miserably lament that she refused him; but I also know as certainly, that if she told me that upon second thoughts she had accepted him, I should be too unhappy to be able to look as I ought to do. In short, dearest Mary, I heartily wish it had never happened. I was obliged to tell John [Elliot] of it, as the report was going to be made a subject of joking, which would have been very unpleasant for Fanny. He was very much surprised, and notwithstanding his great dislike to disparity of years, he regretted her refusal deeply. He is a great admirer of Lord John's, and was delighted with him when he was here. He says that in spite of the drawbacks he is clearly of the opinion that she has made a great mistake, and hopes that it may take another turn still. You may fancy how I am longing to talk to your Father about it. He says in his last letter that his eyes were only just opened to Lord John's being an old man, when he looked on him in this new light....
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MINTO,November15, 1840My birthday--it frightens me to be twenty-five. To think how days, months, and years have slipped away and how unfulfilled resolutions remain to reproach me. Long walk with Papa--talked to me about Lord John very kindly. Had a long letter from Miss Lister--tells me a good deal about him, and the more I hear the more I am forced to admire and like. Then why am I so ungrateful? Oh! why so obstinate? I can only hope for the sake of my character that Dryden is right that "Love is not in our choice but in our fate."
At the beginning of the new year the family moved up to London. The next entry, dated from the Admiralty, expressive in its brevity, runs: "A surprising number of visitors, one very alarming, no less than Lord John--and I saw him." Then, a week later, on February 8: "The agitation of last Monday over again. ... After all, perhaps he only wished to show that he is friendly still. It is like his kindness, but he did not look merry."
In March she wrote to her married sister, Lady Mary Abercromby, an account of her feelings and perplexities.
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ADMIRALTY,March16, 1841DEAREST MARY,--Tho' it is not nearly my day for writing, a long letter from you to Mama, principally about myself, has determined me to do so--and to do so this minute, while I feel that I have courage for the great effort (yes, you may laugh, but it is a terrible effort) of saying to you all that you have the best right to abuse me for not having said before. If it was reallysaying, oh how happy I should be! but there is something so terribly distinct in one's thoughts as soon as they are on paper, and I have longed each day a thousand times to have you by my side to help me to read them and to listen to all my nonsense. I felt it utterly impossible to write them, altho' I also felt that my silence was most unfair upon you and would have made me, in your place, either very suspicious or very angry. Ithasmade you suspicious, but now let it only make you angry--as angry as you please--for I havenotchanged and I do not suppose I ever shall. When we first came to town, nothing having taken place between us since my positive refusal from Minto, except the contradiction sent by us to the report in the papers, Miss Lister asked me if I was the same as ever; and when I said yes, and forbade her the subject for the future, she only begged that I would see him and allow myself to know him better. I said I would do so, provided she was quite sure he was ready to blame himself alone for the consequences, which she said he would. Accordingly, wherever we met I allowed him to speak to me. I begged Lizzy always to join in our talk, if she could, as it made me much happier, but this she has not done nearly as much as I wished. Whenever I knew we were to meet him, I also took care to tell Lizzy that it would be no pleasure to me, and that if it was at dinner, I hoped I should not sit next to him. I said these things to her oftener than I should naturally have done, because I saw that in her wish to disbelieve them she really did so, and I wished to make her understand me, in case either Papa or Mama or the boys should be speaking of it before her. You will say, why did I not speak more to Mama herself?--partly because I was afraid of bringing forward the subject, partly because I knew what I had to say would make her sorry, and partly because I was not at times soverysure as to have courage to say it must all come to an end. However, after a dinner at Lady Holland's last week, when he was all the evening by me, I felt Imustspeak--that it would be very wrong to allow it to go on in the same way, and that we had no right to expect the world to see how all advances to intimacy, since we came to town, have been made by him in the face of a refusal. I do not despise the gossip of the world where there is so much foundation for it, and I have felt it very disagreeable to know that busy eyes were upon us several times. It must therefore stop, but do not imagine that I have been acting without thought. I am perfectly easy abouthim--I mean that he will blame nobody but himself, as I have taken care never to understand anything that he has said that he might mean to be particular, and the few times that he ventured to approach the subject he spoke in so perfectly hopeless and melancholy a way as to satisfy me. I am also easy about Miss Lister, as only a week ago she said how sorry she was to see that I was happier in society without than with him; but both he and they must see that it cannot go on so. What a stone I am--but it is needless to speak of that. Only when I think of all his goodness and excellence, above all his goodness in fixing upon me among so many better fitted to him, I first wonder and wonder whether he really can be in earnest, then reproach myself bitterly for my hardness--and then the children: to think of rejecting an opportunity of being so useful--or at least of trying to be so! All these thoughts, turned over and over in my mind oftener than I myself knew before we left Minto,didmake me think that perhaps I had decided rashly. Now do not repeat this, dear Mary; I have said more to you than to anybody yet--but I am sorry it is time to stop, I have so much more to say. I cannot say how grateful I am to Papa and Mama for leaving me so free in all this, and to you for writing.Ever your most affectionate sister, FANNY
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The day after this letter was written she saw Lord John again. "He called and had a long conversation with Mama.... Mama liked him better than ever."
