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Is there anything more poignant in the history of the making of Governments than the entreaty addressed by Benjamin Disraeli to Sir Robert Peel, in 1841, that he should not be forgotten in the distribution of the offices in the Tory Administration which was then being formed? Writing from Grosvenor Gate on September 5, 1841, and addressing “Dear Sir Robert,” Disraeli said he should not dwell upon his services to the Tory Party, though since 1834 he had fought four contests, expended large sums of money, and exerted his intelligence to the utmost for the propagation of Peel’s policy. He adds: “But there is one peculiarity in my case on which I cannot be silent. I have had to struggle against a storm of political hate and malice, which few men ever experienced, from the moment—at the instigation of a member of your Cabinet—I enrolled myself under your banner, and I have only been sustained under these trials by the conviction that the day would come when the foremost man of this country would publicly testify that he had some respect for my ability and my character.” Then, throwing all reserve aside, he ends his letter with the following outburst of genuine feeling: “I confess to be unrecognized at this moment by you appears to me to be overwhelming, and I appeal to your own heart—to that justice and magnanimity which I feel are your characteristics—to save me from an intolerable humiliation.”
The same post brought the Prime Minister a most appealing letter signed, “Mary Anne Disraeli,” addressed “Dear Sir Robert Peel,” and marked “Confidential.” She begins: “I beg you not to be angry with me for my intrusion, but I am overwhelmed with anxiety. My husband’s political career is for ever crushed if you do not appreciate him. Mr. Disraeli’s exertions are not unknown to you; but there is much he has done that you cannot be aware of, though they have no other aim but to do you honour, no wish for recompense, but your approbation.” Her husband had made Peel’s opponents his personal enemies, she goes on; he had stood four expensive elections since 1834. “Literature,” she concludes, “he has abandoned for politics. Do not destroy all his hopes, and make him feel his life has been a mistake.”
Peel’s reply was cold and formal. He disliked Disraeli, regarding him as a political adventurer, and disliked him personally. “My dear sir,” he addresses him, and, fastening on the statement that Disraeli had joined the Tory Party at the instigation of a member of Peel’s former Cabinet, he declares that no one had ever got from him the slightest authority to make such a communication. Then Peel gives a remarkable account of the difficulties which beset him in constituting the new Government:
But, quite independently of this consideration, I should have been very happy, had it been in my power, to avail myself of your offer of service; and your letter is one of the many I receive which too forcibly impress upon me how painful and invidious is the duty which I have been compelled to undertake. I am only supported in it by the consciousness that my desire has been to do justice.
I trust, also, that when candidates for parliamentary office calmly reflect on my position, and the appointments I have made—when they review the names of those previously connected with me in public life whom I have been absolutely compelled to exclude, the claims founded on acceptance in 1834 with the almost hopeless prospects of that day, the claims, too, founded on new Party combinations—I trust they will then understand how perfectly insufficient are the means at my disposal to meet the wishes that are conveyed to me by men whose co-operation I should be proud to have and whose qualifications and pretensions for office I do not contest.
Disraeli, writing from Grosvenor Gate, September 8, 1841, hastens to explain that he never intended to even suggest, much less to say, that a promise of official promotion had ever been made to him at any time by any member of Peel’s Cabinet. “Parliamentary office,” he says, “should be the recognition of Party services and parliamentary ability, and as such only was it to me an object of ambition.” He ends with a dignified touch of pathos: “If such a pledge had been given me by yourself, and not redeemed, I should have taken refuge in silence. Not to be appreciated may be mortification; to be baulked of a promised reward is only a vulgar accident of life, to be borne without a murmur.”
Five years passed, and in the debate on the third reading of the Bill for the repeal of the Corn Duties, Disraeli, from the back Ministerial benches, made a scathing attack upon Peel and what he called his betrayal of the Tory Party in bringing in such a Bill to establish Free Trade. The Prime Minister, in reply, disclosed to the country the curious incidents of 1841. “It is still more surprising,” said he, “that if such were the hon. gentleman’s views of my character he should have been ready, as I think he was, to unite his fortunes with mine in office, thereby implying the strongest proof which a public man can give of confidence in the honour and integrity of a Minister of the Crown.” Disraeli rose at once to make a personal explanation. He denied that his opposition to the Free Trade policy of the Prime Minister was inspired by his disappointment of office. He was not an applicant for office in 1841. “I never shall—it is totally foreign to my nature—make an application for any place,” he cried. “Whatever occurred in 1841 between the right hon. gentleman and myself,” said he, “was entirely attributable to the intervention of another gentleman, whom I supposed to be in the confidence of the right hon. baronet, and I daresay it may have arisen from a misconception.” The correspondence which I have quoted was not published until long afterwards. The abrupt ending of the incident in the House of Commons is strange in the light thrown upon it by the correspondence. According to the report in Hansard, Peel made no reply to Disraeli. Peel held the correspondence in his hands, and resisted the temptation to read it and crush Disraeli, because he was advised by one of his colleagues that the disclosure of a private application for office would be contrary to the high and honourable traditions of statesmanship.