him by her advice in political affairs, of which she possessed a very extensive knowledge. The following letter will show how well she could cater to supply him with public information before the general diffusion of newspapers rendered such services unnecessary. Her abstract of the proceedings in the House of Commons, is an excellent specimen of epistolary reporting; yet the wife and mother appear throughout the letter, and the politician never forgets topics of far more interest to herself and her lord, than the finest debate that ever echoed within the walls of St. Stephen's chapel.

"[From London to Woburn, 12th April, 1677.]

"I have stayed till past eight, that I might have as much intelligence as I knew how to get. Spencer promised to be here this evening, but I find him not in my chamber, where I expected him at my coming home: for I have spent the afternoon with my sister Allington, and by all our travels could not improve may knowledge, as I extremely desired to do, that I might entertain your dear self the better by this letter; else could have been content to be tomorrow morning as ignorant as I was this; for all my ends and designs in this world are to be as useful and acceptable to my Mr. Russell as I can, to deserve better, if I could, that dear and real kindness I faithfully believe his goodness suffers me to enjoy. My cousin Spencer is just come. The enclosed paper I copied from one Lord Allington gave me last night: it is the King's message to the House yesterday. This day the debate held till four o'clock; and the result of it is, you have ordered a second address to thank his Majesty for taking into consideration your first, and to desire he would, if he please, pursue what in that they desired; and that they might not be wanting, they have added a clause (if the king accepts of it) to the money bill, that gives him credit to use two hundred thousand of that money towards new alliances: promising, if he do see cause to lay it out, to replace it him again. This, as Sir Hugh Cholmondeley says, is not pleasing at court: expectations were much higher. The Lords have

not agreed with the Commons: they desire to have it put in the bill, they should receive an account as well as the Commons. The House was in a way of agreeing, and the Speaker pressed it; till, after three hours debate, he told them suddenly he had mistook the thing, that he knew the House nice upon money matter, and the Lords had only a negative in money concerns; and this seemed an affirmative, so put it to the question; but could not divide the house, though if they had, the ayes would have carried it, it is believed. To-morrow, at two, is a conference with the Lords. The Queen is so ill she could not perform the Maunday this day, but the Lady Fingale did it. The Lady Arlington's brothers are neither of them killed. The Lady Mohun has a son; he is ill, every thing else as you left it. Your girls very well. Miss Rachael has prattled a long story; but Watkins calls for my letter, so I must omit it. She says, papa has sent for her to Wobee, [Woburn] and then she gallops and says she has been there, and a great deal more; but boiled oysters call, so my story must rest. She will send no duty, she is positive in it. I present you all any creature can pay: I owe you as much."

But it was not till the closing scene of Lord Russell's life, that the character, the talents, and the strong affections of this eminent woman, shone out in their full lustre. How well her mind was fortified by far higher than mere philosophic principles, to sustain every reverse of fortune, may be inferred from the following passage, written ten years before that tragical event. "[From London to Stratton, September 23, 1672.]

"If I were more fortunate in my expression, I could do myself more right when I would own to my dearest Mr. Russell what real and perfect happiness I enjoy, from that kindness he allows me every day to receive new marks of, such as, in spite of the knowledge I have of my own wants, will not suffer me to mistrust I want his love, though I do merit, to so desirable a blessing; but, my best life, you that know so well how to love and to oblige, make my felicity entire, by believing

my heart possessed with all the gratitude, honour, and passionate affection to your person, any creature is capable of, or can be obliged to; and this grant ed, what have, I to ask but a continuance (if God see fit) of these present enjoyments? if not, a submission, with out murmur, to his most wise dispensations and unerring providence; having a thankful heart for the years I have been so perfectly contented in: he knows best when we have had enough here; what I most earnestly beg from his mercy is, that we both live so as, which ever goes first, the other may not sorrow as for one of whom they have no hope. Then let us cheerfully expect to be together to a good old age; if not, let us not doubt but he will support us under what trial he will inflict upon them. These are necessary meditations sometimes, that we may not be surprised above our strength by a sudden accident, being unprepared. Excuse me, if I dwell too long upon it; it is from my opinion that if we can be prepared for all conditions, we can with the greater tranquillity enjoy the present, which I hope will be long; though when we change, it will be for the better, I trust, through the merits of Christ. Let us daily pray it may be so, and then admit of no fears."

