As a ruler his most noticeable quality was his power of discipline.  He was feared—­and a Head Master who is not feared is not fit for his post; and by bad boys he was hated, and by most good boys he was loved.  By most, but not by all.  There were some, even among the best, who resented his system of minute regulation, his “Chinese exactness” in trivial detail, his tendency to treat the tiniest breach of a School rule as if it were an offence against the moral law.

I think it may be said, in general terms, that those who knew him best loved him most.  He had by nature a passionate temper, but it was grandly controlled, and seldom, if ever, led him into an injustice.  His munificence in giving was unequalled in my experience.  He was the warmest and staunchest of friends; through honour and dishonour, storm and sunshine, weal or woe, always and exactly the same.  His memory for anything associated with his pupils careers was extraordinarily retentive, and he was even passionately loyal to Auld Lang Syne.  And there is yet another characteristic which claims emphatic mention in any attempt to estimate his influence.  He was conspicuously and essentially a gentleman.  In appearance, manner, speech, thought, and act, this gentlemanlike quality of his nature made itself felt; and it roused in such as were susceptible of the spell an admiration which the most meritorious teachers have often, by sheer boorishness forfeited.

Time out of mind, a Head Mastership has been regarded as a stepping-stone to a Bishopric—­with disastrous results to the Church—­and in Butler’s case it seemed only too likely that the precedent would be followed.  Gladstone, when Prime Minister, once said to a Harrovian colleague, “What sort of Bishop would your old master, Dr. Butler, make?” “The very worst,” was the reply.  “He is quite ignorant of the Church, and would try to discipline his clergy like school-boys.  But there is one place for which he is peculiarly qualified—­the Mastership of Trinity.”  And the Prime Minister concurred.  In June, 1885, Gladstone was driven from office, and was succeeded by Lord Salisbury.  In October, 1886, the Master of Trinity (Dr. W. H. Thompson) died, and Salisbury promptly offered the Mastership to Dr. Butler, who had for a year been Dean of Gloucester.  It is not often that a man is designated for the same great post by two Prime Ministers of different politics.

At Trinity, though at first he had to live down certain amount of jealousy and ill-feeling, Butler’s power and influence increased steadily from year to year, and towards the end he was universally respected and admired.  A resident contemporary writes:  “He was certainly a Reformer, but not a violent one.  His most conspicuous services to the College were, in my opinion, these:  (1) Sage guidance of the turbulent and uncouth democracy of which a College Governing body consists. (2) A steady aim at the highest in education, being careful to secure the position of literary education from the encroachments of science and mathematics. (3) Affectionate stimulus to all undergraduates who need it, especially Old Harrovians. (4) The maintenance of the dignity and commanding position of Trinity and consequently of the University in the world at large.”