are _Coningsby_, _Sybil_, _Tancred_, and the _Life of Lord George
Bentinck_.

In this group of books we observe, in the first place, a great advance
in vitality and credibility over the novels of the earlier period.
Disraeli is now describing what he knows, no longer what he hopes in
process of time to know. He writes from within, no longer from without
the world of political action. These three novels and a biography are
curiously like one another in form, and all equally make a claim to be
considered not mere works of entertainment, but serious contributions to
political philosophy. The assumption is borne out by the character of
the books, each of which had a definite aim and purpose. _Coningsby_
was designed to make room for new talent in the Tory Party by an
unflinching attack on the "mediocrities." In _Sybil_ the heartless abuse
of capital and the vices of class distinction are exposed. _Tancred_ is
a vision of better things to follow upon the reforms already indicated.
In _Lord George Bentinck_, under the guise of a record of the struggle
between Protection and Free Trade, we have a manual of personal conduct
as applied to practical politics.

In all these works narrative pure and simple inclines to take a
secondary place. It does so least in _Coningsby_ which, as a story, is
the most attractive book of Disraeli's middle period, and one of the
most brilliant studies of political character ever published. The tale
is interspersed with historical essays, which impede its progress but
add to its weight and value. Where, however, the author throws himself
into his narrative, the advance he has made in power, and particularly
in truth of presentment, is very remarkable. In the early group of his
novels he had felt a great difficulty in transcribing conversations so
as to produce a natural and easy effect. He no longer, in _Coningsby_,
is confronted by this artificiality. His dialogues are now generally
remarkable for their ease and nature. The speeches of Rigby (who
represents John Wilson Croker), of Lord Monmouth (who stands for Lord
Hertford), of the Young Englanders themselves, of the laughable chorus
of Taper and Tadpole, who never "despaired of the Commonwealth," are
often extremely amusing. In _Coningsby_ we have risen out of the
rose-coloured mist of unreality which hung over books like _The Young
Duke_ and _Henrietta Temple_. The agitated gentleman whose peerage hangs
in the balance, and who on hearing that t