Lady Russell's whole conduct during her husband's confinement and trial, is above all praise, especially her conscientious adherence to her principles, and her inflexible determination not to urge him to any unworthy concessions for the sake of preserving his life. We pass over the melancholy story of her vain efforts to save him; of her conduct at his trial, when " a thrill of anguish ran through the court" as she presented herself to take notes as his servant, the benefit of counsel being denied him; and her more than heroic-her Christian fortitude and submission in their parting interviews. In these scenes, her hitherto quiet domestic spirit rose to a pitch of elevation which has never been surpassed. We have no record from herself of her feelings on these distressing occasions; she had other employment than to write sentimental letters. From the moment of her husband's ar

siness; she suppressed every feeling which would have interfered with her exertions in his behalf; and even in court never once disturbed the awful solemnity of the scene, by a single expression of her heart-rending grief. Lord Russell's unbounded sense of gratitude for her conduct is well known; and the language of admiration in which he spoke of her in his last hours, is her highest, as no doubt it was her most consoling panegyric. We do not dilate upon these topics, because they are found in the ordinary narratives of these illustrious persons.

It is deeply affecting to follow the afflicted survivor to her melancholy home, where she had not a single inmate capable of sustaining her spirits, and where her mind, supported hitherto by hopes, and even by fears, was now left to the unmitigated anguish of her be reavement. Her children were almost infants; her favourite sister was no more; and public pity, or public praise, could as yet be nothing to her. But her love for her family, and her habitual acquiescence in the dispensations of Divine Providence, supported her in this trying moment; besides which, she says in one of her published letters, "There was something so glorious in the object of my greatest sorrow, that I believe, that in some degree kept me from being overwhelmed." The earlieşt account which we have of the state of her mind, is found in one of her letters to Dr. Fitzwilliam, two months after the fatal event. It is one of the most exquisitely touching passages in her's or any other writings.

"You, that knew us both, and how we lived, must allow I have just cause to bewail my loss. I know it is common to others to lose a friend; but to have lived with such a one, it may be questioned how few can glory in the like happiness, so, consequently lament the like loss. Who can but shrink from

such a blow!

* *

* * * **

fear, and cannot be comforted, because I have not the dear companion and sharer of all my joys and sorrows. I want him to talk with, to walk with, to eat, and sleep with. All these things are irksome to me. The day unwelcome, and the night so too; all company and meals I would avoid, if it might be: yet all this is, that I enjoy not the world in my own way; and this sure hinders my comfort. When I see my children before me, I remember the pleasure he took in them: this makes my heart shrink. Can I regret his quitting a lesser good for a greater? Oh! If I did but steadfastly believe, I could not be dejected; for I will not injure myself to say, I offer my mind any inferior consolation to supply this loss. No; I most willingly forsake this world, this vexatious, troublesome world, in which I have no other business but to rid my soul of sin, secure by faith and a good conscience my eternal interests, with patience and courage bear my eminent misfortune, and ever hereafter be above the smiles and frowns of for tune."

The grief of Lady Russell did not prevent her devoting a diligent attention to the important concerns which devolved upon her in consequence of her husband's death. Scarcely were his ashes cold, before she was obliged to rouse herself from her despondency, in order to defend his memory, which she did in a letter to the king, inserted among her published letters. The pecuniary interests of her children also demanded much diligence and a prudent conduct on her part, in order to secure their father's forfeited estates for their use. She also undertook the entire education of her daughters, a resolution which Bishop Burnet highly encouraged: "For," said he, " as it is the greatest part of your duty, so it will be a noble entertainment to you, and the best diversion and cure of a wounded spirit." In addition to all which, a variety of family troubles pressed hard upon her, and made her feel, as she herself expresses it in one of her letters, "the falseness of her imagination, that she had nothing left-nothing to lose, the deprivation of which could be matter of much anguish." But still, one subject

was ever uppermost in her thoughts. Nothing could divert her attention from it.

