In spite of this generous aspiration, it must be confessed that the Reform Bill of 1866 was not a very exciting measure.  It lowered the qualification for the county franchise to L14 and that for the boroughs to L7; and this, together with the enfranchisement of lodgers, was expected to add 400,000 new voters to the list.

The Bill fell flat.  It was not sweeping enough to arouse enthusiasm.  Liberals accepted it as an instalment; but Whigs thought it revolutionary, and made common cause with the Tories to defeat it.  As it was introduced into the House of Commons, Lord Russell had no chance of speaking on it; but Gladstone’s speeches for it and Lowe’s against it remain to this day among the masterpieces of political oratory, and eventually it was lost, on an amendment moved in committee, by a majority of eleven.  Lord Russell of course resigned.  The Queen received his decision with regret.  It was evident that Prussia and Austria were on the brink of war, and Her Majesty considered it a most unfortunate moment for a change in her Government.  She thought that the Ministry had better accept the amendment and go on with the Bill.  But Lord Russell stood his ground, and that ground was the highest.  “He considers that vacillation on such a question weakens the authority of the Crown, promotes distrust of public men, and inflames the animosity of parties.”

On the 26th of June, 1866, it was announced in Parliament that the 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: