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 Bühler_ [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 Bühler (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 "Mémoires d'un
Protestant condamné aux Galères" 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 Bühler_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November_ 24, 1886
MY DEAREST DORA,--I am afraid you will say that I have forgotten
you and your most loving and welcome birthday letter, but as I know
you will not _think_ it, I don't so very much mind. Nobody at
seventy-one and with many still to love and leave on earth, can
hail a birthday with much gladness.... The _real_ sadness to
me of birthdays, and of all marked days, is in the bitterly
disappointing answer I am obliged to make to myself to the
question: "Am I nearer to God than a year ago?" ... I never answered
your long-ago letter about your doubts and difficulties and
speculations on those subjects which are of deepest import to us
all, yet upon which it sometimes seems that we are doomed to work
our minds in vain--to seek, and _not_ to find--to exult one
moment in the fullness of bright hope and the coming fulfilment of
our highest aspirations, and the next to grope in darkness and say,
"Was it not a beautiful dream, and only a dream? Is it not too good
to be true that we are the children of a loving Father who
stretches out His hands to guide us to Himself, who has spoken to
us in a thousand ways from the beginning of the world by His
wondrous works, by the unity of creation, by the voices of our
fellow-creatures, by that voice, most inspired of all, that life
and death most beautiful and glorious of all, which 'brought life
and immortality to light,' and chiefly by that which we feel to be
immortal within us--_love_--the beginning and end of God's own
nature, the supreme capability which He has breathed into our
souls?" No, it is _not_ too good to be true. Nothing
perishes--not the smallest particle of the most worthless material
thing. Is immortality denied to the one thing most worthy of it?
I sent you "The Utopian," because I thought some of the little
essays would fall in with all that filled your mind, and perhaps
help you to a spirit of hopefulness and confidence which
_will_ come to you and abide with you, I am sure. You will
soon receive another book written by several Unitarians, of which I
have only read very little as yet, but which seems to me full of
strength and comfort and holiness.... Good-bye, and God bless you.
Your ever affectionate,
F. RUSSELL
_Lady Charlotte Portal to Lady Russell_
_January_ 26, 1887
DEAREST FANNY,--I wonder if you are quite easy in your conscience,
or whatever mechanism takes the place with you of that rococo old
article. Do you think you have behaved to me as an elder ought?--to
me, a poor young thing, looking for and sadly requiring the
guidance of my white-headed sister? Our last communications were at
Christmas-time--a month ago. Are you all well? Are you all entirely
at the feet of the dear baby boy? [106] Or have your republican
principles begun to rebel against his autocratic sway? ... I have
been amusing myself with an obscure author named William
Shakespeare, and enjoying him _immensely_. Amusing myself is
not the right expression, for I have been in the tragedies only. I
had not read "Othello" for ages. How wonderful, great, and
beautiful and painful it is (oh dear, why is it so coarse?). Then I
also read "Lear" and "Henry VIII," and being delightfully ignorant
I had the great interest of reading the same period (Henry VIII) in
Holinshed, and in finding Katharine's and Wolsey's speeches there!
Then I have tried a little Ben Jonson and Lord Chesterfield's
letters. What a worldling, and what a destroyer of a young mind
that man was. Can you tell me how the son turned out? I cannot find
any information about him. The language is delightful, and I wish I
could remember any of his expressions.... Now give me a volume of
Pembroke Lodge news in return for this. Public matters, the fear of
war, the arming of all nations, make me sick at heart. How
wonderful and admirable the conduct of that poor friendless little
Bulgaria has been. Then Ireland, oh me! but on that topic I won't
write to the Home Ruler!
Your affectionate sister,
C.M.P.
[106] Arthur, son of Mr. Rollo Russell.
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _January_ 27, 1887
DEAREST LOTTY,--It was but yesterday that there rose dimly to my
memory the vision of a lady with the initials--C.M.P., and who
knows how long I might have remained in the dark as to who and what
she might be but for this letter, in which she claims me as a
sister! and moreover an elder and a wiser sister! one therefore
whose doings and not-doings, writing and not-writing, must not be
questioned by the younger....
We have imagined ourselves living in a state of isolation from our
fellow-creatures, but yours far exceeds ours and makes it almost
into a life of gaiety. I'm most extremely sorry to hear of it,
though most extremely glad to hear that your minds to you a kingdom
are. What good and wholesome and delightful food _your_ mind
has been living on. Isn't that Shakespeare too much of a marvel to
have really been a man? "Othello" is indeed all you say of it, and
more than anybody can say of it, and so are _all_ the great
plays. I am reading the historical ones with Bertie.... Alas,
indeed, for the coarseness! I never can understand the objections
to Bowdlerism. It seems to me so right and natural to prune away
what can do nobody good--what it pains eyes to look upon and ears
to hear--and to leave all the glories and beauties untouched....
The little Autocrat is beginning to master some of the maxims of
Constitutional Monarchy--for instance, to find out that we do not
always leave the room the moment he waves his hand by way of
dismissal and utters the command of "Tata." I waste too much time
upon him, in spite of daily resolutions to neglect him.... I don't
at all know whether Lord Chesterfield succeeded in making his son
like his own clever, worldly, contemptible self, but will try to
find out. _Have_ you read "Dean Maitland"? [107] Now, Fanny,
do stop, you know you have many other letters to write....
Ever thine,
F.R.
