I

_LORD PALMERSTON_

I remember ten Prime Ministers, and I know an eleventh. Some have
passed beyond earshot of our criticism; but some remain, pale and
ineffectual ghosts of former greatness, yet still touched by that
human infirmity which prefers praise to blame. It will behove me
to walk warily when I reach the present day; but, in dealing with
figures which are already historical, one's judgments may be
comparatively untrammelled.

I trace my paternal ancestry direct to a Russell who entered the
House of Commons at the General Election of 1441, and since 1538
some of us have always sat in one or other of the two Houses of
Parliament; so I may be fairly said to have the Parliamentary tradition
in my blood. But I cannot profess to have taken any intelligent
interest in political persons or doings before I was six years
old; my retrospect, therefore, shall begin with Lord Palmerston,
whom I can recall in his last Administration, 1859-1865.

I must confess that I chiefly remember his outward characteristics--his
large, dyed, carefully brushed whiskers; his broad-shouldered figure,
which always seemed struggling to be upright; his huge and rather
distorted feet--"each foot, to describe it mathematically, was a
four-sided irregular figure"--his strong and comfortable seat on
the old white hack which carried him daily to the House of Commons.
Lord Granville described him to a nicety: "I saw him the other
night looking very well, but old, and wearing a green shade, which