Of William and John Scott, afterwards Lord Stowell and Lord Eldon, Lord Russell used to tell with infinite zest a story which he declared to be highly characteristic of the methods by which they made their fortunes and position.  When they were young men at the Bar, having had a stroke of professional luck, they determined to celebrate the occasion by having a dinner at a tavern and going to the play.  When it was time to call for the reckoning, William Scott dropped a guinea.  He and his brother searched for it in vain, and came to the conclusion that it had fallen between the boards of the uncarpeted floor.

“This is a bad job,” said William; “we must give up the play.”

“Stop a bit,” said John; “I know a trick worth two of that,” and called the waitress.

“Betty,” said he, “we’ve dropped two guineas.  See if you can find them.”  Betty went down on her hands and knees, and found the one guinea, which had rolled under the fender.

“That’s a very good girl, Betty,” said John Scott, pocketing the coin; “and when you find the other you can keep it for your trouble.”  And the prudent brothers went with a light heart to the play, and so eventually to the Bench and the Woolsack.

In spite of profound differences of political opinion, Lord Russell had a high regard for the memory of the Duke of Wellington, and had been much in his society in early life.  Travelling in the Peninsula in 1812, he visited Lord Wellington at his headquarters near Burgos.  On the morning after his arrival he rode out with his host and an aide-de-camp, and surveyed the position of the French army.  Lord Wellington, peering through his glass, suddenly exclaimed, “By G——! they’ve changed their position!” and said no more.

When they returned from their ride, the aide-de-camp said to Lord John, “You had better get away as quick as you can.  I am confident that Lord Wellington means to make a move.”  Lord John took the hint, made his excuses, and went on his way.  That evening the British army was in full retreat, and Lord Russell used to tell the story as illustrating the old Duke’s extreme reticence when there was a chance of a military secret leaking out.

Lord Russell’s father, the sixth Duke of Bedford, belonged to that section of the Whigs who thought that, while a Whig ministry was impossible, it was wiser to support the Duke of Wellington, whom they believed to be a thoroughly honest man, than Canning, whom they regarded as an unscrupulous adventurer.  Accordingly the Duke of Wellington was a frequent visitor at Woburn Abbey, and showed consistent friendliness to Lord Russell and his many brothers, all of whom were full of anecdotes illustrative of his grim humour and robust common sense.  Let a few of them be recorded.

The Government was contemplating the dispatch of an expedition to Burma, with a view of taking Rangoon, and a question arose as to who would be the fittest general to be sent in command of the expedition.  The Cabinet sent for the Duke of Wellington, and asked his advice.  He instantly replied, “Send Lord Combermere.”