ng
presentation of the characters of Byron and Shelley, in the form of
romance, under the title of "Venetia," sufficiently occupied Disraeli's
time. He was, meanwhile, in the vortex of gay social life, a member of
the Carlton Club, the friend of Count D'Orsay, Lady Blessington, Mrs.
Norton, Lady Dufferin, Bulwer, Tom Moore, Lady Morgan, of Lyndhurst, of
the public men and of the men of fashion, and he was courted by princes
and pretty women. He had come to Parliament prepared as few or none
before him, with coolness, courage, wit, and eloquence, and with a
far-seeing sagacity that enabled him to make the most of something like
the gift of prophecy. But he was handicapped with the fact of his race,
with his debts, which, although he was not personally extravagant or at
all self-indulgent, had become heavy, with the absence of a constituency
or a popular cause; and having no landed property, nor belonging even
remotely to any great family, he was looked upon both by Whig and Tory
as more or less of an adventurer.

Like almost all young men, his first preferences and professions were
for reform. But brought face to face with responsibility he modified his
opinions; and the great power and place that he ultimately won, were won
through the originality, the thought, the force, and the independence
that dared act without reference to his own advantage, and the splendid
courage that was undismayed by any odds. Although he could have acquired
office in the earlier years by withholding open expression of his
opinions, he preferred his freedom; and although always in want of
money, he never made a penny by means of the place or the power that he
won, or even through the legitimate opportunities which these offered.

His first speech in Parliament was attended by peculiar circumstances. A
number of the ruder members of the opposition were determined that he
should not be heard, and they drowned every sentence in derisive cheers
and mocking yells. Disraeli bore it with dignity, but as it was
impossible to proceed in the noisy and barbarous din, he closed by
saying that he had begun several times many things, and had succeeded at
last; and then in a tone that resounded even above the clamor, for he
had at all times a sonorous and impressive voice, he cried, "I will sit
down now. But the time will come when you will hear me!" Of this speech
Peel said it was anything but failure; and Sir John Campbell, the
Attorney-General, assured h