Lady Minto to Lady Mary AbercrombyADMIRALTY,March18, 1841... I must now return tothesubject. I told you of the conversation I had with Fanny when she spoke so openly and so sensibly of her feelings.... She said she was too old to think it necessary to be what is called desperately in love, and without feeling that his age was an objection or that the disparity was too great, yet, she said, if he had been a younger man she would have decided long ago. And that is the truth. It is his age alone that prevents her at once deciding in his favour. It prevents those feelings arising in her mind, without which it would be a struggle to accept him, and this she never will do. She was therefore desirous that he should know the state of her feelings, that she might be again at her ease. He had seen her manner cold towards him, and wrote to say that he would call upon me yesterday. I washorriblyfrightened, as I hate lovers, and you must allow that it was a difficult task to go through.... However, he put me so completely at my ease by his sensible, open, gentle manner, that my task was less difficult than I expected--except that I fell in love with him so desperately, he touched my heart so deeply that I could scarcely refrain from promising him Fanny whenever he chose. There is a depth of feeling and humility about him, and a candour and generosity in his judgments, that I never saw so strongly in anyone before, and every word that he spoke made me regret more and more the barrier that prevents him from becoming one of us. I said, of course, Fanny's wish and ours could only be for him to do what he considered best for his own happiness, and that half-measures did not answer; that he now knew the whole truth and it was for him to judge how to act. He said then, "I cannot have a doubt; I will visit you less frequently; I will speak very little to you in public, but I cannot, unless you positively forbid me, renounce the intimacy now established with your family." I said, of course, that it would be a great happiness to us all not to lose him, but that I was very doubtful of the wisdom of his decision, as it might only be rendering himself more unhappy. "That," he said, "is my affair, and I am willing to run the risk." ... Fanny, to whom I told everything, says she is now quite happy, and her mind at ease.
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He seems, however, to have made up his mind to keep away from them for some weeks. The next mention of him is on May 7th, more than a month later:
Morning visit from Lord John. Said he had a great speech to make this evening on sugar.... Billy came to dinner full of admiration of the speech. Honest, noble, clever. Well, we shall go out with honour.
This speech on sugar was made at a crisis of particular difficulty. The debate was the first important discussion in Parliament on the new principle of Free Trade. Greville describes Lord John's speech as an "extraordinarily good one," and Lord Sydenham19wrote from Canada:
I have read your speech upon opening the debate on the sugar question with feelings of admiration and pleasure I cannot describe. The Free Traders have never been orators since Mr. Pitt in early days. We have hammered away with facts and figures and some argument, but we could not elevate the subject and excite the feelings of the people. At last you, who can do both, have fairly undertaken it, and the cause has a champion worthy of it.
