down in black and
white, and some progress may be made in useful knowledge without any
desire to be wise above what is written. The manifesto drawn up by the
"Two Conservatives" is not altogether edifying reading. At a first
glance it reminds us of a round-robin got up in the servants' hall for
the purpose of springing a mine upon the steward and housekeeper, or of
the whisperings sometimes heard in the lower ranks of a mercantile
establishment where a conviction prevails that nothing but discreet
promotion will save the firm. Some of the complaints set forth fall far
beneath this level. They deal with tiffs and slights and rebuffs.
Services have not been compensated according to the estimate of those
who rendered them. Good things have been given to the wrong men, while
modest merit has been left out in the cold. Lord Beaconsfield had, it
seems, a Figaro in his employ who fed him with judicious doses of
flattery and ministered to his blameless vices. The Figaro system has,
we are given to understand, been kept up, and the great men of the party
take care to live in an atmosphere of adulation. The Dukes meet with
hard treatment. It is difficult to see how these unhappy beings are to
give satisfaction. They are faithless to their principles if they stand
aloof; they do wrong if they come down to scatter their smiles and their
patronage among the crowd. Their absence looks like treason while their
presence demoralizes. In both cases they are mischievous. What are they
to do?

On the whole it is held to be best for the welfare of the party that the
aristocratic chiefs should forthwith perform the "happy despatch." They
saved it by their secession from its councils in 1868; they ruined it in
1874 when they rushed back to claim their share of the spoils. There is
some truth in the representation. It is not easy to forget the pathetic
spectacle which Mr. Disraeli presented at the former period. By his
suppleness and audacity he had forced his party through the crises of a
revolution which they had denounced beforehand, and the consequences of
which they contemplated with dismay. Over against their fears there was
nothing to be put but their leader's assurances that everything would
come right. They had taken "a leap in the dark," they had staked the
fortunes of the party on the dice-box, and events were to decide the
issue. When the blow came Mr. Disraeli's reputation for sagacity fell to
zero. At last the hollowness of his