question. Disraeli had always sympathised with Ireland. We have seen what he said of her in 1837 and again in 1844. But he seems to have thought that the Irish famine had really settled the Irish question 'by the act of God;' and he used to point to the growing prosperity of Ireland between 1850 and 1865 in proof of his assertion. He always contended that the Fenian conspiracy, which so alarmed Mr. Gladstone, was a foreign conspiracy; and that, when this had been effectually crushed, England might have left Ireland to proceed tranquilly along the path of improvement without further interference. Mr. Gladstone's Irish policy merely raked into a flame the embers which were all but extinct, revived hopes and aspirations which, except by a small party of conspirators, had been practically forgotten, and created a new Irish question for the present generation which otherwise would never have arisen. These were his general views. In 1871, two years after the passing of the Church Bill, and one year after the passing of the Land Act, the condition of Ireland was worse than ever. A coercion bill was passed, and the Habeas Corpus Act was suspended. It was impossible to explain away such facts as these, and in his speech on the 'Westmeath committee,' 27 Feb. 1871, Disraeli 'woke up,' as it was said, and delivered a speech in his old style which delighted the opposition benches. Mr. Gladstone's Irish legislation, just or unjust, had not only failed in ita avowed object—the removal, namely, of Irish discontent—but had rendered it still more rancorous. A darker and fiercer spirit had taken possession of Ireland than the one which had been driven out, and Mr. Gladstone had beckoned it to come in.
The Black Sea conference, the treaty of Washington, the affair of Sir Spencer Robinson, Sir Robert Collier, and Ewelme Rectory continued to furnish him with materials for sarcasm during the next two years, and in 1872 he delivered two of his most famous speeches, one at Manchester on 3 April, and another at the Crystal Palace on 24 June. It was in the first of these that he likened the heads of departments in Mr. Gladstone's government, as he sat opposite to them in the House of Commons, to 'a range of extinct volcanoes.' But in the same speech is to be found also the best explanation and vindication of the working of the English monarchy with which we are acquainted, and which may now be called the locus classicus on the subject. It has been quoted, and repeated, and borrowed, and abridged, and expanded over and over again. In the speech at the Crystal Palace he dwelt on his favourite distinction between national and cosmopolitan principles as the distinctive creeds of toryism and liberalism, and claimed for the former that its watchwords were the constitution, the empire, and the people. The year, however, which witnessed this revival of energy in the leader of the opposition, did not pass over without a severe domestic calamity which robbed his existence of its sunshine. On 15 Dec. 1872 his wife, who had been created Viscountess Beaconsfield, 30 Nov. 1868, died, and he felt 'that he had no longer a home.'
In 1873 Mr. Gladstone, being defeated on the Irish University Education Bill, resigned office, and her majesty sent for Disraeli, who declined to form a government, and Mr. Gladstone returned to his seat. In the following January, however, he dissolved parliament rather suddenly. The opposition was placed in a clear majority; Disraeli no longer hesitated, and the tory government of 1874 came into being. It was the first time that the tories had commanded a majority since 1841, and Disraeli was now at length to reap the fruits of his long and patient devotion to the interests of his party. But the triumph had come too late, when it was impossible for him to carry out measures which, had he been ten years younger, he would certainly have adopted. The enfranchisement of the peasantry and the reform of our provincial administration would assuredly have been anticipated by the author of 'Coningsby' and 'Sybil,' the consistent upholder of local authority and jurisdiction, had his health and strength been adequate to so arduous an undertaking. But though Disraeli was a man of naturally strong constitution, his strength had been severely tried. When he became prime minister for the second time he was in his sixty-ninth year, and these were not the piping days of peace when Lord Palmerston could slumber tranquilly through his duties up to eighty years of age. The strain of leading the House of Commons had doubled since his time, and at the end of the session of 1876 Disraeli found it necessary to exchange that arduous position for the less trying duties which devolve on the leader of the House of Lords. On 11 Aug. 1876 he made his last speech in the House of Commons. But the public had no suspicion of the truth till the next morning, when it was officially announced that he was to be created Earl of Beaconsfield, and that his place in the lower house was to be taken by Sir Stafford Northcote. The English House of Commons may have known more subtle philosophers, more majestic orators, more thoroughly consistent politicians, but never one who loved it better or was more zealous for its dignity and honour.
