The golden age of administrative reform was from 1832 to the Crimean War; Peel was always keenly interested in the progress of these reforms.
Northcote.—“He was my private secretary; and one of the very best imaginable; pliant, ready, diligent, quick, acute, with plenty of humour, and a temper simply perfect. But as a leader, I think ill of him; you had a conversation; he saw the reason of your case; and when he left, you supposed all was right. But at the second interview, you always found that he had been unable to persuade his friends. What could be weaker than his conduct on the Bradlaugh affair! You could not wonder that the rank and file of his men should be caught by the proposition [pg 466] that an atheist ought not to sit in parliament. But what is a leader good for, if he dare not tell his party that in a matter like this they are wrong, and of course nobody knew better than N. that they were wrong. A clever, quick man with fine temper. By the way, how is it that we have no word, no respectable word, for backbone?”
J. M.—Character?
Mr. G.—Well, character; yes; but that's vague. It means will, I suppose. (I ought to have thought of Novalis's well-known definition of character as “a completely fashioned will.”)
J. M.—Our inferiority to the Greeks in discriminations of language shown by our lack of precise equivalents for φρόνησις, σοφία, σωφροσύνη, etc., of which we used to hear so much when coached in the Ethics.
Mr. G. went on to argue that because the Greeks drew these fine distinctions in words, they were superior in conduct. “You cannot beat the Greeks in noble qualities.”
Mr. G.—I admit there is no Greek word of good credit for the virtue of humility.
J. M.—ταπεινότης? But that has an association of meanness.
Mr. G.—Yes; a shabby sort of humility. Humility as a sovereign grace is the creation of Christianity.
Friday, December 18.—Brilliant sunshine, but bitterly cold; an east wind blowing straight from the Maritime Alps. Walking, reading, talking. Mr. G. after breakfast took me into his room, where he is reading Heine, Butcher on Greek genius, and Marbot. Thought Thiers's well-known remark on Heine's death capital,—“To-day the wittiest Frenchman alive has died.”