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Mr. Baring, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, proposed to lower the import duty on foreign and colonial timber and sugar. Lord John, before the Budget speech, announced his intention of moving the House into a committee on the Corn Laws. During the course of the eight days' debate he admitted that the proposal of the Ministry would be a fixed duty of 8s. a quarter on wheat. It was on the occasion of this proposal being discussed in the Cabinet that Melbourne, at the close of the meeting, made his famous remark, "By the by, there is one thing we haven't agreed upon; what are we to say? Is it to make our corn dearer or cheaper, or to make the price steady? I don't care which; but we had better all say the same thing."
On June 4th, the very evening Lord John had intended to introduce his measure, the Government was just defeated on Peel's motion of a want of confidence: "Bill woke me at four this morning with the sad words, 'Beaten by one! Oh dear, oh dear! To expect a triumph and see it won by the enemy. Never mind; our friends deserve success if they cannot command it.... Party at Lady Palmerston's. He was there."
Four days later her hesitations came to an end, and they were engaged to be married.
Miss Lister wrote to Lord John on June 8th from Windsor Castle:
Oh! I am happier than I can tell you. God knows you have deserved all the good that may come to you, and I always felt it must be because of that. I long to be with you and to see her. ... Oh! I am so happy, but I can scarcely believe it yet. I hope Lady Fanny will write and then I think I shall believe it.Ever yours affectionately, Harriet ListerJune 9, 1841 Could not write on Monday or Tuesday. Saw him on Monday morning ... it was a strange dream all that day and is so still.... As soon as he had left me Mama came in. Oh my own dearest and best Mama, bless your poor weak but happy child. Then I saw Papa. What good it did me to see his face of real happiness!--then my brothers and sisters--I never saw William so overcome.
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ADMIRALTY,June10, 1841Tried to be busy in the morning ... but nothing would do. Must think and be foolish. He came in the afternoon and evening--brought me an emerald ring.... Miss Lister came--both of us stupid from having too much to say, but it was a great pleasure. Children here to tea with ours (all but Victoria) and very merry and kind to me. Dear precious children.Lady Minto to Lady Mary AbercrombyADMIRALTY, June 11, 1841You must be longing so ardently for post-day that I hate to think of the uncomfortable letter this is likely to be; but as Fanny is writing to you herself, my letter will be of less consequence. Oh the volumes and volumes I could write and long to write and the wee miserable things that I do write! I must at once begin by saying that Fanny's happy face would, more than all I can write, convince you how perfectly satisfied and proud she is of the position she has put herself in; how it delights her to think of the son-in-law she has given to your Father, and the friend she has given your brothers. To me he is everything that my proudest wishes could have sought out for Fanny. You know as well as me that it was not an ordinary person that could suit her; and it really is balm to my heart to see the way in which he treasures every word she says, and laughs at the innocence and simplicity of her remarks, and looks at her with such pride when he sees her keen and eager about the great and interesting events of the day, which most girls would neither know nor care about. I don't mean that he is absurd in his admiration of her, but it is evident how fully he appreciates the singular beauty of her character. In short, to sum up all I can say of him, he is in many respects a counterpart of herself. She is very open and at her ease with him, and I am quite as much at my ease with him as I was with Ralph....From Lady Mary Abercromby to Lord John RussellGENOA,June19, 1841... You will every day discover more the great worth of what you have won. You cannot have known her long without admiring the extreme truth and purity of her mind; it is sensitive to a degree which those with more of worldly experience can scarcely understand, yet I feel sure you will watch over it, for it has a charm to those who can appreciate it which must make them dread to see it disturbed. It is a great privation to me to be so little acquainted with you, but believe me I cannot think of you as a stranger now that you belong to my dearest Sister, and that I look to you for her happiness. If you could think of me as a sister and treat me as such it would be a delight to me.
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ADMIRALTY,June18, 1841Very happy day--every day now happier than the one before. Oh will it--can it last? O God, enable me to thank Thee as I ought--to live a life of gratitude to Thee.
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"He served his country well in choosing thee."20
Parliament had been dissolved soon after Peel's motion of a want of confidence had been carried. In the election which followed Lord John was returned for the City of London on June 30th.