[107] "The Silence of Dean Maitland," by Maxwell Grey.
_Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel_
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, SURREY, _September_ 9 [1887]
... Your account of the Queen and her visit interested us much....
I often wish she could ever know all my gratitude to her and the
nation for the unspeakable blessing and happiness Pembroke Lodge
has been, and is; joys and sorrows, hopes fulfilled, and hopes
faded and crushed, chances and changes, and memories unnumbered,
are sacredly bound up with that dear home. Will it ever be loved by
others as we have loved it? It seems impossible....
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, _September_ 12, 1887
DEAREST LOTTY,--I don't think I am writing because your clock is on
the stroke of Sixty-three, for these clocks of ours become
obtrusive, and the less they are listened to the better for our
spirits. I wonder whether it's wrong and unnatural not to rejoice
in their rapid movements as regards myself. I often think so. There
is so much, or rather there are so many, oh, so many! to go to when
it has struck for the last time, and the longing and the yearning
to be with them is so unspeakable--and yet, dear Lotty, I cling to
those here, not less and less, but more and more, as the time for
leaving them draws nearer. God grant you many and many another
birthday of happiness, as I trust this one is to you and your
home.... Your letter was an echo of much that we had been saying to
one another, as we read our novel--not only does nobody, man or
even woman, see every change and know its meaning in the human
countenance, and interpret rightly the slight flush, the hidden
tremor, the shade of pallor, the faint tinge, etc.; but we don't
think there _are_ perceptible changes to such an extent except
in novels.... I think a great evil of novels for girls, mingled
with great good, is the false expectation they raise that
_somebody_ will know and understand their every thought, look,
emotion.... How glad I am that you have a rival baby to
worship--ours is beyond all praise--oh, so comical and so lovely in
all his little ways and words....
Your most affectionate sister,
F.R.
_Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November_ 28, 1887
... We have been having such a delightful visit from Lotty ... we
_did_ talk; and yet it seems as if all the talk had only made
me wish for a great deal more. Books and babies and dress and
almsgiving and amusements and the nineteenth century, its merits
and its faults, high things and low things, and big things and
trifles, and sense and nonsense, and everything except Home Rule,
on which we don't agree and couldn't spare time to fight. We did
thoroughly agree, however, as I think people of all parties must
have done, in admiration of a lecture, or rather speech, made at
our school by a very good and clever Mr. Wicksteed, a Nonconformist
(I believe Unitarian) minister on Politics and Morals. The
principle on which he founded it was that politics are a branch of
morals; accordingly he placed them on as high a level as any other
duty of life, and spoke with withering indignation of the too
common practice, and even theory, that a little insincerity, a
little trickery, is allowable in politics, whereas it would not be
in other matters. [108] We were all delighted.
[108] Lady Russell often quoted a saying attributed to Fox,
"Nothing which is morally wrong can ever be politically right."
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _March_ 7, 1888
"Adam Bede" was as interesting a sofa companion as you could have
found; a very lovely book--wit and pathos almost equally good,
pathos quite the best though, to my mind. We are reading aloud
another charming book of Lowell's, "Democracy," and other essays in
the same volume; and I flutter about from book to book by myself,
and have still two books of "Paradise Lost" to read, and am
wondering what is going to happen to Adam and Eve. I was very
miserable when I found she ate the forbidden fruit. She had made
such fair promises to be good. Alas, alas! why did she break them?
That story of the Fall, though I suppose nobody thinks it verbally
true, is always to me most full of deep meaning, and seems to be
the story of every mortal man and woman born into this wondrous
world.
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, _October_ 3, 1888
Agatha gone yesterday to Pembroke Lodge--Rollo gone to-day to join
her, so my wee bairnie and I are "left by our lone," as you used to
say. "Einsam nein, dass bin ich nicht, denn die Geister meiner
Lieben, Sie umschweben mich." [109] I think it's good now and then
to let the blessed and beautiful memories of the past have their
way and float in waking dreams before our eyes, and not be forced
down beneath daily duties and occupations and enjoyments, till the
pain of keeping them there becomes hard to bear. Yet, "act, act in
the living present" is very, very much the rightest thing; though I
don't think I quite like the past to be called the _dead_
past, when it is so fearfully full of keenest life.
[109] "Lonely--no, that am I not, for the spirits of my loved ones,
they hover around me."
_Lady Russell to Lady Georgiana Peel_
DUNROZEL, HASLEMERE, SURREY, _October_ 8, 1888
... We have had Rollo's old Oxford friend, Dr. Drewitt, here for
two nights--the very cheerfulest of guests. He is head of the
Victoria Hospital for Children, and what with keen interest in his
profession, and intense love of nature, animate and inanimate, I
don't think he would know how to be bored. Hard-worked men have far
the best of it here below, although we are accustomed to look upon
"men of leisure" as those to be envied; but how seldom one finds a
man or woman, who lives a life in earnest, and who has eyes to see
and observe, taking a gloomy view of human nature and its
destinies. I wonder what you have been reading? I have taken up
lately that delightful book, Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott,"
and dipping into many besides.... Some of our pleasantest
neighbours have paid us good-bye visits; Frederic Harrisons, and
the charming and wonderful old Miss Swanwick [110]....
[110] Miss Anna Swanwick.
