t the various doctrines with which he plays more or less
seriously, two at least are deeply rooted in his mind. He holds, with a
fervour in every way honourable, a belief in the marvellous endowments
of his race, and connected with this belief is an almost romantic
admiration for every manifestation of intellectual power. Vivian Grey,
in a bit of characteristic bombast, describes himself as 'one who has
worshipped the empire of the intellect;' and his career is simply an
attempt to act out the principle that the world belongs of right to the
cleverest. Of Sidonia, after every superlative in the language has been
lavished upon his marvellous acquirements, we are told that 'the only
human quality that interested him was intellect.' Intellect is equally,
if not quite as exclusively, interesting to the creator of Sidonia. He
admires it in all its forms--in a Jesuit or a leader of the
International, in a charlatan or a statesman, or perhaps even more in
one who combines the two characters; but the most interesting of all
objects to Disraeli, if one may judge from his books, is a precocious
youth, whose delight in the sudden consciousness of great abilities has
not yet been dashed by experience. In some other writers we may learn
the age of the author by the age of his hero. A novelist who adopts the
common practice of painting from himself naturally finds out the merits
of middle age in his later works. But in every one of Disraeli's works,
from 'Vivian Grey' to 'Lothair,' the central figure is a youth, who is
frequently a statesman at school, and astonishes the world before he has
reached his majority. The change in the author's position is, indeed,
equally marked in a different way. The youthful heroes of Disraeli's
early novels are creative; in his later they become chiefly receptive.
Vivian Grey and Contarini Fleming show their genius by insubordination;
Coningsby and Tancred learn wisdom by sitting at the feet of Sidonia;
and Lothair reduces himself so completely to a mere 'passive bucket' to
be pumped into by every variety of teacher, that he is unpleasantly like
a fool. Disraeli still loves ingenuous youth; but he has gained quite a
new perception of the value of docility. Here and there, of course,
there is a gentle gibe at juvenile vanity. 'My opinions are already
formed on every subject,' says Lothair; 'that is, on every subject of
importance; and, what is more, they will never change.' But such vanity
has nothing of