It is necessary here to say a word or two about Disraeli’s biographer.  The charm of Mr. Monypenny’s style, the lucidity of his narrative, the thorough grasp which he manifestly secured of the forces in movement during the period which his history embraces, and the deep regret that all must feel that his promising career was prematurely cut short by the hand of death, should not blind us to the fact that, in spite of a manifest attempt to write judicially, he must be regarded as an apologist for Disraeli.  In respect, indeed, to one point—­which, however, is, in my opinion, one of great importance—­he threw up the case for his client.  The facts of this case are very clear.

When Peel formed his Ministry in 1841, no place was offered to Disraeli.  It can be no matter for surprise that he was deeply mortified.  His exclusion does not appear to have been due to any personal feeling of animosity entertained by Peel.  On the contrary, Peel’s relations with Disraeli had up to that time been of a very friendly character.  Possibly something may be attributed to that lack of imagination which, at a much later period, Disraeli thought was the main defect of Sir Robert Peel’s character, and which may have rendered him incapable of conceiving that a young man, differing so totally not only from himself but from all other contemporaneous politicians in deportment and demeanour, could ever aspire to be a political factor of supreme importance.  The explanation given by Peel himself that, as is usual with Prime Ministers similarly situated, he was wholly unable to meet all the just claims made upon him, was unquestionably true, but it is more than probable that the episode related by Mr. Monypenny had something to do with Disraeli’s exclusion.  Peel, it appears, was inclined to consider Disraeli eligible for office, but Stanley (subsequently Lord Derby), who was a typical representative of that “patrician” class whom Disraeli courted and eventually dominated, stated “in his usual vehement way” that “if that scoundrel were taken in, he would not remain himself.”  However that may be, two facts are abundantly clear.  One is that, in the agony of disappointment, Disraeli threw himself at Peel’s feet and implored, in terms which were almost abject, that some official place should be found for him.  “I appeal,” he said, in a letter dated September 5, 1841, “to that justice and that magnanimity which I feel are your characteristics, to save me from an intolerable humiliation.”  The other fact is that, speaking to his constituents in 1844, he said:  “I never asked Sir Robert Peel for a place,” and further that, speaking in the House of Commons in 1846, he repeated this statement even more categorically.  He assured the House that “nothing of the kind ever occurred,” and he added that “it was totally foreign to his nature to make an application for any place.”  He was evidently not believed.  “The impression in the House,” Mr. Monypenny says, “was that Disraeli had better have remained silent.”