Louis XI., Pope Julius II., Cardinal Ximenes, Cardinal Richelieu Frederic the Great, were politicians who did not flounder in the morass of dogmatic morality, and who in consequence accomplished abiding results. I remember reading somewhere that Hugh Peters one day told Cromwell that nine out of every ten men in England were against him. 'Maybe so,' was the answer of the Protector,' but the tenth man is armed.' This was the answer of a practical statesman. When Bismarck said that the German problem could only be solved by blood and iron, he showed himself the man of the hour. Distinguished believers in vague, political morality are praised for what they meant to do and for what they would have done, if only the conditions of human life were other than they are, and the forces of Nature had permitted them to realise their ideals. It seems to me, as it did to Strong, that the good intentions of statesmen are inadequate compensation to a nation which they have brought to disaster. Napoleon III., with his belief in the principle of nationality and the wonderful virtue of European congresses, helped Prussia into a position which enabled her to crush him and his empire, and, what is of very much more consequence, inflict irreparable injury on France. Strong insisted, with, I think, absolute truth, that Burke as a practical influence is remembered for his pernicious attempt to discredit and destroy one of the greatest constructive statesmen in history. His example has been mischievous and is abiding. Politicians without a spark of his genius, and whose ignorance is as great as his knowledge was extensive, occupy prominent positions in our polity. They are unconscious imitators of Burke; and their position is largely due to the circumstance that the English system of government tends rather to exalt the talker than men of governing power. We constantly hear of the 'moral means' by which affairs of State should be carried on. Strong used to quote a passage from Lord Beaconsfield in this connection which will commend itself to many who have followed with intelligent care the politics of the country, and who have not darkened their intelligence by uncritical acceptance of conventional phrases or weakened their conscience by habitual self-deception. Lord Beaconsfield said:

I have had some experience of public life, and during that time I have seen a great deal done, and more pretended, by what are called 'moral means'; and being naturally of a thoughtful temperament, I have been induced to analyse what 'moral means' are. I will tell you what I have found them to consist of: I have found them to consist of three qualities, enormous lying, inexhaustible boasting, intense selfishness.

It would be difficult to describe more accurately the true inwardness of the prosecution of Hastings. The charges, no doubt, were enormous. As to inexhaustible boasting every one of the managers of the impeachment plumed himself on his high rectitude of purpose to an extent that seems grotesque to men of this generation. Moral means' was also a synonym for selfish interests; for we all know now that the capture of the whole government in India and of its patronage by Burke and his friends was frustrated by Warren Hastings, and that was no doubt in their opinion not the least of his crimes. Politicians in our time who have talked about moral means' have been the true followers of the persecutors of Hastings. The 'moral means' by which the property of one set of Irishmen has been transferred to another, in order to satisfy the tender consciences of English politicians for the past treatment of that portion of the United Kingdom, is in the memory of all. It was refreshing in the conventional world of London to come across a man like Strong, who had such a healthy scorn for all such self-deluding hypocrisy.

In spite of the vehemence of his convictions Strong could be just to men who held very different opinions from his own. This is shown in a very striking manner in an article on Froude's Eras mus' which appeared in the Athenæum on October 6, 1894. It is one of the most interesting papers he ever wrote. He describes in it with exceptional perspicuity the position of Erasmus in Europe, and shows how difficult it would be for anyone to attain such a position at the present day. Nevertheless, Strong forgot that Döllinger had in our time a position somewhat analogous. Like Erasmus, Döllinger was personally known to almost all the learned men in Europe. No scholar or historian passed through Munich without paying him respect. Döllinger, however, knew, and was able to converse easily in, five languages. In the days of Erasmus such knowledge was unnecessary, as Europe was not only bound together by a community of faith, but by the circumstance that Latin was the common language of educated

men.

Erasmus was never able to speak English; but he had a powerful and even dominating influence on the England of his day, and he remains a marked personality in our history. His intimacy with many leading Englishmen is well known; and Strong was fond of illustrating this by quoting a description by Erasmus of a social gathering at Oxford. Erasmus wrote to a friend :

Would that you could have been present at our symposium. The guests were well selected, time and place suitable. Epicurus and Pythagoras would have been equally delighted. You will ask how our party was composed. Listen, and be sorry that you were not one of us. . . . Colet was in the chair, on his right the Prior, on his left a young theologian to whom I sat next, with Phillip opposite, and there were several others besides. We talked over our wine, but not about our wine. We discoursed on many subjects. Among the rest we talked about Cain. . . . We did not agree. The theologian was syllogistic; I was rhetorical, but Colet beat us all down. He spoke with sacred fury; he was sublime and as if inspired.