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _March_ 13, 1889
How could you, could you, could you think that my mental vow not to
write on the all-absorbing political catastrophe was because I sing
"God save, Ireland" in one sense, and you in another! The vow was
made because if once the flood-gates of my eloquence are let loose
on that subject, there is a danger that the stream will
Tennysonially "go on for ever." It is, however, a vow made to be
broken from time to time, when I allow a little ripple to flow a
little way and make a little noise, and then return to the usual
attitude towards non-sympathizers; and, like David, keep silence
and refrain even from good words, though it is pain and grief to
me, and my heart is hot within me. I am speaking of the mere
acquaintance non-sympathizers, or those known to be too bitter to
bear difference of opinion; but don't be afraid, or do be afraid,
as you may put it, and be prepared for total removal of the
flood-gates when _you_ come. Don't you often feel yourself in
David's trying condition, knowing that your words would be very
good, yet had better not be spoken? I don't like it at all.
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
DUNROZEL, _September_ 4, 1889
DEAREST LOTTY,--It was nice to hear from you from Minto. What a
strange sensation it always gives me to write or to hear that word
of _Minto._ [111] I am sure you know it too--impossible to
define, but like something beautiful and holy, not belonging to
this world. I like to hope that such memories have been stored up
by the younger spirits who have succeeded us, while "children not
hers have trod our nursery floor." But in this restless, fly-about
age can they ever be quite the same? ... I see that luckily I have
no room to go on about lovely, lovable, sorrowful Ireland. Alas!
that England has ever had anything to do with her; but better times
are coming, and she will be understood by her conquerors at last,
and be the better for them. Hush! Fanny, no more; even that is too
much. God bless thee.
Ever thine,
F.R.
[111] Lady Russell had written in 1857 to her father about Minto: "I can
well imagine the loveliness of that loveliest and dearest of places. There
is now to us all a holy beauty in every tree and flower, in rock and river
and hill that ought to do us good." Later, in a letter to her sister, Lady
Elizabeth Romilly, she writes of "the Minto of old days, that happiest and
most perfect home that children ever had."
In 1889 the "Life of Lord John Russell" by Mr. Spencer Walpole, was
published.
_Mr. Gladstone to Lady Russell_
HAWARDEN CASTLE, CHESTER, _October_ 30, 1889
MY DEAR LADY RUSSELL,--The week which has elapsed since I received
from Mr. Walpole's kindness a copy of his biography has been with
me a busy one; but I have now completed a careful perusal of the
first volume. I cannot help writing to congratulate you on its
appearance. It presents a beautiful and a noble picture. Having so
long admired and loved your husband (and the political characters
which attract love are not very numerous), I now, with the fuller
knowledge of an early period which this volume gives me, both
admire and love him more. Your own personal share in the
delineation is enviable. And the biographer more than vindicates
the wisdom of your choice; his work is capital, but it could not
have been achieved except with material of the first order. O for
his aid in the present struggle, which, however, is proceeding to
_our_ heart's content. Believe me always most sincerely yours,
W.E. GLADSTONE
A little later Mr. Gladstone sent Lady Russell a proof copy of an article
by him on the Melbourne Ministry, [112] from which the following passages
are here quoted:
... He [Lord John Russell] brought into public life, and he carried
through it unimpaired, the qualities which ennoble manhood--truth,
justice, fortitude, self-denial, a fund of genuine indignation
against wrong, and an inexhaustible sympathy with human
suffering.... With a slender store of physical power, his life was
a daily assertion of the superiority of the spirit to the flesh.
With the warmest domestic affections, and the keen susceptibilities
of sufferings they entail, he never failed to rally under sorrow to
the call of public duty. There were no bounds to the prowess or the
fellow-feeling with which he would fling himself into the breach on
behalf of a belaboured colleague; ... in 1852 an attack upon Lord
Clarendon's conduct as Viceroy of Ireland stirred all the depths of
his nature, and he replied in a series of the noblest fighting
passages which I have ever heard spoken in Parliament ... At the
head of all these qualities stands the moral element. I do not
recollect or know the time in our own history when the two great
parties in the House of Commons have been led by men who so truly
and so largely as Lord John Russell and Sir Robert Peel identified
political with personal morality. W.E. GLADSTONE
[112] _Nineteenth Century_, January, 1890.
_Lady Charlotte Portal to Lady Russell, after reading Mr.
Walpole's "Life of Lord John Russell" December 26, 1889_
... I long that every one should know as we do what the
extraordinary beauty of that daily life was. I always think it was
the most perfect man's life that I ever knew of; and that could
better bear the full flood of light than any other.
In January, 1890, after nearly twelve years' break in her diary, Lady
Russell began writing again a few words of daily record. On the 6th she
mentions a "most agreeable" visit from Mr. Froude; the same day she
received Mr. Justin McCarthy to dinner, and adds that the talk was "more
Shakespeare than Ireland."
