within your scope.  A third floor back, in an ebb-tide street, will not do.  Like Agassiz, Disraeli had no time to make money—­it was a sad plight.  But this was a man of destiny, and to use the language of Augustine Birrell, “Wyndam Lewis at this time accommodatingly died.”  Mrs. Wyndam Lewis had been the firm friend and helper of Disraeli for many years, and although a small matter of fifteen years separated them as to ages, yet their hearts beat as one.

Scarce a twelvemonth had gone before the widow and Disraeli were married.  They disappeared from London for some months, journeying on the Continent.  When they returned all the old scores in way of unpaid bills against Disraeli were paid, and he was master of an establishment.

Disraeli was thirty-five, his wife was fifty, but it was a happy mating.  They thought alike, and their ambitions were the same.  Disraeli treated his wife with all the courtly grace and deference in which he was an adept, and her princely fortune was absolutely his.  “There was much cause for gratitude on both sides,” said O’Connell.  And there is no doubt that Disraeli’s wife proved the firmest friend he ever had.  For many years she was his sole confidante and best adviser.  She attended him everywhere and relieved him of many burdens.  That true incident of her fingers being crushed by the careless slamming of the carriage-door, and her hiding the bleeding members in her muff, and attending her husband to the House of Commons, where he was to speak, refusing to disturb him by her pain—­this symbols the moral quality of the woman.  She was the fit mate of a great man, and it is pleasant to know that she was honored and appreciated.

* * * * *

To tell the story of Disraeli’s thirty years in Parliament would be to write the political history of the time.  He was in the front of every fight; he expressed himself on every subject; he crossed swords with the strongest men of his age.  That he had no great and overpowering convictions on any subject is fully admitted now, even by his most ardent admirers—­it was always a question of policy; that is to say, he was a politician.  He gave a point here and there when he had to, and when he did, always managed to do it gracefully.  When he ambled over from one party to another he affected a fine wrath and gave excellent reasons.

Three times he was Chancellor of the Exchequer, and twice was he Prime Minister, and for a time actual Dictator.  But he took good care not to exercise his power too severely.  When his word was supreme, the safety of the nation lay, as it always does, in a strong opposition.

In one notable instance was Disraeli wrong in his prophecies—­he declared again and again that Free Trade meant commercial bankruptcy.  Yet Free Trade came about, and the fires were started in ten thousand factories, and such prosperity came to England as she had never known before.