requisite to add a commoner. As for Mr.
Chamberlain, the minister assured the Queen that though he had not yet,
like Mr. Bright, undergone the mollifying influence of age and experience,
his leanings on foreign policy would be far more acceptable to her Majesty
than those of Mr. Bright, while his views were not known to be any more
democratic in principle. He further expressed his firm opinion (Dec. 22)
(M40) that though Lord Derby might on questions of peace and war be some
shades nearer to the views of Mr. Bright than the other members of the
cabinet, yet he would never go anything like the length of Mr. Bright in
such matters. In fact, said Mr. Gladstone, the cabinet must be deemed a
little less pacific now than it was at its first formation. This at least
was a consolatory reflection.

Ministerial reconstruction is a trying moment for the politician who
thinks himself "not a favourite with his stars," and is in a hurry for a
box seat before his time has come. Mr. Gladstone was now harassed with
some importunities of this kind.(67) Personal collision with any who stood
in the place of friends was always terrible to him. His gift of sleep
deserted him. "It is disagreeable to talk of oneself," he wrote to Lord
Granville (Jan. 2, 1883), "when there is so much of more importance to
think and speak about, but I am sorry to say that the incessant strain and
pressure of work, and especially the multiplication of these personal
questions, is overdoing me, and for the first time my power of sleep is
seriously giving way. I dare say it would soon right itself if I could
offer it any other medicine than the medicine in Hood's 'Song of the
Shirt.' " And the next day he wrote: "Last night I improved, 3-1/2-hours to
4-1/2, but this is different from 7 and 8, my uniform standard through
life." And two days later: "The matter of sleep is with me a very grave
one. I am afraid I may have to go up and consult Clark. My habit has
always been to reckon my hours rather exultingly, and say how little I am
awake. It is not impossible that I may have to ask you to meet me in
London, but I will not do this except in necessity. I think that, to
convey a clear idea, I should say I attach no importance to the broken
sleep itself; it is the state of the brain, tested by my own sensations,
when I begin my work in the morning, which may make me need higher
assurance." Sir Andrew Clark, "overflowing with kindness, as always," went
down to Hawarden (J