when Disraeli, in one of his popular addresses, was applauded for saying that he was “a sophistical rhetorician inebriated with the exuberance of his own verbosity, and gifted with an egotistical imagination that can at all times command an interminable and inconsistent series of arguments to malign his opponents and to glorify himself,”—­one of the most exaggerated and ridiculous charges that was ever made against a public man of eminence, yet witty and plausible.

On the retirement of the great statesman from office in 1875, in sadness and chagrin, he declined to continue to be the leader of his party in opposition.  His disappointment and disgust must have been immense to prompt a course which seemed to be anything but magnanimous, since he well knew that there was no one capable of taking his place; but he probably had his reasons.  For some time he rarely went to the House of Commons.  He left the leaders of his party to combat an opponent whom he himself had been unable to disarm.  Fortunately no questions came up of sufficient importance to arouse a nation or divert it from its gains or its pleasures.  It was thinking of other things than budgets and the small extension of the suffrage, or even of the Eastern question.  It was thinking more of steamships and stock speculations and great financial operations, of theatres, of operas, of new novels, even of ritualistic observances in the churches, than of the details of government in peaceful times, or the fireworks of the great magician who had by arts and management dethroned a greater and wiser man than himself.

Although Mr. Gladstone was only occasionally seen, after his retirement, in the House of Commons, it must not be supposed that his political influence was dead.  When anything of special interest was to be discussed, he was ready as before with his voice and vote.  Such a measure as the bill to regulate public worship—­aimed at suppressing ritualism—­aroused his ecclesiastical interest, and he was voluminous upon it, both in and out of Parliament.  Even when he was absent from his seat, his influence remained, and in all probability the new leader of the Liberals, Lord Hartington, took counsel from him.  He was simply taking a rest before he should gird on anew his armor, and resume the government of the country.

Meantime, his great rival Disraeli led his party with consummate skill.  He was a perfect master of tactics, wary, vigilant, courteous, good-natured, seizing every opportunity to gain a party triumph.  He was also judicious in his selection of ministers, nor did he attempt to lord it over them.  He showed extraordinary tact in everything, and in nothing more than in giving a new title to the Queen as Empress of India.  But no measures of engrossing interest were adopted during his administration.  He was content to be a ruler rather than a reformer.  He was careful to nurse his popularity, and make no parliamentary mistakes.  At the end of two years, however, his labors and cares told seriously on his health.  He had been in Parliament since 1837; he was seventy-one years of age, and he found it expedient to accept the gracious favor of his sovereign, and to retire to the House of Lords, with the title of Earl of Beaconsfield, yet retaining the office of prime minister.