Modern statesmen

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-V f i|L!BRARY OF CONGRESS.

II. Lord John Russell

On the first of July, 1819, Sir Francis Burdett, for the eighteenth, time, made his annual motion on the question of parliamentary reform. All that he proposed was that the House should pledge itself to take the state of the representation into its most serious consideration early in the next session of parliament. On the discussion there appeared 58 members with Sir Francis against 153. Amongst the majority was found the name of Lord John Russell, who, though admitting the propriety of disfranchising such boroughs as were notoriously corrupt, could not support a motion that went the length of proposing an inquiry into the general state of the representation, because such an inquiry was calculated to throw a slur upon the representation of the country, and to fill the minds of the people with vague and indefinite alarms. In a few years after this noted speech, Lord John Russell was at the head of the reforming party in this country, and there was a general impression gone forth that a grateful nation would elect him dictator for life. Since then he has been said more than once to have politically extinguished himself — a phrase used by thoughtless writers, who forget that you cannot extinguish a certain amount of territory in a territorial system of government. At the present time his lordship is not decidedly unpopular, and as Secretary for Foreign Affairs, coming after the Earl of Malmesbury, and representing English sympathy with the cause of Italian nationality, has a fair chance of becoming, in some quarters, a popular man again.

How has Lord John Russell sunk so low ? The inquiry is not uninteresting. In the first place, we think the essential aristocratic nature of the man has something to do with it. To be genial is to be popular. Lord John Russell cannot be genial. There is an icy tone in his voice and glitter in his eye ; you may work for him — you may write for him — you may convass for him — you may shout his praises till you are hoarse — and from his lordship you get civil acknowledgment, scarcely that. It is true his lordship is a liberal statesman, but in much the same manner as the Spartan Ephor, who, when charged by his wife with having abandoned half the privileges of his children, replied that he had done so in order that he might preserve for them the other half. Lord John Russell was born a political reformer — just as he is a Protestant. It would never do for the inmates of Woburn Abbey to be catholicised, and no name is so sacred to the Whigs as that of Russell. Then, again, his lordship has made grievous blunders — has alienated his friends, and given encouragement to his foes. Then, again, the days of strong government, and of the sway of individuals, is gone by. We have leaders, but where are the led ? We have officers, but where are the rank and file ? It is true Pitt had a majority to his mind. It is true the way in which the country gentlemen, and rotten borough proprietors and representatives, followed that jolly old model Whig, Sir Robert Walpole, into the lobby of the House of Commons, was enough to remind a certain gentleman, who shall be nameless,

" How Noah and his creeping things Went up into the Ark."

It is true that Sir Robert Peel, like a Colossus, bestrode the Protectionist Squires, whom he changed into Free-traders ; but these men belong to the past. Men have lost confidence in the judgment and tactics and wisdom of those whom they were wont to call their leaders. The individual allegiance to party of which our fathers boasted, exists no longer. Every man does that which is right in his own eyes. It was not so when his lordship served his political apprenticeship. Then, as the scion of the great Whig Duke, Lord John Russell had a right to expect public patronage and support, and he got it. The stage was clear ; all that was requisite was a certain amount of industry. Everywhere the fable of the tortoise and the hare is realized, but nowhere more so than in the House of Commons. To a friend entering Parliament, Wilberforce said, " Attend to business, and do not seek occasions of display. If you have a turn for speaking, the proper time will come. Let speaking take care of itself. I never go out of the way to speak, but make myself acquainted with the business, and then if the debate passes my door, I step out and join it." We have a similar advice from a still greater man. When Sir George Murray attempted to excuse himself from taking office under the Duke of Wellington, on account of his inexperience in public speaking, " Pho, pho ! " said the Duke, " do as I do — say what you think, and don't quote Latin." In accordance with the advice of these men, did Lord John Russell commence his political career.

Had he acted more closely in accordance with it his career would have been more successful. But when a second-rate man attempts the part of a first-rate man, we all know what must be the result. It is not then difficult to account for the occasional decline in popularity of Lord John Russell. It is a slander on the public to impute it to the fickleness of the people. The people are prone to idolatry, and a lord on the liberal side is irresistible. Any electioneering agent will tell you it is almost impossible to beat such a man. Lord John Russell especially has little reason to complain ; the public have borne with him in the most patient manner; they have picked him out of the mud ; they have washed him, and put clean things on him ; they have patted him on the head, and bidden him be a good boy and try again. They have repeated these interesting processes over and over again ; they have forgiven him seven times, and seem about to do so seventy times seven ; yet Lord John is rarely popular. Indeed, it may be almost hinted that the whole career of England's constitutional and heroic statesman has been a mistake. Lord John is by birth the son of one duke and the brother of another. In his youth he associated with the Edinburgh Reviewers, and learnt the quantum sufficit of Liberal slang. He has been an unfortunate man through life — always hard up — always out of luck. He wrote a novel that did not sell — a history that no one would read. His philosophy was equally worthless, and his poetry — he wrote a drama — was (the word is harsh, but we really can find no other so fitting) — his poetry was positively damned.

