the Appropriation clause, wrote to him on March 3 to announce his intention of proposing on the 12th a resolution asserting 'the right of the State' to appropriate the surplus revenues of the Irish Church to other than ecclesiastical purposes. Lord John was blamed at the time for replying rather shortly that 'he himself proposed to submit a motion on the subject.'1 But the reply was surely wise. If it were desirable that such a motion should be proposed at all, it was right that it should be brought forward by the responsible leader of the Opposition.

In

Yet there was a further difficulty to be surmounted. the break-up of the Whig Administration in the summer of 1834, the Whigs had endeavoured to stave off disunion by issuing a commission of inquiry to ascertain what were the surplus revenues of the Church. defended the necessity for inquiry.

Lord John had himself

I want facts established . . . by the best evidence that can be procured on the spot. . . . We wish to ascertain the numbers of persons belonging to the established Church, the number attending divine service, and the increase of the members of the established Church of late years.2

But at the beginning of March the commission had not reported; and, though Lord John through Lord Duncannon endeavoured to quicken its steps, the preliminary reports were not in the hands of the Government till the end of March, and were not ready for presentation for some time afterwards. It was open then for the Government to contend that the result of the inquiry was not known, and that the House of Commons had not the materials before it which would enable it to determine whether the Irish Church had any surplus Yet Lord John was almost compelled to move; for the Ministry, which had already explained how it proposed to deal with the grievances of the Nonconformists by providing for their marriages and by the reform of the ecclesiastical courts, introduced on March 20 a proposal with respect to Irish tithes, 1 Greville, iii. 222. 2 Hansard, xxiii. 800.

revenues.

and there was a manifest inconvenience in discussing the details of the Tithe Bill until the question of appropriation had been definitely settled.

And, in giving notice of his motion for a committee of the whole House on the Irish Church, Lord John had reason to hope that the first report of the commission would be in the hands of members before the day fixed for the debate; finding that there were some doubts on the point, he asked Sir H. Hardinge, the Chief Secretary for Ireland, a question on the subject; and as Sir Henry was unable to give him any definite information upon it he decided on postponing his motion for a week, while Sir Robert Peel undertook to defer the second reading of the Government measure until after the debate on Lord John's motion.

The struggle which thus commenced has rather an historical than a biographical interest. After a four nights' debate Lord John's resolution was carried by 322 votes to 289, and the House went into committee. On the following evening in committee Lord John proposed a further resolution for the local application of the surplus revenues of the Church to the general education of all classes of Christians,' and the committee adopted the proposition by 262 votes to 237. On April 7 he proposed that no measure upon the subject of tithes in Ireland can lead to a satisfactory and final adjustment which does not embody the principle thus laid down. The House adopted the new motion by 285 votes to 258, and on the following morning Sir Robert Peel, seeing that it was impossible to protract the struggle, resigned his office into the King's hands.

As this struggle proceeded, it was evident that the interest which attaches to a personal contest had been restored to English politics. In former periods the rivalry of Sir Robert Walpole and Lord Bolingbroke, of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox; in the nineteenth century of Mr. Canning and Lord Castlereagh, had given zest to political warfare. But, from the death of Lord Londonderry in 1822 to the spring of 1835, a personal conflict of this kind had not existed. Mr. Canning and Sir

Robert Peel were hardly ever pitted against one another as rivals; and, after Mr. Canning's death, Sir Robert Peel was the undisputed champion of the political arena. He could hardly find a foeman worthy of his steel.' No one could have foreseen that such an opponent would be found in the politician whose constitutional delicacy had constantly interfered with his Parliamentary attendance. Even Lord Melbourne, when he put forward Lord John as a leader, did not venture on disputing the King's objection that he would make 'a wretched figure.' He thought, no doubt, that he was playing the best card in his hand, but he had no knowledge that he was laying down the commanding trump.

The months of February and March 1835 suddenly revealed the powers which Lord John had hitherto held in reserve. Called upon to command a disunited party, he succeeded in reconciling their differences and in leading them from victory to victory. And the success which he thus achieved was gained over no mere tyro like himself, but over the first Parliamentary statesman of his own time, and, as some men would say, the first Parliamentary statesman of any time.

During the conflict both of the combatants showed themselves at their best. Sir Robert Peel, indeed, had never seemed so great as during his short Administration of 1835. The breadth of his policy and the skill with which he defended it were equally admirable. But Lord John made a more startling impression both on the House and on the country; for, while the leader of the Tory party had long been regarded as the first man in the House of Commons, the great capacity of Lord John had been unrecognised or even unknown.

