own conduct by, a religious standard. He was a remarkable example
of the coexistence together with a Christian virtue of a quality
which theologians treat as a sin. He was an exceedingly proud man,
yet an exceedingly humble Christian. With a high regard for his own
dignity and a keen sensitiveness to any imputation on his honor, he
was deeply conscious of his imperfections in the eye of God,
realizing the sinfulness and feebleness of human nature with a
medieval intensity. The language of self-depreciation he was wont
to use, though people often thought it unreal, was the genuine
expression of his sense of the contrast between the religious ideal
he set up and his own attainment. And the tolerance which he
extended to those who attacked him or who had (as he thought)
behaved ill in public life was largely due to this pervading sense
of the frailty of human character, and of the inextricable mixture
in conduct of good and bad motives. "It is always best to take the
charitable view," he once observed in passing through the division
lobby, when a friend had quoted to him the saying of Dean Church
that Mark Pattison had painted himself too black in his
autobiography--"always best, especially in politics."

This indulgent view, which seemed to develop in his later years, was
the more remarkable because his feelings were strong and his
expressions sometimes too vehement. There was nothing in it of the
cynical "man of the world" acceptance of a low standard as the only
possible standard, for his moral earnestness was as fervent at
eighty-eight as it had been at thirty. Although eminently
accessible and open in the ordinary converse of society, he was in
reality a reserved man; not shy, stiff, and externally cold, like
Peel, nor always standing on a pedestal of dignity, like the younger
Pitt, but revealing his deepest thoughts only to a very few intimate