Thus abhorred by gods and men, he became a politician, and had a finger in that dainty dish, the Reform Bill, by which the people of England were deluded and deceived. The only thing that can be said of him positively is, that, as it may be said of the great Bedford Flat, he has the questionable merit of being connected with the Bedford family. He belongs to the people as Johnson's friend, Campbell, belonged to the Church. " Campbell," said Johnson, " is a good man, a very good man. I fear he has not been inside of a church for many years, but he never passes one without taking his hat off. That shows, at least, that tie has good principles." Lord John omits no opportunity of professing proper attachment to the people, whilst the whole course of his political life makes that profession doubtful. He serves them in the same way as that in which Scrub serves the ladies in the farce when commissioned by them to obtain information as to the stranger they had seen at church. He tells them he has a whole packet of news. " In the first place," says he, <f I inquired who the gentleman was ? They told me he was a stranger. Secondly, I asked what the gentleman was ? They answered and said, that they never saw him before. Thirdly, I inquired what countryman he was ? They replied, 'twas more than they knew. Fourthly, I demanded whence he came ? Their answer was, they could not tell. And fifthly, I asked whither he went ? and they replied, they knew nothing of the matter." To the people, thus clamorous to reform, Lord John gives as much welcome intelligence as Scrub did to the ladies. He has a whole packet of reform and retrenchment, if they will but wait ; but it is not meant for use. It is never ready when it is wanted. He is a Whig, a Eeformer, a friend of the people, an advocate of progress. He does not deny but that further reforms might be made — he is very indignant at being suspected of finality ; yet somehow or other, it does happen that every attempt made in that direction meets with the most unscrupulous opposition of Lord John and the party whom he represents. He does not think much of Mr Cobden's

LORD JOHX RUSSELL. 25

plea for retrenchment, and arbitration instead of war. He has but a poor opinion of the ballot, he scornfully eschews household suffrage, and the five points he cannot abide. Now Lord John's presence in the Cabinet is said to be a guarantee for the carrying of a Reform Bill. As usual, Lord John is much too late. He would be a party to no reform when Hume and the rest were urging him to move with the times, and now the people have been so often duped and disappointed by promises of a Eeform Bill, that it really seems as if they were becoming apathetic in the matter.

Again, through a long parliamentary life, Lord John has been little and spiteful, and troublesome in opposition. In his diary, Tom Moore wrote of his lordship, that " he was mild and sensible" on a particular occasion, but sometimes his lordship has been neither the one nor the other. Moore regretted that Lord John Russell " showed so little to advantage in society from his extreme taciturnity, and still more from his apparent coldness and indifference to what was said to him." This coolness and indifference, combined with no small opinion of himself, has often led his lordship into conduct which has made him very unpopular. When in this state, and expelled from office, he has not had strength of mind sufficient to lead him calmly to wait till the nation has called him back to the helm of state, but he has tried all sorts of contemptible manoeuvres. Never can we forget the appropriation clause which he carried to unseat Sir Robert Peel, and then abandoned when in power. Lord John called " the repeal of the corn laws mischievous, absurd, impracticable, and unnecessary ;" yet his Edinburgh letter in favour of their abolition was hastily written and published when he found that his great rival, Sir Robert Peel, was about to take steps in the direction of Free Trade. In his opposition to the budget of Sir Robert Peel, it is questionable whether the force of meanness could further go. Then what a mischievous attempt, on his lordship's part, to acquire popularity was the Durham Letter, and how fatal the rebound. Lord John's " spirited letter " certainly led the nation to open its eyes. That a Minister who had long been suspected of designing to endow the Roman Catholic Church should have written such a letter* was very surprising ; but that after writing that letter he should have cooled down ; that after roaring like a lion he should have aggravated his voice and roared like a nightingale, was more surprising still. The old adage of " much cry and little wool '* was never more ludicrously realized. In the name of the prophet, exclaimed his lordship, with pompous strut and voice, — In the name of the prophet — figs! The contrast between his letter and his legislation — between his speech and his bill — was as wide as that between Philip drunk and Philip sober ; or as that between

" Sappho at her toilet's greasy task, "With Sappho fragrant at an evening mask."