_Lady Russell to Mr. Justin McCarthy_ [113]
_November_ 19, 1890
DEAR MR. MCCARTHY,--I hardly know why I write to you, but this
terrible sin and terrible verdict make us very, very unhappy, and
we think constantly of you, who have been among his closest
friends, and of all who have trusted him and refused to believe in
the charge against him. You must, I know, be feeling all the
keenness and bitterness of sorrow in the moral downfall of a man
whose claims to the gratitude and admiration of his country in his
public career nothing can cancel. It is also much to be feared that
the great cause will suffer, at least in England, if he retains the
leadership. It ought not, of course; but where enthusiasm and even
respect for the leader can no longer be felt, there is danger of
diminution of zeal for the cause. Were he to take the honourable
course, which alone would show a sense of shame--that of
resignation--his political enemies would be silenced, and his
friends would feel that although reparation for the past is
impossible, he has not been blinded by long continuance in
deception and sin to his own unworthiness, and to the fact that his
word can no longer be trusted as it has been, and as that of a
leader ought to be. I dare not think of what his own state of mind
must be; it makes me so miserable--the unlimited trust of a nation
not only in his political but in his moral worth must be like a
dagger in his heart. Were he to retire, the recollection of the
great qualities he has shown would revive, and the proof of remorse
given by his retirement would draw a veil over his guilt, and the
charity, which we all need, would not be withheld from him. I know
that numerous instances can be given of men in the highest
positions who have retained them without opposition in spite of
lives tainted with similar sin; but this has not been without evil
to the nation, and I think there is a stronger sense now than there
used to be of the value of high private character in public men, in
spite of a great deal of remaining Pharisaism in the difference of
the measure of condemnation meted out to different men. I think too
that the unusual and most painful amount of low deception in this
case will be felt, even more than the sin itself, by the English
people. Pray forgive me, dear Mr. McCarthy, for writing on this sad
topic; but I have got into the habit of writing and speaking freely
to you, even when it can, as now, do no earthly good to anybody.
There is one consolation in the thought that should he retire
Ireland is not wanting in the best and highest to succeed him. Pray
do not write if you prefer not, though I long to hear from you, or
still better see you.
Yours most sincerely,
F. RUSSELL
[113] Written after the Parnell O'Shea divorce case.
_Lady Russell to Mr. Justin McCarthy_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November_ 22, 1890
DEAR MR. MCCARTHY,--I cannot rest without telling you how very
sorry I shall be if my letter gave you one moment's pain. I knew
how close and true a friend you were of Mr. Parnell, and how
unchanging your friendship would be; but I did not know which
course that unchanging friendship would lead you to take. Not a
doubt can ever cross our minds of the patriotism which has dictated
your action and that of your Irish colleagues. Do not allow any
doubt to cross yours or theirs, that it is the intensity of love
for the great cause which led many in England to wish for a
different decision. Nothing would be more terrible, more fatal,
than any coldness between the friends of Ireland on the two sides
of the Channel. May God avert such a misfortune, and whatever
happens, believe me always most sincerely yours,
F. RUSSELL
_Mr. Justin McCarthy to Lady Russell_
_November_ 24, 1890
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,--I ought to have answered your kind letter
before, for I value your sympathy more--much more--than I can tell
you in words. I am afraid the prospect is dark for the present. Mr.
Gladstone sent for me to-day and I had some talk with him. He was
full of generous consideration and kindness, but he thinks there
will be a catastrophe for the cause if Parnell does not retire. The
Irish members _cannot_ and _would not_ throw over
Parnell, but he may even yet decide upon retiring. All depends on
to-morrow, and we have not seen him. I have the utmost faith in his
singleness of public purpose and his judgment and policy, but it is
a terrible crisis.
With kindest regards, very truly yours,
JUSTIN MCCARTHY
_Lady Russell to Mrs. Warburton_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November_ 23, 1890
MY DEAREST ISABEL,--... Yes, dearie, it _was_ a delightful
visit, leaving delightful memories of all kinds; chats gay and
grave trots long and short, drives, duets--will they ever come
again? I am very glad this heart-breaking Irish thunderclap did not
fall while you were here. It makes us so unhappy. Poor Ireland! her
hopes are always dashed when about to be fulfilled. Nothing can
palliate the fearful sin and almost more fearful course of
miserable deception; but he might, by taking the one right and
honourable course of resigning his leadership--if only for a
time--at least have given a proof of shame, and have saved England
and Ireland from the terrible pain of discussion and disagreement,
and from the danger to Home Rule which his retention of the post
must cause. His Parliamentary colleagues have done immense harm by
their loud protestations in his favour. There is much to excuse
them, but not him, for this course. Our poor Davitt is miserable,
and is braving a storm of unpopularity by writing strongly against
his (Parnell's) retention of the leadership. His whole thought is
for Ireland, and he knows that his advice is that of a true friend
to her--as well as to the wretched man himself....
Your ever affectionate,
MAMA
Mr. Michael Davitt had taken a house in Richmond, and was living there at
this time. Some years earlier Lady Russell had read his "Prison Diary," and
had written the following poem. She did not know him at that time.
_Written after reading Michael Davitt's "Leaves from a Prison Diary"_
DUNROZEL, _September,_ 1887
Man's justice is not Thine, O God, his scales
Uneven hang, while he with padlocked heart
Some glittering shred of human tinsel sees
Outweigh the pure bright gold of noblest souls,
Who from the mists of earth their eyes uplift
And seek to read Thy message in the stars.
Thou hearest, Lord, beneath the felon's garb
The lonely throbbing of no felon's heart,
The cry of agony--the prayer of love
By agony unconquered--love, heaven-born,
That fills with holy light the joyless cell,
As with the daybreak of his prayer fulfilled,
The glorious dawn of brotherhood for man,
And freedom to the sorrowing land that bore him,
For whose dear sake he smiles upon his chains.
