In the spring the shadow of mourning fell over the nation. On the morning of the 19th of April Lord Beaconsfield, who had been ailing for some days, passed away peacefully to his last rest. Mr. Gladstone at once telegraphed to his relatives offering a public funeral in Westminster Abbey, but the executors were compelled to decline the honour. Lord Beaconsfield’s will directed that he should be buried beside his wife, and there were also legal obstacles that even the Queen’s personal wishes could not overcome.[173] His life, to use a favourite phrase of his own, was “really a romance,” and his career a long and brilliant adventure. His strength lay in his freedom from prejudices, in his intellectual detachment from English insularity, in his consummate knowledge of the foibles of the lower middle class whom he enfranchised. He achieved success by skilfully avoiding the mistake of Peel, who led his Party without educating it. Lord Beaconsfield did both. His fame as a writer of sparkling political burlesques, his command of invective, his wit, and his audacity won for him the ear of a Senate which loves men who can amuse it. The defection of the Peelites left the Tory Party, in 1846, intellectually poverty-stricken, and though a proud aristocracy long refused to recognise their most brilliant swordsman as their leader, they had to accept him at last. At this period of his career the chief obstacle in Mr. Disraeli’s path was believed to be the hostility of the Queen, who, however, nobly atoned for it by subsequently loading him with favours. With the exception, perhaps, of Lord Aberdeen, no Minister of the present generation has been more sincerely beloved as a friend by his Sovereign than Lord Beaconsfield. He had the subtle tact and the delicate refinement of a woman, with the stubborn courage and iron will of a man. As for his policy and his principles, the time has not yet come to judge them fairly. He was no more to blame for bringing his generous democratic impulses to the service of the Tory Party than the eldest son of a Whig Peer is to blame for limping after the Radicals on the crutch of Conservative instincts. In the one case it is the tyranny of chance and opportunity, in the other the accident of birth, that determines the choice. All through life Mr. Disraeli had to fight his battle from false positions, and this gave his efforts an air of gladiatorial insincerity. Not till 1874, when he came to power with a large majority, was he entirely a free agent; and then it was seen that, though comparatively indifferent to questions of administration and questions involving the mere forms of Government, he took an eager and practical interest in social reform. For nearly two years he was at the zenith of his power. The House of Commons he managed with bright urbanity, easy grace, conciliatory dexterity, and a light but firm touch which had never been seen before. Suddenly and without the least warning his spell seemed broken.