“Well, you see, he is a first-class man. And the rest of us are only second class—at best!” Mr. Gladstone was a really good playgoer and he seemed to love the theatre. When he came he and Mrs. Gladstone were always in good time. I once asked him, thinking that he might have mistaken the hour, in which case I would have borne it in mind to advise him on another occasion, if he liked to come early, and he said: “Yes. I have always made it a practice to come early. I like to be in my place, and composed, before they begin to tune the fiddles!” This is the true spirit in which to enjoy the play. No one who has ever sat in eager expectation can forget the imaginative forcefulness of that acre of green baize which hid all the delightful mysteries of the stage. It was in itself a sort of introduction to wonderland, making all the seeming that came after as if quickened into reality. XLVI THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD I I never saw Benjamin Disraeli (except from the Gallery of the House of Commons) but on the one occasion when he came to see _The Corsican Brothers_. Irving, however, met him often and liked to talk about him. He admired, of course, his power and courage and address; but it was, I think, the Actor that was in the man that appealed to him. I think also that Beaconsfield liked him, and gauged his interest and delight in matters of character. Somehow the stories which he told him conveyed this idea. One was of an ambitious young clergyman, son of an old friend of the statesman, who asked him to use his influence in having him appointed a Chaplain to the Queen. This he had effected in due course. The Premier, to his surprise, some time afterwards received a visit from his protégé, who said he had, on the ground of the kindness already extended to him, to ask a further favour. When asked what it was he answered: “I have through your kindness—for which I am eternally grateful—been notified that I am to preach before Her Majesty on Sunday week. So I have come to ask you if you would very kindly give me some sort of hint in the matter!” The Premier, after a moment’s thought, had answered: “Well, you see, I am not much in the habit of preaching sermons myself so I must leave that altogether to your own discretion. But I can tell you this: If you will preach for fifteen minutes the Queen will listen to you. If you will preach for ten minutes she will listen with interest. But if you will preach for five minutes you will be the most popular chaplain that has ever been at Court.” “And what do you think,” he went on, “this egregious young man said: “‘But, Mr. Disraeli, how can I do myself justice in five minutes!’” Then came the super cynical remark of the statesman-of-the-world: “Fancy wanting to do himself justice—and before the Queen!” II