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'"iM^ ■■C5^^^')« •MfMippMBMSS^ W0^sr^^ f'^v; s. "*■' -^ ,^:-«iy;,- >^* , ''1v 'v^^Wiv^^-tofflJ?^ THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD, WITH DISRAELI ANECDOTES NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. BY NICHOLAS FLOOD DAVIN, (Of the Middle Temple, London, and of Osgoode Hall, Toronto,) BARRISTER-AT-LAW. Why that's some comfort to an author's fears, If he's an ass, he will be try'd by's peers." (Epilogue to " Old Pachelor.) TORONTO, ONT.: SYDNEY, N.S.W.: BEI-FORD BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS. MDCCCLXXVI. 175729 / DEDICATION. To THE Admirers of Benjamin Disraeli in Canada. Ladies and Gentlemen, It has struck me that the present moment is an oppor- tune one for placing, in a portable form, before the public, a portrait of one of the three great men of the Imperial House of Commons, as it has been known to the present generation. My opinion of the Earl of Beaconsfield was formed from personal observation during four years' con- stant attendance in the gallery of the House of Commons. Like all great men, Mr. Disraeli was, and I hope is, full of humanity. He is a striking instance of the difference between a great man who is also a brilliant writer, and a brilliant writer who is not a great man. I compare him with Sir John Macdonald, as the com- parison has frequently been made. What I say on this head was written and delivered in a speech at the Music Hall, and published in one of the papers before I severed myself from the Editorial staff of the Toronto Globe, The anecdotes are, I think, without exception, new. DEDICATION. When I compare Mr. Disraeli with other men, especialb with some of his detractors, I feel the full truth of what Plutarch says, that there is not so great a difference betweei beast and beast as between man and man. When goin{ frv^m human greatness to human littleness, from genius which soars to mediocrity which creeps, from the magnan-; imous hearted man, like Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Disraelij who would serve his pitiful slanderer, to the miserable snipe who live on the suction of infamy and falsehood — we seei to traverse the whole abyss which separates the wornij from the God. If it is depressing to contemplate the wriggling of human worms, it is elevating and bracing tc dwell on the career of a man like the Earl of Beaconsfielc — not iii deed great after the stoic fashion. No ; but hum^anj with human weaknesses, and yet Fortis, et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus. I am, your obedient servant, Nicholas Flood Davi>I Toronto, August 14, 1876. I, especially iith of what ice between Vhen goini irom geniu ie magnan-^ [r. Disraeli jrable snipe i — we seemi the worm! mplate th bracing t eaconsfiel but human 3. [It, OOD DAVI^I THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD. On Saturday the 12th August, 1876, was published a iece of news which added new interest to the most in- resting character, not only in English politics, but in nglish life ; which may have a momentous influence on e management of the House el Commons; which of lecessity makes the mind go back over the various stages a great career; and, as the purple glory of the declin- g day, while surpassing the splendours of noon suggests >s near at hand, the darkness and the chill, the cold dews nd the coM unchanging stars, so do the coronet and the bes remind us of another inevitable pageant, when the quiem will swell with mournful cadence through the oried aisles of the Abbey, and all that is mortal of Ben- min Disraeli be laid in the great Pantheon of the mpire. That Mr. Disraeli should de-ide to go to the ouse of Lords proves that he considers his career near close. There were not wanting signs that his wer was failing, though he could flash forth in an casional speech with all the old brilliancy, the old ppiness of phrase, the old biting, arrowy sarcasm, fathered with laughter. Long may he be pointed out to e visitor to the House of Lords as the most remarkable nglish politican of the nineteenth century. ft ! 6 The Earl of Beaconsfield, His career has the completeness of a drama, and falls naturally into five acts ; the fifth begins with his elevation to the peerage; the first with the publication of "Vivian Grey." In the first act he is a literary man, dreaming of greatness, and showing the sort of greatness he coveted — to win fame and power by his genius; to dazzle and delight the world by his wit. He would enter the House of Commons, be Prime Minister, wear a coronet ; in fact do all he has done. "Mankind then," says^ Vivian Grey, "is my great game. At this moment how many a powerful noble only wants wit to be a Minister; and what wants Vivian Grey to attain the same end ? That noble's influence. When two people can so materially assist each other, why are they not brought together ? Shall I, because my birth baulks my fancy, pass my life a moping misanthrope in an old chateau ? Now let me probe myself. Does my cheek blanch ? I have the mind for the conception, and I car perform right skilfully upon the most splendid of musical instruments — ^the human voice — ^to make others believe those conceptions. There wants but one thing — pure, perfect courage ; and does Vivian Grey know fear ? He! ,q ^^^ laughed an answer of the bitterest derision." Yet nothing was more unlikely than that he should achieve those things of which he talked so flippantly.fcan His very name then written with an apostrophe betweeni lis fi the " D " and " I " seemed to proscribe him. His fatheri^henl nay the great body of literature which the world owes toHt G en c nd v) ave i ny A nd r ighes rior 1 lebei spire is CO] ould fluei mbiti f the s he eniu.« erfec mbrc ssyr Ha eing onte ailur The Earl of Beaconsfield. ind falls ith his >lication ry man, rreatness; nius; to uld enter coronet;, jat game.' ily wants! Grey to| Vhen two i r are they th baulks j in an oldj my cheek| and I can! )f musicall rs believe! ing— pure, fear ? He! he shouldi flippantly. e between! iis father,' Id owes toi len of his blood, whence genius has borrowed purer fires^ ind where the afflicted and sorrowful of a hundred races lave found diviner waters of healing and consolation than iny Abana or any Pharpar of their own — memories, near ind remote alike, would justify him in looking to the lighest peaks of literary success. But that at a time )rior to the Reform Bill of '32, a man of alien blood and )lebeian birth should aspire to all the younger Disraeli ispired to, must have seemed the most foppish thing in [is consummately foppish get-up. To do all he hoped, he rould have to get into Parliament, to attain a position of [nfluence in the House of Commons, to elbow aside imbitious members of the great houses, win the confidence )f the country. He visited Lady Blessington, who tells IS he " was quite the character of Vivian Grey, full of fenius and eloquence; with extreme good nature and )erfect frankness of character." He was very much Jmbroidered and bejewelled, and oiled and curled, like an Lssyrian bull, *' Smelling of musk and of insolence." Having published several other novels, some of them )eing no better than " Vivian Grey" diluted, he set out \o travel in the East. On his return in 1831 he in vain Contested the borough of Wycombe, and thus with a failure commenced the second act in le life drama of a lan who has twice, left it on record, once when he made lis first speech in the House of Commons and failed, next ^hen at the summit of renown he addressed the students It Glasgow, that the secret of his success was that with 8 The Earl of Beaconsfield. i ! ■■ .? s I V him to fail has eve: been to try again and yet again, if necessary, until he succeeded. The proof of man 2ies in the reprool of circumstance ; and as a good mechanic never \ complains of his tools, a great man never whines over hisj disadvantages, but with a calm, invincible will, sets about | creating the opportunity which has not been thrust upon : him. When your horse is killed you must, like Pierre j Famese, mount