FOR

HE late Earl of Beaconsfield was distinguished in many ways. He was distinguished as an author. He was distinguished as a Parliamentary orator. He was distinguished as a statesman. He led one of the great historic parties of this country for many years. But his celebrity and popularity turned, perhaps, still more upon the fact that his whole career exemplified so strikingly the qualities that Englishmen admire in public life-courage, resolution, and resource; calmness in victory, and self-possession in defeat.

Humanly speaking, he had to make his own way in life; and no doubt the final strength of his character was greatly promoted by the very obstacles he had to surmount in early years.

Thrice was he defeated in his efforts to enter Parliament. But patience was his strong point: he had a certain happy boldness which carried him over difficulties before which other men would have sat down in sheer despair: and so he "tried again," and at last he succeeded.

The story of his first speech in Parlia ment-the failure which awaited him-is known to all. He rose to address the VOL. XI. NO. VI.

House in bright confidence; he sat down crowned with derision. He had made a mistake in the over-careful preparation he had made; and the laboured and high-flown oration found no favour in the judgment of his hearers. But he did not even then lose his coolness and intrepidity. He was ready with an answer to the laughter of the House, and his words really furnished the key of his future remarkable elevation to the highest office he could hold in Parliament.

"I have begun," he said, "several times many things, and have often succeeded at last. I shall sit down now, but the time will come when you shall hear me."

The defeat was truly made greater than a victory by the way in which it was received, and by the sturdy resolution which it prompted in the vanquished orator.

Of Lord Beaconsfield's political career it is not in our province to speak; but men of all parties recognised the sincerity of purpose which actuated him. He was a true patriot. He knew well the foundation principles upon which the Constitution of England rests, and he was faithful in maintaining them. The service of the Queen (whom he regarded as the noblest and highest specimen of a constitutional

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Sovereign) and the prosperity of the State were the objects of his daily thoughts. A Jew by birth, he was English to the heart; and the love of England was a fundamental principle of his life.

In private life he won the esteem of all, and the deep affection of those with whom he was brought into more immediate intercourse. He was a man of very kind and genial nature, particularly fond of children. He was not what is termed a great talker, but he was a good talker and a good listener. If at his table he caught a remark which seemed to possess merit, he would call attention to it and take care that it was properly appreciated.

He married the most devoted of wives, and was equally devoted as a husband. He is said to have called Lady Beaconsfield a severe critic but a perfect wife," and the following incident goes far to justify the latter appellation. Driving down one evening to the House of Commons to listen to her husband's "vitally important speech" on an equally important question, Mr. Disraeli, deeply immersed in. cogitation, alighted from his brougham. and closed the door on one of his wife's fingers. Although suffering great agony, she uttered no cry until he was safe in the lobby and out of earshot. Then she summoned the footman to open the door, released her imprisoned finger, and fainted. She is reported to have said to Mr. Disraeli, when telling him next morning of the mishap:-"My dear, I would not have cried out for the world. In thinking of my suf ferings you would have been so agitated that very probably the most salient points of your speech would have been omitted."

In connection with this anecdote, the following extract from a speech at the Darlington Horticultural Society's Exhibition in 1848, is well worthy of preservation.

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"I think," said Mr. Disraeli, woman is never seen to greater advantage than in a garden. Flowers are to women what women are to us, the beautiful objects of their solicitude, and the prettiest ornaments of their lives. The palace is not safe where the cottage is not happy, and no home can be happy where the presence of woman is not felt."

Mr.

Referring to the religious views of Lord Beaconsfield, the Rev. J. Wareing Bardsley, in a sermon which has been published,* shows that "he believed in the Atonement of Christ, the Inspiration of the Bible, and the Influences of the Holy Spirit. Bardsley gives the following amongst other extracts from Lord Beaconsfield's works :— "God spoke to Moses on Mount Horebhe was a Jew; his greater Successor, Jesus, was a Jew; the Prophets were Hebrews; the Apostles were Hebrews; the Churches of Asia, which have vanished, were founded by a native Hebrew."

"The existence of the Jewish people amid the nations of the earth is a miracle. It cannot be denied that, whatever the cause, the miracle exists. I cannot believe that merely human agencies could have sustained a career of such duration and such vicissitude."

In "Tancred," the one book which most reveals to us the author's religious thoughts, we read:-"What do you hold to be the essential object of the Christian scheme?" Tancred answers, "The Expiation." Again we find Tancred described as saying: "The inspiring and consoling influence of the Paraclete [or Comforter] only commenced with the Ascension of the Divine Son."

During his whole illness," said a writer in The Times, manifestly possessed of reliable knowledge, "Lord Beaconsfield's chief anxiety seemed to be, that the cares

of those who nursed him should, if possible, be adequately recognised. How can they How can they be rewarded? You will see to that,' he said. To his faithful confidential servant, Baum, who was formerly with Lady Beaconsfield, he said, 'Baum, you will be a happy man; you will enjoy the pleasures of memory; you will remember what you

have done for me.' His unselfishness was shown in the instance of one of his physicians, to whom, when about to take his leave, he said, 'I like you to remain awhile with me.' The wish was immediately complied with; but in a few minutes he said, putting his hand on that of the physician, 'No, no! I must not be selfish; others have claims on your time, and you must go.' He was aware that Her Majesty had inquired frequently for him; and at a period of his illness when he seemed unable to speak, the fact of the Queen having done so, for a time roused him in a manner surprising to those around him. At a later stage of the illness, when the spring air seemed to infuse a little more vitality into the system, Lord Barrington ventured to tell him that numbers of working men had called during the dinner-hour to inquire for him. He seemed greatly touched, and said it gratified him much that those for whom he had striven to do his best should now recollect him. Very shortly before his illness he told a friend he put much trust in the working men. Only a very few of his words have I ventured to gather. But it was in this spirit of kindness and gratitude that he fell asleep."

The national tribute to the memory of the great statesman, interred in his quiet resting-place at Hughenden, was, we think, attended with even a deeper sense and appreciation of the admirable qualities which distinguished him, than would have attached to the pomp and ceremonial of a State funeral in Westminster Abbey. The Queen's judgment on this point approved itself at once to the national mind. It

was the custom of the late Earl, whenever the state of his health and the weather permitted, to attend Divine service at Hughenden Church on Sunday mornings; and he always expressed his desire, not only by will but by word of mouth, to lie in death by the side of his wife, "the sweetener of his life." It is said, indeed, that on the occasion, in the December of 1877, when the Queen honoured him with a visit, on showing Her Majesty over the little church, he personally expressed his desire to be buried there.

The representative gathering of mourners on the day of the funeral, including three Princes of the Royal Family, was no ordinary indication of the esteem in which he was held. But the most touching

token of the felt loss sustained on the death of "a tried and faithful Counsellor of the Crown," was the Queen's last tribute to his memory, in the wreath of wild flowers gathered that morning in the beautiful lawns of Osborne, and sent by special messenger, with the inscription on a card affixed, in her Majesty's own handwriting :

"His favourite flowers: from Osborne. A tribute of affection and regret from Queen Victoria."

As lessons applicable to all, to be gathered from the career of this remarkable man, we give, in closing our sketch, some words of wisdom and counsel uttered by the Bishop of Liverpool in the Oxford University pulpit, on the Sunday after his death. Mark, for one thing, what a great work one single man can do, and what a wide influence he may finally attain without external help, without rank, wealth, or aristocratic connections, if he steadily sets his face towards an object, lives for it, labours for it, and never loses sight of it for a day. He that is disposed to think, 'I stand alone, I can do nothing, it is no use to try,' will do well to study the career of Lord Beaconsfield. It is the man