Thou gatherest, Lord, his bitter nightly tears
For home, for face beloved and trusted hand,
For the green earth, the freshly blowing breeze,
The heaven of Liberty, all, all shut out.
His vanished dreams, his withered hopes Thou knowest,
The baffled yearnings of his heart to snatch
From paths unhallowed childhood's tottering feet,
And lay a rosy smile on little lips
With homeless hunger pale, to curses trained,
Whereon no kiss hath left a memory sweet.
His chainless spirit, bruised by prison bars,
Wounded by touch of fellow-men in whom
Thy image lost he vainly sought, Thou seest
Unsullied still, lord of its own domain,
Soar in its own blue sky of faith and hope.
Such have there been and such there yet will be,
From whom the world's hard eye is turned in scorn,
But still for each a nation's tears will fall,
A nation's heart will be his earthly haven,
And when no earthly stay he needeth more,
Will he not, Father, feel Thy love enfold him,
And hear Thy voice, "Servant of God, well done."
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November 26, 1890_
Alas! alas! the last fortnight has indeed been one of darkness and
sorrow over the country; railway and ocean horrors breaking many
hundreds of hearts, disgrace to England in Africa, disgrace to a
trusted leader dashing down the hopes of Ireland and bringing back
disunion between the two nations. We made ourselves miserable over
last night's news of the determination of his parliamentary
followers to stand by him, and his acceptance of their re-election.
Poor old Gladstone! I am sure you must admire his letter to Mr.
Morley. To-day we are told to have a little hope that it may have
influence in the right direction, but we hardly feel any. We
heartily agree with every word you say on this most painful matter.
The one consolation is to see such an increase of opinion that a
leader must be a man of high private, as well as public, character.
How often I have deplored the absence of any such opinion!
_Lady Russell to Mr. Justin McCarthy_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November 27, 1890_
DEAR MR. MCCARTHY,--Your most kind letter was a relief to me as
regarded the spirit in which you had taken what I wrote, but also
made us very, very sad, and nothing that we have heard or read in
newspapers since has given more than a mere ray of hope. And why
should this be? Surely the path of honour and duty is plain. It
cannot be taken without pain; but such moments as this are the test
of greatness in men and nations. Gratitude untold is due to Mr.
Parnell. Those who have been his friends will not withdraw their
friendship; but surely that very friendship ought to resolve that
the vast good he has done in the past should not be undone for the
future, to his own eternal discredit, by encouragement to him to
retain the leadership. Surely the claims of your country stand
first; and is not the impending breach between English and Irish
Home Rulers a misfortune to both countries, too terrible to be
calmly faced? Already there is a tone in the Freeman's Journal
which I could not have believed would be adopted towards men like
Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Morley, who have identified themselves heart
and soul with Ireland. Of course, they are far above being turned
for a moment from their course by any such comments, but it must be
a pain to them nevertheless. It almost seems aberration of mind in
Mr. Parnell to be deaf to Mr. Gladstone's words of true patriotism,
echoed as they are throughout England and Scotland, and I cannot
but believe in thousands of Irish hearts besides. Surely this must
have gone far to convince his friends that they would be more than
justified in convincing him that retirement for awhile is his duty,
or, if they cannot convince him, in acting upon their own
convictions, if these are such as I hope. Indignation against the
terrible revelations of his guilt has driven some English
newspapers into language deeply to be deplored; but on the whole
the feeling, as shown in speeches and in the Press, has been
healthy and just. Sir Charles Russell's words struck us as among
the very best. It is the deepest and highest love for Ireland that
makes men speak and write as they do.
Dear Mr. McCarthy, I think you can do much, and I know how firm, as
well as how gentle, it is your nature to be. Save us all, for God's
sake, from the dreaded disunion and the ruin of the cause. Do not
let England and Ireland be again looked upon as separated in their
hopes, interests, aspirations. May Mr. Dillon and Mr. O'Brien help
to the good work; but too much can hardly depend on men at a
distance, excellent and patriotic as they are.
Good-bye, dear Mr. McCarthy. May God guide and unite our two
countries on the road of justice and truth and happiness. Pray,
pray forgive me once more for writing.
Ever most sincerely yours,
F. RUSSELL
In 1891 Mr. Rollo Russell married Miss Gertrude Joachim, niece of the great
violinist, Dr. Joachim, and Lady Russell found new joy in his happiness.
_Queen Victoria to Lady Russell_
_January_ 1, 1891
DEAR LADY RUSSELL,--You are indeed right in thinking that I should
always take an interest in anything that concerned you and your
family, and I rejoice to hear that your son is going to make a
marriage which gives you pleasure, and trust it may conduce to your
comfort as well as to his happiness. It is a long time since I have
had the pleasure of seeing you, dear Lady Russell, and I trust that
some day this may be possible. Past days can never be
forgotten--indeed, one loves to dwell on them, though the thought
is mingled with sadness. Pray remember me to Agatha, and believe me
always,
Yours affectionately,
V.R.I.
_Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _January_ 14, 1892
... Most truly do you say that, while we can shelter ourselves from
the demands that assail our physical being, no defence has been
found against the bitter blasts which batter against our mental and
spiritual structure--no _defence_, only endurance, in hope and
faith and endeavour after Marcus Aurelius's "Equanimitas," and the
knowledge that the higher man's mental and moral capacity the
greater is his capacity for suffering.... And nobody has shown more
than you do in "Psalms of the West" that sorrow is not
_all_ sorrow, but has a heavenly sacredness that gives
strength to bear its burden "in quietness and confidence" to the
end. How entirely I feel with you that this has been a glorious
century. Not all the evil and the misery and the vice and the
meanness and pettinesses which abound on every side, as we look
around, can blind me to the blessed truth that the eyes of mankind
have been opening to see and to deplore these things, and to give
their lives to the study of their causes, and the discovery and
practice of means to put an end to them. The wonderful intellectual
strides, which my long life enables me not only to be aware of, but
to remember as they have one by one been made, are in close
connection with this moral and religious development; and all these
together will, I believe, raise the education of the people
(already so far above the standard of fifty, much more of a hundred
years ago) to something of the kind to which you look
forward--"more high, more wide, more various, more poetic, more
inspiring, more full of principles and less full of facts "--a
consummation devoutly to be wished.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _June_ 22, 1892
Day of much weakness. The sense of failing increases rapidly. May
the short time that remains to me make me less unfit to meet my
God. Oh, that I could begin life again! How different it would be
from what has been. I have had everything to help me upward; joys
and sorrows, encouragement and disappointment, the love and example
of my dearest husband and children in our daily companionship and
communion, the never-failing and precious affection and help of
brothers, sisters, and friends--and yet my life seems all a failure
when I think what it might have been.
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
THE GRANGE, HINDHEAD, HASLEMERE, _July_ 20, 1892
Yes, elections are hard tests of character, and there are too, too
many excellent people on both sides who are led on to say hard,
unjust, untrue things of their opponents.... But there _is_
another side to elections--a grand and noble one--which makes me
feel to my inmost soul the greatness and the blessed freedom of
this dear old country, and always brings to my mind what John used
to say with something of a boy's enthusiasm, "I _love_ a
contested election."
THE GRANGE, HINDHEAD, _October_ 6, 1892
Tennyson died about one o'clock a.m. A great and good light
extinguished.
_October 7th_
Agatha and I early to Aldworth. Went in by Hallam's wish to the
room where he lay. I dread and shrink from the sight of death, and
wish to keep the recollection of the life I have known and loved
undisturbed by its soulless image. But in this case I rejoice to
have seen on that noble face the perfect peace which of late years
was wanting--it was really "the rapture of repose." A volume of
Shakespeare which he had asked for, and the leaves of which he had
turned over yesterday, I believe to find "Cymbeline," at which
place it was open, lay on the bed. His hands were crossed on his
breast, beautiful autumn leaves lay strewn around him on the
coverlet, and white flowers at the foot of the bed.
_Lady Russell to Lady Charlotte Portal_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November_ 2, 1892
Oh, Lotty, how is it that, standing as I am on the very brink of
the known, with the unknown about to sweep me into its depths, how
is it that there is still such intense interest in the course of
this wondrous world, in all the problems now floating about
unsolved, in all the social, moral, political work going on around
us. It is true that these things are of eternal moment, and
therefore links between earth and heaven. Yet it often seems to me
foolish to care about them very much when the solution of all
enigmas is so near at hand.
_Lady Russell to Mrs. Rollo Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _March_ 17, 1893
... The chief Pembroke Lodge event since I wrote is that I went on
Monday to Windsor Castle to luncheon; after which morning meal with
the household, almost all strangers to me, I saw the Queen alone
and had a good long and most easy and pleasant conversation with
her. She was as cordial as possible, and I am _very_ glad to
have seen her again; although there was much sadness mingled with
the gladness in a meeting after a period of many, many years, which
had brought their full number of changes to me--and some to her.
_Lady Russell to Mr. Rollo Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, RICHMOND, SURREY, _July_ 7, 1893
I feel intensely all you say about laying aside, if it were
possible, one's own personality and seeing the silent growth of all
truth and goodness, without the disturbance of names and parties;
but the world being as it is for the present, we can only keep our
minds fixed on the good and the true, with whomsoever and with
whatsoever party we may find it, and follow it with honest
conviction. If I could, I would put an end to Party Government
to-morrow, and my great wish for M.P.'s is that each one should,
upon each subject, vote exactly according to his opinion, and no
Ministry be turned out except upon a vote of want of confidence. I
honour and love Mr. Gladstone, and while ardently sympathetic with
him on Home Rule and all other Liberal measures, I am no less
antipathetic on Church matters. Happily, however, they have become
with him matters chiefly of personal attachment to Anglicanism, and
no longer (I believe) likely to affect his legislation.
"Gladstonian" is a word he does not admit, nor do those of whom it
is used.