a mule and win the victory. On his first | appearance as a candidate for Parliament he was a radical! indorsed by Mr. Hume and Sir E. L. Bulwer (the late Lord Lytton.) He ran again and was defeated. Earl Grey, a relative of whom he was opposing, asked "whoj is he ? " and Mr. Disraeli hearing this published a violent | political pamphlet so entitled, which was followed by! another—" The Crisis Examined." He had applied in vain to O'Connell for his name, and when in 1835 contest- ing Taunton as a Conservative denounced O'Connell as a " bloody traitor " which drew from the Liberator the taunt that ** this Disraeli " was the lineal descendant of^ the impenitent thief. The fiery young Christian Hebrew challenged Morgan O'Connell, son of the great! Irish Tribune, who had determined after he had shot D'Esterre, never to fight another duel. The challenge was not accepted, and Mr. Disraeli wrote some letters i almost boyish in their vehemence, in the last of which he closed by telling O'Connell that they would meet at Philippi, where he would castigate the man who had' lavished insults upon him. He did his best two years later, The Earl of Beaconsfield. g when he was elected for Maidstone, to carry out his threat in his first speech. The third act opens with his entrance into Parliament, or the borough of Maidstone, as the colleague of his friend [Mr. Wyndham Lewis. As is often the case, the third act s by far the most interesting and stirring in the play, e have a marrir.ge and a great battle, an ignominious ailure, and an unparalleled success; v/e see old allegi- nces scattered to the winds, the dearest friends become he bitterest enemies, men who loved each other as Jona- han and David, as Burke and Fox, drawn up in hostile amps, and challenges of hatred replacing greetings of ove. Mr. Disraeli's first speech was a failure. But there s a vulgar impression regarding it which is quite contrary o the facts. I have met great numbers of persons who hink the House of Commons refused to listen to him, nd that after uttering a few remarks he sat down with he well known utterance of prophetic confidence that the ime would come when they would hear him. The real ircumstancef do not bear out this view. Mr. Disraeli poke for as long as most new members speak, before he as coughed down. The reason he was coughed down as no doubt partly due to his foppish and bombastic anner and style, but also to the fact that though a new ember, he had long been before the public, and after a ttle decent show of patience the House felt at liberty to eal with him as if had been an old offender. He pro- tted by the lesson, and endeavoured by making short ipeeches to catch the tone which suited the House. lo The Earl of Beaconsfield, Meanwhile Wyndham Lewis died. Mr. Disraeli at- tended the funeral, and soon after married the widow. She had a large fortune, and this as v^ell as her personal character had a good influence on our hero's destinies. She was one of those who though not great themselves can recognize greatness in others. In the dedication to one of his novels he calls her **a perfect wife," and he repaid her devotion by a respect and attention which never flagged, though she was ten years his senior. When genius is struggling to obtain acknowledgement, sweet, and never to be forgotten, is the sympathy of the woman who, while giving assurance that too lofty an aim has not been cheiished, inspires with a new courage and im- parts a fresh strength. Kis wife made Disraeli. It was she interested her first husband in him, and so he was elected for Maidstone, and perhaps nothing was more natural than that gratitude should ripen into a tenderer feeling. He never forgot what he owed her. Long after Katinka, Mahomet's first wife, was dead, the queen of his overstocked harem asked the prophet whether he did not love her more than Katinka, who was a widow of forty when he first knew her. "By Allah 1 No!" was the reply, '* I love her best, for she beleived in me when nc one else did." Mrs. Lewis believed in the future Prime Minister when no one else did, when Sir Robert Peel did nol think iiim worth a small Under Secretaryship, and when Sir George Bentinck could patronize a man who was destined to make Dukes and create an Empress. The Earl of Beaconsfield, II [rs. Disraeli became Viscountess Beaconsfield in 1868, [and died in 1873. What is this fatality that men worship ?" asks Mr. )israeli in "Coningsby." "Is it a goddess? Unquestion- ibly it is a power that acts mainly by female agents. '^omen are the priestesses of Predestination. Man con- ceives fortune, but Woman conducts it. It is the spirit of nan that says ' I will be great ; ' but it is the sympathy )f woman that usually makes him so." During the years immediately succeeding his marriage le published a remarkable series of political novels, I* Coningsby " creating as great a sensation in 1844 as ' Vivian Grey " in 1826, or as, if we may peep into the fourth act, " Lothair " did in 1870. He delivered several rery able speeches in the House of Commons, notably in [843 on the state of Ireland, but had made little way with ^he party to which he had attached himself, the leading len, especially Sir Robert Peel, looking askance at him. Jut when the disruption took place in the Conservative knks on the question of Protection his opportunity had >ome. He allied himself with the Protectionist wing, became its spokesman, and his foot was on the ladder. fow Sir Robert Peel had reason to repent that he was b locked up in himself as not to know he had in the lidst of his party a great man. Night after night Mr. )israeli came down and hurled his venomed shafts into [he great Minister, who winced as the arrows went quiver ng home, amid mocking cheers and triumphant laughter 12 The Earl of Beaconsfield,] I mi If any one wants to see how like Jove's lightning in its twin characteristics of destnictiveness and brilliancy Mr. Disraeli's wit is, let him read those speeches attacking Sir Robert Peel. This is the storehouse from which most of the scathing parliamentary points for thirty years have been borrowed. The eagle has been transfixed by darts impelled by feathers from his own wing ; and from the debris of that great fight a dozen warriors have furnished their armory. Mr. Osborne has been there for jokes, and the Marquis of Salisbury has not scorned to pick thence stray sarcasms. Sir Robert Peel was so irritated on the night of the third reading of the Corn-law bill that he went after the debate to Lord Lincoln and insisted on his carrying a challenge to Mr. Disraeli.* Lord Lincoln re- ^ *While these pages were passing through the press, the statement in the text was questioned by a correspondent of one of the Toronto papers. The correspondent gave his authority as Lord Lincoln, and the following is his account : — " Lord George Bentinck it was who, by one of his onslaughts, sue- \ ceeded in causing Peel for a moment to lose his balance, and whom | Peel wanted to call to account after the fashion of a generation which | had passed away. * * * He touched Peel in a very sensitive point j when he spoke of the Conservatives who had been faithful to their j leader against the mass of the party as ' Janissaries,' actuated by mer- cenary or low motives. This taunt it was, levelled not so much against j Peel himself as against the friends who had remained true to him, that | stung him to the point of determining to send a challenge. When the House was up, Peel called to him, Lord Lincoln (better known toj Canada by his subsequent title as the Duke of Newcastle) and askeai him to wait while he wrote a letter to the Queen. The letter having j been despatched. Peel and the Duke walked together towards Peel's house in Whitehall Crardens, and on the way Peel told the Duke that | he was determined to send a challenge to Lord George Bentinck and The Earl of Beaconsfield. 