Lord Oxford possessed most of the needed gifts of a great statesman except ruthlessness towards others and insensitiveness for himself. One wonders whether in-the conditions of the modern age a man so sensitive as he was will ever again be robust enough to expose himself to the outrages of public life. Lord Oxford protected his sensitiveness by silence, by totally refraining from retort or from complaint. He absolutely rejected the aid or the opportunities of the venal press. He could be the leader of a nation or of a party; he would hasten to protect a friend or a colleague, but he disdained to protect himself to a degree scarcely compatible with the actual conditions of contemporary life. Yet it was probably this course of behaviour, this element of character, which, increasingly with years, moulded for him the aspect of dignity, the air of sweetness and calm, the gentle ruggedness of countenance, which those who knew him after he had finally left office will carry in their memories as characteristically his.