“DIZZY’S” LOVE STORY.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXV, Issue 9, 9 January 1913, Page 7

“DIZZY’S” LOVE STORY.

I retired on a sofa with the duchess, who told me that Her Majesty had pointed out “Dizzy,” saying: “There’s Mr. Disraeli. Do yon call all this nothing?” This 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 Ten Years. The Queen’s saying, “There’s Mr Disraeli,” is a fitting text for the late Mr. Monypenny’s most picturesque life, for in it we see Disraeli himself. Mr, Monypenny is but a letteropener 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, but throughout the book we see 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 book opens with the famous scene in the Commons, when Disraeli warned the House that “there will come a time when you will hear me,” and takes us through those lively ten 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 rf the people, of his attitude during the repeal of the Corn Laws, and we watch him writing those three extraordinary novels, ‘Coningsby,’ ‘Sybil,’ and ‘Tancred.’ 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 ever prompt her to sympathise with the suffering; to one whose sweet voice has often encouraged, and whose taste and judgment have ever guided its pages. The most sever, of critics, but—a perfect Wife! Among the odds and e; ds frr -i Disraeli’s pen preserved by bis i fa’.'pious care there is a bundle o. -id. > notes which ho wrote to her wmie hu was composing ‘Coningsby’ and ‘.-‘yin!’ —reports of his 'progress, after her health, imitations io a st.cdl. requests.for a glass of wire, or permission to smoke a cigar, and awe caking ier to a consultation: “T wish you would come up and talk a ii tie aver a point, if you are not north Marly 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 1814 he wrote to his wife, saying:— Wherever I go I hear of nothing but “Mrs. Disraeli,” and why she did not come, and when she will come. When the railway is finished, then they count on seeing her very often. Among the shopkeepers, whom I wish most to please, your name and memory are most lively and influential. “Such a gay lady, sir!”-and I tell them all that you are a perfect wife as well as a perfect companion, and that, separated from you, for the first time after live years, we are (alas! alas!) parted on our wedding day. Tho women shed tears, which, indeed, 1 can barely mystsly restrain. Our wedding feast must be on Thursday, but if I die for it I will write you some verses to-morrow. The West 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 he met her at Bulwers 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 care which she could not mitigate, and no difficulty which she could not face. She was the most cheerful and the most courageous woman I over knew.” But Disraeli had all the lover’s nps and owns before he won her. When she had left 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. All 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? . . 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 whom I am devoted, the sharing of every charm and of every care. Perhaps I sigh for a state which never can be mine, which never existed. But there is nothing in my own heart that convinces me it is impossible, if it be an illusion, it is an illusion worthy of the gods. 1 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.

You told me once you required a year to study a character; our year has nearly elapsed, and your meditations may have made you dissatisfied

with mine. What my feelings may be if I find that I am doomed over to waste my affections, and that a blight is ever to fall on a heart which nature intended to be'Hie shrine of sensibility, it matters not. At present I will believe that my fate if indissolubly bound up with yours, until your voice, or your conduct, assures me that all this time I have laboured under a delusion. I Am Mad With Love. nr (December 30, 1838. I am mud with love. My passion is frenzy. The prospect of our immed iate meeting overwhelms and entrances me. I pass my nights ai. days in scenes of strange and fascinating rapture. Lose not a moment unnecessarily in coming. I cannol wait. 1 I can scarcely believe in tin joy of our immediate meeting. Will the time ever pass away until that rapturous moment ? i December 31. The happiest of New Years; and, indeed, I hope and believe it will be the happiest of our lives. January 22, 1839 ’Twas twilight after a lovely day, but I have no dark thoughts. All my motions are soft and glowing as the sky. Sweetest and dearest c women, our united loves shall flow like two rivers—as gentle and as clear. Bless you, and bless you. January 23. I love you, if possible, each da' more truly and more tenderly. All my hopes of happiness in life, are centred in your 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 mosl devoted lovers is told in a letter from Dizzy, which was found after Lad,' Beaconsfield’s death carefully deposited among her papers.! The quarrel was about her money. She had evidently heard that he wanted her for her “dot.” He says of the interview between them. , I succeeded so far as to be desired to quit your house for ever. I have recourse, therefore, to this miserable method of communicating with you. . . much as if it were the night before my execution. 1 avow, when I first made my advances to you I was influenced by no romantic feelings. My father had long wished me to marry. My settling in life was the implied though not stipulated condition of a disposition of his property, which would have been convenient to me. I myself, about to commence a practical career, wished for the solace of a home, and shrank from all the torturing passions of intrigue. 1 ivas not blind to worldly advantages in such an alliance, but I had already proved that my heart Avas not to be purchased. 1 found you in sorrow, and that heart Avas toucheel. I found you, as I thought, amiable, tender, and yet acute, and gifted Avith no ordinary mind—om Avhom I could look upon Avith pride as tho partner of my life, Avho could sympathise Avith all my pro-

jccts and feelings, console me in the moments of depression, share my hour of triumph, and work with me for our honour and happiness. Now for your fortune. 1 write the sheer truth. That fortune proved to be so much less than J or the world imagined. It was, in fact, as far as I 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. 1 o eat and to sleep in that house, and nominally to call it mine—these could .he only objects for a penniless adventurer. Was this an inducement for me to sacrifice my sweet liberty, and that indefinite future which is one of the charms of existence? No. When months ago I told you one, day that there was only one link between us, I felt that my heart was inextricably engaged to you, and but for that 1 would have terminated our acquaintance. From that moment I devoted to y r on all the passion of my being. Alas! it has been poured upon the sand. No; I would not condescend to he the minion of a princess, and not all the gold of Ophir should ever lead me to the altar. Bar different are the 7 qualities which I require in the sweet participator of my existence. My nature demands that my life should ho perpetu love. —Come!— To this “Mary Anne” replies:— For God’s sake come to me. lam ill and almost distracted. 1 will answer all you wish. . . lam devot to you. And she was for 30 tender y'ears.