"DIZZY'S" LOVE STORY

Evening Star, Issue 15074, 4 January 1913, Page 10

"DIZZY'S" LOVE STORY

T retired on a sofa with the duchess. • who told me that Her Majesty had pointed out "Dizzy."' saying: "There's Mr Disraelj. Do you call all this nothing!" That is the way in which Mrs Disraeli wrote to her husband's mother and father, telling them of a great house party at Stowe in 1845. at which Queen Victoria Sir Robert Peel, and others were present. —A Wonderful 10 Years.— The Queen's saying. " There's Mr Disraeli,"' is a titling; text for the late Mr Monypenny's most picturesque life, for in it we" see Disraeli himself, Mr Monypenny is but a letter-opener and sorter, but of the most accomplished kind. Disraeli's variegated waistcoats and fancies in canes are not so prominent in the. new vol. 2 as in vol 1. hut throughout the hook we £.ee a man of the most attractive type • —charming, clever, versatile, humorous, picturesque, and with a seriousness of mind, which many of his other qualities tended to obscure. The hook opens with the famous scene in the Commons, when Disraeli warned the House that "there will come a time when yon will hear me,"' and takes ns through those lively 10 years which close with his appointment as Chancellor of the Exchequer and Leader of the House' And we see how Disraeli became interested in the condition of the. peovle, of bis attitude during the repeal of the Corn Laws, and we watch him writing those three extraordinary novels ' C'oningsby,' 'Sybil.' and ■ Tanc'retl.' —A Perfect Wife.— But above all we see Disraeli in love, Disraeli married, Disraeli in love with his wife, and this is one of the most charming stories which a biographer could give. When his novel 'Sybil' appeared Disraeli dedicated it to his wife in these terms : I would inscribe this work to one whose noble spirit and gentle nature j ever prompt her to sympathise with the ' suffering,: to one whose sweet voice has often encouraged, and v.hose taste and judgment have ever guided its pages. The mo?t severe of critics, but—a perfect Wife ! Among the odds and ends from Disraeli's pen preserved by his wil'o's pious care there is a bundle of little notes which he wrote to her while he was composing ' Coningsby ' and "Sybil"—reports of his progress, inquiries niter her health, invitations to a stroll, requests for a glass of wine or permission to smoke a cigar, aird one calling her to a consultation : "I wish you would come up and talk a little over a point, if you are not particularly engaged," which, seems to show that this compliment to her taste and judgment was no mere pretence.

—Such a Gay Lady.— When Disraeli was contesting Shrewsbury in 1844 he wrote to his wife, saying : Wherever I go T hear of nothing but ".Mrs Disraeli." and why she did not come, hi d when she will come. When the railway in rini«hed. then they count on seeing her very often. Among the shopkeepers, whom [ wish must to please, your name and memory are most livelv■.ind influential. " S'ich a gay lady, sir !" and I tell them all that you are a perfect wife as well as a perfect companion, and that, separated fiom you, for the first time after five years, we are (alas ! alas!) parted on our'wedding dav. The women shed tears, which, indeed, I can barely myself restrain. Our wedding feast must _ be on Thursday, but if I die for it I will write you some verses tomorrow. —The Most Cheerful Woman.— When Disraeli first met his wife she was Mrs Wyndham Lewis, the. wife of an M.P., "a pretty little woman." a "flirt." a "rattle," whose volubility astonished him when be met her at Buhvera in 1832 She was a widow at 45. and Disraeli was 12 years younger. They married in 1839, and when, after 30 years, death came to part them, Disraeli said : " There was no cave, which srw could not mitigate, and no difficulty which she could not face. She was the most cheerful and tb? most courageous woman I ever knew." But Disraeli had all the lover's ups-and-downs, before he. won her. When she had lett his father's house after a visit he wrote : Their talk is insipid after all that bright play of fancy and affection which welcomes me daily with such vivacious sweetness. ... I have not recovered from the stupefaction of yesterday. AH is dull, silent, spiritless; the charm is broken, the magic is fled. All this may be inevitable, and I will believe it all may end well. But what future joy and prosperity, what fortune, even, what fame, can compensate for this anguish 0 ... I wrote- your name in large characters and placed it before me. There is no hell on earth like separated love. My ideas of love are the perpetual enjoyment, of the society of the sweet .being to wTiom I am devoted, the sharing of every thought and even every fancy, of every charm, and of every care. Perhaps I sigh for a. state which never can be mine, wbbh never existed. But there ip. nothing in my own heart that convinces me it is and, jf it be_|