Every scene, every occupation, was connected in her mind with the object of her sorrows. "I am going," she remarks on one occasion, in her published letters, "to that now desolate place Stratton, where I must expect new amazing (she habitually uses that word amazement, to express her grief) reflections, it being a place where have lived in sweet and full content, considered the condition of others, and thought none deserved my envy. But I must pass no more such days on earth! However, places are indeed nothing; for where can I dwell that his figure is not present to me?"

The calamities of the nation, and the inroads of arbitrary power, were another constant source of distress to her mind; for Lady Russell, in addition to the public spirit which she had early acquired from her father and fa mily, had become so interested by the conduct and the fate of her husband in all that concerned her country, that she could not witness the unprincipled measures of Charles, and the tyranny and popery of James, without a pang which sometimes made her almost congratu late herself that her beloved lord had found a tranquil haven, from the storms that continued to agitate the nation. Indeed, as she herself observed, had Lord Russell lived, he would probably have been led to connect himself too much with the proceedings of the disaffected; at all events, so far as to give the court a pretext for his destruction, even if he were not an actual partizan. Under all these circumstances, it may be readily conceived that no person witnessed with greater satisfaction than Lady Russell the auspicious, change which took place at the revolution. At the first rumours of the probability of that event, and before it was safe to speak openly on the subject, we find in her letters a breathless expectation and eager curiosity to know the particulars of what was passing. What a triumph for her was that great national era! If any thing could have soothed her wounded spirit, it would have been the national eulogies which now began to cluster around the bier of her depart.

ed lord. The Earls of Bedford and Devonshire were immediately created Dukes, and in the preamble of the patent of the former, the king says, speaking of Lord Russell, "We think it not sufficient that his conduct and virtues should be transmitted to all future generations upon the credit of public annals, but will have them inserted in these our royal letters patent, as a monument consecrated to the most accomplished and consummate virtue in the said family, &c. Now then to comfort one of the best fathers for so unspeakable a loss, to solemnize the memory of that most excellent son, and to excite the emulation of a worthy grandchild, born to so great hopes, that he may tread in the steps of his truly great father," &c.

But all these honours, added to the lenient influence of eleven years, and the high estimation in which she herself was held, being consulted by the greatest men in the nation on the most important measures, could not solace the afflicted heart of Lady Russell. We find her constantly reverting to the same melancholy theme, and picturing to herself the joy that would have been felt by her lost lord, had he lived to witness that national triumph, and the honourable share which he would have taken in effecting it. Indeed, even to her extreme old age (for she lived to see eighty-six years) the same string continued to vibrate. The editress of the work before us has transcribed from the Devonshire MSS. a paper written a very short time before Lady Russell's death, which still reverts to her loss, as if it were but a thing of yesterday. The manuscript is but a fragment, a mere rough draft, full of erasures, repetitions, and omissions, and written with the trembling hand of old age, so as scarcely to be legible; but it presents such a lively picture of Christian humility and penitence, that we cannot withhold it from our readers. Who shall dare to cherish a proud feeling of his own merits, when the saintly Rachael Russell employs such language as the following?

neglects, subject to envy the good parts of others, even as to worldly gifts. Failing in my duty to my superiors; apt to be soon angry with, and without cause too often; and by it may have grieved those that desired to please me, or provoked others to sin by my rash anger. Not ready to own any advantage I may have received by good advice or example. Not well satisfied if I have not all the respect I expected, even from my superiors. Such has been the pride of my naught heart, I fear, and also neglect in my performances due to my superiors, children, friends, or servants-I heartily lament my sin. But, alas! in my most dear husband's troubles, seeking help from man, but finding_none. His life was taken away, and so sorely was my spirit wounded, even without prospect of future comfort or consolation-the more faulty in me, having three dear children to perform my duty to, with thankfulness for such a blessing left me under so heavy a dispensation as I felt the loss of him to be. But, alas! how feeble did I find myself both then, and also poorly prepared to bear the loss of my dear child and only son, in 1711.