Dean Colet, as we all know, was in close intercourse with Erasmus when he was founding St. Paul's School. This is what Erasmus said about him:

The foundation has been extremely costly, but he did it all himself; and in selecting trustees (I beg you to observe this) he chose neither bishops nor priests, nor members of his own Cathedral Chapter. He appointed a committee of married laymen of honest reputation; and being asked for his reason, he said all human arrangements were uncertain, but he had observed generally that such persons were more conscientious and honest than priests.

The personality of Erasmus had undoubtedly an extraordinary attraction for Strong. He admitted to me that in the struggles of the sixteenth century his affection and understanding went with the illustrious Dutchman. I must own that I found this sympathy difficult to reconcile with Strong's general view of life and his somewhat vehement attachment to uncompromising movements. It was true that all violent changes were repulsive to his disciplined and philosophic mind. He positively loathed the remorseless fashion in which John Knox in the days of the Reformation, or Fouché at the time of the French Revolution, dealt with the order of things they helped to overturn. Strong would have wished the old order to pass away with dignity. This was not, however, the position of Erasmus. He did not desire the old order to pass away at all. I should have thought that Strong would have been naturally tempted to look upon him as a trimmer, or, at best, a cowardly thinker. That he did not do so I must venture to characterise as a charming inconsistency.

The impression made on Strong by the coronation of King Edward VII. and all the ceremonies attending it reveals his mental attitude to the present state of society and the great institutions of this country in Church and State. I saw him on that August morning in the Abbey, the punctum saliens, as he called it, of the British Empire. I met him again in the afternoon, and we talked

about previous coronations and of signs given which in the reflected light of subsequent events were ominous in character. We remembered the white robe of Charles I., foreshadowing his martyrdom to the Royalists of another generation; the crown falling from the head of James II. and saved by Henry Sydney; the emerald that fell from the diadem of King George III., which was afterwards considered a sign of the loss of the American Colonies. We wondered whether the slight fainting fit of the Archbishop of Canterbury at the coronation we had just witnessed presaged trouble during the present reign to an institution of deeper influence on English life than the Monarchy itself. The symbolic meaning of that coronation ceremony, with all its mystic rites and its complicated memories, seemed to touch the imagination of Strong as powerfully as it appealed to my own feelings. In the almost reverent attitude of his mind to the ancient monarchy of England, with its proud traditions and its weight of glory, I recognised the influence of Renan and the intellectual inheritance of Chateaubriand. His conversation on this occasion, and generally when he touched on sacred and semi-sacred things, always reminded me of Montrond, the friend of Talleyrand. When Montrond, who was not much of a believer, was on his death-bed, and was making a sort of public confession called the amende honorable, the priest asked the dying man whether he was sorry for any expressions he had made use of, irreverent in character? Sir,' said Montrond in reply, you should remember that I have always lived amongst gentlemen.' Coarse blasphemy was abhorrent to Strong. During the course of this conversation we came to speak about the monuments in the Abbey. Strong expressed himself with a vehemence not untinged with contempt against those who would wish them removed. He insisted that one period should not be blamed because it was without the qualities of another, and that it should be remembered that historical considerations enter into questions. of taste. Different methods characterise different generations. The eighteenth century, for instance, was remarkable for a finish in work which may be admired, independently of design. And our age has no more right to criticise the monuments and the church which inspired Addison in his meditations in the Abbey, than Voltaire had to sneer at Shakespeare because he did not appreciate the rugged majesty of portions of his work.

Strong took a profound and unsleeping interest in the foreign policy of England. When articles some four years ago appeared in

the National Review insisting that the keystone of British policy in the East should be a friendly understanding and co-operation with Japan, they commanded his enthusiastic assent. This was at that time a pious opinion which many thought would never be realised. Strong, however, was firm in his faith that the force of circumstances would bring about the alliance which has since taken place. He had no sympathy for the general attitude of the English mind towards Russia, and held that an Anglo-Russian Agreement made in co-operation with Japan would be for the advantage of all three countries. A comprehensive arrangement with Russia might have been concluded three or four years ago if statesmen in St. Petersburg had not given way to ignorant prejudices and had not followed the advice of those who ardently desire to keep Russia and England at enmity.

The broad historic mind of Strong was more keenly interested in the actual affairs of the nation than in scholarship; and this became more evident as his physical strength decayed. When weakness made him indifferent to other matters his mind continued uninterruptedly occupied with affairs of State. His interest in current events remained unimpaired to the moment when he finally lost consciousness. His very last words had reference to the politics of the hour.

I hardly like to leave out, in a notice of Strong's life, all reference to the lady he married. She is a distinguished archeologist, and her knowledge of several European tongues, with her exceptionally high intellectual gifts and unfailing sympathy in his aims, enabled her to render him marked assistance in his very varied work.

When he had passed away those who knew him best understood that his unique personality could not be replaced in the circle of their friends and acquaintances. He was in many respects one of the most gifted, and certainly one of the most original, men I have met in life. But apart from his intellectual gifts, I knew him to possess ethical qualities high and attractive, which will always make me hold his memory in reverent esteem.