Bulwer-Lytton, writing "about political personalities, said with
perfect truth:

"Ne'er of the living can the living judge,
Too blind the affection, or too fresh the grudge."

In this case, therefore, I must attempt not judgment but narrative.
Lord Rosebery was born under what most people would consider lucky
stars. He inherited an honourable name, a competent fortune, and
abilities far above the average. But his father died when he was a
child, and as soon as he struck twenty-one he was "Lord of himself,
that heritage of woe."

At Eton he had attracted the notice of his gifted tutor, "Billy
Johnson," who described him as "one of those who like the palm
without the dust," and predicted that he would "be an orator, and,
if not a poet, such a man as poets delight in." It was a remarkably
shrewd prophecy. From Eton to Christ Church the transition was
natural. Lord Rosebery left Oxford without a degree, travelled,
went into society, cultivated the Turf, and bestowed some of his
leisure on the House of Lords. He voted for the Disestablishment
of the Irish Church, and generally took the line of what was then
considered advanced Liberalism.

But it is worthy of note that the first achievement which brought
him public fame was not political. "Billy Rogers," the well-known
Rector of Bishopsgate, once said to me: "The first thing which
made me think that Rosebery had real stuff in him was finding him
hard at work in London in August, when everyone else was in a