13 [used, and Sir Robert Peel was only driven from his piir- |pose by the threat of an application to a magistrate. \ ou [know how hard you have hit by the rebound. Alter Peel's [death Mr. Disraeli showed for some time a want of spirit that he wished the Duke to be the bearer of it. The Duke, of course, jroiested ; Peel insisted, and the two walked up and down before ^eel's gate arguing the question till the day dawned and the work-peo- )le began to pass on their way to work. Peel then consented to go in id take some rest, the Duke promising to return after a few hours and ^eel promising to take no step in the meantime. The Duke returr-ed ifter a few hours accordingly, and found Peel still bent on sending the :hallenge, and resolved if the Duke would not carry it for him to apply to Sir Henry Harding. The Duke renewed his arguments and t^ntrea- At last Peel yielded, not to the threat of an application to a lagistrate, which couiu never have entered the Duke's mind, but to a representation of the pairt which a duel would cause the Queen." Lord Lincoln's authority is, of course, decisive, and henceforth, the irersion which has obtained for thirty years, and which appeared in a )ook published only the other day, and written by a man whose oppor- tunities of knowing the facts, were and are unrivalled, must be held to [be discredited. That the threat of an application to a magistrate I' could never have entered the Dukes mind," is far from certain, as Buch threats were not uncommon on like occasions, in the declining lays of the duel. At a period before duelling had lost its hold as an institution, Henry Grattan, as proud a man as Peel, wanted to chal- lenge Giffard. He was prevented doing so only by a similar menace. ?he two cases furnish a parallel. Grattan wanted Sir Jonah Barring- |ton to bear a challenge from him to Giffard, and it was with the great- est difficulty he was persuaded to go home and give no more thought to Giffard's insults. The next morning he returned and said he was [thinking about " that rascal " the whole night and " must have a shot him." He seemed determined to get some one else to act for him it Jarrington refused, and Barrington then assured him, that if he pro- ceeded with his determination, the Sheriff would be asked to bind him )ver to keep the peace. " Personal Sketches of his own Times," [Sir John Barnngton — Fifth Edition — pp. 213-14. r^^ 14 The Earl of Beaconsfield. m Mil and freshness. Shiel used to account for this by comparj ing him to a dissecting surgeon without a corpse. On the death of Lord George Bentinck he became the leader of the Conservative Party in the House of Com] mons, and in 1852, being then forty-seven years of agej Chancellor of the Exchequer in the Conservative Ministr) of Lord Derby. He was again Chancellor of the Exl chequer in 1858 and again in 1866. In February, 1868I Lord Derby resigned, and Mr. Disraeli became Prime Minister. In 1873 he refused to form a ministry on Mr] Gladstone's resigning, and in the contest of 1874, broughl about by an impulsive dissolution of Mr. Gladstone, hJ received an overwhelming majority, and has ever sinc^ been at the head of a very strong Government. As leading man of ministerial rank he has played his pai greatly in all respects. The fifth act takes him to the painted chamber, an(| henceforth the House in which he has sat for forty years will know him no more. The greatest epigrammatist and one of the greatest jesters who ever sat in thi assembly, will be missed from the centre of the fronl ministerial or opposition bench as the case might be Who is to supply his place ? I confess I see no onj on the ministerial side capable of meeting, I will nc 3ay Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Bright, but Mr. Lowe. Ti oppose Sir Staffard Northcote to Mr. Lowe and his grea colleagues is like throwing a Christian to the lions. Ther is indeed one young Conservative whooc genius may noi y compari The Earl of Beaconsfield, 15 )rce itself to the front — Mr. Plunkett, the member for Dublin University. However, my object is not to dis- cuss the probable effect on the state of parties and the lynamics of debate, which will be produced by such a liatus as Mr. Disraeli's departure to the Lords will le. e behind him, and if referred to at all it is by way of pointing an emphatic manner his transcendent gifts. He is not a great orator as the word is usually under. Itood. He wants spontaneous passion. His manner has lefects. He compels attention by his wit. Making statement or pronouncing a eulogy his literary instinct babies him to reach the acme of felicity. But when he (iacusses some abstruse political issue, or seeks to mar- lal a series of facts, it is easy to see that there is some- ling wanting, ^specially when a comparison is made with [r. Gladstone's extraordinary powers in these respects. Jut when he attacks, every two minutes his wit explodes Jnd the deadly missile goes home. In attacking a policy or man, his weapons are travesty, exaggeration, epigram, id solemn chaff. Thus, when speaking in the Town [all at Birmingham, February, 1874, hfe regretted the )ss of nomination days because it was hard on the characters" in a constituency. For instance — "The )unty wit who has had seven years to prepare his jokes -it is hard upon him that he should lose his opportunity visiting his sharp sayings upon his representative's jad." When attacking Mr. Lowe and the Ashantee (olicy of the Government in 1873, ^^ contrasted his own R if 1 6 The Earl of Beaconsfield. conduct in abstaining from embarrassing the Governmenl in the early stages of that little war, with Mr. Lowe] unseemly demeanour on the eve of the Abyssinian cai paign — " Mr. Lowe rose in Parliament and violent!] attacked the Government of the day for the Bbsurditj and the folly, the extreme imprudence, of attempting anj interference in the affairs of Abyssinia. He described nc merely the fatal influences of the climate, but I rememb? he described one pink fly which he said would eat up all tl British army. He was as vituperative of the insect A hyssinia as if he had been a British workman,''* Whethe he breaks a professorial fly on the wheel, or snubs Jenkins too impatient for information, or compliments | Darby GrilHths on his " luminous mind," or advances swor in hand against a Salisbury, or meets the onslaught the Manchester Ajax, or the rush of the Liberal Achillej his weapons are ever the same, in defence and in assau] — wit in one or other of its forms. The following is a good specimen of Mr. Disraeli's jibir manner ; it is a good specimen because it shows how bolj and even reckless he can be. In a speech delivered at Newport Pagnell, in Februai 1874, he thus pays off Mr. Lowe for an attack, bittd enough to have delighted Mr. Disraeli's greatest enemy, distinguished literary man who has made his home amongj ourselves. Mr. Lowe had said that the country was agiti ♦During the debates on the Reform Bills of 1866 and 1867, MJ Lowe had violently assailed the character of the working plases. i The Earl of Beaconsfield. 17 in order that the government might be given into the ids of Mr. Disraeli, who would not believe — so he says lor a moment that the country would exhibit the excite- mt which now prevails, to make him a minister: "but I ^nk it quite possible that the country might show this ntement in order to get rid of Mr. Lowe. No man," he |es on, " has dragged down the government of Mr. Glad- me as Mr. Lowe has done," and then he tells how he had conversation with Prince Bismarck, when the German itesman was about to become p: ime minister of Prussia, Id the Prince said, '"Mr. Disraeli what I want to dopar- ^ularly is to get rid of those professors in my country, I mt to save Prussia from professors.' Now Mr. Lowe is )rofessor. He has corfidence in his own individual in- llibility, and has offended the nation which can have no [mpathy for a man who is proud of having no heart. He a. most ungrateful man, for he would never be in parlia- mt but for me; but I, with characteristic magnanimity, ive a member to the university of London especially to pvide for Mr. Lowe. It was then impossible Vor him, id perhaps still is, to show himself on any hustings with \iety to his life. I said to myself — 'there is so much )ility lost to England' — and I said further, because