_July_ 9, 1893.--Well, to go on with our politics: "a new
policy" Home Rule undoubtedly is, a new departure from the
"tradition" of any English party; but _not_ a departure from
Liberal principles, only a new application of old ones, and I think
it is a pity to speak of it as being against Liberal principles,
for is there anybody of average intelligence who would not have
predicted that if it should ever be adopted by any party it would
be by the Liberals? Exactly the same thing was said about Turkey:
the Whig tradition was to support her, Liberals were forsaking
their principles by taking part with Bulgaria against her. It is
the proud distinction of Liberals to _grow_ perpetually, and
to march on with eyes open, and to discover, as they are pretty
sure to do, that they have not always in the past been true to
their principles. There is no case exactly parallel with that of
Ireland; but there are some in great measure analogous, and it is
the Liberals who have listened to the voice of other countries,
some of them our own dependencies, in their national aspirations or
their desire for Parliaments of their own, expressed by
Constitutional majorities. I admire the Unionists for standing by
their own convictions with regard to Home Rule, and always have
done so; but I cannot call it "devotion to the Union _and to_
Liberal principles," and I am not aware of there being a single
Home Ruler not a Liberal. The Unionists, especially those in
Parliament, have been, and are, in a very dangerous position, and
have yielded too readily to the temptation of a sudden transference
of party loyalty upon almost every question from Liberal to Tory
leaders. But for those, whether in or out of Parliament, who have
remained Liberals--and I know several such--I don't see why, after
Home Rule is carried, they should not be once more merged in the
great body of Liberals, and have their chances, like others, of
being chosen to serve their country in Parliament and in office....
I am reading a book by Grant Allen, "Science in Arcady." ... He
brings wit and originality into these essays on plants, lakes,
spiders, etc.
_Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _September_ 22, 1893
... With regard to the modern attraction of ugly subjects
(_not_ when the wish to remedy gross evils makes it a duty to
study and live among them; but as common talk between young men and
young women), I feel very strongly that the contemplation of God,
and all that is God-like in the souls that He has created, is our
best safeguard against evil, and that the contemplation of the
spirit of evil, and all the hideous variety of its works, gradually
taints us and weakens our powers of resistance.
_Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _October_ 21, 1893
... I entirely agree with you, that poetry and music "teach us of
the things that are unseen" as nothing else can do. Music
especially, which is an unseen thing, not the product of man at
all, but found from man as a gift from God's own hand. I don't know
what at some periods of my life I should have done without these
blessed sympathizers and outlets and uplifting friends.
_Lady Russell to Mrs. Drummond_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _December_ 16, 1893
Your long interesting letter is most welcome. You are very good and
brave to do so much for the good of others, while suffering
yourself. How much harder it is to _bear_ patiently, and keep
up sympathy and fellow-feeling within us in spite of illness, than
to do any amount of active work while in health. I always find my
highest examples in those who know how to "suffer and be strong,"
because it is my own greatest difficulty.
Oh, my dear child, what opinions _can_ poor I give on the
almost insoluble problems you put before me? I wish I knew of any
book or any man or woman who could tell me whether a Poor Law, even
the very best, is on the whole a blessing or a curse, and how the
"unemployed" can be chosen out for work of any useful or productive
kind without injury to others equally deserving, and what are the
just limits of State interference with personal liberty. The House
of Lords puzzles me less. I would simply declare it, by Act of the
House of Commons, injurious to the best interests of the nation and
for ever dissolved. Then it may either show its attachment to the
Constitution by giving its assent to its own annihilation, or
oblige us to break through the worn-out Constitution and declare
their assent unnecessary. It is beyond all bearing that one great
measure after another should be delayed, or mutilated, year after
year, by such a body, and I chafe and fret inwardly to a painful
degree. Oh for a long talk with you! I will not despair of going to
you, "gin I be spared" till the days are reasonably long.
_Lady Russell to Lady Agatha Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _October_ 10, 1894
... Alas! for our dear Oliver Wendell Holmes! He has left the world
much the poorer by his death, but much the richer by his life and
works.... Lord Grey gone too, and with him what recollections of my
young days, before and after marriage, when he and Lady Grey and we
were very much together. We loved them both. He was a very trying
political colleague to your father and others, but a very faithful
friend. The longer I live the more firmly I am convinced that in
most cases to know people well is to like them--to forget their
faults in their merits. But no doubt it is delightful to have no
faults to forget.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _March_ 3, 1894
Touching accounts of meeting of the Cabinet--the last with dear
noble old Gladstone as Minister. Tears in the eyes of his
colleagues. He made his last speech as Minister in the House of
Commons, a grand and stirring one.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _January_ 23, 1895
Finished "Erasmus" a few days ago--a great intellect, much wit,
clear insight into the religion "falsely so-called" of monks and
clergy, but a soul not great enough to utter his convictions aloud
in the face of danger, or to perceive that conciliation beginning
by hypocrisy must end in worse strife and bitterness. He saw the
evil of the new dogmas and creeds introduced by Luther, of
_any_ new creed the rejection of which was penal, but he did
not or would not see the similar evil of the legally enforced old
creeds and dogmas.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _May_ 15, 1895
Armenian refugees here to tea--a husband and wife whose baby
_she_ had _seen_ murdered by Turkish soldiers, and a
friend who is uncertain whether his wife is alive or
murdered--these three in native dress; hers very picturesque, and
she herself beautiful. The three refugees, all of whom had been
eye-witnesses of massacres of relations, looked intensely sad. She
gave an account of some of the hardships they had suffered, but
neither they nor we could have borne details of the atrocities.
