England to be. He had an
exceedingly high sense of the duty of purity of life and of the
sanctity of domestic relations, and his rigid ideas of decorum
inspired so much awe that it used to be said to a person who had told
an anecdote with ever so slight a tinge of impropriety, "How many
thousands of pounds would you take to tell that to Gladstone?" When
living in the country, it was his practice to attend daily morning
service in the parish church, and on Sunday to read in church the
lessons for the day; and he rarely, if ever, transgressed his rule
against Sunday labour. Religious feeling, coupled with a system of
firm dogmatic beliefs, was the mainspring of his life, a guiding light
in perplexities, a source of strength in adverse fortune, a
consolation in sorrow, a beacon of hope beyond the failures and
disappointments of this present world. He did not make what is
commonly called a profession of religion, and talked little about it
in general society, although always ready to plunge into a magazine
controversy when Christianity was assailed. But those who knew him
best knew that he was always referring current questions to, and
trying his own conduct by, a religious standard. He believed in the
efficacy of prayer, and sought through prayer for strength and for
direction in the affairs of state. He was a remarkable example of the
coexistence together with a Christian virtue of a quality which
Catholic theologians treat as a mortal sin. He was an exceedingly
proud man, yet an exceedingly humble Christian. With a high regard for
his own dignity and a sensitiveness to any imputation on his honour,
he was deeply conscious of his imperfections in the eye of God,
realising the weakness and sinfulness of human nature with a mediaeval
intensity. The language of self-depreciation he was wont to use,
sometimes deemed unreal, expressed his genuine 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 when I had
quoted to him the saying of Dean Church that Mark Pattison had painted
himself too black in his autobiography--"always best," adding, with
grim emphasis, "especially in p