e Ministers had resigned, and that the Queen had sent for Lord
Derby. Lord Russell retained the Liberal leadership till Christmas,
1867, and then definitely retired from public life, though his
interest in political events continued unabated to the end.
Of course, I am old enough to remember very well the tumults and
commotions which attended the defeat of the Reform Bill of 1866.
They contrasted strangely with the apathy and indifference which
had prevailed while the Bill was in progress; but the fact was that
a new force had appeared. The Liberal party had discovered Gladstone;
and were eagerly awaiting the much more democratic measure which
they thought he was destined to carry in the very near future.
That it was really carried by Disraeli is one of the ironies of
our political history.
During the years of my uncle's retirement was much more in his
company than had been possible when I was a schoolboy and he was
Foreign Secretary or Prime Minister. Pembroke Lodge became to me
a second home; and I have no happier memory than of hours spent
there by the side of one who had played bat, trap and ball with
Charles Fox; had been the travelling companion of Lord Holland;
had corresponded with Tom Moore, debated with Francis Jeffrey, and
dined with Dr. Parr; had visited Melrose Abbey in the company of
Sir Walter Scott, and criticized the acting of Mrs. Siddons; had
conversed with Napoleon in his seclusion at Elba, and had ridden
with the Duke of Wellington along the lines of Torres Vedras. It was
not without reason that Lord Russell, when reviewing his career,
epitomized it in Dryden couplet:
"Not heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been has been, and I have had my hour."
III
_LORD DERBY_
My opportunities of observing Lord Derby at close quarters, were
comparatively scanty. When, in June, 1866, he kissed hands as Prime
Minister for the third time, I was a boy of thirteen, and I was only
sixteen when he died. I had known Lord Palmerston in the House of
Commons and Lord Russell in private life; but my infant footsteps
were seldom guided towards the House of Lords, and it was only
there that "the Rupert of debate" could at that time be heard.
The Whigs, among whom I was reared, detested Derby with the peculiar
detestation which partisans always feel for a renegade. In 1836
Charles Dickens, in his capacity of Parliamentary reporter, had
conversed with an ancient M.P. who allowed that L
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