Conrad Russell, 1878 – 1947: “Russell was the youngest of the six children of Lord Arthur Russell and Laura, the daughter of Paul Louis Jules, Vicomte de Peyronnet. He was accordingly a nephew of the Duke of Bedford, and a cousin of the philosopher Bertrand Russell, as well as of the latter’s son, his namesake Conrad Russell. He was educated privately, at home and abroad, before attending Balliol College, Oxford, where he formed part of a celebrated generation which included his friends Raymond Asquith, John Buchan, Aubrey Herbert, and Auberon Herbert.” (Wikipedia)
Here are two opinions. First, Lord Oxford:
“…a man of many contrasts: modest and diffident by temperament but clear-cut and forthright in his opinions; a quizzical observer and recorder of odd concrete facts but given to abstract speculation in matters of philosophy and religion; essentially kind but prone to astringency and even tartness in his comments; essentially truthful but a fascinating and shameless embroiderer of the truth; careful in money matters and somewhat absorbed in them, but extremely generous with all he had.”
Evelyn Waugh: “one of the most exquisitely entertaining men I have known”.
And Conrad on Conrad:
”…I am 55 today so my course is nearly run. It seems queer but I feel about 23 and very shy, callow and unformed – and quite without any knowledge of the world. I’ve learnt nothing and made a hash of my life. And instead of being humble and repentant I simply don’t care a button.”
I have delved into his letters and here are the entries he wrote on this day.
To Diana Cooper, 23rd December 1936.
I’ve sent Harman and Co* one hundred Jimmy O’Gobelins**. What fun the Tremblers have been and will continue to be, I hope. If I have a hobby it is that I adore giving you expensive presents of jewelry. It’s the best way of spending money. Because in 150 years it’s still there – possibly improved in beauty and enhanced in value. And if you have to do a quick getaway it goes in your reticule. You can’t take landed property with you. And the risks attaching to stocks are plain to see, and as to food, gowns, betting, plays etc – we know they are a certain waste. The catch about jewels is they are so easily stolen or lost.
Darling Diana it’s Christmas, when trespasses are forgiven and love renewed. We never give one another offence and love is in no need of renewing. You live right in my heart’s core and know all my thoughts and that I’m fondest of you all the year round, morning noon and night.
*Harman & Co was an English bank founded by Quaker partners circa 1740. It closed circa 1846.
** Slang for a pound.
To Diana Cooper, 23rd December 1939, Woburn Abbey, Bletchley.
I find Herbrand aged, bent, shrunk, 81 and very well. He takes a walk alone every day in all weathers. Lady Ampthill, her daughter Phyllis, Mrs Beaver – sister to Mary Bedford and older. About 78 and pretty. Quite intelligent. That’s all. Diana* of course. We sit down six. The cook is good now, very good and came from the Whitbreads (sister to your aunt Lindsay). Dinner is served top speed. I drink claret and all the rest, water. We are out into the Canaletto room at 9 sharp and Herbrand’s two nurses are waiting there in tea gowns. They manage the wireless and we all hear the news. After that, chat or pretend to read the papers. At 10.15 Herbrand gets up: we all file past him as he stands at the door. The ladies all kiss him. I shake hands. And here I am writing to you. I’ve got a fine room. Bath room with a fire burning. My private Jakes. I’m very comfortable thank you. There’s a Gainsborough in the room, and seven other oil paintings. Most are by Wooten. Dutch perhaps. I’ve got plenty to read including my grandfather’s day book – just been discovered and typed. Foreign travel in 1828.
* Diana is his sister.
(To be continued)