unless the difficulties are much greater than I have wisdom
to see, that I should be positively disappointed if I found he had
given it up.

Besides, I see many bright sides to it all. You will think I have
lost all my old patriotism, but it is not so; and the prospect of
seeing my husband repeal the Corn Laws, and pacify and settle
Ireland, is one that repays me for much private regret. You see, if
he does undertake to govern, I expect him to do it successfully,
and this in spite of many a wise friend. He went off looking so
miserable himself that I long to hear from somebody else how he
looks now. You cannot think what a thunderbolt it was to us both.
We were reading aloud, about an hour before bedtime, when the
messenger was announced--and he brought the Queen's fatal letter.
Oh! how difficult I found it not to call the man every sort of
name! The next morning John was off, and though he flattered
himself he would be able to come back to me in any case, _I_
flatter myself no such thing.

Poor baby made his resolution falter that morning--he would not
leave him for a moment, clinging round his neck and laying his
little cheek on his, coaxing him in every possible way. He does not
conceal either from himself or me how entire the sacrifice must be
of private happiness to public duty, of which this parting was the
first sample; and he writes of the desolation of domestic prospects
in so sad a way that I am obliged to write like a Spartan to him.

What her feelings were at this time the above letter shows. What was
happening in London may be gathered from Lord John's letters and the
following letter from Macaulay to his sister: [24]

"... Lord John has not consented to form a Ministry. He has only
told the Queen that he would consult his friends, and see what
could be done. We are all most unwilling to take office, and so is
he. I have never seen his natural audacity of spirit so much
tempered by discretion, and by a sense of responsibility, as on
this occasion. The question of the Corn Laws throws all other
questions into the shade. Yet, even if that question were out of
the way, there would be matters enough to perplex us. Ireland, we
fear, is on the brink of something like a civil war--the effect,
not of Repeal agitation, but of severe distress endured by the
peasantry. Foreign Pol