This I told Tennyson.
His answer was a grunt; and in a voice from his boots, 'Ugh!
enough to make a dog sick!' I did my utmost to console him
with the assurance that, to the best of my belief, Mr.
Wrightson had once fallen through a skylight.
As illustrating the characters of the admired and his
admirer, it may be related that the latter, wishing for the
poet's sign-manual, wrote and asked him for it. He addressed
Tennyson, whom he had never seen, as 'My dear Alfred.' The
reply, which he showed to me, was addressed 'My dear Tom.'
CHAPTER XXXVI
MY stepfather, Mr. Ellice, having been in two Ministries -
Lord Grey's in 1830, and Lord Melbourne's in 1834 - had
necessarily a large parliamentary acquaintance; and as I
could always dine at his house in Arlington Street when I
pleased, I had constant opportunities of meeting most of the
prominent Whig politicians, and many other eminent men of the
day. One of the dinner parties remains fresh in my memory -
not because of the distinguished men who happened to be
there, but because of the statesman whose name has since
become so familiar to the world.
Some important question was before the House in which Mr.
Ellice was interested, and upon which he intended to speak.
This made him late for dinner, but he had sent word that his
son was to take his place, and the guests were not to wait.
When he came Lord John Russell greeted him with -
'Well, Ellice, who's up?'
'A younger son of Salisbury's,' was the reply; 'Robert Cecil,
making his maiden speech. If I hadn't been in a hurry I
should have stopped to listen to him. Unless I am very much
mistaken, he'll make his mark, and we shall hear more of
him.'
There were others dining there that night whom it is
interesting to recall. The Grotes were there. Mrs. Grote,
scarcely less remarkable than her husband; Lord Mahon,
another historian (who married a niece of Mr. Ellice's), Lord
Brougham, and two curious old men both remarkable, if for
nothing else, for their great age. One was George Byng,
father of the first Lord Strafford, and 'father' of the House
of Commons; the other Sir Robert Adair, who was Ambassador at
Constantinople when Byron was there. Old Mr. Byng looked as
aged as he was, and reminded one of Mr. Smallweed doubled up
in his porter's chair. Quite different was his compeer. We
were standing in the recess of the drawing-room window after
dinner when Sir Robert said to me:
'Very shaky, isn't he!
