Life of Sir George Grey: Governor, High commissioner, and Premier. An Historical Biography.
Physical
Physical.
The appearance of Sir George Grey and his bearing were distinguished. Originally tall, though latterly shrunken, he had never carried his height well; as late as his seventy-fifth year his step, like Gladstone's, was still light and elastic. The head, well covered with gray hair, was of an average size, but the convolutions of the brain must have been many and fine. The soft blue eyes reflected the well of poetry that lay deep in him. A fierce moustache, cropped so close as to make it resemble bristles rather than human hair, betrayed the ineradicable savagery that was also deep. The firm chin and jaw were fit organs of the iron will. On the whole, the face had in it, when in repose, nothing of greatness. In animation, when every line and feature obeyed the perceptions of the mind and the passions of the heart, it was legible as a printed page, luminous as a transparency. When lighted up with humorous appreciation, it broke into a million wrinkles, best described in Aeschylean phrase. In anger, though he was deemed a dangerous man, he did not pale, as dangerous men are said to do, but face, neck, and scalp flushed red. It may be proof of the wholesomeness of his blood and the essential sweetness of his nature that when, at the unexpected sight of a political opponent, a flash of hatred transformed his features, and the irregular nose lengthened to a point, his face never blackened. The imperious look, as of one who would brook no disobedience, though he might be guilty of it, was perhaps the most characteristic. The visible ardour of middle life gave way in old age to a pathetic expression of moral defeat, as if it were love for his fellows and not lust of power that had met so rude a repulse.