reached it out of season, that he laid
himself open to the charge of being doctrinaire, and that in fighting
for it he failed to utter the resources of his vast learning. Enough,
however, is left to enable the world to judge what he was. No books ever
do more than that for any man. Those who are nice in comparisons may
weigh against the book lost the man gained. Those who loved him will
know no doubt.

* * * * *

The following document was found among Lord Acton's Papers. It records
in an imaginative form the ideals which he set before him. Perhaps it
forms the most fitting conclusion to this Introduction.

This day's post informed me of the death of Adrian, who was the best
of all men I have known. He loved retirement, and avoided company,
but you might sometimes meet him coming from scenes of sorrow, silent
and appalled, as if he had seen a ghost, or in the darkest corner of
churches, his dim eyes radiant with light from another world. In
youth he had gone through much anxiety and contention; but he lived
to be trusted and honoured. At last he dropped out of notice and the
memory of men, and that part of his life was the happiest.

Years ago, when I saw much of him, most people had not found him out.
There was something in his best qualities themselves that baffled
observation, and fell short of decided excellence. He looked absent
and preoccupied, as if thinking of things he cared not to speak of,
and seemed but little interested in the cares and events of the day.
Often it was hard to decide whether he had an opinion, and when he
showed it, he would defend it with more eagerness and obstinacy than
we liked. He did not mingle readily with others or co-operate in any
common undertaking, so that one could not rely on him socially, or
for practical objects. As he never spoke harshly of persons, so he
seldom praised them warmly, and there was some apparent indifference
and want of feeling. Ill success did not depress, but happy prospects
did not elate him, and though never impatient, he was not actively
hopeful. Facetious friends called him the weather-cock, or Mr.
Facingbothways, because there was no heartiness in his judgments, and
he satisfied nobody, and said things that were at first sight
grossly inconsistent, without attempting to reconcile them. He was
reserved about himself, and gave no explanations, s