and did not take into account the way in which they would be taken
and understood by others. I did not perceive that their natural or
probable effect upon minds other than my own formed part of the
considerations determining the propriety of each act in itself, and
not unfrequently, at any rate in public life, supplied the decisive
criterion to determine what ought and what ought not to be done. In
truth the dominant tendencies of my mind were those of a recluse,
and I might, in most respects with ease, have accommodated myself
to the education of the cloister. All the mental apparatus
requisite to constitute the 'public man' had to be purchased by a
slow experience and inserted piecemeal into the composition of my
character.

Lord Malmesbury describes himself in 1844 as curious to see Mr.
Gladstone, 'for he is a man much spoken of as one who will come to the
front.' He was greatly disappointed at his personal appearance, 'which
is that of a Roman catholic ecclesiastic, but he is very
agreeable.'[121] Few men can have been more perplexed, and few perhaps
more perplexing, as the social drama of the capital was in time unfolded
to his gaze. There he beheld the glitter of rank and station, and
palaces, and men and women bearing famous names; worlds within worlds,
high diplomatic figures, the partisan leaders, the constant stream of
agitated rumours about weighty affairs in England and Europe; the keen
play of ambition, passions, interests, under easy manners and fugitive
pleasantry; gross and sordid aims, as King Hudson was soon to find out,
masked by exterior refinement; so much kindness with a free spice of
criticism and touches of ill-nature; so much of the governing force of
England still gathered into a few great houses, exclusive and full of
pride, and yet, after the astounding discovery that in spite of the
deluge of the Reform bill they were still alive as the directing class,
always so open to political genius if likely to climb, and help them to
climb, into political power. These were the last high days of the
undisputed sway of territorial aristocracy in England. The artificial
scene was gay and captivating; but much in it was well fitted to make
serious people wonder. Queen Victoria was assuredly not of the harsh
fibre of the misanthropist in Moliere's fine comedy; yet she once said a
strange and deep thing to an archbishop. 'As I get older,' she said,