"If I carry my sorrow to the grave, O Lord, in much mercy let it not be imputed as sin in me! His death was a piercing sorrow to me, yet thou hast supported me, Lord! even in a very old age, and freer from bodily pains and sickness than most feel-I desire thankfully to recollect.

"Alas! from my childhood I can recollect a backwardness to pray, and coldness when I did, and ready to take or see cause to be absent at the public ones. Even after a sharp sickness and danger at Chelsea, spending my time childishly, if not idly; and if I had read a few lines in a pious book, contented I had done well. Yet, at the same time, ready to give ear to reports, and possibly malicious ones, and telling my mother-in-law, to please her. At seventeen years of age was married; continued too often being absent at the public prayers, taking very slight causes to be so, liking too well the esteemed diversions of the town, as the Park, visiting, plays, &c. trifling away my

precious time. At our return to London, I can recollect that I would choose upon a Sunday to go to church, at Lord B's. where the sermon would be short, a great dinner, and after, worldly talk; when at my father's, the sermon longer, and discourse more edifying. And too much after the same way, I much fear, at my several returns to Wales and England. In the year 1665, was brought to bed of my first child; with him too indulging I fear to get strength soon, and spend my time as before, much with my loved sisters; I doubt not heedful, or not enough so, my servants went to church, if I did, or did not go myself.

"Some time after in London, and then with my father's wife at Tunbridge, and after with her at Bath, gave too much of my time to carelessly indulging in idleness. At Bath too well contented to follow the common way of passing the time in diversion, and thinking but little what was serious: considering more health of body than that of my soul. Forgive my heaviness and sloth in spirituals, for Christ Jesus' sake.

“After this, I must still accuse my self that sometimes in Wales, and other times in England, my care in good has not suited to my duty, not with the active and devout heart and mind I should in the evening have praised thee, my God, for the mercies of the past day, and recollected my evil doings, or omissions of doing good in my power. Not in the morning carefully fixing my will and purpose to pass the day pleasing in thy sight, and giving good example to man, particularly such as under my care; more especially after my second marriage, forgetting by whose blessing I was so happy, consuming too much time with him. [The end wanting.]

The personal misfortunes of Lady Russell, the injuries inflicted upon her family by the house of Stuart, the avowed arbitrary and semi-popish doctrines of the king and his court, and the numerous attacks upon the rights and liberties of the people, all tended to confirm the Whig principles in which she had been educated, and which formed the political creed of her revered lord,

We are not either vindicating or censuring these political principles of Lady Russell; they were those of her husband mellowed down by, but never merged into feminine softness. In religion, which in those days was intimately combined with politics, she was a church-woman; but was anxious for lenient measures towards Dissenters, and on many occasions stood in the gap between the fiery partizans on either side. She says in one of her letters in the present volume, that "saving that we are not of their mind,who would lay pains and penalties upon people for not conforming to its worship, we are, as much as any, for supporting the Church of England, and encouraging communion in it." She says slso to her old friend Dr. Fitzwilliam, in one of her published letters, "I approve with you the Church of England; the best church and the best services are in it upon the face of the earth that we know of. But, Sir, I shall covet one so moderate as not to be impatient and passionate against all such as cannot think so too; but of such a temper as to be able to converse peaceably with such as may have freedom in my family, though not of it, without giving offence; and I take this to be the best way of gaining good people to our opinions."

Dr. Fitzwilliam, to whom these remarks were addressed, had been her father's chaplain, and entertained a devoted attachment to Lady Russell, whom he had known from her infancy. His letters and advice were of considerable service in consoling her mind after the loss of her husband, and she cherished through life the greatest regard and veneration for him, even in his conscientious scruples against taking the oaths at the accession of William and Mary, in consequence of which he was obliged to vacate all his preferments. In one of her letters to this highly respectable, though non-juring, divine, she says, "I am very sorry the case stands with you as it does in reference to the oath, and still wonder (un less I could find kings of divine right) why it does. And all this in the accep tation of a word which I never heard two persons declare the meaning of, but they differed in the sense of it."