If Popery be what Lord John said in his speech it was — if it be a curse in every country in which it exists ; and if legislation can grapple with it, — then the bill was delusive, and a mockery. Lord John, in his speech, complained of synodical action. The bill left that untouched. The greatest condemnation of Lord John's bill was Lord John's speech. Disraeli could say nothing stronger against it than what his lordship himself implied. The truth was, to gain a little transient popularity, or to draw off public attention from the growing cry for further Financial and Parliamentary Reform, the First Minister of the Crown stooped to a line of conduct of which the veriest demagogue might have been ashamed. An intense anti- Catholic feeling was aroused. From almost every county and town — from almost every sect and class — petitions went forth expressing burning indignation at the foolish aggression of the Pope. To whatever an Englishman is indifferent, he is not to the growth of the power which in time past lit up the fires of Smithfield, or the auto da fe^s of Goa and Madrid, or which, even at the present day, condemns to the degradation of the jail the lover of his country and his kind. Under the influence of that feeling, men steeped in everlasting infamy — such as Titus Oates, or Sacheverell, or Lord George Grordon — have strutted on the stage the heroes of an hour. A wise Minister would have paused ere that feeling was rashly excited. A wise Minister would have considered his power of controlling the storm ere he had bidden it ride forth.

A wise Minister, before he put himself in collision with a system, the influence of which exists in every land, would have kept for himself a way of coming out of the strife victorious. Lord John Russell signally failed in doing this. All that he did by his bill was to proclaim a weakness it had been easy to conceal, and to put in bolder relief the magnitude of Papal pretences and the littleness of Ministerial legislation. His letter was a sham. He but touched upon the surface of the evil, and that in a manner not difficult to evade. In all its intensity, the evil remains the same. " With our pleasant vices we make the whips with which we scourge ourselves." That Ecclesiastical Title Bill sealed Lord John's career as Premier. To retain office he had to descend from that lofty position. Under the Aberdeen Administration he committed a similar mistake. A public system had broken down ; a magnificent army had wasted away. By many an English fireside was it told how in that winter there had been, far away, a tragedy done unequalled in the worst days of official mismanagement, as criminal as any of the Walcheren and other forlorn efforts of the past. From one end of England to the other, wherever man met man, whether in the haunts of fashion or of business, whether at home or abroad, there were curses uttered, deep and loud, against the men responsible for these disasters. Parliament met ; it was known that the first thing required would be the appointment of the Sebastopol Committee.

Of course that was a vote of censure on the existing administration ; but instead of calmly awaiting the vote, and endeavouring to defend himself and his colleagues, Lord J ohn had the littleness to abandon his post, and to cast stones at the men with whom he had sat at the council-board. Again, in his haste to appear before the world, he rushed to Vienna, there still further to be duped and rendered ridiculous. That his lordship, as he grows older, does not grow wiser, is clear from his having had recourse to his old tactics only the session of parliament before the last. Reform was a matter of such vital importance that it could not be trusted in the hands of the Derby Cabinet ; only Lord John Russell could deal with such a delicate subject. Lord John moved his memorable resolutions. Lords Palmerston and Russell forgot their ancient feuds and swore eternal friendship ; the liberal rank and file followed suit ; the Derby administration was rejected ; and as a practical result, reform was delayed — may I write insecula seculorum? It may be asked, is his lordship's oratory of so fascinating a character as for a time to render the House of Commons blind to his many faults ? By no means. Look at him marching into the lobby — frigid, dwarfed, and self-complacent. For such a man there can be no real enthusiasm on the part of those who know him. See him in the House — always equally cold and chilling, and civil to all around. Follow him to the platform and the hustings, he is the same repellant, unattractive Whig. But he has lived for the House of Commons, and the House is not ungrateful. To Lord

John also is due the merit of having led the House efficiently in time past. In this respect his tact was only equalled by that of his great rival, Sir Robert Peel ; and in knowledge of forms and precedents by many he was considered the superior of that distinguished man. There was really something grand in the aspect of the House under his leadership. It was a remarkable instance of the triumph of mind over matter. In a crowded House, at the close of a heated debate, you would see the smallest man in the House advance to the table, and the noise of the House, and the murmur of many voices, was hushed and still ; the opposition became attentive ; strangers would lean forward their heads ; peers and diplomatists would hearken. Seemingly careless and slovenly, the speech would be found to contain the right amount of liberalism to go down with the back benches ; parts would be elaborately polished, and sparkle with a quiet irony which the audience would not be slow to appreciate, nor reluctant to apply.