What they chiefly wished to express, and did express, was deep
gratitude for the sympathy of our country, veneration for the
memory of John as a friend of the Christian subjects of the Sultan,
and thanks to ourselves.... They kissed our hands repeatedly, and
the expression of their countenances as they looked at us, though
without words, was very touching.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _February_ 24, 1896
Visit from Mr. Voysey, earnest, interesting, and pathetic in
accounts of Whitechapel experiences. His Theism fills him with the
joy of unbounded faith in a perfect God; but his keen sense of the
evil done by the worship of Jesus as another and equal God leads
him to a painful blindness to that divine character and teaching.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _August_ 5, 1897
Sinclair [115] has been reading a great deal to me since my illness
began. Miss Austen's "Emma," which kept its high ground with me
although I had read it too often to find much novelty in the
marvellous humour and reality of the characters. Then "Scenes of
Clerical Life" ... the contrast between the minds and the
brain-work of Jane Austen and George Eliot very striking. Jane
Austen all ease and spontaneousness and simplicity, George Eliot
wonderful in strength and passion, and fond of probing the depths
of human anguish, but often ponderous in long-drawn philosophy and
metaphysics, and with a tediously cynical and flippant tone
underlying her portraits of human beings--and a wearisome lingering
over uninteresting details. Her defects are, I think, far more
prominent in this than in her best later books.
[115] "While in Norfolk Street (in 1882) engaged Sinclair, my good and
faithful Sinclair, as maid and housekeeper" (_Recollections_). She
remained with Lady Russell till her death, and served her with devotion to
the end.
In the summer of 1897 she had a severe illness, from which, as the
following letter shows, she partially recovered.
_Mrs. Warburton to Lady Agatha Russell_
PEMBROKE LODGE, _October_ 11, 1897
You can't imagine, or rather you can, what a happiness it is to be
able to record a perfect drive round the Park again with Mama this
most beautiful day, she enjoying it as of yore, and as full of
pleasure and observation as I ever remember. In short, it is quite
difficult to me to realize how ill she has been since I saw her in
June. She seems and looks so well. She is a marvellous person, so
young and fresh in all her interests, sight and hearing betraying
so little sign of change. She says she is out of practice, and her
_playing_ is not as easy or as vigorous as it was, I thought;
but how few people of her age would return to it at all after such
a long illness. (There are the sounds of music overhead as I sit
here in the drawing-room--how she enjoys it!) ... About the
reading--Dr. Gardiner [116] was against her being prevented from a
little--she enjoys it so much. Sinclair reading to her is a great
comfort.
[116] Medical attendant and valued friend for over twelve years,
partner to Dr. Anderson, of Richmond, with whom he attended Lady
Russell till her death.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _November_ 15, 1897
Eighty-two this day. God be praised for all he has given to
brighten my old age. God be praised that I am still able to love,
to think, to rejoice, and to mourn with those dear to me. But the
burden of wasted years of a long life, in which I see failure on
every side, is weighty and painful, and can never be lightened. I
can only pray that the few steps left to me to take may be on a
holier path--the narrow path that leads to God. My own blessings
only brought more vividly to my mind the masses of toiling,
struggling, poverty-stricken fellow-creatures, from whom the
pressure of want shuts out the light of life.
My Agatha well, weather beautiful, and seventy very happy boys and
girls from the school to see a ventriloquist and his acting dolls
(drawing-room cleared for the occasion). The children's bursts and
shouts of laughter delightful to hear.
Lady Russell was wonderfully well that day--her last birthday on earth--and
joined in the fun and laughter as heartily as any of the children. Old age
had not lessened her keen enjoyment of humour, nor dimmed the brightness of
her brave spirit.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _December_ 11, 1897
A beautiful day for old scholars' meeting. Ninety-four came, a
larger number than ever before; table spread in drawing-room and
bow-room. Not able to go down to see them, but all went well and
merrily. I was able to get to my sitting-room in the afternoon, and
all came up to me by turns for a hand-shake. It was pleasant to see
so many kindly, happy faces.
PEMBROKE LODGE, _January_ 1, 1898
What will 1898 bring of joy or sorrow, good or evil, life or death,
to our home, our country, the world? May we be ready for all,
whatever it may be.
Six days later she was attacked by influenza, which turned to bronchitis,
and very soon she became seriously ill. There was for one day a slight hope
that she might recover, but the rally was only temporary, and soon it was
certain that death was near.
The last book that her daughter had been reading to her was the "Life of
Tennyson," by his son, which she very much enjoyed. She begged her daughter
to go on reading it to her in the last days of her life, and her keen
interest in it was wonderful, even when she was too ill to listen to more
than a few sentences at a time.
For some years Lady Russell had found great amusement and delight in the
visits of a little wild squirrel--squirrels abounded among the old trees at
Pembroke Lodge--which gradually became more and more tame and friendly. It
used to climb up to her windows by a lilac-bush or a climbing rose-tree and
look brightly in at her while enjoying the nuts she gave it on the
window-sill. Before long it became very venturesome, and would enter the
room daily and frisk about, or sit on her writing-table or on the tea-table
in perfect content, taking food from her hand. On the last day of her life
the doctor [117] was sitting by her bedside when suddenly he noticed the
beautiful little squirrel bounding in at her window. It was only a few
hours before she died, but her face lighted up at once, and she welcomed
her faithful little friend, for the last time, with her brightest smile.
[117] Dr. Anderson, who had been for nearly thirty years a true and devoted
friend.
During her illness she had spoken confidently of recovery, but the night
before her death she realized quite clearly that the end was near. Her son
and daughter were with her; and just before she sank into a last sleep she
spoke, in a firm clear voice, words of love and faith. Her mind had
remained unclouded, and her end was as calm and peaceful as those who loved
her could have wished. She died on January 17, 1898.