I was only once brought into personal communication with Disraeli.  Happening to call on my old friend, Lord Rowton, in the summer of 1879, when I was about to return to Egypt as Controller-General, he expressed a wish that I should see Lord Beaconsfield, as he then was.  The interview was very short; neither has anything Lord Beaconsfield said about Egyptian affairs remained in my memory.  But I remember that he appeared much interested to learn whether “there were many pelicans on the banks of the Nile.”

The late Sir Mountstuart Grant-Duff was a repository of numerous very amusing Beaconsfieldiana.

[Footnote 69:  This passage occurs in Coningsby, and Mr. Monypenny warns us that “his version of the quarrel between Charles I. and the Parliament is too fanciful to be quite serious; we may believe that he was here consciously paying tribute to the historical caprices of Manners and Smythe.”]

[Footnote 70:  Mr. Monypenny says in a note that a hostile newspaper gave the following translation of Disraeli’s motto:  “The impudence of some men sticks at nothing.”]

[Footnote 71:  What Buffon really wrote was:  “Le style est l’homme meme.”]

[Footnote 72: 

    Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore;
    Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri
    Telephus et Peleus.

Ars Poetica, 94-96.]

[Footnote 73:  Sir Robert Peel.  Charles Stuart Parker.  Vol. iii. 425.]

[Footnote 74:  Sat. iv, 101.]

[Footnote 75:  Life of Lord Goschen, Arthur D. Elliot, p. 163.]

IX

RUSSIAN ROMANCE

"The Spectator,” March 15, 1913

De Voguee’s well-known book, Le Roman Russe, was published so long ago as 1886.  It is still well worth reading.  In the first place, the literary style is altogether admirable.  It is the perfection of French prose, and to read the best French prose is always an intellectual treat.  In the second place, the author displays in a marked degree that power of wide generalisation which distinguishes the best French writers.  Then, again, M. de Voguee writes with a very thorough knowledge of his subject.  He resided for long in Russia.  He spoke Russian, and had an intimate acquaintance with Russian literature.  He endeavoured to identify himself with Russian aspirations, and, being himself a man of poetic and imaginative temperament, he was able to sympathise with the highly emotional side of the Slav character, whilst, at the same time, he never lost sight of the fact that he was the representative of a civilisation which is superior to that of Russia.  He admires the eruptions of that volcanic genius Dostoievsky, but, with true European instinct, charges him with a want of “mesure”—­the Greek Sophrosyne—­which he defines as “l’art d’assujettir ses pensees.”  Moreover, he at times brings a dose of vivacious French wit to temper the gloom of Russian realism.  Thus, when he speaks of the Russian writers of romance, who, from 1830 to 1840, “eurent le privilege de faire pleurer les jeunes filles russes,” he observes in thorough man-of-the-world fashion, “il faut toujours que quelqu’un fasse pleurer les jeunes filles, mais le genie n’y est pas necessaire.”