Lord John has much to contend with. His outward form is frail and weakly ; his countenance sicklied over with the effects of solitary communing ; his figure shrunk below the ordinary dimensions of humanity ; his general air that of a meditative invalid. But within that feeble body is a spirit that knows not how to cower, an undaunted heart, an aspiring soul. His voice is weak, his accent drawling and provincial, his elocution broken, stammering, and uncertain, save in a few lucky moments, when his tongue seems unloosed, when he becomes logical, eloquent, and terse. Then is his right hand convulsively clenched, his head proudly thrown back, the outline of his face becomes rigid, and his dwarfed figure expands as if he were a giant. Lord John is sometimes very happy, as when, in his letter to the electors of Stroud, he declared that "the whisper of a faction shall not prevail against the voice of a nation ;" or when, in answer to Sir Francis Burdett, who charged him with the cant of patriotism, he told the baronet there was also such a thing as the recant of patriotism. One of Lord John's most celebrated speeches is that known as the Aladdin Lamp Speech, delivered by his lordship in 1819, and which Sir Robert Peel read to the House during the debate on the Reform Bill, in 1831. "Old Sarum," said Lord John, " existed when Somers and the great men of the revolution established our government. Rutland sent as many members as Yorkshire, when Hampden lost his life in defence of the constitution.

If we should change the principles of our constitution, we should commit the folly of the servant in the story of Aladdin, who was deceived by the cry of ' New lamps for old ! ' Our lamp is covered with dust and rubbish, but it has a magical power ; it has raised up a smiling land, not bestrode with overgrown palaces, but covered with modest dwellings, every one of which contains a freeman enjoying equal protection with the proudest subject in the land. It has called into life all the busy creations of commercial prosperity. Nor, when men were to defend and illustrate their country, have such men been deficient. When the fate of the nation depended on the line of policy which she should adopt, there were orators of the highest degree placing in the strongest light the arguments for peace or war. When we decided upon war, we had nerves to gain us laurels in the field and wield our thunders in the sea. When again we returned to peace — the questions of internal policy, of education of the poor, of criminal law, found men ready to devote the most splendid of abilities to the well-being of the community. And shall we change an instrument, that has produced effects so wonderful, for a burnished and tinsel toy of modern manufacture ? No; small as the remaining treasure of the constitution is, I cannot consent to throw it into the wheel for the chance of obtaining a prize in the lottery of revolution." Let me add, that in debate Lord John is always a gentleman ; not merely are his sentences and phrases indicative of polish and refinement, but he is always courteous, never flippant, like Lord Palmerston, nor savage, like Mr Disraeli.

We are standing in the lobby of the House of Commons, watching the members enter. We have watched the flowing stream, it may be half an hour, when a small, neat figure passes by. Every one looks at him, and you do the same, when you hear it whispered, " That is Lord John Russell. " His lordship is elderly, he has had a seat in the House of Commons since 1813 ; but he shows few signs of age,

He is one of England's chiefs ; and by his lofty bearing, and the sparkle in his eye, you would fancy he is quite aware of the fact. Reaumur, in his book on "England," describes his lordship: "A little man, with a refined and intelligent though not imposing air." A malicious Quarterly Reviewer, in a voluntary translation of the same passage, rendered it, " A little, sharp, cunning-looking man, with nothing of an imposing presence." I think both are wrong. Lord John Russell looks the aristocrat as much as any man I have seen. Up in the strangers' gallery, however, you lose this appearance, on account of the distance at which you are placed from his lordship. It is true he is seated on the Treasury Bench ; but he sits with his chin buried in his bosom, his head buried in his hat, and all that you can really see, as he sits cross-legged, and with his arms across his breast, are his diminutive extremities. See, he rises to address the House. Slowly he lifts off his hat, advances to the table, crosses his arms, and, in a brogue somewhat provincial, and not very musical, says " Mr Speaker." All at once the Babel of conversation, the shuffling, coughing, laughing, and talking, is a little hushed. He commences ; it is an important question he has to answer, or an important declaration he has to make, and you may hear a pin drop. You hear a weak voice hammering and stammering at every four or five sentences, those sentences often most slovenly and inelegant in construction, and, at first, you wonder how a man, without figure, voice, delivery, or fluency, could become the leading orator of the House of Commons ; but, as he goes on — as he courteously replies to one, and administers a sly sarcasm to another — as his little frame dilates, and his eye sparkles — as he warms, and the House with him, you will feel that the little man has more in him than at first appeared. Read the speech next morning, and you will find how closely to the point it was — how exactly calculated to the occasion — how it suited the atmosphere of the House, and then you must remember how cool and unruffled was the speaker, and what tact he displayed. In these latter respects Lord John has greatly shone, and has evinced a smartness of which you would not suspect him as you listen to his drawling tones, and witness his slovenly delivery.

