“Ah, that fatal thirty-seven, which reminds me of Byron, greater even as a man than a writer.  Was it experience that guided the pencil of Raphael when he painted the palaces of Rome?  He, too, died at thirty-seven.  Richelieu was Secretary of State at thirty-one.  Well then, there were Bolingbroke and Pitt, both ministers before other men left off cricket.  Grotius was in great practice at seventeen, and Attorney-General at twenty-four.  And Acquaviva; Acquaviva was General of the Jesuits, ruled every Cabinet in Europe, and colonised America before he was thirty-seven.  What a career!” exclaimed the stranger; rising from his chair and walking up and down the room; “the secret sway of Europe!  That was indeed a position!  But it is needless to multiply instances!  The history of Heroes is the history of Youth.”

GUARDIAN ANGELS [Sidenote:  Disraeli in “Tancred"]

“What should I be without my debts?” he would sometimes exclaim; “dear companions of my life that never desert me!  All my knowledge of human nature is owing to them:  it is in managing my affairs that I have sounded the depths of the human heart, recognised all the combinations of human character, developed my own powers and mastered the resources of others.  What expedient in negotiation is unknown to me?  What degree of endurance have I not calculated?  What play of the countenance have I not observed?  Yes, among my creditors I have disciplined that diplomatic ability that shall some day confound and control Cabinets.  Oh, my debts, I feel your presence like that of guardian angels!  If I be lazy, you prick me to action; if elate, you subdue me to reflection; and thus it is that you alone can secure that continuous yet controlled energy which conquers mankind.”

AN EVENING IN SPAIN
[Sidenote:  Disraeli to his Mother (1830)]

After dinner you take your siesta.  I generally sleep for two hours.  I think this practice conducive to health.  Old people, however, are apt to carry it to excess.  By the time I have risen and arranged my toilette it is time to steal out, and call upon any agreeable family whose Tertullia you may choose to honour, which you do, after the first time, uninvited, and with them you take your tea or chocolate.  This is often al fresco, under the piazza or colonnade of the patio.  Here you while away the time until it is cool enough for the alameda or public walk.  At Cadiz, and even at Seville, up the Guadalquivir, you are sure of a delightful breeze from the water.  The sea-breeze comes like a spirit.  The effect is quite magical.  As you are lolling in listless languor in the hot and perfumed air, an invisible guest comes dancing into the party and touches them all with an enchanted wand.  All start, all smile.  It has come; it is the sea-breeze.  There is much discussion whether it is as strong, or whether weaker, than the night before.  The ladies furl their fans and seize their mantillas,