What was thought of Lord John's conduct at the time may perhaps be shown from a single extract. Mr. Charles Gore, who almost immediately afterwards became his private secretary, wrote to him on April 8

Well and truly did Lord Wellesley say to me on Sunday,

'Lord John's conduct as leader has been admirable, and he has shown himself more than equal to so difficult a task. He possesses all the temper and tact of Lord Althorp, with ten thousand times his eloquence and power.'

Foemen worthy of one another's steel are apt to rise in each other's estimation. It is pleasant to be able to say that the chief combatants in the political arena in 1835 maintained throughout the struggle a mutual regard, and the leader of one party came up to the leader of the other, shook hands with him, and congratulated him on his coming marriage.1

For, though Lord John's nights had been given to the House of Commons, and though his days had been almost constantly occupied with seeing reluctant followers, and with framing and recasting critical resolutions, he had found time to engage himself to be married. Lady Ribblesdale, on whom his choice fell, was the widow of the second Lord Ribblesdale-a nobleman who died at a comparatively early age in December 1832-and the sister of Mr. Lister, of Armitage Park, Staffordshire, a gentleman well known in literary circles as the author of 'Granby,' and still better known, both in the world of letters and fashion, as the husband of Mrs. (afterwards Lady Theresa) Lister. By her first husband Lady Ribblesdale had four children. The eldest, Adelaide (now Mrs. Maurice Drummond); the second, Thomas, third Lord Ribblesdale; the third, Isabel (Mrs. Warburton); and the fourth, Elizabeth (Lady Melvill).

Lord John had met Lady Ribblesdale for the first time at Torquay during the Devonshire election. Mr. Sharp, who was known in social circles as 'Conversation Sharp,' was passing the winter there with his ward, Miss Kinnaird, who was afterwards married to Mr. Drummond, the Secretary to the Irish Government. Mr. Sharp was intimately acquainted with Lord John, and Lord John paid him a visit. Lady Ribblesdale was also passing the winter at Torquay, and the hotel at which she was staying was below the terrace in which Mr. Sharp

1 Moore's Memoirs, vii. 129.

was residing. In company with the future Mrs. Drummond, Lord John used to walk down a steep zigzag path which led from Mr. Sharp's house to the hotel and call on Lady Ribblesdale. One brilliant cloudless day-so the story runs-Lord John, with his usual companion, paid Lady Ribblesdale their morning visit, and persuaded her to follow them home to luncheon. As he was returning up the steep ascent Lord John, who was very silent, suddenly stopped and said, 'I have left my umbrella at the hotel.' Miss Kinnaird with a woman's wit replied, 'Oh, then I advise you to go back immediately, for it may rain.' Lord John said, 'Certainly,' and at once returned. Some time afterwards, when the marriage was arranged, Lady Ribblesdale asked Miss Kinnaird to be one of her bridesmaids; and Lord John wrote to her, 'Her sister will of course be principal bridesmaid and hold her gloves, another bridesmaid will carry her bouquet, but you must carry an umbrella.' Fifty years afterwards, in 1885, umbrellas became important articles in a statesman's panoply ; in 1835 they fulfilled apparently a more human purpose, and discharged their allotted task with equal efficacy.

Rumours of the attachment had reached Lady William Russell in January, and the Duke in February.1 No member of Lord John's family, however, was acquainted with Lady Ribblesdale; none of them seem to have paid any attention to the report till the marriage was formally announced in the last half of March. With a caution, which was perhaps natural in a father, but which seems rather out of place in a Duke of Bedford, the Duke in the first instance raised.

1 Lord Tavistock, writing to congratulate his brother on March 20, said, 'Squire John [the Duke] told me six weeks ago that he had heard of it, but we treated the report lightly, never having heard you speak of her.' Lady William, writing to 'My dear Johnnikins' from Stuttgart on April 2, said, 'My mother [Mrs. Rawdon], who knows everything, announced to me your marriage three months ago from Berlin. Perhaps you did not think of it yourself at that time, but she positively did, and named the lady; and yet she is not a Scotchwoman, and has not the gift of second-sight. So I am saved the trouble and emotion of surprise.' In the same letter Lady William said, 'My boys are very much astonished, and the two little ones will not believe in the four children. That is a joke, they are sure.'