To cherish national unison as a higher form of human harmony than the discordant bond of automatic groups; to force the governing to sympathise with the governed; to establish that “Labour requires regulation as much as Property;” to raise, train, improve and establish labour “rather,” as he wrote in 1870, “by the use of ancient forms and the restoration of the past than by political revolutions founded on abstract ideas,” were Disraeli’s aims. In all except the important one of the last, the means for accomplishing them, Carlyle’s message is the same. There is a passage in _Coningsby_ where Disraeli dreams that a day may come when industry will cease to obey mere industrialism. There is another in Carlyle’s “Past and Present”[78] to the same effect. For both, the nobility of labour was a central idea; for both, the conviction that the cavaliers of England should prove its captains; for both, _Sanitas sanitatum_ was a practical ideal. “Deliver me,” cries Carlyle, “these rickety perishing souls of infants, and let your cotton trade take its chance.” Disraeli and Carlyle alike abominated the doctrine that national happiness consists merely in material wealth. A shared or common wealth of endeavour and influence was a goal for each; for each, too, the main problem remained, “_How, in conjunction with inevitable democracy, indispensable sovereignty is to exist._” “... If there be a change,” said Sybil, “it is because in some degree the People have learnt their strength.” “Ah! Dismiss from your mind those fallacious fancies,” said Egremont. “The People are not strong; the People never can be strong. Their attempts at self-vindication will end only in their suffering and confusion. It is civilisation that has effected, that is effecting, this change. It is that increased knowledge of themselves that teaches the educated their social duties. _There is a day-spring in the history of this nation which perhaps those only who are on the mountaintops can as yet recognise. You deem you are in darkness, and I see a dawn._ The new generation of the aristocracy of England are not tyrants, not oppressors, Sybil.... Their intelligence, better than that, their hearts, are open to the responsibility of their situation. But the work that lies before them is no holiday work. It is not the fever of superficial impulse that can remove the deep-fixed barriers of centuries of ignorance and crime. Enough that their sympathies are awakened; time and thought will bring the rest. They are the natural leaders of the People, Sybil....” I may be permitted to point out a likeness and a contrast. The seething ferment on the Continent was pricking Labour into an insurgent materialism which, in the dearth of ancient and active institutions fraught with the balm of healing, leagued itself to attack all forms of authority, kingship and capital alike.