Mr. Monypenny admits the facts, and does not attempt to defend Disraeli’s conduct, but he passes over this very singular episode, which is highly illustrative of the character of the man, somewhat lightly, merely remarking that though Disraeli “must pay the full penalty,” at the same time “it is for the politician who is without sin in the matter of veracity to cast the first stone.”

I hardly think that this consolatory Biblical reflection disposes of the matter.  Politicians, as also diplomatists, are often obliged to give evasive answers to inconvenient questions, but it is not possible for any man, when dealing with a point of primary importance, deliberately to make and to repeat a statement so absolutely untrue as that made by Disraeli on the occasion in question without undermining any confidence which might otherwise be entertained in his general sincerity and rectitude of purpose.  A man convicted of deliberate falsehood cannot expect to be believed when he pleads that his public conduct is wholly dictated by public motives.  Now all the circumstantial evidence goes to show that from 1841 onwards Disraeli’s conduct, culminating in his violent attacks on Peel in 1845-46, was the result of personal resentment due to his exclusion from office in 1841, and that these attacks would never have been made had he been able to climb the ladder of advancement by other means.  His proved want of veracity confirms the impression derived from this evidence.

Peel’s own opinion on the subject may be gathered from a letter which he wrote to Sir James Graham on December 22, 1843.[73] Disraeli had the assurance to solicit a place for his brother from Sir James Graham.  The request met with a flat refusal.  Peel’s comment on the incident was:  “He (Disraeli) asked me for office himself, and I was not surprised that, being refused, he became independent and a patriot.”

So far, therefore, as the individual is concerned, the episode on which I have dwelt above appears to me to be a very important factor in estimating not merely Disraeli’s moral worth, but also the degree of value to be attached to his opinions.  The question of whether Disraeli was or was not a political charlatan remains, however, to be considered.

That Disraeli was a political adventurer is abundantly clear.  So was Napoleon, between whose mentality and that of Disraeli a somewhat close analogy exists.  Both subordinated their public conduct to the furtherance of their personal aims.  It is quite permissible to argue that, as a political adventurer, Disraeli did an incalculable amount of harm in so far as he tainted the sincerity of public life both in his own person and, posthumously, by becoming the progenitor of a school of adventurers who adopted his methods.  But it is quite possible to be a self-seeking adventurer without being a charlatan.  A careful consideration of Disraeli’s opinions and actions leads me to the conclusion that only on a very superficial view