ADMIRALTY,June26, 1841Day of nomination in the City. He says the show of hands was greatly in his favour.... Mama says he looked so calm, in the midst of the uproar."True dignity is his,histranquil mind Virtue has raised above the things below!"And whether storms may await us in our journey together, even to the wreck of all earthly hopes, I know that he will rise superior to them--and oh! to think that I may be by his side to support him in adversity as well as to share in his prosperity and glorious fate, for which God enable me to be rightly grateful.
The family moved to Minto before the result was declared; from London Lord John wrote the following letters:
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Lord John Russell to Lady Mary AbercrombyWILTON CRESCENT,June25, 1841Your letters have filled us all with joy and completed what was wanting. I feel very grateful to you for the kindness with which you express yourself.... The happiness of possessing her has blinded me, I dare say, to her real interest; but when I find that you all approve and feel conscious that I shall do all in my power to make her life happy, I gain some confidence. Among many anxieties, Lady Minto naturally felt that the charge of so many children would be a very serious burthen to her, but the children themselves are so good, so much disposed to love her, and their health is at present so good, that I trust they will be to her as they are to me, a daily comfort, making the house cheerful with their merry and affectionate voices. The greatest fear perhaps is, that her generosity and devotion to others may make her undertake what is beyond her strength.Lord John Russell to Lady Fanny ElliotDOWNING STREET,July3, 1841If I am sorry that Saturday is come, I am much more glad that Tuesday is so near. I am not at all anxious for a merry party at Minto--the quieter the better for me. But I can understand that Lady Minto would like some gaiety to divert her spirits, when "Our dear Fanny" is gone. I cannot say how much I think on the prospect of finding you at Minto--and of Bowhill likewise. I hope I am not unworthy of the heart you gave me ... and I trust every day will prove how grateful I am to you.WILTON CRESCENT,July4, 1841I got your little note yesterday, after I had sealed my letter.... My dearest Fanny, I am so happy at the thought of being soon at Minto. If you believe that I feel the strongest devotion to you, and am resolved to do all in my power to make you happy, you believe what is true.... This will reach you soon after your arrival. I can imagine how busy you will be ... and long to join you.
A few days later he reached Minto himself. Lady Fanny, writing to her sister Mary, describes their days together, and adds: "They are all except Gibby so much too respectful to Lord John. Not to me, for they take their revenge upon me, and I am unsparingly laughed at, which is a great comfort. I shall write once before it happens. I dare not think what I shall be when you receive this."
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MINTO,July19, 1841My last day as a child of Minto. How fast it flew. How quickly good-night came--that sad, that dreaded good-night. But sadness may be of such a kind as to give rise to the happiest, the purest feelings--and such was this.... He and I sat in the Moss house. Never saw the glen more beautiful; the birch glittering in the sun and waving its feathery boughs; the burn murmuring more gently than usual; the wood-pigeons answering one another from tree to tree. Had not courage to be much with Mama.
They were married on July 20th in the drawing-room at Minto, and set off for Bowhill, which had been lent them for the honeymoon by the Duke of Buccleuch. Never did statesman on his wedding-day take away a bride more whole-heartedly resolved to be all a wife can be to him in his career. Her mother was now perfectly happy about the marriage, though the disparity of age, and fears about the great responsibility her daughter was undertaking in the care of a young family--one boy and five girls--had undoubtedly made her anxious. Lady Minto felt very deeply the parting with her dearly-loved child, and after the wedding she sent her the following little ballad:
A BORDER BALLADAIR: "Saw ye my father"Oh saw ye the robberThat cam' o'er the borderTo steal bonny Fanny away?She's gane awa' frae meAnd the bonny North CountrieAnd has left me for ever and for aye.He cam' na wi' horses,He cam' na wi' men,Like the bauld English knights langsyne;But he thought that he could fleechWi' his bonny Southron speechAnd wile awa' this lassie o' mine."Gae hame, gae hameTo your ain countrie,Nor come o'er the March for me."But sairly did she rueWhen he thought that she spak' trueAnd the tear-drop it blinded her e'e.