an .illusion, it is an illusion worthy of the gods. I wish to be with -you, to* live with you, never to be. away from you—l care not where, in heaven' or on "earth or in the waters under the earth. 1 ou told mo once you required a year to study a character; our vear " has nearly elapsed, and your meditations may have made you dissatisfied with '"'"*:. ™ T hat mv feelings mav be if I limi that I am doomed ever to*waste nrv affections and that a blight is ever to jail on a heart which nature intended to be the shrine of sensibility, jt matters not. At present I will believe that mv late is mdissolubly bound up with vours until your voice, or your conduct, azures' me that all this time I hav« labored under a delusion.

—I Am Mad With Love.— December 30, 1838. I am mad with love. My passion is frenzy, the prospect of our immediate meeting overwhelms and entrances me l pass my nights and days in scenes of Strang* and fascinating rapture. Lose not a moment unn-ecessurik in coming I cannot wau. I can scarcely believe in tne joy of our immediate meeting. Will the tune, ever pass away until that rapturous moment? r t, , . December 31. ,1 Ji ,<? t l PpKt °f Xew Yeal ' s : and. indeed. I h 0 p 0 and believe it will be th« happiest of our lives. ,-,- x ... , January 22. 1839. lis twibght after a lovely day, but I have no dark thoughts, ill my mo v.u lWlu ot women our t i .» January 23 tr-.Tr- , y ° U ' if P««°l*. each day more truly and more tenderly. All mv hopel J " Jife ™ ™t«d in S sweet affections, and I wish only to be the solace and glory of your life. —Their First Serious Quarrel.— The story of the first and last serious quarrel between these two most loyew as told in a letter from Dizzv whS cj.iefully deposited among her papers TIJ parrel was about her moneV P She fid evidently heard that he wanted her for 7e • them: Sa '" 6 °' the il,te »-'«w between quit jour house tor ever. I have, re 3 s?«***• to this miserable metiioa oi communicating with you fnrl , ' " IUCl ' lf il WMe the n "betore my execution. I avow, when I first made my advances to yon I was influenced by no romantic" feelings Mv father hau long wished me to mar'rv tl'VT tth ?S in lite was the implied though not stipulated condition of a disposition of- his property, which would nave been convenient to me. 1 myself about to commence a practical career' wished for the solace of a home, and ! shrank from all the torturing pa »ions of i intrigue. I was not blind to worldly advantages m such an alliance, but I had already proved that my heart was not to be purchased. I found vou in sorrow ana that heart was touched. T found you. as I thought, • amiable, tender and yet acute, and gifted with no ordinary mind—one whom I could look upon with pride, as the partner of my life, who could sympathise with all my projects and feelings, console- me in the moments of depression, share my hour of triumph and work with me for our honor and happiness. Now for your fortune 1 write the fiheer truth.' That fortune proved to he so much less than I or the world imagined. It was. in fact, as far as 1 was concerned, a- fortune which could not benefit me in the slightest degree ; it was merely a jointure, not greater than your station required ; enough to maintain your establishment and gratify your private tastes. To eat and to sleep in that house, and nominally to call it mine—three could he onlv objects for a. penniless adventurer. ' Was this an inducement for me to sacrifice mv sweet liberty, and that indefinite future wjiich is one of the charms of existence? N*o. When months ago 1 told you one day that there was only one link between us, 1 felt that my heart was inextricably cngngeci to you! and but for that I would have terminated our acquaintance. From that, moment 1 devoted to vou all the passion of my being. Alas '.' it has been poured upon the ""sand. No; I would not condescend to be the minion of a princess, and not all the gold of Ophir should ever lead me to the altar. Far different are the qualities which I require in the sweet participator of my existence. My nature demands that mv life should be perpetual love. —Come.!— T this "Mary Anne" replies: For God's sake come to me. I am ill and almost distracted. I will answer all you wish. ... I am devoted to you. And she, was for 50 tender years, j