I have mentioned 'Coningsby.' It is time to see what 'Coningsby' was. Disraeli's novels had been brilliant, but he had touched nowhere the deeper chords of enduring feeling. His characters had been smart, but trivial; and his higher flights, as in the 'Revolutionary Epic,' or his attempts to paint more delicate emotion, as in 'Henrietta Temple' or in 'Venetia,' if not failures, were not successes of a distinguished kind. He had shown no perception of what was simple, or true, or tender, or admirable. He had been at his best when mocking at conventional humbug. But his talent as a writer was great, and, with a subject on which he was really in earnest, might produce a powerful effect. To impress the views of the Young Englanders upon the public, something more was needed than speeches in Parliament or on platforms. Henry Hope, son of the author of 'Anastasius,' collected them in a party at his house at Deepdene, and there first 'urged the expediency of Disraeli's treating in a literary form those views and subjects which were the matter of their frequent conversations.' The result was 'Coningsby' and 'Sybil.' 'Coningsby; or, the New Generation' carried its meaning in its title. If England was to be saved by its aristocracy, the aristocracy must alter their ways. The existing representatives of the order had grown up in self-indulgence and social exclusiveness; some excellent, a few vicious, but all isolated from the inferior ranks, and all too old to mend. The hope, if hope there was, had to be looked for in their sons.