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His heart it was sairAnd he lo'ed her mair and mair,For her spirit was noble and free;"Oh lassie dear, relent,Nor let a heart be rentThat lives but for its country and thee."And did she say him nay?Oh no, he won the day,Could an Elliot a Russell disdain?And he's ta'en awa' his brideFrae the bonnie Teviot-side,And has left me sae eerie alane.Oh where's now the smileUsed to cheer me ilk morn,Like a blink o' the sun's ain light;And where the voice sae sweetThat aye gar'd my bosom beatWhen sae saftly she bade me gude-night.Now lang, lang are the nightsAnd dowie are the daysThat sae cheerie were ance for me.And oh the thought is sairThat she'll mine be never mair,I'm alane in the North Countrie.MARY MINTO,July, 1841
But before following the future, it will be well to look back. Lord John himself must play so large a part in a biography of his wife that a sketch of his life up to this point, and some reminders of the kind of man he was, may interest the reader; not a review of his political achievements, but an outline of the events which had left him at his second marriage a leader among his countrymen.
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Lord John Russell, born in 1792, was the third son of John, sixth Duke of Bedford. He was only nine years old when he lost his mother, whom he remembered to the end of his life with tender affection. He always spoke gratefully of the invariable kindness and affection of his father, who married again in 1803, and of his stepmother, but he felt that the shyness and reserve which often caused him to be misunderstood and thought cold were largely due to the loss of his mother in his childhood. He was educated at Westminster, but he was not robust enough to stand a rough life, and it was decidedly rough. His education was continued at Woburn under a tutor. He was a book-loving boy, and the earliest exercise of his powers was in verses, prologues, and plays. Going to the play was one of the chief enjoyments of his childhood, and he never lost his liking for the drama. Travelling was also a great delight to him, either by coach in England or in foreign countries, and this enjoyment, with a wonderfully keen observation of all that he saw of different places and peoples, lasted to old age.
In 1835 Lord John married Lady Ribblesdale, widow of the second Lord Ribblesdale.
She had by her first husband four children; one son and three daughters.21After her marriage with Lord John Russell she had two daughters, Georgiana Adelaide, born in 1836, and Victoria, born in 1838. The marriage had been a most happy one, and her death on November 1, 1838, was a severe blow to Lord John.
A slight sketch of the more public side of his career will be enough here. A visit to Fox in June, 1806, was perhaps the first experience which turned his interests and ambitions towards politics. All his life he looked up to the memory of Fox. There was in Fox an element which made him more akin to the Liberals, who succeeded him, than to the old Whig party. Lord John, as different from Fox in temperament as a man could be, was the inheritor of the spirit which leavened the old Whig tradition. In Lord John the sentiments of Fox took on a more deliberate air. He was a more intellectual man than his lavish, emotional, imposing forbear; and if it is remembered that he had, in addition, the diffidence of a sensitive man, these facts go far to explain an apparent contradiction in his character which puzzled contemporaries. To the observer at a distance there seemed to be two John Russells: the man who appeared to stand off coldly from his colleagues and backers (he was certainly as incapable as the younger Pitt of throwing round him those heartening glances of good-fellowship which made the followers of Fox feel like a band of brothers); and again, the man who, to the rapture of adherents, could lift debate at moments to a level where passionate principles swept all hesitation away. It was surprising to find, in one who commonly wore the air of picking his steps with care, the dash and anger of the fighter. Bulwer Lytton has described such moments in "The New Timon"--
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"When the steam is on,
And languid Johnny glows to glorious John."
His speeches, if they had not the animated, flowing reasonableness of Cobden's, resembled them in this, that they belonged to that class of oratory which aims at convincing the reason rather than at persuading the emotions. Lord John had, however, one quality likely to make him widely popular--his pluck; at bay he was formidable. If there was a trace of injustice or unreasonableness in his adversaries, though their case might be overwhelmingly plausible, it was ten to one he routed them in confusion. He was ready in retort. One example of this readiness Gladstone was fond of quoting: Sir Francis Burdett had made a speech against the Whigs, in which he spoke of the "cant of patriotism." "There is one thing worse than the cant of patriotism," retorted Lord John, "and that is the recant of patriotism." Again, when the Queen once asked him, "Is it true, Lord John, that you hold that a subject is justified, in certain circumstances, in disobeying his sovereign?" his answer to this difficult question could not have been better: "Well, speaking to a sovereign of the House of Hanover, I can only say that I suppose he is."