In one of his numerous works, Lord John Russell says that the House of Commons, while it admires a man of genius, always gives its confidence to a man of character. It is on his character that Lord John takes his stand. Character, as we all know, is one of the most delusive phrases in the English language ; one man may steal a sheep, while another may not look over a wall. Half the scoundrels that are tried at the Old Bailey were, like Redpath, and Sir John Paul, and others, men of good character. A good character is the dernier resort of a man who has little or nothing else to recommend him. And Lord John Russell certainly has made no little capital out of his character, and that of the great family to whose history he adds another very interesting page. Herein is Lord John Russell's speciality. He takes his stand upon his character. He had a good character twenty or thirty years ago, and he reaps the benefit of it at this moment. "So long as your father sticks to that ugly wife of his, and goes regularly to church," said Erskine to the Prince of Wales, " he will always be popular;" and Lord John has gained much, of his popularity in a similar way. What a man he is for public meetings ! How familiar are Exeter Hall, and the Freemasons' Tavern, and the City of London Tavern, with his name. How amusing is that account Mrs Stowe gives of her visit to his lordship at Pembroke Lodge. " We were received," she writes, " in the drawing-room by the young ladies. Two charming little boys came in, and a few moments after their father, Lord John. I had been much pleased with finding on the centre table a beautiful edition of the revered friend of my childhood, Dr Watts's Songs, finely illustrated. I remarked to Lord John that it was the face of an old friend. He said it was presented to his little boys by their godfather, Sir George Grey. And when, taking one of these little boys on his knee, he asked him if he could repeat me one of his hymns, the whole thing seemed so New England-like that I began to feel myself quite at home."

" Private vices," says Mandeville, " are frequently public benefits." Is not the converse true, and are not private virtues public mischiefs ? " George the Third s constancy to his wife and his shoulder of mutton,"

3 * wrote Albany Fonblanque, in the palmy days of the Examiner, " his taste for regularity and simplicity, enabled him to plunge us into wasting, unjust, and unnecessary wars. Had he kept various concubines, and dined off French dishes at nine o'clock, the people would have had a lively perception of the depravity of his politics, and an intimate persuasion of their wrongs."

I confess that, to myself, Lord John Russell seems more an historical than a real flesh and blood at this day existing man. His was a name dear to the nation, and always received with delight, when the men and women of to-day played with dolls and marbles, and feasted on indigestible pastry. I remember well the almost idolatrous veneration with which he was worshipped by reformers, and that large and influential class, the Protestant Dissenters, whose unrighteous shackles, by means of the abolition of the Test and Corporation Acts, he had been the means of removing. In that era, Lord John was deemed the champion of what was much talked of then, civil and religious liberty all the world over.

" "We have changed (for worse or better ?) Since the time of Charlemagne."

And I have lived to see the House of Commons grow restive under his leadership, his followers diminished, and the country, if not weary of, at any rate very indifferent to, the man. I fear gratitude can never be a permanent state of the mind, unless, as in O'Connell's acceptation of the terra, a sense of thankfulness for favours to come ; or rather, that the law of humanity is, that when a man has done his work and taken his wages, he should trouble ns no more. It is not the individual that makes revolutions. The age makes them, and merely honours an individual as an agent. We should have had Parliamentary Reform had Lord John Russell never lived ; and the Test and Corporation Acts, and the Slave Trade, would have been swept away in a similar manner. These changes are made when the time for them has arrived. The statesman who carries them is in reality carried by them. He is merely the servant of the public, and translates, with legislative enactment, the wants, and wishes, and convictions of the age. Had Lord John Eussell realized this truth, he would never have lost himself by talking of finality, as if in this world of eternal change finality could be predicated of any one thing. Mors jamia vitas, death is the gate to life, is true in politics ; reform is a never-ending process. The old Whig view is different. It is the man who covers the land with plenty — who removes evil — who admits the pro/anum valgus to a limited suffrage, and who reaps his reward in the blessings of ages yet to come. But to any man who looks at the core of things, who seeks to know the causes of what may seem revolutionary changes, and who remembers the influence of an oligarchy, it is clear that if Lord John had never lived, some other scion of the noble house of Bedford would have done that which he has done, and, if of equal industry and devotion to public life, would have formed as material a part of a liberal cabinet. The conclusion, if not flattering to his lordship, is very much so to his lordship's order, and especially to his family, indicating, as it does, the rigidity and fixedness of what is called a popular system of government.