_Written after reading Michael Davitt's "Leaves from a Prison Diary"_

DUNROZEL, _September,_ 1887

Man's justice is not Thine, O G.o.d, his scales Uneven hang, while he with padlocked heart Some glittering shred of human tinsel sees Outweigh the pure bright gold of n.o.blest 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 s.n.a.t.c.h 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 G.o.d, 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. Grat.i.tude 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d 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 a.s.sail 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 n.o.body 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 G.o.d. 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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble 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