One more characteristic must be mentioned. Like most men scrupulous and slow in determining what to do, his confidences often were withheld from others till the last moment, and sometimes beyond the moment, when it would have been wisest to admit his colleagues to his own counsel. In consequence he often appeared disconcertingly abrupt in decision.
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In 1808 he accompanied Lord and Lady Holland to Spain and Portugal, and on his return he was sent by his father to Edinburgh University, the Duke having little confidence in the education then procurable at either Oxford or Cambridge. At Edinburgh he took part in the proceedings of the Speculative Society, read essays to them and debated; and he left the University still tending more towards literature than politics. There is no doubt that Edinburgh helped to form him. His mind was one naturally open to influences which are summed up as "the academic spirit"; dislike of exaggeration, impatience with brilliancy which does not illuminate, and distrust of enthusiasm which is not prepared to show its credentials at every step. His own style is marked by these qualities, and in addition by a reminiscence of eighteenth-century formality, more likely to please perhaps future than present readers; accurate, a little distant, it pleases because it conveys a sense of modesty and dignity. When he speaks of himself he does it to perfection.
After leaving the University he served in the Bedford militia. In 1814 he went to Italy, and crossed to Elba, where he saw Napoleon. Lord John was always a most authentic reporter. His description of the Emperor, written the next day, besides its intrinsic interest, is so characteristic of the writer himself that it may be quoted here. It is as matter-of-fact as one of Wellington's dispatches and as shrewd as a passage from one of Horace Walpole's letters.
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PORTO FERRAJO, December 25, 181422At eight o'clock in the evening yesterday I went to the Palace according to appointment to see Napoleon. After waiting some minutes in the ante-room I was introduced by Count Drouet and found him standing alone in a small room. He was drest in a green coat with a hat in his hand very much as he is painted, but excepting this resemblance of dress, I had a very mistaken idea of him from his portrait. He appears very short, which is partly owing to his being very fat, his hands and legs being quite swollen and unwieldy; this makes him appear awkward and not unlike the whole length figures of Gibbon, the historian. Besides this, instead of the bold marked countenance that I expected, he has fat cheeks and rather a turn-up nose, which, to bring in another historian, made the shape of his face resemble the portraits of Hume. He has a dusky grey eye, which would be called a vicious eye in a horse, and the shape of his mouth expresses contempt and derision--his manner is very good-natured, and seems studied to put one at one's ease by its familiarity; his smile and laugh are very agreeable--he asks a number of questions without object, and often repeats them, a habit he has no doubt acquired during fifteen years of supreme command--to this I should also attribute the ignorance he seems to show at times of the most common facts. When anything that he likes is said, he puts his head forward and listens with great pleasure, repeating what is said, but when he does not like what he hears, he looks away as if unconcerned and changes the Subject. From this one might conclude that he was open to flattery and violent in his temper.He began asking me about my family, the allowance my father gave me, if I ran into debt, drank, played, etc.He asked me if I had been in Spain, and if I was not imprisoned by the Inquisition. I told him that I had seen the abolition of the Inquisition voted, and of the injudicious manner in which it was done.He mentioned Infantado, and said, "II n'a point de caractere." Ferdinand he said was in the hands of the priests--afterwards he said, "Italy is a fine country; Spain too is a fine country--Andalusia and Seville particularly."F. R.Yes, but uncultivated.N.Agriculture is neglected because the land is in the hands of the Church.F. R.And of the Grandees.N.Yes, who have privileges contrary to the public prosperity.F. R.Yet it would be difficult to remedy the evil.N.It might be remedied by dividing property and abolishing hurtful privileges, as was done in France.F. R.Yes, but the people must be industrious--even if the land was given to the people in Spain, they would not make use of it.N.Ils succomberaient.F. R.Yes, Sire.He asked many questions about the Cortes, and when I told him that many of them made good speeches on abstract questions, but that they failed when any practical debate on finance or war took place, he said, "Oui, faute de l'habitude de gouverner." He asked if I had been at Cadiz at the time of the siege, and said the French failed there.
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F. R.Cadiz must be very strong.N.It is not Cadiz that is strong, it is the Isle of Leon--if we could have taken the Isle of Leon, we should have bombarded Cadiz, and we did partly, as it was.F. R.Yet the Isle of Leon had been fortified with great care by General Graham.N.Ha--it was he who fought a very brilliant action at Barrosa.He wondered our officers should go into the Spanish and Portuguese service. I said our Government had sent them with a view of instructing their armies; he said that did well with the Portuguese, but the Spaniards would not submit to it. He was anxious to know if we supported South America, "for," he said, "you already are not well with the King of Spain."Speaking of Lord Wellington, he said he had heard he was a large, strong man,grand chasseur, and asked if he liked Paris. I said I should think not, and mentioned Lord Wellington having said that he should find himself much at a loss what to do in peace time, and I thought scarcely liked anything but war.N.La guerre est un grand jeu, une belle occupation.He wondered the English should have sent him to Paris--"On n'aime pas l'homme par qui on a été battu. Je n'ai jamais envoyé a Vienne un homme qui a assisté à la prise de Vienne." He asked who was our Minister (Lord Burghersh) at Florence, and whether he washonnête homme, "for," he said, "you have two kinds of men in England, one ofintrigans, the other ofhommes très honnêtes."Some time afterwards he said, "Dites moi franchement, votre Ministre à Florence est il un homme à se fier?"He had seen something in the papers about sending him (Napoleon) to St. Helena, and he probably expected Lord Burghersh to kidnap him--he inquired also about his family and if it was one of consequence.His great anxiety at present seems to be on the subject of France. He inquired if I had seen at Florence many Englishmen who came from there, and when I mentioned Lord Holland, he asked if he thought things went well with the Bourbons, and when I answered in the negative he seemed delighted, and asked if Lord Holland thought they would be able to stay there. I said I really could not give an answer. He said he had heard that the King of France had taken no notice of those Englishmen who had treated him well in England--particularly Lord Buckingham; he said that was very wrong, for it showed a want of gratitude. I told him I supposed the Bourbons were afraid to be thought to depend upon the English. "No," he said, "the English in general are very well received." He asked sneeringly if the Army was much attached to the Bourbons.
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Talking of the Congress, he said, "There will be no war; the Powers will disagree, but they will not go to war"--he said the Austrians, he heard, were already much disliked in Italy and even at Florence.F. R.It is very odd, the Austrian government is hated wherever it has been established.N.It is because they do everything with the baton--the Italians all hate to be given over to them.F. R.But the Italians will never do anything for themselves--they are not united.N.True.Besides this he talked about the robbers between Rome and Florence, and when I said they had increased, he said, "Oh! to be sure; I always had them taken by thegendarmerie."F. R.It is very odd that in England, where we execute so many, we do not prevent crimes.N.It is because you have not agendarmerie.He inquired very particularly about the forms of the Viceregal Court in Ireland, theDames d'honneur, pages, etc.; in some things he was strangely ignorant, as, for instance, asking if my father was a peer of Parliament.He asked many questions three times over.He spoke of the Regent's conduct to the Princess as very impolitic, as it shocked thebienséances, by which his father had become so popular.He said our war with America was aguerre de vengeance, for that the frontier could not possibly be of any importance.He said, "You English ought to be very well satisfied with the end of the war."F. R.Yes, but we were nearly ruined in the course of it.N.Ha! le système continental, ha--and then he laughed very much.He asked who was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland at present, but made no remark on my answer.I asked him if he understood English; he said that at Paris he had had plenty of interpreters, but that he now began to read it a little.