one Just have an eye to the main chance, ' if I keep Mr. Lowe public life, and this is his only chance, I make sure that cabinet of which he is a member, even if brought into )wer by an overwhelming majority, can long endure and ^ng flourish.' " All these points are hailed with much II '\i :-il 1 8 The Earl of Beaconsfield. laughter, and Mr. Disraeli, clinching the whole, add] "and gentlemen, I think what took place justified my pr science. " In the same speech he gives a travesty of Gladstone's economy, which is equally good. Mr. GlaJ stone had said there were four points to which he wantJ an answer from Mr. Disraeli, and of course he (Mr. Dil raeli) was there to give it. " Mr. Gladstone," he says, ** hj always a number of points. There were three points the Alabama negotiations, and each of them cost moil than a million of money. That is rather a large sum, bJ it is a very large sum indeed for a minister of economy] And then he compares Mr. Gladstone to a traveller whl should involve his employers in entangling engagement] and who, when reproved, should say : " I am sorry for th| and it will be a lesson in the future. But I can assuij you I have been most economical in my personal expense! I have always travelled second-class, and as far as ml refreshment on the road is concerned, I have taken th| temperance pledge." When Mr. Gladstone brought in his Irish Church Dii establishment Bill, one of the points made against it b| Mr. Disraeli, is a fine instance of audaciously solemj chaff. He said the principle of the measure was, confis cation without a pretext, and that it would lead tj perplexing demands from a certain class of Irish gentlemen There were, he said, Irish gentlemen who had large estate and broad acres. There were other Irish gentlemen whi| were entirely without estates, clever, well educated gentle The Earl of Beaconsfield. 19 len they were, the most delightful companions in the rorld. These would one morning after the disestablish- lent bill became law, wait on the Prime Minister, and say : We find ourselves in an unpleasant position. We are le subjects of a cruel grievance. We know the spirit ^f this age, that it abhors inequality. Now we find that we ire at a disadvantage as regards some of our habitual lompanions who have vast properties and large revenues. '^e are as well born as they are. We meet in the same lunting field. We drink the same claret at dinner. We ire in point of culture and education, no whit inferior to ^hem. We ask you therefore in accordance with the )recedent of the church measure and the spirit of the age \o disestablish and disendow those Irish gentlemen who lave large estates, and let us all, like the Roman Catholic Church live on voluntary contributions.'' This is very daring. There is a levity about it when we ihink of the magnitude of the measure, but it is the levity )f a giant. On the night on which Mr. Disraeli's Government was )eaten on the prelminary issue to the disestablishment leasure the Prime Minister, who had during the evening )een drinking bitter beer with the Prince of Wales, rose it half past ten. The scene was one calculated to leave lasting impression on any man's mind. The house was crowded ; the crisis had come ; the fate of the Govern- lent and the fate of the Irish Church, both depended )n the division that would be taken that night. Royal 20 The Earl of Beaconsfield. Princes, amongst whom the fine presence of Pnnc] Christain is remarkable, and leading peers, amongst whor are Earl Granville, Lord Cairns and the Duke of Rich] mond, occupy seats over the clock. The speakers galler)! behind them was filled with all that was most distinguishj ed in art, and letters, and science, in London ; there was| the dark countenance with its Curran eye of Huxley there the handsome head ol Millais ; there the keen Irishl features of Professor Tyndal ; the poet laureate had cornel up from the Isle of Wight to watch the concluding scene ;l Robert Browning had for one night thrown poetised| metaphysics to the dogs ; Tenniel was there thinking of his forthcoming cartoon ; Sir Roderick Murchison had left! his bottle and his books ; Landseer, the Shakespeare otl the world of dogs, his palette and his dumb friends. Under the clock on the floor of the house, on the Min- isterial side, were the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cambridge, and on the other side, the Chief Justice of England and the Bishop of Oxford. The press gallery was crammed with editors, and above from the brazen cage wherin it was said her Majesty sat, and where certainly Mrs. Disraeli and Mrs. Gladstone were, came! the flutter and whisper of the beauty and rank of England. | The prosers prose ; the bores bore ; the twaddlers I twaddle ; but we wait, and Mr. Disraeli waits, sitting with an air of prostration, the face like that of a sphinx, who had watched the expeditions of Livingstone, with the same unconcern, as the triumphs of Roman arms. At The Earl of Beaconsfield. ai ist some member has taken the seat he should never iave left, and Mr. Disraeli springs to his feet, every ine of his figure tremulous with suppressed passion, ind, now while he feels nervously the despatch box, he ieals with the amendment — having a speci 1 eye to [he objections which had come from Lord Cranborne on lis own side of the house. He defends it by quoting Sir •obert Peel's dictum, amid cheers, and laughter " that ^ou should never express your policy in an amendment.'' The noble Lord saw in this amendment of which I lave given the House the plain history — " Here ^here is laughter at Mr. Disraeli's simulation of extreme ;andour and simplicity, and he replies to it with a com- )romise between positiveness and artificial indignation — '* I say the plain and true history. The noble lord saw m the language of the amendment great cause for mistrust [and want of confidence," (and that noble lord is now leaning forward to catch every word — and receive so to say, the shots full on his breast ) " I do not quarrel " — [Mr. Disraeli goes on — " with the invective of the noble ilord. The noble Icrd is a man of great talent, and there [is vigour in his invective and no want of vindictiveness. But speaking as a critic — and perhaps not an impartial [one — I must say I think it wants finish." Here there is [laughter ; but he has only crossed swords before closing (with his antagonist, and now mark how every word stings and stabs. '* Considering that the noble lord has studied the subject, and that he has written anonymous articles touch last w^ lumec It lot Ul Earl of Beaconsfield. against mc, before and since I was his colleague — I d not know whether he wrote them when I was his colleague I think it might have been accomplished more ad unguem The only objection I have to the attacks of the noble Ion is that they invariably produce an echo from the other side, That K seems to ^e is now almost a parliamentar} lawBeopa When the bark is heard on this side the right honourabl« Mr.| member for Calne (Mr. Lowe), emerges, I will not sayBUttle from his cave,* but from a more cynical habitation. He|"^^^^ joins immediately in the chorus of reciprocal malignity ' And hails with horrid melody the moon.'" He then proceeded for hours ; became quite irrelevant got decidedly mixed ; and at last the house began to cry '* question," a rare thing when a prime minister is speaking The moment that cry reached him he drew himself up, andBporti shot into his peroration, in which he spoke of a combina-B- Cent tion between High Church ritualists and Irish followers of the Pope, at the head of whici he hinted stood Mr. Gladstone, a combination almost superhuman in its powers* They had their hands on the realm of England. But he would oppose their machinations, " for I believe," .he said, *' the policy of the Right Honorable Gentleman who is their representative, will, if successful, change the char- acter of this country; deprive the subjects of her Majesty of some of their most precious privileges, and dangerously ingtb than help as mi some cern of w' that Ileal face fiel yo\ the *Mr. Lowe was one of the leaders of tb little party of malcontents who wrecked Lord Russell's Reform Bill in 1866. Mr. Bright called the little split the " Cave of AduUam "—a " mure cynical habitation " would. I Euppose.be the " tub ' of Diogenes. irc ar gue— I d( olJeague noble Jon other side. tar}' law, onourabJi |11 not sayl tion. Hel malignity, ■relevant an to cryl speaking. •^^ up, and combina- [lowers of! ■ood Mr. s powers* But he .he said, 1 who is tie char- Majesty rerously The Earl of Beaconsfield, 23 mch even the tenure of the crown." As he said these last words he glanced towards the Prince of Wales, who [umed with a start to the Duke of Cambridge. It was indeed a reckless peroration. Royal princes do lot like to hear that the crown can easily be placed in [eopardy. Mr. Gladstone started to his feet, and with his head a [little on one side, his face at its saddest, and his voice having its deepest and hollowest roll, and the hands hold- ing the collar of his coat, and the Lancashire brogue more than usually apparent, said — "Mr. Speaker: Sir, I cannot help making the observation, and I trust it is one at least (as much within the bounds of parliamentary courtesy as some to which we have recently listened, that there are portions ot the discursive speech of the Right Honourable Gentlemen- that after every effort on my part I fail to dis- cern the relevancy, and that there ire other portions of it of which it does not seem to me a severe judgment to say that they appear to be due to the influence of an over- iieated imagination." Reader, when you visit the House of Lords, look on the face and the lines about the mouth of the Earl of Beacons- field, and remember his career and you will be conscious you are in the pres ?nce of a man with a purpose, on which the blows of difficulty fell like snow on bloom-furnaced iron, one of those sad and solitary natures whose real self is '•ver alone, who steer their barks through untrodden seas, and who carry within their breasts a divine fortitude, four 24 The Earl of Beaconsfield, square to all the blasts that blow ; as careless of chorusi of praise as of orchestras of calumny ; you see the remain| of a man of indom.itable will, who, despite a fantait'i imagination, alien blood, plebeian birth, has led the arii tocracy of England and climbed to the position he toll Lady Blessington he meant co gain, when nobody sa much in him, beyond an untamed fancy, loud foppishnesi and saucy wit. Have you ever reflected what a triumpi of genius his position is ? Remember it has been snatche from bold and able competitors ; has been held in spite jealousy and intrigue. Never shall I forget seeing thaj man walk up to the bar of the Lords ; put up his eye-glasi and beckon dukes to do his bidding. And why is all this There's not another cause but that he is a man of grea wit and great will. Will without wit is the bow withou the arrow ; wit without will, the arrow without the bcw. But' when they are both combined you have a man who can do anything ; whose spirit never droops at failure ; is never daunted by difficulties ; and who, as he rises superior to the one and scatters the others from before him, cries with Ed- mund Burke, "I^itor in adversum'' — I battle with the fates themselves — is the motto for a man like me. I have always been opposed to Mr. Disraeli, but when I remember how huge are the barriers he has over- come, the detraction he has braved, and the envious depre- ciation he has trampled beneath his feet, with what a mighty energy he has heid his purpose, and how he has made all his acts converge on what he meant to be the sis of or co\ whic The Earl of Beaconsfield. 25 choruseBisis of his fate, I cannot but do homage to his career. 11 . ■■ remainBor could words more suitable for him be found than those lantaiittB which Nicol points the source of Hannibal's power. " That he has dwelt In many realms is much ; that in his veins There dwells the lightening of his race is more : But this the chief that he has one desire. Of men who rise above the common herd Of goats and sheep, that butt and breed and die, The most are clipped in pieces by themselves, Frittered in flickering fancies, half inclined To fleet delights, and then with brief resolves, Taking up languid duties, And so they dance, like puppets, jerked awiy; Who sets himself one way, and pulls one string, His w>ll, become a force, compels the world. And. while the rest stand gazing, he commands. d the arii n he toll body sa ppishnes a triump snatche in spite 2eing tha eye-glas: is all this n of grea w withoa bcw. But ho can do is never ior to tht with Ed- ivith the ike me. ^^i, but as over- s depre- what a he has be the vStrong as he was, that he felt acutely the efforts made y envious incapacity and gilded stupidity, to keep him own there is not wanting evidence in his writings. " Ah ! Tadpole " said Mr. Taper, " I often think if the ime should ever come, when you and I should be joint ecretaries of the Treasury ! " " We shall see, we shall see " replies Tadpole. " All e have to do is to get into Parliament, work well to- ether, and keep ether men down.'' *' We will do our best" aid Taper. Mr. Disraeli always commences very quietly and vould seem even dull until presently out jumps a sarcasm ior a joke, a quirk or quiddity, which takes the house, and hen point follows point in quick succession. Towards the end of his speeches he gets very loud, " but his 26 The Earl of Beaconsfield, loudness is not born of passion, and though eminenlBglan effective is not effective as passion is effective ; is ^ we deed purely histrionic; is in entire command of ti orator ; and can in a moment be exchanged for a whis equally artistic. His delivery is masterly, passionle finished," and what ^Shirley Brooks said of him tweni years ago, is true to-day. " Like the warrior to whol Noma chants her witch song, seldom Lies he still through sloth or fear, When poirt and edge are glittering near. houj is ,t an( d in? ului 6 pre Ihich ewde toth the te's. culuri lemr An ever ready speaker, nevertheless his premeditat orations, that is to say those on which he has had som time — no matter how short — to ponder, are infinitely be ter than these prompted at the moment. Unprepared, hi has a tendency to verbiage and to a repetition of thi same idea. Prepared and not a blow misses, no platitudi irritates ; not a sarcasm is impeded by a v/eakening P^raseB, ^ and the arrow stript of all plumage except that whic! aids and steadies its flight," strik esfull on the mark of tin archer's aim. He is now an old man at the head of a great empirel and at a time of crisis, when a war-cloud has broken inl thunder and fiery hail in the East, and the storm sweep^ from the Black Sea to the Adriatic. But in 1830 he wa^ wild with enthusiasm for youthful statesmen and youthful soldiers; in 1848 he was in his element amid cries oil young France, young Germany, young Italy and youngfcthat 'Shirley Brooks in the Quarterly. land of ti for a whisf passionle^ him twenj >r to who! The Earl of Beaconsfield, 27 n emineniBgiand, cries which made M. Theirs exclaim, "what! tive ; is s ^g ^q be governed by bibs and tuckers?" hough he can hit so hard he is wary of a real opponent is master of his weapons. In the session of 1866 . Dowse, now Mr. Baron Dowse, a man with genuine Irish t and a genuine Irish brogue, fell into a lapsus Hnguae, d instead of saying "«« secula seculorum,'' said, "f« ulum seculorum.'" Bear in mind for a moment that on e previous evening Mr. Newdegate had made a motion ich Mr. Disraeli entreated him to withdraw, but Mr. ewdegate pressing a division, his leader went with him to the lobby although it was well known that his views the principle were not in accordance with Mr, Newde- te's. When Mr. Dowse sat down, having finished with *'i« cuUim seculorum" Mr. Disraeli rose and in a mock lemn manner said that not only was Mr. Gladstone bout to destroy their ancient institutions, one of his con- Ipicuous followers was now robbinig them of a time- onoured quotation. He had always thought the phrase an 'in serula seciulorum.' But now he supposed the ight Honorable Gentlemen intended to bring in a bill * to revolutionize the Latin Grammar.'' There was great m sweepsBaughter. When Mr. Disraeli sat down up rose Mr. }o he wasBDowse and said: "the Right Honourable Gentleman is very youthfulBclever about what ever5'body knows was a mere lapsus I cries oimingua. But let me tell the Right Honourable Gentleman id young Jthat though he -may see on this side of the house a trifling mistake or a trip of the tongue, such as I fell into — remeditat had som finitely bei repared, hi tion of th 10 platitudi ing phrase that whic nark of th at empire, broken inl 28 The Earl of Beaconsfield, there is one thing he will never see — what we saw \\ e th( 1 vei missi wha id, f to h at ai taler He e c night on that side — the head follow the tail into the lohh The laughter and cheers were uproarious and long c tinued. Mr. Disraeli never again meddled with Mr. Dowse. As a leader of a party he stands unrivalled. His g humour, his tact, his wit, his large capacity — these hal enabled him on three occasions to lead the House Commons while he was without a majority, and to lead| party often in part mutinous. He held his great place the face of bold and able competitors, in spite of jealouB^ ^^^ and intrigue ; a Derby was mocked into reverence, and—i^ish Salisbury snubbed into submission. That he is a stat man there can be no question. He passed a great mei sure of reform, which, while Conservative, went furthi in extending the franchise than even Mr. Bright wou have done. He foresaw the end of the Americ civil war, when Lord Russell could describe JefFeiso| Davis as fighting for " independence " against anoth power fighting for " empire," and Mr. Gladstone decla that he (Mr. Davis) had '* made a nation." Mr. DisraeliJHe cool judgment and clear foresight knew better. Mr. Frcink Hill says it is a perpetual surprise to mee Mr. Disraeli in the long roll of English Prime Minister^ He regards it as a standing joke of history. Why, fail to see. In that long and illustrious roll it would easy to find his inferiors, and not easy to fix on greate men. Wait until he has passed through the fifth act anfito The Earl of Beaconsfield. 29 le the " beautifier of the dead " has pronounced the il verdict, and men will smile at this flippant way of ^missing a great man. In the House of Lords he will what so many noble persons fail in, make himself ird, for he has always spoken to the reporters as well to his immediate audience. He will be a figure of ;at authority there, and will add to the preponderance talent which that House would seem to possess over House of Commons at present. That preponder- ;e cannot long remain unredressed. The need will 11 forth the supply. As some one has well said, the Ktish Houses of Parliament will not moulder like Vene- p palaces. But, however great the eloquence which ly yet be heard where Mr. Disraeli's voice has died to an echo ; however bright the wit may be which )m unborn Parliaments may call forth admiration and ighter — of this we may be sure, men will look back with idious wonder and anxious emulation, to the extraordin- displays of him, whom we must henceforth know as [e Earl of Beaconsfield. I He was born in London, No. 16 Bloomsbury square, Jecember 21st, 1805. He is therefore in his seventy-first ^ar, and is the eldest son of Isaac D'IsraeH, the well- lown author of the " Curiosities of Literature," the [holar, the antiquarian, and the dilettante. Mr. Frank Hill, in his " Political Portraits," says lat no one of his novels give us as much insight Ito Mr. Disraeli's character as the brief memoir of his oo The Earl of Beaconsfield. father prefixed to the later editions of " Curiosities Bsturb, Literature." Ininigra ♦' In the short memoir in question, Mr. Disraeli accouiftit ^'^ for himself more satisfactorily than any formal autobi»orace graphy could do. For the purpose of understanding hiM enetia it is worth all the rest of his works put together. It shoM daugh the medium, as naturalists call it, in which he was reareBi"^ ^^^ the influences which acted upon his genius and charactfthom s and against which in turn his genius and character readers ofte In relating the history of his family, Mr. Disraeli suppli^J^^^^P^ us with the key to his political life." father, foldsn ges. ithou ever ever ny pa ♦* In the fifteenth century Mr. Disraeli's ancestors, und a name different from that which they subsequently bori were settled in Spain, whence, towards the close of th century, they were driven by the persecutions of the Inqui sition to seek a refuge in the territories of the Veneti Republic. ' Grateful to the God of Jacob, who had susB ,, tained them through unprecedented trials, and guardeB, j ■ them through unheard-of perils, they assumed the nam of D' Israeli — a name never borne before or since by an; other family, in order that their race might be forevei recognized.' In 1745 Mr. Disraeli's grandfather, Benjami D'Israeli, the younger of two brothers, settled in England Mr. D'Israeli would seem not only to have received hi grandfather's name, but to have inherited from him som of his qualities. He is depicted as ' a man of ardent| character, sanguine, courageous, speculative, and fortu nate; with a temper which no disappointment could! "B< retire] tionai desce theft Rear socie terra of a ! The Earl of Beaconsfield. 31 listurb, and a brain, amid reverses, full of resource.' The imigrant, as his grandson relates, made his fortune, laid it an Italian garden at Enfield, played whist with Sir lorace Mann, ' ate maccaroni which was dressed by the Venetian consul,' and sang canzonettas. He had married daughter of his own race, who, however, 'never pardoned |im for his name,' since it identified her with a people of ^hom she was ashamed, and from whom they kept aloof. LS often happens in similar cases, the only son of. the interprising Jewish merchant was the very opposite of his father, a timid recluse, living among his books, simple as roldsmitn, and learned as a grammarian of the Middle Lges. His birth, as his son has pointed out, left him dthout relations or family acquaintance. ' He not only lever entered into the politics of the day, but he could lever understand them. He never was connected with my particular body or set of men ; comrades of school or college, or confederates in that public life which, in Eng- land, is, perhaps, the only foundation of real friendship.' "Benjamin D'Israeli, the grandfather, who, but for his [retirement from business before the era of the revolu- tionary wars and the great loans, would probably, his descendant thinks, have become a millionaire, died when I the future Prime Minister of England was a lad of twelve. Reared in a home of as absolute seclusion from English society as if it had been placed in an island of the Medi- terranean, with occasional glimpses, perhaps, at Enfield of a strange society more foreign than English, and more 32 The Earl of Beaconsfield, is cosmopolitan than either, the young Disraeli must earllLotha have felt that strange sense ol moral detachment from thlomagc nation in which he has lived, and in which he has attain Aj^ed t the highest place, which is visible in his writings and hiKbgrty career. In both homes he must soon have learnelnd a ' that his name and race placed a certain barrier betweeMnonstit him and the distinctions to which he aspired. By IgU th somewhat sweeping and incredible negative, he describe«|ohn his grandmother as ' so mortified by her social positionB^ejby that she lived until eighty without indulging a tende expression.' She disliked her race, and was, as Mr] Disraeli himself bears witness, ashamed of the name she bore. Mr. Disraeli deserves only praise for the contraryj Isaa nd hi he n lady impulse, which has led him to assert that name and thatHj m race against bigoted contempt. Still they set him apart! He was outside the English world; and in spite of hisl [youth attrac intimate participation in English politics, he has been as«, ^ a foreigner in them. He has understood them with ai -gj^j. sort of external intellect; but he has never thoroughly Iri-i^i. entered into them, and has cared for them as little onl ^^ their own account as his lather did. Parties and ques- tions have been with him weapons, and not causes. He has written a formal ' Vindication of the British Consti- tution,' and in the * Adventures of Captain Popanilla' has composed one of the most caustic satires upon it that have ever appeared. He was the champion of Free Trade in his earlier books, and won party-leadership as the advocate of Protection. He has laughed at our aristocracy — in "S disrej fact i was 1 quar: ]uda hapi nust earl t from th IS attain gs and h learnei ■r betweei 2d. By describe position ■ a tende 3, as Mr,| name she contrary and that lim apart. )ite of his ts been as n with a loroughly i little on md ques- ises. He 1 Consti- nilla' has :hat have ide in his advocate racy — in The Earl of Beaconsfield. 3a Lothair' he laughs at them still— and has done them omage, denounced them as a Venetian oligarchy, eulo- ized them as the diginified pillars on which order and berty rest. He has been a Radical, a Tory-Radical, nd a Tory without the Radical, a Conservative, and a onstitutionalist ; the client of Mr. Hume and Mr. O'Con- eli, the colleague of Lord Salisbury, the Mentor of Lord ohn Manners, and the chief adviser of the late Lord erby."* Isaac D'Israeli died at the age of eighty-two a Christian, nd his body was buried in the Church at Hughenden. The mother of the Prime Minister was a Miss Basevi, a lady, in whose veins flowed the bluest of Jewish blood. Like many other great men Lord Beaconsfield was in youth and boyhood somewhat delicate. His intelligence attracted the attention of the poet Rogers, who took him to church and sent him to school. In January last the weekly Globe published a very admirable sketch of "the Right Honourable Benjamin Disraeli," and on this point quoted the Jewish Chronicle to the following effect : — " Some Christians scoff at him as a Jew, with a singular disregard of all they owe to the Jewish race. Now the fact is that Disraeli is neither an apostate nor a Jew. He was born of Hebrew parents, but his father thinking fit to quarrel with the Synagogue failed to teach his child Judaism. One day Rogers, the celebrated banker-poet, happening to visit at Isaac Disraeli's house at Hackney *" Political Portraits," pp. 33-30. 3^ The Earl of Beaconsfield, when Benjamin was five or six years old, and regretting to find so intelligent a youth without religious instruction, took him to Hackney Church. From this event dates his absolute and complete severance from the Jewish Com- raunion. He became a Christian, and a great genius was lost to us." How he was put into an attorney's ofl&ce in the Old Jewery (the attorney being a childless man in a large practice, who wished the son of a friend to come in for his business) ; how he used to come down to the office with the "Faery Queen" in his pocket ; how he took the world by storm with Vivian Grey," while in his nonage ; how he was a journalist for sometime, and wrote for the Representative; how he wrote novel after novel — all of them with great merit from the point of view, of style and wit, and all of them defective from that of true art ; how he wrote poetry at which the world, or rather the few that read it smiled ; how he helped his political posi tion by political novels, into which the personal element largely entered ; all this is well-known. As in his speeches, so in his novels, he displayed an oriental imagination — a love of gold and gold embroidery— of splen- dour — with a suspicion oi Jashiness about it. Thackeray, whom Bret Harte has followed in his " Sensation Novels Condensed," has well hit oflf the By- zantine literary style of the Earl of Beaconsfield. "They entered a moderate-sized apartment — indeed, Holywell street is not above a hundred yards long, and this ch fitted u "Th of Aul gave r than t painte SirW Paul pearl, hung over > passic drops flowe: with Titia of Ps who of fi^ the Urbi of C( roon babl «ii with of I ling The Earl of Beaconsfield. 35 [egrettingl 5truction,| dates hisi |ish Coin. mills was I the Old a large I in for his ffice with the world ige; how 5 for the b1— all of style and art; how r the few! ical posi- l element 3 in his oriental ■ofsplen- in his the By- -indeed, >ng, and 'this chamber was not more than half that length — and I fitted up with the simple taste of its owner. "The carpet was of white velvet (laid over several webs of Aubusson, Ispahan, and Axminster, so that your foot gave no more sound, as it trod upon the yielding plain, than the shadow which followed you), of white velvet painted with flowers, arabesques, and classic figures by Sir William Ross, J. M. W. Turner, R.A., Mrs. Mee, and Paul Delaroche. The edges were wrought with seed pearl, Valenciennes lace and bullion. The walls were hung with cloth of silver, embroidered with gold figures, over which were worked pomegranates, polyanthuses, and passion flowers in ruby, amethyst, and smaragd. The drops of dew which the artificers had sprinkled on the flowers were of diamonds. The hangings were over-hung with pictures yet more costly. Georgione the gorgeous, Titian the golden, Rubens the ruddy and pulpy (the Pan of Painting), some of Murillo's beatified shepherdesses, who smile on you, out of darkness, like a star; a few score of first-class Leonardos, and fifty of the masterpieces of the patron of Julius and Leo, the imperial genius of Urbino, covered the walls of the little chamber. Divans of carved ambers covered with ermine, were round the room, and in the midst was a fountain pattering and babbling into jets of double-distilled otto of roses. ** « Pipes, Goliath ! ' Rafael said gaily to a little negro with a silver collar (he spoke to him in his native tongue of Dongola); 'and welcome to our snuggery, my Cod- lingsb>."* 36 The Earl of Beaconsfield. Take the following as a travesty of his descriptive style] in another line. *' Her hair had that deep glowing hue in it which has | been the delight of all painters, and which, therefore, the | vulgar sneer at. It was of burning auburn, meandering over her fairest shoulders in twenty thousand minute ring- lets; it hung to her waist and below it. A light-blue velvet fillet, clasped with a diamond aigrette (valued at two hundred Lhousand tomauns, and bought from Lieu- tenant Viscovick,'whohad received it from Dost Mahomed), with a simple bird of paradise formed her head gear. A sea-green cymar, with short sleeves, displayed her exqui- sitely-moulded arms to perfection, and was fastened by a girdle of emeralds over a yellow satin frock. Pink gauze trousers, spangled with silver, and slippers of the same coiour as the band which clasped her ringlets (but so covered with pearls that the original hue of the charming papoosh disappeared entirely), completed her costume. She had three necklaces on, each of which would have dowered a princess ; her fingers glittered with rings to their rosy tips ; and priceless bracelets, bangles and armlets wound round an arm that was whiter than the ivory grand-piano on which it leaned." Disraeli admitted he had been well bur- lesqued. In "Coningsby," paragraphs could be found to match the above. But there are better things in that book and characteristic of better features of Mr. Disraeli's character. The truly great man speaks in the following : — "The two live style |hich has :fore, the andering lute ring- fght-blue alued at )m Lieu- ihomed), ?ear. A er exqui- ned by a ik gauze he same » covered papoosh She had ►wered a 3sy tips; d round iano on fell bur- ► match >ok and iracter. 'he two The Earl oj Beaconsfield. 57 years that followed the Reform of the House of Commons are full of instruction on which a young man would do well to ponder. It is hardly possible that he could rise from the study of these annals, without a confirmed dis- gust for political intrigue, a dazzling practice, apt at first to fascinate youth, for it appeals at once to our invention and our courage, but one which really should only be the resource of the second rate. Great minds must trust to great truths and great talents for their rise and nothing else." One ofthe great mistakes made in regard to Mr. Disraeli is to represent him as if he had had no advantages when a young man. He always had a certain amount of indepen- dent means to begin with ; he was in good London society from the commencement; and the distance between his starting point and the starting point — say of Richard Brinsley Sheridan — was very great. He was a constant visitor at Lady Blessington's when Napoleon HI (Prince Louis Bonaparte), Count D'Orsay, the late Lord Lytton, and others frequented her salon; and Napoleon and the young Disraeli often talked about their hopes. A story is told that when, many years afterwards. Napoleon and Disraeli, both having been equally successful, met in the drawing room of a tory magnate, they burst out laughing. I HAVE often regretted I did not note down from time to time the "good things" I heard Mr. Disraeli say, and the "good" stories I heard about him. My memory does not serve me at present for more than is given in this chapter. i .' }?, • 38 The Earl of Beaconsfield. I was at the ball given to the Belgian volunteers, some ten years ago, in the Agricultural Hall, Islington. When we were all waiting for our carriages, (my carriage being a modest " hansom,") I noticed Mr. Disraeli who wore a slouched hat and an Inverness cape, with a wing of which he was shielding "his perfect wife" from the draught. The time went slowly by and we had to wait. I observed Mr. Disraeli talking the whole time to his wife who was laughing heartily. I confess I thought this very noble. Sne was ten years his senior, and she could not supply any new stimulus to his wit. Moreover, for their wives, wits are often very dull. But he clearly set himself to relieve the tediousness of waiting, and he did it effectually, " Lord Hardwicke's carriage " was called, and Loru Hardwicke came hurrying out, and not knowing Mr. Disraeli in his slouched hat and Inverness cape, pushed him rudely on one side. Lord Hardwicke was a member ot the Tory party. Mr. Disraeli took off his hat, and bowing low said, " / beg your Lordship's pardon.'' It was the best cut I ever heard. Lord Hardwicke's knees knocked together, and he stammered out some excuses Mr. Disraeli affected not to hear. Mr. Delahunty, an Irish member, was a very rough person, and why he was ever sent across the Channel to disgrace traditions of eloquence, which have never been surpassed, I do not know. But jlribhmen like other people sometimes presents insoluble problems. Mr. Delahunty went to one of Mr. Disraeli's receptions, and Mr. Disraeli sought to do the agreeable to him. hit rs, some When Ige being wore a f which [draught, bserved ho was noble, t supply ir wives, mself to iectually, nd Loru ing Mr. :, pushed member fiat, and 9»." It j's knees excuses 'f rough mnel to er been 2 other . Mr. is, and The Earl of Beaconsfield. jg " Be gor Mr. Disraeli," said Mr. Delahunty, '' I know you're a fine spaker— but I'm towlt you're also a great literary charakter. Me daughters have read your novels, and be gor ! they say they're first rate." ** That is indeed \fame^" said Mr. Disraeli, with a profound bow. When Mr. Beresford Hope was attacking him as the Asian mystery, Mr. Disraeli, recalling the ancestory and uncouth manners of Mr. Hope, by a single phrase, annihi- lated him amid the universal laughter of the House. He said there was " a Batavian grace " about all the Honour- able Gentleman said, which could not fail to recommend him to the House. Mr. Roebuck fainted after a great speech on the Crimean war. When the member for Sheffield appeared again in his place, Mr. Disraeli congratulated him, adding that at the time, knowing as he did the great his- trionic powers of the Honourable Gentleman, he thought his fainting was a coup de theatre to itensify the effect. It was of Mr. Roebuck he said that if a person, who had a right to do so, were to point as that gentleman did, and adopt his tones, it would be offensive ; but that such conv. • *^ '11 Mr. Roebuck was ridiculous and contemptible. Mr. Trwcett condemns or "damns," in a parliamentary fashion, by adverse speeches nearly every proposal. Once, after he had made a good speech, Mr. Hardy turned ^ound to Mr. DisraeH and said : *• What a pity he has lost his eyes." " Pity," cried Mr. Disraeli, ** If he had hi.^ eyes, he'd be always damning them." H*-" 40 The Earl of Beaconsfiela, He hit off Mr. Coleridge (now Lord Coleridge), when that gentleman first entered the Commons, admirably: •« Silvery mediocrity;" and we icnow other hits which paint with the skill of a Reynolds, while they scorch and slay. How he characterized Sir Robert Peel as a man who ♦* had all along, for thirty or forty years, traded on the ideas of others ;" as one whose " life had been one great appropriation clause ; " who had " ever been the burglar of other men's intellects ;" how he described his speeches as "dreary pages of interminable talk; full of predictions falsified, pledges b -Ven, calculations that had gone wrong, and budgets that ha^ .)wn up — and this not relieved by a single original thought, a single generous impulse, or a single happy expression ; " how he branded his policy as " a system of matter-of-fact, yet so fallacious ; taking in everybody, though everybody knew he was taken in ; a system so mechanical, yet so Machiaevellian, that he could hardly say what it was, except a sort of hum-drum hocus- pocus, in which the order of the day was moved to take in a nation ; " how he called on the House of Commons ** to dethrone a dynasty of deception, by putting an end to this intolerable yoke of official despotism and parliamen- tary imposture" — all this is familiar, and a good deal more of the same sort, and from the same immediate quarter. When Mr. Gladstone was disestablishing the Irish Church, Mr. Bright said that he had often longed for the removal of the gigantic evil, and now the time w:.3 come and the man. The clock was stopped that day and just when lirably : \h paint id slay. an who on the e great burglar eeches Mictions wrong, ived by ulse, or olicy as Iking in n in; a e could hocus- to take mmons end to iamen- l1 more uarter. Irish 3r the i come d just The Earl of Beaconsfield. 41 at the moment Mr. Gladstone was not in his place. Mr. Disraeli rose and said : " The honourable gentleman says, * the time is come and the man ; ' but " — putting up his eye-glass and looking at the clock — *' the clock is wrong and the man is not here. Sir John A. Macdonald has often been compared with the subject of this monograph, and I therefore reproduce the comparison made in 1874. *Mr. Disraeli and Sir John Macdonald are alike in appear- ance, and not unlike in genius — and both are men of genius, which is the real souice of their popularity and success. Both are the most mteresting characters in their respective spheres; both have amazing social gifts; are delightful companions; witty stories abound about both ; as debaters, the forte of each is sarcasm. At first sight there seems a contrast between the career of both statesmen. But the truth is, there is a great similarity. True, Sir John was in power for twenty years; and Mr. Disraeli out of power for nigh the same time: yet each managed to keep a diffi- cult position by supreme tactical skill. The one a distrusted and envied commoner, without political connections, held the foremost place in the Conservative party in England ; the other in a country with a population so various as ours, and amid mutations and struggles, complex and for- midable, managed by som.e marvellous sleigh*, of hand, ♦From a lecture on the " English House of Commons" delivered in the Music Hall, Toronto, by N. F. Davin, Nov. i6th, 1874. M U 42 The Earl of Beaconsfield. whatever happened, to hold the reins. They are both gentlemen, and both have a contempt for personal aggrand- izement, being afflicted with that malady which is "the last infirmity of noble minds." FINIS. I %, M " ■■/.-•:■ '-■■■*: mM-'^ygrm'^^ co*awtJi6r of of " Ltick of I. S'. -i ^i^0: Cloth ami ttitlMMSon,'^ ftckoclj awth^jr' i '•it^^ ■ :-^-T.v ^M-^&ii^mSiD